第149章
- The Last Days of Pompeii
- Edward George Bulwer-Lytton
- 4961字
- 2016-03-03 11:24:56
The initiatory contest between Lydon and Tetraides being less deadly than that between the other combatants, no sooner had they advanced to the middle of the arena than, as by common consent, the rest held back, to see how that contest should be decided, and wait till fiercer weapons might replace the cestus, ere they themselves commenced hostilities. They stood leaning on their arms and apart from each other, gazing on the show, which, if not bloody enough, thoroughly to please the populace, they were still inclined to admire, because its origin was of their ancestral Greece.
No person could, at first glance, have seemed less evenly matched than the two antagonists. Tetraides, though not taller than Lydon, weighed considerably more; the natural size of his muscles was increased, to the eyes of the vulgar, by masses of solid flesh; for, as it was a notion that the contest of the cestus fared easiest with him who was plumpest, Tetraides had encouraged to the utmost his hereditary predisposition to the portly.
His shoulders were vast, and his lower limbs thick-set, double-jointed, and slightly curved outward, in that formation which takes so much from beauty to give so largely to strength. But Lydon, except that he was slender even almost to meagreness, was beautifully and delicately proportioned; and the skilful might have perceived that, with much less compass of muscle than his foe, that which he had was more seasoned--iron and compact. In proportion, too, as he wanted flesh, he was likely to possess activity; and a haughty smile on his resolute face which strongly contrasted the solid heaviness of his enemy's, gave assurance to those who beheld it, and united their hope to their pity: so that, despite the disparity of their seeming strength, the cry of the multitude was nearly as loud for Lydon as for Tetraides.
Whoever is acquainted with the modern prize-ring--whoever has witnessed the heavy and disabling strokes which the human fist, skillfully directed, hath the power to bestow--may easily understand how much that happy facility would be increased by a band carried by thongs of leather round the arm as high as the elbow, and terribly strengthened about the knuckles by a plate of iron, and sometimes a plummet of lead. Yet this, which was meant to increase, perhaps rather diminished, the interest of the fray: for it necessarily shortened its duration. A very few blows, successfully and scientifically planted, might suffice to bring the contest to a close; and the battle did not, therefore, often allow full scope for the energy, fortitude and dogged perseverance, that we technically style pluck, which not unusually wins the day against superior science, and which heightens to so painful a delight the interest in the battle and the sympathy for the brave.
'Guard thyself!' growled Tetraides, moving nearer and nearer to his foe, who rather shifted round him than receded.
Lydon did not answer, save by a scornful glance of his quick, vigilant eye.
Tetraides struck--it was as the blow of a smith on a vice; Lydon sank suddenly on one knee--the blow passed over his head. Not so harmless was Lydon's retaliation: he quickly sprung to his feet, and aimed his cestus full on the broad breast of his antagonist. Tetraides reeled--the populace shouted.
'You are unlucky to-day,' said Lepidus to Clodius: 'you have lost one bet----you will lose another.'
'By the gods! my bronzes go to the auctioneer if that is the case. I have no less than a hundred sestertia upon Tetraides. Ha, ha! see how he rallies!
That was a home stroke: he has cut open Lydon's shoulder. A Tetraides!--a Tetraides!'
'But Lydon is not disheartened. By Pollux! how well he keeps his temper.
See how dexterously he avoids those hammer-like hands!--dodging now here, now there--circling round and round. Ah, poor Lydon! he has it again.'
'Three to one still on Tetraides! What say you, Lepidus?'
'Well, nine sestertia to three--be it so! What! again, Lydon? He stops--he gasps for breath. By the gods, he is down. No--he is again on his legs.
Brave Lydon! Tetraides is encouraged--he laughs loud--he rushes on him.'
'Fool--success blinds him--he should be cautious. Lydon's eye is like the lynx's,' said Clodius, between his teeth.
'Ha, Clodius! saw you that? Your man totters! Another blow--he falls--he falls!'
'Earth revives him, then. He is once more up; but the blood rolls down his face.'
'By the thunderer! Lydon wins it. See how he presses on him! That blow on the temple would have crushed an ox! it has crushed Tetraides. He falls again--he cannot move--habet!--habet!'
'Habet!' repeated Pansa. 'Take them out and give them the armor and swords.'
'Noble editor,' said the officers, 'we fear that Tetraides will not recover in time; howbeit, we will try.'
'Do so.'
In a few minutes the officers, who had dragged off the stunned and insensible gladiator, returned with rueful countenances. They feared for his life; he was utterly incapacitated from re-entering the arena.
'In that case,' said Pansa, 'hold Lydon a subdititius; and the first gladiator that is vanquished, let Lydon supply his place with the victor.'
The people shouted their applause at this sentence: then they again sunk into deep silence. The trumpet sounded loudly. The four combatants stood each against each in prepared and stern array.
'Dost thou recognize the Romans, my Clodius; are they among the celebrated, or are they merely ordinary?'
'Eumolpus is a good second-rate swordsman, my Lepidus. Nepimus, the lesser man, I have never seen before: but he is the son of one of the imperial fiscales, and brought up in a proper school; doubtless they will show sport, but I have no heart for the game; I cannot win back my money--I am undone.
Curses on that Lydon! who could have supposed he was so dexterous or so lucky?'
'Well, Clodius, shall I take compassion on you, and accept your own terms with these Romans?'
'An even ten sestertia on Eumolpus, then?'