Having left guard at their tent, the two Greek travelers entered the city gates to search for an evening meal at one of the public inns. They found themselves seated at table in the courtyard of an inn near the city gate, much frequented by the sheiks of the hill and desert tribes with the herds outside. Motley rude fellows sat cheek by jowl with Arab sheiks and heads of mountain clans and the rough riff-raff element that lives by its wits in every great city. The younger man had set down his tankard of goats’ milk and turned to his aged companion: “My Apollos,” he said, “why was I directed to leave Babylonia and to come on to Ephesus? I had taken up the work of Peter when he went to Rome.” His aged bearded companion gazed absently, as if far back and far forward. “You have Peter’s Epistles to the Greek Churches of Asia?” he asked. “I have had them copied for all the Greek Churches of Asia.” “Recall you where he admonished—‘Love the brotherhood—fear God—honor the King—for the time for me to lay aside my body is now rapidly drawing near?’ He foreknew his own translation to the Upper Kingdom. Matthew and Luke and Mark have gone to Egypt. Thomas has passed to the beyond in Persia. John, only, is left among the Greeks and he is banished to Patmos. I have been forbidden Rome since Paul’s death and must to Crete. On you must fall the joy of directing the Greek cities of the Roman Road. You must be bishop of Ephesus—” “I—bishop? I am not even an elder. Have you forgotten all Grecian Asia knows I was a runaway slave?” “Nay, Onesimus—I have not forgotten; and because of what the gracious help of God has done for you, would I see you bishop to encourage other youth to join our warfare. We are a brotherhood militant, and who but youth for fighting ranks! New wine in old bottles bursts the worn goatskins. New wine of life for new age, son, old heads for guidance and wisdom; but ours is the good news of youth and gladness; and when our bodies wax old as a garment, we must lay them off and move on to eternal youth in invisible realms.” There was a clink of wine jars from the adjoining table. A rough band of mountain bandits had come in and were drinking heavily with some Antioch merchants. A lewd oath followed by loud laugh came from the drunken group. “She has ruined half the physicians of Antioch by her magic healing! She has interfered with the sale of silver images of Diana and Venus by our silversmiths; and now with her religious house in the grottos and caves for the dancing girls of Daphne Gardens and half Rome here for winter pleasure, what is to become of our maids for the Love Temples?” “How old is she?” asked a bearded fellow, who seemed to be leader of the bandit group.