Famous Women: Zenobia

The Arab East before Islam knew no period richer in momentous events, or more absorbing to the researcher, than those few years in which Zenobia ascended the throne of the Palmyrene kingdom.

Arab history after Islam neglected to record much concerning the ancient Arab states that flourished before Islam, and among what it neglected were the annals of Palmyra. Perhaps one of the reasons for this neglect is that the interval between the fall of this Palmyrene kingdom and the appearance of written record-keeping in Islam was no small one — it approached five centuries — and the accounts of the raids and conquests accomplished under Islam, and other such events, had distracted the Arabs from the annals of their earliest states and had all but monopolized their attention. Nor did the Arabs, in the last days of their Jahiliyya, remember of these states anything beyond the impression which their various surviving monuments had left upon their souls — a feeling now of admonition and lesson, now of awe and wonder.

They beheld the ruins of Palmyra, and these bewitched them with their splendor and dazzled them with their grandeur; so they wove about their builders what legends and fancies they pleased, and supposed that its builders were of the jinn whom God had subjected to obey the command of Solomon. Hence these famous verses of al-Nabigha, from the ode he spoke in praise of al-Nu'man ibn al-Mundhir, offering him his apologies:

I see no doer of good who resembles him,
nor do I except any one among the peoples,
Save Solomon, when God said to him:
"Arise in creation and hold it back from error,
And the host of the jinn — I have given them leave:
let them build Tadmur with slabs and columns."

Truly those builders were jinn in their skill, and those engineers were geniuses in their art, since they were able to immortalize, in an oasis in the heart of the desert, those great temples and tall columns which stand firm to this day against the passage of time and all the storms and earthquakes that have shaken them — erect and upright, testifying forcefully to whoever beholds them that, for all the buildings that have crumbled before them, they proclaim the glory of their people, though they are mute, hewn from deaf rock.

Perhaps al-Nabigha's fancy would have struck deeper into the soul had he claimed that the jinn tore off a corner of Paradise and flew away with it on Solomon's carpet, and that God's angels pursued them until, overtaking them above the Syrian desert, the carpet was rent and the temples and columns fell — a garden standing in the wilderness.

Whoever visits Palmyra today is truly astonished when, after crossing nearly two hundred miles from Damascus, he beholds the extent of that ancient city, the variety of its monuments, the massiveness of its buildings, and the multitude of its columns, arches, palaces, and tombs, in such a place, so remote today from settled land, in the heart of the Syrian desert.

Nor did the ancient Roman historians fail to record what mattered of the annals of this ancient Arab state. They are all but unanimous that Palmyra, at the height of its greatness, was the connecting link between East and West: in its markets the companies of merchants met, exchanging the goods then in demand, and the Palmyrenes would import the wares of Yemen and India to sell them to the Romans. It mattered to the Roman state that relations with this principality remain good, so they concluded alliances with it and tightened the bonds of connection; hence the most important accounts we know of Palmyra are transmitted from the Roman historians, and from the inscriptions that remain to this day written in the two languages, Palmyrene and Greek.

It appears that the greatest period in Palmyra's history was the age of Zenobia, the subject of our talk today.

Odenathus son of al-Sumayda' was the emir of Palmyra in that age — the last third of the third century after Christ — and Zenobia was the daughter of the chief of the commanders of Odenathus's army. Her father had arranged for her the finest education a girl in the Roman Empire could obtain: in her childhood she studied at the school of Alexandria, was instructed in the sciences of her age, mastered the principal languages of her time, and trained herself in horsemanship, archery, and war. And before all this she was handsome of countenance, graceful of figure, and of the utmost bewitching Oriental beauty: dark-complexioned, with blazing eyes, teeth like strung pearls, and a soft, captivating voice. It was therefore no wonder that, when she had completed her learning, we find her the wife of Odenathus, emir of Palmyra, and his faithful companion in his struggle.

Then her husband was assassinated, and she rose up to take vengeance on his killer and slew him; she grasped the scepter of the throne in her own hand and put on the royal crown. She governed the state well and led the armies in person, teaching the commanders what steadfastness is, and what glorious defense is — the defense a bereaved lioness makes of her beloved den when it is assailed. She — as the Roman historian Trebellius Pollio says — lived in pomp like the Persian kings, as though in her glory and bearing she were one of them; and she carried herself with the manners of the emperors, as though in her breeding, her character, and her assemblies she were one of them. She attended gatherings and official councils wearing her helmet bound with a purple ribbon studded with jewels, her garments clasped with a diamond, and she strutted bare-armed. She rode in carriages but preferred horses to them; and when she went out on some errand of state, she rode her armored chariot, surrounded by a squadron of horsemen of her private guard.

Zenobia encouraged the state's commerce, learning, and science, and summoned to her court the famous philosopher Cassius Longinus, Homs-born, who became her teacher and counselor, remained at her side, and served her faithfully until he was killed in defense of his lady's throne, when the conflict broke out between her and the Romans, and when the Romans grew afraid for their power, lest it pass away.

For the root of the conflict lay between the Romans and the Persians. The Romans had prevailed in the days of their emperor Valerian; but Shapur the Persian could not subdue the principality of Palmyra, and ended routed before the battalions of Odenathus and Zenobia. His womenfolk were taken captive and sent to Rome, and the Romans exulted at the victory of their ally Odenathus. Their senate raised him to the highest station when it granted him the title of Augustus and reckoned him partner with Gallienus, son of Valerian, in the Roman Empire. So Odenathus grew mighty and founded a new kingdom for himself, and conquered Asia Minor. Zenobia wished to add a new conquest to her husband's conquests, so she invaded Egypt and conquered it, appointing her son Wahballat king over it. The Romans then feared the loss of their empire, and their armies made for the East to subdue the Persians; whereupon Zenobia aided the Persians, defeated the Romans and drove them back, and remained mistress of the East.

