Bertrice Small - Beloved

Zenobia felt the tears well up, and then unashamedly she let them roll down her face. There were no arguments left. "I will bid you farewell now," she said quietly, attempting to gather her dignity about her. Each of the council came forward, placing his hands first in hers and then moving on to their young king to bid him farewell. Zenobia said only their names, for there were no words with which she might thank them now for this ultimate sacrifice.

"Antonius Porcius. I fear for Flavia when she learns of your fate."

"My daughter is stronger than she appears, my Queen. My main concerns are for Julia and our son, Gaius."

"I will do everything I can, old friend. Perhaps they will want to go to Cyrene with Vaba and Flavia. My future is so uncertain."

"Cyrene!" Antonius Porcius made a face. "The armpit of the empire," he said scornfully. "A decaying city on the sea with the desert on the other three sides and nothing else for hundreds of miles. Aurelian chose Vaba's place of exile well. The gods help them. They will be bored to death within a year."

Zenobia was forced to laugh, even in the midst of such tragedy, and the sound of her laughter heartened everyone in the room. She and Antonius Porcius, Rome's former governor and Palmyra's loyal servant these many years, embraced, and then he was moving on and speaking in low, urgent tones to Vaba.

Cassius Longinus stood before her, and for a very long moment they looked at each other. "You," Zenobia said, "you I will miss more than the others, even my children. You are my friend." Quick tears sprang to her silvery eyes, and she amended, "My best friend."

Longinus smiled a strangely sweet smile at her, and took her hand in his. "You think that your life is over," he said quietly, "but dearest Majesty, it has barely begun. Palmyra is just your beginning. I am sixty years old, Majesty, and if I have any regrets it is that I was not with you from the very beginning. It is the will of the gods that your life be spared, as it is their will that we ten die. Remember us, Majesty, but do not grieve." He drew her close to him, and gently kissed her forehead. "You are my best friend also," he said, and then he moved away from her to speak with Vaba.

Zenobia stood quietly, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Finally the room was empty, and Vaba came over to put a comforting arm about his mother. "I do not think I can bear it," Zenobia said. "I cannot believe that Aurelian means to go through with tins slaughter. It is so unfair!"

"When were the Romans ever fair?" he replied bitterly. "It is as Longinus said. Their honor can only be satisfied by a blood sacrifice."

"Oh, Vaba," she half-whispered, "I am responsible for this. It is my fault that the Council of Ten is to die. If I had not declared you Augustus, and myself Queen of the East, Aurelian would not have descended upon us."

"In the short time I have known this emperor, Mother, I have reached the conclusion that he never does anything precipitously. Each move he makes is well thought out in advance. I believe that in his quest to reunite his Roman Empire he sought to regain full control of Palmyra again. He did not want Palmyra to be ruled by its own king. He would have found some excuse, however flimsy, to conquer us. You cannot-must not-hold yourself responsible for the fate of the council."

His words were comforting, but Zenobia was not sure that she entirely believed them. After all, had not she-had not they all said that she was Palmyra? As queen, a queen who ruled for her son, they had all been her sole responsibility. She had failed in that trust.

Vaba escorted her litter back to her apartments and left her. Slowly Zenobia entered her rooms, her mind deep in thought. She suddenly felt very tired, and decided that she would rest until sunset. It would be necessary for her to attend the execution of her council members. They had always supported her, and she owed them this final courtesy no matter how painful it would be for her.

"Why did you not wear the flame-colored gown I wanted?" Aurelian's voice cut into her concentration.

"Red is the color of joy," she said dully. "I did not expect I should be joyful this day, and so I chose to be who I am, the Queen of Palmyra. Tyrian purple is a royal color."

"You are no longer Queen of Palmyra, goddess."

She turned to look directly at him, and then she said in a quiet voice, "I will always be the Queen of Palmyra, Aurelian. Your words, the edicts of your seriate, they cannot alter who I am. Perhaps I shall never see my homeland again, but I will always be the Queen of Palmyra."

Seeing her standing there, he understood for the first time in his life the word "regal." He knew that he should never possess such presence, such dignity. She almost made him feel ashamed, and it angered him. Why should this beautiful rebel make him feel guilty for doing his duty?

"May I go with Vaba and Flavia?" she asked. "May I take my other children with me?"

"You will come to Rome with me," he said in a voice that suggested she not argue. "You have two sons, but I have only seen one. Where is the other?"

"I do not know where my son, Demetrius, is, Caesar. Perhaps he is with his grandfather."

"And perhaps he is sneaking about the city like a jackal with a group of his angry young patrician friends causing trouble," the emperor said, his eyes narrowing.

"What have you heard?" She tried to keep the fright from her voice.

"It is reliably reported that they have been inciting the people to riot and other such seditious acts. I would suggest that you find him, and warn him that any further such nonsense could incur my displeasure."

She nodded, too tired to argue with him now. He looked at her and felt a surge of pure desire. Suppressing it, he realized she was not beaten, simply in shock over his harsh judgments. "Go and rest, goddess," he said in a kinder tone of voice. "It will not be necessary for you to be at this evening's sad event."

"I will be there, Caesar," she replied in a fierce voice. "Cassius Longinus said that you must have your blood sacrifice, but I shall never forgive you for the guilt you have placed upon me."

"Never," he replied, "is a long time, goddess. When you are in Rome with me you will forget."

"I will never forget."

"Go and rest," he repeated.

Zenobia brushed past him and entered her bedchamber. There, Bab and Adria sat awaiting her return. They quickly rose to their feet at her entry and, hurrying toward her, wordlessly began to remove her jewelry and clothes.

Although she did not believe that she could sleep, she did. Shock had taken its toll, and she could have easily slept for hours, but Bab gently shook her awake in the hour before sunset and helped her to dress, again in royal purple. Her numbed mind began to function again.

She was alive. Her children were alive, and they would remain so unless Demi did something foolish. As long as they lived there was hope; hope of returning one day to Palmyra. How long would Aurelian last? Emperors came and went in these days with remarkable rapidity. In a few years what had transpired between Rome and Palmyra would be forgotten; and if she was in favor with a future emperor in Rome, she could possibly regain Vaba's inheritance.

"You are ready," said Bab, who recognized her mistress's mood and had been silent all during the dressing.

"Come with me, old woman," Zenobia said.

"Did you think I would not?" came the quick reply. "You are strong, my baby, but no one is strong enough to bear alone what you must now face. I will always be with you; as long as these tired old legs can move."

"I would come too, Majesty," quiet Adria said, and Zenobia turned in surprise to see the firm, resolute look in the slave girl's brown eyes.

"Yes, Adria," she answered her. "You may come."