Free Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) by Ginger Garrett Page B

the grapes or weigh the wheat. We knew that our family would survive the coming year, not because of the harvest, but because I would belong to a Hebrew.
    On one of these last sorrowful nights, when we had extinguished all but one oil lamp, we all remained on our pallets in silence. Golden light flickered against the walls in the darkness, making shadows leap and dance all around us. Astra must have trimmed this wick; she knew just how to angle her cuts to make the flame dance for hours.
    Father spoke, and I listened. His deep soft voice joined the leaping shadows, until in the shadows I saw the tale he told spring to life.
    “I have learned the tale of Samson and his people. Let me tell you of the man you will marry and the tribe you will join. Learn their ways, daughter. Become as one and live. Forget us and prosper. I could ask no more for my daughter.
    “Twenty years ago, this man Samson was born under a strange star, and his tale is a strange one. A spirit appeared to his mother one day as she worked in her fields, and the woman conversed with the spirit freely. The spirit foretold of the child and extracted promises from the woman. She would be the one to guard his magic.
    “This woman, you should know, is a Danite, the warrior tribe of the Hebrews. Though the Hebrews have twelve tribes, although they all look alike, we know them to have very different temperaments and to make very different neighbors. The Danites are born serpents. This was their blessing, pronounced by their forefather Jacob, a man known for stealing his own blessing. Jacob pronounced that the tribe of Dan would be a tribe of serpents, horned snakes resting on the path of their enemies.
    “Forget us, daughter. You will dwell with serpents. Be as happy as you can. Once you leave, never return.”
    “Why?” It was Astra who spoke. “Why does he want her? He won’t get any land with her.”
    I was too numb from pain to take offense. I knew my beauty was not a logical answer.
    Father sighed. “There is more to this tale, a strange turn. That fierce serpent, the tribe of Dan, refuses to strike. They were gifted the land of the Canaanites by their god and by their forefather Moses, yet they refused the gift. Why do they watch us, that serpent in the road, and not strike?”
    A terrible silence dwelled with us as we contemplated his question.
    Philistines had been always been anxious to strike, dealing a savage blow once to the fierce Hittites, burning their capitol and slaughtering their women and children. We devoured them so completely that even the pharaoh of Egypt, Ramses the Third, was awakened. He came after us with six-spoked chariots that glided across all the sand and rocks between us as if on air. And while it is true that we could not overcome him and lay claim to Egypt, we did not consider our prize to be a small one. We settled here along the Mediterranean, eating fish for our supper and watching the sun set over distant empires that traveled to us, begging for iron and knowledge.
    Knowledge was our crown, and skill gave us a throne that none could take from us.
    The Hebrews came to us before every harvest, asking us to sharpen their harvest tools. They used to come to us with their killing blades, held flat on their palms, asking us to sharpen them too. How could they make war against us if we were the ones who made their weapons work? Every year we sharpened fewer blades and more tools. The Danite warriors became craftsmen. Perhaps it was their real destiny; their god had asked their tribe to build an ark for him, to carry his belongings in. They said he traveled with stone tablets inscribed with his laws and a branch from an almond tree.
    I giggled. What a strange god.
    We were not fools. We watched their eyes when they walked among us. We watched them working out in their minds the layout of our cities, the location of our storehouses. We forbade them from watching how we sharpened their tools and blades. We watched them, as they