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

by Ginger Garrett

  “Where are we going then?”

  He smiled. “Away for a few hours.”

  My stomach was knotting up. I had to relieve myself terribly badly. The more I thought about it, the worse it got. Sweat broke out all over my face and chest. How did wives say these things to their men? Or was I to always keep these things a secret, an honorable silence? I did not know.

  “Listen.” Samson stopped the donkey, stroking his muzzle. The donkey turned his head and pressed into Samson’s stomach for more attention. “We’re near the stream of Sorek.”

  In winter, the stream was full and wild, with daisies blooming at the edges and ktalav trees nearby.

  “Do you need to stop?” Samson asked.

  I didn’t know if I should lie. “If you do.”

  He laughed, which I did not understand, but he found much amusement in things I said or did. He pointed to his right. “The river is just beyond these trees. Do you want to go first?”

  I nodded, slipping off the donkey and walking away. Insects shrieked and sang all around me, and birds called to one another in the trees above my head. I did hear the river now, and as I parted the last clasping pair of evergreen branches, I saw it.

  I had a clear view up and down the banks. No matter where I attended to myself, he could see me if he peeked. Just across the banks, rising above me, was a cave set into the gentle hill. It didn’t look like a bad climb. I lifted my tunic and plunged into the freezing cold water, slipping on the stones at the bottom, pushing against the currents to get across. I climbed out and up the slope, and picked my way up to the cave.

  From this perch, I could see the faraway lights of my village. The bonfire must have been one of the little burning yellow lights I saw twinkling back at me. I had never seen my village from this distance. It looked so small. Or was it me? Had I grown so much bigger?

  Samson whistled for me. I whistled back, to confirm I did not need his assistance.

  Lifting my tunic again, I ducked inside the cave for certain relief. The mouth of the cave was several feet above my head; it was a small cave, which was a good sign. Large caves were used by the wealthier farmers for storing grain. The caves were close to the fields, dry, and cool. But a small cave like this would be of no use to them.

  I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, then carefully placed one foot in front of the other, sliding my sandal side to side to be sure of my footing. Moving this way, I slid away from the mouth of the cave into the darkness. I chose a suitable spot and was standing back up, finished, when I heard a rustling noise near me. And another, followed by a tight little hiss. Something touched my hair, lifting a section up before dropping it. I saw the light at the mouth of the cave as if it were a thousand leagues away, and my legs would not move.

  A rush of hisses and chirps swept past me, my hair flying in all directions. I screamed and ran for the mouth of the cave, my tunic still tucked in my sash.

  I stumbled out of the mouth of the cave with Samson watching below as the horde of bats swept over me and into the night. Breathless, I clung to the edge of the cave.

  He didn’t laugh. “Are you all right?”

  I stared at him, waiting for the rebuke of laughter. He just watched me.

  “Yes.” A smile twitched at my mouth. I saw the same smile working at his lips, too. I giggled and hid my face with my hands.

  “Come down.”

  Though the night chill was creeping in and goose bumps rose up along my arms, I did not feel cold. I felt … like a child. But this was not a childhood I had ever had, of adventure and freedom at night. I had never been allowed to roam at night, for fear of wild animals.

  Now here I was with the wildest one of all. I giggled at the thought as I took his hand at the bottom of the slope, happy to have one last secret.

  Once back on the donkey, he led us to a spot nearby, under a ktalav tree with soft moss all around. I slid off the donkey while he spread a blanket and motioned for me to sit.

  I was going to be sick. I did not know what to do, or what he wanted. Or what he wanted me to do. Or what to say. When I did not move, he brushed the hair away from my forehead and led me to the blanket, sitting with me. He no longer had the amused twist to his mouth. His mood had changed. He was quiet; his face I could not read. He was impassive. Or content. In time, I hoped I would learn the difference.

  Samson pointed to the dark canopy above us, radiant with shimmering white stars.

  “Do you know her name?”

  “No,” I admitted. His thigh was touching mine as we sat side by side.

