"Deliciae really wants this?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And have you chosen a candidate for her hand?"

"Rufus Curius, the commander of Qasr-al-Hêr."

"How did you arrive at that choice?" His voice was somewhat strained.

"It was Longinus's suggestion. He tells me that Rufus Curius is the first Palmyran-born centurion to command our border fortress. He says that Rufus Curius is a good man who will be a model husband for Deliciae and a fine foster father for Linos and Vermis."

"How can you ask me to relinquish my sons?" he demanded of her, and Zenobia was truly shocked by the anguish in his voice.

"I know how you love Linos and Vermis," she answered him, "but you do them no kindness by keeping them here in Palmyra at the palace. They have already begun asking why their half-brother, Vaballathus, is your heir instead of one of them. Your mother does not help, either, for she encourages this attitude in them. Reason cannot aid us, for logic will not prevail over emotion."

"I want no other man raising my sons," Odenathus said stubbornly.

Zenobia lost her temper. "And what of my sons!?' she demanded furiously. "If you were killed in battle what is to stop a dissident group from pressing a claim on Linos's part? No bastard has ever sat on Palmyra's throne, but by keeping your sons by Deliciae here in the palace you appear to favor them. There are those who might even assume that you favor them over your legitimate sons! You cannot control the situation if you are not here, my lord King."

Now it was he who was shocked. Never had he heard her voice drip so with scorn and venom. She had always been truthful, even to the point of bluntness, but never had he heard her so fierce. Had her time as ruler of Palmyra given her a taste of power that she was reluctant to relinquish now that he had returned?

The truth of the matter was that Deliciae's presence had become something of a burden. Still, he had never thought of sending his older sons away. "I must think on it, my flower," he said.

"Think well, and do not think overlong," she replied, getting up and moving away from him.

"Do you threaten me, my flower?" His voice held a dangerous note.

She was neither afraid nor impressed, for although she loved him she was suddenly seeing him through different eyes. "I merely ask that you not delay in your decision, my lord," she replied coldly, and walked from the room.

He felt strangely bereft, for in their six years of marriage they had never had a serious quarrel. Odenathus sensed that things between himself and Zenobia would never be the same. He had somehow failed her, failed her in an unforgivable way. Was she correct? Was it possible that his open affection for his two older sons might lead people to think that he favored his illegitimate children over his legitimate ones? He loved all his boys. Still, should he fall in battle before his sons were grown… He shuddered at the thought of the civil war that could follow, for Zenobia would not sit quietly by and allow her own sons' inheritance to be usurped. And if Rome involved itself? His whole line could be wiped out.

He shouted for his secretary, and was dictating almost before the unfortunate scribe could ink his pen and put it to parchment. He ordered Rufus Acilius Curius to report to him immediately, no matter the time of day or night. Immediately! He realized now that Zenobia was right, and he would brook no delay. If Rufus Curius was not contracted, or in love, he was going to find himself married before week's end.

It was a confused commander of Qasr-al-Hêr who arrived at the palace several hours later. Rufus Curius could not imagine why he had been summoned. Had he somehow offended the king? Was there to be a war? He was justifiably nervous as he was hurriedly escorted before his lord, and Odenathus's piercing appraisal of his person did nothing to put him at his ease. The king noted that Rufus Curius had his Roman father's height, and a reddish cast to his curly hair; but his eyes were brown, and his features very much Palmyran. He stood properly at attention before his ruler.

Odenathus grinned, and the man before him relaxed somewhat.

"Rufus Curius," said the king, his black eyes sparkling with amusement, "you are to be married. I think tomorrow would be a good day."

Rufus Curius's mouth gaped. "Married?"

"Married," his king replied. "Your bride is to be the lady Deliciae, who has for many years been in my favor. She is a good and beautiful woman, Rufus Curius. She will bring to your house my two sons, Linos and Vernus. I entrust you with their care and upbringing, for I am told that you are a loyal and virtuous man. These children cannot remain in my house lest others believe I favor them over my heir, Prince Vaballathus. I know that you will be a good foster father to my natural sons."

"Sire, I am not unmindful of the honor you would do me," Rufus Curius said, "but I would have children of my own."

"The lady Deliciae is a good breeder and an excellent mother," Odenathus said.

"Yet she has only given you two children in all the years she has been with you."

"It takes two people to breed, Rufus Curius," was the reply.

Immediate understanding flooded the centurion's face. "I am grateful for this opportunity to serve you further, my lord."

Clapping his hands, the king commanded the summoned slave to fetch Deliciae.

She arrived wearing a pale blue stola, and her lovely milk-white bosom rose rather provocatively above the low neckline. Her beautiful blond hair was braided and looped gracefully on either side of her head. Her only jewelry was a thin gold chain about her neck. The whole effect was of purity and innocence. Rufus Curius looked once, his eyes glazing over, and Deliciae smiled sweetly. The centurion was lost.

The wedding was set for two days later. It was agreed that Deliciae's sons would not go immediately with their mother, but follow her a month later so she might have some private time with her new husband.

