Read Delilah: A Novel Online

Authors: India Edghill

Delilah: A Novel (41 page)

BOOK: Delilah: A Novel
7.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

 

 

 

“Now Delilah had given great Samson into the hands of his enemies, into the hands of the rulers of the Five Cities. And they filled her hands with gems and gold and silver, and she went away laughing . . .”

 

Returning to Ascalon, dwelling once more as a priestess within the Great House of Atargatis—I had thought those would be hard things. But I was wrong. I had lived all my life in that Temple; my body moved instinctively through the rituals required of me. I think very few noted that my heart had changed.

Certainly Derceto did not. Before her, I became a false Delilah, one whose only wish was to claim the rewards promised her. The day I awoke back in my own bed, I began to play a part, to be what Derceto wished to see when she looked upon me. That was why I asked at once to see the High Priestess and why, when she granted that request, I demanded the reward the Five Cities had promised me.

“For I have done all asked of me, and more. May I not claim what is due to me?”

When I asked that, Derceto smiled; the taut planes of her face softened, her rigid stance eased. Clearly she had feared I’d fallen into the
same trap as had Aylah, become tainted by love for Samson. My words reassured Derceto that I still belonged to her.

“Of course, Delilah. Think upon what you most wish to have, and I will arrange the matter myself.” The High Priestess laid her hand upon my cheek. “All will be as promised. Now let us rejoice that you returned safely, and all will be as it was—as if nothing ever happened to take you from us.”

I bowed, and thanked her, and walked away smiling. High Priestess Derceto had believed me; me and her own lies. There was nothing else I could do now. Nothing but wait, as Samson had bidden me.

“Have faith, and wait.”

As if nothing had ever happened.

 

At first, I thought I would at least have some word from Orev, but soon I realized that, even if Orev came to Ascalon, never would he be allowed to speak with me. So I stopped hoping for even that much consolation. I would not speak of what had passed during the days I had beguiled Samson—but that was set down to my credit. I had acted on Lady Ascalon’s behalf, the glory not mine, but Ascalon’s. To my other virtues, I now added modesty.

Nor would I listen to tales of Samson’s ordeal as Dagon’s slave. I had done with him, I said. I had set a honey-trap for a fool, and caught him through his own folly. He was nothing to me now.

“Have faith, and wait.”

But I had paid a price for the success of our desperate scheming. I could no longer dance. Oh, I could sway my body to the music, I could move my feet in the proper steps. But the joyous fire no longer burned within me. When I danced before Our Lady, I knew that what I offered now only grieved Her.

No one else seemed to notice anything amiss—save Sharissit. The Dance Priestess gazed long at me after the first time I danced again, and I slid my own eyes away from the deep sadness in hers.

I tried not to care. The new moon drew ever nearer; the new Great House of Dagon in Gaza would be dedicated only a few days hence. And Dagon’s great prize, Samson, was to be displayed before the high altar, that all might see the power of the Five Cities—and the weakness of the Hebrew god.

 

Once again I begged that I might come before the High Priestess—this time, I sent word that I would ask a boon of her. Her reply was swift: yes, Delilah might come before her and ask.

I smiled, and thanked the little New Moon who had carried my message. The child stared at me wide-eyed, and for a heartbeat I saw myself through her eyes: the Priestess Delilah, who had conquered over Samson. A Full Moon of Atargatis. A glory to the goddess’s House. My mouth tasted sour, suddenly, and I could not meet the New Moon’s shining, eager eyes. Silently, I sent the child away again. Then I called for my maidservants and began to prepare myself to confront High Priestess Derceto.

I took as much care that day as if I adorned myself to act as Goddess-on-Earth. When I was ready, I looked upon myself in the smooth circle of my mirror, to ensure that nothing of the woman I had become lay revealed. I saw only a priestess’s face, a perfect mask. Delilah Moondancer stood once again ready to do as she was bidden.
As if nothing had ever happened . . 
.

I set the mirror aside and went to perform the next steps in the deadly dance I had begun the day I looked upon Aylah’s sister-token lying on High Priestess Derceto’s open hand. The next moves should be simple; I reminded myself to beware the snare of pride.

So when I knelt before Derceto, I became a true suppliant. What I asked of her, I desired so greatly that I let tears well into my eyes—a flaw that only perfected my plea. “You go to Gaza, to the Dedication Festival at the new Great Temple of Dagon. I beg of you, take me to attend upon you there.”

