My name is Zabdas: a brother, protector, soldier and sacrifice. I am a defender of Syria. I shall tell you the story of my beloved Zenobia: fearless woman, determined wife, Warrior Queen of Palmyra …
Seventy-thousand Roman soldiers have marched to Syria in a bid to scourge the land of Persian invaders. But Emperor Valerian fails to win the war raging on the eastern frontier, and both Syrian and Roman forces are pushed back behind the walls of Antioch, their protection and their prison.
Crushed between two warring empires, Zenobia and Zabdas are ordered on another mission, deep into enemy ranks, to deliver terms to the King of the Persians, and pray they will not be flayed alive.
But all is not what is seems. More than one person is intent on betrayal ...
Sun cut through the small window, illuminating the room, cups and bowls, table, chairs, the blanket under which I lay entangled with Aurelia. I smoothed her pale gold hair as she looked at me, a smile of happiness that only the innocence of youth can buy touching her lips. And yet I knew different. Her slender fingers traced the fresh muscle on my unmarked chest, across my shoulders and down my arms to the only scar upon my body; a crude slave mark puckering the skin. She had known a life that on one hand saw the coldness of a father who would never love her and on the other the kindness of an old Roman senator who gave her the affection and education only a rare bastard-born could know.
‘The gods know I am glad you came,’ I said.
‘Nowhere is safe,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps not even Palmyra now.’
It stung to hear those words, for another to think the capital of Syria, the city I loved and the centre of power on the Roman front could be at risk. I always thought it to be the one place immune to our enemy, impenetrable and safe, the heart of these lands.
‘Palmyra is safe,’ I murmured, more to myself than to her.
She moved closer, her head on my chest, arm around me, golden hair under my chin. I breathed in her scent, fresh and clean and of nothing more than the morning.
‘Zenobia and Odenathus married under Roman law?’ she said, a question and yet it was not the one spoken aloud. She knew the king and queen of Palmyra had breathed silent vows and signed a marriage contract in line with Roman custom.
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Spanish
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Eliana Lera
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