MOTHER
“Your wedding clothes,” I said, pointing to the pile on the floor.
He pulled off his tunic, tossing it onto his bed. He rummaged in the pile, finding the tunic, dyed blue and soft as a morning cloud. It suited him well. Next he pulled out the fringed wrap, and I turned my back to give him privacy. It was meant to wrap around his waist, under the tunic, and hang down to his knees.
“Done.”
The last piece of his wedding clothes was a woven shawl with a serpent across the shoulder, the symbol of our tribe. I draped the center of the shawl over his left shoulder so that the image of the serpent hung down onto his chest, then pulled the ends across his body, knotting them together over his right hip.
“Be gentle with her. She is young. And undress in the dark, or you’ll never get her into bed the first time.”
Samson groaned.
“What? I cannot tell my own son how to behave on his first night with his wife?” I said.
Manoah came in just then. He glared at Samson. “Did you tell her?”
“What did you do now?” I asked.
Manoah stepped between us. “He bet the wedding guests that they could not solve his riddle. He bet them thirty sets of clothes.”
Samson rolled his eyes. “It’s an easy riddle. The Philistines have the answers painted on their pottery. They’re even drinking out of bowls with the answers painted on them.”
Samson had bet a fortune, our fortune, on a riddle, to amuse himself. My head was throbbing, and dark specks floated in my vision. Manoah rested his hands on my shoulders, whispering that I should remember to breathe.
But this one riddle would change everything.
AMARA
“Do you know what this would cost me?” Talos was yelling at my father. I heard their voices through the walls of our home. Astra was sleeping peacefully next to me, so I slid myself off the pallet trying not to disturb her. Her arm, which had been around me, shifted back and forth around the pallet. Even in her sleep, she knew when I was gone.
I tucked the blanket into the crook of her arm. She pulled it close and sighed.
My sandals were near the door, but I did not pause to put them on. Cracking the door open, I leaned my head out to listen. The sun was setting. My stomach lurched as I thought of last night and what must surely happen tonight.
“My family will kill me if I lose that much money!”
“Then shut your mouth and solve the riddle. Did I force you to accept the bet?”
“Is this your idea of a dowry? Sending Amara away with wealth from all our families?”
My father shoved Talos down to the ground. I ran out to stop him from kicking him, too.
“Stop! What are you arguing about?”
Talos stood up and spit at my feet. He walked off without looking at me.
“What happened?”
Father glanced at me and sighed. “Last night, your Danite made a bet with our men. If he wins, they have to provide him with thirty sets of clothes. Your friends accepted before hearing the riddle.”
“My friends? You blame me?”
“They think we set them up to get money out of them.”
“I didn’t invite them.” I looked from my father to Talos, accusing. Neither cared, nor met my eyes. Talos was done with me.
“A set of clothes can mean a month without food. And they are our guests! Wish us luck ever getting work again in harvest time or selling any more rugs. What did you say to him?”
“Nothing! This is not my work!”
Mother returned, carrying fresh water in a crock. I hoped she had warmed it, if it was meant for me.
“What is all this noise?”
Father made a fist and slammed it into the frame of our door, near my head. I screamed and ducked out of the way. I stumbled as I did. My legs were not solid yet.
He gestured at me.
“The riddle Samson posed last night? The bet? Every family in the village is furious with us.”
“That’s Samson’s doing, not ours. Not hers.” Mother took a step toward me, out of instinct, I was sure. She knew what it was like to be given away.
“If you don’t want to see your family ruined, then get your groom to cancel the bet. He can tell all the riddles he wants, but he can’t extract money from our villagers. He knew you had no dowry before he accepted you,” Father said.
“No dowry at all?” I did not hear right. My ears were not working after my first drunken night. No girl ever married without a dowry. Even the poorest man saved something to send away with her. What man would take a bride who had nothing to offer?
I sat, naked, my back to the door, as Mother washed me. The water was freezing, and I shivered, an involuntary protest, but she insisted it was a good remedy for my ills after last night.
