concerned.”
“She is still a virgin?”
Zabaai chuckled. “Not that the young men of my tribe have not tried, Odenathus, but my daughter is yet a virgin. It is very difficult to make love to a girl who can outwrestle you. Zenobia is, as you undoubtedly noticed, quite tall for a girl. She gets her height from her Greek-Egyptian ancestry, not the Bedawi. She is at least as tall as you, Odenathus. Not at all like your Deliciae, who can look up at you. Zenobia will look you right in the eye.”
“Why did you not offer her to me again, Zabaai? The truth, my cousin.”
Zabaai ben Selim sighed. “Because I am reluctant to give her up, Odenathus. She is my only daughter; Iris’s child; and when she is gone from me I will miss her. If you wed her you will find in her an interesting companion. She will not simper at you like so many of these harem females. She will be your friend as well as your lover. Are you man enough to accept a woman on those terms?”
“Yes,” came the unwavering reply.
“So be it then,” the Bedawi chief said. “If Zenobia has no objections after you two have grown to know one another, then you may have her to wife.”
“May I tell her?” he asked.
“No, I will tell her, my cousin, and I will tell her immediately so there will be no confusion or restraint between you.”
The two men separated then, the prince returning to his own tent, and the Bedawi chieftain to his daughter’s quarters. He found her sponging herself with a small basin of perfumed water, grumbling as she always did over the scarcity of the precious liquid here in the desert. Still she was careful not to waste the water, and reused it several times, storing it in a goatskin bag between her ablutions.
“Praise Jupiter that it is almost time to return to Palmyra!” shegreeted him. “You have no idea, Father, how I long for a decent bath!”
He chuckled, and sat cross-legged on a carpet. “Odenathus wants to marry you,” he said, coming directly to the point.
“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted for me all along, Father?” She took up a small linen towel, and mopped where a few drops of water had spilled on her table.
“You have to marry eventually, Zenobia, but I want you to be happy. Odenathus is a wealthy, pleasant, and intelligent young man. Still, if there is someone you would prefer then it shall be as you desire, my child.”
“Only one thing concerns me about the prince,” she said. “It distresses me that he gives in to the Romans so easily, and without a fight. I do not understand it.”
“It is quite simple, Zenobia,” Zabaai replied. “Palmyra, as you know, was founded by Solomon the Great, King of Israel. It has always been a commercial state. We have never been interested in expansion, in taking our neighbors’ lands. Our only interest is in making money, and because everyone needed us, and our talents, and because we are located here in the Syrian desert, no one bothered us. We have been friends to the world, but Rome is a conqueror, and has a conqueror’s fear of her neighbors. Palmyra is an outpost for Rome against Persia, Cathay, and the Indies.
“But because we are a nation of merchants, and not soldiers, we have never been prepared to defend ourselves. After all, we have never needed to. If Odenathus ever attempts to thwart Rome, they will destroy the city without a thought. He does the next best thing—he welcomes them, and in doing so saves us all. Do not judge him too harshly. When the time is right he will drive them from our land, and we will once again be our own masters.”
“If I marry the prince will my children be his heirs? The gossips say he is quite fond of one of his concubines—and her children. I will have no one else’s children supplanting mine.”
“Your children will be his legal heirs, my daughter.”
“Then I will marry him, Father.”
“Wait, my child,” Zabaai cautioned. “Get to know him before you agree to this match. If you then still wish to
“She is still a virgin?”
Zabaai chuckled. “Not that the young men of my tribe have not tried, Odenathus, but my daughter is yet a virgin. It is very difficult to make love to a girl who can outwrestle you. Zenobia is, as you undoubtedly noticed, quite tall for a girl. She gets her height from her Greek-Egyptian ancestry, not the Bedawi. She is at least as tall as you, Odenathus. Not at all like your Deliciae, who can look up at you. Zenobia will look you right in the eye.”
“Why did you not offer her to me again, Zabaai? The truth, my cousin.”
Zabaai ben Selim sighed. “Because I am reluctant to give her up, Odenathus. She is my only daughter; Iris’s child; and when she is gone from me I will miss her. If you wed her you will find in her an interesting companion. She will not simper at you like so many of these harem females. She will be your friend as well as your lover. Are you man enough to accept a woman on those terms?”
“Yes,” came the unwavering reply.
“So be it then,” the Bedawi chief said. “If Zenobia has no objections after you two have grown to know one another, then you may have her to wife.”
“May I tell her?” he asked.
“No, I will tell her, my cousin, and I will tell her immediately so there will be no confusion or restraint between you.”
The two men separated then, the prince returning to his own tent, and the Bedawi chieftain to his daughter’s quarters. He found her sponging herself with a small basin of perfumed water, grumbling as she always did over the scarcity of the precious liquid here in the desert. Still she was careful not to waste the water, and reused it several times, storing it in a goatskin bag between her ablutions.
“Praise Jupiter that it is almost time to return to Palmyra!” shegreeted him. “You have no idea, Father, how I long for a decent bath!”
He chuckled, and sat cross-legged on a carpet. “Odenathus wants to marry you,” he said, coming directly to the point.
“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted for me all along, Father?” She took up a small linen towel, and mopped where a few drops of water had spilled on her table.
“You have to marry eventually, Zenobia, but I want you to be happy. Odenathus is a wealthy, pleasant, and intelligent young man. Still, if there is someone you would prefer then it shall be as you desire, my child.”
“Only one thing concerns me about the prince,” she said. “It distresses me that he gives in to the Romans so easily, and without a fight. I do not understand it.”
“It is quite simple, Zenobia,” Zabaai replied. “Palmyra, as you know, was founded by Solomon the Great, King of Israel. It has always been a commercial state. We have never been interested in expansion, in taking our neighbors’ lands. Our only interest is in making money, and because everyone needed us, and our talents, and because we are located here in the Syrian desert, no one bothered us. We have been friends to the world, but Rome is a conqueror, and has a conqueror’s fear of her neighbors. Palmyra is an outpost for Rome against Persia, Cathay, and the Indies.
“But because we are a nation of merchants, and not soldiers, we have never been prepared to defend ourselves. After all, we have never needed to. If Odenathus ever attempts to thwart Rome, they will destroy the city without a thought. He does the next best thing—he welcomes them, and in doing so saves us all. Do not judge him too harshly. When the time is right he will drive them from our land, and we will once again be our own masters.”
“If I marry the prince will my children be his heirs? The gossips say he is quite fond of one of his concubines—and her children. I will have no one else’s children supplanting mine.”
“Your children will be his legal heirs, my daughter.”
“Then I will marry him, Father.”
“Wait, my child,” Zabaai cautioned. “Get to know him before you agree to this match. If you then still wish to
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