Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) (17 page)

DELILAH

I could not see my toes. If I looked down, I saw only full breasts and a bulging stomach. I couldn’t sleep well, either. My throat burned at night, worse every week, and although Tanis insisted I sleep on a couch like the others, it did not make me comfortable.

No one else here was with child. I wished to ask someone if these changes were from the child growing big within, or if this was what it was like to become a woman. I was surrounded by women, and what use were they to me? Twenty girls lived in these quarters, but none had a husband. None would be able to tell me the answer to this mystery.

This morning I rose before any of them and sneaked out to find Hannibal already seated on his chair. Two male servants attended him, small men with no muscle. They smiled when they saw me and stepped aside.

I nodded to them and bowed before Hannibal.

“Good morning, Delilah.”

“How may I serve Dagon today?”

“Do you hear that sound?”

I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the steady hiss of rain, as I had every morning this month.

“The rains, my lord. They are still with us.”

“Listen more carefully.”

I exhaled and placed my hands under my belly to lift it, to stop the constant ache from standing. I closed my eyes and listened, harder this time.

“It is softer today?”

Hannibal nodded. “The rains will soon be ending. Maybe one more month of rain, maybe less.”

“Should I do something?”

Hannibal shook his head. “I’m trying to tell you that time is passing. You are soon to give birth.”

I felt my expression freeze. I did not know how to give birth. What was he asking me to do?

“Yes, my lord.” I did not know what else to say. I made a serious expression, nodding.

The door behind me opened. A cold morning breeze swept in, chilling my ankles. I shivered and looked behind me. Parisa stumbled in, her gait unsteady. She rested for a moment with one hand on a pillar, then wiped her forehead and continued her staggering walk toward the sleeping chambers.

Hannibal was on his feet, chains in his hands, walking toward her. His expression was that of an animal about to pounce. He stood in front of Parisa, and she tried to stand erect to face him. She couldn’t, though. Her feet remained in one spot, but her torso waved and rolled like she was on a rough sea.

Hannibal grabbed her by the face, and she brought her arms up to pull his off. The servants moved quickly then, taking the chains and shackling her feet while Hannibal held her off balance. They all let go at the same moment, and she fell forward, whipping around to see what had tripped her. When she saw the shackles on her ankles, she shrieked.

“Get these off of me! I’ll tell Lord Marcos everything!”

“Only if you want me to cut off your tongue,” Hannibal answered. “I am sure even he has had enough of you by now.”

“Get these off!” She thrashed, trying to kick the shackles off. The door to the sleeping chambers opened. Tanis came out first, wrapping her tunic tightly against her in the chill. The others girls came out after her.

Tanis saw Parisa struggling on the ground and turned to face Hannibal. “Hannibal …”

Parisa shrieked at her next. “Go back to bed, you stupid heifer! All of you!”

Tanis walked closer to Parisa, bending down to whisper. Parisa pushed her head up and spat in Tanis’s face.

I could hear nothing. Even the rains seemed to stop in that moment. I cast my gaze down, so I would not see Tanis in disgrace. I saw her feet, though, as they moved away from Parisa, and I heard the door to the sleeping quarters close.

When I looked back up, they were all gone. Hannibal stood over Parisa, his arms folded. She had stopped struggling, looking up at him with unblinking eyes, every muscle tensed. A soft growl rose in her throat.

He stepped back and nodded at the servants. They paused, glancing at each other before obeying. Parisa gave them no fight as they took hold of her arms and led her to the sleeping quarters.

Hannibal watched, then looked back at me.

“She walked like an ox. It had to be done,” he said.

I nodded. “Better to do it now, when she is weak.”

Hannibal rewarded me with a smile, twisting his closed mouth up at one end. “You are a very smart girl, Delilah. You will not make her mistakes.”

I nodded in agreement, and not just to please him. I knew this to be true. I would not make mistakes here, nor ever again. I knew that mistakes were made for one reason, and one reason alone: ignorance. And I would never be ignorant again, I promised myself this.

I would be proved a fool before the new moon.

