Eleanor De Jong
Delilah

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

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First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 2011

DELILAH. Copyright © Working Partners Two 2011. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Eleanor de Jong asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Source ISBN: 978-1-84756-238-8

Ebook Edition © APRIL 2011 ISBN: 9780007443192

Version: 2018-07-19

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

‘Lilah! Where are you?’

Chapter Two

‘It’s just as well, Delilah, that it was I who…

Chapter Three

Delilah put down the tray of empty drinking bowls, and…

Chapter Four

Due to their late arrival, Delilah had found herself too…

Chapter Five

‘How could you have let it come to that, Father?’

Chapter Six

Delilah would have been happy never to see Samson again.

Chapter Seven

The man’s hollow, watery eyes settled on Delilah for a…

Chapter Eight

Delilah regretted having pushed her shawl back so far from…

Chapter Nine

Samson appeared not to have heard her. ‘Your rescue will…

Chapter Ten

Delilah always enjoyed her visits to the centre of Ashkelon.

Chapter Eleven

‘So the Chass’ela vines have done better than we expected…

Chapter Twelve

It took a lot of eyelash-fluttering to convince Ekron to…

Chapter Thirteen

‘So Achish has you investigating your competitor’s wines.’

Chapter Fourteen

‘I don’t remember you wearing out your sandals so quickly…

Chapter Fifteen

Delilah had not noticed it the first time she entered…

Chapter Sixteen

The vineyard shimmered in the afternoon sun. The green leaves…

Chapter Seventeen

Phicol might have spies everywhere, but she doubted Samson’s reach…

Chapter Eighteen

By the time Delilah arrived at the market just after…

Chapter Nineteen

She lifted herself from him, genuinely alarmed. Were Phicol’s men…

Chapter Twenty

Joshua was terrified. ‘You shouldn’t have told your mother that,’…

Chapter Twenty-One

Delilah was studiously tying up the laden vine branches one…

Chapter Twenty-Two

Joshua helped Delilah climb into Achish’s best carriage, then he…

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘If I didn’t know better,’ said Phicol, ‘I’d say you…

Chapter Twenty-Four

The boats were drawn up on the shore, well clear…

Chapter Twenty-Five

The crowds were already gathering in the centre of Ashkelon.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Delilah looked at Phicol, searching his face for any sign…

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The waves, normally so soothing and peaceful, jarred at Delilah’s…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Delilah wanted to avoid the breakfast table at all costs,…

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It took four long days for the bruise on Delilah’s…

Chapter Thirty

The watery sky was just tinged with the first red…

Chapter Thirty-One

Delilah barely stirred when Samson left the tent before dawn,…

Chapter Thirty-Two

Delilah traversed the edges of the crowd until she was…

Chapter Thirty-Three

Delilah hardly left her room for three days. She was…

Chapter Thirty-Four

There were soldiers too. At least ten, clustering around Phicol.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Though the night passed peacefully, Delilah was aware that her…

Chapter Thirty-Six

‘I had to go back,’ she said. ‘You understand that,…

Chapter Thirty-Seven

She explained to Joshua about the drugged drink. He listened…

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ekron shuddered, a thin groan escaping his lips. His hair…

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ariel reined in the donkeys and the wagon halted.

Chapter Forty

The sky was heavy with low-lying clouds that lingered but…

Jezebel

The Darling Strumpet

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Credits

About the Publisher

Chapter One

‘Lilah! Where are you?’

Delilah tucked her feet more tightly beneath her and closed her eyes. She knew she couldn’t be seen – that was the magic of her tiny nest between the vines, especially now, with the leaves so broad and green and the clusters of grapes beginning to swell on their stems – but it made sense to keep still and wait for Ekron to pass. Up the slope behind her, the sounds of the wedding party were like the rush of a distant river.

‘Delilah? I know you’re—’ She heard him break off and clear his throat, growling to himself, trying to keep his voice deep, to give the impression of being the man she knew he longed to be. He sounded so close; he must be in the next row over beside the well.

‘I know you’re out here, Delilah. You can’t keep secrets from me!’

Ekron’s last word came out in one painfully high squeak above the rest of the sentence, and Delilah gulped down the giggles that rose inside her. She could hear him wailing to himself as he trudged away along the path. His face would be burning red like the evening sun by now.

The scuffs of her stepbrother’s sandals against the dusty earth became quieter as he continued his search further down the slopes. She couldn’t understand his hurry to grow up. She’d be happy if she was eight forever, but he had begun marking off the time until his twelfth birthday even though it was at least four moons away.

When he was out of earshot, Delilah untucked herself and sat cross-legged against the trunk of the vine. She ran her fingers along a pair of branches that rose over her shoulder, feeling the bark as it twisted around itself, already brown in the late summer heat. One branch was fatter than the other. Her father had once told her that it was branches like these that should be tied to the supports, for they would provide the frame of a plant year after year. The other branch, weaker and thinner, had coiled along the stronger one, strangling it. Delilah knew that if her father had been here, he would have cut the tendril away, even though it already held the promise of fat fruits.

