Beloved (36 page)

Marcus sipped at the wine, sinking deeper into depression until suddenly he realized that to give in even in the face of such incredible odds was totally out of character for him. Never in his life had he allowed self-pity to gain the upper hand. Never in all the years that he had yearned for Zenobia, then another man’s wife, had he ever given up hope. He would not give it up now!
Not even now!

Resolutely he stood up, feeling the wine in his head and swaying.

“You’re drunk,” came the petulant voice from the door.

“And you are fat, Carissa,” came the scathing reply. “Your uncle is correct. It coarsens you.” He moved to the door, and with surprisingly firm hands pushed her out of his study. “This room
is forbidden you, Carissa. If you are to have the run of the house, there must be one place where I may escape the sight and sound of you.”

“Once we get to Tivoli things will change,” she snarled at him.

“I don’t think so, my dear,” was the acerbic reply. “I will still be the head of this household whom you must obey.”

“I hate you!” she screamed at him.

“No more than I hate you, Carissa!” he laughingly replied. “No more than I hate you.”

Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, stood looking out upon the Mediterranean sea. She could not get enough of the sight, for she had discovered that it was very much like her desert; a constantly changing pattern of color and movement. It was close to sunset, and the sea was very still at the moment, a smooth and silken surface, wine-colored, reflecting back at her the palace from which she watched it. Above her a flock of pink flamingos whirled, their black underwings in stark contrast to their vividly colored upper bodies. She turned to watch the beautiful birds as they flew over the palace to settle down along the shores of Lake Mareotis, where they nested. All was quiet now, and she stood for some long minutes watching the beacon to the east harbor, the Pharos lighthouse. It was a view seen many times by her ancestress, Cleopatra.

Her gaze moved back to the sea, and she could feel her eyes straining as if by only looking hard enough she might see Rome across the water; see Rome—and her false lover, Marcus Alexander Britainus. There was still pain when she thought of him; but it was not as sharp today as it had been yesterday, nor would it be as sharp tomorrow as it was now. She had always believed she could not live without love, but now she knew that to be untrue. Hate was a magnificent substitute, and she had vowed privately that she would never love a mortal man ever again. Death had taken Odenathus from her, and now an emperor’s niece had taken Marcus.

Why? she wondered once more. Why had he married another woman when he had sworn to return to her? She could find no explanation. He had not even written to her.

“Are you all right, Majesty?” Cassius Longinus had come out on the long open portico.

“Yes, Longinus, I am fine,” she replied, but he could hear the sadness in her voice.

“There has to be a logical explanation,” he burst out, and she turned to look at him with haunted eyes.

“Why do you attempt to find excuses for him, Longinus? You never really approved, I know that. There is no explanation other than the fact that the Roman used me; but I have always learned from my mistakes, and I will never be used by any man again.”

He did not argue. But still, Longinus wondered. He believed that he knew the Roman very well, and this sudden marriage to Aurelian’s niece and his failure to communicate with Zenobia were totally out of character for Marcus Britainus.

“I intend declaring Vaba Augustus, and myself Queen of the East,” she said, and he was quickly jolted from his thoughts.

“You will bring Rome down on you, Majesty.”

“Rome is weak,” Zenobia said scornfully. “One general after another declares himself emperor, and the path to their empire’s throne is littered with the bodies of the assassinated. None can hold power for very long. The barbarian tribes to the west and the north of Italy are constantly encroaching upon the empire’s territory. Can Aurelian divert enough soldiers from Europe to make war on me? I do not think so, Longinus. Rome must face the fact that I now control the East, and I will not let it go! This I can do to insure Vaba’s future, and that of his sons and grandsons.”

“Is it for Vaba you do it, Majesty, or is it to revenge yourself on Marcus Alexander Britainus? Hate is a two-edged sword, Majesty. It can injure those who wield it as well as an enemy.”

“You worry too much, Longinus. Did not the augurs at my birth say I should be fortunate at war? And have I not been?”

“The augurs also said you would be fortunate in love, Majesty,” was the devastating reply.

