He cried for joy, and prayed through his tears. ‘Almighty God,’ Urban said, ‘Jesus our Saviour, the shepherd of the world and the begetter of all virtue. You have sown the seed of chastity in the body of the beloved maiden Cecilia. She obeys You in everything and works unceasingly for the greater glory of Your name. She has recently taken as her husband a young man as proud and fiery as a lion. But he stands before me now with the meekness of a lamb.’
There was a short pause after these words, but then there appeared before Valerian the figure of an old man dressed in robes of brightness; in his hands he was carrying a book printed with words of gold.
At the sight of this Valerian fell down in fear. But the apparition lifted him to his feet, and began to read to him from the book. ‘One Lord. One faith. One God. One Christendom. One father who rules over heaven and earth.’ These were the words of gold.
When he had finished reading this text, the old man asked Valerian a question. ‘Do you believe these words to be true? Yes or no?’
‘I do believe,’ Valerian answered. ‘There are no words more true and blessed. They are the hope of humankind.’
Then the old man vanished from sight and, on the spot, Pope Urban baptized Valerian. When the Roman returned home he found Saint Cecilia, his wife, in the company of an angel. The angel had two coronets in his hand, one made up of lily and one of roses; he gave the first of them to Cecilia and, according to the old books, he gave the second one to Valerian.
‘Keep these coronets inviolate, with a pure body and mind,’ the angel told them. ‘I have brought them from paradise. They will never wither or die; their perfume will never fade. The sinners of this world will not be able to see them. Only those who are chaste and innocent will have sight of them. And you, Valerian, who trusted the word of God so readily and so fully, ask what you wish of me. I will grant your favour.’
‘I have a brother,’ he replied. ‘There is no man I love more. I pray that you grant my brother the grace to know the truth that has been revealed to me.’
‘God is happy to fulfil your request,’ the angel said. ‘Both of you will win the palm of martyrdom. One day you will both partake of the blessed feast.’ At this moment Valerian’s brother, Tiburce, arrived at the mansion. He smelled the sweet savour of the lily and the rose, and he was bewildered.
‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘how, at this time of year, the rose and the lily can be in bloom? Their perfume is so strong and deep that I might be holding them in my hands – it has touched my heart, and I feel reborn.’
Then Valerian came up to him and welcomed him. ‘We have two coronets,’ he told him, ‘lily white and rose red, shining brightly. They are invisible to you as yet but, through my prayers, you are able to sense their presence. You will be able to see them, dear brother, as soon as you embrace the true faith.’
‘Are you saying this to me, brother, or am I dreaming?’
‘We have been dreaming all our lives. Now we must wake and know the truth.’
‘How do you know this? How can you be sure?’
‘I will tell you,’ Valerian replied. ‘An angel from heaven has taught me the truth. You will know it, as soon as you renounce the false idols of heathen worship.’
Saint Ambrose has written about the miracle of these coronets of flowers, in the preface to his mass for Saint Cecilia’s Day. That wise father of the Church has declared that Saint Cecilia received the palm of martyrdom when she renounced the world and the flesh. She was thereby filled with the grace of God. ‘Witness the conversion of Valerian and Tiburce,’ he writes, ‘as a token of her holiness. That is why the angel brought down two sweet crowns from heaven. This virgin has brought bliss to both these men. The world will know the worth of truth and chastity in love.’ Then Cecilia showed to Tiburce the folly of worshipping false idols; they are made of stone and wood; they are deaf and dumb; they are to be shunned.
‘Who does not believe this,’ Tiburce told her, ‘is as dumb as wood and deaf as stone. This is the truth I now know.’ On hearing these words Cecilia kissed his breast in token of their kinship. ‘I now take you as my faithful friend,’ the blessed maid said. ‘Just as the love of Christ made me your brother’s wife,’ she added, ‘so now for the same love I take you as my kinsman and dear relation. Now that you have forsaken your false gods, go with your brother and be baptized. Cleanse your soul. Then you will see the face of the angel.’
