Valeria’s Cross (25 page)

Several servants rushed to pull out a chair for her, but in the midst of the warm welcome from her father, Valeria noticed one person who was not happy to see her—her mother-in-law.

Romula frowned, pointing a long, sharp fingernail at Valeria. “What are you doing here? Do you plan to take part in the sacrifices?”

Though Valeria knew Romula was trying to embarrass her, she declared without shame, “No. I am a Christian.”

Many of her fathers’ servants were Christians, too, and they glanced at her sympathetically. Valeria noticed that on each of their foreheads was the mark of the cross for their protection. One of them leaned in and consulted privately with her father, and then came and bowed before her, carrying a small pot of ashes to mark her forehead with a cross.

Galerius’ face reddened, and he looked away.

The ritual commenced. The livers of the sacrificial animals had been removed and delivered on an ornate tray to the high priestess, while their carcasses were placed upon a great pyre and set afire as an offering to Jupiter. Romula then turned and handed the tray to the soothsayers before joining the dancers, who gyrated around the temple in their colorful garb, chanting and singing and carrying flaming torches that emitted incense throughout the room. Valeria squirmed uneasily in her chair. The sensual way the dancers contorted their bodies made her blush in her husband’s presence. Valeria found the pagan rituals vile and debauched, a departure from the reverence of Christian services. She struggled to remain expressionless so as not to further displease her husband.

Galerius nudged Valeria and pointed toward the soothsayers, who whispered among themselves.

“What seems to be the matter?” Valeria asked.

“They are attempting to read the future in the livers of the animals, but there is a problem, just as there was in Antioch when the soothsayers were unable to find the wanted marks on the livers and entrails.”

Galerius went to converse with the temple priests, who declared it was the presence of the Christians and the sign of the cross that blocked the readings. When Galerius rejoined Valeria, he explained. “It is believed that the sign of the cross chases away the demons—not just from the Christians, but also from the markings in the livers and entrails.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Valeria asked, wondering why Galerius had insisted she come if he was already aware of the problem. Was it possible he had purposely manipulated the situation at her expense?

“On the contrary, let us wait and see what happens,” he answered.

The soothsayers continued conversing among themselves, and soon they began to tremble.

“Why are they shaking?” a fearful Valeria asked. “What is going to happen now?”

“They frequently repeat the sacrifices, as if the former had been unpropitious.”

Once more the sacrifices were made, but with the same result. Tages, the chief soothsayer, stepped forward and addressed the worshippers. “There are profane persons here, who have obstructed our rites.”

Diocletian, his fury evident, stood to his feet and ordered all who were assisting at the holy ceremonies, as well as everyone who resided within the palace, to join in offering the sacrifice. “Anyone who refuses,” he declared, “will be scourged.”

“I should leave,” Valeria whispered, and then stood to her feet.

Galerius held up his hand to block her passage. “You heard the order. Are you not within the palace?”

Catching sight of his daughter, Diocletian’s voice boomed in her direction. “Sit back down,” he ordered, and then turned
to a servant. “Go fetch my wife and bring her and her servants to the temple immediately.” When the messenger scurried away, Diocletian began to pace, stopping occasionally to confer with Tages.

Valeria knew her growing fear was evident, as Galerius slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Do not be afraid, my darling. Surely you made these sacrifices as a child. It is not so difficult.”

Valeria knew better than to protest, so she sat quietly, her heart racing at the implications of what was being required of her by her own husband and father.

And then Prisca appeared and took a seat beside her daughter. “Please tell me what is going on. I was ordered to come here at once.”

Galerius quickly explained the situation, at which point Prisca stood and summoned her husband to her side. “Surely you do not mean for us to make the sacrifices,” she said, her voice calm but her eyes pleading.

“If you do not,” Diocletian responded coolly, “then you must be scourged. There will be no exceptions. You must serve as an example to the others.”

Valeria reached up and took her mother’s hand, her words urgent but hushed. “Please, Mother, do not agitate him. Father has quite obviously lost his senses again.”

Prisca did not respond but turned as if to leave, only to be stopped by four centurions blocking her way. She gasped, and then made an obvious effort to collect herself.

