Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) (21 page)

MOTHER

Kaleb helped me bring Samson home. Liam saw us from a distance and joined, each boy under one of Samson’s arms, supporting him. I was grateful for their strength, that they could use it to carry a weak brother.

One evening, many weeks later, Samson took Kaleb and Liam out spider hunting. This made my heart glad. I did not know how to comfort them. They refused to call me Mother, and I was awkward with them, still.

It was early enough in the winter; a few spiders should have been out. Samson promised to teach them how to dig a pit and trap them in the fields. I made Samson promise not to kill any.

He gave me an odd look.

“Because spiders eat the insects that damage our crops,” I reminded him. “We need spiders.” It was not a snub. We had been getting along so much better as long as I did not mention death, dying, slaying, slaughtering, blood, jawbones, or anything else related to the things he had done. We stepped back to a happier time in our lives, before he came of age, before he killed his first man. Before I became his enemy, and not the Philistines. Before he realized he would never be able to marry, or love, or have children. His strange gift, this strength, left anyone who loved him exposed and weak, like rabbits under the shadow of the hawk.

He helped more around the house and insisted Manoah sit at night and rest. Samson hunted for us, saying he preferred that to the market. He dressed our meat and roasted it, and we ate with greasy fingers, laughing at each other’s remarks. Kaleb and Liam had been silent at night for so long. Samson taught them how to begin again, how to try to live without making sense of it all. He had a gift for that, a very good gift, and it served Syvah’s sons well. Samson, too, seemed to heal, and though he called out for his wife in his nightmares, he sometimes slept through the night without weeping.

Tonight, I had to announce it was time for bed, because the boys and Samson showed no signs of exhaustion yet, and Manoah was not feeling strong. Samson and the boys wanted to go up on the roof to tell stories. Samson promised that he had the best of all imaginable stories to tell them tonight. I shooed them all upstairs so Manoah at least could get to sleep early. He had been so pale today, stopping sometimes to try and catch his breath. I had held his arm, rubbing his back, standing there until his pride return and he ordered me back to my dishes. I liked that very much. When we were young, we had fought. I missed it now.

I did not mean to eavesdrop. But what I heard, this fantastical story that Samson told, was so dreadful and so wonderful I did not know whether to celebrate or kick him out.

“Come closer,” Samson said quietly to the boys. “So Mother won’t hear.”

I was only at the bottom of the stairs. And it was night. I could hear everything if I just eased myself across the floor to the bottom step. It was not difficult.

“How strong do you think I am?”

The boys made thinking noises and then took their guesses. “Strong enough to tear a tree from the ground!” “Strong enough to push this house over!”

Samson laughed. “Would you believe I am strong enough to tear the gates of Gaza off the hinges and carry the gates all the way to the top of Mount Hebron?”

The boys gasped. This was unbelievable. Truly. The gates took twenty horses each to pull to the wall when they were built, and the horses used wheeled carts, too. The hinges were each thicker than my body. No man, no army, could wrench them off.

“No, I did! I will tell you why. I was spending the night with a lovely young girl.…”

My heart stopped. I thought he decided never to marry, never to love?

“Wait!” Kaleb interrupted. “Was this girl the kind of girl you had to pay?”

“What do you know of that?” Samson asked, unhappy.

“I’m old enough to know that if a woman isn’t married by a certain age, and she likes to entertain, chances are good she’ll entertain me if I have money.” It sounded like Kaleb’s voice.

“Ow!” It was definitely Kaleb. I knew his howl. Samson must have smacked him on the head. Good.

“That’s none of your concern, anyway. I was spending the night with a lovely girl in Gaza when I heard noises outside her window. I wrapped myself in her veil and crept to the window, peering out, and what do you think I saw?”

“Her husband?” Kaleb spoke again.

“Ow!” And Samson corrected the boy again. Kaleb had a man’s imagination already.

“No, I saw many men gathering around the house. They gave me a sign, and that’s when I knew: This harlot had set a trap for me. The Philistines of Gaza were lying in wait, growing in number as I waited inside. So I waited and watched. They made no move to attack, and I began to see that they were going to wait for dawn. They needed the light if they were going to face the strongest, fiercest warrior in history. And so, at midnight, still wearing the veil, I sneaked out of her house and made it all the way to the gates. Then I threw off the veil and, right there, wrenched the gates off their hinges and carried them away. If you could have seen the look on the guards’ faces, the guards in the towers that flank either side of the gates! They saw those gates pop right off and walk away!”

