When she came to herself once more he was looking at her with a bemused expression. "Did all of this come about simply because I questioned your prowess with a broadsword?" he asked.
Weakened by his loving, she could only manage a soft chuckle. Unable to resist, he bent and tenderly covered her face with kisses. "I adore you, my Queen," he said quietly. "I adore you, beloved!"
"Then I have won this victory myself, Marcus," and her voice held a teasingly triumphant note.
He laughed then. He couldn't help it, for she had so very neatly outmaneuvered him. "You have won the victory fairly, beloved," he admitted.
There came a discreet knocking at the library door, and Marcus rose from the couch, snatching up his long tunic, sliding it over his big frame, reaffixing his toga. He looked to Zenobia who had as quickly redressed in her graceful long, white stola with its wide belt of gold squares studded with turquoise-blue chunks of Persian lapis. She nodded, and he said, "Enter!"
Cassius Longinus returned to the room, saying, "I assume you have reconciled your differences now, my children. It seemed to me when I was forced to hurriedly depart that you were well on your way to doing so."
They both laughed, and Zenobia replied, "We have indeed reconciled our differences, Longinus, and I have easily won the victory."
"Indeed the queen is invincible," the smiling Marcus agreed, and it seemed as if his words were prophetic of the months to come.
***
Palmyra's legions moved across Syria, subduing all rebellion in the name of the Roman Empire. Asia Minor was firmly cowed, and only then did Zenobia return to her oasis city.
There she found that in her absence her son, the boy king, had grown into a young man. He was fully as tall as she was, and so closely resembled his father, Odenathus, that it almost hurt her to look at him.
"Is it that I have been away so long," she marveled, "or have you really become a man?"
"I have become a man," he answered her. Gone was the squeaky voice of change that had bid her farewell. Now his voice was deep and sure.
"He has your knack for government," Longinus said quietly. "He has begun to rule, and rule well."
"Only under your guidance, and that of Marius Gracchus," the sixteen-year-old king replied graciously.
"Strange," Zenobia mused. "I had thought that you would prefer the military, like your father."
"I have not yet had the chance, Mother. You and Marcus have led the armies these many months."
"You were too young to go," she protested.
"But I am no longer too young. I will take the armies into Egypt when they go this winter. Palmyra's kings have always been good generals."
"No," she said quietly.
"What? Do you love war so, Mother?"
"I can see now that only your body has grown, Vaba. Your mind is yet that of a child."
"I am the king, and I will lead the armies!"
"I am the queen, and you are not yet of age. Until you are, my word is supreme in Palmyra! There is danger all about you. I will do everything in my power to protect you until you have a son of your own."
"I will choose my wife," he said, and she knew in that instant that he already had. She invoked the gods that the girl be suitable.
"Who is she, my son?"
"You will approve, Mother. It is Flavia, the daughter of your friends, Antonius Porcius and his wife, Julia."
"Flavia Porcius? She is but a child, Vaba."
"She is almost thirteen, Mother. She has already begun her woman's flow."
"I don't want to know how you know that," Zenobia said, shocked, and behind her both Longinus and Marcus smiled. The young king might look like his father, but he was his mother's son in that he was determined to have his way.
"Nonetheless she is my choice for a wife, and I will wager even you could not choose a more suitable girl. She is Palmyran-born, of reputable family, and ready to bear children. More important to me, however, is the fact that she loves me and I love her."
"Then why do you want to rush off into battle?"
"I must prove myself worthy to rule Palmyra; to myself, to my people, and to Flavia. Until I do I am only your son, and that is simply not enough for me. I must be a man in my own right."
Zenobia turned away so he might not see her tears. Vaba was indeed becoming a man. Gently he put his arm about his mother. "You have given me the greatest gift any woman could give her child. You gave me time to grow, time to learn, time to play. But now the time has come for me to earn my place. All your life you have been so good, so loyal, so generous. Do you not want a life of your own? Do you not want to marry Marcus? You are yet young enough to have children, and I believe that like any man he wants a son."