Thinking about her father made her sad, and she pulled the leaves gently apart to peer up the valley towards the house. There was a strange little hump on this part of the slope that raised these few vines slightly above their neighbours. She’d found the hiding place by accident over a year ago, tripping among the neat rows of vines on her stepfather Achish’s estate as she ran headlong from her mother’s howls and the ritual laments of the gathered mourners. Tearing her dress had been just another horrible part of that wretched day.

Ekron had come after her then too, like he always did when she was upset, but she’d dodged him and weaved among the vines, faster than him, more desperate to escape than he was to catch her. From the secret nook she’d watched the groundsmen with their spades, repairing the ground that had been broken up to accept her father’s body. His burial had been quick, hurried along by the Israelite traditions of which he had been so proud. Later that night, as her mother stitched her dress and Delilah cleaned the dust and tears from her face, she’d all but forgotten Achish’s words of comfort by the graveside – not to worry, that he’d take care of her. Until that moment, he’d been just her father’s employer, and a man with whom she rarely came into contact. She’d been too young to realise that one day he’d be something more.

Now, fourteen months later, the earth above her father’s grave looked as brown and smooth as the earth around it, the only mark of its presence a young olive tree that cast a thin shadow across it. Achish had kept to his promise, and today marked the day that he took Delilah’s mother as a wife. They had a new family, a new home, and each night she added the great Philistine god El to her prayers, thanking him for his kindness. Her mother had learned to smile again and Achish had made that happen. Ekron seemed happy enough too, to have Delilah as a stepsister as well as a friend. But Hemin – well, Hemin couldn’t smile if you pasted one on that thin face with clay. And Delilah knew Hemin would sooner make herself sick than call Delilah her sister.

‘—of course, it will be very difficult for Achish, raising that Israelite child in his own Philistine family—’

Delilah let the leaves fall together again and tilted her head to listen. Over by the well she could see the feet of two women, old wrinkly feet in fussy sandals, their painted leather now dusted with dry earth.

‘She is a handful, I’m sorry to say.’ That was the voice of Achish’s first wife, Ariadnh. She sounded a bit more formal than usual, as though she was trying to impress the woman she was speaking to. ‘She has no sense of her place, no sense of how lucky she is.’

‘Lucky indeed. I mean to say, her mother Beulah seems a pleasant woman—’

‘Pleasant enough for an Israelite—’

‘But she has married out of her culture and well above her station. Surely Achish knows how people will see it: the effects of such an association on himself, on his children, on you—’

‘It’s not merely a question of station, of course. Clearly I couldn’t possibly say this to Achish myself—’

‘It’s not a wife’s place to speak frankly to her husband—’

‘Although Beulah does speak quite bluntly to Achish, I’ve heard it—’

Delilah bristled. How dare Ariadnh talk that way about her mother? From a young age, she recognised that there were differences between the two peoples who occupied the land, but it was only now, as the two worlds came together, that she realised the Israelites were a station beneath. One rarely saw Philistines in the fields when the sun was at its hottest, and even in the city there were areas that Philistines wouldn’t go to without a chaperone. Among the other workers on Achish’s estate, Israelite and Philistine couples didn’t mix.

She crawled out of her hiding place. The two women were still chattering on and had turned to walk slowly back up the hill again. Delilah crept along, listening carefully.

‘But that’s the Israelite way,’ the other woman was saying. ‘As the senior wife, you will need to take care that little Hemin and Ekron are raised properly, and that Beulah’s more casual manners don’t infect them. You only have to look at Delilah to know that she lacks breeding and self-control; she has none of the poise of Hemin, no sense of her new father’s status in the community—’

‘Lilah!’

Delilah looked up to find Ekron standing at the head of the row, waving to her.

‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been? Come back to the party. My father is asking for you specially. He has a honey cake he wants you to try.’

Though she was barely tall enough to see over the vines, Delilah lifted her chin at the now silent women who were peering over the rows at the eavesdropper. She gave a haughty grin to Ariadnh and skipped away up the slope towards Ekron, aware that her hair was springing wildly about her head. This morning, especially for the marriage ceremony, her mother had tied her curls into the neat twist favoured by older girls, and entwined flowers to match her own headdress into her daughter’s hair. They’d long since fallen out or been snared on the branches of the hideaway. Delilah didn’t care. If Ariadnh and her friend expected her to look like little more than a farm girl, she might as well stop worrying about keeping clean and tidy, and enjoy the day.

Ekron beamed at her, and they set off together, back towards the big house. The guests were starting to thin out now, and several were walking away in groups down the long path to the city road. She couldn’t see her mother or Achish among the remaining crowd, and no one paid any attention to the two children approaching the thatched awning that covered one edge of the courtyard.

‘Did you not hear me calling for you?’ Ekron asked.

