Delilah. Eleanor Jong De

peered at the driver beneath the glow of Samson’s torch, her fingers working their way across his head and around his face. Saul winced as she found a spongy wound above his temple and her hand became wet with blood. She wiped her hands quickly on her stole. ‘I don’t think so. Just a nasty cut. Can you sit up, Saul?’

      The driver tried to push himself up, but his arms seemed too weak to hold him. ‘He should lie down,’ said Samson. He lifted Saul easily and laid him with care in the base of the cart where the wine had been stacked. He fiddled around beneath the benches for a moment, then stepped back.

      ‘You can drive the cart,’ he said to Delilah.

      Delilah glanced at Achish who shrugged. He could drive the cart himself, of course, but Delilah knew he’d suffered quite enough indignity for one night. So she felt in the shadows for the remaining harness, then gave a quick snap of the rope and the donkey hesitantly started forward.

      They drove like that for some way in the silent night, Delilah concentrating on the movement of the donkey instead of trying to untangle all that had happened that day. They made an odd party, the quiet, brooding giant trotting along on the road beside them, a young woman of some wealth with reins in her hands, the silent Philistine with his Israelite escort. She felt the cart sway a little beneath her, and soon felt Achish’s quiet presence close at her shoulder.

      ‘We have been lucky,’ he murmured.

      ‘I don’t know how you can say that.’

      ‘We could be dead.’ His eyes passed briefly over her dishevelled clothes. ‘Or worse.’

      Delilah didn’t have the energy to argue, but her stepfather’s timidity made her grip the reins tighter. Being in debt to Samson was surely a fate worse than death. She changed the subject.

      ‘Can you look around in the bottom of the cart for me please? Jered gave me a bowl—’

      ‘Did he now?’

      Delilah smiled into the dark at Achish’s quick understanding of the gift’s significance. ‘It’s a very pretty one, from the south, rather expensive I’m afraid, and I suppose it’s broken. Or stolen,’ she added.

      ‘Your bowl is undamaged,’ said Samson from the shadows. ‘It’s tucked beneath the bench.’

      ‘What do you know—’ Delilah stopped herself. ‘I suppose we should be grateful you didn’t make us walk home,’ she said to him.

      ‘The donkey represents the Philistine tax on Israelite animals and the tax on vehicles,’ said Samson. ‘The wine represents the tax on farms and vineyards, food and drink. The jewellery represents the tax on imported goods such as gold and jewels, and the money is the tax on banking and lending. These are four of the main taxes made on the Israelite people. You’ll be pleased I didn’t choose to exploit the tax on families.’

      Delilah fumed at the implicit threat. She did not wish to confirm his view of her as Philistine but neither did she want to reveal her own Israelite blood. That old sickness rose in her throat at the conflicting demands on her loyalty. Yet if he’d gone through with marrying Hemin in the first place, perhaps a solution to the troubles might have been a little nearer.

      ‘You’re not exactly doing your bit for peace,’ she murmured.

      ‘You don’t know what you are talking about.’

      ‘Then tell me,’ cried Delilah in frustration, ‘and stop being a pompous fool who treats me like a little girl—’

      ‘Delilah,’ warned Achish.

      ‘—And get down off your pedestal. You think you look regal, I suppose, but really you’re just as much a fool as Phicol. He’s got his fancy clothes and you with your silly hair—’