Tanis sat still, her eyes closed, as I applied her eye shadow. I used an emerald green, sweeping it out at the edges. Most of the Philistine women wore red, and plenty of it, but the torchlight cast moving shadows, and red made a disturbing appearance.

“Tonight, may I bring you your wine?” I tried to keep my hand, and voice, steady.

“No.”

“But you grow thirsty after the second watch.”

“We have servants for that.”

“But I can do it!” All I had done for weeks now was apply Tanis’s cosmetics and watch as she slid out the side door to the private portico. I would sit in these sleeping quarters and listen to the familiar sounds of her night: men’s voices, women’s laughter, the sound of lyre and harp.

The bigger my stomach became, the less I was given to do. The other women did not even speak to me as often now, stepping to one side as I lumbered past, nodding nervously if I spoke first, seeming eager to move me along. I was an ugly sight, I decided. There were no mirrors big enough to take in all of my appearance at once, but I imagined how I must have looked to them.

Parisa had not left the quarters yet. She was always the last one out, preferring to go out only when called, and only one man ever called for her—Lord Marcos. Perhaps other men wanted to, I did not know, but Lord Marcos was the lord of the entire city, so no man dared claim her time.

I took a shank of lamb from my robes, laying it without a noise beside her couch. Her hand shot out and caught mine, and I cried out in shock.

“I thought it was you.” She sat up and stretched, arching her back. I watched, biting my lip. She was beautiful, if you could pretend she had never opened her mouth.

Swinging her legs, still chained, off the couch and onto the floor, she reached down and grabbed the shank, bringing it to her mouth. She gave me a sly wink and began eating. Her eyes did not leave my face as she ate. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to pretend the floor held great interest for me, but glancing up over and over. My face was growing hot.

She nudged me with one foot, the chains sliding against the cold floor. “Why are you feeding me?”

“You slept through the last meal.”

She stopped chewing, juice running down her chin. “Becoming a little version of Tanis, are you?”

“No. I don’t know. It seemed right to feed you.”

“You still have a soft heart. That’s good.”

But somehow, the way she said it, it did not sound good.

I doubled over, a cramp seizing my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe. But as soon as it hit, it passed again. I looked up in confusion at Parisa, but she shrugged and went back to her lamb.

I wanted Tanis. I shouldn’t have fed Parisa. It must have been wrong, and now I had a pain. I had angered Dagon. I was thinking about where else I could wait tonight, where else I could hide from Parisa until Lord Marcos called for her, when it happened. Warm fluid gushed down my leg, pooling under my feet. It smelled sweet.

Parisa squealed in disgust, yanking her feet back onto her couch.

“What’s happening?” I cried.

“Oh, by the gods. You don’t know anything. Go find Hannibal. Ask him.”

But I didn’t want Hannibal. I wanted Tanis. I looked down at the pool I stood in, turning cold and slick, and saw a trace of blood in the fluid.

I was going to die. My child, too. Dagon was fierce and fast in his justice.

I stepped out of the fluid and shuffled my feet along the floor, scared I would trip. Perhaps there was still a way to save the baby. I opened the great door that led outside, pushing my way through the couples huddled and flirting under the moonlight. My ears heard the men’s voices, low and rich, like a buzzing in my head. The women who saw me made wide, angry eyes at me. I was not welcome here.

I moved between them all quickly, silently. The men hardly even noticed. The women, however—they wanted to kill me. It didn’t matter. I was going to be dead soon anyway. I just wanted to find Tanis. I wanted to tell her I was sorry. I wanted to tell her thank you, for saving me that morning months ago, and please, save also my baby. If you can. No matter what happens, save the baby.

Tanis would find a way. All my faith was in her.

There was a stairway at the far right end of the portico, one I had never used. One I had never seen used. It had held no curiosity for me, and it had never been explained. Perhaps it held storerooms, or servant’s quarters. I did not know why Tanis would be in those rooms, but I had to find her.

Another cramp hit as I reached the stairs. I grabbed the wall and grunted, lips pressed together.
Dagon, spare me a while longer,
I prayed.
Let me find Tanis. For my baby’s sake.

