Beloved (49 page)

“No!”
Zenobia’s voice was sharp. “We must find him, Vaba. Such behavior could endanger your position. I will not allow him to do that!”

“I have people out looking, but if the city is as tightly closed as you say, then it will be more difficult for them.”

“The gods take the young fool!” Zenobia muttered.

“He is your son, Mother,”
Vaba could not resist saying.

“If you mean he is impetuous,” was the calm reply, “then you are right.”

“It was not just the surrender,” put in Flavia. “We had only just told him about the baby.”

“He was jealous,” Vaba said.

“No, Vaba,” Flavia defended her brother-in-law. “It is not easy for Demi to be the younger son. It is never easy for a younger son. Now Demi is to be upstaged by our child, and he had not the time to adjust. He will come around.”

“What Flavia said is true, Vaba,” Zenobia spoke. “I know that for some time Demi has chafed from having little to do. He is a natural soldier like your father, and a good leader. I had planned to send him to Alexandria to act as our governor. His thirst for power is not overly great, and that would have satisfied him well.”

“I am not angry at him, Mother,” Vaba replied. “Believe it or not, I understood how he felt. But now he endangers not only me but Flavia and our unborn child as well.”

“He endangers Palmyra,” Zenobia said. “He
must
be found!”

“We are doing our best. Can you not speak to Aurelian?”

“What? Are you mad? What should I say? Should I tell Aurelian that I cannot control my family? Please, will the Romans help to find my bad boy? They would execute him on the spot as a troublemaker! Do you want Demi’s death on your hands, Vaballathus?”

“There have been no executions, Mother.”

“That is no guarantee that there won’t be,” Zenobia said ominously.

“Oh!” They both turned to see Flavia white and swaying in her chair.

“Darling! What is it?” Vaba was kneeling at his wife’s side.

“What if they kill you, Vaba?” Flavia began to sob piteously.

Zenobia could have bitten her tongue. “Do not fret, Flavia. The Romans will not kill this family, I am sure. They will execute a few unimportant people in order to impress their rule upon the masses. There will be messy affairs in the public squares, but we will not be involved. They will go after potential troublemakers, accusing them of things like hoarding and profiteering. Do not fear. Vaba will not be harmed.”

“You are sure?”

“Quite sure,” Zenobia said with far more certainty than she was feeling. Then she said, “Vaba, take Flavia to your apartments and stay with her until the council meeting. If I get any word before then I shall send to you.”

The king stood up, nodding in agreement with his mother, and then he escorted his trembling young wife from the room.

“Now,” Zenobia said, “I am ready to dress.” Bab and Adria quickly aided the queen, pulling the exquisite kalasiris over her head, fastening her jewelry about her neck and in her ears and about her upper arms. Zenobia slipped the ring upon her fingers while Adria helped her into delicate golden sandals.

The queen then sat at her dressing table, and Adria brushed her dark hair until it shone. Then, taking a section of hair from each side of Zenobia’s head, Adria braided it and drew the thin braids back to fasten them high on the back of the queen’s head with a jeweled enamel pin. The rest of Zenobia’s black hair flowed free down her back, and Bab dusted it with gold powder before placing the vine-leaf crown upon her mistress’s head. The queen stood and walked to her polished silver mirror, smiling in satisfaction at what she saw.

“Bab, find me Cassius Longinus!”

Longinus came quickly, sprawling into the chair lately vacated by Rome’s emperor. Helping himself to an egg, he dipped it into the salt and took a healthy bite. “Your secret garden gate is unguarded, Majesty. The council advises you and your family escape while there is yet time.”

“To what purpose, Longinus?”

“You would be a rallying point for our people.”

“There is no point in it, Longinus. Rome is already in full possession of the city. The army is as trapped as I am. There is no help for us. The king made the decision to open Palmyra’s gates to Rome that the city and her people might be saved. He was right, and I can only hope Aurelian will let my son remain this city’s ruler. To that end alone I will work, Longinus.”

Longinus bowed his head in acceptance of her judgment, then standing, he said, “I will go with you to Rome, Majesty.”

“It is time,” Bab said. “It is midday.”

“You have seen to my guard?”

“Need you ask, my baby? They await you outside the door.”

Without another word Zenobia walked through her bedroom, through her antechamber, and out into the hallway through doors
opened swiftly by her slaves. Instantly the one hundred men in her guard came to attention, and cried out, “Hail Zenobia! Hail, Queen of Palmyra!”

