Valentinus had spent his childhood by the army camp where his father served. But when emperor Septimius Severus had to march his armies against the oldest enemy of the Romans, the Parthian Empire, Diophanes decided it would be dangerous to leave his family behind at the remote northern border for who knew how long while he himself fought at the other end of the civilized world. Would he come back alive? Only the gods knew. So, he sent his family back to his motherland, to the prosperous city of Augusta Trajana in Thrace, to his cousin, also named Diophanes; they both bore their grandfather’s name proudly, for he was one of the first people to settle in the newly founded city and had brought glory to their family. Valentinus hadn’t seen his father for over five years – the emperor was strict, he didn’t approve of long leaves, and their only connection were the sporadic letters in which Diophanes described lands far away and Roman victories, and the even more sporadic presents that made it back to Thrace with returning soldiers. Valentinus already knew how to read and write and would often read the letters over again and then exaggerate his father’s deeds to boast in front of the other children. His cousin Fronto, who was like an older brother to him, was a great runner, faster than anybody in the city, and in the world, as it turned out a few years later when he won the games in Rhode and in Olympia. Valentinus was a decent runner too but he preferred the javelin throw and archery as they reminded him of his father – not to mention that his mother Candidea always commended him about it. Also, one of the augurs at Apollo’s temple had predicted – whether to encourage him, or by genuine divine inspiration, that he would follow in his father’s footsteps and would be awarded by the emperor himself. When Diophanes sent a letter that gods willing, in a year’s time he would be back home, Valentinus would go to the southern city gate every day to check if his father wasn’t coming, although he barely remembered what he looked like. And still, he did recognize him. It was sunset and the last yellow-red rays of the sun turned the silver decoration and medals on Diophanes’ cloak to gold.

Lost in these memories, Valentinus, already a grown man and a veteran himself, arrived at the workshop of Agatho, the stone carver.

‘Welcome, sir!’

‘Good fortune to you, artisan! I would like to commission a monument for my parents.’

‘Have you anything particular in mind? Here we have steles, these are simpler, then we have some with reliefs, and in the back, you can see the altars too. In which necropolis do your parents rest?’

‘They are not in the city. My father was a veteran and he bought a mansion twenty miles from here, by Carassura.’

‘No worries, I’ll arrange the transport and I’ll send some of my boys to install it.’

‘And do you make statues?’

‘Of course I do. My apprentices are about to finish polishing two big figures, a man and a woman.’ He led him to the inner yard of the workshop.

‘Exceptional work but they look nothing like Mom and Dad,’ Valentinus said.

‘We’ll put a sign with their names on it and then people will know it’s them. And I can also make new heads if you describe them to me. Or if you have a portrait by chance?’

Valentinus felt a sudden pang. The sculptor couldn’t make the statues if he hadn’t seen his parents. It would’ve been so much easier if his father’s friend, Chrestos from Nicomedia, were here!

‘You mean Chrestos, the old sculptor?’ Agatho asked. Valentinus must have spoken out loud, unintentionally.

‘I do. He knew my parents and he would have been able to recreate them in stone.’

‘He is my teacher and he still lives in the city. He is quite old now and he rarely accepts jobs but together we will make your parents’ faces. Let me send someone to fetch him.’

‘Apollo has answered my prayers!’ Valentinus exclaimed, thinking aloud again. ‘I would like you to make a relief of him too, with an inscription of gratitude, to thank him for the way this was resolved.’

While they waited for Chrestos, Agatho went to inspect his apprentices’ work, and Valentinus lost himself in his memories again.

After his father came back, his parents often discussed his future. The rhetorics teacher tried to convince Diophanes that his boy was gifted and it would be a good idea to send him away to one of the major schools, like Athens or Sparta. Others pointed out his excellent command of Latin (he had learned it as a child in the army camp) and suggested that he would do well as a clerk in Perinthos, the provincial capital, or in Philippopolis, the Thracian metropolis. Many recommended that he take up a political career in Augusta Trajana, like many of his relatives had done. Despite all these discussions, however, Diophanes and Candidea were aware that Valentinus had already chosen his father’s path, and encouraged him, although not without worry – a soldier’s life was full of dangers and in recent years many wars were fought along the borders of the empire.