‘No.’ Delilah gave him a big smile and widened her eyes, just the way she’d seen Hemin look at the stable boys when she wanted to be allowed to pet the horses. ‘I’ve been running among the vines.’

‘I didn’t see you.’

‘I run quickly. And quietly.’

‘You do.’ Ekron started to pat her on the shoulder, then his hand fell away.

‘What?’

Ekron looked at his feet. ‘Nothing.’

‘Can you get me a drink? It’s so hot today.’

‘What do you want? There’s one with rose petals and honey—’

‘Lemon. I want lemon.’

Ekron gave her a little bow. ‘Don’t forget that father – I mean Achish – well, he wants—’ He winced. ‘What are you going to call him now?’

‘Father, I suppose, even though he is not my proper father—’

‘And don’t you ever forget it, Delilah,’ said a voice behind her.

Hemin was standing with her arms folded, tapping one foot on the ground. She was only a year older than Delilah but her dress was a grown-up’s, identical to her mother Ariadnh’s. ‘I’d never want to be confused with being your sister, Hemin.’

‘And I’d sooner pull every vine from this land than be confused with being your sister. Except that’s your job as the vine-keeper’s daughter. Where have you been? Father’s been asking for you, but you look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt. You’ve got vine suckers in your hair.’

In truth, there was little chance that anyone who saw the two girls together might mistake them for sisters. Hemin had been the same height as Delilah until two years before, but she had recently shot up and was taller than Delilah by half a head. With the spurt, though, she’d lost none of her ungainly youth. While Delilah’s hair was black as a raven’s wings, such that in some lights it flashed with purple, Hemin’s was the brown of the earth. Her eyes were too far apart and prone to squinting, as though frequently suspicious of the world around her. In fact, all her features were a shade too small for her face. Her nose was dainty certainly, but like a child’s, and her lips seemed permanently pressed together. Delilah’s skin was darker by several shades, her lips fuller, and her eyes tilted up at the corners. Hemin teased that she had some Assyrian blood sullying her ancestry, but Delilah didn’t care.

She noticed that Ekron had disappeared from her side. Typical! He’d never stand up to his sister. Hemin smoothed her hands over her still perfectly neat hair, and flicked at her earrings. They were new today, a present from Achish. Her stepsister had missed no opportunity to swing them under Delilah’s nose before the ceremony, taunting her that her ears weren’t yet pierced.

‘A pretty house does not improve a dull landscape,’ said Delilah under her breath. She’d no idea what it meant, but she’d overheard Ariadnh say it about her mother during the ceremony.

‘What did you say, you little—’

‘Hemin?’ Delilah heard Ariadnh’s cautious voice above her head, and she glanced up with deliberate sweetness. You may be the first wife, but anyone can see you will never be the favourite, not now.

In the courtyard, her mother, so pretty and happy, was sitting next to Achish, laughing along with him. Her heart warmed to see her mother looking like that. Even with her father’s cold body in the ground some way down the hill behind her, she felt that nothing could really spoil today.

‘Fetch Ariadnh a drink of the rose water, Delilah, and one for me too,’ said Hemin, moving into her line of sight.

‘Get them yourself.’

‘Fetch us the drinks, Delilah. We’ll be sitting over there.’

Delilah stuck her tongue out at Hemin’s back, then turned smartly in the opposite direction, almost colliding with Ekron, who was holding two drinking bowls.

‘I brought your lemon drink.’

‘Hemin wants water to wash her hands. Can you get it for her?’

‘Of course. Take these.’ He handed her the two bowls, then hurried off towards the table of refreshments that stood beneath one of the colonnades in the courtyard. Delilah drank slowly from her bowl as she watched him, savouring the tartness of the drink. She suddenly felt hot and tired; tired of Hemin and her meanness, tired even of Ekron with his endless enthusiasm for running around after her.

But there was her mother, smiling across the courtyard at her, and Achish laughing and holding out a plate to draw her attention. Delilah skipped through the guests and cuddled up between them, taking a cake from the plate as her mother’s hand slipped around her waist. It was very good cake, and Achish had just begun to explain to her how he’d endured the attentions of the bees while collecting the honey when the smash of crockery against the flagstones interrupted him.

The hubbub of the conversation stopped abruptly. Across the courtyard, Hemin stood over her brother, her arms spread wide. Ekron was shaking as he stared at the wet shards of pottery at his feet.

‘What did you do that for, sister?’

‘Pah!’ shouted Hemin. ‘You’re no brother of mine if you take your orders from that little Israelite cat.’

Delilah felt her mother’s fingers squeeze her waist, and twisting around, she saw Achish’s jaw stiffen. This was her father’s special day. How could Hemin be so cruel? To cover her embarrassment, she tugged Achish’s embroidered sleeve.

‘These are lovely cakes,’ she said. ‘Tell me more about the bees.’

Achish’s eyes fell to her and he smiled a little sadly. ‘They have a nasty sting, Delilah, but they’re just defending their territory.’

