Bertrice Small - Beloved

Slaves had been imported to the island, strong men for the farm, and young women for the house and the gardens. Some of the slaves had had children, and Marcus had purchased them also, for Mavia was apt to be lonely without friends her age. In Rome, old Senator Tacitus was already gone, having caught a chill in the fourth month of his reign. He had been replaced by his much younger brother, who was head of the Praetorian. The younger Tacitus had, in his turn, succumbed to poison, and now less than eighteen months after Aurelian's assassination a third emperor sat upon the shaky imperial throne.

The new emperor was Marcus Aurelius Probus, the son of one Dalmatius, a country gardener by profession. He was a distinguished military leader who had served under both Valerian and Aurelian. How long he would last was, of course, a moot point, Zenobia thought as she nursed her infant son on a late summer's afternoon. At least Roman interest in them seemed to be dying down, although Aulus had written that twice the Romans had returned seeking them, the last time in a midnight raid that had frightened everyone half to death.

Dagian had come to the island to be with Zenobia for the birth, bringing with her an old herbal woman of the Dobunni. The birth had been incredibly easy, but the herbal woman had advised Zenobia against having future children. "You are no longer a girl, and your life has taken its toll upon your health. I can help you to regain your health, but another child will kill you."

"But Eada is older than I, and she continues to have her babies and thrive," Zenobia protested.

"The lady Eada is of this land, and she has never stopped having children in all her married life. How many years are between your daughter and the son you have just borne? Too many! Do not fear, lady. This boy will thrive, and go on to father you many grandsons! I shall give you something to use so you will not conceive again, yet your husband's pleasure will not be spoiled."

"Listen to her," Dagian said, seeing the unhappy look in Zen-obia's eyes. "She has never been wrong."

Zenobia had finally agreed, although reluctantly, for she had hoped to give her husband several sons despite the fact that she was in her late thirties now. Still, Marcus had not been disappointed that they would have no more children. Rather, he had been delighted that she had given him another child at all.

They had named the boy Lucius, for his grandfather. Now the child was six months old, and his mother was beginning to be as restless as his father was. They had been on the island well over a year now, and Zenobia was well rested. She was no longer fearful of capture. She was bored. She loved her children, but she had been born to rule, and now that she had no kingdom she found herself at loose ends.

Wandering about the house one afternoon, she discovered Marcus in his library, hovering over some maps. Drawn to join him, she saw that the map was marked Ierne. "Isn't that the island kingdom to the west of Britain?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are there Romans there?"

"No, not to my knowledge."

"What is there?"

"I do not know, beloved." He looked up, and she could see in his eyes the same longing he could see in hers.

"When do we go?" she asked.

"We?"

"You do not believe that I shall stay here like a good Roman wife while you go exploring?"

"What of the children?"

"It's a marvelous excuse for us to keep your mother with us. As for Lucius, my milk is not plentiful. There is, however, among the slave women one who has just had a still birth, and her milk is. Let me give her Lucius to nurse." She caught his hands in hers. "We were separated for too long, Marcus, for me to let you go from me now; yet I cannot deny you the opportunity. I am restless, and bored too. Our island may be a safe haven, but there is little for me to do."

"It could be dangerous, beloved."

"Oh, I hope so!" Her face was alight with the anticipation of a child who looks forward to some special treat.

"You will never be a Roman wife," he said with mock despair, but his blue eyes shone with his love for her, a love that would live on forever.

"No, Marcus, I shall never be a Roman wife though I live to be as old a woman as Bab." Her silvery eyes laughed up at him, sympathizing with him, loving him back.

"Then," he said slowly, "there is nothing for it but we go exploring; and perhaps we shall find another kingdom for you to rule over, beloved."

"No," she replied. "I have ruled Palmyra, the greatest city in the East, perhaps on this earth. There will be no other earthly kingdoms for me. I shall be happy to be with you, to rule within the kingdom of your heart."

His hands rested lightly upon her shoulders, and looking down at her, he said again the words that had first won her to him. "I have loved you from the beginnings of time, and I shall love you long after our memories have faded from this earth."

Zenobia's heart swelled within her chest. It swelled until she thought it might break with the happiness she felt permeating her entire being. As Marcus lowered his head to capture her lips in a tender yet passionate kiss, her last rational thought before she gave herself up to him was that no matter what happened now she was whole in body and spirit once again. The world lay before them. A wonderful new adventure was just over the horizon. It would be all right now, for she had Marcus Alexander Britainus for all eternity. She was still the beloved of the gods, though in the end they would have the last word! It is enough, Zenobia thought. It is more than enough!

Bertrice Small lives on the North Fork of the eastern end of Long Island, where she writes her novels in a light-filled studio surrounded by her cover paintings and the many momentos of the Romance genre she has collected. Married for thirty-three years to her husband, George, she is the mother of Thomas, a radio sportscaster and writer, mother-in-law of Megan, and grandmother of Chandler David Small. Longtime readers will be happy to know that Nicky, the charming cockatiel; Chequers, the fat black-and-white cat with the pink ears, now almost fourteen; and Sebastian, the tiny two-year-old griege-and-white cat, remain her dearest companions. Many will be saddened to learn of the passing of Deuteronomy, her beloved long-haired Maine Coon cat, at the age of twenty, who will be sorely missed; and of Gilberto, the cranky Half-Moon conure, age unknown, who has gone to that great aviary in the sky.