Samson

  And she already knew what that felt like.

  Someone entered the bedchamber, singing a tune, one of Rallah’s servant girls here to tidy the table and straighten the sheets.

  “Stop your singing,” Delilah ordered.

  “Oh.” The young woman jumped back; then the joy returned to her face. “Pardon me, I didn’t see you there.”

  “Remind me of your name, girl. You haven’t been here in a couple days, have you?”

  “It’s Taren. I’ve . . . I serve wherever I am sent.”

  “Tell me, Taren, what on earth is the cause of your rejoicing?”

  The girl hesitated.

  “Come on,” Delilah said. She stepped around the bed, bracelets jangling on her wrist, and invited Taren to join her in the lounge chairs. “We’re two women, and no one else is listening.”

  “Why shouldn’t I sing? Does love not sing sweetly?”

  “That’s it, huh? Romance in the air. Take my advice, young one, and do not trust the love of a Philistine.”

  “My love’s not like any other man. He’s a Hebrew.”

  “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

  “And his love comes with a proposal.”

  Delilah laughed. “Oh, is that so?”

  Taren’s smile waned. “It’s between him and me. We aren’t worried what others think.”

  “Only children don’t consider others. You serve the Philistine crown, which means everything you do has a consequence. Do you think a pretty little flower like you goes unnoticed and untouched?”

  “My queen, I—”

  “It’s Delilah,” she said. “I’m not your queen as of yet.”

  “My lady, I promise the prince has never made advances. He has eyes for you only.”

  That was reassuring, at least.

  “I know it’s unusual,” Taren continued, “a Philistine and Hebrew together, but we love each other. And we do know our love will have consequences. In fact, we hope it will.”

  “You don’t know much of love, do you? Have you watched the relationships between men and women? Love is war, each side trying to win its own little skirmishes. Don’t be naive. I’m doing you a favor, girl, sparing you the anguish. Rid yourself of these notions about love and marriage. The prince will never yield his servant to the enemy.”

  “But he’s a good man, respected by his community and elders.”

  “What’s his name, this love of yours?”

  “Samson.”

  “Samson.” Delilah cast a sideways glance. “The strongman is your betrothed?”

  “He is, my lady. You know of him?” “There are rumors, of course. Is he as large as they say?” Delilah waved off her own question. All curiosity aside, there was an opportunity here. She and the prince might use this to curry favor with the king. “Listen, Taren, I’m not easily moved, but your feelings seem genuine. Does love always have to end in war? Maybe I should reconsider.”

  “Samson and I only want peace.”

  “I hope it stays that way, I really do. While I can’t make any promises, I will speak with Prince Rallah on your behalf. I do hold some sway with him, and there may be room for an exception.”

  “You’d do that for us?” Taren fell at her feet. “Oh, thank you.”

  “Indeed,” Delilah said, smoothing the girl’s hair. “All in the name of love.”

  CHAPTER 19

  CATCHING LEVIATHAN

  Waters of the Great Sea

  AS A YOUNG teen, Prince Rallah sailed once with his father over the waves of the Great Sea. King Balek told stories of their people’s seafaring past, and Rallah sat on the boat’s prow with hair blowing in the breeze and spray tickling his bare feet. He learned how to guide the boat, man the rudder, and cast hooked strings and hemp nets for the fish that teemed below.

  Certain fish took extra patience. If you pulled too quickly, the catch would escape. You had to wait for it, tease it, then set the hook firmly.

  Over the past week Taren had ventured farther and farther to rendezvous with the Hebrew. Rallah had played out the line, letting her run with the hook. If she thought Rallah’s lenience meant permissiveness, she was wrong. If she thought she could escape her duties to the throne, she forgot how he and Ashdod had ambushed the priest’s chariot in the night and taken her as a servant.

  She was pretty, yes, but the prince’s interests in her were for the sake of the kingdom.

