The First Valentine: Historical

The first officer kicked his outstretched arm at the elbow and Valentine fell over onto his side staring up at the men. Three armor clad warriors of the State's elite forces stood over him with expressionless faces. The leader took off his plumed helm and stuck it under one arm. From another guard, he brought forth a rolled parchment which he waved down in the stricken priest's face.

"Valentine, Priest of Juno," he announced, "you are hereby arrested as a traitor to Rome in a time of war. You are ordered before the Judicial Prefect and are to be held in the Palace Prison until such time as you are called. Do you have any accomplices?"

Valentine looked down at the smooth dirt floor in thought. He saw the blood beginning to pool underneath his swelling cheek and tried to move his broken arm. Turning back to the massive figure before him, he replied softly, "Accomplice to what crime? What traitorous act am I accused?"

Scarcely had he whispered the last word before the pointed sandal of the guard caught him in the throat flipping him back onto his side with his fractured arm underneath him. A low groan escaped his lips, but he opened his eyes again to look at his tormentors.

"Do not ask any further questions. Will you name your accomplishes in this illegal marriage operation? It will be better for all involved if you will talk quickly." The guard paused and stared blankly at the beaten prisoner.

Valentine dropped his face slightly and shook his head. Over the next few minutes, he managed to keep his wits about him as he was battered upon the ground. As he faded out of consciousness, he heard a gruff voice call out, "There's no one else in here, sir."

"Thank God," thought Valentine.

* * * * *

Walking quickly past the Forum, Valentinius looked everywhere at the signs of war. Women crying and tearing at their robes, old men and babies lamenting their missing sons. He had not seen the Emperor since seeking his audience to find Julia, widow of Aureolus. When he was told a week later that she was likely taken away to Spain by his family but no witnesses could be produced, Valentine had turned his back on politics and politicians altogether, immersing himself instead in his books and his newfound role as a young Christian priest.

Once in front of the royal palace, he marched up to a nearby sentry guard and revealed his emblem of Juno. "I have come to speak with the Emperor," Valentine said shortly.

"Then you are too late," the guard replied without looking at the priest. "He has departed today with his new legion to join the soldiers in the war on the Goths."

Crestfallen, Valentine stood stunned as if he had lost all of his blood. He started to ask for an audience with the Senate, but realized that they had no power in wartime. There was no way to counsel with Claudius now.

Turning back into the crowd among the Forum street vendors, he was bumped by an elderly woman chasing her servant who was absent-mindedly losing her in the throng. He turned to say his apologies, when he realized that the woman was Julia's mother.

They stood facing each other in the crowd without speaking for many moments. Finally, Valentine offered his hand and helped her into a quieter shop. Though he had not seen her in over twenty years, he couldn't help but notice that she had aged far beyond those years.

"I'm so sorry for you, mother," said the priest, "I can't imagine your grief. I hoped that I could find her before it was too late, but..." His voice trailed off looking at her tearing up.

"I know, how I know you would." The matron sat down on a bench and bid him sit beside her. "How we would all change things now if we but knew." She looked at his robe and exclaimed, "You are a Priest of Juno!! I had heard rumors and whispers about you but this is what I always thought would be your fate. I heard stories that you were dead, or that you were employed by Claudius the Cruel, or even that you preached as a Christian."

Valentine tried to smile, "All of those things are in part true, I think. I was just now trying to find the Consul Claudius to beg him to allow marriages again. But he is gone with his young men to war, and there is no one to rescind the order making marriages illegal. I am a priest but also a man of Jehovah. I marry young Christians as well."

The elderly woman snarled and grabbed his robe with a weak hand. "You would easier conquer Germany single-handedly than stop the Butcher from killing."

"I would have argued to him that Christians are rarely trusted to even enter the legions, so our single men would not help his cause against the Goths. Why not grant Christians exemption. He has shown restraint against us in the past."

She gripped him tighter and growled, "Foolish man, he shows restraint to none and barters only to deceive. There are not enough stars in the winter sky to count his lecherous deeds and acts of inhumanity. Do you forget what he did to our fair Julia?"

