In my haste, I lost my left shoe. When my bare heel encountered a rock, I cried out in pain. As I limped on, Samson’s voice echoed in my mind, “Wait, watch and then remember . . .” and then from his prison cell came the words, “Go to Hebron. It is located in the hills before you reach the Great Salt Sea. This is a city of refuge where an accidental murderer cannot be punished. . . There you can learn of Yahweh without an avenger from my family trying to seek you out and exact revenge.”

When I reached my sanctuary, everything there was quiet. Everyone had gone to the temple to help with the evacuation. I quickly took off my immodest dress. Discarding the rich purple mantle and veil, I donned a coarser, drab tunic, mantle and veil that I had used in the past when I did not want to be recognized as a courtesan. I packed a couple of nicer garments that gave the appearance of a wealthy woman, but a moral one rather than a wanton one. Since I would be traveling alone, I decided to hide my wealth by wearing it in a belt that I would bind tightly below my breasts under my garments. I tied some dried figs, dates, olives, parched grain and bread in a piece of cloth. Taking a wineskin, I emptied it out the window and refilled it with water. Thus provisioned I walked out of my room, down the empty hall and into the streets of Gaza.

I skirted the temple area, afraid that someone might recognize me or that those engaging in the rescue effort might stop me. I briefly considered looking for a caravan that I could pay for protection but because of my recent notoriety, I was afraid to do so. I knew it was dangerous to travel alone, but I could not think of anything a robber might do to me that I had not already endured. The only threat he could hold over me was death, and at that moment, perhaps I would have welcomed death.

I knew that Hebron was a day’s journey to the east, but that was if you were riding a donkey. According to my reckoning, I supposed it would probably take three days on foot. Luckily, my drunken father had also been learned and in his sober state had taught me things normally not in the training of a maiden. Perhaps it was his way of doing penance for what he did to me when he was inebriated. Thus, I knew how to follow the stars so as to steer an easterly course.

As I traversed the streets of Gaza, I kept my eyes out for a man’s mantle and turban, airing on a line. I was in luck. I stole the clothing. Hiding behind a gate apparently left open when the occupant ran to the temple, I put the mantle over my drab tunic, using the girdle to pull my tunic high enough to reveal my lower legs. I rubbed dirt into my legs to disguise their femininity. I quickly braided my hair and wrapped the braids around my head, concealing them under the turban. Grabbing a stick leaning against the gate, I began to swagger down the street, doing my best to give a masculine impression.

The streets of Gaza were silent and empty. Not once was I stopped or questioned. When I reached the gate, I walked through unchallenged and turned east. I knew I could not walk far in the heat of the day and so found a shady place to rest after I had walked far enough that the city was a distant blur. I took a small sip of my water and then leaned back against a tree to rest. I dosed into a fitful sleep where men taunted and walls crumbled. Samson’s words that were meant to encourage were taken up by the crowd that seemed to taunt as they shouted, “Wait, watch, remember,” with the same urgency and cadence that they had earlier chanted, “Samson, Samson.”

As evening approached, a breeze sprang up, waking me gently. As I stretched and prepared to depart, I heard voices. Hiding in a thicket of short brush, I heard a male voice close by say, “We can let our mules drink in the pool here. If we follow this trail east, we should be in Hebron by daylight. There are not many travelers tonight, what with the tragedy in Gaza. Perhaps we will be the first to bring the news of Yahweh’s triumph to the descendants of Caleb.”

In shock, I realized that these men must be Israelite and even though Samson was one of them and a judge, they considered the killing of so many worshippers of Dagon to be a triumph for Yahweh, despite the fact that Samson had died along with them. While I knew that those who follow Dagon would have felt the same way if the tables were turned, I felt only revulsion at the thought. I wanted to stand up and shout, “Don’t you even care that a good man is dead? He died believing his god was a good god, a god of love. Would a loving god not find a better way for Samson to prove his supremacy?”

But I held my tongue, staying in hiding, forcing my agitated mind to listen to the conversation.

The second man merely laughed and said, “Do not delude yourself, Magog. Such news has a mysterious way of traveling quickly. I think the wind and the birds whisper the message.”

“Perhaps you are right, Alian” Magog conceded. “How much truth do you think the wind will whisper, though? I heard a lot of rumors in the city.”

