Beloved (66 page)

“Yes,” Marcus said in a strangely calm voice. “I have heard that rumor.” Keep calm, his inner self warned him. Gaius is your friend, but first he is loyal to Aurelian. Although there were many questions he wanted to ask, he instead changed the subject, pretending lack of interest in Zenobia and Aurelian. He could not be sure that Gaius did not spy for the emperor. “I shall most happily keep Clodia company, Gaius. She is a fine wife and mother in the old tradition, and you are fortunate to have her.”

“Why don’t you marry?” Gaius asked suddenly.

Marcus laughed. “Because there is no one I love, and I cannot
settle for less. My brother will perpetuate our family name, and so there is no need for me to marry. Besides, I prefer my freedom.”

“Yes, I have known a few men like you, Marcus,” Gaius said. “Some men are like that.” He rose. “I shall be on my way now. I thank you for your kindness to my wife and my children. My brother simply doesn’t have time to bother with Clodia, and she does get lonely.” The two men clasped hands in the traditional Roman salute, and then Gaius was gone, his quick, “Farewell,” echoing and then dying.

Marcus sat down heavily once Gaius Cicero was gone, and his mind raced back to his friend’s discussion of Aurelian’s cult. The emperor had publicly taken Zenobia! Marcus shuddered with the horror of it. He wanted to strangle Aurelian, feel his thick neck beneath his fingers, watch as his face grew purple, as he gasped his last few breaths, as he died!

Feeling the violence welling up within him, he rose quickly and shut the library door. Then turning back into the room, he began systematically to destroy everything in it. Furiously he flung the furniture against the beautiful frescoed walls! Every piece of pottery was smashed, and only the book scrolls escaped destruction due to Dagian’s timely entry into the library.

“Marcus!” She looked about her, horrified at the terrible disaster the room had become. “Marcus, what is it?”

Somehow through the red mists of his fury he heard her, and slowly his glazed eyes cleared. “It was either this or I would have killed
him!”
he said.

Dagian did not need to ask who. She simply inquired, “Why?”

He told her, and Dagian’s eyes quickly filled with tears. “Poor Zenobia,” she said softly, and then, “Marcus, you are not angry at Zenobia?”

“No, Mother, I am angry for her. Rome is truly a sewer, and none of us belongs here any longer. The gods only know how badly I want to take Zenobia from this place.”

“You will have to wait until Aurelian has embarked from Brindisi, Marcus, and then it will be another week after he has left. We cannot at this late date take the chance of anyone discovering our plans. You must remain calm, my son.”

“I know, Mother, but when I heard what he had done to my wife … The gods curse him! I hope he never returns to Rome. I hope they kill him!”

Aurelian, however, at that moment was far from dead. At Zenobia’s villa in Tivoli, he held his beautiful captive within the
circle of his arms and kissed her passionately. She forced herself to eagerly return his kisses, nibbling teasingly at his lips to further arouse his desires. His hands fondled her full breasts, taunting the nipples to hard peaks. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her ear, and she purred against him in apparent satisfaction. “Do you know yet, goddess?” he asked her. “Can you be sure yet whether you carry my child?”

“It is much too soon, Caesar,” she said, and then she lowered her eyes coyly. “I promise to send a message to you the moment I can be certain. These things cannot be rushed, Roman.”

“I do not like leaving you, goddess, but I do not want you exposed to the rigors of travel in your condition.”

“I understand, Caesar,” she replied, “and I agree with you. I am not a maiden in the first flush of her womanhood. It is better this way.”

“If only I could be sure!” He was so anxious, and for a brief moment Zenobia almost felt sorry for him. Then she remembered the rites, those unholy rites he had held within his Temple of the Unconquerable Sun, publicly shaming her.

“You were so virile and potent that night, Roman,” she murmured wickedly. “Surely if it is written you cannot doubt the outcome?”

“No, no!” he answered, visibly upset lest his lack of faith cause the gods to turn upon him. “No, you are with child, I am certain!”

