Valeria’s Cross (2 page)

A
ccompanied by a fleet of a dozen ships, the royal ship was extravagantly fitted for the empress and her daughter’s comfort on their journey to the island of Elephantine in Upper Egypt.

Valeria spent most of her time on deck, basking in the sun and viewing the picturesque Greek Isles along the route. One moonlit night after dinner the ship’s captain stopped to exchange pleasantries with Valeria and Prisca. The women marveled at the stars that twinkled across the black velvet landscape of the sky.

The captain pointed upward. “See the brightness of the North Star tonight? That same star has led ships to their destinations for centuries. It is the star that led the wise men to the Christ child.” After his explanation, the captain tucked his chin in what Valeria imagined to be embarrassment over his mention of Jesus. It was no secret that Diocletian was a devout pagan with little tolerance for the Christian religion.

Prisca quickly reassured the captain. “My husband employs many Christians for their loyalty and integrity.”

The captain lifted his eyebrows, appearing surprised.

Valeria understood that her mother was trying to put the captain at ease, so she added, “Father speaks highly of the
Christian soldiers in his army too. He says they are honest and loyal.”

The captain’s jaw relaxed, and he smiled. “It is God’s command … to do everything with excellence, as if unto our Lord.”

“An intriguing impetus,” Prisca observed. “I should like to learn more about your faith and this Jesus you worship.”

“Then you are traveling to the perfect place,” the captain assured her. “The Coptic monks in Aswan are considered the greatest biblical scholars and teachers in all the Roman Empire. Madame could perhaps arrange a meeting with them.”

Prisca smiled. “Perhaps I shall,” she said, turning to Valeria. “Are you ready to go below? I am tired, and it is time for me to begin my bedtime beauty rituals.”

“Oh, Mother, could I please stay and stargaze awhile longer?”

Prisca hesitated and then spoke to Valeria’s lady-in-waiting, Eugenia, who was seated nearby. “Valeria is behind in her studies. She has my permission to stay if you will give her a Roman astronomy lesson.”

“I am sorry,” Eugenia answered, “but I am not qualified to teach astronomy.”

Prisca raised her eyebrows.

“What I mean is … I am hardly the person to do so, Madame. I do not believe—”

Prisca’s eyes narrowed, and her reprimand was sharp and to the point. “Were you not taught astronomy as a child?”

“Of course, but I cannot—”

“What you are really trying to say is that you object to our method of teaching astronomy. Is that it?”

Eugenia hung her head.

“I will not tolerate your religious beliefs interfering with the education her father and I have chosen for our daughter.”

“Forgive me, Empress.” Eugenia bowed before her mistress, her eyes lowered in obvious embarrassment. “I will gladly provide Valeria’s lesson.”

Prisca, still stiff with anger, nodded before turning to her daughter. “Good night, love,” she whispered before she went below, her entourage of servants following.

When they were gone, Valeria reached over and touched Eugenia’s hand. “By morning, Mother will have forgotten this little altercation.”

Eugenia, only a few years older than Valeria, bit her quivering lip and blinked back her tears, but forged ahead with the lesson. First she fetched some papyrus and sketched two constellations before pointing to the sky. “You see the North Star, the one the captain pointed out earlier? It is actually the tail of Lesser Bear, Ursa Minor.”

“Son of Jupiter,” Valeria interjected. She looked up at the sky and then ran her fingers over the illustration Eugenia had sketched for her.

“Very good.” Eugenia smiled at her eager pupil. “Across from it is Larger Bear, Ursa Major—the boy’s mother, Callisto.”

“Stop.” Valeria held up her hand. “Jupiter’s wife is Juno. Where does Callisto fit?”

“Let it suffice to say that Callisto was Jupiter’s ‘wife on the side.’ ”

“You mean his mistress? Are you insinuating that Jupiter was an adulterer?”

Eugenia’s eyes opened wide. “How do you know the meaning of the word?”

“Stop treating me like a child. I am fourteen years old!” Valeria flung her head to one side, and her copper-colored hair cascaded like a waterfall down one shoulder.

Eugenia rolled her eyes and continued. “Callisto was not always a bear. An insanely jealous Juno turned her into one.”

“Can you blame Juno? If Jupiter were your husband, would you not do the same?”

“Me?” Eugenia grinned. “I would have turned Jupiter into a bear myself.”

Valeria laughed. “What happened next?”

“Juno tricked Callisto’s son into killing the bear—his own mother.”

“I suppose that is one way to get rid of the other woman, but the poor boy must have been devastated.”

