Page 43 of Beloved
Portus Adurni had not been particularly impressive, being more a village in size, though it had its baths and temple to Jupiter.
The streets were hardened dirt and, Zenobia imagined, in winter a sea of mud.
Although Rome’s influence was evident in the soldiers and the more prosperous citizens who affected Roman garb, these were outnumbered by tall, black-haired, light-eyed and fair-skinned men and women wearing their own colorful dress, including leg coverings for the men.
She had stared openly, and was stared at in return.
Aulus Alexander Britainus had arranged that his brother’s entire family be transported by wagons the hundred fifteen miles from Portus Adurni to his villa outside the small town of Salinae.
Salinae was located in a beautiful river valley surrounded by gentle hills near the border of the Ordovices tribesmen in Wales.
Even the slaves rode in the wagons, for the Alexander brothers wanted quickly to put as much distance between themselves and the coast as possible.
The farther away they moved from the coast the less strong the Roman influence—and government.
Zenobia insisted upon being given her own horse.
She reveled in this freedom, the first she had had since Aurelian had taken her prisoner at Palmyra.
The countryside was like nothing she had ever seen before.
“It is so green,”
she remarked several times almost to no one, and the brothers grinned over her head at each other.
She had always believed Palmyra the fairest thing upon the earth, but this green land with its orchards of pink and white blossoms, its fields of wild white daisies and purple yarrow, its rushing streams of clear water; it was all too much.
The fields seemed to go on forever in their lushness; the hills rolled gently down to the valleys.
Zenobia was falling more in love with the glorious countryside as each mile passed.
Nonetheless she noticed a subtle change in her brother-in-law.
The closer they came to the village of Salinae where the Alexander villa was located, the less Roman he became, the trappings of the empire falling away from him easily.
The morning of the day they were to arrive he appeared in a riding costume of a medium-blue knee-length tunica embroidered in gold thread around its lower edge and the long sleeves; deeper blue braccos, cross-gartered with bronze studded straps; and a dark-blue cloak fastened at the shoulder by a fibula.
“By the gods,”
Marcus drawled, amused, “you’re affecting a Briton’s dress, little brother.”
“No, Marcus, I was affecting Roman dress in order to have easy access to the waterfront in Portus Adurni.
I dress like a Briton because I am a Briton.
My wife is a Briton, my children are British, and I live in Britain.
I have never been a perfumed Roman.”
“Our father was Roman,”
Marcus said in a tense voice.
“Our mother was not,”
came the reply.
“You reject Rome, Aulus?”
“I do.
We do not need the Romans here in Britain.”
Zenobia sighed.
She might have been in Palmyra, and it might have been she who spoke, not Aulus.
The Romans seemed to bring nothing but dissension with them.
“Nothing changes,”
she said quietly.
They turned to look at her, and Marcus realized what she was thinking.
“It will not be like Palmyra,”
he reassured her.
“This is my brother’s way of being his own man.”
“Your brother is very much his own man,”
Dagian said.
“He did not want to tell you, Marcus, but we are so near to Salinae that now I must.
Aulus is chief of the Salinae Dobunni.
He was elected by the tribe when his uncles were killed in a fight with the Ordovices.
It was just before he came to Rome at the time of your father’s death.
Your cousins had not the leadership ability, and in fact it was they who put him forth to be elected.”
“So the elder brother, landless and now without power, must look to his younger sibling for succor,”
Marcus said.
Suddenly he laughed, seeing humor in the situation.
“You had best let me retire to the island, Aulus.
If I decide to stay at Salinae I shall overcome you and rule the Dobunni myself.
Can you see me, my hair long, twin mustaches drooping mournfully, my body painted blue, leading a screaming charge into a legion?”
Aulus laughed back, imagining the picture his elegant elder brother had painted.
“I shall indeed give you the island, brother.
You are far too civilized to be Britainized!”
“Briton or Roman, Aulus, I care not.
All I wish now is to live in peace with Zenobia and our child.
I have had enough of wars and intrigues!”
