LEW WALLACE Premium Collection: Historical Novels, Poems & Plays (Illustrated). Lew Wallace

presently.

      "Your pardon," he said to Ben-Hur. "There was another matter. I could not get near Messala's chariot myself, but I had another measure it; and, from his report, its hub stands quite a palm higher from the ground than yours."

      "A palm! So much?" cried Ben-Hur, joyfully.

      Then he leaned over to Malluch.

      "As thou art a son of Judah, Malluch, and faithful to thy kin, get thee a seat in the gallery over the Gate of Triumph, down close to the balcony in front of the pillars, and watch well when we make the turns there; watch well, for if I have favor at all, I will-- Nay, Malluch, let it go unsaid! Only get thee there, and watch well."

      At that moment a cry burst from Ilderim.

      "Ha! By the splendor of God! what is this?"

      He drew near Ben-Hur with a finger pointing on the face of the notice.

      "Read," said Ben-Hur.

      "No; better thou."

      Ben-Hur took the paper, which, signed by the prefect of the province as editor, performed the office of a modern programme, giving particularly the several divertisements provided for the occasion. It informed the public that there would be first a procession of extraordinary splendor; that the procession would be succeeded by the customary honors to the god Consus, whereupon the games would begin; running, leaping, wrestling, boxing, each in the order stated. The names of the competitors were given, with their several nationalities and schools of training, the trials in which they had been engaged, the prizes won, and the prizes now offered; under the latter head the sums of money were stated in illuminated letters, telling of the departure of the day when the simple chaplet of pine or laurel was fully enough for the victor, hungering for glory as something better than riches, and content with it.

      Over these parts of the programme Ben-Hur sped with rapid eyes. At last he came to the announcement of the race. He read it slowly. Attending lovers of the heroic sports were assured they would certainly be gratified by an Orestean struggle unparalleled in Antioch. The city offered the spectacle in honor of the consul. One hundred thousand sestertii and a crown of laurel were the prizes. Then followed the particulars. The entries were six in all--fours only permitted; and, to further interest in the performance, the competitors would be turned into the course together. Each four then received description.

      "I. A four of Lysippus the Corinthian--two grays, a bay, and a black; entered at Alexandria last year, and again at Corinth, where they were winners. Lysippus, driver. Color, yellow.

      "II. A four of Messala of Rome--two white, two black; victors of the Circensian as exhibited in the Circus Maximus last year. Messala, driver. Colors, scarlet and gold.

      "III. A four of Cleanthes the Athenian--three gray, one bay; winners at the Isthmian last year. Cleanthes, driver. Color, green.

      "IV. A four of Dicaeus the Byzantine--two black, one gray, one bay; winners this year at Byzantium. Dicaeus, driver. Color, black.

      "V. A four of Admetus the Sidonian--all grays. Thrice entered at Caesarea, and thrice victors. Admetus, driver. Color, blue.

      "VI. A four of Ilderim, sheik of the Desert. All bays; first race. Ben-Hur, a Jew, driver. Color, white."

      BEN-HUR, A JEW, DRIVER!

      Why that name instead of Arrius?

      Ben-Hur raised his eyes to Ilderim. He had found the cause of the Arab's outcry. Both rushed to the same conclusion.

      The hand was the hand of Messala!

      Chapter XI

       Table of Contents

      Evening was hardly come upon Antioch, when the Omphalus, nearly in the centre of the city, became a troubled fountain from which in every direction, but chiefly down to the Nymphaeum and east and west along the Colonnade of Herod, flowed currents of people, for the time given up to Bacchus and Apollo.

      For such indulgence anything more fitting cannot be imagined than the great roofed streets, which were literally miles on miles of porticos wrought of marble, polished to the last degree of finish, and all gifts to the voluptuous city by princes careless of expenditure where, as in this instance, they thought they were eternizing themselves. Darkness was not permitted anywhere; and the singing, the laughter, the shouting, were incessant, and in compound like the roar of waters dashing through hollow grots, confused by a multitude of echoes.

      The many nationalities represented, though they might have amazed a stranger, were not peculiar to Antioch. Of the various missions of the great empire, one seems to have been the fusion of men and the introduction of strangers to each other; accordingly, whole peoples rose up and went at pleasure, taking with them their costumes, customs, speech, and gods; and where they chose, they stopped, engaged in business, built houses, erected altars, and were what they had been at home.

      There was a peculiarity, however, which could not have failed the notice of a looker-on this night in Antioch. Nearly everybody wore the colors of one or other of the charioteers announced for the morrow's race. Sometimes it was in form of a scarf, sometimes a badge; often a ribbon or a feather. Whatever the form, it signified merely the wearer's partiality; thus, green published a friend of Cleanthes the Athenian, and black an adherent of the Byzantine. This was according to a custom, old probably as the day of the race of Orestes--a custom, by the way, worthy of study as a marvel of history, illustrative of the absurd yet appalling extremities to which men frequently suffer their follies to drag them.

      The observer abroad on this occasion, once attracted to the wearing of colors, would have very shortly decided that there were three in predominance--green, white, and the mixed scarlet and gold.

      But let us from the streets to the palace on the island.

      The five great chandeliers in the saloon are freshly lighted. The assemblage is much the same as that already noticed in connection with the place. The divan has its corps of sleepers and burden of garments, and the tables yet resound with the rattle and clash of dice. Yet the greater part of the company are not doing anything. They walk about, or yawn tremendously, or pause as they pass each other to exchange idle nothings. Will the weather be fair to-morrow? Are the preparations for the games complete? Do the laws of the Circus in Antioch differ from the laws of the Circus in Rome? Truth is, the young fellows are suffering from ennui. Their heavy work is done; that is, we would find their tablets, could we look at them, covered with memoranda of wagers--wagers on every contest; on the running, the wrestling, the boxing; on everything but the chariot-race.

      And why not on that?

      Good reader, they cannot find anybody who will hazard so much as a denarius with them against Messala.

      There are no colors in the saloon but his.

      No one thinks of his defeat.

      Why, they say, is he not perfect in his training? Did he not graduate from an imperial lanista? Were not his horses winners at the Circensian in the Circus Maximus? And then--ah, yes! he is a Roman!

      In a corner, at ease on the divan, Messala himself may be seen. Around him, sitting or standing, are his courtierly admirers, plying him with questions. There is, of course, but one topic.

      Enter Drusus and Cecilius.

      "Ah!" cries the young prince, throwing himself on the divan at Messala's feet, "Ah, by Bacchus, I am tired!"

      "Whither away?" asks Messala.

      "Up the street; up to the Omphalus, and beyond--who shall say how far? Rivers of people; never so many in the city before. They say we will see the whole world at the Circus to-morrow."

      Messala laughed scornfully.

      "The idiots! Perpol! They never beheld a Circensian with Caesar for editor. But, my Drusus, what found you?"