There men and women mingled indiscriminately, watching the divers, conversing, matching wits, exchanging gossip, some walking briskly around the promenade while others lounged on the marble seats that were interspaced against the wall between the statues.

There was not one gesture of indecency.  A man who had stared at a woman would have been thrown out, execrated and forever more refused admission.  But out in the street, where the litter-bearers and attendants whiled away the time, there were tales told that spread to the ends of the earth.

On a bench of black marble, between two statues of the Grecian Muses, Pertinax sat talking with Bultius Livius, sub-prefect of the palace.  They were both pink-skinned from plunging in the pool, and the white scars, won in frontier wars, showed all the more distinctly.  Boltius Livius was a clean-shaven, sharp-looking man with a thin-lipped air of keenness.

“This dependence on Marcia can easily be overdone,” he remarked.  His eyes moved restlessly left and right.  He lowered his voice.  “Nobody knows how long her hold over Caesar will last.  She owns him at present owns him absolutely—­owns Rome.  He delights in letting her revoke his orders; it’s a form of self-debauchery; he does things purposely to have her overrule him.  But that has already lasted longer than I thought it would.”

“It will last as long as she and her Christians spy for him and make life pleasant,” said Pertinax.

“Exactly.  But that is the difficulty,” Livius answered, moving his eyes again restlessly.  There was not much risk of informers in the Thermae, but a man never knew who his enemies were.  “Marcia represents the Christians, and the idiots won’t let well enough alone.  By Hercules, they have it all their own way, thanks to Marcia.  They are allowed to hold their meetings.  All the statutes against them are ignored.  They even go unpunished if they don’t salute Caesar’s image!  They are allowed to preach against slavery.  It has got so now that if a man condemned to death pretends he is a Christian they’re even allowed to rescue him out of the carceres!  That’s Juno’s truth:  I know of a dozen instances.  But it’s the old story:  Put a beggar on a horse and he will demand your house next.  There’s no satisfying them.  I am told they propose to abolish the gladiatorial combats!  Laugh if you like.  I have it from unquestionable sources.  They intend to begin by abolishing the execution of criminals in the arena.  Shades of Nero!  They keep after Marcia day and night to dissuade Caesar from taking part in the spectacles, on the theory that he helps to make them popular.”

“What do they propose to substitute in popular esteem?” asked Pertinax.

“I don’t know.  They’re mad enough for anything, and their hold over Marcia is beyond belief.  The next thing you’ll know, they’ll persuade her it’s against religion to be Caesar’s mistress!  They’re quite capable of sawing off the branch they’re sitting on.  By Hercules, I hope they do it!  Some of us might go down in the scramble, but—­”