Beloved (46 page)

To drag her shrieking into Palmyra would not win the city’s sympathy, and even the young king might think differently about cooperating with Rome under those circumstances. He was, after all, her son, for all her usurpation of his office. He wanted her walking under her own power behind him, in a gesture that all of Palmyra would understand. Seeing her acceptance of Rome, the citizenry would then bow their own necks to the imperial yoke. Let her walk off her bad temper and come to terms with herself before his triumph. Had their positions been reversed she would,
he knew, have treated him no differently. Let her be aware of that. Having settled it in his own mind, Aurelian proceeded to eat his own breakfast.

When he had finished he called for Gaius Cicero. “You are responsible for the queen,” he said quietly. “I do not believe you will have any difficulty with her. We have spoken this morning, and she understands my wishes completely. You will see that she is in her place behind my chariot as I enter into Palmyra.”

“Yes, Caesar!” came the dutiful answer.

At the appointed hour the Roman army was drawn up in full formation before the main gates of Palmyra. At their front was Aurelian in his battle chariot, looking eminently powerful and regal. His gold breastplate, with its raised design of Mars, the god of war, in various victories, gleamed in the morning sunlight; his long red military cloak blew gently in the faint breeze; but his elegant helmet could not hide the stern features of his face. He stood tall, erect, quiet. Behind him his waiting legions shuffled nervously.

The emperor turned to see Zenobia, in her place behind his chariot, turning away from his gaze. The gods! he silently cursed. Just to look at her aroused his desire. She wore no mourning this day, but rather was dressed as she had been the first day his army had arrived at Palmyra’s gates those months back. In her golden kalasiris she looked no more like a beaten adversary than a bird of paradise. Her collar of rubies, rose quartz, and diamonds glittered brightly, its brilliance echoed by her golden circlet of vine leaves with their ribboned brilliants. She was in truth a golden goddess incarnate, and she had managed by her dress to change the lesson he had intended to teach the people of Palmyra.

A tiny smile twitched his lips, softening for a moment his stern features. She had somehow turned another defeat into a victory for herself. He would remember that. He had once accused her of being overproud, and by the gods she could give lessons in it! He turned back to face the gates of Palmyra, and as if his look were a signal, they began to slowly open.

Aurelian felt tense. He wondered if they would choose to fight at the last minute. Usually the walls of the city were crowded with spectators, but this morning not one person was to be seen upon them. He could plainly hear the creak of protest from the gate’s hinges as it yawned wider and wider. Once open, the entry to Palmyra resembled a gaping mouth void of teeth.

Then from out of the entry came a man in a simple white linen
tunic and a red-and-white-striped toga bordered in purple. In his hands he carried the symbolic gold keys to the city. With great dignity the man made his way forward to stand before Aurelian’s chariot. “Hail, Caesar!” he said in a loud voice. “I am Cassius Longinus, the king’s chief advisor. On His Majesty’s instructions I present to you the keys to Palmyra.”

“Where is the king?” demanded the emperor.

“His Majesty awaits you at the palace, Caesar. The young queen was ill this day, and as they are recently wed, the king would not leave her side.”

Aurelian raised an eyebrow. No wonder Zenobia was loath to let the boy rule. A king who put his woman before his position was certainly doomed. “Walk beside your queen, Cassius Longinus, as I enter the city. I assume your main avenue leads to the royal palace.”

“It does, Caesar.” Longinus moved behind the chariot to where Zenobia stood. “Majesty,” he said low. “Thank the gods you are safe!”

“By rights, Longinus, I should be dead now but that my son has forgotten his duty.”

He put a comforting hand upon her. “We will talk later,” he said, and then they moved forward.

The Roman legionnaires jogged along nervously, facing straight ahead, their eyes shifting from right to left. The streets were quiet and empty, the shops closed, the people seemingly nonexistent. An unnatural silence hung over the city as Aurelian and his army made their way down the main avenue.

It was a wide avenue, fully able to accommodate four large chariots. The avenue was paved with interlocking blocks of black and white marble, and lined with magnificent white marble pillars that supported the roofs over the walkways in front of the shops and houses. Driving his chariot at a sedate pace, Aurelian was able to take it all in. He was impressed by the city’s cleanliness and its graffiti-free statues, quite unlike Rome’s.

