Page 13 of Beloved
“Do not hide behind false piety with me, Publius Cato!”
“Your Majesty misunderstands me,”
came the oily reply.
“I misunderstand nothing, Publius Cato.”
“The emperor has shown us the direction to take.
Do you say he is wrong?”
The collective intake of breath was quite audible.
Be careful, Longinus mouthed at Zenobia.
Her nod was barely perceptible.
“The emperor is correct in all things, Publius Cato.
If he persecutes the Christians in Rome then surely in Rome they deserve it; but here in Palmyra our few Christians are honest citizens who obey our laws and meet their obligations promptly.
I suspect that your zeal for a persecution stems from the fact that you owe a rather large debt to Paulus Quintus, the merchant, who by coincidence is a Christian.”
“The goods he sold me were inferior!”
“Then it is a matter for the courts, isn’t it, Publius Cato?”
“The court ruled yesterday, Majesty,”
Zenobia’s secretary said.
“Did it?”
Zenobia was more than aware of the verdict, but she wanted the rest of the council to know, too.
“And what was the court’s decision, Longinus?”
“The court ruled in favor of Paulus Quintus, Majesty.
The goods were not shoddy, as claimed by Publius Cato.
He was ordered to pay Paulus Quintus for the merchandise.”
“I see.”
The look Zenobia sent the rest of her councillors was one of patient tolerance.
“Is there anyone else here who feels that the Christians are a danger to this government, or to the city itself? I will listen to anyone who wishes to speak.”
Eloquent silence followed.
Publius Cato rose angrily from his seat and made for the door.
“This council is not dismissed!”
Zenobia’s voice was icy.
“I will not stay here and be insulted by a woman!”
“That a woman bore you, Publius Cato, is certainly not a point in our favor,”
Zenobia replied, “but if you leave this chamber without my permission you will forever be dismissed from the council.
I am Queen of Palmyra, and I will be Queen.”
She smiled faintly.
“Come now, Publius Cato.
You have given many years to this government, and have rendered it valuable service on any number of occasions.
I can understand your desire for revenge, but whatever is between you and Paulus Quintus, you must not bring your wishes for vengeance into our government.
When you have calmed down you will see that I am right.
Come now, and sit.
We have much business to dispose of before I dismiss you all.”
Two other councillors had gotten up, and now spoke urgently and softly to Publius Cato, who, red-faced, shook his head in the negative.
“You can do no more, Majesty,”
Longinus said.
“The man is impossible.”
“It would be better not to make enemies.”
“Whether he returns to his seat or not he will be your enemy.
At least you have made a public attempt at reconciliation.
If he is rash enough to leave, he will look the churl he is, and you may appoint one of your own people.”
“And if he returns? What then?”
She cocked her head to one side.
“He will attempt to block everything you do, for he is a petty man,”
Longinus replied.
Then his eyes widened slightly and he said gleefully, “The gods have heard my prayers! The fool is leaving!”
Zenobia’s face was regretful, but she gained immediate sympathy from everyone in the room.
“I mourn the loss of Publius Cato,”
she said, “but if I did not serve the interests of Palmyra first, I could not serve the interests of Palmyra at all.”
For a moment she looked saddened, then her gray eyes grew bright and alert again.
“With Publius Cato’s departure we lack a quorum.
Unless I immediately appoint someone to take his place we must disband; and there is so much to be done.
I do not feel we can afford to lose the time.
Are there any objections to my appointing, at least temporarily, Cassius Longinus, my secretary, to fill the place left by Publius Cato? Although he has been away several years, he is a native son of this city.”
“I can see no impediment to such an appointment,”
said Marius Gracchus, the eldest and senior member of the council.
After a brief moment all the others nodded their heads in agreement.
“It is settled then, Majesty.
Welcome Dionysius Cassius Longinus.
You are not the first member of your family to serve this council.
I remember your illustrious grandfather quite well.”
Several hours later, after the council had been dismissed, Longinus said to his mistress, “I am not sure that you did not plan that whole thing.”
“Actually, I did not expect Publius Cato to resign his post, but when he did it was only natural that I appoint you in his place, and I’m sure Odenathus will approve my choice, Longinus.”
