Gallienus flips through the papyrus, his fingers tinged with the faint smell of ink and reed.
Trade up, instability down, and best of all, victory in the north.
The man's dream of reviving the Res Publica is on the verge of success.
In walks Odaenathus, usually cheery, his face cold enough to freeze steam. In his hand is a wax tablet.
He slams it onto the table, shaking the entire room. Books fall over. Papyrus scatters.
"My wife has made adjustments to the forms of the Senate. These wax tablets solve our
long-term storage problems."
Gallienus looks down at the tablet. Carved into the wax are several complaints from the civilian populace.
"What is wrong with this? I'd say better forms a better empire. Better empire and a better republic"
Odaenathus sighs. Romans consistently underestimate women and are always surprised when they shake the empire. Women like Cleopatra, Boudica, and Amanirenas all became massive headaches for Rome.
"The point is that my wife is ambitious, and she has no outlet for her ambition that doesn't end in rebellion."
Gallienus laughs. "What is the bane of Persia afraid of—his wife? She won't bring this
empire to its knees. Rome knows where its women belong: away from affairs of state."
Odaenathus scoffs. "There are many Roman women who ruled in all but name.
"I respect my wife too much to cage her so. I also know what Rome does to powerful women."
Gallienus looks bemused.
"What would you have me do—make a woman my co-ruler? Perhaps give her a consulship?"
Gallienus laughs, alone in his amusement.
"Sir, all I want is for her to sit in your little senate," Odaenathus states, dropping the stone that makes the well erupt.
"You can't be serious. No senator would accept that. A woman has never legitimately sat in senatorial meetings." Gallienus erupts, political backlash sweeping through his thoughts.
Odaenathus stands stiff and unflinching. "Then let me take the blame. If there is anyone who can build your republic, it's her."
Gallienus smiles. Odaenathus has just given away his own wife—the perfect hostage. Let the Senate squirm for now. When Gallienus saves Rome and restores the Republic, it won't matter.
Palmyra will be a backwater compared to Rome.
"I suppose," Gallienus says, shifting attention to money and away from the political
implications of Zenobia being in Roman hands, "But you will have to be a very generous patron to the Senate."
Both men begin bartering as Rome moves forward toward a future neither man may live to see.
Back in Palmyra
In Palmyra civic buildings are small and practical, all but one. The temple of Bel is flanked by courtyards and palm trees. A green gem in a sea of white and yellow. The temple complex itself has glorious marble pillars praising the sky.
Inside enough light is permitted not to drown but accentuate the holiness. One could sit and contemplate the greater meaning of God with the appropriate amount of light.
You would see carved reliefs of the sun and stars. All the beauty of creation and great heroes of renown or infamy.
Inside, Zenobia does none of these things; she is busy looking at tax records.
Around her, prayers are uttered not to God but to commerce. Men utter ancient rites and rituals that transform numbers into cold hard cash.
Ancient formulas deciphered by mathematicians whose bodies have long rotted. Their works were made immortal by stone, reed, and reverence.
Mathematicians long dead who by some divine mystery found the keys to the universe.
Zenobia and her beam counters cannot explain the works of Pythagoras. Even modern mathematicians seem indecipherable.
However, they know enough to use their formulas to bend this arcane knowledge to their whims.
Breaking this rhythm of numbers and ink, a messenger barges into the holy sanctum.
"Your husband has sent you this urgent message. Your eyes only."
Zenobia takes the scroll and leaves the temple, delegating her work for another day.
She walks past columns and monuments, taking no time to admire their fine angles and towering height.
Zenobia's shadow once again disappears as she walks into a secluded room.
She closes the door behind her, unfurling the parchment.
My beloved, I am returning from my time in the city of Rome. You have no doubt seen the wonders of these forms the Senate has devised. I too have heard tell of your own improvements on the senate's design. I believe the empire would be much better served with you in Rome. As for me, I shall resume my duties in Palmyra. I dare not say this in a letter, but big changes are happening in Rome. The emperor has designs for this great land that would make poets weep. Please come to Rome. I am already on my way to Palmyra, and I shall miss you so, but this is for the best. Though we may not meet, my heart is always with you.
From your devoted husband Odenathus.
Zenobia's hands are still holding the scroll in midair when she feels her lips curl. Her husband truly has learned much from his time in Rome.
His flirting and rhetoric have improved greatly. If this were before, he never could have hidden this brazen order from her.
Well, he still can't, but nevertheless, she is impressed.
"Well, it seems I must sequester myself in the holy hills of Rome. Whatever this emperor is building must truly be spectacular if my husband uses such flowery Latin words to hide a direct order."
She smiles and walks outside; she looks at the chaos of her city. Merchants and caravans bartering and arguing. Civilians are running to and fro, going about their daily lives.
Her head pivots to the desert republic."expanse, the dunes singing. The sun reflecting off the sand like fine marble.
Zenobia will miss this place, but no matter, it would seem all roads still lead to Rome.
She walks to her residence and orders her servants to prepare her tools for travel.
Her repertoire includes the finest dresses, a stylus, an abacus, regular laundries, and a good deal of traveling funds.
Zenobia finds a servant with a talent for writing.
The woman dictates orders to be followed during her absence. Key amongst them is preparing the city for the return of Odenathus.
Almost as an afterthought, she has gifts sent to her stepson Hairan in the front.
Zenobia is ready for her next adventure.
Rome will shake, as the greatest threat to Rome in our world will become Rome's greatest civic architect.
Rome and Zenobia aren't prepared for what comes next.