‘I was quite carried away,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all so lovely to look at.’
‘Well, I’d like to give it to you if you will have it, a small gift to thank you for coming to Ashdod, a memento of a good day’s work and, as we would have it, an omen of the plentiful relationship to come.’
‘I – I should like that. But I’m sure it’s very expensive if it has come from so far away.’
‘I thought we were leaving business behind at the house.’
Delilah lowered her head a little, sure that Samson must now be standing right behind her, watching her every move. ‘Then I’ll accept gracefully. Thank you.’
‘The giving of bowls is my favourite Philistine tradition and this particular bowl is almost as beautiful as you are—’
At any other time, a glowing, if unimaginative, compliment such as this from a man like Jered would have lifted Delilah’s heart, but seeing Samson again had made her so flustered that all she wanted to do was run back to the courtyard to the soothing comfort of being beside Achish again.
Jered wasn’t in such a hurry to leave, and with agonising slowness he picked up the bowl she’d been holding, and offered it to her in the conventional manner, his hands cupped beneath it. She made herself look at him and smile into his eyes as she cupped her own hands to accept the gift, first her hands beneath his, then slowly his hands withdrawing against hers, releasing the bowl into her palms, and then his hands recupping beneath hers.
‘Delilah.’
‘Jered.’ Delilah completed the customary gesture. Her stomach churned, not with the intensity of Jered’s wide-eyed gaze in which she might drown, but with the thought that she was now completely trapped. If Jered had not said her name aloud, there might have been a glimmer of hope that Samson wouldn’t have known who she was, but now that was all gone.
Jered however seemed suddenly to wake up to the tension in her face, and she saw him glance over her shoulder.
‘It’s late. We should be getting back.’ He held out his arm to guide her, then tucked himself in behind her, almost driving her back along the street.
‘Is everything all right?’ Delilah forced herself to say as calmly as she could when they were surely out of earshot. Was Samson still standing at the stall, watching them?
‘It’s as well I didn’t notice him sooner, because he might have spoiled a rather special moment. I had hoped to buy you something today as a gift, give it to you in some sort of privacy instead of among our families—’
‘Notice whom?’ she asked innocently.
‘There was a man at the stall with us, a hulking beast. I’m surprised you didn’t spot him, though perhaps you might know his name, as I think he spends more of his time in the lands around Ashkelon than here.’
‘His name?’
‘Samson.’
‘Oh. I think I may have heard of him. Isn’t he what the Israelites call a Judge of the People?’
‘That’s an ironic term. He’s nothing but a ringleader. He leads a band of Israelite rustlers and thieves, and I imagine he was on the lookout for easy targets in the commercial district. I should probably get a message out to the other stall-holders when we get back to the house. He’s known well enough, I’m sure of that, but it doesn’t hurt to be vigilant. He’s not usually seen in the better parts of town. He is known for consorting with the women who live on the coastal side of the town, women who don’t observe the customs of family and community.’
Delilah thought for the first time that Jered might have a rather stuffy streak in him, old-fashioned even, for everyone knew that in every city there were women who offered their bodies to men for money. Yet, his words about Samson’s ‘band’ gave her an angry satisfaction. The men who’d resorted to violence so quickly in Achish’s house were like animals, and their leader had done nothing to prevent it. Achish’s judgement had been proved misplaced. If Samson could now do no better than seek out the company of whores, obviously no sane woman had consented to marry him in the meantime. As she thought of this, she allowed Jered to slip his hand through hers and gently lead her up the street back towards his home.
It annoyed Delilah that she should still be thinking of Samson in the cart on the way home, her anger now mixed up with frustration. Should I have said something to him? she wondered. Something to prick his arrogance, prowling the marketplace as though he owned it.
She wanted to talk to Achish about it. But no. Reminding him of the slighting of Hemin and the fire at the vineyard would only bring him sorrow and, besides, he was clearly bursting to ask her about Jered, though his usual reserve was holding him back. Delilah had not let go of the bowl since Jered had given it to her. She’d wrapped it carefully in a piece of dark red muslin to protect it on the way home and it sat in her lap, the most precious cargo in the cart now that most of the wine had been drunk and the jars were nearly empty.
The departure from Mizraim’s house had been rather hasty in the end, what with packing the cart and harnessing the donkeys for the return journey. The deal had clearly been sealed to Mizraim and Achish’s satisfaction going by the ruddy cheeks and wide smiles that had greeted Jered and Delilah on their return. The farewell from Jered had been perfunctory, but neither had expected anything different beneath the attentions of their respective relatives.
Though it had not been dark when they left, the sun fell quickly and now, perhaps halfway home, the stars were beginning to pierce the washed-out indigo of the evening sky.
‘If Mizraim honours his word,’ said Achish, ‘we must implement the expansion this winter. We’ll need more men to dig and plant, for a month. I hope there are still Israelites willing to work in Ashkelon.’
‘Perhaps Lord Phicol can help.’
‘I’d prefer to keep my business and family separate,’ said Achish, cryptically.
Delilah understood what he meant. There was something cold and calculating about the Philistine governor. She disliked being in his presence, his eyes often lingering on her longer than decorum warranted.
Much like Samson’s.
The cart was moving more quickly than it had on the way to Ashdod as the load was so much lighter, but donkeys are not given to haste and after a while Delilah was roused from reliving the complicated events of the afternoon by Achish moving restlessly in the seat beside her.
‘What’s wrong, Father?’
‘This road is much too quiet. There should be families walking still.’
‘It’s almost dark, though. Won’t everyone have stopped to eat and sleep?’
‘Then where are the campfires? There’s no sign of anyone. Listen.’
Delilah pulled her shawl right off her head and closed her eyes to concentrate. Achish was right. The road was absolutely silent but for the soft scuffing of the donkeys’ feet against the sand and the creak of the cart’s wheels. A torch burned in a holster beside the driver, Saul.
Delilah scanned the horizon, a silhouette of tufty dunes, but it was impossible to pick out anything in the dark.
‘Master, someone’s approaching,’ said Saul.
‘Then speed up.’ Achish turned to Delilah. ‘It’s probably nothing.’ But his hand shook as it patted hers.
Suddenly out of the darkness rose up the thud of hooves and a ring of shouts around them and the cart shuddered and rocked. The donkeys brayed in terror. Pale and ghostly faces on horseback flashed in the dark but it was impossible to see anything clearly beyond the blaze of the torch. Delilah’s fingers searched for Achish’s arm, as the hollering rose in volume and she twisted back and forth in her seat, trying to follow the sounds.
‘Drive