Tracing Sacred Intercession in Childbirth Across Byzantine Tradition and Its Western Reception, from the Virgin’s Girdle to Saints Julitta and Kerykos

Abstract

This article explores devotional responses to childbirth in Byzantine and medieval Western Christianity, focusing on the interplay between maternal experience, sacred objects, and saintly intercession. It begins by examining how the Virgin Mary was revered as a powerful intercessor in matters of fertility and childbirth. Drawing on literary, liturgical, and visual sources, the study also highlights vernacular practices such as the use of ritual girdles and protective garments. It then traces how these traditions migrated to Western Europe, where Mary’s girdle became a widespread devotional object, particularly in Italy and England. Later in the study, special attention is given to the cult of Saints Julitta and Kerykos, known in the West as Quiricus/Cyricus and Julitta, a mother-and-child martyr pair whose veneration in the Latin West gained renewed significance in the late Middle Ages, particularly through its symbolic parallels with Marian devotion in childbirth-related contexts. While Byzantine traditions emphasized theological regulation and elite contexts, Western Christianity fostered more accessible, embodied, and affective forms of devotional practice. The article concludes that childbirth devotion, variably expressed across regions, formed a significant part of Christian spirituality, shaped by institutional authority, local needs, and ritual acts grounded in bodily experience and articulated through images, objects, and gesture.

1. Introduction

The veneration of sacred relics and saints for fertility and childbirth formed a vital component of Christian devotion in both Byzantine and Western traditions. Central to this piety, especially among aristocratic women, was the Virgin Mary, revered as a potent intercessor. Chief among her relics was the girdle (zona), believed to offer divine protection in labor. While elite narratives emphasize miraculous interventions in conception and childbirth, popular practices among ordinary Byzantine believers remain comparatively obscure. This study explores the interplay between childbirth, relic cults, and saintly intercession, focusing not only on the well-attested cult of Mary’s girdle but also on the lesser-known devotion to Saints Julitta and Kerykos. By juxtaposing the textual and liturgical traditions of the medieval West with the visual and local rituals of regions like Cappadocia and Georgia, where saints were honored through wall paintings and vernacular acts of devotion, we uncover diverse, context-specific practices surrounding childbirth.

2. Materials and Methods

This study adopts a historically comparative framework, rooted in Byzantine visual and devotional traditions and extended through selected medieval Western material, building on my doctoral research completed in 2022.1 The present paper introduces a new line of inquiry, an aspect not explored in my previous research, by examining the cultic and intercessory significance of the Virgin’s girdle in relation to childbirth and healing, within both Byzantine and medieval Western contexts. In this context, the study also briefly revisits the cult of Saints Julitta and Kerykos to consider whether traces of a similar association with childbirth, albeit less prominent and possibly underrepresented, can be identified in textual and visual traditions. This aspect is explored through a combination of iconological interpretation and contextual reading of hagiographic and devotional materials, with particular attention to vernacular prayers and references to childbirth-related intercession in visual and textual sources.

3. Mary’s Girdle and Protective Devotion in Byzantium

In Byzantium, the Virgin Mary was widely invoked for assistance in matters of conception, childbirth, and postnatal protection (Herrin 2013, pp. 173–74) which was a consistent theme in Byzantine hagiography, homiletic literature, and court culture. Her intercession was sought by women across social strata, with special emphasis on fertility and the delivery of male heirs. Aristocratic households often invoked her aid to ensure dynastic continuity, particularly through the birth of male heirs. Empresses were known to dedicate votive offerings at Marian shrines or seek blessings from the Theotokos, especially in relation to childbirth and fertility (Kotsis 2012, p. 48; Pitarakis 2016, pp. 156–57; Efthymiadis 2014, pp. 122–23).

Access to her intercession centered on icons, relics, and celebrated healing springs. Foremost was the shrine of Blachernae, home to a venerated icon and a phial of holy water, which drew women seeking safe delivery (Panou 2018, pp. 49, 55). This courtly devotion extended beyond the palace, shaping popular beliefs and both urban and rural devotional practices. As early as the sixth century, accounts such as the Life of St. Eutychios (BHG 657) describe how infertile couples were granted children after praying before Marian icons in provincial shrines (PG 86 (2), cols. 2325–2328).2

Later narratives, including the ninth-century Life of St. Stephen the Younger (BHG 1666), recount similar miracles in which women conceived after praying before icons of the Virgin Mary in prominent urban sanctuaries like Blachernae (Talbot 1998, pp. IX–X; Pitarakis 2009, pp. 196, 223).3 These accounts reflect the widespread trust placed in Marian intercession for fertility and safe childbirth among both elite and non-elite women, with some specifically praying for the birth of a male heir (Herrin 2013, pp. 174, 290).

