Delilah: A Novel

by Edghill, India

  Apparently even the most reckless of the Foxes understood this, for although the Foxes gazed intently upon the Philistines and the captive Samson, they did not move. Orev felt their eyes upon him as well, and breathed more easily only when the watching Foxes were far behind them. Another danger to Samson’s mad plan averted.

  Orev continued grimly on after Samson and his watchful guards. Perhaps I should have called the Foxes down to us. A clean death for Samson might have been better than whatever lies ahead. Orev lacked his friend’s faith in the plan concocted in the House of Ivory. But whatever awaited in Gaza, Orev would not let Samson face a dark future alone and friendless.

  The first thing Orev discovered was that it was easy enough to see Samson—for his captors had set him to pushing the mill that ground grain for the Great House of Dagon. Half the city came each day to watch and to jeer; Orev was simply one more curious onlooker. If Gaza thought to debase Samson by making him labor as would an ox, the plan failed. For Samson seemed to notice nothing, ignoring the insults; obedient, he pushed the bar that turned the millstone until he was ordered to stop.

  It was harder to meet with Samson privately in his cell—but far from impossible. An offering to the guard upon Samson’s door bought time alone with the blind hero.

  Waiting was hard—only seven days remained until the dedication of Dagon’s Temple—but Orev forced himself to patience. I must not seem too eager, must not draw attention to myself. But patience did not come easy, for Orev had learned something that doomed Delilah and Samson’s plan—even had Samson still possessed eyes to see.

  Three days after Samson had been set to turning the mill, Orev bribed his way into his friend’s cell. Even after so short a time, the guard was accustomed to men and women wishing to visit the famed slayer of a hundred men; Orev’s request held little interest for him. The guard merely closed his hand over the silver ring the harper gave him and then unbolted the door and held it while Orev stumbled his way down a short flight of stairs. As Orev reached the bottom, the door swung shut, leaving him in darkness.

  “Samson?” The name echoed against the cool stone walls of the cell.

  “Orev? What are you doing here? Are you mad?”

  Orev followed the sound of Samson’s voice, his hands reaching out, questing. A few steps, and he touched Samson’s arm. “Am I mad? You are the one who’s imprisoned in Dagon’s Temple.”

  “Yes, Orev, I know. Have a little faith.” Despite his blindness, despite the heavy collar about his neck and the chain leading from the collar to a ring in the stone wall, Samson did not sound either desperate or dismayed. “Tell me, where is Delilah? Is she well?”

  “She dwells once more in the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon. She is hailed as a heroine, and a rich reward has been bestowed upon her. She is the High Priestess’s darling now, they say. Samson—”

  “Do they?” Samson laughed, the joyous sound echoing uncannily against the cell’s stone walls. He grasped Orev’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Well, soon comes the great feast honoring Dagon, when the priests dedicate this ill-made temple. All the nobles will be in the Temple, as will the rulers of the other Great Houses of the gods and goddesses of the Five Cities. They long to see me brought low before them all. Now, upon the day the Temple is dedicated, I will be displayed before the altar as a prize won by their god, just as Delilah told them Dagon demanded—”

  “Samson, be silent!” Orev used his harper’s voice to command obedience. “Listen and heed. Your plan won’t work now. Do you know what they’re going to do? They’re going to chain you to the pillars by Dagon’s altar. The chains are hanging there now. Chains of iron, Samson. Chains even you cannot sunder.” The last chance of success had vanished when those chains were forged.

  For long moments, the only sound was Samson’s breathing echoing in the darkness. At last he said, “I understand.”

  Orev let out his own breath, his tense muscles relaxing. Apparently Samson would for once in his extravagant life be sensible. “Good. We still have four days. The Foxes are lurking somewhere near Gaza. I’ll find them, and they can free you before you’re bound to Dagon’s Temple.”

  “So those who burned my wife and daughter wish to save me now?” Samson laughed again, a sound ringing harsh against the stones, then he spoke with quiet power. “Then our plan still holds good. The chains will make it easier to fulfill my task. Yes, Orev, send the Foxes into Dagon’s Temple. They, too, must be there. But tell Delilah that she must not come here now. Tell her nothing more. Tell her—tell her I love her, and I will meet her in Ascalon, after.”

