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

by Ginger Garrett

  The men saw that. I knew by their lewd shouts. How could they not understand I was trying to help them? I was trying to get the answer. They had accepted the bet, not me. Why was I threatened if I did not save them? And why did Samson insist that I must not have the answer?

  The seventh day arrived. My eyes were swollen and my vision blurred. My whole body felt used and raw, exhausted from anxiety and shame and lack of sleep. Tonight the men would admit they could not solve the riddle, and they would be indebted to Samson. One set of clothes per guest. No small fortune in a lean harvest year.

  I washed my face in the cold water sitting in the crock near my pallet. Wiping my eyes dry with my hands, I had to force myself to decide the answer to my own riddle.

  Would I choose to live and flee with Samson? I would not hear my family die. I could pretend it did not happen. Samson’s family was wealthy, and thirty more sets of clothes would make us the wealthiest family I had ever known. I could be rich. No more work in the fields, with bleeding fingers and tired, aching feet.

  I had to choose.

  The door swept open, and in walked that ogre, Samson’s mother. She did not look surprised to find me alone. Saying nothing, she came and stood over my pallet, her arms crossed.

  “You are unhappy with my son?”

  I looked down at my lap.

  “I see that you are not packed for the return journey. Do you intend to honor the marriage?”

  “Why did you force him to marry me?”

  The words flew from my mouth without restraint. I could not believe I was raising my voice to his mother.

  She tilted her head. “I forced him?”

  “He said he loved me. That cannot be true! And now he is going to rob my villagers by this riddle!”

  “I would never have wanted Samson to marry you.”

  Her voice was sharp and cruel.

  “We are both prisoners, then. Help me. Please. Get Samson to tell me the answer. I will serve you like a slave all of my days.”

  “Why is this riddle so important to you?”

  “If I do not tell the men the answer, they’re going to kill me and my family and set us on fire and burn down our house! We’ll never even enter the afterlife!”

  She threw her arms up in the air in disgust, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I told Samson you were a horrible choice. Not only are you a Philistine, you’re still a child.”

  She walked to the door, and I heard her muttering about the foolish imagination of girls. With one hand on the door to pull it open, she turned back to me.

  “When you are in my home, I will see to it that you have plenty of work. Tired girls do not have energy to invent wild stories.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Do not talk back to me!” she screamed. “I will have respect!”

  “What you said about Dagon? I believe it. I believe what you said.”

  Samson was at the fire’s edge as we waited for the feasting hour to arrive. He looked at me, frowning. His eyes were watery. But how could it be that those words could make him cry? I was just trying to make peace between us. He had not taken me into the hills since the second night, nor had he tried to get me alone for any reason. It was possible he could take the money and leave me here forever.

  “If I reveal the answer to my riddle, you must make me one promise.”

  “Anything!” I stepped closer and took him by the arm. How had I broken his resolve?

  “Do not tell my mother. Ever.”

  “Do not tell her you gave me the answer?”

  “No. Do not give her the answer. Ever. She must never know the answer.”

  I wanted to take the answer like a stick from the fire and twist it in her side for all the grief she had given me. I was not the only one with a wild imagination, if Samson was afraid of what she might do. All over a riddle, no less.

  “I promise.”

  Samson wrapped his arms around my back and drew me in, in plain sight of the men arriving.

  “Promises are sealed with a kiss.” He bent down and sealed my promise. I relaxed into his arms, without meaning to, my body grateful for his touch again. I had held out for days, resisting the furtive, dark pains that made my thighs tremble when he was near. I had been strong. And now I had won, though I did not know how.

  I let myself fall into his arms, letting his mouth sweep over mine, his breath hot and wet against my cold cheeks.

  I do not know how long he kissed me, only that I was grieved that he stopped.

  “Do you remember when your father first invited me to dinner? On that day, I was walking on the road to your village when a young lion came roaring out of the trees. But that is the wrong place to start.”

  “There was a lion? And it was going to attack you?”

  He sighed, looking out at the horizon. “I am not like other men.”

  I wanted so badly to laugh at him, with those heavy dreadlocks hanging to the ground, his body twice the size of anyone else’s. He was so very unlike other men. Did he think I had not noticed?

  “No, you are not.”

  “My mother was alone in a field many years ago when a messenger of my God appeared to her. He foretold my birth.”

  “You are a god? Is this what you’re trying to tell me?” I had heard of such things. It made sense, given his size and appearance. What would our children look like? I hoped our daughters were not big like him.

  “I am no god. My God comes upon me, and I am helpless to stop Him. His might overwhelms me suddenly, like a raging fever. I do things other men cannot do, cannot dream of doing.”

  “You are blessed then.”

  “No. Strength is not a blessing.” Samson was lost in thoughts I did not understand.

  I wanted him to return to me. “What of the lion? Did he bite you?”

  “The lion? Oh. He’s dead. I caught him by the throat and broke his neck. Then, because so much strength flooded my body, I tore his body apart, limb by limb. Then I dropped the carcass and the limbs on the side of the road and went on my way to find you. On my return journey here, I saw the same carcass, and there was a hive of bees inside the rib cage. I stuck my hand into the heart of the hive and scooped out the comb, dripping with honey. I ate it.”

