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.
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