Valentine was stunned. He searched for the woman's thoughts but could not see her meaning. "Surely you don't blame Claudius for the traitor Aureolus and the rebellion?"

The withered hand left his robe as she recoiled slightly as if struck. She stared into his eyes as if testing him. Then slowly her head fell, she clasped her small fingers together in her lap and began to speak to them.

"Claudius served under Aureolus for many years. They were darlings of the military and the Emperor showered each with favors. But they each grew ambitious and were displeased with the sluggish Gallienus. The rebellion was initiated by Aureolus and the calvary as a diversion. Claudius took over as Commander General and went out with Gallienus to pretend to put down the revolt. Just at the time when Claudius had told Aureolus that he would turn and smite the loyalist legions from the flank, he sent his assassins to kill the Emperor instead. Once he made himself the new Chief Consul on the battlefield, he rallied the troops to defeat his coconspirator who was outnumbered. And he left none alive who could tell the story." She looked back up at him with tearful eyes.

Valentine's shocked expression confirmed to her that he had known none of this. As he searched back and forth with his eyes, he suddenly took a sharp breath and leaned forward to face her. He locked onto her gaze.

"And Julia?"

"Murdered. By Claudius."

* * * * *

From his soiled prison bed, Valentine learned to predict his visitors by the sound they made walking down the stone hallway to reach his cell door. It was impossible to mistake the marching gait of booted soldiers or the confident gait of officers who came to interrogate him. He also learned to steel himself against the inevitable beatings during these sessions. He had not been able to see through his right eye for over a week and he wasn't sure if this was swelling or blindness now. His fractured elbow was set by a surgeon kindly brought by his jailer. But it was still a diabolical target for the interrogators.

Other feet he learned included several governmental officials who were secretly Christian. They spoke quiet words of honor, duty, and immortality through the door. And always from behind the door.

Another sound, which seemed more ethereal, he only heard it in his stupor after the daily interrogations. Light flowing sandals coming to him and hands washing his wounds. He often awoke from these beatings hours later to find his injuries tended, as well as clean water and bread beside his bed. 'What devilry is this,' thought the priest, who seemed otherwise forsaken.

On the week prior to Lupercalia, the soldiers came early. Six in all, with Palace ornaments, letting Valentine know that this was his day to be judged. He was escorted to the Prefect's court slowly, as he had not been able to walk more than a few steps for some time. Entering the large room filled with dignitaries and scribes, the soldiers finally offered him an arm to lean upon, but he would not accept.

As he stood in front of the crowd gathered, his limited vision finally located the entrance of Paternus, Co-Consul with Claudius Gothicus. As more officials filled the room behind him, a low murmur filled the room which quieted as the Consul took his place before the accused. Appearing uncharacteristically nervous, Paternus interrupted the reading of the charges several times before stopping the proceedings altogether. Slowly he stood from his lone chair and stepped down close to the pitiful Valentine.

"So this is the cancer of Rome," Paternus whispered as if to himself. He looked at the bruised and swollen face of the priest and winced slightly. "They say that you are a dangerous man, a renegade. They say that you are raising an army here inside of Rome. Are you, Valentinius, leading the people in revolt?"

Valentine raised his free hand and placed it over his heart. "I am indeed part of a rebellion, though I have no army and I direct no violence."

The Consul paced back and forth nervously. "Are you then a Christian?"

"I am."

"And you forsake your Roman citizenship and your status as priest of Juno to commit treason during this our time of war?"

Valentine answered slowly, "I do not forsake my learning nor my birthright. I am a Roman. I am a scholar. And I am a Christian priest."

Paternus frowned and raised his voice so that all could hear, "But don't you forsake all of your Roman gods as a Christian? Am I mistaken about your insidious sect and its customs?"

Valentine raised his voice slightly as well, "I do not worship any other god than Jehovah. I keep the customs of Juno for Rome and my people. And I would be happy to discuss our customs with you so that we better understand ourselves."

Paternus eyed him and then walked back to his chair on the center dais. Standing before it, he turned and called out to Valentine, "You admit to marrying Christian and Roman citizens in direct defiance of Imperial decree, is this correct?"

