And I walk away.
CHAPTER 53
RALLAH’S BLADE
Valley of Sorek
PRINCE RALLAH DISMISSED the archers and soldiers, sending them back to their barracks in Gath. He told them he wanted them ready should he send word again. For now he would deal with Delilah in private. She was his woman, after all. Or had she so quickly forgotten?
Samson was in the way, though.
Always in the way.
The prince stood beside his mount on the nearest ridge, hidden among the trees, his hand patting the horse’s neck as he thought of taking Delilah’s own neck in his hands. She was down there. With him. It had been weeks, and still nothing. Samson’s secrets remained just that.
How, Rallah wondered, could he draw Delilah out of her house long enough to relay a message that she wouldn’t forget? He must be alone with her without Samson standing watch.
“My lord.”
Rallah flinched. “For Dagon’s sake, scout, announce your arrival.”
“But stealth is what you asked for.”
“Out with it. What news do you have for me?”
“He’s gone.”
“What?”
“Samson, he slipped off to the east, and he hasn’t turned back.”
Prince Rallah grabbed his horse’s mane and swung himself up. Riding the narrow trail down through the crags, he arrived in the fertile valley with only the moon to light his way. The old vineyard house awaited, with the flicker of lamplight glowing in the windows.
“Rallah?” Delilah turned from her bed as he came through the door.
“You’re alone, I see. Has your lover deserted you? Is he bored already with his little diversion?”
“He’ll return at any moment. You’d be wise to leave before he does.”
“A brave try, Delilah. My scouts will let me know if he shows back up from the east. We might have this whole night together, you and I. Just as it should be, king and queen.”
“I’d . . . like that, my prince.”
“You lie,” he said. “Tell me what you’ve done.”
“I’ve done nothing.” Her eyes looked past his shoulder. “Only what you required of me.”
“Lies, lies, lies.” He waved his hand toward the bed. “And more lies. Why else would you be packing your things, if not to run off with this filthy Hebrew? You say you’ve done what was required, but you’ve yet to share anything of value with me. You’ve turned yourself into a whore for nothing.”
“But you were the one who told me to go to him.”
He grabbed her chin, glaring into her eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Did I tell you to take him into your bed? You imagined these things, I’m sure. You wanted to believe them in the heat of your lust. Did you actually believe that I, your prince, would let him lie with my woman and suffer no consequence? You’re as foolish as he is, Delilah.”
“Please just let us go.”
He released her chin. “Us?”
“He has no interest in a war with you, Rallah.”
“Us.”
She took a step back.
The prince kicked over the nearest table, picked up a chair, and smashed it against the wall. He flung jars from their shelves one by one and slammed both fists down on a pair of clay urns. Wine and water splattered the walls. Wood and clay clattered across the floor. With a thin line of blood on his thumb, he pulled his blade from its sheath and pressed it to the throat of the only woman he had ever come near to loving.
“You brought this on yourself,” he hissed.
“Please, no. No, Rallah. You’re hurting me.”
“And what about you hurting me, huh? You leave me for another.”
“He’s the only good man I’ve ever known. He truly loves me.”
Rallah changed his hold, watching the lamplight glance off the blade and glow against her smooth, soft skin. “He’s handsome, yes. And strong. He might even escape me temporarily. But does he want to live the remainder of his days on the run, fearing every stranger that walks by on the street? Is that what you want, to live that sort of awful existence?”
“Take my life,” she whispered. “But spare his. Please.”
She had a beautiful neck. That hollow there in her throat, it led to even more beauty. She was a wondrous creature, and she would always be the desire of other men. Was that something he could live with? Always jealous. Always suspicious. Was that how he wanted to rule?
“If you love me,” she pleaded, “you will do this.”
“You truly care for him, don’t you?”
“What would you have me say, my prince? Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Very well, then.” He eased off the blade, smoothed her hair with his hand. “There is a way you can save him. You find me his secret, the source of his strength. Once I know that he is broken off from his God, I will spare his life. Only then. You find me that secret by tomorrow night.”
Through her whimpers she managed to nod.
“Good,” he said. He pushed her aside and stepped over a chair leg on his way to the door. “To think, Delilah, what a fine queen you would’ve been.”
City of Gaza
Midmorning Prince Rallah awakened. Still sore from his ride back to the capital, he knew King Balek awaited updates from the Sorek valley. He dressed, attached his cape to his breastplate, and went to the receiving room.
“My king, I have good news.”
“One would hope after these weeks of nonsense and drivel.” Balek twisted the ring on his finger. “So then, the Hebrew is dead.”
“Tonight,” Rallah said, “we will have him.”
“News? This isn’t news but another vain promise.”
“It will happen, I assure you. We will take his strength from him.”
“How?”
“That,” he admitted, “is yet a secret, though my lady will draw it from him.”
Balek looked up. “Your lady, you say. I’ve heard otherwise.”
“On my life,” Rallah said, “I’ll seize Samson myself this night. I swear it.”
