Page 20 of Beloved
He would divorce her and marry his beloved.
If he left the day after the wedding he could reach Palmyra before any letter could; before any gossip could.
Furiously he whipped his horses and, as he raced through the streets, took savage pleasure seeing the pedestrians scatter and scramble out of the way, hurling curses at him that flowed off his shoulders like rainwater.
If they hated, he hated right back.
His father was awake when he arrived home, and he went quickly in to see him.
“Do not upset him,”
Dagian begged her son, and Marcus nodded.
He was shocked by his father’s withered and shrunken appearance.
Marcus had long ago topped his father by several inches, but the tiny, frail man who lay in his bed was almost a stranger until he spoke.
“You are growing older, my son,”
he said.
“Your mother has told me that she informed you of the fine match I have made for you.
I would that she had given me that pleasure, but then,”
and here he gazed affectionately at Dagian, “your mother was never one to keep a happy secret.
We must have the wedding soon, Marcus.
Charon already waits to ferry me across into the Underworld.”
“I have already seen the emperor, Father.
He tells me that the wedding will be in two days.”
“Good, good!”
the old man enthused.
“I ask nothing more of the gods but to see you safely married.”
He fell back upon his pillows and was soon snoring lightly.
“Oh, Marcus,”
Dagian whispered, “when I think of the strong and virile man he was.
And now—now he is so weak.”
Dagian took her son by the hand, and led him from the room.
“Tell me what transpired between you and the emperor.”
“Aurelian is adamant that I marry his niece.
He has threatened violence and destruction against this family if I do not.
However, I shall leave the day after the wedding for Palmyra.
I can stay no longer, and Father will die whether I am here or not.
This is hardly something that I can tell Zenobia in a letter.
Once Father has passed on; once my sisters are safe with their husbands; once you and Aulus are safely returned to Britain; then I shall divorce this Carissa and marry Zenobia.”
Dagian nodded slowly.
His plan was sound, and although she could see that he was angry it was a contained anger.
She could not understand Aurelian’s immovable intent.
Why did he so fervently desire Marcus for his niece? Surely there were other young men in Rome who could be brought into line, or even bought.
Why Marcus?
She wondered again two days later after her eldest son had been married to Carissa.
Because of her husband’s illness the ceremony had been performed in her husband’s bedchamber, and for a brief time Lucius Alexander exuded the power and the charm that had once been his.
It was as if he had gathered all his strength for a final performance.
He greeted the emperor heartily, and complimented the bride.
The Bride.
Dagian gazed upon Aurelian’s niece and marveled that any woman could be that perfect.
Carissa was a girl of medium height with an oval face and two adorable dimples on either side of her rosebud mouth.
Her skin was milk white, her cheeks were touched with rose.
Her features were quite delicate for a girl of peasant background.
Her small nose was straight, her black eyes round and fringed with thick, long gold eyelashes.
Her forehead was not quite as high as one might have wished, but her small, square chin was also blessed with a dimple.
The lovely head was crowned with thistledown hair, of the natural gold color that the women of Rome so desperately sought in their wigs.
Carissa had slim hands and feet; a reedlike waist; slender hips; and firm, high young breasts.
She moved with complete grace, and her manners appeared excellent, for her voice was soft but clear, and she deferred to her uncle and her Aunt Ulpia.
She had chosen white and silver as her wedding colors, and they suited her admirably.
Marcus glanced at the girl, his distaste obvious.
The augurs were taken, and declared highly favorable.
Dagian hid a smile.
The soothsayer could have opened a lamb that was filled with writhing snakes and he would have found it favorable to this match.
The ceremony was quickly over.
The emperor and the empress were quite jovial at the feast that followed.
They and their friends ate and drank liberally.
The bride was quite animated, chatting with all the guests.
But not once did she speak to her husband, nor he to her.
The rest of the wedding customs were forgotten, and Marcus was glad, for this marriage was a mockery of everything he had ever been taught.
Zenobia! He almost cried her name aloud in his anguish, and Dagian, seeing the spasm cross her son’s face, reached out and squeezed his hand.
When it was no longer possible to prolong the festivities, the emperor and his wife stood, and both bride and groom escorted them to the door, bidding them a good night.
Ulpia Severina wept matronly tears as she kissed the beautiful girl she had raised.
