Beloved

by Bertrice Small

  Swiftly he rolled over, pinning her beneath him, and began the thrusting motion that would give them the pure pleasure they both sought. With a wild cry Zenobia wrapped her arms and legs about her husband, and within moments was lost within a shining splendor that finally dissolved in a tumultuous, all-engulfing explosion of passion. Too quickly it was over, and they both lay exhausted and panting amid the tangled bedclothes.

  "By the gods," Odenathus half-whispered, "Venus has blessed us both, my flower. You are all the woman a man could ever want!"

  "And you all the man a woman could want, my Hawk!" she replied admiringly.

  ***

  The same words were spoken that very night to Marcus Alexander by a beautiful and famed courtesan in Palmyra's Street of the Prostitutes. He looked down on the woman, a rather magnificent amber-eyed blonde with a marvelous figure. "Do you mean in all your vast experience, Sadira, no man has pleased you as I have?" His blue gaze was somewhat disbelieving, his voice mocking.

  "Why do you find that so hard to believe, Marcus?" she quickly countered him, not in the least disconcerted by his manner.

  "I came to make love," he said, "not to talk."

  He reached for her, but she eluded his grasp. "You want a whore tonight, Marcus Alexander. I am not a whore, but a courtesan. There is more to me than a pair of open legs, a ready sheath. I can see, however, that your mood is not conducive to my company."

  "I am sorry, Sadira," he groaned. "There is a black mood upon me tonight, and I can't seem to rid myself of it."

  "I will listen if you choose to speak, Marcus. Where were you before you came to me?"

  "I had dinner at the palace," was the answer.

  "The gods! No wonder you're in a bad mood. Having to sit through a state dinner would make anyone out of sorts. Was that old bitch, Al-Zena, there? How her nose must have been put out of joint by the prince's marriage to that lovely little Bedawi. Our new princess has a way of holding her head that leads me to believe the prince's mother will not rule Zenobia of Palmyra." Sadira chuckled. "How very much in love those two are, and they make no attempt to hide their passion for each other." Her eyes grew mellow, and then amorous. "Come, my big and passionate Roman. Let Sadira take your evil humor and turn it into one of joy."

  She pulled his head down and kissed him with superb skill. Marcus let her believe she was succeeding, but his mind had already fled back to contemplate Zenobia, Zenobia and her husband whose passion for each other could not be a secret thing.

  * * *

  No one in Palmyra was particularly surprised when their beautiful princess began to thicken about the waist and formal and official announcement was made that an heir to the desert throne was expected. A year and a day exactly after his parents' marriage, a son, to be named Vaballathus, was born to Palmyra's princess. A brother, Demetrius, followed but fifteen months later.

  The government in Rome had been wracked with internal strife for several years; there was no real imperial family left. Soldier-emperor after soldier-emperor rose with the support of one faction of the army, only to fall when another faction raised its own choice.

  The current emperor, Valerian, had been called by his troops from Raetia in Gaul. He had marched on Rome, taken the government in hand, and given it the first stability it had known in many years. He made his twenty-one-year-old son, already a tough, battle-hardened general, his co-emperor. Valerian had said it plainly. He might be a man in his sixties, but if he was assassinated as were some of his predecessors, his son, Gallienus, would not only avenge him, but take over.

  The emperor then turned an eye to see where he had honest allies. To the east in the city of Palmyra, he noted, the young prince, Odenathus, was well thought of by the Roman governor, Antonius Porcius Blandus. The prince had been given command of the legion in Palmyra, and had been successfully holding the Persians at bay. He had a wife and two young sons, both possible hostages in the event he should prove difficult at a later date.

  Now the Roman governor had made application for retirement, and as he had served fifteen years in Palmyra, it was a request that could not be denied. The governor suggested that no new Roman be sent out to the city, but rather that Odenathus be made king, a client king of the empire. His loyalty was certainly unquestioned, and it seemed to Valerian a perfect solution. How could he clean up matters here in Rome if he had to worry about the eastern provinces? The order went out. Odenathus Septimus was to be King of Palmyra.

