Delilah: A Novel (26 page)

For the first time that day, Orev smiled.

The bride’s palanquin reached the outer circle of guests; the eunuchs who carried it stopped, and the heavy jewel box that held Samson’s prize was lowered to the ground.

Two attendants—priestesses clad in seven-tiered skirts and not much else—drew back the cloth-of-silver curtains; two hands, crimson with henna and gleaming with gold chains, reached out of the palanquin. A eunuch took the bride’s hands, helped her to her feet as the wedding guests uttered cries of greeting.

The bride stood motionless as her attendants smoothed her garments. All that could be seen of her were her hands and her feet; a veil of sky-blue cloth woven with gold thread concealed her from crown to ankles. Their task completed, the bride’s attendants turned her to face her bridegroom and followed her as she paced across the elaborate carpets. No part of the bride could be seen beneath the gold-heavy veils that cloaked her. In the torchlight, she seemed a pillar of fire moving towards Samson.

She reached the waiting bridegroom and bowed. Samson smiled and reached out his hands to her, but she remained bent before him, while the overdiligent steward set yet another heavy goblet in Samson’s hands.

“This cup you must drink—all it holds—to show you accept this woman as your bride.”

Samson drained the golden cup, and the veiled bride straightened. “Does not the bride drink too?” he asked, and the steward shook his head.

High Priestess Derceto emerged from the wedding tent. The two priestesses who had escorted the veiled bride from the palanquin to her bridegroom now guided her to stand before the High Priestess.

“Here is the bride you have won.” Derceto’s voice carried clear and sharp through the murmur of the wedding guests. “Samson, do you claim this woman as your wife?”

“Yes,” Samson answered, his eyes upon the veiled figure standing before him. “I completed all the tasks you set me, and now I claim my prize.”

It seemed to Orev that the High Priestess smiled—or perhaps the shadows thrown by the torches created that illusion. “Then take her
hand and she who was a priestess of Bright Atargatis becomes wife of Samson.”

As Orev watched, the bride offered her left hand to Samson, who grasped it in his. Samson reached out to lift the bride’s veil, but she shrank back and the High Priestess said, “It is not our custom to unveil the bride at the wedding feast—it brings ill fortune. She will lift her veil for you at the proper time. Now it is time to rejoice.”

Upon these words, the wedding guests pressed forward, twining long garlands of ribbons and flowers about the new-wed pair. More wine was offered, and the musicians began a lively tune on flutes and timbrils.

The wedding guests began to dance, either grasping others’ hands and circling the bride and groom or twirling about in ones or twos like maddened quail in springtime. Torches flared higher, the slaves poured more and more wine, the dancing grew more frenzied. Half-worried, half-sober, Orev shoved his way through the raucous crowd towards Samson, who sat upon a heap of cushions beside his hidden bride. For a few moments it seemed impossible to get near Samson; the crowd seemed to push Orev back, sending him into dizzying spirals, caught up by the wild dancers.

Finally Orev used his chief weapon: his harper’s voice could, at need, cut through other sounds like a blade. “Samson!” he called, and Samson lifted his head and glanced around.

Seeing Orev being borne away by the movement of the wedding guests, Samson stood and beckoned. “My friend—let my friend come to me,” he ordered, and Orev was at last able to make his way to Samson’s side. “Orev, friend!” Samson flung a heavy arm over Orev’s shoulders, tried to drag him down to sit beside him. “Come drink with us!”

Samson held a large silver cup set with lapis and coral. As he gestured, wine slopped over the edge, dark as blood in the torchlight. Orev glanced at Samson’s bride; she held a smaller cup still full of wine in a hand half-hidden by a web of ruddy gold from fingers to wrist.

So she does not trust the wine
. Perhaps there were other reasons Samson’s
new bride did not drink, but Orev seized upon that suspicion. “Samson—” He put his hand on the wine cup. “Now that you are wed, I think it time you took your bride home.”

Samson stared at him, which didn’t surprise Orev. But he sensed other eyes studying him; the bride seemed to have shifted, that she might face him. Or so Orev thought, for he had never seen a more heavily veiled woman. What she looked upon, what she thought, only she behind that veil knew.

Samson turned to his bride. “What says my wife? Shall we leave the guests to their merriment and go to our own house?”

