Beloved

coming down the path from the tiny palace within the larger palace gardens. She had given them the house that Odenathus had given her as a wedding gift those long years ago. Since his death she had been unable to live in it again, and she believed that the newly married couple would enjoy their privacy as she and Hawk had enjoyed theirs. Flavia, of course, had accepted the gift in the spirit in which Zenobia had intended it; but Vaba had sarcastically asked if she was attempting to keep him from his palace. Only sweet Flavia's quick intervention had saved the bridegroom from his furious mother.

'Good morning, Aunt Zenobia,' Flavia said, going to the queen and giving her a loving kiss on the cheek.

Zenobia couldn't help but smile. Her new daughter-in-law, the child of her two friends, Antonius Porcius and his Julia, was a dear girl, and she had to admit, the perfect wife for Vaba. 'Good morning, my dearest,' she answered Flavia. 'Good morning, Vaba.'

'Good morning, Mother. Have the Romans been sighted yet?'

'If they have I have not been told, Vaba. Come, my son. Let us hurry to the walls, and be prepared to greet our guests, unwelcome though they may be. Flavia, would you come with us?'

'May I?'

'Of course, child. You are Palmyra's queen.'

'Oh, no, Aunt Zenobia! You are Palmyra's queen. I am only Vaba's wife, and it is all I seek to be.'

Zenobia threw her son an arch look, and then put a loving arm about Flavia. 'We are both Palmyra's queens.'

'Let us go if we are going,' Vaba said impatiently.

'Very well,' his mother replied, climbing without any help up into her chariot. 'I will drive, Vaba. Your hand is too heavy on my horses' mouths. Besides, I think Flavia would enjoy being held by her husband rather than clinging to the handhold for dear life.'

For once Vaba did not disagree with his mother, and Flavia colored becomingly. Zenobia smiled to herself, remembering how it had been to ride with Odenathus's arm tight about her. She looked over at the pair as she started the horses off, and thought how pretty Flavia was. She was a small girl, her delicate build belying her great strength of character. Her eyes were a clear amber in color, her hair a lovely golden brown, her skin tones peachlike. All of her features-a round face with well-spaced eyes, a turned-up nose, and a coral-colored, generous mouth- had combined to form a most pleasing appearance. Her neck was slender and graceful, and she had a way of holding her head that gave her a presence usually associated with taller people. She was intelligent, and had a kind heart, both of which Zenobia thanked the gods for, because had Vaba chosen simply a pretty but vapid girl, the results would have been disastrous.

As it was still early the broad streets of Palmyra were empty, and it was but comfortably mild in temperature. A light wind teased at both Zenobia's gold kalasiris and Flavia's pale-blue tunic dress. As they reached the walls of the city the activity increased, the military in control of the streets leading to the walls. The populace cheered Zenobia and her family as the chariot thundered by them, and a faint proud smile touched the queen's lips.

Reaching the walls of the city, Zenobia brought her vehicle to a halt, and leapt out without waiting for Vaba and Flavia. Striding to the narrow steps built into the thick walls, she began climbing. At the top she was greeted by a captain in her personal guard, and her younger son, Prince Demetrius. 'Good morning, Demi, Captain Tigranes,' she said. 'Any sign?'

'Not yet, Mother.'

'Longinus is here?'

'Over there, Mother.'

The king had reached the ramparts with his young wife. Zenobia moved down the ramparts to stand with Longinus.

'Here I am again rousing you early in the morning,' the queen teased her chief councillor.

'One of the hazards of being in your employ, Majesty,' he chuckled.

Together they stood looking out across the desert that surrounded the oasis city of Palmyra. The wind had blown the sands into small wavelike ripples so that the city appeared to be an island amid a vast golden sea. Behind them the sky flung out dawn streamers of scarlet and coral, mauve and pink, burnished copper and narrow bands of dark purple edged in palest green. To the west it was yet dark with one lone and cold star gleaming ominously down upon all. There was no wind. All was very still. Looking about her, Zenobia saw that the ramparts along the walls were now crowded not only with soldiers, but with Palmyra's citizens, who had come to see the arrival of their unwelcome guests.

The sun began to spill over the horizon, and suddenly very faintly from the distance came the sound of drums and marching feet. Zenobia turned to Longinus and her sons. 'Did I not tell you?' she said. 'They are exactly on time-sunrise-with their booming drums and stamping feet, all calculated to put abject fear into the hearts of the citizenry.'

“You cannot blame them for lack of originality,' Longinus said wryly. 'This has always worked for them, and the Romans are not a people easily persuaded to try something new.'

All along the walls the citizens chattered busily, not at all impressed by the distant noise, for had they not been told that this was how it would be? Now they watched curiously to catch the first glimpse of the enemy. It was like some vast show presented in the arena.

The queen strained her eyes. Upon the horizon she could see the sun reflecting off a veritable sea of spear tips. Fascinated, she was unable to tear her eyes away as the spear tips became soldiers, marching soldiers, soldiers dragging great war machines and battering rams across the shifting sands of the western road, thousands of infantry urged on by officers mounted upon a variety of prancing horses.

'How many legions do you think there are?' Longinus asked.

'I cannot tell yet,' was the reply.

Closer and closer the Romans came to the city walls, until at last they stopped, and Zenobia breathed softly, 'I count four full legions, Longinus. Aurelian wants us very badly, but he shall not have my city.' Boldly she stared down upon the army amassed below, and suddenly the ranks opened to allow a war chariot through. In the chariot was a driver and one man. The vehicle stopped before the walls, and in the great silence that followed the man in the chariot began to speak.

'People of Palmyra, I am Aurelian, Emperor of the Romans.'

'I believe the archers can get him from this distance, Mother,' said Demetrius.

'No,' Zenobia said. 'Let him speak. I wish to hear what he has to say.'

'I come in peace. I have no quarrel with the people of Palmyra. It is the woman who calls herself your queen who has rebelled against the empire. Give her over to me, accept my governor, and we will live in peace as we always have.'

From the ramparts of Palmyra came shouts of outrage, and almost at once the spectators began hurling the remains of their morning meal at the Romans. The emperor's chariot was forced to move backward. The queen nodded to her trumpeter, and a clarion call rang in the still air, silencing everyone. Zenobia stepped up on the walls so that she might be visible to the Roman army and its emperor. Behind her the sun blazed, and with the blue sky above her as a background, her golden garments and jewelry sparkled and gleamed impressively. Below, the Roman soldiers murmured superstitiously at the sudden appearance of this golden woman. There were murmurs of 'The goddess Athena!' 'Venus!' 'No, fools, 'tis Juno herself!'

'I am Zenobia of Palmyra, Queen of the East. Aurelian of the Romans, you are unwelcome here. Go while you still have the opportunity, else the desert become your final stop on the road to Hades.'

'Woman! You have rebelled against Rome! Give yourself over to me for judgment, and I will spare your city.'

The answer to Aurelian's impertinence was a spear that sang swiftly through the air to bury itself in the ground before his chariot. Startled, the horses reared, but were quickly brought under firm control by their driver. No one, even the queen, had seen who threw the spear, but its message was far more eloquent than words.

'You have the answer, Aurelian of the Romans. My people have spoken, and as always I am an obedient servant of my people.'

A small smile played upon his lips, and he nodded almost companionably at her. 'As am I, Zenobia of Palmyra,' he said.

'Then it is war between us,' she answered.

'It is war,' was the reply.