“Then kiss me again, Aurelian, and be on your way, for the sooner you leave me the sooner you will return to me—and to our child.” She looked him straight in the face now, her silvery-gray eyes dancing with their haunting golden lights. Never had he seen her so beautiful, he thought. Swiftly his mouth descended on her, possessing her lips fiercely, but she would not be subdued, and kissed him as fiercely in return. He was strangely breathless when they parted.

“The gods go with you, Roman,” she said.

He could do nothing but leave her now, but he did so feeling strangely dissatisfied. Climbing into his chariot, he turned to look at her once more, and the sight of Zenobia in her flaming red kalasiris, her long black hair blowing free in the afternoon breeze, her proud head held high, was a vision that remained with him. He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell, then slapped the reins upon his horses’ rumps, and departed, his chariot wheels rumbling up the drive and onto the Via Flaminia.

She also raised her hand in farewell, wondering if he could
hear her laughter following him. “I will never see you again, Roman, and may my memory haunt you through all eternity!” she cried softly, and then she whirled around and re-entered her house.

The time went slowly, the days long and dull, the nights longer and lonely. The only relief for Zenobia during this period was her monthly show of blood. She had never truly believed that the emperor could father a child upon her when he had never before sired one; but the insanity of the Temple of the Unconquerable Sun had left her shaken.

The Praetorian guards about her villa were removed at her request to the senate through Claudius Tacitus.

“I have no wish to cause the government undue expense on my behalf when it is not really necessary,” she told him. “It is enough that Rome houses me.”

“Perhaps,” Tacitus said, “it may soon be possible for you to have your complete freedom, my dear. The senate, however, needs certain assurances.” His kindly old face was bland with detachment.

“What assurances?” she demanded.

“The emperor made some rather interesting statements concerning your condition prior to his departure; and there was some gossip about fertility rites in his Temple of the Unconquerable Sun several weeks back.”

“If you are referring, Tacitus, to the night in which I was drugged and then raped by the emperor upon the high altar of his temple, then allow me to assure you that nothing came of that night other than my acute sense of shame. Aurelian chose to believe that I was carrying his child before he departed. I chose to allow him to believe it so I might be spared the boredom of accompanying him to Byzantium. If the senate does not believe me then let them question my women, or call a physician in to examine me. I am not with child.”

“Do you love Aurelian?” Tacitus asked bluntly.

“No,” she replied in kind. “I am his captive, and that is all I have ever been.”

“He believes that you love him.”

“He also believes that I am the goddess Venus incarnate, but I am not, Tacitus.” She looked shrewdly at him. “You have all but said aloud that there is a plot against Aurelian. I care not! Why should I? Aurelian has taken everything that I ever held dear from me. My sons are gone from me, my people, my city! All I have left is my daughter, and all I want is to be left alone in peace
to raise her. You may tell the senate that, Tacitus! I simply wish to be left to myself!”

“Your reputation was not a lie, Zenobia of Palmyra. You are indeed a wise woman,” Tacitus replied, and then he bid her farewell and withdrew from her.

When he had gone Zenobia called for parchment and her writing materials, and quickly wrote a note to Dagian. The note was then taken immediately to Rome by a Tiro, a young slave of Zenobia’s. He was a skilled chariot driver, who had been injured in the arena. No longer any good for competition, he had been sold by his master, but he could still drive skillfully enough for the road. She had purchased him, given him a lovely slave girl as a wife, and now Tiro would have died for his mistress.

When Tiro returned after dark that night Marcus Alexander Britainus was with him, muffled in a dark cloak as he slipped into the villa and made his way to Zenobia’s bedchamber. Adria gave a small shriek as the large, black figure entered the room without warning; but Marcus flung the long cape off, and Adria sighed, “Oh, master, you gave me such a fright!”

Marcus chuckled deeply. “Did you think I was Aurelian returned?”

Adria made a face that caused Marcus to laugh aloud.
“That one”
Adria sniffed. “Praise the gods we shall not have to put up with him again, master.”

“You sound more like old Bab every day,” he teased her.

“Then the girl is finally getting some sense, which is more than I can say for you, Marcus Alexander Britainus! Are you mad to come calling, and the emperor not gone from the country yet?” Bab stood glaring at him, hands upon her plump hips.