Aulus was sympathetic to his brother’s wishes.
His own life had been strangely easy, he realized now that he looked back with more objectivity than he had ever had.
He had known from the moment he had met Eada that she was the woman for him, and they were today the proud parents of six sons and two daughters.
Aulus Alexander Britainus felt an enormous burst of love for his older brother and his sister-in-law.
They deserved peace, and they deserved happiness.
He was going to try to see that they got both.
They had long passed through Corinium and Glevum, and now the houses of the village of Salinae came into view.
It was a pretty place, its white houses having red-tiled roofs, each building or group of buildings walled in from the street.
There was a market in the center of the town, but it was a small place and there were no public baths or temples in evidence.
As they entered the village Zenobia could hear the cry being taken up, “The master is home! The master comes!”
They rode beneath a tall, roofed gatehouse and into a pleasant courtyard.
From the open portico of the house came a tall and lovely woman in a pale-blue tunic dress, her long yellow braids bound up at the back of her head, upon which rested a sheer white linen cloth held in place by a plain gold fillet.
Aulus was off his horse in a minute to sweep the woman into his arms and place a resounding kiss upon her lips.
Laughingly she chided him, but her light-blue eyes were soft with love.
“For shame, my lord, and before our guests!”
Marcus dismounted and carefully lifted Zenobia down from her horse.
Drawing her forward, he said to the blond woman, “Eada, I am your brother-in-law, Marcus, and this is my wife, Zenobia.”
“You are most welcome to Britain, brother and sister, and to our home!”
was the cordial reply as Eada came shyly forward and kissed them both on the cheeks.
Dagian now stepped forward and stared at Eada.
Eada stared back, and then the two women embraced.
They had never before met, but they knew in an instant that they would be friends; and Dagian knew that her old age would be a safe and pleasant one in this young woman’s house.
“Where are the children?”
Dagian begged.
From the portico eight youngsters came forth, and Eada, the love and pride shining from her eyes, proudly introduced her children to their grandmother.
“My eldest son, Graf-ere.
He has seventeen summers; and this is Leof-el, who is fifteen; and Aelf-raed, thirteen; and his next brother, Ban-brigge, eleven.
They are the four eldest, Mother Dagian.”
Dagian hugged each of the boys, admiring their healthy good looks.
All were blue-eyed, but three were dark-haired like their father, while Leof-el was a blond like his mother.
Eada continued her introductions.
“Here are my daughters.”
She drew forth two pretty blond girls, their long hair in two neat plaits on either side of their heads.
“This is Erwina, who is nine, and her sister, Fearn, seven.”
Dagian knelt and, holding out her arms, embraced her two newly found granddaughters, who shyly kissed her in return.
“Mavia? Where is my little Mavia?”
Dagian asked.
Mavia stepped from her hiding place behind her father, and came before Dagian.
“Yes, Grandmother?”
“Dearest child, these are your cousins, Erwina and Fearn.
I know you shall have good times together!”
The three little girls looked at one another, and finally Erwina spoke.
“I have a pony,”
she said with the importance of the eldest.
“I have a kitten,”
little Fearn piped.
Then the two sisters looked to their cousin.
“I am a princess,”
Mavia said, settling the matter.
The sisters’ blue eyes grew round with wonder.
“You are?”
Erwina said.
“A real princess?”
“Of course,”
Mavia replied.
“There are no other kind.
Take me to see your pony, cousin! My papa will give me a pony too, and we shall ride together.”
Marcus chuckled indulgently, but Zenobia was mortified.
“She must not do that, and you must not encourage her, Marcus! Palmyra is gone, and Mavia is just a child.”
Eada laughed, and tucked her arm companionably through her new sister-in-law’s.
“She is clinging to the past because this is all so strange and new to her.
It cannot have been easy for her, either.
She will soon forget she was once a princess, and she will be running barefoot in the fields with her cousins.
Come now and meet my two youngest.”
A sturdy apple-cheeked nursemaid came forward holding by the hands two tow-headed little boys with mischievous and twinkling dark-blue eyes.
