Andivius Hedulio: Adventures of a Roman Nobleman in the Days of the Empire

by Edward Lucas White

  CHAPTER XXXV

  MURMEX

  Customarily, while Palus flourished, each day began with beast-fights, thenoon pause was filled in by exhibitions of athletes, acrobats, jugglers,trained animals and such like, and the surprise; then the gladiatorialshows lasted from early afternoon till an hour before sunset. Palus andMurmex appeared about mid-afternoon and were matched against the victorsin the earlier fights. Each located himself at one focus of the ellipse ofthe arena, at which points two simultaneous fights were best seen by theentire audience. There they began each fight, not simultaneously, butalternately, till all their antagonists were disposed of, most killed andsome spared. The spectators seldom hurried Murmex to end a fight; theynever hurried Palus. His longest delay in finishing with an adversary,even his manifest intention to exhaust an opponent rather than to woundhim, never elicited any protest from any onlooker. All, breathless,fascinated, craned to watch the perfection of his method, every movementof his body, all eyes intent on the point of his matchless blade.

  Last of the day's exhibitions, came the fencing match between Palus andMurmex, at the center of the arena, empty save for those two and their two_lanistae_. All others in the arena, including the surgeons, their helpersand the guards, drew off to positions close under the _podium_ wall.

  Murmex and Palus fenced in all sorts of outfits, except that neither everfought as a _retiarius_. Mostly both were equipped as _secutors_, but theyfought also as _murmillos_, Greeks, Gauls, Thracians, Samnites and_dimachaeri_, or one in any of these equipments against the other in anyother.

  Sometimes they delighted the populace by donning padded suits liberallywhitened with flour or white clay, their _murmillos'_ helmets similarlywhitened, and then attacking each other with quarter-staffs of ash,cornel-wood or holly. A hit, of course, showed plainly on the whitenedsuits. As neither could injure the other in this sort of fight, and asthey were willing to humor the populace, each was careless about his guardand reckless in his attack. Even so hits were infrequent, since each, evenwhen most lax, had an instinctive guard superior to that of the mostexpert and cautious fencer among all other contemporary fighters. Evenwhen, very occasionally, if Palus happened to be in a rollicking mood,each substituted a second quarter-staff for his shield and, as it were,travestied a _dimachaerus_, as what might be called a two-staff-man or adouble-staff-man, hits were still not frequent. Each had a marvellouslyimpregnable defence and they were very evenly matched in the use of thequarter-staff in place of a shield as they were in everything else. Palusfought better with his left hand attacking and his right defending, Murmexbetter the other way, but each was genuinely ambidextrous and used eitherhand at will, shifting at pleasure. When, amid the flash of their staffs,either scored, the hit brought a roar of delight from the upper tiers,even from the front rows, for the most dignified senators caught theinfection of the general enthusiasm and so far forgot themselves as toyell like street urchins in their ecstasy.

  Except in this farcical sort of burlesque fight neither ever scored a hiton the other, in all the years throughout which their combats finishedeach day of every gladiatorial exhibition. Yet the audience never tired oftheir bloodless bouts and, while the nobility and gentry never joined in,the populace invariably roared a protest if they saw the _lanistae_ make amove to separate them, and yelled for them to go on and fence longer.

  The interest of the populace was caused by the fact, manifest and plain toall, that, while Murmex and Palus loved each other and had no intention ofhurting each other, their matches had no appearance whatever of being shamfights. From the first parade until they separated every stroke, feint,lunge and thrust appeared to be in deadly, venomous earnest and eachunhurt merely because, mortal as was his adversary's attack, his guard wasperfect.

  It seemed, in fact, as if each man felt so completely safe, felt socertain that his guard would never fail him, and at the same time felt sosure that his crony's guard was equally faultless, that there was nodanger of his injuring his chum, that each attacked the other precisely ashe attacked any other adversary. It was commonly declared among expertswordsmen and connoisseurs of sword-play, as among recent spectators,when, talking over the features of an exhibition after it was over, thatpractically every thrust, lunge or stroke of either in these bouts wouldhave killed or disabled any other adversary; certainly it appeared so tome every time I saw them fence and especially while watching their boutsafter I returned from my year at Baiae, for after that I never missed agladiatorial exhibition in the Colosseum. To my mind Palus and Murmex weremanifestly playing with each other, like fox-cubs or Molossian puppies orwolf-cubs; yet the sport so much resembled actual attack and defence, aswith nearly grown wolf-cubs, that it gave less the impression of playbetween friends than that of deadly combat between envenomed foes. Many atime I have heard or overheard some expert or connoisseur or enthusiast orprovincial visitor, prophesy somewhat in this fashion:

