Silence descended between us. In the absence of human voice, my senses seemed heightened. With my head resting against Alian's chest, I could hear the rhythmic pounding of his heart, seeming to keep tempo with the hammering of the horse's hooves and the vigorous breathing of the beast. The heat of Alian's body seemed to burn into my back, matching the warmth of the prickly horse flesh I could feel against my legs. A soft warm wind caressed my cheeks and played with a loose curl or two. The desert flashed past, nothing but ghostly shapes in the dark. Above, an unending cascade of stars blanketed the velvety night sky, and a tiny sliver of a moon hung suspended, affording little extra illumination. We stopped only twice to water and rest the heaving horses. Their purpose was to get us to Hebron. If the flight broke them, so be it, Alian said. 

As the first tentative feelers of light invaded the darkness, we thundered up to the city gates. Alian aroused the startled household with riotous knocking, tersely instructing Korah to tend the animals. After a quick whispered conference with Naomi, he turned to where Myra and I huddled uncertainly inside the doorway.

"Sallu has been unconscious since we left," he informed, "but his fever broke last night. Why don't you take Myra up, Salome? Perhaps her presence is what he needs to regain consciousness."

Taking Myra's hand, I led her up the stairway. I knew without being told that Alian wanted time to confer with Naomi. He needed to enlighten her as to the reason for our hasty return, but mostly he desired her wisdom. We had come up with no plan other than to flee to Hebron. Assuming we had only hours until an angry mob arrived demanding my sacrifice in the name of revenge, we would have to come up with a way to convince the city fathers that I deserved asylum before they could be infected by the nationalistic emotional tide that had already engulfed the men of Zorah.

Actually, the posse from Zorah was farther behind than we thought. After Alian slipped out of the Inn, the men went to the home of Manoah to tell him of Delilah's imminent capture. Their passage through the streets was loud and raucous, as their indignation grew at the temerity of the hussy Delilah. Several passed a wineskin, letting liquid fuel fan the flames of hatred. The crowd gradually swelled from a handful at the Inn to almost 50 by the time they reached Manoah's home. Many more joined the ranks before the mob poured through the city gates, long after darkness descended. The plan was to quietly surround the tent where the women slept, allowing Matthan to enter and arouse Myra. Once he had safely extracted his daughter, the waiting men would light torches, and Delilah would be dragged out and hauled into the city. She would be held until morning when the town would be invited to gather and witness her trial. Her exact fate – before she was killed – was not yet decided. Many suggestions had been made of just how to torture her, including gouging out her eyes and shaving her head. Other lewd suggestions were shouted by the men, whose use of the bottle had emboldened their speech, making the leaders uneasy, afraid that the silence needed to surprise the harlot would be lacking.

Once the gates of the city were breached by the riotous crowd, surprisingly, a taut hush descended. A tense, sweating body of humanity surged across the desert. Their hatred was palpable. A musky smell like that emitted by an animal on the prowl arose from the mass, the sheen of swarthy skin reflecting eerily in the faint light from moon and stars. Night predators slunk away from the strange beast marching through the sand, invading their nocturnal territory. The lonely howl of the jackal echoed a warning: "Beware, enraged men afoot."

When the mob reached Magog's camp, the throng swarmed silently around Salome's tiny tent, parting to let Matthan through. They held their collective breath as he lifted the tent flap and ducked into the opening. His enraged howl rent the night as he charged back out of the opening, screaming, "Gone! No one is here. Their sleeping mats and belongings are here, but they are gone."

Immediately torches flared throughout the horde as the murmur of gone passed through the crowd. They began to systematically search the camp, but their silent march through the night had obliterated the signs of Alian's horse. Evidently Myra's maid, fearing for her life, had fled into the desert, preferring the terrors of the wild to those of an angry master. So the message that Alian had come to take Myra to Sallu's dying side was never delivered. Instead, a grieving Matthan convinced them that thieves had entered the camp under the cover of dark and captured the unprotected women. So they wasted two days searching the slave markets and hideouts in the vicinity of Zorah. By that time, the emotion of the mob had dissipated and only a handful of men decided to make the journey to Hebron to confront Naomi and Alian about Delilah.

Naomi cautioned Alian not to act rashly. She warned that actions made in haste often intensify the problem. She reminded him that the arguments he had to present to the city fathers would likely fall on deaf ears. Only the few who knew Salome might even consider listening to reason. Revealing Salome's true identity prematurely would invite into Hebron the emotional deluge that had overwhelmed Zorah, before the mob arrived.

