“Or a cast with the net and trident,” continued Manlius.
“Or a round with the cestus,” observed Euchenor; adding with a sneer, “I myself am ready to exchange a buffet or two with him, for sheer goodwill.”
“Hold! my new comrades,” interposed Esca, with rising colour. “In my country we are taught to venerate grey hairs. If ye are so keen for cestus, lance, and sword-play, here am I, untried and inexperienced, willing to stand against the best of you, from now till sundown.”
The gladiators gathered round the last speaker somewhat angrily; the challenge was indeed a bold one in such company, and a contest begun in play amongst those [pg 138]turbulent spirits, might end, not improbably, in too fatal earnest; but Hippias cut the matter short by commanding silence, in loud imperious tones, and, turning to the new-comer, bade him state at once the business that had brought him there and have done with it.
“I came here,” said the old man, looking round with a glance of mingled pity and admiration; “I came here to see, with my own eyes, the band of Invincibles. I have already told you that I too am a soldier, whose duty it is to go down, if need be, daily unto death.”
There was something so quiet and earnest in the speaker’s manner, such an absence of self-consciousness or apprehension, a sincerity and goodwill so frank and evident, that the rude fierce men whom he addressed could not but give him their attention. There was all the interest of novelty in beholding one whose appearance and habits were so at variance with their own, thus throwing himself fearlessly on their forbearance, and trusting, as it were, to that higher nature, which, dormant though it might be, each man felt to exist within himself. Even Hippias acknowledged the influence of his visitor’s confidence, and answered graciously enough—
“If you are a soldier, I need not tell you that we are but on the drill-ground here. You will see my band to better advantage when they defile by Cæsar at the games of Ceres.”
Calchas looked inquiringly round.
“And the chorus,” said he, “that I have heard ring out in such a warlike tone, as your ranks marched past the imperial chair; are you perfect in it, my friends? Do you practise the chant as you do your sword-play and your wrestling?”
He had fixed their attention now. Half-interested, half-amused at his strange persistency, they looked laughingly at each other, and their deep voices burst out into the wild and thrilling cadence of their fatal dirge—