“These two scamps are Gal, who has managed to reach five, and his baby brother, Tam-tun, who is now three.”
Dagian bent to kiss the littlest boys, but tears flooded Zenobia’s eyes as she remembered her sons, now lost to her.
Marcus put his arms about her, and she wept softly into his chest as he soothed her gently.
“We will have our own sons,” he said.
“I am past thirty,”
she sobbed.
“Oh, why did I not wed with you years ago?!”
“Because you were stubborn, and proud, and Queen of Palmyra, beloved.
You had so much responsibility, my darling.
You could face nothing more, and how were we to know that it would end this way?”
“How old are you, Zenobia?”
Eada asked, and when Zenobia told her Eada laughed.
“Tam-tun was born when I was only a year younger than you are now, and I suspect that I am breeding again with another child.
It is not as if you have never had a child.
Come on now,”
she said briskly, “and I will take you to your room.”
The interior of the house was like nothing Zenobia had ever seen.
They entered into a vast hall with three fireplaces, the floors of stone.
On either side of the main fireplace were corridors, leading to a bath on one side, and the kitchen wing on the other.
Off the entry of the house, which was located before the main hall, were staircases leading up to the sleeping quarters.
Zenobia and Marcus were led to a large, airy, comfortable room, which was to be theirs during their stay with Aulus and his wife.
Mavia was somewhere with her cousins, probably already running barefooted, thought her mother.
In the days to come Zenobia began to learn a way of life that was quite different from the life she had led as the Queen of Palmyra; nor was it like that of the proper Roman wife whom Marcus liked to tease her about.
If it resembled anything it was somewhat similar to her childhood within her father’s tribe.
Aulus and his family were very close, and that closeness extended to the members of the Salinae Dobunni tribe of whom he was chieftain.
He looked after those who could not look after themselves, settled their arguments, approved marriages between families, kept the peace, and administered the law.
It was not always easy, although Aulus was a popular leader.
His loyalty was clearly to Britain, for he had long ago cut his ties to Rome.
Britain, however, was a large land peopled by many tribes, some more civilized than others, and it was necessary to be constantly vigilant.
Zenobia still felt pursued.
She could not escape the feeling that the Roman authorities were not about to let an important imperial captive simply walk away.
As much as she enjoyed being with Aulus’s family, she was anxious to gain the safety of their island, for instinct told her that she would have no peace until they were there.
One afternoon she and Marcus rode out across the vast estate owned by Aulus, stopping to dismount upon a little hill.
About them spikes of purple lavender scented the air.
They sat upon the ground, the sun warming their backs, and looked out over the valley below, the river winding its way across the green landscape.
“When will we go to the island?”
she asked him.
“Soon, beloved.
I want to go on ahead of you, and see what must be done to make it habitable.”
“You have paid your brother for it?”
“He did not want the gold, but I made him take it.
I could not feel the island was really mine if I did not buy it.
I wanted no charity from Aulus.”
“The rivalry is still there, isn’t it?”
“Yes.
And so it shall always be.
I cannot forget it, and neither can Aulus.
We are better friends when we each have our own territory.”
“I shall be glad when we have our own home at last,”
she answered him.
“Eada is kind, but it is her house … and the walls are thinner than I would wish.
Last night when you slept I could hear Graf-ere and Leof-el with a servant girl in the room next door to ours.
One of them, and I am not sure which, grunted like a boar in rut when atop the girl.”
“So that is why you have been so reluctant, and so restrained,”
he chuckled.
“If I could hear them, Marcus, then surely they could hear us!”
“There is no one to hear us now,”
he said slowly, and then he ran a finger down her arm.
“Here?”
“And now,”
he said softly, and then he reached up, took down her dark hair, and began to undo the braids.
“I far prefer your beautiful hair loose and flowing, as you have worn it in the past.”
His fingers threaded themselves through the waves, undoing them, spreading the hair like a dark silken mantle over her shoulders.
