Bertrice Small - Beloved

Mavia giggled. "I love you, Mama," she said.

"And I love you, my darling. I love you best of all!" Zenobia rose up, her daughter still in her arms. "I am going to take you to your bed, my chick." She left the council room and carried her daughter through the palace corridors back to the child's own rooms. "You must not be afraid, Mavia," she said as she walked. "The sound of battle is noisy, and can sometimes be frightening; but the Romans cannot enter Palmyra, and they will not hurt you, I promise."

Mavia nodded, and whispered, "Yes, Mama."

Reaching Mavia's rooms, the queen handed her now sleepy child over to her nurse. Kissing Mavia's cheek, she said to the nurse, "You will remain in the palace until further notice, Charmian. Mavia is only to be allowed to play in the inner gardens."

"Yes, Majesty," the slave woman murmured.

Zenobia hurried to her own apartments, where Bab was waiting. "I have dismissed your butterflies," the old woman announced.

"How well you know me, old friend," Zenobia said. "I do want to be alone this night."

"What can I bring you to eat, my baby?"

"Anything simple, and something to drink."

"Wine?" the old woman inquired mischievously.

"Never again!" Zenobia said fervently. "Fruit juice will be quite nice, thank you, Bab."

Bab exited to return a few minutes later with a heavily laden tray, which she placed on a low ebony table. "The gods grant you sweet repose and a clear mind, my baby," she said as she left the room.

The queen shrugged out of her kalasiris and crossed the room out into her private garden. There, a pool warmed by the late-afternoon sun beckoned invitingly. Diving in, she swam for some minutes until her body grew tired and began to relax. Climbing out and taking a large linen towel, she began to dry herself off. As she did so, Zenobia carefully scrutinized her body and did not find it wanting. Her large breasts were as firm as when she had been a girl, her belly flat despite three children, her bottom rounded and not overly large. There was nothing that should be displeasing to a man. Why then had he left her?

"The gods!" she swore aloud. How deeply he had hurt her. He had probably returned to his own world, and seeing about him all those proper Roman wives had finally desired one of his own. He had been ready to marry and, unable to publicly claim Mavia, had longed for children of his own.

Sitting by the pool, she wondered once more why he had not written to her, and then she laughed ruefully. How could he possibly have explained his actions to her on dry parchment after all that had passed between them? Still, to find out in the manner in which she had was cruel, and she would not have thought him a cruel man.

Dear Longinus. It was he who had first learned of Marcus's betrayal in a letter from his former pupil, Porphyry, who now studied in Rome with Plotinus. Longinus did not wait for the gossip to reach her, but quickly joined her in Alexandria, leaving Prince Demetrius in the capable hands of Marius Gracchus. Longinus, her dear and good friend, her loyal councillor, had known how devastated she would be. Longinus, who had held her in his arms while she cried away the first hurt. What would she ever do without Longinus? She would never have to wonder, Zenobia realized, for Longinus was the one man other than her father and her brothers upon whom she might rely.

The afternoon became desert twilight, and then, quickly, night. The dark skies sparkled with thousands of bright stars, casting their lights upon Palmyra as they had for all the centuries since time began. She loved them for their beauty, and she loved them because they were constant and never-changing. Should not a relationship between lovers be a constant thing, or was she simply idealizing love?

Standing up, she flung the towel aside and walked back into her chamber where she put on a simple, long, natural-colored soft cotton gown. She then began to examine the tray that Bab had left her. Upon it were very thin slices of chicken breast and baby lamb alternating with equally thin slices of pomegranate. A woven round basket, a hot stone within its bottom, held small, flat loaves of bread. There was a salad of lettuce and tiny fresh peas that had been dressed in olive oil and herbed vinegar; and a footed silver bowl that held a small bunch of plump, green grapes and half a dozen fat apricots. A matching tall silver pitcher was filled with cool juice. Zenobia's appetite had never been a poor one, and she fell upon the meal, devouring it thoroughly.

Afterward she bathed her hands in rose water, and went again out into her private garden, where she once more began to think. The moonless night was unnaturally quiet, and she wondered if the Romans were already before her gates, or if they would choose to come by daylight. She somehow thought the latter, and knew that she would not have long to wait. It was a strangely comforting thought. She would be glad to begin this confrontation-the sooner to get it over with. The queen retired to her empty bed to sleep a dreamless sleep. For one night she was not haunted by his face with its deep blue eyes; nor the sound of his voice promising to return to her.

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.