Читать книгу Daughter of Lachish - Tim Frank - Страница 7

In the east, above the outline of the hills, the pale sky heralded the breaking of a new day. The light of morning grew ever brighter, reflected in the western sky in a subdued red glow. As the shadows waned and the tide of light reached the valley floors, the ranks of the Assyrian army became plain to see. Myriads upon myriads surrounded the city of Lachish, ready to storm its walls. The standards of the gods were held aloft before each regiment. The rows of helmets stood as if in devotion to the greater powers they followed.

The sun rose in the east and its rays glinted on the weaponry of the defenders on the city wall. The trumpet blew. Assyria attacked. First the archers stepped forward, coming up the hill and sending a hail of arrows upon the men on the walls of Lachish. Behind them the siege machines were pushed up the hill. As the advance of the archers slowed, the siege machines passed through their lines and continued their crawl up the ramp. The ranks of the archers closed immediately behind them and followed these monsters of war up the hill. Arrows struck the machines like enraged bees stinging an intruder. As they got closer to the wall, stones and torches, chariot wheels and furniture were thrown from above—anything that might inflict some damage.

It was time to wet the sides of the machine. Itur-Ea filled the ladle and poured the first scoop over the front. The archers beside Itur-Ea methodically loaded their bows and released the arrows.

They had arrived under the city wall. The machines were rolled into position, the brakes applied, and the battering rams started swinging. Thump! Itur-Ea felt the tremor as the ram struck the wall. To his left and right more machines were pounding the city defenses. The blows were aimed at cracks left by previous attacks. Sooner or later the cracks would widen and the walls would crumble.

“Chain coming down!” Itur-Ea glimpsed it through the window. The siege machine captain at once shouted orders. This time they wouldn’t allow the machine to be disarmed again. The crew down below stopped swinging the boom and, on the captain’s signal, four soldiers protected by shield-bearers, rushed forward. Even though one was killed by enemy fire, the others were able to get hooks into the chain. Pulling hard, they managed to rip one end of the chain out of the defenders’ hands. The chain snapped against the wall, hitting an Assyrian shield-bearer so hard that he went down in agony. But the threat was over for the moment and the battering ram resumed striking the wall.

The defenders did not give up, tried harder still to disable the siege machines. They let down a stone suspended from a rope. A hole was bored in its centre where the rope was attached. The men of Lachish swung it like a pendulum. The rope became ensnared in the battering ram of a machine, halted the constant attack on the wall for a moment. But it proved no hindrance to the determination of the Assyrian soldiers. Itur-Ea saw the stone thud to the ground, the cut rope swinging harmlessly against the wall.

The sun stood clear in the eastern sky by now. Itur-Ea was unsure how much time had passed. Suddenly he heard a loud, shattering sound and the screams of terrified men. Itur-Ea looked to the left. The defenders had managed to roll an enormous boulder onto the next siege machine. The timber framing had not withstood the force of the impact and had crumpled and broken. Loud cheers from the city wall greeted the destruction. Another huge stone was pushed from above and further shattered the machine.

“Ishtar, have mercy!” Itur-Ea’s friend Naid-Marduk had been in that machine. There seemed little hope, as the men of Lachish targeted the heap of timber, hides, and men, throwing torches and shooting arrows. The unthinkable happened: the wreckage caught fire. Flames fed on the wood and singed the leather. Smoke rose from the burning heap, drifted against the city wall, was spread upwards, and clouded the sky. The stench was penetrating.

Itur-Ea worked feverishly. He drenched the left side of his siege machine. He had to protect it. It would be a disaster if this machine too was severely damaged or caught fire. He could feel the heat. How much more could it take? At this rate the water in the caldron wouldn’t last long. He was able to get the captain’s attention. “Captain, we require more water, sir.”

“Urgent?”

“Yes sir, priority two.”

The captain sent a messenger with the request.

The worry must have distracted him, for Itur-Ea did not see the rock that struck his helmet. In pain, he let go of the ladle and fell onto the deck. Everything seemed to disappear into a haze and stars of light danced before his eyes. Itur-Ea willed himself to crawl to the caldron. He splashed water over his face. Still dazed, he stood up slowly. As he looked over the side he again became aware of the fire smoldering not far away. No time to waste! He grabbed the ladle.

It seemed like an eternity until a mule with jars of water arrived. Making its way through the rows was not easy. The siege machine captain helped to haul the jar onto the upper deck before pouring the water into the caldron. As the mule made its way to the next machine it went down, pierced by arrows.

The siege machine shook. It had been struck by a large stone. Itur-Ea could hear it groan and creak, but the bracing did not give way. They must have launched more boulders, thought Itur-Ea close to panic. But as he peered forward he realized that the rocks now falling down on them were not thrown by men. They had been dislodged out of the wall. It was finally crumbling! An avalanche of stones fell around the siege machines as a whole section of the wall gave way. The wooden galleries on top of the wall dropped down, the defenders scurrying to flee the collapsing structures. The inner side of the wall still stood—strong, yet damaged and vulnerable.