  “‘Out of the eater, something sweet.’ Yes. I understand!”

  “Why was it so hard? There are lions and beehives all over your pottery.”

  “But not a beehive inside a lion.”

  “Do not tell my mother. You must promise me that.”

  “Why? Is the lion sacred to your people? Will she be angry you killed it?”

  “No. She’ll be angry that she ate the honey.”

  “Ah. Another riddle?” I tried to prod him with a gentle joke.

  “We broke the law of our God. We touched the dead.” Samson pointed to the feasting tables. “One last night. We leave at dawn.”

  I left him, going to the tables to begin the wine service. I had the answer to his riddle. I thought it would make my choice so much easier, clearer. But some decisions were best made before riches came. Now I knew the men of my village could never solve this riddle; it was unlike any we had ever heard.

  Samson was going to win the bet. And he would take me home to his god, a god I did not know.

  After pouring everyone a brimming bowl of wine, I excused myself to fetch more. I looked frantically for Talos, who had not yet arrived. Running to the edge of the houses, I saw him coming down the road. I picked up my tunic and ran. I had a negotiation of my own to conduct.

  MOTHER

  I woke on this morning to a gentle tapping on the walls of the lodging house. I pulled the blanket tighter around me. Manoah was on his back, one arm flung over his head, mouth open wide, asleep. Samson was on his stomach across the room under the window. I saw beads of water running down the walls above him. The innkeeper needed to shut up his house for the winter now that the rains had come.

  Tonight was the last night of the feast. The men had not solved the riddl
e. My son was going to begin the deliverance through cleverness, not strength. The last battle would begin with money, not swords. Perhaps all battles do.

  We spent the day in between sleep and attending to the preparations for our journey home. Manoah talked to the innkeeper and settled our debt, making arrangements for our donkeys to be saddled and ready to leave by dawn. I never thought I would say this, but I was going to be happy to see my donkey again.

  We walked to Amara’s house just after the fifth hour of the afternoon. The sun had not shone today, staying tucked away in gray clouds overhead. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders and in between my arms. Samson noticed it and put his arm around me. He stood a foot taller than me. He could not have been comfortable, but he kept me warm.

  When we arrived, he went to talk with Amara, leaving Manoah and I to work.

  After an hour, we had the tables and benches in place, a goat roasting and the bread delivered. Amara had left Samson, going I know not where, but he did not move to help us. He just stared into the fire.

  When the men arrived, I could tell they were already drunk, with stained faces and broad grins. They laughed, licking their lips when they saw Samson.

  I saw a flick of black hair as Amara fled into her house.

  The Philistine beast from Gath spoke first. “What is sweeter than honey? And what is stronger than a lion?”

  I closed my eyes to stop the thundering in my heart. Amara must have gotten the answer from my son.

  Samson lifted his arm from my shoulders, taking a step closer in, moving until he stood toe-to-toe with the red-headed beast. “You’re too stupid to have solved it on your own.”

  The beast lowered his face. He stood a foot taller than Samson, which was a miracle in itself. “You’re calling me stupid?”

  “If you hadn’t ploughed with my heifer, you would never have guessed the riddle.”

  The beast just laughed, looking at the other men, who snickered and drank and nodded in satisfaction.

  Lightning flashed behind Samson, illuminating the edges of his body and the strange shimmering madness that was pouring down upon him, like the breath of God. The white of Samson’s eyes turned to a searing silver, and his flesh shone so brightly that he burned pale blue.

  I had seen this before. This madness was Samson’s gift. I braced myself for the burst of wrath, the destruction of these filthy men. I thanked God I had made it to this moment, when I would see the deliverance begin for my people.

  Samson exhaled and turned to leave.

  I trotted after him, calling his name. “What are you doing?”

  I looked back in confusion at the men we had just left. Every one of them was still alive, still laughing. At us. At Samson and his defeat. On the roof of her house, Amara stood, her black hair whipped by the wind, a final lash of lightning illuminating her.

  Samson said nothing to me, nothing to Manoah. He stomped and brooded, and when we got to the lodging house, Samson untied our donkeys and handed the reins to Manoah. “Take Mother home.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Amara betrayed you. I did not.”

  “Yes, you did. You thought I married her out of foolishness. It was God, your God and mine, who wanted it. Not me. I obeyed, and you gave me nothing but grief for it.”

  “No. God would not have wanted you to marry a Philistine.”

  Samson glanced at Manoah, who said nothing to defend his son. Samson shook his head and turned left, toward the coast, toward the heart of the Philistine empire, the five sister cities that ruled our people.

  I called out after him. “Where are you going?”

  “To make you happy.”

  AMARA

  The bag for my journey was by the front door.

  But Samson did not return for me. He had walked off into the night without a word, his mother and father trotting behind him. He had taken the road out of the village, the glow that surrounded him fading as the hour went past. A log had snapped and split in two, collapsing into the fire, just as a flash of lightning streaked through the sky while I watched him go.

  His god was angry with me. And my marriage was dead.

