I
t was a bizarre twist of fate for this once mighty king. One moment he was sitting in front of a simple-looking Jew, about to witness a demonstration of the pasuk in Tehillim, “A thousand years are in your eyes like yesterday that has passed,” and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, his kingdom had turned to shambles and he was running for his life.
“Open the gates!” the king screamed at the Jewish men guarding the entrance to the city. “I am your king!”
“You cannot truly be the king. We’ve heard that the royal palace has been reduced to a heap of rubble and that everyone inside was slaughtered without mercy. You are an impostor!”
“Look behind me! You see those horsemen approaching? They are foreign fighters from across the sea. They are pursuing me because I am the king! Don’t you see the crown on my head?”