“Aurelian sailed two days ago, old woman; and besides, it was your beautiful mistress who summoned me here. Where is she?”

“Here, my love!” Zenobia stood in the doorway of her bedchamber. “I was in the gardens walking—and dreaming. Find your beds, Bab, Adria.”

The two servants scurried out, and waiting until they were just gone, Zenobia threw herself into her husband’s arms, raising her face up for a kiss. He stared down at her for a moment, his fingers gently caressing her cheekbones, and then his mouth descended to meet her eager lips. Her heart leapt wildly within her chest, threatening, she was certain, to burst through her skin. He kissed her softly at first, and then as his mouth grew more certain of possession, he demanded surrender, total surrender of her. She
joyously gave him that surrender, wrapping her smooth arms about his neck, pressing herself as close to him as she could.

“You are mine now!” and she could hear the triumph in his voice.

“I am yours now and forever!” she answered him, her eyes shining up into his with so much love that he felt humble.

Unable to resist her, he kissed her gently once more, and then he led her to their bed where they sat down so they might speak.

“Aurelian is gone, Zenobia. Two days ago from Brindisi, according to reports received this morning in Rome. The news came by pigeon, and was welcomed by the senate.”

“Tacitus came to visit me this morning,” Zenobia said excitedly. “I had requested the senate to withdraw the Praetorian guards from the villa.”

“On what excuse?” he asked.

“I said I wished to live quietly, and not cause the government unnecessary expense.”

Marcus laughed loudly. “Indeed, my love, you certainly must have caught their attention with that excuse.”

“He practically admitted a plot against Aurelian. This emperor will not, I wager, return from Byzantium alive.”

“How can you be sure, beloved? Tell me exactly what Tacitus said to you.”

“I do not doubt that you have heard the rumors, Marcus, of what happened to me in Aurelian’s temple,” she said slowly.

“I have heard,” he said tersely, his face suddenly dark and grim with anger.

“It was not my fault,” she whispered, afraid.

He drew a deep breath, and then took her onto his lap to comfort her. “I know that, Zenobia, but I cannot help but be angry about it. I am not angry with you, but at the situation. I am not one of these new Christians who can turn the other cheek. My wife, the woman whom I prize above all others, was taken publicly in a fertility rite! The mere thought maddens me!”

“It was the most horrifying experience of my life, Marcus, and I have lived through much. I was drugged just enough to make me helpless, but not enough to render me unconscious. I was bound upon their high altar for all to see, and all about me those unholy people chanted for Aurelian to take me.”

She sighed deeply, sadly, then said, “At least one good thing came of it. Aurelian was so certain that he had impregnated me that he never came near me after that.”

He groaned, pained. “How many times have you been helpless, and I not able to defend you, beloved? Never again! I swear by all the gods it shall never happen again! Now you are in my keeping, Zenobia, and I will protect you always.”

“And I will protect you, my love. Alone we seem but half a person; only together are we whole.”

He was comforted by her words, for he seemed to need the comfort more than she. She smiled with the thought that where she was weak he was strong, but where he was weak she was strong. After a long moment Marcus spoke again, saying, “Tell me what else Tacitus said.”

“He said that the senate needed
reassurances
, which, I realized, meant that they wished to know if I was indeed pregnant as Aurelian kept insisting. He said that, given those assurances, I might be granted my freedom entirely. I, of course, told him I am not pregnant. I offered my women to the senate for questioning, and myself for examination by a physician of the senate’s choice.

“Why would they want such knowledge if they were not planning to assassinate Aurelian? They would kill me as quickly as Aurelian if they thought there was any chance I was bearing his child. Since he has no other heirs, and poor Ulpia will shortly be dead herself, they seek to tie up all the loose ends. I wonder who will be the next emperor? Are there any generals who stand out in your mind?”

“None,” he answered her.

“Then why kill Aurelian? Why—without someone else to take his place—destabilize the government?”

“Aurelian has offended enough men,” Marcus explained, “that it matters not to them what happens to the government as long as their own interests are protected. And rest assured, my love, the interests of the conspirators will be safe. The powerful will find a new emperor. And when
he
offends them …” Marcus made a slicing motion across his throat with his finger.