Tiburce turned to Valerian. ‘Will you tell me, brother, where are we going? Who will baptize me?’
‘There is a man,’ he replied. ‘Come with me now in good heart and spirit. I will take you to Pope Urban.’
‘To Urban? Are you taking me to see him? That would be strange. That would be wonderful. Are we talking about the Urban who has so often been condemned to death? About the man who is in perpetual hiding, and dare not show himself? If he were found, or seen, he would be consigned to the flames. We also would keep him company in the fire. While we are looking for the divine world, concealed by the light of heaven, on earth our bodies will burn. Is that the truth of it?’
Cecilia replied to him calmly. ‘If life on earth were the only life, my dear brother, then you would be right to fear death. But it is not the only life. There is a better life in another place that will last eternally. Fear nothing. Jesus Christ has made a promise to us. God the Father has created all things in heaven and earth. He has given reason to mortals. God the Holy Ghost has, through grace, imparted to us the soul. God the Son, when He took on human form in the world, declared that there was another life to be won elsewhere.’
‘Dear sister,’ Tiburce said, ‘I don’t understand. You have told me just now that there is only one living God. Now you speak to me of three.’
‘I will explain it to you now,’ she replied. ‘You know that man has three faculties of the mind, namely, memory, imagination and judgement. So in the divine being there are three persons distinct and equal.’ Then she began to preach to Tiburce about the coming of Christ and told him of his passion and crucifixion. She explained that Christ came to earth in order to save mankind, and to lift the burden of sin and woe derived from the original fault of Eve. When she had explained these things to her brother in faith, Tiburce was happy to accompany Valerian into the presence of Pope Urban.
Urban gave thanks to God for their conversion, and gladly taught Tiburce the principles of the Christian faith before baptizing him. He had become a knight of God. He was filled with such grace that he saw the angel, too, each day. Whatever he prayed for, he was granted.
It would be impossible to say how many miracles Christ wrought for them. Yet there came a day when the bailiff of Rome found them and arrested them. Then he brought them before the prefect of the city, Almachius, who was well known to be an enemy of all Christians. He soon divined their faith, and ordered them to go and worship at the temple of Jupiter.
He turned to his officers. ‘I order you,’ he said, ‘to take off the head of anyone who does not bow down before the image of the god.’ One of these officers, Maximus, bound the two martyrs and then, weeping with pity, he led them through the city of Rome.
Maximus heard the teaching of Valerian and Tiburce, and was moved by it. He was given leave by the other officers to take them to his own house, where the two saints preached to him and to his family. All the officers were present, too, and all were converted to the true faith by the holy words of the gospel.
Cecilia herself came to the house late that night, accompanied by priests who baptized all those assembled there. Afterwards, at break of day, she spoke to them in a clear calm voice. ‘You are all now warriors of Christ Jesus our Saviour. Renounce the works of darkness. Put on the bright armour of righteousness. You have fought a battle against the devil, and you have won it. Your course is almost done, and you have preserved your faith. Now take up the crown of eternal life. God Almighty will place it on your heads, as the reward you deserve.’ When she had finished, some officers of the court arrived to take Valerian and Ti
burce to the temple of Jupiter.
When they were led before the image of the god they refused to make any sacrifice to it. They declined to bow down before it or offer incense to the idol. Instead they fell to their knees and prayed to the true God. So they were beheaded on the spot, and their souls rose into heaven.
Maximus was present at their execution, and afterwards related that he had seen the souls of the two saints ascending to paradise in the company of bright angels. He wept many times as he told this story to others, but his tears converted them all to the true faith. When he heard of this, Almachius ordered that he should be whipped to death with cords of lead.
Saint Cecilia then took up his body and buried it beside the graves of Valerian and Tiburce, where they shared a simple stone. But then Almachius struck. He ordered that the virgin should herself be taken to the temple of Jupiter, where she would be obliged to venerate the idol with incense.
