Slowly the tears began to slide down her face and Zenobia was glad for the darkness that allowed her her privacy. She was not one for weeping in public.
Then they were back at the royal palace, and Zenobia turned to thank her escorts, but they had quickly melted into the night. Slowly she opened her secret door and stepped back through into her private enclave. She blessed whomever it was that kept the hinges of the little door well oiled, for it made not a sound as it swung wide. Relocking it, she hurried through the garden and back into her bedchamber. Old Bab nodded by a bed in which it appeared a sleeping woman lay. Zenobia tiptoed across the floor and gently shook the elderly servant awake.
"Wh-what?" Bab opened her eyes, and Zenobia saw the relief in them. "Praise the gods, you are back safe!" She slowly rose to her feet. "Will the prince cease his rebellion?"
"No," Zenobia said. "He prefers to think of himself as a great patriot, and he has enough of a following to cause trouble. I do not doubt that when they do they will obtain additional followers. Perhaps, however, I have swayed some of those fiercely loyal young Palmyrans this night. If I have and they desert Demi with his ideas of violence, then maybe he will come to his senses."
"This Roman emperor will kill him without a drought if he continues," Bab noted.
Zenobia nodded her agreement, and then said, "We had best get some rest, Bab. Help me to undress, and then you and Adria go to bed."
Bab quickly helped Zenobia undress, then offered her a melon-colored sheer cotton chamber robe.
Slowly Zenobia put the garment on, and then, walking to a table, she poured herself a goblet of pale rose-colored wine and sat down in a carved wooden chair. "Go along, old woman. It has been a long night." She heard the door close behind her, and knew that she was alone again. She was worried. Why could Demi not see reason? Then she laughed softly at herself. He was exactly like she had been at his age, but she had had Odenathus's loving and kindly influence to temper her rashness. The difference was that she had listened to her husband. Why would their son not listen to her? Because you are a woman, said the little voice in her head. It matters not that you are the greatest queen upon the earth in many centuries, you are still a woman, and your son, barely a man, thinks that his sex gives him greater knowledge of what is right and what is wrong.
I am failing you, Hawk, she thought sadly. I have failed bom our sons. I simply could not do it all alone. I needed you. I needed Marcus. Ah, if only Marcus and I had been married, things would have been different. The wine was beginning to make her maudlin. Why did I not marry him when he first asked me instead of insisting we wait?
She drained her goblet, but did not refill it. Instead, she rose up, walked over to her bed, and lay down. Getting drunk was not going to help her, and she did not need a headache. She was needed. Her sons needed her even if they might not admit it. Flavia would need her, for she would be terribly grieved by her father's death. With Antonius gone, and young Gaius behaving like a fool, Julia-Flavia's mother and Zenobia's oldest friend- would need her doubly.
She was awakened at midmorning by Adria, who brought her a large goblet of fresh fruit juice. Between sips Zenobia gave her orders. "I am supposed to be in mourning, but I want you to fetch the lady Julia and her son, Gaius Porcius, here to me as soon as they can come. Also, I will need a scribe so that your papers may be drawn up. Go to the emperor's secretary, Durantis, and say that I have need of his services."
"At once, Majesty," Adria said.
"Where is Bab?"
"With the lady Flavia. She is most distraught, and begged that Bab come to her."
Zenobia nodded. "Run along, Adria."
"But who will dress you. Majesty?"
"It should not detract from my dignity as Queen of Palmyra if I dress myself," Zenobia said with a smile.
A small smile turned Adria's lips up, and bowing to the queen she hurried off on her errands. Zenobia sat in bed sipping at the juice for a few moments; then rose to bathe and dress. She did not dally in the bath, for she had much to do, but the steam, the scraping, the perfumed water and soap, and lastly the massage with the fragrant oil made her feel a new woman. Re-entering her bedroom, she was somewhat surprised to find Aurelian awaiting her.
