Beloved (67 page)

“Then surely the time is right for us to flee, my love! Now, while they are involved with their plots.”

“Yes, beloved, it is time for us to flee. I have spent these last days planning our escape. I have bought a ship, Zenobia, a Roman merchantman, only two years old. If we are to live on an island we shall need transportation between our new home and the mainland.”

“A merchantman? Then you mean to trade?”

“I am not a farmer or a herdsman, beloved.”

“Will you leave me then in this strange land that you are taking me to, Marcus. Leave me to pursue your business?”

“No, beloved, I will never leave you again, but my ship will trade for me, and I will have an interest.”

She squirmed about in his lap, and looked up at him. “What will I do?” she wondered aloud. “I am a queen without a kingdom, a general without an army. What on earth am I to do, Marcus?”

“You will be a good Roman wife, beloved,” he answered, and Zenobia laughed.

“No, Marcus, I should be bored to death. For me there must be something else. Perhaps I shall make this island of ours the new kingdom over which I reign. I must think on it.”

“You think too much,” he chuckled, falling back upon the bed, still clutching her within his arms. “Come, and be my good Roman wife,” he teased, repositioning her to lie in the curve of his arm beneath him as if she were a child’s toy. “I think that you should begin by kissing me,
wife”
and he lowered his head to brush her lips with his own. “My wife,” he murmured against her mouth. “My beautiful wife, my sweet wife, my adorable wife.”

Her smile was deceptively sweet. “I have only been upon the sea once, when Aurelian brought me from Macedonia to Brindisi. I liked it, and I believe that I shall learn to navigate this ship of yours. One may use the stars in the heavens upon the sea as easily as upon the desert.”

He grinned down at her. “Had I wanted to marry a sailor …” He waggled his eyebrows wickedly at her so that she giggled. “I wanted a woman, beloved, and I married woman incarnate.” His hand drew her robe open to bare her beautiful breasts to him, and he leaned forward to brush them with his rough cheek. Her scent arose from the warmth of her lovely body to taunt and assail him. “Oh, Zenobia,” he said softly, and she reached out to draw him against her breasts.

They lay together in tender embrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together without fear of discovery. She threaded her fingers through his thick chestnut-colored hair, noticing a silver strand here and there. Suddenly she realized that he had fallen asleep upon her breasts, and again she chuckled as she shifted to cradle him more comfortably. There had never before been a time when he hadn’t made love to her. Their separation had taken its toll on him, for he was obviously exhausted.

When morning came and he awoke, Marcus was much cha
grined. “You were so tired, my darling,” an amused Zenobia comforted him.

“But I wanted you!” he protested.

Zenobia laughed. “And I wanted you,” she said, “but you were tired and you fell asleep.” Then she roused him up, for it was necessary that he return to the city that morning. “When are we to leave?” she asked as she helped him to dress in his freshened clothes.

“We will sail from Ostia in three days’ time,” he answered.

“Are we to sail the entire way, my darling?” She looked a little nervous.

“I would like to, Zenobia, as there is less chance of our being caught; but the sea is so dangerous. We will follow the coast closely as far as Massilia. From Massilia we will take the tin route up across Gaul to the coast facing Britain. It is a very small piece of water, beloved. The ship will meet us there, having gone through the Pillars of Hercules out into the great sea, and around the coast of Gaul. Our ship will then take us across to Britain.”

“Not to our own home?”

“No. First we must take my mother to Aulus and his family. Only then can we seek our own place, Zenobia. Besides, I think it is only polite that I ask Aulus for his island before we take it over.” His deep-blue eyes were twinkling at her.

She laughed. “How the times have changed, my darling. I pray your brother will be generous.”

“He is a good man, Zenobia.”

“You must take some of the slaves with you today,” she said. “I cannot leave Tivoli discreetly with a large train.”

“How many people do you have?”

“You need not worry about the women,” Zenobia said. “They can come with me when I go to Rome to meet you, but you must take Tiro, my charioteer, and Otho the gardener. They are the only men with me, and I prefer they go with you today.”

“Very well,” he answered. “How many women do you have besides old Bab, Adria, and Charmian?”

“Just two slave girls for cleaning, and Lenis, the cook, who is Tiro’s wife.”

“You’ll attract no attention with so small a retinue,” he said. “Have your women pack most of your goods and send them with Tiro and Otho to my house in Rome. Then you may travel easily and in comfort.”

