Historical Novels of Lew Wallace: Ben-Hur, The Prince of India & The Fair God (Illustrated). Lew Wallace
giant laid his head back upon his shoulders.
"Ha, ha, ha! I have heard how a god once came from a cow licking a salted stone; but not even a god can make a Roman of a Jew."
The laugh over, he spoke to his companion again, and they moved nearer.
"Hold!" said Ben-Hur, quitting the pillar. "One word."
They stopped again.
"A word!" replied the Saxon, folding his immense arms across his breast, and relaxing the menace beginning to blacken his face. "A word! Speak."
"You are Thord the Northman."
The giant opened his blue eyes.
"You were lanista in Rome."
Thord nodded.
"I was your scholar."
"No," said Thord, shaking his head. "By the beard of Irmin, I had never a Jew to make a fighting-man of."
"But I will prove my saying."
"How?"
"You came here to kill me."
"That is true."
"Then let this man fight me singly, and I will make the proof on his body."
A gleam of humor shone in the Northman's face. He spoke to his companion, who made answer; then he replied with the naivete of a diverted child,
"Wait till I say begin."
By repeated touches of his foot, he pushed a couch out on the floor, and proceeded leisurely to stretch his burly form upon it; when perfectly at ease, he said, simply, "Now begin."
Without ado, Ben-Hur walked to his antagonist.
"Defend thyself," he said.
The man, nothing loath, put up his hands.
As the two thus confronted each other in approved position, there was no discernible inequality between them; on the contrary, they were as like as brothers. To the stranger's confident smile, Ben-Hur opposed an earnestness which, had his skill been known, would have been accepted fair warning of danger. Both knew the combat was to be mortal.
Ben-Hur feinted with his right hand. The stranger warded, slightly advancing his left arm. Ere he could return to guard, Ben-Hur caught him by the wrist in a grip which years at the oar had made terrible as a vise. The surprise was complete, and no time given. To throw himself forward; to push the arm across the man's throat and over his right shoulder, and turn him left side front; to strike surely with the ready left hand; to strike the bare neck under the ear--were but petty divisions of the same act. No need of a second blow. The myrmidon fell heavily, and without a cry, and lay still.
Ben-Hur turned to Thord.
"Ha! What! By the beard of Irmin!" the latter cried, in astonishment, rising to a sitting posture. Then he laughed.
"Ha, ha, ha! I could not have done it better myself."
He viewed Ben-Hur coolly from head to foot, and, rising, faced him with undisguised admiration.
"It was my trick--the trick I have practised for ten years in the schools of Rome. You are not a Jew. Who are you?"
"You knew Arrius the duumvir."
"Quintus Arrius? Yes, he was my patron."
"He had a son."
"Yes," said Thord, his battered features lighting dully, "I knew the boy; he would have made a king gladiator. Caesar offered him his patronage. I taught him the very trick you played on this one here--a trick impossible except to a hand and arm like mine. It has won me many a crown."
"I am that son of Arrius."
Thord drew nearer, and viewed him carefully; then his eyes brightened with genuine pleasure, and, laughing, he held out his hand.
"Ha, ha, ha! He told me I would find a Jew here--a Jew--a dog of a Jew--killing whom was serving the gods."
"Who told you so?" asked Ben-Hur, taking the hand.
"He--Messala--ha, ha, ha!"
"When, Thord?"
"Last night."
"I thought he was hurt."
"He will never walk again. On his bed he told me between groans."
A very vivid portrayal of hate in a few words; and Ben-Hur saw that the Roman, if he lived, would still be capable and dangerous, and follow him unrelentingly. Revenge remained to sweeten the ruined life; therefore the clinging to fortune lost in the wager with Sanballat. Ben-Hur ran the ground over, with a distinct foresight of the many ways in which it would be possible for his enemy to interfere with him in the work he had undertaken for the King who was coming. Why not he resort to the Roman's methods? The man hired to kill him could be hired to strike back. It was in his power to offer higher wages. The temptation was strong; and, half yielding, he chanced to look down at his late antagonist lying still, with white upturned face, so like himself. A light came to him, and he asked, "Thord, what was Messala to give you for killing me?"
"A thousand sestertii."
"You shall have them yet; and so you do now what I tell you, I will add three thousand more to the sum."
The giant reflected aloud,
"I won five thousand yesterday; from the Roman one--six. Give me four, good Arrius--four more--and I will stand firm for you, though old Thor, my namesake, strike me with his hammer. Make it four, and I will kill the lying patrician, if you say so. I have only to cover his mouth with my hand--thus."
He illustrated the process by clapping his hand over his own mouth.
"I see," said Ben-Hur; "ten thousand sestertii is a fortune. It will enable you to return to Rome, and open a wine-shop near the Great Circus, and live as becomes the first of the lanistae."
The very scars on the giant's face glowed afresh with the pleasure the picture gave him.
"I will make it four thousand," Ben-Hur continued; "and in what you shall do for the money there will be no blood on your hands, Thord. Hear me now. Did not your friend here look like me?"
"I would have said he was an apple from the same tree."
"Well, if I put on his tunic, and dress him in these clothes of mine, and you and I go away together, leaving him here, can you not get your sestertii from Messala all the same? You have only to make him believe it me that is dead."
Thord laughed till the tears ran into his mouth.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ten thousand sestertii were never won so easily. And a wine-shop by the Great Circus!--all for a lie without blood in it! Ha, ha, ha! Give me thy hand, O son of Arrius. Get on now, and--ha, ha, ha!--if ever you come to Rome, fail not to ask for the wine-shop of Thord the Northman. By the beard of Irmin, I will give you the best, though I borrow it from Caesar!"
They shook hands again; after which the exchange of clothes was effected. It was arranged then that a messenger should go at night to Thord's lodging-place with the four thousand sestertii. When they were done, the giant knocked at the front door; it opened to him; and, passing out of the atrium, he led Ben-Hur into a room adjoining, where the latter completed his attire from the coarse garments of the dead pugilist. They separated directly in the Omphalus.
"Fail not, O son of Arrius, fail not the wine-shop near the Great Circus! Ha, ha, ha! By the beard of Irmin, there was never fortune gained so cheap. The gods keep you!"
Upon leaving the atrium, Ben-Hur gave a last look at the myrmidon as he lay in the Jewish vestments, and was satisfied. The likeness was striking. If Thord kept faith, the cheat was a secret to endure forever.
At night, in the