The competitors were under view from nearly every part[769] of the circus, yet the race was not begun; they had first to make successfully the chalked line, stretched for the purpose of equalizing the start. If it were dashed upon, discomfiture of man and horses might occur; on the other hand, to approach it timidly was to incur the hazard of being thrown behind in the beginning of the race—a certain loss of the great advantage of being next the wall[770] on the inner line of the course.
Each driver looked first for the rope, then for the coveted inner line. With all six aiming at the same point[771] and speeding furiously, a collision seemed inevitable. Quick the eye, steady the hand, unerring the judgment required. The fours neared the rope together. Ben-Hur was on the extreme left[772] of the six. At Messala, who was more than an antagonist to him, he gave one searching look, and saw the soul of the man, cunning, cruel, desperate, in a tension of watchfulness and fierce resolve.
In that brief instant all his former relations with Messala came before him. First, happy childhood, when, loving and beloved, they played together. Then, manhood that brought a change in Messala, and the Roman’s inborn contempt of Jews asserted itself and broke the friendship. Then the bitter day, when, by the accidental falling of a loose tile, the Roman procurator was nearly killed, and he, Ben-Hur, was accused of willfully throwing the missile. One word from Messala would have saved the family from ruin, but the word was not spoken. Nay, more, it was Messala that urged on the Roman authorities and prevented even a fair trial of the case. It was Messala’s influence that had banished[773] him to the galleys for life, that had consigned his mother and sister to an uncertain fate, whose very uncertainty was more torture[774] than their certain death would have been. It was Messala that had stolen his property and with it had bought the silence of the authorities on the cruel deeds; and was it not money that belonged to the House of Hur that Messala was betting with in this very race? Was it human nature[775] to resist an opportunity for vengeance like this? No.[776] At whatever cost[777] he would humble his enemy.
He saw that Messala’s rush would, if there was no collision, and the rope fell, give him the wall. Therefore, he yielded it for the time. Just then the trumpeter blew a signal. The judges dropped[778] the rope. And not an instant too soon, for the hoof of one of Messala’s horses struck it as it fell. The Roman shook out[779] his long lash, loosed the reins, leaned forward, and with a triumphant shout[780] took the wall.
“Jove with us![781] Jove with us!”[781a] yelled the Roman faction, in a frenzy of delight.
“Jove with us!”[782] screamed a young nobleman.
“He wins![783] Jove with us!” answered his associates.
Messala having passed, the Corinthian was the only contestant on the Athenian’s right, and to his side he tried to turn his four; but the wheel of the Byzantine, who was next on the left, struck the tail-piece of his chariot, knocking[784] his feet from under him. There was a crash, a scream of rage and fear, and the unfortunate Athenian fell[785] under the hoofs of his own steeds. Sanballat, a friend of Ben-Hur, turned to a group of Roman noblemen.
“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!”[786] he cried.
“Taken!”[787] answered one of the group.