His eyes widened with appreciation at her nudity, but, choosing to ignore it, Zenobia asked, "What do you here, Roman? You granted me the nine days of mourning. Surely you do not mean to break your word?"
"Why do you want the use of my secretary?" he asked, ignoring her questions.
"Because I am setting my slave girl, Adria, free. My own scribe will draw up the papers of manumission, but I wish your good Durantis to read them, and be certain that everything is correct according to Roman law."
"Why are you freeing a valuable slave?" he persisted.
"Because she is loyal to me; because she is far too intelligent to be a slave; and because she deserves it. Fear not, Roman, I do not plan to do away with myself. I am not setting my house in order prior to my death. There are too many people who need me. My ancestress, Cleopatra, took a coward's way out. I shall not. I will outlive you, I suspect," she finished mockingly, and her eyes caught his and held them. He wanted her! She almost laughed aloud. There was simply no subtlety in the man.
He took a step toward her, and her look challenged him. "I am in mourning, Roman," she said softly. "You promised."
Aurelian visibly gritted his teeth, and said in a tight voice, "You may have the use of Durantis."
"Caesar is gracious," was the reply.
He flushed a dull red and, turning, almost ran from the room. He had recognized the scorn in her voice, and somehow he felt powerless in light of his desire for her to reciprocate in kind. He was falling in love with her, the gods forbid. Better his old friend, pure lust!
Zenobia felt the thrill of triumph run through her as she watched him go. For the first time since she had set eyes upon the Roman she felt good! Suddenly she realized it was because she had the upper hand!
That might not be entirely to her advantage, she thought as she opened a trunk and began to take out a garment to wear. She chose a deep-blue kalasiris of silk that had been woven here in Palmyra. The dress had a wide belt of silvered kid that fastened about her waist with a silver buckle that had a large blue topaz set within it. Zenobia slipped her feet into matching sandals, and sitting down at her dressing table set about brushing her long blue-black hair. When she had freed it of its tangles she carefully twisted it into a single, thick braid that hung down her back.
A knock on her door roused her, and she called, "Come in."
The emperor's secretary entered. "Good morning, my lady," he said.
"You will address me as Majesty, Durantis," Zenobia said quietly.
He nodded politely. "I stand corrected, Majesty. How may I serve you?"
"I will have my scribe draw up papers of manumission for my slave girl Adria today. I want you to see that these papers are correct according to Roman law so that there will never be any doubt about Adria's status."
"I will be glad to serve you thus, Majesty," Durantis said.
"Thank you. You may go now."
He bowed politely, and then backed correctly from the room. Zenobia stood up, walked out into her antechamber, and instructed the waiting scribe as to her desires. Then she began to pace slowly about the room as she waited for Adria to return with Julia and Gaius. As she walked, her mind went back to the thread of thought she had been spinning when Durantis had interrupted her. To enjoy an open triumph over Aurelian could anger him, embarrass him, even turn him from her. To pretend great passion for him was an equal danger, for he might grow tired of her if she appeared suddenly docile. She would have to tread a very fine line. She would gradually begin to pretend affection for him while resisting him still. That should keep him interested, for she knew that he desperately wanted to conquer her completely, body and soul. If she could make him believe long enough that victory over her might yet be possible, then she would win.
The d
oor to the antechamber opened and Adria entered, leading Julia Tullio, the wife of the late Antonius Porcius. Young Gaius, looking rebellious, yet a little frightened, followed his mother. Zenobia was shocked by Julia's appearance. Her hair was snow-white, her crying-reddened eyes were blank of expression, her slender shoulders were stooped as if from pain.
"Julia!" Zenobia held out her arms, and the woman walked into them. But the queen realized that her friend did not know her. Anyone might have offered the distraught woman sympathy and she would have accepted it. Zenobia's arms closed around her friend and held her close. Over Julia's shoulder she looked incredulously at Julia's hair, and then questioningly at Gaius.
"It had turned white when I went in to her this morning," he said quietly. "She has still not spoken."
