Bertrice Small - Beloved

It was as close to begging as she was going to come, and Aurelian knew it. "Why should I heed your words , Queen of Palmyra? Your son has not proven himself, as did his father, and he is young besides. Give me one good reason why I should listen to you?"

Zenobia stood up and gave the emperor a long, slow look. "Because I am Palmyra , " she said quietly.

He was frankly astounded by her words, but a quick look at the others confirmed that she had spoken from truth not vanity. 'I will think on it," he said. This was a far more dangerous woman than he had realized. Better he spend a little time assessing the situation before making a final decision. "The council is dismissed," Aurelian concluded. Then he rose and walked from the room.

"Go with him, Antonius Porcius," Zenobia begged. "You were the last imperial governor before we were freed of Roman control. Plead for my son! For your daughter, the young queen, for our unborn grandchild who will be Palmyra's rightful heir!"

Antonius Porcius arose dutifully and followed after the emperor. He had not changed a great deal over the years, but Zenobia noticed that he moved more slowly than she remembered and that silver was beginning to streak his remaining hair.

"What are we to do, Majesty?" Marius Gracchus asked.

"Wait," was the reply. "He is not an easy man. I suspect that he truly wants Palmyra to return to province status, but we must prevent that at all costs. Vaba must be allowed to remain king. Perhaps not in his lifetime, but one day we will again rise, and the inheritors of Odenathus's dynasty must be ruling the city when the time comes! To this end I expect you to all work, and if the people really love me then they will work toward this goal, too."

"But what will happen to you, Majesty?"

"I shall go to Rome, Marius Gracchus. Aurelian has already told me that much. He will not, I fear, trust me out of his sight, and he is wise not to." She smiled at the elderly councillor. "Given the chance, I should do it again, old friend."

Marius Gracchus chuckled. "With you will go our greatness," he replied.

"Do not say that," was her quick answer. "Vaballathus is a young man now. Who knows what miracles he will accomplish in his time. And what of those who come after him? This city has stood since the days of the Hebrew king, Solomon, its founder, and it has seen its share of greatness. It will again." She stood up. "I am tired," she announced. "I have not slept well these last months, but now I think I might." She looked over her council. "I do not know if we will be allowed to meet again," she said. "I thank you for your loyalty to Palmyra, to me, and to my late husband. I know you will give that same loyalty to my son, the king. Long live Palmyra!" Then she was swiftly gone from the council chamber.

There was not one member of the Council of Ten who did not unashamedly wipe the tears from his eyes; and then slowly each one of them moved forward, kneeling before Vaballathus to pledge fealty to him as they had done upon his father's death those long years ago. Then each departed to his own section of the city to do the queen's bidding. It was not an easy task, for the Romans were everywhere and public gatherings had already been forbidden; but slowly the council members moved, in some cases from house to house, spreading Zenobia's words. The city must rise behind their young king in order to preserve the dynasty. The queen's day was done, but the Roman emperor must feel the weight of public opinion behind the House of Odenathus.

Zenobia had retired to her own apartments, where she had a long, leisurely soak in a hot bath scented with oil of hyacinth. The queen's long hair was washed and brushed dry so that it floated about her like a veil. A soft Egyptian cotton robe was slipped over her head, and then she lay down upon her couch to sleep.

Sleep came quickly. The last thing she remembered was the bright sunlight of midday streaming in a blazing shaft across the marble floor of her room. When she awoke a single lamp burned in the darkness of the room and in the gardens outside she could hear the crickets singing their evening song. Slowly she stretched herself, one leg, one arm, then her entire body, feeling the tension entirely gone. She sighed deeply, and then started at the sound of Aurelian's voice.

"You have slept long, goddess. Are you feeling better?"

"What are you doing here, Roman?'" but her voice lacked any anger.

"Watching you," he replied. "I like watching you in sleep. It is one of the few times you are not spitting and snarling at me like a wild thing."

"We cannot be friends, Roman," she said quietly.

"Perhaps not right now, goddess, but I enjoy looking at you. You are extravagantly beautiful."

"Like the ladies of Rome?"

"Great Jupiter, no! You are exotic; they are…" he thought a moment, and then he said, "they are not exotic, goddess, as you are. You are as fair as a dawn, and as elusive as a soft desert wind."

"Why, Roman, you are quite poetic."

Aurelian arose, came across the room, and seated himself on the edge of Zenobia's sleeping couch. She tensed, and he said, "You are not afraid of me, and yet-" He looked piercingly at her. "What is it, goddess? Why do you grow stiff when I but sit by your side?"

"Because I know what your sitting by me portends, Roman. You will force yourself upon me once again, to impress once more the imperial victory upon my body and soul." Her voice was bitter, almost raw in its tone.

"You still love Marcus Alexander, don't you, goddess?" She said nothing, and so he continued. "He is my niece's husband, and already they are parents. It is a futile love you hug to your heart, goddess. Let me love you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You?" The scorn in her voice was fierce. "I shall never give myself into the keeping of any man ever again, Roman; but you? You love me? What madness is this? What of your poor wife who waits for your return? I am a queen! No matter I am a defeated queen, I am still a queen. I am not some poor innocent to be honored by the position of mistress! You insult me!"

"Your illustrious ancestress, Cleopatra, was honored to be the mistress of two Romans," he said.

"It cost her her life," was the cold reply. "She put herself into the keeping of Romans, and in the end it destroyed her! I will not be destroyed by you-or any other Roman!"

"I cannot destroy you, Zenobia-only your own bitterness can do that," was his reply. "You will be my mistress because I make that decision, and not you." He reached out for her, but Zenobia drew back.

"And now," she said angrily, "now you will once again rape me to prove the truth of your words."

"I have not once raped you, goddess. Each time I have made love to you, you have wanted me to do so. The only one you have been fighting is yourself!"

"I despise you," she whispered half fearfully. "I hate you! How can I want your lovemaking when I detest you so?"

"Lust, Zenobia. Did I not tell you that first night? You may not want me, but your beautiful body does. You are a woman; you have known a man's love and you have known a man's passion. Neither of these things have frightened you. Why then should a man's honest lust cause such a turmoil within you, goddess?"

"It is wrong," she said firmly. "Lovemaking without affection or caring is wrong."

"Who has told you these things, goddess? You are young yet, and certainly your small experience with but two men cannot qualify you to make such a judgment."

He reached out for her again, and this time his arm slid about her waist and drew her resisting body close to his. "I have never experienced love, and yet I enjoy lying with a beautiful and passionate woman. None have ever complained to me before, goddess. This foolishness is but in your mind. If you would simply enjoy the feelings I can engender within your body, you would see that I am right."