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
