Beloved

by Bertrice Small

  ***

  In the hour just before the dawn old Bab gently shook her mistress awake and offered a goblet of sweet pomegranate juice. Zenobia lay quietly, allowing her spirit to return to her body after its long night of roaming within the shadow realm. Finally she asked, "Are they here yet?"

  "Not a sign, my baby."

  She sipped at her juice. "Is the city calm?"

  "For the most part," the old woman answered. "The people are like a virgin going to her wedding couch, a little frightened, but sure that all will be well."

  "It is natural," the queen said. She put the empty goblet down. "Today I must dress like the queen I am, Bab. It will hearten the people, and the Romans will expect it. I will be on the walls awaiting them, and afterward I shall roam the city to assure my people."

  Bab nodded. "I expected you would wear your finest feathers, my baby. All is in readiness for you this very minute. I have personally chosen your wardrobe. You have only to pick your jewels."

  "Show me."

  Bab clapped her hands, and instantly a slave girl appeared carefully holding out for Zenobia's approval a kalasiris made of a cobweb-sheer linen cloth that had been interwoven with very thin strands of finely beaten gold. The sleeveless gown had been skillfully constructed in narrow pleats from its round, high neck to the ankle-length hem. Zenobia nodded her approval, and after bathing her face and hands in a basin held by a slave girl she rose from her bed, holding out her arms. Swiftly Bab removed her simple sleeping gown, and taking the kalasiris from the slave dropped it over the queen's head.

  Zenobia walked across her bedchamber to stand before the enormous full-length polished silver mirror. "Adria," she commanded the slave, "bring my jewel caskets." The girl scurried off, and the queen said to Bab, "Your choice is a perfect one, old woman." Bab smiled broadly. Adria returned balancing several jewel caskets in her arms. "Fetch me the soft gold leather belt for this," Zenobia asked Bab as she began opening the jewel boxes. Carefully she studied the contents of each box, removing the upper trays in order to see what lay beneath. Swiftly she closed several lids down, and said to Adria, "Remove these boxes. I do not choose to wear silver today."

  "Here is the belt you desire," Bab said, carefully fastening it about Zenobia's slender waist. The wide belt was made of soft kidskin overlaid with twelve layers of gold leaf over which were sewn tiny beads of fine gold and pale-pink rock quartz. The front of the belt rose up to a narrow peak that ended just below her breasts.

  The queen now began to choose her jewelry. From one jewel box came two wide gold armbands with raised designs which Bab fastened about each of Zenobia's upper arms. Around her wrists the queen slipped on several gold bangles, some plain, some with blue Persian lapis, some with rose quartz. Into her earlobes she fastened enormous diamonds, pale pink in color, which had come to her from mines located far to the south. They dangled, sparkling, from their thin gold wires.

  "Rings?" Bab asked.

  "No," was the reply. "They will not be close enough to see them." She thought a moment as Bab made to close the ring casket. "Wait! Perhaps just a ruby on this hand, and the matching pink diamond on the other. If I use my hands to punctuate a point, they will sparkle and add effect."

  "Necklaces?" Bab inquired.

  "No, but I think one of those marvelous jeweled collars. Adria?"

  "Majesty?"

  "Do we not have a gold collar inlaid with rubies, and rose quartz, and small diamonds?"

  "Yes, Majesty. Shall I fetch it?"

  Zenobia nodded, and Adria quickly complied, returning to fasten the exquisite collar about the queen's neck. It lay flat upon her chest, the alternating jewels just above her full breasts. Zenobia smiled with satisfaction. "Brush my hair out, Bab, and then let us place upon my head that elegant small circlet of beaten gold vine leaves that has the long gold ribbons sewn with brilliants."

  Bab nodded vigorously, and instructed Adria where the circlet might be found. When Zenobia's long black hair had been brushed silken smooth, Bab placed the wreath of golden vine leaves atop her mistress's head, and carefully arranged the ribbons out behind her. Then she stepped back, and nodded again. "It is perfect, my baby. You are a queen!"

