Not an excessively large field, but Orev could not believe that Samson could persuade those bulls to pull a plow. At least the sand was still firm, for the tide had withdrawn to its outermost limit. Derceto had staked all on a murderous delay as Samson endeavored to yoke the Great Bulls to the plow. Now there was time to spare to plow the plot of sand.
If the bulls would pull at Samson’s bidding.
Samson led the bulls over to the makeshift field. There he walked back and leaned upon the plow, pushed its iron blade deep into the sand. But instead of trying to order the bulls to move forward as he leaned upon the plow, Samson walked in front of the beasts, leading the way down the field, and the yoked bulls followed.
None of those watching uttered a sound; the silence was so great Orev heard the waves sigh, and a seabird call far out over the water. Samson alone spoke, and that in soft low words to the bulls that followed him, dragging the plow, turning up the sand in uneven rows.
When all the sand within the encircling hide was plowed, Samson stopped. He offered the bulls his hands again, and again the beasts snuffled and licked him. Samson then smiled and swiftly unyoked the two bulls. Freed, they nudged Samson, who merely stroked their heads. After a moment, the bulls turned and slowly wandered off, heading, Orev supposed, for their accustomed pasture.
“I have completed the first of the tasks you set me,” Samson said. “When must I accomplish the second?”
“Now, if you dare the second task.” Slowly, Derceto pointed to a basket by her feet. “Sow what lies within this basket,” the High Priestess said, “and as your third task, reap what you can.”
As none of the watching soldiers moved, Samson came forward and lifted the basket. Holding it with care, he walked to the edge of the plowed sand. There he paused, waiting, before he pulled the lid of the basket back less than a hand’s width. Orev watched, with increasing anger, as Samson strode swiftly along the crooked furrows, pouring out what the basket held.
Scorpions.
If Samson had reached into the basket to catch up whatever seed the High Priestess had given, he would have been stung with a venom that could slay a lion.
But Samson, the uncouth, untutored barbarian, had been too canny for High Priestess Derceto; he had plowed the field named by her, with the beasts she had given him. Now Samson sowed that same field with scorpions, gently shaking the poisonous creatures from the darkness of the basket into the damp, turned sand, moving quickly so the baffled, furious creatures had no chance to sting. When the basket held no more scorpions, Samson moved away from the plowed sand and the death seeded there.
He walked up to the High Priestess and set the empty basket at her feet. “High Priestess of Atargatis, I have done all you have asked. I have plowed the field you chose, I have sown it with the seed you chose. And I have reaped my own life safely from that field. I have completed the Three Tasks. When may I claim my bride? Remember, the Sun Partridge dances only three days more.”
Derceto stared at Samson; Orev watched a vein throb beneath the skin of her throat. “When the omens for the wedding are favorable.” Her voice sounded harsh as a raven’s. “Before festival’s end. Yes. When the omens are favorable.”
She turned and walked away, towards the Sea Gate into Ascalon. After a few moments, the soldiers seemed to decide they no longer need guard a stretch of sand, and soon only Samson and Orev stood by the pen that had held the Great Bulls.
“I hope the omens are favorable soon,” Orev said, watching Derceto’s stiff back. “I’m tired of city life.”
“I too. But I have won the wife of my heart, so I am glad we came to Ascalon.”
“I’ll be gladder to leave it. I thought you would die here when I saw those bulls. Those tasks were meant to kill you, Samson.”
Samson smiled. “I know. The Temple does not wish to part with its Dove. But truly, the tasks were not so hard after all. A little patience and care—”
“Patience and care won’t turn Great Bulls into oxen. What magic tamed those bulls?”
Samson laughed. “Orev, I have known for a day and a night that I must plow with whatever beasts the Temple decreed. It was not hard to learn what I would be given—or to go to the beasts and make them my friends. Bulls are lazy, peaceful creatures at heart. Honey-cakes and soft words taught them to follow me. True, the furrows were not straight, nor deep—but no one said I must plow well. Only that I must plow the field I was shown with the beasts I was given.”