“You do not know me.”
Zenobia turned her gray eyes on him, and smiled faintly.
“I know you, Longinus.
When we first met I instantly knew the kind of man you are—intelligent, honest and shrewd.
You will be loyal to me, and therefore to Palmyra.”
“You have neglected to say that I prefer men for lovers,”
Longinus replied wickedly.
Zenobia laughed.
“Have you ever made love to a woman, Longinus? But you need not tell me.
I shall grant that your private life be your own.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously at him, and he was forced to laugh with her.
“I suspect that you are not going to be an easy person to work with, Majesty.”
“Why, Longinus, I am simply a woman,”
she answered with mock humility.
Longinus arched an elegant eyebrow in amusement, but Zenobia chose to ignore him, and continued, “You are to escort me to Antonius Porcius’s wedding tomorrow.
Be here in the hour before dawn.”
“The hour before dawn?”
He looked anguished.
“I do not think my blood courses through my veins at such an hour, Majesty.”
“I do not need your blood, Longinus, just your body,”
Zenobia answered drily.
“Well,”
he answered, “I think we shall make a handsome couple.
Good night, Majesty.”
Zenobia chuckled softly and poured herself some wine before seating herself in a chair.
Thoughtfully she sipped the sweet red liquid.
She had faced her first great challenge today, and she believed that she had acquitted herself quite well.
As Longinus had said, whatever had happened Publius Cato would have been her enemy.
By using his own weakness against him she had removed him from the council and replaced him with one who would be loyal to Palmyra.
She did not think Odenathus would disapprove her choice when he returned from his war.
Cassius Longinus.
She smiled to herself.
She liked him.
He was a man of wit and culture, and, given his reputation, no one could accuse her of infidelity with him.
She wondered briefly what made him prefer men over women as lovers, then shrugged.
It mattered not, for he was already a friend, and she knew he would be a good servant of Palmyra.
He was attractive, though: tall and lean, his gray hair close-cropped, his brown eyes lively and interested.
His nose was long, and he had an intimidating way of looking down it that made most people nervous.
Both his manners and his dress were elegant; his nature was generous, although he could become impatient with what he called the “general stupidity”
of the populace.
He was a tireless worker, she had discovered in the few months he had been with her, and this pleased her, for she disliked being idle, especially with her husband away.
A faint scratching at the door caught her attention, and she called, “Come in.”
“I thought you might be lonely,”
Deliciae said, entering the room.
“I am glad for your company,”
Zenobia answered, although nothing was further from the truth.
She had been enjoying her solitude.
“The council met almost the entire day—you must be exhausted.”
“I thrive on hard work, Deliciae.
Idleness is anathema to me.”
“Is it true that you removed Publius Cato from the council? The city is abuzz with rumors.”
“Already?”
She was amused.
“Publius Cato made an error in judgment when he attempted to use the government to pursue a personal grudge.”
“Al-Zena says women do not belong in government.”
“Al-Zena would quickly change her mind if Odenathus had left her as regent instead of me,”
Zenobia laughed.
“Let us not speak of her, though, Deliciae.
Instead, tell me how you spent your day.”
“In idleness, Zenobia.
The very idleness you so abhor.
I spent most of my time beautifying myself, although for what or whom I do not know.
I spent an hour with my sons, but alas, they are at an appalling age and speak only of weapons and horses.”
“Are you happy, Deliciae?”
“No, but then what is there for me? I am Odenathus’s concubine, although he has not used me as such in five years.
I am the mother of sons who no longer need me.
I have not the mind of weighty matters, as do you.
I am as nothing.”
“What do you want then?”
Zenobia asked.
“If I tell you will you keep it a secret? I cannot have what I desire, but I can dream.”
“I will keep it secret.”
“I want a husband, Zenobia.
Being a wife and a mother is what I am best suited for in this life.
I know it is not possible, but still I dream.”
“Why is it not possible? You have been beloved of a king, and should that king decide to reward your devotion by giving you to some worthy man as a wife, who is to tell him nay? If you wish it I will speak to Odenathus myself when he returns.
