Ben Hur (36 page)

"Who art thou?" he asked.

The lad drew back.

"Nay, by Castor! and his brother too! I meant not offence. It is
a rule among men, in matters other than dice, to keep the record
closest when the deal is least. I have need of a clerk. Wilt thou
serve me?"

The young fellow drew his tablets ready to keep the score: the manner
was irresistible.

"Hold, Messala, hold!" cried Drusus. "I know not if it be ominous
to stay the poised dice with a question; but one occurs to me, and I
must ask it though Venus slap me with her girdle."

"Nay, my Drusus, Venus with her girdle off is Venus in love. To thy
question—I will make the throw and hold it against mischance. Thus—"

He turned the box upon the table and held it firmly over the dice.

And Drusus asked, "Did you ever see one Quintus Arrius?"

"The duumvir?"

"No—his son?"

"I knew not he had a son."

"Well, it is nothing," Drusus added, indifferently; "only,
my Messala, Pollux was not more like Castor than Arrius is
like thee."

The remark had the effect of a signal: twenty voices took it up.

"True, true! His eyes—his face," they cried.

"What!" answered one, disgusted. "Messala is a Roman; Arrius is
a Jew."

"Thou sayest right," a third exclaimed. "He is a Jew, or Momus
lent his mother the wrong mask."

There was promise of a dispute; seeing which, Messala interposed.
"The wine is not come, my Drusus; and, as thou seest, I have the
freckled Pythias as they were dogs in leash. As to Arrius, I will
accept thy opinion of him, so thou tell me more about him."

"Well, be he Jew or Roman—and, by the great god Pan, I say it not
in disrespect of thy feelings, my Messala!—this Arrius is handsome
and brave and shrewd. The emperor offered him favor and patronage,
which he refused. He came up through mystery, and keepeth distance
as if he felt himself better or knew himself worse than the rest of
us. In the palaestrae he was unmatched; he played with the blue-eyed
giants from the Rhine and the hornless bulls of Sarmatia as they were
willow wisps. The duumvir left him vastly rich. He has a passion
for arms, and thinks of nothing but war. Maxentius admitted him
into his family, and he was to have taken ship with us, but we
lost him at Ravenna. Nevertheless he arrived safely. We heard
of him this morning. Perpol! Instead of coming to the palace
or going to the citadel, he dropped his baggage at the khan,
and hath disappeared again."

At the beginning of the speech Messala listened with polite
indifference; as it proceeded, he became more attentive; at the
conclusion, he took his hand from the dice-box, and called out,
"Ho, my Caius! Dost thou hear?"

A youth at his elbow—his Myrtilus, or comrade, in the day's
chariot practice—answered, much pleased with the attention,
"Did I not, my Messala, I were not thy friend."

"Dost thou remember the man who gave thee the fall to-day?"

"By the love-locks of Bacchus, have I not a bruised shoulder to
help me keep it in mind?" and he seconded the words with a shrug
that submerged his ears.

"Well, be thou grateful to the Fates—I have found thy enemy.
Listen."

Thereupon Messala turned to Drusus.

"Tell us more of him—perpol!—of him who is both Jew and Roman—
by Phoebus, a combination to make a Centaur lovely! What garments
cloth he affect, my Drusus?"

"Those of the Jews."

"Hearest thou, Caius?" said Messala. "The fellow is young—one;
he hath the visage of a Roman—two; he loveth best the garb of a
Jew—three; and in the palaestrae fame and fortune come of arms to
throw a horse or tilt a chariot, as the necessity may order—four.
And, Drusus, help thou my friend again. Doubtless this Arrius hath
tricks of language; otherwise he could not so confound himself,
to-day a Jew, to-morrow a Roman; but of the rich tongue of
Athene—discourseth he in that as well?"

"With such purity, Messala, he might have been a contestant in
the Isthmia."

"Art thou listening, Caius?" said Messala. "The fellow is qualified
to salute a woman—for that matter Aristomache herself—in the
Greek; and as I keep the count, that is five. What sayest thou?"

"Thou hast found him, my Messala," Caius answered; "or I am not
myself."