“Yes, but Jupiter took pity on his grieving son. He placed the boy and his mother in the sky so they could live together forever.” Eugenia paused and concluded Valeria’s lesson. “From the North Star we can always know the direction we are facing. It will help us find our way. The North Star never sinks below the horizon, so you can always locate it.”

Leaning closer, Valeria whispered, “You do not believe a word of the lesson, do you?”

Eugenia lowered her lashes. “My Father in heaven created the moon, the stars, and the sky—not Jupiter.”

“My father believes he is Jupiter.” Valeria laughed nervously. “At least, the embodiment of the god upon earth. Do you believe he is?”

“I would rather not discuss it,” Eugenia said, standing to her feet. “It is late.”

“Now I understand why you preferred not to teach an astronomy lesson.” Valeria grinned. “In honor of your god.”

Eugenia appeared distressed. “I have failed my God. My Christian friends will die before they deny him, but I … I do not even have the strength to refuse to fill a young girl’s head with the lies of pagan gods.”

“But how can you be so sure they are lies?”

“With your mother’s permission, one day I shall tell you.” Eugenia dried her tears with her handkerchief and reached
for Valeria’s hand. “For now,” she said, as she kissed the girl’s fingertips, “it is bedtime.”

Once their traveling expedition reached the river, their luxurious cruising boat was dry-docked, and they stepped aboard the
feluccas
, the sailing vessels of the Nile.

As the hours slipped by, mother and daughter stood in awe, craning their necks to see the pyramids, the temples, and the palaces on the riverbanks. They marveled at the ancient mastery of engineering and perfection in design against a backdrop of sand dune cliffs and the lush green banks that gave way to russet mountains, set afire by glowing sunsets.

The women were fascinated by the wildlife, especially the vast herds of camels bunched at the shore. They were fearful of hungry crocodiles and enormous hippopotami that swam close to the boat and had to be coaxed away by the sailors. Valeria screamed every time she spotted a menacing snake the length of a small boat slither off the riverbanks and into the water.

On the final day of their journey, Valeria sensed a change in her heart. “Something is coming,” she told her mother.

Prisca raised an eyebrow. “Not another herd of hippos, I hope.”

Valeria laughed. “I am not sure what it is, but I feel a great sense of adventure awaiting us at Father’s palace on Elephantine.”

“I must write to your father with this news. It will truly make him smile.”

Before they could continue their conversation, the boat reached the city of Aswan, and the women gasped as one of the sailors pointed to the Island of Elephantine in the distance. They beheld the magnificence of Diocletian’s fortress rising up like a jewel out of the banks of the island. Fringed by palm trees, the palace glittered in the sunlight like a priceless diamond.

V
aleria was besotted with Egypt. She adored the beautiful gardens, which overflowed with fragrant flowers, and vegetables and fruits beyond the size and flavor of any she had ever tasted. What she cherished most were the early morning strolls she and her mother took through the gardens and on the golden beaches. She delighted in plucking seashells from the sand and dipping her toes into the water. The warm sunshine had soon colored her pale skin with a peachy glow.

Getting settled into the palace had taken far more time than the women had anticipated. There were Roman dignitaries to entertain, and prominent Egyptians hosted parties given in the women’s honor. Four weeks passed before Prisca was able to arrange to meet the Coptic monks recommended by the ship’s captain.

When the day arrived, Valeria pouted. “Why should I have to go study with the monks? I can hardly keep up with my lessons now.”

“I have arranged for us to go late mornings so you can study with your tutor earlier and then spend the rest of your school time with the monks.”

Valeria shrugged. “As long as it is part of my studies. But I have heard the monks are old and crabby.” She pinched the end of her nose. “My friend Aneksi told me they smell as musty as the catacombs.”

“You can take your handkerchief filled with cinnamon.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“Where you are concerned, that is true.” Prisca clapped her hands, and the servants appeared. “We are ready to depart.”

First the women and their entourage of ladies-in-waiting, servants, and soldiers boarded several feluccas and crossed a narrow section over to Aswan, where the monastery and the church were located. Once they reached the city, the women boarded ornate chariots with drivers, while the remaining soldiers mounted horses.

To her surprise, Valeria soon found she was enjoying herself. She chuckled at the spirited Egyptian horses that flew ahead of the carriages, their riders desperately trying to control the frisky beasts. As their entourage passed through the cobblestone streets in their golden chariots, it attracted a lot of attention. The citizens along the way cheered. Women and children ran for bouquets of flowers and tossed them in their path; others simply stopped what they were doing and stared. Soldiers on horses pushed a few protesters from their path.

