Valeria’s Cross (31 page)

“The politicians are speculating that Licinius felt threatened by Diocletian.”

The statement seemed to breathe life back into Prisca, as she protested its veracity. “Threatened? But my husband was sixty-six years old, and it is no secret that he was ill when he retired to Solano over six years ago. He was no threat to anyone.”

The bishop’s voice was gentle. “When he died, Diocletian was still revered by the military and respected by the Romans. He wielded a great influence in the empire. Licinius was insecure in his power and feared Diocletian would reemerge and propose another leader, or at least appoint a coleader for him.”

“Father was never keen on Licinius’ appointment as Caesar,” Valeria conceded, “but Galerius insisted upon it since he and Licinius were boyhood friends. My father did not want to usurp Galerius, and so he agreed. I am afraid he should have allowed his instincts to rule.”

Valeria’s thoughts then turned to their own immediate plight. “What will we do?” she asked at last, turning her gaze toward her mother. “Father is gone. Where shall we go?”

“I am outraged,” Prisca said, “but I clearly understand the reasons why the power-hungry Licinius perceived Diocletian
as a threat. But you are the wife of Galerius, Licinius’ longtime friend and benefactor. I cannot imagine that Licinius would not take us into the protection of his court. We are three helpless women. How can we be a threat to anyone?”

“Have you not heard of the fate of the women and children in Daza’s family?” the bishop asked.

When the women indicated that they had not, Bishop Nicholas explained. “The church tried to intervene because we vehemently oppose the slaughter of innocent women and children, but Licinius had everyone in Daza’s court executed.”

The women gasped. A sudden realization crept upon Valeria, and she cried out, “My son, Candidianus? He was betrothed to Daza’s daughter Paulina. Surely he—”

The bishop smiled. “I have good news for you on this account. Licinius spared Candidianus and welcomed him into his court.”

“And his fiancée?” Valeria asked, as relief washed over her.

“Sadly, the young woman was executed.”

Valeria’s joy was tempered by the news, but she took hope in the safety of Candidianus. “I knew Licinius could not turn away the family of Galerius, his beloved friend. Licinius will surely have mercy on us as well.”

Prisca nodded and rose from her chair. “I agree. We should go to Licinius at once and request his protection.”

“Not so fast,” the bishop warned. “Licinius can be unpredictable. Perhaps it would be wiser for you to wait in Myra, at least until Candidianus can approach Licinius and request permission for you to return to Nicomedia.”

“I agree Candidianus should approach Licinius on our behalf,” Prisca concurred, “but we have many friends in Nicomedia, and I believe we should go there at once.”

“I wish I could convince you to wait,” the bishop argued. “There are many Christian families in my parish who would gladly take you into their homes until you receive word from Candidianus. I can make the arrangements.”

Prisca shook her head. “If Licinius has invited Candidianus into his court, then we should travel to Nicomedia at once.”

“Mother,” Valeria argued, “did you not hear the bishop’s warning?”

But Prisca was already at the door, reaching for the gold handle, when the bishop sighed and said, “Very well. May the Lord bless and keep you.”

T
he captain greeted the women warmly when they returned to the ship.

“Our plans have changed,” Prisca informed him. “We will not be stopping in Spalatum, but we have received orders from the church that we are to travel on to Nicomedia.”

The captain seemed genuinely pleased to earn the extra cash for their extended voyage, explaining that in a few days they would enter the Adriatic Sea.

“Then I will feel at home at last,” Prisca replied, though her smile was tinged with sadness. “I grew up on the sea.”

“This sea is far different from the one of your childhood,” the captain warned. “Seaborne goods, ranging from cloths and rugs to wines and agricultural products, cross the Black Sea every day and night. Roman fleets are constantly scouring the waters in search of pirates and the enemy.”

“Enemy?” Valeria frowned. “But we are at peace.”

“Yes, but despite its Roman occupation, Syria remains a constant threat. The pirates, of course, are the real threat. In the dark of night, they quietly row their boats to the side of
the ships and then sneak aboard and take them over so they can steal their goods.”

“What happens to the passengers?” Lydia asked.

The captain chuckled. “You are safe with us. Throughout the night, I assign two men on watch.” The captain then wished them a pleasant night’s sleep and headed for the bow to help his crew launch the ship into the dark waters.

That evening Valeria tossed and turned in her tiny bunk. Haunted by the belief that they should remain in Myra under the bishop’s protection, she was unable to sleep. Why had she not been able to convince her mother to stay, at least for a while, until the political climate settled a bit? As much as she longed to see her son, she felt it far too dangerous to head for Nicomedia.

The other thought that tormented her was that her father may have died without turning to Christ. When she had voiced her concern to her mother, Prisca reaffirmed her faith that only God knew Diocletian’s heart—and that He did not make mistakes. Valeria had matured enough in her faith to accept that, but it did not lessen the pain of losing her father.

