This is the Church of the Holy Cross, and before I tell you about it, I want to draw your attention to a small arch you passed on the way here. Known as the Gate of the Holy Cross, it is one of the old gates in the town wall. The town had seven gates, all of which were locked at night to seal the town in. This gate stood on the lower, seaward side of the settlement, controlling movement between the waterfront and the steep streets of the fortified town above. Only three of the seven gates still stand. The other two are the Gate of Saint Benedict and a low arched passage the locals call the Portica, both of which are a bit far from our route. Now, I have brought you to this church because local legend points to a cove near here as the place where, some twelve hundred years ago, the bells of the town began to ring all by themselves, with no hand on the ropes. The startled people came running down to the shore, and there they found a great marble tomb floating on the sea, riding the waves like a stone ship. They dragged it onto the rocks. But when they tried to carry it up to the town, nothing on earth could shift it. Teams of oxen were harnessed to it and strained until they dropped. Crowds of strong men heaved and could not move it an inch. The tomb simply would not budge. Then, a saint appeared in a dream to a humble local boy and told him her name was Euphemia. The boy came down to the shore, and in front of the whole doubting town, he hitched that vast tomb to his own two skinny calves. And those two small calves pulled the tomb that no oxen could move, all the way up the steep hill to the top. The town took it as proof beyond argument that the saint had chosen them, and chosen to be carried by the humble rather than the strong. If you’re wondering who Euphemia was, she was a young Christian woman from Chalcedon, an ancient city near Constantinople, in what is now Istanbul. According to Christian legend, Euphemia came from a prominent family and lived during the persecution of Christians under the Roman emperor Diocletian. She refused to renounce her Christian faith and worship the Roman gods. For that, she was arrested and subjected to torture. The stories of her martyrdom vary, but they describe imprisonment, severe physical torture, and an attempt to kill her in the arena. One of the most dramatic parts of the legend says that Euphemia was thrown before wild animals, expecting them to tear her apart. But the animals would not attack her. Eventually, she died from the injuries inflicted by a wild animal, often identified as a bear. How her tomb came to be drifting off Istria, no one can say, which is why it stays a legend and not a fact. But the people of Rovinj took her wholly to heart. They made her their protector, and they still keep her feast as the great day of the town. They very nearly lost her, too. In the old wars between Venice and Genoa, her relics were stolen away, and it took years of pleading before her body was returned to this hill where it belongs. Follow the map to the western cliffs, where the town meets the sunset and where I’ll tell you about fishermen’s song.