The Assyrian storm troops seized the opportunity and climbed over the rubble, scaling the wall. After the initial shock, the men of Lachish defended the breach violently. Dozens of Assyrians fell by their swords. But wave after wave of attackers pushed forward, climbing over fallen comrades and foes.

Around the city, the Assyrian army stormed the walls. Ladders were carried up and leaned against the walls. And the first attackers began to penetrate Lachish.

* * *

As Simchah moved the grindstone back and forth, Rivkah poured grains of barley onto the quern. They were gathered up in Simchah’s next movement, crushed under the stone and ground to flour.

“Put a few more on, Rivkah!”

“Hey, the flour will be far too coarse if I pour on too much barley at a time. And I don’t want to be around when your mother looks at the flour then.”

“But just look how much we still have to do!” Simchah nodded towards the bowl of barley beside Rivkah.

“Not that much, really.” Rivkah drew up her eyebrows. “I wished we had more. At least then we would get bigger chunks of bread.”

“I suppose you’re right. But why do I have to do it now?” Simchah complained.

“I don’t know, but I already had to do it at home this morning. So stop complaining!”

“You’re nearly as bad as my mother. And you’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Ah, come on Simchah. I’m just pointing out the obvious. I am helping you after all.”

“Thanks, but it’s still not fair.” Simchah clearly had other things in mind than preparing tomorrow’s bread.

“Your mother would probably have you doing something else if you weren’t occupied with the flour. So don’t hurry too much,” Rivkah whispered.

“But I really want to find out what’s been happening at the southern wall. They’ve been fighting since dawn. Soldiers are hurrying along the street from the citadel. Even my father has gone to fight today,” Simchah complained.

Yes, today was different. Everybody sensed it. People were following any news from the clashes with apprehension. Rivkah had helped around the house earlier today, but then slipped off to see Simchah at the first opportunity. Mother was so irritable and unreasonable today. Even Shomer got confused. You were never quite sure just what you were supposed to be doing. First she sent Rivkah to the loom, then realized she didn’t have the wool she wanted for the fabric; next she told her to get more water and, after frantically searching for an empty jar, had thought it too dangerous to go to the well; then she had given dozens of contradictory orders and became upset when Rivkah wasn’t doing what she had told her. Mother must be totally confused. But then this siege got to quite a few people. Father, of course, was just busy in his workshop, hardly saying a word. He certainly didn’t want any girls standing in the way.

“Rivkah, another handful.”

“Sorry.” Rivkah hadn’t paid any attention. She poured a few more grains onto the quern.

“Do you think it’s true?”

“Think what is true?” Rivkah asked.

“That some people are selling their jewelry just to get a bit more grain?”

“Oh, I can believe some people are doing it. They are hungry.”

“But their jewelry!” Simchah put in vehemently. “It’s normally so expensive. And they won’t be getting the full price now.”

“No, they’re not getting a good price,” Rivkah agreed.

“I would never give away my shell necklace.”

Simchah had a beautiful necklace of white shells and narrow, red faience beads. She wore it only on special occasions, but the two girls had looked at it together many times, admiring its beauty. Once, Simchah had even allowed Rivkah to try it on.

“But your necklace is special, Simchah. Nobody would give that away. Some people just sell what they don’t need. Even you said that you’d be glad to get rid of your earrings.”

“Only if I would get new ones, I said. Mine don’t really suit me. They’re just too plain. No decoration, no color at all. I really need to get some nice ones. Do you think anybody would sell me theirs?”

“And how would you pay? Barley?”

“I could put a bit away each day. Nobody would notice and I’ll just eat a bit less.”

“You would never be able to pull that off. You’re already starving now. Even if it’s only barley bread, you’ll still want something to eat.”

“I reckon I could do it.” Simchah sounded offended.

“But what if your parents found out? They wouldn’t be happy,” Rivkah put in another word of caution.

“They won’t find out. I’ll make sure of that. I know where I’ll put the grain.”

“Will it be safe from mice there?”

The question seemed to throw Simchah a bit. She frowned, moved her tongue across her lips and answered slowly, “Yes, it’ll be alright. I just have to ensure the lid fits well.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea? It does sound a bit risky.”

“It’s the best way to get some new earrings soon. I desperately need them.” Simchah’s mind seemed set. She moved the stone furiously across the quern.

Suddenly she stopped. “Hold on. How much to go?”

Rivkah showed her the bowl. There wasn’t much barley left in it.

“Just two more handfuls, Rivkah. I’ll put the rest away.”

Rivkah giggled, “Suddenly you’ll be all keen to grind the flour each day. Just imagine that.”

Simchah looked directly into Rivkah’s eyes. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“No Simchah, I will not tell anyone. I’m your friend.”

* * *

Only one siege machine was still battering the walls of Lachish. The others stood, surrounded by the rubble of the crumbling city defenses, as battle platforms. Archers crowded on their decks providing cover for the stormers pouring into the city.