Beyond appeals for fertility or the birth of a male heir, Byzantine devotion also invoked the Virgin’s aid in easing the physical suffering of childbirth. By the Late Byzantine period, elite women continued to call upon the Virgin not only during pregnancy and labor but also in gratitude for surviving dangerous deliveries. Marian intercession thus extended into postnatal thanksgiving and was tied to theological reflections on Mary as the “New Eve.” A telling example comes from an epigram by the noblewoman Maria Kasiane Raoulaina, who offers heartfelt thanks to the Virgin Pege after a perilous birth (Talbot 2014, p. 267).4 In this expression, Mary’s salvific role becomes closely aligned with maternal healing, offering solace against the inherited pain of Eve’s curse and embodying divine aid in the most perilous moment of a woman’s life.5

Although Marian intercession in matters of fertility and childbirth was deeply embedded in Byzantine devotional life, ecclesiastical authorities had long expressed discomfort with popular rituals associated with reproduction. Already in the fourth century, John Chrysostom mocked the use of amulets and red cloths tied to infants, insisting that only the sign of the Cross could offer true protection (Ball 2016, p. 63; Morgan 2018, p. 53). By the seventh century, such concerns were formalized in Canon 79 of the Council in Trullo (691/692), which condemned ritual appeals for male offspring or painless delivery, urging instead reliance on divine will and proper doctrine. Invoking the Virgin’s miraculous and painless childbirth, the canon warned against superstitious imitation (Herrin 1992, pp. 104–5). These clerical interventions highlight a persistent tension between official teachings and enduring lay practices. Despite such efforts, elite and non-elite people, mostly women, alike continued to turn to the Theotokos for protection, healing, and safe delivery. These appeals were often mediated through distinct modes of devotion, such as icons, relics, and healing springs, among which the Virgin’s girdle held particular symbolic and intercessory significance. The following section explores how this relic came to embody both personal and theological concerns about childbirth within Byzantine and medieval Western contexts.

4. The Girdle Cult: Origins and Ritual Use

The relic of Mary’s girdle lay at the heart of Byzantine childbirth piety, serving as a tactile pledge of the Virgin’s maternal protection. Later tradition places its arrival from the Holy Land in Constantinople under Emperor Arcadius (395–408) and its first enshrinement in Chalkoprateia, though scholars note the story rests on much later legend (Shoemaker 2008; Panou 2018, p. 55). By the tenth century, however, the relic is securely attested and soon appears at Blachernae alongside other Marian treasures, forming a constellation of shrines where women sought aid in fertility and delivery (Panou 2018, p. 55).

Legends connected to Mary’s Dormition shaped the relic’s meaning. In a Georgian-derived seventh or tenth6 century-Life of the Virgin (BHG?) attributed to Maximos the Confessor, the Apostle Thomas receives the girdle from heaven as proof of her Assumption (Shoemaker 2008, pp. 55–56); the Latin Transitus Mariae echoes the scene (Najork 2018). The Life also recounts how the patricians Galbios and Kandios translated both girdle and mantle to Constantinople, where the “immaculate”7 Virgin bestowed them on the city (Shoemaker 2008, p. 61). Patriarch Germanos I (715–730) identified the relic as the belt worn during her pregnancy, linking it to the Incarnation and to women in childbirth (Panou 2018, p. 55).8 Germanos further emphasized the girdle’s protective power for Constantinople itself, describing it as a divine shield against barbarian attacks (Dell’Acqua 2019, p. 290). In Byzantium, at least for a certain period, the Virgin’s girdle was believed to assist women during childbirth. This devotional object, invested with protective grace, was thought to ease the pains of labor and promote fertility. As J. Herrin memorably puts it (Herrin 2000, p. 26), the girdle functioned as a kind of “sacred epidural,” a relic invoked by women hoping to conceive or to survive the trials of delivery. The relic’s prestige grew through imperial association; later accounts suggest that two of Leo VI’s wives turned to prayer-belts, possibly the girdle itself, during their attempts to bear a male successor (Pitarakis 2009, pp. 196–97 n. 107; 2016, pp. 156–57; Kotsis 2012, p. 48; Efthymiadis 2014, pp. 122–23).9 The association between girdle rituals and imperial women has been noted by various scholars, often referencing the cases of Leo VI’s wives. Pitarakis further mentions that Byzantine women used to tie cloth belts around their waists to promote fertility and ensure a safe delivery, although she does not elaborate on the social scope of this practice. Given the imperial examples she discusses, it is likely that her observations refer primarily to aristocratic women (Pitarakis 2009, pp. 196–97, n. 107). This raises the question of whether similar practices were known or employed beyond elite circles. While evidence is scarce, a few details from the hagiographic narratives provide valuable glimpses into devotional behaviors among rural or non-elite populations. Textual support for girdle-based fertility practices comes from the Life of St. Theodore of Sykeon, which documents both the social spread and ritual mechanics of such devotions.10 The author Eleusios (or Georgios) provides compelling first-hand testimony from a rural Galatian village, recounting how his own childless parents sought the saint’s blessing on their waist belts and subsequently conceived. The narrative reveals that other couples facing similar problems sought out the saint’s help and had children the same year through this practice (Dawes and Baynes 1948). This account provides crucial evidence that girdle-based fertility rituals constituted a widespread folk custom extending from the imperial court to rural village communities.