She felt a surge of joyous pleasure at his sensuous action, and rising to her feet, she loosened the girdle at the waist of her tunic dress and drew the gown and its undergarment off, letting them fall into the sweet-smelling grass.
She stood tall and proud, her beautiful golden body with its softly blowing black hair swirling about her.
The air caressed her body, and it felt good.
“When and where you are Gaius, I then and there am Gaia,”
she said, repeating her wedding vow to him.
Marcus looked up at his golden wife outlined against the blue sky, and said, “Oh, Zenobia, how very much I love you!”
Then he stood, quickly disrobed, and pulled her into his strong arms.
Her hands caressed his back gently as he drew her against him.
They stood, bodies pressed tightly against one another, for several long moments, and then he lowered his head to kiss her.
It was a deep kiss, a passionate kiss; a kiss that demanded and gave no quarter.
His mouth bruised hers, but she kissed him back fiercely, her heart soaring wildly as the passion of his lips and the warmth of his hard body communicated to her their intense need of each other.
Her hands ran down his long, smooth back to cup his buttocks, to fondle them, to feel the hard muscles within them.
He groaned, shifting against her, murmuring lover’s thoughts against her lips.
“Beloved! My beautiful beloved! The gods, how I want you! How I long to possess you—and be possessed by you!”
Her hands slid back up his frame to tangle themselves within his chestnut hair.
She held his head with her hands, and pressed feathery kisses across his face.
“I love you,”
she said.
“I think I always have from the moment that we met in the desert outside of Palmyra!”
Then her mouth found his again, and they kissed once more, hungrily, eagerly, greedily.
Like bumblebees seeking the sweetest nectar from a rose, they drank of each other’s mouths.
His big hands sat firmly upon her hips, and now he began to draw her down to the sweet grass.
The earth was warm beneath her back as she drew his head to her glorious breasts.
“Love me, my Marcus,”
she said low.
“Love me as you have always loved me!”
And then she lay quiet, her head thrown back.
He leaned over her, tenderly looking deep into her silvery eyes as they mirrored back his love of her, and then he kissed her gently, fleetingly upon the lips before moving slowly from the corner of her mouth to the soft hollow beneath her ear, just above her jaw.
He lingered there for a few moments, enjoying the sweet perfume of her fragrance and the tiny pulse that leapt beneath his lips.
Moving lower, he slipped along the side of her neck and down to her rounded shoulder, which seemed to him to be begging to be nibbled.
Gently he nipped the firm flesh before returning to her throat, which beckoned him onward to the deep valley between her breasts.
One of his arms cradled her with tenderness, while his other hand moved to caress her breasts, trembling at the silky fineness of her skin.
He had touched her this way a thousand thousand times, and yet it was as if this were the first.
His touch brought a little cry of pleasure, which excited him greatly.
Swiftly bending, he captured a trembling nipple and sucked deeply upon it while his hand kneaded her breast.
For several long and wonderful minutes he gave all his attention to her one breast, and then he moved on to the other lest it feel neglected.
Zenobia now began to writhe slowly beneath her husband’s expert lovemaking, her excitement rising fast now.
Finally he laid his head upon her belly, and his fingers began a delicate teasing of her Venus mount, stroking, probing tenderly between the plumpness of her nether lips; finding the sweet, hidden bud of her womanhood; taunting it with a clever finger; bringing his dark head down to taste of her honeyed sweetness, coaxing the bud into blossom.
She shuddered forcefully, and he swung a leg over her, mounting her gently.
She reached out to caress his manhood, her long fingers brushing him, exciting him with her very touch.
Softly she cupped the pouch of his sex in her hands, her warmth communicating itself to him as she lightly fondled him.
Then she guided him into her waiting body, sighing as he buried his lance to the very hilt.
She wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to go farther, rejoicing in his skill as he began to find the rhythm.
For a moment her eyes focused upon the blue sky above her, and then Zenobia began to soar with the glorious pleasures he was unleashing throughout her body.
She became one with the sky, floating free above the troubled earth.
