Bertrice Small - Beloved

"Good morning, Majesty."

"Good day, Marcus Britainus. I have decided it is far too lovely a day for lessons. Will you ride with me?"

"Are you certain you are not one of those women sent to lure hapless travelers to their doom?" he teased her, and she chuckled as she remembered their first meeting in the desert.

"You will have to take your chances, Roman," she teased back, feeling more lighthearted than she had in days.

Marcus Alexander rode a large-boned Arab gelding, gold in color with a creamy white mane and tail; Zenobia, a big gray stallion. She was dressed as he first remembered seeing her, in a short white tunic and gold sandals. Although they were both recognized as they rode through the city, they were not stopped by the queen's adoring admirers, and once through the gates of Palmyra Zenobia let her stallion have his head.

They rode without stopping and without speech for several miles. Marcus Alexander was content to follow, for although he had lived in the desert for some years now one sand dune looked the same as another to him. It always amazed him that the native-born of Palmyra seemed to know exactly where they were going.

Zenobia watched him from beneath her lashes as they cantered along. She was conscious of the long, muscled legs that guided his mount so easily, and suddenly Zenobia was painfully aware of him as a male being. There was an auburn down on his shapely legs, and his feet were much longer than her husband's.

Unexpectedly, Zenobia's mount reared up, and caught daydreaming, she found herself pitched from his back into a small dune. Marcus instantly dismounted and was by her side, gathering her into his arms, and calling frantically to her. She was momentarily stunned, but as her vision cleared she became aware of his mouth but inches from hers. Zenobia stared, momentarily frozen. He wanted to kiss her, and she knew it! Instinctively her lips softened and parted as she found to her shock that she wanted to kiss him.

"Zenobia," he whispered.

Hearing the hunger in his voice was enough to bring her back to her senses. With a little sob she turned her head away from him, and hot tears slid down her cheeks. She didn't know why she was crying, but she couldn't seem to stop.

With a deep sigh Marcus held her close to his heart, and crooned to her as he might have to an injured child. "Are you all right, Majesty?" he asked, forcing away any thought of what might have been.

Her tears now controlled, Zenobia replied softly, "I think that I have only injured my pride, Marcus Britainus. I have never been thrown from my horse before. I cannot understand what caused the beast to rear up like that." Her mount was now standing quietly, although he quivered nervously.

"I will see to the animal. He seems yet agitated." Marcus rose and walked over to the queen's gray stallion. "Easy, my beauty," he said gently to the horse, and took his bridle. Scanning the ground around the animal for a few minutes, Marcus finally found what he sought. "Scorpion," he said to Zenobia, "and a huge one at that. No wonder this big beauty of yours panicked."

Zenobia rose to her feet. "Is he all right?" she asked.

Marcus ran a swift and knowledgeable hand over the horse's legs and, looking up, said, "He appears to be perfect, Majesty. He just needs the reassurance of you upon his back again."

"Help me up," she commanded softly, and he bent, cupping his hands so she might have a mounting place. Zenobia vaulted lightly back onto the gray, and then said, "Come, Marcus Britainus, we have not finished our ride." Kicking the beast, she started off again, this time more careful to keep her mind on the horse and her surroundings.

Later, however, in the privacy of her own rooms, she began to think over the incident in the desert. During her whole adult life her beauty and sensuality had been directed toward Odenathus. She had been taught that a woman cleaved unto her husband only. But Zenobia had always been honest with herself, and she was being honest now when she admitted to herself that she had wanted to kiss Marcus; had very much wanted to feel his mouth possessing hers in a burning and passionate kiss. Did she really desire Marcus, or was it that she was still angry at Odenathus? What had made her turn away from the Roman at the last moment? With an angry sound she pushed the disturbing thoughts away. She was a grown woman and the king's beloved wife, not a silly young girl who gave in to her desires.

The Roman Emperor Valerian came east from Italy, and engaged the Persian King Shapur in a pitched battle at the ancient city of Edessa in Mesopotamia, just north of Palmyra. The Romans were defeated, and driven back while their emperor was led into a shameful captivity from which he would never escape. No one could understand why Valerian had come east, especially when Odenathus and his Palmyran legions had successfully driven the Persians out of the Eastern empire the previous autumn.

Shapur now felt invincible, and taunted the Romans with the imperial captive. He used Valerian as a human footstool when mounting his horse. Finally beheading the emperor, he presented his tanned skin to the horrified Roman delegation sent to negotiate Valerian's release.

Valerian's son was wild with grief and thoughts of revenge. He was now emperor, and in their outrage over their defeat his army never considered replacing him which was fortunate, for Gallienus faced usurpations almost immediately on three fronts. While Gallienus took on two of his own challengers, Odenathus defeated the third at Emesa and was reconfirmed king by the grateful Gallienus.

Odenathus returned from his defense of the empire a changed man. Zenobia had greeted him coolly, but he seemed not to notice. "The time is close," he told her, "when we may throw off the chains that have bound us all these years."

"What has changed?" she asked.

"The government in Rome is worse off than ever, my flower. Every legion has a candidate for emperor, although only a few have dared to rebel so far. Gallienus is beset by too many problems both internal and external. He may be resolute, but he cannot possibly solve the empire's difficulties. The silver coinage is being debased, and he has already incurred the enmity of the senate. He has taken away perquisites from the politicians, and the majority of the senate is far more interested in its social position and its privileges than in good government."

"So we will take advantage of their weaknesses," Zenobia mused. "We will attack them and free ourselves!"

"Not quite yet, my Queen. You must learn patience, Zenobia. Never make a move until you can be sure of success. Rome trusts us and, having gained an alliance with us, will not look often in our direction. We will now begin to rebuild our armies, and in a few years we will free ourselves as well as expand our own territories."

She smiled a smile of genuine delight as she finally fully understood his intentions. "In other words, my husband, we shall expand our own empire under the guise of keeping the Roman peace. It is brilliant!"

"Exactly!" was his reply.

"Oh, Hawk! I am so proud of you," she cried, kissing him with the first genuine affection she had shown him in months.

He returned her ardor, wanting it to go on forever but knowing that he must clear the air between them. Gently he disengaged her, and set her back from him. "Zenobia," he said in a serious tone, "do not make the mistake with me that you made before. I could not bear it if you withdrew your love from me again. You must understand that I am only a mortal man. I am not invincible, or infallible, my flower." Reaching out, he cupped her chin in his hand for a moment. "What a paradox you are! You are intelligent enough to run a government, yet emotionally you are still a child in many ways. I erred, Zenobia, and you must learn to forgive those who err."