The Strength Of His Hand Part 5

"What's wrong, Your Majesty?" Eliakim said. "What's falling?"

Hezekiah tried to focus on him but couldn't. "Can't you feel it, Eliakim? Why is everything moving?"

Eliakim rested his hand on Hezekiah's brow, and his fingers felt wonderfully cool, like stones from a mountain stream.

"Ahh ... leave your hand there."

"G.o.d of Abraham, help us-he's burning up!"

"No," Hezekiah said, "there was a fire but it's out now. I put it out."

"He's delirious. Call the physicians."

"I'm thirsty, that's all. Water ..."

Eliakim held a cup to his lips, and he drank greedily. But why had they given him salt water? It only increased his thirst.

Movement and activity suddenly swirled around his bed. So many people. They made the room tilt again.

"Stop," he moaned. "You'll make everything fall."

"What are those for?" he heard Shebna asking. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Cold compresses will bring his fever down." Hezekiah didn't recognize the voice, but he suddenly felt a cooling sensation all around him. It felt so good, so cold. But, no-he was too cold. He couldn't get warm. He began to s.h.i.+ver, trembling all over. He couldn't stop.And the pain, the terrible pain-whenever he moved!

"Take them off! You are killing him!" Shebna shouted.

"We have to bring his fever down, my lord, or he will die of the convulsions."

Was he going to die? Hezekiah didn't want to die. It seemed as though Uriah once again held him in a death grip. The high priest was choking off his life. In another moment he would die. He had to fight!

"What is happening to him?" Shebna cried.

"The poison from his leg is spreading through his body." Hezekiah heard the unfamiliar voice again.

He was so thirsty. Water. Why didn't they give him a drink? Then he remembered: he had hidden the spring underground. Eliakim knew where to find it.

"Eliakim ... listen ..."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" He heard Eliakim's frightened voice, but he couldn't see him.

"The spring ... inside the tunnel ... get the water ..." How could he make him understand?

"We have to change the dressing on his leg," someone said. "We must cleanse it again." Hands touched his leg, and Hezekiah cried out.They were taking the bandage off. No, they were taking his leg off.

"Stop ... stop!" Somebody make them stop!

"Get away! You are going to kill him!" Shebna cried.

"We must cleanse the wound, my lord. The poison will kill him if we don't."

Shebna, help me! I don't want to die!

"Lord Shebna, you'd better wait in the other room until we're finished."

"No, I must stay with the king."

"Lord Eliakim, please take him out of here."

"Come on, Shebna. There's nothing more we can do."

Hezekiah saw a hand in the darkness, slender and cool and white.It beckoned to him to come away into oblivion, away from the pain.The terrible pain.

Yahweh ... help me... .

He heard someone screaming. Hezekiah couldn't fight anymore.He was too tired, too weak. He wanted to stop fighting, to give in and float away from the agony-into nothingness.

He reached out for the ivory hand and clasped it in his own.

4.

HEPHZIBAH SAT BEFORE the open window in her new living quarters, a musty, cramped room that had once belonged to one of Hezekiah's concubines. All around her, the palace seemed emptied of life, abandoned and eerily silent.

"Merab, why is everything so quiet?" she asked her servant. "The courtyard, the hallways-the entire palace is like a tomb."

"You're s.h.i.+vering," Merab said. "Come sit by the fire."

"No-listen a moment." Hephzibah paused, listening. "It's too quiet; don't you see? The silence scares me."

"Let me close those shutters. You'll catch a chill sitting by the window." The handmaiden started to swing the wooden shutters closed, but Hephzibah stopped her.

"Wait. Look down there, Merab. That courtyard usually crawls with activity this time of day. But what do you see?"

"I see that it's empty, my lady. Now come. The fire is nice and warm." Merab closed the shutters firmly and latched them. She nudged Hephzibah closer to the charcoal brazier.

"But where are all the n.o.blemen and pet.i.tioners? They usually come and go all day long. Something's wrong, I know it is."

"Nonsense."

"Then why hasn't the king gone up to the Temple? It's been more than a week. I've watched for him every day. He has to pa.s.s below this window, but he hasn't left the palace."

"Don't be silly. The palace has more than one door. He's probably using a different one."

"No, he wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't."

"Come, sit by the fire."

Merab took her hands and pulled her closer to the brazier. But when Hephzibah saw the coals glowing crimson beneath the grate, she remembered what she had pledged to do; she remembered how she'd vowed to throw Hezekiah's child into the flames, and she began to tremble. Merab wrapped a woolen shawl around her shoulders and rubbed her arms.

