Marcus was astounded. "He arranged a match for me? Has his illness rendered him mad, Mother? I am no boy for him to arrange a wife for me. I am past forty! Could he not have waited until I got home, and consulted with me on this matter?"

"Marcus, try to understand! He is dying and he wants everything in his life in order before he must make that crossing from here to the Underworld. His eldest son, a man these many years, remains unmarried. If you were a lover of boys he would have long since given you up, but you are a real man, and his only immortality."

"Aulus is married, Mother, and he is also father's son. Aulus is the father of several sons."

"You are Lucius Alexander's eldest son, Marcus, and he wanted you settled. He wanted you happy, as he and I have been all these years. He did not seek to harm you. Besides, why did you not write to us of your love for Zenobia. As always, you have been secretive."

"I could not write to you under the circumstances, Mother. Surely you must see that Zenobia's situation is far too politically sensitive, and if such a message had fallen into the wrong hands it might have brought down her government and endangered the empire's eastern boundaries that she and her late husband protected so well for Rome. No, it is unfortunate, but this betrothal will have to be broken."

"It cannot be," Dagian almost whispered.

"Cannot?" His brow darkened with anger. "What do you mean, 'cannot,' Mother?"

"Your father secured a great match for you, Marcus. You are to be married to the emperor's niece, Carissa."

"The match will have to be broken, emperor's niece or no, Mother."

"Marcus, you cannot offend Aurelian!"

"Do not fear, Mother. I will go to Aurelian myself, and explain the situation. Zenobia is vital to the empire's eastern defenses. I know the emperor will approve my match with the queen and find another husband for his niece.”

They walked from the room and back downstairs again into the atrium, where Marcus called for a chariot. Within moments the vehicle was at the front door of the house, and with a quick smile to his mother he was gone through the door. She stood listening as the chariot rumbled off down the quiet residential street. An arm went about her shoulders, and Aulus said. "You look as if you have been crying. What has my big brother done now, Mother?"

"He has done nothing, Aulus. Your father made a match between your older brother and the emperor's niece, Carissa. Marcus, however, is in love with a woman in Palmyra. He has gone off to tell the emperor that the betrothal must be canceled."

Aulus had paled at the mention of the emperor's niece's name. "Carissa, Mother? You are sure of the name?"

Dagian nodded, and then asked, "What is wrong, Aulus? You look as if you have seen an evil spirit."

"Oh, Mother, Carissa is the most venal creature alive."

"That sweet-faced child?"

"That is the paradox of Carissa. She looks like a vestal virgin, yet is more corrupt than any woman in the empire."

Marcus drove through the bustling streets of the city to the Palatine Hill, where the emperor lived. He could not help but notice the filth in the streets, unusual, for the Rome he remembered had been clean and bright. Now, however, the great marble buildings were in need of repair, and there was obvious vandalism to public places. There were many shops closed and shuttered.

At the palace a slave ran to take his horses, and he strode into the ancient building to encounter an old friend.

"Marcus Alexander!" came the shout, and he turned.

"Gaius Cicero!"

The two men gripped arms in the traditional Roman greeting, and then stepped back to view each other.

Gaius Cicero was a man of forty, of medium height and stocky build with brown eyes and black hair. "I had heard you were coming home from the eastern frontier," he said with a smile. "I am sorry so sad an event as your father's dying brings you. What do you here?"

"I must see the emperor."

"So cries half of Rome, Marcus Alexander, but Aurelian's time is limited."

"This is an urgent matter, Gaius Cicero. It could have far-reaching effects on the empire. Can you help me?"

"By chance, yes. He's in the baths now, and if you don't mind seeing him there, then I will take you."

"I would see him in Hades if necessary."

The Praetorian officer smiled wryly. "I am sure there are those who would wish Aurelian in the very place you mentioned. Follow me, Marcus Alexander." He made several turns into exquisitely decorated corridors that were lit with multilamped candelabra. "Ah, here we are," he announced as they moved quickly through large double doors that were opened by two Praetorian guards.

A slave hurried to aid them, and Gaius Cicero said, "Tell the emperor that Gaius Cicero has brought Marcus Alexander Britainus to see him on a matter of urgent business. We ask the emperor's leave to come into the bath."

