Delilah

Hemin looked smugly at Delilah. Beulah had warned her in the shop that her choices would cause trouble, but they would all have to live with it. The orange would be unbearable to wear, so she’d just have to find a way to wear the purple instead, and hope not to be spotted until it was too late to be made to change. Anyway, when Achish saw it, he’d surely agree that it suited her perfectly.

‘As you wish, Ariadnh,’ said Delilah contritely.

‘You’ll look lovely in the orange one,’ said Ekron.

Hemin scowled at him, but Delilah said nothing. She was watching Ariadnh, who had picked up her own package from the floor and was peering between the layers of cloth that bound it, smiling to herself.

‘Come with me, Hemin. These are for you. I’ve some important things to talk to you about.’

Hemin gave Delilah a final farewell sneer, and took Ariadnh’s hand, skipping girlishly up the stairs after her. As their whispered laughter floated down into the hallway, Beulah crossed the hall to join her daughter.

‘I did warn you.’

‘But it was worth it.’

Beulah kissed her daughter’s forehead without much affection. ‘Was it really?’ She picked up the package of napkins and handed them to Delilah. ‘Take these to the kitchen.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Ekron, standing up.

‘That would be kind,’ said Delilah. She touched the back of his hand as he took the load.

Ekron followed Beulah through the doorway towards the back of the house. Delilah quickly folded her dresses back into their packaging, then slipped off her sandals and quietly ran up the stairs, dropping the dresses onto her sleeping couch before moving swiftly down the corridor towards Hemin’s bedroom.

She generally avoided this end of the house, but today her curiosity got the better of her. There was a large window off the hallway through which she could hear the high and low of laughter and whispering between her stepsister and stepmother.

‘—so that when he slides his hand around your back, and pulls this ribbon, your nightdress will fall smoothly to the floor—’

The rest was lost in Hemin’s gasping laughter. The package must have contained Hemin’s clothes for the wedding night, and Ariadnh was clearly giving her the sort of instructions that only a mother could give. Delilah tucked herself in behind the shutters so that she could listen without being seen.

‘—for if you are to enjoy the first night with your new husband,’ Ariadnh was saying, ‘there is much that you will need to know.’

Delilah felt a nauseous mixture of jealousy and dismay swell inside her. She may have the more beautiful dress, but in one respect at least Hemin would shortly be beyond her.

‘—and what if I don’t please him?’ Hemin was asking.

‘Bah!’ snorted Ariadnh. ‘Men are not difficult to please. Even men as renowned as Samson.’

Chapter Three

Delilah put down the tray of empty drinking bowls, and adjusted the ties of her belt so they fell more attractively against her hip. She’d agreed to serve drinks to the wedding guests only after Achish had promised her new jewellery. Hemin hadn’t been privy to the bribe, and had rejoiced to hear that her stepsister would be called upon to look after the guests.

She’d curled her hair for the occasion, and it fell over her bare shoulders in waves of silken ebony. She’d selected her amber necklace, not so much for the colour, but because the pendant nestled at the limits of decency in the shallow valley between her breasts. ‘You should be careful,’ her mother had muttered. ‘I don’t want to lose you just yet.’

The crowd of Israelite men who stood in the shade of the porch made no attempt to disguise their interest in Delilah, and muttered in Hebrew to one another. She couldn’t stop the smile that came to her lips.

Achish had been very clear that morning that they were to make their guests as welcome as possible. These strangers had a roughness about them though, guzzling their wine as quickly as she could fill their bowls.

Betrothal, she thought, seemed to be about a lot of talking and a lot of waiting around. Achish had been locked away in his study for most of the morning with Hemin’s husband-to-be, the man whose name was on everyone’s lips, but whom no one had yet seen. The dial in the courtyard had moved on nearly one full mark since the arrival of Samson and his retinue, and the sun was dipping past its zenith. The scents from the flowers in their basins grew ever stronger, mingling with the thick aroma of the unmixed wine.

‘More drink!’ said one of the Israelites, in clumsy Philistine.

Beulah quickly emptied another third of the jug between the six bowls on Delilah’s tray. ‘Achish wouldn’t approve, but I suppose it’s all in the spirit of the occasion.’

‘They think I can’t understand what they’re saying about me,’ giggled Delilah. ‘They’re very coarse.’

‘In a pack, men are like foxes,’ replied her mother. ‘All snarls and bristling hair. Get one on his own and he’s a different animal. No doubt one of these fellows is eyeing you for himself and you’ll be next.’

Delilah shuddered. ‘I’ll never marry a hairy Israelite.’

‘Your father was a hairy Israelite!’

