by JD Smith
Zenobia’s final words punched the air with force. Odenathus recoiled and even I, at whom the words were not aimed, felt shaken by them. For a heartbeat she watched the king, to see perhaps the effect of her words, and then she walked away and the whole place took on an eerie, chill silence.
After a moment, I made to follow her.
‘Wait,’ Odenathus said.
I turned back, expecting his wrath for my part in the plan to turn Valerian over to the Persians. He had every right to feel anger at me, for my agreement to stay behind to secure the bargain, even though it could scarcely be called a choice.
‘My lord?’
‘Why does she insist upon disobeying me?’ he asked. Although I was the only person present, I did not feel the question was directed at me. ‘Have I not given her everything she could possibly want? Have I not bestowed upon her the power she requested, that her father wanted? Her father dreamed of a palace like those of Egypt, in which his wife could live out her days in the luxury from which she came. Julius has beliefs, but all told he is a man who enjoys the simplicities in life. When Zenobia became my wife, I gave his family everything they desired. Everything they could possibly want.’
Odenathus slumped into a chair, his whole body ebbing of energy. I felt sorry for him then for the first time. There was something missing between him and Zenobia, a connection lacking. They were both strong-willed, they both had and desired a certain power, and yet their opinions differed. Not by much, for they both wanted peace, they both desired a safe Syria, but by was enough to cause great rifts.
‘Emperor Valerian offered Palmyra in exchange for peace,’ I replied.
Odenathus opened his mouth to speak but checked himself. He stared at me, as if I had said something absurd, a foreign phrase he could no more understand than I had understood Shapur’s Persian words.
‘Palmyra? He tried to exchange Palmyra? Valerian never mentioned this to me. He would have given my city to the Persians in exchange for what? He could not have had peace in exchange for Palmyra; Shapur would never have agreed to that. How could he be so blind?’
‘Shapur told us as much. He said he would never have agreed to the bargain put to him by Valerian. It is why Zenobia offered something else … something more,’ I said carefully. Lies, I thought, but I did not care, it might well smooth the tension between them.
Odenathus did not reply, and so I, too, sat with caution upon one of the luxurious chairs, which only served to remind my limbs of how much I needed to eat, drink and sleep in the comfort of my own bed, Aurelia’s thin, warm, innocently pale arms around me. I began to drift with those thoughts, until the king spoke again.
‘You know Zenobia well, Zabdas. Better, I think, than I know her myself.’
‘I do not think so. I think I barely know her much of the time. I did not predict any of this …’
‘It is merely an observation, Zabdas,’ he said, and I realised he mistook my words as a defence, that he might be offended if I knew her better than her own husband.
He groaned, low and long, leaning back in his chair and allowing everything to wash over him.
‘Sometimes, I do not think she understands, just like her father does not understand. We have been under Rome’s protection for so long. In the past they may not have given us the support we needed to vanquish the enemy, but they stationed legions here; they gave us enough to hold the enemy at bay. Who knows what will happen now? They could turn against us. We know not whether Ballista or any one of Valerian’s generals will attempt to usurp Gallienus. Many will think I betrayed Rome, and those close will know that Zenobia did. There will be a new jostle for power, and all the while we will succumb to invaders. What Zenobia has done … I cannot see how it will help us.’
I was unsure whether I was required to answer so I said: ‘Julius thinks severing ourselves from Rome is the only way to survive, Lord King. He thinks that the Empire is coming to an end, crumbling beneath the weight of its own corruption, and that to stand a chance of survival we must reinforce ourselves and not rely upon the Romans. He worries that they will pull their legions out of Syria, and we will be left to the Persians’ mercy.’
‘They might well do that now, Zabdas. And Julius does believe that, indeed.’ The king nodded. ‘Julius has been a friend to me for a long time. We were friends as children. We grew up together, trained together, fought in the army together for years. We travelled to Egypt; spent our youth fighting and drinking. And yet still we disagree.’
‘I knew you were friends, and that you had known one another a long time, but I did not know it was quite that long.’