Although Mary’s relic is not mentioned, the ritual efficacy attributed to the belt indicates the presence of a broader devotional motif, embedded in provincial Christian practice and perhaps shaped by earlier traditions.11 The concentration of girdle practices among women, attested from imperial courts to rural villages, raises important questions about the gendered dimensions of Byzantine devotional culture. As Herrin has argued, women’s attachment to sacred objects often functioned as “a privileged sphere of female religious agency,” offering alternative channels of spiritual authority outside formal church structures (Herrin 2013). The evidence for Marian girdle practices suggests that such agency operated across social levels and geographic contexts, shaped both by prevailing associations with motherhood and by broader patterns of performative female piety.

5. Sacred Textiles and Visual Motifs of Protection

This account of blessed girdles used as fertility amulets in a rural, non-elite context resonates powerfully with the Marian textile fragments that demonstrate this same devotional pattern in material culture. The use of textiles for protective purposes was widespread in Late Antiquity, with magical practices working alongside Christianity and protective motifs commonly placed at vulnerable points on garments for maximum apotropaic effect (Ball 2016, pp. 56, 59).

Although most of the surviving textiles with Christological scenes are from the sixth century or later, this practice began much earlier as part of the fourth-century development of distinctly Christian textile identity (Maguire 1990, p. 220; Ball 2018).12 In the fourth century, Bishop Asterios of Amasea remarked on the popularity of clothing decorated with biblical scenes. He noted how pious men and women “gathered up the gospel history and turned it over to the weavers,” commissioning tunics that displayed miracles like the healing of the blind or the raising of Lazarus (Maguire 1990, p. 220; Davis 2005, pp. 353–54; Ball 2018, pp. 234–35; Morgan 2018, p. 45).

Within this context, scholars have examined evidence suggesting a particular specialization in motifs addressing women’s fertility and childbirth concerns during Late Antiquity (Ball 2016, p. 59; Lam 2019, pp. 44–45; Davis 2005, pp. 353, 359; Morgan 2018, pp. 45, 48).13 Among these, scenes related to motherhood, particularly the Annunciation, Visitation, and Nativity, held particular significance for women’s devotional and apotropaic needs. From the sixth century onward, small textile objects bearing these scenes circulated among women, often as personal devotional items (Pitarakis 2016, p. 158). The material evidence demonstrates the specialized function of these textiles through their strategic repetition of pregnancy-related scenes, as pointed out by Lam with the surviving examples from Boston and Brussels museums that show multiple Visitation scenes on single garments (Lam 2019, pp. 57–58).14

A different case is represented by an eighth or ninth-century silk fragment with repeated Annunciation scenes preserved in the Vatican Museums.15 Discovered in 1905 lining a reliquary in the Sancta Sanctorum, the fragment was probably among the luxurious fabrics imported from Constantinople and donated to Roman churches by the papacy in the late eighth or early ninth century (Cormack and Vassilaki 2008, p. 389; Thomas 2012, pp. 152–53). It represents one of the few surviving silk fragments of the gifts presented to Rome. The repeated Annunciation imagery, while consistent with devotional themes, may have served primarily decorative functions within this ecclesiastical context, though the symbolic associations would have remained meaningful to contemporary viewers.

Although explicit expression of such symbolic associations in monumental art is rare, the mid-sixth-century apse mosaic on the lower wall of the Euphrasius Basilica at Poreč provides such an example (Figure 1). There, the Virgin is shown wearing a green belt beneath a translucent veil, details that Terry and Maguire identify as unique among surviving Annunciation scenes, though they note some parallels for the girdle detail in the fifth-century Santa Maria Maggiore mosaic and Codex Etschmiadzin miniature (Terry and Maguire 2007). Furthermore, they read this belt not merely as decorative but as a potent symbol of divine conception, possibly reflecting contemporary beliefs about the Virgin’s zona (Terry and Maguire 2007, pp. 133–36, figure 97). The symbolic emphasis on conception and pregnancy at Poreč extends beyond this single detail: directly opposite the Annunciation, the Visitation scene depicts Mary’s encounter with the pregnant Elizabeth, creating a coherent iconographic program centered on themes of divine pregnancy and motherhood. Notably, both women are depicted with prominently visible breasts, an anatomical emphasis that is, as Lam observes in relation to similar textile imagery, “uncommon in Byzantine art and suggests” specific attention to maternal and fertility concerns (Lam 2019, p. 58).16

