Beloved (65 page)

“Leave us, Bab!”

Bab departed swiftly, closing the door behind her with a resounding bang.

“What happened to me?” Her voice was icy with anger.

“Do you not remember, goddess?” His eyes mocked her.

“I did not dream
it?”

“I hope not, goddess. We were both incredible, so incredible that donations to the temple the other night reached an unprecedented high.”

“You are loathsome!”

“When I had finished with you,” he went-on, “I took fifteen
more women. The gods! How they fought and pleaded to be taken by me. They did everything,
anything
I desired. I was invincible!”

“You are disgusting, Roman! You defile the gods by your obscene worship of this Unconquerable Sun of yours!”

“You are now pregnant with my child,” he said, ignoring her anger.

She started at him in shock, then said, “You have never in all your years with your wife or your other women fathered a child. What in the name of all the gods makes you think you have fathered one on me now?”

“Because it is foretold in the writings of the Unconquerable Sun that he who is the god upon the earth will father a son upon she who is the goddess upon the earth. From the moment I saw you I knew that you were she who is the goddess upon the earth. Why do you think I have spared you, Zenobia? Why have I always called you
goddess?
You are Venus reborn, my fair one, and from your womb will spring forth a mighty ruler! Were it not so then the other night when I finished with you, you would have offered yourself to the others as I offered myself. You, however, are the goddess, and my seed could not be defiled. So sure am I that you have conceived that in the few weeks I remain in Rome before my next campaign I will not come to you. I will not touch you lest I injure the babe.”

“I am to remain in Tivoli again while you are away?” she queried.

“Of course! I do not want either you or the child endangered, goddess. You will stay here in Tivoli. Surely Ulpia cannot last much longer, and when I return I will wed with you. If the child is already born, I will legitimize him.”

She could scarcely believe her good fortune. She had looked forward with dread to a month of his insatiable passion, and now he was telling her she was free. Zenobia was careful not to let her joy show. Composing her face, she raised her eyes to him. “I did not like what you did to me the other night, Roman, but I have been without you for several months. Now you say we are not to be together while you are here in Rome.” Her lips arranged themselves in a pretty pout.

He smiled at her. “I am pleased that you shall miss my loving attentions, goddess; but I will take no chances with you.”

“You are not bored with me? This is not simply an excuse because you have found another?” Her voice sounded delightfully suspicious in his ear.

“How could there be anyone after you, goddess?” he demanded. “No, I adore you as always! There is no other!” No others that mattered, he thought, pleased.

“You cannot be sure that I am with child, Roman. It is much too soon to know.”

“Nevertheless, I will take no risks, Zenobia. I am returning to Rome today, and I will not be back again until just before we march. I have a great deal to do, goddess, and a very short time in which to do it. You must accept my decision. It is for the best.”

“Very well, Roman, it will be as you say. I see that you cannot be moved.”

Aurelian leaned forward and cupped her chin in his hand while his mouth found hers. His kiss was a possessive one, a demanding one, and remembering the other night, she shuddered. He was a ruthless man. Releasing her from the kiss, he said softly, “I understand that your neighbor is Dagian, the wife of the late Lucius Alexander.”

“Yes,” Zenobia replied, choosing her words carefully. “She is a pleasant and amusing woman, and she enjoys Mavia greatly.”

“And have you seen her son, goddess?” She could hear the dangerous undertone in his voice.

“Yes, Roman. I have seen him several times in his mother’s gardens.” She must be careful not to lie lest he suspect her.

“You have spoken to him?”

“On at least two occasions,” she said, certain now that someone, an imperial spy undoubtedly, had seen them, and reported it to Aurelian.

“And?”

“And what, Roman?” She laughed lightly. “You aren’t jealous, are you, Caesar?” Leaning over, she kissed him teasingly. “I do not know now what I ever saw in Marcus Alexander. He is really a very dull, pompous man.”

“Then you love me alone?”

“I told you, Roman, that it was doubtful that I should ever love again; but what could Marcus Alexander offer me, pray? You offer me an empire, and I should be a fool to refuse you. Especially since I am to bear your child.”

