Beloved by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online Page A

weapons that was surprising for someone so young.Strangely, no one gave a second thought to the unconventional things she did, for she was Zenobia, and unlike any girl his tribe had ever produced. He was proud of his daughter.
    Still no young male Bedawi wanted a wife who not only rode better than he, but could surpass him in handling a sword, a spear, and a sling. A woman needed to know how to cook, how to birth children, how to herd animals, and sew. Zenobia was definitely not the kind of wife a man of his tribe could love and cherish, but Odenathus was a different type of man. Bedawi in his heritage on his father’s side, he was yet a man of the city, and men of the city preferred their women more educated.
    Zabaai ben Selim looked at his young cousin, and said, “Would you actually consider Zenobia for a wife, Odenathus? My daughter would make you a magnificent wife, my cousin! You could have no better. She is more than well born enough for you, for on my side you share the same great-grandfather, and on her mother’s side she descends from Cleopatra, the last queen of Egypt. She is not yet a woman, but in a few years she will be of marriageable age. I will only give her as a wife, not a concubine, and it must be agreed that her sons be your heirs.”
    Prince Odenathus was thoughtful for a long moment. It was certainly not a bad idea, and would solve his problem as well. Zenobia bat Zabaai was dynastically a good match for him. She was also an educated and intelligent girl from what he had seen of her. If a man was to have intelligent sons then he must marry an intelligent wife, Odenathus thought. She might be an interesting woman someday.
    “How soon after Zenobia becomes a woman would you be willing to give her to me, Zabaai?” he asked.
    “A year at the very least,” came the reply. “I will not even broach this matter with her until she has begun her show of blood, and then she will need time to adjust to the idea of marriage. She has lived all her life in the simple surroundings of the tribe, but my daughter is not just any girl, Odenathus. She is a pearl without price.”
    Palmyra’s young ruler looked across the sand to where the girl child Zenobia sat cross-legged upon the desert floor, watching with strangely dispassionate eyes the agony of her mother’s killer. She sat very straight, and very still, seemingly carved out of some inanimate material. He had seen young rabbits sit just that way. She seemed not even to be breathing.
    He shook his head in wonder. The Gaul was suffering horribly,and yet the child showed no signs of compassion, or even of revulsion. A man could breed up strong sons on the loins of such a woman as this child would one day become; but he wondered fleetingly if such a woman would recognize in her husband a master? Perhaps if he took her to wife early enough, and molded her woman’s character himself, it would be possible. Odenathus found that he was willing to take a chance. He found himself inexplicably drawn to Zenobia, for her very strength of character intrigued him greatly.
    He smiled at himself. He would not, however, give Zabaai ben Selim too great an advantage, and so he said in what he hoped was a slightly bored and jaded tone, “A match between Zenobia and myself is a possibility, my cousin. Do not give her to anyone else yet, and let us talk on it again when the child becomes a woman if my heart has not become engaged elsewhere.”
    Zabaai smiled toothily. “It will be as you have said, my lord Prince, and my cousin,” he replied smoothly. He was not for one moment fooled by Odenathus’s cool attitude, or his nonchalance. He had seen the genuine look of interest in the young man’s warm brown eyes when he had gazed so long and so thoughtfully at Zenobia.
    “Will you bid my daughter farewell, my Prince?” he asked. “We will not re-enter the city again until late spring. Once the soldiers have died, we will go on our way into the desert as we have