  “Keep raising the stakes,” King Balek had instructed Rallah on their sea treks. “First, you catch something small; then you put it on your hook to lure something bigger. Catch something bigger, and put that on your hook. Eventually you’ll hook a leviathan from the deep.”

  Samson was the leviathan.

  And Taren? Well, she was the only fish that Samson wanted from the sea.

  City of Gaza

  Ashdod and Delilah waited as Rallah led his mount into the royal stables. Ashdod helped the prince remove his bronze breastplate and cape, and Delilah handed him his goblet. The juice of the vine washed the road dust from his tongue, and he swigged some more of it down.

  “My lord,” Ashdod said, “how did your travels go?”

  “The men in Ekron and Ashkelon are ready to help when the time comes. And you, what’ve you heard from our spies?”

  “There are reports that the tribal council is considering Samson as judge.”

  “Let them do as they will, Ashdod. What is a judge, anyway?” Rallah drew Delilah to his side as he downplayed the concerns. “To the Hebrews, a judge is a spiritual or military leader, guiding their decisions or fighting their battles. To us, he is nothing. The judge of slaves is still a slave.”

  “I also have news to share,” Delilah said into his ear.

  Ashdod wasn’t finished, though. “What would King Balek say of it?”

  “Of Samson as judge? Why? Are you the king’s advisor now, one of his wise men? You’re a soldier, and what my father thinks is not your concern. You follow my orders; that’s what you do.”

  “Yes, my prince.”

  Rallah emptied his drink and gestured to Delilah for more. He imagined the two of them seated side by side, the new king and queen, surrounded by food and wine as coronation festivities took hold of this great city. There would be singing and dancing and reveling in the streets.

  The main thing that disrupted this vision was Samson.

  The man’s inhuman power and his appeal to his people were threats that could not be ignored, threats that could unsettle the throne before the prince ever sat upon it. A direct attack on Samson would be doomed. He was too strong. With lovely Taren as bait, though, Rallah might catch the great fish, pull it close enough to kill it, and live to tell the tale.

  “Rallah . . . ” Delilah was talking to him. “Samson’s what I wanted to speak to you about. He has eyes for one of your servant girls, and not that I blame him. She’s certainly pleasing to look at.”

  He lowered his goblet. “Which girl is this?”

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t seen her. The prettiest one. Her name’s Taren.”

  “Yes,” he said cautiously. “Yes, I know of her. And how did you hear of it?”

  “She was in our bedchamber a few days hence,” Delilah said, “carrying out her duties. She told me that she and Samson plan to marry.”

  “Impossible,” Ashdod butted in. “One of our women wedding a Hebrew? It would be heresy against Dagon. It cannot be allowed.”

  The prince prickled at his soldier’s words. “Does Dagon fear the Hebrews?”

  “It violates our rituals.”

  “Let Dagon protect his own rituals.”

  “Darling, I’ve been thinking,” Delilah continued. “What if you were to bless the union between Taren and Samson? Give her to him, and he’d never raise a hand against you. He’d be forever indebted to you, and the throne would be yours.”

  “Madness.” Ashdod shook his bald head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  “He would be under my heel,” Rallah agreed.
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  “Let them marry,” she said, “and let us host the wedding feast. No expenses spared.”

  Rallah remembered again why he first fell in love with this woman. All this time he had been fishing for the leviathan, preparing for a battle, even as she was serving up the great fish on a platter. Indeed, why make Samson a foe when they could call him a friend? Why scout out assassins in Ekron and Ashkelon when better options existed? Who knew. Perhaps one day Samson would even fight for Rallah, a Hebrew champion to ward off all challengers.

  “My queen is cunning.” He kissed her hand.

  “And my king strong.” She pressed against him and bit at his lower lip.

  “Ashdod,” Rallah snapped, “clear the stewards from the stables and leave us now.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Days later Prince Rallah and Delilah summoned the servant girl to their bedchamber. They offered her a seat at the serving table and a chalice of strong drink. Taren sipped politely, eyes down.

  “Are you nervous?” the prince asked.

