In the meantime, Martius was still under the roof of his father's house. It looked now as if he would be allowed to stay there, for his step-mother's illness and the quiet condition of her mind during her convalescence, gave rise to the hope that when completely recovered, she would be no longer so intolerant and would permit the religious differences to be forgotten.

Aurelius Lucanus was a broad-minded man. In his business as a lawyer and pleader of cases in the Law Courts of the Forum, he had come into personal contact with several of the Christians, finding them to be men and women of the strictest rectitude and following stern moral codes, such as were notably unobserved by the Roman of that day.

One of his clients was a widow, Octavia, wife of Aureus Cantus, the Senator, a woman of rare mental gifts and a personality which was at once gracious and commanding. She had two children, a boy and girl, a little older than Martius and Virgilia, and the lawyer, while saying nothing, had noticed that his son was not averse to lingering in the office when the sweet Hermione came with her mother to consult him on some subjects dealing with her husband's will and the large property interests now coming under the widow's control.

Octavia did not live in the handsome house formerly occupied when her husband was living on the same street where Aurelius Lucanus dwelt, preferring to leave it in charge of her freedman and his wife, who had served her family for many years. She occupied a villa about two miles from the city gates, where there were immense vineyards, festooned between mulberry trees. The vines were now hung with great purple clusters of grapes, promises of luscious fruits a little later, when the time of the Vendemmia should come in October. Then, there would be feasting and merriment among the servants, but no dancing or drinking, as was the custom on other grape plantations, so numerous on the broad Campagna around Rome.

Before Martius had been sent away from home, by his step-mother's orders, in the main hope that the poison of Christian belief would be drawn from his mind, he had been a student in his father's office, going with him daily at nine o'clock and returning at two for the family dinner. Now, he resumed his studies for the legal profession, and once more walked proudly by his father's side through the crowded passageways of the city and the broad, handsome streets of the Forum. Martius was a little taller than his father.

Aurelius Lucanus was, like many another pagan, no great believer in the gods, although, partly from regard to prevailing sentiment, partly because of his business relations, he outwardly gave attention to the formal customs of the day.

This morning, as father and son entered the Forum, passing by the great statue of Jupiter standing in front of the temple dedicated to his worship, Aurelius bowed profoundly, and muttered a prayer, but Martius, his proud young head held high, passed by, without making his obeisance.

The two were followed, as usual, by a servant, who happened this morning to be Alyrus, the Moor. He closely observed Martius and a faint smile or sneer added to the ugliness of his disfigured face. Alyrus had a fine face, so far as form and feature went, but his expression was full of cunning and revenge. In his ears he wore two huge gold rings, chased in cabalistic characters of strange design. They were the emblem of his chieftain power in that land bordering on the desert, from which he had been so rudely carried away. It was not strange that Alyrus, a barbarian, should bear in his heart a bitter hatred for the Romans and all that belonged to them. A slave, he was, and Sahira, too, but they loathed their bonds. It did not occur to Alyrus to be grateful that when they were placed on a platform down yonder at the lower end of the Forum, to be sold to the highest bidder, Aurelius Lucanus, who had bought him first, being moved by pity, had also purchased Sahira, his daughter, paying for her many sesterces of gold, because she was very beautiful and could bring a high price. Thus, father, and daughter, (who was somewhat superfluous in a house already well-supplied with women-slaves) were able to dwell together, and Sahira was spared many humiliations and dangers to which a beautiful young slave was inevitably subjected in these degenerate days of ancient Rome.

Alyrus was not the only person who observed the "irreverence" of
Martius. A priest of Jupiter, coming out of the Temple, saw the whole
thing and made his own comments. He knew Aurelius Lucanus, the
Advocate, slightly, but not the young man with him.

He stepped quickly to the side of Alyrus, who had been very profound in his reverence to the god, although he hated Rome's gods as he hated her people.

"Who is that young man?" inquired the priest.

"The son of my master, Aurelius Lucanus."

"And thou?"

