
"Could I not stay with Julia? Her mama says it would be all right. You don't need me to herd the goats!" Zenobia made one last desperate try.
"No, Zenobia," came the firm and quiet reply, but a tiny smile twitched at the comers of Iris's mouth. Poor Zenobia, she thought. She knew just how her daughter felt, but she would say nothing, for she knew sympathy only encouraged rebellion. Iris, too, disliked the desert, but never in all the years she had been Zabaai's wife had she ever admitted it aloud. It was part of her husband's heritage, and when she had married him she had accepted it. She held out her hand to her daughter. "Come now, my dearest, let us go without further ado. The others are already several miles ahead of us, and you know how I dislike galloping a camel. It makes me sick if I must do it for too long. Come along."
"Yes, Mama," Zenobia sighed, defeated.
The three had turned to go when they heard strange footsteps on the stairs outside the bedchamber door. Tamar stiffened, sensing danger. Then, pulling Zenobia from her mother, she pushed the girl down and back under the bed with its bright, red satin hangings.
"Stay there!" she hissed urgently, "and whatever happens do not come out until I tell you! Do you understand? Do not come out until I call you!"
The door to the bedchamber was flung open before Zenobia could protest. She could not see from her hiding place that the room had suddenly been invaded by a small party of Roman soldiers.
Tamar quickly stepped forward, saying, "Good morning, Centurion! How may I help you?"
The centurion eyed her boldly, thinking as he did so that she was a fine figure of a woman with her big, pillowy tits, and that she looked clean, and disease-free. "Whose house is this?" he demanded.
Tamar recognized his look. She prayed she could stay calm. "This is the house of Zabaai ben Selim, warrior chief of the Bedawi, Centurion. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tamar bat Hammid, senior wife to Zabaai ben Selim. This other lady is my lord's second wife, Iris bat Simon."