  The city went wild at the news, and the celebration that followed lasted nine days before the populace fell into a drunken stupor that lasted another two days. In the palace Al-Zena preened. "I am now Queen of Palmyra," she purred. "Queen!"

  "Zenobia is Queen," Deliciae said. "You are not Odenathus's wife. You are his mother."

  "If the girl is Queen why should I not be? Is she worthy? No! I am worthy. Have I not served this city all these years?"

  Deliciae laughed harshly. "You? You serve Palmyra? For almost thirty years you have done nothing but complain about Palmyra.The people hate you! Your name is a curse! The only thing you ever did for Palmyra was to birth a good king. In the three years since Odenathus married Zenobia she has produced two healthy sons for the dynasty, and worked unceasingly for the good of the city. Everyone loves her."

  "Does that include the Roman, Marcus Alexander Britainus?" Al-Zena asked slyly. "Why is he always here, and alone with her?"

  "By the gods you are a wicked woman, Al-Zena! You know very well that the Roman comes but twice a week, and that Zenobia is never alone with him. She learns from him about the world outside of Palmyra."

  "And this makes her fit to be queen of this desert dung heap? Bah! It is an excuse to be with her lover."

  "Oh, you are an evil creature," Deliciae cried. "Your son and his wife love each other deeply. Your nasty tongue will never part them, Al-Zena. Beware lest you become your own victim."

  "What a stupid creature you are, Deliciae," the older woman said, her voice dripping with scorn. "How many Bedawi shepherds do you suppose mounted Zenobia before her marriage to my son? Even her brothers, especially the eldest, Akbar who dotes on her so, did not deny themselves, I'll wager. Those savages do not think of incest as a sin."

  "Zenobia was a virgin, and you know it! You saw the bloody bedclothes the morning after their wedding night, as did I. I well remember your torturing me with the fact that she was purity to my filth, as you so charmingly put it, Al-Zena."

  "What will happen to your sons, Deliciae, when Zenobia's eldest becomes King of Palmyra? Think on it, you little fool!"

  "My sons will serve the family as they are being taught to serve it. A king's mantle is a heavy burden, and it is one I would prefer be left to another, to the rightful heir, Vaballathus."

  "Sluttish idiot!" was Al-Zena's parting remark as the two women went their separate ways.

  Al-Zena's attitude toward her daughter-in-law was not particularly improved on hearing that she, the King's mother, was to be created princess dowager, a title thought of by Zenobia. "As my wife has so carefully pointed out, Mother," Odenathus explained, "you cannot be known as Princess of Palmyra, for if we should have a daughter that would be her rightful title."

  "Then why was I not created the dowager queen?" Al-Zena demanded furiously.

  "There can only be one Queen of Palmyra," said Zenobia quietly. "Throughout the ages there has been much trouble when a kingdom had an old queen and a young queen."

  "I am most certainly not old!" snapped Al-Zena, outraged more by the word old than anything else.

  "There can be only one queen," Zenobia repeated, and her gray eyes, their golden lights dancing, met the furious black-eyed gaze of her mother-in-law.

  "How dare your Al-Zena hissed venomously. "You! A little desert savage! How dare you attempt to lord it over me. I was a princess born! I am royal by birth not marriage. Do you think a few mumbled words by a priest of Jupiter can make you royal!?"

  "You have accepted your royalty as a right," Zenobi
a shot back. "You believe that having been bom royal is merely enough; but I tell you, Al-Zena, it is not! Being royal bears with it many and great responsibilities. When have you ever thought of anything except yourself? Have you ever thought of your people? Worried about their welfare not just today, but in the years to come when you shall not be here, and someone else reigns in your stead? Being royal means knowing the world about us so we may best judge this city's course so our people will always, even in the centuries to come, be prosperous and happy. They are not responsibilities lightly taken, but I gladly help my lord husband, Odenathus, to carry his burden!"

  "And you approve of this?" Al-Zena's voice was almost a shriek. "You approve of this mannish attitude on the part of your wife?"

  "She is exactly the kind of woman Father would have chosen for me," came the devastating reply.

  "And what am I?" Al-Zena was outraged.

