"Who is she, my son?"

"You will approve, Mother. It is Flavia, the daughter of your friends, Antonius Porcius and his wife, Julia."

"Flavia Porcius? She is but a child, Vaba."

"She is almost thirteen, Mother. She has already begun her woman's flow."

"I don't want to know how you know that," Zenobia said, shocked, and behind her both Longinus and Marcus smiled. The young king might look like his father, but he was his mother's son in that he was determined to have his way.

"Nonetheless she is my choice for a wife, and I will wager even you could not choose a more suitable girl. She is Palmyran-born, of reputable family, and ready to bear children. More important to me, however, is the fact that she loves me and I love her."

"Then why do you want to rush off into battle?"

"I must prove myself worthy to rule Palmyra; to myself, to my people, and to Flavia. Until I do I am only your son, and that is simply not enough for me. I must be a man in my own right."

Zenobia turned away so he might not see her tears. Vaba was indeed becoming a man. Gently he put his arm about his mother. "You have given me the greatest gift any woman could give her child. You gave me time to grow, time to learn, time to play. But now the time has come for me to earn my place. All your life you have been so good, so loyal, so generous. Do you not want a life of your own? Do you not want to marry Marcus? You are yet young enough to have children, and I believe that like any man he wants a son."

She blushed at his words. He, her firstborn, her baby, was chiding her, but when she turned to give him a sharp reply she saw how earnest he was, and instead she said, "You are right. You shall lead our armies into Egypt this winter while I remain behind to rule this city in your stead."

It was going to be devastating, she thought. Both Vaba and Marcus, two of the three males she loved best in this world, away from her this winter; for of course Marcus was still commander of the legions, and would go to guide Vaba in military matters. Then suddenly she thought that it was not so terrible after all. Egypt would be easily subdued, and Vaba would have his first taste of battle. He would return to marry Flavia Porcius, then she, Zenobia, would be free to marry Marcus Britainus. Together they would guide the young king and his wife in their rule of the Eastern Empire. Zenobia smiled. When Vaba's first child was born she would declare her son Augustus, supreme ruler of the Eastern Empire. With all the lands from Egypt to Asia Minor under their rule, who would dare to dispute them? Certainly not Rome, weakening Rome with its succession of soldier-emperors, and its north-em and western borders constantly challenged by barbarian tribesmen.

Later she sighed within the comfort of Marcus's arms. "Soon we shall be able to marry. Make this Egyptian campaign a quick one, my darling!"

"Do I not always do my best to oblige you, beloved?" he teased her, his hot mouth finding a ready nipple. Slowly he sucked on her sweet flesh, taunting her with his tongue while his fingers moved to torture her in yet another sensitive spot. They loved almost without ceasing in that short period between military campaigns. Zenobia allowed her son and the Council of Ten almost complete freedom while she and Marcus locked themselves within the love chamber she had created for them. They could not be sated in their consuming desire for each other.


***

Less than a month before Palmyra's legions were due to depart, a trusted household slave of the Alexander family arrived from Rome, bearing tidings from Marcus's mother. The slave had been admitted into the queen's private apartment, and stood staring in amazement at the colorful, rather explicit frescoes that adorned the walls. Watching him, Zenobia thought that the Alexander household in Rome was sure to get quite a report.

"Is every all right?" she asked Marcus.

"No." He paused in his reading. "My fattier is ill, beloved. He is seriously ill, possibly dying. My mother has sent to Britain for my younger brother, Aulus, to come home." He turned to the slave. "How long ago did you leave Rome, Leo?"

"This is the fiftieth day, Marcus Britainus, since my departure."

"It's thirty-three days to Britain. My brother is halfway to Rome already. Zenobia…"

"I will lead the legions, Marcus. You must answer your mother's plea. If the worst is to happen I could not live with myself knowing that I had kept you from your father in the hour of his death. Go back to Rome, and then come home to Palmyra, and to me."

"You will be able to manage?"

She smiled at him, a slightly wry smile. "I can manage, my darling, although I am not sure I should admit to that. Nor would I, but I don't want you to worry. Perhaps it is better that I take my son, the king, and teach him the art of war. Do not fear for us, Marcus. Longinus shall remain here with Demetrius. The succession is safe. Go to Rome."

"Leo and I will start at dawn for Tripoli. There will be a ship sailing for Brindisi."

"Do not take just any vessel, Marcus," she pleaded with him.

His blue eyes drove into her very soul. "I am coming back to you, I promise, beloved."

"I cannot survive without you, Marcus!"

He laughed gently. "Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, I do not believe that for a moment." He wrapped his arms about her, and felt her trembling against him. Small tears mattered her black eyelashes, tears she fought to hold back. Tenderly he tasted of her mouth, kissing at the corners of it, nibbling at her upper lip affectionately. "Oh, queen of my heart, do not make my going any harder. How I wish that Vaba ruled in his own right, and that you were naught but my wife and might go with me!" He sighed, and then said quietly, "I will take Leo to my house. Severus must be informed so that he may assume the responsibilities that are mine while I am gone."

"You will return to me tonight?" She brushed a tear that had dared to slip down her cheek.

"Yes."

When he was gone, taking the slave, Leo, with him, she sat squarely in the middle of the sleeping platform, legs crossed, very much like the child she had once been. It would be the first time that they had been separated. Thank the gods for the winter campaign against Egypt. She needed it to keep herself occupied. Rome was so far away, across a vast sea that she hadn't ever seen. There was a finality about Marcus's trip that frightened her, and set her imagination to playing tricks on her. Would he return to her if his father died? He would then be the head of his family, and it was not a responsibility he could pass on to his younger brother. Aulus, after all, had a life in Britain, and lands that needed his management there.

By the time Marcus returned to the palace that evening Zenobia was a bundle of nerves. He had never seen her that way. For that matter in her entire life she had never behaved that way. She picked at her food, but so did he even though she had ordered that his favorite dishes be prepared.

"I don't like leaving you, beloved," he said. "I wish you could come with me. I am beginning to see disadvantages in loving a queen."

"Then I shall come with you! Oh, Marcus, yes! I will come with you! I know it will shock your family, but I do not care if I may be with you!"

"No, it is impossible, Zenobia. You cannot come. If you come then you must send Vaba into Egypt alone. Without your tactical skill he is sure to lose."

"If your father dies you will not be able to return to Palmyra," she said, admitting to what really concerned her.

"I will return to Palmyra, beloved. I promise you that, and never have I broken a promise to you."

"If you are head of your family, how can you leave them?"

"I can leave them to return to Palmyra to fetch my wife, for you are my wife, beloved. Zenobia, marry me before I go! Be my wife legally, before the gods."

"We would have to wed secretly, Marcus, and that I will not do as long as I am the reigning queen. You know it! We have spoken it before."

"As always, you put Palmyra before all else," he said, his voice a trifle bitter.

"And you!" she accused him. "Are you not putting your family before our love? You see your duty, and you do it. Why, then, is it so different when I do the same?" Suddenly she stood up from the table with its barely touched meal. "I will not quarrel with you, my darling. Not tonight; this is the last night we will have for so many months! Come!" She held out her hand to him. "Let us bathe, and then let us spend the hours we have left in making love to each other."

"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.