The day following their wedding, Deliciae and her new husband left for Qasr-al-Hêr, but in the royal palace of Palmyra Deliciae's sons found themselves in great trouble. With typical eight- and nine-year-old logic, Linos and Vernus had decided that if their younger half-brothers were not around, their father would not send them away. They had taken their four- and five-year-old half-brothers to the slave market, and attempted to sell them to a merchant whose caravan was shortly traveling to Cathay. The merchant was enchanted by the two golden-skinned, gray-eyed little boys who spoke so well, and were obviously quite intelligent; but he was equally suspicious of Linos and Vermis. They were a trifle young to be selling slaves. It was fortunate that he was an honest man. Taking the two younger boys aside, he asked them their names. He didn't doubt the answers he received. "I am Prince Vaballathus," lisped the older of the two. "My papa is the king. This is my brother, Demi. He is a prince, too."

"And who are the other boys?" asked the merchant.

"They are Linos and Vernus. Their mama-her name is Deliciae-was married yesterday and we were given sugared almonds." Vaba smiled up at the merchant. "I like sugared almonds, don't you?"

"Yes," the merchant replied. "I like sugared almonds, too. I will give you some to eat while I take you and your bromer back to the palace."

No one in the palace had ever seen Zenobia angry, but that day her rage consumed everything in her path. She had to be physically restrained from attacking Linos and Vermis. "Get them out of my sight!" she shrieked. "If I ever see them again I will strangle them with my bare hands!" She ordered her sons' nurses beheaded, an order countermanded by Odenathus.

"You cannot blame them," he attempted to reason with her. "The children have always played together. How could the nurses know what Linos and Vermis planned?"

Weeping, she heaped rewards upon the merchant, invoking the gods' blessings upon him. Odenathus absolved the stunned merchant of all future taxes for himself and his heirs unto the tenth generation.

Zenobia's rage would not abate. "This is all your mother's doing!" she accused. "You would not listen to me when I warned you that she was filling their heads"-she could not bear even to say their names-"with ideas above their station! My sons, my beautiful babies, could have been lost to us forever, and it would have been your fault!" The shock and fear had made her unreasonable. "You would not have cared, though, would you?! If my sons had been lost to you then you could have simply done what that bitch from Hades, your mother, has always wanted! You could have made Deliciae's brats your heirs! I will never forgive you! Never!" There was no reasoning with her for several days, although she did forgive the nurses for the sake of her children.

Linos and Vernus were confined to their apartment in deep disgrace. They were not malicious children, but the sudden change in their lives had made them unsure of their own future. They very much needed to know who they were and where they belonged in this frightening world. Their father told them in no uncertain terms that although they were his sons, he had not been married to their mother. This meant that in the eyes of the law they could inherit nothing of his. That privilege belonged to his wife's sons, their half-brothers. Whatever ideas their grandmother had given them, they must forget, for she was nothing but a foolish old woman.

Al-Zena, however, was a changed woman as she desperately tried to explain to Zenobia. "I did not mean them to harm Vaba and Demi," she wept, her proud face crumbled and suddenly old.

"If they had I would have torn your throat out with my bare teeth," Zenobia snarled.

"I love Vaba and Demi too, Zenobia," Al-Zena sobbed. "/ do!"

"You have never loved anyone or anything in your life!" was the cruel reply.

Al-Zena mastered herself. "You have the intolerance of the very young, Zenobia," she said. "I have loved. Oh yes, I have loved!" Sighing, she began to pace, and as she did she spoke. "When I was ten I fell in love, and my whole life I have loved this man, although he. is dead almost twenty years now. His name was Ardashir, and he was the King of Persia. His son, Shapur, now reigns. Ah, how I loved him. And from the first he loved me, though I was but a child. It was he who sent me here to Palmyra to be wife to Odenathus's father. I fought against leaving. I begged him to let me be his concubine, to be his slave, anything but to leave him. I might have swayed him, but my older sister was Ardashir's wife. She did not object to Ardashir having concubines as long as I was not one of them. So despite my protests, I was sent to Palmyra, and all might have been well if only Odenathus's father had been understanding of my girlish heartbreak; but all he wanted was an heir.

"You have undoubtedly heard the story of how he raped me on our wedding night. Well, it is true, for he did, and every night after that until he was sure I was pregnant. When my son was bom he was taken immediately from me. I was not even allowed to nurse him. I remember begging my husband to let me have my baby back, but he only laughed and said that he knew of Ardashir's plan to make my son sympathetic to the Persians, and that I would never be allowed to taint him.

"Each day after that the child was brought to me for one hour, but I was never left alone with him. I begged my husband for another child that might be mine, but he refused. Then too, he said, I was not to his taste. I was too skinny, and he preferred plump women.

"I grew bitter, Zenobia, and is it any wonder? My son was growing up without knowing me. I had a husband in name only, and I was separated from the only man I had ever loved. When Odenathus's father died I tried to regain my son's love so I might have some small comfort in my old age; but you came, and Oden-athus had no time for me again.

"Do you blame me that I have hated you, that I have tried to make your life the hell that mine has been? Why should you have been loved and I not? Believe me, though, I would never intentionally hurt my grandsons!"

"Which ones?" Zenobia asked harshly.

"None of them. Neither Linos nor Vermis; nor Vaballathus nor Demetrius. I love them, Zenobia! They are all I have, and they love me!"

"I do not know if I can ever forgive you," Zenobia said.

"I do not know if I can forgive myself," was the sad reply. "In my bitterness and jealousy I may have done Deliciae's sons great harm. If you will let me I will try and undo it. Whatever I have said in the past, I know that Palmyra can have only one heir and it must be my son's legitimate heir, your son, Vaballathus."