“Long live Emperor Diocletian and his Empress Prisca,” a chorus of voices rang out as the chariots rolled past.

“I find Father’s popularity here surprising,” Valeria noted.

“Rome offers Egypt protection from the barbarians from the north and the savages south of here,” Prisca explained.

“Look,” Valeria said, quickly distracted as she pointed out one of the beautiful homes in the area. “Even the simplest of structures are constructed of limestone or granite.”

“These elegant houses are far more appealing than the flat-roofed homes built of mud and sun-dried bricks that we observed along the Nile,” Prisca added.

An Egyptian guide who walked alongside the carriage interjected, “Every obelisk and statue throughout the empire is carved from red granite or yellow limestone taken from local quarries. Even the pieces in the mosaics of Rome and beyond originate from our quarries.”

Once the royal party arrived at the monastery, the carriage came to a halt in front of the gate. The oblong-domed church, an imposing structure, was divided by a natural wall from the monastery. Lookouts towered strategically at the four corners of the buildings. The lead soldier dismounted and knocked at the massive arched gate and announced their arrival. Valeria thought if the church and monastery were only half as exquisite as the colorful mosaic walls, it would be well worth the trip, even if they found the religion a disappointment.

Alara, a young Nubian with skin the color of dark chestnuts, appeared at the gate. He took a deep bow before them. “Welcome to the monastery, ladies.”

Valeria smiled at the beautiful young man with dark eyes and well-toned body, but Eugenia quickly reprimanded her. “This man is a monk. Please do not torture him with your tantalizing smile.”

Valeria blushed, wondering how Eugenia had the power to read her mind. Yet even under Eugenia’s watchful eye, it was hard not to stare at this strikingly attractive man.

Seemingly unaware of his admirer, Alara guided them on a tour of the church, which contained the most intricate mosaics the women had ever seen. The walls inside the church and other buildings were filled with mystical and colorful hieroglyphics, painstakingly drawn centuries ago. The octagonal
domes of the church were painted with murals of Jesus and his disciples.

Once they had toured the magnificent church, Alara invited them to step outside into the courtyard. He led them through an arcade covered by a succession of arches that connected the church to the monastery. Through the archways, the women saw that the monks were cultivating vegetables and fruits.

“Would you like to go down into the garden grotto?” Alara asked.

The women declined, explaining that their own religion taught that these underground caves contained evil spirits.

When they crossed the gardens into the monastery, the women discovered it was a community in itself, busily humming with workers—not just scholarly monks, but brothers who were craftsmen, artists, carpenters, and potters. Alara paused at the kiln where the women observed several industrious monks in various stages of creating exquisite pottery from the red clay indigenous to the area. The women were delighted when they were offered several pieces as gifts. They thanked the monks and went on to the next room, which was a workshop manned by several carpenters. These craftsmen gave them hand-carved wooden crosses, inset with mosaics.

The aroma of the bakery caused the women’s mouths to water, and they were soon enjoying a sample of homemade bread fresh from the clay ovens. Their servants’ arms were quickly laden with loaves and cakes, filled with nuts and dates, to take back to the palace.

Next Alara gave them a peek into the monks’ living quarters. Each cell contained six beds carved out of the natural limestone. “How does one sleep on stone?” Valeria wondered aloud.

Alara laughed. “They are quite comfortable, and the stone is beneficial for the back. The monks do not afford themselves luxuries, for our Savior Himself had no home or bed.”

“Then I am sure I do not care for your religion, for I prefer luxurious surroundings,” Valeria declared.

“Ah, you misunderstand, dear lady. God does not expect everyone to choose the same path. You will not have to sacrifice luxury unless God calls you to do so. If He does, you will want nothing more because He will either provide the strength you need to live without it or take away the desire.”

Valeria made a face.

Alara smiled at her. “Some of the older monks do not choose the luxury of living at the monastery. The founder of our order, Antony, and many of his followers prefer to live in underground caves.”

Prisca gasped. “With the evil spirits?”

“Even if evil spirits resided in the underground caves, the Bible teaches, ‘Greater is He who is in us than he who is in the world.’ There is nothing to fear.”

Valeria’s eyes opened wide. “You believe you have a god living inside you?” Before Alara could reply, she added, “So does my father. He believes he
is
God and demands that everyone address him as Lord and God.”

Alara’s handsome face twisted into a pained look, but Valeria was not surprised that the young monk remained silent. What could he say? A derogatory statement in the presence of the empress and her daughter concerning the emperor would have been unwise.

“Father believes he’s Jupiter. So who do you claim to be?”

“I do not claim to be a god. Christians believe there is only one God and just by inviting Jesus into your heart, the Holy Spirit will come and dwell within you, giving you strength and peace.”

Alara smiled and changed the subject. “Come and let us visit the monastery. Before you leave, we will schedule your Bible studies, where you will find the answers to your questions.”

As they continued down the limestone hallways, they passed room after room filled with rows of papyrus. Prisca stopped at the door of one of the rooms and asked, “What is written upon all these papyruses?”

“Those are writings pertaining to Scripture,” Alara explained. “Many are Saint Mark’s interpretations. The Apostle Mark founded the church during the reign of the Roman emperor Nero, and a great multitude of Egyptians embraced the Christian faith. But even before Christianity, Jewish and Greek scholars joined forces with the Copts to translate the ancient Holy Scriptures.”

“Who will teach us the Holy Scriptures?” Prisca asked.

“The biblical scholars in the monastery will instruct you. You will love the poetic and inspiring Psalms penned by King David. And your daughter, as a young pupil, will grow in wisdom and garner valuable life lessons from Proverbs. The Holy Scriptures are rich with history, and many of the prophecies that were foretold of Jesus are written there.”

Prisca’s eyes lit up. “Oh, is it possible that the monks can tell my future?”

“Biblical prophecy is unrelated to fortune-telling,” Alara explained.

“I am not sure that I understand the difference,” Prisca confessed.

“You will after you study the Word of God,” Alara assured her.

The tour ended as they arrived at a door in the back of the temple overlooking the garden. Alara knocked and then introduced the women and their servants to Brother Bishoy,
who led the group into a large library, with a barrel-vaulted roof and filled with arcades and pendentives. Shelves of papyrus lined the walls. In the center of the room were several tables and chairs, some occupied by monks so deep in study they were unaware of the women’s presence.

“Welcome,” Bishoy said, as the servants scurried around, finding chairs for the women and their attendants. “Please sit down.”

Valeria studied the priest in his long flowing robe, tied at the waist with a simple rope. A pair of bright red shoes peeked out like mice from beneath his robe. Brother Bishoy’s vestments were brightly colored, but tattered. His long, crooked fingers were smudged in ink. Tufts of white hair sprouted out of his mostly bald head, but his bright smile lit up his otherwise homely face.

After they were seated, Prisca spoke on behalf of the women and thanked the monks for agreeing to enlighten them.

“There have been hundreds of scholars throughout the Roman Empire who have come here to study,” Bishoy informed them with a smile.

“We are hardly scholars,” Prisca stated. “Just two women intrigued by your religion.”

“Two very important women,” Brother Bishoy added, bowing his head slightly.

The sound of a monk clearing his throat came from a nearby table, causing the women to glance in his direction. Seated at the desk was a man even more disheveled than the one who had welcomed them.

“Antony, the old monk who lives in the cave?” Valeria wondered in a whisper to her mother.

There were no papyruses stacked upon his table, but his hands moved furiously over stone tablets on the table before him.

“Is he reading with his fingertips?” Valeria asked.

Brother Bishoy answered her question with an introduction. “This is Didymus, one of our monks who will be teaching you. He is blind.”

The women greeted Didymus with cheerful salutations. Absorbed in his work, he did not look up, nor did his fingers stop moving across the tablets of stone. He simply nodded his head.

“Didymus is reading the Scripture carved upon the tablets,” the priest explained, “a method of reading created by the Copts for those who cannot see with their eyes.”

Prisca stood and walked to the desk, then ran her own hand over one of the tablets.

Didymus suddenly stopped and reached for Prisca’s hand, clasping it in one of his own. With the other, he reached up to touch her face.

Bishoy intervened. “Do you mind if Brother Didymus explores your face?”

Prisca answered the question by leaning forward. She reached for the priest’s hand and moved it to her face.

“Ah, very beautiful,” the blind priest sighed. After a brief pause, he inquired, “May I speak?”

“Please,” Prisca said and visibly squeezed his hand.

“God is going to use you and your daughter mightily. You will one day change the world.”

Prisca laughed. “You flatter me, old man, but have you forgotten that we are mere women? Surely we do not have such power.”

“God will grant you that power … if you follow Him.” The man held up a gnarled finger and wagged it in Prisca’s face. “But you must heed these words one day when life becomes more difficult than either of you think you can bear.”