Beloved

by Bertrice Small

  He was placed on his funeral couch in the atrium of the palace, his feet toward the door, to lie in state until the time came for his funeral. About the couch were masses of flowers, and incense burned in silver braziers. At the head and the foot of the couch were gold lamps burning scented oil. Before the doors of the palace were set branches of pine and cypress, a warning that it was contaminated by death. When all was in readiness the doors of the palace were opened to the public in order that they might enter in and mourn their king. The people came in a steady stream for a full day and night and another morning before Odenathus's body was carried to his tomb outside the city walls, for it was forbidden for a cemetery to be within the gates of a city.

  The funeral procession from the palace was followed by every citizen in the city who could walk; men, women, and children alike. At the head of the procession was a band of musicians and singers who played and sang mournful dirges in praise of Oden-athus Septimius and the greatness of his reign.

  Because Odenathus had been a great military leader memorials to his victories, especially those over the Persians, were carried in triumphal procession. Next came the body upon its funeral couch, the face uncovered. The couch was borne by the Council of Ten. The family followed the body, Zenobia garbed in deepest black, which strangely suited her golden skin and only made her look more beautiful; Al-Zena, proudly erect although the grief was etched openly in her face; the young king and his brother, vulnerable, but as their mother and grandmother, proud and straight.

  At the end of the city's main avenue, the procession exited Palmyra, passing beneath the great Triumphal Arch through which Odenathus had so often entered when returning from his many victories. A half-mile beyond was the cemetery, and it was here at Odenathus's family tomb, a great marble construction, that the procession came to a halt. All grew silent as the young king stood before them and eulogized his father.

  The priest of Jupiter reconsecrated the tomb, and the marble sarcophagus into which Odenathus's remains would be put. He then sprinkled purified waters three times over all the mourners, and they departed, leaving only the immediate family at the tomb. An animal was sacrificed to make the burial ground sacred, and upon its burial couch Odenathus's body was finally lowered into the sarcophagus. They left Zenobia with him for a minute before the tomb was closed.

  Zenobia looked down upon the face of the man who had been her husband and her friend for the last thirteen years. Although he yet seemed familiar, the life spark that had made him the man he was was long gone. There was a finality about the body shell which was all that remained of Odenathus Septimius. Reaching out, she touched his face, but it felt waxlike now, no longer like living skin.

  "Oh, my Hawk," she said sadly, "it should not have ended like this. That your life force has been snuffed out by two bitter and useless boys, your own seed, is not to be borne; and yet I must bear it." She paused a moment, considering her words carefully, for a promise to the dead must not be given lightly. Finally she spoke again.

  "I will try to raise our sons as you would want them raised; and I will govern Palmyra as you would-with justice and strength." Bending, she placed a kiss upon his icy lips. "Farewell, my husband! May Charon guide you across the Styx to that place where all the great end!" Then, turning, she hurried from the tomb.

  Al-Zena withdrew within herself, and even her faithful slave woman, Ala, could not reach her. She blamed her son's death on herself. "If only," she wept to Zenobia, "I had not sought to make mischief by using Linos and Vermis, Odenathus would be alive today. I have caused the death of my own son, and two of my grandsons! The gods have indeed punished me for my wicked meddling!" Not even Zenobia could reason with her. She mourned deeply, stopped eating, and within the month was dead, too. She was buried with suitable pomp in the same tomb as Odenathus.

  Returning once again from the cemetery, Zenobia burst out, The gods! I am so sick of death!" And then she fainted. Her female weakness was put down to the great pressures she had been under. Within the next few weeks, however, the queen found her appetite not at all as it had always been. She grew queasy at the mere sight of her favorite foods, and developed longings for fruits out of season. Finally old Bab said to her tartly, "Is it not obvious to you what your trouble is?" The queen shook her head in the negative. "You are with child," the old woman said. "The king has given you a final gift."

