"But we were raised here in Palmyra, and we are our father's children. Our fathers are Bedawi."
"By that logic our sons are Bedawi," she countered.
Odenathus felt a mixture of irritation and sadness. He did not want to hurt Deliciae, but she was leaving him no choice. Silently, he damned his mother for having dared to raise her hopes. Now he fully understood why Al-Zena had encouraged his liaison with poor Deliciae, though she had always hated the women of his harem-and, he realized, feared them too. He sighed and said, "Who were your parents, Deliciae?"
"My parents? What have my parents got to do with this?"
"Answer me! Who were your parents?" His voice was sharp.
"I don't know," she said irritably. "I cannot remember, as I was quite young when I was taken from them."
"Were they freedmen?"
“I don't know."
'Tell me your earliest memories. Think back, and tell me what you first remember of your life."
Her brow wrinkled, and for a few minutes she was silent. Then she said slowly, "The first thing I can remember is passing sweetmeats in an Athenian brothel. I war; very small, no more than four or five. The men used to take me on their laps, and cuddle me, and call me their good and pretty little girl."
"You were not a virgin when I bought you," he said.
"Of course not," she said. "My virginity was auctioned off in Damascus when I was eleven. I made my owner very rich, for no virgin ever brought him a higher price."
"Then you had been a prostitute for three years when I bought you from the lady Rabi?"
"Yes. Why do you ask me these things? You knew what I was when you purchased me."
"Yes, Deliciae, I did. You are not a stupid woman. Think on it. You do not know your parents, your antecedents, or even where you originally came from. Before I purchased you, you were a professional whore. You performed before the entire city of Palmyra the day I bought you. How can I make the sons of such a woman the heirs to my kingdom?
"The laws of this city are the laws of Solomon himself! My wife will be above reproach, and my sons' antecedents documented back a hundred generations for all to know and see. There will never be any doubts. This is as it should be for the next ruler of Palmyra."
He put an arm around her, and kissed the top of her golden head. "I know you understand, Deliciae."
"Then you marry only for legitimate heirs?" Her voice held a note of new hope that he felt obliged to discourage.
"I marry for love, Deliciae. I have always been honest with you. I bought you to thwart the Roman governor, who would have satisfied his desires and then sent you back to the lady Rabi where you would have spent the remainder of a very short youth pleasuring many lovers each night. Instead I bought you and made you my concubine. You have all you desire in this world, and more. You are honored and safe. You are free from want, and so you shall remain until the end of your days. Unless, of course, you displease me." The last was a gentle warning.
"What will happen to my sons?" Deliciae demanded. "If they are not your heirs, then what will happen to them?"
"They will be educated to serve Palmyra, to serve me, and to serve my successor. They are lords of the city. Your sons are my sons, and they are safe."
"Even from Zenobia bat Zabaai?" she said spitefully.
"Why would Zenobia want to harm your sons? You are foolish, my pet, and bitter in your disappointment; but remember that it was neither I nor Zenobia who told you that your sons would inherit my kingdom. If you are angry, Deliciae, then direct your anger toward the one who deserves it. Direct it at my mother, for it was she who misled you."
Deliciae's fair skin was mottled red in her anger, and she felt most put out. Odenathus was right. It was Al-Zena who had led her to believe that her children would inherit their father's small kingdom. Deliciae was not a stupid woman, and on reflection she realized that she was indeed fortunate. Not only had she been plucked from what would have been an extremely disagreeable life, but her two sons were her guarantee of remaining in this comfortable position. What a fool she would be to ruin it all because another woman's unborn children were to be the next rulers of Palmyra.
Her master was tired of her, she knew. Very well, Deliciae thought. I am safe, and my sons are safe. I shall even make friends with Zenobia bat Zabaai. That will certainly annoy Al-Zena, the old cat! She smiled to herself, her breathing beginning to even out again as the anticipated pleasure of irritating Odenathus 's mother swept over her.
"Why do you smile, my pet?"
"Because I realize that you are correct, my lord, and that I am being very foolish. With your permission I will welcome Zenobia bat Zabaai as your wife and my princess."