He looked long and searchingly into her face and then, certain that she spoke the truth, admitted ruefully, “I knew that eventually you would see Marcus Alexander again, and I was jealous. I love you, goddess! You are my very life now!”

“I have never given you reason to doubt me, Roman,” she
answered him, thinking, somewhat amused: But only because I have been careful, and not been caught!

He rose from the bedside. “I must leave you now, goddess, but I will return before we march.”

She smiled up at him, and watched through narrowed eyes as he left her bedchamber. I shall only have to see you one more time, Roman, she thought; and at least I am free now of your eternal pawing.

A few minutes later both Bab and Adria entered her bedchamber, and Zenobia demanded, “Is he gone?”

“He is on the road to Rome as we speak, Majesty,” Adria said.

Zenobia turned to Bab. “Go to Marcus, and tell him that I am all right. Then tell him that there is an imperial spy in one of our houses. He is not to come to me until after the emperor has left Rome. If he protests, Bab, then you must tell him that Aurelian asked me if I had spoken to him, and I said yes, for I was certain he knew I had. We are watched, and must take no chances. Dagian will carry messages for us, but I will not endanger either of us when we are so close to escape. Tell him, Bab, that I love him.”

“Do not fear, my baby,” Bab soothed. “Marcus Alexander Britainus values you above all things. He will understand.”

Zenobia prayed it was so.

As the days went by Dagian spoke of her son only once, and that was to tell Zenobia that Marcus was seeing to their departure. The Palmyran queen began to grow curious, and she plied Dagian with many questions.

“What is it like, this Britain of yours?” was her first.

“Ah,” Dagian said, a smile lighting her face, “it is very different from your Palmyra, and from Italy. It is an island nation, a land of many contrasts. One day may be sunny, the skies bright blue and cloudless; the next day may be misty, cloudy, filled with rain. The winters can be harsh, with much snow, but the springs make up for all the gray, cold days. There are no deserts as in your land, Zenobia. The only sandy places are by the sea. Britain is a land of hills and valleys, of mountains and fields. The Romans do not control as much of it as they like to think, for the tribes are very fierce and some bloodthirsty.”

Zenobia looked troubled. “You make it sound quite savage, Dagian. Is this place that Marcus would take me safe for my children, my children’s children? I have only just received word that Flavia was delivered of a little girl in Cyrene. Will your Britain be a safe place for such a tender baby?”

“Dearest girl, is any place in this world safe for children? Somehow they survive. The place that Marcus intends that you settle in is an island, one of several, off the very tip of Britain in the south. You need have no fear, Zenobia. Long ago, so far back that there is no written date, a small Celtic tribe lived upon the island, but today it is uninhabited. The island is a lovely place, as I remember it, its climate mild even in the winter months. Flowers and fruits and vegetables grow year round upon it; and you will be able to raise sheep and cattle. The seas are full of fish, and everything should thrive including your family.”

“Will you come with us, Dagian?”

“No, my dear. I have long planned on living with Aulus and his family in the region of my birth and girlhood. I will come to visit you, though, as long as the gods give me good health.”

Zenobia felt reassured, but now she worried about Vaba and his family. Marcus had promised her that he would take care of them, but how could he, prisoner here in Tivoli that he was? Again Dagian was able to reassure her. “Marcus has been freed of all travel restrictions, as have I,” the older woman said one day. “We are to return to our own house in Rome within the week.”

“I cannot bear to be without you,” Zenobia cried. “Curse Aurelian! He says he is no longer fearful of Marcus, but he is. You are the only friend I have, and I need you!”

“Courage, Zenobia!” Dagian chided gently. “Our return to Rome reassures Aurelian that you truly no longer want Marcus. If you complain to him he will be suspicious. In another week or two the army marches, and with it goes the emperor. You will be free then, my daughter.” She put her arms around Zenobia, cradling her against her ample bosom.

“I am so afraid,” Zenobia admitted, suddenly weeping. “I fear that Aurelian will find us out, and prevent Marcus and me from being together. We have waited so long, Dagian, so very long!”

