distinguished service, good birth and adequate means fitted him for the duty.
A well-built, soldierly figure, Marinus stepped forward.
Up on the tribunal, Achaeus was all ready to hand over the vine-switch, symbol of the rank of centurion.
Just as Marinus came before the governor, unexpectedly, another man emerged from the ranks.
'Dominus,' he called up the steps. Everyone was silent at this interruption.
'By old-established laws, Marinus is debarred from holding rank in the Roman army. He is a Christian. He will not sacrifice to the emperors. By order of seniority, the post of centurion belongs to me.'
For a moment, Achaeus looked bewildered, then he laughed. 'This is not Saturnalia, soldier. Not a time for joking.'
Calgacus noticed that Marinus was standing stock-still.
'Dominus, I am not joking,' the soldier persisted. 'Marinus is a Christian. He joined the disgusting sect years ago. Ask him yourself.'
Still half-smiling, wishing to brush this off as a piece of ill-timed foolery, Achaeus turned to Marinus. There was something about the unnatural stillness of the optio that made the governor pause.
'Is… is it true?'
Marinus's jaw started working. He seemed to be reciting something under his breath. He drew a big, slightly ragged breath.
'I am a Christian.'
There was a collective gasp from the audience. A buzz of conversation flew up.
'Silence!' The herald had to bellow. 'Silence!'
'I am a Christian,' Marinus said again, a little louder.
'Nonsense,' said Achaeus. The governor still looked puzzled. 'Do not be ridiculous. How can you be? Soldiers have to worship the standards and the imperial portraits at least once a year.'
'I have sinned. God will be my judge.'
'You have a distinguished war record. Christians do not kill.'
'I have sinned. God will be my judge.' Marinus repeated the phrase as if drugged.
Achaeus looked flustered. This scandal, treasonous and divisive, was not at all what he wanted for this ceremony.
'Marinus, you are not well. You have been through a hard campaign — the constant threat of death, terrible privations, constant bad weather. You are not in your right mind. I grant you three hours to reconsider. Sit and reflect quietly. Talk to men of sense.'
Marinus did not reply.
'You are not under arrest. No one is to harass or detain you. Return here in three hours with a better answer.'
Mechanically, Marinus saluted, turned, marched down the steps and pushed into the crowd of onlookers.
Calgacus moved after him.
Marinus had turned into the agora. It was crowded. At first Calgacus could not see him. The Caledonian did nothing precipitous, nothing that would draw attention. He just strolled on, looking this way and that — a man from out of town, travelling hat on head, taking in the sights.
An eddy in the people, and there was Marinus. The optio was with another man: older, bearded, a civilian. The newcomer was leading Marinus by the hand, talking to him, low and earnest.
Calgacus followed. They crossed the breadth of the agora. They negotiated the many stalls selling various goods. They walked by the imposing facades of the temples of Apollo and Demeter, the shrines of Isis and Serapis, the sanctuaries of Tiberius and Hadrian.
The older man led Marinus out to the north-east. The centre of town was set out in regular, Hippodamian blocks. It was easy for Calgacus to trail them inconspicuously. He thought maybe he should become a frumentarius.
After they had been walking some time, they came to the Caporcotani Gate, which led to the Great Plain and the hills of Galilee beyond. Calgacus wondered if Marinus was going to make a run for it. But as soon as they had passed under the gate, the civilian led him off to the right into the suburbs.
Outside Herod's wall, there was no street plan. Lanes and alleys twisted and turned. Calgacus had to keep closer, but he had no great problems staying both in touch and unnoticed.
Marinus and his companion came to an unremarkable door. They knocked and were admitted by a burly- looking man. Calgacus waited at the street corner. This was a poorish suburb. The buildings were mainly low, a bit shabby. The walls of the amphitheatre loomed over the area. Calgacus smiled. If he was right and this was a Christian meeting place, the authorities would not have to drag them far to meet their fate.
Calgacus walked to the door and knocked.
'Yes?' The burly man looked wary.
'I am a Christian,' said Calgacus.
The man just looked at him.
'From out of town,' added Calgagus. 'From Ephesus, just docked.'
Still the man said nothing.
'Appian, son of Aristides, who bore witness during the persecution under Valerian, told me where to find you.' It was a shot in the dark that the man would have heard of the most renowned of the Christians, whom Ballista had killed while they were in Ephesus. Calgacus had no idea if Appian was likely to have known the location of the Christians' meeting place in Caesarea. At any moment he might be needing the knife in his boot, be testing the limits of the sect's pacifism.
The man nodded, pulled back the door. 'The Lord be with you, brother. How can we help?'
'And with your spirit,' said Calgacus, pulling off his hat. 'Nothing too much, just a chance to pray in peace.'
'Come in the love of God. Please take a place at the rear. Our pious bishop Theotecnus is at the altar counselling one of our brothers in the time of his trial.'
Calgacus did as he was told. He had seen and heard Christians pray. They used different styles. But some knelt and kept their heads down. That seemed to fit the bill. From under his brows, he had a good view.
The man he now knew was the Christians' archpriest was standing in front of the altar facing the soldier. The priest leant across and drew aside Marinus's military cloak. He pointed to the sword. Turning, he picked up a book — not a papyrus roll, but a new-style codex. He placed it on the altar in front of Marinus.
'Choose,' said Theotecnus.
With no hesitation, Marinus stretched out his hand and grasped the book.
'Hold fast then,' said Theotecnus. 'Hold fast to God. May you obtain what you have chosen, inspired by him. Go in peace.'
The Christians embraced, and Marinus left.
Possibly a little too quickly afterwards, Calgacus followed. The man on the door gave him an odd look but did not try to stop him. Maybe he put it down to the visitor's prurient desire to see what happened to the martyr-to- be.
Calgacus caught sight of Marinus reentering the town at the Caporcotani Gate. The optio, looking neither left nor right, went to a house in the north of Caesarea, near where the aqueducts enter. He stayed inside for some time. Calgacus assumed it was Marinus's lodgings. He waited outside. It was no hardship. It was a nice day.
Eventually Marinus came out and set off south-west. He walked purposefully. His mind on his fate, the love of God or some such, he was easy for Calgacus to shadow. As they got near the agora, people began to point, whisper to each other and openly follow. Indeed, quite a throng trailed Marinus as he reached the steps to the temple of Roma and Augustus.
Marinus stopped. The crowd milled, taking care not to get too close to the prodigy who was both a soldier and a confessed Christian.
'Marcus Aurelius Marinus,' a herald roared. 'Your time of grace is over. Present yourself to the tribunal.'
With no outward fear, Marinus stepped forward.
You had to hand it to these Christian bastards, thought Calgacus. It was impressive. It could turn the heads of some of the plebs.
On his curule chair, the governor was not smiling now. Behind him, Astyrius and the other members of his