“You may find me in my quarters,” Prisca said calmly, turning from her husband to her daughter. “Come, Valeria.”

Her actions seemed to infuriate Galerius, who sprang from his seat and confronted Prisca, towering over her as he bellowed, “Valeria is my wife. She will follow my orders and not yours.”

Valeria’s stomach lurched, and she felt sick at the thought of choosing loyalties between her mother and husband—not to mention her Savior. Silently, she prayed for strength and wisdom.

The Christians were then taken to the great hall, with Galerius leading Valeria along with them. When the guards escorted a reluctant Prisca in to join them, Valeria nearly fainted with fright. What could her father and husband be thinking?

She did not have long to wonder, as Galerius took her arm and turned her to face him. “Do you still refuse to make the sacrifices?”

Nervously, Valeria glanced at her mother to garner her strength. “I do, my lord.”

His jaw twitched as his eyes went cold. “Very well, then. You shall be first in line for the scourging.”

Valeria’s mouth flew open. Surely her husband did not mean to—

Galerius reached for one of the whips held by the executioner and shoved his wife to the center of the ring. “Do you want to change your mind?” he asked.

Dizzy with fright, Valeria shook her head no. Immediately the man she called husband, the man who claimed to love her, raised his arm and lashed her half a dozen times, until her blood seeped through her clothing and she thought she would surely faint from the pain.

When Galerius’ fury had subsided and the beating ended, Valeria was lifted by her servants to be carried away on a litter to her room where her wounds could be washed and treated. Through a haze of tears and pain, Valeria caught a glimpse of her mother on the sidelines, awaiting her turn in the ring, weeping and crying out to her daughter.

Later, as Valeria lay in her room, bandaged and drifting in and out of consciousness, Dorthea told her that all the Christians in the court had been violently beaten, though many sang hymns and praised God even as the whip slashed and cut into their backs. When it was Prisca’s turn, Diocletian had taken the whip from the executioner and flung it viciously over his shoulder, ready to inflict the punishment on his own wife, as Galerius had done. At the last moment, however, he had stopped the whip in midair, crying out, “I cannot do it. I cannot! Please, Prisca, go to your room, and I will deal with you later.” And he had turned away and ordered everyone back to the temple to resume the sacrifices.

V
aleria moaned when she heard the door to her room open. Cracking an eye, she was relieved to see her mother rushing to her side, her face tight with worry. The servants who had been tending Valeria moved back and made room for Prisca to sit down in the chair beside her daughter’s bed.

Prisca’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, look what that monster has done to you!”

“Do not worry, Mother. I will recover. I am far more concerned about Father. Galerius and his wicked mother have preyed upon his irrational fears in order to rid both his court and the army of any Christians.”

“At least there will be no persecutions,” Prisca announced. “I was with your father when he met with Galerius this afternoon. He was adamant that there be no bloodshed.”

“But can you be sure of that, with Galerius and Romula so relentless in their quest to persecute Christians?”

“Oh, I am quite aware of their machinations. In most instances, so is your father. But he has long opposed Galerius’ fury and fanaticism against Christians, especially persecution.”

“But in the past Galerius has influenced Father to execute Christians in the army when they refused to comply with his orders for the sacrifices,” Valeria reminded her mother. Tears sprang into her eyes as she thought of Mauritius. And then she thought of Daza.
I should have remained at home with him.

Prisca squeezed her hand. “Those were isolated instances. When your father spoke to Galerius this afternoon, he warned him how pernicious it would be to demand bloodshed throughout the world, especially since most Christians consider it a privilege to die for their God.”

The pain in Valeria’s heart was worse than that in her back, as she asked, “What will happen to us, Mother?”

Prisca bit her lip. “Your father warned me that we have no choice in the matter … that we must participate in the sacrifices or pay the price.”

“What shall we do?” Valeria cried, feeling her eyes widen.

“We must pray, of course, but in the meantime, we should seek wise counsel. I sent a messenger with a letter to Bishop Marcus requesting a meeting with him when we return to Thessalonica.”

“But, Mother, you cannot leave Father alone. Without you by his side, I shudder to think what might happen. You are the only person who can reason with him. He listens to you.”

