Читать книгу Delilah - Eleanor Jong De - Страница 9

‘How could you have let it come to that, Father?’ Hemin sobbed. She was sitting on a couch in Achish’s study. Even though the brawl had not extended this far, the inhabitants of the room – the immediate family, plus several of the cousins – had turned its usual order into disarray, stained as they were with blood or wine, their clothes crumpled and torn. Achish’s tunic sat lopsidedly across his shoulders from when Samson had dropped him. His face was still pale. Unlike the rest of his family, though, he showed no anger, only disbelief and confusion. She knew he was replaying the conflict over and over in his mind, waiting for the story to end differently.

‘I was humiliated!’ Hemin continued. ‘And in front of all those people! How could you have let that happen to me?’

‘Hemin is right,’ said Ekron, wiping his own dried blood from his knuckles. He’d recovered quickly, and seemed proud of his injuries. ‘With Samson’s reputation, we should have known that something like this was possible. He probably only agreed to the ceremony to see what chance there was of stealing the dowry. He had no intention of marrying Hemin at all.’

‘I can’t see why not,’ squeaked Hemin. ‘I’m a desirable woman and would make a very good wife.’

‘So if he returns, you will marry him then?’ asked Achish. Above his left eye, the skin was swollen.

‘Absolutely not!’

Make your mind up, thought Delilah. ‘—so you must break the contract, Father,’ Hemin was saying.

‘If it still even exists,’ said Ekron. ‘I imagine Lord Phicol would be able to give a legal interpretation, but I’d think—’

‘Who cares about the law?’ said Ariadnh. ‘His brutish Israelite manners are reason enough to refuse to marry him.’

You were all for his Israelite manners yesterday, thought Delilah, remembering the conversation she’d overheard between mother and daughter.

‘But that’s the point, Ariadnh,’ said Achish. ‘That’s what I just don’t understand. Betrothal is very important to the Israelites and I cannot quite believe that Samson would back out of what was an important contract to his people and to ours over such a trivial matter as the dowry. But how else can I interpret it? He knew the conditions, and yet he took issue and left. That at least can only be taken as a rejection of the marriage.’

‘And of me!’ wailed Hemin, dissolving into tears and falling onto her father’s shoulder.

Even Ariadnh rolled her eyes at this display of hysteria, Delilah noted. She leaned back against the wall and ran the beads of her belt through her fingers. Hemin’s studied misery was rapidly erasing what little sympathy she had for her stepsister. Despite the obvious personal rejection, the slight was shared by the whole household.

‘Perhaps he thought me ugly,’ Hemin whimpered, looking up at her mother.

‘Of course not!’ reassured Ariadnh.

Delilah managed not to smile. It was tradition that the bride and groom didn’t see each other before marriage, and it was in the hands of Se’t, the God of Chaos, whether he’d smile favourably on the match and allow the partners to find each other attractive. Samson was celebrated well enough for his reputation 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 day,’ he said. ‘Lord Phicol has rescued us from disgrace and ignominy.’

‘Lord Phicol doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for,’ she replied.

‘Be fair to Hemin. She has had a difficult day.’ He stuck his head out into the hallway and called for a servant, and Delilah found herself smiling as Joshua appeared instantly from a nearby doorway.

‘You’ll do. Get two of the jars from the dowry brought in here immediately, and a dozen drinking bowls.’

‘As you wish.’

‘And – And—’ Ekron said.

‘Yes?’

Ekron glanced at Delilah, then moved out into the hallway. But if he was hoping not to be overheard, then it was in vain.

‘And one other thing. I’ve seen you looking at Delilah in that way you do. But you’re just a servant in this house, and she’s not here for you to look at like that. Do you understand? Remember your place.’

Delilah glanced quickly through the doorway. Joshua was turning away, but he caught her gaze and smiled as Delilah rolled her eyes.

Ekron moved back into the room, and squeezed Delilah’s arm.

‘Be kind to Hemin, please?’

Almost as though she knew her siblings were discussing her, her stepsister fixed Delilah with a look of unmistakeable triumph. Hemin didn’t need her kindness, but she smiled nonetheless, for it was difficult to ignore the unspoken significance in Phicol’s offer. A marriage between them would rescue the family from the disaster of Samson’s rejection, it would cement ties within the Philistine community. Though it galled Delilah to think of Hemin gaining undeserved distinction, the thought of him pulling the secret tie of her dress could hardly fill Hemin with joyful anticipation.

That was the nub of the matter, wasn’t it? Hemin might have all the fine dresses and status she wanted, but she still had to marry the pompous, unpleasant and boring old fool, live with him, and share a bed with him. Delilah glanced back at Ariadnh, and realised that her gnawing jealousy had vanished. What on earth would the wedding night advice be this time?