Odenathus raised his eyebrows. ‘No? There was a time when we were inseparable. Skinning our knees and fighting with wooden swords—and that was when we were still in our cribs! But there were expectations of me, and not of Julius. My father had been king for a long time before me, and he taught me the way to survive, to rule long and to know the respect of my people, and that can only be done by keeping them safe, by ensuring they are well-fed, that trade is profitable. Give them a good life and they will respect you for what you have done for them. Julius could believe what he wanted, to think how he liked. I envied him that.’ He laughed, but the laughter was followed by an awkward silence.
‘You think I kept you from combat, sent you to Rome, because you were incapable?’ he went on. ‘Not so. You know already it was because Julius wished for me to keep you from harm.’ Suddenly he looked tired again. ‘When he agreed to defend our frontier against the Tanukh, he asked for more than just Zenobia’s position on the council, something I have long regretted. He asked that I protect you both against all harm. I was not to allow you to follow him south, as you so adamantly wished. You were to stay safe. Rome, I viewed, was safer than here, so I sent you both, but I have been forced to break many promises, including those to Julius. Emperor Valerian forced me to break my word when he demanded you and Zenobia seek to meet with King Shapur, and Zenobia compounded it when she secured her bargain with your life.’
He sighed heavily.
‘So, you see, I have participated in your well-being more than you think, and I can only ask your forgiveness that I have so far been unsuccessful in keeping you from harm. How I will explain to Julius the danger in which I have placed you both, I do not know. He told me to protect you.’
As he finished, anger rolled over me. My mouth ran with saliva and I could no longer focus. The revelation of what had been agreed between the man I loved as a father and the man I had learned to hate was more than I could comprehend. That Odenathus truly sought our safety, and had failed to such an extent, sickened me.
‘But you did not.’
‘No, I did not.’
He looked awkward again, then seemed to summon the will to continue.
‘Julius’ inability to have a son is something I have never really understood. My own son has been nothing but a disappointment to me, failing to obey orders, to seek the advice of those with much greater experience than himself, making simple errors that have seen the deaths of so many. I am charged with protecting my people, and I failed them because he failed me. Why would Julius want a son who would let him down? His daughter has become a queen and his family have wealth and security. More now than ever before. But I did understand. When Julius told me of you, that he had found the son of Meskenit, I saw it then. I heard it in his voice; the excitement, the longing, the completeness. He cares for you as if you were his own.’
‘I barely know him,’ I confessed.
Odenathus smiled, though it was more of a grimace. ‘He told me that you are the boy he never had, that he feels more complete now he has found you. He searched for you for such a long time. I dare say another man would not have been so determined.’
I wanted to ask the king more. I wanted to discover everything I could of Julius, but I did not have chance as heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor and a moment later Zabbai returned.
Odenathus gave me a curt nod indicating the end of
our conversation, and stood.
‘The Roman generals and our Stratego await you,’ Zabbai said.
‘Ask them to come through,’ Odenathus replied.
The commanding men entered the room. Amongst them were Ballista, hard-faced and without any appearance of shame for what he had conspired with Zenobia. And I saw Pouja, with whom I had fought at the gates of Antioch.
‘Gentlemen, for those of you who have not already heard,’ he said, motioning to Ballista, ‘it is for me to deliver the outcome of Emperor Valerian’s meet with Shapur.’
He scanned the others before him, Roman generals and commanders in the Syrian armies alike, holding each gaze for a brief moment.
‘There is no treaty. The enemy have taken Valerian Caesar captive.’
Uproar followed as each man shouted in protest, declaring the act one of unforgivable evil, and demanding something be done. Only a few of the Praetorian Guard remained silent.
‘Quiet,’ Odenathus bellowed. ‘Please. We cannot dwell on what has passed. We must look forward.’
‘How did this happen?’ a Roman demanded. ‘The meet was by mutual agreement.’
‘Shapur went back on his word,’ Odenathus replied, ‘and Valerian walked into a trap.’
