The Philistine Warrior (34 page)

In dread, I turned away; I couldn’t look at her. “Get her wagon ready!” I ordered one of the soldiers, and some of my men, startled, flew into activity, welcome activity. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ibbi leading the girl to her vehicle; yet still she did not cry.

Over Zaggi’s anguished protests, we took her to Askelon, not to
Gath
, and I held her in my arms all the way home.

The weeks which followed seemed very long. Delai remained in utter seclusion in her summer palace—once Zaggi’s abode, there by the ocean. Ibbi would allow no one to see her except a couple of female servants; he let me into her room once, when she was deep in sleep, so I could verify that she was resting well.

I fretted a good deal, and wondered why I still trusted that Chaldean priest. I knew why, of course: she would want it that way, had always wanted it that way…and that was, more or less, enough for me. The day of the baby’s funeral came and passed. Delai could not attend this second cremation of her dead, more heartbreaking still than the funeral of her husband. Ibbi had forbidden her to leave her room.

With tears I no longer cared to hide, I myself applied the torch to Akashou’s pyre. Ibbi had prepared the infant’s corpse, but he was not there to watch the smoke gather around the baby’s palid cheeks. The priest feared, he said, that he might offend the mourners by his presence—because he was a foreigner. But I brought him to the scene that night to stand near the ashes of the pyre, ashes of the child, now cold and colored blue in the Moon’s light, there in the public square. I thought that Delai would want her priest to pray there at the pyre…and gather up the ashes in an urn.

All that was during the first week. A few more and I became impatient with the priest and his policy concerning Delai’s seclusion,

keeping me from her. Finally, I had Ibbi summoned to my headquarters in Maoch’s former palace.

“Priest,” I began, none too friendly, “I
will
see Her Majesty today, whether you like it or not.” I assumed he’d try to stop me.

“Yes, m’Lord,” he responded, much to my relief. “Indeed, she’s been asking for you. But first, sir, I must confide in you, and I must also demand that you not report what I say to Her Majesty—”

“What? Isn’t she recovered yet?” I felt fear again, fear of the unknown.

“Yes, my Lord, she’s recovered. The fever is gone. But her peace of mind requires that she not know what I’m going to tell you…. You must promise—”

“Don’t demand promises from me, priest! Say what you will,” I snapped.

“Yes, sir. Well…when I prepared the baby Prince for cremation,” Ibbi began, “I took the liberty to examine his remains. I suspect, my Lord, that Akashou did
not
die of a fever….”

“What?!”

“Not of a fever, my Lord. I’ve seen many, even babies, who have died of disease. I think such was not the cause of death in this case….”

I paled, anger replaced by dread: “What, then…?”

“I don’t know, my Lord. Nor could I prove anything, especially now that he is ashes. Suffocation, perhaps; poison, maybe, though I detected no suspicious odor….”

I began to pace the floor. “Why did you wait until now to tell me this? Why?”

“I saw no purpose in telling you at a time when you might have done something…drastic,” the priest answered—provoking me even more. “I couldn’t have proven anything even then, before the cremation. As I’ve said, I’m not sure what…or whom…to suspect. My first responsibility was to Her Majesty—and her peace of mind….”

At those words, I calmed down again. “I can’t believe anyone would do such a thing,” I noted. “The baby was in Maoch’s care until he became Melek and moved to
Gath
. Then Akashou was left here,

right in my palace, right up until the day he died….” My stomach turned over: “…until the day when Zaggi’s messenger came to take him to
Gath
…oh, my God…you don’t mean…?”

“I accused no one, my Lord,” Ibbi commented.

“But who else? Zaggi took charge of the baby—his officers, I mean—for the move from Askelon to
Gath
; only Zaggi could have ordered such a crime. Who else could you accuse? Certainly not the Melek. And even Zaggi would never do such a thing!” I paced the floor over to my window.

“He has sons, my Lord,” Ibbi pointed out. “Akashou would have been their rival for the throne one day, perhaps. And the Chancellor might have heard about the prophecy, even before that day outside
Gath
—when
you
shouted at me about how Her Majesty’s descendants would some day rule…. Perhaps a servant somehow overheard something, and told Zaggi about the prophecy, weeks ago.”

I whirled around and glared at the priest again. “No! You don’t know our family. We quarrel, we struggle…but we do
not
kill our own babies! You’re mistaken. Zaggi didn’t do it! His officers would not have told Jaita a lie. The baby’s nurse herself told me it was a fever—she told me that when we returned to Askelon. And you saw how Zaggi looked when Jaita brought the news; the Chancellor could not have pretended such emotion!”

“For those very reasons, my Lord, I can’t be certain of my suspicions,” Ibbi reiterated. “I don’t want to accuse anyone. But remember: nurses can be mistaken…or bribed…and she didn’t have her eyes on the baby every moment after Zaggi’s messengers arrived in Askelon. I only say, my Lord, that I want you to take care—take my warning seriously—and beware of the Chancellor; for your sake, and for the sake of Queen Delai.” Ibbi’s voice became firm: “And now, sir, may I humbly ask for your…assurance?”

“Assurance?”

“That you say nothing about this to Her Majesty…at least not for a long time…please, sir, for her sake….”

“Of course. But you’re wrong, Ibbi—wrong!”

“I hope so, sir,” he replied. “Now come: she awaits you.”