Silently, she inclined her head. Then she set aside her wine cup and held out her hand, not to Samson, but to Orev. Taking the hint, Orev grasped her hand and helped her rise—not an easy task, as her jeweled and gold-threaded garments weighed heavy as stones.

Samson drank down the last of the wine and tossed his own cup aside before jumping, rather unsteadily, to his feet. “Come, then, wife. Who needs a wedding feast when a wedding night awaits us?”

Not that we shall reach Timnath tonight
, Orev thought. But two sunsets from now, they should be safely at the farm Atargatis’s Temple had bestowed upon the bride as her dowry. Now they had only to leave the wedding in peace—an odd thought, but then, this was an odd wedding.

“Let us leave now, Samson, and quietly.” But even as he spoke the words, Orev knew it was too late for that.

For Samson had pulled his bride away from Orev’s steadying hand and swung her up into his arms. “Behold my bride, friends! We leave you to celebrate our wedding—eat and drink and dance as pleases you. Fare well.”

This produced cries of outrage; the wedding guests objected. The groom must not steal away the bride—“Without payment!”

“I have paid for her thrice over,” Samson said, laughing. His bride lay silent and unmoving in his arms, as if holding her breath. “What more can you ask of me?”

Orev scanned the crowd of guests, and so saw one of the guests glance across to where High Priestess Derceto sat beside the Prince of the City. Derceto nodded; so slight a movement Orev nearly missed it.

“A riddle! It is the custom here. The groom cannot take away the bride unless he can answer one riddle and ask another that none of us can answer.” This demand was called out by a man who sounded suspiciously sober.

Within the space of three breaths, the guests all were chanting “A riddle! A riddle!” and, to Orev’s dismay, others demanded, “A prize! A prize for the winner!”

“This is not good.” Orev spoke softly, pitching his voice so that only Samson might hear.

“No. I know no riddles, Orev.” Samson seemed baffled rather than angry.

The guests began to quarrel over who would ask the guest-riddle, and Orev began to wonder if even Samson’s canny strength could help them escape.
For Derceto there has no intention of releasing us from this wedding feast. She has planned this. Does she think the guests will slay Samson in a quarrel over these riddles?

That seemed all too likely at the moment. The guests surrounded them now, bearing, to Orev’s eyes, an odd resemblance to Samson’s Foxes in their zealous insistence that Samson give what they demanded.

Just as Orev began to glance around for a weapon, one of the guests called out, “I shall ask the wedding riddle. And when Samson answers it, I shall reward him with my admiration for his cleverness.” Honey-smooth, the voice silenced the rowdy guests. They turned to look at a man leaning against one of the tent-poles; willow-slender and garbed in saffron linen girdled with turquoise and copper, Aulykaran, brother to the Prince of the City, regarded the scene before him with languid eyes.

“That’s no prize!” someone called out, and the man glanced briefly at the protester.

“I beg to differ; surely Aulykaran’s admiration is worth more in the
market than another man’s gold.” Aulykaran smiled, and gestured toward Samson. Each movement was graceful, slow as if he moved through water. “What says the happy bridegroom? Will you hear my riddle, O tamer of bulls?”

“I will,” Samson said.

“Oh, dear—now I must create a riddle. Now let me think—” Aulykaran turned his gaze upon the wedding guests and added, “Perhaps you should continue amusing yourselves; I think slowly, as some of you already know.”

Orev shot a glance over at the High Priestess and the Prince of the City. Derceto’s face revealed nothing. The Prince glared at Aulykaran—a man noted for both elegance and indolence. Apparently Aulykaran desired for reasons of his own to thwart either his brother the Prince or the High Priestess.
Or both. Yes, I think both
.

Tilting his head, Aulykaran slowly closed his eyes. The pearls in his ears—sea-gems the size of a dove’s egg—trembled against his cheeks. At last he said, “I have it. Now listen carefully, my savage friend—are you certain you are not too weary for this? Why not set the girl down? I believe she has feet to stand upon.”

Samson glanced down at his wife, who lay quiet in his arms, and smiled. “I am not too weary. Say your riddle, man of the Five Cities.”

“So you can speak for yourself, how charming. I had heard otherwise.” Aulykaran slanted a glance at Orev that drew laughter from the nearest guests. Refusing to be drawn into argument, Orev merely said, “I am a harper; I speak for everyone and no one. And Samson may not grow weary, but I do.”

