Valeria’s Cross (4 page)

“I heard Emperor Diocletian had a beautiful daughter,” he said, “but I never imagined I would have the honor of meeting her.”

“How did you hear of me?”

“Since the day your ship arrived in Egypt, is there anyone who has not heard of the young woman with eyes the color of turquoise and hair as golden red as the mane of a lion?” He reached up and pulled a sprig of boxwood from her hair and handed it to her.

“Who told you about me?” She twirled the evergreen between two fingers on her free hand.

“Nanu.”

Valeria smiled. “Ah, yes.”

“But she did not tell me you were so incredibly lovely that you would take my breath away when I gazed upon your face.”

Valeria’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, and she quickly withdrew her hand when she realized she had allowed it to linger a moment too long.

The young couple stared at one another, wordless. At last, uncomfortable in the silence, Valeria spoke.

“I suppose I had better go inside and report to my tutor. He is probably waiting for me.”

“But we have only just met.” Mauritius’ dark eyes clouded with disappointment, and the tone of his voice took on a hint of pleading. “Please stay.”

“I suppose I could … for a moment more,” she agreed with a smile.

His eyes were dancing again, but he suddenly appeared shy, as if he were searching for the right words. Finally he asked, “Do you like Egypt?”

“More than any place I have ever visited. But, really, I must go now. My tutor will be searching for me.” Mauritius was far too handsome and outspoken for her to feel comfortable in his presence without a chaperone. She felt panicked in her need to escape from him, yet she could not pull herself away.

“You must not keep your tutor waiting.” He smiled as he dipped his head in farewell. “I shall look forward to seeing you again soon—with your permission, of course.”

“But you are leaving for Gaul,” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“My troops do not even know that yet. How is it that you are privy to such information?” He grinned. “Were you hiding in the bushes when the general presented our orders?”

Valeria knew she was caught but could think of nothing to say in her defense. Instead, she turned on her heel and took a slight step away from the handsome soldier with the laughing eyes. To her surprise he reached for her and took her hand.

“I will be in Thebes for several more weeks before I have to leave for Gaul,” he said, gently turning her toward him. “With your father’s permission, I would like to see you again … and again.” He smiled, and her heart jumped.

“As would I … like to see you,” she said breathlessly, wondering even as she spoke how she could say such a thing to someone she had only just met. Then, before she could say or do anything more to further humiliate herself, she turned and hurried away. When she thought she was out of his range of vision, she abandoned her control and danced on the pathway, her skirt swirling about her ankles.

“I shall see you soon, beautiful dancing lady,” he called out to her.

And then she heard the servants’ laughter mingling with that of Mauritius’. Was this any way for an emperor’s daughter to behave?

Fighting tears of humiliation, she vowed she should never see the handsome soldier again. He simply held too much power over her, and she could not risk disgracing her family.

But she had to see him again, because at that moment she knew in her heart that she wanted to marry Mauritius—and
she would not wait long to see it happen. She would find her mother and persuade her to speak to her father about the matter. Unless the young man decided he did not want her for his wife, or her father objected to her marrying a Christian, Valeria knew that Mauritius would soon be hers. She hugged herself and imagined for a moment what it would be like for him to hold her in his strong arms.

Valeria smiled. There were definitely advantages to being the emperor’s daughter. Besides, there was nothing to be ashamed of; her feelings for Mauritius were pure.

She could feel his eyes following her as she ran into the palace to find her mother, but she no longer cared that he was watching. She spun around and waved at him one last time, and he threw his head back, curls tumbling, and laughed.

A fine soldier like Mauritius! Father was going to love him; she was sure of it. Then life truly would be perfect.

H
er assessment of her father’s acceptance of Mauritius was more than a bit premature and overly optimistic, but her mother was at least receptive to the idea. With Diocletian gone, Prisca invited Mauritius and his family to dine with them the next evening. After dinner, Valeria asked Mauritius and Nanu to take a moonlight stroll in the garden. Valeria’s excitement waned when her mother insisted that Eugenia accompany them. Much to Valeria’s disappointment, there was no handholding, but she considered even walking beside Mauritius a gift.

The next morning, after completing her studies, Valeria spent the afternoon in the arena with Nanu, watching Mauritius and Baraka, Nanu’s fiancé, compete in the athletic events. Afterward, the young people had dinner with Valeria at the palace. Eugenia was not feeling well, so after dinner Prisca gave them permission to walk alone in the garden if the young people stayed together. Almost immediately Baraka pulled Nanu behind the hedges, away from Valeria and Mauritius.

“What are they doing?” Valeria asked.

“The same thing I am about to do to you,” Mauritius replied, smiling as he bent to give Valeria a kiss, this time on the lips. He kissed her gently, and then stepped back.

“Please do not stop,” Valeria begged, her head swimming with daydreams of utter delight. She pulled on his tunic to bring him back close to her, but he only pecked her forehead.

“No more kisses,” he scolded her.

“But I want to kiss you over and over again.”

Mauritius touched her face with his hand, sending sparks throughout her body. “I love you, but …”

“You love me!” Her heart skipped a beat. “I love you, too, Mauritius,” she declared … and then she did the unthinkable. She stood on her tiptoes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

After a moment, he had to step back to extract his lips from hers. “We must wait until we are married to kiss with such passion, my love.”

“Married? Are you proposing?”

His smile melted her heart. “Valeria, I knew from the moment I saw you in the garden that God had brought you to me for my wife. But you are the daughter of an emperor, and that complicates our relationship.”

“My mother will take care of my father if that is what you are concerned about.”

“But I have not even met your father, and I must ask his permission for your hand in marriage. This will likely be a long and arduous process.”

“But Father will love you, just as I do,” Valeria assured him.

“He may like me, but most royal marriages are arranged. Still, I am confident that God, who brought us together, will make a way for us.”

Valeria smiled. “If God could part the Red Sea for the Israelites, He can surely sway my father’s favor in your direction.”

“I am sure of it,” he agreed, kissing the top of her head. “I see you have learned your Bible lessons well from the monks. Come, let us ask my sister and Baraka to join us for a walk on the beach.”

When Valeria told Prisca of Mauritius’ proposal, she even offered to help with the wedding plans and trousseau, assuring Valeria that she would approach Diocletian about the situation when the time was right. But each time Valeria asked when that time would be, her mother reminded her that patience and prudence were necessary virtues. Valeria found it difficult to concentrate on these virtues when she longed for Mauritius’ kisses.

Mauritius knew by now that Valeria had told her mother about them and enlisted her help in gaining Diocletian’s approval. He often echoed Prisca in his warnings to Valeria, who had come to believe that patience was highly overrated and that action was preferable.

On the morning of Baraka and Nanu’s wedding, Prisca granted Valeria permission to take part in the traditional Egyptian wedding customs.

“Why does Eugenia have to come along?” Valeria sulked, standing next to the divan where her mother lounged.

Prisca smiled. “You are the emperor’s daughter, but even if you were not, I would still insist on a chaperone.”

Valeria moaned. “Most Egyptian women are married by age twelve. If you were not so slow in asking father for permission for me to marry, Mauritius would be my husband by now, and I would not need a chaperone.”

Prisca flashed Valeria a stern look.

“Forgive me, Mother.” She crumpled to her knees and laid her head upon her mother’s lap. “I cannot bear the thought that Mauritius will soon leave for Gaul. Even the hours we spend apart seem like decades, and it will be months before he returns.”

Prisca soothed Valeria, stroking her hair. “When we are planning your wedding, time will pass quickly. It is a thrilling time in the life of a young woman.”

“Without Mauritius there can be no excitement in my life,” Valeria declared. “You are confident that Father will grant us permission to marry?”

Before Prisca could answer, Eugenia appeared at the door. “Mauritius has arrived early. Are you ready?”

Valeria’s hands flew to her hair. “Oh, I must look a mess.”

“You look lovely,” Prisca assured her as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Where did all the years ago? It seems like yesterday you were a babe in my arms.”

Valeria brushed her mother’s cheek with a quick kiss before she stood and hurried out into the marble hallway with Eugenia. Her mother’s moist eyes had not escaped her, but she was in too much of a hurry to see Mauritius to stop and console Prisca. Now pangs of guilt pricked at her heart. Valeria was devoted to her mother, and she understood it was difficult for her to let go of her only daughter. With her father away so often, the two women had become inseparable, but with thoughts of seeing Mauritius, she could not force herself to turn back.

“The palace is bustling this morning,” Valeria noted as she and Eugenia made their way to the front hall where Mauritius waited.

“Have you forgotten that your mother insisted on hosting a wedding celebration for Nanu and Baraka?”

“I suppose I did.” Valeria smiled. “I must confess that Mauritius has been my only thought.”

“Did I hear my name?” Mauritius called out to her before he was in her sight.

Valeria ran toward the sound of his voice. When she saw him, she rushed into his outstretched arms. He quickly lifted her off the floor and twirled her around.

“We must hurry or we will miss the festivities,” he warned.

It was a busy morning as friends and family moved Nanu’s possessions into her husband’s room at his parents’ home. Valeria may have been the emperor’s daughter, but she worked as hard as anyone. Once the job was complete, there was little time to freshen up before they were expected at the church.

The servants at the palace were waiting for Valeria when she arrived. Everyone pitched in to help her dress for the wedding. She had insisted on wearing a simple green linen tunic so as not to outshine the bride.

Since Mauritius had to accompany his family to the wedding, Valeria went to the church with her mother and Eugenia. The wedding was unlike any of the weddings the women had ever attended.

The Zaffa, the Egyptian wedding march, began. Traditional music filled the church, and belly dancers and performers with flaming swords preceded the bride and groom. Valeria joined in the lively celebration, clapping her hands wildly and swishing her hips. Mauritius smiled when he spotted her across the aisle and did some clapping and dancing of his own, which made Valeria laugh until she cried.

When Nanu came into their view, the women sighed. The happy bride was exquisite in a simple white linen dress overlaid with an intricately woven bead-net of blue and green faience beads; her ebony hair was encased in a matching bead-net
with flowers crowning her head. Her jewelry was fashioned from lapis and gold.

The custom for the groom’s family was to propose to the bride before the couple spoke their vows. Baraka’s large family gathered around the couple and made their proposal to Nanu. She accepted with hugs and kisses.

Valeria’s emotions ran rampant during the solemn wedding ceremony. Many of the young Egyptian women rushed to the altar before their soldiers sailed off to battle in Gaul. Yet the emperor’s daughter would not be among them. Royalty had its benefits, but for now it seemed the negatives far outweighed them.

Her heart was stirred by the religious service, but to her surprise, it also burned with envy when Nanu and Baraka spoke their wedding vows. The words were poetic and meaningful. Instead of her friend Nanu, Valeria wished that she were the bride and Mauritius her groom. During a poignant part of the ceremony, Mauritius turned and smiled at her, and her body trembled with a deep longing for him to be her husband.

During the wedding celebration, which Prisca had insisted on hosting for the couple at the palace, Mauritius whispered into Valeria’s ear to meet him afterward down by the beach. Then he went off into another room. The Egyptians had long observed the custom of men and women celebrating in separate rooms.

“Oh, how I hate this custom,” Valeria complained to Eugenia, who tried to coax the lovesick young woman to enjoy herself. Though eager with anticipation at the thought of being alone with her future husband, Valeria could not relax during the wedding festivities. She became anxious and found herself wishing the party would end, but it continued on past midnight.

Mauritius motioned for her as the bridal couple finally sailed away in their felucca in the moonlight. Valeria watched him walk toward the beach, so she mingled with the crowd before taking a discreet path to the seashore. Each step, no matter how carefully placed, seemed to echo like a gong, outdone only by what she was certain was the loud pounding of her heart. When a pair of young lovers wandered down toward the seashore, Valeria hid in the bushes to keep from being seen.

But at last she was there, creeping onto the beach, her eyes darting back and forth in the darkness. She slid out of her sandals and wiggled her toes in the sand, which was still hot from the day’s sun. It was a balmy night, and Valeria felt exhilarated as she walked along the edge of the row of sequoia trees where they had once kissed. But he was not there. Though she was glad the trees blocked the moonlight, lessening their chances of being seen, it also made it more difficult to locate Mauritius.

As it turned out, she did not have to find him. Before she realized he was standing in front of her, she felt his hand cover her mouth. He pulled her behind a sequoia tree. The sharp intake of her breath confirmed Mauritius’ wisdom in preventing her from screaming in surprise. As her adrenaline ebbed and she came to terms with the fact that she was at last in the embrace of the man she loved, she relaxed, enjoying the feel of his muscular arms and broad chest, even as her cheek pressed against the Theban cross he always wore around his neck. Oh, if only her mother would send a messenger to her father soon so they could at least make their betrothal public knowledge before Mauritius was called away to the battle in Gaul!

“We must be quiet,” Mauritius whispered. “If they find me here alone with you, I’ll be drawn and quartered before sunrise.”

Valeria nodded. Without Nanu and Baraka as chaperones, Prisca would have insisted Eugenia accompany them, but Valeria longed to be alone with Mauritius in hope of receiving his passionate kisses. Mauritius removed his hand from her mouth, but he made no move to release her from his embrace—which suited Valeria just fine. She was exactly where she wanted to be, whether her mother approved … or not.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by then, and up close she could see her intended’s face as he gazed down at her, his dark eyes reflecting the longing she felt in her heart. When his lips spread in a dazzling smile, she knew she would have collapsed if he had not been holding her up.

“You are as beautiful at night as in the daylight,” Mauritius whispered. “The memory of you in my arms will carry me through the battle of Gaul—and any others I must endure to finally have you as my wife.”

Valeria’s heart leapt in alarm. “Memory?” she asked, reminding herself to keep her voice low, even as her pulse began to race once again. “Why would you say that? Surely it is not time for you to leave for Gaul already! It has been only a few weeks since—”

Mauritius placed his finger over her lips. “Shh,” he cautioned. “Do not be upset, sweet Valeria. God willing, I will return to you—soon.”

What was he trying to tell her? Then, with her gaze locked into his, she knew. He was leaving, going to Gaul. The time had come, and they had not even spoken with her father or announced their betrothal.

Her heart felt as if it had sunk into the sand at her feet. Hot tears pricked the back of her eyelids. How could she let him go when they had just found one another?

She opened her mouth to demand the answer, but Mauritius shook his head. “I know, my love. I have asked myself the same question. But there is nothing we can do about it. My calling is to serve God first, and then my country. If I am needed on the battlefield, I must go. Besides, my emperor orders me there. It is not an option, beloved.”

Valeria knew he was right, and she loved him all the more for his loyalty and strength of character. But she felt no such constraints on her own emotions. She wanted to cry out, to scream in protest, to demand that her father rescind the order and allow Mauritius to stay behind—but as quickly as the emotion overwhelmed her, the responsibility of their respective positions negated it. Mauritius was right. He had to go … and she had to let him, without complaint or protest. But she could not do it without tears.

“When are you leaving?” she sobbed.

“We sail at dawn.”

Droplets spilled over her eyelids and onto her cheeks. She whispered, “Oh, Mauritius, how can I send you away like this? If only I were your wife—”

Mauritius withdrew his finger from her lips and slid it to the side of her face, tracing her cheekbone as tears glistened in his own eyes. “Do you really think it would be any easier if we were married?” He shook his head. “Leaving for battle is difficult—for the one going and the one left behind. But sometimes it must be done. And this, my lovely Valeria, is one of those times.”