"Please tell me the truth-is Hezekiah going to die?"

Eliakim stared past her without answering, as if she had no right to know. She fell to her knees in front of him.

"I have to know. Please! I beg you!"

When he finally spoke, his words filled her with dread. "King Hezekiah is gravely ill."

"From the fire?"

"Yes."

"Please let me see him. I just want to see his face again. I just want to explain... ."

"Hephzibah, don't beg. Stand up."

"No. Not until you answer me, my lord. Please!"

At last Eliakim looked down at her. The anger in his eyes had softened. "I wish before G.o.d that none of this had happened, Hephzibah. But the truth is, you sealed your own divorce papers the day you chose to worship an idol. There's nothing I can do to help you. I'm sorry."

He rang for his servant, then pulled Hephzibah to her feet. "Take her back to the harem," he ordered, then he closed the door in her face. The servant led her away like a prisoner.

Before they reached the harem, Hephzibah stopped. "Wait. Don't take me back."

"I have orders, my lady."

"I will give you a fistful of gold if you help me."

"Sure you will."

"I mean it! A full shekel of gold. I'll swear it!"

He eyed her with suspicion. "Show me this gold."

"I can't. It's in my room, and if I go back to the harem, they won't let me leave again. But I swear I'll give you as much gold as you want if you'll take me into my husband's room."

Hephzibah saw the greed in the servant's eyes. "What happens once you're inside?" he asked. "What do you want to do?"

"Nothing. I just want to see him-that's all."

"And for that you'll give me a shekel of gold?"

"Yes. I swear by my life." Hephzibah's heart pounded wildly as she watched him consider the idea.

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

Hephzibah followed behind him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. When they got to the king's chambers, he stopped.

"Wait here," he commanded, then he disappeared inside.

Hephzibah tried to stay calm as she waited for the servant to return, but she couldn't stop thinking of Eliakim's words: "King Hezekiah is gravely ill."

At last the door opened, and the servant came out. "The king is asleep," he told her.

Hephzibah went limp. Hezekiah never slept in the middle of the day. Something was terribly wrong.

"Swear to me you won't wake him," the servant demanded. "You have to stay hidden behind me. You can't make a sound. And you'd better not get me into trouble, or you'll owe me a lot more than a shekel."

"I swear."

"I must be crazy for doing this," he mumbled, but he led the way inside.

Hephzibah recognized the three men huddled in the sitting room.They were the royal physicians who had attended her the night her baby died. She kept her head down and followed the servant into the next room.

The stench in the darkened bedchamber halted her. The sour smell of sickness filled the stale air, and she couldn't seem to breathe in the oppressive heat. Hephzibah wanted to throw open the heavy curtains and shutters and let light and air into the room, but she cowered behind the servant and waited for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dark.

When she could finally see the shrunken figure in the bed, Hephzibah backed away. This wasn't her husband. This was someone else.But then the stranger moaned and turned his face toward her. It was Hezekiah.

He was impossibly thin, as if all his flesh had melted away, and his face looked gray beneath his dark beard. As he tossed in a delirium of fever, his random thrashing caused him great pain, and he moaned in agony. The burn on his leg was the source of the stench, a blackened, oozing sore that turned Hephzibah's stomach.

He was dying. There could be no doubt. She cried out in horror.

"Hezekiah! No!

" Without thinking, Hephzibah pushed the servant aside and sank to her knees beside the bed, seizing Hezekiah's hand in both of hers.

"Please don't die hating me," she begged. "Please let me explain."

His hand felt hot with fever. His waxy blue nails and fingertips looked like a dead man's. The servant clutched her around her waist, trying to pry her away from him, but she fought him off.

"Please, Hezekiah! You can't die. You can't!"

Hezekiah's eyelids slowly opened, and a dazed look of pain filled his unseeing eyes.

"So ... thirsty ..." he mumbled.

With a surge of desperate strength, Hephzibah freed herself from the servant and grabbed a cup of water from the table beside the bed.She held it to Hezekiah's lips. They were tinged with blue around the edges like his lifeless fingers.

"Hephzibah?" he whispered.

"Yes, my love. It's me."

"Hephzibah ... I ..." Then Hezekiah's face twisted in pain, and he let out a terrible moan. "Oh, G.o.d ... help me ..."

He began to shiver, the spasms shaking his body convulsively, and Hephzibah never felt so terrified or so helpless in her life. If she could have seized the life in her own body and forced it into his, she would have done so.

Someone grabbed her and hurried her out of the room. The ter-rible sound of Hezekiah's moans followed her into the hallway.Eliakim stood outside the door.

"What have I done? What have I done?" she sobbed. "He's dying-dear G.o.d, he's dying!"

"Hephzibah, stop it," Eliakim said.