"It is."

"And you refuse to name those that join and assist you in this pursuit, is this correct?"

"It is."

"Then you will die for your treason and you will be made example. Even now as Claudius rides against the Goths, you undermine the might of the state of Rome. What say you to your sentence?"

The battered priest stood up to his full height and put out his hands. His calm voice filled the hall, "The sentence is not unfair for the charges laid, but surely it is the crime that is iniquitous. An unjust decree by man, even an emperor of Rome, must be measured by morality. Is it just to lay constant hardship upon the people in prideful pursuit of victory and glory? Is it correct to politic and scheme against innocents of Rome in the pursuit of power? Is it Roman to deny marital love before God? Or Juno? If the writings of the priests of Juno teach you anything, it is that marital love is sacred and precious. And love, in all its forms, will prevail."

Valentine stood in silence in front of the Roman elite, who breathlessly waited for Paternus to respond. Closing his eyes, the Consul let out a sigh and sunk into his chair. When he looked again upon Valentine, his gaze was softer and sympathetic. He placed his palms together and bowed slightly as he began to speak.

"Your voice is indeed mesmerizing as they say. And your thoughts are noble and I believe they are sincere. And, all appearances to the contrary, your arguments do not fall on deaf ears. Indeed, I think the dark times of the past thirty years will soon be at an end, and we can once again consider discussions about marriage and lovers. Still, you are guilty. There is no way around it. Please, take him away."

And with this, Valentine was led back to the prison for the last time.

* * * * *

As the dim light fell upon his face, Valentine awoke to see a shadow through the rays of light. Julia, her face preserved in youthful beauty and wonder, smiled at him and motioned him be quiet. Then as he watched in hazy amazement she came to him and sat before him. A moist cloth she held washed his injured scalp as she sang softly a Roman lullaby.

Trying to shake away the clouds in his mind, Valentine reached up with a hand to touch her. Her arm, soft and warm, felt real underneath his palm. Her modest robes appeared flawless inside the small dreary cell, and the contour of her figure angelic in the light coming from the barred window.

"You have come back to me," the priest whispered softly.

"I'm sorry that I had to leave you, Father. I could not risk being caught in here while the soldiers came and went." She frowned as she looked at his arm, and added, "But they won't be coming back much now."

Valentine's mind was clearing, he noticed her youthful voice and taut skin. This could not be Julia, his love. She would not have looked this young for many years, even as beautiful as she was. With some effort, he sat up slightly while she eyed him. Finally he moved toward her face and asked, "What is your name?"

Her lips parted to reveal a luminescent smile. "I am Lucia. I have been wanting to speak with you since you first came here."

Valentine looked around the prison cell. The door was closed and locked and no guards could be found. He turned back to her inquisitively and asked, "How can a young girl come and go in this hellish place? And why?"

Lucia turned and brought up a cup and pitcher to pour water for him. "I am the master jailor's daughter and have practically grown up here. I have the eye of most of the guards and rarely do they ask me my business. I have been fascinated by you since you were arrested. Indeed, all of Rome has been a buzz of rumor about you."

Valentine's eyebrows rose, and he considered her words. Remembering the Prefect's speech about rebellion, he turned back to her with a worried look.

"Is there a backlash? Against Christians I mean. Is there talk of persecuting them?"

Lucia's eyes sparkled, "Well, yes. Each of the Senators spoke against you and all the priests of Rome cursed your name. Especially at the Pantheon."

Lucia leaned forward to look into his eyes with a wildly ecstatic smile. "But then the details of your 'crimes' filtered among the people. Romans wanted to know how a Christian could be so bold. And just. No one has approved with the ban on marriage, but only you stood up for the lovers. Suddenly, all of Rome was intrigued by your deeds.

"Marius and other Christians actually came before the Senate in attempts to free you. They were very persuasive but the Consul could not let you go. The people have gathered twice to support you, and not just Christians. Romans! They hear stories of your good deeds and see the young couples you married. Even now, flowers and notes are dropped into the prison above your window in hopes that you can see the love for you among the people. If you stand tall at the window you can see it piled, high as a woman's waist."