“Be happy, dear child,”
she murmured, and with a maidenly sigh Carissa assured her aunt that she would be.
The emperor looked directly at Marcus, and said in a very public voice, “I know that you will make my niece happy, Marcus Alexander.”
Marcus smiled broadly.
“You may be certain, Caesar, that I shall see that Carissa has everything she deserves,”
he replied.
The emperor and the empress departed, and with them all of the other guests.
Turning, Marcus looked at the beautiful girl who was now his wife.
“We will sleep in the atrium tonight,”
he said.
“I see that the wedding couch is already there.”
“Very well,”
she replied coldly, and walking over to it kicked off her sandals.
“Do you want me naked?”
“I don’t want you at all, Carissa.
Surely you know that I was forced into this marriage.
That I am betrothed to another woman.”
“Whether you sleep with me or not, I do not care,”
was her answer.
“The child will come anyway.”
“What?!”
He felt a throbbing begin in his head.
“I am with child,”
she said.
“It will be born in four months.”
A small smile played about the corners of her mouth.
“You surely do not think I wished to marry you?”
She laughed her tinkling, irritating laugh.
“Whose bastard do you carry? Why did you not marry him, or is he perhaps already married?”
“Yes, he is married.
Unfortunately he could not divorce his dull wife to marry me, for it is forbidden that an uncle marry his niece.
My child should be the next emperor of Rome after Aurelian, his father, but it cannot be.
Therefore it was necessary that I have the most patrician of husbands to give my child a name.
Aurelian will eventually name our child his heir, for he has promised me that.”
“A worthless promise,”
Marcus replied.
“Aurelian will be emperor for a few years if we are lucky, but eventually one of our power-mad generals will assassinate him and declare himself Augustus.”
“That is a possibility, of course,”
she answered coolly, “and that is why this child will be considered an Alexander.
He will be safe if his real father should die before he is old enough to take command of the empire.
My child will be safe until his time comes.”
“Since I have just arrived home, Carissa, there is no one who will believe the child mine.”
“It makes no difference.
You are my husband now, and therefore my child will be legally yours, heir to this fine, old patrician family! You will never have a child of your own, Marcus Alexander, for I will never couple with you! Never! Nothing shall endanger my child’s place in life!”
It was then he slapped her, his big hand flashing out to make contact with her smug, beautiful face.
The red imprint of his long fingers crossed her smooth, white cheek.
Carissa screamed with outrage, her high voice pealing throughout the entire house again and again until finally the room was filled with Dagian, Aulus, Lucia, and Eusebia, and numerous wide-eyed slaves.
Carissa, the shoulder of her tunic suddenly shredded, flung herself into Dagian’s startled arms, weeping wildly.
“Oh, Mother Dagian, he tried to make me—make m-m-me—it was foul and unnatural! Nothing like what dearest Aunt Ulpia told me was expected of me on my wedding night.”
Then she sobbed again, hiccoughing a few times for effect.
“Back to your quarters, all of you!”
commanded old Castor, the Alexander major-domo, in an attempt to herd the slaves away from what was obviously a family dispute.
“Oh, no!”
Marcus said loudly.
“Since my wife has started this thing publicly we will finish it publicly.
You will all stay.”
He turned to his mother.
“Don’t bother attempting to comfort her, Mother.
She is a consummate liar and a skilled actress as well as an obviously competent whore.
My blushing bride has just told me that she is some months pregnant, and was married off to me to supply the child with a good name.”
“Aurelian will kill you for this!”
Carissa hissed, suddenly in full control, her beautiful face contorted with fury.
“I would kill you,”
Marcus replied, “but instead I intend leaving Rome tonight.
I will divorce you as soon as I reach Palmyra.”
“You will never divorce me!”
she screamed at him.
“Aurelian will not let you divorce me!”
Marcus looked to his two sisters.
“Take her out of my sight!”
he commanded them.
“Lock her in some room far away from the rest of the household where she cannot cause any trouble! I cannot bear the sight of the whore!”
Aided by two strong young slaves, Lucia and Eusebia did as their brother bid them, removing Carissa from the atrium as she screamed threats and curses at them in high fury.
“Now,”
Marcus said, turning to old Castor, “you may send the slaves to bed.”
“You should have let me tell him,”
Aulus said to Dagian.
“Tell me what?”
Marcus asked.