When Valentinus was twenty-one, a centurion arrived in Augusta Trajana to recruit young people for the emperor’s legions in the east. As a veteran’s son he was approved at once and thus his coveted military career began. His fluent Latin made his commanding officers notice him – they were annoyed by the clumsy efforts of the majority of the soldiers from the east to speak the language of the Romans, and even despised them for their failure to do so. So, from very early on he was appointed password messenger, and his pay doubled. In the morning, he would wake up before everybody else and circle the camp with the new password. During one of the campaigns against the Parthians he even managed to save the camp from a surprise attack – the guards had fallen asleep and Valentinus was the only person to notice the barbarians trying to scramble up the walls and open the gates to their army which laid in ambush outside.

An old white-haired man stood at the doorstep, a cane in hand.

‘Agatho, why would you have an elderly man come to you instead of you coming to visit me? Is this how you express your piety and respect?’

‘Forgive me, master! But Apollo himself sent us a sign to send for you.’

Suddenly, Chrestos saw Valentinus in the back of the workshop.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t Valentinus, Diophanes’ son! How long has it been? Thirty years? But I still remember your face, I swear!’

‘Chrestos!’ Valentinus was impressed.

‘You thought that I was dead, didn’t you? Indeed, not many of my time are still around.’

‘May Apollo and the other gods protect you and help you! And please, don’t be angry with Agatho for sending for you. I asked him to do it, for only you can aid him in recreating the image of my parents.’

‘Ah, my good friends Candidea and Diophanes… I remember their faces, as if I’ve just seen them. I will carve them out, no trouble. With every year that passes, the hammer and the chisel turn heavier in my hands so praise the gods that we have Agatho’s vigour and strength at our disposal.’

***

At the end of the month, Valentinus went to Agatho and Chrestos to see the new statues. The white marble glowed in the sun, and Chrestos was excited by his work, it seemed to have brought his youth back. He kept showing details on the statues to Valentinus, as the two reminisced about Diophanes and Candidea’s gestures, gait, even the way they spoke. Chrestos showed him a massive block too, getting prepared for work.

‘This will be the pedestal; we’ve already dug the mounting points. You just need to tell us what to write in the inscription.’

Valentinus stood by the two statues. Chrestos was pleased to see the man bore a resemblance to their faces.

‘This reminds me of the inauguration of the Augusteum, when Emperor Alexander spoke favourably of you. Do you remember? He arrived in the city earlier than he was supposed to and in the morning before the ceremony I had to hurry to complete the inscription above the entrance of the temple. It was the biggest commission our workshop had landed – eight statues, relief friezes, altars, inscriptions… The veterans had chosen your father to supervise us, for the deadlines were fast approaching; he took it up on himself to teach me how to write in Latin. But the efforts were worth it, and the processions, the sacrifices and the ceremony, with the emperor and his mother in attendance, were spectacular; people say that it was more glorious even than the visit of Septimius Severus and his family. And then, just eighteen months later, they made us break down the statues of Severus Alexander and his mother, Mamaea, and chisel their names out. What times!’

What times indeed, Valentinus thought. They had been exhausted by the ongoing conflict with the Parthians on the eastern border of the empire, and a constant flow of news and rumours from the north spoke of barbarian raids, of cities put to the torch, of women and children killed or sold as slaves. The soldiers’ disgruntlement grew and they insisted that the emperor put an end to the campaign in Asia and bring them back to Europe, so that they could protect their homes and families. Valentinus knew that Augusta Trajana was not in danger but he felt for the soldiers from the border provinces; besides, he too craved to see his parents and the landscape of Thrace. So, when Severus Alexander sent for him to award him for saving the camp from the surprise attack, he shared his fellow men’s fears and worries with the emperor without hesitation. A month later, a favourable peace treaty was signed with the Parthian Empire and the emperor led his numerous troops against his enemies in the north. They would use ships to cross from Asia to Thrace, then they would continue towards the borders on foot.

