Afterward she bathed her hands in rose water, and went again out into her private garden, where she once more began to think. The moonless night was unnaturally quiet, and she wondered if the Romans were already before her gates, or if they would choose to come by daylight. She somehow thought the latter, and knew that she would not have long to wait. It was a strangely comforting thought. She would be glad to begin this confrontation-the sooner to get it over with. The queen retired to her empty bed to sleep a dreamless sleep. For one night she was not haunted by his face with its deep blue eyes; nor the sound of his voice promising to return to her.


***

In the hour just before the dawn old Bab gently shook her mistress awake and offered a goblet of sweet pomegranate juice. Zenobia lay quietly, allowing her spirit to return to her body after its long night of roaming within the shadow realm. Finally she asked, "Are they here yet?"

"Not a sign, my baby."

She sipped at her juice. "Is the city calm?"

"For the most part," the old woman answered. "The people are like a virgin going to her wedding couch, a little frightened, but sure that all will be well."

"It is natural," the queen said. She put the empty goblet down. "Today I must dress like the queen I am, Bab. It will hearten the people, and the Romans will expect it. I will be on the walls awaiting them, and afterward I shall roam the city to assure my people."

Bab nodded. "I expected you would wear your finest feathers, my baby. All is in readiness for you this very minute. I have personally chosen your wardrobe. You have only to pick your jewels."

"Show me."

Bab clapped her hands, and instantly a slave girl appeared carefully holding out for Zenobia's approval a kalasiris made of a cobweb-sheer linen cloth that had been interwoven with very thin strands of finely beaten gold. The sleeveless gown had been skillfully constructed in narrow pleats from its round, high neck to the ankle-length hem. Zenobia nodded her approval, and after bathing her face and hands in a basin held by a slave girl she rose from her bed, holding out her arms. Swiftly Bab removed her simple sleeping gown, and taking the kalasiris from the slave dropped it over the queen's head.

Zenobia walked across her bedchamber to stand before the enormous full-length polished silver mirror. "Adria," she commanded the slave, "bring my jewel caskets." The girl scurried off, and the queen said to Bab, "Your choice is a perfect one, old woman." Bab smiled broadly. Adria returned balancing several jewel caskets in her arms. "Fetch me the soft gold leather belt for this," Zenobia asked Bab as she began opening the jewel boxes. Carefully she studied the contents of each box, removing the upper trays in order to see what lay beneath. Swiftly she closed several lids down, and said to Adria, "Remove these boxes. I do not choose to wear silver today."

"Here is the belt you desire," Bab said, carefully fastening it about Zenobia's slender waist. The wide belt was made of soft kidskin overlaid with twelve layers of gold leaf over which were sewn tiny beads of fine gold and pale-pink rock quartz. The front of the belt rose up to a narrow peak that ended just below her breasts.

The queen now began to choose her jewelry. From one jewel box came two wide gold armbands with raised designs which Bab fastened about each of Zenobia's upper arms. Around her wrists the queen slipped on several gold bangles, some plain, some with blue Persian lapis, some with rose quartz. Into her earlobes she fastened enormous diamonds, pale pink in color, which had come to her from mines located far to the south. They dangled, sparkling, from their thin gold wires.

"Rings?" Bab asked.

"No," was the reply. "They will not be close enough to see them." She thought a moment as Bab made to close the ring casket. "Wait! Perhaps just a ruby on this hand, and the matching pink diamond on the other. If I use my hands to punctuate a point, they will sparkle and add effect."

"Necklaces?" Bab inquired.

"No, but I think one of those marvelous jeweled collars. Adria?"

"Majesty?"

"Do we not have a gold collar inlaid with rubies, and rose quartz, and small diamonds?"

"Yes, Majesty. Shall I fetch it?"

Zenobia nodded, and Adria quickly complied, returning to fasten the exquisite collar about the queen's neck. It lay flat upon her chest, the alternating jewels just above her full breasts. Zenobia smiled with satisfaction. "Brush my hair out, Bab, and then let us place upon my head that elegant small circlet of beaten gold vine leaves that has the long gold ribbons sewn with brilliants."

Bab nodded vigorously, and instructed Adria where the circlet might be found. When Zenobia's long black hair had been brushed silken smooth, Bab placed the wreath of golden vine leaves atop her mistress's head, and carefully arranged the ribbons out behind her. Then she stepped back, and nodded again. "It is perfect, my baby. You are a queen!"

