"The emperor, I think, would like to see them held in Antioch," said
Pertinax.


The merchants strolling to the baths stood curiously for a while to
watch one of the rapidly increasing sect of Christians, who leaned from
a balcony over the street and exhorted a polyglot crowd of freedmen,
slaves and idlers. He was bearded, brown-skinned from exposure, brown-
robed, scrawny, vehement.

"Peculiar times!" one merchant said. "If you and I should cause a crowd
to gather while we prated about refusal to do homage to the gods--of
whom mind you, the emperor is one, and not the least--"

"But let us listen," said the other.

The man's voice was resonant. He used no tricks of oratory such as
Romans over-valued, and was not too careful in the choice of phrases.
The Greek idiom he used was unadorned--the language of the market-place
and harbor-front. He made his points directly, earnestly, not arguing
but like a guide to far-off countries giving information:

"Slaves--freedmen--masters--all are equal before God, and on the last
day all shall rise up from the dead--"

A loiterer heckled him:

"Hah! The crucified too?--what about Maternus?"