“The only remedy we can afford, you mean,” I corrected her. I sounded cross.
Astra brought in a small basket of herbs to weave into my hair. She sat it down next to us as Mother laid her hand on my shoulder.
“Never mind your father. He is ashamed. This bet makes it worse for him.”
I was glad I did not have to look at her.
“What kind of man takes a bride with no dowry? Why did Samson choose me?”
She dipped the sponge back into the crock. I winced as I heard her wring it out, bracing myself for another cold shock against my skin.
“My greatest regret, daughter, is that I will lose you to a Hebrew. I do not know why Samson insisted upon you, or why your father allowed it.”
“I love her.”
Samson’s voice boomed through our tiny home, making us all gasp. Mother jumped up as Astra hid behind her. I was naked, with nothing to grab for cover. I held my hands over my nakedness and did not turn around.
“I chose her because I love her.”
“But you just saw me once, on the roof.” I was emboldened by my mother and sister, and by my modesty in avoiding his eyes. Would that I could cover my back and buttocks. I hoped he wasn’t looking at them. I knew he must be, though; they burned with embarrassment.
“I saw you once, on the roof, yes. Any man that needs a second look at you to decide his intentions is no man at all. I look forward to our second night together.”
I heard the door sweep across the floor and close. Mother and Astra stood frozen, but when they met my eyes, my blush of embarrassment was so quick that they laughed at me. They laughed despite the new little tears that sneaked out of my eyes, the small, mean tears of surprise and embarrassment.
I was not going to drink tonight. I had to be alert, to speak to Samson if I could, and ask him to cancel the bet. I would persuade him to wait one more night to touch me.
Besides, I wanted to hear the riddle.
Samson’s cheek brushed against mine as he bent down to speak in my ear. Goose bumps rose along my arms as his hair fell forward, touching my arms and bodice.
“Are you ready?”
My stomach twinged with these strange sharp pains that were not from wine or bad food, but strange hot pinching pains that shot down my thighs whenever he touched me or his gaze lingered too long. Would all of married life be such agony? I did not think I could take another hour of shivering at his touch, and certainly not a lifetime.
It was wrong, I knew, to feel these things about a Hebrew, but there was no Philistine man or boy that was anything like him. Samson was a new race of man.
“Did you hear me?” he asked. “Why do you seem far away?”
I shook myself, biting my cheek. If he knew my thoughts, I would die of shame.
He continued. “Out of the eater, you’ll find something to eat. Out of the strong one, you’ll get something sweet.”
I shoved him away. It sounded lewd. I didn’t want to reveal my utter ignorance, but neither would I be made a fool.
He leaned back and roared with laughter. Everyone watched us. That was not a new feeling. Everyone had watched us all night, looking, no doubt, for hints of my complicity with Samson’s bet, as if I was plotting with my groom to rob them all.
“Samson. That riddle cannot be solved. It’s not fair. You should call off the bet.”
“The answer is nearer than you know. Besides, the men accepted my terms before they heard the riddle. Was that wise?”
I floundered, keeping my eyes on my plate lest I start a fight among them all.
“No,” I admitted at last.
“Let them suffer.”
“But they are angry with me.”
“You are my wife. Not theirs.”
Our whispers did not carry, though the men strained to listen. I was grateful for the musicians who had come tonight. The music made everyone’s heart lighter. A lyre player and harpist sat together, while the lute player circulated among the guests, enticing us with his melodies, begging among us for a dancer.
Samson stood, the wide, white moon behind him, lighting him around the edges like a god. He extended a hand to me, and I stood too, his huge frame casting a shadow over me. I spared only one glance at anyone else, and it was at his mother, to read her face. Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her bowl of beer and gulped it down. Odd that she drank beer and not wine, but I would learn much more about her people in days to come, I knew.