"I am a humble porter," responded Alyrus, with such bitterness that it attracted the priest's attention. Being a man who understood character at a glance, he seized the opportunity. Anything which could in any way enable the pagans to hunt down the hated, despised followers of that Christus who had made them so much trouble, was worth following up. The priests knew that there were thousands of men in Rome who had no faith at all in the gods, but there were few who would dare neglect an outward observance. When a man did that, in the public Forum, he was certainly possessed of that strange courage typical of the Christians.

"Thou art a slave."

Alyrus bowed, keeping his eyes on his master and son, now approaching the splendid white marble law-courts.

"What is thy country?"

"Beyond the seas, your reverence."

Alyrus turned a pair of black eyes on the questioner. In them smouldered hidden passions.

"Your young master does not bow before Jupiter."

"No."

"And why, may I ask? His father is, I know, a faithful follower of our gods. Why not his son, also?"

The portico, surmounted by a marvelous relief in marble, a copy of an allegorical representation of jurisprudence, brought from Greece, was in front of the slave and the priest. The lawyer and Martius had already vanished in the cool shadows of the interior.

For one moment, Alyrus hesitated. It was an awful thing for a slave to betray his master's son. He gave one backward thought to those days when hundreds of horsemen acknowledged him chief, and date-palms waved their feathery arms over his tent; he remembered that he was a slave, bought with a price, and his master had struck him. And he remembered Sahira and her tears.

"Because Martius, son of Aurelius, is a Christian," he replied, and in his heart was a fearsome glee.

He was walking up the broad steps, now, while the priest, laying a detaining hand on his arm, said: "I see that thou art a man to be trusted. I am interested in these Christians. I would hear more. Come to me tomorrow, at the Temple, after sundown. There is a little back entrance in the alleyway. Ask for Lycidon, the priest of Jupiter, and show the porter this symbol. It will admit thee."

The priest was gone, and Alyrus, half-dazed, stood under the arch between two tall columns and gazed down at the bronze lizard he held in his hand. The lizard leered at him, he thought.

Just at that moment a cry was heard, which drove the crowds of people aside.

"Way! Way for the noble Lady, Octavia, widow of Aureus Cantus, Senator of the Roman Empire. Way! I say."

Through the ranks of people was borne a large chair, gilded and wrought in graceful form, adapted to such a woman as Octavia, reported to be possessed of enormous wealth. The embroidered curtains were tightly drawn, so that the passerby could not look in, but so curious were they to see the lady whose name was familiar to all, owing to the valuable services rendered by her illustrious husband to the State, that the people crowded the steps of the Law Courts to watch Octavia and her daughter Hermione descend.

They drew their veils closely, but a murmur of admiration arose as Hermione's veil slipped aside and revealed cheeks of cream and rose, eyes inherited from some northern hero, of deep violet blue, and hair, arranged in ringlets, in the style of the age, of a red-brown tint.

Hastily, the two ladies passed into the dark corridors of the court, and were soon admitted to the private office of Aurelius Lucanus. Two attendants, who had walked behind the chair all the way from the Villa to guard their mistress and her daughter, waited in the ante-chamber with Alyrus, whose duty it was to remain here until the lawyer's day of work was over.

The Roman welcomed Octavia with much ceremony. He bowed to Hermione, who threw back her veil and greeted Martius as an old friend.

While her mother explained the matter of business to her trusted lawyer, Hermione and Martius withdrew to the other side of the room and sat down side by side on an ivory and ebony bench in the window. High above them was Caesar's Palace, white and glistening in the September sunshine. Sweet scents from the imperial gardens came to them, but sweeter yet, in its innocence and freshness was the face of the young girl.

"Thou hast been long absent, Martius?" she said, while she twirled in her fingers a tea-rose, large and fragrant.

"Half a year, Hermione."

"And hast never wanted to see Rome? Was it so lovely in those far-off
Eastern lands that thou couldst forget thy home and thy friends?"

"Not so. But it was not possible for me to return. My heart yearned for Rome. There is no place like her in all the world, in the whole Roman Empire," he said, proudly.

"Was it thy business kept thee?" Then fearing lest she might be asking too much, Hermione blushed. Martius thought that the rich color flooding her cheek was in tint like that of a wondrous rose he had seen on the Isle of Cyprus, where his ship had touched in the journey toward Asia Minor. "Do not answer if it is not my right to know," she added, hastily. "I thought,—we are old friends—"

Martius was silent. He had heard that Octavia was a Christian, while her husband was not. He did not know whether Hermione followed the religion of her father or her mother. They had never talked on these matters. Christians, while exceedingly courageous where their principles were involved, did not run useless risks. There was always danger.