You are still young enough to have more children.”
“You would do that for me?”
Deliciae’s hopeful face brought Zenobia close to tears.
What a fool I have been! she thought.
I have been so wrapped up in my own happiness that I did not see how miserable poor Deliciae has been.
I shall never be a worthy queen if I can only speak of the people’s needs, but do not see to them.
“I will speak to the king, Deliciae, but once I have then you must be honest with him.
I do not believe that you ever loved each other, but you have been friends.
When I have paved the way for you, speak openly to Odenathus of your feelings.”
“I am not sure I can, Zenobia.”
“You must, Deliciae.
In the end only you can gain your own happiness.”
“What will happen to my sons if I leave the palace?”
“I do not know, Deliciae.
However, I believe it would be best if they went with you rather than remain at the palace.
They are as yet young, and need their mother.”
While they live here in the palace, thought Zenobia, Deliciae’s sons are made to feel like royal princes, which they most certainly are not, and they also are old enough to be troublesome should anything happen to Odenathus.
Indeed, for everyone’s sake, Linos and Vermis would be better off elsewhere.
She focused upon Deliciae again.
“I will see that you are not separated from your sons, Deliciae.
I could not bear it if I were separated from mine, and I understand a mother’s feelings.”
Deliciae fell to her knees and kissed the hem of Zenobia’s gown.
Her blue eyes were wet with tears.
“Thank you, Majesty! Thank you!”
“Do not thank me yet, Deliciae.
We have yet to speak to the king.”
“He will listen to you,”
Deliciae said.
“I know he will!”
“Come now,”
Zenobia said.
“Join me for the evening meal.
I must retire early, for tomorrow my friend, Julia Tullio, is to be married, and I have been invited for the augurs at dawn.”
The next morning Zenobia wore a queenly flame-colored stola cinched with a wide gold belt inlaid with rubies and pearls.
About her throat was a magnificent necklace of hundreds of small pearls and rubies that dangled from cobweb thin gold wires and glittered upon the pale-gold skin of her chest.
Great barbaric ruby ovals hung from her ears.
On her upper right arm was a golden snake with ruby eyes, and beneath it were a carved gold bangle and a smooth bangle of pink coral.
On her left arm were three gold-wire bracelets, two studded with freshwater pearls flanking one encrusted with small rubies.
Her slender fingers were dressed with but three rings, her wedding band, a great pink pearl, and a square-cut pink sapphire.
Zenobia’s heavy black hair was parted in the center, and wound into a thick coil at the base of her neck.
An exquisitely wrought diadem of filigreed gold vines and pink-sapphire flowers was set upon her head.
On her feet she wore gilt leather sandals.
Looking at herself in the polished-silver mirror held up by a slave, she was surprised at how regal she looked.
Of course, she thought, my height is finally proving an advantage.
Longinus, shivering in the predawn cold, but elegant in a finely spun long, white wool tunic and a purple-bordered toga trabea of white and red stripes, awaited her in the courtyard of the palace.
His gray hair was beautifully curled and smelled of a fragrant pomade.
Giving her a wan smile, he helped her into the litter, and climbed in to seat himself opposite her.
The slaves lifted them and moved off and out through the palace gate.
“If you are not too cold, Longinus, I should prefer to leave the curtains open.
The sky before dawn is particularly lovely.”
He sighed, and nodded as he huddled down into the pillows.
She smiled to herself, and for a few minutes they rode in silence, Zenobia watching the starry sky, now beginning to lighten faintly at the edges of the horizon.
“Name me an unmarried man of good family whom we might wish to honor,” she said.
Her question brought instant interest in Longinus’s brown eyes.
He sat up, and she could see his subtle brain mulling over the matter while at the same time wondering what she was up to this time.
Finally he said, “The man who comes to mind is Rufus Acilius Curius.
His father was a Roman centurion who married the daughter of a wealthy Palmyran merchant about thirty years ago.
I remember it because it caused a great scandal.
The family was at that time untainted by Roman blood, and the father a fanatic on the subject, but the girl got pregnant by her lover, and there was no choice but to marry.
The centurion, however, proved a good husband, and when he retired from the army settled here in Palmyra.