“I knew of Carissa’s reputation, for though she and the emperor have been discreet, they have not been that discreet.”
“It would have made no difference,”
Marcus replied.
“I went to the emperor, and was told if I did not marry her he would destroy our family.”
“I should not have allowed you to sacrifice yourself for us, Marcus.
Return to Palmyra this night.
We will weather the storm.”
He sat down heavily, and his head wearily dropped into his hands.
“You are welcome to come to me, Mother, but I somehow feel that you will want to return to Britain with Aulus.
Go with him if that be your desire, or live with Lucia or Eusebia, but leave, I beg you, this sewer that has become Rome.
When I ride through its gates I shall never return.
I swear it! I shall never return!”
“Oh, Marcus,”
Dagian replied brokenly, “I am so sorry.
I am so very sorry!”
“Marcus is correct, Mother,”
Aulus spoke up.
“Rome is no longer a decent place to live.
Why do you think I chose to settle in Britain? The immorality and corruption here is worse than ever.
Each day the rich become stronger, the powerful more powerful.
The simple citizen who would normally be honest and hard-working is being ground into the earth, and the idle are being rewarded for their very laziness.
This is not the Roman way, yet mention the old ways of diligence, hard work, honesty, manners, and honoring the gods, and the people mock you.
Well, the new ways are not my ways, nor are they better ways, and I will not abide by them.
“Aurelian chose to foist his whore off on Marcus because of the very virtues we believe in, Mother.
He knew that Marcus would not, like so many of these new Romans, desert his family or his obligations.”
“Mother!”
Lucia hurried into the room.
“Mother, it is Father!”
“I will come immediately,”
Dagian replied, and she hurried from the room.
“Is he dying?”
Marcus questioned his sister.
“I think so,”
was the answer.
“Will you and Aulus come now?”
“In a few minutes, Lucia.
Where did you put Carissa?”
“In nurse’s old room on the second floor in the far back of the house.”
“Go now, Lucia.
We will come presently.”
“What are you going to do, Marcus?”
Aulus cocked his head to one side curiously.
“If he is dying then he will want to see us all, and that most certainly includes his new daughter-in-law.
I know I can rely on your aid, younger brother.”
“You can, older brother,”
was the smiling assent.
As they went Marcus said, “There will be time for us to talk before I return to Palmyra, Aulus.
I intend selling the business here in Rome, but it will be to someone who will broker for us the goods you send from Britain and those I send from the East.”
“Agreed, and I think I may know the man we can trust.”
They reached Lucius Alexander’s room, and when they looked inside Dagian left her husband’s side and hurried toward her sons.
“It is the end,”
she said softly.
“He will die before dawn.”
The two brothers disappeared down the corridor of the upper floor and, stopping before a heavy wooden door at the corridor’s end, lifted the heavy bar that lay across it.
“You bastard!”
Carissa was across the floor, her nails extended to rake at him.
With a wolfish grimace he caught her wrists and brutally forced her arms down.
“Be silent, you bitch, or I swear I will throttle you, emperor’s niece or no!”
She glared at him furiously.
“You are hurting me,” she said.
He ignored her complaint, continuing to hold onto her wrists.
“My father has chosen this moment to die, Carissa, and he wishes his entire family about him.
You are going to come with me now, and you are going to behave like a good Roman wife would behave.
Modestly, quietly, and reverently.”
“No I’m not! I shall tell your father that I carry Aurelian’s son, and that my bastard will bear his proud patrician name! Let that be his last thought in the mortal world, and let him know he is powerless, even as you are powerless to do anything about it!”
Her beauty was suddenly marred by her hatred, which made her look quite common.
Marcus’s voice was low, but Aulus could hear that it held a dangerous note.
“No, Carissa.
You will behave as I have said.
Modestly, quietly, and reverently.
If you do not I swear to you that I shall throw you from the roof of this house, and tell the world that you committed suicide when I attempted to claim my conjugal rights.”
He smiled, but his eyes were pitiless.
“I almost hope,”
he said, “that you give me the chance to kill you.”
Looking into that hard and ruthless face, Carissa knew that Marcus meant exactly what he said, and she shivered, suddenly afraid.
She didn’t want to die, nor did she want her unborn child killed.
“I will do what you want,” she said.
“And remember,”
Aulus said, “that I, too, shall be by your side.”
