The Philistine Warrior (31 page)

Delai must have struggled to hide her feelings—indeed, she told me so, somewhat later. Keeping up the wall, she looked away as though bored. “Ishtar-Astarte wouldn’t allow such a marriage, even if I were to consent,” she told him.

At that, Samson’s eyes became downcast. His sin against the Goddess weighed heavily upon him, despite the sacrifices he’d dedicated to the Holy Lady of Timnath. And he was ashamed that he’d once outraged the woman he now loved so much. Yet she’d said “…even
if
I were to consent”! Was there hope, after all? “Ah, Priestess, can’t you forgive me? It’s said among the Canaanites that you married for political reasons, not by your consent…so you shouldn’t hate me, or blame me, if in war I killed your husband. And all my life I will make amends for my sacrilege…in the
Temple
….”

It took all of Ibbi’s coaching, and all of her prayers to Inanna, to prepare Delai for those moments when the giant would mention King Ekosh to her. “What are your promises?” she demanded. Ibbi had told her not to speak in anger, but as if scolding a child. “Didn’t you break your vows as a Nazarite? You married a Philistine, I’ve been told, and you drink wine and beer….”

“Yahweh’s spirit rushed upon me!” the Danite answered, and he smiled as he recollected such “rushing.” “He moved me to do

everything I’ve done, for He has destined me for greatness, ever since I was in my mother’s womb! Listen: my father was Manoah, descended from the warrior race of Dan which came from the
Aegean
. He lived in Zorah with his Canaanite wife….” Samson drifted into a self-hypnotized state—which Delai knew only too well by then. “My mother was barren,” he continued. “Manoah knew that Dagon was working magic against her, to close up her womb. But my father’s gods wouldn’t answer his prayers…so he prayed to Astarte, and to Yahweh, the Bull of the Sky, for They were the gods of my mother’s race. And
They
answered my father’s prayers! Yahweh sent an angel to my mother in the heart of a flame; a child was promised her, a child who would one day deliver us from our enemies.” His voice rose: “And that child was I, Samson! And no one can stop me!”

Suddenly, he smiled his sometimes mischievous smile. “My follow Danites are jealous because I know the oracles; they fear the ordeals by which I judge them. But most of all, it’s the Philistine men who fear me—because Yahweh is at war with Dagon! Yet my God will spare the Philistine women, because they are beloved of Astarte.

And I will lead a great nation--after the women of
your
race marry the men of Dan. With you as my wife, I shall be King of all
Canaan
! Just so, for this, Yahweh’s been preparing me. Listen, my Queen: when I was in
Gaza
, once, long ago, I killed the gate-keepers and carried off their wives to
Hebron
. And when I was in
Judaea
, the cowardly people bound me to be delivered to the Philistines; but I broke loose, and Yahweh gave me victory! Then there was a time when Yahweh made me marry a Philistine woman, so that I could live among them—and burn the crops of their jealous menfolk, and sow terror in their hearts. You see, it’s all part of a plan, a pattern…Yahweh makes me strong and works His will in me, through me, when I drink his wine. Priestess Delai, I’m not like other men; I drink so that I may prepare for the spirit of Yahweh to rush upon me, so that my rage can be let loose against the Philistines, His enemies.
That
is being a true Nazarite!”

Delai had heard most of this before. “I see,” she commented. “But Yahweh can’t win you the forgiveness of Ishtar-Astarte.” At

that, Samson quickly lost his look of elation. She went on: “Indeed, how can you ask Her forgivenss when your god, Yahweh, forbids you to worship Her?”

“But that’s not true, Priestess!” the giant replied, pleading with her to understand. “Why, Yahweh Himself has mated with Astarte! It’s only the Levite priests of Yahweh, down among the Judaeans, who say otherwise; and that’s only because they want all the sacrifices to be made on
their
altars. They don’t even know enough to realize that Yahweh is the Bull of the Sky, let alone know how to worship Astarte. They suppose that the Divine Bulls are
servants
of Yahweh, when in fact He
is
the Bull of the Sky,” he repeated, heatedly. “The Levites—and even some of my own people—say that Astarte is Yahweh’s enemy; what rot! But my parents, and almost all
Danites, worship the Goddess, and all the deities—except for the god of our enemies, the Sorcerer Dagon. But my patron god is Yahweh, who chose me, who made me! I’m especially dedicated to Him, the true Yahweh, because he quickened my mother’s womb—” He stopped short, as if he’d said too much. There was an awkward pause.

“You said
quickened
—not
opened
!” Delai exclaimed. “Then you truly
are
a son of Yahweh!” She said this in genuine astonishment, and he looked at her as he replied.

“Yes! But only my father and mother knew. I call myself a son of Yahweh, but my fellow countrymen believe that I speak in riddles and metaphors. Now you, Great Priestess, you, also, know the truth: I am the true son of Yahweh. Only the Bull of the Sky could have sired such a son!”

Delai’s intuition told her that the moment had come: “Mighty Samson, I believe you! I have known for a long time that your god is more powerful than the Dagon of my people. Yahweh is indeed a fitting mate for the Queen of Heaven!” His eyes lit up as he heard those words. “And therefore, Mighty Samson, you must come to my Temple of Ishtar-Astarte, to seek forgiveness from Her; then, if She grants you pardon, if She approves of you…then, yes, Samson,
then
I shall marry you, because I know now of your divinity!”

“I will come!” Samson shouted, overcome with joy and vindication.

