The entire caravan was stopped and, dismounting his own camel, Zabaai lifted his young daughter down from hers. A crowd began to gather about them.

"What is it, my flower?" the chief of the Bedawi asked. "Where are your mother and Tamar?"

"The Romans," Zenobia began. "The Romans came, and Mother is dead, and Tamar is grievously hurt!"

"What?! What is it you say, Zenobia? The Romans are our friends."

"The Romans have killed my mother!" she screamed at him, her control finally gone, the hot tears beginning to pour in dirty runnels down her small face. 'Tamar hid me beneath the bed. I could not see them, but I could hear them. They did something to my mother that made her scream, and cry, and beg them for mercy! / never heard my mother beg! I never heard my mother beg, but they made her beg, and then they killed her! Tamar is so fearfully hurt she cannot even rise from the floor. You must come home, Father! You must come home!“

Zabaai ben Selim felt his legs go weak beneath him. He knew what had been done to his wives even if his innocent young daughter did not. His only question was why? With a howl of outrage, pain, and grief he began to tear at his beard and his clothes. Then, when the first onslaught of his anguish passed he began to give orders, and the caravan was quickly turned about. However, Zabaai ben Selim, his elder sons, and his daughter did not wait for the others. Remounting their camels, they quickly rode back along the desert road to the outskirts of Palmyra, where his house stood in the bright midday sun. They rode so hard that the following caravan met their dust, which still hovered in the air, turning it yellow in the heat.

Tamar was but half-conscious when they arrived, and now Zenobia finally dared to look upon her mother's violated body, gasping with horrified shock at what she saw.