  The second the words were out Zenobia knew them to be true. She was pregnant! Strange, she pondered, I cannot remember being with Odenathus recently; but then she pushed the thought from her mind. Shock could do strange things to a person, and there was no other explanation. She was with child. She liked the idea. Another baby. Ah, how pleased he would have been with her. Three sons, for of course it would be a son. She had always been a mother of sons.

  The next week made her certain. Her moon link had been broken for close to three phases now, and it was time to publicly announce her condition. She told Longinus first, and briefly wondered at the strange look that fleetingly passed over his sensitive face. Given his sexual preferences, he probably didn't like pregnant women, she thought.

  Cassius Longinus had his suspicions, and so he cornered old Bab one day. "I need information, lady," he said quietly.

  "What could I possibly tell the queen's favorite councillor and private secretary, Cassius Longinus."

  "You must not misunderstand, lady. I have only the queen's best interests at heart, but I must know when the queen's last show of blood was."

  Bab looked scandalized. "What kind of question is that for you to ask?!" She had grown plump with age and good living. Her three chins bobbed indignantly, and her ample bosom heaved with righteous outrage beneath the rich fabric of her dark gown. "Well, Cassius Longinus?"

  "Lady, I know that you love the queen; have been with her since birth. I also know that what I tell you will remain with you alone." He moved next to the old woman, and lowered his voice. "The queen was with Marcus Britainus the night of Odenathus's murder. I saw THem. Yet never since that night has the queen acknowledged Marcus Britainus as more than an old friend. His heart is breaking, for he loves her truly. Now the queen says she is to have a child."

  He had expected old Bab to fly at him in a rage, but instead she shook her head back and forth. "Aiiiiieee," she intoned softly. "I knew something was wrong. I knew it!" Then she looked frightened. "Does anyone else know?"

  "No," he said. "No one else knows, and certainly, given the queen's reputation for chastity, they do not suspect." He looked closely at the woman. "This is not Odenathus's child, is it, lady?"

  "No," Bab replied. "It cannot be, and yet I hoped." She took Longinus's arm, and slowly they began to walk through the queen's garden. "When the king came home for the celebrations, she was unclean. Her link with the moon was in force. I am certain he did not go to her. They were quite strict about that. Then he was murdered. And yet when the signs became obvious I still hoped. Oh, Cassius Longinus, will anyone guess? Is she in danger?"

  "Does anyone else know her personal habits as you do, lady?"

  "No. I alone serve her. Those silly butterflies she calls her maidens do naught but sing and giggle. They have not one intelligent mind between them."

  A ghost of a smile flitted over Longinus's lips. "No one will suspect, lady; but I am yet unsatisfied as to why the queen has not acknowledged the Roman."

  "My baby has never been devious," Bab said. "She has made no mention of him to me, and if there were something to tell she would share it with me. No, Cassius Longinus, she has said nothing because she remembers nothing. She honestly believes this child to be Odenathus's child."

  Longinus nodded. "It is possible," he said. "Yes, it is quite possible. She was in shock THat night. While everyone about her mourned, Zenobia was forced to take charge."

  "Cassius Longinus, what would you advise in this situation? What shall we do?"

  "Nothing," he said. "If the queen remembers what happened the night of Odenathus's murder, then I believe she w
ill come to terms with herself."

  "What of the Roman?" Bab demanded. "He moons about her like a lovesick puppy."

  "I will explain to him what has happened."

  "And will you tell him that the child is his?"

  "No. It is unlikely the child in its infancy will bear any great resemblance to him. It is better he not know."

  Bab peered closely at Longinus. "Why?" she said.

  Longinus sighed. "If he learns the child is his it will only bind them closer."

  "Would that not be good for Palmyra?" she demanded.

  Again Longinus sighed. "Lady, I do not know, but I cannot take the chance of his turning her from her obligations. Marcus Britainus is an old-fashioned Roman. Women are the homemakers, no more. Until he can be taught differently I cannot allow him to seriously influence the queen in any way."