She smiled: “But first, you must learn a great secret about Ishtar-Astarte, about Her secret name and ritual,” she announced. “Because I can be married only in the secret ritual of my Holy Queen. Will you come?” And there, she told herself, you will be asked to surrender the secret of your strength to the Goddess and to me—and
then
we’ll see if your shepherd’s god can protect you from the wrath of Dagon and Astarte! Hatred and contempt welled up within her, but she put on a pleased smile for Samson’s benefit…and hated herself for the masquerade…yet he missed the triumph in her eyes….

“Oh, Blessed One!” the giant blurted out, almost forgetting himself—so much so as to reach for her with a hairy arm; “Blessed One, Father Yahweh has answered my prayer!” He pulled his arm back—and knelt before her in thanksgiving….

In the deepest sanctuary of the
Temple
, Inanna’s great and terrifying eyes stared down on Delai, as they had on that day in
Egypt
so many months before. The light was dim, but she could see that Ibbi and his fellow priests were preparing their ceremony of initiation. Hidden in a nearby room, I waited—and beside me was Sheren Warati, impatient, yet overawed by the Divine Presence of Holy Inanna…in actual fear of the supernatural ceremony which had just begun. We had both been sworn to secrecy—sworn not to reveal the mysteries we were about to witness…and so I can describe what went on only in the most general of terms.

As the music began—a kind of distant chanting—I wondered if Delai could keep up her courage. And yet I shouldn’t have worried—because
she,
after all, felt at home in the
Temple
…under the eyes of Mother Inanna, the awesome Goddess of Earth and Heaven Above.

Incense spread its scent throughout the
Temple
, and the walls seemed to be closing in on us as we waited. There were no windows, but we knew that night was coming to Timnath, outside Inanna’s
Temple
walls. I could picture the town’s merchants closing up their chests of wares, locking up their trays of goods; alas, business had

been bad since the Danite occupation, except for those who catered to the needs of soldiers—seldom had this provincial town’s prostitutes been so prosperous! Only now, with Ittai’s truce renewed (yet again), had commerce begun to pick up.

Soon Mighy Samson would arrive to be initiated into the secret rites of the Goddess. Then—we prayed—this terrible ordeal would be over. How many days had Delai pretended to be impressed by Samson’s boasts, pretending to admire his supposed divinity—or half-divinity, Achilles-like as it was? Everything depended now on learning, that night, the secret of this Danite’s fantastic strength…unless (contrary to Warati’s non-negotiable demand for a live capture) I simply killed Samson after he’d been rendered defenseless by the drugs which Ibbi’d planned to give him, disguised as the wine of Holy Communion. You see, I worried that we could not depend upon the drugs’ effects to last long enough to get him out of Timnath alive….

It was true that Samson had hinted at his secret, I had just learned from Ibbi—who’d heard it from Delai. The monster had played with that secret, letting Delai test him by various means—but always, and with a laugh, he would then demonstrate his prowess, breaking the miscellaneous bonds which had been wrapped around him. This all went to show just how much of the Bull of the Sky was in him, he claimed, and Delai would join in his laughter—for wasn’t it a game, even a courtship-dance? I thought about all these things, my temper risisng in me as I did.

Then I saw Ibbi turn away from the altar, and he spoke to the other priests and priestesses: “Hush!” he exclaimed. “He’s here.”

Doors opened, and the giant entered Inanna’s sanctuary, his eyes wide as he looked up at the overwhelming Countenance of that Divine Queen. His voice wavered a bit as he spoke: “I am ready,” he declared. “Let me be cleansed of my tabu so that I will become acceptable to Queen Inanna—and to Queen Delai.”

“Come, son of Yahweh,” the priests intoned; as they chanted softly, the ceremony went on. Samson removed his tunic and was washed with sacrificial blood, then with water, finally with oil. He

prayed with Delai by his side, kneeling, awestruck, before the statue of the Lady of Timnath, the Inanna of the Ancient Days.

Ibbi approached him: “The Goddess requires that you recite, before Her, any secret names or magical incantations you may have,” he instructed. “But you may do so in private.”

I heard this, and panic began to seize me: if Samson tells his secret only to Inaana, I thought, how can Ibbi work his magic on him, so that we can take him alive? At any moment, I half expected Warati to give us all away by some rash act. Yet Ibbi, it appeared, had worried that Samson might suspect a trick, if he were ordered to tell his secret openly. Did Ibbi expect Inanna Herself to reach out and smite the monster? What did I,
myself
, now believe about Her powers?

“I will whisper my secret of secrets to Holy Inanna, and to my future bride,” Samson replied; “and to them alone.”

Inanna be praised!

“So be it,” Ibbi declared, and, with the other priests and priestesses, he withdrew, leaving Samson and Delai alone before the statue of Inanna.

Samson knelt again and said some words which I could not hear, but which I learned of later on: “Holy Inanna,” he addressed the statue, “by the side of Thy Priestess, I surrender myself to Thee. Bless our union, O Queen of Heaven….” Delai gripped the arm of her chair. “I will work no magic against Thee or Thy devotees,” Samson promised. “I have no magic—except this hair of mine, which streams, like rays of the Sun God, from my head. These locks I have dedicated to Yahweh—and I may not cut them, or I would lose my strength.” Samson then went on to recite his deeds and names. When he finished making his confession and pledge, the priests returned.

Ibbi and a High Priestess of Inanna cut the throat and stomach of a lamb, and began to study its entrails. The Chaldean’s hands and wrists became stained with blood as he spread the sacrifice before him. He pulled out the lamb’s liver and ran his fingers over its folds. I knew that Ibbi was an expert at this kind of omenology—indeed, he had once shown me his library of baked-clay replicas of livers, each model marked in the sacred writing of the Babylonians; markings