I have to slide my fingers down the teat, she had thought. Trying this technique she got a thin squirt of milk from the udder, which even landed in the bowl. Try as she might, though, she had not been able to coax any more milk from those teats. Meanwhile the goat had become irritated and kicked Rivkah. She no longer stood still. Rivkah trembled. She wanted to get this right! Finally Naarah had come over, looked at the few drops of milk in the bowl and the nervous goat and told Rivkah to get up.
Well, Naarah had told her in no uncertain terms how useless she was—not even able to milk a goat. Naarah had finished the milking and had made Rivkah carry the bowl with milk back to the cave. Since then Rivkah avoided the goats at milking time. She did not want to show her ineptitude again. She always found something else to do. Today it was foraging for food.
While the two men searched through the open forest, Rivkah wandered through the clearings. She found a good patch of sorrel. Using a small flint knife she cut the leaves off. That was easier than plucking them. And with sorrel it was totally impossible to pull the whole plant out.
Rivkah hummed a tune as she worked. She could remember only some of the words and did not even attempt to sing them. They spoke of love and longing, that much she knew, but the music expressed those feelings far more deeply than words ever could. She dreamed of a prince who would drive out the Assyrians and rebuild Lachish, a hero who would ask her, Rivkah, to be at his side to bring the city to life again. How Naarah would look then! And her parents would be so proud of her. But they were no more. As the melody became more melancholy so her thoughts turned to the people and places she had lost. With pained expression she repeated the sorrowful chorus of the tune.
Silent now, Rivkah suddenly noticed that she had cut more than enough sorrel. It didn’t taste that good on its own. People would also want something else. She had to see what more she could find. She stuffed the leaves into the bundle and walked on.
It was then that she noticed the figure at the edge of the clearing. A man stepped out of the shadow of a tree. It wasn’t Amnon or Joab, Rivkah could see that immediately. She froze, uncertain what to do. Panic crept up in her. It seemed as if the man had watched her for some time. He came towards her. He was a Judahite. His clothes showed that. They must have been very nice clothes once, those of a rich man. But now they were torn and dirty.
“Shalom.”
Rivkah didn’t know how to respond to his greeting. Her instincts told her to keep quiet. But then she thought of Joab and Amnon. How could she alert them that there was someone else in the woods?
“Shalom, traveler,” Rivkah said loudly.
“How do you know I am a traveler?” the stranger asked.
“The towns and villages here have been destroyed by the Assyrian army, my lord.” Rivkah kept up the loud voice.
“That is true,” acknowledged the man. “But what are you doing out here?”
“I am gathering herbs and leaves.”
“So far from a village?”
Rivkah did not want to reveal or talk about the cave they lived in. In these times you couldn’t really trust anyone. It would be best he didn’t know.
“The herbs are best here.” It sounded like a good enough reason. Of course, Rivkah had never really looked for herbs before she started living in the cave. But it was true: this forest did yield the best green plants in the areas she had covered with Ayalah so far.
The man did not look convinced.
“So where are you from, girl?”
“What do you mean, my lord?” Rivkah tried to deflect the question.
“What is your town or village?” the man asked.
Rivkah didn’t answer at once. Somehow she did not want to mention Lachish. But what else should she say? She didn’t even know the names of any of the other villages in this area. In that moment her conversation with Ayalah came to mind. And so it was, that the name of the village Amnon and his family came from quietly passed her lips, “Shechar.”
“Shechar? But didn’t the Assyrians destroy that village, too?”
Rivkah did not know what to say.
The silence that followed felt uncomfortable. The man clearly expected an answer and wanted to press further. How could she explain? Just then a twig snapped loudly somewhere to the right of Rivkah. Both she and the man turned towards the sound.
It was Amnon, striding into the clearing. Rivkah couldn’t see Joab.
Amnon greeted the stranger, “Shalom my friend.”
The man responded, “Shalom.”
He was clearly surprised by Amnon’s confidence.
Amnon walked right to the centre of the clearing, beckoned the man to come closer and sat down. Reluctantly the man walked towards Amnon and seated himself on the ground opposite him.
“Let us talk plainly,” Amnon began.
“So be it,” the man affirmed, casting a fleeting glance at Rivkah as she came nearer to listen to what was said.
“I can see you are a Judahite.” Amnon looked at the man’s clothes.
“I am,” the man confirmed.
“So are we,” Amnon continued. “We all know about the calamity that has befallen our land. These are troubled times. We have to be cautious and yet we have to help each other. As for us, we are simple peasants, living in the hills. But tell me about you, my friend! What brings you here? You do not look like a peasant.”
“No, I am the secretary to the governor of Libnah.” As he spoke he seemed to have decided to trust this peasant who was welcoming him as confidently as if he sat in the city gate and not on the ground in a remote forest.
“I am Beriah, son of Jesher. For two years I have been the governor’s secretary in Libnah. The Assyrians have attacked Libnah. The city is still resisting, but unless it gets help, it will fall. When we saw the advance units scouting the land, we knew that the Assyrians were about to come against the city. I was sent to Jerusalem to warn the king and ask again for reinforcements. I took two men with me. We escaped just in time. Soon the country was swarming with Assyrian soldiers. We constantly had to be on our guard. We did not travel along the main roads, so our journey to Jerusalem was slow. But when we arrived there we soon realized that Jerusalem was completely encircled by the Assyrians. There was no way we could get through the siege lines to bring a message to the king. Nor would the king be able to send his soldiers out of the city—not without a battle at least. Our mission had been to no avail. I finally decided to send one of the men to try and make it through the lines to Jerusalem. He did not succeed. We saw his body the next morning, thrust on a spear.”
“Horrible!” Amnon showed his disgust at Assyrian cruelty.
“The Assyrians are merciless. I knew we had to flee. Who knows, maybe the man had told the Assyrians of our presence? So we made our way back to Libnah again. When I saw the city from afar my heart stood still. The whole countryside around it was covered with Assyrian soldiers. Like ants around a dead jackal, they swarmed around the city. Libnah is not dead yet. It is still fighting. But it cannot withstand the might of the Assyrian army forever. For this is the main unit of the Assyrians. The force surrounding Jerusalem is a small band by comparison. And Libnah is not Jerusalem. I would trust Jerusalem to hold out against the mightiest army. Its walls are strong, its towers high and thick. It has supplies for thousands. But not little Libnah. We watched the city from a distance for two days. But then we were discovered when we were getting water. I escaped, my comrade did not.”
Beriah said no more. He swallowed hard. Grief and concern clearly showed on his face.
“Now you have come here?”
“Yes, I fled into the hills. I cannot reach Libnah, cannot get to Jerusalem.”
“You are alone now?”