Zenobia; or, the Fall of Palmyra

by William Ware

You yourself, advocate as you are for the existing order of things, would be agitated alternately by horror and compassion, were I to relate to you the scenes described to me by Milo, as having a thousand times been witnessed by him when in the service of Gallienus. To torture and destroy his slaves, by the most ingenious devices of cruelty, was his daily pastime. They were purchased for this very end. When I see you again, I will give you instances with which I could not soil these pages. Antiochus, were he in Rome, would be a monster of the same stamp. But all this is, as I have often mentioned, a necessary accompaniment of such power as the laws confer upon the owner.

And now, that war has actually broken out between Palmyra and Rome, you will wish to know what part I intend to take. Your letters imply, that in such an event you would expect my immediate return. But this pleasure must, for the present at least, he deferred. I am too deeply interested in too many here, to allow me to forsake them in a time of so much anxiety, and as I think of peril too. Zenobia's full consent I have already obtained: indeed, she is now desirous that I should remain. The services that I have accidentally rendered her have increased the regard with which she treats me. I confess too that I am less unwilling to remain than I was, out of a rooted disapprobation of the violent course of Aurelian. I cannot, as Calpurnius has done, renounce my country; but I can blame our emperor. His purposes are without a color of justice: nor are they only unjust and iniquitous, they are impolitic. I can enter fully into and defend the feelings and arguments of Palmyra in this direction. Her cause is in the main a just one. She has done somewhat indeed to provoke a sensitive and jealous mind; but nothing to warrant the step which Aurelian is taking. And when I counsel peace, and by concessions too, I do it not because I hold it right that such concessions should be made, but because I deem it frantic on the part of Zenobia to encounter the combined power of Rome, under such a soldier as Aurelian. My sympathies are accordingly enlisted in behalf of this people as a people; my heart is closely bound to both the house of Gracchus and Zenobia; and therefore I cannot leave them. I shall not bear arms against my country; I think I would sooner die; but in any case of extremity I shall not wear a sword in vain, if by using it I can save the life or honor of persons dear to me. I am firm in the belief, that no such extremity will ever present itself; but should it come, I am ready for it. I cannot but hope that a battle, one or more, upon the outskirts of the empire, will satisfy the pride of Aurelian, and convince the Queen, that to contend for empire with him, and Rome at his back, is vain, and that negotiation will therefore end what passion has begun. I shall expect no other issue than this. Then, having done all here, I shall return to Italy, if the Queen relents not, to pass an unhappy life upon the Tiburtine farm.

Preparations of every kind for the approaching contest are going forward with activity. The camp of the Queen is forming without the walls upon a wide and beautiful plain, stretching towards the south. One army will be formed here chiefly consisting of cavalry, in which lies the strength of the Queen, and another in the vicinity of Antioch, where a junction will be effected, and whence the whole will move either toward the Bosphorus or Egypt, according to the route which, it shall I be learned, Aurelian intends to pursue.

During these few days that have elapsed since the departure of the ambassadors, the stir and confusion incident to such a time have continually increased. In the streets, I meet scarce any who are not engaged in some service connected with the army. Troops of soldiers are forming, exercising at their arms, and passing from the city as they are severally equipped to join the camp. The shops of the armorers resound with the blows of an innumerable body of artisans manufacturing or repairing those brilliant suits of steel for which the cavalry of Zenobia are distinguished. Immense repositories of all the various weapons of our modern warfare, prepared by the Queen against seasons of emergency, furnish forth arms of the most perfect workmanship and metal to all who offer themselves for the expedition. Without the walls in every direction, the eye beholds clouds of dust raised by different bodies of the Queen's forces, as they pour in from their various encampments to one central point. Trains of sumptuary elephants and camels, making a part of every legion as it comes up, and stretching their long lines from the verge of the plain to the very walls, contribute a fresh beauty and interest to the scene.

Within the camp, whatever the tumult and confusion may be without, every thing is conducted with the most admirable order, and with the observance of a discipline as exact, if not as severe, as that of Vespasian, or Aurelian himself. Here are to be seen the commanders of the chief divisions of the army inspecting the arms and equipments of each individual soldier, and not with less diligence inquiring into the mettle and points of the horse he rides. Every horse, pronounced in any way defective, is rejected from the service and another procured. The Queen's stable has been exhausted in providing in this manner substitutes for such as have been set aside as unworthy.

Zenobia herself is the most active and laborious of all. She is in every place, seeing with her own eyes that every arrangement and provision ordered to be made is completed, and that in the most perfect manner. All the duties of a general are performed by her, with a freedom, a power, and a boldness, that fills one with astonishment who is acquainted with those opposite qualities which render her, as a woman, the most lovely and fascinating of her sex. She is seen sometimes driving rapidly through the streets in an open chariot, of the antique form; but more frequently on horseback, with a small body of attendants, who have quite enough to do to keep pace with her, so as to catch from her the orders which she rapidly issues, and then execute them in every part of the camp and city. She inspires all who behold her with her own spirit. In every soldier and leader you behold something of the same alertness and impetuosity of movement which are so remarkable in her. She is the universal model; and the confidence in the resources of her genius is universal and boundless. 'Let our courage and conduct,' they say, 'be only in some good proportion to our Queen's, and we may defy Rome and the world.' As the idea of naught but conquest ever crosses their minds, the animation--even gayety that prevails in the camp and throughout the ranks is scarcely to be believed, as it is, I doubt not, unparalleled in the history of war. Were she a goddess, and omnipotent, the trust in her could not be more unwavering.

I have just encountered Calpurnius returning from the palace of the Queen, whither he has been to offer his services during the war, in any capacity in which it might please her to employ him.

'What was your reception?' said I.

'Such as Fausta had assured me of. She gives me a hearty welcome to her camp, and assigns me a legion of horse. And, in addition, one more charge dearer and yet more anxious a thousand-fold.'

'May I know it?' said I, but readily surmising the nature of it.