“Very well.” Aulykaran yawned, and then said, “What have I got in my pouch?” Again he tilted his head, as if in inquiry; the pearls hanging from his ears swung with the movement, caught torchlight, and glowed warm fire.

Many of the wedding guests laughed, hearing a vulgar meaning in the seemingly innocent question. Samson took the query at the common value of its words, but he, too, laughed.

“Simple enough—the answer is nothing, for you borrowed silver from me not so long ago,” he replied, and Aulykaran bowed.

“You are correct, and are now the richer by my sincere admiration. You have answered a riddle; now you must ask one.”

“That’s not a riddle!” someone roared out in the slurred tones of the very drunk, only to be suppressed by others even drunker.

“Well, Samson?” Aulykaran asked. “You have promised to pose a riddle; now you must perform for us.”

“Then I shall do as I have promised.” Samson paused, and Orev only hoped his friend could think of something, and quickly.

At last Samson said, “I saw strength bring forth sweetness, and I saw sweetness bring forth strength.”

“That’s not a riddle either!” The outraged complaint set off another round of argument among the drunkest wedding guests. Orev ignored them, watching the High Priestess and the Prince of the City gaze at Samson. Perhaps it was no more than the shifting light, but Orev thought he saw fear shadow their faces.

Aulykaran held up his hand. “Silence, friends. I must think—and you all know how difficult a task that is for me. So while I think, you drink.”

Laughter from the closest guests, and shouts of agreement. Aulykaran bowed, then regarded Samson consideringly. “I am not precisely certain,” Aulykaran said, after pressing his fingertips to his forehead, ostentatiously considering the question, “but—no, that cannot be the answer. Let me try again.”

There was a brief silence, then, as Aulykaran began sipping at his wine, apparently forgetting the entire matter of riddles, someone shouted out, “The answer! We must have the answer!”

Aulykaran set down the golden goblet, stared about as if astonished. “Then why ask it of me? How am I to know?” He lifted his hand, gesturing towards Samson and the bride. “Bridegroom, I yield. What is the answer to your riddle?”

“A stone lion became a hive for bees. What is stronger than a lion, and what is sweeter than honey?”

“How true. I declare Samson the victor, and free to depart with his new bride.” Bowing to Samson, Aulykaran blithely ignored the glare Sandarin directed at him. The Prince of the City clearly was not pleased with his brother.

Lord Aulykaran, you are amazingly helpful; I wonder why?
But Orev decided the answer to the riddle of Aulykaran’s assistance could wait. Leaving this wedding swiftly, safely, was far more urgent a matter.

Samson smiled. “I thank you, friend, and now that I have answered your riddle and you have not answered mine, by your own custom I take my bride and leave you all to feast in our honor.”

Aulykaran bowed. “Long life and happiness to you and your bride. Now I return to the chief delight of such occasions—the pleasure of good wine.”

And to Orev’s relief, most of the wedding guests joyously returned to eating and drinking. Unhindered, Samson walked out of the pavilion, his veiled bride in his arms. Before Orev followed, he looked again at the High Priestess and the Prince of the City.

This time, there was no mistaking the signal the High Priestess gave; a motion of her hand that drew obedient nods from half a dozen men and women who stood aloof from the feasting. After Derceto’s gesture, those who had awaited her order mingled with the others, once again becoming mere wedding guests whose only interest was feasting and drinking.

Slowly, Orev made his way out of the wedding pavilion, thinking hard. The High Priestess and the Prince of the City plotted still—that was clear as springwater . . .

“Orev! Let us leave this place and go home.” Samson caught the harper’s arm and guided him to an elaborate litter—Lord Aulykaran’s, for beside it were two sturdy mules. Samson’s bride waited there; Samson set her upon one of the mules, a sleek gray. Bulky packs had been
tied behind the saddles; Orev hoped the bundles held something useful, such as food and clothing. “Ah, the wedding gifts from Aulykaran,” Samson said. “So we will reach Timnath all the sooner.”

Samson helped Orev to mount the second mule, then led both away from the pavilion, towards the high road that led northeast, to Timnath. Samson had freed Ari to accompany them, and the two mules, after wary inspection, decided the lion presented no threat.

“Mules have more sense than horses or donkeys,” Samson said. “See how they understand Ari will not harm them? They were a kind gift.”