Delilah laughed and glided back towards the men with the tray of drinks, feeling their eyes follow her as she moved around the room. Of course, the purple dress had quite a bit to do with that, especially the way its richness seemed to light up the blues in her black hair and it clung to the curves of her hips. Not that she wasn’t used to a certain amount of attention, although with her mother or Achish by her side she’d learned to deflect it with a graceful, studied shyness.

Delilah and her mother would be sitting on the groom’s side of the courtyard for the ceremony. With their own kind, Hemin had whispered, none too quietly, to Achish. She smiled inwardly now as she offered drinking bowls to Samson’s Israelite friends. Close up, she couldn’t help but notice how muscular the men were. They had none of the softness that she saw in the Philistine men of Ashkelon. They looked odd in their clean tunics – like a rustic vintage served in fine drinking bowls. Samson was rumoured to be twice as big as any of these fellows, able to wrestle a bull calf to the ground with nothing but his hands. What would her stepsister make of him?

She’d just invited a shy smile from the youngest of the Israelite men – a handsome, curly-haired youth who had done little but stare at her since he arrived – when Ekron appeared, frowning, at her elbow. He’d been hanging around at the bottom of the stairs that morning when she had first come out of her room, and his eyes had been glued almost drunkenly to her as she walked slowly down to meet him. He half-smiled at her now, but he seemed distracted by the Israelites over her shoulder.

‘Ekron?’

‘Oh – what?’

‘Is the ceremony going to start soon?’

‘I think so. I came to tell you that Lord Phicol has finally arrived. I want to introduce you to him.’

Delilah followed his gaze to a group who hovered at the rear of the courtyard. Three were slender young men, each of them bare-chested but for the red military sashes that crossed to wide-pleated skirts and aprons. Behind them stood a short, solid man of about forty years, clothed in an embroidered tunic over his leather skirt. His flat face was sliced off at the brow by the base of a tall, elabor ate headdress that signified the Philistine aristocracy.

‘I suppose that’s him at the back,’ murmured Delilah.

His presence had drawn some excited whispering and covert stares from other guests – notables of Ashkelon and distant relations.

‘When I’ve completed my scribe’s training I’ll be given a tunic in that style to wear on formal occasions, so that I can accompany His Lordship. And a headdress too. It won’t be that grand, of course—’

‘And I hope you won’t look that silly either.’

Delilah was surprised to see how cross Ekron suddenly looked. Lately his sense of humour had all but vanished. ‘It’s a great honour to wear the robes, Delilah, just as it is to work for His Lordship. He is a very clever man, careful about the affairs of our people—’

The Israelites seemed to be making a show of ignoring Lord Phicol and his finery altogether. They talked loudly amongst themselves, as Ariadnh briskly crossed the courtyard to greet each of the guests. The ‘old’ wife, as Delilah always thought of her, gave Ekron a sharp nod. Then her eyes travelled up and down Delilah’s body. Her lips pressed together in a tight smile.

‘I have to go and collect Hemin now,’ said Ekron. ‘She is ready.’

‘At last,’ muttered Delilah.

‘Be kind to her today,’ he pleaded. ‘This is a big day for her, and for our family. It was significant enough that my father married your mother and accepted you both into our family, but for Hemin to marry Samson is a very important step in the relations between our two peoples.’

‘That sounds like a speech right out of Lord Phicol’s mouth.’

Ekron blushed a little. ‘Well, he is right.’

Delilah watched him leave, if only to avoid catching Ariadnh’s attention. Too late. She was bearing down like an angry whirlwind.

‘You were supposed to wear the orange dress, Delilah. You gave me your word yesterday.’

Delilah was about to answer when she noticed movement inside the house. Hemin was pacing awkwardly in the half-covered hallway. Ariadnh’s daughter looked pretty enough, and something clever had been done with her hair, which had softened her angry mouth. But even though the betrothal gown was elegant, a pleated shift of flax-coloured linen, Hemin looked uncomfortable in her own skin, as ill at ease as ever. And as their eyes met, Delilah was delighted to see that her stepsister was unable to conceal her raw fear at being upstaged.

Ariadnh leaned towards Delilah. ‘Go and change your dress immediately, before Hemin enters the courtyard,’ she hissed. ‘Another few minutes will not make any difference, and if you are too long we’ll simply start without you.’

‘Excuse me, madam—’

‘What is it?’ Ariadnh turned on the young man who had appeared at her elbow. ‘What do you want?’

‘The master wants to see Delilah in his study.’

‘What for?’

‘He didn’t say, madam.’

‘Then you can go to your room, Delilah, and change before you go to see him. Achish must not see you like that. He’ll be furious.’