Carissa brushed her hair into a smooth coil, and affixed it with silver pins.
Then she quickly shed her torn tunic and replaced it with a fresh one.
They walked down the hallway to Lucius Alexander’s death chamber, where Dagian and her daughters clustered about the old man’s bed.
“Here are your sons and Carissa to see you, my dearest,”
Dagian said as they reached the bedside.
Lucius Alexander opened his dark eyes, but for a moment he could not focus clearly.
Then as the fog cleared from his eyes he struggled to speak.
“You have both been sons to be proud of, and I know you will keep the family and its traditions alive in the hearts of your own children.
Kneel, my sons,”
and both men knelt by Lucius’s bedside.
The old man struggled to raise his hand to Aulus’s head.
“My blessing, Aulus.
May only good fortune smile upon you and your family throughout your lifetime.”
Aulus felt the sob rising in his throat, but quickly forced it back.
“Marcus, my son, my heir, upon you falls the responsibility for this family.
Will you honor this responsibility?”
“Yes, Father, I will.”
Marcus felt his father’s bony hand upon his own head.
“I am pleased with you.
Pray that tonight you will plant the seed of life within this sweet child’s womb.”
“It will be as the gods will, Father.”
“Carissa, my newest daughter, I know you will be to Marcus as my faithful Dagian has been to me.”
“Yes, Father Lucius,”
came the demure reply.
“I promise to follow her example.”
“You are a good child,”
Lucius whispered.
“I was right to pursue this match.
Marcus will see I was right.”
The dying man fell back upon his pillows, his breathing a harsh rasp.
Soon he slid into a half-conscious state.
As the minutes turned to an hour, and then two, and three, Lucius Alexander seemed to shrink before their very eyes.
Each breath he drew was a tortured struggle, and it seemed as if his chest would split with the effort.
In the loneliest part of the night, those hours just before the dawn, Lucius Alexander opened his eyes a final time, and stared at the woman who sat patiently by his side.
“Farewell, my heart,”
he said distinctly in the voice of his youth, and then he died.
For Dagian it was as if a spear had pierced her heart.
One minute he was there, and then as quickly he was gone.
As she sat frozen with shock and grief her eldest son reached over and closed his father’s eyes.
“Conclamatum est,”
he said as he closed them.
“It is over, Mother,”
Marcus said quietly, helping her to rise from her place by the bedside.
She looked helplessly at him, unable to speak.
“Lucia, Eusebia, take our mother to her room to rest, and stay with her.
Aulus, return Carissa to her place of confinement.”
“You cannot mean to lock me up again?”
Carissa protested.
“Do as you are told else I take a stick to you!”
he thundered.
Had Lucius Alexander Britainus died but several days later, his eldest son, Marcus, would have been safely on his way back to Palmyra.
As it was, the old man’s death and the settling of his estate took longer than Marcus had anticipated.
Lucius was buried the same day he died.
In the confusion the two young slaves appointed to carry the lifeless body of their master to the atrium mistakenly placed him upon the wedding couch that had been set up for Marcus and Carissa.
Marcus laughed at the irony of it.
“The marriage was dead before it was even celebrated,”
he said bitterly.
At the hour appointed for the funeral the public crier gave notice according to ancient custom, going about the city and saying, “The citizen, Lucius Alexander Britainus, has been surrendered to death.
For those who find it convenient, it is now time to attend the funeral.
He is being brought from his house.”
Lucius Alexander’s funeral was well attended, for he had been a respected man.
He was escorted by many to the Alexander family tomb, which stood along the Appian Way on the road to Tivoli.
Afterward the family hosted the funeral dinner, and their nine days of sorrow began.
The emperor and his wife had come, of course, and Marcus had seen Carissa deep in conversation with her uncle.
“I can only hope,”
he warned her later, “that you have done nothing foolish.”
The nine days passed slowly.
Within the house Dagian and her daughters carefully packed up all of Lucius’s belongings until very little trace of the man remained except within their minds and hearts.
Carissa, no longer confined to her room, spent most of her time lying about, eating outrageous delicacies that she had ordered the kitchen to prepare for her alone, and having her golden hair brushed, did not bother to help.
Marcus and Aulus spent the time preparing their father’s trading house for sale.
The younger Alexander son knew a man who would be more than delighted to have the business, and would cooperate with the two brothers in marketing their goods from Britain and from Palmyra.