"Then what do we do, Aunt Naomi?" he asked in frustration.

"We pray," she said. "Yahweh found her in the desert land. The psalm reminds that God is like an eagle that protects its young. We call on the name of Yahweh and then we accept whatever He sends. Death is not always grievous, Alian. I think Samson learned that while in the dungeon. It is a lesson the young rarely understand."

While Naomi thus instructed Alian, Myra and I approached Sallu's pallet. His emaciated form lay peacefully on a pallet. His tunic hung loosely on his skeletal frame, his arms thin and spindly, his cheeks sunken. The flushed tint of his skin was now a more natural hue, and he breathed evenly, the deathly rattle gone. I was filled with hope as we stood silently over the sleeping man, until I heard Myra's muffled sob and realized that to her, his gaunt look portended ill.

Putting my arm around the girl, I counseled her to take heart, telling her of the improvement I saw. I finally convinced her to wash the dirt from her face and hands. I showed her the water jar and suggested she sit beside Sallu and talk to him, ready to urge him to drink if he stirred.

"Share your heart with him," I instructed. "When I was ill Naomi sang to me and talked to me. Even though I appeared to be unconscious, I sometimes heard her, especially when she sang. Deep inside his heart, Sallu longs to hear your voice. In one of his few lucid moments, he told me of you. I believe you can reach him when we could not, because he will recognize your voice."

As Myra sank down beside Sallu, I left the roof, telling her to call out if she needed something, and one of us would come.

Downstairs I found Naomi sewing in the courtyard. She told me she had sent Alian to bed and suggested I do the same. Dropping down on the bench beside her, I asked, "What did Alian tell you?"

"Little that I had not already deduced."

"So you knew about Delilah?"

"I knew Salome was not the name you were born with. I assumed you would tell me your story when the time was right."

"Right or wrong, the time has come," I said with a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps; perhaps not."

"What do you mean?"

"Alian told me what he overheard Sallu say. That could easily have been the delusional ravings of a fevered brain. The Philistine merchant made an accusation based on a fleeting sighting. I doubt he will come with the men of Zorah to accuse. The word of an absent man can prove nothing. I cannot testify about what I do not know. I can only tell how you came to be in my home. The flight in the night can be explained with the story Myra told her maid."

"So, you are suggesting I lie?"

"No, child. I am only saying that you need to make certain the time is right before you unburden your heart. I know the time must come, but I do not know if today is the day for confessions. Go; sleep before you make your decision. Talk to Yahweh. In our history, He often gave a new name to one whose heart had changed. If you have truly made the heart journey from rebellion to redemption, Salome can tell Delilah's story in a way that may soften the hardest of hearts."

And so I went to my bed chamber. I lay down and tried to talk to Yahweh, but my flesh was weak. My tired mind had barely formed three sentences before I fell into a deep slumber. If I dreamed, the visions did not penetrate my fatigued mind. When I awakened, the sun was high in the sky, and I was ravenous. Thinking I had slept a few hours and midday was upon us, I arose and went in search of food. I soon learned that my rest had lasted through the night and into the next day. While I snoozed much had transpired.

Naomi informed me that Myra's attention had been the balm that Sallu needed. He was awake and had eaten small amounts of broth. His wound was improving, and the fever stayed away.

"The will to live makes all the difference," she noted.

After I ate, I went to the roof to see the resurrection for myself. I found Sallu propped against the wall, drinking broth from a cup held by Myra.
As I approached, he said, "So everything I remember was not a dream. You are the one who asked me who would grieve for me like I grieve for Samson. I asked you if you were Delilah. You neither confirmed nor denied the name. So, are you Delilah?"

Myra had turned sharply at my approach. Now she answered for me, "No, silly. This is Salome. Remember, I told you that Salome came to Zorah to find me and bring me to your side."

Sallu had not taken his eyes from mine. He continued to hold my gaze and asked as though Myra had not spoken, "Are you Delilah?"

The time had come. I had to choose. I could continue the charade and perhaps avoid a trial and a lynching. All I had to do was deny my birth name. As I stood like a statue before Sallu, Delilah raised her poisonous voice and commanded, "Everyone has their secrets. I would not have chosen the feeble name Salome, but at least Salome has no blood on her hands."

With a strength I did not know I had, I quenched the shrill evil voice of my nemesis.