I doubt that, thought Delilah, turning her back on Ariadnh, and following the servant past the Israelite men into the house. But by the door to Achish’s study, the young man gripped her arm. His fingers were warm and strong against her skin and she didn’t pull away, even though he was standing too close to her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Don’t you recognise me?’

Delilah frowned and looked him over. Dark curls smoothed down, sharply angled jaw, large eyes black as the night—

‘Joshua? Is it really you? It’s been—’

‘Three summers,’ he grinned. ‘Achish – master – has had me working at the port.’

Had it been so long? Delilah remembered the days when Joshua, Ekron and she would play together among the vines.

‘I didn’t recognise you without straw in your hair and a barrow of horse muck at your feet.’

He wore a spotless white tunic and a wide leather belt as part of his house servant’s uniform. The last time she’d seen him was as a skinny youth, half-naked in the stables, clad only in the knee-length Egyptian shorts the stable boys found comfortable for their labours, the rest of him strung with whatever ropes and leathers were required to tack up the horses. Something of Ariadnh’s remarks to Hemin yesterday about the mysteries of a man’s body came flooding back to mind, and she instinctively took a step back.

‘I’m not the only one who cleans up well,’ he said.

She blushed, then remembered the summons. ‘I shouldn’t keep Achish waiting.’

‘He doesn’t want to see you.’

‘What?’

‘I made it up. I – well, I thought you needed rescuing.’

Delilah was touched to see his cheeks burn beneath those glorious dark lashes. ‘I’m a lady of the house now. I should have you flogged for such insolence.’

‘But you won’t, will you?’ said Joshua, widening his eyes in mock alarm. ‘I heard Ariadnh and Hemin moaning about you and it seemed so unfair to make you change your dress. It’s not your fault if you’re prettier than—’

Before she knew what she was doing, Delilah had stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, full and soft on the mouth. She lingered for a moment, close enough to feel his breath still on her lips, then rocked back, lowering her gaze. But he didn’t move and eventually she looked up to find him smiling back at her, lips slightly parted.

The smile fell away. She was aware of someone approaching.

‘Don’t you have serving duties?’ said Ekron to Joshua, slipping his hand onto Delilah’s arm. ‘Come along, they’re about to start, Delilah. What were you doing out here, anyway?’

Delilah steered him back towards the courtyard, and pulled his arm close into hers. ‘I was avoiding Ariadnh. She was very rude about my dress.’

‘Never mind. This is Hemin’s day, and she’ll be nervous about it.’

‘You really do sound like Lord Phicol, Ekron. You have to do something about that, or you’ll turn into a stuffy elder of the community before you’ve reached twenty.’

As they walked together, her mind returned to Joshua. Her mother definitely wouldn’t approve, but Delilah was already wondering how she might find a few moments alone with the servant. Ekron could be terribly tiresome, and Hemin’s friends managed to look right through her whenever they met.

She came around the corner and stopped dead, stifling a gasp. In the courtyard, the guests were quiet, and all focused on the man who stood in the centre. He was quite simply the biggest man Delilah had ever seen. Surely the biggest in the known world. Her first thought was of the giants whom the gods had fought before people existed at all. Even his shadow, which stretched along the ground and almost touched Delilah’s feet, seemed solid. He might not have been twice the size of his followers, but Delilah found herself mentally measuring her body against his, handspan for handspan. And down his back, as beautifully dressed as her own tresses, were seven braids of hair, held together by bands. The tresses seemed almost golden as the sun fell on them, then a rich polished ochre as he passed through the shade. It ought to be funny, she felt, this man with a woman’s hair, but the urge to laugh was tempered by a grudging respect. He must have been growing it since boyhood. Even though the braids were oiled and smooth, they looked like seven ropes that had been tied to his head in case he ever needed to be controlled.

He surveyed the gathered guests, and for a moment his gaze settled heavily on hers. Those eyes – they were the deepest blue, like the cornflowers that grew in the rough edges of the vineyard. He must have been in his late twenties at the most, and yet her mother spoke of him as some kind of venerated leader. Delilah forgot her manners and stared back for as long as she was able. Then she glanced downwards, sure he’d somehow read her mind. Ekron tugged on her arm and with her attention still firmly fixed on the floor she followed him into the courtyard to take a seat so the betrothal could begin. Well, he certainly lived up to his reputation, at least in terms of description. He wasn’t handsome in the same way as Joshua, but with his broad forehead and strong straight nose, there was something regal about him. His beard, though full and long, didn’t dominate his face any more than those extraordinary braids. And as for his clothes – well, he was perhaps the least elaborately dressed man in the room. He wore only a long plain tunic of black linen, devoid of embroidery or any decoration, and a narrow black belt with a silver clasp. Had no one told him what a special day this was? There were two worn slots in the belt and Delilah realised that these would normally have held knives or some other small blade. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t have been good manners to turn up to one’s betrothal armed to defend oneself, though a person would have to be mad to take him on.

