Valeria’s Cross (33 page)

S
ince Licinius had already signed the death order, a centurion informed the women that their executions would take place the following morning in the marketplace.

“My son, Candidianus. Is he here?” Valeria asked. “Will he be executed with us?”

The soldier averted his gaze but nodded.

Though heartbroken at her son’s fate, Valeria somehow found a poignant comfort in knowing they would be together at the end.

“May I see him?” she pleaded. “Please! Just a word with him, that’s all.”

But her captor denied her request. Two jailers then grabbed her arms and dragged her down the dismal hallway toward a cell, as Valeria strained to look back at her mother.

“Wait!” Prisca cried out. “Please, may I share a cell with my daughter?”

Valeria’s guards did not respond, but the man who stood guard over Prisca, whose rank was obviously superior to Valeria’s captors, appeared to have a more compassionate nature.

“I am sorry, madame,” Valeria heard him say. “We have our orders.”

“Sir, please,” Prisca begged, her words tearing at Valeria’s heart. “May I please have a few last words with her?”

Prisca’s guard hesitated and then nodded, ordering Valeria’s captors to halt so the two women could have a final moment together.

When mother and daughter stood face-to-face, they clung to one another as Valeria wept.

“Do not be afraid, my child,” Prisca crooned. “Remember the Scriptures:
You can do all things through Jesus Christ who strengthens you.
God will sustain us through this trial, and soon we will be with Him in paradise. Remember the words of the Apostle Peter:
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.
”

The guard pulled Prisca away then, but she called back to Valeria, “I love you, my precious daughter. Soon we will be together in paradise.”

The jailer unlocked the heavy iron door to Valeria’s cell, and it creaked loudly as it swung open. He shoved her inside with such force that she fell upon the cold stone floor. The other guard unlocked the chains from around her wrists. Her arms ached, and she was grateful when the man helped her ease down onto the floor before he exited her cell and the door clanged shut behind him. With a heavy iron key, one of the jailers locked her inside, leaving two centurions posted outside her door.

Inside the cold, dank cell, Valeria sat and faced her death alone, which made her situation nearly unbearable. Chilled to the bone and trembling as much from fear as from the cold,
she dropped her face into her hands and wept. She had not allowed herself to feel any emotion for a long time … until today. Now she felt nothing but terror. She attempted to pray, but no matter how she tried, she could not find peace.

“Where are you, Lord?” she cried, looking up toward the heavens.

No answer came. Valeria wept again, as she examined her arms and wrists, bruised and sore from the capture. Licinius was determined to kill everyone even remotely connected with the old tetrarch. It mattered not to him that Valeria and her mother were Christians; as part of the old regime, they had to die for the sins of Diocletian and Galerius.

Valeria berated herself. Why should Licinius believe that she and her mother were Christians? Had they not participated in the pagan sacrifices when Licinius was a guest in their home? Her earthly father had not been able to save her. Would her heavenly Father intervene? It seemed unlikely, now that the moon was shining down from the sky outside her cell and she was to be executed at dawn.

As Valeria pondered her fate and that of her mother and son, she could not help but wonder if indeed they were suffering persecution as Christians or if this was judgment from God for the sacrifices in which they had ultimately been forced to participate. How differently might things have turned out if they had refused to compromise their first allegiance! And what had their compromise accomplished? They would now be martyred after all.

As she communed with God, the memories of her past began to unfold, taking her on a bittersweet journey and bringing a smile to her spirit. Her life had been a good one, a blessed one. As it did so often, Valeria’s mind wandered to her first love, Mauritius. When she remembered that she had fastened his cross around her neck, she fingered the precious memento of
her beloved, allowing herself to dwell on the thoughts that had comforted her so often throughout the years. Tonight was no different. Her short time with Mauritius had been the happiest of her life. After they had spent the summer together in Elephantine, Mauritius had said goodbye. From there, he had gone to his martyrdom with such courage and faith, unlike her cowardly husband, Galerius, who was terrified of what would happen to him after his death.

But had she not loved Galerius too? Yes! God had given her a miraculous, supernatural love for her husband. Valeria had to admit that her life with Galerius was as happy as could be expected, under the circumstances. Her purpose as his wife had been to pray for his salvation, and her prayers had been answered, her desires fulfilled. Although Galerius had not accepted Jesus as Lord until days before his death, and then mostly out of fear, Valeria’s years of prayers had been rewarded. What comfort there was in remembering how she had witnessed Galerius cry out to God for mercy to save his soul. He had even signed the edict to end the persecution of Christians. Just as the monks and others had predicted, her purpose had been fulfilled, and she had indeed been used to change the world.

But somehow, Valeria had believed God’s plan for her on earth was not yet finished. The greatest desire of her heart had been to see her beloved son become emperor, like his father and grandfather before him, except her son would be a Christian emperor. Now that would never happen.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick.
The scripture echoed in her mind until her head spun, and she felt sick and weary. She had not noticed until now that darkness had invaded her cell, extinguishing the last rays of sunlight. She lay down on the cold, hard floor, but she could not sleep.