Samson led me away from the tables, closer to the fire. The lute player followed, and men who could find partners joined us. Talos sulked away alone, but I could not think of him. I could only think of this man Samson holding my right hand, standing so close I could feel his breath on my neck. He spun me in a slow arc, then pulled me back in, closer this time, so that the fabric of our tunics touched. I sucked in my stomach, a feeling like fear shooting through it, unwilling for him to touch my body, even through my tunic, afraid to touch his. The buzzing in my head was relentless, drowning out all thought and reason. There was only his breath on the soft, bare skin of my neck and the warm, soft flesh of his palm pressed into mine.
I couldn’t breathe. He lowered his face to mine, and without thinking, without meaning to offer myself, I lifted my mouth to his. I closed my eyes and shivered. His lips grazed my forehead—my forehead!—and not my mouth, and he held me a moment more.
The lute player had changed songs. Samson was leading me to my home. Panic stabbed through my stomach as I bit my lips to keep from crying. I heard bowls being raised in a lewd toast.
Where was Astra? Or Mother? I tried to steal glances back over my shoulder, but I was too embarrassed for any of the men to catch my eye. I saw Samson’s father instead, who was watching us with a kind expression. Old as the dirt we stood on, with sparse white hair and hanging white brows, he nodded at me and raised his bowl.
I wanted to die. I was going to die, before Samson even had a chance to undress me. I could not breathe when he touched me, not even when I was in my tunic.
He released my hand at my door. “Good night, wife.”
“Uh.” That’s all I could say. I had thought he would take me tonight. I had been drunk, I understood, he had been kind, but he was surely going to take me tonight. Why was he not going to take me tonight?
That same cursed smile played on his lips. “You were expecting something else?”
He leaned his right arm over me, leaning against the doorframe of the house, imprisoning me under his huge, overfed frame.
“My wife is disappointed with me? So soon?” Samson asked.
“Don’t.” It was a warning.
He loved it. He laughed like I was the wittiest girl he had ever known, a rare gem.
“I was joking. I only brought you home so you could change.”
“Change?”
“I want to take you somewhere. Change. We will take my donkeys. Unless you prefer me to carry you.”
I flung the door to the house open to escape the horror of such a thing. He probably would do that, too. However, I had nothing to change into, and we had never owned donkeys, so I didn’t know why I had to change my tunic to ride.
The length. Probably the length of my tunic was too long. I rummaged through Mother’s basket and found her best sash. Wrestling my own off, I wrapped hers around my waist twice, tying it in back. A splash of cold water on my face and a finger scrubbed across my teeth were the only other grooming tricks I knew.
I opened the door, and he was waiting.
The donkey plodded up the road into the hills with steady good humor, despite the huffs from nearby lions and the screams of the badgers.
“Your donkey is a good one,” I said, ending the quiet truce we had kept since leaving the feast last hour.
“He is not my donkey.”
I turned, finally having the nerve to look at him.
He had been studying me during the whole ride and smiled to see me finally look back. “He’s yours. For the return journey.”
“He’s sweet.” I didn’t know how to judge a good donkey, but I had to say something. I couldn’t believe I was alone with Samson in the valley under a full moon, and all I could talk about was donkeys. If he had any wisdom about choosing wives, he’d swat the donkey and send us both fleeing into the hills, away from him.
“Where are we going then?”
He smiled. “Away for a few hours.”
My stomach was knotting up. I had to relieve myself terribly badly. The more I thought about it, the worse it got. Sweat broke out all over my face and chest. How did wives say these things to their men? Or was I to always keep these things a secret, an honorable silence? I did not know.
“Listen.” Samson stopped the donkey, stroking his muzzle. The donkey turned his head and pressed into Samson’s stomach for more attention. “We’re near the stream of Sorek.”
In winter, the stream was full and wild, with daisies blooming at the edges and ktalav trees nearby.
“Do you need to stop?” Samson asked.
I didn’t know if I should lie. “If you do.”