She blushed at his words. He, her firstborn, her baby, was chiding her, but when she turned to give him a sharp reply she saw how earnest he was, and instead she said, "You are right. You shall lead our armies into Egypt this winter while I remain behind to rule this city in your stead."
It was going to be devastating, she thought. Both Vaba and Marcus, two of the three males she loved best in this world, away from her this winter; for of course Marcus was still commander of the legions, and would go to guide Vaba in military matters. Then suddenly she thought that it was not so terrible after all. Egypt would be easily subdued, and Vaba would have his first taste of battle. He would return to marry Flavia Porcius, then she, Zenobia, would be free to marry Marcus Britainus. Together they would guide the young king and his wife in their rule of the Eastern Empire. Zenobia smiled. When Vaba's first child was born she would declare her son Augustus, supreme ruler of the Eastern Empire. With all the lands from Egypt to Asia Minor under their rule, who would dare to dispute them? Certainly not Rome, weakening Rome with its succession of soldier-emperors, and its north-em and western borders constantly challenged by barbarian tribesmen.
Later she sighed within the comfort of Marcus's arms. "Soon we shall be able to marry. Make this Egyptian campaign a quick one, my darling!"
"Do I not always do my best to oblige you, beloved?" he teased her, his hot mouth finding a ready nipple. Slowly he sucked on her sweet flesh, taunting her with his tongue while his fingers moved to torture her in yet another sensitive spot. They loved almost without ceasing in that short period between military campaigns. Zenobia allowed her son and the Council of Ten almost complete freedom while she and Marcus locked themselves within the love chamber she had created for them. They could not be sated in their consuming desire for each other.
***
Less than a month before Palmyra's legions were due to depart, a trusted household slave of the Alexander family arrived from Rome, bearing tidings from Marcus's mother. The slave had been admitted into the queen's private apartment, and stood staring in amazement at the colorful, rather explicit frescoes that adorned the walls. Watching him, Zenobia thought that the Alexander household in Rome was sure to get quite a report.
"Is every all right?" she asked Marcus.
"No." He paused in his reading. "My fattier is ill, beloved. He is seriously ill, possibly dying. My mother has sent to Britain for my younger brother, Aulus, to come home." He turned to the slave. "How long ago did you leave Rome, Leo?"
"This is the fiftieth day, Marcus Britainus, since my departure."
"It's thirty-three days to Britain. My brother is halfway to Rome already. Zenobia…"
"I will lead the legions, Marcus. You must answer your mother's plea. If the worst is to happen I could not live with myself knowing that I had kept you from your father in the hour of his death. Go back to Rome, and then come home to Palmyra, and to me."
"You will be able to manage?"
She smiled at him, a slightly wry smile. "I can manage, my darling, although I am not sure I should admit to that. Nor would I, but I don't want you to worry. Perhaps it is better that I take my son, the king, and teach him the art of war. Do not fear for us, Marcus. Longinus shall remain here with Demetrius. The succession is safe. Go to Rome."
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"Leo and I will start at dawn for Tripoli. There will be a ship sailing for Brindisi."
"Do not take just any vessel, Marcus," she pleaded with him.
His blue eyes drove into her very soul. "I am coming back to you, I promise, beloved."
"I cannot survive without you, Marcus!"
He laughed gently. "Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, I do not believe that for a moment." He wrapped his arms about her, and felt her trembling against him. Small tears mattered her black eyelashes, tears she fought to hold back. Tenderly he tasted of her mouth, kissing at the corners of it, nibbling at her upper lip affectionately. "Oh, queen of my heart, do not make my going any harder. How I wish that Vaba ruled in his own right, and that you were naught but my wife and might go with me!" He sighed, and then said quietly, "I will take Leo to my house. Severus must be informed so that he may assume the responsibilities that are mine while I am gone."
"You will return to me tonight?" She brushed a tear that had dared to slip down her cheek.
"Yes."