  "Come now, old woman, I must hurry. I would be on the walls to greet our visitors."

  Giving her old nurse a quick hug, Zenobia hurried from her apartments and through the palace to its main courtyard, where her magnificent gold chariot with its four coal-black horses waited. She could see Vaba and Flavia coming down the path from the tiny palace within the larger palace gardens. She had given them the house that Odenathus had given her as a wedding gift those long years ago. Since his death she had been unable to live in it again, and she believed that the newly married couple would enjoy their privacy as she and Hawk had enjoyed theirs. Flavia, of course, had accepted the gift in the spirit in which Zenobia had intended it; but Vaba had sarcastically asked if she was attempting to keep him from his palace. Only sweet Flavia's quick intervention had saved the bridegroom from his furious mother.

  "Good morning, Aunt Zenobia," Flavia said, going to the queen and giving her a loving kiss on the cheek.

  Zenobia couldn't help but smile. Her new daughter-in-law, the child of her two friends, Antonius Porcius and his Julia, was a dear girl, and she had to admit, the perfect wife for Vaba. "Good morning, my dearest," she answered Flavia. "Good morning, Vaba."

  "Good morning, Mother. Have the Romans been sighted yet?"

  "If they have I have not been told, Vaba. Come, my son. Let us hurry to the walls, and be prepared to greet our guests, unwelcome though they may be. Flavia, would you come with us?"

  "May I?"

  "Of course, child. You are Palmyra's queen."

  "Oh, no, Aunt Zenobia! You are Palmyra's queen. I am only Vaba's wife, and it is all I seek to be."

  Zenobia threw her son an arch look, and then put a loving arm about Flavia. "We are both Palmyra's queens."

  "Let us go if we are going," Vaba said impatiently.

  "Very well," his mother replied, climbing without any help up into her chariot. "I will drive, Vaba. Your hand is too heavy on my horses' mouths. Besides, I think Flavia would enjoy being held by her husband rather than clinging to the handhold for dear life."

  For once Vaba did not disagree with his mother, and Flavia colored becomingly. Zenobia smiled to herself, remembering how it had been to ride with Odenathus's arm tight about her. She looked over at the pair as she started the horses off, and thought how pretty Flavia was. She was a small girl, her delicate build belying her great strength of character. Her eyes were a clear amber in color, her hair a lovely golden brown, her skin tones peachlike. All of her features-a round face with well-spaced eyes, a turned-up nose, and a coral-colored, generous mouth- had combined to form a most pleasing appearance. Her neck was slender and graceful, and she had a way of holding her head that gave her a presence usually associated with taller people. She was intelligent, and had a kind heart, both of which Zenobia thanked the gods for, because had Vaba chosen simply a pretty but vapid girl, the results would have been disastrous.

  As it was still early the broad streets of Palmyra were empty, and it was but comfortably mild in temperature. A light wind teased at both Zenobia's gold kalasiris and Flavia's pale-blue tunic dress. As they reached the walls of the city the activity increased, the military in control of the streets leading to the walls. The populace cheered Zenobia and her family as the chariot thundered by them, and a faint proud smile touched the queen's lips.

  Reaching the walls of the city, Zenobia brought her vehicle to a halt, and leapt out without waiting for Vaba and Flavia. Striding to the narrow steps built into the thick walls, she began climbing. At the top she was greeted by a captain in her personal guard, and her younger son, Prince Demetrius. "Good morning, Demi, Captain Tigranes," she said. "Any sign?"

  "Not yet, Mother."

  "Longinus is here?"

  "Over there, Mother."

  The king had reached the rampar
ts with his young wife. Zenobia moved down the ramparts to stand with Longinus.

  "Here I am again rousing you early in the morning," the queen teased her chief councillor.

  "One of the hazards of being in your employ, Majesty," he chuckled.

