Ben Hur - Lew Wallace (sci fi books to read .TXT) 📗

Then the shouting was close and fierce; the crash of sticks rapid and deadly; the advance furious as hate could make it. No one performed his part as well as Ben-Hur, whose training served him admirably; for, not merely he knew to strike and guard; his long arm, perfect action, and incomparable strength helped him, also, to success in every encounter. He was at the same time fighting-man and leader. The club he wielded was of goodly length and weighty, so he had need to strike a man but once. He seemed, moreover, to have eyes for each combat of his friends, and the faculty of being at the right moment exactly where he was most needed. In his fighting cry there were inspiration for his party and alarm for his enemies. Thus surprised and equally matched, the Romans at first retired, but finally turned their backs and fled to the portico. The impetuous Galileans would have pursued them to the steps, but Ben-Hur wisely restrained them.

“Stay, my men!” he said. “The centurion yonder is coming with the guard. They have swords and shields; we cannot fight them. We have done well; let us get back and out of the gate while we may.”

They obeyed him, though slowly; for they had frequently to step over their countrymen lying where they had been felled; some writhing and groaning, some praying help, others mute as the dead. But the fallen were not all Jews. In that there was consolation.

The centurion shouted to them as they went off; Ben-Hur laughed at him, and replied in his own tongue, “If we are dogs of Israel, you are jackals of Rome. Remain here, and we will come again.”

The Galileans cheered, and laughing went on.

Outside the gate there was a multitude the like of which Ben-Hur had never seen, not even in the circus at Antioch. The housetops, the streets, the slope of the hill, appeared densely covered with people wailing and praying. The air was filled with their cries and imprecations.

The party were permitted to pass without challenge by the outer guard. But hardly were they out before the centurion in charge at the portico appeared, and in the gateway called to Ben-Hur,

“Ho, insolent! Art thou a Roman or a Jew?”

Ben-Hur answered, “I am a son of Judah, born here. What wouldst thou with me?”

“Stay and fight.”

“Singly?”

“As thou wilt!”

Ben-Hur laughed derisively.

“O brave Roman! Worthy son of the bastard Roman Jove! I have no arms.”

“Thou shalt have mine,” the centurion answered. “I will borrow of the guard here.”

The people in hearing of the colloquy became silent; and from them the hush spread afar. But lately Ben-Hur had beaten a Roman under the eyes of Antioch and the Farther East; now, could he beat another one under the eyes of Jerusalem, the honor might be vastly profitable to the cause of the New King. He did not hesitate. Going frankly to the centurion, he said, “I am willing. Lend me thy sword and shield.”

“And the helm and breastplate?” asked the Roman.

“Keep them. They might not fit me.”

The arms were as frankly delivered, and directly the centurion was ready. All this time the soldiers in rank close by the gate never moved; they simply listened. As to the multitude, only when the combatants advanced to begin the fight the question sped from mouth to mouth, “Who is he?” And no one knew.

Now the Roman supremacy in arms lay in three things⁠—submission to discipline, the legionary formation of battle, and a peculiar use of the short sword. In combat, they never struck or cut; from first to last they thrust⁠—they advanced thrusting, they retired thrusting; and generally their aim was at the foeman’s face. All this was well known to Ben-Hur. As they were about to engage he said,

“I told thee I was a son of Judah; but I did not tell that I am lanista-taught. Defend thyself!”

At the last word Ben-Hur closed with his antagonist. A moment, standing foot to foot, they glared at each other over the rims of their embossed shields; then the Roman pushed forward and feinted an under-thrust. The Jew laughed at him. A thrust at the face followed. The Jew stepped lightly to the left; quick as the thrust was, the step was quicker. Under the lifted arm of the foe he slid his shield, advancing it until the sword and sword-arm were both caught on its upper surface; another step, this time forward and left, and the man’s whole right side was offered to the point. The centurion fell heavily on his breast, clanging the pavement, and Ben-Hur had won. With his foot upon his enemy’s back, he raised his shield overhead after a gladiatorial custom, and saluted the imperturbable soldiers by the gate.

When the people realized the victory they behaved like mad. On the houses far as the Xystus, fast as the word could fly, they waved their shawls and handkerchiefs and shouted; and if he had consented, the Galileans would have carried Ben-Hur off upon their shoulders.

To a petty officer who then advanced from the gate he said, “Thy comrade died like a soldier. I leave him undespoiled. Only his sword and shield are mine.”

With that, he walked away. Off a little he spoke to the Galileans.

“Brethren, you have behaved well. Let us now separate, lest we be pursued. Meet me tonight at the khan in Bethany. I have something to propose to you of great interest to Israel.”

“Who are you?” they asked him.

“A son of Judah,” he answered, simply.

A throng eager to see him surged around the party.

“Will you come to Bethany?” he asked.

“Yes, we will come.”

“Then bring with you this sword and shield that I may know you.”

Pushing brusquely through the increasing crowd, he speedily disappeared.

At the instance of Pilate, the people went up from the city, and carried off their dead and wounded, and there was much mourning for them; but the grief was greatly lightened by the victory of the unknown champion, who was everywhere sought,