PROLOGUE

 

ASSIVE BOLTS OF LIGHTNING crisscrossed a turbulent sky, occasionally striking the horizon ahead of the large Egyptian galley. Ear-splitting thunder pounded the ship as it heaved and fell in the outer wake of the storm’s merciless fury and unyielding authority. Frequent flashes of brilliant white light illuminated strained faces, many filled with fear as rowers and crew endured this deadly dance in twilight at the edge of imminent peril. A light, cold rain began to fall.

“We are going to die!” the man’s friend exclaimed frightened.

“Do not be afraid. You will not die today,” the man replied sedately as he sat strangely calm, but pensive—both of them huddled in meager garments near the bow of the ship.

The last words of instruction from the man’s beloved counselor were resonating in his mind with absolute clarity. The charge of protecting the sacred vessel contained in the heavy leather satchel now secured around his shoulder and resting on his lap, was an honor beyond description and carried with it a consequence few could imagine. For such an honorable and important task, the ship the man had been instructed to procure seemed inadequate. This ship, the one he had chosen, was certainly a more worthy choice for such a paramount journey. It was a decision made in a moment of arrogance that would soon find itself lost in his counselor’s prophetic wisdom—for that wisdom was not simply in the choice of a worthy sailing vessel, but also of its crew.

 

With the final revelation received, the man’s convictions began to waiver. Weight of choice came to bear when the captain and two of his crewmen approached from aft in the murky light.

“We can wait here no longer. This storm is like nothing I have ever seen before and we should take leave of it immediately,” the captain shouted.

“I now know where our destination lies,” the man replied as he stood.

“And where is that?”

Hesitantly the man raised his hand and pointed toward the storm. “In there.” The captain and his crewmen looked at the storm, then back at the man.

“What kind of riddle is this?” the captain asked.

“We must journey into the heart of fear. That is our destination.”

The captain stared at the man in disbelief, at the storm again, then burst out laughing. “Have you gone mad? No one could survive such a thing!”

“Yes we will. What I carry with me is of God. He will protect us. This is our destiny.”

“Death may be your destiny, but it is not mine. And if your god has told you to go in there, he doesn’t like you much,” the captain mocked while his two crewman laughed nervously.

The man knew how his words must have sounded, even though they were true. His commission was clear and somehow he had to make this captain understand. “I will show you,” he said confidently. He unstrapped the satchel, carefully removed the sacred vessel and presented it to the captain. “Gaze upon it and see the Power of God.” The captain looked at the stone vessel, as did the two crewmen. Unfortunately, they saw nothing more than what was possible for them to see. The man had only confirmed his own delusions.