A small smile touched Zenobia’s lips as she said, “Good afternoon, Captain Urbicinus.”

“Majesty!” The captain saluted smartly.

The queen seated herself in her waiting litter, an opulent affair of solid silver, its raised designs all of a botanical nature. The cushions of the litter were of purple velvet. Immediately the four coal-black slaves in their cloth-of-silver breechcloths lifted the litter, and began moving down the corridor. Before them, behind them, and on either side of them marched the queen’s guard.

It was not a long trip to the council chamber, and with much ceremony—the wide double doors to the chamber were flung wide, the waiting trumpeteers played a flourish—the queen’s guard marched into the room with the litter. The litter was carried to the head of the table, where the emperor and the young king were already waiting, as was the entire council. Dismounting the litter with Captain Urbicinus’s aid, Zenobia caught Longinus’s eye and saw secret amusement in it. As she seated herself opposite Rome’s emperor the royal guard once more shouted, “Hail, Zenobia! Hail, Queen of Palmyra!” Then they positioned themselves along two of the walls of the room, facing some of the men of Aurelian’s own legion, who lined the other two walls.

“The council is called to order,” Zenobia said. She looked to the emperor.

By the gods, Aurelian thought admiringly, she yet has the courage to defy me, even now in the hour of her defeat. He almost regretted the decisions he had made regarding the city. Almost. The emperor stood and looked around the table at all the upturned and expectant faces before facing Zenobia. Then he said, “You are banished, Queen of Palmyra, from this city-state that you led to rebellion against your masters, the imperial Romans.”

The room was deathly silent. No one’s face showed any emotion, for it was as they expected, as Zenobia had led them to expect. What they waited for was his decision concerning Odenathus’s dynasty.

“Vaballathus, King of Palmyra, Roman law demands the death of a client king who rebels against Rome; but you were a child when you came into your inheritance. Your mother has ruled for you, and so in fairness—and contrary to what you have been raised to believe, we Romans are fair—I cannot hold you responsible
for this rebellion. I therefore grant you your life, but you and your wife and whatever family you have are banished to the city of Cyrene.”

“No!”
Zenobia’s voice was ragged.

“For how long?” asked Vaba.

“For life,” was the reply.

“No!”
A low and desperate cry.

“Be quiet,” Aurelian said almost gently. “I have not finished.” She was amazing, he thought. She cared only for her husband’s life. If she might transfer that loyalty to him!

“Roman law will be served in the case of Palmyra’s rebellion,” continued the emperor. “Your king was scarcely a child, your regent a woman, a woman who was advised in all her plans by you, the Council of Ten. I have spared both your boy king and your queen regent. I will not, however, spare you. I must hold this council responsible for Zenobia of Palmyra’s acts. You are men. You could have prevented all that has happened between Rome and Palmyra, but you did not. You allowed a woman total control, and her emotional and unbridled ways, her fierce pride, her ambition, have led you to your own destruction.

“Accordingly, I must mete out punishment to all. You are sentenced to death in the name of the Senate of Rome and the peoples it represents. The Council of Ten will not be allowed to re-form. Rome will rule Palmyra henceforth by means of a military governor. You have six hours in which to put your affairs in order. You will be executed just before sunset. Rest assured that your families will not be harmed, nor will your possessions be confiscated.”

There was not a sound in the room. The members of the Council of Ten could not believe what they had heard. Zenobia sat wide-eyed. Clutching at the table’s edge, she pulled herself up to a standing position.

“Mercy, Caesar,” she rasped, for her throat was tight. “Kill
me!
Make
me
your example, but in the name of all the gods, spare these good men!” Her voice grew stronger. “My day is over. I will die willingly for Palmyra. It is not fair that the council be killed. They are not responsible for my actions! I alone am responsible! I willingly, nay gladly, accept my responsibilities.”

“A woman could not have accomplished what you have accomplished, Zenobia, without the cooperation of her council. The boy was too young to rule, I grant you; but had this council not gone along with your precipitous behavior, you could not have come
so close to succeeding in your foolish rebellion. My sentence is just.”

“I will kill you,” she said clearly, and the men of the emperor’s legion put their hands to their swords. “Someday I will find a way to repay you for this terrible Roman injustice. You have placed the burden of guilt for the murder of ten good men upon my conscience, and I shall never forgive you for it.”