The Assyrians met stiff resistance. The Judahites drove chariots up the counterramp, turning the siege into a field battle. But the close-quarter fighting gave the unwieldy vehicles no advantage. Horses and drivers fell.

It did not take long until Assyrian troops had conquered the first tower. Shouts of triumph came from the soldiers now standing on the open platform. They were echoed by those still outside the walls. Without the threat of attacks from above, ladders were placed against the tower and a lieutenant led his platoon of archers upwards. From the elevated position they commanded a wide area, inflicting further damage on the defenders.

Itur-Ea took a deep gulp from his water flask. His lips were dry and his throat ached. The occasional arrow still struck the siege machine, but there was hardly any danger of torches reaching it now. He no longer had to keep the sides moist.

Looking back over the siege ramp and across to the hill, Itur-Ea could see the Assyrian camp and nearby the seat of the king, the great Sennacherib. There was a hive of activity with messengers arriving at, and departing from, the command center. The king must be assured of victory now.

Soon the order came for the siege machines to withdraw from the southwestern ramp. They could do no more damage to the city walls and stood in the way of the attackers entering Lachish. They had done their part.

It was a staged withdrawal. One machine after the other descended the ramp past lines of soldiers climbing up the hill.

After the heat of battle, Itur-Ea felt strangely weak and tired when he returned to the camp. He ate some bread and grapes—not much, but it felt good. He couldn’t rest long anyway; the battle still continued. They would take the city, he was sure, but not without more fighting. It seemed those Judahites were eager to fight to the bitter end. Somehow they were not able to accept the fact of their weakness when faced with the might of Assyria. Their stubbornness may have something to do with their trust in that strange god of theirs. The city itself did not even have its own god, he had heard it said. Rather, they had one god for all of Judah—the god of Jerusalem. This god, they were convinced, could never bow to Ashur. Now they were taught their lesson.

* * *

“They have broken into the city! The Assyrians have breached the wall!”

Simchah’s father rushed into the house, the sword strapped to his side. Simchah’s mother hurried down the ladder from the upper floor. Her face looked ashen. “What did you say . . . ?” she asked with a wavering voice.

“The Assyrians are in the city. They are fighting back our men. They will come here,” Simchah’s father shouted in wide-eyed panic. When his wife looked at him, she gasped. Now that he leaned against the wall, the wound on his left shoulder showed clearly. It was a deep, open gash. He was losing blood quickly.

Rivkah looked at him in horror. It took some time for what had happened to sink in. She saw Simchah’s father, pale, exhausted, weakened, and yet agitated, ready to fight. As she glimpsed Simchah’s mother moving towards her husband to tend to the wound, she suddenly realized what she had to do. Her family! They would be in trouble!

“I have to go back home,” she told Simchah.

“Wait!” Simchah pleaded, but Rivkah got up and was already moving to the door. She didn’t take any heed of the protests of Simchah’s father as he shouted that it wouldn’t be safe for her to go into the street. Rivkah was already out of the door and couldn’t catch the warnings of Simchah’s mother. She ran down the street. Home! She had to get to them. Mother! Father! Tears were streaming down her face. She knew they were in danger. What if they would die today? She couldn’t leave them alone now. She’d rather die with them. Oh, why had she gone away this morning? Why hadn’t she stayed at home? Everybody had felt the danger today. And she had left her family, why? Just because she didn’t want to work, because her mother had been a bit upset and got a few things wrong. It all seemed so trivial now, so stupid. Rivkah stumbled and fell. Her knees and hands hurt and stung. Sobbing, she got up again and hurried on down the street.

As she rounded the corner, she saw something coming towards her. A grey furry, animal with light brown splotches ran down the street and passed her. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her arm and could see clearly. “Kaleb!” she shouted. The dog didn’t stop. “Kaleb, Kaleb!” Rivkah called again. He stopped, turned around and wagged his tail, but didn’t move. Rivkah ran towards him. She threw her arms around him. “You can’t go there. They’re fighting down that way. Come with me!” She grasped the fur on his back and dragged the dog with her. At first he struggled against her, but then relaxed and let himself be led. The two ran towards the main road, Rivkah in a hurry, bending down to clutch the dog, Kaleb trotting along reluctantly.

Rivkah thought she could hear noises coming from the main road. Shouts, the clash of iron, moaning, the hollow thud of shields. Had the battle reached the main road already? Was she too late? She hurried on, dragging Kaleb with her. Suddenly arms encircled her shoulders, gently but firmly, and held her back. “You can’t go there, child.”

Rivkah let go of Kaleb and whirled around. It was a woman. Rivkah noticed the delicate nose-ring, the precious earrings only partly hidden by the shawl the woman had draped over her head, the eye-shadow which gave her eyes that delicate, yet sad look. She wore fine clothes, better than Rivkah’s mother would ever wear. Who was she?

“You can’t go there,” the woman repeated. “They are fighting on the main road, if the Assyrians haven’t killed everybody already.”

“But my family! I have to get home! I have to reach them!” Rivkah cried.

“Where do they live?” the woman asked gently.