Odenathus smiled back at Deliciae. "I knew, my pet, that on reflection, your intelligence and innate good sense would surface." He stood, and once again kissed the top of her blond head. "I will see the boys later, my pet. Now I go to give orders so that all may be in readiness for Zenobia when she enters the palace tomorrow. Everything must be perfect!"
Deliciae's beautiful eyebrows lifted delicately as she watched him retreat from her rooms. Odenathus must indeed be in love if he was bothering with household details. Zenobia bat Zabaai must have changed from the skinny, grim-eyed child who sat so dispassionately watching a man die almost four years ago. She shrugged. She was well out of the palace intrigues. Let the little Bedawi girl cope with it all.
* * *
In midaftemoon of the following day Zenobia entered the palace grounds. Alone, she rode quietly on her camel at an hour when most people were napping in the heat. She had no wish to draw attention to her visit.
As Al-Zena watched stonily, Odenathus leapt forward to aid the cloaked figure from her mount, and her hood fell back, revealing her beautiful face.
"My lord," Zenobia said softly, inclining her head in greeting.
"Welcome to my home, Zenobia," he returned. "I hope you will make it your home soon, my flower."
Zenobia blushed, peach color staining her pale-gold skin. "It will be as the gods will, my lord."
He turned and drew Al-Zena forward. "This is my mother, Zenobia," the prince said.
"My lady, I am honored."
"You are welcome to the palace, my-" Al-Zena sought for the correct word. "My child. I hope your stay will be a happy one."
"Thank you, my lady," Zenobia said politely.
A few minutes later she was settled in a comfortable apartment, with Bab busily unpacking her things and chattering away. Bab had come to the palace ahead of her by several hours. "Now this is what a palace should be like!" Bab enthused. "It's big, there are fine gardens, and the rooms are airy. There seem to be plenty of slaves to serve us. I hope the food is decent."
"Hush, Bab! Your tongue runs away with your good sense."
Bab chuckled, and continued with her unpacking, shaking out Zenobia's garments. "I am not sure your clothing is elegant enough for the palace. We should have come later, and taken the time to make you new things."
"You fuss too much, old woman," the girl teased. "Either the prince likes me, or he does not, and if he does not then no amount of fine feathers will help me."
"It is not the prince who concerns me, but his mother." Bab lowered her voice. "I have heard that she is very unhappy that he wishes to marry. The gossip is that she hoped he would be content with the concubine, Deliciae. They say that the Princess Al-Zena is a very headstrong and possessive woman."
"Is it me she objects to, Bab, or simply any girl?"
"It is both, my baby," Bab replied. She and Zenobia had always been honest with each other.
Zenobia was thoughtful for a moment, then she spoke again. "The best way to handle the lady, I believe, is for me to be sweetness itself. How can she find fault with good manners and a pleasing attitude?" She chuckled.
"How will you handle the concubine, my child? You cannot live in the same palace, and not meet."
"I have no doubt that we shall meet, but when we do I shall make her my frie
nd."
" Zenobia !” Bab was shocked.
"I have no choice, Bab. If I marry Odenathus I must be a help to him, not a hindrance. How can he govern Palmyra successfully if there is strife within his household? If there is, he will first worry, and then resent me. No, I must win over both his mother and Deliciae." She smiled at Bab. "Do not worry. I am not unmindful of what is involved, but now I should like a bath. Surely such a simple thing is available to me in this marvelous place."
"Of course, child! All is in readiness for you. Come, come!" Bab took her mistress by the hand and led her into a tiled bath where Zenobia's hyacinth scent already filled the air. Half a dozen black slave girls waited to attend the honored guest, who, looking at the lovely deep bathing pool, delightedly shed her dusty garments and then stepped into the tepid water. Her round, full breasts and long legs were noted by two spies placed in her apartment by Al-Zena and Deliciae.
When Zenobia had bathed, Bab wrapped her in a soft cotton robe. Then the girl lay down upon her couch to rest until the evening meal. She was tired from the tension of preparing for the visit, and not a little apprehensive. Tonight she would meet with Al-Zena, and she would probably be faced with the beautiful concubine, Deliciae. Yet despite her fears, Zenobia slept the sleep of the young and the innocent.
