The barge was luxurious, but not overlarge. It had a sail that was now raised to catch the afternoon winds, and they began their trip downriver to the harbor at Portus.

The weather was fair and warm, but still they traveled, master and servants alike, in a state of nervous expectation. Neither Marcus nor Zenobia nor Dagian would feel entirely safe until they were at sea. When night fell slaves and family partook of a simple meal upon the open deck of the barge. It was a meal that they had supplied themselves, for the bargemaster was bound only to offer them passage and shelter to Portus.

When night fell the slaves settled themselves to sleep upon the open deck while the family and their personal servants sought shelter in the barge's cabin. There were but two bunks, and Dagian was settled in one, while Mavia and old Bab were put in the other.

Bab protested loudly. "No, no, my baby, it is not right that you sleep upon the floor while I rest in comfort."

"Peace, old woman!" Zenobia said. "Remember your years. In the last months you have been dragged from Palmyra to Rome, and now you undertake another long journey. I would have you comfortable so you will always be here to serve me. What, Bab, would I do without you?"

"I will be with you as long as the gods allow, and no longer," Bab said.

Marcus smiled warmly at the faithful old servant, and he put a kindly arm about her sturdy shoulders. "Britain will be lovelier, Bab, if your old bones do not ache. Sleep with Mavia, and argue no longer."

Bab looked adoringly up at him, a look that Zenobia had never seen her bestow before upon any man. "Yes, master," she said, "and I thank you for your kindness to me."

Adria and Charmian were settled, one beneath each bunk, and then Marcus and Zenobia returned outside to sit on the open deck. Above them, the warm spring night glistened with a million bright stars. The river gently caressed the flat bottom of the boat, and the wind teased at the loose tendrils of Zenobia's long, black hair as she faced downriver.

He stood behind her, his arms wrapped securely about her waist, drawing her firmly against him. For a long while they were silent, and she marveled that just his simple gesture of holding her could make her feel so marvelous, so loved, so cherished. She adored the hardness of his chest against her back, the softness of his breath against her hair.

"I am so glad that you love me," she said quietly.

He laughed softly. "At last we are together."

"Do not say it," she begged. "Not yet. Not until we have escaped the empire. Once we are free of Rome then I shall care not what happens as long as we are together, Marcus. I have loved you for so very long that I dare not believe in this happy ending quite yet."

"We are together, Zenobia, now and forever," he said with quiet assurance, "and we shall rebuild our lives on the edge of Britain, and rear our daughter in safety, and have a son to love and raise."

"I yet fear the motives of the gods," she said softly.

"Do not fear them, beloved, for you are their chosen, and have always been."

He turned her now, and his mouth touched hers with infinite gentleness, tasting as a bee tastes of precious nectar, caressing possessively, communicating his love of her, his need of her. With a sigh she returned the kiss, her lips parting for him, her arms wrapping about his neck to mold her lustiness against his hardness. His tongue darted through her lips and about her mouth, touching with wildfire the tip and sides of her tongue, the roof of her mouth, the corners of her mouth. The kiss deepened, growing more ardent, more possessive, stoking the passionate fires burning deep within them both. Zenobia shuddered with surrender, but with the sudden realization of where they were Marcus very gently broke off the embrace, still holding her close to him.

She laughed weakly, and said low, "Never has any man ever driven me to such passion, my darling. If only there were a place upon this ship of yours where we might be alone. I do not think I can bear being parted from you for much longer."

He chuckled, and replied, "You are a most tempting morsel, and I long to ravish you with my love; but for now I think it best we seek the arms of Morpheus, and sleep."

Re-entering the cabin, he spread his large cape upon the floor, and they lay down to sleep.

Two hours after the dawn they arrived in the bustling harbor town of Portus, having passed from the Tiber River through the Claudian Canal. At the dock they were met by the Alexander family retainers, and litters that carried them down to the waterfront where Marcus's ship awaited them.