“And so I have been!” she argued. “Was my Hawk not the most wonderful of husbands?”

“But he is dead, Majesty, and the man that you truly love with every fiber of your being has appeared to betray you. I do not consider that fortunate.” Longinus’s logic was a sharp knife cutting away at her confidence.

Zenobia tossed her head angrily and chose to ignore his remark. “I repeat, Longinus, you worry too much.”

Longinus bowed his head in acceptance of her will. “Will you make this announcement here in Alexandria, Majesty?”

“Yes,” was the reply. “By the time my announcement arrives to ruin Aurelian’s digestion, I shall be back in Palmyra.” She
laughed. “This could very well topple the latest of Rome’s military rulers, and who shall be next, and for how long?”

He wondered about her overconfidence, and he worried, yet all had gone well so far. The armies of Palmyra had passed easily and quickly through Syria and Palestine and across the Egyptian desert. They had crossed the Nile River Delta, attracting only curious glances from the peasants, and entered into Alexandria with no resistance. There, Zenobia’s uncles Paulus and Argus Simon had been busy spreading her doctrine of an Eastern Empire free of foreigners; free of Rome.

Alexandria, never treated well by the Romans, had responded to that message by welcoming Palmyra’s queen, and taking her as their own. After all, was she not the child of a daughter of this city? Was she not a descendant of the last great Ptolemaic queen, Cleopatra? By the gods, they would once again rise to the greatness that had been theirs before the Romans. The Romans! Since the days of Julius Caesar they had been bad luck for Alexandria.

The Ptolemaic pharaohs and their queens had made Alexandria the academic center of the ancient world. The great Alexandrian library and museum were world-famous. So were the many schools of rhetoric, medicine, mathematics, philosophy, art, literature, and poetry. In the beginning of Roman rule nothing had changed; but then it became intolerable and various segments of the population began to chafe. A revolt by the large Jewish population resulted in their annihilation and the destruction of the Jewish quarter, fully a third of the city. And with the Jews went Alexandria’s commercial prosperity.

It was now merely a beautiful ancient city whose schools and great library attracted scholars. There was a certain amount of commerce, but nothing to compare with its days of glory. The Alexandrians had little love for the Romans, whom they rightly blamed for their plight. The chance to strike back at them was irresistible, and Queen Zenobia of Palmyra appeared the very person for them to follow.

The pronouncement of King Vaballathus and his mother, Zenobia, was made from the main portico of Alexandria’s royal palace. Zenobia had sworn never again to wear Roman garments, and had taken to the opulent clothes that were a mixture of Egyptian, Persian, and Parthian.

Her dress that day was called a kalasiris, a long, sleeveless garment with a simple, round neck that was totally accordion-pleated to the ankle-length hem. Its color was a pale Nile green,
and the linen of the garment was so sheer that Zenobia’s flawless body could be seen through it. Her firm and full breasts thrust the fabric boldly out beneath the great jeweled collar of gold inlaid with emerald, lapis lazuli, turquoise, and amber. Upon her arms were beautifully carved gold armbands which were easily visible despite the floor-length cape that she wore. The cape was an incredible piece of workmanship, the lining cloth-of-gold, the exterior of male peacock feathers. It was fastened to her shoulders by means of hidden gold clasps attached to her collar. Upon her feet were simple gold sandals; her long black hair was entwined with lotus blossoms, and the beautiful gold fillet she wore was decorated in front by Egypt’s royal asp.

In contrast to his mother’s barbaric beauty, young Vaba was dressed quite simply. He wore the flowing white robes of his Bedawi heritage, but the hood of the garment was pushed back to reveal his strong, handsome face, the dark head topped with a magnificent gold crown. Standing next to his mother on the top steps of the portico, he listened with impassive face as Cassius Longinus, several steps down from them and dressed in an impressive white tunic, intoned in a loud, clear voice to the great mass of humanity who had crowded into the square before the palace.