“Like what?” Alian asked.

“The guards who escorted Samson to the temple evidently escaped the carnage by returning to escort that whore Delilah,” Magog said scornfully. “Rumor has it that they personally placed Samson’s hands on the pillars so he could rest after the walk over from the prison.”

“That’s absurd!” Alian exclaimed. “Samson may have been robbed of some of his strength, but he was still no weakling. I saw him pulling the grindstone. His muscles would not have suffered from a short walk to the temple.”

“You are right,” Magog noted. “But what if it were a ruse? Samson was blind and could not see the pillars for himself. The guards may have been tricked into helping Samson to best the Philistines. I heard that he prayed that Yahweh would return his strength long enough for him to wreck vengeance on the Philistines for the loss of his eyes. By doing it in the temple of Dagon, he has proven that Yahweh is supreme even in the land of the Philistines and in the temple of the imposter god, Dagon.”

“What you say has merit,” Alian admitted. “I do not know if Samson prayed or what he said, but he certainly proved Yahweh’s supremacy. I hear his hair had started to grow back. Maybe his strength was returning with the stubble.”

“Well, if stubble can give him that kind of strength, I hate to think of what he would have been like had he lived long enough for a full growth,” Magog said with a laugh. “But the part about Samson is not really the strange part. It sounds plausible and like a prayer Yahweh might answer. What I do not understand is why God did not wait until the betrayer Delilah was brought to the temple. Why did Samson not kill Delilah along with the rest of the Philistines? She was really the one who took his strength and deprived him of his sight. She may not have held the knife, but if I was Samson’s kin, I would hunt her down and exact revenge.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Magog mounted his mule as he continued, “I heard the guards say Samson passed right by her on the way to the temple. He smelled her perfume and stopped. He turned his head toward her. I thought maybe he wanted her to see his sightless eyes, but the guard seemed to think he was trying to see her. Then he addressed her. He told her to wait, watch and remember, reminding her that this is the seventh day. Why would he remind the woman who betrayed him that the day was sacred? Why did he tell her to wait? What did he want her to remember?”

Shrugging, Alian climbed onto his mule. As the two rode away, their voices drifted back to Delilah’s hiding place, “I hear he loved her. In this case, maybe love was literally blind.”

When the two were out of sight, I ventured from my hiding place and began the long walk east. For a while I could see the men’s dust in the distance and so knew I was following the right path. I set a brisk pace, hoping to shorten the walk to two nights. I also hoped the pace would help to eradicate the conversation of the two men from my mind. All I had to do while I walked was think, but I did not want to think about their opinion that I was a despicable whore. And I certainly did not want to think about Samson deliberately bringing a temple down on his head to salvage his reputation and that of his fickle god.

I managed to keep up the pace for a long time. While I walked, I forced my mind to think about my destination. I planned how I would introduce myself and tried to figure out how to find permanent lodging in a foreign city. From experience, I knew that money talked and with what I carried beneath my tunic, I could probably buy some respectability. I did not plan for anyone to find out that I was the infamous Delilah. As far as I was concerned, she had died just as effectively as she would have had she been in the temple with Samson. The wanton woman was no more. The timid child was also banished. The new woman, Salome, was a confident woman, at peace with herself and her world. She was a widow who grieved her beloved husband and chose to live on the wealth he had left to her, since they had no heir. She moved to Hebron to avoid the painful memories in their shared home. Her only desire would be to lend charity to the downtrodden and befriend those exiled to Hebron for accidental murder.

Eventually I stopped and rested, eating some of my stores and drinking the life sustaining water. I tried to imagine how Salome would act and tried to act accordingly. Since she was a confident woman, I conjectured she would have a long, confident stride. Yet, when I started out again attempting to emulate the image in my mind, my left heel was a little sore, causing me to shorten my gait. I remembered stepping on the rock and the sharp pain when I fled the scene at the temple, so I consciously favored the heel, hoping it would not worsen. Because I was not putting my full weight on the heel, my pace slackened. When the stars began to fade, I looked for a shady place to rest. I soon found a natural spring-fed pool surrounded by shade trees. I went to the pool, refilled my water jar, and splashed water on my face. I considered soaking my sore feet, especially the left one that was still bothering me, but did not want to risk washing the disguising dirt from my feminine appendages. I retreated away from the pool and found a hidden place to rest. I was close enough to the pool to hear anyone approaching, but far enough away that I would not easily be seen.

