Rufus Curius saluted his queen, and then bowed to the young king and his brother. "If your Majesty will allow me I will escort you and Prince Demetrius to your apartments."

Demi hurled himself into his mother's arms, weeping, and Zenobia soothed him as best she could, kissing away his tears and chiding him gently that his father would want him to be brave. Firmly she disengaged his hold about her neck, and placed his small hand into the centurion's big one. Young Vaba bowed in a courtly way before his mother, his face grave. "Good night, Mother."

Zenobia reached out and, pulling him to her breast, hugged him tightly. "Good night, my lord," she said, her voice strangely tight. He drew away from her and, nodding to Rufus Curius to go, almost ran from the room.

Watching him go, she sighed. He was so young to have this responsibility thrust upon him; yet a boy. Tonight his childhood had ended-or had it? Was it really necessary for Vaba, only twelve, to be laden with such responsibility? Perhaps she could give him a year or two more before she must teach him how to be king. He would be the better for it, she knew.

The council began arriving, staring at first in shocked fascination at the dead body of their king. Only when they had all come did Zenobia give the order that her husband's body be removed and prepared for its funeral. "Sit down," she commanded, and they quickly obeyed her, seeking seats about the dining table. "I am appointing Antonius Porcius to the Council of Ten to replace the king; and Marcus Britainus will have temporary command of Palmyra's legions. Are there are objections?" Her gaze swept them.

"Antonius Porcius has long been a resident of this city," Marius Gracchus said. "Although he was not bom here, he chose to remain upon his retirement. He has married into one of our most distinguished families. I can find no fault with the queen's choice. In the matter of Marcus Britainus, however, I am confused as to why the queen has chosen him over a Palmy ran officer."

"The king trusted him," was the reply, "and so do I. He has had several years of military experience with the Praetorian, and it is precisely because he is a Roman that I have chosen him. Rome trusted my husband, and gave him great powers. With his death I do not want them sending someone from Rome to oversee our armies. Rome will not find any fault in my choice, and we shall be left alone."

"Then it only waits for Marcus Britainus to accept your appointment," Marius Gracchus replied. He looked directly at the Roman, his glance searching and not entirely trusting.

Marcus was totally surprised by Zenobia's decision, and he could see the hostility in many on the Council of Ten. He wasn't sure exactly what it was she was asking him to do. Vaba was far too young to take over his father's command, and Rome was eventually going to send someone out. Obviously she wanted a little time to organize the government. He could aid her without being disloyal to Rome; but more important, he would have constant access to her.

"Marcus Britainus." Her voice was soft as she fixed her wonderful gray eyes on him. "Marcus Britainus, will you accept?"

"Of course, Majesty. I am honored at the faith you have in me."

"It is settled, then," she said, and only Longinus, who knew her best, heard the relief in her voice. "Now we must get to the succession. Those who were with us this evening heard my husband name our eldest son, Vaballathus Septimius, his heir, the next king. The Council of Ten must honor Odenathus's dying request."

"What of the king's elder sons?"

Zenobia froze, her eyes darkening with anger, and she looked at a council member named Quintus Urbicus. "Do you refer to the king's two bastards?" Her voice was icy. "They are both dead." The council gasped. "The eldest, Linos," Zenobia continued, "was responsible for his father's death; the younger was guilty also. They killed the king, Quintus Urbicus, and it was a miracle that they did not kill all of us! There were five women, and ten children here this night. Ten children including Palmyra's rightful heir!"

"Prince Vaballathus is only twelve, my Queen."

"It is true that King Vaballathus is yet young, but he is of the true line of Palmyra."

"This is a dangerous situation," said Macro Cursor, another council member. "A child king is always vulnerable. He cannot be allowed to rule until he is of age. If the king's older sons are dead, and unavailable to us, then the Council of Ten must take over for our boy king." He looked around the table for support, but only Quintus Urbicus seemed in open agreement with him.

Antonius Porcius cleared his throat. "We cannot have ten people ruling Palmyra. It would lead to chaos; and in the end Rome would send another governor. It only remains for us to choose a regent to rule in the king's place until he is of age. What more natural choice can we make than to appoint the queen regent of Palmyra. The king wanted it so."

"The queen!?" The council looked to Zenobia.

"Antonius Porcius is correct." The speaker was Marius Gracchus. "The queen is a perfect choice for regent. Rome will accept her, for she is a known quantity to them, and with a former Praetorian officer in charge of the legion…" He allowed them all to absorb the obvious. "When you think on it, my friends," he continued, "the queen is the only logical choice. She has an excellent grasp of government, and has ruled well in our late king's many absences. Does anyone else wish to put forward another candidate for this post?" His gaze swept the table. "Then I can assume there is no need for us to vote on this, and that the matter is settled. Queen Zenobia will rule in her son's stead until he is of age." Marius Gracchus looked again to the queen, and then sat down.

Zenobia stood and faced them all. "I will rule alone for the next two years," she said bluntly. "My son needs more time to grow. He will attend council meetings only once a month, but of course will be present on all state occasions. My husband's body will lie in state tomorrow, and be buried the following day."

"It will be as the queen has said," Marius Gracchus intoned.

"I thank you all for coming," Zenobia said. "The council is now dismissed, Longinus and Marcus Britainus to remain for a moment. Good night."

