Historical Novels of Lew Wallace: Ben-Hur, The Prince of India & The Fair God (Illustrated). Lew Wallace
not enough skin on his face to make a worm for a carp stepped forth, and--ha, ha, ha!--said yes. I drew my tablets. 'Who is your man?' I asked. 'Ben-Hur, the Jew,' said he. Then I: 'What shall it be? How much?' He answered, 'A--a--' Excuse me, Messala. By Jove's thunder, I cannot go on for laughter! Ha, ha, ha!"
The listeners leaned forward.
Messala looked to Cecilius.
"A shekel," said the latter.
"A shekel! A shekel!"
A burst of scornful laughter ran fast upon the repetition.
"And what did Drusus?" asked Messala.
An outcry over about the door just then occasioned a rush to that quarter; and, as the noise there continued, and grew louder, even Cecilius betook himself off, pausing only to say, "The noble Drusus, my Messala, put up his tablets and--lost the shekel."
"A white! A white!"
"Let him come!"
"This way, this way!"
These and like exclamations filled the saloon, to the stoppage of other speech. The dice-players quit their games; the sleepers awoke, rubbed their eyes, drew their tablets, and hurried to the common centre.
"I offer you--"
"And I--"
"I--"
The person so warmly received was the respectable Jew, Ben-Hur's fellow-voyager from Cyprus. He entered grave, quiet, observant. His robe was spotlessly white; so was the cloth of his turban. Bowing and smiling at the welcome, he moved slowly towards the central table. Arrived there, he drew his robe about him in a stately manner, took seat, and waved his hand. The gleam of a jewel on a finger helped him not a little to the silence which ensued.
"Romans--most noble Romans--I salute you!" he said.
"Easy, by Jupiter! Who is he?" asked Drusus.
"A dog of Israel--Sanballat by name--purveyor for the army; residence, Rome; vastly rich; grown so as a contractor of furnishments which he never furnishes. He spins mischiefs, nevertheless, finer than spiders spin their webs. Come--by the girdle of Venus! let us catch him!"
Messala arose as he spoke, and, with Drusus, joined the mass crowded about the purveyor.
"It came to me on the street," said that person, producing his tablets, and opening them on the table with an impressive air of business, "that there was great discomfort in the palace because offers on Messala were going without takers. The gods, you know, must have sacrifices; and here am I. You see my color; let us to the matter. Odds first, amounts next. What will you give me?"
The audacity seemed to stun his hearers.
"Haste!" he said. "I have an engagement with the consul."
The spur was effective.
"Two to one," cried half a dozen in a voice.
"What!" exclaimed the purveyor, astonished. "Only two to one, and yours a Roman!"
"Take three, then."
"Three say you--only three--and mine but a dog of a Jew! Give me four."
"Four it is," said a boy, stung by the taunt.
"Five--give me five," cried the purveyor, instantly.
A profound stillness fell upon the assemblage.
"The consul--your master and mine--is waiting for me."
The inaction became awkward to the many.
"Give me five--for the honor of Rome, five."
"Five let it be," said one in answer.
There was a sharp cheer--a commotion--and Messala himself appeared.
"Five let it be," he said.
And Sanballat smiled, and made ready to write.
"If Caesar die to-morrow," he said, "Rome will not be all bereft. There is at least one other with spirit to take his place. Give me six."
"Six be it," answered Messala.
There was another shout louder than the first.
"Six be it," repeated Messala. "Six to one--the difference between a Roman and a Jew. And, having found it, now, O redemptor of the flesh of swine, let us on. The amount--and quickly. The consul may send for thee, and I will then be bereft."
Sanballat took the laugh against him coolly, and wrote, and offered the writing to Messala.
"Read, read!" everybody demanded.
And Messala read:
"Mem.--Chariot-race. Messala of Rome, in wager with Sanballat, also of Rome, says he will beat Ben-Hur, the Jew. Amount of wager, twenty talents. Odds to Sanballat, six to one.
"Witnesses: SANBALLAT."
There was no noise, no motion. Each person seemed held in the pose the reading found him. Messala stared at the memorandum, while the eyes which had him in view opened wide, and stared at him. He felt the gaze, and thought rapidly. So lately he stood in the same place, and in the same way hectored the countrymen around him. They would remember it. If he refused to sign, his hero-ship was lost. And sign he could not; he was not worth one hundred talents, nor the fifth part of the sum. Suddenly his mind became a blank; he stood speechless; the color fled his face. An idea at last came to his relief.
"Thou Jew!" he said, "where hast thou twenty talents? Show me."
Sanballat's provoking smile deepened.
"There," he replied, offering Messala a paper.
"Read, read!" arose all around.
Again Messala read:
"AT ANTIOCH, Tammuz 16th day.
"The bearer, Sanballat of Rome, hath now to his order with me fifty talents, coin of Caesar.
SIMONIDES."
"Fifty talents, fifty talents!" echoed the throng, in amazement.
Then Drusus came to the rescue.
"By Hercules!" he shouted, "the paper lies, and the Jew is a liar. Who but Caesar hath fifty talents at order? Down with the insolent white!"
The cry was angry, and it was angrily repeated; yet Sanballat kept his seat, and his smile grew more exasperating the longer he waited. At length Messala spoke.
"Hush! One to one, my countrymen--one to one, for love of our ancient Roman name."
The timely action recovered him his ascendancy.
"O thou circumcised dog!" he continued, to Sanballat, "I gave thee six to one, did I not?"
"Yes," said the Jew, quietly.
"Well, give me now the fixing of the amount."
"With reserve, if the amount be trifling, have thy will," answered Sanballat.
"Write, then, five in place of twenty."
"Hast thou so much?"
"By the mother of the gods, I will show you receipts."
"Nay, the word of so brave a Roman must pass. Only make the sum even--six make it, and I will write."
"Write it so."
And forthwith they exchanged writings.
Sanballat immediately arose and looked around him, a sneer in place of his smile. No man better than he knew those with whom he was dealing.
"Romans," he said, "another wager, if you dare! Five talents against five talents that the white will win. I challenge you collectively."
They were again surprised.
"What!" he cried, louder. "Shall it be said in the Circus to-morrow that a dog of Israel went into the saloon of the palace full of Roman nobles--among them the scion of a Caesar--and laid five