He laughed, which I did not understand, but he found much amusement in things I said or did. He pointed to his right. “The river is just beyond these trees. Do you want to go first?”
I nodded, slipping off the donkey and walking away. Insects shrieked and sang all around me, and birds called to one another in the trees above my head. I did hear the river now, and as I parted the last clasping pair of evergreen branches, I saw it.
I had a clear view up and down the banks. No matter where I attended to myself, he could see me if he peeked. Just across the banks, rising above me, was a cave set into the gentle hill. It didn’t look like a bad climb. I lifted my tunic and plunged into the freezing cold water, slipping on the stones at the bottom, pushing against the currents to get across. I climbed out and up the slope, and picked my way up to the cave.
From this perch, I could see the faraway lights of my village. The bonfire must have been one of the little burning yellow lights I saw twinkling back at me. I had never seen my village from this distance. It looked so small. Or was it me? Had I grown so much bigger?
Samson whistled for me. I whistled back, to confirm I did not need his assistance.
Lifting my tunic again, I ducked inside the cave for certain relief. The mouth of the cave was several feet above my head; it was a small cave, which was a good sign. Large caves were used by the wealthier farmers for storing grain. The caves were close to the fields, dry, and cool. But a small cave like this would be of no use to them.
I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, then carefully placed one foot in front of the other, sliding my sandal side to side to be sure of my footing. Moving this way, I slid away from the mouth of the cave into the darkness. I chose a suitable spot and was standing back up, finished, when I heard a rustling noise near me. And another, followed by a tight little hiss. Something touched my hair, lifting a section up before dropping it. I saw the light at the mouth of the cave as if it were a thousand leagues away, and my legs would not move.
A rush of hisses and chirps swept past me, my hair flying in all directions. I screamed and ran for the mouth of the cave, my tunic still tucked in my sash.
I stumbled out of the mouth of the cave with Samson watching below as the horde of bats swept over me and into the night. Breathless, I clung to the edge of the cave.
He didn’t laugh. “Are you all right?”
I stared at him, waiting for the rebuke of laughter. He just watched me.
“Yes.” A smile twitched at my mouth. I saw the same smile working at his lips, too. I giggled and hid my face with my hands.
“Come down.”
Though the night chill was creeping in and goose bumps rose up along my arms, I did not feel cold. I felt … like a child. But this was not a childhood I had ever had, of adventure and freedom at night. I had never been allowed to roam at night, for fear of wild animals.
Now here I was with the wildest one of all. I giggled at the thought as I took his hand at the bottom of the slope, happy to have one last secret.
Once back on the donkey, he led us to a spot nearby, under a ktalav tree with soft moss all around. I slid off the donkey while he spread a blanket and motioned for me to sit.
I was going to be sick. I did not know what to do, or what he wanted. Or what he wanted me to do. Or what to say. When I did not move, he brushed the hair away from my forehead and led me to the blanket, sitting with me. He no longer had the amused twist to his mouth. His mood had changed. He was quiet; his face I could not read. He was impassive. Or content. In time, I hoped I would learn the difference.
Samson pointed to the dark canopy above us, radiant with shimmering white stars.
“Do you know her name?”
“No,” I admitted. His thigh was touching mine as we sat side by side.
“The Greeks call her Venus, the goddess of love. Canaanites call her the Queen of Heaven.”
“What do you call her?”
“The Evening Star. Sometimes she shows herself at dawn too, and then we call her the Morning Star. Now, look to the right, lower.”
He pointed to a long sweep of stars. “The Archer.” His finger moved straight in front of us. “And there, the horizon kisses the sky.” He drew his finger back and pressed it against my lips.
I turned away. His fingers rested against my cheek, and he gently turned my face back to his.
“Are you afraid of me?”
I could not answer. I was afraid of being touched. I was afraid of not knowing what I must do. I was afraid that his skin on mine, our bared bellies touching and sliding over one another, would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to breathe from the pains of desire that would overwhelm me.