Once again I slept restlessly, my dreams again punctuated by mocking people. This time, though, instead of chanting, “Samson, Samson,” they screamed, “Delilah the whore, Delilah the whore,” while clapping their hands and stomping their feet. When I awakened near mid-day, I was unbearably hot. I drank deeply from my wineskin. Even though I had been resting a long time, my feet still throbbed, particularly my left one. Seeing no one around and seeing no dust warning of travelers approaching, I went to the pool. After refilling my wineskin, I took off my sandals and waded into the cool water. While I was standing, letting my feet soak, I saw a cloud of dust in the east that seemed to be rapidly approaching my oasis. Quickly wading out of the water, I grabbed my sandals and retreated into the trees on the opposite side of the pool from my hiding place. I then made my way through the brush to where my supplies rested. As I fastened my sandals, a contingent of about 20 men rode into the clearing and dismounted, allowing their donkeys to drink.

When one of the men said, “We should refill our water skins before we allow the beasts to muddy the pool,” the leader thundered, “No! We will not waste time. We will easily make Gaza before nightfall. We have more than enough water to get there. We want to get to the city as quickly as possible. We must claim Samson’s body from the temple carnage before the heathen Philistines desecrate it. While some of us search for Samson, the rest will search for this woman, Delilah, to bring her to justice.”

“But Uncle Manoah,” one of the men responded. “The woman did not actually do bodily harm to Samson.”

“No?” Manoah growled. “The Philistine Lords have bragged far and wide that they paid Delilah to ensnare Samson. She may not have held the knife that gouged his eyes. She may not have toppled the temple. But she delivered him into their hands for pay. That is blood money and to me that makes her a murderer. I will avenge my son’s death.”

The youngest of the group, seemed to pale visibly. In a timid voice he offered, “But what of Samson’s wishes, Uncle?”

“What wishes?” Manoah barked. “He’s dead. How do we know what he wishes?”

Instead of cowering as I would have expected, the young man squared his shoulders and stood taller. “Samson was like an older brother to me. I too mourn his death. The last time he visited, he was excited about this Delilah. He bared his heart to me because he dared not tell you. He knew you would disapprove, as you always disapproved of his choices. He told me he loved this woman. He told me she had been sorely abused as a child and was like a delicate rose with prickly thorns that she used for protection. He said he would win her love or die trying.”

“Samson was always a sap for needy women,” Manoah replied. “Just because he said he would die trying, does not mean he really intended to die for her, Sallu. That is just the drivel of a love- starved idiot. Samson always came to his senses before. I am sure that he rued the day he ever met this Delilah and cursed her with his last breath.”

“I heard that the soldiers say Samson spoke to her on the way to the temple and told her to wait,” Sallu continued doggedly. “Wouldn’t that mean he did not intend for her to share his fate?”

“No,” Manoah snapped. “It would mean that the Philistine soldiers were lying to protect their newest priestess. I hear they were standing in line to partake of her favors in the temple orgy scheduled for later in the evening. They all wanted a taste of the woman who had seduced their biggest enemy. Samson would not try to protect a woman like that. His eyes may have been put out, but I imagine that allowed him to see all the more clearly. He would have recognized that the woman he thought he loved did not exist. I am sure in the end he saw her thorns as those of a thistle instead of a rose.”

At this the man who had spoken first said, “I do not know who has been filling your head with romantic nonsense, Sallu, but that is all it is, nonsense. You had better learn from your cousin’s mistakes. Women are useful for cleaning, cooking and taking care of your abode. They are to be bedded to provide offspring. If you give one your heart, she will only trample on it and leave you an emotional cripple.”

At that, the men mounted their donkeys and rode east toward Gaza, leaving me cowering behind the bushes in a disbelieving daze. I now knew the intent of Samson’s father. He considered me a murderer. Even though I had abandoned my identity, to remain safe I would need to make it to Hebron where, if my true identity were exposed, I could claim asylum for manslaughter. Samson had told me I would be safe there from a blood avenger. Since I did not know the laws or customs of his people, I would have to rely on what he told me in his prison cell.