  The young king smiled. "Why, you are what you have always been. You are a supreme bitch." There was a furious gasp from the older woman, but Odenathus put a friendly arm about his mother and continued with his speech. "Do not be offended, Mother. I actually admire you, for in a strange way you are admirable. You took your position those many years ago when you came to Palmyra, and you have never deviated from it. Such strength of will is to be commended." He gave her a gentle hug. "Be content, Mother, with your lot. You have little to complain of, for all of your wants are most generously met."

  "You have made her your enemy," Zenobia later told her husband.

  "She was never my friend," was his reply.

  "She is your mother, and although you have never been allowed to feel any love for her-although you were never close as a mother and a son should be-in her own strange way she has been proud of you and she has loved you. You were cruel, my Hawk, and that is not like you. You hurt her, and Al-Zena's memory for an offense, real or imagined, is a long one."

  "Why do you defend her, my flower? She has never been your friend. She undermines you at every opportunity she gets."

  "She cannot hurt me while you love and trust me, Hawk. And I shall never give you cause not to love or trust me. We are as one."

  "Perhaps it would be better if you discontinued your lessons for the time being."

  "Are you jealous?" she teased him, then grew serious. "Oh, Hawk, he knows so much. He has taught me philosophy, poetry, history, and Western music and art. I am learning how the Roman Empire grew, and that has already taught me that power, especially the vast power that the Romans have gained, is dangerous, for it corrupts completely.

  "Marcus says that from the time the Roman Empire began its eventual destruction was inevitable. They are weak now, my Hawk. Marcus tells me that the emperor is far too busy persecuting the Christians to care about the Eastern empire. That is why he made you king, my Hawk! Be a king, and throw off the golden shackles with which Rome binds us!"

  "No, Zenobia. If we revolt, the Emperor Valerian will be here in the twinkling of an eye. We will be free one day, but now is not the time. Besides, the Persians have become bold again. I cannot fight Rome face to face while I have another enemy at my back."

  "The Persians will never be Rome's allies," Zenobia replied scornfully.

  "No, you are right, but if I leave Palmyra to fight the Romans, how long do you think it would be before King Shapur and his armies would march into Palmyra. They have always coveted this city and its riches. I will not destroy Vaballathus's inheritance."

  "What kind of inheritance is it when it can be taken away? The Romans made you king, they can just as easily unmake you."

  "No. They need me, and it is little enough that they call me king in order to gain my aid. Wait and see, my flower. One day we will ihrow off the yoke that has bound us all these years; but first I must remove the Persian threat from my rear flank. The Romans do me a favor, Zenobia. They have given me the troops with which to deal with King Shapur."

  "And while you do battle with King Shapur, I will hold the city for you, my Hawk. My mounted camel corps and my mounted archers will hold back any attacker," she promised.

  He swept her into his arms, and with one swift motion loosed her long black hair. It swirled about them like a storm cloud, and his mouth met hers in a long and burning kiss. Zenobia felt herself melt body and soul into him, but at the same time she was filled with great strength. She slipped her arms about his neck, and when he freed her lips she looked adoringly up at him. "Oh, Zenobia, you are a wife to be proud of, my darling!"

  "Was I not blest by Mars at my birth?" she replied.

  ***

  The retired governor Antonius Porcius Blandus, who had so often threatened to retire to Antioch or Damascus, remained in Palmyra upon his release from the imperial civil service.

  "And where would I go?" he had demanded irritably when Zenobia teased him about it. "I have grown old in Rome's service, and I have spent most of my life here in the East. I could not stand Italy's climate any longer. Did you know that it can sometimes snow in the imperial city? Bah! Why do I bother to tell you that? You know nothing of snow! Besides, all the family that I knew is gone. Oh, I have an older brother who writes me every year to tell me of the family, but it means little to me. Perhaps now that I have retired I shall marry. I never before had time for a wife."

  "Indeed, Antonius Porcius, you must marry," Zenobia said. "I can recommend the state of matrimony quite highly." She fully expected him to choose some proper widow who would provide him with an instant family in his old age. Instead, to her great surprise, the former governor's choice was Zenobia's childhood friend, Julia Tullio, who at nineteen was still unwed. The young queen was shocked.