But the officers of his court had been converted by her preaching. They wept aloud, and proclaimed their belief in the Christian faith. ‘We believe that Christ is the son of God,’ they told him. ‘We believe that He was God in human form. We know this to be true. The holy maid is His servant. We swear to this, even if we are condemned to death.’
When the prefect of the city heard of these things, he ordered that Cecilia should be brought before him. He asked her first about her rank and degree. ‘I was born and raised a gentlewoman, ’ she told him.
‘Now let me know this,’ Almachius replied. ‘What religion do you espouse? What are your beliefs?’
‘That is a foolish question, sir. You are asking me two things at once. That’s silly.’
‘Why are you so impudent to me?’ Almachius asked her.
‘Why? Because I have a clear conscience. Because I have come here in good faith.’
‘Do you have no respect for my power?’
‘Your power is very small. The authority of any man is no more than a bladder filled with wind. The point of a pin will puncture it. Then there is nothing.’
‘You began in the wrong tone. Now you are being offensive. Do you not know that the rulers of the land have ordained that all Christians will be arrested and punished. But, if they renounce their so-called faith, they will escape any penalty?’
‘Your rulers are mistaken. You and the other nobles are also wrong. You make us guilty by passing a foolish law. You know very well that we are innocent of any crime. We are Christians, who honour the name of Christ. That is all. Where is our offence? We will never renounce the cause that we know to be true and just.’
‘You have a choice,’ Almachius replied. ‘Renounce your faith or suffer death. There is no other way.’
When she heard this, Cecilia began to laugh. ‘Oh, sir, you are a simpleton. Do you think that I would renounce my innocence in order to become a sinner? Do you not see that you are making a fool of yourself? You stamp and stare. You rage at me as if you had lost your mind.’
‘Foolish woman! You do not know the extent of my power. The rulers of this land have given me the power of life and death, over you and everyone else. How dare you speak to me like that? You are puffed up with pride!’
‘I speak nothing but the truth. I am not proud. We have been taught as Christians to hate the sin of pride. And if you want to hear another truth, then I will tell you this. You have lied. You have said that our rulers have granted you the power of life and death. You can take away only the mortal life. You have no other jurisdiction. So you can be the minister of death. But that is all.’
‘Enough of your impudence,’ he said. ‘Make sacrifice to Jupiter. Then be on your way. I do not care what you say about me. I can endure that like a philosopher. But there is one thing I will not permit. I cannot allow you to speak ill of our native gods.’
‘Oh foolish man,’ she replied. ‘You have said nothing to me that has not been vain and ill-considered. You are an incompetent officer and a presumptuous judge. You might as well be blind, for all the good your eyes are. Can’t you tell that this idol is made of stone? You have announced that a piece of granite is a god. Put your hand on it. If you cannot see it, taste it. Can’t you tell? It is made of stone. It is a shame that all the people will be laughing at you for your foolishness. It is known that the Lord God is in the heavens. Anyone can tell that these stone images are of no use or value. Do you not see that they have no purpose? They are cold. They are lifeless.’
Her words enraged Almachius. He ordered his officers to take her back to her house, and there burn her to death. ‘Bathe her in flame,’ he said. ‘Clean her.’ They followed his orders literally. They placed her in a bath, pinioned her, and then lit great fires beneath her that were fed with logs night and day.
All that night, and for most of the next day, she felt no pain; she remained quite cool, and did not burn. There was not a drop of sweat upon her forehead. Yet she was still destined to die in that bath. Almachius, frustrated of his purpose, sent one of his servants to slay her as she lay there.
He took out his sword and three times he tried to behead her. But this torturer did not succeed. He could not take the head from the body. It was forbidden by law to aim a fourth stroke at a victim, and so with drawn sword he hesitated. He dared not break the law.
So he left her in the bath half dead, her neck badly mangled, and went on his way. The Christian followers of Cecilia then flocked to her house. They brought sheets and towels with them to staunch the flow of her blood. She endured this torment for three days, during which time she spoke and preached to them all.