“Careful there. Life is a fragile thing.”
The receiving door opened, and a herald announced the arrival of two Hebrews from the northern villages. The king motioned his prince to the side and told the herald to send them in. Rallah retreated into the dancing shadows near a wall-mounted torch. He propped himself against a pillar, curious as to the reason for such visitors. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Two soldiers flanked the raggedy-clothed tribesmen and brought them before the king.
“Announce yourselves,” the king said.
“Treus,” said the one. “Of the tribe of Dan, in Zorah.”
“Orum,” said the other. “Also of Dan. For many years, my king, I have sent word through the prince and kept you aware of any insurgencies.”
King Balek shot a look at Rallah in the wing, and Rallah confirmed this with a nod.
“Why do you waste my time today?” the king asked. “Are you certain of new schemes, new insurgencies? Do your weak Hebrew brothers intend to attack the crown?”
“They do, my king. It is true.”
“Treus is right,” Orum said. “We both believed once in their cause. We thought Samson might be the one to lead us. We were wrong. We know now it is futile, and we see that the king is good in removing the tribute. Even so, some of our tribesmen are hoarding weapons near our village.”
“Enough to mount a significant attack,” Treus pitched in.
“And what do you want from me? A reward for your loyalty, perhaps?”
“We only ask for your protection and good graces.”
“Well, of course,” King Balek said, lifting an eyebrow at Rallah. “And you will continue to have it. Enjoy the grace of your glorious king.”
The prince knew well what was expected. He had his sword unsheathed before either Treus or Orum suspected a thing. He took three quick steps, sweeping around at them from behind, and drew back his weapon. Calling upon all his fury of the past d
ay, he made his blade sing, and it accomplished its purpose in one wide-sweeping arc.
Both men dropped dead.
He spat on their bodies and left the soldiers to handle the mess.
“Tonight,” King Balek called after him. “You swore on your life.”
CHAPTER 54
NO SECRETS
Valley of Sorek
LATE-MORNING CLOUDS GATHER from the sea, pushing a cold wind through the valley and turning its usual bright colors a dark gray. I draw my cloak around me, hurrying onward to Delilah. I’ve said my goodbyes, and my brother’s recriminations won’t stop me now.
“I love her,” I mumble to myself. “And I will see this through.”
Caleb’s face hovers in my thoughts.
“I won’t lose another love, Brother. It would kill me.”
Beside the low wall outside her house, Delilah crouches over a fire pit as I approach. She looks up for a moment before turning her attention back to her cooking.
“What’re you doing out here?” I ask. “Why not cook inside?”
“I like it out here. Is that a problem?”
My eyes scan the path, the trellises, the trees. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Crouching beside her, I put my arm over her shoulder, and she shrugs it off. “What’s wrong, my love? I came back as I said I would.”
She stands and moves a few steps away.
“Delilah?” I turn my palms upward. “Talk to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you.”
“Why, then, do you keep things from me?”
I’m confused by this moodiness. When we last talked, we were rapturous with love. “Where is the necklace I gave you? Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“It was meant for her.”
“Yes, that’s true. I won’t deny it.” I stand, leaving the fire’s warmth to reach her. “But that was long ago. I held onto it all that time, just a bitter reminder, and now it means something completely different. I want to love again. You’ve given me hope that I can still find happiness in this life.”
“You say that you love me but refuse to share your innermost secrets.”
I let out a half chuckle. “What’re you talking about?”
“You laugh, funny man. Like I’m a silly little girl.” She folds her arms, turning away. “I told you my secrets, Samson, things I’ve never told anyone. I bared my soul to you.”
“And I will guard those things till the day I die.”
“Well, I want to guard your secrets too.”
“What secrets? Why do you keep pressing on this issue?”
“Who is this God who gives you such strength?” She faces me again. “Why does He allow your people to suffer if He is so mighty? Is He a cruel God? Or are you just a foolish people?”
“Delilah . . . ”
She’s right, of course, dredging up doubts I have wrestled with before. She pokes at old wounds, things I’ve tamped down and tried to forget. With her, together, I hope to find tranquility and leave these questions for others wiser than me.
“If we’re to be together,” she says, stepping closer and touching my chest, “I should be able to trust you, darling. How can I do that when you lie to me?”
“How have I lied?”
“You deceived me about the bowstrings and the fresh ropes.”
“All in good fun. What’s wrong with a little joking here and there?”
The clouds churn over the vineyard, threatening rain, and I suggest we go inside.
Delilah doesn’t move. She says, “Were there secrets between you and Taren?”
I step back, shaking my head. How can she ask me such things? How is this even fair to delve into a time when I was young and carefree? That was twenty years ago. Can’t we ever let it rest? I’m ready at last to move on, and now this woman whom I love tries to drag me back there.
“We have secrets between us,” she insists. “Why, Samson? Tell me.”
“You want to know.”
“I do.”
“You must know.”
She nods.