Afterward there arose in Rome a strong emperor, Aurelian, who made firm the foundations of his realm in Europe and then came down to the East to subdue Zenobia. She swiftly set out to meet him and marched to Antioch. Some historians say she could have crushed Aurelian had she confronted him in the mountain defiles of the north; but pride forbade her, and she would fight him nowhere but in the plain. Victory was her ally throughout the day of the battle; but at evening the battalions of Roman infantry fell upon her cavalry and routed them utterly, and Zenobia withdrew to Homs, where she set about gathering the remnants of her army, to avenge herself and to wipe from her army the disgrace of its first defeat.

There she is, leading the army in person — her helmet on, armored, mounted on the back of her steed — and the battle is fierce, its fire blazing. Her horsemen showed such might and courage as paralyzed the movement of Aurelian's army; the Romans fell back before her, and Zenobia ventured after them with her horsemen, never doubting that the great victory lay within two bows' length of her, or nearer — as though in that hour she dreamed of the throne of Rome, and of being mistress of East and West.

Ah, those dreams — how sweet they are, how delicious, and how easily pictured! Behold Aurelian's battalions and his advancing horsemen falling back before the queen of the East and her gallant cavalry. Behold an hour of time in which the destiny of an entire people is decided — and how often do we see such an hour in history!

Zenobia stretched out her hand to pluck the flower of victory, and the sun of that day was sinking toward dusk — when Roman battalions of infantry came up to the rescue of Aurelian's horsemen, and Zenobia fell into the Romans' snare.

Swiftly her beautiful dreams melted away, and the dreams of her philosopher-counselor with them; her horsemen were encircled, and the historians say that her escape from the ring drawn about her was well-nigh a miracle. In that battle Zenobia lost the flower of her cavalry and much of her wealth and her jewels.

She returned to Palmyra to make her last defense. Then came the siege, and a mighty horror. There is a wall at Palmyra whose base can still be seen today, bearing witness to the terror of that siege; it would speak, if it knew speech, of Zenobia's valor and vigor as she made her rounds among the men posted upon the wall, spurring on their zeal and kindling the fire of their resolve.

The siege dragged on and lasted for months, and the senate at Rome grew impatient at their emperor's delayed return. They wrote him a letter containing something of rebuke and reproach for his tardiness in vanquishing Zenobia and taking her city; and in Aurelian's reply to them is testimony to this queen's might and steadfastness.

He said: "The Romans allege that I am merely fighting a woman... But who will convey to you a description of the engines of war she commands? The wall is all one impregnable fortress, defended by huge boulders, cutting blades, and sharp spears — fire is hurled upon us from every quarter! And what more? Do you suppose she is afraid? She fights as though she feared nothing but retribution! Yet I trust that the gods who have been with us will protect the state of Rome!"

Aurelian sent to Zenobia demanding her surrender, and she sent back to him, saying: "I have fought you until now with none but hired Roman soldiers, and my own troops are still at my disposal, to vanquish you and to harry you on your retreat." Aurelian was near despairing over the length of the siege and the hardship of provisioning his troops, so he sent her the following letter:

"From Aurelian, emperor of the Roman world, to Zenobia and her allies.
You ought to have surrendered of your own accord, without my writing to you about it! I offer you safety if you surrender, and I undertake that the senate shall appoint you a place in which to dwell. As for your jewels, your ornaments, your gold, your horses and your camels, they shall be sent to the Roman treasury. Your customs and your laws shall remain regarded and respected."

And in Zenobia's answer to him is that which points to her steadfastness, her pride, and her strength of character, though she had grasped how strait her position was:

"From Zenobia, queen of the East, to Aurelian Augustus.
I have seen none but you dare to demand of me what you demand. Let him who takes the road of war arm himself with valor and daring! You ask me to surrender, as though you did not know that Cleopatra preferred to die rather than live in abasement! The allies — Arabs, Persians, and Armenians — are near! And the Syrian bands are ravaging your army. What will become of you if they all come to my aid? You will then abandon what you now demand — you who play the victor everywhere."

The sun of the next day rose upon a tightened siege, and Zenobia strains her gaze toward the north, awaiting help from the Persians, and sees none; she looks to the west and sees the supply caravans — a long line the eye cannot compass — bearing water, munitions, and food for Aurelian's troops. The sun set, and night let down its curtain.

Zenobia surrendered to her forebodings, and resolved to slip away, she and a handful of her men, on the backs of swift riding-camels, to seek reinforcement from the Persians; and she stole out by night. But the sun of the fifth day had barely risen when a thick cloud of Roman horsemen was upon her track. The Euphrates is near, and hope is near — but fortune stumbled with her once more: scarcely had she reached the boat by which she meant to cross the river when she was captured and led to Aurelian. Days later the Palmyrenes learned of it, and the city surrendered.

Aurelian returned to Rome, and there was a great procession the like of which Rome had rarely seen: Aurelian in a magnificent chariot that had been his spoil from the king of the Goths; the treasures of the East and its jewels in a chariot of Odenathus and Zenobia; the captives in their thousands, in fetters; and the animals — elephants, tigers, leopards, and others — marching in ranks with their keepers before him. But what gave the procession its grandeur, and the victory its significance, was that lioness, fettered in chains of gold, walking with bowed head before the emperor's chariot. The people of Rome looked out from their palaces and craned from the balconies of their houses to behold the queen of the East a captive in the talons of the eagle of the West — and the curtain fell upon the story of a woman of rarest example.