"He has not married her," came the reply.

"She is a slave, Akbar. Men do not marry their slaves. They may love them, but they do not marry them. What if he loves her, but marries me simply for heirs? I have been surrounded by love my whole life, Akbar. I was conceived by a great love. I cannot live without it! What if he does not love me?"

"You do not have to marry him, little sister. Father has said he will not force you to it."

"I am almost fifteen, my brother. Most girls my age have been married for two years, and already have children. What if I never find this love that exists between a man and a woman? If I do not marry Prince Odenathus, who will I marry, Akbar? Who will have an educated woman to wife? I often wonder if Mother and Father did not do me a great disservice educating me. Perhaps I would have been better off if I had learned nothing but woman's ways." She sighed, and flung herself on her couch.

Akbar stared at his half-sister in surprise, and then he began to laugh. "By Jupiter, you are afraid! Never did I think to see the day when Zenobia bat Zabaai would be afraid, but you are! You are afraid that Odenathus will not like you! You are afraid of a blue-eyed, yellow-haired whore! Zenobia, my sister, the poor Prince of Palmyra is already half in love with you. If you will be but kind to him he will be your devoted slave for the rest of your life. All he desires is a little encouragement. As to the concubine, Deliciae, of course he is fond of her. She is an amiable creature, surely you cannot be afraid of that piece of fluff?"

"She is so… so womanly, and I am more at home with a weapon than a perfume bottle!"

"You are unique, my sister."

"Would you like a woman like me, Akbar?" The concern in her young face was so intense that he almost hurt for her.

'Too easy a conquest can be pleasant, but very boring, my sister. Be yourself with Odenathus. He will love you." Akbar walked over to where his younger half-sister lounged, and bent to kiss her head. "Stop brooding, foolish child, and make yourself beautiful for the prince. I will come back shortly, and escort you myself to Father's tent for the evening meal."

When she looked up he was gone, and Bab was entering the tent. Dearest Bab, Zenobia thought affectionately. How she was going to enjoy living in a civilized city again! Bab had been her mother's servant, and had come with Iris from Alexandria. When Iris had died she had simply taken over Zenobia, and continued on with her duties. She was getting on in years now, thought Zenobia, and the traveling was becoming harder for her. She watched with loving eyes as the older woman moved about the tent preparing her mistress's clothing for the evening.

"Ah, your dear mother would be happy with this match," Bab commented. "It is your son who will be the next ruler of Palmyra after Odenathus."

"At least if I do marry him," Zenobia teased, "you will spend your declining years within a city instead of out upon the desert."

"Declining years?" Bab's lined and weathered face registered instant offense. "And who is declining, I should like to know? I served your mother. I serve you, and I expect someday I shall serve your daughter. Declining years! Humph!" She bent over the cedar chest, and drew forth a soft white cotton chemise and a snow-white tunic. "You'll wear these," she said, holding them out.

Zenobia nodded and shrugged off the short black chiton she had been wearing. Bab took a small sea sponge and, dipping it in fragrant oil, smoothed it over her mistress's nude body. The young girl wrinkled her nose with delight. She loved the rich hyacinth fragrance, remembering that Iris had given her a small flacon of the perfume when she was ten. Bab slipped the chemise and then the tunic over Zenobia's head. The tunic was made of fine linen, and Bab belted it with a length of thin leather that had been gilded with silver leaf. There were matching silver sandals for Zenobia's slender feet.

The tunic was sleeveless and its neckline was draped low, revealing the soft perfection of her breasts. Bab sat the girl down while she brushed and brushed the long black hair, finally braiding it and looping it under once to be fastened with a pearl-and-diamond hair ornament. She then offered her young mistress a small jewel case, which Zenobia stared into for a few moments, studying the precious gems and metals. Finally she removed a carved silver bracelet, a smooth ivory one banded with silver, one of carved ivory, and another of polished blue lapis, which she slipped on one of her arms. Into her ears she fitted silver-and-lapis earrings, and upon her fingers went two rings, one a large creamy round pearl, the other a carved scarab of blue lapis that had belonged to her mother.

Bab nodded her approval of Zenobia's choices, and took up a small brush, which she dipped in kohl. Carefully, she painted the girl's eyes to highlight them, but Zenobia's lips and flushed cheeks needed no artifice, having their own color. The girl reached for an ivory scent bottle and, uncorking it, daubed the exotic hyacinth fragrance on herself. She stood and, looking at herself in the mirror, said, "Well, I suppose I am as ready as I'm going to be, Bab."