Chapter Two

Six years later

‘It’s just as well, Delilah, that it was I who had the purse today, and not Achish,’ said Beulah, smiling indulgently. ‘I’ve no doubt he’d have let you come away with four dresses, not just two.’ Delilah watched the housegirl squeeze through the narrow door into the cool recesses of the house, her arms piled high with cloth-wrapped packages.

‘But I really couldn’t decide, Mother. The colours were all so pretty.’

‘Thank goodness I managed to talk you out of those Egyptian reds, for there would be nothing left to spend on Hemin’s dowry if you had bought that particular dress.’

‘And the groom must be paid to take her off our hands!’

‘Tsk!’ Beulah scolded.

Delilah couldn’t quite tell if her mother’s outrage was genuine or merely a warning, so she gave a neat little curtsey of contrition and tucked her hand into the crook of her mother’s arm. The seemingly bottomless well of Hemin’s meanness was directed at both of them, but Beulah bore it with an inexhaustible reserve of patience. Delilah snapped back as a rule, through stubbornness now, rather than real irritation.

‘Well,’ murmured Delilah, ‘the groom will have to have the courage of the god Ba’al, the wisdom of the goddess Asherah, and allow himself to be blinded by the earthy passions of the goddess Qadeshtu—’

‘You’re much too young to know of Qadeshtu,’ said Beulah primly, her eyes crinkled with amusement.

‘I’m nearly fifteen! I’d surely be married already if it weren’t for the difficulty of finding a man fool enough to take Hemin.’

‘Samson’s no fool. He is a catch, Delilah, make no mistake.’

‘But only an Israelite catch—’

Beulah pressed her lips together in a look of mild pain. ‘Your lack of interest in your culture is nothing to be proud of. Samson’s already well regarded. Some say he’ll even be leader one day.’

‘Leader of what?’ Delilah asked. ‘A patch of sand which the Philistines can take away at any time.’

Beulah waved a hand. ‘Land means nothing. If Samson is made a Judge of the People, he will control their hearts.’

Delilah realised arguing would only drive a wedge between them. A part of her felt guilty too. It was true that since her father’s death, she’d enjoyed the life of a Philistine and conveniently forgotten the plight of her father’s people, living and working under Philistine rule. It was easy to, within the shady confines of the house. She offered her mother a smile. ‘All I’m saying is that it serves Hemin right after all her years of belittling us for being Israelites to have to marry one.’

Beulah pulled away to look soberly at her daughter. ‘Achish’s example is one we should all follow. None of us is better than the other, and this match is Achish’s way of signalling that to his own community as well as to ours. He foresees a time when Israelites pay the same taxes as Philistines, when families can eat and shop together. When we’re equals.’

Delilah bit back the easy retort that Hemin’s equal could only be found in Lotan, the God of Destruction. She seriously doubted that one marriage would sow the seeds of conciliation, but it was typical of her stepfather’s optimism. ‘Of course, Mother,’ she said.

‘Anyway,’ murmured Beulah, the corners of her mouth twitching into the slyest of smiles, ‘Hemin should be grateful for this match, for Samson is apparently quite without equal in one particular area.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I think it’s Hemin who will have to pray to Qadeshtu, for Samson is clearly one of her most gifted disciples already.’

‘Mother!’ squealed Delilah. ‘How do you know such things?’

‘Samson’s reputation goes far and wide—’ Beulah smirked. ‘Perhaps that’s not quite the right way to put it.’

Delilah began to giggle, and soon mother and daughter were laughing together.

On the floor above, a shutter opened and Ekron peered out into the courtyard. ‘What’s going on down there? I’m trying to study – Oh, Lilah, it’s you.’

Delilah wiped her eyes with the corner of her shawl and pressed her hand on her ribs to calm her breathing. ‘We just got back from shopping.’

‘Did you manage to choose a dress for the betrothal ceremony?’

‘Two, actually,’ she said breezily. ‘Would you like to see them?’

Ekron leaned further out through the window. ‘You’ll try them on for me?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘I’m coming down. Meet me in the hall.’

Delilah shrugged at him but Ekron had already disappeared from the window and she could hear his bare feet on the rush matting upstairs.

‘You should be careful of Ekron’s feelings,’ said her mother.

‘A second opinion will be useful!’ Delilah replied.

‘You have never needed anyone else’s opinion. Besides, you know that you look beautiful in both dresses. And Ekron will surely tell you so.’

Delilah ignored the awkward implications of her mother’s words and led her into the hallway. The housegirl had left the packages in two neat piles on a table by the stairs and Delilah picked through them, discarding rolls of napkins for the betrothal, and another parcel that they had collected for Ariadnh from the cloth merchant. The betrothal ceremony was to take place a full month before the wedding, as was the Philistine custom. Convenient as well, Delilah thought, in case either party wanted to back out.

Ekron stopped halfway down the stairs and sank down onto a step, his head level with Delilah’s.

‘Did you have fun, Lilah?’

‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that.’