  “I am not sure why I’m here, my lord.”

  Rallah scratched at his goatee, giving her time enough to worry. She ventured a glance at Delilah, who was reclined at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her blue lapis earrings.

  “You love a Hebrew—that’s what Delilah tells me. Is this true?”

  Taren brightened. “I do, very much.”

  “Is that why you violated your curfews and abandoned your duties two weeks back, so that you could entertain these notions of romance?”

  “I . . . I’m sorry, my lord. What would you have me say?”

  “Did you think I didn’t know?” he asked. “You frolicked with our enemy on the beach, sneaked off to nearby villages, rode off with him into the hills. Are you foolish enough to believe you were not spied upon? Is your prince blind—is that what you think? Do you know what I would do if one of my soldiers wandered off with a Hebrew woman? It would be treason. Betrayal to the throne. That man would have his head removed and displayed at the gates for all to see.”

  Taren was shaking, her veil draped about her face.

  “Say something, girl,” Delilah urged from the bed. “You told me none of this.”

  “It was wrong. There’s no excuse.”

  “Why, then?”

  “How else could it be?” A tear ran down her cheek. “Our love is real, and no one will acknowledge it. Is it so impossible for enemies to feel these things for each other? I’m a woman, and he is a man. That’s all that matters to us.”

  Before explaining the real purpose of this meeting, Rallah needed to be certain of Taren’s loyalty to the crown. If she was to bed with the enemy, there could be no doubts.

  “Taren,” he said, “I know your father. Ahar is a kind man.”

  “Please. He had nothing to do with this. He doesn’t even know yet.”

  “You’ve kept secrets from everyone. Well, if you recall, I took you from Jodel because he owes me a debt. You haven’t been paying that debt, not while gallivanting about the countryside with the Hebrew strongman. Here is the deal. Jodel’s debt, your debt, will now be on your father’s head.”

  “My lord, no. I beg of you not to—”

  “Hold, girl,” Delilah said from the bed. “Give the prince a chance to explain.”

  “Delilah and I have talked this over, Taren, and we want to make you an offer. Yes, that sparks your curiosity, doesn’t it? We know what it’s like to be in love. Delilah and I have shared a bed for years, and still my father shows no interest in her. He treats her no differently than . . . well, no differently than a servant like you. We, on the other hand, we want to celebrate your love.”

  Taren’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “First, you must never again disobey the edicts of the crown, or it’s your father who will pay the price. It’s his head that’ll sit atop a spike for all to see. Is that clear?”

  “Really, darling.” Delilah shot him a look. She moved alongside Taren and said, “What my lord is trying to say is that we want you and Samson to be married. We want you to show everyone how love can guarantee peace. It’s a beautiful thing, don’t you think? Go on, Rallah. Tell her.”

  “I’ve been to your hometown in the past few days, Taren. I’ve made the arrangements, and all Timnah is buzzing with excitement. Delilah and I, we want to do this for you. It means a lot to us. We want to throw you and Samson a wedding feast for the ages.”

  CHAPTER 20

  THE UNEXPECTED

  Camp at Mahaneh-dan

  THE MEN ARE gathered in the valley, hundreds of them. At the front of the pack stands Treus. He ignores the stinging rain that comes over the western slopes and points his finger at me. He is shaking, and I’m certain it’s not because of the cold.

  “You betray the tribe of Dan,” he snarls.

  Only yesterday did I learn from the prince of his support for my marriage. I can hardly contain my joy, but these men have heard the rumors and feel different.

  “You betray not only us,” he continues, “but your Israelite brothers in Jerusalem, Judah, and beyond. I don’t care about the babbling of old women and elders. What do they know? You’re nothing special, Samson. I perceived it from the start.”

  Those closest to Treus murmur in agreement. They chose his side long ago.

  “A full-scale war,” I say. “Is that what you seek?”

  “It’s the only language our oppressors understand.”

  “And,” I point out, “a language they speak well. They have chariots and forged weaponry, and in a war they would swat us away like gnats.”