I stood and took the stone steps one at a time, out of breath by the third one. At the top of the stairs was another door, a plain wooden door. I heard no noises behind it, so I pushed it open.

There was a long, dark hall of rooms. Each room had a dark curtain drawn over the entrance, and the curtains closest to me fluttered from the breeze of the door opening. I heard awful sounds, sounds I would not want to describe. I did not take any further steps, and I did not pull back a curtain.

“Tanis?” I called.

Nothing.

I took a step into the hallway, testing the door first to be sure it would not close behind me. It stood, so I let go of it, creeping down the hall, listening for her voice. The noises I heard! I grimaced, my stomach rolling around, nausea coming in unbearable waves. I had heard one man make these noises once. I did not like the noises.

I reached for the curtain nearest me, my hand touching the soft material, gathering it in my palm, crushing it between my fingers. Finding my courage, I yanked it back.

A man and a woman were in the room. Each was naked.

It was not Tanis. It was Rose. I looked at her, not understanding. She screamed a curse at me, and the man shoved me back, yanking the curtain back into place.

A pain came then, so sharp I fell to my knees and cried out.

I don’t remember as much as I should now. I think the midwife gave me something. Let me pause now for breath, and I will tell you of how I died.

It was a sparse room. There was a stool, a couch without pillows or linens, and a bowl for water that rested on a small, high table. None of the furniture was even painted or carved. Tanis stood over me as I squatted, and she wiped my forehead. I swept away the tears with my tongue, catching them before they rolled into my mouth. Tanis wiped my nose.

The midwife sat on the couch, rocking on her haunches, her face ballooning as she coaxed me into holding my breath.

“Like this,” she crooned. I watched and did as she did.

It did not help.

“It hurts too much!”

“Shhh, now. Everything is fine,” Tanis said. She was so good to me.

“No, I’m going to die. I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can. Just tell me when you must push, and we will deliver the baby together, okay?”

“Yes, yes,” the midwife echoed. She was no help, I think. I only listened to Tanis. I held her hand as if only she could save me.

“It hurts!” I wailed, the pain splitting me up through the middle, a force so violent and oppressive I could not even vomit, though I retched without sound. I caught a cool, quick breath as the pain left, just as the new pain came and ripped through me again. I opened my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. How long I did this, stealing breaths between waves of cruelest pain, I cannot say. The memory is strange to me now.

A guttural, animal noise came from my mouth, and I pushed against this child within so hard that bits of blackness floated in my vision. Again I pushed, and with one last cry, I was delivered of a daughter. She was born into my world red and screaming.

I laughed out loud when I saw her, her face screwed up in anger, her lungs drawing the first air of this new world to make her fury known. She was a miracle beyond comprehension. I had desired nothing, not the man who put her in me, not even her, and she was born indignant, unafraid of her own rage, or mine. In her first cry were all my lost words.

I did not wait for the midwife to clean her. Grabbing her slippery red body I clutched her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her, making soothing noises, even as one last pain hit and the last of the birth was finished.

I had not known I could be a gentle, good mother. But I was. The midwife wiped her, as best she could, because I would not surrender my girl, not even as I hobbled over to the couch, lying down. When the midwife approached with a knife, I sat up in bed and gave her a look that made all the color drain from her face.

She handed me the knife, telling me how to do it. I tied the cord between us, and lifting the knife with a prayer of thanksgiving, I severed the living rope.

This is the moment I try most to forget.

Tanis stroked my hair afterward and kissed my forehead before she excused herself. She promised to return in a few hours and bring me something to eat. I looked around the room, but without windows, I could not tell the hour. Perhaps Tanis had to serve in the temple.

The midwife did not remain after Tanis left. She kept bumping into things, making apologies and speaking nonsense as she gathered her things. She left with loud, fast steps, closing the door behind her.

An oil lamp burned on the table, giving us our light to see each other through. A soft light, pleasant to my daughter’s eyes perhaps. She stared up at me, quiet and serene. I ran my finger along her face. How had I been given such a treasure? She was more beautiful than any god I had ever seen. My soul grew quiet within me, too, as we stared at each other in the dim light of my world.