The 13th-century Annunciation scene added above the arch of the new ciborium (Terry and Maguire 2007) presents a marked contrast to this elaborate maternal program. Here the textile imagery reduces to merely a small spindle in Mary’s left hand, suggesting that the earlier period’s explicit theological engagement with textile symbolism, where spinning visualized the mystery of the Incarnation itself, had been condensed into simpler iconographic shorthand by the medieval period.17 Together, these chronologically distinct programs trace how visual theology evolved from elaborate to economical expression within the same sacred space, while preserving the church’s enduring devotional focus on divine conception and incarnation.18

The correspondence between this monumental program and contemporary textile practices suggests a shared symbolic vocabulary addressing women’s concerns about conception and childbirth across different artistic media and social contexts. These practices seem to decline after the Iconoclastic period, when sacred imagery was removed from personal objects and confined to liturgical settings (Woodfin 2004). Indeed, this transformation affected all forms of sacred imagery and represented a fundamental shift from earlier practices. The iconoclastic period systematically regularized earlier visual traditions across different media, causing many to disappear entirely, undergo significant alteration, or become marginalized within mainstream Christian practice (Lidova 2016, p. 122).

In parallel, different currents in Marian imagery developed within imperial and theological frameworks, most clearly in the Maria Regina type. The encaustic icon at Santa Maria in Trastevere (Figure 2), dated to the late sixth to early eighth century (Lidova 2016),19 and the monumental eighth-century mosaic originally commissioned by Pope John VII for his oratory at St Peter’s, now preserved in the Basilica of San Marco in Florence (Lidova 2013, See also (Ballardini and Pogliani 2013)), present the Virgin enthroned in imperial regalia, including a prominent girdle. While Lidova interprets this vestment primarily in relation to Mary’s virginal and royal status, its visual recurrence across different artistic contexts underscores the broader significance of the girdle motif in early Christian culture, even if its precise symbolic function varied between imperial-theological and devotional settings.20

While earlier examples such as the Poreč mosaic and the Maria Regina icons demonstrate girdle imagery in both devotional and imperial contexts, explicit depictions that directly reference the apocryphal tradition of Mary handing her girdle to Thomas during her Dormition are likewise rare in Byzantine visual culture21. However, the tradition was maintained through other channels: liturgical manuscripts documenting the girdle’s translation ceremony (Oxford, Bodleian Gr. th. f. 1, fol. 53v) and the institutionalized August 31st feast22 established by Manuel Komnenos provided official recognition even when narrative visual representations were scarce.23 This contrasts with Western traditions where the motif became central.

This muted visual presence likely reflects both theological caution toward apocryphal legends and the relic’s usual confinement within reliquaries.

6. The Girdle’s Medieval Migration

While Byzantine sources fall largely silent on the fate of Mary’s girdle after the early 13th century, Western records begin to extol the relic with growing intensity from that very point. One of the most common explanations is the transfer of relics following the Latin occupation of Constantinople in 1204, when Crusaders likely brought fragments of the zona to the West.24 However, evidence suggests that girdle traditions reached the West through multiple pathways beginning in the 12th century. A 12th-century tradition claims that a strip of Mary’s girdle arrived in Prato, Italy, in 1140, brought by a pilgrim or priest from Jerusalem.25 Regardless of its true origins, by the later Middle Ages Prato possessed what was believed to be the Sacra Cintola, housed in the cathedral of Santo Stefano (For further information see (Cadogan 2009)).

Dell’Acqua’s research reveals that Pisa established official commercial treaties with Byzantium in the early twelfth century. Through this contact, Pisa not only acquired venerated objects, such as icons of Mary, but also drew inspiration from Constantinopolitan ritual practices. Through ongoing cultural exchange, the cult of the Holy Girdle likely made an impression on Pisans living in or visiting Constantinople, fostering their awareness of these traditions (Dell’Acqua 2019, p. 295). Contemporary with this contact Prato developed its own girdle tradition.26 The timing may not be coincidental, as Dell’Acqua suggests: She points to the declaration of feast of the Girdle on August 31st as a public holiday by the Byzantine emperor Manuel Komnenos (Dell’Acqua 2019, pp. 293–94). This demonstrates the renewed Byzantine emphasis on the cult precisely when Italian cities were establishing their own claims.