“I don’t think honey and soft words will win over the High Priestess.” Orev remembered the flat anger in Derceto’s eyes as she realized that Samson had survived the Three Tasks. “Take care, Samson. You have lived, and won not only a bride, but a great enemy.”
“I know. So I think, Orev, that the wedding should be celebrated as soon as the omens are favorable, and that they must be favorable as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” said Orev, “and so I think as well.”
“Now, how can we ensure omens that the wedding must be soon?” Samson asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps we should toss our own lots to determine the day.”
Samson smiled. “Perhaps. And I think I will ask for those two bulls as part of my bride’s dowry.”
“And I think you are mad. Settle for the priestess, and leave the rest alone. What would you do with two Great Bulls on a farm?”
“Plow,” Samson said. “What else?”
Aylah
Although she knew her heart-sister never would believe such hard truth, would laugh and try to coax her to laugh as well, Aylah lived in fear. Since she was very small, she had known herself vulnerable, her very hair her betrayer. Because of her sunlight hair, she had been thrust before the shaman who journeyed endlessly across the lands north of the Dark Sea, had heard him name her fate. She had been five years old the day she had been condemned as the Sun’s bride. From that moment, she had been pampered, given meat even before her father ate. She told no one the meat turned to ash upon her tongue, its savor burned away by her fear. Someday she would be old enough to wed the Sun, and on that day, she would die in fire. When the wild men from the south rode through her people’s camp, caught her by her pale hair, hauled her across a saddlebow, and rode away with her as one of their prizes, Aylah had been grateful to them. They rode far, so far she hoped the Sun would no longer know where to seek his bride. They took her far away, to a land unlike anything she had ever seen before. She was sold, and sold again, until at last she reached the slave-market in Ascalon.
By that time, she had long since ceased feeling grateful to anyone. Untame, she scratched and bit anyone who laid his hands upon her. Those who owned her quickly learned that beatings only fed her anger; few wished to trouble themselves with so intractable a girl. Only her hair saved her, for there was always someone who coveted her for its gold—and always someone who sold her on quickly, once he discovered her fierce refusal to yield.
When the plump gelded man in long robes shining with silver thread had purchased her in Ascalon, and had her dragged off to a building so huge she could not see beyond it, she had sworn silently that she would never yield to those within those endless walls.
That was before she met Delilah.
Unlike Aylah, Delilah hid nothing; all Delilah thought, dreamed, believed was given freely. In Delilah’s eyes, Aylah saw not greed, but admiration and love.
I saw the snare spread before me, yet I stepped into it willingly. Aylah would not lie to herself, although she concealed a great deal from others. The Great House of Atargatis was a pleasant place to live; she was tended and cared for, treated kindly. She could have withstood that, kept her heart guarded against the kind priestesses, the gentle life, and the sweet goddess she had been bought to serve. But she could not resist Delilah. Not because she loved Delilah, but because Delilah loved her.
And love draws love. That was one of the first lessons New Moons were taught. Aylah had thought those words folly, until the day she discovered she cared for Delilah
, who cared so very much for her.
Delilah never doubted, never feared. Delilah drew Aylah onto paths that Aylah would never have dreamed of walking. Delilah’s fierce love, her serene faith, gave Aylah the courage to be, if not happy, at least content with life in the Temple, with her favored position as Delilah’s sun-shadow.
But unlike Delilah, Aylah never surrendered her trust to those who ordered their lives. Never trust too much—better still, never trust at all, and twice never trust those in power over you.
“The High Priestess has asked to see me? You are certain she did not ask to see Rising Moon Delilah?” Aylah regarded the New Moon who had served as messenger—a small girl full of self-importance in her task—but the child simply repeated the words of the summons. So my fate has come at last. I knew it when I saw him in the courtyard, watched him seek me out. I can hide from the Sun no longer.
She was glad Delilah was not with her; Delilah would be full of questions to which Aylah could give no sweet answer.
But when she entered the High Priestess’s outer chamber, Aylah was surprised to see Derceto smile and beckon. “Come sit at my feet, child. I have something I must ask of you—or rather, something Our Lady asks.”