"Yes, Sallu," I said quietly. "I am Delilah."

In the sudden stillness, I heard Myra's sharp intake of breath, Alian's muted moan, and Naomi's gentle amen.

"Then," Sallu said, "there is something I must tell you."

As he started to talk, his eyes took on a faraway look. He was no longer with us in Hebron. In memory he was transported to Gaza.

Sallu's grief over Samson's capture had been crushing. He had been Samson's confidant. He had known of his love for Delilah. He could not eat. His sleep was disturbed by nightmares in which his eyes were pecked out by an eagle. Anger and hatred for Samson's faithless lover turned his waking hours into a bitter torment. Finally he journeyed to Gaza to see Samson for himself and tell him of his determination to find the whore Delilah and exact retribution for Samson's disgrace.

Any other time, Sallu would have enjoyed the novelty of the port city of Gaza. The market was large and rowdy. Stalls crowded together in an almost drunken disarray, making the aisles crooked and slowing shoppers so that they could not hurry past the vendors' wares. Bright swatches of cloth vied with jewels to catch a woman's eye. Vivid fruits and vegetables nestled next to bloody chicken carcasses and smelly sausages. Pilgrims and local devotees could purchase idols of various sizes. Dagon and Asherah were prominently displayed, but other sundry gods abounded. Sails atop intricately carved wooden vessels dominated the harbor beyond the market. Men swarmed the boats, loading and unloading cargo while telling lewd stories punctuated with colorful language. Strange tongues accosted one's ears. The large temples dedicated to Dagon and Asherah were opulent. The women, who lounged by the doors, dressed revealingly. Sallu, though, gave these amazing sites only a cursory glance, so intent was he on his mission.

Locating the place where Samson was held was no problem. The defeated Hebrew was a huge tourist attraction, bringing the dirty prison that had been studiously avoided into a place of prominence. Crowds of hecklers stood outside daily, deriding the weakened hero as he pulled the treadmill like a blind ox. The warden was raking in money by selling grain ground by Samson. Hawkers sold statues of a sensuous woman holding the shorn locks of a kneeling bald man, her head thrown back in laughter.

Sallu went to the prison and asked if Samson was allowed visitors. The guards laughed and spat at him. When he begged for a few minutes with the blind man, they told him he could spend the afternoon with him if he wanted to share his shackles and grind the grain of the Philistines. And so Sallu had allowed them to chain him to the treadmill beside Samson. While he walked round and round under the relentlessly pounding sun and sweat poured off his brow and ran into his eyes blinding him like his cousin, Sallu told Samson of his plan to bring Delilah to justice.

"No, Sallu," Samson insisted. "Killing Delilah will not serve justice. Yes, she betrayed my love, but her betrayal pales beside my own. I betrayed my God. I was rebellious and stubborn. Over and over I flaunted my disregard for His teachings. I did not worship carved idols; I became my own idol. I thought I was invincible. If I had told Delilah of Yahweh and given her a chance to know Him, perhaps she would not have spurned my love. What I did not tell you before is that Delilah had a reason not to trust men. Her father abused her and forced her into prostitution. I thought to redeem her with my love. I was so foolish. Redemption comes only from Yahweh, my Yasha. This I see clearly now that I am blind and weak. Delilah was like a delicate rose, Sallu. She hid her true self deep inside and became the seductive temptress to protect the wounded child. Her thorns were her protection. When I told her the secret to my strength, I knew deep down that she would betray me. She had been trying to find out my secret for a while. I had told her lies and every time she tested what I told her. I think that in the secret places of my heart, an area that I hid even from myself, I wanted to be exposed for the fraud I was. I was dedicated to Yahweh in name only. Yahweh knew my heart. Do not seek revenge for what I brought on myself, Sallu. I believe Yahweh wants to give Delilah another chance, an opportunity for His redemption, not mine. I understand she is staying in a house where the priestesses of Asherah reside. When they unshackle you, I want you to get a message to Delilah for me. Send someone to her with a single rose. Tell them to give her this message exactly: 'Something sweet and something sharp bring both pleasure and pain. Joy may only come after tears fall like rain.'"

"I did what Samson asked," Sallu concluded. "His words removed the bitterness that had tortured my heart after his capture. Even though I grieved over Samson's death in Dagon's temple and found life unbearable, I no longer blamed you, Delilah. Is it not ironic that the one who has now saved me from the pain of grief is the one whose I life I sought to end?"