She bestowed her worldly goods upon them, and blessed them. She left them in the keeping of Pope Urban himself, to whom she spoke these words. ‘I have asked this of God Almighty. I have begged Him to give me three days so that I might commend the souls of these people to your care. And I ask you to turn my house into a church.’ Then she died.
Pope Urban removed the body under cover of darkness and buried it at night in the catacombs with the other saints. Then he consecrated her house, baptizing it as the Church of Saint Cecilia. It stands to this day, a holy place devoted to the honour of Christ and of the saint herself.
Heere is ended the Seconde Nonnes Tale
The Canon’s Yeoman’s Prologue
The Prologe of the Chanouns Yemannes Tale
We had ridden scarcely five miles after we had heard the tale of Saint Cecilia when we came to the hamlet of Blean, a few miles from Canterbury. Just as we entered the forest there we were overtaken by a man dressed in black, with a white surplice showing beneath his gown. His mount, a dapple grey, was so soaked in sweat that we could scarcely credit it. It was clear that he had been riding hard for some miles. The poor horse could hardly go any further; its collar was dripping wet, and its flanks were flecked with foam. His rider travelled light, however, with only a bag of two pouches fastened to his saddle. It was a warm spring, after all. I wondered who this man in black might be, until I noticed that his hood and cloak were sewn together. I knew at once that he was a canon of the Church. His hat hung down his back, from a cord, and he had put a burdock leaf under his hood to keep his head cool and to prevent the sweat from running down his face. He had galloped fast and furiously. It was extraordinary to see the sweat on him; he held as much liquid as a distillery.
When he came up to us he cried out in a loud voice, ‘God save you all! I have come all this way for your sake. I rode as fast as I could to catch up with you. Do you mind if I join you?’
His servant now rode up behind him. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I saw you leave the inn early this morning, and I told my master here all about you. You seemed such a jolly crowd. So he was determined to ride with you. He likes a bit of fun.’
‘I’m glad you told him,’ the Host replied to the boy. ‘It looks as if your master is a clever man. Witty, too. And I bet he has a few stories to keep us all amused. Am I right?’
‘Stories? He has got a million of them. He is very entertaining, if you know what I mean. I wi
ll tell you something else. He is skilled in many ways. He has many talents. He has undertaken work of great importance, too, which no one else could manage. Unless they learned from him how to do it. He may look ordinary enough, but it will profit you to get to know him. I bet you anything that you will gain from acquaintance with him. He is a very wise man. He is one of the best.’
‘Tell me this. Is he a priest or a scholar? What kind of man is he?’
‘He is more than just a priest, sir. I will tell you, in a few words, what kind of art he practises. I cannot let you know everything, even though I do work as his assistant. But I can tell you this about his business. He is a man of such subtlety and skill that he could turn all this ground on which we are riding – the whole route, from Southwark to Canterbury – into gold and silver. I am not exaggerating.’
‘Good God!’ Harry Bailey was astounded. ‘That is a marvel, to be sure. But since your master is such a wise man, and so worthy of honour, can you explain why he is wearing such a tatty old gown? It is dirty and full of holes. It isn’t worth a penny. Where is his self-respect? According to you, he is worth a lot of money. If he can turn this road to gold and silver, why does he not buy a better gown? Tell me the answer.’
‘Why are you asking me that, sir? As God is my witness, he will never prosper. Don’t mention this to anyone, by the way. It is a secret between you and me. The problem is that he is too clever for his own good. When you have too much of a good thing, you can overreach yourself. That is his case, I believe. My master has misused his great gifts. It is a cause of grief to me, I can assure you. God help him. That is all I can say.’
‘Never mind that,’ Harry replied. ‘Tell me more about this work of his. Since you know all about him, you must also know his secrets. I assume that he is shrewd as well as wily. So tell me everything. Where do you both live?’
The Canterbury Tales – A Retelling Page 38
