by Eric Wilson
Taren backs into the crowd, her moves teasing me, and I wiggle my eyebrows in response.
Less than five paces from me, Caleb has his back to a wall, his arms crossed. He gazes over the revelers and shakes his head. Do I look equally self-righteous? After all, we are here to form alliances, and that means we make some concessions. Maybe I should loosen up a bit.
“Samson, my friend.” A hand slaps my shoulder, a bit harder than a friendly pat.
I wince at the tenderness still remaining from the lion’s claw marks. I turn to find the prince wearing a contrived smile. His pupils are dilated. He has a goblet in hand. “Prince Rallah, hello.”
“You look so sober, strongman. Here, have a drink.”
“I do not drink.”
“The costs are taken care of.” He slurs his words a bit. “Relax.”
“I do not drink,” I repeat.
“What’s this he says?” He swivels toward a table full of soldiers. Their swords and shields are stacked nearby. Their tongues are loose, and the wine free-flowing. “He says he doesn’t drink. Why, only babies don’t drink. Should we get him some milk? Or how about a wet nurse?”
This elicits a burst of raucous laughter.
I decide to control my impulses. After all, the prince is our financier here, our royal wedding coordinator, our ally of peace. I won’t allow his drunkenness to undo what’s been put into motion. I say, “No wine for me. It’s that simple.”
Another burst of laughter.
“We know of your strength, Samson, but is that all you have? Is there anything more?”
I keep silent, unsure of his point.
“Is there anything at all?” Waving and sloshing his drink, he speaks louder for his audience of soldiers. “Up there, between those ears of yours?”
“I have more than they do.” I nod toward the table, and the soldiers’ faces turn hard.
“Care to prove it to us?” Rallah sets down his goblet. “A riddle for you then.”
“I’m listening.”
“At night I come without being called. By day I am lost without being stolen. What am I?”
It’s a new one to me, and the answer eludes me. Pyzor and Caleb both move closer. Neither shows any sign of solving the riddle, but Caleb’s attention is upon the soldiers.
“Too difficult?” Rallah says. “A star.”
We all chuckle at that. I play along, keeping my temper cool.
“Your turn.” Caleb nudges me. “You’re always coming up with riddles and rhymes.”
“Let’s hear what you have for us,” the prince agrees.
I think of the turquoise necklace from my mother that I’ll give to Taren on our seventh night. I think of terebinth leaves showering me. And then it hits me. “All right,” I say. “I do have one for you, a riddle I’m sure none of you can solve. Not even my own brother knows the answer to this.”
“Just because you’re older than me, Samson, doesn’t mean you’re smarter.”
“If you’re so smart,” Rallah says, “then what about a wager, my Hebrew friend? Give us a challenge, me and my men, all thirty of us. What shall be the stakes?”
I eye these barbarians, so smug about the table and hardly aware that their fine tunics and linens cost more than most of my people could ever afford. Here, then, is an opportunity to help my countrymen. I cannot resist.
“All right,” I say. “I will take your tunics. All of them.”
“Thirty Philistine tunics, that is your wager?”
It’s a high price, costing more than my father makes in his fields. “It is, my prince.”
He considers it. His men await his response, and he can’t back down now. “Very well. But if you lose, you owe me the same. And if you don’t pay . . . ” He draws his sword, the sound of the sharpened blade quieting the room. “Listen, one and all. Samson is about to give us a riddle.”
My eyes find Taren across the way among a group of ladies. She licks the remnants of a cake from her fingertips, and her gaze meets mine, emboldening me. I face the prince and his soldiers. I say, “Out of the eater, something to eat. Out of the strong, something sweet.”
Rallah waits. “Is that it?”
My laughter bubbles up, and I spin once. “Oh, is my slave wit too much for you? You have till the end of the week to give me your answer. And, my good soldiers, keep those tunics clean for me, will you? Much appreciated.” Their mood is somber and confused, whereas I am soaring. I grab Caleb by the arm and drag him toward Taren and her friends. “Come on, Brother, let’s join the ladies.”
“Samson, wait. You know I can’t dance.”
“Let your heart and your feet do the thinking, not your head. Music, please, musicians,” I call out. I gesture to Pyzor to join us as well. “This is Taren’s and my party, after all. Let’s dance!”
CHAPTER 26
SPOILED FRUIT
PRINCE RALLAH WATCHED Samson, Caleb, and Pyzor frolic among the dancers the way fox pups yipped and pounced at each other. While it all had a certain cuteness, it was not masculine, by any means. Nonetheless, the ladies seemed to love it and flocked around the trio.
Delilah had already retired for the night, and Rallah downed the last of his wine, wondering if he should follow after her. His head was spinning, and his lips felt numb. The words of the Hebrew’s riddle rang in his ears, and behind him the soldiers mulled it over amongst themselves. Even Jodel was stumped, as educated as he was. Did the riddle have an actual solution?
Ashdod appeared at his side. “My lord, this ploy cannot succeed.”
“Which ploy is that, soldier?”
“Samson. He looks to make fools of us.”
“It’s a riddle, that’s all. I presented one first, and he responded in kind.”