  "Some day one of those two is going to kill the other unexpectedly andunintentionally and by mistake. Each thinks the other will never land onhim; each thinks the other has a guard so impregnable that it will neverbe pierced; each uses on the other attacks so unexpected, so sudden, sosubtle, so swift, so powerful, so sustained, so varied that no third manalive could escape any one of them. It is almost a certainty that thatsort of thing cannot go on forever. One or the other of them may agesufficiently to retire from the arena, as did Murmex Frugi, safe andunscarred, as he was not. But it is far more likely, since both are fullof vitality and vigor, that neither will notice the very gradual approachof age, so that they will go on fighting with eyes undimmed, musclessupple and minds quick, yet not so quick, supple and keen as now: but thepreternatural powers of one will wane a bit sooner than those of theother. And sooner or later one will err in his guard and be wounded orkilled."

  Most spectators agreed with such forecasts. What is more, most of thespectators admitted that, as they watched, each attack seemed certain tosucceed; every time either man guarded it seemed as if he must fail toprotect himself.

  This, I think, explains the unflagging zest with which the entireaudience, senators, nobles and commonality, watched their bouts, revelledin them, gloated over the memory of them and longed for more and more.Consciously or unconsciously, every onlooker felt that sometime, some boutwould end in the wounding, disabling or death of one of the two. And soperfect was their sword-play, so unfeigned their unmitigated fury ofattack, so genuine the impeccable dexterity of their defence that everyspectator felt that the supreme thrill, even while so long postponed, wascertain to arrive. More, each felt, against his judgment, that it waslikely to arrive the next moment. It was this illogical but unescapablesensation which kept the interest of the whole audience, of the whole ofevery audience, at a white heat over the bouts of Murmex and Palus. Imyself experienced this condition of mind and became infected with thecommon ardor. I found myself rehearsing to myself the incidents of theirlast-seen bout, anticipating the next, longing for it: though I never hadrated myself as ardent over gladiatorial games, but rather as lukewarmtowards them, and considered myself much more interested in paintings,statuary, reliefs, ornaments, bric-a-brac, furniture, fine fabrics and allartistries and artisanries. Yet I confessed to myself that, from the timeI saw first a bout between them, anticipation of seeing them fence, orenjoyment of it, came very high among my interests and my pleasures.

  To some extent, I think, the long and unequaled vogue of their popularitywas due to the great variety of their methods and almost complete absenceof monotony in their bouts.

  Palus was left-handed, but for something like every third bout or a thirdof each bout he fought right-handed, merely for bravado, as if toadvertise that he could do almost as well with the hand less convenient.Murmex was right-handed, but he too fought often left-handed, perhaps one-fifth of the time. So, in whatever equipment, one saw each of them fightboth ways. Therefore as _murmillos_ they fought both right-handed, bothleft-handed, and each right-handed against the other fighting left-handed.Th
is gave a perpetually shifting effect of novelty, surprise and interestto every bout between them. They similarly had four ways of appearing asGreeks, Gauls, Samnites, Thracians, _secutors_ or _dimachaeri_.

  Their bouts as _dimachaeri_ were breathlessly exciting, for it wasimpossible, from moment to moment, to forecast with which saber eitherwould attack, with which he would guard; and, not infrequently, oneattacked and the other guarded with both. When they fought in this fashionGalen, it always appeared to me, looked uneasy, keyed up and apprehensive.Yet neither ever so much as nicked, flicked or scratched the other intheir more than sixty bouts with two sabers apiece.

  More than a dozen times they appeared as Achilles and Hector, with theold-fashioned, full-length, man-protecting shield, the short Argive swordand the heavy lance, half-pike, half-javelin, of Trojan tradition. Murmexthrew a lance almost as far and true as Palus and the emotion of theaudience was unmistakably akin to horror when both, simultaneously, hurledtheir deadly spears so swiftly and so true that it seemed as if neithercould avoid the flying death. Palus, true to his nickname, never visiblydodged, though Murmex's aim was as accurate as his own; he escaped theglittering, needle-pointed, razor-edged spear-head by half a hand's-breathor less by an almost imperceptible inclination of his body, made at thelast possible instant, when it seemed as if the lance had already piercedhim. It was indescribably thrilling to behold this.

  Besides fencing equipped as Gauls, Samnites, Thracians and _secutors_ theyappeared in every combination of any of these and of Greeks and_murmillos_ with every other. Palus as a _dimachaerus_ against Murmex as a_murmillo_ made a particularly delectable kind of bout. Almost as much soMurmex as a Gaul against Palus as a Thracian. And so without end.

