Odenathus felt a mixture of irritation and sadness. He did not want to hurt Deliciae, but she was leaving him no choice. Silently, he damned his mother for having dared to raise her hopes. Now he fully understood why Al-Zena had encouraged his liaison with poor Deliciae, though she had always hated the women of his harem-and, he realized, feared them too. He sighed and said, 'Who were your parents, Deliciae?'
'My parents? What have my parents got to do with this?'
'Answer me! Who were your parents?' His voice was sharp.
'I don't know,' she said irritably. 'I cannot remember, as I was quite young when I was taken from them.'
'Were they freedmen?'
“I don't know.'
'Tell me your earliest memories. Think back, and tell me what you first remember of your life.'
Her brow wrinkled, and for a few minutes she was silent. Then she said slowly, 'The first thing I can remember is passing sweetmeats in an Athenian brothel. I war; very small, no more than four or five. The men used to take me on their laps, and cuddle me, and call me their good and pretty little girl.'
'You were not a virgin when I bought you,' he said.
'Of course not,' she said. 'My virginity was auctioned off in Damascus when I was eleven. I made my owner very rich, for no virgin ever brought him a higher price.'
'Then you had been a prostitute for three years when I bought you from the lady Rabi?'
'Yes. Why do you ask me these things? You knew what I was when you purchased me.'
'Yes, Deliciae, I did. You are not a stupid woman. Think on it. You do not know your parents, your antecedents, or even where you originally came from. Before I purchased you, you were a professional whore. You performed before the entire city of Palmyra the day I bought you. How can I make the sons of such a woman the heirs to my kingdom?
'The laws of this city are the laws of Solomon himself! My wife will be above reproach, and my sons' antecedents documented back a hundred generations for all to know and see. There will never be any doubts. This is as it should be for the next ruler of Palmyra.'
He put an arm around her, and kissed the top of her golden head. 'I know you understand, Deliciae.'
'Then you marry only for legitimate heirs?' Her voice held a note of new hope that he felt obliged to discourage.
'I marry for love, Deliciae. I have always been honest with you. I bought you to thwart the Roman governor, who would have satisfied his desires and then sent you back to the lady Rabi where you would have spent the remainder of a very short youth pleasuring many lovers each night. Instead I bought you and made you my concubine. You have all you desire in this world, and more. You are honored and safe. You are free from want, and so you shall remain until the end of your days. Unless, of course, you displease me.' The last was a gentle warning.
'What will happen to my sons?' Deliciae demanded. 'If they are not your heirs, then what will happen to them?'
'They will be educated to serve Palmyra, to serve me, and to serve my successor. They are lords of the city. Your sons are my sons, and they are safe.'
'Even from Zenobia bat Zabaai?' she said spitefully.
'Why would Zenobia want to harm your sons? You are foolish, my pet, and bitter in your disappointment; but remember that it was neither I nor Zenobia who told you that your sons would inherit my kingdom. If you are angry, Deliciae, then direct your anger toward the one who deserves it. Direct it at my mother, for it was she who misled you.'
Deliciae's fair skin was mottled red in her anger, and she felt most put out. Odenathus was right. It was Al- Zena who had led her to believe that her children would inherit their father's small kingdom. Deliciae was not a stupid woman, and on reflection she realized that she was indeed fortunate. Not only had she been plucked from what would have been an extremely disagreeable life, but her two sons were her guarantee of remaining in this comfortable position. What a fool she would be to ruin it all because another woman's unborn children were to be the next rulers of Palmyra.
Her master was tired of her, she knew. Very well, Deliciae thought. I am safe, and my sons are safe. I shall even make friends with Zenobia bat Zabaai. That will certainly annoy Al-Zena, the old cat! She smiled to herself, her breathing beginning to even out again as the anticipated pleasure of irritating Odenathus 's mother swept over her.
'Why do you smile, my pet?'
'Because I realize that you are correct, my lord, and that I am being very foolish. With your permission I will welcome Zenobia bat Zabaai as your wife and my princess.'
Odenathus smiled back at Deliciae. 'I knew, my pet, that on reflection, your intelligence and innate good sense would surface.' He stood, and once again kissed the top of her blond head. 'I will see the boys later, my pet. Now I go to give orders so that all may be in readiness for Zenobia when she enters the palace tomorrow. Everything must be perfect!'
Deliciae's beautiful eyebrows lifted delicately as she watched him retreat from her rooms. Odenathus must indeed be in love if he was bothering with household details. Zenobia bat Zabaai must have changed from the skinny, grim-eyed child who sat so dispassionately watching a man die almost four years ago. She shrugged. She was well out of the palace intrigues. Let the little Bedawi girl cope with it all.
In midaftemoon of the following day Zenobia entered the palace grounds. Alone, she rode quietly on her camel at an hour when most people were napping in the heat. She had no wish to draw attention to her visit.
As Al-Zena watched stonily, Odenathus leapt forward to aid the cloaked figure from her mount, and her hood fell back, revealing her beautiful face.
'My lord,' Zenobia said softly, inclining her head in greeting.
'Welcome to my home, Zenobia,' he returned. 'I hope you will make it your home soon, my flower.'
Zenobia blushed, peach color staining her pale-gold skin. 'It will be as the gods will, my lord.'
He turned and drew Al-Zena forward. 'This is my mother, Zenobia,' the prince said.
'My lady, I am honored.'
'You are welcome to the palace, my-' Al-Zena sought for the correct word. 'My child. I hope your stay will be a happy one.'
'Thank you, my lady,' Zenobia said politely.
A few minutes later she was settled in a comfortable apartment, with Bab busily unpacking her things and chattering away. Bab had come to the palace ahead of her by several hours. 'Now this is what a palace should be like!' Bab enthused. 'It's big, there are fine gardens, and the rooms are airy. There seem to be plenty of slaves to serve us. I hope the food is decent.'
'Hush, Bab! Your tongue runs away with your good sense.'
Bab chuckled, and continued with her unpacking, shaking out Zenobia's garments. 'I am not sure your clothing is elegant enough for the palace. We should have come later, and taken the time to make you new things.'
'You fuss too much, old woman,' the girl teased. 'Either the prince likes me, or he does not, and if he does not then no amount of fine feathers will help me.'
'It is not the prince who concerns me, but his mother.' Bab lowered her voice. 'I have heard that she is very unhappy that he wishes to marry. The gossip is that she hoped he would be content with the concubine, Deliciae. They say that the Princess Al-Zena is a very headstrong and possessive woman.'
'Is it me she objects to, Bab, or simply any girl?'
'It is both, my baby,' Bab replied. She and Zenobia had always been honest with each other.
Zenobia was thoughtful for a moment, then she spoke again. 'The best way to handle the lady, I believe, is for me to be sweetness itself. How can she find fault with good manners and a pleasing attitude?' She chuckled.
'How will you handle the concubine, my child? You cannot live in the same palace, and not meet.'
'I have no doubt that we shall meet, but when we do I shall make her my friend.'
