Valeria's Cross. Kathi MaciasЧитать онлайн книгу.
method of reading created by the Copts for those who cannot see with their eyes.”
Prisca stood and walked to the desk, then ran her own hand over one of the tablets.
Didymus suddenly stopped and reached for Prisca’s hand, clasping it in one of his own. With the other, he reached up to touch her face.
Bishoy intervened. “Do you mind if Brother Didymus explores your face?”
Prisca answered the question by leaning forward. She reached for the priest’s hand and moved it to her face.
“Ah, very beautiful,” the blind priest sighed. After a brief pause, he inquired, “May I speak?”
“Please,” Prisca said and visibly squeezed his hand.
“God is going to use you and your daughter mightily. You will one day change the world.”
Prisca laughed. “You flatter me, old man, but have you forgotten that we are mere women? Surely we do not have such power.”
“God will grant you that power . . . if you follow Him.” The man held up a gnarled finger and wagged it in Prisca’s face. “But you must heed these words one day when life becomes more difficult than either of you think you can bear.”
4
Valeria was haunted by the words spoken by the old monk, but she was also intrigued, so she accompanied Prisca without a word of protest when they returned to the monastery. Their first studies went so well that their group returned daily to learn from the monks. With all the miracles recorded in the Bible, it was hard for Valeria not to believe in this Savior. Before long, both she and Prisca made the decision to convert to Christianity and accepted the forgiveness that the monks explained had been purchased for them through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Valeria was eager to meet other young Christians, so she accepted an invitation from Cornelia, the daughter of a respected Roman senator. The girls had met at a luncheon hosted by Cornelia’s mother in honor of Prisca and Valeria, and they had become fast friends. Now they were attending an athletic event in Thebes at an arena similar to the Coliseum in Rome, though it was far more ornate and much smaller. The finest athletes in the area would compete for the prizes, and the girls were excited to join the other spectators.
They climbed the steps of the large circular arena and found a seat in the center mezzanine. Valeria instructed her bodyguards to watch from above so she would not attract a lot of attention from the crowd. From her vantage point, Valeria was able to focus on a young Roman soldier who had successfully completed a race on one of the tracks below. The crowd cheered wildly for the handsome athlete, as Valeria strained her neck to get a better look. Never had she seen such a handsome man! Though tall and slender, every muscle of his bronzed body appeared to have been carved by a master sculptor. While most of the Roman soldiers had their hair closely cropped to their heads, this one’s shiny black hair curled around his face, framing dark eyes that seemed to sparkle with sunbeams, even from a distance. When he stepped up on the podium to accept his medallion, his smile ignited Valeria’s heart.
“Do you know the athlete who just won the race?” she asked Cornelia.
“No, I do not,” Cornelia swooned, “but he is the most handsome man I have ever seen.”
“Just remember, I saw him first,” Valeria said.
“But what if he wants me?” Cornelia teased.
“You cannot have him,” Valeria laughed.
“Should we not let him choose?” Cornelia smiled, raising a brow.
“Absolutely not. He is mine!”
“Well, I shall not sit here and wait for him to come to us,” Cornelia announced. “I am going down to the field to meet him.”
“I dare you,” Valeria challenged, and then laughed in amazement as she watched her friend depart. If Cornelia wanted the handsome young man’s attention, she should have no problem getting it. She was a beauty, tall and lithe, with a complexion the color of warm honey, highlighted by her rosy cheeks and lips and eyes the color of topaz. Her blonde hair was braided and tucked neatly into a chignon at the nape of her neck. As she sashayed down the steps of the stadium, her diaphanous linen gown, covered with a gold striped tunic, lapped at her slender ankles and attracted many admiring looks from within the crowd.
Part way down, Cornelia turned back. Smiling mischievously, she waved, her gold and topaz bangles jangling at her wrist. Then she continued down the steps two at a time.
Valeria watched, envying Cornelia’s courage. Her friend would probably walk right down to the field and introduce herself to the attractive athlete. But then she noticed a throng of admirers had surrounded the handsome young man. It seemed Cornelia must wait her turn.
Valeria turned to a group of Egyptian girls seated in front of her. Perhaps one of them might know his name. She studied the bronze-skinned girls until she had picked out the friendliest of the bunch, a pretty Egyptian with raven hair that swept up into an intricate knot atop her head, with bangs that fringed her dark eyes. Fashionably dressed in an elegant lime green sarong, she was so animated that when she spoke to her friends, her emerald and gold hoop earrings danced about her ears.
Valeria tapped the stunning girl on the shoulder and introduced herself.
“Nice to meet you,” the girl answered in response. “I am Nanu.” She brushed Valeria’s cheek with a kiss, the customary greeting.
Valeria skipped the pleasantries and got right to the point. “Do you, by chance, know the name of the Egyptian athlete who just won the race?”
When the group of girls broke into laughter, Valeria was puzzled. “What is so amusing?” It was at times like this that Valeria felt humiliated and longed to tell her offenders she was their emperor’s daughter. But this new spirit who lived inside her heart nudged her before she had a chance to react.
“Forgive us,” Nanu explained, once she caught her breath. “Yes, we know him—very well.”
Valeria’s heart soared. “Who is he? What is his name?” Suddenly she felt the heat creep up her neck and into her face. “Oh, dear, I hope he is not your sweetheart.”
The group of girls giggled, but Valeria paid them no mind until Nanu said, “I adore him, but alas, he is not my paramour; Mauritius is my brother.” The girl touched Valeria’s arm. “No need to feel embarrassed. There is scarcely a young woman in this stadium who has not declared her love for him.”
“I should have known,” Valeria replied, studying the girl’s face. “The resemblance is . . . remarkable. You are as beautiful as he is handsome.”
“Thank you.” Nanu’s black eyes flashed, as she, in turn, studied Valeria. “You are stunning yourself. Such a lovely face! And your hair . . . it is the color of the Nubian lions.”
“Nubian lions?” Valeria paused to think. “Why do they sound familiar?”
Nanu lowered her eyes. “During Nero’s reign, the Romans transported the lions from the nearby Nubian jungles to fight the Christians in the Coliseum.”
Valeria winced. “Oh, how awful!”
“Trust me, it is not an export Egypt is proud of, especially those of us who are Christians. But Nubian lions are the most beautiful creatures you will ever see . . . from a distance, of course.”
Valeria nodded. Encouraged by Nanu’s friendly manner, she asked, “Does your brother have a sweetheart?”
“Oh, no. Mauritius has many admirers, but he is far too committed to his Savior and to Rome to seek a wife. He has no time for courtship.”
Valeria’s heart leapt at the realization that Mauritius was a Christian, though she tried to temper her excitement. “What is your brother’s position in the Roman Army?”
“He is the captain of the