Beloved

under her breath, Bab waddled off into the queen's wardrobe while the flushed Adria hurried off to see to the food.

'How can you put up with that sour old woman?' the emperor asked.

'She raised both my mother and me,' Zenobia said. 'She is very dear to me even if in her old age she becomes impatient and frequently oversteps her place. I love her, Roman, and she loves me.

He smiled. 'I had an old grandmother like that. She was fierce and gruff, but somehow she always had a sweetmeat for you.' He reached out and pulled her into his arms. For a long moment they stood together, their nude bodies touching, his warmth and male scent suddenly familiar and almost comforting in her nostrils. They broke guiltily apart as Bab bustled back into the room, still grumbling beneath her breath about flame-colored draperies.

'Here!' She almost flung the natural-colored chamber robes at them. 'That foolish girl, Adria, is deeply shocked by your immodesty, and for once I am in total agreement with her. Are you athletes to run about in public as naked as the day your mothers birthed you? Put these on at once! Your meal will be here shortly, and unless you wish to display each other's charms to the slaves you will clothe yourselves immediately.'

Meekly they obeyed her, but Zenobia's lips twitched her suppressed amusement, especially as she could see that Rome's mighty emperor was completely chagrined by the severe tongue-lashing he had just received.

'Is she a slave?' he demanded.

'No,' Zenobia whispered. 'She was a freedwoman of Alexandria when my grandfather employed her to nurse my orphaned mother. She has always been a part of my life. She always will be.'

'She is elderly, goddess. I wonder if she can make the trip to Rome. It is a long way.'

'I cannot leave her behind, Roman.'

The arrival of their morning meal forestalled further conversation. Adria had brought a tray containing a pitcher of freshly squeezed juice, a mixture of oranges, lemons, and limes, a round red Arrantine bowl with hard-boiled eggs, freshly baked bread, a honeycomb, and another bowl filled with ripe apricots.

They sat facing each other across a round table, eating together as if it had been a habit of long standing between them. Zenobia reached for an apricot and, pulling it apart, removed the pit and popped half of it into her mouth. Chewing it, she changed the subject, asking, 'What will you do until it is time for the council to meet?'

'I will have to ride through the city checking upon my men, goddess. I want no friction between your people and mine. We want a return to business as usual here in Palmyra.'

She stifled the angry retort that sprang to her lips. It would do no good, and if she were to convince him to allow Vaba to remain as Palmyra's king, she must remain pleasant. They finished their meal with a modicum of small talk, then Aurelian quickly dressed and made to leave her, stopping as he went to place a passionate kiss upon her mouth.

'I should rather remain with you, goddess, than attend to this dull business.' He smiled down at her and then he was gone.

Alone! At last she was alone again, if only for a few minutes. She would go out in her garden and walk among the calming flowers and fountains. It was not yet too hot to do so.

She did not know how long she wandered amid the fragrant blooms; but suddenly Bab was there, fussing at her about changing from her chamber robe into what she scornfully called 'those flame-colored draperies that he wants.' Zenobia's amusement eased some of her apprehension, and she dutifully followed her elderly servant back into her bedchamber. Standing quietly, she allowed Bab and Adria to dress her in the crimson gown, but seeing her reflection in her large oval silver mirror, Zenobia suddenly tore the garment off with an oath.

'No! I will not wear this! Rome's emperor will not dictate to me in even so small a matter as my clothing. Today, I expect, will be the last time my council meets-at least with me. I shall therefore be their queen this last time, and I shall dress like a queen-not like the emperor's favorite whore!'

'Ha!' A smile split old Bab's face. 'Now you speak like Palmyra's queen! All this morning you have sounded like the Roman's pet bird, all soft and cooing. What shall I bring you, my baby?'

'I will wear Tyrian purple, the royal color. Adria, fetch me the proper kalasiris, sleeveless please, and a matching cape; and Bab, get the jewel cases. It is Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, who will head this Council of Ten meeting, not Aurelian's mistress.'

For a few minutes Zenobia stood amid the shredded wreckage of her torn gown while her two servants hurried back and forth doing her bidding. When the jewel cases were brought, the queen opened them all, staring down at their contents. Already upon her bed lay a gossamer spun kalasiris of Tyrian purple, its embroidered and fitted bodice replete with golden stars that tumbled down amid the narrow pleats of the skirt, glittering and twinkling like the very stars in the night sky.

Carefully, she considered her jewelry. A jeweled collar would have been a simple choice, but she closed the cases containing these pieces and waved them away. The collars were neat, and she wanted to be opulently magnificent. Finally her eye lit upon a necklace of irregularly shaped amethysts, some set within yellow-gold settings, others hanging from their settings by web-thin yellow-gold wires. Smiling, Zenobia lifted it out of its case and handed it to Bab. 'This one,' was all she said, and then she pulled a rather barbaric pair of matching earrings from the jewel case. 'And these.' The box was closed, and Adria proffered another leather case, this one filled with bracelets. Zenobia selected two armbands, fashioned like snakes, each golden scale perfect, their flashing eyes of small but choice purple sapphires. The last box offered contained rings, rings of every size and shape, with gemstones of every sort known to the world. Zenobia chose but one: a huge purple scarab beetle into whose back was carved the seal of Palmyra.

The door to Zenobia's apartments opened, and Vaba and Flavia entered. The queen turned to her son and his wife, holding her arms out to Flavia. 'Dear child, I should indeed scold you. I am far too young to become a grandmother.' She hugged Vaba's wife, and then inquired anxiously, 'You are well now?'

'I tend to be sick in the early afternoons, and sometimes in the mornings,' Flavia smiled with a little shrug. 'Both quite normal, my mother assures me.' Then the girl's face grew worried. 'What is to happen to us with the Romans in the citv, Aunt Zenobia? Will they kill us? Will my child be safe?'

'So many questions, Flavia! Dear child, I do not know what will happen, but I am certain that Aurelian means this family no harm. I believe what he wants is to restore Roman rule to this city again, but that we shall try to prevent for Vaba's sake.'

Flavia's face became less fearful. 'You have always been a favorite of the gods, my lady.'

'Of late,' murmured Zenobia wryly, 'I have begun to wonder.' She motioned to a chair. 'Sit down, Flavia. You must not tax yourself.' Then she sat down herself.

Vaba, however, remained standing. 'What is happening in the city?' he demanded.

'We do not know,' Zenobia replied. 'Each district in the city has been cut off from all the others so the people may not mix freely. It is impossible to get from one area to another without a pass, and precious few are being issued.'

'Then we must wait for the council meeting,' Vaba said quietly.

'Yes,' his mother answered, and then, 'Where is Demi? I have not seen him since the Romans entered the city.'

Vaba frowned. 'My brother disagreed quite violently with my decision to surrender to the Romans. He left the palace two nights ago, and I have no idea where he is. I do know, however, that he has banded together a group of young patrician hotheads like himself, and they are considering a guerrilla-type warfare upon the Romans.'

'No!' Zenobia's voice was sharp. 'We must find him, Vaba. Such behavior could endanger your position. I will not allow him to do that!'

'I have people out looking, but if the city is as tightly closed as you say, then it will be more difficult for them.'

'The gods take the young fool!' Zenobia muttered.

'He is your son, Mother,' Vaba could not resist saying.

'If you mean he is impetuous,' was the calm reply, 'then you are right.'

'It was not just the surrender,' put in Flavia. 'We had only just told him about the baby.'

'He was jealous,' Vaba said.

'No, Vaba,' Flavia defended her brother-in-law. 'It is not easy for Demi to be the younger son. It is never easy