In Italy, the relic gained renown for aiding conception and childbirth, echoing its earlier Byzantine role (Eliason 2004, pp. 2, 5–6, 8, 57, 225). After the Black Death decimated Tuscany in the 14th century, the cult of the girdle intensified, as fertility and maternity became socio-political and cultural imperatives. This development brought into sharper focus a paradox: Mary’s girdle, closely associated with her perpetual virginity, was nonetheless invoked as a primary relic for conception and childbirth. In this way, medieval women sought maternal intercession through an object that simultaneously signified virginal conception and the hope of safe delivery. The theological weight of Mary’s perpetual virginity was profound. As Shoemaker has addressed (Shoemaker 2002, pp. 15–16), Byzantine authors such as Germanus of Constantinople argued that her body, transformed through virginity into incorruptibility, could not be subjected to death. This doctrinal emphasis on virginity as a source of immortality highlights the paradox of invoking Mary’s girdle in childbirth, where women sought intercession through a relic symbolizing the very body believed exempt from ordinary maternal experience.27 On Marian feast days, the relic was displayed in public ostensions, especially for expectant mothers. Around it grew a rich iconography, frescoes and altarpieces depicting the Assumption,28 Mary’s intercession, and the moment she bestows the girdle on Thomas.29

The cult also found expression in intimate devotional manuscripts, such as a late 14th-century Italian illumination30 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Canon. Ital. 280, fol. 242r), which depicts the Virgin handing her girdle to a kneeling Thomas, accompanied by vernacular Italian text. Below we see a colorful illustration by Maria Luisa Vicentini (Figure 3).31 This example illustrates how the girdle tradition was adapted for personal meditation, reflecting the circulation of these narratives within private devotional contexts. In this illumination, Mary, ascending to heaven within an almond-shaped mandorla, loosens the belt from her waist and lets it fall directly into the hands of the kneeling Thomas. The scene visualizes the climactic moment of transmission, turning the girdle into both proof of the Assumption and a tangible sign of divine favor.32

The motif itself derives from apocryphal traditions in the Life of Mary, already discussed above, where Thomas’s role provides the narrative hinge for the transmission of the relic. That Thomas is the recipient is significant. As the incredulous apostle, his acceptance of the girdle provided tangible proof of Mary’s Assumption. At the same time, the choice of a male apostle as witness and custodian of this most intimate Marian relic also reflects a gendered dynamic.33

Figure 3. “The Virgin Gives Her Girdle to St. Thomas”, fol. 242r, in Bodleian Library MS. Canon. Ital. 280, c. 1400 (Reproduced with permission from Cornagliotti and Parnigoni 2023, the illustration by Maria Luisa Vicentini34.

Figure 3. “The Virgin Gives Her Girdle to St. Thomas”, fol. 242r, in Bodleian Library MS. Canon. Ital. 280, c. 1400 (Reproduced with permission from Cornagliotti and Parnigoni 2023, the illustration by Maria Luisa Vicentini34.

The devotion spread widely. Fragments or claimed copies of the girdle were venerated across Europe, notably in France and England. Westminster Abbey housed one such relic, likely acquired via dynastic ties with Byzantium. By the 15th century, English queens, including Eleanor of Provence and Elizabeth of York, invoked the girdle for safe childbirth, testifying to its prestige among elite women (L’Estrange 2003, p. 131). This association with elite women’s reproductive concerns found a visual counterpart in English alabaster panels produced by Nottingham workshops, which depict Mary ascending into heaven within a mandorla and dropping her girdle to Thomas. Such carvings circulated throughout Europe, reinforcing the girdle’s role as a symbol of divine presence and protection. Noteworthy pieces can be found in major museum collections, for example, a late 15th-century alabaster panel in the Victoria and Albert Museum (Accession no. 27.8) and another 15th-century piece in the British Museum (Museum no. 18930426.152). A comparison with other artworks shows that this episode was typically depicted with the Virgin crowned by the Trinity, angels raising the mandorla, and St. Thomas receiving the girdle (Murat 2016, p. 412, figure 20).

7. Saints Julitta and Kerykos as Intercessors in Childbirth

From imperial courts to Anatolian villages, devotion to the Virgin Mary shaped reproductive hopes across Byzantine society, expressed through prayers for fertility, safe childbirth, and the birth of healthy heirs. The cult of her girdle, in particular, illustrates how concerns related to childbirth were addressed through elite reverence, theological commentary, and hagiographic tradition. In the Latin West, following the relic’s likely transfer in the early thirteenth century, its veneration acquired a more public and visual character, becoming integrated into Marian feasts and maternal devotion. By the fourteenth century, it had become widespread in both ritual and artistic representations. However, with the rise of religious reform movements, such practices increasingly faced criticism and were gradually restricted as excessive or inappropriate forms of devotion.35

