Читать книгу Delilah - Eleanor Jong De - Страница 6

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.’