Valeria’s Cross (20 page)

“Insufferable, arrogant, presumptuous—”

Before she could finish her chastisement of him, Daza lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. At first she fought him, trying desperately to push him away, but soon her resistance
melted, and she returned his kiss with abandon until at last he pulled back and gazed down at her.

“Forgive me,” he begged, tracing her lips with his finger. “I never force myself upon a woman. I hope that I have not offended you, but I could not resist, and when I kissed you, your lips were drawn to mine.” He shook his head. “Octavius’ death has deeply affected me. Losing my friend has made me realize how short our time is upon the earth. I want to seize every moment of happiness that I can.”

“But I am married … to your uncle, your adoptive father.”

“Do you not know that the majority of the women in the court have their lovers while their husbands are away at war? Their husbands are aware of it too.”

“Of course I know that. I am no fool. I have heard their whispers, and indiscretions are often common knowledge.”

“Some of the women have affairs with their servants. Even when their husbands return, their passion is so rampant that they sneak away at every opportunity to be with their lovers. What do you think of this?”

“It is not my place to judge them.”

“But have you not seen them with their lovers when their husbands are away at war?”

“Of course, but I have ignored them. Their business is their own.”

“Then will you take me as your lover? I would be honored to satisfy your passions. Consider that you could have a prince for a lover, and not a slave. No one will ever know.”

“My God will know. I am a Christian.”

A look of surprise flashed in his eyes. “Is Galerius aware of this?”

Valeria lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Yes … to some extent.”

“Everyone knows your mother is a Christian, but I thought you practiced your father’s religion and were only sympathetic to those Christian renegades.”

“I am equally as devout as my mother.”

“Then it must be painful for you to be married to such a pagan.”

Valeria felt the blood drain from her face, as tears pooled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks.

Tenderly, Daza took Valeria in his arms and kissed her tears away.

“Please, stop,” she begged. “It is wrong.”

Daza released her. “How can you love a man like Galerius, who makes such a mockery of your religion and murders your fellow believers for their devout faith in your beloved God?”

“With God’s help, I have accepted my fate.”

Daza shook his head. “Then you are a stronger person than I. When I begged your husband to spare Octavius, he laughed at me for my compassion and accused me of being weak and cowardly. Galerius derived great pleasure in killing our friend. How can you share your bed with such an evil man?”

How can I indeed?
she wondered, even as she sent a prayer to heaven for help. After a few moments she recovered.
“Because I believe that one day I shall lead my husband to the Truth.”

Daza roared with laughter. “I know of no other man as devoted to the gods, but I admire the naiveté of your faith.”

“Are you not devoted to the pagan gods, as are Galerius and Romula?”

“My family is wildly fanatical, but I am the rebellious sort. I choose not to believe in any god. I am a Platonic thinker; I believe in myself. A man has to make his own way in this world.”

“But the Lord orders a man’s steps.”

“Then maybe you can teach me about your God, and I will find Him.”

Valeria knew he was toying with her. “I will pray for you, but God will send his laborers to you.”

“But I want you to be my laborer.”

“You want me for your lover. I am far too clever to fall for your machinations.”

“You are very intelligent, a rare trait in a woman, and I personally admire it.”

“Please, let me go now. It is getting late.”

“Not until you agree to be my lover.”

“I will never agree to that.”

“But have the other women not told you that it is expected of you? No one will judge you. Galerius may be away for years at a time, and you are young, with healthy needs and desires. It is normal and acceptable for you to take a lover. Galerius and I have the same blood running in our veins, so consider that I could even give you a baby and he would never know it was not his. All the women—”

“I am different from the others.”

“I do not believe it. Surely, you are not frigid. Your kiss was hot, flaming with passion and desire.”

“I did not kiss you; you kissed me.”

“Ah, but you returned my kisses, and I could taste your hunger. You desire me as much as I do you.”

Valeria glared at him, unable to deny that his kiss had awakened a level of feelings within her that she had not experienced since Mauritius died and that she certainly did not experience now with Galerius.

“You must release me,” she said at last, pushing his arm away. “I am a Christian, and I serve the living God, who expects faithfulness from me in my marriage. I could never behave like the others. Never!”

“If this is true, then why did you return my kisses?”

“Let me go!” Valeria ordered, determined not to cry so he would think her even weaker.

With one last look, he released her arm. “I will let you go this time, but I am not a man who gives up so easily. I yearn for you, Valeria … and I always get what I want.”

“Not this time,” Valeria snapped, and then hurried away before he could grab her again.

“We shall see about that,” he called after her.

O
nce Valeria was safe in her room, she fell upon her bed in distress. As rude and obnoxious as Daza was, she had to admit she had felt an irrepressible passion for him during their confrontation. Over the last few months, Valeria had accepted her fate—marriage to Galerius. And to her surprise, she had come to love her husband. Their lovemaking was full of passion too. But how could she sustain the love and passion she felt for him when he continued to execute Christians, especially those she loved?

Oh, how she hated the necessity of political alliances! Why could people not simply marry for love, rather than expediency? If she had been allowed to do so, she would not be married to Galerius—the very man behind the deaths of both Mauritius and Octavius—nor would she be fighting this irresistible attraction to Daza.