When she awoke she found herself alone. Rising, she walked across the room onto the open portico. Below her was a large walled garden, and beyond, the city of Palmyra was spread like a rich meal upon the table of the desert. Already the lamps were being lit as the blue dusk quickly turned to black night. A faint breeze carried the scent of something so elusive that even Zenobia's sharp nose could not identify it. She felt relaxed, and knew that whatever happened this evening, she would be in total control.
"You are awake?"
Zenobia turned and walked back into the room. "I am awake, Bab."
"You should have called," the older woman grumbled.
"I wanted a moment alone."
"Humph," came the reply, but Bab understood.
Zenobia's sleeveless white tunica with its draped low neckline was a simple garment. She smiled a secret smile. By the very innocence of her dress she would point up the difference between herself and Odenathus's mother. "Leave my hair loose," she said, and Bab nodded, brushing the long thick tresses, containing them only with a simple white ribbon band embroidered with tiny seed pearls.
Zenobia reached for her jewel case. From it she removed a single large cream-gold teardrop-shaped pearl on a thin golden chain. Fastened about her neck, it nestled between her young breasts, a temptation between twin temptations. Matching clusters of pearls on gold wires dangled from her ears; arm bangles of carved pink coral and thin gold wires with pearl bangles braceleted her arms. A single round pearl set in gold adorned one hand, drawing attention to her long, tapering fingers with their polished nails.
Bab nodded her approval as Zenobia daubed on her perfume. "It is perfect, my baby. You will outshine the old witch and the Greek concubine!"
The words were scarce out of Bab's mouth when one of the black slave girls hurried in to announce, "A eunuch is here to escort the lady to the banquet hall."
With a faint nod to Bab, Zenobia followed the girl and then the eunuch, hurrying through the vast palace so quickly that she scarce had time to note a thing along her way. The slave girl had been wrong, however, for it was not the banquet hall to which they went, but rather a small family dining room. Dressed in greens and golds, Al-Zena was already there, reclining on a dining sofa. Next to her was an exquisite fair-skinned blonde, dressed also in Parthian fashion; but her colors were sky blue embroidered in silver.
"Zenobia, my child," Al-Zena purred, "this is the lady Deliciae."
"Good evening to you," Zenobia replied sweetly.
Al-Zena was somewhat disconcerted, for the girl showed neither distress nor anger at Deliciae's presence. She was either totally unfeeling, very stupid, or very clever, and the fact that Al-Zena couldn't determine which gave her pause. She eyed Zenobia suspiciously as the girl settled herself upon the dining couch marked for her, then turned to Deliciae, saying, "I understand that you have two sons. How fortunate you are! I hope I shall one day be the mother of sons."
Al-Zena choked on her wine, spilling some of it on her gown, and sending a servant scuttling for water and a cloth. Zenobia cooed solicitously, "Oh, you have spilled your wine. I do hope it will not stain your tunic."
Deliciae eyed Odenathus's prospective wife from beneath her heavily mascaraed lashes, and forced back a chuckle. The little Bedawi girl was wise to Al-Zena, and ready to do battle with her, although Deliciae could see that Al-Zena was not quite sure yet as to the girl's character and intelligence. She took the opportunity to gauge her rival, and sighed. The girl was positively beautiful. She makes me look insipid, thought Deliciae.
A slave was rubbing frantically at Al-Zena's tunic as the Prince of Palmyra walked into the room. His glance swept over the three women, and then he said sharply, "Deliciae, what do you do here?"
"Did you not invite me, my lord? Your mother said that I was to come to supper tonight."
"You were not invited," came the icy reply. "Please return to your quarters."
Deliciae rose, stricken, and Zenobia instantly realized that Odenathus's mother was using the woman as a pawn. "Please, my lord Prince," she said, "do not send the lady Deliciae away. I was so enjoying her company."
"It does not distress you, my flower? I would not have you unhappy."
"Deliciae and I are of an age. We will quickly become friends, I know." Zenobia put a hand on his arm. "Please, my lord Prince." Her glance was melting, and Odenathus felt his heartbeat quicken.
