by Eric Wilson
The horror of what she says weighs heavy on me. “Delilah.”
She bites her lip. “I’ve never told anyone of it. Until now.” Her eyes flicker toward mine, she gives a brave smile, then adds, “It’s stupid, I know, but it still makes me teary eyed. All this time, and you’d think a capable grown woman could forget such things.”
“You could never forget,” I tell her. “God didn’t create you to be treated like that.”
“This God of yours, did He create me for you?”
I sit straight, pull my knees to my chest. “Yes,” I tell her. “Man and woman, both are created in God’s image. Alone, we’re only part of His reflection. Together, we are whole.”
“If so, why is love such a war?”
“We’re selfish beings,” I answer. “As simple as that.”
“You have all the answers, don’t you?”
I shrug. “I was judge once. Still am, I guess. All these questions and answers, where have they gotten me?”
The trellis shadows are gnarled, clutching at me as we pass through the rows on our way back to her house. Delilah has promised a good meal, some more wine, and perhaps another helping of what we shared on my cloak in the grass.
“What if we could leave all this behind?” she wants to know. “Where would you go?”
“Anywhere we want?”
“Anywhere.”
I stop and let my mind soar. “Goshen. Egypt. All the cities of Joseph. Kush, even, where I’ve heard they have creatures that stand tall as the trees.”
“Oh, how I wish.” She slaps at my chest. “I know you, though. You’d never go that far from your own people. You feel responsible. Why, I’d have to take you there by force, binding you with my own two hands.”
We laugh.
“As if anything could bind you,” she adds.
“What if there was something? I’m not invincible, you know.”
“Tell me,” she purrs, “and I will take you to all of those places tomorrow, to every place that you ever dreamed of.”
“You’d have fun tying me up, would you?”
“Don’t tempt me, darling.”
“You think you’d have me in your power then, making me like any other man.”
“Samson, you could never be like any other man. Bound or not.”
I’m fascinated by her musings. For a man who’s always been in control, always had the upper hand, there is some allure to this thought of being the helpless one. Being captive to another. I draw her close, kiss her chin, and give her my permission. “Do it,” I say. “Tie me up with fresh ropes, ones that’ve never been used before. Then, you’ll see, I will be like any other man. You can have your way with me, carry me off to wherever you wish.”
“Be careful what you ask for, strongman.”
I find her lips this time with a deep, lingering kiss.
As we enter the house, she encourages me to rest while she prepares our evening meal. The passions of the afternoon have drained my energies, and I succumb to the comfort of her Egyptian bedding. So cozy. So soft. So sleepy . . .
When my eyes open, she is before me.
“Are you ready, darling?” She offers me a goblet, and I drink from it. She reveals a length of rope from behind her back and gives me a seductive grin. “Are you ready to go away with me?”
Still groggy and a little confused, I feel my desire reawakening.
“Fresh ropes,” she assures me. “Like you said.”
I nod, playing along.
She winds them around my hands and arms, pulls them tight, and cinches the knots. She steps back. “Let’s see now, are you just like any other man?”
“Almost, my love. Almost.”
I snap the ropes with only minimal effort.
“You lied to me,” she says.
“Maybe the ropes weren’t fresh enough. Listen, if you use bowstrings, that’ll do the trick. I’ll be helpless before you.”
She rummages around in other parts of the house and returns at last with strings that she tells me are taken from her brothers’ odds and ends. She ties them tighter than the ropes, and I pretend to tug at the bonds.
“Looks like I’m all yours.”
She saunters to her window, a red scarf in hand, and my imagination stirs up possibilities. She sets it on the sill so that it dangles over the edge, then spins back to face me. “Would you really go away with me?”
“Of course.” I’m enjoying her game. “I’m ready for you. Take me away.”
In this quiet section of the valley we often hear circling birds of prey and winds that sweep up from the Great Sea. Now I hear something that does not belong. It’s the sounds of clinking metal, and I know that something is wrong. The door flies open, and soldiers burst through in helmets and shields with their swords drawn.
“Delilah, get back,” I tell her.
She presses herself against the wall as I react, snapping the bowstrings and leaping to my feet to deal with this threat. If they’ve come to harm or capture her, they’ll have to deal with me. My shoulders bulge. My strength courses through my limbs, and it’s enough to send these weaklings scurrying back out. I charge after them, only to find them regrouping outside. One man stands in the center of them.
“Rallah,” I snarl. “What’re you doing here? If it’s a fight you wanted, you should’ve brought more men.”
“You’re outnumbered,” he points out. “You have nothing to protect you.”
“I need no protection. Or isn’t that scar on your face proof enough?”
He narrows his gaze. “But your people, they do need protection.”
“I will never abandon them.”
“Is that so, Hebrew? Well, it seems you already have.”
CHAPTER 51
PROOF
DELILAH EASED INTO the doorway, watching the exchange between mortal enemies. Two men, two lovers, facing off with her heart and loyalty in the balance. Did Samson even suspect her betrayal? The red scarf, the ropes, they were all part of her ploy, and he was so caught up in the fantasy that it blinded him to reality. These soldiers were not here to take her away but to take him.