Ekron rolled his eyes. ‘De-lilah.’

‘As it happens, I did. They have some very beautiful fabrics in town, sailed in from all ports on the Great Sea. Even fancy Phicol would find something to please his vain old head.’

‘Don’t let him hear you call him that,’ said Ekron. ‘Besides, if you want me to call you Delilah, then you should call my employer by his proper title too.’

‘Fancy Lord Phicol, Grand Ruler of the Philistine City of Ashkelon?’

‘Lilah!’

Delilah grinned at Ekron and began untying each of the packages. Nominally Phicol was merely the chief of the Philistine lords who administered the city and its immediate vicinity, but over the past years his personal estate seemed to have expanded, with an ever greater retinue of servants. An outsider might think he fancied himself as a king rather than a governor.

From the first package, Delilah pulled out a shift of coarse linen in a vivid burnt orange, which the merchant explained had been coloured with a mixture of red and yellow madder roots imported from a land far to the west. The dress was designed to lie flatteringly low across the shoulders and beneath the neck, but the fabric was still stiff with newness. Three or four careful washes with the launder stone would soften it. She pulled the straps of her own tunic off her shoulders, leaving them bare, and held the dress against her body, turning to the mirror stone in the hallway. Her skin had lost the deep brown of her youth, when she’d spent most of her time in the fields, and now glowed like rich honey. The material worked well against it, and Delilah scooped her long dark hair back over her shoulder. Her tunic slipped a little further down her chest, but Delilah rescued her modesty.

Behind her, she saw Ekron blush and shift on the stair. ‘You will look like the falling sun in that,’ he said.

She pouted at herself: her face had become thinner these last few years, and she’d lost the dimples in her cheeks. But now her cheekbones were more defined too, angling sharply beneath the dark pools of her eyes.

‘Does that mean you like it?’

Ekron swallowed. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Delilah could see Beulah shake her head, so she covered her shoulders again and busied herself unwrapping the second dress. This was of a much finer linen, in a beautiful deep purple, and cut more plainly at the neck. It would need a belt to accentuate her waist, but its skirt was a little longer and fuller than the orange dress. The seller had rattled on about how fashionable the colour was in Egypt, and how the Pharaoh’s wife had adorned the neck of a very similar dress with a collar of amethysts. From the moment she stepped into it, Delilah had thought it the loveliest thing she’d ever seen. Even now, she wanted to press it against her face as if breathing it in would somehow make her more beautiful too. She was just about to show it off for Ekron’s benefit when she heard the unmistakeably angry slap of sandals crossing the courtyard.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Hemin, entering the hallway. The path to womanhood had been generous to Hemin, softening her mean little face with curved cheeks and a neat snub nose. Sadly it had done nothing for the sharpness of her tongue. ‘I thought it was the housegirl. Did you collect Ariadnh’s things?’

‘It’s one of these on the floor.’ Delilah kicked lightly at the packages, then danced back a step or two as Hemin tried to reach for the skirt of the purple dress.

‘What in the name of Anat do you think you are doing with something that colour?’

‘Oh, but isn’t it beautiful, Hemin? I bought it today.’

‘It’s my betrothal ceremony, Delilah. You were told not to buy anything dark in colour because it would distract from my banquet dress.’

‘That plain old blue thing you got last week? Yes, I expect it will.’

‘Shame you wasted so much of my father’s money on it then, because you won’t be allowed to wear it.’

‘I suppose it wouldn’t do to look prettier than the bride, but then that wouldn’t be difficult—’

‘Can’t you two leave it for just a few hours?’ sighed Ekron.

Hemin swatted her brother’s caution away, and took a step nearer to Delilah. ‘You can put cheap vinegar in a fine jar but it won’t turn it into wine.’

‘I’m surprised you know that much about the family business,’ replied Delilah.

Hemin sucked a breath through her teeth. ‘You think you’re so clever, cosying up to Father, trying to worm your way into the running of the vineyard. But you will always smell of dusty earth and rotten grapes, and you’ll always be the concubine’s daughter. Even the best dress in the world won’t change that.’

Over Hemin’s shoulder, Delilah saw her mother sadly lower her head, and her anger swelled. ‘At least I know a grape from a grain. What use will you be as the wife of a hill-man, if you can’t tell a sheep from a goat? Samson is a man who gets his hands dirty—’

‘Delilah!’ Ariadnh’s sharp voice cut through the row. Hemin glanced with relief across the hallway, then smirked at Delilah. The fight wasn’t over yet.

‘What’s this?’ said Ariadnh, reaching for the purple gown as Delilah withdrew it from her reach and folded it away. ‘I thought I told your mother to buy you something plain.’

Beulah cleared her throat, but didn’t speak.

Ariadnh took the orange dress from Ekron, who had been holding it tenderly in his hands. She shook it out in front of her, then ran her fingers along the stiff neckline. ‘Is this the only other dress you bought?’

‘For now.’

‘Then you can wear this one.’

