One of the other messengers, who was sympathetic to the Christians, suggested, “And if they do force you to make the sacrifices, why not make the sign of the cross like many of the other Christians do, to exonerate yourself?”
Mauritius would not compromise. “We have fought valiantly for Rome; let us worship our God as our reward, as you have the freedom to worship yours.”
Exupernis, who stood at his side, asked the soldiers, “Is there any truth in the rumor that the emperors have offered human sacrifices?”
One of the soldiers hung his head. “Aye. The smell of burning flesh is horrific. Even Gallic children are being thrown in the fire.”
Mauritius and Exupernis exchanged sorrowful looks, each making the sign of the cross.
“What shall we tell the emperors?” another of the soldiers asked.
“Tell them we will not come,” Mauritius declared. “We cannot.”
Throughout the day, Diocletian sent repeated orders, but with each order the Theban Legion respectfully declined.
Incited by both Galerius and his co-emperor, Maximian, Diocletian grew weary at each refusal, and it was not long until his agitation turned to rage. In a fit of anger, he exclaimed to Emperor Maximian, “We will decimate them! We will kill every tenth man.”
After the sacrifices were completed, the trumpets blew, and Emperor Maximian ordered the entire Roman Army to descend upon Agaunum to fulfill the emperor’s declaration of decimation.
Sometime later, as a soldier approached Mauritius to report that their lookout in the mountains had seen the Roman Army headed their way, Mauritius heard the clamor of approaching horses’ hooves in the distance. He called his troops together to pray while they awaited the army.
Never in his wildest dreams had Mauritius imagined it would come to this. Just days ago he had been revered as a conquering hero with hopes of marrying the emperor’s daughter. But when a band of messengers arrived ahead of the army at Aguanum, it was perfectly clear. Now in the distance the Roman soldiers were ready to carry out the orders—the Theban Legion would be decimated.
Mauritius turned his eyes on Candidus. As their gazes locked, Mauritius was sure he saw a glimmer of terror in the eyes of his otherwise fearless warrior-friend.
Inspired by the Holy Spirit, Mauritius climbed upon a boulder and announced the order as an opportunity to die for their Savior. By the time he spoke the words, “Every tenth man will be put to the sword,” the legion cheered, eager to offer their lives to die for the One who had promised them eternal life. Mauritius encouraged his men in death as though they were going into battle. With songs of praise on their lips and a refusal to compromise their first allegiance to Christ, to a man the Theban Legion stood strong against the emperor’s command to sacrifice to the Roman gods as an act of loyalty to the empire.
When the army arrived, the leaders wrote the names of every tenth soldier upon strips of papyrus and placed them in the caps of the centurions. The six hundred ultimately chosen to die stepped forward without protest. They laid down their weapons and offered their necks to the swords of the Roman soldiers. Mauritius and the others, who were spared, praised God and rejoiced with their comrades in their moment of death.
Mauritius pulled away from his soldiers and watched with great sadness as the bodies of his martyred comrades were dumped in the Rhone River, turning its waters red. Then he returned to the survivors and rejoiced with them. When they were issued another order to participate in the sacrifices, they refused, persisting in proclaiming their loyalty to Christ.
The Roman leaders conferred and ordered a second decimation. This time Mauritius flinched when he saw that Baraka was among the doomed men. What shall I tell my sister? he wondered, choking up as he imagined the scene.
With great courage, Baraka laid down his weapons and motioned to Mauritius. He slid a lapis ring emblazoned with a gold cross off his finger and pressed it into Mauritius’ palm, closing his friend’s fingers over it. “Please give this ring to your sister,” his voice trembled. “Tell her when our son becomes a man to please give the ring to him to wear in memory of his father, who loved him very much.”
Mauritius nodded, too emotional to speak, and curled his fingers around the ring in the palm of his hand.
Mauritius’ voice broke as he swore to Baraka, “My brother, I vow to you before God that I will raise your son as if he were my own . . . if God allows me to survive.”
“Please do not be sad for me. I consider martyrdom a great honor,” Baraka assured him, smiling. He clutched his chest. “Only for those I leave behind is my heart heavy.”
“We shall all be together again one day in heaven,” Mauritius assured him. He then embraced the man whom he had loved since they were boys, kissing him on both cheeks. “God be with you, my friend.”
“And also with you,” Baraka replied, and then he stooped, lowering his head upon the stone.
As the soldier lifted his sword, Baraka sang praises to God until his blood poured over the rock, splattering upon the sandals of Mauritius, who turned away in sorrow.
Mauritius and the other soldiers remained strong, but upon hearing their songs and praises, Maximian recoiled with such fury that he demanded yet another decimation.
Afterwards, Mauritius conferred with his fellow officers, Candidus and Exupernis. Three decimations. It was time to stop the killings. They grieved for their fallen comrades, especially for their families, who were left behind.
“It is time to stop the butchery. Our surviving men are eager to return home to their families,” Mauritius pointed out.
With prayerful consideration, the officers composed a royal remonstrance, dictating it to an aide, who wrote the words on a papyrus and addressed it to the emperor. It read:
Emperor, we are your soldiers but also the soldiers of the true God. We owe you military service and obedience, but we cannot renounce Him who is our Creator and Master, and also yours even though you reject Him. In all things which are not against His law, we most willingly obey you, as we have done hitherto. We readily oppose your enemies whoever they are, but we cannot stain our hands with the blood of innocent people (Christians). We have taken an oath to God before we took one to you, you cannot place any confidence in our second oath if we violate the other (the first). You commanded us to execute Christians, behold we are such. We confess God the Father the creator of all things and His Son Jesus Christ, God. We have seen our comrades slain with the sword, we do not weep for them but rather rejoice at their honour. Neither this, nor any other provocation have tempted us to revolt. Behold, we have arms in our hands, but we do not resist, because we would rather die innocent than live by any sin.
They sent the note to Maximian with great hopes that it would soften the emperor’s heart.
Captain Mauritius stood in wait with his head high, surrounded by his fallen comrades. With his nostrils, he inhaled the 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