Valeria was grateful Galerius did not come to her bedchambers. The only comfort she found during her recuperation was her sinful thoughts of Daza. If only she had stayed in Thessalonica with him. It would have been a sin, but nothing could be as horrible as the suffering she had endured at her husband’s hand. Lying upon her bed of pain, Valeria made her decision. When she returned to Thessalonica, she would give
herself to Daza. It was wrong, but surely God would forgive her. Daza was her only chance at happiness in this life.

To Valeria’s relief, she did not see Galerius again until she had recovered from her scourging and returned to her place in the court. Even then, he did not appear in the least remorseful. He was polite but indifferent toward her. It was obvious to both Prisca and Valeria that Romula had at last succeeded in poisoning Galerius against his own wife. The intimacy that had once flourished between husband and wife now crumbled like an old stonewall, replaced by an impenetrable barrier. Valeria was grateful that Diocletian and Galerius now spent much of their time in Bithynia, discussing the business of the Roman Empire, but the subject of persecutions was always at the forefront.

What Valeria did not know was that Diocletian soon found it impossible to restrain the madness of Galerius’ obsession with the persecutions. After many days, Galerius had worn the emperor down, and Diocletian resolved to seek the opinion of his friends on the matter. Galerius and Romula cleverly convinced Diocletian that he should also consult the gods, so a soothsayer was employed to inquire of Apollo on the subject.

Apollo’s response was, of course, to persecute the Christians … to burn them for not bowing down at the sacrifices. Yet even with the message from Apollo, Diocletian attempted to observe moderation in his punishment of Christians, wanting to avoid bloodshed. Galerius, however, demanded that all persons who refused to sacrifice be burned at the stake.

When Diocletian returned to Nicomedia, Galerius followed, insisting that Prisca and Valeria return with them so he could keep a watchful eye on them, making sure they complied with the sacrifices. The public demands the emperor and his Caesar made upon their wives served as a warning to all
Christians. No one in the Roman Empire would be excused from the sacrifices.

Just as the women had feared, Galerius continued to fuel Diocletian’s paranoia with lies and reports of conspiracies against him. During their visit to the imperial palace, the structure caught fire from lightning, but Galerius seized the opportunity to suggest to the emperor that the fire was a plot carried out by Christians. He also succeeded in swaying the pagan priests to blame the Christians. Diocletian, highly susceptible to superstitions, fell for the ruse, but not to the extent that Galerius and Romula had hoped.

As a result, a determined Galerius had a second fire set and again blamed it on the Christians. Valeria watched from the shadows, but she was helpless to report it to anyone but her mother. Either no one would believe her, or she would be severely punished if she told anyone what she had seen. This time Galerius achieved his objective, as Diocletian went into a rage and had all the devoted Christians in his household, including the eunuchs, burned to death.

Taking advantage of Diocletian’s fury, Romula suggested he choose an auspicious day, the festival of the god Terminus, celebrated on the sevens of the kalends of March, to terminate the Christian religion. When that day dawned, the prefect, together with chief commanders, tribunes, and officers of the treasury, convened at the church in Nicomedia. At the sound of the church gates being forced open, Valeria dismissed her servants and sequestered herself in her room.

“Oh, Jesus,” she cried, collapsing on the floor beside her bed. These are Your people who are suffering! Please, Lord, intervene on their behalf, and stop this madness!”

But the heavens seemed as brass, and the reports of destruction continued to find their way to Valeria’s ears. She soon learned that after the church gates had been demolished, the
rampagers had searched everywhere until the Holy Scriptures were found and burned, and the contents of the church pillaged. The church, situated on rising ground, was within view of Valeria’s room at the palace, though she refused to go to the window and watch its destruction. She later learned, however, that Diocletian and Galerius had no such compunction. In fact, they had stood, as if on a watchtower, viewing the church’s invasion and disputing whether or not to set it on fire. They compromised, declaring the church would be taken down piece by piece by the soldiers with their axes. It was nearly more than Valeria could bear, and she thought surely she would die of a broken heart. A few days later, Galerius’ ultimate thirst for fire was quenched when a Christian tore down the edicts against Christianity that Diocletian had posted on the church doors. In a fit of rage, Diocletian had the man burned, and then he had Christian men, women, and even children who had refused to sacrifice burned or thrown into the sea with millstones around their necks.

