"I don't want to leave you," he said low. "Youknow it, beloved!"

"I know it, Marcus, but we are two people who have been trained to duty and loyalty. Return to Rome, and receive your father's final blessing. I will be waiting when you come home to Palmyra."

Together they walked across the room to remove their garments by the side of the pool. He stood watching as she descended the steps down into the tepid water, and felt himself grow warm with longing at the sight of her golden body moving languorously in the black marble pool. Her dark hair streamed out behind her, a feathery cloak. Turning, she swam back toward him, her gray eyes devouring his tall body. His long legs were to her like the marble columns that lined the portico of the ancient Temple of Baal, and she shivered in anticipation of feeling his hard thighs.

Already his shaft was straight and firm, thrusting from the dark forest of his groin. Their eyes locked, and he moved down into the pool, walking slowly toward her. Zenobia felt herself growing weak with desire as she floated, her limbs losing their will. His hands closed gently about her ankles, and he drew her forward, his sure grasp moving up her legs. She ached for him, a yearning clearly visible in her beautiful face, as he tenderly entered into her body, filling her with the fiery fullness she loved. He stood in the waist-deep water, his throbbing lance buried deep within her as she floated before him, her legs wrapped lighdy about his body, her marvelous hair billowing in the soft swell of the waters.

The fingers of both his hands began to rub the nipples of her breasts with delicate little touches. She shivered, and while he smiled a slow smile her eyes closed in rapture and small waves of pleasure began to lap over her. Her entire being was finely tuned to the pleasure of their lovemaking, and she almost screamed aloud her bliss as she felt him throbbing and growing within her. Yet he remained perfectly still but for his fingers, which continued to tease at her velvety nipples.

Finally she could bear no more of such exquisite torture, and her body began to shiver as the honied sweetness flowed from her, crowning the ruby head of his manhood. She heard his soft laughter. "Oh, beloved, you are as ever an impatient and greedy creature." Then he withdrew from her, gathered her up, and carried her from the pool.

"I hate it when you are so superior," she murmured as she stood on trembling legs that threatened to give way beneath her at any minute.

One strong arm locked about her slender waist, and with his other hand he carefully dried her off. "I am not superior, I am only delighted that I can give you such pleasure," he said as he toweled her long hair free of excess water.

"But I want you to be pleasured, too!" she protested.

"I am," he answered, "and even more so when I see the look on your face." He picked her up again, walked across the room, and gently deposited her upon the sleeping platform. Lying down next to her, he said, "In the lonely nights to come, beloved, I shall relive a thousand times each moment we have spent in this room; each night I have lain by your side and loved you. I have never loved anyone else, and I swear to you that I never shall." He took her into his arms then, and they kissed until they were breathless.

Now he was afire to possess her once again, but Zenobia squirmed away from his eager grasp. Turning her body, she moved downward, covering his flat and lightly furred torso with little kisses. Teasingly, she nipped at him with her sharp little teeth, and he groaned as the tip of his shaft tingled with her assault. A warm, soothing tongue followed, and then she took him in her mouth for a few moments while he fought to retain control of himself. Just when he thought he would lose the love battle between them, she moved again, mounting him and plunging downward to envelope him deep within her hot sheath.

Reaching up, he crushed her beautiful breasts within his big hands, aching with incredible pleasure. Through slitted sapphire eyes he watched her as she flung back her head in ecstasy, the delicate veins in her smooth throat standing out as the blood pumped visibly through them. She shuddered again in pure fulfillment, and it was then that he regained control, turning her over so that he now rode her.

Slowly he withdrew from her, chuckling at her soft cry of distress. Taking his shaft in his hand he softly rubbed it over her lower belly, and she moaned, seeking him with hot, eager little hands. "No, beloved," he murmured, bending to caress the inside of her ear with his tongue. "Do not be too eager, for there is time for us." His tongue followed the intricate path of her other ear, tickling it lightly for a moment.

Beneath him she writhed, her desire growing again with each touch, each caress. His hands moved with love over her trembling form as he committed to memory the line of her body; the feel of her satin skin; her wonderful breasts-those honeyed hills of softness that reminded him of the great mother goddess herself; her long, strong legs that could grip a man in passionate embrace as easily as the sides of the great gray stallion she rode; the marble smooth twin moons of her bottom. He adored her completely, worshiping at the shrine of her, his love, his very soul.

"Oh, my love," he murmured into the damp tangle of her hair, "I do not know if I can bear the separation from you!" His voice throbbed with emotion, and Zenobia could feel the unbidden tears begin to straggle down her cheeks.

"Make us one, my darling," she begged him. "I shall die if you do not," and she arched to receive him as he thrust vigorously into her aching body.

Over and over again he drove himself into her willing flesh; and Zenobia wept as much with the joy of his possession as she did from the knowledge that in the morning he would be gone. At last his passion peaked, and his seed rushed into the warm darkness of her womb as he collapsed upon her breasts. She wept silently as he shuddered with his own pleasure. How would she manage to exist without him? He was her very life. Oh, Mama, she thought, if this was how it was for you and my father then at last I can understand the love you bore each other.