  Samson wants me to lie to Delilah? Samson wants me to lie—Orev struggled to find the words that would convince his friend to abandon the deadly scheme. “Samson, are you mad? You are blind now, and weak from turning the grindstone. You cannot do this. Even if you could—”

  A clink of chain against stone; Samson reached out and laid his hand on Orev’s shoulder. “Of course I can. Turning the grindstone has only hardened my body, and I don’t need eyes to sense where a building’s weakness lies. I shall pull down this Great House of Dagon and destroy those who destroyed my family, as I swore I would. Yes. All will be as Delilah and I vowed.”

  “Samson—” Orev began, only to have the man ruthlessly ignore him.

  “You need do only one thing: tell Delilah what I have said to you, that I can still bring justice down upon those who have done evil. Tell her I will avenge our dead. And tell her I say she must not be near Dagon’s Temple when the Temple falls. Nor must you.”

  Orev shook his head, forgetting for a moment that his friend could not see, even had there been a lamp to light the prison cell. “Samson, you cannot. Listen to me; I will think of another plan to free you from bondage—”

  “Even you cannot do that, Orev. But for once, you can do as I bid you and not argue. Go to Ascalon and tell her whom my heart loves what I have said to you.”

  Orev tried once more, offering Samson’s heart’s desire. “Samson, let the Foxes rescue you before the last day dawns, no matter the cost. You can escape. You and your Delilah can live in peace—”

  “And you have always called me mad.” Samson reached out to touch his friend’s arm. “No, Orev. Even if the Foxes could save me, and even if Delilah and I could find a place we could live safe and free, I will start no war—for that is what my escape would bring. Disaster to our people. How many times must I say that we cannot win a war against the Five Cities? Or that there is no reason for such battles?”

  “And you think bringing Dagon’s Temple crashing down upon you better? Assuming you can do it. If the pillars hold, all you’ve endured will be for nothing.”

  A pause, then, “That is as Yahweh wills. I have sworn to do this thing, and I will do it. Now go, and tell Delilah we have not yet failed. There is ample time for you to reach Ascalon before Dagon’s Temple is dedicated—and you and Delilah must stay there. Neither of you must be in Gaza on the day they drag me to the Great House of Dagon to mock me before all the people and offer my suffering up to their false god. I would not condemn you to die with me.”

  Delilah

  “Now Delilah had given great Samson into the hands of his enemies, into the hands of the rulers of the Five Cities. And they filled her hands with gems and gold and silver, and she went away laughing . . .”

  Returning to Ascalon, dwelling once more as a priestess within the Great House of Atargatis—I had thought those would be hard things. But I was wrong. I had lived all my life in that Temple; my body moved instinctively through the rituals required of me. I think very few noted that my heart had changed.

  Certainly Derceto did not. Before her, I became a false Delilah, one whose only wish was to claim the rewards promised her. The day I awoke back in my own bed, I began to play a part, to be what Derceto wished to see when she looked upon me. That was why I asked at once to see the High Priestess and why, when she granted that request, I demanded the reward the Five Cities had promised me.


  “For I have done all asked of me, and more. May I not claim what is due to me?”

  When I asked that, Derceto smiled; the taut planes of her face softened, her rigid stance eased. Clearly she had feared I’d fallen into the same trap as had Aylah, become tainted by love for Samson. My words reassured Derceto that I still belonged to her.

  “Of course, Delilah. Think upon what you most wish to have, and I will arrange the matter myself.” The High Priestess laid her hand upon my cheek. “All will be as promised. Now let us rejoice that you returned safely, and all will be as it was—as if nothing ever happened to take you from us.”

  I bowed, and thanked her, and walked away smiling. High Priestess Derceto had believed me; me and her own lies. There was nothing else I could do now. Nothing but wait, as Samson had bidden me.

  “Have faith, and wait.”

  As if nothing had ever happened.