“On the main road, near the tanners’ lane.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. You won’t get there. The Assyrians are totally in control of that area. Their soldiers are continually passing up and down the main road. Even if you were a bird of the air, they would shoot you with their arrows if you tried to fly there.”

Kaleb looked up at them unsure what to do. He cowered down confused, looking around him. He flinched when Rivkah stamped her foot. “But I have to see them,” she insisted. “I can’t leave them alone now. I need to talk to my mother, even if I die!” She struggled to free herself, but the woman held her.

“It’s no use, child. You will not get there.”

The realization struck Rivkah. “Too late!”

She stood still. “Too late,” she echoed again. She gave a stifled cry as her legs buckled underneath her. Everything felt black and empty. The woman held her.

“Come on, we have to get away,” the woman pleaded.

Rivkah took a deep breath and tried to steady herself, tried to get command over her body. She shook herself as if to wake from a bad dream. Slowly, feeling returned to her legs. “And now . . . what happens now?” she asked, still in a daze.

“We have to hide. Come!” The woman turned her around and led her by the arm down the street. Trembling Rivkah allowed herself to be guided. Suddenly she stopped. “Kaleb!” She turned her head and saw Kaleb still sitting there. “And the dog?”

“What about the dog?” the woman asked.

“It’s Kaleb,” Rivkah answered as if in explanation. The woman didn’t seem to understand. But Rivkah just shouted, “Kaleb, Kaleb!” The dog leapt up and came to her side immediately. He licked her hand and jumped up, nuzzling her. “I can’t leave him behind.”

The woman sighed. “Bring him along then. But come now!”

The three figures hurried through the empty street. The tall woman walking with determined steps and holding the girl’s arm; the girl following and grasping the dog’s fur tightly; the dog scuttling along bewildered, yet alert.

“Where are we going? To your home?” Rivkah asked.

“No,” the woman shook her head. “The Assyrians will be there, too, by now. It’s right in the centre of the city. We have to get somewhere close to the wall, some place the enemy is not really interested in. We have to find a nook where we can hide. If we hold out, there’s still a chance we can flee the city before they raze it to the ground.”

The woman led them down several streets. It seemed to Rivkah that she wasn’t taking the most direct route. At a corner the woman stopped and peered around the house wall. “Hurry!” She crossed the street and dragged Rivkah into a lane near the city wall. There she chose an old shed and gestured to Rivkah to go in. Then she followed herself, before Kaleb scampered after them. The dirt floor was covered with a thin layer of straw in places. Rivkah thought she could even smell the faint odor of goats, but no animals had been here recently. In one corner stood an old storage jar, while the pieces of a cooking pot were scattered over the floor. A few implements leaned against the walls. What was this handle for? A winnowing fork?

The house that the shed formed part of seemed deserted. It was near the counterramp the defenders of Lachish had constructed. It appeared as if the house had suffered somewhat from the battle. Rivkah thought she had seen rubble toward the back of the yard before they ducked into the shed. Weren’t there some stray arrows and a sling stone in the lane outside? She could hear the shouts of the Assyrian soldiers only a block away.

“Why did we come here, so close to the fighting?” she asked, perplexed.

“They are not fighting here anymore,” the woman assured her. “We’ll be safest here. They won’t look so close to the breach. The battle has passed on.”

Rivkah sat on the dirt floor, leaning back against the wall. Her eyes closed, she lifted her head, regaining her breath. Feeling the woman looking at her, she opened the eyes and gave her a hesitant glance. The woman smiled back, “Here we are.”

Rivkah didn’t know what to say, but managed a cautious nod.

“I am Bath-Shua,” the woman told her. The name didn’t mean anything to Rivkah, though she was sure she had seen the woman many times before. She just didn’t know where and when. Rivkah just muttered yes and looked away. The woman, however, seemed to expect more and spoke again, “And your name, what’s your name, girl?”

“Rivkah.”

“The daughter of the blacksmith?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.”

The woman nodded and lightly brushed the dirt floor with her hand. Did the gesture trigger a memory? Rivkah suddenly thought she knew where she had seen the woman. She did not know why, but somehow the question burst out, “Do you live . . . do you live in the citadel?”

The woman smiled at her. “The citadel? No, but I am in the citadel quite often. And I do live close to it.”

Rivkah waited for a further explanation, but there was none. The woman removed the shawl covering her head and combed her hands through her long, silky hair, brushing it back from her face.

Turning to Rivkah again, she broke the silence. “Well, it seems we’ll have to sit here for a while. We cannot get out of the city now. Maybe later. For the moment we are safe here.”

Safe? Rivkah could clearly hear the sounds of war. They were not far from danger. How could she feel safe? And yet this woman appeared so confident, so quiet and assured that Rivkah felt less threatened in her presence. The battle noise didn’t overwhelm her. Like the distant rushing of a mighty river, it was present but not drowning out other sounds. She could hear herself breathe, could hear a fly buzzing round Kaleb’s head. He snapped at the irritating insect. It escaped his jaws again and again before it decided to settle in a distant corner of the shed. Satisfied, Kaleb turned his head and licked his fur. After a while he must have felt clean enough, for he stopped and looked at Rivkah. She took both his ears in her hands and rubbed them. “Oh, Kaleb.” The dog edged a bit closer to her and shut his eyes in satisfaction. He opened his mouth and relaxed his lower jaw, revealing a long row of sharp teeth. Rivkah stroked his neck and proceeded to run her hands over his back. Kaleb yawned lazily.