"Thy pardon, Drusus—and pardon of all—for speaking in riddles
thus," Messala said, in his winsome way. "By all the decent gods,
I would not strain thy courtesy to the point of breaking, but now
help thou me. See!"—he put his hand on the dice-box again,
laughing—"See how close I hold the Pythias and their secret!
Thou didst speak, I think, of mystery in connection with the
coming of the son of Arrius. Tell me of that."

"'Tis nothing, Messala, nothing," Drusus replied; "a child's story.
When Arrius, the father, sailed in pursuit of the pirates, he was
without wife or family; he returned with a boy—him of whom we
speak—and next day adopted him."

"Adopted him?" Messala repeated. "By the gods, Drusus, thou dost,
indeed, interest me! Where did the duumvir find the boy? And who
was he?"

"Who shall answer thee that, Messala? who but the young Arrius
himself? Perpol! in the fight the duumvir—then but a tribune—lost
his galley. A returning vessel found him and one other—all of the
crew who survived—afloat upon the same plank. I give you now the
story of the rescuers, which hath this excellence at least—it
hath never been contradicted. They say, the duumvir's companion
on the plank was a Jew—"

"A Jew!" echoed Messala.

"And a slave."

"How Drusus? A slave?"

"When the two were lifted to the deck, the duumvir was in his
tribune's armor, and the other in the vesture of a rower."

Messala rose from leaning against the table.

"A galley"—he checked the debasing word, and looked around, for
once in his life at loss. Just then a procession of slaves filed
into the room, some with great jars of wine, others with baskets
of fruits and confections, others again with cups and flagons,
mostly silver. There was inspiration in the sight. Instantly Messala
climbed upon a stool.

"Men of the Tiber," he said, in a clear voice, "let us turn this
waiting for our chief into a feast of Bacchus. Whom choose ye for
master?"

Drusus arose.

"Who shall be master but the giver of the feast?" he said. "Answer,
Romans."

They gave their reply in a shout.

Messala took the chaplet from his head, gave it to Drusus, who
climbed upon the table, and, in the view of all, solemnly replaced
it, making Messala master of the night.

"There came with me into the room," he said, "some friends just
risen from table. That our feast may have the approval of sacred
custom, bring hither that one of them most overcome by wine."

A din of voices answered, "Here he is, here he is!"

And from the floor where he had fallen, a youth was brought forward,
so effeminately beautiful he might have passed for the drinking-god
himself—only the crown would have dropped from his head, and the
thyrsus from his hand.

"Lift him upon the table," the master said.

It was found he could not sit.

"Help him, Drusus, as the fair Nyone may yet help thee."

Drusus took the inebriate in his arms.

Then addressing the limp figure, Messala said, amidst profound
silence, "O Bacchus! greatest of the gods, be thou propitious
to-night. And for myself, and these thy votaries, I vow this
chaplet"—and from his head he raised it reverently—"I vow
this chaplet to thy altar in the Grove of Daphne."

He bowed, replaced the crown upon his locks, then stooped and
uncovered the dice, saying, with a laugh, "See, my Drusus, by the
ass of Silenus, the denarius is mine!"

There was a shout that set the floor to quaking, and the grim
Atlantes to dancing, and the orgies began.

Sheik Ilderim was a man of too much importance to go about with a
small establishment. He had a reputation to keep with his tribe,
such as became a prince and patriarch of the greatest following in
all the Desert east of Syria; with the people of the cities he had
another reputation, which was that of one of the richest personages
not a king in all the East; and, being rich in fact—in money as
well as in servants, camels, horses, and flocks of all kinds—he
took pleasure in a certain state, which, besides magnifying his
dignity with strangers, contributed to his personal pride and
comfort. Wherefore the reader must not be misled by the frequent
reference to his tent in the Orchard of Palms. He had there really
a respectable dowar; that is to say, he had there three large
tents—one for himself, one for visitors, one for his favorite
wife and her women; and six or eight lesser ones, occupied by his
servants and such tribal retainers as he had chosen to bring with
him as a body-guard—strong men of approved courage, and skillful
with bow, spear, and horses.