She became one with him, and they were invincible! Her cry startled the horses, who snorted and danced about the tree to which they were tethered.
Her nails raked down his back, making thin bloody weals in the flesh, and he reveled in the sharpness, groaning his delight as his seed overflowed her parched and throbbing womb.
Her hot sheath clutched at him, drawing the last drop from him, and then he fell exhausted upon her chest, their wild hearts matching beat for beat.
They both lay semiconscious for some minutes, and then he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms in a bear hug.
“If I had died then, beloved, it would have been a glorious death.”
“I thought I had died,”
she murmured back.
They lay a few minutes longer, the warm sun and the breeze lightly brushing their skin, and then he said, “We will have to go back, Zenobia, although I should far prefer to remain in this outdoor bedchamber of ours.”
“It is the first time I have felt relaxed since we arrived in Britain,”
she answered him.
“Please, Marcus, do not leave me when you go to our island.
I should prefer to live roughly than to be without you.”
“I don’t want to leave you, beloved, but how can I take you when I do not know what I am going to find?”
“Then go tomorrow! Go tomorrow, and return quickly to me, for I cannot even bear the thought of being separated from you!”
They rose from their bed of sweet grass amid the lavender spikes and quickly redressed.
Together they rode back toward the villa of Aulus Alexander.
They were almost there when a Dobunni tribesman stepped from behind a tree along the path.
“Marcus Alexander Britainus,”
he called.
“Do not go back to the villa! The Romans are there, and they seek you and your wife! You are to come with me to a place of safety.”
“Mavia!”
Zenobia’s face paled.
“I cannot leave her!”
“The little one will be safe,”
the tribesman replied, but Zenobia was adamant.
“I must get my child,”
she said.
“I will not leave her!”
Marcus reached out, and put a steadying hand on his wife.
“Who are these Romans?”
he asked the tribesman.
“Are they from Rome, or are they from Corinium?”
“Corinium,”
came the prompt reply.
“Listen to me, Zenobia.
I think you can get safely into the villa to Mavia.
If the soldiers leave, then we will leave almost as quickly.
If they stay, then we will have to get you both out of the villa; but I know that you will not rest easy without Mavia, and I can trust the woman who led Palmyra’s legions not to get caught.”
She nodded, dismounted her horse, and began to walk toward the village.
She turned once, blowing him a kiss, then continued on her way.
“What if they catch her?”
asked the tribesman.
“They won’t.”
Using a garden gate, Zenobia slipped into the grounds and entered the house.
“Are you mad?”
Aulus’s voice hissed in her ear.
“Are there any among them who know me?”
she demanded of him.
“No, but you risk everything by coming back!”
“Did you think I would leave my child?”
Zenobia’s voice was fierce.
“Who is this, Aulus Alexander Britainus? You said that all of your household were present.”
The speaker was a plump young man, obviously new to Britain.
“I do apologize, Centurion, but I had forgotten this serving wench.
She is but newly acquired.
I bought her at the last captive’s market.”
Aulus cuffed Zenobia about the head.
“And where have you been this time, dog? Not at your duties, I’ll wager!”
The centurion was less interested now, but still sought answers.
“Where is she from? She does not look British.”
“She is from Ierne, the island nation to the west of Britain.
She was brought back from a raid,”
Aulus answered.
“I think she is a bit simple-minded, for she has a tendency to wander.
Go to your mistress, wench, and don’t let me catch you out again! Probably in the stables humping the men,”
he grumbled, and the centurion laughed, his interest in Zenobia completely gone.
“She’s a bit too long in the tooth for me,”
he said.
“I like ’em young, around eleven or twelve.”
Zenobia hurried to stand beside Dagian, her head lowered in a servile attitude.
“What has happened?”
she whispered.
“They arrived about an hour ago,”
Dagian whispered back.
“Wait, and I will tell you.”
The family was finally dismissed and permitted to go about its business.
Zenobia hurried upstairs with Dagian, and almost at once the older woman began to speak.
“They came without warning.