‘But it’s not ready to wear yet, it needs washing and there isn’t time—’

‘Then you should have thought of that and bought something that was ready to wear. Achish will agree that the purple one is completely inappropriate for the betrothal. So you will have to suffer in the orange one or wear that white one you have on.’

Hemin looked smugly at Delilah. Beulah had warned her in the shop that her choices would cause trouble, but they would all have to live with it. The orange would be unbearable to wear, so she’d just have to find a way to wear the purple instead, and hope not to be spotted until it was too late to be made to change. Anyway, when Achish saw it, he’d surely agree that it suited her perfectly.

‘As you wish, Ariadnh,’ said Delilah contritely.

‘You’ll look lovely in the orange one,’ said Ekron.

Hemin scowled at him, but Delilah said nothing. She was watching Ariadnh, who had picked up her own package from the floor and was peering between the layers of cloth that bound it, smiling to herself.

‘Come with me, Hemin. These are for you. I’ve some important things to talk to you about.’

Hemin gave Delilah a final farewell sneer, and took Ariadnh’s hand, skipping girlishly up the stairs after her. As their whispered laughter floated down into the hallway, Beulah crossed the hall to join her daughter.

‘I did warn you.’

‘But it was worth it.’

Beulah kissed her daughter’s forehead without much affection. ‘Was it really?’ She picked up the package of napkins and handed them to Delilah. ‘Take these to the kitchen.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Ekron, standing up.

‘That would be kind,’ said Delilah. She touched the back of his hand as he took the load.

Ekron followed Beulah through the doorway towards the back of the house. Delilah quickly folded her dresses back into their packaging, then slipped off her sandals and quietly ran up the stairs, dropping the dresses onto her sleeping couch before moving swiftly down the corridor towards Hemin’s bedroom.

She generally avoided this end of the house, but today her curiosity got the better of her. There was a large window off the hallway through which she could hear the high and low of laughter and whispering between her stepsister and stepmother.

‘—so that when he slides his hand around your back, and pulls this ribbon, your nightdress will fall smoothly to the floor—’

The rest was lost in Hemin’s gasping laughter. The package must have contained Hemin’s clothes for the wedding night, and Ariadnh was clearly giving her the sort of instructions that only a mother could give. Delilah tucked herself in behind the shutters so that she could listen without being seen.

‘—for if you are to enjoy the first night with your new husband,’ Ariadnh was saying, ‘there is much that you will need to know.’

Delilah felt a nauseous mixture of jealousy and dismay swell inside her. She may have the more beautiful dress, but in one respect at least Hemin would shortly be beyond her.

‘—and what if I don’t please him?’ Hemin was asking.

‘Bah!’ snorted Ariadnh. ‘Men are not difficult to please. Even men as renowned as Samson.’

Chapter Three

Delilah put down the tray of empty drinking bowls, and adjusted the ties of her belt so they fell more attractively against her hip. She’d agreed to serve drinks to the wedding guests only after Achish had promised her new jewellery. Hemin hadn’t been privy to the bribe, and had rejoiced to hear that her stepsister would be called upon to look after the guests.

She’d curled her hair for the occasion, and it fell over her bare shoulders in waves of silken ebony. She’d selected her amber necklace, not so much for the colour, but because the pendant nestled at the limits of decency in the shallow valley between her breasts. ‘You should be careful,’ her mother had muttered. ‘I don’t want to lose you just yet.’

The crowd of Israelite men who stood in the shade of the porch made no attempt to disguise their interest in Delilah, and muttered in Hebrew to one another. She couldn’t stop the smile that came to her lips.

Achish had been very clear that morning that they were to make their guests as welcome as possible. These strangers had a roughness about them though, guzzling their wine as quickly as she could fill their bowls.

Betrothal, she thought, seemed to be about a lot of talking and a lot of waiting around. Achish had been locked away in his study for most of the morning with Hemin’s husband-to-be, the man whose name was on everyone’s lips, but whom no one had yet seen. The dial in the courtyard had moved on nearly one full mark since the arrival of Samson and his retinue, and the sun was dipping past its zenith. The scents from the flowers in their basins grew ever stronger, mingling with the thick aroma of the unmixed wine.

‘More drink!’ said one of the Israelites, in clumsy Philistine.

Beulah quickly emptied another third of the jug between the six bowls on Delilah’s tray. ‘Achish wouldn’t approve, but I suppose it’s all in the spirit of the occasion.’

‘They think I can’t understand what they’re saying about me,’ giggled Delilah. ‘They’re very coarse.’

‘In a pack, men are like foxes,’ replied her mother. ‘All snarls and bristling hair. Get one on his own and he’s a different animal. No doubt one of these fellows is eyeing you for himself and you’ll be next.’

Delilah shuddered. ‘I’ll never marry a hairy Israelite.’

‘Your father was a hairy Israelite!’

