could be helped. A secret charge of treason, based on nothing more than
an informer's malice, might set even a Roman citizen outside the pale of
ordinary law and make him liable to torture. If convicted, death and
confiscation followed. Since the deification of the emperors it had
become treason even to use a coarse expression near their images or
statues; images were on the coins; statues were in the streets.
Commodus, to whom all confiscated property accrued, was in ever-
increasing need of funds to defray the titanic expense of the games that
he lavished on Rome and the "presents" with which he studiously nursed
the army's loyalty. So it was wise to be taciturn; expedient to
choose one's friends deliberately; not far removed from madness to be
seen in company with those whose antecedents might suggest the
possibility of a political intrigue. But it was also unwise to woo
solitude; a solitary man might perish by the rack and sword for lack of
witnesses, if charged with some serious offense.

So there were comradeships more loyal the more that treachery stalked
abroad. Because seriousness drew attention from the spies, the deepest
thoughts were masked beneath an air of levity, and merrymaking hid such
counsels as might come within the vaguely defined boundaries of treason.

Sextus, son of Maximus, rode not alone. Norbanus rode beside him, and
behind them Scylax on the famous Arab mare that Sextus had won from
Artaxes the Persian in a wager on the recent chariot races. Scylax was
a slave but no less, for that reason, Sextus' friend.

Norbanus rode a skewbald Cappadocian that kicked out sidewise at
pedestrians; so there was opportunity for private conversation, even on
the road to Daphne of an afternoon in spring, when nearly all of
fashionable Antioch was beginning to flow in that direction. Horses,