“If I may dare, you’re letting strong drink soften your spine, my lord.”
“You grow far too comfortable speaking your mind these days, Ashdod.”
The bald-headed man was not finished. “The king gave me instructions before leaving Gaza. He said to be sure that you don’t let this Hebrew get out of control. If it’s to be a mutual peace, very well. But the man cannot leave this wedding thinking he’s got the upper hand.”
“We have things well under control.”
“You need to find out the meaning of the riddle, or it’ll bring shame on the throne. The king said you would do well to remember the words he spoke to you in private the other day.”
Rallah remembered. Yes, his own father threatened to kill him if he made a false step.
He narrowed his gaze at Ashdod. “You have a lot to say for our king.”
“Repeating the things he told me, my prince. Nothing more.”
“Where lie your loyalties?” Rallah asked. “If you were forced to choose . . . ”
“Choose what?”
“Forget it, soldier. You tire me, and my mind’s already exhausted. Go now. Leave me.”
Alone again with his thoughts, the prince worked his way toward the edge of the party. He chewed on a chunk of bread from the table and splashed his face with water from a copper urn. His head began to clear, and with that clarity came an idea. He watched Taren in full dance, her countenance beaming from the midst of the throng. She was his key to Samson’s heart and mind.
Time to twist that key just a little.
Rallah was steady on his feet again by the time Taren tired of her dancing. He followed the bride-to-be as she angled from the crowd, either needing fresh air or to relieve herself.
He caught her in the moonlight in the alley and spun her round by her thin arm.
“Rallah?” she gasped. “You startled me.”
“Daughter of Ahar.”
She stiffened at the mention of her father.
“Why isn’t he here? Does he not celebrate the marriage of his only daughter?”
“He was here for the noonday meal, but he’s sickly; you know that.” She peered up through her thin veil. “He’s worked many years, and it’s difficult for him to carry on.”
“Do you blame his health on the palace’s treatment of him?”
“Please, I . . . I’m only explaining why he’s not here now. And he is happy for me. He likes Samson very much.”
“Everyone loves Samson. Samson, he’s so wonderful. What a fighter. What a physique.”
“My lord?”
“Forgive me if the drinking has gone to my head,” he said. “I think, though, that you forget your purpose. You, Taren, are my servant girl. That has not changed. We are here so that you can form an alliance by marriage with a man who poses a threat to our kingdom. In this way you will pay off the debt that now hangs over your father’s head. We went over this, did we not?”
She nodded. “Thank you, Prince Rallah, for all that you’ve done. The feasting is more than I could’ve hoped for. You and Delilah have been wonderful to us.”
“Our pleasure, of course.”
“My lord, would you mind letting go of my arm? I must relieve myself.”
He leaned closer. “Your debt can be paid in full, Taren, right here and now. Imagine that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your groom, he’s given us a riddle. We placed a healthy wager on it, and I’ll admit that he has me perplexed. We need to know the answer.”
“You want me to reveal this to you?”
“If you would.” He tightened his grip. “Consider, all of your debt washed away.”
“What is the riddle?”
He flung her aside. “Don’t play foolish with me, girl. You heard it, as did everyone . . . ‘Out of the eater, something to eat. Out of the strong, something sweet.’ What does that mean?”
“Tonight is the first time I’ve heard it.”
“You lie.”
“If I knew, my lord, I would tell you.”
“Then you’ll find out,” he growled. “You have a unique bond with your Hebrew; that’s been apparent from the start. It would be a shame if you were to never see him again.”
“What’re you saying?” A tear glistened behind the veil.
“Before these days of celebration are through, you will get me the answer.”
“What if Samson won’t reveal it to me?”
“Of course he’ll reveal it. Consider this your first test as a new bride. If you want something from your man, you must discern his weaknesses and motivations. All part of love’s grand game, moving pieces here and there, unlocking doors, tugging on strings. Delilah’s quite adept at it.”
“It’s not like that for Samson and me.”
“It will be,” he said sourly. “Love is a ripe fruit that eventually spoils and draws flies.”
“I won’t use Samson in the way you ask. I refuse.”
Rallah shrugged. “Poor Ahar. Is he aware that you’d sacrifice his life for your new love?”
“My prince, my father has done nothing but serve you. Please.”
“You’re making this all much more complicated than it is, Taren. Ask Delilah for help if you think it necessary, but find a way to loosen your groom’s tongue. All I ask is the solution to his riddle. It’s nothing of much consequence, after all. A wager at a party, all laughter and games.”
“I will try,” she whispered.
“I know you will.” He gestured back at the feasting. “We’ve gone to all this effort and expense for you, and I don’t want to see you cry. Be a good girl, won’t you? Relieve yourself, wash up, and go have some more fun.”
CHAPTER 27
ON THE SEVENTH DAY
FROM THE EAST a crimson glow appears over the hills of Jerusalem and Mount Zion. I watch as it turns orange, its long fingers poking through crags and wadis, prying at oak groves and sycamores. Then here along Timnah’s rooftops, a blaze of yellow announces the new day.
Not just any day. The last of seven days.
On this day our feasting ends and the consummation of our marriage begins.