The woman watched them. “Your dog?”

“Yes,” Rivkah said, even though Kaleb did not belong to anybody. He roamed the streets a free dog. But he was her friend.

“He looks nice,” the woman commented. “Not like a lapdog, more like . . . a warrior dog, strong and skilful, fast and clever. Yet he seems so gentle.”

“He can be fierce,” Rivkah assured her.

“His name is Kaleb?”

“Yes, like the warrior of Judah,” Rivkah explained.

“A good name.”

“He is just as courageous,” Rivkah said, turning her full attention to the dog again.

“Do you know the story of Kaleb, son of Jephunneh?”

Of course Rivkah had heard stories about the great hero, but she was never tired of listening to them again. “Tell me.”

The woman seemed to have waited for the invitation. She settled down comfortably and began:

“The children of Israel had wandered many days through the wilderness. They had walked through that barren land for a long time. They longed for a good land, a land of trees and fields, of vineyards and gardens. So Moses sent twelve men to explore the land of Canaan, one from each tribe. From the tribe of Judah he chose Kaleb. He was a leader of Judah, a courageous man, a warrior among his people. He was tall and handsome, strong and clever.

“And Moses sent the men up and said to them:

‘Go up through the Negev and then go to the hill country. Observe the land and the people who live there, whether they are strong or weak, few or many. What is the land they live in, good or bad? And what towns do they live in, unwalled or fortified? What is the soil like, fertile or poor? Are there trees or not? And bring back from the fruit of the land.’

“So the men went up and explored the land. And they saw that the land was good. They saw the vineyards, the orchards, the harvested fields. They saw that the people were wealthy. They lived in big cities, fortified by strong walls. And the people seemed like giants, tall and strong. They saw that the people were skilled warriors, that they had weapons of every kind. And the men exploring the land were afraid. They hid during the day and crept close to the cities in darkness to judge their strength. And they said to each other, ‘The people here are strong and powerful. Their cities are fortified and large. We can never defeat them.’ But Kaleb was a courageous warrior and he was not afraid. He knew they would conquer the land.

“And the men took with them from the fruit of the land, from the Valley of Eshkol a cluster of grapes. Two of them carried it on a pole between them, along with some pomegranates and figs.

“And they came back to Moses and the children of Israel. They gave their account and said, ‘We went to the land to which you sent us and it does flow with milk and honey; here is its fruit. But the people in the land are powerful and the cities are fortified and very large.’ The children of Israel were afraid because of their words.”

“Were the children of Israel not courageous warriors?” Rivkah interrupted.

“Oh, they may have been. But, you know, men often lose their courage when faced with a mighty foe. And sometimes it is very real fear. After all, a great army can utterly crush a weaker people. But there is always hope,” the woman replied. Somehow the story had come dangerously close to their own situation. She continued:

“But Kaleb, he stood up before the people and said, ‘We should definitely go and take possession of the land for we can accomplish it.’ But his words did not prevail. The people complained bitterly against Moses and against the LORD. So they wandered through the desert for forty more years. All those twenty years of age and older did not enter the land of Canaan, but died in the desert. Only Kaleb, son of Jephunneh, and Joshua, son of Nun, entered the land.”

The woman was silent as if the story was over.

“But did he fight?” Rivkah asked.

“Kaleb? Oh yes, he fought. He was an important military leader. But being courageous does not always mean fighting. Kaleb stood before his people and showed them the way to follow, even in the face of strong opposition. To challenge the fear of the people, that is courage too.”

“That is courage too,” Rivkah repeated.

“Yes, when we overcome our fear and do what we are called to do, that is courage. It is hard to speak against a crowd. But Kaleb had the courage. He believed in the LORD’s promises.”

“And what happened later? Kaleb lived in the promised land, didn’t he?” Rivkah asked.

“Yes, he entered the land with the children of Israel and fought bravely as one of their leaders. Later he led the tribe of Judah and conquered the land around Hebron.” Bath-Shua pointed with her hand towards the east, where somewhere beyond this shed, beyond this city, the hills of Judah rose. “The hills of Hebron are not far from here. Sometimes you can see them in the distance from Lachish,” she explained.

“Are they near Mareshah?”

“No, farther away. But if you look towards Mareshah you might see the hills of Hebron away in the distance. Joshua apportioned Hebron to Kaleb and that is where he lived to the end of his days. He had many sons and a beautiful daughter.”

“A beautiful daughter?”

“Yes, her name was Achsah. Kaleb gave her in marriage to his nephew Othniel. For when Kaleb and his men marched against Debir he said, ‘I will give my daughter Achsah in marriage to the man who attacks and captures this town.’ Othniel was a courageous warrior and he desired Achsah because she was beautiful. And so he fought bravely against Debir and took it.”