While the Virgin Mary remained the primary intercessor in matters of fertility and childbirth throughout the Christian world, Western devotional culture also incorporated other sacred figures into female-centered spiritual practices. Among these were Saints Julitta and her young son Kerykos (BHG 313y–z; BHG 314–317), martyred in Tarsus. Although their hagiographic narrative centers on persecution rather than motherhood, their depiction as a mother-and-child pair granted them symbolic resonance in contexts of maternal protection and care (Figure 4a,b). In Byzantine sources, explicit textual connections to childbirth are rare. However, some of the Western manuscripts, including litanies and supplications related to childbirth, suggest a devotional reinterpretation that positioned Julitta and Kerykos alongside more established intercessors such as St. Margaret of Antioch. These documents reveal how the protective logic surrounding Mary’s girdle could extend to other maternal figures, particularly within vernacular and female devotional frameworks.

The presence of Julitta and Kerykos in Western childbirth prayers, despite the lack of explicit hagiographic associations with maternity, invites a reexamination of their role within the Byzantine devotional landscape. Although direct textual references to childbirth are absent in Eastern sources, regional wall paintings, dedicatory inscriptions, and the saints’ positioning within healing-focused iconographic programs suggest a quieter but symbolically resonant role. Their frequent depiction near the apse or alongside saints associated with healing and protection raises the possibility that Julitta and Kerykos functioned as maternal intercessors in specific provincial and monastic settings. Rather than reflecting official cult status, these visual placements may instead reveal a localized and embodied form of sacred maternity embedded within Byzantine visual and ritual practice.

8. The Story of Saints Julitta and Kerykos

The lives of Saints Julitta and Kerykos survive in two major versions: a richly embellished “epic” (Kälviäinen 2018, s. 107–108) and a more restrained account.36 Their widespread cult is attested by the extraordinary number of translations into Coptic, Syriac, Arabic, Armenian, Georgian, Latin, and Old English, underscoring their broad appeal across linguistic and liturgical boundaries (Ünser 2022, pp. 53–71).

In the dramatic version, Kerykos displays precocious faith and miraculous powers, urging his mother to remain steadfast and performing healings (Acta Martyrum et Sanctorum, pp. 254–83). Such embellished portrayals alarmed some in the West; by the fifth century, ecclesiastical authorities issued decrees against hagiographies deemed implausible, citing Julitta and Kerykos alongside Saint George (Kälviäinen 2018, p. 109). In response, more measured and theologically acceptable versions were composed.

The best-known of these appears in the Synaxarion of Constantinople. There, Julitta and her three-year-old son, living in Iconium during Diocletian’s reign, flee to Tarsus but are captured. Governor Alexander attempts to force apostasy by separating the child from his mother. Instead, Kerykos echoes her Christian declarations, prompting the enraged governor to kill him by throwing him downstairs. Julitta, tortured and unyielding, is subsequently beheaded (Synaxarion CP, p. 821). This narrative portrayal of Julitta as a steadfast mother and martyr offered a powerful archetype of maternal endurance, an image that could resonate in contexts of childbirth, protection, and familial devotion.

9. Some Medieval Presentations of the Saints

While their cult never reached prominence in Constantinople and remains largely absent from major liturgical calendars, local traditions offer a different picture. In regions such as Cappadocia and Georgia, visual and epigraphic evidence points to a quieter, vernacular veneration of Julitta and Kerykos. In Cappadocia, wall paintings consistently place them near figures associated not only with healing but also with fertility and maternal intercession. At the Ali Reis Church, for instance, Julitta and Kerykos appear alongside Saints Anna and Joachim, figures particularly venerated in the Byzantine tradition for their role in miraculous conception and childbirth,37 as well as the stylite Saint Symeon, possibly accompanied by his mother (Figure 5a,b).38 Scholars have noted the strong relationship between the stylite saint and his mother Martha, who appears prominently in his hagiography.39 His vita emphasizes his role as a healer, with many women seeking his aid, particularly those experiencing infertility or complications during pregnancy.

Notably, Julitta and Kerykos are depicted in facing half-length portraits, with Kerykos shown as a youth rather than a child (Figure 6), a format common in Eastern iconography and likely shaped by the dramatic “epic” versions of their story, where the boy is portrayed with exceptional maturity and spiritual agency40. Aside from this iconographic schema, this compositional clustering suggests a symbolic alignment of maternal protection, generational continuity, and divine intervention in reproductive matters.

