insist.

"Galen!" said Marcia, sitting up suddenly.

The old man blinked. He recognized decision sudden and irrevocable. He
clenched his fingers and his lower lip came forward by the fraction of
an inch.

"I must save my Christians. What do you know about poisons?" she
demanded.

"Less than many people," Galen answered. "I have studied antidotes. I
am a doctor. Those I poisoned thought as I did, that I gave them
something for their health. My methods have changed with experience.
Doctoring is like statesmanship--which is to say, groping in the dark
through mazes of misinformation."

"Know you a poison," asked Marcia, "that will not harm one who merely
tastes it, but will kill whoever drinks a quantity? Something without
flavor? Something colorless that can be mixed with wine? Know you a
safe poison, Galen?"

"Aye--irresolution!" Galen answered. "I will not be made a victim of
it. Who shall aspire to the throne if Commodus dies?"

"Pertinax!"

Pertinax looked startled, stroking his beard, uncrossing his knees.

"Then let Pertinax do his own work," said Galen. "Rome is full of