"What will you do here in Rome?" he asked.
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you brought me here," she smiled. "I imagine, however, that I shall do what all new residents of the city do. I shall sight-see, and I shall try to make friends."
"There will be many only too eager to make friends with you, Zenobia," he answered. "Beware of becoming involved in any political factions, goddess. There will be those who will seek to use you, for Rome is a sewer of intrigue."
She looked at him, somewhat amused. "I did not rule Palmyra all those years by not being aware of what went on around me. Rome has ever been a hotbed of conspiracy. You change emperors with the regularity of a popular courtesan changing lovers."
"Until now," he said. "I am the new Rome, Zenobia. I am leading my people back to the old ways, the right ways. Thanks to me, the empire is strong again, and it will grow stronger with each passing day. My heirs will be the new Caesars."
"Your heirs? You have no children, Roman. Of course there is your niece's child, isn't there?" Suddenly Zenobia wondered if it had been ambition that had caused Marcus to betray her.
"My niece's child?" For a brief moment he was puzzled, and then he realized that she had meant Carissa. By the gods she must not know that both Carissa and her infant had perished, and that Marcus Alexander Britainus was a free man! Suddenly Aurelian's old insecurities rose up to haunt him, and he quickly said, "Yes, there is that child, but perhaps, goddess, we might have a child. Because Ulpia has been barren all these years does not mean I might not have a son by you." He leaned over and placed a kiss upon her wet shoulder.
Cleopatra had had children by her Roman lovers, Zenobia thought, and those children had all met unfortunate ends at the hands of the empire, for they stood in the way of those who wanted power.
Aurelian sank his strong white teeth into her golden shoulder, and muttered, "Think of it, goddess! What a child I could get from your loins! He would rule the world!" He was actually beginning to believe he might sire a child on this woman.
Suddenly irritated, Zenobia shook him off and climbed from the heated tub. "I do not know if I want any more children," she said.
"It is not your decision to make, goddess," he said, almost smugly. "When Ulpia dies I shall make you my empress. Until then I will continue to pump my seed into your belly, and I will make offerings to the gods praying for a son to come forth from your womb."
Zenobia laughed, the sound a bitterly amused one that echoed about the tiled and frescoed walls of the bath. "The gods have deserted me and mine, Roman. Your prayers will be in vain." Then she walked from the caldarium of the bath, and he heard her splashing in the frigidarium next door.
Aurelian now stood up and came from the hot tub himself. Looking down, he saw that his lance was hard, straight, and very ready. He longed to move quickly into the next room and take her then and there upon the cold tiles of the bath floor; but instead, he stood quietly, breathing deeply, willing his desire away. He wanted her as he had had her last night: warm, and willing, and pleading with him. He was tired of the virago she could be, and he preferred her sweetness. She was gone from the frigidarium when he entered it, and so he quickly plunged into the cool waters of the pool and refreshed himself.
Returning to their bedchamber, he found her still nude, but dry, creaming herself with a marvelously rich lotion that was scented with hyacinths. Wordlessly he took the pale-green glass bottle from her hand, poured some of the liquid into his own hands and rubbed them together, then began to massage her slowly. She was still stiff with her anger, and he said softly, persuasively, "Would it be such a terrible thing to give me a child, goddess? I love you so very much."
"But I do not love you, Roman. I am trying to please you, but I cannot will my emotions, and I will not lie to you."
"The child will bring us closer together," he said as if it was already a certainty. "When you hold our son in your arms; when you put him to your milk-filled breasts as did proper Roman matrons of old; then, Zenobia, will your heart be filled with love for me. I know it!" He turned her about and kissed her passionately, willing her to respond. And suddenly Zenobia was filled with compassion for him.
Pulling her head away, she looked up into his blue eyes, and said, "Oh, Aurelian! Even you have a weakness. I had not believed it until now."
"Yes, Zenobia, I have a weakness. I crave immortality, and only through my descendants may I have that immortality. Give me a son, goddess! Give me a son!" He swept her up then, and laid her upon their bed, sprawling near her, pushing his way between her legs to moisten with his tongue that soft and most secret of places to prepare her for his entry.
When he entered her she enfolded him within her arms, and was tender. She was tired of hurting, of being hurt, and afterward he fell asleep upon her breasts for another few hours. Zenobia, however, lay awake. Emperor of me Romans, she thought, you have made me feel sorry for you, but I will still be revenged. Revenged for Palmyra, for my sons, for myself. You have taken almost everything that is dear from me, but I will have mine again! Her eyes strayed to the small piece of white marble set so carefully upon a nearby table. It was the piece she had taken from amid the ruins of the great Palmyran Temple of Jupiter. It was all she had left of her city, except for her memories, which would never die. She felt the tears sliding down her face, but there was no sound. "I will be revenged," she whispered softly, and he stirred restlessly upon her breasts. She murmured soothingly as she might have to an infant, and he quieted.
In the weeks that followed Zenobia visited the city of Rome many times, for there were enough wealthy patricians anxious to entertain her that she need never worry about returning the miles to Tivoli come night. Never, however, would she stay at the emperor's residence on the Palatine Hill.
"I will not flaunt our relationship before your unfortunate, dying wife," she told Aurelian.
The Queen of Palmyra was impressed with Rome, but her discerning eye saw the difference between what it had been and what it was now. She saw the great marble public buildings and temples free of graffiti, and the parks cleared of garbage. She was shocked, however, by the thousands of healthy people who loitered and lingered about the streets, unemployed though able to work, for they were provided with food and entertainment. In fact Zen-obia suspected that Rome's famous bread and circuses would be the eventual death of the empire. Whatever Aurelian said, the people, used to their slothful ways for several generations now, would not tolerate being returned to the old ways of hard work and honest industry.
Patricians, she found, were a great bore on the whole. There was one exception, however, and that was the elderly Senator Tacitus whom she had met at Aurelian's games following the triumph. He was a witty old gentleman, and for some reason she felt comfortable with him. There was also her next-door neighbor, the lady Dagian. Here, too, was someone with whom she felt at ease, and daily she walked with her in the garden, Mavia running ahead of them, around them, lingering behind to watch a butterfly.
Zenobia was touched by the way the lady Dagian had taken to her small daughter; and Mavia now adored Dagian with a singular devotion. It was Dagian who now sewed little tunic dresses for Mavia, and sat in the grass with her weaving daisy chains and listening to her many confidences.
As they sat thus one late summer's afternoon with the sunlight upon their bowed heads, Zenobia suddenly looked at Dagian and her daughter, and a cry escaped her lips. The older woman looked up and, seeing Zenobia's obvious distress, rose quickly and hurried over to her.