He left her to return to Rome, and Zenobia spent the rest of
her day overseeing the packing. By nightfall all was in readiness. She had instructed both Tiro and Otho that they were to leave before morning in order to be through the town before everyone was up.

In the hour before the dawn she awakened and heard the carts lumbering from the villa courtyard. With a sigh of relief Zenobia turned over and went back to sleep. She was awakened some time later by old Bab, who shook her frantically.

“Wake up, my baby! Wake up!”

“What is it, Bab?” It was a monumental effort to keep her eyes open.

“Gaius Cicero is here, and he is demanding to see you. You must get up and receive him!”

Instantly Zenobia was awake, her mind racing with curiosity. Gaius Cicero was Aurelian’s personal aide as well as the emperor’s favorite. He had gone with his master to Byzantium. What was he doing back in Tivoli? Was Aurelian in Rome? Had he learned of the plot against him? She rose from her bed, her body gleaming through her sleeping robe. “Get me a tunic, old woman. Where is Gaius Cicero now?”

“He waits in the atrium, my baby,” Bab replied, pulling a light white wool tunica over Zenobia and belting it with a length of red leather. “Adria! The sandals, quickly!”

Zenobia slid her feet into her sandals, and hurried from her bedchamber, down the stairs of the house, and into the atrium. There, she saw Gaius Cicero pacing. “Greetings, Gaius Cicero,” she called to him, “I thought you with the emperor.”

“I was, Majesty. He has sent me back for you.”

“What?” She was astounded.

“I am to bring you to the emperor, Majesty. He says …” the soldier in Gaius Cicero flushed, “he says he cannot bear to be without you, and I am to bring you to him.”

“Have you come alone, Gaius Cicero?” she asked him.

“Yes, it was thought I might travel more quickly. We can pick up an escort in Rome.”

“Very well, Gaius Cicero, if the emperor insists then who am I to argue? It will take several days, however, for my things to be packed. I was planning on going into Rome today, and so I shall ask you to accompany me; but first I will give my servants orders to pack.” With a smile she turned and retraced her steps back to her bedchamber, where she explained Gaius Cicero’s presence to both Bab and Adria.

“What will you do, my baby?”

“I will go into Rome now with Gaius Cicero, and I shall let Marcus handle this. He and Gaius Cicero are friends. Perhaps we should warn him of the possible plot against Aurelian. If he does not return to the emperor then he may be saved. I do not know his wife, but I have heard it said that Clodia Cicero is a good woman, and they have several children. If he returns to the emperor he will surely suffer Aurelian’s fate. That, however, must be up to my husband. I will not return here, Bab, and so tomorrow you must bring Mavia and the rest of the servants to me in Rome.”

“It will be as you command, my baby,” Bab said. “Be careful, Majesty, lest Gaius Cicero suspect anything before you reach Marcus Alexander.” She then helped Zenobia to dress for her journey into Rome.

She left the Tivoli villa without looking back. The day was fair with early spring, and the Via Flaminia mildly busy with traffic moving toward the city. Zenobia noted many farm carts filled with the first produce, asparagus, tiny onions, new lettuce, and brightly colored flowers. There were some families, undoubtedly going to visit relatives in Rome; and peddlers come to sell their wares in the streets.

There was little traffic from Rome until a troupe of horsemen came galloping down the road, causing those on foot and in smaller vehicles to scatter to the side of the Via Flaminia. As they were about to pass the chariot in which Zenobia and Gaius Cicero were riding their leader called a halt to his troupe.

“Hail, Gaius Cicero! I thought you were with the emperor.”

“Hail, Fabius Marcellus! I was, but I was sent back on an errand.”

Fabius Marcellus looked at Zenobia, and then said, “Is this not the Queen of Palmyra, Gaius Cicero?”

“I am Zenobia of Palmyra,” she replied before he might speak.

“I have an order for your arrest, Zenobia of Palmyra,” came the frightening words.

Gaius Cicero was shocked, and not a little surprised. “On whose order?” he demanded of Fabius Marcellus. “This woman is under the emperor’s personal protection.”

“On the orders of the senate,” came the reply.

“There must be some mistake, Majesty,” Gaius Cicero said. “Nonetheless I must let you go with Fabius Marcellus. I will seek to find an answer to this puzzle, and see to your release as quickly as possible.”