Delilah laughed and glided back towards the men with the tray of drinks, feeling their eyes follow her as she moved around the room. Of course, the purple dress had quite a bit to do with that, especially the way its richness seemed to light up the blues in her black hair and it clung to the curves of her hips. Not that she wasn’t used to a certain amount of attention, although with her mother or Achish by her side she’d learned to deflect it with a graceful, studied shyness.

Delilah and her mother would be sitting on the groom’s side of the courtyard for the ceremony. With their own kind, Hemin had whispered, none too quietly, to Achish. She smiled inwardly now as she offered drinking bowls to Samson’s Israelite friends. Close up, she couldn’t help but notice how muscular the men were. They had none of the softness that she saw in the Philistine men of Ashkelon. They looked odd in their clean tunics – like a rustic vintage served in fine drinking bowls. Samson was rumoured to be twice as big as any of these fellows, able to wrestle a bull calf to the ground with nothing but his hands. What would her stepsister make of him?

She’d just invited a shy smile from the youngest of the Israelite men – a handsome, curly-haired youth who had done little but stare at her since he arrived – when Ekron appeared, frowning, at her elbow. He’d been hanging around at the bottom of the stairs that morning when she had first come out of her room, and his eyes had been glued almost drunkenly to her as she walked slowly down to meet him. He half-smiled at her now, but he seemed distracted by the Israelites over her shoulder.

‘Ekron?’

‘Oh – what?’

‘Is the ceremony going to start soon?’

‘I think so. I came to tell you that Lord Phicol has finally arrived. I want to introduce you to him.’

Delilah followed his gaze to a group who hovered at the rear of the courtyard. Three were slender young men, each of them bare-chested but for the red military sashes that crossed to wide-pleated skirts and aprons. Behind them stood a short, solid man of about forty years, clothed in an embroidered tunic over his leather skirt. His flat face was sliced off at the brow by the base of a tall, elabor ate headdress that signified the Philistine aristocracy.

‘I suppose that’s him at the back,’ murmured Delilah.

His presence had drawn some excited whispering and covert stares from other guests – notables of Ashkelon and distant relations.

‘When I’ve completed my scribe’s training I’ll be given a tunic in that style to wear on formal occasions, so that I can accompany His Lordship. And a headdress too. It won’t be that grand, of course—’

‘And I hope you won’t look that silly either.’

Delilah was surprised to see how cross Ekron suddenly looked. Lately his sense of humour had all but vanished. ‘It’s a great honour to wear the robes, Delilah, just as it is to work for His Lordship. He is a very clever man, careful about the affairs of our people—’

The Israelites seemed to be making a show of ignoring Lord Phicol and his finery altogether. They talked loudly amongst themselves, as Ariadnh briskly crossed the courtyard to greet each of the guests. The ‘old’ wife, as Delilah always thought of her, gave Ekron a sharp nod. Then her eyes travelled up and down Delilah’s body. Her lips pressed together in a tight smile.

‘I have to go and collect Hemin now,’ said Ekron. ‘She is ready.’

‘At last,’ muttered Delilah.

‘Be kind to her today,’ he pleaded. ‘This is a big day for her, and for our family. It was significant enough that my father married your mother and accepted you both into our family, but for Hemin to marry Samson is a very important step in the relations between our two peoples.’

‘That sounds like a speech right out of Lord Phicol’s mouth.’

Ekron blushed a little. ‘Well, he is right.’

Delilah watched him leave, if only to avoid catching Ariadnh’s attention. Too late. She was bearing down like an angry whirlwind.

‘You were supposed to wear the orange dress, Delilah. You gave me your word yesterday.’

Delilah was about to answer when she noticed movement inside the house. Hemin was pacing awkwardly in the half-covered hallway. Ariadnh’s daughter looked pretty enough, and something clever had been done with her hair, which had softened her angry mouth. But even though the betrothal gown was elegant, a pleated shift of flax-coloured linen, Hemin looked uncomfortable in her own skin, as ill at ease as ever. And as their eyes met, Delilah was delighted to see that her stepsister was unable to conceal her raw fear at being upstaged.

Ariadnh leaned towards Delilah. ‘Go and change your dress immediately, before Hemin enters the courtyard,’ she hissed. ‘Another few minutes will not make any difference, and if you are too long we’ll simply start without you.’

‘Excuse me, madam—’

‘What is it?’ Ariadnh turned on the young man who had appeared at her elbow. ‘What do you want?’

‘The master wants to see Delilah in his study.’

‘What for?’

‘He didn’t say, madam.’

‘Then you can go to your room, Delilah, and change before you go to see him. Achish must not see you like that. He’ll be furious.’

I doubt that, thought Delilah, turning her back on Ariadnh, and following the servant past the Israelite men into the house. But by the door to Achish’s study, the young man gripped her arm. His fingers were warm and strong against her skin and she didn’t pull away, even though he was standing too close to her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Don’t you recognise me?’