At last Valeria gave up on sleeping. The seas were calm, so she dressed and tiptoed out of the tiny cabin, escaping to the bow of the ship. Her heart crowded with forbidden worry, she sat under the starry sky as the sailors worked around her. But after an hour under the heavens, the beauty of the night served as an excellent tonic, and she began praising God for the magnificence of His creation. The joy in her spirit remained and even multiplied over the next days, spreading to Lydia and Prisca as well.

The captain soon announced that they would arrive in Solano the next morning. “We have just one load of textiles to pick up, so we will not be staying long in the port. I am afraid there is no time for you to go ashore.”

“It is truly a blessing that we cannot disembark there,” Prisca confided to Valeria and Lydia. “Being there without Diocletian would be far too painful.”

“But we can stand on the bow and see the place of Father’s birth … Dalmatia,” Valeria said wistfully.

Very early the following morning, Valeria was awakened by pounding on the cabin door.

She stole a look out of the porthole, confirming that it was still dark outside. Looking to the other two bunks, she was relieved that her mother and Lydia were asleep. She crept to the door, but instead of asking who was there, she responded with a different ploy. “Please, you must go away,” she whispered. “The other two ladies are ill and burning hot with fever.”

“It is your captain, madame. I am sorry to hear that your companions are not well, but the Roman soldiers are on board and would like to have a few words with you.”

“With me?”

“With all of you,” came another male voice, obviously belonging to a Roman soldier. “Would you please open the door?”

The captain added, “Soldiers are checking every ship that sails into the harbor of Solano, searching for the wife and daughter of Emperor Diocletian. It was reported that the empresses escaped from their exile in Syria. I tried to tell them that you are holy women and not royals, but they insist on seeing for themselves.”

Valeria’s heart dropped. Her instincts had been right; they should have stayed with the bishop. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead, as she tried to think quickly. “But I fear the sisters’ illness could be a danger to anyone who comes near. It would be better to answer your questions through the door.”

As she awaited their response, she eavesdropped on their conversation.

“You mentioned these women are elderly nuns,” one of the soldiers commented.

“Aye, sir.”

“Who arranged their passage?”

“An elderly priest.”

“What is their destination?”

“Nicomedia. But I can assure you these women are nuns and not the women you seek. They are truly holy women and not royals. They even eat from the table with the crew.”

“Ask her to step outside the door,” the soldier demanded. “Perhaps she can answer our questions satisfactorily without disturbing the other two.”

The captain pounded on the door again, this time awakening Prisca and Lydia. Valeria put her finger to her lips in an effort to keep them quiet. Then she motioned for Lydia to remove her sleeping cap and took it from her.

“Would you please step outside?” the captain called. “Please give me a moment to find my robe.”

Prisca quickly tied a pillow around Valeria’s waist to further disguise her and make her look heavier. Valeria slid her arms into her dark robe and tucked her hair under Lydia’s cap. Prisca then dug deep into her traveling bag and found a vial of kohl. She patted a bit of the dark powder under Valeria’s eyes to make her look tired and older, maybe even a bit ill. At last Valeria took a deep breath and opened the door.

When the captain saw her, he gasped. “Are you ill too?”

“I am tired, for I have been up all night caring for the others, although I fear I could come down with the illness soon.” She held her linen handkerchief over her mouth, pretending she was trying to protect her visitors from germs; this gesture also helped disguise her appearance. She directed her muffled
questions to the captain and a group of five Roman soldiers. “How may I help you?”

“Your captain has already told us you were traveling from Syria,” one soldier observed. “We are searching for two empresses, also traveling from Syria.”

“Can you describe them?” Valeria asked.

One of the soldiers held out his hand. In it were two Roman coins, one inscribed with Valeria’s face and the other with Prisca’s.

Valeria gasped. “The empresses? When we were in Syria, one of the women in our priory had seen them. She said they were very beautiful, so you should have no problem picking them out in a crowd.”

The soldier closed his hand around the coins and stuffed them back into his pocket. “But you have not seen them?”

Valeria shook her head, remembering how, when the coins were minted, she had been outraged. The image, which the artist had sculpted, looked nothing like her. The nose was long and pointed and her chin jutted squarely. Now she was grateful because the false depiction had likely saved her life.
All things work together for good
, she mused.

“How long were you in Syria?” asked the soldier who had shown her the coins.

“Just a few months,” Valeria answered, making a face as she turned up her nose. “We were sent there to spread the gospel. Ah, but it was such a desolate place that we are happy to return to Nicomedia.” She held her breath, praying silently that God would forgive her deception. Their two years in Syria had seemed more like two centuries, so why not shorten the truth to a few months?