Well, let them try, she thought.
Prince Rallah had set a trap, using her as bait, and now that trap would snap back. Samson was a man romantically involved and not to be trifled with. She hadn’t actually betrayed him. Not really. She had set him up for a rousing victory, a chance to get rid of Rallah once and for all.
And if the prince came out victorious?
In that case she would have her lifelong dream of being queen.
Samson stood in the waning light on her threshold and barred the soldiers from advancing, even now looking out for her welfare. “How,” he demanded, “have I abandoned my people?”
“Is it not obvious to you?” Rallah said.
“I have exiled myself to bring them relief.”
“This is what you call exile, is it?” The prince cast an eye at Delilah. “I wonder what they’d think to hear you’ve bedded with a Philistine.”
“She’s a diversion, that’s all. I will go from here soon.”
Delilah recoiled from Samson’s words.
On either side of Prince Rallah the soldiers readied for another attack, and archers drew their bows. Samson didn’t budge. He stood at the low stone wall of the entry, hands trembling, eyes fixed on the prince only ten paces away.
The prince took note of the fury coiling in the strongman. “Halt,” he cried out.
His men lowered their weapons.
“Let us leave this man to his . . . diversion,” he said, drawing out the last word.
Cautiously, as Samson fumed, they all made their retreat. Delilah also withdrew, stumbling back into the shadows of the house. She caught the seat of a chair and fell into it, trying to breathe. A knife stabbed into her chest could not have caused her more pain than Samson’s words.
Her brothers, they had seen her as a toy to be shared.
A diversion.
Rallah h
ad seen her as a tool to be used and in his bedchamber as a temporary cure from the headaches of palace politics.
A diversion.
She’d believed until now that Samson saw her as something more. How had she been so foolish? While he had been blinded by his fantasy of ropes and scarves, had she been blinded by her fantasy of love and travel and confession and hope?
“They’re gone for the time being,” he said, reentering the house. He closed the door, then moved to the bedside and began packing his things. “I need to leave. My being here has put you in danger.”
She slipped from the chair to the bed.
“I should’ve known,” he continued. “Of course the prince would be watching your place.”
“Samson?”
“I was stupid to think that—”
“Samson, am I just a diversion to you?”
He stopped and looked at her. “If he believes you mean nothing to me, then you’ll be safe.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It was said to protect you, Delilah.”
“So give me your answer,” she pleaded. “I need to hear it from you.”
“No,” he said, taking her by the arms. “You are not. You mean more to me than I thought possible. When Taren died, it tore me apart. I never thought I could love another. These past weeks, though, you’ve stirred feelings and passions in me all over again. You’ve proved me wrong.”
As he lifted his hands to cup her face, she pulled back. “I’ve been hurt before too, you know. How can I be sure that you’re telling me the truth?”
“Delilah, I love you.”
“Words are so easy to say.”
“I . . . ” He stopped, his eyes lighting up. He dropped to his knees and fumbled through his robes and belongings on the bed. “Here, take this.” He opened her hand and placed a small leather pouch in her palm. “There is my proof. It’s the symbol of my love.”
Her heart thumped against her breast. She swallowed. “What is it?”
He loosened the pouch and revealed a turquoise necklace, simple and elegant. As he stood and clasped it around her neck, she felt his breath against her ear.
“It belonged to my family,” he said, “an heirloom from their days under Pharaoh’s rule. It’s an Egyptian necklace, and my mother gave it to me on the week of my wedding. It was to be a gift for Taren. I’ve held on to it ever since.”
“And you would give this to me?”
“Now do you believe me?”
This time when he cupped her face, she surrendered to his touch. Emotion welled in her eyes, and the tears moistened their lips as they kissed.
“Darling, let us start a new life together.”
“I wish I could take you to my village,” he said. “To my people.”
“No, we must leave,” she said. “Somewhere far away from here. You said it yourself, that they no longer want you. It’s better this way.”
“Let’s stay awhile on the Nile.”
“Not funny, Samson.”
“Or find a bush in Kush.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I want a new life.”
“By this age everyone does.”
“Speak for yourself, old man. When I look around this place, all I see are memories. My brothers could care less about the vineyard, and I can’t oversee it on my own. I’ll sell it, and we’ll find someplace nice to settle down. How does that sound?”
He kissed her hand, then touched the necklace at her throat. “It looks amazing on you.”
“I love it,” she said, her heart swelling. “I love you.”
“Give me a few hours. I’ll get word to my brother to meet outside Zorah so I can share the good news and say my goodbyes. I’ll be back soon, Delilah. I promise.”
CHAPTER 52
NOTHING BUT BONES
West of Zorah
I SEND WORD TO my brother through a shepherd boy; then I wait in the woods where I once killed a lion. That was long ago. The trees are dense here, but the autumn leaves are few, allowing trickles of moonlight through. My sandal sweeps through the grass, kicks aside a branch, and turns up scant evidence of what happened here. Nothing but bones. All that’s left of my heroic conquest.