  At first, I thought I would at least have some word from Orev, but soon I realized that, even if Orev came to Ascalon, never would he be allowed to speak with me. So I stopped hoping for even that much consolation. I would not speak of what had passed during the days I had beguiled Samson—but that was set down to my credit. I had acted on Lady Ascalon’s behalf, the glory not mine, but Ascalon’s. To my other virtues, I now added modesty.

  Nor would I listen to tales of Samson’s ordeal as Dagon’s slave. I had done with him, I said. I had set a honey-trap for a fool, and caught him through his own folly. He was nothing to me now.

  “Have faith, and wait.”

  But I had paid a price for the success of our desperate scheming. I could no longer dance. Oh, I could sway my body to the music, I could move my feet in the proper steps. But the joyous fire no longer burned within me. When I danced before Our Lady, I knew that what I offered now only grieved Her.

  No one else seemed to notice anything amiss—save Sharissit. The Dance Priestess gazed long at me after the first time I danced again, and I slid my own eyes away from the deep sadness in hers.

  I tried not to care. The new moon drew ever nearer; the new Great House of Dagon in Gaza would be dedicated only a few days hence. And Dagon’s great prize, Samson, was to be displayed before the high altar, that all might see the power of the Five Cities—and the weakness of the Hebrew god.

  Once again I begged that I might come before the High Priestess—this time, I sent word that I would ask a boon of her. Her reply was swift: yes, Delilah might come before her and ask.

  I smiled, and thanked the little New Moon who had carried my message. The child stared at me wide-eyed, and for a heartbeat I saw myself through her eyes: the Priestess Delilah, who had conquered over Samson. A Full Moon of Atargatis. A glory to the goddess’s House. My mouth tasted sour, suddenly, and I could not meet the New Moon’s shining, eager eyes. Silently, I sent the child away again. Then I called for my maidservants and began to prepare myself to confront High Priestess Derceto.

  I took as much care that day as if I adorned myself to act as Goddess-on-Earth. When I was ready, I looked upon myself in the smooth circle of my mirror, to ensure that nothing of the woman I had become lay revealed. I saw only a priestess’s face, a perfect mask. Delilah Moondancer stood once again ready to do as she was bidden. As if nothing had ever happened . . .

  I set the mirror aside and went to perform the next steps in the deadly dance I had begun the day I looked upon Aylah’s sister-token lying on High Priestess Derceto’s open hand. The next moves should be simple; I reminded myself to beware the snare of pride.

  So when I knelt before Derceto, I became a true suppliant. What I asked of her, I desired so greatly that I let tears well into my eyes—a flaw that only perfected my plea. “You go to Gaza, to the Dedication Festival at the new Great Temple of Dagon. I beg of you, take me to attend upon you there.”

  She gazed at me with those opaque eyes I had once thought so kind, so holy. “Will not the sight of the man Samson pain you, Delilah? You need not go only because you think it will please me to see you so strong.”

  “That does not matter; I must go. I must see him humbled less than a slave. I must see him again that Aylah may truly be avenged.” Then I remembered that I need not beg, that I could claim this as my right. “Let this be my gift for leading the Sun Partridge Dances.” Dances I had danced long ago, when I thought I knew my future. “Now I know why I never asked for it before.”

  Each word true; I waited, untroubled. If Derceto would not take me in her entourage, I would walk to Gaza myself. Gaza lay only half a day’s journey south of Ascalon; I could walk the road easily. But it would be simpler and safer if Derceto would grant my request. She continued to study my face, said at last, “Very well, Delilah. You may accompany me to Gaza.” The High Priestess smiled, as if indulging a daughter’s whim. “And if you change your mind—”

  “I shall not,” I said, and then thanked her with all proper ceremony and went away, to wait until the time came to travel to Gaza.

  To Samson.

  Gaza was not the gem among cities that Ascalon was; strength, rather than beauty, was its domain. The Great House of Dagon reflected this difference—Dagon’s new temple dominated the city of Gaza rather than graced it.