For some minutes they lay locked in embrace, not speaking. He could hear her heart gradually growing quieter beneath his ear, and he knew that his own heartbeat was slowing. She was the most incredible woman, he thought, and he didn't intend spending any more time in Rome than he had to. If his father was truly ill to death-and his mother was not a woman to exaggerate-then he would have to accept his responsibilities as head of his family; but first he would return to Palmyra for Zenobia. Then it occurred to him that there was no reason he should have to remain in Rome. He didn't like Rome, and he never really had. His younger brother, Aulus, was settled in Britain; his two sisters, Lucia and Eusebia, lived with their husbands away from Rome-Lucia in the north outside of Ravenna, and Eusebia in the south at Naples. His mother would probably choose to return to Britain with Aulus. He would be free to live in Palmyra, to make it his home, their home. He shared his thought with her, and he could hear the joy in her voice when she answered him.

"You mean you would really make Palmyra your home? You would desert Rome?"

"I deserted Rome fifteen years ago, beloved. What is there for me? A house? A business? These I can sell. They have no meaning, hold no sentiment for me. My home, beloved, is where you are. My home is here in Palmyra."

Zenobia wept with joy, her hot tears pouring down her cheeks to soak the pillows, running into her ears. "Now," she said, finally gaining control of herself, "now I can bear your going! I will send six of my guard with you, Marcus. The first will return from Tripoli to tell me the ship on which you have sailed. The second and third will bring me letters from your ports of call; the fourth will come directly from Brindisi to tell me that you have reached Italy safely; the fifth will bring me news from Rome; and the last man will stay with you until you are about to return to me. He will bring me the gladdest tidings of all; the news that you are coming home!"

"So be it, my beloved!" he agreed, and then his mouth found hers again, drinking in the sweetness of her, quickly seeking to possess her once more as she joyously opened her arms to him and received him again. They loved almost without stopping that night, with lips, and tongues, and hands, and eyes. They touched, and caressed, and tasted until they thought there were no more pleasures. And then they were astounded to find that that was not so-their bodies turned, and twisted, and molded themselves a hundred different ways, and the rapture never ended, but grew sweeter, sharper, better each time. Finally, but an hour before the dawn, they fell into a restful sleep. When they awoke but a short time later they were both at peace.

Their private good-byes were said within their love chamber, their lips clinging for a moment to each other, their eyes locking in silent understanding. "Nothing will keep me from returning to you, beloved," he said.

"I will be waiting," she answered.

Their public farewell was said in the main courtyard of the palace, surrounded by Longinus, the young king, his brother, and the other members of the Council of Ten.

"Please bring our loyal greetings to the Emperor Aurelian, Marcus," the king said. "We hope his reign will be a long and prosperous one. It is unfortunate that Claudius died of plague."

Marcus smiled. "I shall be happy to convey your Majesty's greetings to the Emperor Aurelian. He is married to a distant cousin of mine, and he is a fine general. I suspect if the senate will cooperate Rome will prosper under him."

The king nodded, then said, "Farewell, Marcus Alexander Britainus. The gods go with you, and keep you safe until you return to us here in Palmyra!"

Marcus bowed to the young king, and then nodded to the others before his eyes found Zenobia again. They gazed lovingly at each other. "Farewell, beloved," he said softly, and he heard her answer, "Farewell, my heart! I will wait!"

He did not look back again, but mounted his white stallion and rode off through the main gates of the palace accompanied by his family's slave, Leo, and six of Zenobia's personal guard. He did not know that she went immediately to a tower in the palace that overlooked the main caravan road west, and watched until he and his party became but specks upon the horizon.


***

Several days later the first of her guards returned. Marcus Britainus and his party had taken passage from Tripoli upon a first-class merchant vessel, Neptune's Luck, which would be stopping only at Cyprus and Crete before it reached Brindisi. The second messenger returned, and shortly thereafter the third. The voyage was progressing smoothly, the seas calm, the winds perfect. He would shortly be in Rome. In two months' time the fourth messenger returned back to Palmyra: the queen's beloved had safely reached Italy. Zenobia stopped fretting. The Appian Way, the empire's most famous road, ran directly from Brindisi to Rome, and was eminently safe.

Now Zenobia turned her eyes toward Egypt. They departed Palmyra on an early winter's morning, the queen and her handsome son both riding within the same magnificent gold chariot drawn by four coal-black horses. The citizens of Palmyra lining the way to the Triumphal Arch screamed themselves hoarse at the sight of their beloved queen and their king.

"How they love you," Vaballathus marveled over the cries of the crowd.

"How they love you," she corrected him. "You are the king."

"No," he replied. "I have not yet earned their adulation. It is you for whom they cry, but when we return through this Triumphal Arch they shall cry my name, and / will deserve it!”

8

Dagian, the wife of Lucius Alexander Britainus, hurried into the atrium of her home, arms outstretched in joyous welcome. "Marcus!" She flung her arms round her eldest son, and then kissed him on both cheeks. "Praise the gods, you have arrived home safely!"

He stood back and studied her. She was nearing sixty, and yet he could see little change in the fifteen years he had been away. Her wonderful, once golden hair was gray, but the blue eyes he had inherited were as clear and sharp as ever. There were few lines in her beautiful face. "Did Aulus arrive safely?" She nodded in the affirmative. "And Father? He is still alive?"

"Yes, but only because he did not choose to depart for the Underworld until he had seen you, Marcus. He is sleeping now, but I will take you to him when he awakens."