His pregnant pause frightened Valeria. The soldier squinted at her, and then ordered, “Step aside. I will not disturb your
sisters, but I must make a quick inspection of your cabin to confirm that you are not hiding the empresses.”

Lydia greeted them at the door as they entered, and Valeria had to suppress a giggle when she caught sight of the woman’s white hair, usually coiffed into an elegant bun but now flying to and fro. Clothed in a white robe, Lydia appeared pale. Her eyes were hollow and wide, and she spoke in a nasal tone. “Bless you, and you, and you,” she said to the soldiers.

Another soldier walked to Prisca’s bunk, and threw back the covers. When Valeria saw her mother pretending to sleep with her mouth opened wide and snoring loudly, she thought Prisca’s acting had even surpassed Lydia’s masquerade.

“Very well,” one of the soldiers quipped. “It is obvious we have not found the ones we seek.” He turned on his heel, and the other soldiers followed.

After the soldiers left the cabin, the women listened through the door. When they overheard one of the soldiers quip, “It is obvious those old hags were not empresses,” it was all they could do not to burst into laughter.

But inside their cabin, they soon became solemn when they realized they were being hunted. Even more caution would have to be taken in Nicomedia before they could present themselves to Licinius and ask for protection in his court.

“Bishop Nicholas must have turned us in,” Prisca commented.

“I do not believe that,” Valeria protested. “He offered to help us. The guards in Syria must have reported our escape. If so, it is to be expected they would be checking every ship in Father’s port.”

The remainder of their journey to Nicomedia was uneventful, but the knowledge that the Roman authorities were searching for them, coupled with their grief over the death of
Diocletian and Lydia’s loss of Cyrus, made for a very sad journey into the unknown.

When they were but a day away from the city, the women discussed their plans.

“We should go directly to my sister Lucia’s villa in Nicomedia,” Lydia suggested. “They will not likely look for us there, since they are unaware I am traveling with you.”

“Lydia has a point, Mother. We can stay there and send a message to Candidianus and request that he come to see us before we make any decisions about our next move.”

Prisca agreed, and when they arrived at Lucia’s villa, the servants went to tell their mistress that there were three nuns waiting at the door to see her. The women’s disguises were so effective that when Lucia came to greet them, she did not recognize her own sister or the royal visitors. When Lydia leaned over to kiss Lucia’s cheek, she whispered her identity into her ear.

Lucia gasped, and fear sprang into her eyes as she hurried them into the library and closed the door behind her. “You cannot stay here,” she said. “They are looking everywhere for you. Licinius has issued an order that anyone who hides you will also be executed.”

Valeria was stunned. “Licinius has ordered our execution?”

“He has also posted an enormous reward for your return.”

“Can you allow us to stay until morning?” Valeria asked, trying to absorb the news.

Lucia shook her head. “Please understand that I cannot subject my family to such danger.”

Prisca, appearing sympathetic, pleaded with Lucia to allow them to stay until they were able to make contact with Candidianus.

“You obviously have not heard the news,” Lucia responded. “Licinius has sentenced Candidianus to death as well. He is now in prison in Thessalonica, awaiting execution.”

Valeria’s hand flew to her mouth. “No!” she cried. “It cannot be!”

“How could he?” Prisca cried. “Candidianus is the son of Galerius, Licinius’ benefactor. We are the widows of the men who put him into power, and this is how he shows his appreciation?”

“I am sorry. I agree it is unfair,” Lucia said. “And it is unfair of me not to help you. But I cannot take the chance; you must leave at once.” She turned to Lydia. “But you, dear sister, may stay.”

“I cannot abandon my dearest friends,” Lydia protested.

Prisca hugged Lydia. “You must. We will be fine. Pray for us.”

“But where shall we go, Mother?” Valeria protested. “Night has already fallen.”

“We cannot send them into the streets at night,” Lydia argued. “Can they please stay until morning?”

Lucia sighed. “Very well, but you must leave promptly at dawn. I will tell the servants you are from a convent. And, Lydia, you should pretend to leave, and then come back dressed as a lady, rather than a nun. Take one of my togas with you to change into, and when you return, ring the bell at the gate. We will pretend you have just arrived for a visit.”

Lucia retrieved a toga from her room and gave it to Lydia, who stuffed it under her robe. Lucia then escorted her to the front door and loudly bade her goodbye so the servants would know she was leaving.

Lucia then informed the servants that one of the nuns had to leave, and she asked them to prepare the guest room for the other two sisters, who were staying overnight. None of the servants reacted with suspicion, and Lucia showed Valeria and Prisca to their room.

An hour later, the bell at the front door rang, and Lydia was welcomed to her sister’s home. After dinner, Lydia secretly came to the guest room to see her friends.

“What will you do?” she asked.