  “The Greeks call her Venus, the goddess of love. Canaanites call her the Queen of Heaven.”

  “What do you call her?”

  “The Evening Star. Sometimes she shows herself at dawn too, and then we call her the Morning Star. Now, look to the right, lower.”

  He pointed to a long sweep of stars. “The Archer.” His finger moved straight in front of us. “And there, the horizon kisses the sky.” He drew his finger back and pressed it against my lips.

  I turned away. His fingers rested against my cheek, and he gently turned my face back to his.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  I could not answer. I was afraid of being touched. I was afraid of not knowing what I must do. I was afraid that his skin on mine, our bared bellies touching and sliding over one another, would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to breathe from the pains of desire that would overwhelm me.

  “Do you know why I brought you here?”

  I shook my head.

  His hand touched the knot in my sash. One finger played over it as he studied me.

  “All the men that attended the feast …”

  “I did not invite them.”

  “They are lewd. Making coarse jokes.”

  I let a little more of my weight lean against him, trying to thank him without embarrassing myself through words.

  “The only sound I want you to hear tonight is the sound of my voice.”

  He brought his hand up to my lips, brushing a finger across them. I gave his hand a furtive, small kiss. It was bold of me. I thought I should do something.

  “I do not know what you must feel,” he said, bringing both hands to my sash, grasping the loose end and pulling. I felt the tug as the sash slid along my back.

  He removed my sash and tossed it into the darkness beyond us before reaching for the bottom of my tunic. My hand shot down and caught his, my heart plunging into my stomach.

  “I am afraid of being naked in front of you.”

  He showed me that amused curl of his mouth.

  “You won’t be in front of me. You’ll be under me.”

  We returned at dawn, a fiery sun rising at our backs, pink rays streaking overhead. The horizon was deep purple, the color of fortune. I would not smile at this thought—that would not be modest—but I had found mine. It did not matter that fortune was tinged with scandal. I had thought I must force myself to accept this disastrous turn of fate, but I was wrong. I didn’t have to force myself to do anything. Samson was a good lord, a gentle lover who was patient and tender and whose bare stomach pressed against mine made my mind swim so fast I feared I would die.

  “Wait!” I said, turning in the saddle to look at Samson. “If I am your wife, must I worship your god?”

  Samson nodded. “My mother will insist.”

  “If I worship him, will I have to cut something off?” Even now, after hours of intimacies, I could not bear to place a name on any immodest body parts. I hoped it would be enough that I knew where they were.

  Samson frowned, lost. “Cut something off?”

  “Never mind.”

  If it came to pass, I would worry about it then. Not today. Not when I could see Astra waving from our rooftop, spying my arrival. I lifted a hand in return, then lowered it to lightly touch my cheek. My face was chafed, rubbed raw from so many kisses with my hairy groom.

  “Will you be all right?”

  I dropped my hand and looked at him, n
ot understanding the question.

  “In four days, you will leave your home. And Astra. Forever.”

  I stroked the neck of the donkey as he plodded along. I had no tears. My body hurt from so much emotion and so much love. I knew the heartbreak would be fierce, and that it would come no matter how I tried to hold onto my happiness here. Perhaps we should leave, I thought. Right now. Perhaps trying so hard to love Astra and tend to her as much as I could right now, to soak in our final moments together with my mother, perhaps that was stupid of me.

  Samson’s hand rested on my lower back, a soft reply of its own. “If I could give you my strength, just for that day, I would.”

  “Why me?” I don’t even know why I asked that question, at that moment.

  Samson did not react. He just studied the horizon, keeping his pace.

  “Why not a Hebrew girl?” I was getting bolder with him. He had known my body; why could I not know his thoughts?

  “Tell me about Dagon.”

  Had he not heard my questions? Why did he ask me this?

  “He is the god of the fields, of the harvest.”

  “Have you ever talked with him?”

  I giggled. What god would talk to a girl?