“Do you know why I brought you here?”
I shook my head.
His hand touched the knot in my sash. One finger played over it as he studied me.
“All the men that attended the feast …”
“I did not invite them.”
“They are lewd. Making coarse jokes.”
I let a little more of my weight lean against him, trying to thank him without embarrassing myself through words.
“The only sound I want you to hear tonight is the sound of my voice.”
He brought his hand up to my lips, brushing a finger across them. I gave his hand a furtive, small kiss. It was bold of me. I thought I should do something.
“I do not know what you must feel,” he said, bringing both hands to my sash, grasping the loose end and pulling. I felt the tug as the sash slid along my back.
He removed my sash and tossed it into the darkness beyond us before reaching for the bottom of my tunic. My hand shot down and caught his, my heart plunging into my stomach.
“I am afraid of being naked in front of you.”
He showed me that amused curl of his mouth.
“You won’t be in front of me. You’ll be under me.”
We returned at dawn, a fiery sun rising at our backs, pink rays streaking overhead. The horizon was deep purple, the color of fortune. I would not smile at this thought—that would not be modest—but I had found mine. It did not matter that fortune was tinged with scandal. I had thought I must force myself to accept this disastrous turn of fate, but I was wrong. I didn’t have to force myself to do anything. Samson was a good lord, a gentle lover who was patient and tender and whose bare stomach pressed against mine made my mind swim so fast I feared I would die.
“Wait!” I said, turning in the saddle to look at Samson. “If I am your wife, must I worship your god?”
Samson nodded. “My mother will insist.”
“If I worship him, will I have to cut something off?” Even now, after hours of intimacies, I could not bear to place a name on any immodest body parts. I hoped it would be enough that I knew where they were.
Samson frowned, lost. “Cut something off?”
“Never mind.”
If it came to pass, I would worry about it then. Not today. Not when I could see Astra waving from our rooftop, spying my arrival. I lifted a hand in return, then lowered it to lightly touch my cheek. My face was chafed, rubbed raw from so many kisses with my hairy groom.
“Will you be all right?”
I dropped my hand and looked at him, not understanding the question.
“In four days, you will leave your home. And Astra. Forever.”
I stroked the neck of the donkey as he plodded along. I had no tears. My body hurt from so much emotion and so much love. I knew the heartbreak would be fierce, and that it would come no matter how I tried to hold onto my happiness here. Perhaps we should leave, I thought. Right now. Perhaps trying so hard to love Astra and tend to her as much as I could right now, to soak in our final moments together with my mother, perhaps that was stupid of me.
Samson’s hand rested on my lower back, a soft reply of its own. “If I could give you my strength, just for that day, I would.”
“Why me?” I don’t even know why I asked that question, at that moment.
Samson did not react. He just studied the horizon, keeping his pace.
“Why not a Hebrew girl?” I was getting bolder with him. He had known my body; why could I not know his thoughts?
“Tell me about Dagon.”
Had he not heard my questions? Why did he ask me this?
“He is the god of the fields, of the harvest.”
“Have you ever talked with him?”
I giggled. What god would talk to a girl?
Samson stopped and stared at me, hard and cruel. “Dagon is a block of wood, a worthless piece of sculpture. He does not care about your fields, or your harvest, and he will never care about you.”
My mouth fell open as I started to take fast gulps of air. I was going to bawl like a child.
“The truth makes more enemies than friends. So, before you ask me the truth again, be very sure you really want it. I don’t want to talk about Hebrews and Philistines.”
We continued the rest of the journey in silence. I swallowed back my tears and all my other questions.
A few moments later I slid off the donkey, with Samson holding one of my hands for support, and hugged Astra. She had come bounding out of the house, anxious to have a word with me. We embraced and over her shoulder I saw the bonfire, almost dead by now, a huge black pit that smoldered and smoked in the heavy dawn air. Talos sat, his feet in the ashes for warmth, watching us. A big man, maybe from Gath, still sat at the table, picking at a greasy bone, ignoring us. A few other men from our village lingered near the houses, deep in conversation. With winter here, and nothing to harvest but a few winter figs, men often had such long negotiations and discussions.
