"That can I," said Tostig. "But the net? Let us see what he doeth with that short-legged brown swordsman in mail and helmet."
Brave seemed to be the brown warrior, but the net flew over him and the negro stepped backward, dragging. Then it was but as a flash and the trident was driven deeply through mail and breast.
Loud were the plaudits of the multitude, for the pitiless black had seemed to show both skill and strength.
The next comer was a large man, and Ben Ezra, sitting near Ulric, ground his teeth.
"A warrior of Israel, from the Lebanon!" he exclaimed. "He will but be netted!"
"Watch!" whispered Ulric to Tostig. "Thy turn cometh next. Mark how he faileth and remember what I taught thee."
"I see his sleight of hand," said Tostig. "I have beaten harder fighters than he is. The Jew is snared!"
Longer this time had been the contest, for the Jew ran, dodging, advancing, retreating, striking, and it was only by his utmost skill that the huge African at last threw over him the fatal net. Even then the trident was parried oft, but it struck and the brave Jew went down.
"Now!" said Ulric to Tostig. "I go with thee. We will show them a thing. Let me see thy seax. It is sharp. It will do. Off with thy armor! Take this heavy shield and see that thou cast it well."
Bare, save a cloth around his loins and a helmet on his head, Tostig went out into the arena, and the multitude shouted loudly, but Julius bit his lip. "Here is something more than the Nubian hath yet encountered," he muttered. "I would I might change my wagers. Yonder Saxon is an athlete for the Olympian games."