Achish led Samson towards his daughter, like a farmer leading an ox to market. Seeing him in Hemin’s company for the first time, Delilah decided that not even the sum total of Ariadnh’s wisdom could ever prepare Hemin for marriage to this man. There was a wildness about him that would surely terrify even the most experienced of women.

For the first time in nearly fifteen years, Delilah felt a sliver of sympathy for her stepsister.

Chapter Four

Due to their late arrival, Delilah had found herself too far back to clearly hear what was being said in the betrothal ceremony. As the vows approached their conclusion, David, her stepfather’s chief clerk, beckoned to her from the end of the row. She slipped out of the rear of the courtyard and went to meet him.

‘Ariadnh has decided that you are to join the group who are offering the dowry items to Samson,’ he whispered.

Delilah pouted. ‘Achish would never have asked me to do that, it’s a servant’s job—’

‘I know, and I’m sorry, but he isn’t here to overrule her.’

She shouldn’t take it out on David, she knew that. He’d been a close friend of her dead father and had always shown kindness to her and her mother.

‘So what do I have to do?’ she sighed.

‘There are jars of the best wine lined up in the kitchen, and there is one small jug of the very special vintage from last year’s heavy rains. The jars are about as tall as you, so you are to carry the jug. Come in last, at the end of the line.’

‘Is that all he’s getting?’

‘There are bolts of linen too, but all together it’s only a quarter of the dowry. The Philistine way is to give a part at betrothal and the rest at marriage.’

‘That sounds exactly like the sort of business Achish would normally do.’

David gave her a dry smile and turned away without responding. Delilah set off for the kitchen, where she found Joshua with the rest of the staff. Every single servant on the estate had been commandeered to help with the ceremony, and here were all the other stable boys smartly dressed up just like Joshua, though not to the same knee-weakening effect. At the far end of the table the special round-bottomed jug stood in its stand, and as she reached it Joshua sidled up to her.

‘What are you doing out here with us?’

‘I think it’s my punishment for not changing my dress.’

He wasn’t standing quite as close this time but she could smell the oil on his skin, and a sweetness too.

‘Have you been sampling the dowry, Joshua?’

He grinned. ‘Of course not. The master is much too good a man to trick anyone like that. But we have been testing each of the jugs we are using to serve the guests. It’s Lord Phicol’s orders. Just because he’s an important Philistine, he thinks all these Israelites are trying to poison him.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘It’s how it is, though, isn’t it?’

‘So they send Hemin to put a bandage on the sore.’

Joshua grinned again. ‘They should have sent you. You could have healed any wound just by kissing it—’

Before Delilah could decide how to answer, one of the senior house servants came in and clapped his hands. Joshua quickly took his place in the line again. The servants moved out into the hallway carrying their heavy loads.

Delilah followed, lifting her head self-consciously as she entered the hallway, ready to assume her role as the jewel at the end of the staff. Here she was no longer simply Hemin’s sister in a pretty new dress; she was an unmarried daughter of a rich Philistine. Her mother was right. I’ll be next.

As they entered the sunlight again, Achish was standing with Hemin before the crowd and Samson had planted his feet like a statue beside them. He watched impassively as the men carried the jars and leaned them with care against the wall. The bolts of linen, protected by hemp lining, were stacked on a table. Delilah came last with the jug, and gave a small bow before standing it beside them. She took her place next to the servants and looked up to see her mother, seated in the front row with the other important guests, give her a proud smile. With the oath-taking over, the guests were muttering among themselves.

Samson said something to the man who stood beside him – the young Israelite whom Delilah had smiled at when serving wine. He spoke to Achish in abrupt though surprisingly fluent Philistine.

‘Is this all you have for our leader? You dignify him with just five jars and six bolts of cloth?’

The guests towards the front went quiet, and the silence spread over the others.

Delilah had never seen her stepfather challenged before. Achish was pale-faced, taken aback. David scurried forward, unrolling a scroll in his hand.

‘It’s merely a deposit, a small portion of the full dowry as a token of good will. I’m sure my master explained that this is the Philistine way—’

At this, two of the visiting Israelites stepped up beside Samson, shorter and leaner, but still intimidating bodyguards. The atmosphere had turned in an instant. ‘We don’t want to hear about the Philistine way,’ continued the spokesman. ‘What about our customs?’