I sighed in contentment and released Astra.
“I thought you had left!” she scolded me.
“No.” Neither of us said what we both thought. I would leave. If not last night, then soon. Sometimes Hebrew men let their wives stay with their parents, but only until they were pregnant. Then the wife came home with the husband. I did not judge Samson to be a patient man, though.
“Wife.”
I stepped aside from Astra to face my lord.
He kissed me, on the forehead, and took his leave.
Astra stared at me, wide-eyed with the scandal. I had done it. I had slept with the Hebrew. I was his wife forever now. My hand went to my belly, a strange new reflex. I would bear children from this man.
Samson walked away, leading the donkey with him. A patch of greenery surrounded the houses, just on the other side of the road. Samson slapped the donkey’s haunches, pointing him toward his breakfast, before Samson took the road leading to his lodging.
As soon as Samson disappeared from view, Talos stood. The big man from Gath threw down his bone and stood too, wiping his greasy fingers on his tunic. The men stopped their conversation and walked toward me, as one.
The big man spoke first. “So.”
I shrugged. I did not know how else to reply.
Talos watched the older men. I could not read his face. He had changed so much since we were children. His once-full cheeks had leaned out, and his beard was coming in. His eyes had changed more than any other feature. Where once there had been softness, there was a fire now, an anger I did not understand. He held up one hand and addressed me.
“Do you know the answer?”
“Answer to what?”
He pulled back his hand as if to slap me. Astra yelped and grabbed me, pulling me back.
The big man from Gath took one slamming step toward me. His footfall made the earth shake. I felt it in my knees.
“What is the answer to your groom’s riddle?”
“I don’t know.” Panic was rising in my stomach. I clutched Astra’s hand, whispering out of the side of my mouth. “Get Father.”
“Your father won’t be coming outside today,” the big man said.
My heart froze in a tight pinch.
He took another step toward me. “I will make you the same offer I made him. Either tell us the answer to the riddle, or die. I myself will kill your family, one by one, even as you watch. I will stack the bodies in your home and throw yours on top, and then I will destroy your house through fire.”
I stumbled back. My feet landed on top of Astra’s feet, knocking her down, and I fell on top of her as the men laughed. We scrambled toward our door, tripping on our tunics as we jerked up, trying to get away quickly. Not a man moved to help us. We ran for our door, not looking back.
Once inside, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and by the light of our oil lamp, I saw Mother and Father sitting at our table, hands folded, faces down. They knew. They knew what those men were going to do. They weren’t getting up either, or stirring to comfort us. A bleak distress settled in the air, tainting it with a soiled, sour smell.
“Mother? Father?”
They did not move. Mother pressed the back of one hand to her mouth.
My legs moved with great effort, invisible shackles weighting them down. I walked to my pallet and lay down with my face toward the wall. Over the hours that passed, my mind, frantic with fear, settled on three outcomes. I could flee tonight with my groom, never to return. Perhaps if Samson did not collect on the bet, my family would be safe. Or I could stay and let the men suffer the punishment for their rash stupidity, which would mean certain death for my family, but not for me. Finally, I could flee with Samson as soon as they paid the debt, and we would have even greater wealth thanks to his shrewd tale.
The only outcome I could imagine that did not lead to my family’s death was Samson losing the bet or forsaking his claim to it. And perhaps this was a test sent by the gods, not just for the men of my village, but for Samson himself. I would know the man I married by the decision he made. Which did he value more: my happiness or their money?
I sat up on my pallet. Astra was asleep next to me, clinging to a blanket for comfort. Mother and Father were gone, perhaps off to seek counsel or mercy.
I would know soon who Samson truly was and what he most wanted.
I set to work brushing out my hair. I had to give him every reason to desire me more than money.