She gazed at me with those opaque eyes I had once thought so kind, so
holy. “Will not the sight of the man Samson pain you, Delilah? You need not go only because you think it will please me to see you so strong.”

“That does not matter; I must go. I must see him humbled less than a slave. I must see him again that Aylah may truly be avenged.” Then I remembered that I need not beg, that I could claim this as my right. “Let this be my gift for leading the Sun Partridge Dances.” Dances I had danced long ago, when I thought I knew my future. “Now I know why I never asked for it before.”

Each word true; I waited, untroubled. If Derceto would not take me in her entourage, I would walk to Gaza myself. Gaza lay only half a day’s journey south of Ascalon; I could walk the road easily. But it would be simpler and safer if Derceto would grant my request. She continued to study my face, said at last, “Very well, Delilah. You may accompany me to Gaza.” The High Priestess smiled, as if indulging a daughter’s whim. “And if you change your mind—”

“I shall not,” I said, and then thanked her with all proper ceremony and went away, to wait until the time came to travel to Gaza.

To Samson.

 

Gaza was not the gem among cities that Ascalon was; strength, rather than beauty, was its domain. The Great House of Dagon reflected this difference—Dagon’s new temple dominated the city of Gaza rather than graced it.

I barely noticed, for all my heart and mind was fixed upon the coming ceremony: the dedication that would sanctify the Temple of Dagon and complete Samson’s dishonor before the nobility and priesthoods of the Five Cities.

As Dagon was the patron of Gaza, all other gods and goddesses owned lesser temples. The arrival of High Priestess Derceto of the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon—along with two dozen attendants and lesser priestesses—strained the resources of Gaza’s temple to Bright Atargatis to the utmost.

That, too, I cared nothing for; the Gaza temple might bed me down
upon a heap of straw and I would not object. My goal was Samson, not comfort.

For the next three days, I played my part to perfection. Delilah, Priestess, Full Moon of the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon. Delilah Moondancer, incarnation of the Bright Lady Herself. Delilah, heroine who had beguiled and conquered our great enemy, Samson.

A simple role to play, for all who dwelt in the Five Cities wished to believe what had already become a harper’s song. If I had told those who bowed before me and begged my blessing upon their heads that I plotted to destroy not Samson, but an evil in our own Cities, a corruption in our own Great Houses of the gods and goddesses, I would not have been believed.

Already I was Delilah, lure and snare; Delilah, betrayer of Samson. Who would not believe that of me now? Did not Samson, he who had prowled the high roads, who, the stories claimed, had stolen a virgin priestess from her temple, who had burned half Canaan in his rages, now labor as a sightless beast of burden in Dagon’s mill? And had not Delilah’s wiles condemned him to such an existence?

I did not argue with those who praised me for my courage and cunning. Garbed and gilded until I seemed an idol rather than a priestess, I stood before the image of Our Lady in Her House in Gaza from midday until sunset for each of those three days. In Atargatis’s name, I accepted the thank-offerings laid by the grateful, and the curious, at my feet.

Derceto watched me, and seemed satisfied. By neither breath nor movement did I reveal my true feelings. I did nothing untoward; I did not even try to learn if Orev, too, stayed in Gaza. For those three days, I was the most pious of any priestess in all Gaza. I turned all my thoughts to Bright Atargatis. I knew that She would not betray me—nor, with all my will focused on Her, would I betray myself to those who watched.

 

On the third night—the night before the ceremony that would dedicate the Great House of Dagon to the service of its god—I did nothing I
had not done each night before. Maidservants stripped away the garments that marked me as a Full Moon of Atargatis, washed the kohl and carmine and gilt from my skin. Two handmaidens unbraided my hair, unbound the red ribbon that confined the Goddess’s Knot at the nape of my neck. I stood quiet and waited as they combed out my hair, as they admired the sheen of its raven’s-wing black in the flickering lamplight.

I smiled, and gave no hint that every drop of my blood demanded that I hurry, hurry—that I must hurry or be forever too late.