Rufus Curius is the third son, and he chose to make the army his career.
He is the first Palmyran-born commander of Qasr-al-Hêr. He’s very loyal to Odenathus.”
“Qasr-al-Hêr? The border fortress?”
“Yes.”
“The gods! It is perfect! You are sure he has no wife? What of a betrothal? A mistress?”
“None that I have heard.”
“Find out for certain, Longinus.
I must know immediately!”
“Why?”
No one else would have dared to ask the question, but Zenobia was not offended by Longinus.
He had become her close confidant.
“Deliciae is Odenathus’s concubine in name only.
She is unhappy, Longinus.
Odenathus does not need her.
Frankly, she bores him, but he would not dismiss her, for she and her sons would suffer great shame if he did.
She longs to be a wife, and to have other children.
I have promised her that I would speak to Odenathus.
She is young enough to begin a new life.
I thought if he gave her in marriage to someone he wished to honor, it would solve the problem.”
“Yes,”
Longinus mused, “and now that you tell me what you want to do I can tell you that Rufus Curius is indeed the right man.
I expect you want her sons to go with her, and Rufus Curius would be an excellent foster father for them.
He will see they grow up to be loyal citizens and honest men.”
He gave her a wicked look.
“I know that your intentions toward the lady Deliciae are good ones, but I cannot help but think you will not be sorry to see Linos and Vermis go.”
“For their own sakes, and for the sake of my son, Vaballathus, it is better that Deliciae’s sons not grow up thinking that they are princes.”
The litter arrived at the home of Manlius Tullio Syrius.
Longinus descended from the vehicle, then reached back in to help her out.
Manlius Tullio Syrius knelt and touched the hem of Zenobia’s skirts to his forehead.
“You do us incredible honor, my Queen.
The humble house of Tullio is made great by your presence.”
“Rise, father of my dearest friend, Julia.
I should ill repay your daughter’s friendship of many years if I did not come to wish her and her betrothed good fortune.”
The elder Tullio rose, and then each member of his family beginning with his wife, Filomena, paid homage to Zenobia.
It was a large family, and afterward Longinus murmured softly to Zenobia, “If you had come a half-hour earlier I would have been frozen in my tracks by the time they all kissed your hem.”
Zenobia stifled a chuckle as the bride’s mother spoke.
“Julia would like you to serve as pronuba, your Majesty,”
Filomena said.
“I should be honored, Aunt Filomena,”
was the reply.
Zenobia was led to the place of honor, and as the sun slipped over the horizon the public augur slit the throat of a young sheep, catching its blood in a silver basin.
For some minutes the augur carefully viewed the young ram’s smoking innards, and then he said, “The omens are most favorable.”
Now Antonius Porcius Blandus and Julia Tullio both appeared in the atrium, and the wedding began.
Zenobia stepped forward, smiling at her friend, and before the many witnesses joined the hands of the bride and the groom.
Shyly Julia repeated the traditional words, “When—and where—you are Gaius, I then—and there—am Gaia.”
The words of consent given, the ceremony continued, now led by the high priest of Jupiter and his assistants.
For a moment Zenobia let her mind wander back to the happy day when she married Odenathus, and she sighed softly.
She missed him so very much.
If the damned Romans wanted the Persians subdued, why didn’t they send their own generals instead of the King of Palmyra? The empire is too big, murmured a little voice in her head, and they can no longer control it all themselves.
She pushed away the thought, and glanced about at the other guests.
Marcus Alexander Britainus was staring at her, and for some reason that she didn’t understand she blushed.
She was instantly furious at herself, and shot him a withering look, but to her surprise he was no longer looking at her.
What on earth was the matter with her? she wondered.
“Feliciter!”
the guests shouted, and Zenobia realized that the ceremony was over.
She watched as Antonius Porcius vigorously kissed his rosy-cheeked bride.
“Are you satisfied now?”
asked Marcus, suddenly at her side.
“It is obvious that he loves her.”
“Yes,”
Zenobia answered slowly.
“It will be a good marriage, and I am glad for Julia.”
She took a goblet of wine offered by a slave, as did Marcus.