The Great Persecution had begun in earnest, and it seemed to Valeria that her prayers had made no difference at all.

The morning after the invasion of the church, a messenger arrived with a letter from Bishop Marcus. It was addressed to Prisca, who was in her room at the time, with Valeria at her side. The women were relieved that the messenger had been able to reach them without being stopped, as the women’s comings and goings were now being monitored closely.

Upon receiving the message, Prisca tore the ribbon off the scroll and unfolded it.

“What does it say?” Valeria asked.

“He has suggested we participate in the sacrifices but secretly make the sign of the cross,” Prisca said as she scanned the letter. “He says we can do more good for Christianity in our positions as wives of the emperor and the Caesar than as martyrs.”

Valeria was stunned. How could the good bishop suggest such a compromise when so many were giving their lives rather than deny their Savior?

Over the next few days, the women considered whether to heed the bishop’s advice or choose martyrdom. But in the midst of their sorrow, Valeria discovered she was pregnant. At last, a child was growing inside her, and her joy knew no bounds, despite the horrible circumstances they found themselves in at the time. Even Prisca agreed this was indeed a sign from God that they should choose life.

“Perhaps this child shall be the Christian emperor who will one day change the world,” Prisca told Valeria.

When Prisca sent Galerius the news of Valeria’s pregnancy, he came at once, his happiness surpassing even Valeria’s.

“My darling, why did you not tell me? I would never have taken the whip and—”

Valeria placed two fingers against his lips. “Please, do not speak of it. I did not know at the time, and besides, I forgive you. I understand that you had to make an example of me in front of the others. Let us put that behind us now and speak only happy things into our baby’s ears.”

Galerius took her into his arms. “Because you have made the sacrifices, the gods have smiled on us by giving us a baby.”

Valeria flinched. She knew this baby was a gift from her God, but she dared not say so to her husband.

Galerius decided that he and Valeria should leave at once, while she could still travel, so the baby could be born in Thessalonica.

“This baby is already making a difference in the world,” Valeria confided to her mother, who traveled with them to Thessalonica. “Galerius’ preoccupation with this child has resulted in a definite decrease in the number of persecutions.”

On the trip home, Valeria realized she no longer feared seeing Daza. Pregnancy had changed everything. She was so absorbed in the upcoming birth of her child that even the Christian persecutions were far from her mind.

Two days after her return, Daza knocked boldly at her door. Except for two of her servants, she was alone, sitting in her chair and doing needlework for the baby.

“May I speak with you alone?” he asked.

The two servants discreetly took their leave before she could protest.

With tears in his eyes, Daza professed, “When I heard Galerius had whipped you, I swore an oath I would kill him with my bare hands if he hurt you badly.” He paused, drinking her in with his gaze. “Now I see that not only are you well, but you are with child and it becomes you. You have never looked more beautiful or tempting.”

Valeria shushed him. Having lost all her Christian servants, she was unsure if the current ones might be outside the door, listening.

Daza drew closer. He fell to his knees by her chair and touched her growing belly. “I am truly happy for you, my beloved Valeria. I know how much you wanted a baby.”

“Thank you,” Valeria replied, moved by his selfless affection.

He leaned in then and whispered, “How I wish that this baby were mine!” He nestled his head in her lap, and then kissed and caressed her belly with such tenderness that Valeria felt powerless to stop him. She was greatly relieved, however, that she felt none of the previous emotion or desire for him.
This baby inside her had extinguished all traces of the passion that had once burned for Daza.

“I love you, Valeria,” he whispered, “and I swear to you that I will love this baby as if it were my own, simply because it is a part of you.”

His words touched a cord of longing in her heart, but she dismissed it as quickly as it came.

Daza stood to his feet then and stood gazing down at her, his devotion evident in his green eyes. “One day Galerius will be gone, and I shall be emperor. When that day comes, I swear to you, Valeria, I shall make you mine, and I will treat you as you deserve. You can worship your God as you please, and I will give you all the desires of your heart. For now, I must leave you. And as my gift to you and your baby, I give you my word that I will no longer torment you as long as you are married to Galerius.”