The queen loosened her embrace, then led her friend into the bedchamber and sat her down in a chair. "Julia," she said, raising up the woman's face and looking down into it. "Julia, I know that you hear me. Antonius is dead, and you grieve. When Odenathus died, I grieved too, but I had my children to live for, and you have yours."
Suddenly Julia's eyes focused. "My children are grown," she said. "They do not need me."
"Flavia needs you!" Zenobia persisted. "Did you not need your mother when you were first with child? Gaius needs you. He is involved in a group led by my younger son, Demi, who would continue to fight the Romans. Would Antonius Porcius approve of this? You know he would not! The father is dead, but the children need their mother, Julia. You cannot desert them. Flavia could miscarry of Palmyra's future heir should you destroy yourself. Gaius will most certainly be killed if he persists in following my son. Then Antonius Porcius's family will be gone from this earth, and it will be your fault for not accepting the responsibilities your husband left you. Antonius Porcius never shirked his duty in his entire life. He understood duty, and so do you, Julia."
"You are a hard woman, Zenobia," Julia said, her voice quavering. She began to weep bitter tears. "Never in his life did he harm anyone or anything intentionally. Why did the emperor order him executed? Why? It is not right!" Julia cried angrily, and Zenobia was glad to see color coming back into her friend's pale face.
"No, Julia, it is not right, but it is a fact! Do not let the Romans have a further victory, my friend. You and your children must live, for in living you keep alive a great man's memory, you keep alive his line."
Julia brushed the tears from her face. "You are right, Zenobia; the gods damn you for it, but you are right! It would be so easy to give up, but I will not give up! / will not!” She drew a deep breath, then turned her face to her son's. "I forbid you io have anything further to do with Prince Demetrius and his band of rebels! Do you understand me, Gaius? I have lost your father, and almost died from the pain of that loss. Your death will surely kill me! There will be another way to avenge your father, and together we will find it, but do not carelessly throw your life away. I will not allow it!"
The boy flushed, and protested, "But what other way is there? I am the man in this family now, and the decision should be mine." It was, however, a feeble protest.
Gaius needed to save face, and so Julia said quietly, "You are only fifteen, my son. Under Palmyran law you are not yet of age, and if you go against my wishes I will be forced to act in a way you will not like." She held out a hand to him, and when he took it she drew him near. "There is no shame in youth, Gaius, but your judgment is not yet fully developed, and you must yet rely upon your only parent."
Zenobia came and stood next to the boy. "Even my own Demi," she said, "lacks judgment, Gaius, and he is eighteen this year. What you all did following the execution of the council was magnificent, and a great victory for you all. Your group killed twenty-seven legionnaires! Not only that, but you took the Romans completely off guard!"
"We did?" Gaius was quite surprised and, Zenobia could see, rather pleased.
"You did," the queen returned with a smile. "Be satisfied for now, Gaius, and do as your mother asks. You have been so wrapped up in your own loss that you have given no thought to your mother or your sister. If you would be a man then you must be strong, and let them lean on you. How can they if you are running about with Demi and his foolish friends?"
She had made it appear as if the choice were actually his, and that was a wise tactic. Gaius responded as she had expected. "You are right, Aunt Zenobia," he said. "I have great responsibilities now as the eldest male in the Porcius family. I cannot afford to jeopardize my inheritance, and I promise you and my mother that I shall no longer involve myself with Demi and his Brotherhood of the Palm."
Julia heaved an audible sigh of relief, and said, "Thank the gods that underneath your youthful exuberance you have your father's common sense!"
The bedchamber door opened without warning, and Aurelian strode into the room. "You say you are in mourning, goddess, and yet here I find you merrily entertaining your friends," he accused.