Cautious, Aylah did as Derceto had bidden, looked up into the High Priestess’s eyes, eyes opaque as jade. Eyes that revealed nothing. But I can play that game as well as you, Derceto. Aylah remained silent, waiting.
At last the High Priestess said, “You know the man Samson came to Our Lady’s House—” She paused, as if uncertain how to continue.
“Our Lady’s House is open to all who come with loving hearts,” Aylah said. Piety could hardly be chastised. She waited again.
“Of course. And that he asked for a priestess for his wife is also no secret. And that Our Lady demanded he be tested with three tasks. I never—” Derceto drew in her breath sharply, as if distressed. “Who could have dreamed he would succeed? But he has, and now claims his bride.”
Aylah knew she was expected to ask; she obeyed the silent command. “He claims me, High Priestess?”
To her surprise, Derceto shook her head. “No. And before I speak another word, you must swear you will not reveal what I now will tell you.”
Aylah nodded; her skin grew cold, as if snow fell upon it. Even before Derceto spoke again, Aylah knew what would be said.
“He demands Delilah,” the High Priestess said.
No. Oh, no. For once, Aylah’s bone-deep control deserted her. “You cannot,” she said, forgetting she addressed the High Priestess. “You cannot. It would—it would destroy Delilah.”
Delilah’s heart and mind were given entirely to Bright Atargatis and Her Temple; the Lady’s Dance created Delilah’s life. Aylah thought of Delilah stripped of her dancer’s bells, her priestess’s girdle, bound to one man only—She who is Atargatis Herself when she dances, who will joyously give the goddess’s pleasure to those who seek its comfort. No. No, I cannot let Derceto do this.
“He has completed the Three Tasks,” Derceto said in a low voice. “What else can I do, but honor the Temple’s word?”
So that is it. And although the trap lay in plain sight, Aylah knew she would step into it, allow its jaws to spring shut upon her. “Give him another,” she said. “Give him me. I ask it as my reward for leading the First Dance and the Last.”
She sat there at Derceto’s feet, hoping she would not be sick, as the High Priestess smiled, radiant now. Derceto laid her hands upon Aylah’s smooth pale hair; Aylah remained still as stone. “I thank you, Aylah—as both High Priestess and a woman who is to you as a mother, I thank you. I had thought of this, but hardly dared ask it—”
Which of course is why you sent for me and told me all this, Aylah thought. But she said only “Better me than Delilah, for both Delilah and Our Lady’s House. I will not disgrace the Temple, High Priestess. I will be a good wife to Samson. But I do not know how to say all this to Delilah, and it will hurt my heart to leave her forever.”
There, Derceto. Now what will you say?
“Oh, I do not think you will be leaving her for so long as that,” Derceto said. “Now listen to me, Aylah, and listen well, as if I were Atargatis Herself. There is a task She wishes done, and only you can do what is needful.”
Silent, Aylah listened as the High Priestess instructed her in what she must do. So I am to kill to please you? I wonder what Delilah would say, could she hear her revered High Priestess breaking a sacred vow, betraying her promised word, plotting murder? Aylah knew she would say nothing to Delilah; to learn what Aylah now knew would only hurt Delilah and do no good. Nor would Aylah blindly obey Derceto’s orders.
Marry Samson in Delilah’s place, yes. Murder him, no. This is my chance. At last. A chance to live my own life. A good life. If only Samson will listen to me, once he unveils the cheat, all will be well. I will make him a better wife than Delilah would. Samson was a man, after all, albeit one from a rough, uncouth tribe. But Aylah had been schooled in the Lady’s Arts; Samson might beat her at first, if he were a hard man, but once she set her lips and hands upon him, he surely would accept her in his house and bed, even if he did not forget Delilah. Aylah smiled, knowing Derceto would take that as a sign she acquiesced, would do as commanded.
