"My business requires I remain in Rome, Caesar. I will give you my word not to leave the city, but you cannot exile me from it."

"You have sold your father's trading business to Julius Rabirius, Marcus. I know that he has agreed to broker for both you and your brother. You may communicate with him, of course, but be advised that every message you send will be read by me before it goes on its way. I will allow you no chance to warn your queen of my plans for her-and the Eastern Empire."

"Are we restricted to your villa, Caesar?"

"I think for the time being, Marcus, that it would be wisest." He rose from the chair in which he had been sitting and stopped before Dagian, who remained seated in a gesture of disrespect he did not miss. Aurelian smiled brightly and bowed to her. "Good day to you, Lady Dagian. I hope I shall see you soon again. Come, Marcus, walk out with me."

The two men left the study, and moved into the atrium. "Make no mistake, Marcus," the emperor said quietly. "If you attempt to warn Zenobia of my plans, or plot against me, or embarrass my family, I will act swiftly. Do you understand, Marcus?"

"Yes," was the terse reply.

"Good," Aurelian said. "Now I have a project for you to do. I want a detailed map of Palmyra, and her border fort, Qasr-al-Hêr."

"The gods curse you, Aurelian!" Marcus swore angrily. "It is bad enough that you make it appear to Zenobia that I have betrayed her. Must you also see that I do so in fact as well?"

"I wish to take Palmyra with as little bloodshed as possible. A blackened city with a dead populace is of no use to us. Your lovely queen will fight me to the last man if I let her. It is her reputation to do so. If I can prevent this I would prefer it so."

"Caesar. I cannot betray Palmyra any more than I could betray Rome."

"I understand," the emperor replied, and then with a quick nod he was gone.

With a deep sigh Marcus returned to his study. Dagian was gone, and he was alone. Wearily he sat down, reached for the wine, and poured himself a full goblet, which he quickly drained and as quickly refilled. He stared into the dark red liquid, which mirrored his own face, severe with sleeplessness and worry. He was trapped. If Dagian had been allowed to leave Rome perhaps he might have made a run for it; but, of course, Aurelian had had no intention of allowing it. He drained the second goblet, and felt its warmth beginning to suffuse his body.

The emperor was correct in all he said. When Zenobia learned of his marriage to Carissa, she would, of course, assume another Roman betrayal. If only Longinus could hold her in check… But in his heart he knew that Longinus would not be able to do so. Hurt, she would seek to hurt.

Oh, beloved, he thought sadly, Aurelian will eventually crush you, for never have I known such a determined man. But then, you are a determined woman. Perhaps you will prevail over him if the gods will but allow. May they guard you, and protect you now, my beloved, for I cannot.

Marcus sipped at the wine, sinking deeper into depression until suddenly he realized that to give in even in the face of such incredible odds was totally out of character for him. Never in his life had he allowed self-pity to gain the upper hand. Never in all the years that he had yearned for Zenobia, then another man's wife, had he ever given up hope. He would not give it up now! Not even now!

Resolutely he stood up, feeling the wine in his head and swaying.

"You're drunk," came the petulant voice from the door.

"And you are fat, Carissa," came the scathing reply. "Your uncle is correct. It coarsens you." He moved to the door, and with surprisingly firm hands pushed her out of his study. "This room is forbidden you, Carissa. If you are to have the run of the house, there must be one place where I may escape the sight and sound of you."

"Once we get to Tivoli things will change," she snarled at him.

"I don't think so, my dear," was the acerbic reply. "I will still be the head of this household whom you must obey."

"I hate you!" she screamed at him.

"No more than I hate you, Carissa!" he laughingly replied. "No more than I hate you."

9

Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, stood looking out upon the Mediterranean sea. She could not get enough of the sight, for she had discovered that it was very much like her desert; a constantly changing pattern of color and movement. It was close to sunset, and the sea was very still at the moment, a smooth and silken surface, wine-colored, reflecting back at her the palace from which she watched it. Above her a flock of pink flamingos whirled, their black underwings in stark contrast to their vividly colored upper bodies. She turned to watch the beautiful birds as they flew over the palace to settle down along the shores of Lake Mareotis, where they nested. All was quiet now, and she stood for some long minutes watching the beacon to the east harbor, the Pharos lighthouse. It was a view seen many times by her ancestress, Cleopatra.

Her gaze moved back to the sea, and she could feel her eyes straining as if by only looking hard enough she might see Rome across the water; see Rome-and her false lover, Marcus Alexander Britainus. There was still pain when she thought of him; but it was not as sharp today as it had been yesterday, nor would it be as sharp tomorrow as it was now. She had always believed she could not live without love, but now she knew that to be untrue. Hate was a magnificent substitute, and she had vowed privately that she would never love a mortal man ever again. Death had taken Odenathus from her, and now an emperor's niece had taken Marcus.

Why? she wondered once more. Why had he married another woman when he had sworn to return to her? She could find no explanation. He had not even written to her.

"Are you all right, Majesty?" Cassius Longinus had come out on the long open portico.

"Yes, Longinus, I am fine," she replied, but he could hear the sadness in her voice.

"There has to be a logical explanation," he burst out, and she turned to look at him with haunted eyes.

"Why do you attempt to find excuses for him, Longinus? You never really approved, I know that. There is no explanation other than the fact that the Roman used me; but I have always learned from my mistakes, and I will never be used by any man again."

