Delilah. Eleanor Jong De

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      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