“You’re a lucky man,” Pyzor says. “The prettiest girl in all of Timnah, and a lousy Hebrew steals her away from me.”
“Seems your hunting skills need some work,” I tell him.
“Being your best man will have to do.”
We are at his home, where I’ll cleanse and dress in my finest robes. I will pull my hair into seven separate locks, braiding and binding them, making myself more presentable for the privacy of our bridal chamber.
“Can you do me a favor, Pyzor?”
“Name it, my friend.”
“During the toasting, would you give Caleb a moment to say a word?”
“The jealous little brother? He can’t even wake up this morning. You trust him to say nice things about you?” The Philistine scratches his chin and chuckles. “Of course I can do that.”
“Thank you. And don’t think that being married will keep me from our hunts.”
“Well, we did promise your brother he could come along next time. Plus, you have mouths to feed, Samson. Two now, not just one.”
“And a third within a year, we hope.”
He punches my arm. “Already planning to be a father. Good for you. I prefer my freedom.”
Standing side by side, neither of us realizes how far apart this day will take us. Our words, spoken in earnest, come nowhere close to describing what shall actually roll out before us. If we knew, if we had even a peek, we would both flee this town and never look back.
It’s the seventh day, though. And I have waited for this.
Despite the partying and frivolities, Taren has acted strangely the past few days. I caught her gazing off. She asked me to repeat things. Each evening she changed from playful to moody when I refused to divulge the answer to my riddle. It became an obsession with her.
“I like my rhymes and riddles,” I tell her. “Ask Caleb. I’ve always been this way.”
“I’m your wife.”
“Not yet.” I kiss her forehead. “But very soon.”
She steps back. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“That’s the fun of it, Taren. If I tell you, the suspense is gone, and I lose interest.”
“Is this how it’ll be between us, you harboring your secrets? I thought as man and wife we would hide nothing from each other.”
I venture another kiss, this time aiming for her lips, but she looks away.
“Come on, Taren, don’t act like this.”
“How can you say you love me?”
“What? Now you’re just being foolish.”
“This is what men do. Delilah told me all about this . . . Delilah, the prince’s lover . . . You’ve seen her . . . She told me that men stop communicating with their wives, and the trust between them erodes. Is that what you want to happen between us? Is this how our relationship will start?”
“On the seventh day I’ll have more to say.”
She brightens. “You’ll tell me?”
Holding up seven fingers, I nod.
“You’re serious?”
“I am.”
This time when I try a kiss, she’s a willing participant, and I marvel again that this woman would love me, a man from a poor village among the oppressed people of Israel. My decision to marry a Philistine hurt my parents. I suspect that she too pays a price for this love. Though she doesn’t speak of it, I see its cost in her far-off stares.
We can make it work. That’s what I believe. Together we’ll show it can be done.
Now, at last, the seventh day is here, and she knocks at Pyzor’s door. She reminds me of my promise, and when I whisper my riddle’s answer into her ear, she grins. She promises in return that tonight will be a night I won’t ever forget.
CHAPTER 28
GIVE OR TAKE
THE MOMENT I see him, I suspect something is different. The prince is seated in the main festival area, his thirty soldiers surrounding him at the tables. Others talk, slurping from cups and nibbling on this final day’s food, while Prince Rallah and his soldiers are quiet and calm.
Each day now I’ve come with my brother to hear their solution to my
riddle.
Each day their answers have grown more far-fetched.
This day is different. My brother is still sleeping, and I have come here early with Taren so that together we can greet our guests and embrace all that this final day holds. The prince watches our arrival, looking more smug than defeated.
“There he is,” he calls. “Mighty Samson, a groom of rare strength and wit.”
“Are you ready to make good on our wager?” I ask.
He raises a large chalice. “You thought we would remain clueless, but you were wrong. I have the answer to your riddle. It came to me this morning.”
“At the bottom of which barrel did you find this answer? You think your wine gives you wisdom to deduce such things?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Try me.” I spread my arms wide. “Let’s hear it, my prince.”
“It was not so hard. After all, what is sweeter . . . than honey? And what is stronger . . . than a lion? No real mystery to it, Samson.”
I stand flabbergasted. “How did you—?”
“Remind me again of our wager? Thirty tunics, is that right?” Beneath his charcoal-outlined eyes a triumphant grin splits his face. “I am ready for you to deliver on that promise.”
“I cannot,” I admit. “I do not have them.”
Victory was to be mine on this day. Instead, he gloats. By what trickery did Rallah discern the truth behind my riddle? No one knows of my encounter with the lion, not my brother, my parents, or even my beloved bride-to-be.
Taren . . .
Impossible, I tell myself. She wouldn’t betray my secret.
“No tunics?” Rallah draws his sword. “Then you shall lose more than just your wager, strongman.” He is at Taren’s side before I snap out of my thoughts. He pulls her to his side, his blade at her throat. Her eyes are wide, seeking mine for rescue and for . . .
Forgiveness?
Yes, I see it there.
She is the one. She did this. She told him the things I shared in confidence.
“Don’t you dare harm her,” I command the prince. “By tomorrow I will bring you your tunics.”