  MOTHER

  We rode through the night.

  By the fourth hour of darkness, the air grew heavy and smelled of salt. The grasses turned from low grasses good for grazing into high grasses that shifted in the wind, the grasses of the sea.

  Samson did not speak. I watched the back of his head, those cords of hair spreading out across his shoulders.

  “They cheated you,” I called ahead to him.

  No reply. Manoah looked at me and shrugged.

  We were alone on the highway for most of the night. A caravan passed us, five camels laden with bags, probably spice merchants going east into the Judean Hills to make a profit. The camels towered above me as they passed, their heavy eyelids and soft brown eyes studying me with gentle curiosity. The merchant rode a sixth camel behind them, quietly urging them on. He wore a dusty turban, and his face was wrinkled up in brown folds. He tipped his chin to me when our eyes met, and then he was gone into the night.

  Toward dawn, we were still on the main highway. We had not turned from the path for even one minute. I had needed to make water, and Manoah had waited for me, but my poor donkey paid for my weakness. I had to run him to catch back up to Samson, but what choice did I have? At my age, on a donkey, all night?

  Samson led us deeper into Philistine country, toward one of the five sisters, the cities that the Philistines ruled in. Traffic along the highway picked up now, with merchants heading into the cities and families coming in to buy what they needed. By mid-morning, I saw the high arched gate with the two mud-brick towers on each side, the wide blue sky above and the strong smell of fish in the air.

  We had arrived at Ashkelon.

  The city looked as if it was built on a hill, but it was not really. Instead, a long steep mud rampart was built around the city as far as the eyes could see in either direction, and the city wall was built behind that. The wall was a giant, slow curve; Ashkelon was open on the other side, open to the sea.

  The highway ran off down the coast toward the south, toward Egypt, but we turned on the road leading up to the main gate. This road was wide, wide enough for two chariot teams to ride side by side.

  As we neared the gate, a horned altar stood outside, perhaps forty paces from the gate, with a silver statue of a bull calf. Travelers laid offerings on the altar before passing through the gates, probably praying for success and blessing in the day’s trades.

  Samson paid no mind to the roadside idolatry. He led us through the gates. I saw him shiver once inside; the gate was wide enough for one chariot at a time to pass through, but taller than three men standing on each other’s shoulders. No sun illuminated the interior of the gate; it smelled of dead sea and mildew, and it was cold.

  When we stepped out into the sun a few minutes later—for the gateway was longer than you can imagine—we were almost run over by a driver lashing his donkeys. They carried a load of pottery to market, the pots covered in red and black bull calves and heifers, a symbol of the Canaanite deities, and the colors of the Philistines.

  Women shuffled past us wearing gold scarab toggle pins on their tunics that flashed in the late morning sun. They had Egyptian eye paint on, and I suspected those fine hairstyles they wore were nothing but wigs. I put my hand to my own hair, smoothing it back. I had not brushed it today, but at least it was mine.

  In the distance, narrow Egyptian ships sailed into the harbor, their red and yellow painted sterns rising up and down, breaking the waves. Egyptians were quick to forgive enemies with money. Judging by the number of Egyptians, there was quite a bit of money here.

  To our right, facing the sea, was a temple to Dagon, which I remembered as a brothel and nothing more. I remembered this city from a visit here as a child, when my father had risked my mother’s wrath only once by bringing me here as he traded. I had to ask him what the inscription meant, the one over the doorway to
that house where all the beautiful women leaned from the windows. He had turned red and mumbled the answer. “Enter and enjoy,” he had said, and I had not understood the reason for his blush for many years. I had jumped from my donkey to retrieve a pin that fell from my sash, I caught a glimpse of what hid under the gutters. As soon as I looked up, Father saw my face, and we turned for home. He begged me to never reveal what I had seen.

  The brothel had a latrine dug all the way around it, covered over to keep the smell down. It ran out to the sea. I turned away to keep the memories from surfacing. If you want to know the heart of a city, look at what it throws out.

  Samson veered to the left, toward a row of shops, one with jugs and dipping spoons for wine and date-palm liquor. Alongside it were a butcher shop and grain shop, their tables out front, customers already yelling about the prices and inspecting the scales with a critical eye.

  It made sense now, of course. Samson had lost the bet. He owed the men of Amara’s village thirty sets of clothes. Ah, but that would kill us. The expense!

  “Why did you drag us all the way to Ashkelon?”

  He was ignoring me, wandering through the crowds, as if looking for something. He had the frown of a man who has one item to buy, and only one, which was lost in a sea of options.

  And then he walked right past the shops. I was off my donkey at this point. I had to; my hip bones were going to pop out of their sockets if I didn’t stand up straight for a while. I grabbed Samson by the elbow and tried to turn him to face me.

  “You’ve gone past the market.”

  He pulled away, cocking his head as he looked at me, the look one would give a bold stranger. He ducked to the left, behind the last stall, where merchants threw their refuse. I covered my mouth and nose with my tunic, making my eyes wide and angry at Manoah. He did nothing. Of course. So I followed, and as I turned round that corner of the stall, I saw a man I did not recognize.