Only one thing troubled Aylah: leaving Delilah. But despite her heart-sister’s belief that Aylah outshone her, was more favored by the Temple, Aylah knew better. In her heart, Aylah was no priestess. She could sing every prayer, perform every ritual perfectly, dance every step precisely. But Aylah could not give herself utterly, as Delilah did. So I will go, as the High Priestess commands, and you will remain.
At least within the high thick walls of the Temple, Delilah’s intensity was contained, her ardent passions confined to the Lady’s dances.
Within the walls of Atargatis’s Temple, Delilah would be safe.
Delilah
That the barbarian Samson wished to claim a priestess for his wife could not be kept secret. The tasks he must undertake to win his prize were open for all to witness. But the name of the priestess Samson had chosen—that, the High Priestess kept close. She gathered all the priestesses—New Moons, Rising Moons, Full Moons, Dark Moons—and all the Temple servants, too—in the huge public courtyard, and there told us that she saw no reason to name the priestess until Samson fulfilled the Three Tasks. And as there was little chance he could succeed, Derceto did not wish to trouble anyone’s mind. Why fear a fate that might never come to pass?
But I knew; I remembered Aylah’s face as she looked down at Samson, and his as he looked up. That he desired Aylah did not surprise me; doubtless he had forgotten me the moment he set eyes upon her as she followed me in the Dance. But Aylah did not desire him, had turned to ice and stone under his gaze.
I vowed that he would never take Aylah from me. And I had no reason to think Samson could plow and sow and reap what he had been given. The day the High Priestess stood before the high altar and said in a clear cold voice that Samson had won his wager—and his priestess to wife—shock chained me; I could not seem to move, even to reach out to Aylah.
When Derceto ordered that Aylah and I come with her to the Court of Peace, only Aylah’s firm grasp upon my hand, tugging me to follow her, enabled me to obey the High Priestess’s order.
Past the Ivory Gate, in the Court of Peace, Seer-Priestess Uliliu waited by the pool. High Priestess Derceto led Aylah and me over, waited as we bowed before Uliliu and before the Seven Fish.
Then Derceto said, “There is no kind way to tell you this, so I will speak plain truth. Samson has won his wife. I must keep my word, and bestow upon Samson the priestess I promised him. I grieve that you must lose your heart-sister, Delilah, but—”
“No,” I said, not even caring that I interrupted the High Priestess.
Derceto sighed and held up her hand. “I know what you would say, Delilah, but this is not in my power to mend. The man is favored by Our Lady—or his god is greater than She in this matter.” Derceto reached
out and touched my forehead, softly, as a mother might. “But to ease your heart as much as I can, I call upon the Seven to reaffirm Our Lady’s will in this.”
Unable to speak, I bowed my head. To call upon the Seven Fish merely to try to comfort me—that was kind.
So Seer-Priestess Uliliu tossed different grains and seeds into the pool, studied the fish as they swam and squabbled over the food. As had happened when the oracle was being taken for my future in the Temple, the sun-gold Utu claimed what he wished, snatching it from the others and swirling off.
At last the Seer-Priestess lowered her arms. “The omens are plain. Sun calls to sun. Aylah will wed Samson. It is done.”
I expected some sign from Aylah, but she neither moved nor spoke. If she will not speak, I will, I thought—but as I opened my lips to protest, Aylah squeezed my hand. When I glanced sidelong at her, she shook her head.
Silenced, I stared down into the sacred pool. The Seven Fish curved through their clear, placid world, their wide tails spread. Endlessly circling, their scales bright against the cool tiled bottom of the pool, the fish ignored us now that Uliliu had lowered her hands.
Defeated, I went quietly away from the Court of Peace, Aylah’s hand holding mine to guide me. Neither of us spoke until we reached our own room. There I stepped back from my heart-sister so that I might see her face as I spoke.
“Aylah, why did you—”
“Stop you from speaking?” Aylah twined a lock of her hair about her fingers, and I knew she was about to tell me less than pure truth. Aylah would not lie to me, but she would withhold knowledge, if she thought it best. Now she stared at the pale bright hair tangled about her fingers and said, “What good would come of your words, Delilah, once the fish have foretold my future? Surely they cannot be wrong.”
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