was suddenly and for the first time really considering the serious responsibility he was placing upon his only daughter's shoulders. He sat comfortably in Odenathus's private library, a carved alabaster goblet of fine Cyrenean wine clutched in his hand. Behind him, a deaf-mute black slave plied a large woven palm fan, creating just enough breeze to ease the still heat of the late afternoon.
As he had come into the city today he had looked at it as if for the first time in his entire life. When one is used to something, one sees with dulled eyes, he thought. He had been born here on this oasis, and the city had always been a part of his life. Today he had really looked, and what he had seen made him think. It was not just the magnificent architecture of the city, but the marvelous parks kept green by the oasis's underground springs that suddenly stunned Zabaai. The intellect behind the creation of the city was overwhelming.
Zenobia, he knew, would not be content simply to be an ornament and a broodmare. What part would she play, he wondered, in the government of this city? Palmyran princesses were famed for their beauty, not their administrative abilities. He shook his head wearily. Had his ambition for his beloved child outstripped his good sense?'
'Zabaai, my cousin!' Odenathus hurried into the room, his white robes whirling about him. 'Forgive me for keeping you waiting.'
'I have been comfortable in these pleasant surroundings, my lord Prince.'
'I have asked you here so we may discuss the terms of this marriage before I call in the scribes. What will you give as dowry?'
'I shall give a thousand pure-bred goats, five hundred white and five hundred black. There will be two hundred and fifty fighting camels; and a hundred Arabian horses; not to mention jewelry, clothing, household goods, and the deed to her mother's house.'
The prince was astounded by the magnificence of Zenobia's dowry. Never had he suspected that it would be so large; but then her father could easily afford it, for his herds were enormous.
The dowry agreement was drawn up by the prince's scribe, who set his quill flying across the parchment as each point was stated. A transfer of goods between the bride's father and her husband would make Odenathus Zenobia's legal lord according to the Bedawi laws; but the prince was Hellenized, as had been Zenobia's mother and the bride herself. They would be married in the atrium of Zabaai's home, the exact date depending on the omens to be taken this very evening by the temple priests.
Al-Zena was sent for, and she and the prince's Greek secretary witnessed the signing of the document of betrothal and the formal words in which Odenathus said to his future father-in-law, 'Do you promise to give me your daughter as wife?'
'May the gods grant their blessing. I promise,' Zabaai said.
'May the gods grant their blessing!' Odenathus finished.
'So,' Al-Zena said sourly, 'you are really going to do it.'
'You disapprove of this match, my Princess?'
'Do not be offended, Zabaai ben Selim. I think your daughter a sweet child, but I cannot see the necessity for my son to marry. He already has children.'
'Palmyra has never been governed by a bastard line,' came the sharp reply. 'Surely
Odenathus hid a smile as his mother, very discomfited, replied stiffly, 'You have always been most outspoken, Zabaai ben Selim. I can only hope your daughter does not take after you.'
'Zenobia is herself. She will be a credit to the city.'
'Indeed!' Al-Zena snapped, and she turned and abruptly left the library.
Zabaai ben Selim smiled blandly at the prince, and said, 'You will want to see Zenobia before we leave.' It was a statement.
'Now that the betrothal is official, my lord, Zenobia must return home. She cannot stay here in the palace under the circumstances. She will return on her wedding day. You may not see each other until then.'
'But I thought we might spend this time getting to know one another better,' he protested, disappointed.
'Alas, custom demands we be discreet,' came the reply.
'Whose customs?' Odenathus demanded.
'Ancient Bedawi customs, my Lord,' was the silken answer. 'There will be plenty of time for you and my daughter to get to know one another after the wedding.'
'I will have the priests from the Temple of Jupiter sacrifice a lamb this very night to determine the date,' the prince said. 'But first I will go to Zenobia, and bid her farewell.'
'I will await your return, my Lord.' Settling back in his chair, Zabaai held out his goblet for the slave to refill. He watched with dancing dark eyes as the young man hurried from the room. How very eager he was, and a brief separation would whet his appetite even further for this marriage. Al-Zena might carp and complain, but Zabaai wagered with himself that Odenathus's few sweet memories of Zenobia would spur him eagerly on toward their wedding day.
Odenathus did not go directly to the apartments where Zenobia was housed. First he stopped at his treasury; walking into the roomy jewelry vault, he carefully selected a ring that would be his betrothal gift to his future wife. It was not a hard choice, for he had seen the ring months before when it had been discovered by his treasurer in a rotting leather bag, hidden on a back shelf. The treasurer had been quite excited, saying that the ring was one sent to King Solomon from Sheba's queen as a token of her affection, and was catalogued in the ancient records of the treasury.
Having made his choice, the prince hurried to find Zenobia. He was met, however, in the apartment's anteroom by Bab. The older woman looked him up and down, nodding approvingly. 'She is just come from her bath, Highness. If you will wait but a minute my lady will be fit to receive you.'
'My thanks, Bab,' Odenathus replied courteously. He instinctively liked this small round woman in her simple robe, her graying hair hidden beneath its veil. Her face was brown from the desert sun, and there were deep laugh lines carved about her black eyes and on either side of her mouth.
'You will be good for my child,' the woman said with the quiet assurance of a beloved servant.
'I already love her, Bab. I want her to be happy.'
'Be firm, my lord. Firm, but gentle.'
'Can one be firm with Zenobia?' he teased.
Bab chuckled appreciatively, but before she could answer Zenobia entered the room. Odenathus's eyes were immediately riveted to the girl, oblivious to all else. Smiling, Bab slipped from the room and left the lovers alone.
He could scarce take his eyes from her, flushed and rosy from the bath, the faint hyacinth scent clinging to her unbound hair, her simple white tunic. For a moment he stood powerless to move. Then he heard her voice: 'My lord?' The spell broken, he reached out and pulled her almost roughly into his arms. One arm held her firmly against his hungry body, the other hand tangled in her soft hair, drawing her head to his. Bending, he let his lips brush hers lightly, and was satisfied to feel a faint tremor rush through her.
'Oh, Zenobia,' he murmured, kissing the corners of her mouth, her closed and fluttering eyelids. Then his lips found hers, and as his kisses deepened her arms slipped up and about his neck; her lithe young body pressed as hungrily against his. Enchanted by her budding passion, he ran his tongue over her lips, which parted instinctively. Tenderly he explored the fragrant cavity of her mouth; the hand that had earlier held her head now moved to caress her breasts.
The ache that had so mysteriously materialized the night before reappeared to taunt her. It swept over her from out of nowhere, leaving her breathless and confused. His thumb rubbed insistently against the already stiff peaks of her nipples, and she wanted to cry with the strange pleasure that it gave her. It was so new, so wonderful, this marvelous sensation that was called love.
After what seemed the briefest eternity he released her, and for a moment she swayed dangerously, but finally her head cleared and she grew steady once more. She heard his voice coming at her from what seemed a long way off, but the words were clear.
'Your father and I have signed a formal betrothal agreement, my flower; but Zabaai says you must leave the palace before the public announcement is made tomorrow. We cannot see each other until our wedding day.'