Kaleb and Liam howled in laughter, and Samson joined them.

My head was spinning. Which was more outrageous to me? That he tore gates off a city wall, or that he was sleeping with harlots in Gaza?

“Then what did you do?”

“Took them up to Mount Hebron and left them there. They’ll have a hard time getting them back to the city, never mind getting them hung again.” Samson sounded so proud.

“But Samson?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you do it?”

Samson was silent for a long while then said, “Go to bed.”

“Why don’t you just find another wife? Your mother said it was your own fault, what happened to Amara.”

“Go to bed!”

The boys stomped down the stairs, and I caught them before they woke Manoah, shushing them, patting them on their backs, steering them in the dark toward their pallet. They did not know our house in the darkness, not as well as we did.

Samson never came down that night.

The next morning, he was gone.

I had betrayed him, too.

DELILAH

Parisa shook me, knocking me onto the floor.

“You tried to tempt Marcos?”

I landed on my bottom, startled awake. She kicked at me. “You think you can steal him? Because you’re younger? Or do you think you’re more beautiful?”

“Parisa!” Tanis had her by the arm, dragging her off me.

“Because you are neither one, Delilah! You’re dirty and used. Your face will catch up soon enough.”

No woman moved. Each had been dressing for the prayers and first meal. They stared at me with varying degrees of interest. Interest or satisfaction. I was too shocked to absorb it all yet. I stood and raised my hands out to Tanis, who was still holding Parisa, threatening her if she moved against me again.

“It is all right, Tanis. It is my fault,” I said.

Tanis pursed her lips as one eyebrow lifted, questioning me.

“I am guilty,” I said.

Tanis released Parisa, who crossed her arms, waiting for my confession. I began to dress for the meal, having nothing else to say.

Education was a struggle between student and teacher, and Parisa was going to learn her lesson.

I was sweet to Parisa during the next week, doting even, and each time, she reacted with anger, as expected. Her anger slowly burned down, revealing her fear. I could see the shadows under her eyes when she woke, and the way she clutched at Marcos with white knuckles, her eyes darting around, looking for me, while he spoke of his concerns. I wanted her to hurt. I did not want to be the only one who suffered.

She did not see Marcos sigh in vexation or tap his foot as she complained yet again about her life within these walls. She brought up his wife, and her own desire for children, and how she would love to do more for him, in every way. She grew bold in her words. Their sweetness had an edge.

I stayed hidden, moving between the stone columns only when I knew she would not see me, careful to let Marcos catch only a glimpse of my flowing tunic, or an arm reaching for more wine. He knew I was there. He knew I watched him. And yet I did not allow him to look on me again, not fully. It was as much for his temptation as my relief. I did not want to look into the eyes of the one I tried to entrap.

No matter, though. By the end of the second week, I knew I had failed. Marcos had done nothing. He did not pursue me or make a spectacle of Parisa, seeking me out over her. If I wanted to hurt Parisa, I needed to find another way. But with such a cold woman, it was hard to know where she felt pain. It wasn’t fair that I was the only one who suffered here.

On the first morning of the following week, I laid awake in bed while the other women began to rise. There was no point in getting up. Defeat had nauseated me; I could not imagine eating anything. Parisa, too, stayed in her bed. She had slept well.

Marcos had not come for Parisa last night, but she had been elated. Rumor had come to the temple that Lord Marcos had given his wife a certificate of divorce. Parisa had waited for me to return to the sleeping chambers after serving the wine. When I climbed on to the couch at last, she came over and spat at my feet, then laughed.

“When I am his wife, perhaps I will send along a nice offering to you, and you won’t have to take many men upstairs.”

In the darkness, sweat dotted my forehead. It was hard to breathe, and my stomach began to tingle. I pressed my palm against my mouth to silence the whimpers that rose up, thinking on her words again.

Every day in these courts brought me closer to the day I had to serve as a real priestess. I would have no control. Any man might reach for me, his hand extended in the evening shadows, and where would I run? Who would save me? I knew this one truth: No one saved a girl except herself. But I had no power to save myself. I never had. I had no power at all, not even to cause someone else the slightest pain.

My hand slid under the bedding, searching for the cold blade. I didn’t want to. A force inside me wanted it, would not rest until I let it free. I ran the blade along the sole of my foot, wincing without sound, relieved for the piercing pain, the cold shiver of relief. The pain had a spot I could touch, a place I could name. My pain, all the pain of the world, was reduced to this small red line that bled in the dark.

