Valeria’s Cross (8 page)

When Valeria went on deck, Eugenia was already there, gazing at the coast. Valeria’s faithful servant and friend had remained quiet throughout the trip, lost in her own thoughts.

“Have you had any news of your beloved Octavius?” Valeria asked. Before Eugenia could answer, Valeria’s heart froze in terror. “Look, Eugenia! The gods are angry!”

The women stared, terrified, as the distant mountains regurgitated a great wave of fire. The glowering flames shot high into the heavens before tumbling back onto the earth. Gray and black smoke intertwined, swirling angrily into the sky, before darkness returned to the earth. Even through the veil of smoke, Valeria could see the sky was ablaze.

“We shall surely die,” Valeria whimpered. “I shall never see Mauritius again!”

Eugenia gathered her mistress into her arms and prayed, calling on the name of Jesus. As she did so, the captain hurried by, stopping briefly to reassure them.

“Ladies, there is nothing to fear. It is Mount Vesuvius, the volcanic mountain behind the island of Pompeii.”

“But the gods have wiped the constellations from the heavens. Surely it is the end of the world,” Valeria cried.

“The moon and stars are still there,” the captain explained. “The sky only appears dark because it is covered in smoke. These eruptions occur periodically, but they usually stop after a short time. Besides, we are a safe distance from the hot lava.”

After the captain had excused himself, Eugenia took her seat and motioned for Valeria to join her. Still trembling, Valeria was flabbergasted that Eugenia appeared so calm. As though she could read her mind, Eugenia said, “The gods are not angry, my lady.” She paused and then added, “There are no ‘gods,’ remember? Only the one Almighty God.”

“I am sorry. I know that with all my heart, but old habits are hard to dismiss. Still, I cannot help but believe this eruption is a bad omen,” Valeria worried.

“Then you must trust God that His will be done and forget about the pagan omens.”

Valeria was not allowed to see her father when they returned home. Since Prisca rarely left Diocletian’s side, Valeria scarcely saw her mother either. Worse yet, there was still no word of Mauritius. Eugenia tried to distract Valeria with wedding plans, but to no avail. Her anxiety remained at a high level until her mother appeared in her room one morning.

“Good morning, darling.”

Valeria, who was already awake, sat up in bed. “What is it? Do you have good news about Father, or … Mauritius?”

Prisca, who looked exhausted, collapsed into a chair beside the bed. “I will not lie to you. The past few weeks have been
challenging, but your father’s condition is improved this morning.”

“What is wrong with him, Mother? I do not understand.”

“He is haunted by horrific nightmares when he sleeps and menacing visions while he is awake. I believe his condition is due to exhaustion. I am faithful to pray for him as he sleeps.”

“When can I see him?”

“That is why I am here. After his night of good sleep, your father feels well enough to dine in the great hall tonight, and he wants you to join us there for dinner.”

Valeria felt a spark of hope. “Have you spoken to him about Mauritius? Did he tell you if Mauritius asked for my hand in marriage?”

“Oh, no, darling! And I trust you will not mention Mauritius either, or ask any questions about the battle in Gaul. Remember, your father is not well. Let him talk. When he is better, which I am sure he will be soon, we will proceed with the designing of the grandest wedding gown ever seen in the empire.” Prisca touched her daughter’s face. “You will look more radiant than any bride who ever lived, I assure you.”

The mention of her wedding dress lifted Valeria’s spirits, if only slightly. “Oh, I pray we find Father well enough to tell us about Mauritius. I have not received a letter or a message from him, and no one seems to have heard of him. You do not think that Mauritius has forgotten about me, do you?”

Prisca put her arm around her daughter and kissed the top of her head. “Never. Do not worry about a single detail, dear one. Throughout the war, I have been praying for great favor for Mauritius and his men. I am sure the good captain’s leadership and military expertise caught your father’s skilled eye.”

“Oh, Mother,” Valeria cried, suddenly alarmed, “you are not worried that Father will not permit the marriage, are you?”

A look of surprise flashed in Prisca’s eyes. “Where is your trust, Valeria?”

Valeria blushed. “But Father may be concerned that Mauritius is a Christian. You know how devout Father is with his own pagan worship.”

“Consider that most of his servants are Christians. Your father admires their integrity and the excellence of their work. Above all, I can assure you that he only wants your happiness, as do I.”

“Have you told Father of our conversion?”

Prisca was the one to blush this time. “It was something so special I could not find the words to put on paper. I preferred to tell him face-to-face.”

“And have you?”

“No, but my decision to wait was motivated by wisdom, not fear.”

“Then you are confident that Father will grant permission for me to marry Mauritius?”

“Would I be planning your wedding if I were not?”

Later that evening, the flames crackled in the large fireplace as the royal family gathered together to celebrate Diocletian’s homecoming. It was the first time the emperor had dressed and left his room since returning from battle. Valeria’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle her gasp at his appearance. His purple robe hung on his frame like the drooping feathers of a dying eagle. The emperor appeared as prideful as ever with his heavy diamond diadem atop his wobbly head. In his shaky right hand he carried a large scepter, which almost landed on Valeria’s head when she bowed down to kiss the jeweled hem of his robe. When a servant stepped forward to help Valeria to
her feet, he left her hand dangling in midair, reaching instead for the weak-kneed emperor’s arm to keep him from toppling over onto his daughter. Now that she had a closer look at her father, Valeria became even more alarmed. He looked haggard, his hair whiter, and his face lined.

Diocletian shuffled across the floor to his divan with the help of a trusted servant. Valeria wiped away a tear, recalling how her father had loved to prance about in his pointy silk and diamond slippers. The shoes now flopped about his shrinking feet. But it was the now-absent twinkle in his eyes that most alarmed her.

Once the servant had helped Diocletian recline on his divan, Valeria sat beside him and exclaimed, “Father, it is wonderful to see you.”

Diocletian was silent but placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair. After a few minutes, Prisca motioned for Valeria to come sit with her. When Valeria left his side, the emperor ordered a servant to help him to his feet. He hobbled over to the great hearth, facing the warmth of the fire. It was obvious he was trying to stand straight and erect, his hands clasped behind his back as if in military readiness, but he swayed back and forth.

“We need to discuss Captain Mauritius,” he said suddenly, his back still toward them.

“So you met him,” Valeria squealed, as she jumped from the divan and joined her father by the fire.

“One of the finest and bravest soldiers I have had under my command,” Diocletian admitted.

Valeria beamed, smiling in her mother’s direction. She felt as though her heart would burst with happiness.

“He sent me a message requesting an audience with me,” Diocletian began, “just before the victory celebration.”

Valeria’s heart leapt at the announcement, and then fell again when she recognized her father’s cold tone of voice and the realization that her father did not say whether he had granted Mauritius’ request. Suddenly frightened, she returned to sit beside her mother, who took her hand. Valeria found the courage to ask, “I take it you are concerned that Mauritius is a Christian.”

“I have no problem with the Christians as long as they obey my orders.”

“Then you do not object if Mauritius and I marry? He is obedient to his faith and dedicated to Rome. He is the most ethical, honest, and moral man you will ever meet.”

Diocletian turned. “Can a man serve two masters?” he demanded.

Valeria frowned. “The Scripture says—”

“Forget the Scripture.” Diocletian waved his hand as though he were erasing her words. “What do you suppose Mauritius would do if his two allegiances conflicted?”

Valeria spoke with conviction. “His first allegiance is to God, but his second is to Rome.”

“And to remain faithful to his God, would he disobey an order from Rome?”

“What are you saying, Father? Did Mauritius’ service displease you?”

“Displease me?” The emperor’s voice rose to a near roar as he repeated himself, shocking Valeria at the strength he exhibited. “Displease me?”

He scowled, and Prisca squeezed Valeria’s hand. Even the servants cowered as Diocletian yelled, “Your Mauritius humiliated Emperor Maximian, and he humiliated me.”

“But how?”

“By refusing to obey our orders.”

Bravely, Valeria spoke up. “When you have more time to get to know Mauritius, you will understand and respect the loyalty he has to his God. I love him with all my heart, Father. Will you please give him a second chance?”

The emperor grew quiet and less agitated. He hung his head and mumbled, his brief show of strength seemingly dissipated. “Three chances we gave Mauritius. Three times he refused to obey our orders. We did not make the choice; Mauritius made it for us.”

Valeria was confused. “His decision to marry me? What are you saying, Father?” Valeria wriggled loose from her mother’s clasp and stood to her feet. “Did he choose not to marry me because you told him he would have to deny his God for your permission?”

“This man you love … Mauritius. No, he did not choose to marry you; he chose to die for his God.”

Valeria’s vision dimmed, and her ears buzzed as her father continued. “They have been killed … all of them. The entire legion, not in battle, but in rebellion against the emperor and the empire.”

The noise in her head was deafening now, as blackness closed in. If her father was still speaking, she could no longer hear him. The only words that swirled in her mind as she felt herself go limp were “killed … all of them.” Did “all” include their leader, her Mauritius? For if it did, her life was over as well.

Day blurred into night, and Valeria neither knew nor cared how much time had passed since she first learned of her beloved’s death. That the entire legion, including its valiant captain, had been killed by order of Valeria’s own father was
more than she could absorb, and so she pushed that detail to the back of her mind. It was all she could do to make herself inhale and exhale, just knowing she would never again, this side of eternity, see the love of her life. To accept that her father had been instrumental in the death of Mauritius would drive her insane. Even the warnings of the Coptic monks that suicide was a sin would not deter her from taking her own life.

And yet, though she had locked herself away in the darkness of her room, refusing to eat or speak to anyone or even to allow the drapes to be opened to let in the sunshine, she remembered her father coming in to tell her she must forget her feelings for the man who refused to serve and obey his emperors by sacrificing to the Roman gods.