He drew from his tunic a small wax-tablet, and with the ivory stylus, began, carelessly, to scribble on it, as if he had not noticed her question, or as she might readily infer, did not wish to reply.

Hermione, slightly embarrassed and annoyed, watched him idly drawing. Then her breath came quickly and her face glowed. He was drawing, in the midst of other designs, a fish; little by little, it became plain.

Under her breath, she said: "I, too, am a Little Fish."

There was a sudden clasping of hands, as Martius looked frankly into her eyes.

"I was sent away," he explained, after assuring himself that his father and Octavia were still busy discussing the case. "Sent away because I learned to believe in Christ. My step-mother would not have me at home. She hates the Christians, and my father yielded to her, though, personally, he is indifferent and says that everyone has a right to believe what he pleases."

"Why didst thou return? Is thy step-mother satisfied?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Only a few weeks ago. My father's wife has been very ill. She is only now convalescing. All depends on the attitude she takes. I must wait. And in the meantime, I am preparing to be a lawyer, like my father. If I can stay in Rome, I shall be very happy. If not, I shall go to one of the distant provinces."

"O, I hope not!" she exclaimed.

Martius smiled at her.

"I hope not, too," he replied.

"There is another complication," Martius continued, after a pause. "The real cause of my stepmother's illness was Virgilia's declaration that she, too, has adopted the Christian faith. Where she heard about it, further than the things I taught her, I do not know. Thou seest, that the matter is very complicated."

"And dangerous. Dost thou not know that there has been talk in the Senate about the constantly increasing number of Christians in Rome and in the Empire? It is growing, this religion of Jesus Christ."

"Thanks be to His name," said Martius.

"Amen. But with the growth comes peril and perhaps death. We may have to bear witness for our faith before very long. My mother has been warned but feels no fear. She says that where other martyrs have gone, we can go. She is very brave."

"He giveth strength in time of need. We must wait and trust."

Hermione stretched out her hand to him and he grasped it warmly in his strong one. They were destined to be firm, true friends, these two young Christians who faced an unknown and dangerous future.

Octavia arose.

"Come, Hermione," she said, "we must be going."

The lawyer rang a small silver bell on his desk, and Alyrus appeared at the door.

"See that the Lady Octavia's chair is ready."

The Moor vanished.

"And now, my lady, I trust that you will not be at all anxious about this matter. I will attend to it."

"I thank you. Greetings to your wife, and we hope to see you both soon at our Villa. The grapes are almost ready for the gathering. My children are counting much on the festivities for the Vendemmia. Can you not come at that time, you and Claudia, with your son and daughter. It will delight Hermione and Marcus. I will send a messenger to remind you again before the Feast of the Grapes."

"Claudia has been very ill, my lady. I fear that she could not bear the motion of the chair so soon. But I will tell her of your gentle bidding to the feast, when the God Bacchus is adored with so much mirth."

A cloud crossed Octavia's face.

"The God Bacchus—" she began, but stopped. The warning she had received but a few days before from a Christian high in the service of the Emperor, rang in her ears. "We must be courageous, Octavia," he had said, "but we must not be foolish."

"If you permit, we will send Martius and Virgilia to represent us at the feast," added Aurelius.

"With pleasure. I will send a messenger before the day."

The lawyer and Martius bowed low, and the two ladies, who were carefully veiled went out on the portico. Aurelius Lucanus assisted them into the luxurious chair and he and Martius stood watching them as the four tall bearers carried them away, followed by two stalwart men. It had been a marvel to certain circles of Roman society that Octavia had freed all her slaves, men and women, after the death of Aureus. It was some business connected with this unusual matter that had brought her to the lawyer's office today.

Some had said that she was crazy to free hundreds of slaves. Others had whispered behind their hands that there were other reasons, Octavia followed Christus, and the Christians did not own slaves. But they dared not say this aloud, for Octavia was very rich and had powerful friends, even in Caesar's Palace.