Delilah was worried for David and edged closer. Hemin looked like she was about to faint, and her face searched her father’s. Delilah remembered Ariadnh’s chuckled words about luxuriating for the first time against the body of a new husband. Any hope of that seemed to have evaporated in sheer terror.

‘I thought I had made myself clear this morning,’ Achish said in his quiet way. ‘I respect the customs of both our cultures and I had hoped that this would be a compromise that you would accept. I’ve already agreed to bring the wedding further forward than we would normally—’

‘You persuaded me to take your daughter’s hand,’ said Samson, equally quietly, but infinitely more menacing, ‘at least offer what is due with no haggling.’ He batted the scroll from David’s hand. A murmur of disapproval rippled through the spectators, and even from the edge of the courtyard, Delilah felt herself lean back a little. ‘For a man of such wealth, you offer me a pittance—’

‘She is my only daughter, and she’ll one day inherit a full third share of my estate—’

‘How dare you insult my sister!’ Ekron appeared from nowhere and grabbed hold of Samson’s wrist. The giant’s eyes dropped to her stepbrother’s hand, but he looked surprised more than angry. His two bodyguards weren’t as relaxed and one of them, wiry and agile, immediately jumped forward and planted a fist into Ekron’s waist. He grunted and seemed to fold with the impact. Delilah felt her breath jolt.

Almost immediately one of the cousins, a man in his twenties called Ariston, came from the second row of the spectators and threw a punch at Ekron’s assailant. Chaos ensued. In just a few moments, more of the men had joined the fight, swapping blows with the Israelites, who had swelled up around Samson without warning.

Delilah had witnessed boys fighting in the fields before, scraps over games of dice or some verbal slight, but this was different. There were no rules, no grown-ups to separate the opposing parties. Chairs were tipped over as the women and older men shrank to the back of the courtyard near the gate, while the peace of her family home disintegrated. Hemin, her face streaming with tears, stood near Ariadnh. Lord Phicol disappeared through a side door, pursued by his three escorts. Shouldn’t he be trying to stop the brawl? Delilah thought. Then she saw her stepfather through a gap in the writhing bodies. Samson had snatched the neck of Achish’s gown, and was dragging him like a cat with its paws on a mouse.

Delilah ran forward, seizing the precious wine-jug that moments before had been a symbol of the union. She slipped through the cordon of screaming women who were now clustered together and ran to Achish’s side, her face throbbing with anger.

‘Let him go!’

‘Delilah, no—’ Achish gasped.

‘Let him go, you monster! What has he done to you that you would use your weight and height against him—’

Samson didn’t seem to hear her at all, so intent was he on his fury, but Delilah knew only Achish’s fear and without thinking she jumped on the bench and brought the jug down squarely on Samson’s head. It shattered, leaving only a curved handle in her fingers. The Israelite bully was slow to notice the wine that was now pouring down his face, and Delilah thought he could hardly have felt it through those thick braids on his head.

But when the realisation came to him, it came quickly and in a furious guttural roar of Philistine. ‘This is a man’s business, little girl—’

‘Don’t call me a little girl, I’m fifteen’ – in her anger she lied – ‘and I know the business of this house as well as anyone!’

‘Then let your father do your fighting for you.’

‘Only a coward would fight a man so much weaker than himself.’

A grunt of irritation exploded from Samson’s mouth, and he let go of Achish and turned on her. Delilah’s stomach rolled over and she cast around quickly for something to defend herself with. But there was nothing within reach, apart from—

With a speed that surprised them both, she yanked at one of his braids. But he was snatched from her grasp and bundled away across the room by three of the Israelite men. Ekron clung to the arm of one of them, but he was flung off like an insect, and went crashing into a low table. Delilah ran to his side.

Samson and his men barrelled through the remaining guests and out of the courtyard, set about by Achish’s male relatives as they went.

Ekron’s forehead was grazed and bloodied. Delilah looked around the broken furniture to find a clean napkin to dab at his face.

‘Are you all right?’

‘We should have known better than to make an agreement with them!’ cried Ekron from the safety of the floor.

Delilah sat back on her heels and surveyed the wreckage of the courtyard. Seats and stools had been toppled over and lay broken. Wine stained the dowry bolts of cloth and all the new napkins. Groans and whimpers came from all around. Achish sat on a bench, his head in his hands.

‘What a mess!’ she said.

‘Israelites are all the same,’ snapped Ekron. ‘Barbarians!’

Delilah dabbed harder than she needed to at Ekron’s head, making him yelp. Delilah ignored his pain and dabbed again. ‘Remind me of that the next time I jump in to save our family’s honour.’