She stood and looked out the tiny window into the night, and she knew the clock was moving toward her death. She could see nothing but the night sky. As she watched the stars, she thought of David, the young shepherd boy, sleeping outside with his flock of sheep, and she pondered his words in the Psalms:
“Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He, who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.”

She thought of how Mauritius must have felt when he met his death. Valeria was certain that he did so trusting the God of the universe, who flung the stars into the heavens. She prayed that she would do the same, and at that moment, the burden lifted.

As she once again lay down on the cold stone floor, she noticed the light of the moon shining through the window, and there on the wall was a perfect outline of a cross above her.

Valeria cried out with joy to her heavenly Father, “I am not alone!”

When the centurions looked inside her cell, she repeated her declaration. “I am not alone. Christ will never leave nor forsake me.”

They shook their heads and looked at her as though she had gone mad, but Valeria did not care. She marveled at the work of grace God had done in her heart over the years, and then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming she was at last with her beloved Mauritius and her Savior.

W
hen morning came, Valeria awakened filled with a sense of peace. The Holy Spirit had ministered to her throughout the night, and when the centurions came for her, she offered her hands to them to bind in chains. Once the iron door to her cell was swung open, she smiled and went willingly.

Outside the prison, she cried tears of joy as the guards allowed her to briefly greet her mother and son before the three condemned prisoners were led to the middle of Thessalonica, where a platform had been constructed for the executions. Upon arriving in the town square, Valeria was aghast when she beheld the large crowd, but she was surprised and pleased to see familiar faces among them.

As she scanned the spectators, her eyes stopped. Her body froze. Even the guards were unable to budge her.

“Mauritius!” she cried.

All eyes turned to the spot in the crowd where Valeria stared. There, on the front row, he stood—tall, tanned, and healthy—gazing back at her. When she recognized the compassion in his dark eyes, she tried to lift her hand but was stopped by the heavy chains that bound her.

“But Mauritius,” she cried, “I do not understand. They told me you had died, but you were here all along.”

The man appeared puzzled, but neither did he turn away.

Confused, Valeria turned to her mother. “It is Mauritius,” she insisted.

Prisca appeared confused but said nothing.

Is Mauritius only an apparition?
Valeria wondered.
Or is it possible I am hallucinating?
Her heart skipped a beat as another thought flitted into her mind. Had Diocletian lied to them about Mauritius’ death? Or were she and Prisca simply getting an early glimpse into heaven?

The guard pushed Valeria forward. Not wanting to appear as if she were fighting her execution, Valeria did not resist, but her eyes stayed on Mauritius—or the vision of him—until she could no longer see him in the crowd.

Thoughts conflicted in her mind, even as emotions warred in her heart. If Mauritius had lived, then she would not see him today in paradise. At the thought, Valeria’s heart filled with great sadness and disappointment. And yet the confusion remained.

The guards pulled her up the steps onto the platform. Now she could search the crowd for Mauritius again. Her heart soared as she moved to the center of the platform and her eyes fell upon Nanu, the beautiful Egyptian who had almost become her sister-in-law. Nanu stood quietly weeping and clasping the hand of a handsome Roman soldier, most likely her husband. Valeria had heard that Nanu had moved to Thessalonica, but the two of them had lost touch soon after Mauritius’ death and the martyrdom of the Theban Legion.

But wait! There was Mauritius standing beside his sister! Valeria had been so stunned at seeing Mauritius that she had not noticed Nanu next to him. But as she beheld them, she became even more confused. Nanu was older, her hair streaked
with gray, yet Mauritius was young. Of course! The man who resembled Valeria’s beloved was the toddler she had once loved, Babafemi. He was the image of his uncle!

Valeria looked over at her mother and cried, “He is Babafemi, Nanu’s son.”

Light dawned in Prisca’s eyes, and she nodded at her daughter, who turned to smile at Nanu and her family. The trio waved back in an encouraging but heart rending acknowledgment.

Valeria continued to scan the crowd then, her eyes stopping on Lydia and her sister, Lucia, who had obviously come to lend the only support they could—their reassuring smiles. Valeria felt their love and nodded at them.

A Roman guard grabbed Valeria by her left arm then, hurting her, though she dared not complain. Instead she bit her lower lip until it bled. He pushed her out in front of the crowd, and she held her head high while another Roman soldier read a list of her crimes. These were not her crimes, but those her husband and father had committed against Christians, yet she was to die for their sins. At that moment she felt such close kinship to her Savior, knowing she was partaking in His suffering. Saint Peter had experienced such intimate fellowship with Christ, as had Paul—and Mauritius.

Unable to lift her hand to make the sign of the cross, Valeria continued to hold her head high, her eyes searching. Many in the square said it was as though she sought someone with the courage to step up and save her. But no one did. The vigilant guards watched the crowd carefully, waiting to arrest anyone who dared protest or interfere.