  Samson stopped and stared at me, hard and cruel. “Dagon is a block of wood, a worthless piece of sculpture. He does not care about your fields, or your harvest, and he will never care about you.”

  My mouth fell open as I started to take fast gulps of air. I was going to bawl like a child.

  “The truth makes more enemies than friends. So, before you ask me the truth again, be very sure you really want it. I don’t want to talk about Hebrews and Philistines.”

  We continued the rest of the journey in silence. I swallowed back my tears and all my other questions.

  A few moments later I slid off the donkey, with Samson holding one of my hands for support, and hugged Astra. She had come bounding out of the house, anxious to have a word with me. We embraced and over her shoulder I saw the bonfire, almost dead by now, a huge black pit that smoldered and smoked in the heavy dawn air. Talos sat, his feet in the ashes for warmth, watching us. A big man, maybe from Gath, still sat at the table, picking at a greasy bone, ignoring us. A few other men from our village lingered near the houses, deep in conversation. With winter here, and nothing to harvest but a few winter figs, men often had such long negotiations and discussions.

  I sighed in contentment and released Astra.

  “I thought you had left!” she scolded me.

  “No.” Neither of us said what we both thought. I would leave. If not last night, then soon. Sometimes Hebrew men let their wives stay with their parents, but only until they were pregnant. Then the wife came home with the husband. I did not judge Samson to be a patient man, though.

  “Wife.”

  I stepped aside from Astra to face my lord.

  He kissed me, on the forehead, and took his leave.

  Astra stared at me, wide-eyed with the scandal. I had done it. I had slept with the Hebrew. I was his wife forever now. My hand went to my belly, a strange new reflex. I would bear children from this man.

  Samson walked away, leading the donkey with him. A patch of greenery surrounded the houses, just on the other side of the road. Samson slapped the donkey’s haunches, pointing him toward his breakfast, before Samson took the road leading to his lodging.

  As soon as Samson disappeared from view, Talos stood. The big man from Gath threw down his bone and stood too, wiping his greasy fingers on his tunic. The men stopped their conversation and walked toward me, as one.

  The big man spoke first. “So.”

  I shrugged. I did not know how else to reply.

  Talos watched the older men. I could not read his face. He had changed so much since we were children. His once-full cheeks had leaned out, and his beard was coming in. His eyes had changed more than any other feature. Where once there had been softness, there was a fire now, an anger I did not understand. He held up one hand and addressed me.

  “Do you know the answer?”

  “Answer to what?”

  He pulled back his hand as if to slap me. Astra yelped and grabbed me, pulling me back.

  The big man from Gath took one slamming step toward me. His footfall made the earth shake. I felt it in my knees.

  “What is the answer to your groom’s riddle?”

  “I don’t know.” Panic was rising in my stomach. I clutched Astra’s hand, whispering out of the side of my mouth. “Get Father.”

  “Your father won’t be coming outside today,” the big man said.

  My heart froze in a tight pinch.

  He took another step toward me. “I will make you the same offer I made him. Either tell us the answer to the riddle, or die. I myself will kill your family, one by one, even as you watch. I will stack the bodies in your home and throw yours on top, and then I will destroy your house through fire.”

  I stumbled back. My feet landed on top of Astra’s feet, knocking her down, and I fell on top of her as the men laughed. We scrambled toward our door, tripping on our tunics as we jerked up, trying to get away quickly. Not a man moved to help us. We ran for our door, not looking back.

  Once inside, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and by the light of our oil lamp, I saw Mother and Father sitting at our table, hands folded, faces down. They knew. They knew what those men were going to do. They weren’t getting up either, or stirring to comfort us. A bleak distress settled in the air, tainting it with a soiled, sour smell.

  “Mother? Father?”

  They did not move. Mother pressed the back of one hand to her mouth.