  "I understand your reasoning, Cassius Longinus, but I am not sure you are right. Yet, I will abide by your decision."

  They parted then, and Longinus found himself encouraged to have an ally in the queen's old nurse. Now he had but to convince Marcus Britainus that the queen remembered nothing with regard to their brief relationship. He grimaced. The gods had given him an awesome task indeed when it fell to him to convince a virile man that the woman he adored and had made love with did not remember the occasion. He wondered if Marcus Britainus had a sense of humor.

  If he had expected outrage he was surprised and relieved to find concern instead.

  "Will she be all right, Cassius Longinus?"

  "Other than the fact her memory of your liaison is gone, she is in perfect health," he replied.

  "Will she ever remember?"

  "I am not a physician, Marcus. I do not honestly know. There is one thing, however, that you should know. The queen is to bear Odenathus a posthumous child." He watched to see the Roman's reaction. Would he guess?

  "I shall have to begin again with her, and perhaps it is better," Marcus replied absently. "A posthumous child, you say. Poor baby, not to know his father."

  And that was all. Cassius Longinus almost cried aloud his relief was so great.

  Now, six months later, he and the Roman paced back and forth in the queen's antechamber waiting for the birth of the child. During those intervening months Marcus had taken the opportunity to court the queen, and she was beginning to respond. How many times had he seen them walking in the palace gardens? How many meals bad she shared with him? He ate the final meal of the day with Zenobia and her sons, almost every night. The young king and his brother were succumbing to the Roman's charms. Marcus was the most prominent male figure in their lives, he thought, with just a trace of jealousy. They admired him and respected his views, which Longinus was forced to admit were practical and sound. He could not help but wonder what would happen once Zenobia had delivered the child and been purified. Would the passion that had enveloped them on that one night consume them again?

  From within the queen's bedchamber came the sounds of groaning, and the Roman paled. "It will be soon," he said.

  "How do you know?" Longinus asked.

  "I am the eldest of four."

  A shriek came from the queen's chamber, followed by a lusty wail. Within the room Zenobia pushed a final time, expelling the afterbirth, and demanded, "Is my son all right? Is he perfect?"

  Julia, cleaning the baby with warmed olive oil, looked up a moment from her task, and said, "Your daughter is perfect, dear friend. She is an adorable little beauty."

  "Daughter? I have birthed a daughter? Surely you are mistaken, Julia. Look again! I cannot have birthed a daughter."

  "But you have, Zenobia. It is not the end of the world."

  Zenobia lay back, physically exhausted but mentally alert, as Bab, faithful Bab, removed all traces of the birth from her mistress's body. "I shall enjoy having a little girl to take care of again," she chortled. "You have two fine sons, my baby. A daughter will be a comfort to you in your old age."

  She helped to support Zenobia as two of her maidens changed the linen on the queen's couch. Zenobia was restless, and demanded of Julia, "Give me the baby. I want to look at it." She could not yet bring herself to say "her."

  "But a moment," Bab protested, and she sponged her mistress with perfumed water before placing a fresh linen chamber robe on her and helping her back into bed. The covers were lightly tucked around her, and then Bab stood sternly by as Zenobia was given a nourishing beverage. The queen drank it down, grimacing.

  "Why does everything that is good for me have to taste so awful?" she demanded, handing Bab the empty goblet. "Now, bring me the baby!"

  Julia approached, cradling a swaddled bundle that made soft little mewling noises. "There you are," she said, placing the infant in Zenobia's arms.

  Zenobia turned her eyes to the child. It looked nothing like either Vaba or Demi. The baby whimpered, and looked up at her mother. Zenobia stared in shock. She had blue eyes! Her daughter had blue eyes! and the expression in them was strangely familiar. She clutched the infant to her as her head began to whirl; and in the midst of a roiling reddish darkness she heard a voice:

  "/ love you. I have always loved you. I have loved you from the beginnings of time, and I shall love you long after our memories have faded from this earth."

