“I know that Tanis is good and kind! I know that she saved my life and I trust her and I know that you are a mean, hard woman!”
I jumped up and rushed from the table, running out the doors at the far end of the hall. My head was swimming with angry words. My heart was frantic, pounding fast and sharp, pushing away the awful things I had just said, the fear of what that woman might do next.
My feet hit warm stones, and I turned my face up from the ground to see a purple sky with no clouds or stars. People were milling about all around me, some leaning against an almond tree that had just put out its early blossoms. Some strolled arm in arm with women I recognized from the sleeping room, disappearing around corners, laughing or deep in discussion. The women often stroked the arms of these men—and the others were almost all men, I saw—encouraging more words, more time. Tanis should be here, with the others.
A few couples stopped when they noticed me, very different looks on each face. The men were curious. Curious and surprised. The women were surprised and unhappy, so I pushed my way through them quickly to find Tanis. I was a stench in the nostrils of some women here, and I did not know why.
I turned round a giant limestone pillar to my left and saw Tanis sitting with a finely dressed man in linen robes. She held his hands in her lap, leaning in to listen to him. As she accepted a kiss on her cheek from him, she saw me. I do not know how to describe what I saw in her face at that instant. Anger, perhaps, or fear. Those two are too similar to tell apart from a distance. She stood and yelled something in a language I did not know, as a guard moved toward me.
I ran out, straight past them all, into the busy main street of the city. I looked for a place to sit and unleash all these tears blurring my eyes, but where could I go? I ran toward the back of the temple. My belly began to ache, the baby inside pressing down, making it hard to stand. Using my left hand to brace myself against the wall, I edged along and around the side of the temple, where at least I was alone, if not comfortable.
Something else twisted inside me, something dark and painful. I hated myself. I bit at my nails, wishing I could bite all the way through my skin, destroy this whole miserable creation that I was. I wished I were a roaring lion, stalking the stupid little Delilah through a dark forest, knocking her down with one strong paw, then ripping her up and eating her until not a drop remained. I wished I were that lion. I wished I were anything but me, the girl so clumsy she was caught stealing grain, so stupid she did not even know what to do when that shadow man reached for her, so cursed that a baby sprang up in that same space …
I might have made a longer list, but Tanis found me.
I couldn’t look at her. I only knew it was her by the voice.
“Delilah? Are you all right?”
I wouldn’t reply, so she came and sat by me, lowering herself to the ground, her back against the wall like mine. We sat side by side until my breathing slowed and my body became flesh again instead of cold stone.
“I am sorry, little pet. I thought Hannibal was with you.”
“He was. I ran away.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t belong here.”
“Are you a seer?”
“No.” My tone sounded like an angry child.
“Then you don’t know that, do you? I would say you know very little at all, Delilah. That is one reason I had to save you.”
“What’s another reason?” I knew she was going to say that she needed a slave. Or that Hannibal did. Or some noble. I didn’t want to be stupid anymore. I wanted the whole truth, right then. All these things I didn’t know were what hurt me. About men, about ewes, about lambs.
“I like you.”
I turned to face her. “Don’t lie to me, ever, ever, Tanis.”
“I’m not lying!”
“Then why did you save me? What must I do?”
Her face grew still, her eyebrows coming close together. “You must eat. And sleep. And then when you are strong, you must have a baby.”
“And then?”
She sighed, settling back against the wall but putting an arm around me. “Those are big enough tasks for any woman, much less a girl your age. You cannot take on any more than that for now. Promise me.”
“Tanis, I said something awful to the blonde woman inside.”
“Parisa?” Tanis laughed. “Did her face puff up and go red?”
“I don’t know. I ran away.”
“Don’t provoke her. She’s still a slave in her heart. Small and cruel. I think the gods must have set her eyes backward in her head. She doesn’t see a big world with all its wonders. She only sees what she does not have, all the little joys she is denied.”
“Did you bring her here too?”
“No. Parisa was brought here by a slave caravan five years ago. We saw her at an auction. She had passed through so many owners. I did not want her brought in, but Hannibal insisted.”
“But you defended her to him.”
“He has grown to hate her, but he needs the money she brings in from her lord. I only want peace for my girls, so we may work without distraction.”
Tanis stood and turned to me, extending her hand. I accepted and stood up, not without some grunting, which made her grin. She rested her hand on my belly, and I saw a shadow of great sorrow pass over her face, like the shadow of a bird flying above, going to a land I did not know.
MOTHER
This is still my tale.
Although another woman would enter into my story, her time is not yet. Not in my tale. I was still unaware of her, a merciful ignorance.
On one of those ignorant days, I was working in the vineyard. I cleared my throat, not willing to spill tears in front of the other mothers. They watched me closely, looking for clues, hoping for a weak moment when I needed their comforts more than my own good name.
I would not give that. Our name is all we have in this world.
I grasped the next vine, slicing the fruitless tendrils, letting them fall at my feet. Tending the vines is not easy work, for the sun returns in glory after the dark, blinding rains, and soft, sleepy people who had rested in the coolness of walled rooms are forced out to face the sun. There is much work this year; the harvest is plentiful. All of Zorah has turned out for the first day of harvesting. All except Samson.
