Beloved

by Bertrice Small

  Little wildcat," he whispered, "I love you."

  "I love you," she whispered back, and then Zenobia gave herself over to the storm of passion that built quickly within her, sending her moaning and thrashing against him as her desire peaked over and over again. Still he would not give her release, and when she roundly cursed him in her childhood Bedawi dialect he laughed aloud, but continued the pleasure-pain until he knew from her mewlings and whimperings that she would bear no more. Only then did he tumble with her into that dark abyss of passion, already longing to possess her again.

  With the saucer lamp flickering low, and the chill of the little, damp cave licking at their naked flesh, the lovers did not stay long that night. They now desired only one thing: to pledge themselves quickly in matrimony before witnesses. Neither would feel safe until that sacred promise had been made to the other. Alone each was helpless, together they were invincible.

  Silently, hurriedly, they dressed and left the cave, walking swiftly back down the pebbled beach and up the cliff staircase. Although they had been gone less than an hour, night had fallen, and had it not been for the quarter moon they would have had a hard time finding their way. Dagian dozed, her head nodding against her chest as she sat waiting on the marble bench. Gently Marcus kissed her, and she awoke with a small start.

  Before she could speak he said, "Zenobia and I intend to marry tonight, Mother. Will you go to her house, and bring old Bab and Adria here to us? We will pledge ourselves here beneath the night sky for all the gods to see. Let Diana, the goddess of the moon, and the hunt, be our chief witness."

  If Aurelian learns of this…" Dagian said quietly, but Zenobia cut her short.

  "Tonight we have learned that there is no life for us apart. We should rather face the emperor's wrath than ever be separated again, Dagian."

  "Besides, Mother, he is not going to know. Trust me, for this time I have a foolproof plan."

  Dagian could see that there was no reasoning with either of them. The light of their shared love shone in both their eyes, and she realized that further argument would be useless. Obedient to her son's wishes, she rose from her marble bench and hurried off to Zenobia's villa to fetch the queen's two faithful servants. When she was well out of earshot Zenobia turned to her beloved, and said softly, "I cannot tell Aurelian that I am with child, Marcus. Not when he first returns, at least. He is no fool for all his passion for me. If I say I am to bear his child, he will call in a physician to examine me. He will want to be assured that both the child and I are in good health; he will want to know the birthdate; he will want reassurance. Whether I am your wife, or not, I will have to play his whore a little time longer. If you love me, and value our safety, then you must live with that knowledge. Can you? Perhaps you would prefer that we wait until we can escape to Britain." Her gray eyes looked searchingly at him. 'Tell me true, my darling."

  For a moment Marcus looked unhappy. The mere thought of Aurelian touching Zenobia infuriated him, yet he knew she was right. If she claimed to be with child, an excited and happy emperor would demand not only proof of her condition, but more dangerous knowledge as well. Still, he did not want to wait. Even knowing that she must bed again with the emperor, Marcus wanted Zenobia for his wife-now, tonight. What she did with Aurelian would mean nothing to her, and in the years to come the memory would fade from both their minds. What she did she did for love of him, for their future together, for their descendants. "I love you," he said quietly. "I do not choose to wait." Then he took her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. "You have always been my wife, beloved."

  She brushed the sudden tears from her cheeks. "I think that perhaps the gods have not deserted me after all. Mayhap they were merely testing me, for this night I have found the kind of happiness that is rarely granted to any mortal."

  “Are you not Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra?" he said. "Are you not beloved of the gods, of your people, and of me?"

  "Oh yes," she whispered breathily at him. "Yes, my darling, darling Marcus!" And she clung hungrily to him, looking up at him with the shining light of her love, transforming her whole being until she seemed almost luminous.

  He stared down at her transfixed, totally unaware that his own love shone as brightly, infusing her with such warmth and well-being that for the first time in months she felt safe, no longer afraid. She had lived with fear these many months, although never once had she dared admit it, even to herself. Now, like a ship escaped from a terrible tempest, she was in a safe harbor.

  At a noise on the path they broke apart. Into view came Dagian, Bab, and Adria.

  Zenobia's elderly servant looked at Marcus with a sharp eye. "So, Marcus Alexander Britainus, you are finally come back to us."

  "Yes, Bab, and tonight I shall claim my own."

  "It is good," the old woman nodded.

  "The slaves?" Zenobia queried her servants.

  "All in their quarters, and sleeping," Adria assured her mistress.

  "Very well, then," the queen said, and she turned to Marcus. "Shall we begin, my darling?"

  "Yes, beloved."

  So in the green, sweet-smelling garden, its flowers lightly touched by the silver glow of the quarter moon, Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra, turned to her lover, Marcus Alexander Britainus, and said in a low but clear voice, "When and where you are Gaius, I then and there am Gaia." It was that simple. They were now man and wife, and he took her once more into his arms to kiss her as Dagian and Adria wiped the tears from their faces and old Bab gave a little hiccough of a sob, and then said, "It has taken you two long enough. I thought never to live long enough to see you both wed. Now may I die in peace."

  "You are not going to die yet," Marcus chuckled.

  "No, I am not," the old lady cackled, "else who will teach your son manners!"

  "And keep me in my place?" he teased her.

  "My children," Dagian said, "we must separate now. None of us must allow the least suspicion to fall on Zenobia and Marcus."

  Adria and Bab nodded, and began to make their way back to the villa, while Dagian walked in the opposite direction toward her own house. The newly married pair stood hand in hand for a few minutes, talking quietly to reassure each other that they were indeed man and wife.

  "Once you said you would not marry me except that it be in the bright light of day, before all; and that I should escort you with much pomp to our new home. Alas, at the moment I have no new home to escort you to, beloved."

  "How foolish I was," she answered him.

  "I should have insisted, especially when I knew I had to return to Rome. I should not have left you so unprotected, Zenobia. I will never again leave you, my darling! Go now and dream of me, beloved." He kissed her gently once more, and then stood watching as she obediently turned and hurried back to her own villa. She would not always, he thought, somewhat amused, be that obedient.

  Walking back through the garden, Zenobia's heart soared with happiness. She was his wife now, and nothing would ever part them again. She had once warned Aurelian that in the end she would win the battle between them, and now she almost had. It mattered not to her that he would not know, at least not yet. What mattered most was that she and Marcus were finally united, united now and forever; and nothing, not even death, would ever divide them again!

  Part Four

  The Woman

  14

  Aurelian arrived home victorious from Gaul, and a small triumph was held, this time with the unfortunate Tetricus walking behind the emperor's chariot. In that chariot, Zenobia the captive Queen of Palmyra rode, again with her golden chains fastened to Aurelian's massive iron belt. This time, however, she was garbed in royal purple and gold garments, the Palmyran crown upon her head. Rome's emperor was making a strong point with the people; a point that they did not for all their grumbling miss. He was Caesar! His generals were not as easily impressed, for Aurelian had become more imperious as each day passed, and was beginning to believe his own legend.

  The queen had been summoned fro
m Tivoli to take part in this latest triumph, and afterward she was escorted to Aurelian's residence on the Palatine Hill. There had been little opportunity for them to speak even though they had shared the same chariot in the procession. She had faintly protested being sent to his palace, but he had quickly overruled her with a wave of his hand. "You will obey me, goddess! Must I again teach you the folly of disobedience?"

  "As you will, Roman," she said scornfully, and he laughed.

  "I see you have lost none of your spice, goddess. Good! I shall look forward to a long night of playful bedsport with you!"

  Zenobia quickly turned away lest he see her repulsion. The moment of truth had finally come for her. She would have to enter into his games with gusto, for when he had left to go to Gaul she had been his willing mistress; now he would expect her to eagerly welcome his advances, having been bereft of him these last months. If she suffered she knew that Marcus suffered too, and whatever happened she would for his sake play the role of the emperor's whore. Just a little while longer, she reassured herself, and I will be free. I will have won!