  Her head cleared as quickly as it had grown dizzy just seconds before. 'Take it away!" she almost shrieked, holding out the bundle. "Take it away/"

  The baby began to wail, either from fright at the sound of her voice or out of some sense of her mother's rejection. Julia quickly took the child and looked strangely at Zenobia.

  "What is it, my baby?" Bab hurried to the queen's side. "What * is the matter?"

  "I don't want her! I don't want her! I birth sons for my Hawk, not daughters."

  "This child is the lord Odenathus's last, and surely most precious gift to you, my baby," Bab said sternly. "What do you mean you don't want her? Of course you do! Your travail was long, and it has addled your wits."

  "Leave me!” Zenobia cried, "and take it with you!"

  Bab nodded to Julia, and together they hurried from the room, leaving the queen alone. Zenobia lay very still, but her mind was almost boiling with confusion. The voice she had heard had been that of Marcus Britainus! The half-images of memory began to grow whole as she concentrated with all her might, endeavoring to discover the key that would unlock this mystery. The key, however, eluded her, and coupled with the hard birth, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  When she awoke several hours later it was deepest night. The lamps had been trimmed and lowered and now cast flickering shadows on the walls, ceiling, and floor. The early-spring night was yet cool, and she drew her covers about her. She had remembered. She remembered all of that hot, hot July night that Odenathus had died. She remembered how she had willingly given herself to Marcus Britainus; and how he had made tender, passionate, marvelous love to her.

  "I love you," he had said. "I have always loved you. I have loved you from the beginnings of time, and I shall love you long after our memories have faded from this earth."

  The power in that commitment was in itself overwhelming. The child of course was his. There was no way it could have been Odenathus's daughter. Did he know? More important, who else knew? "Adria!" she called to the slave girl who lay sleeping on the floor at the foot of her bed. "Adria, awake!"

  The girl scrambled to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yes, Majesty? What is your wish?"

  "Fetch old Bab," Zenobia commanded, "and then fetch Cassius Longinus. Hurry, girl!"

  The slave girl ran from the room.

  Zenobia willed her mind blank for the next few minutes. Then the door to her bedchamber opened, and old Bab hurried in, demanding, "Are you all right, my baby? What is it?"

  "I have sent for Cassius Longinus," Zenobia replied. "We will talk when he arrives. Be sure no one lingers about my door to hear us. Do you understand?"

  Bab nodded.

  The door opened again, and Cassius Longinus entered, loo
king slightly disheveled. "Majesty."

  "Adria, I would speak privately. I will not need you again this night. Go to the women's quarters and sleep."

  "I obey, Majesty," the girl replied as she backed from the room. Bab held the door to the bedchamber open to be sure the girl departed the anteroom, and did not linger to eavesdrop. The guards at the entry to the apartment would let no one else enter. She turned back to Zenobia.

  The queen looked from Cassius Longinus to Bab. "The child is not Odenathus's," she said, watching for their reaction.

  "Nevertheless," was Longinus's quick reply, "no one is likely to suspect the child's paternity, Majesty. The little princess is not apt ever to inherit the throne, and so the dynasty remains unsullied."

  "You knew from the beginning, both of you," Zenobia said.

  "I knew. Bab suspected, although she hoped her suspicions would come to naught. Once we had talked we both understood the truth of the matter."

  "Does he know?"

  "No," Longinus said. "I thought it best he did not."

  "You thought it best?" Her voice was chilly, but he was not intimidated.

  "What happened was the result of your shock over the king's death; and then your mind blocked out the incident. I could not tell you the truth of the matter for fear of endangering your health or that of the child. You are Queen of Palmyra. It is what you were born for, your destiny! I do not know if he can readily accept that if you become lovers."

  "It was not your decision to make!" Zenobia said furiously.

  "You could not make it!" he countered. "I but sought to protect you and the young king! Would you really give this all up simply to lie beneath your lover? I do not think so, Majesty. You may love him, but first and foremost you are Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra."