Valeria’s Cross (23 page)

“He is fine,” Eugenia replied, “but I need to speak to you before you leave. It is important.”

The servants placed chairs at Eugenia’s bedside, where the new mother held her hungry baby to her breast. When Prisca and Valeria were seated, Eugenia smiled at them.

“Thank you for coming.” She paused and then plunged ahead. “As you know, we are living in uncertain times.”

“What is it, Eugenia?” Valeria pressed. “Please, get to the point. Why did you call us here?”

“I am sorry, but I want you to understand why I have made this decision to leave.”

“Leave,” Valeria cried. “What do you mean? You cannot leave me!”

“But I must. I want to return to Nicomedia to live with my parents and raise my son among my sisters and the rest of my extended family.”

“But, Eugenia, we are your family! You can raise your baby right here in the palace. He and Candidianus can grow up together.”

“It is true that you are like a sister to me, but I fear it is not safe for Octavius and me here. Rumor has it that Galerius is pressuring Diocletian to reinstate the persecutions.”

“That is rubbish,” Prisca said. “My husband does not want any bloodshed.”

“I pray you are right,” Eugenia said. “But please understand that I want to devote all my time and energies to Octavius, and I believe I can do that better at home with my family.”

“That I understand,” Prisca conceded, “but I do not know how we will survive without you.”

Valeria did not trust herself to speak, as tears trickled down her cheeks. She cried herself to sleep that night, unsure if her heart could withstand yet another loss.

V
aleria was relieved to leave for Nicomedia with Prisca so she would not be at the palace in Thessalonica when Eugenia departed. Watching her dearest friend, her precious little son in her arms, walk out of her life was more than Valeria could bear.

A few days after Prisca and Valeria arrived in Nicomedia, Diocletian joined them by making a triumphant entry into the city. Valeria felt a mixture of disappointment and relief that neither Galerius nor Daza accompanied him. After her father had rested from his journey, Valeria joined her parents in their private chambers. She greeted her mother with a kiss, then bowed prostrate before her father. When a servant helped her to her feet, she rushed into his arms.

“Welcome home, Father! I am delighted to see you,” she cried, hugging him tightly. She held his hands and stepped back from him. “Just look at you! You look wonderful—tanned and rested. Congratulations on your triumph in Egypt.”

“After our victory I spent a few weeks at our palace on Elephantine to recuperate from the battle. Such a lovely place, and everyone there inquired about my beautiful wife
and daughter. They wanted to know when you were coming again for a visit.” He smiled at Valeria. “Ah, and you, my precious little rosebud, have blossomed into a beautiful woman while I was away.”

Valeria blushed and kissed Diocletian on the cheek. “Thank you, Father, though I would like to hear those same words from my husband. When will he be returning home? How can I present you with a grandchild if my husband is never around?”

“Always full of questions, are you not, my dear?” He sighed and grew serious. “Galerius has been involved in border skirmishes until a few weeks ago when they invaded Syria. A messenger should arrive soon to apprise me of the outcome.”

Diocletian chuckled then and touched his daughter’s face. “You have my word that as soon as I hear from him, I will give you a full report.”

“When do you suppose that might be?”

“Any day now.”

“Why would Galerius invade Syria?” She could tell by the look on her father’s face that he was ready for her to end her incessant questioning, but she was determined to push ahead until he grew weary and stopped their conversation.

“We had no choice, my dear. King Narses declared war on Rome. He first invaded western Armenia, reclaiming the lands delivered to Tiridates in the peace of 298. Narses has now moved south into Roman Mesopotamia.”

“But why did you not join Galerius in Syria?”

“I plan to consult with him from afar because it is too risky for me go to Persia. If captured there, I could suffer the same fate as the late Emperor Valerian.”

“But Valerian was defeated by the Persians.”

Prisca quickly joined the conversation. “I am afraid I left out some of the gorier parts of Valeria’s history lessons. I did not want our daughter to have nightmares.”

“Selective history?” Diocletian chuckled. “Then I shall tell her.” He took his seat on a divan and asked the women to join him. With his wife on one side and his daughter on the other, he began. “In the beginning of Valerian’s reign, the affairs of the Roman Empire were in disarray. In the East, Antioch had fallen into the hands of a Sassnid vassal, and Armenia was occupied by Shapur I. Valerian and his co-regent, his son, Gallienus, split the empire between them, with the son taking the west and the father heading east to face the Persian threat.”

“I thought Valerian conquered Antioch and returned it to the Roman control.”

“You are correct.” Diocletian touched Prisca’s arm and winked. “You have taught her the history well, my dear.”

Prisca beamed as Diocletian continued. “The year following Emperor Valerian’s victory, the Persians ravaged Asia Minor, so Valerian moved his troops to Edessa. When an outbreak of the plague killed a number of the legionaries, it weakened the Roman Army’s position. Shapur then defeated them in the Battle of Edessa. Emperor Valerian called a ceasefire so he could negotiate a peace treaty with the Persians, but Shapur double-crossed him and captured him.”

Prisca added, “Valerian has the distinction of being the only Roman emperor ever captured by the enemy. Shapur kept Valerian invested in the purple to show the world that he had the Roman emperor in chains. Whenever Shapur mounted on horseback, he used the emperor as his stepping stool, placing his foot on the Roman Emperor’s neck.”

Valeria made a face. “How could the Roman empire stand by and allow their emperor to suffer such insults?”

“Oh, they tried to intervene,” Diocletian assured her. “Shapur was offered an enormous reward for the emperor’s return. In addition, the allies repeatedly advised Shapur to use Valerian as a token for peace instead of an object for insult. But Shapur was too busy gloating in his capture of the mighty Roman emperor. His ears were closed to reason.”

“This is the perfect place to stop the lesson,” Prisca protested, but Valeria was eager for her father to finish the account.

Diocletian complied. “Shapur flayed him alive—skinned him and then stuffed the skin with straw and formed it into the likeness of a human figure. It was preserved and is still displayed today in a celebrated temple in Persia—their ‘monument of triumph.’ ”

“A far cry from the ornate marble and brass sculptures traditionally erected to the emperors,” Prisca lamented.

Valeria winced. “And you allowed my husband to invade Syria?”

“Your husband is the fiercest warrior in all the empire. Someone had to go, and had I not believed Galerius could conquer the Syrians, I would never have allowed it.” Diocletian paused for a moment. “But would it not make your life easier if you lost your husband in battle?”

Valeria gasped, stunned by her father’s admission that the life he had chosen for her was far from easy. She was unsure how to respond, but before she could answer, the servants announced that dinner was served, so the conversation momentarily ceased as they gathered around the banquet table.

Diocletian’s lieutenants requested permission to speak with him in the middle of the meal, falling prostrate before him. When Diocletian motioned them to their feet, the senior
officer spoke. “My Lord, we have urgent news from the Syrian battlefield.”

“If you ladies will excuse me,” Diocletian said, rising from the table as he nodded to Prisca and Valeria. Diocletian then led the guards into the adjoining hall.

Valeria’s heart raced, as she jumped to her feet and hurried to the door, against which she pressed her ear and listened. The words she heard made her gasp, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

“What is it?” Prisca cried.

Valeria turned from the door to face her mother, as she struggled to remain on her feet. “Galerius … has been defeated in Syria.”

D
eeply troubled, Galerius paced the floor of his tent as he awaited Diocletian’s arrival in Antioch. Never before had Galerius lost a battle, but only a few days earlier, Narses and his Syrian Army had sorely defeated their Roman opponents. Humiliated and tormented by the defeat, Galerius was forced to admit that he, and not his army, was at fault. The finest soldiers in the empire were under his command, but he had lost over half of them in the battle. Their blood was on his hands. The Persians had been lying in wait for them, a clever trap Galerius had not anticipated.

Diocletian had informed Galerius that he would wait in nearby Armenia and would also return to Nicomedia during the conflict. The emperor had chosen not to participate in the Persian battle, which thrilled Galerius, as it would be his first opportunity to shine without any involvement from his emperor. How he had boasted to Diocletian that he would advance to Persia and take care of the situation. To his utter dismay, Galerius now wallowed in defeat. How could he face Diocletian? He would soon find out because the emperor was due to arrive any moment, and Galerius had heard that
Diocletian was furious that his Caesar had made such a mess of things.

It was no secret that Diocletian had chosen Galerius as his Caesar for his exceptional military skills. With the loss, how would he now fare with his father-in-law?

Galerius stopped pacing and listened with dread. In the distance was the unmistakable sound of the royal procession, approaching his tent. Trumpets blared to announce the emperor’s arrival. The people loved all the pomp and circumstance that Diocletian demanded wherever he traveled, but Galerius and the soldiers thought it ostentatious.

Now, surrounded by his lieutenants, Galerius swallowed hard and exited his tent to greet the emperor. Since Diocletian demanded that everyone, even his Caesars, fall prostrate before him, several of the servants had laid Turkish rugs in the dirt to accommodate the practice.

Diocletian stepped from his golden carriage and strutted around the prone soldiers, kicking some of them with his heavy sandals. “What have you done?” he raged. “Imbeciles! How could I have trusted you with such a crucial battle?”

Galerius knew the answer, though he would never voice it. It was Diocletian’s cowardice; he feared the same fate as Emperor Valerian. Had Galerius won the battle at Mesopotamia, one of his goals was to return Valerian’s body to be entombed in Rome. Now that would not happen.

Diocletian interrupted Galerius’ thoughts by demanding that the prostrate soldiers stand to their feet. “We are taking the processional into Antioch, and you, Galerius, will walk ahead of my carriage with your soldiers following behind you. Now march onward!”

“But, my lord,” Galerius protested, restraining his fury at the humiliating command, “I am dressed in the imperial
purple. Surely you will grant me permission to change into a battle uniform.”

“I will grant you no such thing,” Diocletian bellowed. “You shall wear the purple. How else would you feel the full effect of the shame you so deserve?”

Galerius seethed, but without a word he fell into the royal procession and began to march ahead of the imperial cart, flanked by his soldiers. They were a mile inside the Roman city of Antioch, and people gathered along the way, mocking Galerius. Hurling insults, the citizens jeered, some even throwing garbage at the Caesar and his soldiers. Galerius held his head high. If the march was his payment for defeat, perhaps he deserved it, but one thing was certain—he would take his punishment like a mighty warrior.

After Galerius passed, the people fell prostrate for their emperor. By the time the procession reached the center of town, the dusty road had soiled Galerius’ robes, but the people no longer paid him any mind for they were making such a fuss over Diocletian’s visit.

That evening, a great banquet was held in honor of the emperor, during which Diocletian called a brief meeting with Galerius and his lieutenants.

“The defeat was not due to the failings of the empire’s soldiers, but to the failings of their commander. You are to blame,” Diocletian declared, pointing his finger at Galerius. “This defeat is unacceptable. You will remain in Syria until you can rally your troops for an offensive.” With those words, Diocletian spun on his heel and returned to the banquet.

As Galerius and his men slunk back to their camp, Galerius felt the burden of defeat on his shoulders, and he knew he had to devise a battle plan to beat Narses and the Syrian Army. Foregoing sleep for the next three days, he worked on the plan, too humiliated even to write to Valeria. He was sure
she had already gotten an earful from her father anyway. Besides, she was so enthralled with motherhood that she would scarcely notice her husband was gone. Galerius could only pray to the gods that she would not make a sissy out of his son, Candidianus.

In the spring of 298, a new contingent collected from the empire’s Danubian holdings had reinforced Galerius’ army. Narses did not advance from Armenia and Mesopotamia, leaving Galerius to lead the offensive with an attack on northern Mesopotamia by way of Armenia.

Narses retreated to Armenia to counter Galerius’ attack. The rugged Armenian terrain proved favorable to Roman infantry, but highly unfavorable to Narses’ Sassanid cavalry. Galerius was also able to retain the aid of the locals, which surprised the Persian forces; in two successive battles, Galerius secured victories over Narses. During the second battle, the Roman forces seized Narses’ camp, his treasury, his harem, and even his family, whom Galerius sent to live in Daphne, a suburb of Antioch, for the remainder of the war, serving as a constant reminder to the Persians of Roman victory.

Galerius then advanced into Media and Adiabene, winning continuous victories, most prominently near Erzurum, and securing Nisibis before the autumn of 298. Moving down the Tigris, he took the village of Ctesiphon, overlooking the ruins of Babylon. At last he had redeemed his loss and was able to return triumphant, sailing home on the Euphrates River.

Galerius smiled as he stood on the bow of the ship, heading home in triumph to his wife.
I am indeed the great leader.

Galerius and Valeria had said a tearful goodbye following his daughter’s wedding in Venice, but now he had returned a hero. As such, Valeria gave her husband a welcome that he would likely never forget.

Now there was a Syrian victory to celebrate, and Galerius was highly revered throughout the empire. Though Valeria missed her mother, who had returned to Nicomedia to be with Diocletian, it was a time of happiness for her and Galerius in Thessalonica, as she raised Candidianus and desperately but futilely tried to get pregnant.

A few weeks after Galerius’ homecoming, a dark cloud descended over Valeria’s happiness when Daza arrived. It seemed Valeria spotted him waiting in the shadows nearly everywhere she turned. As a member of Galerius’ court, he was with the family frequently, especially for meals. Although Valeria had become immune to his charms, she found his presence a source of irritation. The sooner she could become pregnant, she reasoned, the sooner Daza would stop ogling her.

And then, after a few weeks of rest, Galerius announced that he must return to the business of the empire.

“You have spoiled me with your presence every day,” Valeria complained, wondering how his absence might affect her ability to avoid Daza. “I shall miss you.”

“Ah, but I am not the only one returning to work. Next week Narses is sending an ambassador for peace negotiations, and I want to extend our hospitality to him. Can I depend on you to be my gracious hostess?”

“It shall be a pleasure,” Valeria replied, looking forward to her domestic duties and wanting to make Galerius proud of her.

Valeria and the chef worked long and hard on the menus for the banquet, and she also met with the servants concerning
the table arrangements, while her social secretary consulted with her on protocol.

Upon the ambassador’s arrival, his obvious captivation by Valeria’s beauty and charm was quite evident. At dinner that night, he wisely included Valeria in the conversation.

“My lord,” the ambassador pleaded, “I beg of you to return Narses’ family. Our king does not sleep or eat. His heart is broken. Keep whatever riches you like, but I beseech you, Caesar, to please restore his family to him.”

Galerius raised his eyebrows haughtily. “May I remind you of how your country treated Emperor Valerian? He was tormented and ridiculed, and ultimately tortured to death. I have been nothing but kind and respectful to Narses’ wife, his children, his concubines, and even his slaves.”

“Yes, Caesar,” the ambassador conceded, “and my countrymen have compared you to Alexander the Great and his treatment of the family of Darius III. But will you not release the family to Narses?”

“No,” Galerius snapped. “I have made up my mind. You may return to Syria in the morning and tell King Narses that we will discuss his family during the peace negotiations. In the meantime, they will remain my prisoners. But you can assure your king that they will be treated with the utmost respect. I will have some of centurions give you a tour of their living quarters, and you can speak with the ladies in the morning.”

That evening, when Galerius came to Valeria’s bedroom, he was beaming. “You looked ravishing,” he told her. “I was so proud of you. What a charming hostess you were! The food was delicious, and when I complimented the chef, he informed me that it was you who spent hours researching and planning the menu. And the flowers were beyond compare. You left no detail unattended.” Laughing with obvious delight, he scooped
her up and twirled her around. “I am the luckiest man alive. How can I ever thank you?”

She smiled. “There is one wish you can grant me.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, removing her emeralds and kissing the nape of her neck. “You have told me how much you want a baby, and I shall give you a child. Is there something more you desire?”

“I do not wish to meddle in your business. You had my word that I would not.”

He grinned. “That is a relief.”

Valeria took a deep breath. “But please consider how you would feel if it were I and Candidianus and our servants who were imprisoned by Narses.”

Galerius hesitated. “I have refused to let them go. I will not be a double-minded Caesar.”

Valeria nodded. “Very well. I can accept your decision.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Of course not. I am aware that I cannot possibly understand all the intricacies of the wars and the peace negotiations. I trust you completely.”

Galerius smiled. “Once the peace negotiations begin, I give you my word that I will take your wishes into consideration.”

“And you will return Narses’ family to him?”

Galerius roared with laughter. “If only you knew what an evil ruler Narses was, you would not make this request of me.”

“But his wife and children are innocent victims.”

“And I treat these innocent victims very well. But come, my love, do you want me to give you a baby or not?”

Galerius lifted Valeria again, and this time he carried her to their bed.