It seems a trireme returning from Massilia reported seeing Sea Nymph docked there, and it was quickly ascertained that you had fled to Britain, although they did send to Cyprus and Capri both in case you were being clever with them.
Finding Sea Nymph at Portas Adurni confirmed the trireme’s sighting.
The ship was seized.”
Dagian caught her breath.
“Why did you come back? Where is Marcus?”
“I could not leave Mavia, and he is with the Dobunni.
I am safe.
They have no idea what Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra, looks like.
Are they going to stay?”
“I am not certain, but I do know that this centurion is not very bright.
All he knows is that he is looking for Marcus and you.
He has no idea that I just arrived here several weeks ago.”
“They are not staying.”
Eada came through the door and into Dagian’s room.
“Oh, Zenobia, how you frightened me! When I saw you come into the room, my heart went into my mouth.
Why did you not stay away? You might have been caught!”
“I was in no danger of being caught,”
Zenobia soothed her sister-in-law.
“I could not leave my child to seek safety.
Mavia is our most precious possession.”
“They are coming back,”
Eada said.
“They feel sure that you are in this area, although Aulus has denied seeing you.
They are returning to Corinium for more soldiers, and then they are coming back to search the whole area around Salinae.”
“How long will that give us?”
Zenobia asked Eada.
“They cannot return to Corinium until tomorrow, and it will take them all day to get back.
Then they must come back with more soldiers.
I think you will probably have three days.”
A mischievous smile lit Zenobia’s face.
“We shall leave before them,”
she said, “and since we will be riding, we shall be through the town of Corinium before them.
While they are retracing their steps to seek us, we shall be going in the opposite direction!”
Eada began to laugh softly.
“What a marvelous strategist you are, sister! Is it true that in your own land you were a great general?”
“I led my armies,”
Zenobia admitted modestly.
“Marcus says she was indeed a great general,”
Dagian said.
“I well believe it,”
Eada replied, and then she asked Zenobia anxiously, “You will forgive Aulus for cuffing you, won’t you?”
Now Zenobia laughed.
“I think my brother has missed his calling,”
she said.
“He would make a marvelous actor! Humping the men in the stables, indeed!”
“There was really no need for Aulus to be quite so crude,”
Dagian chided.
“No, no,”
Zenobia defended Aulus.
“It was that marvelous touch that convinced the centurion that I was naught but a blowsy and stupid slave woman.
It was quite clever of him.”
That night, Aulus was forced to offer the hospitality of his table to the centurion and to the legionnaires in his courtyard.
Zenobia and Mavia kept to their bedroom, safe and out of sight.
Mavia was nervous as she had not been since Palmyra, and at one point she began to cry.
Zenobia soothed her child, making a game out of what they would do later.
“We are going to sneak out of Uncle Aulus’s villa just the way Mama snuck out of Palmyra to seek help from the Persians,”
Zenobia said.
“But the Romans caught you!”
Mavia wailed.
“Only because Papa wasn’t with us, Mavia,”
her mother said.
“Where is Papa?”
the child demanded.
“With the Dobunni.
They will help us to reach our island.”
“The Romans will not catch us?”
Mavia sniffed.
“We will not have to live with the emperor again?”
“No, my darling, the Romans will not catch us, and we will never again see the emperor.
I promise you, Mavia!”
and Zenobia hugged her small daughter tightly.
“Always on the run, always fleeing,”
Bab muttered as she packed their things.
“I hope that eventually before I die we will be given some measure of peace again!”
Adria bowed her head, smiling at the old woman’s grumbling.
They all knew that Bab, now in her late seventies, thrived on the excitement that seemed constantly to surround her mistress.
“Be patient with me, old woman,”
Zenobia said.
“Surely this must be the last time I am forced to flee.
Once we have gained the safety of our island home, then they will never find me again.”
“I certainly hope so! If your dear mother were alive it would have broken her heart to see how those Romans have hounded you.”
The clothing and personal effects necessary for a journey were packed carefully by Adria in a small trunk.
Everything else was packed by Bab in the trunks for shipping later.