To be sure, his property of whatever kind was in no danger at
the Orchard; yet as the habits of a man go with him to town not
less than the country, and as it is never wise to slip the bands
of discipline, the interior of the dowar was devoted to his cows,
camels, goats, and such property in general as might tempt a lion
or a thief.

To do him full justice, Ilderim kept well all the customs of his
people, abating none, not even the smallest; in consequence his
life at the Orchard was a continuation of his life in the Desert;
nor that alone, it was a fair reproduction of the old patriarchal
modes—the genuine pastoral life of primitive Israel.

Recurring to the morning the caravan arrived at the Orchard—"Here,
plant it here," he said, stopping his horse, and thrusting a spear
into the ground. "Door to the south; the lake before it thus; and
these, the children of the Desert, to sit under at the going-down
of the sun."

At the last words he went to a group of three great palm-trees,
and patted one of them as he would have patted his horse's neck,
or the cheek of the child of his love.

Who but the sheik could of right say to the caravan, Halt! or
of the tent, Here be it pitched? The spear was wrested from
the ground, and over the wound it had riven in the sod the
base of the first pillar of the tent was planted, marking the
centre of the front door. Then eight others were planted—in all,
three rows of pillars, three in a row. Then, at call, the women
and children came, and unfolded the canvas from its packing on
the camels. Who might do this but the women? Had they not sheared
the hair from the brown goats of the flock? and twisted it into
thread? and woven the thread into cloth? and stitched the cloth
together, making the perfect roof, dark-brown in fact, though in
the distance black as the tents of Kedar? And, finally, with what
jests and laughter, and pulls altogether, the united following of
the sheik stretched the canvas from pillar to pillar, driving the
stakes and fastening the cords as they went! And when the walls
of open reed matting were put in place—the finishing-touch to
the building after the style of the Desert—with what hush of
anxiety they waited the good man's judgment! When he walked in
and out, looking at the house in connection with the sun, the trees,
and the lake, and said, rubbing his hands with might of heartiness,
"Well done! Make the dowar now as ye well know, and to-night we will
sweeten the bread with arrack, and the milk with honey, and at every
fire there shall be a kid. God with ye! Want of sweet water there
shall not be, for the lake is our well; neither shall the bearers
of burden hunger, or the least of the flock, for here is green
pasture also. God with you all, my children! Go."

And, shouting, the many happy went their ways then to pitch their
own habitations. A few remained to arrange the interior for the
sheik; and of these the men-servants hung a curtain to the central
row of pillars, making two apartments; the one on the right sacred
to Ilderim himself, the other sacred to his horses—his jewels
of Solomon—which they led in, and with kisses and love-taps
set at liberty. Against the middle pillar they then erected
the arms-rack, and filled it with javelins and spears, and bows,
arrows, and shields; outside of them hanging the master's sword,
modelled after the new moon; and the glitter of its blade rivalled
the glitter of the jewels bedded in its grip. Upon one end of
the rack they hung the housings of the horses, gay some of them
as the livery of a king's servant, while on the other end they
displayed the great man's wearing apparel—his robes woollen and
robes linen, his tunics and trousers, and many colored kerchiefs
for the head. Nor did they give over the work until he pronounced
it well.

Meantime the women drew out and set up the divan, more indispensable
to him than the beard down-flowing over his breast, white as Aaron's.
They put a frame together in shape of three sides of a square,
the opening to the door, and covered it with cushions and base
curtains, and the cushions with a changeable spread striped brown
and yellow; at the corners they placed pillows and bolsters sacked
in cloth blue and crimson; then around the divan they laid a margin
of carpet, and the inner space they carpeted as well; and when the
carpet was carried from the opening of the divan to the door of
the tent, their work was done; whereupon they again waited until
the master said it was good. Nothing remained then but to bring and
fill the jars with water, and hang the skin bottles of arrack ready
for the hand—to-morrow the leben. Nor might an Arab see why Ilderim
should not be both happy and generous—in his tent by the lake of
sweet waters, under the palms of the Orchard of Palms.

Such was the tent at the door of which we left Ben-Hur.

Servants were already waiting the master's direction. One of them
took off his sandals; another unlatched Ben-Hur's Roman shoes;
then the two exchanged their dusty outer garments for fresh ones
of white linen.