Since they could not leave the house or conduct business during this time, however, they could do nothing concrete.
Finally the nine days were over, and Julius Rabirius was contacted.
As expected, he wanted the Alexander business interests; offered a generous amount for them; and agreed to deal with Aulus Alexander Britainus exclusively in Britain and Marcus Alexander Britainus in Palmyra.
Eusebia and Lucia, assured that their mother would be well taken care of by her sons, returned to their homes.
They had both been gone several months, and their own families needed them.
Lucia, the sister nearest to Marcus in age, spoke the thoughts that had occurred to both sisters before they departed.
“Will we ever see you or Aulus again in this life, Marcus?”
“I do not know,”
he replied honestly.
“I have given Aulus permission to form his own family, independent of mine.
You and Eusebia belong now to your husband’s families.
Mother has decided to return to Britain with Aulus, and will be a part of his family.
Zenobia and I will found our own family in Palmyra.
I think it unlikely that we will meet easily again.”
Lucia began to weep softly, and Marcus comforted her.
“It is not easy for a family to part, dear sister, but it is the way of the world.
Nothing ever remains the same.
The seasons change; the years change; often too quickly to suit me, but none of us can hold back time any more than we can hold back a sunset or a dawn.
One moment we are carefree children, the next we are grown, and as suddenly we are old.
There is nothing for it, my sister, but to enjoy that which we have, and not waste time bemoaning what we do not have.
Give thanks to the gods that we are all happy and taken care of, my sister.
So many are less fortunate than we of the Alexander family.”
“You make it all sound so simple,”
Lucia sniffed.
“That, my dearest sister, is the secret of life.
We spend so much time seeking the solution to it; and what it all boils down to in the end is simplicity.”
The sisters departed, Lucia north to Ravenna, Eusebia south to Naples.
Now it was time for Aulus and Dagian to leave for Britain.
“What of your Zenobia?”
asked Dagian.
“Have you written to her of your marriage, and what you plan to do?”
“If I were to communicate with my beloved the message would certainly be intercepted by the emperor.
I have here with me one of the queen’s own personal guard who will go before me when I am ready to return to Palmyra.
He will take my message then, but I fear to send him before I am ready to leave myself.”
“When will you go?”
Aulus asked.
“Not until I receive word that you and mother are safe from imperial retribution.”
“It will be over two months before we can get word to you, Marcus.
Dare you wait that long? You have already been gone three months from Palmyra.”
“I do not have a choice, Aulus.
Only when my family is safe can I act.”
He escorted them to the western gate of the city, but there they were stopped.
“I am sorry, Marcus Alexander Britainus,”
said the centurion in charge of the gate, “your brother is free to return to his home in Britain, but neither you nor your mother may leave the city without the emperor’s permission.”
Realizing the futility in protest, Marcus turned to Aulus.
“Go, brother.
I will care for our mother, and see that she eventually returns to the land of her birth.
Make ready a place for her, Aulus.”
Dagian nodded her agreement.
“Give my love to Eada and the children,”
she said, and then she hugged him tightly.
“I will come soon, I promise you, Aulus.
It is not meant for me to die in this foreign land.”
The two brothers embraced.
Both had tears in their eyes as a thousand memories assailed them; memories of happier times when they had been one family.
“We will meet again, Marcus,”
Aulus said softly.
“Perhaps,”
was the quiet reply.
“Now, go, youngster! Never forget you are an Alexander! Never allow your children, or their children, to forget it.”
Then Dagian kissed her younger son tenderly.
“I will come as soon as I can.”
“Take my chariot, Aulus.
Without Mother it will help you go quicker,”
Marcus said.
Aulus climbed down from the raeda, which was a large, heavy, covered wagon with four wheels, drawn by four horses, used for family travel.
One of Dagian’s slaves hurried to remove his scant baggage, and store it in Marcus’s elegant chariot.
Quickly Aulus climbed aboard the chariot, and with a quick smile at both his mother and his older brother he drove off down the Via Flaminia.
Dagian’s eyes were wet with unshed tears as she watched him go.
They spoke little as the raeda rumbled back through the streets of the city, and out into their suburb.
Startled servants hurried to greet the wagon as it entered the grounds of the Alexander house.
Marcus helped his mother down and quickly gave orders that her baggage be returned to her rooms, then together they hurried into Marcus’s study.
