Daughter of Lachish. Tim Frank
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they reached the valley below, Rivkah heard a loud explosion as a beam burst in the heat of the fire. She turned to look at the burning city. Glancing across the mound she saw a figure running down the hill, coming directly for them.
“Bath-Shua!” she cried, “they’re following us.”
Bath-Shua looked back and spotted the soldier. She grabbed Rivkah’s arm and shoved her forward. “Run Rivkah! Straight ahead to the stream! Don’t stop!”
Rivkah ran ahead with Bath-Shua right behind her. Her lungs felt like bursting. Her dress got in the way. When she looked back over her shoulder she saw that the soldier had gained on them. The momentary distraction had diverted her concentration. She didn’t look where she was running. Rivkah stumbled and fell forward. She was able to catch herself and got up again by the time Bath-Shua was at her side. It was only a tiny delay.
Running right behind Bath-Shua now, Rivkah followed her into the dry, rocky stream bed. They got out on the opposite bank. There Bath-Shua stopped and turned towards Rivkah.
“You have to go on alone now, Rivkah. Don’t wait for me! Run up into the hills and hide.”
At first Rivkah didn’t understand. She should leave Bath-Shua?! She hesitated.
Bath-Shua’s voice was full of emotion as she put her hand on Rivkah’s head.
“The LORD bless you and provide for you. The LORD grant you life and peace.”
Then she slapped Rivkah’s arm to send her on her way.
“Run Rivkah. Run, my daughter! Run and live!”
Bath-Shua turned to face their pursuer. Rivkah’s legs started moving again. Bewildered she ran across the valley to the hills. Behind her she could hear the struggle. As she fled into the night, the screams followed her. Whatever the men of Lachish had done to Bath-Shua in the past, however they had hurt her, nothing could have come close to this.
* * *
Itur-Ea ran down the city mound, pursuing the fugitives. He was catching up. He could see now that he was chasing two women or, rather, a woman and a girl. They would not escape! The girl stumbled on the uneven terrain, but picked herself up again and carried on. The distance was narrowing. Now they clambered over the rocks of the dry stream and reached the opposite bank. Suddenly they stopped. The woman spoke to the girl and placed one hand on her head, then turned to face Itur-Ea as the girl started running again.
Itur-Ea stared at the appearance. She looked beautiful, like a goddess of the night, wild and yet sensuous. And then he realized. He rushed forward and overpowered the struggling woman. With his dagger he ripped open her clothes. Ishtar had bestowed her favor upon him and given him this woman. And Itur-Ea met Ishtar, the goddess of war and love.
Chapter 5
Thorns tore bloody scratches across her legs. Her hands were bleeding. She had fallen countless times, hurting her hands and legs. Bushes caught her dress and ripped it. She stumbled on the loose rock. And still she ran. Even though it was now completely dark she did not stop. Her heart was beating wildly. She was gasping for air. Sobs broke the frenzied rhythm of her hard breathing. Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away with her arm.
Since that horrible moment at the brook of Lachish, Rivkah had been running. She had not looked back after Bath-Shua had sent her on ahead. The screams told the story. And she knew: she was alone now. Fear and horror had driven her on. First across the valley and then into the hills. She had to get away from that place. Rivkah couldn’t hear anybody following. Twice she stopped and listened. Still, the fear persisted.
Rivkah slowed to a walk. She just couldn’t continue any more. She was totally drained and exhausted. Her whole body trembled. A few hundred cubits more and she collapsed on the ground. The sobs became a loud wailing cry which Rivkah tried to stifle with her hands.
“Bath-Shua, what have they done to you? How cruel can men be? You never deserved this.” Grief for the woman who had protected her in those last dramatic hours broke her heart and now she let everything pour out. The grief that had been held back could no longer be contained.
“Kaleb, you mighty warrior! You are no more. You fell in battle, fighting for your people, for me. Kaleb, you were more than a dog, you were my best friend. No soul was as noble as yours. Kaleb! Oh . . . ” Words failed her at the thought of the faithful animal. In agony she tore her fingers through her hair until it hurt. The picture of his lifeless form lying there in the street, killed by the Assyrian soldiers, still haunted her.
Then the realization hit.
“Mother, Father, little Susannah, Shomer, Shallum, Nepheg! Are you dead too? Gone? Or do those vicious Assyrians still torment you?”
She could see their faces now. She longed to touch them, to be with them. How dear they were to her. Rivkah regretted every harsh word she had ever said to them, every time she had disregarded her family. Other things had seemed more important, other people more interesting. Now she realized that her family was the most precious thing she had ever had. That’s where she belonged.
She had lost so much. It came before her eyes in a flash: the house she grew up in, the streets she played in, the city she knew.
“Lachish, oh my city! You have fallen! Nothing but ashes, nothing but ashes! Oh Simchah! The LORD did not save us! Why? Had the gods abandoned the city? Did Amun-Re or Baal or the LORD not hear the prayers of the people?”
She had no answers to the questions. How the people had hoped for deliverance! Now they were dead or condemned. The names of friends and neighbors crowded her mind. In an incomprehensible babble a torrent of names burst from her lips. The names of her family were mixed up in the flow. Slowly the stream of names grew calmer, the torrent ebbed. She only mentioned a few names now, until at last she breathed only one name into the silence: “Mother . . . Mother . . . Mother.”
* * *
Meshullam thought he had heard somebody call his name. He forced himself awake and opened his eyes, staring into the blackness of the night. He listened carefully, but could hear only the breathing of his cousins and his little brother Shimei beside him. But yes, now he heard a voice calling somewhere far away. It was faint and no, it was not his name it was calling. Maybe it was a soldier on the walls, keeping watch during the night. It must have just been a dream.
But now he was awake and couldn’t get back to sleep again. Meshullam turned around and bumped into his cousin Michael on his right. Michael only grunted in his sleep and hardly moved. Meshullam turned back again. He drew his knees up to his body and turned to his other side. Why couldn’t he sleep? Carefully he got up and went to the door of the tiny room. Here in Jerusalem they were living in the small house of a family that had moved down from Samaria several years ago. There wasn’t much space. The house was as crowded as the rest of the city. The family of his uncle Nahshon lived in this house too and, of course, Grandfather.
Meshullam had not gotten used to the big city. Everything was so cramped, so close together, so crowded. It was worse than usual now. Thousands had fled to Jerusalem from the countryside. And now the Assyrians were outside the city, besieging the gates. Nobody could go in or out. Their life was bounded by the walls of the city, their movements enclosed by its gates. Meshullam longed to walk through fields again, to wander through orchards and hurry through scrub and forest. But he knew they could not have remained at home. It was too dangerous.
He wondered what was happening there now. Had the Assyrians already taken Moresheth-Gath? Had they destroyed the houses, torn down the walls, felled the fruit trees and olive groves? Had the Assyrians swept across the country and taken the towns and cities? Tonight he could not help but think of the cities that were under siege in the west, the people that hid behind walls that were not as well fortified as those of Jerusalem. Would they be able to hold out? If not, what would happen to them in the hands of the Assyrians? Reports of their cruelty had travelled ahead of the army. Could the people expect any mercy?
In the dark Meshullam uttered a short prayer: “LORD God,