  Together they stood looking out across the desert that surrounded the oasis city of Palmyra. The wind had blown the sands into small wavelike ripples so that the city appeared to be an island amid a vast golden sea. Behind them the sky flung out dawn streamers of scarlet and coral, mauve and pink, burnished copper and narrow bands of dark purple edged in palest green. To the west it was yet dark with one lone and cold star gleaming ominously down upon all. There was no wind. All was very still. Looking about her, Zenobia saw that the ramparts along the walls were now crowded not only with soldiers, but with Palmyra's citizens, who had come to see the arrival of their unwelcome guests.

  The sun began to spill over the horizon, and suddenly very faintly from the distance came the sound of drums and marching feet. Zenobia turned to Longinus and her sons. "Did I not tell you?" she said. "They are exactly on time-sunrise-with their booming drums and stamping feet, all calculated to put abject fear into the hearts of the citizenry."

  “You cannot blame them for lack of originality," Longinus said wryly. "This has always worked for them, and the Romans are not a people easily persuaded to try something new."

  All along the walls the citizens chattered busily, not at all impressed by the distant noise, for had they not been told that this was how it would be? Now they watched curiously to catch the first glimpse of the enemy. It was like some vast show presented in the arena.

  The queen strained her eyes. Upon the horizon she could see the sun reflecting off a veritable sea of spear tips. Fascinated, she was unable to tear her eyes away as the spear tips became soldiers, marching soldiers, soldiers dragging great war machines and battering rams across the shifting sands of the western road, thousands of infantry urged on by officers mounted upon a variety of prancing horses.

  "How many legions do you think there are?" Longinus asked.

  "I cannot tell yet," was the reply.

  Closer and closer the Romans came to the city walls, until at last they stopped, and Zenobia breathed softly, "I count four full legions, Longinus. Aurelian wants us very badly, but he shall not have my city." Boldly she stared down upon the army amassed below, and suddenly the ranks opened to allow a war chariot through. In the chariot was a driver and one man. The vehicle stopped before the walls, and in the great silence that followed the man in the chariot began to speak.

  "People of Palmyra, I am Aurelian, Emperor of the Romans."

  "I believe the archers can get him from this distance, Mother," said Demetrius.

  "No," Zenobia said. "Let him speak. I wish to hear what he has to say."

  "I come in peace. I have no quarrel with the people of Palmyra. It is the woman who calls herself your queen who has rebelled against the empire. Give her over to me, accept my governor, and we will live in peace as we always have."

  From the ramparts of Palmyra came shouts of outrage, and almost at once the spectators began hurling the remains of their morning meal at the Romans. The emperor's chariot was forced to move backward. The queen nodded to her trumpeter, and a clarion call rang in the still air, silencing everyone. Zenobia stepped up on the walls so that she might be visible to the Roman army and its emperor. Behind her the sun blazed, and with the blue sky above her as a background, her golden garments and jewelry sparkled and gleamed impressively. Below, the Roman soldiers murmured superstitiously at the sudden appearance of this golden woman. There were murmurs of "The goddess Athena!" "Venus!" "No, fools, 'tis Juno herself!"

  "I am Zenobia of Palmyra, Queen of the East. Aurelian of the Romans, you are unwelcome here. Go while you still have the opportunity, else the desert become your final stop on the road to Hades."

  "Woman! You have rebelled against Rome! Give yourself over to me for judgment, and I will spare your city."

  The answer to Aurelian's impertinence was a spear that sang swiftly through the air to bury itself in the ground before his chariot. Startled, the horses reared, but were quickly brought under firm control by their driver. No one, even the queen, had seen who threw the spear, but its message was far more eloquent than words.

  "You have the answer, Aurelian of the Romans. My people have spoken, and as always I am an obedient servant of my people."

  A small smile played upon his lips, and he nodded almost companionably at her. "As am I, Zenobia of Palmyra," he said.

  "Then it is war between us," she answered.

  "It is war," was the reply.

  "We have the advantage, Roman, safe here behind our walls. We are prepared to hold out for months. Are you?"

  "We are."

  "Without water, Aurelian? You have no water. I would have no innocent lives on my conscience, so I give you fair warning that the wells serving the suburbs surrounding this city have been poisoned."