Her servants tiptoed around her bed and tried to comfort her, but she ordered them all away. Life was so unfair. To make matters worse, her father, whom she loved, was as much to blame for Mauritius’ death as Galerius! Even her mother was not sympathetic to her dilemma. Prisca thought prayer was
the answer to everything, but lately it seemed Valeria had seen little evidence to prove that theory.

A young servant girl gently nudged Valeria and reminded her that she would be late for the wedding if she did not get dressed immediately. Overwhelmed by guilt over her reaction to Daza, Valeria felt the need to bathe again, to wash away Daza’s kiss from her lips and his touch from her face and arms. Though the time was short, she ordered the maids draw a bath, and she quickly scrubbed herself. Why had she allowed Daza to kiss her? What if he told someone? She shuddered at the repercussions. Galerius would be furious, and her behavior would bring shame to her parents. Perhaps Galerius would even order her execution.

Valeria froze. She considered Romula’s hatred of her and what would happen if she suspected what had transpired between Valeria and Daza. She even wondered if Romula might have put Daza up to the mischief. If so, he was probably with Galerius at this very minute, telling him of his wife’s unfaithfulness. But had she been unfaithful? No, it was only a forced kiss, one that she had resisted—at least, at first.

Of course, there was also the possibility that Daza could lie to Galerius and tell him Valeria had approached him. With that in mind, Valeria decided she must speak to her mother and tell her the whole story. Prisca would be angry with her—or perhaps not angry but definitely disappointed, which was even worse. But Valeria had to talk to someone she could trust, and Eugenia was busy dealing with her grief. Oh, what a terrible world she lived in! But before she could fall into complete despair, her servants reminded her that Galerius would arrive momentarily to escort her to the ceremony.

Though recoiling at the thought, she forced herself to slip into the simple turquoise silk toga she had chosen for her stepdaughter’s wedding, and then stood as a servant girl fastened it
at the shoulder with a large diamond clip. Matching diamonds dangled from her ears, and her hairdressers swept her long, sun-streaked copper curls into a simple but classic design atop her head.

“You look beautiful, madame,” one of the servants told her, but as Valeria gazed at herself in the mirror, she realized that she was showing signs of stress.

“Are you not sleeping well, my lady?” her makeup artist asked, expertly dabbing makeup to cover the darkness under Valeria’s eyes.

Valeria did not respond, for she did not want to admit that she often lay awake at night, grieving the loss of her happiness, and worrying, despite knowing that to do so was a sin.

Just as her dark circles were repaired, there was a knock at the door, and Valeria stood up to greet her husband. He entered and immediately came to her, kissing her cheek absently as he offered her his arm.

“Does this dress please you?” she asked, hoping to keep the conversation pleasant, as she knew he was furious at her for her outburst when she learned of Octavius’ execution.

He nodded, but it appeared his mind was far away, possibly in another land to conquer. Or perhaps he was thinking of his former wife. This was a day the two of them had probably spoken of sharing together … the marriage of their beloved daughter. How cruel this world was to separate the couple! Now on Galerius’ arm as he walked to his daughter’s wedding was a woman who still longed for the man Galerius had killed, while Galerius no doubt thought of the mother of his children, wishing she could be there to share in this gala event. Life was indeed unfair and unkind.

As Galerius escorted his beautiful young wife to his daughter’s wedding, his mind was on the exchange he’d had with Diocletian just minutes earlier. They had been standing together, conversing, when a messenger arrived with a trunk full of gifts from Narses, the ruler of Persia. Though it was customary for rulers to send gifts for a royal wedding, Diocletian had been suspicious.

“He is extending an olive branch,” Galerius had assured him, but Diocletian had insisted that his spies within Persia had informed him that Narses was bent on destroying every trace of his immediate predecessors, erasing their names from public monuments, and could not be trusted.

“He is seeking to identify himself with the warlike reigns of Ardshir and his father, Shapur,” Diocletian had explained, pacing in agitation. “And as you well know, Shapur sacked Roman Antioch and captured the Emperor Valerian, skinning him alive to decorate his war temple.”

Galerius suppressed a shudder. “We have only been involved in a few skirmishes along the borders.”

“Aye, you must invade Syria soon and attack the cities. Mind you, I cannot provide any reinforcements until we conclude the war in Egypt,” the emperor reminded him.

“My men and I can easily handle the Syrians alone,” Galerius boasted.

Diocletian raised an eyebrow, and then his lips curled into a smile. He put his arm around Galerius’ shoulders and said proudly, “Only my son, Galerius, is brave enough to attack the feared Syrians.”

The words echoed in Galerius’ mind like an omen, even as he and Valeria entered the great hall in preparation for the royal wedding. He was well aware that the Syrians fought to the death. As evidenced by what they had done to Valerian, the last Roman emperor who had invaded their territory, they
were feared far and wide as bloodthirsty barbarians in search of trophies. Galerius shuddered at the thought of becoming one of them, but it was time to put such thoughts behind him. There would be time enough to act on them later—if indeed it became necessary to do so.

The wedding was magnificent. Galerius and Maximian had spared no expense in celebrating this powerful union. Rich foods were abundant, and fine wines flowed freely. Even though her stepdaughter’s marriage was decreed for political reasons, Valeria had never seen the young woman so happy. The bride appeared positively giddy, and her husband was quite obviously taken with her. When Valeria saw the way Maxentius gazed at his bride, she was besieged with envy. Galerius seldom looked at her quite like that. She watched her husband as he spent most of his evening conferring with the two emperors, Diocletian and Maximian.

At least Valeria was able to enjoy the wedding festivities alone, relieving much of her anxiety, even as she relished her duties as mother of the bride. The lavish banquet had now ended, and the entertainment was about to begin. For the first time today, she felt relaxed. Her evening was close to perfect until she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“You look ravishing, Valeria. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

Valeria whirled around to find Daza hovering like a vulture ready to attack its prey. “Thank you,” she replied curtly, “but I am waiting to dance with my husband.”

“Ah, but he is deep in conversation with the emperors. Surely, he does not have time for you, so as his son, I will entertain my stepmother.”

Valeria hesitated, struggling to think of an excuse, but nothing came to mind. Finally she replied, “You must first ask Galerius for permission to dance with me. If he agrees, then I shall not refuse you. Otherwise you must promise that you will stay far away from me.”

“As you wish. I should think he would be grateful to have me entertain you while he is deep in conversation about war strategies, but perhaps I am wrong. There is only one way to find out, so I shall ask him.”

Nearly mesmerized, Valeria watched the handsome young man make deep strides in her husband’s direction. She mumbled a quick prayer that Galerius would refuse his permission, thus resolving her dilemma.

Not one to give in to the pleasures of the flesh, she could make no sense of the strong attraction she felt for Daza. Yet she had never seen a man quite as attractive, who resembled a younger, far more handsome version of Galerius. Daza was taller and his eyes were the deep, dark green of the Mediterranean Sea, unlike the penetrating black eyes of Galerius. Daza wore his dark hair longer than most men, allowing it to curl erratically around his tanned face, an ideal frame for his perfect features. His body was strong and muscular, and he appeared as fit as an athlete.

For a moment, Valeria tried to relive how it felt to be enveloped in his strong arms earlier that day, and the thought made her tremble. She had never experienced such a strong physical attraction, even to Mauritius, but she had been a young virgin then and did not know what it was like to be with a man. Now, though her affection for her husband was certainly not all it could be, she had experienced some passionate pleasure with him. But it was nothing to compare to the pleasure of the kiss she had shared with Daza this afternoon.

Still, it was Daza’s gaze that affected her most. She felt as if he were looking into the very depths of her soul, the most private part of her being. The fact that they shared grief over the loss of Octavius only increased their bond to one another. She was so affected that she had to force herself to look away, chastising herself for staring at him with inappropriate thoughts. After all, she was a married lady, the wife of a respected Caesar, and, more importantly, a Christian! Yet in Daza’s presence, she behaved like a lusty harlot.

Valeria jumped when she felt someone slip an arm around her waist.

“Did I startle you?” her mother whispered.

“Yes,” she admitted, blushing as she brushed her mother’s cheek with a kiss.

There was great concern in Prisca’s eyes. “I saw the way you looked at that young man.”

Valeria’s cheeks grew hot as she feigned ignorance. “What on earth do you mean?”

“A mother knows. I saw you chatting with him, and when he walked away, I watched you stare at him with hunger in your eyes. Who is he?”

“My … stepson.”

“What?”

“It is true. Maximinus Daia is his name, though everyone calls him Daza. He is the son of Galerius’ stepsister. Galerius is his uncle, but he has officially adopted him and is his benefactor—meaning that Daza will become Caesar when Galerius becomes emperor.”

Prisca narrowed her eyes at Valeria. “I only hope I can trust you to behave yourself in your ‘stepson’s’ presence.”

Valeria drew herself up as if insulted. “I am married to his uncle and adoptive father, and I can assure you I would never even entertain any thoughts of—” Valeria could hardy believe
the words that came from her lips. She had lied to her mother!
God forgive me
.

“Valeria, please. You must stay alert at all times. You are young and still so innocent. What worries me is that you are terribly vulnerable. You were forced into a marriage with a man you did not love on the heels of grief for your first love.”

“Murdered by the man I was forced to marry, I might add.”

Prisca ignored her and continued. “Now your husband has caused the murder of your best friend’s husband as well— for no reason but that of his faith.” Prisca lowered her eyes and did not look at Valeria as she spoke. “Under the circumstances, you would not be human if you did not harbor ill feelings toward Galerius.”

“I am glad you can finally admit the tragedy of my circumstances, Mother, instead of repeating your usual positive statements, such as ‘keep praying and God will give you a love for your husband.’ I will not pretend anymore. Though part of me has grown to care for Galerius, another part of me is still very angry with him and struggling to forgive him. There are days I feel close to him, but there are also days when I do not even care if he ever believes in God.”