Ben-Hur: A tale of the Christ
So, clinging to the masonry at their right hand, they escaped the might
of the rush, and little by little made headway until, at last, the
square was reached.
“Keep together now, and follow me!”
By this time Ben-Hur’s leadership was perfect; and as he pushed into
the seething mob his party closed after him in a body. And when the
Romans, clubbing the people and making merry as they struck them down,
came hand to hand with the Galileans, lithe of limb, eager for the
fray, and equally armed, they were in turn surprised. 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 house-tops, 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 to-night 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, and by every one extolled. The
fainting spirit of the nation was revived by the brave deed; insomuch
that in the streets and up in the Temple even, amidst the solemnities
of the feast, old tales of the Maccabees were told again, and thousands
shook their heads whispering wisely,
“A little longer, only a little longer, brethren, and Israel will come
to her own. Let there be faith in the Lord, and patience.”
In such manner Ben-Hur obtained hold on Galilee, and paved the way to
greater services in the cause of the King Who Was Coming.
And with what result we shall see.
BOOK SEVENTH
“And, waking, I beheld her there
Sea-dreaming in the moted air,
A siren lithe and debonair,
With wristlets woven of scarlet weeds,
And oblong lucent amber beads
Of sea-kelp shining in her hair.”
THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
CHAPTER I
The meeting took place in the khan of Bethany as appointed. Thence
Ben-Hur went with the Galileans into their country, where his exploits
up in the old Market-place gave him fame and influence. Before the
winter was gone he raised three legions, and organized them after the
Roman pattern. He could have had as many more, for the martial spirit
of that gallant people never slept. The proceeding, however, required
careful guarding as against both Rome and Herod Antipas. Contenting
himself for the present with the three, he strove to train and educate
them for systematic action. For that purpose he carried the officers
over into the lava-beds of Trachonitis, and taught them the use of
arms, particularly the javelin and sword, and the manoeuvering peculiar
to the legionary formation; after which he sent them home as teachers.
And soon the training became a pastime of the people.
As may be thought, the task called for patience, skill, zeal, faith,
and devotion on his part—qualities into which the power of inspiring
others in matters of difficulty is always resolvable; and never man
possessed them in greater degree or used them to better effect. How he
labored! And with utter denial of self! Yet withal he would have failed
but for the support he had from Simonides, who furnished him arms and
money, and from Ilderim, who kept watch and brought him supplies. And
still he would have failed but for the genius of the Galileans.
Under that name were comprehended the four tribes—Asher, Zebulon,
Issachar, and Naphthali—and the districts originally set apart to them.
The Jew born in sight of the Temple despised these brethren of the
north; but the Talmud itself has said, “The Galilean loves honor, and
the Jew money.”
Hating Rome fervidly as they loved their own country, in every revolt
they were first in the field and last to leave it. One hundred and
fifty thousand Galilean youths perished in the final war with Rome. For
the great festal days, they went up to Jerusalem marching and camping
like armies; yet they were liberal in sentiment, and even tolerant to
heathenism. In Herod’s beautiful cities, which were Roman in all
things, in Sepphoris and Tiberias especially, they took pride, and in
the building them gave loyal support. They had for fellow-citizens men
from the outside world everywhere, and lived in peace with them. To the
glory of the Hebrew name they contributed poets like the singer of the
Song of Songs and prophets like Hosea.
Upon such a people, so quick, so proud, so brave, so devoted, so
imaginative, a tale like that of the coming of the King was
all-powerful. That he was coming to put Rome down would have been
sufficient to enlist them in the scheme proposed by Ben-Hur; but when,
besides, they were assured he was to rule the world, more mighty than
Cæsar, more magnificent than Solomon, and that the rule was to last
forever, the appeal was irresistible, and they vowed themselves to the
cause body and soul. They asked Ben-Hur his authority for the sayings,
and he quoted the prophets, and told them of Balthasar in waiting over
in Antioch; and they were satisfied, for it was the old much-loved
legend of the Messiah, familiar to them almost as the name of the Lord;
the long-cherished dream with a time fixed for its realization. The
King was not merely coming now; he was at hand.
So with Ben-Hur the winter months rolled by, and spring came, with
gladdening showers blown over from the summering sea in the west; and
by that time so earnestly and successfully had he toiled that he could
say to himself and his followers, “Let the good King come. He has only
to tell us where he will have his throne set up. We have the
sword-hands to keep it for him.”
And in all his dealings with the many men they knew him only as a son
of Judah, and by that name.
One evening, over in Trachonitis, Ben-Hur was sitting with some of his
Galileans at the mouth of the cave in which he quartered, when an Arab
courier rode to him, and delivered a letter. Breaking the package, he
read,
“Jerusalem, Nisan IV.
“A prophet has appeared who men say is Elias. He has been in the
wilderness for years, and to our eyes he is a prophet; and such also is
his speech, the burden of which is of one much greater than himself,
who, he says, is to come presently, and for whom he is now waiting on
the eastern shore of the River Jordan. I have been to see and hear him,
and the one he is waiting for is certainly the King you are awaiting.
Come and judge for yourself.