Next the guard pulled Prisca out in front of the crowd. How Valeria wished she had the power to save her mother from this public humiliation! Prisca did not deserve this treatment, as she had done nothing but good things for the Roman Empire. Yet her list of crimes far outnumbered Valeria’s.
Though Valeria had promised herself she would not cry, seeing her mother humiliated caused her to lose control, and she sobbed openly.

Her beloved Candidianus was next. He was a handsome young man, and the courage he exhibited as he stood before the executioners was obviously admired by everyone in the crowd.

One by one the doomed trio was offered an opportunity to speak last words to the crowd. Candidianus was first. He chose to say none of his own words but quoted from the Scriptures a verse that Valeria had taught him when he was a little boy: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.”

Valeria was next. “I am innocent of all charges, my only crime being born the daughter of Emperor Diocletian and being the wife of Emperor Galerius.” She closed with a verse from the Book of Revelation:
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away.”

When Prisca took her turn, Valeria thought her mother regal in her response. “I have served my Savior and the Roman people with great love and honor. May God have mercy on our souls.”

The centurions stepped forward and unlocked the prisoners’ chains, prepared to blindfold them and bind their hands with strips of muslin. When the guard placed the blindfold around Valeria’s eyes, she refused it. “Sire,” she whispered, “the cross I wear belonged to the uncle of the young Egyptian soldier on the front row. Will you remove it and give it to him, please?”

The guard hesitated, looking in the direction of his superior officer, and then without a word, quickly unfastened the
gold chain from around Valeria’s neck and slipped the cross into his pocket before binding Valeria’s hands.

When the guard left the platform to take his place in the crowd, Valeria watched him discreetly transfer the Theban cross into the hands of Mauritius’ nephew. After receiving it, the young man looked up at Valeria and smiled. She returned his smile, turning her eyes then toward the guard, questioning his kindness.

Without a word, the centurion knelt down before her and drew a cross in the sand. Valeria immediately understood.

A priest now stepped onto the podium to administer the last rites to the prisoners.
Focus on his kind eyes
, Valeria told herself. To her surprise, when she did so, she recognized him. It was Bishop Marcus, who had taught them the Scriptures at the palace in Thessalonica. Smiling at her, he leaned down and whispered words of encouragement within the hearing of the condemned trio, quoting from the Book of Romans.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered. No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

The bishop administered the rites to each of them, and then he prayed. Next the guards ordered the condemned trio to kneel and place their heads upon the wooden headrest before them.

Valeria turned her head to see her mother, and then her beloved son. They had also refused to wear blindfolds, so they were able to speak their final goodbyes with their eyes.

At last Valeria kept her gaze fixed upon Candidianus. The young man should be a Caesar now and soon an emperor, but instead, his life would be cut short, not because of the decisions his father made but because of those he chose not to make. If only Galerius could have seen into the future, he would never have made the fateful decision to trust Licinius with his son’s life. Now Candidianus was betrayed. Worst of all, Galerius was betrayed by the man he considered his most trusted friend.

When her executioner suddenly appeared and stepped onto the platform, Valeria’s thoughts were interrupted. Her gasp at the sight of him was so loud that the people in the square heard her and winced. The man was so large that with each step he took, the platform shook. Some of the women in the crowd cried out as he took his place beside Valeria.

For a brief moment, Valeria’s courage escaped her as she gazed upon the man clad in black. He looked as Valeria imagined Satan himself would appear. Leather straps bound his calves and forearms, cutting into his skin. Behind a black mask, his dark, menacing eyes darted from the top of her head to the tip of her toes as if to determine how strong a blow he should wield with the heavy axe he carried in his right hand. That he was strong and muscular comforted Valeria, for she had heard that with weaker men in this position it sometimes took three to four blows before the head came off the victim. The pain was more than Valeria could imagine.

Because Candidianus was to her right, he would be executed first. His executioner appeared as evil as her own.

What could be worse for a mother than watching her son die?

Valeria refused to watch the brutal blow to her son, but she let out a small cry when she felt the warmth of his blood splatter upon her face and hands. As she glanced down and saw the hem of her white robe stained red from blood that
poured from Candidianus’ body, she moaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

Valeria did not have to endure the horror of her son’s death for long. She felt her executioner step closer. There was no hesitation as he swung the mighty axe behind him. Valeria prayed aloud, so that many people heard her last words: “Into thy hands I commend my spirit,” and the sword came down swiftly upon her neck. A single blow and Valeria was decapitated. Her extraordinary turquoise eyes fluttered for another two or three seconds, still appearing to search the crowd for her rescuer to appear. When the stored oxygen in her brain had expired, the eyes stared vacantly like two blue sapphires.

The witnesses who had gathered to watch the spectacle marveled at the smile that remained on the face of the doomed empress. When it was over, a lone voice in the crowd declared, “Surely this day our beloved Empress Valeria is in paradise with the blessed Savior.”