When the maids had done with me, and I was alone, I forced myself to wait another endless span of time. When I had silently recited all the prayers to Our Lady from first dawn to sunset twice, I knew I had waited long enough. I rose from my cold bed and began to dress in my plainest clothing. Even that was of too fine a linen to pass unnoticed, but a dark cloak veiled me from eyes to ankles. Now if I were seen on the streets, I would be only another poor woman; a shadow among shadows.

 

The man who guarded Samson’s cell did his job well—by which I mean he knew how and when to accept tangible thanks for favors. Since I did not even try to haggle over the price, the matter of entry to Samson’s cell was easily arranged.

As for the rest—well, that was my affair. The guard’s part of the bargain was to open the door twice: once to let me enter and once to let me leave.

“Go on in—more fool you. Do you think you’re the first woman come to lie with blind Samson?” The guard spat upon the ground, shifted so that he might tie the gold chains I had slipped into his outstretched hand into a fold of his tunic. “Don’t think I’ll give these back when you don’t get what you want of him. You’ve paid to enter his cage, and that’s all. The rest is up to you, but I warn you, he’s stubborn as a wild ass. Oh, never fear, he won’t hurt you, either. He’s either a coward or a simpleton—I don’t know why he was feared so.”

“Because men are even greater fools than women are. I have paid you; let me pass.”

He tugged at the knot to make sure the gold was safely bound, and then nodded. “As you wish, lady. Never say Yaddu failed to keep his part of any bargain. And when you’ve tired of teasing the man, call my name and I’ll let you out again.” He slid back the iron bar and pulled the door open. “I’ll wait here if you like. Most of them give up in less time than it takes me to drink a jar of beer.”

I walked past him, paused in the doorway to darkness. “Do as you please tonight. I will not call until dawn.”

“It’s seven steps down,” the guard said. “I can’t give you a lamp. Light is forbidden—and the man’s blind anyway.”

“Thank you, Yaddu.” Courtesy cost nothing, and after all, the man had not needed to tell me the number of steps. Then I stepped through the doorway. I waited until the door closed and I heard the bar slide back into place before I reached out to touch the chill stones and walked down the stairs, counting each step. At the last, I paused again; I could see nothing. Not even shadows eased the blackness before me.

“Delilah.” Samson’s voice whispered against the stone walls.

“Where are you?” I said, and reached out.

His hands caught mine. “Are you mad, to come here?”

“No madder than any of the other women who wished to lie with you—dozens of them, if the guard is to be believed.” Of all the words I had thought to say to him, I had never thought that I would jest, or that he would laugh. How could I have forgotten that he laughed so easily?

“How did you know it was I?”

“By the way you move through the air. By the scent of your skin. By the very sound of the breath you take.” Samson began to pull me towards him, then stopped, holding me off.

“What is the matter, Samson? Fear not, for I have paid the guard enough to spend all this night with you.” Even knowing he could not see me, I smiled. “We will not be interrupted, beloved.”

“I—am not very clean,” he said, and for a moment I did not know if I would laugh or weep.

“I do not care,” I said, and flung myself forward into his arms.

When my hands touched his body in loving exploration, for the first time I was glad we met in darkness. I cared nothing about the dirt matting his shorn hair or the rank scent of his unwashed skin; it was the half-healed wounds, the feel of his bones sharp beneath his skin, that I could not bear.

When the first rush of passion faded, I lay cradling Samson in my arms, savoring the feel of his body against mine. I stroked his nearly bare head; his short-cut hair rasped my palm. “I liked it better long,” I said, and Samson laughed, softly.

“It will grow again. Now stop trying to hide your reason for coming to me. You must not risk yourself like this. Did Orev not tell you I said do not come here?”

“I have not seen Orev since—since the day you were taken. And it would not matter if I had. I came because I could not live if I did not see you. And to tell you that tomorrow is the day you will be taken to the Great House of Dagon and chained between the pillars before the high altar, that all may look upon you and mock you and your god. The priesthood of Dagon’s Great House will be there, as will the High Priestess of the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon.”

“I know, beloved. And I tell you what I told Orev when he came to speak with me—that they may mock as they please, but my god will laugh as theirs falls into a pit of their own digging. By the favor of Yahweh, I shall have my chance to destroy evil.”

BOOK: Delilah: A Novel
7.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Gator Aide by Jessica Speart
Willing Victim by Cara McKenna
Words in the Dust by Trent Reedy
Prodigal Blues by Braunbeck, Gary A.
Flyaway by Helen Landalf