When he was gone, taking the slave, Leo, with him, she sat squarely in the middle of the sleeping platform, legs crossed, very much like the child she had once been. It would be the first time that they had been separated. Thank the gods for the winter campaign against Egypt. She needed it to keep herself occupied. Rome was so far away, across a vast sea that she hadn't ever seen. There was a finality about Marcus's trip that frightened her, and set her imagination to playing tricks on her. Would he return to her if his father died? He would then be the head of his family, and it was not a responsibility he could pass on to his younger brother. Aulus, after all, had a life in Britain, and lands that needed his management there.
By the time Marcus returned to the palace that evening Zenobia was a bundle of nerves. He had never seen her that way. For that matter in her entire life she had never behaved that way. She picked at her food, but so did he even though she had ordered that his favorite dishes be prepared.
"I don't like leaving you, beloved," he said. "I wish you could come with me. I am beginning to see disadvantages in loving a queen."
"Then I shall come with you! Oh, Marcus, yes! I will come with you! I know it will shock your family, but I do not care if I may be with you!"
"No, it is impossible, Zenobia. You cannot come. If you come then you must send Vaba into Egypt alone. Without your tactical skill he is sure to lose."
"If your father dies you will not be able to return to Palmyra," she said, admitting to what really concerned her.
"I will return to Palmyra, beloved. I promise you that, and never have I broken a promise to you."
"If you are head of your family, how can you leave them?"
"I can leave them to return to Palmyra to fetch my wife, for you are my wife, beloved. Zenobia, marry me before I go! Be my wife legally, before the gods."
"We would have to wed secretly, Marcus, and that I will not do as long as I am the reigning queen. You know it! We have spoken it before."
"As always, you put Palmyra before all else," he said, his voice a trifle bitter.
"And you!" she accused him. "Are you not putting your family before our love? You see your duty, and you do it. Why, then, is it so different when I do the same?" Suddenly she stood up from the table with its barely touched meal. "I will not quarrel with you, my darling. Not tonight; this is the last night we will have for so many months! Come!" She held out her hand to him. "Let us bathe, and then let us spend the hours we have left in making love to each other."
"I don't want to leave you," he said low. "Youknow it, beloved!"
"I know it, Marcus, but we are two people who have been trained to duty and loyalty. Return to Rome, and receive your father's final blessing. I will be waiting when you come home to Palmyra."
Together they walked across the room to remove their garments by the side of the pool. He stood watching as she descended the steps down into the tepid water, and felt himself grow warm with longing at the sight of her golden body moving languorously in the black marble pool. Her dark hair streamed out behind her, a feathery cloak. Turning, she swam back toward him, her gray eyes devouring his tall body. His long legs were to her like the marble columns that lined the portico of the ancient Temple of Baal, and she shivered in anticipation of feeling his hard thighs.
Already his shaft was straight and firm, thrusting from the dark forest of his groin. Their eyes locked, and he moved down into the pool, walking slowly toward her. Zenobia felt herself growing weak with desire as she floated, her limbs losing their will. His hands closed gently about her ankles, and he drew her forward, his sure grasp moving up her legs. She ached for him, a yearning clearly visible in her beautiful face, as he tenderly entered into her body, filling her with the fiery fullness she loved. He stood in the waist-deep water, his throbbing lance buried deep within her as she floated before him, her legs wrapped lighdy about his body, her marvelous hair billowing in the soft swell of the waters.
The fingers of both his hands began to rub the nipples of her breasts with delicate little touches. She shivered, and while he smiled a slow smile her eyes closed in rapture and small waves of pleasure began to lap over her. Her entire being was finely tuned to the pleasure of their lovemaking, and she almost screamed aloud her bliss as she felt him throbbing and growing within her. Yet he remained perfectly still but for his fingers, which continued to tease at her velvety nipples.
Finally she could bear no more of such exquisite torture, and her body began to shiver as the honied sweetness flowed from her, crowning the ruby head of his manhood. She heard his soft laughter. "Oh, beloved, you are as ever an impatient and greedy creature." Then he withdrew from her, gathered her up, and carried her from the pool.