I tended the vines, refusing to acknowledge this, my heart almost crushed after tending to Syvah the day before. She was so pale, so thin, but she still expected to rise from her bed. I pushed her even closer to her death. I told her the truth. You should never tell people the truth. This is what I have decided: The truth kills as surely as the blade.
She had grasped my hand, clutching it between her cold, dry palms. “Why so much sorrow, sister?”
I was more than old enough to be her mother. She was being kind, calling me sister.
I removed my hand and dipped the cloth in the water I had heated. I washed her face, neck, and hands. I dipped a dry cloth in a little jar of olive oil I had brought and rubbed the oil into her skin, across her gaunt face and lips, careful to make her face shine. As if good health were that easy, as if miracles could be so simple.
“You are afraid,” she said, settling back against her cushions. Her sons were working in the fields. We were alone. “You should just face the truth.”
“And what is the truth?” I humored her.
“You were mistaken. No angel visited you. It might have been a dream. Samson is not the man of God you thought he would be.”
I chuckled, not meeting her eyes as I moved down to wash her feet now. As I kneeled on the floor, she watched me with intensity.
She was right about Samson, in a fashion.
She sat up. “Why can’t you love him as he is? Why do you drive him so? If you would only accept him, he would come back to you.”
“I am his enemy, Syvah. That is the truth. And before you go telling me how I should face the truth, maybe you should face it too.”
Syvah looked away, her
chin trembling.
“You’re dying, Syvah. You won’t get up from this bed.” I looked away now too, toward her window open to the afternoon sun. “Truth is no comfort to either of us.”
When I looked back at Syvah, I was shocked at her expression. She was smiling, a strange radiance settling on her young features.
“Maybe we do not need comfort, not at this late hour of our lives. Maybe we should be asking for hope instead.”
What hope could a dying woman hold onto? What hope was there for me, or for Samson?
I smiled as if I agreed, and left her there to wait for the hour of shadows.
DELILAH
I could not see my toes. If I looked down, I saw only full breasts and a bulging stomach. I couldn’t sleep well, either. My throat burned at night, worse every week, and although Tanis insisted I sleep on a couch like the others, it did not make me comfortable.
No one else here was with child. I wished to ask someone if these changes were from the child growing big within, or if this was what it was like to become a woman. I was surrounded by women, and what use were they to me? Twenty girls lived in these quarters, but none had a husband. None would be able to tell me the answer to this mystery.
This morning I rose before any of them and sneaked out to find Hannibal already seated on his chair. Two male servants attended him, small men with no muscle. They smiled when they saw me and stepped aside.
I nodded to them and bowed before Hannibal.
“Good morning, Delilah.”
“How may I serve Dagon today?”
“Do you hear that sound?”
I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the steady hiss of rain, as I had every morning this month.
“The rains, my lord. They are still with us.”
“Listen more carefully.”
I exhaled and placed my hands under my belly to lift it, to stop the constant ache from standing. I closed my eyes and listened, harder this time.
“It is softer today?”
Hannibal nodded. “The rains will soon be ending. Maybe one more month of rain, maybe less.”
“Should I do something?”
Hannibal shook his head. “I’m trying to tell you that time is passing. You are soon to give birth.”
I felt my expression freeze. I did not know how to give birth. What was he asking me to do?
“Yes, my lord.” I did not know what else to say. I made a serious expression, nodding.
The door behind me opened. A cold morning breeze swept in, chilling my ankles. I shivered and looked behind me. Parisa stumbled in, her gait unsteady. She rested for a moment with one hand on a pillar, then wiped her forehead and continued her staggering walk toward the sleeping chambers.
Hannibal was on his feet, chains in his hands, walking toward her. His expression was that of an animal about to pounce. He stood in front of Parisa, and she tried to stand erect to face him. She couldn’t, though. Her feet remained in one spot, but her torso waved and rolled like she was on a rough sea.
Hannibal grabbed her by the face, and she brought her arms up to pull his off. The servants moved quickly then, taking the chains and shackling her feet while Hannibal held her off balance. They all let go at the same moment, and she fell forward, whipping around to see what had tripped her. When she saw the shackles on her ankles, she shrieked.
“Get these off of me! I’ll tell Lord Marcos everything!”
“Only if you want me to cut off your tongue,” Hannibal answered. “I am sure even he has had enough of you by now.”
“Get these off!” She thrashed, trying to kick the shackles off. The door to the sleeping chambers opened. Tanis came out first, wrapping her tunic tightly against her in the chill. The others girls came out after her.
Tanis saw Parisa struggling on the ground and turned to face Hannibal. “Hannibal …”
Parisa shrieked at her next. “Go back to bed, you stupid heifer! All of you!”
Tanis walked closer to Parisa, bending down to whisper. Parisa pushed her head up and spat in Tanis’s face.
I could hear nothing. Even the rains seemed to stop in that moment. I cast my gaze down, so I would not see Tanis in disgrace. I saw her feet, though, as they moved away from Parisa, and I heard the door to the sleeping quarters close.