Delilah frowned and looked him over. Dark curls smoothed down, sharply angled jaw, large eyes black as the night—

‘Joshua? Is it really you? It’s been—’

‘Three summers,’ he grinned. ‘Achish – master – has had me working at the port.’

Had it been so long? Delilah remembered the days when Joshua, Ekron and she would play together among the vines.

‘I didn’t recognise you without straw in your hair and a barrow of horse muck at your feet.’

He wore a spotless white tunic and a wide leather belt as part of his house servant’s uniform. The last time she’d seen him was as a skinny youth, half-naked in the stables, clad only in the knee-length Egyptian shorts the stable boys found comfortable for their labours, the rest of him strung with whatever ropes and leathers were required to tack up the horses. Something of Ariadnh’s remarks to Hemin yesterday about the mysteries of a man’s body came flooding back to mind, and she instinctively took a step back.

‘I’m not the only one who cleans up well,’ he said.

She blushed, then remembered the summons. ‘I shouldn’t keep Achish waiting.’

‘He doesn’t want to see you.’

‘What?’

‘I made it up. I – well, I thought you needed rescuing.’

Delilah was touched to see his cheeks burn beneath those glorious dark lashes. ‘I’m a lady of the house now. I should have you flogged for such insolence.’

‘But you won’t, will you?’ said Joshua, widening his eyes in mock alarm. ‘I heard Ariadnh and Hemin moaning about you and it seemed so unfair to make you change your dress. It’s not your fault if you’re prettier than—’

Before she knew what she was doing, Delilah had stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, full and soft on the mouth. She lingered for a moment, close enough to feel his breath still on her lips, then rocked back, lowering her gaze. But he didn’t move and eventually she looked up to find him smiling back at her, lips slightly parted.

The smile fell away. She was aware of someone approaching.

‘Don’t you have serving duties?’ said Ekron to Joshua, slipping his hand onto Delilah’s arm. ‘Come along, they’re about to start, Delilah. What were you doing out here, anyway?’

Delilah steered him back towards the courtyard, and pulled his arm close into hers. ‘I was avoiding Ariadnh. She was very rude about my dress.’

‘Never mind. This is Hemin’s day, and she’ll be nervous about it.’

‘You really do sound like Lord Phicol, Ekron. You have to do something about that, or you’ll turn into a stuffy elder of the community before you’ve reached twenty.’

As they walked together, her mind returned to Joshua. Her mother definitely wouldn’t approve, but Delilah was already wondering how she might find a few moments alone with the servant. Ekron could be terribly tiresome, and Hemin’s friends managed to look right through her whenever they met.

She came around the corner and stopped dead, stifling a gasp. In the courtyard, the guests were quiet, and all focused on the man who stood in the centre. He was quite simply the biggest man Delilah had ever seen. Surely the biggest in the known world. Her first thought was of the giants whom the gods had fought before people existed at all. Even his shadow, which stretched along the ground and almost touched Delilah’s feet, seemed solid. He might not have been twice the size of his followers, but Delilah found herself mentally measuring her body against his, handspan for handspan. And down his back, as beautifully dressed as her own tresses, were seven braids of hair, held together by bands. The tresses seemed almost golden as the sun fell on them, then a rich polished ochre as he passed through the shade. It ought to be funny, she felt, this man with a woman’s hair, but the urge to laugh was tempered by a grudging respect. He must have been growing it since boyhood. Even though the braids were oiled and smooth, they looked like seven ropes that had been tied to his head in case he ever needed to be controlled.

He surveyed the gathered guests, and for a moment his gaze settled heavily on hers. Those eyes – they were the deepest blue, like the cornflowers that grew in the rough edges of the vineyard. He must have been in his late twenties at the most, and yet her mother spoke of him as some kind of venerated leader. Delilah forgot her manners and stared back for as long as she was able. Then she glanced downwards, sure he’d somehow read her mind. Ekron tugged on her arm and with her attention still firmly fixed on the floor she followed him into the courtyard to take a seat so the betrothal could begin. Well, he certainly lived up to his reputation, at least in terms of description. He wasn’t handsome in the same way as Joshua, but with his broad forehead and strong straight nose, there was something regal about him. His beard, though full and long, didn’t dominate his face any more than those extraordinary braids. And as for his clothes – well, he was perhaps the least elaborately dressed man in the room. He wore only a long plain tunic of black linen, devoid of embroidery or any decoration, and a narrow black belt with a silver clasp. Had no one told him what a special day this was? There were two worn slots in the belt and Delilah realised that these would normally have held knives or some other small blade. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t have been good manners to turn up to one’s betrothal armed to defend oneself, though a person would have to be mad to take him on.

Achish led Samson towards his daughter, like a farmer leading an ox to market. Seeing him in Hemin’s company for the first time, Delilah decided that not even the sum total of Ariadnh’s wisdom could ever prepare Hemin for marriage to this man. There was a wildness about him that would surely terrify even the most experienced of women.

For the first time in nearly fifteen years, Delilah felt a sliver of sympathy for her stepsister.

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