They had not long left the vineyard when Delilah first noticed the long trail of travellers, clusters of people all along the main coastal road from Ashkelon to Ashdod. At first she’d barely looked up from the scroll in her lap. Achish was thinking of expanding the vineyard onto land to the east, and she felt honoured that she’d been the first to see the plans. But after a while the warmth of the sun had made her sleepy and the voices drifting up from the road had drawn her attention. She could tell that these people were poor, not only from the state of their clothes but also from how little they carried with them. Their journeys weren’t casual – that much was obvious from the way they lugged cooking pots and bundles of fabric, probably bedding or makeshift tents. Even the smallest child dragged some jug or basket along behind its weary feet. Times were desperately hard, she knew, and work even as labourers or servants was scarce in Ashkelon.
‘Why are they travelling south? Why don’t they turn north towards the Israelite cities, head for home?’
‘For a lot of these families, this land is their home,’ said Achish. ‘Did your mother ever tell you how long your father’s family lived on the edge of Ashkelon?’
She shook her head.
‘Five generations. Much longer than my people. It was my father’s father who started the vineyard when he first came from across the sea. Your father’s family had already been living off the land for many, many years before that. But it’s different for these people: they don’t have time to build a home and a livelihood. They need to eat.’
Delilah smiled wryly. ‘That sounded rather political. I shouldn’t let old Phicol hear you talking like that else he’ll think you’re trying to subvert his plans for the Philistine state.’
‘You shouldn’t call him “old Phicol” Delilah.’
‘I’m sorry. He isn’t all that old, I know.’
Achish gave her a small smile, to show his chastisement was only gentle.
‘But you do sound almost guilty; it’s not your fault what’s happening to the Israelites.’
‘There will always be battles for supremacy between cultures, one seeking to control another. I’ve been called a thief more times than I can remember.’
‘You’re the most honest man I know!’
Achish laughed. ‘In my business dealings, perhaps. But my people are like those bees who take over the nests of other bees, stealing their honey and their homes for themselves. The Philistines have always moved into cities built by others and grown them for their own good; for many that is theft.’ He squinted a little and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘I’ve simply tried to do what I can to make sure I don’t deny those around me a right to a home and a decent living, no matter who they are.’
Delilah reached across the cart and squeezed his arm. ‘But you can only do that if your own business is strong. I understand that.’
‘I’m glad of it. You have your father’s quick grasp of detail.’
‘And my stepfather’s eye for an opportunity. We can close this deal with Mizraim together.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of that chance.’ Achish smiled warmly at her and reached beneath his feet for the jug of water. Delilah held out the little drinking bowl to be filled, then offered it to Achish first.
‘Nor would you deprive me of the chance to see his son again,’ she said, as innocently as possible.
Achish dabbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, then laughed as he gave the bowl back to Delilah. ‘Jered is a nice young man, intelligent, energetic, and interested in wine.’
‘Which is no bad thing if you want him and his father to buy rather a lot of it.’
‘It would be useful to bring a son into the family who had a taste for such things—’
‘—and who could replace the son you have lost to Lord Phicol’s side?’
Achish frowned. She’d spoken out of turn. It had taken weeks until she’d spoken to her stepfather after he’d tried to marry her to Samson. Even Beulah had been shocked. Since that time, several suitors had made their attentions clear, but each time Achish had rebuffed them at the merest hint of displeasure from Delilah. Joshua had been a victim of their unspoken conflict. After a scattering of midnight assignations, poor Joshua had been unceremoniously moved one day to work on the port for almost eighteen months. The reason for his exile was never stated explicitly, but it could only have been Ekron’s wagging tongue that sent him on his way. And now he had returned, his desire for her seemed to have waned. He kept his distance, except when others were about, and they had developed an understanding that nothing of that sort could ever occur again.
‘I tried again last month to get Ekron to try the different vintages,’ he said eventually, changing the subject. ‘He’d always rather talk about politics than savour the tastes of the wines in his mouth. At least I have you for that.’
‘And perhaps Jered one day too.’ Delilah smiled bashfully for she knew it would make Achish laugh in that soft way of his. But did he know how her heart thudded at the prospect of seeing the handsome merchant’s son again? He and his father, Mizraim, had visited many of the Ashkelon vineyards two months ago in search of wines to sell in Ashdod, and this exclusive invitation to return with samples had the potential to build Achish’s business significantly. For not only would Mizraim be present, he’d also invited several other merchants to try the wines. That the invitation had extended to Delilah also, suggested Jered’s interest was more than pecuniary.
‘You should take a little care, though, Delilah,’ said Achish. ‘You’re apt to be less than modest about your own powers. Your skills in both flattery and argument are as well-balanced as your face, but it would be as well at least to pretend that you are not aware of that.’
‘I suppose you are talking about Hemin. You think I was mean to her last night.’
Achish arched an eyebrow. ‘Do you think you were?’
‘She does not care about the vineyard as I do. I was merely reminding her of that. She owes her marriage to old Phi – to Lord Phicol, to the vineyard’s prosperity, but she has never bothered to learn anything about our livelihood.’
‘The vines were in your father’s blood, so they are in yours. Hemin has other interests—’
Delilah scoffed. Dressing up, mostly.
Mizraim’s home was very different from the vineyard house, set as it was right in the middle of Ashdod. The building was bordered by streets at the front and back, so the eastern half of the house was devoted to the business, and the western half to living. Mizraim was a merchant in foods as well as wines, and even before the cart had pulled up in front of the business part of the property, Delilah could smell the heady fusion of spices and oils and the scents of warm citrus fruits piled up in the late morning sunshine. They had been travelling since first light, and hunger had sharpened her senses. She was so enthralled leaning over baskets of dried fruits, taking in their fragrance, that she didn’t notice Jered standing under the awning at the entrance to the house until she was almost in front of him.
‘You look like a small child, if I may say so, thrilled by their first trip to the market.’
Delilah lowered her head in the formal way, then smiled. The merchant’s son was even more handsome than she remembered, though he was dressed quite soberly and his hands were slightly oily and his nails stained dark. He saw her studying them and quickly drew them behind his back, but she only laughed and let her eyes linger on his.
‘We had a delivery of berries this morning,’ he said, ‘but they are delicate things and are likely to burst if a person doesn’t take enough care.’
Delilah peered teasingly at his face. ‘No evidence you have been eating them, though?’