“Behold, Egypt! Behold Zenobia, Queen of the East, and her son, Vaballathus, Augustus of the Eastern Empire!”

Three times the queen’s favorite councillor called out, each time followed by a great trumpet fanfare. The crowds cheered and shouted their approval of Zenobia and her son. Longinus looked up at the queen, and said so just she might hear, “Rome will not fail to notice this demonstration, Majesty.”

“Then let them be warned, Longinus,” was the icy reply.

Aurelian was indeed warned, and in far less time than Zenobia had anticipated. On the very day that Zenobia had proclaimed herself Queen of the East, and her son Augustus of the Eastern Empire, a Roman spy in Alexandria let loose a pigeon. The pigeon, a small capsule attached to his leg, flew to the city of Cyrene, where his message was transferred to the leg of another bird, who flew to Lepcis Magna; then to another who flew to Carthage; and yet another who traversed the length of Sicily. The last bird left Sicily, rested overnight at a cote in Naples, and within a week the message from Alexandria had arrived in Rome.

Eagerly the emperor removed the message from the capsule carried by the last bird; and a slow, satisfied smile spread over his face as he read it.

“It is good news, Caesar?”

“Yes, Gaius Cicero, it is very good news. Praise the gods for creating women to be predictable. The Queen of Palmyra has done exactly what I expected her to do, and now we may march against her.”

“Zenobia of Palmyra, sir? But I thought she was our ally?” Gaius Cicero looked puzzled. “Has she not kept the peace for us in the eastern provinces since her husband died? Why are we to march against her?”

“Because, my dear Gaius, the Queen of Palmyra has just seven days ago had the temerity to declare herself Queen of the East, and her son Augustus of the Eastern Empire.”

Gaius Cicero sought out his old friend, Marcus Alexander, at his new home in Tivoli. “The Queen of Palmyra has revolted against Rome, and the legions will soon march,” he announced. “Will Rome prevail, Marcus?”

“Rome must prevail, Gaius, although I now question my own loyalty to a rotting empire.”

Gaius Cicero shook his head. “It will take more than a war with Palmyra to turn Rome from the path of decay.”

“Will you be going with the emperor?”

“Of course!”

“Then you will have an opportunity that I have not had, Gaius. The Queen of Palmyra was to have been my wife. Tell her that I yet love her, that my marriage is but a sham. I was not able to communicate with Zenobia after my return. Do this for me, Gaius, for the sake of our long friendship, I beg you!”

Gaius Cicero saw the pain that lurked within his friend’s eyes. He knew the cost to Marcus’s pride to have to ask even as old a friend as he to relay such a personal message. “I will gladly take your message, Marcus,” he said. He was very surprised by his old friend’s revelation, and for the briefest of moments Gaius Cicero had doubts about the emperor’s conduct in this matter. Then he thought of the good Aurelian had accomplished in his short tenure as emperor. What were the problems of two lovers in light of such greatness?

Aurelian marched east, his troops departing from Brindisi, then ferrying across the Adriatic to Apollonia in Macedonia. From there they marched into Thrace, crossing the water once again to Dar-danus in Asia Minor. The emperor moved at a steady pace, stopping to reassert imperial authority in major towns, allowing the
local officials to tell him that they could not be blamed for assuming that Zenobia, like her late husband, Odenathus, spoke for imperial Rome. Aurelian agreed, nodding wisely, laughing silently to himself at their quick defection from Palmyra’s queen, and levying token fines to impress upon them Rome’s authority.

Before the walls of Antioch Aurelian met in battle with Zenobia’s general, Zabdas. No one was more surprised than the Palmyrans, for they had not expected the Romans for some time, and yet suddenly here they were. The force commanded by General Zabdas was small, the bulk of the army being with the queen in Alexandria. Though they fought well, and bravely against the legions, they were overcome. Zabdas fell back to Emesa, leaving Antioch to the Romans. But securing the city, they quickly followed him and defeated him a second time at Emesa. His small force virtually wiped out, Zabdas fell on his sword, ending his life, but satisfying honor.