Delilah - Treacherous Beauty by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027050
ISBN: 9781441269393
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2016-04-20T04:00:00+00:00

As the days grew longer and warmer, I spent more time at the loom, cursing the stubborn threads when I tangled them, silently rejoicing when I managed to do something right. I tried not to think about Achish as I wove, struggling to maintain a calm and consistent weave. I devoted my daylight hours to producing serviceable goods like those the widow had recommended. But at the end of the day, after Yagil had fallen asleep and the widow had gone to bed, I lit oil lamps by the loom and struggled to create something extraordinary.

My first attempt at it resulted in a bulky and uneven linen tunic. When the widow saw it, she made a face and suggested that I sell it as a garment to be worn only at home. Yet I promised to fix it by embroidering the neckline and hem with a design so beautiful that no one would notice the uneven weave.

I had nearly finished the embroidery when I heard a familiar cry. I looked up to see a caravan approaching from the east: three men, two camels, and the inevitable train of pack animals. The donkeys were heavily laden with wool, which meant the Gibeonites had had a prosperous year.

The widow stepped outside to invite the brothers in for water and honey cakes. While she prepared a tray, I hurried out to welcome my friends, then led their animals to the watering trough. Our dog yipped in frenzied welcome and danced in delight when Warati bent to scratch his head.

“You still have that dog,” Hitzig said, tugging on his beard. “Has it bitten anyone yet?”

“Not unless they bite him first,” I teased. “Come out of the sun and rest.”

Regnar’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “You look well, Delilah.”

“This place agrees with you,” Warati said. “You have more color in your cheeks this year.”

“Because I’m always chasing Yagil,” I said, leading them to the porch. “Come and see how big he’s gotten.”

Yagil squealed when he saw the brothers, then ran forward and hugged their knees. Warati complimented the widow on her beautiful work, and each man made a fuss over my five-year-old while I poured water into gourds. The brothers, I realized as I listened to sounds of happy reunion, were like the uncles and cousins I had never known.

The brothers sat on a woven carpet to enjoy the widow’s hospitality while I brought out the tunic I’d just finished. “See?” I held it against me. “It may not be as fine as something you’d see in Gaza . . .”

“It’s fine enough,” Warati said, nodding. “Good for you, Delilah. Next time we come, you’ll be designing tunics for the ceren.”

“I’m so glad you’ve arrived.” I put away the tunic and sat in the circle with the brothers. “I was wondering . . . If I made linen and wool garments and gave them to you on your way to Gaza, could you sell them for me? I don’t have much prepared this year, but next year I could have a basketful.

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