Free Valeria’s Cross by Kathi Macias & Susan Wales Page A

unmistakable stench of death. He watched as the Roman soldiers disposed of the bodies. One of the Roman generals, who could no longer bear the sight of the Rhone River running with blood throughout the land, had ordered a great pit be dug for the bodies.
    The sun blazed hot above the field where so many had fallen—bravely and valiantly, just as they had lived their lives. Sweat trickled down the cheek of Mauritius, but his hands were occupied, furiously swatting flies, drawn by the bodies not yet disposed of in the pit.
    The Roman soldiers shuddered at the sickening sight of the carnage. But not Mauritius and his Theban Legion, for they knew that Christ’s resurrection had swallowed up death, and the souls of his friends did not occupy these decaying, earthbound shells. Although many wept for their colleagues, praises could be heard above the wailing.
    When Emperor Maximian read the remonstrance, he raged uncontrollably and sent a messenger to Diocletian of the plan he had formulated in his anger.
    Diocletian disputed it. “But these men are Roman soldiers. They defeated the Gauls, almost single-handedly. Maximian is surely mad if he wants to slaughter the entire Theban Legion.” Diocletian waved his hand, “Three decimations is sufficient punishment.”
    Having his own agenda, Galerius dared to warn the emperor, “If we intervene in Maximian’s orders, then the gods will severely punish us. I tremble at what could happen to us. Even after this great victory, we are likely to never see our homeland again.”
    His paranoia far outweighing his strength of character, Diocletian signaled the messenger. “Give me those orders.” With a shaking hand, the emperor sealed the death warrant with his ring.
    In the distance Mauritius saw the messenger returning. The scroll he carried in his pouch would surely contain their fate. Riding beside him was General Galerius himself.
    Mauritius prayed that God would spare his men and him, grieving that he might have to leave his precious Valeria behind, praying that if it were true, she would take the news without too much pain. He was not leaving behind a child, a legacy, like many of his friends, but he was confident that his love for Valeria would live forever in her heart, until she took her last breath.
    When the soldiers arrived, the reply on the papyrus was unrolled and read to the Theban Legion. To their surprise, their remonstrance had an opposite effect on the evil Maximian.
    As the Roman soldier delivered the orders that every member of the Theban Legion would be slaughtered, Mauritius accepted his fate with sadness to leave this life, but with joy over entering into the next for an eternity. The troops who had come to execute the order then drew their swords. To their surprise there was no fight or refusal to die. The Thebans laid down their weapons and offered their necks to the soldiers.
    The officers were the last to die. While he waited, Mauritius caught the eye of one of the soldiers, a Christian he knew and who had participated in the sacrifices by making the sign of the cross. He motioned for him to come near. When the youngman knelt down beside him, there was an exchange and a Roman officer feared he had slipped the captain a weapon, but when the young man assured his superior he was only praying with Mauritius, he let them be.
    Raising his voice in worship, Mauritius began to sing and was quickly joined by the remainder of his legion. Though he imagined the vain Diocletian and Maximian would think they mocked him as they sang while being slaughtered, he continued to worship as, one by one, voices around him were silenced. When at last he was the only man still standing, he committed himself into the hands of his Lord and prepared to join Him.

7
    I n the middle of her French lessons, Valeria turned to Eugenia, who sat nearby, concentrating on her needlework.
    “Listen,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you hear the rustle of sails?”
    “No, I do not. Now,