Akbar placed five smooth stones in my palm. We sat together in the courtyard, just under the roof. The sun was dotted all around with white clouds. The rains had begun for the season, but this afternoon was dry. I was grateful to be outside; the rains could keep us inside for days at a time.

“Show me.” He placed a clay tablet in my lap, and I squirmed to settle it into a steady position with one hand.

I swept the dust from the tablet and put down the stones, one by one, in their order, just as they lie along the sea.

“Now name them.”

“Gaza, Gath, Ekron, Ashkelon, Ashdod.”

“And who governs the Philistines?”

“Lord Marcos governs the city of Ashdod, Lord Karan the city of Gaza, Lord Adon the city of Gath, Lord Baltsar the city of Ashkelon, Lord Kanat the city of Ekron.”

“Interesting that you put Lord Marcos first.”

I kept my face impassive, so he would know nothing.

“Even an old man hears rumors. He has sent his wife away,” Akbar said.

He made his face impassive, so I learned nothing more. He swept the stones into a pile at the edge of the tablet with one hand, then clapped his hands together, freeing them of dust.

“Tutor, I have a question.”

He cocked his head to the side. It was how he waited for my questions.

“Once, a girl was brought into this temple, and Hannibal cut a lock of her hair off. Why did he do this?”

“You have other things to learn.” He lifted his chin, looking away.

“I want to learn this.”

“No.”

“Please. Please.” I laid a hand on his cold thigh. His hollow old bone was just under the surface of his skin. I tried not to shudder.

It worked. The corner of his mouth twitched and he scowled, removing my hand and placing it back on my own leg. I scooted closer to him. He did need the warmth. I was not tricking him now.

“Please.”

“All right. But only because I am tired. I don’t want to fight with you about it.”

“You said education was a struggle to be fought.”

“When I said that, I had just had breakfast. I was feeling quite strong. Now, the hour is late and I am tired.”

Though it was not late and the sun had only now begun to grow warm, I smiled wide and brought my hands together.

He cleared his throat, a terrible sound for an old man to make and a young girl to hear. “Hair is the essence of a person. Hair holds all their secrets, all their powers, all their history. If you take a lock of hair from someone, you can cast much magic on them. You can change their fate. Or even your own.”

“How? How could I change my fate?”

He recoiled, shocked.

“You are to become a priestess of Dagon. Your power will come from Dagon. Not magic.”

I knew very well the power of Dagon, that god with blind stone eyes. Ask the dead ones lying in the gutter about the power of this god. I had no hope in him.

“‘All greatness comes from learning.’ You said this yourself.”

He groaned, vexed at my nagging. But he told.

And I began to see what I could try next. A new plan began to form, though it had only a small sting. Parisa had won Marcos and would leave us. She would be the most honored woman in the city. She would want to bear many children for him. Children, sons especially, those would be her security. Even if Marcos divorced her, too, someday, a son would take care of her. A son would be the one man who could never send her away. Sons were security.

Though she would be leaving us, I could still find a way to make her feel pain, just as she had done to me.

All I needed was a little magic, which could be made from a lock of her hair.

I had to wait for Tanis to be alone. She was always busy, attending the women, helping them prepare for the next night’s work, or consulting with Hannibal, reviewing money and discussing patrons. Once the temple doors were closed, worship became a business. Tanis made sure her wares, the women, were ready for the services, and Hannibal made sure the services were profitable. I watched them from behind the pillar as they sat in the main hall. Hannibal sat in his chair, Tanis leaned over, standing at his side, observing as he counted coins from a bag. A servant sat on the steps below them both, holding a clay jar in his lap.

As Hannibal counted off the coins, he dropped them one by one into the jar. Tanis commented in his ear. I heard only the rough edges of whispers, but they looked comfortable with each other. I wondered if Tanis had ever loved Hannibal. The way she rested her hand on his shoulder made me uncomfortable.

Hannibal dropped the bag next to the servant and rose. Tanis bowed her head and departed. Hannibal and the servant now stood, talking together, Hannibal gesturing, making clear his plans for the temple and the money. As Tanis passed me, I stepped out from behind the column, taking her arm in mine.

I glanced back at Hannibal and smiled.

“What is it, Delilah?” She drew her head back as if alarmed by my sudden appearance.

“I wanted to ask a favor. Will you walk with me?”

“Is the sun out?”