  She was escorted to the royal residence by some half-dozen Praetorian guards, and upon entering it she demanded of the haughty majordomo to be taken to the empress. Ulpia Severina yet lived, and for that small blessing Zenobia thanked the gods. Aurelian would never divorce his wife, and so as long as she lived Palmyra's queen was safe.

  The empress lay upon her couch obviously quite ill, but when she saw Zenobia she attempted to rouse herself, smiling a sweet smile. "My dear," her weak voice was warm with welcome, "how kind of you to come visit me. I understand that you keep to your villa at Tivoli."

  "I do, Majesty. Rome is too busy to suit me. Nevertheless I must beg your hospitality this night."

  "But of course you may stay here," Ulpia Severina said, and Zenobia gratefully acknowledged the empress's consent.

  Zenobia was then taken to a suite of rooms where a group of busy slaves awaited her. The chief of these women immediately pressed upon her a goblet of dark red wine, insisting that she drink it down. "It will give you strength, Majesty," the woman wheedled, "and it is the emperor's orders."

  Zenobia took the goblet, ready to protest; but the wine, though heavy in appearance, was strangely light and fruity; and the queen was thirsty after the triumph. She quickly drained the goblet, and the slave woman smiled broadly with approval. "Now, Majesty, the bath awaits you," she said, and hurried Zenobia through tall double doors into the baths. There she was scraped, steamed, soaped, rinsed, and scraped again. A final rinse, and she was led to the massage table and made comfortable. A second goblet of wine was offered her. She was hot from the bath, and suddenly thirsty again, and so she again drained the container, the cool liquid slipping easily down her throat.

  She stretched out upon the cool marble slab, and at once the slaves about her began to massage her body with a faintly scented pale-green lotion. They worked gently for some minutes as Zenobia grew sleepy with the wine and their ministrations. Then they were turning her over onto her back, massaging her breasts and her belly. She protested faindy, but suddenly all strengdi was gone from her limbs. She slipped into a half-conscious state, dimly realizing that she had been drugged and wondering why.

  Everything became shadowy even though she was quite sure her eyes were open. She was being carried, and yet her body felt weightless, as if she were floating. The dimness began to ease, and once more she could see quite clearly. Zenobia was shocked to find she was in some sort of a temple, and bound by delicate golden chains to a marble altar atop a flight of steps. At each comer of the altar was set a huge standing lamp in the shape of a gold phallus, burning a heavily musk-scented oil, the red-gold flames leaping gently in the coolish night air, swirling about in their carved golden pans. From some hidden place the music of drum and reeds echoed forth.

  Zenobia turned her head slightly, and was horrified to see that the altar was set in the very center of a small circular arena, and upon the steps of that arena were men and women, all nude. They were chatting amiably, quite oblivious to their nudity, not the least bit concerned, at least for the moment, with Zenobia. Their lack of interest gave her a chance to inspect her surroundings further. The temple was very simple in design, and obviously within the palace. The only decoration of any kind was a huge sun of pure beaten gold, its giant rays streaked with diamonds and rubies, that hung suspended over the altar.

  Aurelian! His name rocketed through her brain with the memory of something he had once said to her. This had to be his doing, and his temple. A temple to the Unconquerable Sun! She was in a temple dedicated to the Unconquerable Sun, Aurelian's pet cult. He had on several occasions spoken to her of his cult, but she had ignored it, not being particularly interested. She still did not understand what it was he was up to, but she imagined she would soon know.

  A short but clear trumpet note cut the air, and a deep, stentorian voice called, "Children of the Sun! The time draws near when the incarnation of the great and Unconquerable Sun god upon the earth will come among you to mate with she who is love. Harken, for the sacrifices are about to begin!"

  At the instant the voice ceased, powerful and sultry drums began to beat with a sensuous rhythm and a dozen dancers, six males and six females, ran out upon the floor below the altar. The blond women-they were all really girls no more than thirteen or fourteen, Zenobia guessed-were exquisitely and perfecdy formed. The men-probably about eighteen-were equally beautiful, also fair-haired, and light-eyed. They were all-both male and female-gilded with beaten gold except for a single stripe of bare skin running up their spines; and they danced the most sensual and wanton dance Zenobia had ever seen; pantomiming the sex act in graphic abandon.