"Is he going to die? Please don't let him die!"

"The physicians will do everything they can to save him."

"Let me help ... let me do something... ." The servant had to support her, or she would have collapsed to the floor.

"Take her back to the harem," Eliakim told him. "This time make sure she stays there."

"But I want to take care of him," she pleaded. "He's my husband."

Eliakim shook his head. "No. He isn't your husband. Not anymore. And don't try to come here again. There's nothing more you can do for him."

Nothing more she could do.

Hephzibah knew she would never see Hezekiah again.

5.

HEZEKIAH DRIFTED INTO consciousness, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. Instantly the relentless pain overwhelmed him, and he wanted to slip away again. But if he did, he might never wake up.

Was he dying? Was this what dying felt like, growing weaker and weaker each day while the pain grew stronger and stronger? The sickness that had spread through his body consumed his life like fire licking up straw. He fought to stay conscious in spite of his agony.

He turned his head and saw Eliakim sitting beside the bed with his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Hezekiah licked his dry lips and tried to speak.

"Eliakim ..."

He bolted to his feet. "You're awake?"

"I'm so thirsty."

Eliakim put his hand behind Hezekiah's neck and raised his head to help him drink. The water tasted good and surprisingly cold. How did they keep it so cold when the room felt so hot? He drank all that he could, even though most of it ran down his beard and soaked the bandages on his chest.

"I dreamed that Hephzibah came," he murmured when he finished. "I dreamed she gave me a drink." How long would it take until he could forget Hephzibah completely? How long until he could erase from his mind the memory of what she had done?

"Can I get you anything else?" Eliakim asked.

"No, sit down. Talk to me."

"All right." He sat down hesitantly, as if poised to run for help.He looked distraught.

"Where's Shebna?"

"He left to eat dinner. Would you like something to eat, Your Majesty?"

Hezekiah couldn't remember when he had eaten last, but he wasn't hungry.

"Just more water." Eliakim gave him more.

"We've been so worried, Your Majesty. I'm glad you're awake.You seem a little better."

No, Hezekiah knew how weak he felt, how hard he had to struggle to hang on to consciousness. He had lost all track of time as day and night ran together in a haze of pain. Was it just a moment ago that Shebna had read to him?

"How long have I been sick?"

"Your fever started two days ago."

Two days had pa.s.sed without his awareness. The thought terrified Hezekiah. This was a rehearsal for death, the end of conscious thought. He licked his lips again and tried to talk.

"Once ... when I was traveling through the Negev, I spent the night in a shepherd's tent ... a st.u.r.dy little thing ... protecting me from rain and sun. But in the morning the shepherd yanked out all the stakes ... one after the other ... and just like that, all the life went out of it, and it collapsed in a heap. It wasn't a tent anymore ...only a pile of lifeless cloth. Then he folded it up and packed it away ... and only a square of flattened gra.s.s could prove it had ever existed." He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. "Is that all there is to life, Eliakim? When our lives suddenly end and we're gone ... is there nothing left to show that we ever lived?"

"You've accomplished a great deal, Your Majesty. You've restored Judah's covenant with Yahweh and brought great prosperity to our nation and-"

"But what happens when we die?"

"The Torah says we are gathered to be with our fathers and-"

"No. Not with my father."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I ... I meant father Abraham and Isaac and ..." Eliakim fell silent.

Hezekiah felt the fever burning all through his body. Sweat poured off him and made the bedcovers stick to his skin, but he was too weak to lift his hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, too weak to kick the stifling covers aside.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to die, Eliakim? It's as if a lion has me in her jaws. She has broken all my bones, and now she's toying with me. I'm waiting for her to finish me off-but I don't want to die. Not now. I'm in the prime of my life ... and I don't have a son to take my place ... to finish all that I've started."

"You aren't going to die," Eliakim said fiercely.

"I wish I could believe that. But every hour it feels as if I'm slipping closer and closer to Sheol's gates, and there's nothing to grab on to to stop my fall."

He remembered how his brother had fallen headlong into the flames. Eliab had tried to grab Molech's shining arms to stop himself, but the metal had been too hot, too slippery, and he had fallen to his death.

"You will beat this sickness, Your Majesty. Yahweh won't let you die."

"Yahweh seems very far away, Eliakim. I'm watching the horizon, waiting for Him to come, longing to see Him, but my eyes are tired of looking for Him ... and still He doesn't come ... doesn't help me ..."

"G.o.d has never left your side, Your Majesty. He has always been right here with you. Sometimes when He seems the farthest away from us, He's really the closest. He uses these breaking experiences to strengthen our faith, and the difficult times to draw us nearer to His side."

" 'I will never leave you nor forsake you... ."'

"Yes, that's right, Your Majesty."