"Come now, old woman, I must hurry. I would be on the walls to greet our visitors."

Giving her old nurse a quick hug, Zenobia hurried from her apartments and through the palace to its main courtyard, where her magnificent gold chariot with its four coal-black horses waited. She could see Vaba and Flavia coming down the path from the tiny palace within the larger palace gardens. She had given them the house that Odenathus had given her as a wedding gift those long years ago. Since his death she had been unable to live in it again, and she believed that the newly married couple would enjoy their privacy as she and Hawk had enjoyed theirs. Flavia, of course, had accepted the gift in the spirit in which Zenobia had intended it; but Vaba had sarcastically asked if she was attempting to keep him from his palace. Only sweet Flavia's quick intervention had saved the bridegroom from his furious mother.

"Good morning, Aunt Zenobia," Flavia said, going to the queen and giving her a loving kiss on the cheek.

Zenobia couldn't help but smile. Her new daughter-in-law, the child of her two friends, Antonius Porcius and his Julia, was a dear girl, and she had to admit, the perfect wife for Vaba. "Good morning, my dearest," she answered Flavia. "Good morning, Vaba."

"Good morning, Mother. Have the Romans been sighted yet?"

"If they have I have not been told, Vaba. Come, my son. Let us hurry to the walls, and be prepared to greet our guests, unwelcome though they may be. Flavia, would you come with us?"

"May I?"

"Of course, child. You are Palmyra's queen."

"Oh, no, Aunt Zenobia! You are Palmyra's queen. I am only Vaba's wife, and it is all I seek to be."

Zenobia threw her son an arch look, and then put a loving arm about Flavia. "We are both Palmyra's queens."

"Let us go if we are going," Vaba said impatiently.

"Very well," his mother replied, climbing without any help up into her chariot. "I will drive, Vaba. Your hand is too heavy on my horses' mouths. Besides, I think Flavia would enjoy being held by her husband rather than clinging to the handhold for dear life."

For once Vaba did not disagree with his mother, and Flavia colored becomingly. Zenobia smiled to herself, remembering how it had been to ride with Odenathus's arm tight about her. She looked over at the pair as she started the horses off, and thought how pretty Flavia was. She was a small girl, her delicate build belying her great strength of character. Her eyes were a clear amber in color, her hair a lovely golden brown, her skin tones peachlike. All of her features-a round face with well-spaced eyes, a turned-up nose, and a coral-colored, generous mouth- had combined to form a most pleasing appearance. Her neck was slender and graceful, and she had a way of holding her head that gave her a presence usually associated with taller people. She was intelligent, and had a kind heart, both of which Zenobia thanked the gods for, because had Vaba chosen simply a pretty but vapid girl, the results would have been disastrous.

As it was still early the broad streets of Palmyra were empty, and it was but comfortably mild in temperature. A light wind teased at both Zenobia's gold kalasiris and Flavia's pale-blue tunic dress. As they reached the walls of the city the activity increased, the military in control of the streets leading to the walls. The populace cheered Zenobia and her family as the chariot thundered by them, and a faint proud smile touched the queen's lips.

Reaching the walls of the city, Zenobia brought her vehicle to a halt, and leapt out without waiting for Vaba and Flavia. Striding to the narrow steps built into the thick walls, she began climbing. At the top she was greeted by a captain in her personal guard, and her younger son, Prince Demetrius. "Good morning, Demi, Captain Tigranes," she said. "Any sign?"

"Not yet, Mother."

"Longinus is here?"

"Over there, Mother."

The king had reached the ramparts with his young wife. Zenobia moved down the ramparts to stand with Longinus.

"Here I am again rousing you early in the morning," the queen teased her chief councillor.

"One of the hazards of being in your employ, Majesty," he chuckled.

Together they stood looking out across the desert that surrounded the oasis city of Palmyra. The wind had blown the sands into small wavelike ripples so that the city appeared to be an island amid a vast golden sea. Behind them the sky flung out dawn streamers of scarlet and coral, mauve and pink, burnished copper and narrow bands of dark purple edged in palest green. To the west it was yet dark with one lone and cold star gleaming ominously down upon all. There was no wind. All was very still. Looking about her, Zenobia saw that the ramparts along the walls were now crowded not only with soldiers, but with Palmyra's citizens, who had come to see the arrival of their unwelcome guests.