  After my return from Baiae Falco pampered me more than ever and, inparticular, arranged to take me with him to all amphitheater shows andhave me sit beside him in the front row of the nobles immediately behindthe boxes of the senators on the _podium_. This does not sound possible inour later days, when amphitheater regulations are strictly enforced, asthey had been under the Divine Aurelius and his predecessors. But, whileCommodus was Prince much laxity was rife in all branches of thegovernment. After the orgies of bribe-taking, favoritism and such like inthe heyday of Perennis and of Cleander, all classes of our society becamehabituated to ignoring contraventions of rules. Under Perennis and laterunder Cleander not a few senators took with them into their boxesfavorites who were not only not of senatorial rank, nor even nobles, butnot Romans at all: foreign visitors, alien residents of Rome, freedmen oreven slaves, and the other senators, as a class exquisitely sensitive toany invasion of their privileges by outsiders, winked at the practicepartly because some of them participated in it, much more because theyfeared to suffer out-and-out ruin, if, by word or look, they incurred thedisfavor of Perennis while he was all-powerful or, later, of the moreomnipotent Cleander. When a senator saw another so violate propriety,privilege and law, he assumed that the acting Prefect of the Palace hadbeen bribed and so dared not protest or whisper disapprobation.

  Much more than the senators the nobles obtained secret license to ignorethe rules, or ignored them without license, since, when so many violatedthe regulations, no one was conspicuous or likely to be brought to book.Falco, being vastly wealthy, probably bribed somebody, but I never knew:when I hinted a query he merely smiled and vowed that we were perfectlysafe.

  So I sat beside him through that unforgettable December day, at the end ofwhich came the culmination of what I have been describing.

  The day was perfect, clear, crisp, mild and windless. It was not coldenough to be chilling, but was cold enough to make completely comfortablea pipe-clayed ceremonial toga over the full daily garments of a noble orsenator, so that the entire audience enjoyed the temperature and basked inthe brilliant sunrays; for, so late in the year, as the warmth of the sunwas sure to be welcome, the awning had not been spread. I, in my bizarreoriental attire, wore my thickest garments and my fullest curled wig andfelt neither too cold nor too warm.

  I never saw the Colosseum so brilliant a spectacle. It was full to theupper colonnade under the awning-rope poles, not a seat vacant. Spectatorswere sitting on the steps all up and down every visible stair; two or eventhree rows on each side of each stair, leaving free only a narrow alley upthe middle of each for the passage in or out of attendants or others.Spectators filled the openings of the entrance-stairs, all but jammingeach. In each of the cross-aisles spectators stood or crouched against itsback-wall, ducking their heads to avoid protests from the luckierspectators in the seats behind them. The upper colonnade was packed to itsfull capacity with standees.

  The program was unusual, gladiatorial exhibitions from the beginning ofthe show; and nothing else. The morning was full of brisk fights betweenyoung men; provincials, foreigners and some Italians, volunteerenthusiasts. The noon pause was filled in by routine fights of old oraging gladiators nearly approaching the completion of their covenantedterm of service. It ended with a novelty, the encounter of two tight-ropewalkers on a taut rope stretched fully thirty feet in the air. It wasproclaimed that they were rivals for the favor of a pretty freedwoman andthat they had agreed on this contest as a settlement of their rivalry.Certainly the two, naked save for breech-clouts and each armed with alight lance in one hand and a thin-bladed Gallic sword in the other,neared each other with every sign of caution, enmity and courage. Theirsparring for an opening lasted some time, but was breathlesslyinteresting. The victor kept his feet on the rope and pierced his rival,who fell and died from the spear-wound or the fall or both.

  During the noon pause the Emperor had left his pavilion. When he returnedI, from my nearby location, was certain that Commodus himself had presidedall the morning, but that now Furfur was taking his place. Certainly Palusand Murmex entered the arena soon after the noon pause and gave anexhibition almost twice as long as usual, killing many adversaries. Beforethe sun was half way down the sky, as Palus finished an opponent with oneof his all but invisible punctures of the thigh-artery, the upper tiersfirst and then all ranks acclaimed this as the death of the twelve-hundredth antagonist who had perished by his unerring steel.

  The daylight had not begun to dim when Murmex and Palus faced each otherfor the fencing bout which was to end the day. Each was equipped as a_secutor_, Murmex in silvered armor, Palus all in gold or gilded arms.Their swords were not regulation army swords, such a _secutors_ normallycarried, but long-bladed Gallic swords, the longest-bladed swords everused by any gladiators.