The centurion had been plied with excellent wine, and now with the aid of a light sleeping draught slipped into his last cup, he lay snoring noisily in a guest chamber.
He did not hear the family as they slipped one by one into Zenobia’s chamber to bid her farewell.
Erwina and Fearn brought their cousin Mavia a small gray and white kitten as a farewell gift.
“She is called Blossom because she loves to smell the flowers,”
lisped Fearn.
Mavia, hugging Blossom to her chest, thanked her cousins and promised to visit again one day.
“You must travel quickly now,”
Eada said, “but when we can send your things along safely, I will include many rootings and cuttings from my gardens for you.”
Her blue eyes filled with tears.
“I wish you weren’t going, Zenobia! I shall miss you.”
“I have never had a sister,”
Zenobia said slowly.
“I am fortunate that you are now mine.
How can I ever thank you for your hospitality? If I were still a queen in my own land … but I am not.
I have nothing I can give you except my love, Eada.”
The two women embraced warmly, and then with a teary look at Zenobia, Eada left her.
“She will never forget you,”
Dagian said.
“She is a simple chief’s daughter who has never in her entire life been farther than Corinium.
You have brought the world into her life.”
“She brought kindness into mine,”
Zenobia returned.
“She opened her home and her heart to us.
I can never forget that, Dagian, for it went beyond the bounds of hospitality.”
She looked searchingly at her mother-in-law.
“Are you sure that you want to remain here? Once we have settled ourselves you are most welcome to come to us.
Both Marcus and I love you, and Mavia is going to be lost without you.”
“No, my child, I shall be content here.”
“At least come for the winters.
Eada tells me that the winters here can be harsh, and upon the island it will be mild.”
“Perhaps for the winters,”
Dagian said, and then she enfolded Zenobia in a loving embrace.
“Be happy, dearest daughter, for you have made my son happy! I could love you for that alone.
We shall meet again.”
Then she kissed Zenobia tenderly, and hurried from the room.
Aulus came to get them.
“You’ll be leaving through the garden gate, and there’s little likelihood of your encountering the Romans.
There’ll be a Dobunni to guide you to Marcus, and then you’re safely on your way.”
“Thank you a thousand times, Aulus.
Without you I don’t know what we would have done.
The Romans came so quickly.
I thought we had more time.”
“You survived without me,”
Aulus muttered, embarrassed, for he was a simple man.
She kissed his rough cheek, and then before he might protest, said, “Let us go, brother! Bab, Charmian, Adria, Mavia! Come along!”
Old Severus was to go with them also, and he was waiting in the garden by the street gate for them.
Dressed in dark cloaks to camouflage themselves, the six set off through the gate and down the street.
At the corner they were joined by a barely distinguishable tribesman who stepped from the darkness to lead them.
Silently they followed him, their eyes upon his dark shape as they traveled through the village and out into the open fields.
A fine moon had now risen to silver the landscape and show them the way.
Finally they entered a small wood, where in a clearing Marcus awaited them.
Thankfully he embraced his wife and daughter.
“Praise the gods you are safe!”
“They never saw Mavia, and Aulus told them I was a captive slave from lerne.
It was simple, my darling.
Tell me now how we get to where we are going?”
“We will travel to Glevum, and be through it by morning; but we shall be able to bypass Corinium entirely, for they have built a new road in the last five years between Glevum and Aquae Sulis.”
“Then we do not have to worry about a large Roman garrison!”
She was relieved.
He continued.
“From Aquae Sulis we go to Lindinis and finally the last really important Roman settlement in Britain, Isca Dumnoniorum.
Aulus has sent a message to the high chieftain of the Dumnonii.
They will take us the rest of the way to the coast, where a ship awaits us.
From here to there we travel in safety under the protection of the warriors of the Dobunni.”
He smiled down at her.
“You are safe, beloved! You are safe now and forever!”
And looking up into his moonlit eyes, Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra, knew that he spoke the truth.
“Then lead on, my husband,”
she said quietly, “and take me home.”