The original route wouldn’t pass through Augusta Trajana but when they got to Perinthos, on the Thracian side of the Propontis, the provincial governor brought the emperor a letter by the veterans of Augusta Trajana; they had built a temple for him and were inviting him to attend its inauguration ceremony. At first, the emperor denied but in the next day he was notified that snow had already fallen on the top of Hemus Mountain and the transfer of his troops to the other side, to Lower Moesia, would be very harsh. So, as Alexander knew from experience that barbarian attacks slowed down during the winter, he decided to spend the coldest months of the year in Thrace, and cross over in spring. This would also give his soldiers, exhausted after the long and demanding campaign in Parthia, the opportunity to rest and recuperate for the battles that lay ahead. Then, the emperor announced that on the 30^th of November he would visit Augusta Trajana and attend the inauguration of his temple. This was in more than a month’s time. Valentinus was eager to see his parents and couldn’t wait to cover the two hundred miles between them, so he prayed to the gods to make the days pass faster. And perhaps they heard him, for all of a sudden, the emperor’s imperious mother, Julia Mamaea, decided to shift the ceremony to the ides of November – the thirteenth day of the month, when the Romans celebrated the Feast of Jupiter. The troops had to start their march inland immediately. Valentinus sent forward a message that he was arriving on the day before the ides, and his parents were waiting for him at the gates with the same excitement that he had felt when he waited for his father’s return in the past.

The inauguration ceremony took place on the following day. The veterans who had sponsored the construction met with young Severus Alexander early in the morning to show him the interior of the temple and make final adjustments to the plan for the ceremony, and their wives received his mother, Julia Mamaea, nearby, in the gallery by the temple of Hermes. When the time of the ceremony came, the emperor and his mother came to the square in front of the temple along with the veterans and their wives and waited there for the procession led by the high priest and the high priestess from the agora in the lower part of the city. The square was lined with soldiers holding the aquilas and banners of the legions and silver busts of Severus Alexander and his predecessors. The emperor chatted with the veterans: who served where, what campaigns they participated in, how they lived, did they need anything. As Diophanes spoke about his military career, suddenly he noticed his son among the soldiers and fell silent.

Alexander followed his gaze. ‘Valentinus is from this city, you must know him,’ he said.

Diophanes was surprised that the emperor knew his son by his name but he quickly found his tongue. ‘He’s my son, Emperor,’ he replied.

Alexander waved Valentinus closer, and he summoned Candidea too from her place among the noble women around Julia Mamaea.

‘Your son is very brave, Diophanes. He is worthy of Rome, the emperor, Augusta Trajana, and his father!’

‘May the gods protect you, emperor!’ Candidea and Diophanes exclaimed, close to tears.

And then the procession appeared, from the direction of the Odeon and the new gymnasium, also dedicated to the young emperor, passing by the columns of the gallery, decorated with purple ribbons. The young participants wore white, with wreaths on their heads.

‘May the gods protect you, always!’ they shouted, as if they’d heard his parents a moment ago. The crowd picked up the chant.

Valentinus glowed with pride and joy, as if the multitude’s salute was meant for him, and not the emperor. He had fulfilled his parents’ dreams…

‘So, what about the inscription?’

Chrestos’ voice brought him back to the present.

‘I’ve already installed slabs with their names on them. But I’d like to be there too.’

‘Shall we make you a statue too, then?’

‘No, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a son to be portrayed as equal to his parents. But you know what… You could add a small relief of myself on the pedestal. Thus, we can stay together forever.'

Author: Alexander Manuiloff

Translation in English: Alexander "Sancho" Marinov