  "You do not have to marry that old man if you do not want to, Julia! How could your family allow such a thing? He is older than your father!"

  "As a matter of fact he is five years younger than my father," came the amused reply. "Dearest Zenobia, I want to marry Antonius. I have known him all my life, and I care for him. I am honored he has chosen me."

  "But you do not love him!" Zenobia protested.

  "You did not love King Odenathus when you married him- and do not shake your head at me, for you didn't! You have fallen in love with him since your marriage, and now you cannot remember a time when you didn't love him. Zenobia, be sensible. I am almost twenty, and I very much want to be a wife and a mother. Antonius is a kind and good man. He is tender and generous, and we have much in common; in fact I have more in common with him than with any young man I have ever met. Besides, a husband should be older than his wife. Is not the king older than you by some years?"

  "Only ten," was the reply. "Oh, Julia, isn't there some younger man you would prefer? What of Marcus Alexander Britainus? He is much younger than Antonius Porcius."

  "Marcus Alexander?" Julia shuddered delicately, then looked searchingly at Zenobia. "His heart is occupied, and besides, he terrifies me."

  "His heart is occupied elsewhere? Oh, Julia, do tell! I have heard no gossip of it. Who is she?"

  So she doesn't know, Julia thought. Am I the only one who sees that he loves her? Then she said, "It is not a woman, Zenobia, but his business that is his wife, his mistress, his everything."

  "Oh." To her puzzlement, Zenobia found herself rather relieved that Marcus Alexander had no lover.

  Julia smiled. "Do not fret yourself, Zenobia. I am not being forced into this marriage."

  "I still believe that you could do better," Zenobia said.

  Now Julia laughed. "No, I could not." She paused for a moment as if debating with herself, then she said, "Most important of all, my dearest friend… I shall be loved."

  "Loved?" Zenobia looked puzzled.

  "Yes, loved. Only when I accepted his proposal did Antonius admit that he loved me. He said he had loved me since I was a child, but that he dared not speak until he was sure that my heart was not engaged elsewhere, for he did fret in his mind over the vast difference in our ages."

  "But what of children, Julia? Will you be able to have them?" />
  "It will be as the gods allow," came the reply.

  "No, no! I mean-well, do you think he can?"

  "Can what?" Then Julia's face grew pink. "Oh!" she said.

  "Can he?" Zenobia repeated.

  "I expect so," Julia said slowly. "My father still does, and for that matter so does your father. Age, I have been told, is no deterrent."

  "Deterrent to what?" Marcus Alexander Britainus entered the room.

  The two women giggled, and Zenobia, catching her breath, said, "Nothing that should concern you, Marcus, but come and wish Julia good fortune, for she is to be married."

  "Indeed?" He came forward, and smilingly planted a kiss upon Julia's blushing cheek. "And who is the fortunate man if I may ask?"

  "It is I who am fortunate, Marcus Alexander. I am to wed with Antonius Porcius."

  "I will not be corrected in this, Julia Tullio. It is Antonius Porcius who is the lucky one," Marcus said firmly. "May the gods smile upon you both, and I hope that I am to be invited to the wedding."

  Julia colored prettily again, and said breathlessly, "But of course you are to be invited, Marcus Alexander." She then turned to Zenobia. "I must go now. I have already stayed overlong, and I only came to tell you my news." She rose, as did Zenobia, and the two women embraced before Julia hurried out the door.

  Zenobia watched her go, and then, turning back to Marcus, said, "I pray the gods she will be happy. He is so much older than she is, and if they have children she will spend all her time nursing her babes and her elderly husband."

  "You do not think that a husband should be older than his wife, Highness?"

  "Older, yes, but not thirty-two years older! Julia's father is his contemporary."

  "And how does Julia feel?"

  "She says he loves her, and that she cares for him."

  "Then you should not worry, Highness."

  Suddenly the door opened, and Deliciae hurried in, followed by Bab. "Al-Zena is coming," Deliciae said, "and she has the king with her. She wants to make trouble between you, and has told him that you are alone with Marcus Alexander."