“You were meant to be together,” Dagian soothed. “Do not fear, my daughter. Prudence will prevent the emperor from knowing our plans. The gods will see to it.”

“The gods are capricious,” Zenobia whispered.

“Hush, my daughter!” Dagian looked fearfully about her as if she might see an angry god.

Then as suddenly as she had been fearful, Zenobia became calm again. “You are right, Dagian, and I am behaving like a child. We are so close to victory.”

The two women embraced a final time, and then each went
her separate way. A few days later the Alexanders, mother and son, left the imperial villa in Tivoli to return to their own home in Rome. Although Marcus Alexander had sold the great trading house that had been his father’s, he still had many contacts among the important commercial families. Among them was the son of one of the wealthy Palmyran families slain in the destruction of that city. With Palmyra’s fall, the young man had found himself alone and without a market for his goods. He might have gone bankrupt had not Marcus Alexander stepped in and come to his aid. Marcus called in the debt owed, and the young Palmyran was eager to help. Ogga ben Yorkhai was his name, and he had friends in Cyrene with whom he was in constant contact. Now he dispatched his pigeon messengers to that city, and within ten days came word that Vaballathus preferred to remain in imperial captivity than to brave the dangers of escape with his wife and infant daughter.

Marcus knew how disappointed Zenobia would be, but in truth he was relieved. The young man would always remember what he had lost, always unconsciously blame his mother, and between them there would never be any real peace.

A happier note, however, was word that Vaba’s brother had been found alive in the ruins of Palmyra by the Bedawi. There had been some half-dozen survivors of the massacre, a woman, four children, and Demi, all of whom had been left for dead. The tribesmen had taken them back to their encampment, and although one of the children had died several days later, the rest had survived. Demi knew that his brother now resided in Cyrene, and that his mother was in Rome. He preferred, he wrote to Vaba, to remain with their uncle Akbar and the Bedawi. If he could not live in Palmyra, now destroyed, he preferred to roam the desert as his ancestors had done. He already had his eye on a strong young girl of fourteen to take to wife once he could earn her bridesprice.

So, Marcus thought as he read the letter from Cyrene, we will start anew, just Zenobia and our daughter and me. We will shed our old lives as the lizard sheds its old skin.

The army’s departure was scheduled for the following day. Marcus Alexander Britainus wondered if Aurelian would change his mind at the last moment, and attempt to take Zenobia with him. They had not seen or spoken to one another in over a month. Although his mother had assured him before they left Tivoli that all was well, even Dagian had not seen or communicated with
Zenobia in the last few weeks. That afternoon Gaius Cicero came to see him, and Marcus welcomed his old friend warmly.

“Once more,” Gaius smiled, “I must ask that you watch over my Clodia and our children while I am away. Clodia is increasing again. Another child I shall not see born,” he said ruefully.

“Why do you not resign the army, Gaius? Your family is wealthy, and although your older brother is the heir there is time for you to make a name for yourself in politics. Surely you do not really believe that Aurelian has a long future as Rome’s emperor?”

“This is my last campaign,” Gaius admitted. “I must think of my family now. As to the emperor, I’ll admit I do not know how much longer he can hold on. He is a fine general, a good administrator; but he lacks subtlety. He makes enemies too easily. Take this temple of the Unconquerable Sun of his. He has foresworn the old gods for this strange new religion, and the truth of the matter is it is a scandal.

“After this last triumph he held a fertility rite in his temple. He mated upon the high altar with Palmyra’s queen, and then took fifteen more women before he was sated. I know several of the men who attend these rites. They do so for purely licentious reasons. They were extremely annoyed that they could not take the captive queen. Usually Aurelian, who calls himself the god on earth, allows his fellow worshipers to have a go at his woman when he has finished. This night, however, he would not. He claims that Zenobia is the goddess upon earth, and it was foretold that he should get a child upon her that night. He said he did not want his seed defiled by others.

“Just as well, if you ask me. They say that Zenobia fainted and could not be roused for several days from her stupor. Poor woman. She had taken a great deal from Aurelian, and this surely was the worst. The rumor is that he intends to make Palmyra’s queen his empress when Ulpia Severina has died.”