"If it pleases you, my flower, Deliciae may remain," he said gruffly, wishing to the gods as he said it that neither Deliciae nor his mother were in the room so he might kiss that adorable mouth that pleaded so prettily with him. Instead he signaled impatiently to a slave to fill his goblet with wine.
"Thank you, my lord Prince," Zenobia said softly.
Al-Zena almost gnashed her teeth with frustration. He was in love! The gods be cursed! Her son was in love, and there would be no reasoning with him. Still, if she could show up the chit for the unsuitable creature she was, then perhaps Odenathus would see reason. A Bedawi girl Princess of Palmyra? Never!
The meal was fairly plain, beginning with artichokes in olive oil and tarragon vinegar; followed by baby lamb, broiled thrush on asparagus, green beans, and cabbage sprouts; and finished with a silver bowl of peaches and green grapes. The prince could hardly take his eyes from Zenobia, much to his mother's consternation and Deliciae's resignation. Zenobia ate heartily of the beautifully cooked meal, while the others could only eat sparingly.
After the last of the dishes had been cleared away and the wine goblets refilled, a troupe of dancing girls and a jongleur entertained. Deliciae saw how desperately Odenathus longed to be with the beautiful girl he desired for a wife, and so as the dancing girls ran from the dining room she rose, saying, "Would you permit me to withdraw, my lord? I find I am quite fatigued."
The prince smiled gratefully at her, and nodded as Deliciae bowed to Al-Zena and Zenobia and departed the room. For a few more minutes they reclined in silence, Odenathus waiting for his mother to withdraw. When it finally became apparent that she was not going to do so, he stood and, holding his hand out to Zenobia, said "Come! My gardens are justly famous. You will excuse us, Mother? I expect you will want to retire now, for it is quite late."
Zenobia put her hand in the prince's and rose. "I should very much like to see your gardens, my lord Prince."
Without a backward glance at Al-Zena, Odenathus swept Zenobia outdoors into a vast and darkened garden. Here and there torches blazed along the paths, but it was virtually impossible to see. Zenobia could not resist a chuckle. "I hope you know where you are going," she teased him. "I should hate to end up in a fish pond."
He stopped and, swinging her around, looked into her face. "I w
ant to kiss you," he said fiercely. How beautiful she looked with the torchlight flickering molten gold across her features.
"What?" Her heart began to hammer wildly, and she felt almost afraid. Looking into his handsome face, her gray eyes widened slightly with surprise.
"I want to kiss you," he repeated. "If you were any other girl I should not even ask."
"O h!” Her voice was suddenly very small, and as he looked at her a slow smile crossed Odenathus's face.
"You are like the fresh breeze that blows across the city at sunset, my flower." One hand moved from her shoulders to encircle her slender waist; to draw her hard against him. The other scalded up her neck and face to tangle in the jet silk of her hair. His dark head dipped, his mouth brushing lightly and swiftly across hers, sending small shock waves racing through her body as she desperately struggled with herself to regain control over her emotions. "Zenobia." His voice caressed her name, and she shivered. What was he doing to her? How could the sound of his voice saying her name render her breathless. "Zenobia!" Her legs felt weak, and she fell back slightly against the encircling brace of his arm. His head was poised above hers for a brief moment, and then it came swiftly down and his lips closed over hers.
His mouth was warm, and smooth and hard, but Zenobia, innocent as she was to kisses, felt his restraint. He kissed her gently with great tenderness, his lips drawing the very essence of her from her untutored body. Deep within her core she felt the ache begin. She longed for something, but she knew not what, and when, after what seemed an eternity, he finally lifted his lips from hers she murmured, "More!"
He looked upon her, his brown eyes almost liquid with his passion. "Oh, Zenobia, you have intoxicated me!" he said softly, and then he kissed her again. This time his kiss was less gentle, but she felt no fear, only a desperate longing to know more. He parted her lips, his tongue seeking, learning the velvet softness of her mouth. She wanted-she wanted she knew not what; only that she didn't want him to stop. She shivered deliciously as he sucked for a moment on her little tongue; and then she nestled closer against him, her young breasts taut.
Beloved Page 7