  Wadesh pushes forward, his hair drenched. The wound above his eyebrow is swollen, still healing from his encounter with Bolcom at the quarry. “We’ve all wanted to follow you, Samson. We know that God’s given you supernatural strength. I saw it with my own eyes, and I owe you my life. I’ll never speak ill of you. When these others heard the stories, they rallied to fight alongside you, but it’s been weeks, and you still don’t train or spar with us. Now you come with talk of love?”

  “You’re a traitor,” one yells.

  “Philistine lover,” yells another.

  “Didn’t our Father in heaven create all people, Philistine and Hebrew alike?” I reason. The rain is heavy in my long hair. “They may be wayward, but they’re also made in His image.”

  “We, the Israelites, are the chosen people,” comes the response.

  “Wayward?” another mocks. “Wicked through and through is more like it.”

  I hop onto a boulder for a better view of the assembly. “Yes, I do speak of love. I love a woman from Timnah, and we shall marry next week.”

  They hiss and spit in my direction.

  “My tribesmen, my brothers, I don’t want to fight you.”

  “At least listen to him,” Caleb calls out from among them. “Let him explain himself.”

  Wadesh and Orum agree with this notion. Their joined voices and the forces of nature manage to cool tempers for the moment, and I try again to defend my position, believing they’ll understand.

  “Listen, men. The prophecies are being fulfilled in a way we never imagined. You want war, I understand, but we don’t need another Joshua to strike down our enemies by the thousands. Where has that gotten us, brothers? We’re still enslaved. We need a new route to peace, and that’s what Taren and I seek. We want to show families and friends on both sides that unity is possible. Soldiers will be won over and lay down their weapons, picking up plowshares instead. I know this sounds impossible, it does. Look at Prince Rallah, though.”

  The jeers start up again.

  “Listen, he wants my marriage to his servant girl to serve as an example to all. He himself is paying for our celebration. I was just as surprised as you.”

  “It’s a trap, Samson.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Sleeping with our enemy makes you our enemy too.”

  The anger grows, and they press toward me. Caleb, Wa
desh, and Orum try to hold them back, but the group is too large. They don’t want peace; they want justice. And none of them are convinced that my dreams of bliss will spill over into their own daily lives. I must run from my countrymen or turn to fight them. Neither option sits well with me.

  “Lord, what would You have me do?”

  Thunder cracks overhead, shaking the hills, and the unexpected happens. The soaked earth on the far end of the valley breaks away in a mudslide, rocks and wet soil churning down the slope in a great rumbling wave that fans over the valley floor, stopping only a few paces from the startled men at the back of the crowd.

  “This is a warning,” I say.

  “Oh, you think you’re so superior,” Treus says. “Protected from on high.”

  “A warning for me too,” I answer. “Let’s not fight amongst ourselves. We are brothers.”

  The assembly dissipates slowly, breaking off in groups as they go their separate ways.

  West of Zorah

  I cannot believe the turn of events. Taren and I thought we risked the prince’s wrath, and instead we have his royal blessing. My parents haven’t given theirs, not directly, but my father went down to Timnah to meet Taren’s father, Ahar, and discuss our marriage. Whether our fathers exchanged a traditional dowry or bride compensation money, I do not know.

  What I do know is that in a matter of days we’ll be man and wife.

  My heart skips at the thought, and even though it’s not time yet, I walk in the direction of Timnah with thoughts of the feasting to come. Taren and I haven’t yet been together, naked and unashamed, and it’s been torture for me. I am a man. I want what God created for us. It’s too much to think upon, and I try to turn my mind to anything other than our first moments as bride and groom.

  Meandering off the path, I bask in the sunlight and lift my face to its warmth. Flowers poke between crags and brush, splashing this hillside with color after yesterday’s rain.

  I still don’t know what to think of yesterday’s encounter at the camp. It reminds me that peace will not come easily. If even those who know me well are skeptical, then there will be doubters throughout the capitals and all of Canaan.