‘The Persian bastards! We must make a stand. We need to secure the frontier. This is one loss too many. Rome does not allow its enemies to gain the advantage. Never!’ another Roman general said loudly, seconded by another.
Odenathus had surprised me with his sudden change in front of the generals. It was what made him a king, I reflected, to stand in front of your men and lead them with confidence you may not feel and words you may not mean, and in your heart you are afraid of what may come.
‘Agreed,’ Odenathus said. ‘We must show them we will move no further. Too long have the Persians threatened the Empire, ravaged the eastern lands. Enough,’ he said, slamming the fist of one hand into the palm of his other.
‘Who will lead the Roman legions?’ Pouja said.
‘Odenathus could take command if he is willing,’ the first Roman general said, and I noted that Ballista was not surprised by his colleague’s words. ‘We would be willing to fight beneath your command until Gallienus gives other orders. We must send word to him. Tell him what has happened to his father. He will come himself, I think.’
‘No,’ Ballista said from back of the room. He still wore his armour, his crested helmet beneath his arm. There was no mistaking his rank, nor his desire to maintain control over the Romans. ‘If Valerian has been taken, my men will answer to me, and I answer only to Gallienus. With all due respect, Odenathus, we might have failed to gain advantage beneath Valerian Caesar, but there is nothing to say your leadership will see us a better position. Your kingship is disputable at best, ruling a client kingdom only. Any one of us,’ he gestured to the Roman generals, ‘seconded by the men, is in a position to take control.’ The deep lines of Ballista’s face creased and he looked long and hard at Odenathus, as if willing him to counter.
‘And each and every one of us has sworn allegiance to Rome.’ Odenathus said. ‘I have no quarrel with you, but this is my country and I know these lands, our enemy, and my own men. I would see command of my forces, and you are welcome to take command of your own. We can lead the combined armies of Syria and Rome into battle against the Persians together. We both know we must push the Persians back, and we all know that Shapur will come at us with greater force than ever before, believing us weakened after the fall of Valerian.’
All the Roman commanders looked to the Praetorian prefect, waiting for him to speak again. Eventually he spat, ‘You had better lead well, King Odenathus; as well as I, if we are to work with one another. I have respect for what you have accomplished in the past, but our numbers are small, even with our armies combined. We are less than the Persians. The plague appears to have ceased spreading, but our legions are depleted.’
It seemed ironic that the man should speak of weak leaders, when Odenathus could be no worse than Valerian in his cowardice and his attempted betrayal of Palmyra.
More arguments ensued, until finally Pouja demanded, ‘Then we are agreed?’
Perhaps they were, or perhaps it was Pouja’s motion and stance that caused the murmur of agreement that followed. They could have argued all night, I was sure, but we did not have time.
As they left, Odenathus gave me a look of sympathetic exhaustion, and I thought perhaps he was sorry then for what I had endured in the Persian camp, that perhaps we were both close to Zenobia but neither of us truly knew her. I shared his look with a grimace.
‘You are dismissed, Zabdas. Go and find your woman. Rest, while you can.’
‘Gratitude, my Lord.’
I stumbled outside, into the early evening air. It was cool and fresh and pleasant on my skin. I looked about me for Zabbai, to bid him a few words of thanks for his part in returning to the Persian army for me, and for simply being there and for mounting my horse behind me and seeing me safely back. He was a general, and whether or not it was the exhaustion playing a merry tune inside me, we had crossed so much land together and I thought of him as friend in those moments.
There was no sight of him, but neither could I see Pouja and the other Syrian Stratego. I was alone.
The streets were still, the slow murmur of the people of Edessa in adjacent streets. I set off, back to Aurelia, back to warmth, back to something that was not fear and a stinking cage. My mind began to shut down on the thoughts whirring within. In one day, the Emperor of Rome had been taken captive by the enemy, I was set free, Odenathus had taken back his legions in Syria, and Zenobia had become a traitor to Rome.
