Eleanor Jong De

Delilah


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to have reached Hemin’s ears, but Hemin wasn’t known outside Ashkelon. Perhaps, thought Delilah indulgently, the groom had been shocked by her plainness.

      But this small satisfaction was disturbed by a niggling humiliation. Samson had behaved abominably. And like it or not, they shared a common blood that now shamed her. It was perhaps to be expected that a huge, unruly man who wore knives on his belt would bully those who displeased him. But his rudeness, his contempt for Achish and for the honour of the arrangement had vindicated all those who harboured suspicions about the children of Israel. While Samson could leave for another town, Delilah and her mother would have to bear the consequences of his behaviour within the community, and particularly within the household.

      Already, in the immediate aftermath, Beulah had suffered the brunt of Ariadnh’s anger – ‘the disgraceful behaviour of your people’ – as though she was head of all the Twelve Tribes.

      But it was Achish that Delilah really felt sorry for. He’d lost face today among his own people. That was bad enough, but he was clearly troubled by Samson’s unexpected rejection of the betrothal. With the vineyard, it was possible to find a reason for a bad harvest, a poor vintage, or even the unruliness of the weather, for there was always himself or a servant or the god Dagon to blame. But he looked out of his depth between Samson and Hemin, unable to use reason to help him.

      Delilah slipped over to his chair and rested her hand on his. She knew there was nothing to say that would help, but she could see that no one else had thought to comfort him.

      Hemin suddenly whipped her head up off her father’s shoulder and squared up to Delilah. ‘Your people have brought shame on this family today.’

      ‘It’s my family too, Hemin—’

      ‘We are not your family, Delilah. Your true family, your people are liars and brutes, cheats and thieves—’

      ‘Hemin,’ said Ekron, ‘that’s going too far.’

      But Delilah couldn’t stop herself.

      ‘I don’t blame Samson,’ she said. ‘In his place, I too would’ve run for my life!’

      Before anyone could reply, least of all Achish, she darted across the room, flinging back the curtain that hung across the doorway and scattering the servants who were clustered outside listening in. Joshua called after her as she ran towards the courtyard, but her fury at Hemin, at Samson, even at Achish for his bewilderment, made her deaf to his plea. She threw herself round the corner, and found herself suddenly kicking at air, suspended as she was between the strong arms of two bare-chested men.

      ‘What? Put me down!’

      ‘Young lady!’

      Delilah wriggled furiously and in a moment she’d been set back on the floor, the grip on her was released, but before she could dart off again, the two fat and greasy paws of Lord Phicol slid themselves over her bare shoulders.

      ‘Young lady.’

      His touch made her skin crawl, and she shrugged in the hope that he’d release her. But he merely lifted his chin so as to look down his nose at her.

      ‘I need to speak to Ekron’s father, child.’

      ‘What about?’

      ‘I hardly think that’s any of your business.’

      ‘As his daughter, I consider it my business.’

      Lord Phicol ran his fingers slowly down her arms. ‘Yes. You are truly his daughter now, though typically your spirit reflects that of our most recent house guest.’

      ‘Then what do you want to see Achish about?’

      ‘I’ve returned to this house because I have a solution to our tricky problem.’

      Delilah turned to free herself from his grasp, but he kept his hand firmly on her shoulder and she was forced to lead him back to the study. The servants parted as the little procession strode through the house and at the doorway Lord Phicol’s escorts drew the curtain back. They bowed as their master passed through.

      Achish rose from his chair to welcome the new arrival. As soon as Lord Phicol raised his hands in the customary gesture of greeting, Delilah hopped out of his reach and retreated to the edge of the room, behind Ekron. The escorts now stood either side of the doorway, arms folded, feet spread. All the household servants had slunk out of sight. She wondered if she’d be prevented from leaving again, but the atmosphere in the room had shifted to mild curiosity at Lord Phicol’s arrival. Just what did the old fool have in mind? His explanation didn’t start well though.

      ‘It’s my opinion that we have all been injured by the events of this morning, and were we to list the nature of those injuries in both material and less tangible terms, we would find—’

      Delilah yawned, leaned back against the wall and looked around the room again. Phicol’s presence had certainly given everyone an excuse to spruce themselves up a bit – clothes were now being quietly straightened, the women were more neatly arranged on their benches or chairs, and all the men stood attentively. Not least Ekron, whose chin had lifted to mirror his employer’s. Even Hemin seemed to be paying attention, though when Delilah shifted her position, she realised that her stepsister wasn’t looking at Lord Phicol, but straight past him at the well-oiled chest of one of his escorts. ‘Your Lordship makes an offer of exceptional generosity,’ Achish was saying.

      ‘It would be more generous were you to accept it,’ said Phicol, now bowing towards Hemin. ‘Your daughter is a beautiful young woman, who would be an asset to my household.’

      Delilah jerked with surprise. Surely the old fool wasn’t offering to marry Hemin himself? She glanced across the room to her mother who, despite her usual grace, had allowed her astonishment to show in the upward tilt of her eyebrows. Beside her, Ariadnh was preening and cooing, her fingers fluttering against her chest, but the truth of the situation was shown in Hemin’s new composure, head slightly lowered, eyes gazing up at Lord Phicol, a modest smile playing at her lips.

      ‘Your Lordship is indeed kind and we are grateful for your compliment. But I wouldn’t want this offer of marriage to be a gesture of pity,’ said Achish.

      ‘Pity doesn’t enter into it,’ said Ekron enthusiastically. ‘This is obviously a far superior match to Samson – with respect, My Lord.’ He bowed at his employer.

      ‘My point is, Ekron, that we must consider Hemin’s feelings,’ continued Achish. ‘The events at the betrothal were embarrassing to her, and I wouldn’t want His Lordship to feel that he’d taken on the burden of that embarrassment, both within our community and beyond.’

      Delilah thought it would have been more polite had Phicol left the family to discuss his offer in private, but he showed no signs of being ready to leave. Delilah looked at Hemin, and saw that her embarrassment had been long forgotten in the wake of this new opportunity. Her stepsister was surveying the room, taking in the congratulations of her family with a smile of radiant delight.

      ‘I can assure you, Achish, old friend, that I don’t feel it to be a burden at all. I’d consider it a compliment were you to accept my offer, and I’d also add that from a strategic point of view, this alliance will not only restore your family’s reputation but also enhance it.’

      ‘Your Lordship is too kind,’ said Ekron.

      ‘Indeed,’ said Achish, perhaps a little drily.

      ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Lord Phicol. He bowed deep and low to Hemin, then, with a swish of skirts, he and his escorts swept out of the room.

      The room was silent for a moment after he left, then a burst of chatter spilled forth, punctuated by Hemin’s girlish laughter.

      ‘I suppose this calls for a celebration,’ said Achish above the noise. ‘Have some wine brought in from the courtyard,’ he added to Ekron, ‘if there are any jars still unbroken.’

      Ekron grinned at Delilah. ‘This is a very special