"You should crawl into bed, my lady. This room must be colder than your old one. You're always s.h.i.+vering."

"I'm scared, Merab. I'm so scared-"

"Hush, now. You don't need to be afraid."

"But I've lived in this palace for ten years, and I know something is wrong!"

She noticed that Merab wouldn't meet her gaze. The servant plucked lint off Hephzibah's shawl, muttering, "Just look at this thing-how did it get to be such a mess?" Hephzibah gripped her arm.

"Merab, if you know what's going on, you've got to tell me."

"Let me find you another shawl. This one-"

"Tell me!"

Merab pulled Hephzibah into her arms and held her tightly.

"All right, baby. Shh ... calm down. I didn't want you to worry ... but ... King Hezekiah isn't holding court because ...because he's ill."

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. No one will tell me. When I asked-one of the servants spit on me."

Hephzibah pulled herself free. "I have to see him. I have to help him get well."

"No, wait! They'll never let you near the king, my lady. They'll spit on you, too-everyone blames you for what happened to him."

Hephzibah froze in horror. "What did you say?"

"Some people think that ... that you ..." She didn't finish.

For days Hephzibah had relived the terrible moments just before the fire, remembering the anger and pain in Hezekiah's eyes when he'd discovered her betrayal. Now, prodded by Merab's words, the picture lurched forward, and she recalled the next scene. She had been trapped, and Hezekiah had stood in the middle of the flames, battling to save her life. His clothes had caught fire. She'd heard him cry out in pain when he had been burned. And the fire in the harem had been her fault.

She had to go to him, help him. She had to beg his forgiveness.

"Merab, you've got to distract the chamberlain long enough for me to slip out."

"My lady, you know you can't leave the harem."

"I have to see my husband. I don't care what they do to me."

"Come. Lie down for a while. You'll feel better-"

"No! You have to help me! I'm ordering you to help me!" She had never shouted at Merab before, and the servant's eyes filled with tears.

"Yes, my lady."

Hephzibah waited until Merab drew the chamberlain away, then she crept out of her room and through the palace hallways to Hezekiah's chambers. But when she reached his door, it opened suddenly, and she found herself facing Shebna.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. Hephzibah's heart raced with fear. She couldn't draw a deep breath.

"I-I came to see my husband."

"King Hezekiah no longer has a wife!"

"But I'm-"

"The king has divorced you. I drew up the certificate, and he sealed it the day after the fire."

"You're lying. I never received any divorce papers." But she remembered the revulsion and anger on Hezekiah's face and feared Shebna was telling the truth.

He took a step closer to her. Hatred filled his voice. "That is because I did not have the divorce recorded yet. If King Hezekiah dies, you will become the property of the next king. I cannot think of a more suitable punishment than for you to be claimed by Prince Gedaliah on the palace rooftop in front of the entire city."

"He's not going to die!"

Shebna grabbed her shoulders, and his fingers dug into her. "You should have been stoned to death for what you have done. But that would have been too merciful. Now get out of here!" He shoved her roughly down the hallway toward the harem, then strode off in the opposite direction.

Shebna's words stunned Hephzibah. She had to find out if they were true. She turned and ran down the hallway, stopping the first servant she met.

"Please help me. Where can I find Lord Eliakim?"

"This way, my lady."

As the servant led her to Eliakim's office, Hephzibah struggled to calm down, to put her thoughts into focus. She had to plan what she would say to him. Eliakim was kinder and more compa.s.sionate than Shebna; he would help her. He would tell her the truth. But she was so frightened she could scarcely breathe.

Eliakim sat behind a huge table, sifting through piles of correspondence and official records. He looked up as Hephzibah entered, then his mouth froze in a hard line. The unfamiliar chill in his dark eyes frightened her more than Shebna's open hatred.

"What do you want, Hephzibah?"

"Please, my lord-I need to see my husband."

"That's impossible," he said coldly. "The king is no longer your husband."

Shebna had told the truth. Hephzibah stared at Eliakim, horrified.

"According to the Law," he continued, "the king has the right to divorce you because of your idolatry."

Hephzibah swallowed, trying to stem the flood of her fear and grief. "Listen, please. I know Hezekiah hates me, but you have to believe me! When that statue broke open ... and all the sand poured out of it, I knew that it wasn't really a G.o.d. I knew..." She couldn't finish. She covered her face and wept. "I'm sorry ... so sorry."

Eliakim sighed. "Look, you're not supposed to be here. I'll call a servant to take you back to the harem." He walked around the wide table toward the door, but she blocked his path.