"You must thank Odenathus for such bounty, Zenobia," her father said.
"You brought the fruit from Palmyra?" She looked up at him with her marvelous eyes, and for a moment the prince thought he was going to drown in the depths of them.
Finally he managed to find his voice. "I remembered how you dislike trekking the desert, and thought by now you must long for fresh fruit."
"You brought it for me?" She felt shy again.
"See what an easy woman she is to please, Odenathus?" Akbar teased. "Another woman would have asked for emeralds and rubies; but my little sister is satisfied with apricots. 'Tis an admirable trait in a wife."
"I thank you for the fruit, my lord." She was silent again.
Zabaai was concerned. It was not like Zenobia to be so quiet and shy. He wondered if she were ill, but then he realized that the prince, too, had said very little during the meal. Both he and Zenobia were behaving like two young animals placed in the same cage for the first time. Warily they circled each other, and sniffed the air cautiously for signs of hostility. The Bedawi chieftain smiled to himself, remembering himself in his younger days with each new girl; each girl except Iris. It had always been different with Iris. He was somewhat troubled that Zenobia seemed reluctant about young Prince Odenathus, but then she had never before been exposed to a suitor.
The meal concluded with sweet cakes made of thin layers of dough, honey, and finely chopped nuts. There had been marvelous Greek wine served all during the meal, and the men were feeling relaxed. Zenobia had drunk very little, and seemed unusually sensitive to her half-brothers' teasing. Normally she would have bantered with them.
Finally Zabaai said in what he hoped was an offhand manner, "My daughter, the moon will not rise until quite late tonight. There is a fine display of stars. Take Odenathus and show him your knowledge of astronomy. You could put Zenobia anywhere on this earth, my Prince, and she would be able to find her way back to Palmyra by using the sky to guide her."
"I have a fine observatory in the palace," Odenathus replied. "I hope you will visit it someday." He rose and, holding out his hand, helped Zenobia up.
Together they walked from the tent while behind them Zabaai quelled his sons' ribald humor with a stern look. Silently they strolled through the encampment, and Zenobia stole looks from beneath her long lashes at the prince. He was really a very handsome young man, she had to admit. Unlike her father and half-brothers, who wore the long, enveloping robes of the Bedawi, Odenathus was dressed in a short tunic of natural-colored linen, a painted leather breastplate, and a red military cloak. Zenobia approved this plain and sensible clothing and his sturdy, practical sandals.
As they walked she noticed that his hand was callused and dry and firm. It was a good sign, she thought. "Directly above us is the planet Venus," she said. "When I was born Venus and Mars were in conjunction. The Chaldean astronomer who was present at my birth predicted that I should be fortunate in both love and war."
"And have you been?" he asked.
"I have always been loved by my brothers and my parents. Of war I know naught."
"Has no young man declared his undying affection for you?"
She stopped and pondered a moment. "There have been young men who act silly around me. They behave like young goats when they are trying to attract the attention of a desirable nanny."
"You mean they butt heads," he teased.
Zenobia giggled. 'They have done everything but that. I do not believe, however, that that is love."
"Perhaps you have not given them a chance to offer you love, just as you have been denying me that chance this evening." He turned her to him and they were face to face, but she shyly turned her head away. "Look at me, Zenobia," he commanded gently.
"I cannot," she whispered.
"What?" He teased her once again. "A girl who can lead a mounted troupe of soldiers cannot look at the man who would love her? I will not eat you up, Zenobia-at least not yet," he amended. "Look at me, my desert flower. Look into the eyes of the prince who would lay his heart at your feet." His hand raised her face up, and their eyes met. Zenobia shivered in the warm night.
Tenderly, Odenathus explored her face with his elegant fingers, outlining her jaw, brushing the tips of his fingers over her high cheekbones, down her nose, across her lips. "Your skin is like the petal of a rose, my flower," he murmured in a deep and passionate voice.
Zenobia was riveted to the ground. She thought she would faint, for she couldn't seem to catch her breath; and when she swayed uncertainly his muscled arm reached out to sweep her next to him. She had no idea how tempting she was to the prince, her moist coral lips slightly parted, her dark gray eyes wide. Her honest innocence was the most tantalizing and provocative spur to his passions; but Odenathus maintained a firm control over his own wants. It would be so easy to make love to her this very minute, he thought. It would be easy to sink onto the sand, drawing her down. How he would enjoy teaching this lovely girl the arts of love! But some deeper instinct warned him that now was not the time.
Instead he held her firmly and said in what he hoped passed for a normal voice, "We will get to know one another, my little flower. You know that I want you for my wife, but because I care for you I want you to be happy. If being my wife would bring you sadness then it cannot be. You would do me honor if you would stay at the palace this summer. Then we may get to know each other within the protective circle of our families."
"I… I must ask my father," she replied softly.
"I am sure that Zabaai ben Selim will agree." He let her go then and, taking her hand, again turned back to the encampment. Escorting her to her tent, he bowed politely and bid her a good night.
It was a bemused Zenobia who passed into her quarters. The desert night had grown cool, and Bab sat nodding by the brazier. Zenobia was relieved, for she didn't want to talk at this moment. She wanted time alone in the silence to think. She was quite confused. Prince Odenathus had roused something within her, but she could not be sure if it was the kind of love that grew between a man and a woman. How could she know? She had never felt that kind of love. Zenobia sighed so deeply that Bab awakened with a start.
"You are back, child?" The old woman rose slowly to her feet. "Let me help you get ready for bed. Was the evening a pleasant one for you? Did you walk with the prince? Did he kiss you?"
Zenobia laughed. "So many questions, Bab! Yes, the evening was pleasant and the prince did not kiss me, though I thought once he might."
"You did not hit him the way you have done with the young men of the tribe?" Bab fretted.
"No, I didn't, and had he tried to kiss me I wouldn't have."
The older woman nodded, satisfied. The prince obviously sought to win over her lovely child, and that was good. He was obviously a man of sensitivity, and that, too, was to be commended. Zenobia, little hornet that she was, could be won over by honeyed persuasion. Force would be fatal. Bab helped her young mistress to undress, and settled her in her bed. "Good night, my child," she said and, bending, kissed the girl's forehead.
"He wants me to spend the summer at the palace, Bab. Do you think Father will agree?"
"Of course he will agree! Go to sleep now, my dear, and dream beautiful dreams of your handsome prince."
"Good night, Bab," came the reply.
By noon the next day the camp was struck, and they were on the road back to the great oasis city. The prince rode next to Zenobia, who proved far more talkative in the saddle than she had been the previous evening. By the time the city came in sight two days later they were in the process of becoming friends. The prince left the caravan of Zabaai ben Selim at his home, and rode on to the palace to prepare for Zenobia's visit.