I paused and listened. I heard the hiss of rain against the stone roof. Tanis smiled and nodded toward the main door at the end of the hall. “We’ll sit on the steps outside, under the roof. We can talk there.”

I would be glad when the rains were done. Those who depended on crops did not mind huddling under roofs all day and all night, because the rains brought them wealth. For me, rains were a soft, cold prison that made me sleepy just when I needed to be alert.

Outside, the steps were cold. I tucked my tunic between my legs and my hands under each arm.

“Cold?” Tanis asked.

“No.” I smiled and shook my head.

She frowned at me and turned her face to look out over the city. Ashdod was beautiful in the rain. The temple stood higher than the city, and we looked out at the buildings in muted shades of sand and shell. The heavy white mist of earliest day had evaporated by this hour, leaving only a soft veil over the city. In the center of the city was the market, with a few customers moving between stalls. The largest building was there, the home of Lord Marcos. From here he made his ruling and heard cases. To the west was the great sea. Today, the rains had left it shrouded in white and gray clouds. If I closed my eyes, though, I could hear it, the sounds of the waves carried here on the wind.

“I have wanted to talk to you, too, Delilah.” Tanis stared ahead, looking down on the city. She drew a long breath, then looked down at her hands before releasing it.

Marcos would come soon, tonight even, for Parisa. I shook my head to stop her.

“Tanis, I need your help.”

“Is something wrong?” Her body tensed as she looked at me, leaning toward me.

“Where does Hannibal keep the locks of hair?”

She pulled back, her brow knotting. “Who have you been listening to? Surely not Akbar.”

“It does not matter—”

“Yes! Yes, it does matter. If you do not understand our plans for you by now, then let me be clear. You are becoming a priestess, not a witch. You have no need of magic.”

“Please—”

“No!”

She stood, her face red and mouth set in a hard, straight line.

“I am afraid!” I sounded shrill. I could still find the voice of a child inside, even if I did not remember her.

Tanis did not move but judged me, her head tilted, her face open.

I spoke slowly, as if every word came from a painful place. “When I first came here, Hannibal took a lock of my hair. When he raised the knife, I thought he was going to kill me.” I smiled, looking up at her through my lashes. “But he took a lock of hair, and I always wondered why, but I did not ask anyone. I trusted, in you especially.”

Tanis’s face drained of color. “You do not trust me now?”

“I do! It’s Parisa I do not trust. She said she was going to steal my lock of hair and burn it. She said when she did, pains would come upon me, and I would die. I would never have a chance to serve in the temple.” I lowered my voice and looked out in the distance. “I would never become like you.”

Tanis hesitated, putting her arm around me, drawing me in. I held my breath so I would not smell her perfume, so I would not weaken and cling to her.

“Parisa is lying. Only Hannibal and I know where the locks are kept. And even if she found them, burning your lock would not cause you pains.”

“What would it do?”

“Nothing. Only a witch could use it to cast a spell. Not even I know the incantations.”

“But there is no witch here. Where do you find a witch?”

Tanis pressed her lips together, then ran her teeth over her lower lip, pulling it in, pushing it out. She wanted to say something to me, so I waited.

“Delilah, I want to talk to you about your baby.”

I lurched up, catching the hem of my tunic under my heel. Struggling for balance, I backed away, tearing my tunic to get free.

“Thank you, Tanis.” I ran from the steps, back into the cold darkness of the main hall.

But I couldn’t run far. Though my heart was stung, and I fought to hold back any thoughts of that day, of that room of birth and death, I hid behind a column once more, and waited. I waited until my feet turned cold, and the cold rose through my legs and into my belly. I trembled, pulling my tunic tighter in around me.

The door opened to the main hall, and Tanis entered, her face red and blotched. I covered my mouth with my hand so that not even the sound of my breath would betray me. I knew Tanis had been crying for me. I held out the thoughts, far from me, not letting them hurt me. Tanis loved me too much.

She wiped at her nose delicately and walked to Hannibal’s chair. The main hall was silent, except for her footsteps. Looking around, she seemed satisfied that she was alone and then lifted the gold seat from the chair. My eyebrows raised in surprise. I had not known his chair had a secret too. Inside the flat square chamber, she ran her hand back and forth, then picked up a lock of hair and held it closer to her face. She returned it, and as she set the lid back into place, Hannibal opened the main doors. A cold wind snaked round my ankles. I could only see him in profile, and the robes of a man standing behind him. If I moved for a better view, Tanis might see me.