Drawing in a deep breath, I prepare to tell her what only two people in this world know about me. My mother and brother, they alone share this knowledge, and as much as it pains me, I might never see them again. I’ve chosen to share my love with this woman before me. She’s right, of course. Absolutely right. How can I withhold it from her now?
Her eyes are on me, her lips parted.
This truth about me, it’s a part of my very fabric. Revealing it could unravel everything. I’m still in conflict, and I want to scream.
Instead, I speak to her in a near whisper.
“I’m a Nazirite, Delilah. I have been since birth. Three vows were bestowed upon me, as confirmed by both my parents. These were things I was to hold to my whole life. One, I was to drink no wine or strong drink. Two, I could never have contact with something dead. I’m not proud of it, but I have broken those two already, as you well know.”
“You said there were three.”
“Three,” I continue. “I was to never cut my hair. If I did, my strength would then leave me.”
“Your hair?” Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open.
“Yes, my hair. There. Now we have no secrets.”
She runs her jeweled fingers through my locks, twisting herself around me and embracing me with one arm from behind. “Your glorious hair,” she says, resting herself against its length on my back. “Thank you for telling me.”
I turn around in her arms, and she lifts on her toes to give me a kiss.
The secret is out, and I tell myself it’s a good thing.
The storm is upon us, thunder shaking the hills and rattling stones in the house. We huddle under the blankets, finding heat and comfort in all the familiar ways. Delilah is wearing the turquoise necklace again, and that is all she wears. It looks good on her. In such a short time I feel as though I’ve been with her a lifetime. Where will we go from here? The unknown is so exciting.
I roll onto my side, and as I do, a lightning flash reveals an object across the room.
“What’s that?” I climb out of bed. “A piece of broken pottery. When did this happen?”
“Oh,” she says, “it was while you were gone. I was so mad at you for hiding things from me.”
“Well,” I say, hurrying back to the bed’s coziness, “no secrets now.”
CHAPTER 55
IN THE BAG
Village of Zorah
ZEALPHONIS WANTED TO believe she would see her oldest boy again one day, even though deep in her heart and in moments of prayer she knew it would never happen. This, she reminded herself, was part of the cost of the calling. The cost was not always paid by those who wore the mantle. No, it was oftentimes paid for by the parents or grandparents, quietly and without anyone else’s knowledge.
She hugged her hands to her chest. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
The afternoon storm was subsiding now, its rain dripping through the hut’s thatched roof and sluicing through the fields.
Zealphonis gathered a broom and swept the pooled water out the door. She dried the table, made many years ago by Manoah, and dabbed at the chairs. As she worked, her concerns turned to her other boy, the youngest. Caleb was off and about too often these days. She suspected he was back to his military aspirations. Just yesterday the neighbor widow had been more than happy to confirm the rumors of men gathering again in the valley at Mahaneh-dan.
War and rumors of war.
Would they never cease? Would there be no peace?
“Mother, Mother!” Caleb slid through the door, almost fell. He had a sword in hand, made of Philistine steel, by the look of it. “Mother, I . . . have to go. I must warn Samson.”
“Mercy, Son, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”
“Philistine soldiers, they were just . . . here in the village. They called a few of us men around, me and Wadesh and some others. They had a b
ag in their hand, and they . . . they threw the bag down on the ground, and they said, ‘This is for Samson. From the crown.’ And they left.”
She set aside her damp cloth and reached for her son’s free hand. “Catch your breath now,” she said. “What was it? What was in the bag?”
“Heads,” he said, pulling her close and avoiding her eyes. “The heads of Orum and Treus.”
CHAPTER 56
HANDFULS
Valley of Sorek
WHAT’S ON YOUR mind?” Samson asked from the bed. “Come back and lay by me.”
Delilah stared out the window, her fingers playing over the goblet’s rim on the shelf before her. She had her lover’s secret in her grasp and now struggled with how to handle that knowledge. Could the two of them escape unharmed? Could they flee this valley and find a new life beyond the clutches of King Balek and Prince Rallah?
She knew that at this very moment, probably hiding in the grove on the ridge, the prince awaited her signal. If she did not give it by dark, all would be lost.
Was there any other way?
“The vineyards are a mess,” she responded. “This storm, there’s mud everywhere.”
“Why should we care? We’re leaving here anyway, aren’t we?”
“We can’t until it dries up. And I do still need to secure a sale, don’t I? We need to stay and make things presentable.”
“I want to leave now,” Samson exclaimed. “Tonight. I want to take you away. Or now that you know my secret, you can leave me helpless and take me away. Make all my fantasies come true. Come on, let’s ride like the wind.”
“Where would we go, darling? Have we decided that yet?”
He sat up, still lost in that boyish enthusiasm she adored. Such a contrast to Rallah’s uptight demeanor. He said, “I lie dead. A royal spread. Man-made mountains grow over my head.”
“One of your riddles? Please, Samson. You’ve worn me out already.”
“What am I?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am Pharaoh. What if we ran off to Egypt? We know they have good sheets.”