“Did Kaleb have a beautiful wife?”

Bath-Shua lifted her eye-brows. “Kaleb had many wives.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a rich man, a leader of his tribe.”

“But why did he not love one? Was one not dearer to him than all the others?”

“He may have liked one more. And she was probably very beautiful. But Kaleb was a man. And men are not easily satisfied. They always want more. Still, Kaleb was a great man, a courageous man.”

* * *

“The gate has fallen!” The news was greeted with joy by the Assyrian troops assembled in the camp. Ready to be deployed in another phase of the attack, they stood awaiting orders. “No need for us then,” one of his comrades whispered to Itur-Ea. No, if the main defenses had fallen, there was no longer any use for the siege machines. It would be street fighting and close-quarter combat until all resistance had been crushed and the inhabitants flushed out of the city.

Something was not quite right though: a small battering ram was ordered to go into the city. Had the defenders barricaded themselves in somewhere? Were they mounting a last stand? They must be. Itur-Ea got the chance to find out. His unit was sent into the city to clean up and find any pockets of resistance. As they were marching up the roadway, prisoners were herded through the gate, out of the city. Itur-Ea had seen it all before: women dressed in dirty, shabby rags, the loss and fear clearly etched into their tear-stained faces; skinny children afraid and confused, clinging to their mothers; old men without hope or dignity, staring at the ground with empty eyes. They were clutching bundles of their most important belongings, of food and drink.

Somehow the suffering repulsed him. But it made the difference so obvious—he was part of the resplendent, victorious Assyrian army, they were the dirty, defeated scum that had been trodden into the dust.

And then Itur-Ea saw him. Head erect, looking proud and controlled, the Judahite warrior was led down the road. Even in defeat he would not submit. He wouldn’t be like that for long. The Assyrian army had ways and means to crush a proud spirit. Would he still be silent if his skin was torn off, or would he scream and squirm in agony? It was men like him that had defended the city for so long and those stubborn men would surely feel the anger of the Assyrian soldiers.

The gate was a massive structure. Of course, it was nothing in comparison with the gates of Nineveh. Still, the courtyard between the outer gate and the inner gatehouse formed a large square any city could be proud of. Surrounded by walls and towers, any enemy that had the misfortune to get stuck here would be attacked from all sides. But the inner gatehouse was even more impressive. Itur-Ea guessed it to be nearly fifty cubits long. It had three chambers on each side. Assyrian soldiers now guarded the gate.

As the unit entered Lachish, it became clear that the fight was not over yet. At the end of the road leading straight from the gate, Itur-Ea could see the Assyrian army attacking the citadel. Apparently, the defenders had fled there and were determined to fight to the end.

But Itur-Ea did not join the fight at the citadel. The captain led the unit away from the main road and into the maze of narrow streets. The first few houses they entered were empty. But then they found a family huddled together in the backroom of a house. “Look what we’ve found here!”

“Get up! Out with you!” The Assyrian soldiers shouted at the frightened group. No matter that they couldn’t understand them. The daggers in their hands talked loudly enough. Dragging some meager belongings with them, the captives were dispatched to the gate under the guard of two soldiers.

They found only a few more people hiding in houses. Most surrendered without resistance and joined the other prisoners outside the city. One man tried to defend his family. He must have been involved in the fighting earlier, for a fresh bandage covered his injured shoulder. With a determined look he brandished a sword, shouting at the soldiers. Itur-Ea stepped forward and feigned a thrust with his dagger. The man swung his sword, attempting to strike Itur-Ea. As the man committed, Itur-Ea stepped aside and the sword cut through the air. Catching the man off-balance, Itur-Ea turned around and thrust the dagger into his enemy’s chest. Easy! Blood spurted from the wound as Itur-Ea drew back the dagger. The man collapsed to the ground and breathed his last.

There was reason why he had tried to protect his family: his daughter was quite pretty, even in the rags. A couple of soldiers ensured she would not leave Lachish undefiled. That man had been a fool! Had he thought he could save his family by his sacrifice?

* * *

“Do you know the story of the hero, Keret?” Bath-Shua asked.

“I’ve heard it before, but can’t remember it,” Rivkah replied. They were still sitting in the shed waiting, though Rivkah did not know what for. Bath-Shua seemed to know. She was so calm, so unafraid. Telling stories, she made Rivkah forget the dreadful destruction around them, made her turn her mind on other things.

“Keret was a great king, a good man. He protected his people from the swift raiders. He passed judgment at the gate. He fed the orphan and heard the cause of the widow. But he did not have a son, no rightful spouse at his side.

He did take a wife, but she departed;

the second passed away before she could bear children;

the third one died in her prime;

the fourth was snatched by the plague;

the fifth Rephesh, the messenger of death, carried off;

the sixth the servants of Yam, the god of the sea, claimed;

the seventh was felled by a spear.

So Keret was crushed, his family had come to an end.”