Tenderly he settled his distressed mother, pouring her some wine.
“How did Aurelian know that we were leaving?”
Dagian wondered aloud.
“Carissa,”
was Marcus’s flat reply.
“The bitch has an uncanny instinct for survival.”
“Then why let any of us go?”
“You, Mother, are the only hostage he needs, and that is why you were forbidden exit from the city.
Aurelian knows that as long as I must worry for your safety, the safety of his whore and his bastard are assured.”
“What of your Zenobia?”
Dagian asked.
“I do not know,”
he said helplessly.
“How can I send her a letter explaining this?”
“What of her personal messenger, my son?”
“The Palmyran was found strangled in his quarters early this morning, Mother.
I did not tell you because I did not think you would need to know.
I expected that you would be on your way with Aulus, back home to Britain.”
“There is more to this, Marcus, than meets the eye,”
Dagian said thoughtfully.
“I know that, Mother, but what is it? What is it that Aurelian really wants?”
“You would do well to ask me that yourself, Marcus,”
said the emperor, striding into the room.
“Good day to you, Lady Dagian.”
“How did you gain entrance to my home?”
Marcus demanded angrily.
“I was visiting my dear niece, Marcus.
Surely you don’t object to a fond uncle visiting his favorite niece.
She is quite pettish as her pregnancy advances, I find, and suddenly, my dear Marcus, she grows fat.
Carissa should not allow herself to grow fat.
It coarsens her.
I do hope that after she has delivered the child you will insist she regain her divine form.”
“I will leave you,”
Dagian said, rising.
“No,”
commanded the emperor, waving her back into her chair.
“I wish you to hear what I have to say to your son, Lady Dagian.
It will save him the trouble of repeating it.”
He turned back to Marcus.
“You wonder aloud at my purpose, Marcus.
It is really quite simple.
Of course it was necessary that I supply Carissa with a husband, due to her state; but it might have been any of a number of young patrician fops rather than you.
I chose you because you were the betrothed of Palmyra’s queen.
It serves my purpose well.
“You see, Marcus, I know the history of Zenobia’s youth.
I know how she has hated Rome for the murder of her mother.
I know how, as a child, she watched her mother’s murderers as they slowly died.
I know how after Odenathus’s death your love for each other grew, and her hate subsided; but that hate is still there, Marcus.
It exists just below the surface, waiting to be rekindled.
I intend to rekindle Zenobia’s hatred of Rome.
Her cooperation does not serve my purposes.
“I do not want Palmyra ruled by a client king.
I want it returned to a Roman governorship, as it was in the great days of the empire.
I want to return imperial Rome to her glory, and I have already begun with the resubjugation of Gaul.
In the East Zenobia has kindly subdued all, and now I will subdue her!”
“She has shown no disloyalty, Caesar.
You have no just cause.”
“I will have,”
Aurelian smiled.
“When Palmyra’s queen hears that her lover, the man she expected to marry, has married another …”
he chuckled, and then said, “I expect that her fury will know no bounds.
She will want to revenge herself on Rome once more, and believe me, Marcus, she will try.
When she does I will do what any Roman emperor would do when faced with a threat to the empire.
Your fair Zenobia will walk in golden chains behind my victory chariot, Marcus.
A year, two at the most if she is as good as they tell me she is in battle, but she will crown my triumph, and settle me firmly upon the throne sooner or later.
The empire will be preserved.”
He paused, looking at the stunned faces of his audience.
“It is but an added bonus that she is beautiful.
I always enjoy making love to beautiful women, especially if they are intelligent as well.”
“If you touch Zenobia …”
Marcus suddenly had come to life again.
“My dear Marcus, you’re a married man with a pregnant wife.
For shame, dear boy!”
He chuckled indulgently.
“Oh, you may have her back when I am through with her … if she wants to go to you.
Of course, I imagine she will be quite piqued with you.
Quite piqued, indeed.”
He looked to Dagian.
“I can trust you to look after my little Carissa, Lady Dagian? A young woman having her first child needs the comfort of an older woman.”
“I assumed that was why you forbade me exit from Rome, Caesar.
If you had but told me it would have saved me a great deal of packing and unpacking,”
Dagian said tartly.
“I will allow you to return to Britain when Carissa is safely delivered and Zenobia of Palmyra is properly beaten.
