Bertrice Small - Beloved

Zabaai ben Selim died late that afternoon as the blazing sun slid below the horizon. Zenobia's oldest brother, Akbar, was formally and quickly proclaimed patriarch of the tribe, and all came to pay him tribute even as old Zabaai ben Selim was placed upon his funeral pyre, a pyre that burned all night while his children held vigil around the flames. At dawn's first light the old man's ashes were carefully gathered and formally placed in the family's tomb along the eastern caravan road. For the Bedawi a new era had begun.

Zenobia bid her brothers farewell, then entered her litter to be carried back to her palace for a final time.

Aurelian awaited her, a little angry. "You have delayed our departure," he said.

"But give me time to bathe a last time, and I will be ready," she promised.

"No," he said. "You are exhausted. You have been up all night. You need rest as well as a bath. We will leave tomorrow." Before she might protest further he picked her up and carried her into her bath where he personally undressed her and helped to bathe her. Then he carried her back into her bedchamber and tucked her into her bed. "I am glad you have had the good sense not to argue with me," he noted as he bent and kissed her goodnight.

"I am somewhat stunned by your behavior," Zenobia said weakly.

"I just want you full of fight when I parade you through the streets tomorrow as we leave Palmyra," he said, a slightly wicked grin on his face.

She threw the thing nearest to hand at him, a small statue of the little love god, Cupid. With a harsh laugh Aurelian turned and left the room. Feeling somewhat satisfied even if she had missed him, Zenobia lay back upon the soft pillows and fell asleep. She slept almost around the clock, awakening in the gray light of early dawn the following day. Slowly she stretched out, feeling a delicious sense of contentment. Beside her, the emperor appeared to slumber still. He had obviously joined her in the night. He was, she considered, becoming positively doting.

Then Aurelian destroyed her fantasy, reaching out and pulling her close, running his hands across her breasts. To her fury, she felt her body respond, her breasts tightening, the nipples rising up to push against the soft cotton of her chamber robe. "Good morning, goddess," he breathed against her ear, running his tongue around the curve of it.

She kept very still, and said in a detached voice, "Should we not be rising, Roman, and preparing to leave? Surely we do not have much time."

He chuckled indulgently. "There is time, and besides, I have an unquenchable yen for you this morning. When I came to bed last night you were sleeping as peacefully as a babe, your pretty bottom a most tempting sight. I want you, goddess, and I don't have to beg. What I want, I take!" Then he buried his face between her breasts, and breathed deeply of her. The faint scent of hyacinth still clung to her warm body, making her all the more enticing to him. Impatiently, he ripped her sleeping garment away and, dipping his head, took a nipple in his eager mouth.

"That is the second piece of my clothing you have torn," she protested, trying not to admit to the excitement he was stirring up in her body. Damn the man! She could feel the heat beginning, knew that her heartbeat was quickening.

"Then stop wearing these silly gowns to bed," he said, lifting his head but a moment from the sweet fruit.

"Oh, the gods, how I hate you!" she protested, feeling her control beginning to go.

"But you want me," he countered.

"Yes," she whispered. "I want you!"

"Take me in your hand, goddess," he ordered her. "See how much I want you! How ready I am for you!"

She never even hesitated, reaching out to grasp his mighty weapon in her hand. He was warm and throbbing, and so very eager for her.

"It is yours, goddess," he said softly. "When you are ready for it, it is yours!" Then he began a sweet assault, kissing her lips, her breasts, her belly, all the while aching with his want for her as she caressed him.

Finally Zenobia could no longer bear the passion that was building within her. She actually hurt with her desire. "Please, Roman, please now!" And she took his bigness in her two hands again, and guided him home. The pleasure, the relief, was incredible! Her body exploded with starburst after starburst of passion as he thrust again and again and again into her eager body. Finally the release came, and with a sigh she clung to him.

"You are magnificent," he breathed with pleasure.

"Don't you care?" she said. "Don't you care that I don't love you?"

He hesitated long enough to tell her he was lying when he said, "No, I don't care, goddess. I enjoy your lovely body. It is enough."

She squirmed from his embrace and rose. "I must have another bath, Roman. It will be a long time before we reach Rome, and I have traveled enough with the army to know there will be few amenities."

"No mourning today, Zenobia. I want you to wear the golden garments."

"I will not wear mourning, Roman, but I prefer to choose my own clothing. I shall not disappoint you. Remember, it is the last time my people shall see me, and I would have them remember Zenobia the Queen with pride."

"I will trust you, goddess," he answered.

At the hour appointed for their departure Zenobia walked slowly through her apartments a final time. Although the military governor was to live in the palace, he was a bachelor, and there would be few rooms open. In fact, she suspected that he would take up actual residence in the small house that Odenathus had built for her rather than in the main buildings. The closed rooms would lie in lonely waiting for the return of Odenathus's dynasty.

Aurelian found her in the garden, just leaving a room whose entry was overgrown with a flowering vine. "What is this room?" he asked her, pushing past her to look inside it. His blue eyes widened at the magnificent, but very graphic paintings he saw upon the walls.

"Why have I never seen this room, goddess?" he demanded. "It is a room for lovemaking."

"I had it walled up last year," she replied in a stony voice. "In the palace corridor its door lies beneath the fine fresco of fruits upon the wall. I do not know why I did not have this entry walled over, too."

"Perhaps you wanted to remember after all, goddess," he said with unusual insight.

Zenobia stepped out into the sunlight of the garden once more. "Do you approve of my costume, Roman?" she demanded, quite obviously changing the subject.

Following her, he eyed her approvingly. "You are every inch the queen, goddess."

"You do not mind that I wear the Palmyran crown?"

"I do not mind," was his answer.

"Then let us go, Roman," she said impatiently. "I no longer belong in Palmyra, and I certainly do not belong in your Rome. I am anxious to find out where I do belong."

"You belong with me, goddess," he said, and taking her arm he led her off to the main courtyard where the procession was forming.

She was to walk behind Aurelian's chariot, and this time the streets of Palmyra would be full to overflowing with its citizens bidding their beloved queen farewell. She had been dressed in a cloth-of-silver kalasiris with its round neck and very short sleeves. The kalasiris was smooth and molded her body, making it appear as if she had been dipped in silver. She wore a magnificent necklace of deep-purple topazes with equally gorgeous earrings, both set in bright yellow gold. A cape, lined in cloth of gold, its outer layer done in alternating strips of gold and silver, was fastened to each shoulder of her gown by a carved purple scarab beetle set in gold. Her sandals were a mix of silver and gold.

With a polite apology Gaius Cicero fastened a pair of gold manacles about her delicate wrists. The manacles were fastened together by a length of gold chain between them, and in the chain's center another length of chain stretched forth a final link attached to a special ring on the emperor's own belt. "The emperor has promised to release you when we are clear of the city," Gaius Cicero said.