  Suddenly one of the maidens broke from the others and fled partway up the steps. At once a young man, his sex rampant, leapt after her. For a moment they sparred upon the marble stairs, and then the man threw the girl down, flung himself atop her, and drove himself into her. There was a pitiful shriek, and the crowd moaned as one as the man withdrew from his victim, turning to face them, his penis bloody with the girl's virginity. "Ahh!" the spectators murmured, leaning forward, eyes glazed with their own lust, mouths open with pleasure, tongues quickly licking lips in undisguised pleasure. The male dancer turned back to the helpless girl, and pushing back into her continued to take his own pleasure as one by one the other gilded men caught and attacked the lovely gilded girls. Cries rent the air as each maiden parted publicly with her innocence to the frantic beat of the drums, while slightly above them the worshipers of the Unconquerable Sun avidly watched, the men now beginning to fondle themselves, nearby women, and in some cases even other men.

  Zenobia was horrified by it all, terrified by the thought of whatever might be planned for her, and yet strangely inflamed within her own body. It was madness of the worst sort. Then as suddenly as the dancers had appeared they were gone, the men carrying the weeping women all in their arms. The stentorian voice again spoke.

  "What greater sacrifice can a woman make than to offer herself and her innocence to the god? Now he who is the Sun incarnate on earth will mate with she who is love incarnate on earth. This night it is foretold that together they will create a son, a son who will rule the world in the name of the Unconquerable Sun!"

  She was to be taken publicly! Zenobia struggled against the seemingly delicate golden chains, but they held firm. Then into her view came Aurelian. She recognized him by a scar upon his thigh, for he wore a carved golden mask. He stood tall, acknowledging the cries of homage that came from the frenzied worshipers. Several women broke from among the spectators and, running down the seat-steps, flung themselves at his feet. They unbound their hair and, writhing about Aurelian, began to rise up, some standing to caress and kiss him, one kneeling and taking his sex into her mouth to stimulate him, others remaining at his feet, licking and stroking at his legs. It was the worst kind of hysteria, Zenobia thought, and yet, to her own disgust she was aroused by it all. While the wome
n worshiped him, Aurelian remained perfectly still until finally their attentions had the desired effect. Gently kicking them aside and pushing them away, he stood before Zenobia. With a swift motion he removed the golden mask, and dte finally saw his face, mocking, the eyes glazed with lust and drugs.

  The altar upon which she was bound was shaped like an M, and her body had been placed so that her long legs were fastened on either side of the altar's top, a space between them. Now Aurelian stepped into that space and, kneeling, leaned forward to touch her with his tongue. Dear Venus! He couldn't do that to her here! Not in front of all of those leering people!

  "See!" the disembodied voice cried. "See how he worships at the very shrine of love!"

  The emperor's tongue stroked her flesh, sending small shivers of fire through her. No! she shrieked silently, for she could not seem to say it aloud. All she was able to do was moan with helpless desire as he probed her delicately, moving slowly, never hurrying her up the path of pleasure but prolonging the torture until finally a long wail escaped her straining throat, and the crowd began to chant: "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

  Aurelian lifted his head from between her legs and, looking at her, smiled a triumphant smile. Without a word he mounted her, and slowly, very slowly, pushed himself into her; withdrawing as slowly; entering again, withdrawing again, in an unbearable rhythm that would shortly drive her to madness if he didn't satisfy her. "Please!" she managed to moan through now dry lips, hating herself even as she whimpered the word.

  "Please what, goddess?"

  "Please!" Her eyes pleaded with him.

  "Say the word, goddess. Say it, and I will make it good!"

  "No!"

  He laughed at her defiance, withdrew his lance from her and laid it, wet and throbbing, upon the sweet mound of her belly. "I am filled with special drugs and aphrodisiacs, goddess. When I have finished with you I will take a dozen women before I am satisfied this night. I can wait. Can you?" He punctuated his question by rubbing his organ against her in a provocative manner.