“Would I offend you, Majesty, if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman in this room, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life, in all my travels.”
For a moment her heart beat so quickly that she could not catch her breath to speak.
Finally she managed to say, “Why do you say such a thing to me, Marcus Britainus?”
“Why should it embarrass you that I speak a truth,”
he said.
“Are we not good enough friends after all these years that I may say what I feel to you, offer a compliment?”
“You have never said such things to me, Marcus Britainus.
I am merely surprised.”
“The wine makes me bold,”
he teased gently, and then he said softly so only she might hear, “Zenobia, look at me.”
Surprised, she raised her eyes to him.
Never before had he dared to use her name.
His blue eyes, seeming to devour her, held her prisoner, and she was mesmerized while a strange heat swept over her body, rendering her almost helpless.
“Are you a sorcerer too, Marcus Britainus?”
she finally said, very shaken.
“Only a man, Majesty,”
was the reply.
“I am only a man.”
She thought about the incident later that night after all the festivities were over.
Longinus, who had observed the little encounter between his mistress and Marcus Britainus, had not left her side for the rest of the day; but he said nothing, for he could see that she was disturbed.
She was restless that night.
Each time she drifted off she would see his face with its high cheekbones, strong jaw, long nose, and those blue eyes that caressed and blazed down at her until she awoke, drenched in her own sweat, her heart pounding.
I have been too long without my Hawk, she thought with strangely clear logic.
I seem to be a woman who cannot get along without a man.
It would have disturbed Zenobia even more had she known that Marcus also lay awake that night.
His passion for her had not abated, but rather grown over the years.
Often he questioned himself as to whether it was simply because he could not possess her, but the answer was always the same.
He loved her.
He had chided himself even as he had said the provocative words that risked his entire relationship with her.
It had been a rash thing to do, but for once he had longed for Zenobia to look at him like a man, and not a teacher.
When his eyes had held hers in thrall that morning he had yearned to sweep her into his arms, to kiss her marvelous ripe mouth, to caress her beautiful body until she swooned with rapture.
Then he had seen her frightened eyes, and he had released his hold upon her.
Why had she feared him? Was it possible that she was finally realizing that there was more to him than just history lessons?
Marcus stretched his long body as he sought to find a more comfortable position.
He smiled ruefully.
How unlike the bold and licentious women of Rome Zenobia was.
She was still an innocent, and it was his misfortune to have fallen in love with her.
A man of less character might have attempted to seduce her, but it was not in his nature to entrap or force a woman.
The men he knew in Rome, men who practiced their new morality with lustful gusto, would have laughed at him for a fool.
Zenobia did not see Marcus for several days, and then she was only momentarily uncomfortable.
He, however, seemed not to notice as he intently described Roman Britain to her.
She would never know the effort it took him to appear so totally impersonal.
Odenathus returned home victorious over the Persians, who had fled back across their borders to lick their wounds.
It was autumn, and the Bedawi again left the oasis city to wander the desert while the great caravans traveled in and out of Palmyra with their varied goods.
The king confirmed his wife’s temporary appointment of Cassius Longinus as a member of the council.
The government ran smoothly.
“I have long wanted to get rid of Publius Cato, but there was simply no reason for me to dismiss him.”
He chuckled.
“The gossip tells me that Publius Cato had bragged that I would reappoint him when I returned to Palmyra.”
“He will not thank you for making him a laughingstock, my Hawk.
It might be wise to offer him some harmless, but seemingly important post.”
He hugged her lovingly.
“I shall take your suggestion, Zenobia.
The man who collects the taxes upon the silk from Cathay has recently died.
We shall offer Publius Cato this post, although I doubt that those who import the silk thread to dye will thank us.”
“I have a feeling that they will cope a great deal more easily with Publius Cato than the government has been able to do,”
Zenobia replied.
“You have done so well while I was gone,”
he complimented her.
“Marius Gracchus himself told me—and compliments from that old fox do not come easily or often.
Although the council was fearful of my departure, now they feel that I may meet my obligations as Rome’s commander of the eastern legions without endangering Palmyra.”
He grimaced.