Zenobia's first urge was to hit him, but she quickly controlled herself and said sweetly, "I do mourn, Caesar. I mourn the murder of my good friend and loyal councillor, Antonius Porcius. I mourn with his wife, Julia, who is my oldest friend. I mourn with his only son, young Gaius. Julia is my daughter-in-law's mother. We fear for the young queen's health. We are but two grieving mothers, Caesar."
"I think you plot at mischief, goddess."
"No, Caesar, I prevent it. Though you say I am no longer Palmyra's queen, I am, and I fear for my people."
"The city is quiet," he said.
"For now," she warned, then added, "I did not give you permission to enter my chambers at will, Caesar."
"Again I remind you, goddess, that you are a captive. I do not need your permission."
Julia looked between the two, amazed. The emperor was obviously not only taken with Zenobia, but in love with her, and jealous of anyone else in her life. Zenobia, however, was playing with him as a cat with a mouse. I would be afraid of him, Julia thought, shaken. She reached out and pulled her son closer.
"Go to Flavia, Julia. You also, Gaius. Your sister will be much reassured by your visit," Zenobia commanded regally. The two rose without a word to the emperor, and quickly left the room.
"Has that youngster been involved with your younger son?" Aurelian demanded.
"I do not know what you mean," Zenobia countered. "I have no idea if my son Demetrius is with those young men who rebel against your rule."
"I don't know why you bother to protect the boy," the emperor said. "He is making no secret of his identity." Aurelian reached into his tunic and drew forth a small parchment, which he handed to her. "These are appearing all over the city today," he said drily.
Zenobia took the proffered parchment, and began to read:
People of Palmyra! The battle with the Roman tyrant is not over! They have deposed our queen, exiled our king, and slaughtered the Council of Ten; yet we will fight on! Join us in our resistance to these tyrants!
Prince Demetrius and
The Brotherhood of the Palm
"Anyone might use his name in order to gain followers," she said with more conviction than she was feeling.
"Then where is he, goddess? It is no secret that your elder son and your younger son quarreled violently the night before I entered this city. Prince Demetrius left the palace in a rage. He has not been seen in public since that night." Aurelian took her by the shoulders and looked down into her face. "Zenobia, I cannot protect the boy if he persists in his behavior. Yesterday I will forgive. What your son and his friends did is understandable to me, but now they must cease this very futile rebellion. Find the boy and reason with him."
"He will not listen," she said.
"You have seen him?"
She nodded. "Last night. He chooses to be a martyr. He thinks it is what his father would want of him."
Aurelian smiled a rueful smile. "Your sons have a great deal of their mother in them," he said. "They are both as stubborn as you are, although in different ways. Try again, goddess. Try to
reach him before he steps over the line between the accceptable and the unacceptable. You understand me, don't you?"
She nodded dumbly. He was being unbelievably kind, and she wondered why. Obviously he was trying to win her over, but when he bent to brush her lips with his she turned her head away, refusing for a moment to give any quarter. He could have easily forced her, but instead he laughed softly and released her, then turned and left the room without another word.
In her confinement Zenobia ate, slept, and lived without worry for nine days and nights. At the end of that time she felt renewed, more certain of herself than she had in many years. The city remained quiet. She had not sought to see her younger son again, for she had said what she had to say to him. He would either come to his senses or he wouldn't. She prayed daily that he would, and should he not, she prayed he might escape Aurelian. One thing she did know. He could not possibly succeed. The important thing now was Vaba; his wife, and the expected child; their exile and their eventual return to Palmyra. She was almost anxious for the trip to Rome to begin.
12
On the morning of the tenth day after the council's death Zen-obia found Aurelian waiting for her when she came from her bath. The sight of her after his voluntary absence made his heart quicken. Her golden skin was rosy and dewy, and she seemed to be enfolded in a cloud of hyacinth. Herkalasiris was a delicious bright crimson, her first gay color in many days. "How fair you are," he said almost without thinking, and she smiled.
"Good morning, Roman. Have you given orders to free me now?"
"You are free to roam the palace, and have guests," he answered, "but you may not leave the grounds."
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