Tertullian, On the Crown 1

The most excellent emperors had just staged a largesse; crowned soldiers were being discharged from camp. A certain soldier of God stood there, more steadfast than the rest of the brothers, men who had presumed they could serve two masters — he alone, bareheaded, with a laurel wreath idle in his hand. By now the Christians' discipline was notorious. Soon individuals began singling him out, mocking him from a distance, sneering up close. A murmur reached the tribune, and the man had already stepped forward in ranks. The tribune demanded at once, "Why do you look so different?" He denied that what the others did was permitted to him; pressed for a reason, he answered, "I am a Christian." O glorious soldier in God! From then on votes were cast, the case escalated, and the defendant was hauled before the prefects. There he accepted the harshest penalties, seeking discharge; he cast off the sluggish watch from his feet, planted himself on holy ground, refused to treat the sword as necessary for the Lord's defense, and the laurel fell from his hand as well. And now, spattered with the hope of his own blood, shod with the Gospel's preparation, girded with the sharper word of God, fully armed with the Apostle and better crowned with the white of martyrdom, he awaits Christ's gift in prison. Afterward came the verdicts on him — I do not know whether from Christians, for certainly not from the gentiles — as if from a sheer precipice, steep and death-desiring, that a man questioned about his uniform should make an issue of the Name: alone, truly strong, among so many brother comrades-in-arms, alone a Christian. It follows, of course, that those who have spat on the prophecies of the same Holy Spirit now intend to refuse martyrdom as well. They whisper at the end that such a good and long peace is being endangered for them. And I do not doubt some will migrate, pack their bags, prepare flight from city to city; for they care for no other memory of the Gospel. I know their shepherds too: lions in peace, deer in battle. But we will teach on the questions of confessions elsewhere. Now, however, as far as they also object: "Where are we forbidden to be crowned?" I will tackle this concrete core of the present case, so that both those who ask from anxious ignorance may be instructed and those who strive to defend the offense may be confuted — especially the Christian laureates themselves, for whom this is the only question; as if there could be no offense, or at least an uncertain one, that would admit debate. It is neither non-existent nor uncertain, and I will show that, at least for now.