CHAPTER 13
Zabdas – 260 AD
Exhausted, I let the thought of my bed take over me, but I had not walked far when I heard raised voices. Arguing. Not wanting to disturb, unsure of who I might see or the nature of their disagreement, I slipped out of sight.
‘Valerian was always concerned about the power he held. You know that as well as the rest of us.’
‘He was, that is true, I cannot deny it, but we both know he is a great general, that he will lead his own armies well.’
There was a pause. I heard footfalls. Then shadows passed by.
‘Odenathus’ control is growing; more so now. I heard that Ballista will lead the Romans, but even then, who is to say he will keep power over the legions?’
There was a grunt of agreement. ‘Then we need to eliminate the problem. Odenathus cannot stand in our way.’
‘We can do nothing before we have the authority.’
‘Then we need to …’ but their voices trailed off into the darkness.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest as if it would break through my ribs. I did not see their faces, but from their attire, they were Roman. I had no doubt in my mind that they plotted to see Odenathus fall from power. The game has begun, I thought. The throne of the eastern emperor is vacant.
From the moment Ballista nodded agreement to the King of Palmyra taking command over his own legions, Odenathus once more held a good deal of power in the east. Despite the threats I heard murmured between the two Roman soldiers, the armies of Rome and those of Syria worked together. They carried out their orders; to defend the eastern frontier against the Persians. I did not tell Odenathus what I heard, but I found Zabbai in a tavern and warned him of the threat to the king’s life.
‘Aye, I suspected Odenathus would face opposition. There will be friction in the Roman ranks and they see Odenathus as opposition to any man attempting to take the purple,’ he replied as we sat eating. ‘Besides, they will worry Syria will openly rebel against Rome, and they have enough problems as it is.’
‘What if they do not take orders from Gallienus?’ I said. ‘You think they would wait?’
The muscles beneath Zabbai’s eyes tightened so that the heavy bags beneath creased. ‘They might, they might not. Odenathus is a king, he has long needed to protect his own power. That will never change.
‘Do you think Ballista will try to take Odenathus’ command as Valerian did, and control both the Roman and the Syrian armies?’
Zabbai gave a short sniff and pushed his empty bowl away.
‘I would not put it past the man. He knew of Zenobia’s plan to rid us of Valerian. There have long been two Praetorian prefects because the emperors of Rome were always unwilling to put their trust in one man alone. Not that it did Valerian much good. Zenobia discovered Ballista was, like most of the Roman army, unhappy with Valerian’s leadership. He arranged the scouts ahead of Valerian and us.’
I let my spoon clatter in my empty bowl and swallowed.
‘And the other Praetorian Guard?’
Zabbai shrugged. ‘It appears Ballista has more control over the Guard than his colleague. And Zenobia appears to enjoy playing dangerous games.’
It was as if life had breathed itself back into Odenathus. His once grim expression became lighter, the lines on his older face smoother. He commanded with skill and energy and I knew what it was to be under the command of a man who could lead. The legions were more organised, the men were trained hard and supplies were shipped in from the south to feed the thousands of hungry mouths. Meanwhile, the Romans prospered under the rule of Ballista. Both men it appeared had a skill for leadership.
The respect for the commanders grew, and so did mine.
Zenobia remained by Odenathus’ side, but with greater tension between them than ever before. She had lost his trust, and even the gain in command over the eastern legions could not replenish what they once had. Cold, hurt, untrusting glances flitted between them, even though Zabbai spoke with Odenathus of her courage in an effort to reconcile them. We all tried, for we could all sense that they would make an extraordinary team in the days of freedom following the downfall of Valerian.
Instead of allowing the situation to push her into subdued silence, Zenobia would march with us all day until her feet were blistered and swollen, just as she had walked from Antioch as it fell at our backs. Only this time she walked toward the Persians, not away from them. She began to train with me and the men; wielding a light sword and throwing spears in an effort to match our skill. She would curse when she failed, and persisted, determined, sure that she could do whatever we could, insisting that she must know how to be everything and to do it all.