  They made a wonderful picture as the _lanistae_ placed them and steppedback: Murmex, burly, stocky, heavy of build, thick-set, massive, with vastgirth of chest and bull-neck, his neatly-fitting plated gauntlet, huge onhis big right hand, his big plated boots planted solidly on the sand, hispolished helmet, the great expanse of his silvered shield, his silveredkilt-strap-scales and silvered greave-boots brilliant in the cool latelight; opposite him Palus, tall, lithe, graceful, slim, agile, all ingleaming gold, helmet, corselet, shield, kilt, greave-boots and all. Theyshone like a composite jewel set in the arena as a cameo in the bezel of aring. And the picture they made was framed in the hoop of spectatorscrowding the slopes of the amphitheater, all silent after the gusts ofcheers which had acclaimed the two as they took their places.

  If possible, their feints and assaults were more thrilling than ever,unexpected, sudden, swift, all but successful. As always neither caperedor pranced, Murmex not built for such antics, Palus by nature steady onhis feet. But, except that their feet moved cannily, every bit of the restof either's body was in constant motion and moved swiftly. The gleam andflicker of thrust and parry were inexpressibly rapid. Even the upper tierscraned, breathless and fascinated; and we, further forward, were numb andquivering with excitement.

  I have heard a hundred eye-witnesses describe what occurred. There wasclose agreement with what I seemed to see as I watched.

  Palus lunged just as Murmex made a brilliantly unpredictable shift of hisposition. The shift and lunge came so
simultaneously that neither had, inhis calculated, predetermined movement, time to alter his intention;Murmex, you might say, threw his throat at the spot at which Palus hadaimed his lunge. The sword-point ripped his throat from beside the gulletto against the spine, all one side of it. He collapsed, the bloodspouting.

  Palus cast the dripping sword violently from him, the gleaming bladeflying up into the air and falling far off on the sand. The big shieldfell from his right arm. Both his hands caught his big helmet, lifted itand threw it behind him. On one knee he sank by Murmex and, with his lefthand, strove to staunch the gushing blood.

  Before Galen, before even the _lanistae_ could reach the two, Murmex died.

  Palus staggered to his feet and put up his gory hand to his yellow curls,with a convincingly agonized gesture of grief and horror.

  He uttered some words, I heard his voice, but not the words. Folk say hesaid:

  "I have killed the only match I had on earth, the second-best fighterearth ever saw."

  The audience, I among them, stared, awe-struck and fascinated, at Commoduslaying a bloody hand on his own head; we shuddered: I saw many look backand forth from Palus in the arena to the figure on the Imperial throne.

  The guards ran, the surgeons' helpers ran, even Galen ran, but AemiliusLaetus reached Palus first, and, between the dazed and stunned _lanistae_,picked up the big golden helmet and replaced it on his head, hiding hisfeatures. The distance from the _podium_ wall to the center of the arenais so great, the distance from any other part of the audience so muchgreater, that, while many of the spectators were astounded, suspicious orcurious, not one could be certain that Palus was, beyond peradventure, thePrince of the Republic in person. Palus stood there, alternately staringat his dead crony and talking to Laetus and Galen.

  The heralds had run up with the guards. Laetus, without any pretense ofconsultation with the dummy Emperor on the throne, spoke to the heraldsand each stalked off to one focus of the ellipse of the arena. Thence eachbellowed for silence, their deep-toned, resonant, loud, practiced voicescarrying to the upper colonnade everywhere. Silence, deep already sinceMurmex received his death-wound and broken only by whispers, deepened. Theamphitheater became almost still. Into the stillness the heraldsproclaimed that next day the funeral games of Murmex Lucro would becelebrated in the Colosseum where he had died; that all persons entitledto seats in the Colosseum were thereby enjoined to attend, unless too illto leave their homes: that all should come without togas, but, in sign ofmourning for Murmex, wearing over their garments full-length, all-enveloping rain-cloaks of undyed black wool and similarly colored umbrellahats; that any person failing to attend so habited would be severelypunished; that the show would be worth seeing, for, in honor of the Manesof Murmex, to placate his ghost, no defeated fighter would be spared andall the victors of the morning would fight each other in the afternoon.

  Surely the tenth day before the Kalends of January, in December of thenine hundred and forty-fourth year of the City, [Footnote: 191 A.D.] theyear in which Commodus was nominally consul for the seventh time, andPertinax consul for the second time, saw the strangest audience everassembled in the amphitheater of the Colosseum. I was there, seated, as onthe day before, next my master, my gaudy Asiatic garments, like his garbof a noble of equestrian rank, hidden under a great raincoat and my faceshaded by the broad brim of an umbrella hat.