“Did he mourn for his wives? He must have been heartbroken?”

“He may have been sad. But he was a king. It was important for him to have a son, to continue the line. He could not mourn a wife when he needed to continue his quest for an heir. All of his wives failed him, for they did not give him children. That was their role, that was why he married them. He was heartbroken because he had no son. He entered his chamber weeping and the tears streamed down his face.

“Sleep overcame him and on account of his tears the god El visited him in his dreams.

‘Why do you shed tears? Do you not have silver and gold, slaves and cattle, chariots and horses?’

“But Keret spoke and said, ‘What need do I have of silver and gold, slaves and cattle, chariots and horses? I am weeping because I have no spouse who might give me an heir.’

And the bull-god El answered: ‘Cleanse yourself and bring a sacrifice on the walls, a sheep and a ram to offer to the bull-god El, your father. Lift your hands to heaven and call upon his name. Make Baal come down with your sacrifice, the son of Dagon with your offering.

Then gather a multitude and march into the desert. On the seventh day you will come to Udam. And when Pabil, the king of that city, sends you a message, only ask for the maiden Huray.’ And Keret awoke and it was a dream.

“So he cleansed himself and went up to the walls. A sheep and a ram he did offer. He sacrificed to the bull El, his father. He made Baal come down with his sacrifices, the son of Dagon with his offering. He gathered a multitude; even the single men came, as did the newly-married and the sick.”

“Why did even the newly-married and sick have to come? Should they not stay behind?”

“Keret got everyone he could so that his army looked large. He wanted to intimidate Pabil rather than fight him. So when they came to Udam they besieged the city and Pabil became afraid. On the seventh day he sent a message to Keret, ‘Take silver and gold, slaves and cattle, chariots and horses. Take this peace offering, but do not besiege Udam.’

“But Keret sent a message back to Pabil, ‘What need have I of silver and gold, slaves and cattle, chariots and horses? Give me what I do not have. Give me the maiden Huray, the most gracious of your family, your firstborn daughter, whose grace is as the grace of Anath, whose beauty as the beauty of Athirat.’

“When the messengers carried these words to Pabil, he wailed. And the people of Udam moaned for Huray. But the maiden went and joined Keret. And he carried her to his palace as a wife to bear him children.”

“Did she have children?”

“Yes, seven sons and seven daughters. For Baal had blessed them.”

“So everything turned out well?”

“Yes, but one of his sons later rebelled against Keret when he had become old. So Keret cursed him.”

“But had Baal not blessed the family? Why would the son then rise against his father?” Rivkah was puzzled.

“Baal’s blessing gives fertility, but not peace. For he provides and makes things grow, but also incites strife and trouble.”

“And the maiden Huray? What happened to her?”

“She cared for her children and served Keret to the end of his days. She organized the household and ensured the guests were well fed at the dinner parties.”

“So Keret loved her?”

“She was the rightful spouse at his side. She fulfilled her duties as his wife admirably. And she gave him what he was hoping for—sons and daughters. Yes, Keret must have valued Huray.”

“Is that why a man marries a woman? Only to get children? Is it not because he loves the woman?”

“Oh, some men certainly love their wives. But that is not everything. They always have to think about continuing the family line, especially kings. And men are certainly attracted to women. But they are never satisfied.”

“What do you mean?”

“They seek more. Rich men may get a concubine. But they tire even of her. That’s why many men come to prostitutes. It makes them feel like the gods.”

Rivkah looked at Bath-Shua. She wanted to know more and yet she was agitated by what she heard.

“Like the gods?” she asked. The urge to find out was stronger.

“You know how Baal, the rider of the clouds, lies with women and beasts, mounts them like the sacred ram. You must have heard of Pidray, the daughter of Baal, a maiden so desirable, the daughter of mist. Whether they imitate Baal or seek union with his luscious daughter, men take their desires to the prostitute. With her their heavenly fantasies are enacted. She has to be for them whatever goddess they desire. Many worship the union of the heavenly spouses, whether it be Osiris and Isis, El and Athirat, or the LORD and his Asherah.”

“They do? You know?” Rivkah knew that some of the happenings during the religious festivals were hidden from the children, but what Bath-Shua told her was so new it threw her old certainties into confusion.

A frown went across Bath-Shua’s face. “I know. I am one.”

Rivkah hardly dared to ask, “What?”

“A prostitute.” Bath-Shua said nothing more. She lowered her face.

Rivkah opened her mouth but did not speak. A cold shudder went down her spine. Quietly she edged further away from Bath-Shua.”

“My father would never do that!” The challenge burst out.

“Your father is a man,” Bath-Shua replied quietly.

“But he never came to you,” Rivkah insisted.

Bath-Shua looked at her sadly. “Let’s not talk about this any more.”

“He never comes to you, does he?” Rivkah pleaded. When Bath-Shua did not answer she nearly shouted, “Does he?”

“Shh!” Bath-Shua signaled her to be quiet. “I shouldn’t have told you that much. I’m sorry.” She came closer towards Rivkah as if she wanted to comfort her. But Rivkah moved farther away. She didn’t want that woman to touch her.