  "Can you be sure, Zenobia?" was the mocking reply. "Do you really think that those who expect to return shortly to their homes have poisoned their own wells? What would they use for water then upon their return?"

  "Unlike Romans, Palmyrans are loyal, Aurelian, and they follow orders."

  "Palmyrans are people like any other, Zenobia. Perhaps most of your people have obeyed, but there will be some who have not, and we need only one well to survive."

  "Do you really think you can water four legions and all your livestock on one well, Aurelian? Do not be a fool! You will have not enough water, and without water you will die! Go while you still have the opportunity. Were not all the wells at Qasr-al-Hêr destroyed?"

  "They were indeed."

  "Does that not tell you something?" she demanded.

  He smiled up at her, looking a long moment uponher incredible beauty before he spoke again; and then he said quietly, "Remember Masada!"

  Part Three

  Imperial Captive

  10

  Zenobia looked down the table at Palmyra's Council of Ten, assembled five to a side. At the opposite end sat her son, the king. "It has been four months since the Romans appeared before our gates," she said, "and what I have learned this day has told me that if we do not get aid from another quarter we shall not be able to rid ourselves of them. Before our stores run out, before one Palmyran life is sacrificed, I must get aid!"

  "What is it, Majesty?" Marius Gracchus asked. "What have you learned?"

  "Aurelian was correct when he said that all the wells within our suburbs would not be destroyed. Less than half of our people obeyed, and of the other half most simply filled their wells with debris that the Roman soldiers have been carefully removing. They have more than enough water, and their lines of communications and supply are totally unfettered. They can hold out forever. We cannot."

  "What must we do then, Majesty?" the venerable old councillor asked.

  "I must ride for Persia. When my late husband beat Shapur, their king, in battle, it was for Rome. Perhaps Shapur will aid us. If he does, and attacks the Romans from the rear, and we attack them from the front, we can destroy them between us."

  "Surely you do not propose to go yourself, Majesty?"

  "I must. Our need is great, and I believe that only I can convince Shapur to join us."

  "Who will you appoint regent in your absence, Majesty?" he asked.

  Zenobia looked directly at her son, who sat unsmiling in his chair. "There is no need for a regent, Marius Gracchus. Palmyra has a king, and it is past time that he ruled in his own right. I have been fearful that perhaps my son was not mature enough to assume his full responsibilities, but his conduct during these months of siege has proved that he is more than ready. Vaballathus has my loyalty, and my full confidence." She smiled at him, and then bowing her head said, "I beg your Majesty's leave to ride to King Shapur of Persia."

  "You have my permission, Queen of Palmyra," Vaba said, and then he stood and looked at them all.
"I am your king, but she is the queen. Remember it!"

  Afterward, when they had all been dismissed, he chided her, "You might have at least warned me what you were going to do, Mother."

  "I wanted it to be a surprise," she answered.

  "Do you really mean it, or will you take over when you return again?" he asked.

  "No, Vaba, Palmyra is yours. But at least listen to my advice, and let us work together until the enemy has been driven from our lands."

  "How will you reach Persia?" he demanded.

  "The Bedawi," she said.

  "Is that how you found out about the wells?"

  "Yes. Your uncle Akbar and his sons have been camped just over the dunes, playing the desert nomads for the Romans. They sell them goat's milk, cheese, dates, and women. Indeed, they have become quite friendly with Aurelian himself."

  "Where is Grandfather Zabaai?"

  "With the main part of the tribe, several days to the east."

  "When will you go, Mother?"

  "Tonight. There is no moon, and I can safely slip out of the city without being caught. I must not delay, Vaba. We have barely three months' supplies left even with strict rationing."

  "Will any of your men go with you?"

  "Only Rufus Curius. I would prefer to go alone to meet Akbar, but he insisted that someone come with me, and Rufus Curius asked to accompany me." She shrugged irritably. "They are a pair of old women, both of them. They were afraid if a stray Roman caught me I might be assaulted. I am not so feeble that I cannot put a knife between some Roman's ribs."