“WAKE, WOMAN. Open your eyes so I can see if you’re dead or alive.”
The words came to me through a thick fog. I batted them away, not willing to lift my eyelids, but then something cold and wet splashed across my face. Sputtering in confusion, I sat up, pressed my hands to my sunburned skin and tried to coat my tongue with the moisture.
“Are you all right?”
I peeked out between my fingers. A man squatted in front of me, his head lowered to avoid the fronds of the palmetto I’d chosen for my hiding place.
I blinked as memory returned. I had stretched out beneath this short palm because I was too thirsty and exhausted to take another step. I had curled up in a ball, ignoring the roaches that scrambled across my legs, because I was ready to die.
I was still ready, but I wouldn’t surrender before I defended myself from this annoying vagabond. I narrowed my eyes at the bearded traveler, then slapped at the ants on my arms and neck. They were everywhere, probably drinking the sweat on my limbs—
“Arrrrgh!” Screaming in frustration, I dove out of the palm and kept slapping. The man who’d spoken crawled out from beneath the palmetto and offered me a wet cloth. I hesitated, but only for a moment. The wetness felt wonderful on my dry skin as I wiped the ants away.
When I had finished, I stood before my interrogator breathless, humiliated, and covered in dozens of insect bites.
“You’re gonna need help with those,” the man said, nodding at my afflicted arms. He pulled a small pouch from a leather satchel and tossed it to me. The pouch contained some kind of sour-smelling salve.
“Ants like sweet,” he said, noticing my skeptical look. “They don’t like that balm. But your skin will.”
Could I trust him?
I took another look at the bearded stranger. Two other bearded men stood several paces away, their heads bent in conversation as they checked a line of donkeys. Two camels knelt at the head of the caravan.
When one of the other men glanced in my direction, I saw that he wore the same sort of unadorned tunic as the man in front of me. These strangers were definitely not Philistines. They wore full bushy beards, while the Philistines preferred theirs clipped and curled.
“Hey.” The first man waved for my attention. “When someone gives you an ointment, it’s customary to use it.”
“I will.” I intended to spit out my answer, but my voice cracked and the words sounded raw.
The man turned and called to the others. “Regnar! Bring a gourd with water. And bread. Maybe some grapes, too.”
The thought of food made my empty stomach gurgle, and the sound brought a smile to my new acquaintance’s face. “I am Hitzig,” he said, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, “and those are my brothers, Regnar and Warati. We’ve finished our business at the marketplace and are heading home.” He leaned forward, his eyes searching my face. “And you are . . . ?”
I rubbed ointment on my neck and arms, grateful for the opportunity to look away and be free of his penetrating gaze. His eyes were dark like Achish’s, yet there was no smirk on his lips, no gleam of desire in his expression. His hands were callused but clean, and his complexion ruddy, like my father’s after a long journey.
“I am Delilah.” I tossed the pouch to him and forced words over my parched throat. “And I must leave Gaza or die.”
“Did you steal something?” Hitzig’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a thief?”
“A thousand times, no!” I met his query with honest indignation. “I don’t want to talk about the reason I must leave. Even if I explained my situation, you wouldn’t believe it.”
Hitzig waggled his thick brows. “I believe in an invisible God. I believe in love. I believe I can beat my brother Regnar in a wrestling match, though I have yet to do so. So you see, I believe a great many improbable things.”
I blew out a breath. “I have to leave Gaza because my traitorous stepbrother sold my mother into slavery and held me captive. He lies, but I cannot prove him a liar because I am not a Philistine, nor have I lived long in the city. I have no . . . power.”
“If this youth locked you up, why are you here?”
I shrugged away my shame—I could not speak of what I had endured. “A servant helped me escape.”
Hitzig regarded me with a speculative gaze, and then he looked at the brother who was advancing with water and fruit. “What say you, Regnar—can we take a passenger?”
Regnar came closer, handed me the fruit and a gourd, then propped his hands on his hips and looked me over. “She looks harmless enough. She’d look better with a bath.”
“Wouldn’t we all.” Hitzig turned back to me. “Where do you wish to go?”
“Anywhere I can be safe.” I looked him directly in the eye, sensing that he might be more honest than most men. “That’s all I want—safety until I can obtain freedom for my mother. If you can help me, I won’t make any trouble for you.”
“Women always cause trouble.” Hitzig smiled, then went to talk to his brothers. I drank deeply of the water in the gourd, then filled my hand with grapes and brought them to my mouth. I tried to hear the brothers’ low voices, but found it nearly impossible.
Finally, one of the men—Warati, I think—nodded, and Regnar moved to a donkey carrying two clay pots. Removing the covers, he pulled another stalk of grapes from one and a loaf of bread from the other. My mouth watered as he approached and offered more food.
I hesitated. What would these men want in exchange for their hospitality?
From his place by a camel, Hitzig laughed. “Regnar won’t bite, despite his gruff appearance. He’s actually quite tame.”
I ignored the jibe, took the bread and fruit, then turned and stuffed chunks of the loaf into my mouth. I ate a few grapes between each bite of bread, allowing the juice to wet my tongue and parched lips. I didn’t know where these men had come from, but I was grateful for their kindness. Whether they agreed to take me with them or not, tonight I would beg whatever gods there were to rain blessings upon them.
Hitzig came over and propped his hands on his hips. “We have decided. My brothers and I are concerned for your safety. Women should not travel alone within Gaza, and the dangers for a woman are even greater outside the city. Lawlessness prevails in the wilderness, and Regnar fears you will not survive if we leave you unprotected. So we would be pleased to take you with us as far as the Valley of Sorek.”
I drew a deep breath, about to thank him, but a niggling doubt remained. What if their intentions were not honorable? Achish had overpowered me when I was strong and fit. In my current state of exhaustion, I could probably be overcome by a child.
I swallowed the last of the bread and then looked up at Hitzig. “I do not look like much,” I admitted, “but I am not a runaway slave. I was born to a free woman of Cush and a Cretan sailor, and I have never had to beg for my dinner.”
Only when Hitzig lifted a brow did I realize how pompous my little speech sounded. “Until now, eh?”
I shook my head. “What I’m saying—what I want you to understand—is that I will not allow anyone to—”
“You’re saying you’re not a whore.” Hitzig smiled, revealing a gap where a front tooth should have been. “I’m sure you’ve a good reason for warning us, but my brothers and I have beautiful wives at home. We’ve never stopped on the road for an evening’s entertainment, if you know what I mean.”
His words soothed my fears somewhat, but as I walked toward the donkeys, with a heavy heart I realized that I did know exactly what he meant. My innocence had vanished forever.