Zenobia was speechless with fear—not for herself, but for Marcus, for Mavia, for Dagian, for her servants. Why was she being arrested? Had they somehow found out about her marriage to Marcus? A thousand questions flew through her numbed brain, and then to her further terror she heard Fabius Marcellus say to Gaius Cicero:

“I cannot let you go your way, Gaius Cicero. You are not where you should be, and you are in the company of this woman. I must ask that you accompany us until the senate knows of your presence and decides what to do with you.”

Gaius Cicero’s hand went to his broadsword and then, upon reflection, fell away. He was badly outnumbered. This was either a ridiculous mistake, or else it was a plot against Aurelian. If it were an error he would shortly be free; if it were a plot then his fate was in the hands of the gods. “I will go with you,” he said quietly, and Fabius Marcellus sighed, relieved. He had known Gaius Cicero for a long time, and he liked him. He had no wish to kill a good officer.

Zenobia roused herself. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, drawing herself up, her voice impersonal and imperious.

“There is a small prison near the senate, Majesty. I have been ordered to escort you there,” replied Fabius Marcellus, now slightly discomfited by the tone of Zenobia’s voice.

Gaius Cicero smiled to himself. The queen, he thought, could certainly rise to the occasion.

“A small prison?”
The outrage in Zenobia’s voice was evident for all to hear.

Fabius Marcellus suddenly realized that she was taller than he. He flushed uncomfortably, and then mumbled, “I am not to be held responsible for
their
decisions, Majesty. I only do my duty.” He waved his hand in signal, and suddenly the chariot was surrounded by Praetorian guards. With a nod, and feeling that he had now regained charge of the situation Fabius Marcellus moved to the head of the group, and they began to move off toward Rome.

“What do you know of this?” Gaius Cicero asked in a low voice.

“Nothing, really,” she answered, “but several days ago Senator Tacitus called upon me and questioned me closely.”

“About what?” Gaius Cicero was curious.

“About whether I carried the emperor’s child,” was her reply.

“Do you?”
He looked closely at her.

“No,” Zenobia replied, “I do not. Oh, I know that the emperor thinks I do, but that is Aurelian’s own desperation. You are not a fool, Gaius Cicero. You cannot believe that I care for Aurelian! I am an imperial captive. I have done what I had to to survive, to insure my children’s survival. I have loved but two men in my life—my late husband and Marcus Alexander Britainus.”

“But I thought you hated Marcus for marrying Carissa.” Gaius Cicero shook his head. “Give me a simple woman like my Clodia.”

“You must go to Marcus when you are released, Gaius Cicero. You must go to him, and tell him that I have been arrested. He will know what to do. And Gaius, remember your first loyalty is to your wife and family. I have warned you.”

“Do not fear, Majesty,” was his reply. “It is simply a misunderstanding.”

“I know nothing for
certain
, Gaius Cicero, yet I do know that if I have been ordered arrested it is because the senate would be certain that I am not with child—Aurelian’s child, his heir. When they are sure of that then I am certain to be released. Still I would have Marcus know where I am, Gaius Cicero. Will you promise to tell him for me?”

“Very well, Majesty, I promise you.” He paused, and then he said, “I wonder if they will kill me because I am the emperor’s aide.”

“I do not think so, Gaius Cicero. Simply pledge your fealty to Rome, to the new emperor. Seek out Senator Tacitus, and explain to him that you are naught but a simple soldier, not a politician. He is a fair man, and he will protect you. So will your family. Yours is an old and honorable name, Cicero.”

Gaius Cicero looked heartened by her words. “You are probably right. Had I been with the emperor I surely would have been struck down, but the gods seemed to have arranged differently.”

Too quickly they were in Rome, and Zenobia found herself being escorted into a building of deceptively innocent white marble. Fabius Marcellus took her by the arm and presented her to the jailor.

“I have the prisoner, Zenobia of Palmyra, on the senate’s orders. She is to be held for interrogation.”

Fabius Marcellus loosened his grip on her arm, and Zenobia turned to Gaius Cicero. “Do not forget your promise, Gaius Cicero,” she said before following after the jailor.

They went through a door, and the stink that suddenly assailed her was worse than anything she had ever smelled. She gasped,
and coughed, sudden tears coming to her eyes. “You’ll get used to it,” the jailor said matter-of-factly.