“This council is disbanded,” Aurelian said coldly, and quickly the men of his legion surrounded the unfortunate members of the Council of Ten. “Each of you,” the emperor said, “may return under guard to your homes. You will be escorted back to the palace before sunset.” Then he turned on his heel to leave the room.

“Wait!”
Zenobia’s voice resounded throughout the council chamber. Aurelian turned. “Give me leave, Caesar, to bid these faithful friends farewell.” She spoke carefully, in a toneless voice. He nodded curtly. “Without their guards?” she pleaded. Again he nodded. “Thank you,” she said simply.

When the room had emptied, and only Zenobia, Vaballathus, and the Council of Ten remained, she spoke. “I will try when I am alone with him to get him to reconsider; but he is a harsh man. I know not with what I may bargain now. I have nothing left.”

Marius Gracchus spoke. “He means to separate Palmyra entirely from her past, Majesty. He believes that once this is done the people will be easy to manage, and in truth they will be. Whatever their loyalties to the House of Odenathus, Rome has not penalized them for this war. Nor, I suspect, will Rome penalize them. The royal family will be gone, the council will be gone, and there will be but one authority: Rome. The people’s loyalty will not be torn, and the city will remain as Rome wants. Productive and calm. I admire this emperor for all he has condemned me to my death, because he is clever and ruthless. Do not grieve, Majesty. We of the Council of Ten are mostly old, and the gods know that we have lived good lives. We are proud to die for Palmyra!”

There were murmurs of assent from the others, and Zenobia knew that there was nothing left to say. They were all powerless, and they had all bravely faced that fact. “I will try,” she said. “I must try! We all know that you could not have stopped me even if you had desired to do so. Aurelian knows it, too! It is not fair!”

Cassius Longinus chuckled. “You are correct, Majesty,” he said with a twinkle. “Although it embarrasses us to admit it even now, we could not have stopped you at any time. Nonetheless the emperor
needs a blood sacrifice. We are that sacrifice. Let it be. Do not humble yourself before Aurelian again. You may not realize it now, but your lot is far harder than ours. He can kill us only once, but you, Majesty, must live on to take part in the emperor’s triumph, and then afterward—who knows.
You are Palmyra!
You will show the alien Roman world Palmyran courage and loyalty; and by doing that, all we have done in our battle for liberty will live on, and we shall never really be dead.”

Zenobia felt the tears well up, and then unashamedly she let them roll down her face. There were no arguments left. “I will bid you farewell now,” she said quietly, attempting to gather her dignity about her. Each of the council came forward, placing his hands first in hers and then moving on to their young king to bid him farewell. Zenobia said only their names, for there were no words with which she might thank them now for this ultimate sacrifice.

“Antonius Porcius. I fear for Flavia when she learns of your fate.”

“My daughter is stronger than she appears, my Queen. My main concerns are for Julia and our son, Gaius.”

“I will do everything I can, old friend. Perhaps they will want to go to Cyrene with Vaba and Flavia. My future is so uncertain.”

“Cyrene!” Antonius Porcius made a face. “The armpit of the empire,” he said scornfully. “A decaying city on the sea with the desert on the other three sides and nothing else for hundreds of miles. Aurelian chose Vaba’s place of exile well. The gods help them. They will be bored to death within a year.”

Zenobia was forced to laugh, even in the midst of such tragedy, and the sound of her laughter heartened everyone in the room. She and Antonius Porcius, Rome’s former governor and Palmyra’s loyal servant these many years, embraced, and then he was moving on and speaking in low, urgent tones to Vaba.

Cassius Longinus stood before her, and for a very long moment they looked at each other. “You,” Zenobia said, “you I will miss more than the others, even my children. You are my friend.” Quick tears sprang to her silvery eyes, and she amended, “My best friend.”

Longinus smiled a strangely sweet smile at her, and took her hand in his. “You think that your life is over,” he said quietly, “but dearest Majesty, it has barely begun. Palmyra is just your beginning. I am sixty years old, Majesty, and if I have any regrets it is that I was not with you from the very beginning. It is the will
of the gods that your life be spared, as it is their will that we ten die. Remember us, Majesty, but do not grieve.” He drew her close to him, and gently kissed her forehead. “You are my best friend also,” he said, and then he moved away from her to speak with Vaba.