“I am not sure that I should not be worried, Zenobia, for if you prove a more adept ruler than I they could depose me.”
“I could do nothing if I did not know you were coming home to me, my Hawk!”
she answered fervently.
“There might come a time when you have to, my flower.
Oh, I do not mean to frighten you, but no man, even a king, is impervious to an opponent’s spear, an enemy’s arrow.
If I should die before Vaballathus is old enough to rule in his own right, you would be regent of this city, its ruler.”
“You will not die in battle.
It is not your fate, I know it!”
He kissed her slowly.
“Sorceress,”
he murmured against her mouth.
“What spells do you weave to keep me safe?”
His hands slipped beneath her robes to caress her silky skin.
“No Hawk!”
she protested.
“I yet have something to discuss with you.”
“Is it more important than our love?”
he said, fondling a ripe breast.
She squirmed away reluctantly.
“It concerns our love, my Hawk.
I love you with all my heart, and you, I know, love me.
Still, Deliciae remains your concubine although you have not favored her in several years.
Have you any idea how unhappy she is?”
He looked curiously at her.
“Are you suggesting that I return to her bed?”
“If you do I shall scratch both your eyes out!”
Zenobia said with mock anger.
“No, my Hawk, that is not the answer.
While you were away, Deliciae and I were much together, and one night she confided to me how unhappy she is.
She is grateful to you, of course, but she longs for what we have.
She wants a husband, and she wants other children.
She has been loyal many years, and she deserves to be rewarded.”
“Deliciae really wants this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And have you chosen a candidate for her hand?”
“Rufus Curius, the commander of Qasr-al-Hêr.”
“How did you arrive at that choice?”
His voice was somewhat strained.
“It was Longinus’s suggestion.
He tells me that Rufus Curius is the first Palmyran-born centurion to command our border fortress.
He says that Rufus Curius is a good man who will be a model husband for Deliciae and a fine foster father for Linos and Vermis.”
“How can you ask me to relinquish my sons?”
he demanded of her, and Zenobia was truly shocked by the anguish in his voice.
“I know how you love Linos and Vermis,”
she answered him, “but you do them no kindness by keeping them here in Palmyra at the palace.
They have already begun asking why their half-brother, Vaballathus, is your heir instead of one of them.
Your mother does not help, either, for she encourages this attitude in them.
Reason cannot aid us, for logic will not prevail over emotion.”
“I want no other man raising my sons,”
Odenathus said stubbornly.
Zenobia lost her temper.
“And what of my sons!?”
she demanded furiously.
“If you were killed in battle what is to stop a dissident group from pressing a claim on Linos’s part? No bastard has ever sat on Palmyra’s throne, but by keeping your sons by Deliciae here in the palace you appear to favor them.
There are those who might even assume that you favor them over your legitimate sons! You cannot control the situation if you are not here, my lord King.”
Now it was he who was shocked.
Never had he heard her voice drip so with scorn and venom.
She had always been truthful, even to the point of bluntness, but never had he heard her so fierce.
Had her time as ruler of Palmyra given her a taste of power that she was reluctant to relinquish now that he had returned?
The truth of the matter was that Deliciae’s presence had become something of a burden.
Still, he had never thought of sending his older sons away.
“I must think on it, my flower,” he said.
“Think well, and do not think overlong,”
she replied, getting up and moving away from him.
“Do you threaten me, my flower?”
His voice held a dangerous note.
She was neither afraid nor impressed, for although she loved him she was suddenly seeing him through different eyes.
“I merely ask that you not delay in your decision, my lord,”
she replied coldly, and walked from the room.
He felt strangely bereft, for in their six years of marriage they had never had a serious quarrel.
Odenathus sensed that things between himself and Zenobia would never be the same.
He had somehow failed her, failed her in an unforgivable way.
Was she correct? Was it possible that his open affection for his two older sons might lead people to think that he favored his illegitimate children over his legitimate ones? He loved all his boys.
Still, should he fall in battle before his sons were grown … He shuddered at the thought of the civil war that could follow, for Zenobia would not sit quietly by and allow her own sons’ inheritance to be usurped.
And if Rome involved itself? His whole line could be wiped out.