"I hate it when you are so superior," she murmured as she stood on trembling legs that threatened to give way beneath her at any minute.
One strong arm locked about her slender waist, and with his other hand he carefully dried her off. "I am not superior, I am only delighted that I can give you such pleasure," he said as he toweled her long hair free of excess water.
"But I want you to be pleasured, too!" she protested.
"I am," he answered, "and even more so when I see the look on your face." He picked her up again, walked across the room, and gently deposited her upon the sleeping platform. Lying down next to her, he said, "In the lonely nights to come, beloved, I shall relive a thousand times each moment we have spent in this room; each night I have lain by your side and loved you. I have never loved anyone else, and I swear to you that I never shall." He took her into his arms then, and they kissed until they were breathless.
Now he was afire to possess her once again, but Zenobia squirmed away from his eager grasp. Turning her body, she moved downward, covering his flat and lightly furred torso with little kisses. Teasingly, she nipped at him with her sharp little teeth, and he groaned as the tip of his shaft tingled with her assault. A warm, soothing tongue followed, and then she took him in her mouth for a few moments while he fought to retain control of himself. Just when he thought he would lose the love battle between them, she moved again, mounting him and plunging downward to envelope him deep within her hot sheath.
Reaching up, he crushed her beautiful breasts within his big hands, aching with incredible pleasure. Through slitted sapphire eyes he watched her as she flung back her head in ecstasy, the delicate veins in her smooth throat standing out as the blood pumped visibly through them. She shuddered again in pure fulfillment, and it was then that he regained control, turning her over so that he now rode her.
Slowly he withdrew from her, chuckling at her soft cry of distress. Taking his shaft in his hand he softly rubbed it over her lower belly, and she moaned, seeking him with hot, eager little hands. "No, beloved," he murmured, bending to caress the inside of her ear with his tongue. "Do not be too eager, for there is time for us." His tongue followed the intricate path of her other ear, tickling it lightly for a moment.
Beneath him she writ
hed, her desire growing again with each touch, each caress. His hands moved with love over her trembling form as he committed to memory the line of her body; the feel of her satin skin; her wonderful breasts-those honeyed hills of softness that reminded him of the great mother goddess herself; her long, strong legs that could grip a man in passionate embrace as easily as the sides of the great gray stallion she rode; the marble smooth twin moons of her bottom. He adored her completely, worshiping at the shrine of her, his love, his very soul.
"Oh, my love," he murmured into the damp tangle of her hair, "I do not know if I can bear the separation from you!" His voice throbbed with emotion, and Zenobia could feel the unbidden tears begin to straggle down her cheeks.
"Make us one, my darling," she begged him. "I shall die if you do not," and she arched to receive him as he thrust vigorously into her aching body.
Over and over again he drove himself into her willing flesh; and Zenobia wept as much with the joy of his possession as she did from the knowledge that in the morning he would be gone. At last his passion peaked, and his seed rushed into the warm darkness of her womb as he collapsed upon her breasts. She wept silently as he shuddered with his own pleasure. How would she manage to exist without him? He was her very life. Oh, Mama, she thought, if this was how it was for you and my father then at last I can understand the love you bore each other.
For some minutes they lay locked in embrace, not speaking. He could hear her heart gradually growing quieter beneath his ear, and he knew that his own heartbeat was slowing. She was the most incredible woman, he thought, and he didn't intend spending any more time in Rome than he had to. If his father was truly ill to death-and his mother was not a woman to exaggerate-then he would have to accept his responsibilities as head of his family; but first he would return to Palmyra for Zenobia. Then it occurred to him that there was no reason he should have to remain in Rome. He didn't like Rome, and he never really had. His younger brother, Aulus, was settled in Britain; his two sisters, Lucia and Eusebia, lived with their husbands away from Rome-Lucia in the north outside of Ravenna, and Eusebia in the south at Naples. His mother would probably choose to return to Britain with Aulus. He would be free to live in Palmyra, to make it his home, their home. He shared his thought with her, and he could hear the joy in her voice when she answered him.
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