"Leave me!” Zenobia cried, "and take it with you!"
Bab nodded to Julia, and together they hurried from the room, leaving the queen alone. Zenobia lay very still, but her mind was almost boiling with confusion. The voice she had heard had been that of Marcus Britainus! The half-images of memory began to grow whole as she concentrated with all her might, endeavoring to discover the key that would unlock this mystery. The key, however, eluded her, and coupled with the hard birth, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
When she awoke several hours later it was deepest night. The lamps had been trimmed and lowered and now cast flickering shadows on the walls, ceiling, and floor. The early-spring night was yet cool, and she drew her covers about her. She had remembered. She remembered all of that hot, hot July night that Odenathus had died. She remembered how she had willingly given herself to Marcus Britainus; and how he had made tender, passionate, marvelous love to her.
"I love you," he had said. "I have always loved you. I have loved you from the beginnings of time, and I shall love you long after our memories have faded from this earth."
The power in that commitment was in itself overwhelming. The child of course was his. There was no way it could have been Odenathus's daughter. Did he know? More important, who else knew? "Adria!" she called to the slave girl who lay sleeping on the floor at the foot of her bed. "Adria, awake!"
The girl scrambled to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yes, Majesty? What is your wish?"
"Fetch old Bab," Zenobia commanded, "and then fetch Cassius Longinus. Hurry, girl!"
The slave girl ran from the room.
Zenobia willed her mind blank for the next few minutes. Then the door to her bedchamber opened, and old Bab hurried in, demanding, "Are you all right, my baby? What is it?"
"I have sent for Cassius Longinus," Zenobia replied. "We will talk when he arrives. Be sure no one lingers about my door to hear us. Do you understand?"
Bab nodded.
The door opened again, and Cassius Longinus entered, looking slightly disheveled. "Majesty."
"Adria, I would speak privately. I will not need you again this night. Go to the women's quarters and sleep."
"I obey, Majesty," the girl replied as she backed from the room. Bab held the door to the bedchamber open to be sure the girl departed the anteroom, and did not linger to eavesdrop. The guards at the entry to the apartment would let no one else enter. She turned back to Zenobia.
The queen looked from Cassius Longinus to Bab. "The child is not Odenathus's," she said, watching for their reaction.
"Nevertheless," was Longinus's quick reply, "no one is likely to suspect the child's paternity, Majesty. The little princess is not apt ever to inherit the throne, and so the dynasty remains unsullied."
"You knew from the beginning, both of you," Zenobia said.
"I knew. Bab suspected, although she hoped her suspicions would come to naught. Once we had talked we both understood the truth of the matter."
"Does he know?"
"No," Longinus said. "I thought it best he did not."
"You thought it best?" Her voice was chilly, but he was not intimidated.
"What happened was the result of your shock over the king's death; and then your mind blocked out the incident. I could not tell you the truth of the matter for fear of endangering your health or that of the child. You are Queen of Palmyra. It is what you were born for, your destiny! I do not know if he can readily accept that if you become lovers."
"It was not your decision to make!" Zenobia said furiously.
"You could not make it!" he countered. "I but sought to protect you and the young king! Would you really give this all up simply to lie beneath your lover? I do not think so, Majesty. You may love him, but first and foremost you are Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra."
"Can I not have both?" Her eyes were fast filling with tears.
"That depends on Marcus Britainus, Majesty. You, I know, can both love and rule. It is he who must love you despite the fact you are the queen. I do not think it will be easy for him, Majesty."
"He must know that Mavia is his daughter," Zenobia said.
"Mavia?" they both exclaimed.
"My daughter," was the queen's reply. "I have decided to call her Mavia."
"Is it really necessary to tell him?" Cassius Longinus looked distressed.
"Oh, Longinus, you fret too much," Zenobia said softly. "I cannot keep such a thing from him, and besides, she looks like him. Her hair is reddish, and her eyes quite blue."
"All babies have blue eyes," Longinus said hopefully.
"Not this color blue. Mavia's eyes are the same blue as her father's, even to the same expression."
"He cannot publicly acknowledge her. Even now there are yet those who would discredit you, and remove you from the regency."
"I am sure that Marcus will be as anxious as we all are to protect Mavia, Longinus." She turned to old Bab. "Is Marcus Britainus within the palace tonight?"
"Aye, my baby. He is even now sleeping in his apartments."
"Fetch him secretly, Bab. When he is safely here you must bring my daughter to me."
"I will go," the old woman said, and hurried out.
"What do you plan?" Longinus asked.
"He must acknowledge her as his child before you and Bab. If anything should ever happen to me then Marcus Britainus must see to his daughter in my stead. Surely you approve?"
Longinus nodded. "You are wise, Majesty."
"Longinus, you are my best friend! What should I do without you?"
"You will never have reason to wonder, Majesty," he said fervently. "I will ever serve you!"
The chamber door opened to admit Marcus Britainus. It was obvious that he had come quickly, for he wore only a short tunica interior. His eyes sought hers, and she said quietly, "Leave us, Longinus. Wait outside with Bab. I shall call you when I want you."
Longinus left without even a backward glance, and hearing the door close behind him, Marcus slowly approached the bed where Zenobia lay propped up by several pillows. His eyes never left her face, and his heart leapt with hope when he heard her say in a soft voice, "I remember, Marcus. I remember all."
He didn't know what to say, and so she patted the bed, encouraging him to sit by her. "I remember," she repeated, "and I regret nothing."
"Then my prayers are answered, beloved," he said.
"The child is yours."
"What?!” His face was a dual mask of shocked surprise and incredulous delight. "How?"
She bit her lip in amusement. "Don't you know?" she teased him lightly.
"I mean, how can you be sure?"
"I had not been with Odenathus in many months, my darling. Mavia, for that is what I have chosen to call our daughter, was conceived on the night of Odenathus's death. You cannot, of course, publicly claim her, Marcus. My enemies would use such knowledge to destroy my dynasty, and I cannot, nay, I will not allow that to happen! Will you, however, in the presence of my faithful Bab and my good Longinus, accept her as a true Roman father would?"
He heard both the queen and the woman in the request. A daughter. He was the father of a daughter! "I will acknowledge her, beloved," he said.
"Thank you, Marcus," she answered him. "I know it will not be easy for you, for everyone will believe her to be Odenathus's child."
"May I see her?"
"Only if you will kiss me, Marcus Britainus. You see, I am really a terrible woman, for I will exact a penalty from you for what should be your right."
A slow smile lit his features, crinkling the corners of his deep blue eyes. A large hand cupped her head, while the fingers of his other hand tenderly re-explored her face. She sat very still as he moved over her eyelids, down the bridge of her nose, across her high cheekbones, and gently touched her petal-soft lips. As he did she kissed his fingertips. Then his head descended to cover her mouth with his own. The sweetness that flowed between them brought tears to her eyes. Feeling the wetness on her cheeks, he raised his head and gazed deeply into her eyes.