No sooner had they gone than Zenobia's face crumbled, and she began to cry. Longinus dismissed the guard and, turning back to her, was not surprised to see his queen held firmly in Marcus Britainus's strong arms. For some minutes she sobbed her grief, and Longinus could hear the Roman's voice softly comforting the woman. What a remarkable creature she was, he thought. Never once in the few hours since Odenathus's death had she allowed herself one moment of weakness. She had been firm and resolute, even ruthless, taking charge of the very dangerous situation. She was amazing!

As her pain abated Zenobia was suddenly aware of the fact that warm arms encircled her; beneath her cheek a hard chest cloaked a heart that beat steadily. To her confused and numbed mind it felt right, and she snuggled deeper into the embrace. She was so tired, so suddenly and terribly tired. Her legs gave way, and as they did she felt herself being lifted up. Marcus Britainus looked to Longinus for aid.

"Follow me," was the reply. "There is a guest bedroom nearby. If we go to the queen's apartments old Bab and all the queen's maidens will flutter and fuss."

"I will stay with her," the Roman said. "If she awakens in a strange place it could frighten her."

Longinus almost laughed aloud at this weakness being attributed to Zenobia. Ah, well, let the Roman have his dream, he thought. "Yes, that would be best, Marcus Britainus," he answered, ushering the man and his burden into a pleasant room reserved for state visitors.

"I will leave you," Longinus said. "I want to see to the young king and his brother." He hurried out.

Marcus carefully laid Zenobia on the bed, drew up a chair, and sat down. For a long time he stared at Zenobia. She was so incredibly beautiful. Her skin! By the gods, it was flawless, perfect! Venus herself could not have had more beautiful skin. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched it, finding it as he had suspected, smooth and soft. Growing bolder, he let his fingers trail down her face, her neck, her shoulder. Reverently, he fondled the rounded shoulder, admiring how marvelously proportioned she was. His hand seemed to move of itself, slipping lower and lower until it moved past the neckline of her violet stola and he cupped a warm, full breast. He almost cried aloud with the pleasurable pain of the act, and then he snatched his hand away as if her skin had been a hot coal.

He looked at the hand with revulsion. What kind of a man was he to take advantage of an unconscious woman? A woman who had just lost the husband she loved. Had his own love rendered him mad? Burying his face in his hands he groaned with shame. Then her voice touched him.

"Marcus Britainus, what is it?"

Slowly he raised his head, and then his deep blue eyes met her gold-flecked gray ones. For the longest time they stared, each transfixed by the other's eyes, and then he lowered his head and his mouth found hers in a deep and burning kiss, a kiss he had waited so long to give her.


Into Zenobia's mind came the single and simple thought: This is how it was meant to be. And as his hungry lips moved over her own, as her own lips returned the fire, it came to her with startling clarity that this was the man she had been waiting for all of her life. How could that be? she thought wonderingly. How? The question brushed through her mind briefly, and then she gave herself up to the wonder of his embrace. The kiss deepened, and she could feel him trembling with the depth of his emotion. Putting her arms up, she drew him closer to her, her graceful, strong hands caressing the sensitive back of his neck, her fingers entwining themselves in his thick, chestnut-colored hair. She could sense the natural wave of it as her fingers slipped through its soft silkiness.

She could feel his tongue against her lips, gently encouraging her to allow him that first, most intimate embrace; and without hesitation she acquiesced. Velvet fire filled her mouth, probing, exploring, caressing with infinite tenderness. A first flush of heat poured over her body, and she shuddered with delight. Finished with his exploration, he kissed the comers of her mouth, moving to the soft spot beneath her ear, down her slim neck to the hollow between shoulder and neck. There he buried his face for a moment, inhaling the natural fragrance of her that mixed with the hyacinth scent of her perfume.

Finally he sighed, raised his head from its sanctuary, and looked deeply into her eyes. "I want more," he said simply, leaving the decision to her.

Zenobia said not a word; but she swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping couch and stood up. Her eyes never left his as she loosened her stola and let it slip to the cool marble floor. Her camisa, finely spun white linen that gave a glimpse of the glories to come, followed. Reaching up, she drew the jeweled pins from her midnight hair, and it tumbled free. Her piercing look spoke as clearly as words would have.

He obeyed, standing to disrobe quickly, all the while filling his blue eyes with her golden beauty. If Venus came down to the world of mortals, he thought, she must surely look like this. He was enchanted by her body, which was the most beautiful he could ever remember seeing. She was tall for a woman, yet despite wide shoulders, her bone structure was really quite delicate. And the shoulders served to enhance the large breasts.

Naked now, he reached out to place a hand about her small waist. Because of his height most women were always too tiny against him, but Zenobia was just right, her dark head almost to his shoulder. He drew her nearer, feeling the small round of her belly as it pressed against him. Reaching out, she caressed his cheek. There was neither shame nor shyness between them.

He tipped her face upward so he might look at her. "I love you," he said quietly. "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." Then, picking her up in his arms, he returned her to the sleeping couch and lay down next to her.

For some minutes they lay together holding hands, and then her voice, soft with confusion, said, "I do not understand this, Marcus, and yet I desire you. I want you to make love to me. Why?"

"You must find your own answers, my beloved, but I shall never force you to anything you do not want. I will rise now, and go if that be your wish."