You have my word on it, Lady Dagian.
Until then you must content yourself to remain with your eldest son.”
“As Caesar wills it,”
Dagian replied acidly.
Aurelian chuckled again, then spoke once more to Marcus.
“I do not think the city is good for Carissa right now.
You have two days in which to pack all you need, and then you will depart for an imperial villa in Tivoli.
You will be forbidden Rome once you leave.
Only when I have the Eastern provinces firmly under imperial control again will you be allowed to return to the city.”
“My business requires I remain in Rome, Caesar.
I will give you my word not to leave the city, but you cannot exile me from it.”
“You have sold your father’s trading business to Julius Rabirius, Marcus.
I know that he has agreed to broker for both you and your brother.
You may communicate with him, of course, but be advised that every message you send will be read by me before it goes on its way.
I will allow you no chance to warn your queen of my plans for her—and the Eastern Empire.”
“Are we restricted to your villa, Caesar?”
“I think for the time being, Marcus, that it would be wisest.”
He rose from the chair in which he had been sitting and stopped before Dagian, who remained seated in a gesture of disrespect he did not miss.
Aurelian smiled brightly and bowed to her.
“Good day to you, Lady Dagian.
I hope I shall see you soon again.
Come, Marcus, walk out with me.”
The two men left the study, and moved into the atrium.
“Make no mistake, Marcus,”
the emperor said quietly.
“If you attempt to warn Zenobia of my plans, or plot against me, or embarrass my family, I will act swiftly.
Do you understand, Marcus?”
“Yes,”
was the terse reply.
“Good,”
Aurelian said.
“Now I have a project for you to do.
I want a detailed map of Palmyra, and her border fort, Qasr-al-Hêr.”
“The gods curse you, Aurelian!”
Marcus swore angrily.
“It is bad enough that you make it appear to Zenobia that I have betrayed her.
Must you also see that I do so in fact as well?”
“I wish to take Palmyra with as little bloodshed as possible.
A blackened city with a dead populace is of no use to us.
Your lovely queen will fight me to the last man if I let her.
It is her reputation to do so.
If I can prevent this I would prefer it so.”
“Caesar.
I cannot betray Palmyra any more than I could betray Rome.”
“I understand,”
the emperor replied, and then with a quick nod he was gone.
With a deep sigh Marcus returned to his study.
Dagian was gone, and he was alone.
Wearily he sat down, reached for the wine, and poured himself a full goblet, which he quickly drained and as quickly refilled.
He stared into the dark red liquid, which mirrored his own face, severe with sleeplessness and worry.
He was trapped.
If Dagian had been allowed to leave Rome perhaps he might have made a run for it; but, of course, Aurelian had had no intention of allowing it.
He drained the second goblet, and felt its warmth beginning to suffuse his body.
The emperor was correct in all he said.
When Zenobia learned of his marriage to Carissa, she would, of course, assume another Roman betrayal.
If only Longinus could hold her in check … But in his heart he knew that Longinus would not be able to do so.
Hurt, she would seek to hurt.
Oh, beloved, he thought sadly, Aurelian will eventually crush you, for never have I known such a determined man.
But then, you are a determined woman.
Perhaps you will prevail over him if the gods will but allow.
May they guard you, and protect you now, my beloved, for I cannot.
Marcus sipped at the wine, sinking deeper into depression until suddenly he realized that to give in even in the face of such incredible odds was totally out of character for him.
Never in his life had he allowed self-pity to gain the upper hand.
Never in all the years that he had yearned for Zenobia, then another man’s wife, had he ever given up hope.
He would not give it up now! Not even now!
Resolutely he stood up, feeling the wine in his head and swaying.
“You’re drunk,”
came the petulant voice from the door.
“And you are fat, Carissa,”
came the scathing reply.
“Your uncle is correct.
It coarsens you.”
He moved to the door, and with surprisingly firm hands pushed her out of his study.
“This room is forbidden you, Carissa.
If you are to have the run of the house, there must be one place where I may escape the sight and sound of you.”
“Once we get to Tivoli things will change,”
she snarled at him.
“I don’t think so, my dear,”
was the acerbic reply.
“I will still be the head of this household whom you must obey.”
“I hate you!”
she screamed at him.
“No more than I hate you, Carissa!”
he laughingly replied.
“No more than I hate you.”