Behind him Zenobia spoke quietly to Longinus. “Where are the people, Longinus?”

“At the council’s suggestion, Majesty, they decided it would be better not to show themselves when the Romans entered the city.”

“Not the king’s suggestion?”

He hesitated, and that hesitation told her all she need know.
“The king fears for the city’s safety,” Longinus attempted to excuse Vaballathus.

“Please thank the council for me, Longinus. I must assume that I will be kept from them.”

“Has he said what he means to do about the government, Majesty?”

“Government has not been the main focus of our discussions,” Zenobia said somewhat wryly.

Cassius Longinus flushed. “Majesty …” he gestured helplessly.

“I know, Longinus. It is the way of war, and for all my rank I am nought but a woman in the eyes of the victorious general from Rome.”

“He has not hurt you?” Longinus looked concerned.

“Only my pride, old friend, and that, as you are well aware, is great. I expect I can spare a small piece for Aurelian to play with.” She chuckled. “Despite my status as the defeated queen I seem to continue winning small battles.” She gestured gracefully, and he smiled back at her.

“The city would have died for you, Majesty!”

“I know that, Longinus. Perhaps, however, I have been wrong. I have been told that I have not the right to ask that of my people. In the end what is important? That Palmyra survive! I took my chance with Rome, and I lost.” She sighed sadly, and had he not known her better, he would have sworn that he saw a tear in her eye.

“They will probably exile you, Majesty.”

“I know, Longinus, but if Vaba can remain here to rule, then Odenathus’s dynasty continues. There will come another time, another age, another Palmyran king, and we will finally be free!”

“Do you really think that the emperor will leave Vaba here?”

“Vaba is hardly a threat to Rome. His ploy of not coming to give Aurelian the keys to the city because of the young queen’s indisposition was a brilliant stroke. He has made himself look like a lovesick young fool who puts a woman above duty. That should give Rome a solid feeling of security.”

Ahead of them Aurelian suddenly stopped his chariot and, turning about, called to Zenobia, “Come, goddess, and ride with me. We both know it does no good for you to walk behind me in defeat if no one is looking to see your defeat. You, too, Cassius Longinus. Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why Palmyra appears so deserted.” He reached down to her and, taking her outstretched
arm, pulled her up, sliding an arm about her waist as she reached the chariot floor. Longinus was left to draw himself up by means of the handhold.

Once they were all safely within the chariot, Aurelian let the reins loosen a bit, and his cloud-white horses pranced forward again. The emperor turned his blue eyes upon Cassius Longinus. “Well?” he said. “Why is the city in hiding?”

“Palmyra loves its queen, Caesar. We will not be party to her shame.”

Aurelian smiled coldly. “Palmyra has no queen,” he said, and felt Zenobia shiver in his tight grasp. But when he looked over at her, she was staring straight ahead, seemingly unperturbed. Leaning over, he murmured against her ear, and the heady hyacinth fragrance she always wore battered his senses. “What sorcery is this, goddess, that you can arouse me without even seeming to try to arouse me?”

“You imagine it, Roman,” was her cold reply.

He laughed low, and his laugh was intimate and insinuating, implying things she didn’t even want to think about or consider. “You are the most intriguing captive I have ever taken,” he said. “Fight me all you wish, goddess. I know how to defeat you.”

Zenobia laughed scornfully. “You know how to overcome me physically, Roman, which is not surprising considering your height and girth.”

Aurelian pressed his lips together, making his face appear even more severe. She had stung him successfully.

The royal residence came into view, and Aurelian had to admit to himself that the beautiful marble buildings easily rivaled his own official palace on the Palatine Hill in Rome. The entry stood open, and the emperor’s chariot swept through into the courtyard, the men of his own legion positioning themselves about the palace in prearranged order. Not all of the army had entered the city, although part of each of the four legions had come; and as they had marched through the city toward the palace,
centurias, maniples
, and even full cohorts had dropped from each legion, taking control of government buildings, the great merchant houses, the university. Rome was quickly in control.

In the courtyard of the palace the first signs of life were visible as slaves rushed forward to catch the heads of the emperor’s horses. Then upon the portico of the palace the Council of Ten appeared, surrounding the young king almost protectively. Cassius Longinus leapt from the rear of the chariot as soon as it had stopped, and
reached up to lift Zenobia down. Without so much as a backward glance at Aurelian she walked swiftly toward her son.