When I looked back up, they were all gone. Hannibal stood over Parisa, his arms folded. She had stopped struggling, looking up at him with unblinking eyes, every muscle tensed. A soft growl rose in her throat.
He stepped back and nodded at the servants. They paused, glancing at each other before obeying. Parisa gave them no fight as they took hold of her arms and led her to the sleeping quarters.
Hannibal watched, then looked back at me.
“She walked like an ox. It had to be done,” he said.
I nodded. “Better to do it now, when she is weak.”
Hannibal rewarded me with a smile, twisting his closed mouth up at one end. “You are a very smart girl, Delilah. You will not make her mistakes.”
I nodded in agreement, and not just to please him. I knew this to be true. I would not make mistakes here, nor ever again. I knew that mistakes were made for one reason, and one reason alone: ignorance. And I would never be ignorant again, I promised myself this.
I would be proved a fool before the new moon.
Tanis sat still, her eyes closed, as I applied her eye shadow. I used an emerald green, sweeping it out at the edges. Most of the Philistine women wore red, and plenty of it, but the torchlight cast moving shadows, and red made a disturbing appearance.
“Tonight, may I bring you your wine?” I tried to keep my hand, and voice, steady.
“No.”
“But you grow thirsty after the second watch.”
“We have servants for that.”
“But I can do it!” All I had done for weeks now was apply Tanis’s cosmetics and watch as she slid out the side door to the private portico. I would sit in these sleeping quarters and listen to the familiar sounds of her night: men’s voices, women’s laughter, the sound of lyre and harp.
The bigger my stomach became, the less I was given to do. The other women did not even speak to me as often now, stepping to one side as I lumbered past, nodding nervously if I spoke first, seeming eager to move me along. I was an ugly sight, I decided. There were no mirrors big enough to take in all of my appearance at once, but I imagined how I must have looked to them.
Parisa had not left the quarters yet. She was always the last one out, preferring to go out only when called, and only one man ever called for her—Lord Marcos. Perhaps other men wanted to, I did not know, but Lord Marcos was the lord of the entire city, so no man dared claim her time.
I took a shank of lamb from my robes, laying it without a noise beside her couch. Her hand shot out and caught mine, and I cried out in shock.
“I thought it was you.” She sat up and stretched, arching her back. I watched, biting my lip. She was beautiful, if you could pretend she had never opened her mouth.
Swinging her legs, still chained, off the couch and onto the floor, she reached down and grabbed the shank, bringing it to her mouth. She gave me a sly wink and began eating. Her eyes did not leave my face as she ate. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to pretend the floor held great interest for me, but glancing up over and over. My face was growing hot.
She nudged me with one foot, the chains sliding against the cold floor. “Why are you feeding me?”
“You slept through the last meal.”
She stopped chewing, juice running down her chin. “Becoming a little version of Tanis, are you?”
“No. I don’t know. It seemed right to feed you.”
“You still have a soft heart. That’s good.”
But somehow, the way she said it, it did not sound good.
I doubled over, a cramp seizing my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe. But as soon as it hit, it passed again. I looked up in confusion at Parisa, but she shrugged and went back to her lamb.
; I wanted Tanis. I shouldn’t have fed Parisa. It must have been wrong, and now I had a pain. I had angered Dagon. I was thinking about where else I could wait tonight, where else I could hide from Parisa until Lord Marcos called for her, when it happened. Warm fluid gushed down my leg, pooling under my feet. It smelled sweet.
Parisa squealed in disgust, yanking her feet back onto her couch.
“What’s happening?” I cried.
“Oh, by the gods. You don’t know anything. Go find Hannibal. Ask him.”
But I didn’t want Hannibal. I wanted Tanis. I looked down at the pool I stood in, turning cold and slick, and saw a trace of blood in the fluid.
I was going to die. My child, too. Dagon was fierce and fast in his justice.
I stepped out of the fluid and shuffled my feet along the floor, scared I would trip. Perhaps there was still a way to save the baby. I opened the great door that led outside, pushing my way through the couples huddled and flirting under the moonlight. My ears heard the men’s voices, low and rich, like a buzzing in my head. The women who saw me made wide, angry eyes at me. I was not welcome here.
I moved between them all quickly, silently. The men hardly even noticed. The women, however—they wanted to kill me. It didn’t matter. I was going to be dead soon anyway. I just wanted to find Tanis. I wanted to tell her I was sorry. I wanted to tell her thank you, for saving me that morning months ago, and please, save also my baby. If you can. No matter what happens, save the baby.
Tanis would find a way. All my faith was in her.
There was a stairway at the far right end of the portico, one I had never used. One I had never seen used. It had held no curiosity for me, and it had never been explained. Perhaps it held storerooms, or servant’s quarters. I did not know why Tanis would be in those rooms, but I had to find her.
Another cramp hit as I reached the stairs. I grabbed the wall and grunted, lips pressed together. Dagon, spare me a while longer, I prayed. Let me find Tanis. For my baby’s sake.
I stood and took the stone steps one at a time, out of breath by the third one. At the top of the stairs was another door, a plain wooden door. I heard no noises behind it, so I pushed it open.
Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) Page 15