But I wasn’t satisfied: “Wait a minute! Why am I supposed to be wary of Zaggi? Do you imagine he’s planning to murder me or the Queen?” I could hardly believe that the priest would dare to propose such an idea.

“I only suggest, my Lord, that the Chancellor must know about the prophecy now, after you spoke of it—in Gath; and Samson, under torture, may have told Warati. So, if he plans on having the throne someday, for himself and his sons, he may regard both you and the Queen as obstacles….”

“I can take care of myself,” I shot back. “And, as for the Queen…the prophecy doesn’t even apply any more, since Akashou’s dead.”

“She has many years of child-bearing ahead of her,” the priest corrected. “And the Chancellor knows that, too….”

“Only if she remarries,” I noted. But I didn’t admit to him that her remarriage had occurred to me—though in another context…because I loved her now; indeed, I’d always loved her, but couldn’t open up my heart to her, or anyone about her, until…would it be now? Could I open up to her now? I’d kept my love for her hidden even from my own conscious mind until just then, because of Ekosh, because I knew it would be difficult for me (or anyone) to replace the King in her heart…nor could I speak of love, of her, to her, so soon after her horrible experiences of late.

“Remarriage is hardly out of the question, my Lord,” Ibbi said, breaking into my thoughts; and I suppose that crafty old bastard had some idea what my thoughts were, even then. “But come, my Lord; let’s not talk of these things anymore, for the present. The Queen awaits you; she’s anxious to talk to you.”

I needed no further invitation. “Well, let’s go, then,” I concluded. And we went.

We took the shortest route there was from my office to the seashore residence. I could hardly restrain myself, and fairly ran into the building. Ibbi followed with his accustomed dignity.

Once in Delai’s private chamber, I could drop my sheren’s mask; I ran to her and embraced her.

“My dear, how I missed you!” she whispered. I couldn’t reply through the lump in my throat; but, in truth, my joy was mingled with concern: she’d lost weight and was pale, so pale…and yet, somehow she looked better than she had on the return from Timnath and
Gath
. She was smiling—that was the difference…and so I did not worry over much about her health.

After a few more words of greeting, she turned to Ibbi: “You haven’t told him, have you?” she asked her priest. I shot a glance, an unbelieving glance, at Ibbi—what had he kept hidden from me in my own city? I looked back at Delai, but her smile had faded entirely.

“No, Your Majesty; I knew you wanted to tell him yourself,” Ibbi answered her.

I looked at Delai again, puzzled…but she averted her gaze. I sat down. She spoke: “Cousin,” she began, hesitating; “Cousin, I’m…pregnant….”

A moment’s silence followed; then suddenly I broke into a wide grin: “Ekosh will have a son after all!” I exclaimed, smiling at them both. But neither of them smiled back—and I felt fear in my stomach again, remembering that she’d almost died after the birth of Akashou.

Delai looked up at me: “No, dear Cousin, not Ekosh. I know that it’s
Samson’s
seed inside me….”

I rose slowly and paced over to the window, then turned back. Delai wouldn’t look at me.

“It can’t be,” I said at last.

“It is,” she replied.

I caught Ibbi’s eyes with mine: “The prophecy,” I cried. “No, not that!”

Ibbi nodded. “My Lord, remember that word of the prophecy may have reached Chancellor Zaggi, even if he didn’t hear you mention it—loudly—there, near
Gath
….”

“But you said that her descendant will
rule
…!”

“That is the prophecy.”

A few seconds of quiet, terrible quiet. “Zaggi will have the baby killed,” I said. And I thought: has our Uncle already tried to defy Inanna’s will…once before? “Zaggi won’t let a child of Samson live, maybe even
without
his knowing of the prophecy,” I concluded.

“Very likely, Lord Phicol,” Ibbi agreed. “No Philistine will want Samson’s heir to live.”

Delai looked at him, and me, in distress, then with a flash of determination: “I will have this child,” she announced. “No matter what the prophecy is, no matter what Uncle Zaggi or anyone thinks. I know that Holy Inanna wishes it!”

“The omens do indicate that Inanna wants the child born alive,” Ibbi confirmed, addressing me; obviously, Delai already knew that little detail, as well. “It would be dangerous to try to thwart Her Holy Will.”

“But, Delai,” I stammered, “…the child of rape?” I knelt by her bed.

“I want this baby,” she reiterated. “My Goddess wants this child, and so do I! It will be a symbol of peace in our land, peace between us and the Canaanites and Danites….”

I thought for a moment, and knew that I couldn’t oppose her will, let alone that of Inanna. It was an extraordinary thought—peace through the birth of a child of rape. Yet I could not bring myself to debate the issue with her, or Ibbi; certainly he must agree with Delai’s decision—and the reasons for it. No one said anything for a few seconds. Finally, I broke the silence: “There’s danger, though: from Zaggi, from Warati—if not from the Melek; and from public opinion….”

“That’s why we must keep this pregnancy secret,” Ibbi told me. “And that’s why I’ve kept Her Majesty secluded all these weeks…as soon as she told me of her suspicion that she’s pregnant, I decided to keep her in seclusion. The excuse that her illness keeps her in bed will serve us well; no one will be surprised if she remains secluded for a long time, months even…. And so far, no one other than us three—and her body servants—none other knows about it. There’s reason enough for her to remain secluded, so far as the public’s concerned. They won’t suspect the truth.”