  I barely noticed, for all my heart and mind was fixed upon the coming ceremony: the dedication that would sanctify the Temple of Dagon and complete Samson’s dishonor before the nobility and priesthoods of the Five Cities.

  As Dagon was the patron of Gaza, all other gods and goddesses owned lesser temples. The arrival of High Priestess Derceto of the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon—along with two dozen attendants and lesser priestesses—strained the resources of Gaza’s temple to Bright Atargatis to the utmost.

  That, too, I cared nothing for; the Gaza temple might bed me down upon a heap of straw and I would not object. My goal was Samson, not comfort.

  For the next three days, I played my part to perfection. Delilah, Priestess, Full Moon of the Great House of Atargatis in Ascalon. Delilah Moondancer, incarnation of the Bright Lady Herself. Delilah, heroine who had beguiled and conquered our great enemy, Samson.

  A simple role to play, for all who dwelt in the Five Cities wished to believe what had already become a harper’s song. If I had told those who bowed before me and begged my blessing upon their heads that I plotted to destroy not Samson, but an evil in our own Cities, a corruption in our own Great Houses of the gods and goddesses, I would not have been believed.

  Already I was Delilah, lure and snare; Delilah, betrayer of Samson. Who would not believe that of me now? Did not Samson, he who had prowled the high roads, who, the stories claimed, had stolen a virgin priestess from her temple, who had burned half Canaan in his rages, now labor as a sightless beast of burden in Dagon’s mill? And had not Delilah’s wiles condemned him to such an existence?

  I did not argue with those who praised me for my courage and cunning. Garbed and gilded until I seemed an idol rather than a priestess, I stood before the image of Our Lady in Her House in Gaza from midday until sunset for each of those three days. In Atargatis’s name, I accepted the thank-offerings laid by the grateful, and the curious, at my feet.

  Derceto watched me, and seemed satisfied. By neither breath nor movement did I reveal my true feelings. I did nothing untoward; I did not even try to learn if Orev, too, stayed in Gaza. For those three days, I was the most pious of any priestess in all Gaza. I turned all my thoughts to Bright Atargatis. I knew that She would not betray me—nor, with all my will focused on Her, would I betray myself to those who watched.

  On the third night—the night before the ceremony that would dedicate the Great House of Dagon to the service of its god—I did nothing I had not done each night before. Maidservants stripped away the garments that marked me as a Full Moon of Atargatis, washed the kohl and carmine and gilt from my skin. Two handmaidens unbraided my hair, unbound the red ribbon that confined the Goddess’s Knot at the nape of my neck. I stood quiet and waited as they combed out my hair, as they admired
the sheen of its raven’s-wing black in the flickering lamplight.

  I smiled, and gave no hint that every drop of my blood demanded that I hurry, hurry—that I must hurry or be forever too late.

  When the maids had done with me, and I was alone, I forced myself to wait another endless span of time. When I had silently recited all the prayers to Our Lady from first dawn to sunset twice, I knew I had waited long enough. I rose from my cold bed and began to dress in my plainest clothing. Even that was of too fine a linen to pass unnoticed, but a dark cloak veiled me from eyes to ankles. Now if I were seen on the streets, I would be only another poor woman; a shadow among shadows.

  The man who guarded Samson’s cell did his job well—by which I mean he knew how and when to accept tangible thanks for favors. Since I did not even try to haggle over the price, the matter of entry to Samson’s cell was easily arranged.

  As for the rest—well, that was my affair. The guard’s part of the bargain was to open the door twice: once to let me enter and once to let me leave.

  “Go on in—more fool you. Do you think you’re the first woman come to lie with blind Samson?” The guard spat upon the ground, shifted so that he might tie the gold chains I had slipped into his outstretched hand into a fold of his tunic. “Don’t think I’ll give these back when you don’t get what you want of him. You’ve paid to enter his cage, and that’s all. The rest is up to you, but I warn you, he’s stubborn as a wild ass. Oh, never fear, he won’t hurt you, either. He’s either a coward or a simpleton—I don’t know why he was feared so.”

  “Because men are even greater fools than women are. I have paid you; let me pass.”