The king stopped eating. “You want me to get involved? And what happens if this sorcerer curses me for trying to help you?”
As the sun rose over the horizon, a group of solemn Jews trekked toward the king’s palace. They had a very important mission; if they failed to convince the king to protect them from the sorcerer, the attacks would continue.
With fervent tefillos on their lips, their hearts broken and their minds on Hashem, the entourage entered through the tall, imposing palace doors. They were so focused on their task that they didn’t even glance at the grim-faced guards who stared at them and rested their hands upon the hilts of their long swords.
“Your Majesty, thank you for receiving us.”
The leader of the delegation, Reb Yosef, stepped in front of the king’s throne. The king was lounging lazily, his feet resting on a stool in front of him and his hand plucking berries from a gold bowl.
“All of my citizens are important to the success of my kingdom… even the Jews. If there’s something I can do to help, there’s a chance I may consider doing so.”
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