At a noise on the path they broke apart. Into view came Dagian, Bab, and Adria.
Zenobia's elderly servant looked at Marcus with a sharp eye. "So, Marcus Alexander Britainus, you are finally come back to us."
"Yes, Bab, and tonight I shall claim my own."
"It is good," the old woman nodded.
"The slaves?" Zenobia queried her servants.
"All in their quarters, and sleeping," Adria assured her mistress.
"Very well, then," the queen said, and she turned to Marcus. "Shall we begin, my darling?"
"Yes, beloved."
So in the green, sweet-smelling garden, its flowers lightly touched by the silver glow of the quarter moon, Zenobia, the Queen of Palmyra, turned to her lover, Marcus Alexander Britainus, and said in a low but clear voice, "When and where you are Gaius, I then and there am Gaia." It was that simple. They were now man and wife, and he took her once more into his arms to kiss her as Dagian and Adria wiped the tears from their faces and old Bab gave a little hiccough of a sob, and then said, "It has taken you two long enough. I thought never to live long enough to see you both wed. Now may I die in peace."
"You are not going to die yet," Marcus chuckled.
"No, I am not," the old lady cackled, "else who will teach your son manners!"
"And keep me in my place?" he teased her.
"My children," Dagian said, "we must separate now. None of us must allow the least suspicion to fall on Zenobia and Marcus."
Adria and Bab nodded, and began to make their way back to the villa, while Dagian walked in the opposite direction toward her own house. The newly married pair stood hand in hand for a few minutes, talking quietly to reassure each other that they were indeed man and wife.
"Once you said you would not marry me except that it be in the bright light of day, before all; and that I should escort you with much pomp to our new home. Alas, at the moment I have no new home to escort you to, beloved."
"How foolish I was," she answered him.
"I should have insisted, especially when I knew I had to return to Rome. I should not have left you so unprotected, Zenobia. I will never again leave you, my darling! Go now and dream of me, beloved." He kissed her gently once more, and then stood watching as she obediently turned and hurried back to her own villa. She would not always, he thought, somewhat amused, be that obedient.
Walking back through the garden, Zenobia's heart soared with happiness. She was his wife now, and nothing would ever part them again. She had once warned Aurelian that in the end she would win the battle between them, and now she almost had. It mattered not to her that he would not know, at least not yet. What mattered most was that she and Marcus were finally united, united now and forever; and nothing, not even death, would ever divide them again!
Part Four
14
Aurelian arrived home victorious from Gaul, and a small triumph was held, this time with the unfortunate Tetricus walking behind the emperor's chariot. In that chariot, Zenobia the captive Queen of Palmyra rode, again with her golden chains fastened to Aurelian's massive iron belt. This time, however, she was garbed in royal purple and gold garments, the Palmyran crown upon her head. Rome's emperor was making a strong point with the people; a point that they did not for all their grumbling miss. He was Caesar! His generals were not as easily impressed, for Aurelian had become more imperious as each day passed, and was beginning to believe his own legend.
The queen had been summoned from Tivoli to take part in this latest triumph, and afterward she was escorted to Aurelian's residence on the Palatine Hill. There had been little opportunity for them to speak even though they had shared the same chariot in the procession. She had faintly protested being sent to his palace, but he had quickly overruled her with a wave of his hand. "You will obey me, goddess! Must I again teach you the folly of disobedience?"
"As you will, Roman," she said scornfully, and he laughed.
"I see you have lost none of your spice, goddess. Good! I shall look forward to a long night of playful bedsport with you!"
Zenobia quickly turned away lest he see her repulsion. The moment of truth had finally come for her. She would have to enter into his games with gusto, for when he had left to go to Gaul she had been his willing mistress; now he would expect her to eagerly welcome his advances, having been bereft of him these last months. If she suffered she knew that Marcus suffered too, and whatever happened she would for his sake play the role of the emperor's whore. Just a little while longer, she reassured herself, and I will be free. I will have won!
She was escorted to the royal residence by some half-dozen Praetorian guards, and upon entering it she demanded of the haughty majordomo to be taken to the empress. Ulpia Severina yet lived, and for that small blessing Zenobia thanked the gods. Aurelian would never divorce his wife, and so as long as she lived Palmyra's queen was safe.
The empress lay upon her couch obviously quite ill, but when she saw Zenobia she attempted to rouse herself, smiling a sweet smile. "My dear," her weak voice was warm with welcome, "how kind of you to come visit me. I understand that you keep to your villa at Tivoli."
"I do, Majesty. Rome is too busy to suit me. Nevertheless I must beg your hospitality this night."
"But of course you may stay here," Ulpia Severina said, and Zenobia gratefully acknowledged the empress's consent.
Zenobia was then taken to a suite of rooms where a group of busy slaves awaited her. The chief of these women immediately pressed upon her a goblet of dark red wine, insisting that she drink it down. "It will give you strength, Majesty," the woman wheedled, "and it is the emperor's orders."
Zenobia took the goblet, ready to protest; but the wine, though heavy in appearance, was strangely light and fruity; and the queen was thirsty after the triumph. She quickly drained the goblet, and the slave woman smiled broadly with approval. "Now, Majesty, the bath awaits you," she said, and hurried Zenobia through tall double doors into the baths. There she was scraped, steamed, soaped, rinsed, and scraped again. A final rinse, and she was led to the massage table and made comfortable. A second goblet of wine was offered her. She was hot from the bath, and suddenly thirsty again, and so she again drained the container, the cool liquid slipping easily down her throat.
She stretched out upon the cool marble slab, and at once the slaves about her began to massage her body with a faintly scented pale-green lotion. They worked gently for some minutes as Zenobia grew sleepy with the wine and their ministrations. Then they were turning her over onto her back, massaging her breasts and her belly. She protested faindy, but suddenly all strengdi was gone from her limbs. She slipped into a half-conscious state, dimly realizing that she had been drugged and wondering why.
Everything became shadowy even though she was quite sure her eyes were open. She was being carried, and yet her body felt weightless, as if she were floating. The dimness began to ease, and once more she could see quite clearly. Zenobia was shocked to find she was in some sort of a temple, and bound by delicate golden chains to a marble altar atop a flight of steps. At each comer of the altar was set a huge standing lamp in the shape of a gold phallus, burning a heavily musk-scented oil, the red-gold flames leaping gently in the coolish night air, swirling about in their carved golden pans. From some hidden place the music of drum and reeds echoed forth.
Zenobia turned her head slightly, and was horrified to see that the altar was set in the very center of a small circular arena, and upon the steps of that arena were men and women, all nude. They were chatting amiably, quite oblivious to their nudity, not the least bit concerned, at least for the moment, with Zenobia. Their lack of interest gave her a chance to inspect her surroundings further. The temple was very simple in design, and obviously within the palace. The only decoration of any kind was a huge sun of pure beaten gold, its giant rays streaked with diamonds and rubies, that hung suspended over the altar.