In Georgian traditions, particularly in the Svaneti region, evidence of veneration for the saints appears across a wide range of devotional media. Church wall paintings, dedicatory inscriptions, and icons consistently feature the saints, often emphasizing themes of martyrdom and maternal protection.41 One remarkable example appears in a wall painting from the Svaneti region, where the saints are depicted side by side, with Kerykos pointing to the wound on his head (Figure 7), a visual motif that reflects the later compiled version of their hagiographic narrative. Julitta is shown with a solemn, almost mourning expression, her hand slightly raised as if in response to her son’s gesture. Both figures hold crosses, the conventional attribute of martyr saints.42

The enduring significance of Julitta and Kerykos is also reflected in ongoing popular commemorations, such as the annual Kvirikoba festival held at the Lagurka monastery in Upper Svaneti, Georgia, where the saints’ memory is actively preserved within living tradition.43 These practices reveal how their cult intersected with the spiritual needs of rural women and families, blending martyr narratives with local concerns related to fertility, healing, and intercession.44

Remarkably, their earliest monumental commemoration is found in the Latin West. This may set the stage for their reappearance in late medieval devotional contexts. The eighth-century murals in the Chapel of Theodotus at Santa Maria Antiqua, Rome, offer clear evidence of their veneration within a sophisticated visual program (Figure 8).45 The Chapel features the most extensive narrative scenes of the saints’ passion, along with portrait depictions of the saints and other holy mothers.46 In the donor panel cited here, Julitta and Kerykos appear positioned beside the enthroned Virgin and Child, flanked by Saints Peter and Paul; Pope Zacharias stands next to Julitta, while the donor Theodotus, shown offering a model of the church, is positioned beside Kerykos. This emphasis on Julitta and Kerykos as an alternative mother-and-child pair aligns with a broader visual culture at Santa Maria Antiqua in the seventh and eighth centuries, which prominently featured “Holy Mothers”. Alongside the Virgin and Child, the painting program in the church presented Anne with the infant Mary, Elizabeth with the infant John the Baptist, and Salomone with her seven sons. These images celebrated miraculous fertility and maternal intercession, offering models of motherhood sanctified through faith. Within this environment, the presence of Julitta and Kerykos gains additional resonance.47

10. Vernacular Manuscripts and “Birth Girdle” Scrolls

One of the earliest known invocations of Saints Julitta and Kerykos in a childbirth context appears in the Neville Book of Hours (BL Egerton MS 2781), a 14th-century English manuscript.48 A rubric on fol. 26v, written in Anglo-French, addresses women in labor and directs them to recite a prayer in honor of God, the Virgin Mary, and the saints: “If you are in any anguish or pain of childbirth, say the following prayer… and you will be quickly succored” (Smith 1996, pp. 186, 216). This is followed by a Latin suffrage praising Kerykos as “soldier of the King of Angels” and asking both him and Julitta to intercede at the hour of death.49

A longer Latin litany also includes their names (Smith 1996, p. 188). The multilingual layering, Anglo-French rubric, Latin prayers, and even some French passages, highlight the culturally hybrid devotional landscape of late medieval England and the saints’ specific role in women’s reproductive concerns.50

A group of rolled English manuscripts, interpreted as imitations of relics associated with Mary’s girdle, is particularly significant due to the inclusion of prayers to the saints, and the identification of some as “birth girdles” (Morse 2014, p. 201). In many of these scrolls, the mise-en-page places the prayers around or within cruciform diagrams, creating a visual link between Christ’s Passion and the bodily suffering of childbirth. The Virgin Mary remains a central figure in these texts (Morse 2013, pp. 198–200). This interweaving of Marian intercession, affective piety, protective ritual, and maternal martyrdom reinforces the idea that these manuscripts functioned not merely as symbolic devotional objects, but as active tools of intercession, meant to be handled, worn, and relied upon during labor.

Among these, Wellcome MS 632 (late 15th century) is especially significant, offering both visual and textual evidence of use during labor (Figure 9a,b). Scientific analysis also confirms its application on women’s bodies (Fiddyment et al. 2021, p. 3). Like Egyptian papyrus amulets, whose protective power was activated by ritual recitation as well as bodily contact (Skemer 2006, pp. 23–30; Frankfurter 2017, pp. 184–90), these scrolls were likewise intended to be pronounced in the birthing chamber. A Middle English prayer on the scroll reads: “And if a woman travail of child, take this cross and lay it on her womb… For Saint Cyryacus and Saint Iulite, his mother, desired these petitions of God, who granted them. This is registered at Rome at Saint John Lateran” (Morse 2013, p. 197).51

Directly beneath this prayer is a Latin hymn to Kerykos (Moorat 1962, p. 492) as found in the Neville Book of Hours, suggesting a recurring devotional formula. The juxtaposition of childbirth petitions with a martyrial hymn underscores the interweaving of birth and death, nativity and passion, within the cult of Julitta and Kerykos.

11. Byzantine Perspectives and Theological Connections

The emergence of birth girdle scrolls in the West, modeled after the Virgin’s sacred girdle, raises the question of whether Saints Julitta and Kerykos held a comparable association with childbirth in Byzantine tradition. While explicit evidence is limited, certain texts suggest that Julitta’s maternal role was acknowledged. For instance, Symeon Metaphrastes’ tenth-century hagiographies praise her unwavering maternal faith, likening her to figures such as Abraham and Hannah (HSVS, p. 366). Hymns attributed to Patriarch Germanos of Constantinople also highlight her piety and motherly devotion (Simic 2017, s. 132).

Modern scholarship draws compelling theological parallels between Julitta’s experience and that of the Virgin Mary. Morse (2013, p. 194), in her study of the Wellcome scroll, emphasizes the symbolic connection between childbirth pain and Mary’s suffering during the Passion. This motif echoes broader medieval theology, which often linked Mary’s joy at Christ’s birth to her anguish at the Crucifixion. The emotional arc described in John 16:21–22, grief turned to joy, finds a clear analogue in Julitta’s story: her sorrow at Kerykos’ death is transformed into gratitude for his martyrdom. Such theological framing may explain their inclusion in childbirth prayers, with Julitta’s endurance under martyrdom and Kerykos innocence together sanctifying both maternal suffering and the vulnerability of birth.

Further support for their association with fertility arises from a version of their Passio preserved in the Acta Sanctorum (BHL 1802). In it, the young saint prays that his place of martyrdom be free from hunger, illness, and sterilitas, a Latin term that can refer to both agricultural and human barrenness (Ünser 2022, pp. 349, 416).

By the late Middle Ages, both theological and legendary strands of their cult were known in Europe. Manuscripts invoking Julitta and Kerykos in childbirth likely drew from two interwoven traditions: their maternal martyrdom and their symbolic connection to Mary’s suffering and protection. While their cult in Byzantium remained modest and regionally contained, the maternal interpretation of their story, especially in connection with the Virgin’s girdle, gained renewed vitality in the West. Importantly, this reflects not a pagan fertility cult but Christian intercessory practice, where saints mediate divine grace for women facing childbirth’s dangers. Their pairing offered a balance of maternal protection and childhood sanctity, transforming maternal anxieties into opportunities for divine intercession within Christian frameworks of virginity, martyrdom, and grace.

While their cult in Byzantium remained modest and regionally contained, the maternal interpretation of their story, especially in connection with the Virgin’s girdle, gained renewed vitality in the West. These associations did not emerge in isolation. Cultural exchanges during the Crusades, particularly those facilitated by Norman networks, likely played a role in transmitting Eastern saints and relic narratives into Western devotional contexts.52 Thus, the Western adaptation of Julitta and Kerykos as childbirth patrons reflects both enduring maternal symbolism and cross-cultural devotional dynamics.

12. Conclusions

This study has traced the interwoven networks of belief, ritual, and visual culture that shaped Christian approaches to childbirth across Byzantine and Western traditions. At its center stands the Virgin Mary whose role as maternal intercessor was central to elite and popular piety alike. Through prayers, icons, votive offerings, and sacred textiles, the faithful sought her aid for fertility, safe delivery, and the healing of women’s bodies. These devotions, grounded in both theological reflection and lived maternal vulnerability, highlight the profound entanglement of sanctity and reproductive experience.

Importantly, the cult of the Virgin’s girdle illuminates how sacred materiality and embodied ritual operated across cultural and social boundaries. In Byzantium, access to the relic was shaped by theological discourse and imperial patronage, while more localized practices, including the ritual use of belts or textiles, hint at vernacular expressions of maternal spirituality. Meanwhile, in the medieval West, particularly in Italy and England, the girdle’s significance was reimagined through manuscript culture, birth scrolls, and visual iconography, translating relic veneration into more intimate, domestic forms of devotional engagement.

Within this evolving landscape, the figure of Saints Julitta and Kerykos offers a compelling counterpart to Marian devotion. Though textual evidence from Byzantium remains sparse, visual placements in Cappadocia and Georgia, combined with affective theological readings, suggest a quiet but symbolically potent maternal intercession. In the Latin world, this resonance deepened, with their names inscribed in childbirth prayers and scrolls used on women’s bodies, paralleling the protective logic of Mary’s girdle.

These devotional transformations unfolded within broader currents of cultural exchange. In particular, the transmission of Eastern saints and relic narratives into Western contexts allowed maternal figures like Julitta and Kerykos to gain renewed relevance. Once embedded in Western devotional culture, their meanings were reshaped through local ritual, manuscript traditions, and popular concerns around childbirth.

By comparing Byzantine and Western approaches, we gain insight into how saints’ cults responded to women’s reproductive experiences and anxieties, offering ritualized frameworks for hope, protection, and healing. These devotional patterns help us understand how medieval societies navigated the precariousness of childbirth through sacred intermediaries, bridging pain and blessing, fear and expectation, vulnerability and divine care.