The Council of Ten, the attending soldiers, and the slaves all bowed before the queen, parting to allow her a path to the king. Mother and son looked at each other, and then Vaba said with honest emotion, “Praise be to the gods that you are safe, Mother!”

For a moment Zenobia closed her eyes, and then a deep sigh rent her slender frame. “I would have given my life for the city, Vaba,” she said quietly.

“It would have been a needless sacrifice, Mother. We both know that, don’t we?”

How can I be angry with him? she wondered quickly. He has done his duty toward Palmyra as he has seen it, and I was the one who gave him the king’s power. It is not my way, but he is as steadfast as I am.

Zenobia held out her arms to her son, and he quickly stepped into her embrace. “I know that you are angry with me,” he whispered, “but they would have had the city no matter the cost. I could not let you die, Mother. I could not!”

Without warning the tears appeared and spilled down her cheeks. “Perhaps they will let you rule still,” she whispered back, hugging him tightly. “I shall take all the blame, Vaba. I will not allow you to be punished for me, and I will have no more gallantry from you!” She stepped back from him, her beautiful face serious in her intent.

Gently Vaballathus brushed the stray tears from his mother’s cheeks. “For my father’s sake?” he gently teased her.

“Yes,” she smiled at him, and then suspiciously, “Why are you suddenly so amenable. Flavia has indeed wrought a miracle if she has matured you in six short months of marriage.”

“I am beginning to realize what it is not only to be a king, but a parent as well, Mother,” was the quiet answer. “Flavia is with child.”

“Then she really was indisposed?” Zenobia was pleased, but at the same time a tiny voice said that she was too young, too beautiful, too sensual to be a grandmother. She was but thirty-four!

Then a sharp voice destroyed her reverie. “If this is your son, goddess, I should like to be presented.” Aurelian was at her side.

Zenobia looked up, faintly annoyed. “Vaballathus, my son, here is the mighty Roman conqueror, Aurelian.” Her gaze flicked
insolently to the emperor. “My son, the King of Palmyra,” she said.

The two men stared coldly at each other, and then Aurelian said mockingly, “Will you not bid me welcome to Palmyra, Vaballathus?”

“I did not think it necessary,” was the quick reply. “You Romans seem not to mind if a city welcomes you or not.”

Aurelian looked carefully at the young man. “There is a lot of your mother in you,
boy,”
he replied.

“Thank you, sir.” Vaba was totally unruffled, and Zenobia was quite proud of him.

“We will talk inside,” the emperor snapped. “All of you,” he continued, including the nervously waiting Council of Ten with a wave of his hand. “Cassius Longinus, lead the way. Gaius Cicero, attend me!”

At the door of the main council chamber, Aurelian stopped and said to Zenobia, “Not you, goddess. This is men’s work.”

Longinus saw the furious retort rising to her lips, but before he might intervene the king spoke. “The queen is a member of the council, Caesar. Without her we cannot legally meet.”

“And we will not,” put in the white-haired, elderly Marius Gracchus.

“If you would treat with us,” Antonius Porcius contributed, “then the queen must be with us, Caesar. We mean you no disrespect, but these are
our
ways. We know that, understanding them, you will be fair.”

Aurelian looked at the council and, seeing that they were adamant, relented. He had hoped to humiliate her with the government, but, by the gods!, she certainly commanded loyalty. He felt almost envious of such devotion.

“If it is your custom,” he said casually, “then the queen may partake of this meeting.” He entered into the council chamber and seated himself at one end of the long table.

“You sit at the other end, Mother,” Vaba said softly, and Zenobia knew that her son was giving his permission for her to take a leading role in the negotiations to come.

Regally she settled herself, nodding as she did so to Vaba and the council to sit down.

Aurelian noted all of this. It seemed almost a shame to break her, but as much as he admired her, she was a dangerous enemy; an enemy Rome could not afford. She wanted the entire Eastern Empire, and she had taken it. Left in Palmyra, she would rise
again. He looked down the table at the faces turned to his, and said, “Palmyra is no longer a client kingdom. It will return to province status effective immediately.”