us with a mighty victory.” Baraka grabbed the goblet in front of Mauritius and drank from it.
“I thought this was wine,” he said, spitting it out. “What is this stuff?”
Mauritius roared with laughter. “Ale, a popular Gallic libation.”
“It’s terrible,” Baraka groused. “Is there any wine around here?”
Mauritius lifted a bottle with one hand and a goblet with the other and filled it with wine. He handed it to his friend and then lifted his ale in a toast. “To our Almighty God, our country, and the women we love.” The men’s goblets clinked.
Baraka soon rubbed his hands together as the wine warmed his insides, and then asked again, “When are we leaving?”
“As soon as we receive our orders.” Mauritius blushed. “I have also requested a private audience with Emperor Diocletian, and I am awaiting his reply. I hope he will see me before our orders are signed and we must depart. Pray for me, brother.”
Baraka grinned and slapped him on the back. “Aye, you are a brave man.”
Mauritius frowned. “You think the emperor will not grant it—his permission for me to marry Valeria?”
Baraka laughed. “Do not look so glum, my brother. I was only joking. Your leadership and the way you fought on that battlefield did not go unnoticed by anyone, including the emperor. He will be honored to have you for his son-in-law. No, he will not refuse you.” He laughed again and winked. “A fine emperor you will make one day!”
“I have no desire to become emperor,” he assured Baraka. “I wish only to marry his daughter. There could be no greater prize in my life than to receive Valeria’s hand in marriage.”
“I will pray for you,” Baraka promised, and then hurried off to find his regiment for the feast.
When Mauritius rejoined his fellow officers, Candidus questioned him. “Is there any truth that Emperor Maximian has ordered the entire army to participate in the pagan rituals tomorrow?”
Mauritius shrugged. “We have not received any orders yet.”
Another commander named Exupernis joined their conversation. “I have heard dreadful rumors that tomorrow’s sacrifices will be human—Gallic Christians.”
“Human sacrifices!” Mauritius winced. “Are you sure?”
Exupernis shook his head. “Let us hope we are not among them.”
“For months the emperors have ignored our refusal to participate in the sacrifices,” another officer commented. “So why would tomorrow be any different?”
“Tomorrow’s rites honor the gods for our hard-won victory, but they are also tantamount to the divinity of the emperors,” Mauritius noted. “With their egos involved, there is no way to predict what can happen.”
“What will we do if the rumors are true?” Exupernis asked.
“We managed to escape the pagan rituals during the conflict,” Candidus reminded them. “Now that we have conquered Gaul, perhaps it will not be an issue. By now they will be drunk on wine and ale. They may not care.”
Mauritius took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, but there is one thing we should consider. As long as the war was ongoing, we were invaluable to the emperors. Now that it is over, they will be unconcerned whether they offend us or not.”
“Then what is our strategy?” Exupernis asked as he stuffed another piece of mutton into his mouth. Before they could finish their conversation, an eerie silence settled over the establishment. All heads turned toward the entrance where three soldiers and a young man, who appeared to be a messenger, walked through the door. The men searched the dimly lit room until their eyes landed on Mauritius.
Exupernis took a deep breath and sighed. “The orders have arrived.”
“Perhaps it is a message from Emperor Diocletian granting my request to speak with him,” Mauritius hoped aloud. His companions around the table shrugged.
Pushing their way through the crowd, the soldiers stopped directly in front of the Theban leader and stood at attention, waiting. Mauritius nodded his permission for the messenger to speak.
With his eyes aimed slightly above the military leader’s head, the messenger unrolled a papyrus scroll and read the orders. The proclamation was short but clear: Mauritius and his men were not to be spared the required attendance. The Theban Legion was required to attend the rituals.
Mauritius stiffened. He replied without hesitation, “With all due respect, please tell the emperor that the Theban Legion will not attend tomorrow’s ceremonies. Our allegiance is to our God. And while we are loyal Roman soldiers, we will not be present at a ritual where our fallen Christian foes are sacrificed to the gods.”
The messenger paled. “But . . .” He paused for a brief moment and then regained his composure. “But, sire, you killed many of your Christian brothers in battle. What is the difference?”
Mauritius shook his head. “Aye, it is one thing to kill a brother in war, but to condone their sacrifice to the pagan gods is unconscionable.”
“But . . . what shall I . . . tell the emperor? Commander Mauritius, Emperors Diocletian and Maximian have ordered the whole army to participate in the pagan sacrifice to the gods tomorrow.”
One of the other soldiers who stood beside the messenger suggested, “If you attend, there is a chance that the other officers will not force you to participate. But if you do not obey your orders and report to Octodurum, I fear it will be far worse for you.”
An impatient soldier in the group spoke up. “Report with your troops to the base camp outside Octodurum tomorrow at dawn. Those are your orders. May we take our leave, sire?”
Mauritius granted their leave and then watched the soldiers disappear into the night.
“Perhaps we should go and take our chances,” Candidus suggested.
Shaking his head, Mauritius replied, “We cannot witness such a travesty.”
They returned in silence to their table, and within a few minutes the Thebans’ victory celebration ended.
The men of the Theban Legion returned to their campsite and spent the night in prayer, hoping that tomorrow would not bring a confrontation with the emperors. Mauritius met with his co-leaders, Exupernis and Candidus, around the fire. They concluded their best plan was to withdraw the troops from Octodurum. In the middle of the night, the officers marched the men to Agaunum in southwestern Switzerland, where they made camp.
At daybreak, General Galerius waited and watched. With no sign of the Theban Legion, he was the first to report to the emperors that they were absent from the roll call. Diocletian, who felt a deep respect for the exceptional soldiers, sent orders to the Theban Legions’ camp to return to Octodurum.
Captain Mauritius met the messengers himself. “The Theban Legions’ first allegiance is to our God; our second is to Rome. Nothing will ever reverse our loyalties.”
One of his own soldiers urged the captain, “Sire, please let us go, and