  My legs moved with great effort, invisible shackles weighting them down. I walked to my pallet and lay down with my face toward the wall. Over the hours that passed, my mind, frantic with fear, settled on three outcomes. I could flee tonight with my groom, never to return. Perhaps if Samson did not collect on the bet, my family would be safe. Or I could stay and let the men suffer the punishment for their rash stupidity, which would mean certain death for my family, but not for me. Finally, I could flee with Samson as soon as they paid the debt, and we would have even greater wealth thanks to his shrewd tale.

  The only outcome I could imagine that did not lead to my family’s death was Samson losing the bet or forsaking his claim to it. And perhaps this was a test sent by the gods, not just for the men of my village, but for Samson himself. I would know the man I married by the decision he made. Which did he value more: my happiness or their money?

  I sat up on my pallet. Astra was asleep next to me, clinging to a blanket for comfort. Mother and Father were gone, perhaps off to seek counsel or mercy.

  I would know soon who Samson truly was and what he most wanted.

  I set to work brushing out my hair. I had to give him every reason to desire me more than money.

  MOTHER

  That night at the feast, I watched as crooked yellow teeth flashed in the mouths of the Philistines while they ate our food. Thick calloused knuckles scratched those flea-infested heads as they tried in vain to solve the riddle. I watched their faces turn hard and angry, their chewing turn to tearing, their hands clasp and unfurl, wishing for a dagger.

  Amara appeared at my elbow, whispering in my ear. “Mother, would you walk with me?”

  I agreed with reluctance.

  “You have heard Samson’s riddle?” She roped her arm through mine as we walked past the houses.

  “Yes.”

  “The men from my village are very angry.”

  “If the men from your village are anything but complete idiots, they’ll solve the riddle soon enough. The answer is plain.”

  “But if they don’t …”

  “Amara, if you want to be a good wife, you must do as I do. Stay out of the affairs of men.”

  “It’s very hard.”

  I patted her hand. “You have no idea.”

  AMARA

  Samson stood. I followed a few steps, at a discreet distance,
until out of earshot, then grabbed him by the arm.

  “Amara. Stop.”

  “Why won’t you tell me? Do I not please you?”

  “Amara, I’m going to relieve myself. Either let go, or come watch.”

  I dropped my hand, outraged. Had I not made myself irresistible tonight? Had I not served him without complaint, attended to his every need with plain adoration and subservience?

  “I am only asking for the answer to a riddle.”

  Samson walked off several more paces behind the houses on the left, to the trench where men relieved themselves. His back to me, he answered.

  “I haven’t even told my father and mother.”

  “I am not your mother. I am your wife.”

  Samson turned back to me, adjusting the sash at his waist. My face was hot with anger and embarrassment. I had never stood behind a man as he did that. I prayed I would never have to again. My donkey made a quieter stream and did not sigh with ease as he did.

  “And as your husband, I command you to stop pestering me.”

  I bit my lip to keep from shaming myself further, even though tears streamed down my face, cold in the night air. Samson strode past me, stopping a few paces away to offer his arm.

  “Coming?”

  I narrowed my eyes and made the angriest face I could. Did he not see my tears? Did he not understand what he had done to me, to my family? How could a man be so utterly blind and insensitive?

  “My God wanted me to marry you.”

  “What?” I was confused.

  “You asked me last night why I married you. I will answer that riddle. I married you because I am in love with you. God struck me with love for you the first time I saw you.”

  With that, he was gone. Back to eating and drinking and swapping lewd tales, slapping his thigh to the music. I hung back in the shadows, and when the fire began to ebb and he stood to look for me, I lifted my tunic with a huff and walked inside my home.

  Nothing made sense. But I made one decision in the chaos of the evening: If he did not give me what I wanted, then I would not give him what he wanted. This was marriage, was it not?

  A full three days passed in this same manner. Samson refused to tell me the answer to the riddle. I refused to stop asking. I tried tears. I tried teasing with my body, trying to hint at pleasures as I leaned over him, pouring his wine. If I dared follow him past the bonfire to have a word in quiet, he grabbed me and pressed his mouth to mine before I had a chance to say anything at all.