Bab chuckled. "You will ravish him, my pet."

Zenobia smiled, but it was a smile without enthusiasm.


***

Zabaai ben Selim might be a Bedawi chief, but he was a man who liked his comfort. His tent was set upon a low platform that could be separated into several sections for easier transport. Inside, the floor was covered with thick wool rugs in reds, blues, golds, and creams. The tent poles were gilded, and the finest brass and silver lamps hung from the tent ceiling, burning perfumed oils. The great tent was divided into two sections, the smaller sleeping area separated from the main part of the tent by woven silk carpets from Persia. The furnishings were simple but rich: low tables of wood and brass, chests of cedar, and many colorful pillows for seats.

There were several men in the room besides the prince and her father. She saw several of her half-brothers besides Akbar. There was Hussein, and Hamid, and Selim, all full brothers to Akbar, all Tamar's sons. They grinned knowingly at her, causing a blush to color her cheeks, which made them chuckle indulgently. For some reason, their smug complacency drove a streak of rebellion into her heart and mind. How dare they presume that all was settled?

"Come, my daughter, and sit between us," Zabaai commanded her gendy. He had seen the fire in her eyes, and guessed that she might be feeling a bit fractious.

Zenobia sat down quietly, keeping her eyes lowered, furious with herself for suddenly feeling shy. Silent slaves began to serve the simple meal. A young kid had been roasted, and there was a dish of rice with raisins. Zenobia was delighted to find in the middle of the table an arrangement of fruits the like of which she hadn't seen since they left Palmyra almost six months earlier. There were grapes both purple and green; figs and dates; peaches and apricots. A small smile of delight curved the corners of her mouth, and she reached out to take an apricot.

"You must thank Odenathus for such bounty, Zenobia," her father said.

"You brought the fruit from Palmyra?" She looked up at him with her marvelous eyes, and for a moment the prince thought he was going to drown in the depths of them.

Finally he managed to find his voice. "I remembered how you dislike trekking the desert, and thought by now you must long for fresh fruit."

"You brought it for me?" She felt shy again.

"See what an easy woman she is to please, Odenathus?" Akbar teased. "Another woman would have asked for emeralds and rubies; but my little sister is satisfied with apricots. 'Tis an admirable trait in a wife."

"I thank you for the fruit, my lord." She was silent again.

Zabaai was concerned. It was not like Zenobia to be so quiet and shy. He wondered if she were ill, but then he realized that the prince, too, had said very little during the meal. Both he and Zenobia were behaving like two young animals placed in the same cage for the first time. Warily they circled each other, and sniffed the air cautiously for signs of hostility. The Bedawi chieftain smiled to himself, remembering himself in his younger days with each new girl; each girl except Iris. It had always been different with Iris. He was somewhat troubled that Zenobia seemed reluctant about young Prince Odenathus, but then she had never before been exposed to a suitor.

The meal concluded with sweet cakes made of thin layers of dough, honey, and finely chopped nuts. There had been marvelous Greek wine served all during the meal, and the men were feeling relaxed. Zenobia had drunk very little, and seemed unusually sensitive to her half-brothers' teasing. Normally she would have bantered with them.

Finally Zabaai said in what he hoped was an offhand manner, "My daughter, the moon will not rise until quite late tonight. There is a fine display of stars. Take Odenathus and show him your knowledge of astronomy. You could put Zenobia anywhere on this earth, my Prince, and she would be able to find her way back to Palmyra by using the sky to guide her."

"I have a fine observatory in the palace," Odenathus replied. "I hope you will visit it someday." He rose and, holding out his hand, helped Zenobia up.

Together they walked from the tent while behind them Zabaai quelled his sons' ribald humor with a stern look. Silently they strolled through the encampment, and Zenobia stole looks from beneath her long lashes at the prince. He was really a very handsome young man, she had to admit. Unlike her father and half-brothers, who wore the long, enveloping robes of the Bedawi, Odenathus was dressed in a short tunic of natural-colored linen, a painted leather breastplate, and a red military cloak. Zenobia approved this plain and sensible clothing and his sturdy, practical sandals.