"At once, Gaius Cicero," the slave replied, and hurried off.

"If he will see you, Marcus, you will not need me. I do not wish to intrude."

"I thank you again for your help, Gaius Cicero," Marcus replied.

"Perhaps we can have dinner together while you are in Rome," the Praetorian said.

"The emperor will see you, Marcus Alexander Britainus," said the returning slave.

"Farewell, Marcus Alexander," Gaius Cicero said. "I will send a message to your parents' home."

The slave quickly had Marcus divested of his clothes. "The emperor is already in the caldarium. He will speak with you when you reach the unctorium, Marcus Alexander Britainus."

Marcus nodded, and walked from the dressing room into the tepidarium where he sat down and waited for the perspiration to flow. When his pores were open and he was dripping, a slave began to scrape him free of dirt and sweat as he stood silently. He moved quickly into the caldarium for a hot bath. The emperor was already gone. There were, however, several young, beautiful nude slave girls who bathed him tenderly with scented soap before leading him to the bath, where he soaked a short time. He decided against a plunge in the frigidarium's icy bath, preferring a quick swim in the open courtyard pool, which had been warmed by the sun. Now he might enter into the unctorium. The emperor was waiting.

"Marcus Alexander!" Aurelian rose and came toward him, smiling.

"Hail, Caesar!" Marcus replied, his right arm extended in salute.

"Put your arm down, Marcus," Aurelian said, gesturing impatiently, "The gods, I shall never get used to being greeted 'Hail Caesar!'" The emperor was a tall man, over six feet, but Marcus still topped him by a good two inches. "Come and have a rub-down, and we'll talk," he invited.

The two men lay upon the massage benches, and Marcus studied the emperor from beneath apparently closed eyes. He had known him briefly years ago, and he remembered Aurelian as fair but determined. He wondered if the years had altered him any; certainly not physically. He was older than Marcus, and yet Marcus noted the emperor's body was yet that of a younger man -firm and hard. His blond hair was just faintly touched with silver, as was his barbered beard; but his light blue eyes were as clear and sharp as ever. He had a nicely shaped head, his eyes were well spaced, his nose was long and surprisingly aquiline for a man with peasant roots, his lips narrow, almost scornful.

"How is your wife, Ulpia?" he asked.

"Your cousin Ulpia is well, Marcus, but that is not what you came to see me about. What is it you want?"

"Release me from the betrothal my father made with you between myself and your niece, Carissa."

"No."

"I will not marry your niece, Caesar. I came home for two reasons; because my father was dying, and to tell my parents that I was to marry at long last. I am already betrothed. When I return to Palmyra I shall marry its queen, Zenobia. Her son will shortly rule in his own right, and I shall then wed his mother. Is it not of more importance that I wed such a valuable ally to Rome?"

"Do you love the Queen of Palmyra?"

"I have loved her for many years, Caesar."

"And she loves you?"

"Yes."

"It is unfortunate then that you must wed with my niece. Take her back with you to Palmyra if you desire to live there, Marcus. The queen will remain your mistress if she loves you."

Marcus felt the anger welling up within him. Who was this peasant, chosen emperor, that he might control the life of a member of one of the empire's oldest patrician families? "I will not marry this girl you have chosen for me, Caesar," Marcus said quietly, attempting to mask his fury.

"But you will, my friend, because if you don't I will destroy your family. They are all here in Rome now, aren't they? How would you like to see Aulus executed on the charge that his loyalty to Britain is greater than his loyalty to Rome? It is, you know. I would then send word that his foreign wife and half-breed children be expediently dispatched, and that his wealth, as well as that of your father, be confiscated by the government. Your parents would be forced to beg for their very existence. I wonder how long your beautiful mother would survive, Marcus. As for your luscious sisters, my friend, a short stay in the whorehouse of the Praetorian Guard would make them welcome death. As for you, defy me in this, and you will never see your beautiful mistress again."

Marcus felt frustrated and helpless. Aulus might run; the husbands of his sisters use their wealth and influence to protect them; but who could protect his parents? His father must be allowed to die in peace in his own home. His mother must be comfortable in her old age. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I am Caesar, and I command it."