Kaleb growled, but not at Bath-Shua. His attention was directed towards the lane outside. And now Rivkah could hear the footsteps. Voices carried into the little shed, though Rivkah couldn’t understand them. It didn’t sound like Hebrew. They must be Assyrians.

Kaleb became tense. His growl got louder. Rivkah held on to him, frozen in fear. Kaleb stood up and moved forward, even though Rivkah tried to hold him back. It sounded as if the men were quite close now. Suddenly Kaleb growled loudly, barked and rushed forward. He leapt over the low wall in front of the shed. Rivkah tried to stop him. She went after Kaleb and was ready to follow him over the wall. But Bath-Shua jumped onto Rivkah and wrestled her down, pressing her to the floor behind the low wall. Rivkah struggled and kicked, but Bath-Shua held her with an iron grip. She wanted to scream but Bath-Shua clasped her hand over Rivkah’s mouth. She bit Bath-Shua’s hand. Bath-Shua clearly felt the pain, but did not loosen her grip.

Outside in the lane the fight was fiercer. Rivkah could hear Kaleb barking and growling. She could hear the men shouting and screaming. What was happening out there?

* * *

Itur-Ea whirled around. He thought he’d heard a growl. There were only the three of them in this small lane near the southern wall. Suddenly it was upon him. From behind some stones darted a snarling ball of fur and fangs that sank its teeth into Itur-Ea’s arm. Itur-Ea tried to ward it off. His comrades, Arad-Nergal and Samaku, thrust their daggers into the dog as it hung onto Itur-Ea. He screamed in rage and pain. Finally the animal gave up the struggle and fell limp to the ground. Itur-Ea kicked it. “Mongrel!” Without looking any further the three of them hurried out of the lane.

* * *

The sound of the soldiers’ footsteps echoed in the lane as they hastened away and seemed to fade in the distance. Out in the lane it was eerily quiet. Rivkah no longer struggled. She just lay there, afraid and exhausted. Bath-Shua relaxed her grip and took her hand off Rivkah’s mouth. Then she let her go and stood up. Slowly Rivkah got to her knees. Bath-Shua helped her stand up. Rivkah shook the dust off her clothes.

Afraid of what she would see, Rivkah looked over the wall into the lane. She caught her breath. There, lying in the middle of the lane was Kaleb. He didn’t move. He made no sound. Blood was oozing from his side. She hesitated a moment, then ran round the wall and through the yard entrance into the lane. She threw herself down beside Kaleb, took his head into her hands and cradled him in her lap. There was no response. He had already gone. “Kaleb, oh Kaleb!” Rivkah sobbed his name. She stroked the blood-spattered fur, moving her hands across the limp body. She saw the knife wounds in his side out of which the blood still flowed. She did not try to stop it. Leaning down she kissed the dog’s head. Tears welled up and fell on his nose.

“He really is a hero, a warrior.” Bath-Shua had come and knelt beside Rivkah. “He fought to protect you. He fought bravely and with courage. But he paid a warrior’s price: he gave his life.” Bath-Shua touched Kaleb. Rivkah didn’t move. The words hardly got through to her. She struggled for breath as her throat closed. Finally the loud sobs broke out of her chest. She cried freely now, broken only by moans of anguish. Bath-Shua let her be.

When Rivkah’s breathing became more regular and her weeping ebbed, Bath-Shua got up. “Come, we must bury him now.”

Rivkah shook her head. She wasn’t ready to bury Kaleb. She wanted him to live. Was he really dead?

Bath-Shua stood by as Rivkah fondled Kaleb’s fur. The flow of blood was starting to dry.

Bath-Shua looked around worried. She put her hand on Rivkah’s shoulder and said: “Rivkah, we really can’t leave him here. There’s not much time. A warrior like Kaleb deserves a burial. We have to do it.”

Rivkah looked at her blankly. She gathered the will to get up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

Bath-Shua leaned down. “We’ll carry him over there to the collapsed wall.” She indicated the pile of rubble with her head. When Rivkah didn’t move she added, “Help me, Rivkah.”

Rivkah lifted Kaleb’s head and held him by his front legs. Together they carried him to the wall. Bath-Shua’s nice clothes became stained with the dog’s blood. She didn’t seem to notice.

Carefully they put Kaleb’s body down in front of the fallen house wall. Bath-Shua moved away the stones and mud bricks to make a space in the rubble. “We have to lift him in here.” They laid Kaleb in the hollow. Rivkah stroked his head one last time. She didn’t look as Bath-Shua piled stones and bricks on the dog. “Here rests a great warrior,” Bath-Shua said. She mumbled a short prayer and cursed anyone who would disturb the burial place. Then she took Rivkah’s hand. “We have been in the street for too long. We have to hide. What if the soldiers return?” Bath-Shua led Rivkah back to the shed. At the entrance she turned and said, “If you stand up you can see Kaleb’s grave from here.” Rivkah looked. She sighed and then sat down, leaning with her back against the wall.