This place, it’s one of the first where I ever used my strength.
And the first where I broke a Nazirite vow.
All of that seems long ago now. More than anything, at this point I just want to settle down and find tranquility with someone I love. I know Caleb will be thrilled for me, and to some extent Mother too.
A shape appears on the hillside. It glides over rock and weed, moving quickly.
“Caleb.” I spread my arms.
He appears in a rush and shoves me back on my heels.
I catch myself. “What’s ailing you, Brother?”
“You stranded us in Gaza, you haven’t shown your face around here for many moons, and now you come to tell me that you’re leaving for good?”
“I struck a deal with King Balek. I had no choice.”
“You always say that.” He huffs. “When will you learn otherwise?”
“You’re so smart, are you? Well, my choice, Caleb, was between our people having the tribute lifted and our people being drawn into an all-out war.”
“And how long do you think that promise will last, Samson?”
“He knows the terror I will rain down if he breaks it.”
“When he’s gone, what then? When Rallah takes the throne, do you think he’ll be bound by his father’s promises? Of course not. He’ll make our lives miserable. That’s why we must fight now to overthrow these Philistines.”
“Come on,” I say. “Not all this revolutionary talk.”
“The king thinks we’re weak, and he’s let his defenses down. It’s been a generation since we raised a sword in challenge. What you call bluster, Samson, is what Wadesh and I call justice. Do you remember when I found you at the point of total exhaustion on the heights of Lehi? Before I came to you, I gathered hundreds of swords, spears, shields, all that I could muster, and I hid them away for a day such as this. We’re going back tomorrow, me and some of the tribesmen, to arm ourselves for war.”
“It’ll end in a slaughter. This is madness, Brother.”
“Strange,” he said. “That’s almost exactly what Orum told me.”
“Maybe Orum’s right.”
“We met earlier today, and I told Orum and Treus that they could join our cause or not. Either way, Wadesh and I agree that this land was promised to us, and we must fight for it. Or have we stopped believing in the power of our God?”
His zeal almost stirs something in me, somewhere deep down, but mostly it tires me. All the emotion and aggression, the sword rattling and rage. I’ve had my day atop the bodies of my foes. I’ve torn heads from their shoulders and shoulders from their sockets. I’m done with that. Bones and broken bones. Enough.
“I’ve fallen in love, Caleb.”
“So you’re running off.” He paces beneath the trees. “That leaves me to fight your battles and to care for our mother.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Listen, if I could stay without compromising the safety of our village, I would.”
“You can, Samson. You can stay and fight.”
None of this is going the way I hoped. I want my brother, of all people, to share in my excitement. He is one of the few who joined me at the celebration in Timnah. Of course that cost us all dearly, him included. He stood by me, risked his life for me. He is my little brother after all.
“Thank you,” I tell him, “for watching after Mother. How’s she doing?”
“She’s good, Samson. She prays for you night and day.”
“Does she have food enough?”
“We manage.” Caleb punches my arm. “So, how’d you meet this new love of yours?”
“She helped tend to my wounds,” I say. “After I was attacked in Gaza.”
“At the gates. Yes,
you left quite a hole to fill.” A smile plays along his mouth.
“I’m staying with her now at her vineyard in the Sorek valley. It’s not far. And what about you, Brother? Have you never found someone to love?”
“I’ve had other battles to fight.” He shrugs. Then a suspicion creeps into his eyes. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen for another Philistine.”
“And what if I have?” I lift my chin. “What concern is that of yours?”
“Samson, have you no regard left for your sacred vows? You do whatever you will, traveling from one bed to another. Oh yes, we all heard about your night at the house of the harlot. You were the laughingstock of Gaza. The mighty Hebrew, the righteous judge . . . the lowly, whoring male.”
“It was a mistake, yes. I felt like all was lost, and I . . . I have no excuse.” I see his arms fold. “But don’t think for one moment that you understand the weight of this burden I carry. From birth it’s been upon my shoulders. Far too great for your shoulders to bear.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“I warn you, Brother, to curb your judgment of me. Just let me be.”
“Be what exactly?”
“Come on,” I plead with him. “You know that I’ve tried. I killed thousands. I served as judge for twenty years. In the end what did any of it accomplish? I’ll die one day, and no one will remember these pitiful efforts I made. They did nothing to change our situation, and I’m done with it. You ask what I will be? I don’t know yet, but I do know this: I won’t be a failure yet again.”
“The men are finally willing to fight, Samson. They need you to lead them. As long as you have breath in your lungs, God is not done with you.”
“If He has even half your tenacity, Caleb . . . ”
“He has more,” he says. “Much more.”
“You don’t ever give up, do you? Well, I’m not leading anyone, especially not you, to certain death. I will not do it.”
“Please. Where is my mighty brother? That is the man I’m looking for.”
“He’s gone,” I tell him.