He did not argue. But still, Longinus wondered. He believed that he knew the Roman very well, and this sudden marriage to Aurelian's niece and his failure to communicate with Zenobia were totally out of character for Marcus Britainus.

"I intend declaring Vaba Augustus, and myself Queen of the East," she said, and he was quickly jolted from his thoughts.

"You will bring Rome down on you, Majesty."

"Rome is weak," Zenobia said scornfully. "One general after another declares himself emperor, and the path to their empire's throne is littered with the bodies of the assassinated. None can hold power for very long. The barbarian tribes to the west and the north of Italy are constantly encroaching upon the empire's territory. Can Aurelian divert enough soldiers from Europe to make war on me? I do not think so, Longinus. Rome must face the fact that I now control the East, and I will not let it go! This I can do to insure Vaba's future, and that of his sons and grandsons."

"Is it for Vaba you do it, Majesty, or is it to revenge yourself on Marcus Alexander Britainus? Hate is a two-edged sword, Majesty. It can injure those who wield it as well as an enemy."

"You worry too much, Longinus. Did not the augurs at my birth say I should be fortunate at war? And have I not been?"

"The augurs also said you would be fortunate in love, Majesty," was the devastating reply.

"And so I have been!" she argued. "Was my Hawk not the most wonderful of husbands?"

"But he is dead, Majesty, and the man that you truly love with every fiber of your being has appeared to betray you. I do not consider that fortunate." Longinus's logic was a sharp knife cutting away at her confidence.

Zenobia tossed her head angrily and chose to ignore his remark. "I repeat, Longinus, you worry too much."

Longinus bowed his head in acceptance of her will. "Will you make this announcement here in Alexandria, Majesty?"

"Yes," was the reply. "By the time my announcement arrives to ruin Aurelian's digestion, I shall be back in Palmyra." She laughed. 'This could very well topple the latest of Rome's military rulers, and who shall be next, and for how long?"

He wondered about her overconfidence, and he worried, yet all had gone well so far. The armies of Palmyra had passed easily and quickly through Syria and Palestine and across the Egyptian desert. They had crossed the Nile River Delta, attracting only curious glances from the peasants, and entered into Alexandria with no resistance. There, Zenobia's uncles Paulus and Argus Simon had been busy spreading her doctrine of an Eastern Empire free of foreigners; free of Rome.

Alexandria, never treated well by the Romans, had responded to that message by welcoming Palmyra's queen, and taking her as their own. After all, was she not the child of a daughter of this city? Was she not a descendant of the last great Ptolemaic queen, Cleopatra? By the gods, they would once again rise to the greatness that had been theirs before the Romans. The Romans! Since the days of Julius Caesar they had been bad luck for Alexandria.

The Ptolemaic pharaohs and their queens had made Alexandria the academic center of the ancient world. The great Alexandrian library and museum were world-famous. So were the many schools of rhetoric, medicine, mathematics, philosophy, art, literature, and poetry. In the beginning of Roman rule nothing had changed; but then it became intolerable and various segments of the population began to chafe. A revolt by the large Jewish population resulted in their annihilation and the destruction of the Jewish quarter, fully a third of the city. And with the Jews went Alexandria's commercial prosperity.

It was now merely a beautiful ancient city whose schools and great library attracted scholars. There was a certain amount of commerce, but nothing to compare with its days of glory. The Alexandrians had little love for the Romans, whom they rightly blamed for their plight. The chance to strike back at them was irresistible, and Queen Zenobia of Palmyra appeared the very person for them to follow.

The pronouncement of King Vaballathus and his mother, Zenobia, was made from the main portico of Alexandria's royal palace. Zenobia had sworn never again to wear Roman garments, and had taken to the opulent clothes that were a mixture of Egyptian, Persian, and Parthian.

Her dress that day was called a kalasiris, a long, sleeveless garment with a simple, round neck that was totally accordion-pleated to the ankle-length hem. Its color was a pale Nile green. and the linen of the garment was so sheer that Zenobia's flawless body could be seen through it. Her firm and full breasts thrust the fabric boldly out beneath the great jeweled collar of gold inlaid with emerald, lapis lazuli, turquoise, and amber. Upon her arms were beautifully carved gold armbands which were easily visible despite the floor-length cape that she wore. The cape was an incredible piece of workmanship, the lining cloth-of-gold, the exterior of male peacock feathers. It was fastened to her shoulders by means of hidden gold clasps attached to her collar. Upon her feet were simple gold sandals; her long black hair was entwined with lotus blossoms, and the beautiful gold fillet she wore was decorated in front by Egypt's royal asp.

In contrast to his mother's barbaric beauty, young Vaba was dressed quite simply… He wore the flowing white robes of his Bedawi heritage, but the hood of the garment was pushed back to reveal his strong, handsome face, the dark head topped with a magnificent gold crown. Standing next to his mother on the top steps of the portico, he listened with impassive face as Cassius Longinus, several steps down from them and dressed in an impressive white tunic, intoned in a loud, clear voice to the great mass of humanity who had crowded into the square before the palace.

"Behold, Egypt! Behold Zenobia, Queen of the East, and her son, Vaballathus, Augustus of the Eastern Empire!"

Three times the queen's favorite councillor called out, each time followed by a great trumpet fanfare. The crowds cheered and shouted their approval of Zenobia and her son. Longinus looked up at the queen, and said so just she might hear, "Rome will not fail to notice this demonstration, Majesty."

"Then let them be warned, Longinus," was the icy reply.