It was a magnificent vessel, its dark wood sides polished to a glistening red-brown sheen. The stern of the ship was beautifully carved with scenes of leaping porpoises, ocean nymphs gamboling amid the waves, and delicate whorled shells, all exquisitely gilded with gold. The deck was of well-rubbed light-colored oak. The four light-blue sails-a square mainsail, the two triangular sails called lateen sails above the mainsail, and the small square sail at the bow called the artemon-were of the finest canvas. The vessel was one hundred eighty feet in length, and forty-five feet in width.

There were two rudders, one on either side of the stem. The helmsmen stood upon a small elevated deck that had on it the upper half of a swan, painted quite realistically and hollowed so that it might serve as a shelter for the captain of the vessel or one of the helmsmen when he was not at his steering oar.

On the main deck was the master's cabin, made up of two rooms, the larger front room an airy and light place where they would eat. Behind the main cabin and beneath the steering deck was set a smaller inside cabin, where Marcus and Zenobia would sleep in privacy.

Below decks was the enormous cargo hold and a place for the crew to sleep. Also below the decks would be all of the Alexander household slaves, but it would not be overly crowded, for the cargo space would be only half full with all the family's goods.

The merchantman, called a corbitae, was a round ship. It was sturdy and reliable, but could easily be caught by a faster bireme or trireme, Roman warships, which were not only sail-powered, but oar-powered. It was therefore important that the Alexander family cause no attention to be drawn to them. The captain had been ordered to file a course for Cyprus with the authorities, and only when they were under way would Marcus order that course changed. The fewer people involved in his secret the better.

Little Mavia was delighted with the ship, and promptly told everyone so. "What is it called, Mama?" she demanded of Zenobia, who turned to Marcus for help.

"It is called the Sea Nymph, my daughter," he answered her.

"I am not your daughter, am I?" Mavia asked innocently.

Marcus lifted the child up into his arms, and looked into the blue eyes so like his own. Gently he brushed the chestnut hair, also like his. "You are my own true child, and I love you," he answered her simply.

Mavia put her arms about his neck and kissed him upon the cheek. "I have always wanted a father," she said. "I am glad you are my papa."

It was as simple as that. From that time on, Mavia, the Princess of Palmyra, disappeared into the mists of time. There was only Mavia, the daughter of Marcus Alexander Britainus, and for Mavia, it was as if he had always been there. Although until this moment she had never called him Father, she would, when she grew older, never remember not having called him Father.

Zenobia's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Thank you," she said to her husband, and Marcus understood.

"It was the right time," he told her.

Then, together, they went aboard the Sea Nymph to be warmly greeted by Captain Paulus. Charmian took Mavia off to see the ship, and the others settled themselves while Zenobia and Marcus spoke with the captain.

"The next tide is two hours after midday, sir," the captain said. "With your permission we can sail then."

"Is there a reason to stay longer, my love?" Marcus asked.

"No," she replied. "I am willing to sail this day."

"So be it then!" Marcus looked to the captain, who nodded his agreement.

"We've all our supplies aboard, and plenty of fresh water, sir. If you, my lady, need any extras you would be wise to purchase them now. I can have one of my men escort you to the harbor shops."

"I do not think that I lack for anything," Zenobia replied, "but I shall call my servants and visit the shops you suggest. Mayhap in the looking we will see something we need. Your escort will be most welcome."

Zenobia sought out Dagian and Adria, and the three women spent the next hour shopping in the company of two brawny sailors. As they returned to the Sea Nymph Zenobia's heart lurched as she saw a familiar figure standing upon the deck with her husband. The three women climbed the gangway, and while Adria hurried to store away their few purchases Dagian and Zenobia came forward to meet Marcus and his guest.

"Gaius Cicero, it is good to see you," Dagian said cordially.

The tribune bowed from the waist, and replied, "And as always, Lady Dagian, it is good to see you. You are well?"

"I am. How is Clodia? And your children?"

"They thrive."

There was a short awkward silence, and then Dagian said, "Come, Zenobia, let us see to Mavia."

"No." Marcus looked to his wife. "You go, Mother. I would like Zenobia to stay here with us for a few moments. You will keep Mavia occupied for us."

Dagian withdrew, and Zenobia looked at the two men. "Well," she said, "what is it? I can tell that all is not right."

"I have an order for your return to Rome, Majesty."