Valentine sat stunned by what she said. He shook his head and said he believed her, but in his heart he couldn't fathom it all. He laid back down to soothe the throbbing in his head.

"How many more days do I have?"

Lucia's face frowned again as she paused before answering.

"Five."

* * * * *

The week of Lupercalia was an electric time in Rome, but never more than this year. All of Rome spoke about the Royal execution of the rogue priest. Christians came out of the shadows and told grandiose stories about his exploits. Romans gathered and soaked up the tales; some as potential converts but most out of gossipy interest. Some stories had Valentine seducing the concubine of Claudius while he was away. Others deified him as a true favorite of Juno. Before midweek, the flowers and tokens filled the space outside the doomed priest's window and began to overflow into his cell.

Every morning, the lovely Lucia brought his breakfast to him. She stayed at his side for hours each day, consoling him and probing him for information. Initially, Valentine believed her to be simply a matron to the oppressed, delighting in protecting the unprotectable. But as they sat together each day, he became sure that she wanted something else from him. She brought him parchment to write out letters to his colleagues. His letters of encouragement and strength were then taken to underground churches across the land and read to eager new disciples. And Lucia orchestrated each communication with eagerness and fascination.

She questioned him for hours on theories of religion and the customs of the Italian Christians. On every other topic, whether it was history, politics or literature, she demonstrated wisdom and learning beyond her station. She even talked openly of romantic love and marriage relations, often lecturing the priest from a female's perspective. Despite this boldness, whenever she led him back to discussions about his life and his faith, she merely sat as a pupil and absorbed.

Several times, as they broke midday bread or drank wine at sunset, Valentine felt her gaze become passionate, even seductive. He began to notice how she touched him on his thigh with a delicate hand to make a point in their debates, or how she brushed her body across his to tend to his injuries. Even in his condition, the priest felt his body respond to her wanton gestures, and he strove to hide his aroused nature from the fair daughter of the jailor. But when she left him with a gentle kiss each night, her face merged with the vision of his Julia as he drifted to sleep.

On his last evening, she left him before supper, saying that she would try to return. Only moments later, a soldier brought two men down the hall and into the cell. Valentine recognized them as powerful merchants and landowners. They quickly came to him as he sat on his bed and knelt down before him, proclaiming their admiration for him. The men declared themselves as one new convert and one silent follower who had vowed to follow Valentine's lead and campaign for their faith. As he heard their stories and offered to hear his last confessions from the men, Father Valentine considered the unlikely lives that had been touched and made a final peace with his course.

When they were finally gone and the darkness faded into the cell, he heard her footsteps coming down the hall. Carrying a single candle on a tray, she entered with his final supper in a wooden bowl and a garnish of rose petals. As she watched him eat, she lifted his spirits with words from his friends around Rome. He hardly had time to thank her for the food as he finished before she stood as if to leave him.

"So soon, my dearest Lucia? How I didn't want this night to end, not for the promise of tomorrow's event, but indeed for our parting." Valentine looked up at her silhouette in the candle and realized that his voice was almost pleading.

As he watched her, she turned away from him and said slowly, "As I want anything I want to spend every moment with you, Father. However, it cannot be as I wish and my earnestness could only come to bad ends. I would rather prepare your memorial than stain your name." With this, she turned and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

Valentine reached out and took her hand, pulling her down into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him as she began to quietly weep on his shoulder. He soothed her with his hand and cleared her face of her fallen locks before replying.

"You are an angel among mortals and deserve to be anywhere but in this place, my dear. But I am ever indebted to you for your kindness and love. If my life is completed by the revelation of you, then I am satisfied. I cannot repay you. But because of you, I am no longer imprisoned by this place."

Lucia wilted against him for a moment and then pulled away. She stood before him and blew a kiss from her lips wet with trailing tears. Just as she turned to go, he reached down and handed her a last parchment, tied together and sealed. She wiped her hands on her gown and accepted it, waiting to hear where it would be directed.