  The universal material conventional for mourners' attire is certainlyappropriate and proper for mourning garb. For the undyed wool of blacksheep, when spun and woven, results in a cloth dingy in the extreme. Thewearing of garments made of it suits admirably with grief and gloom ofspirit, deepens sadness, accentuates woe, almost produces melancholy. Andthe sight of it, when one is surrounded by persons so habited, conduces todejection and depression. This equally was felt by the whole audience.Instead of being a space glaring in the sunlight shining on an expanse ofwhite togas, the hollow of the amphitheater was a dingy area of brownishblack under a lowering canopy of sullen cloud, for the sky was heavilyovercast and threatened rain all day, though not a drop fell. The windlessair was damp and penetratingly chilly, so that we almost shivered underour swathings. The discomfort of not being warm enough and the dispiritingeffect of the grim sky and gloomy interior of the amphitheater wasmanifest in a sort of general impression of melancholy and apprehension.

  Apprehension, or, certainly, uneasiness, pervaded the audience and, as itwere, seemed to diffuse itself from the Imperial Pavilion, crowded, not,as usual, with jaunty figures in gaudy apparel, all crimson, blue, andgreen, picked out and set off by edgings of silver and gold, but with asolemn retinue, all hidden under dingy umbrella hats and swathed in rain-cloaks. To see the throne occupied by a human shape so obscured by itshabiliments gave all beholders an uncanny feeling in which forebodingdeepened into alarm. The appearance of the whole audience, still more ofthe Imperial retinue, was one to cause all beholders to interpret the garbof the spectators as ill-omened, almost as inviting disaster.

  In the center of the arena was built up the pyre which was to consume allthat was left of Murmex. It was constructed of thirty-foot logs, each tierlaid across the one below it, the lower tiers of linden, willow, elm andother quick-burning woods, their interstices filled with fat pine-knots;the upper tiers of oak and maple, at which last I heard not a fewwhispered protests, for old-fashioned folk felt it almost a sacrilege thatholy wood should be used to burn a gladiator, a man of blood. The pyre wasthus a square structure thirty feet on a side and fully twenty feet high;each side showing silvered log-butts or log-ends, with gilded pine-knotsall between; its top covered with laurel boughs, over which was laid acrimson rug with golden fringe, setting off the corpse of Murmex, whichlay in the silver armor he had worn in his last fight, high on the moundof laurel boughs.

  At each focus of the arena was placed a round marble altar, one to VenusLibitina, one to Pluto. By these the heralds took their stands andproclaimed that no offerings would be made at the altars except one blacklamb at each, that every man slain in the day's fighting would be anoffering to the Manes of Murmex, since the day would be occupied solelywith the celebration of funeral games for the solace of his ghost.

  The games began with a set-to of sixteen pairs of gladiators fightingsimultaneously. After this was over the sixteen victors drew off towardsone end of the arena and sixteen other pairs fought simultaneously. Afterthem the victors of the first set paired off as the _lanistae_ arrangedand the eight pairs fought. The eight victors again rested while thesurvivors of the second set simultaneously fought as eight pairs. So theyalternated till only two men survived. A third batch of thirty-twogladiators then fought in sixteen pairs: then the two survivors of thefirst and second batches fought. The heralds proclaimed that the solesurvivor of the first sixty-four would fight again in the afternoon. Sowith the sole survivor of the third and fourth batches. This grim butcherygave a savage tone to the whole day. All the morning many pairs fought,till one of each pair was killed. But, after the fourth batch, everyvictor in any fight was reserved to fight again in the afternoon.

  To my eyesight the figure on the throne, even under that broad hat-brimand enveloped in that thick rain-cloak, was manifestly Commodus in person.Unmistakably his was every Imperial gesture as he presided as Editor ofthe games.

  During the noon interval, as usual, the Emperor retired to his robing-roomunder the upper tiers of the amphitheater. When again, after the nooninterval, the throne was reoccupied, I felt certain that its occupant wasDucconius Furfur.

  At any rate Palus appeared at once after the noon interval and the firstfight was between him and the survivor of the sixty-four wretches, who hadbegun the day's butchery. Palus, of course, killed his man, but with moreappearance of effort and less easily than any adversary he had ever facedunder my observation. The people cheered his victory, but not soenthusiastically as usual. He did not appear again till the last event ofthe day, which was a series of duels between champions in two-horsechariots, driven by expert charioteers, they and the f
ighters equippedwith arms and armor such as was used by both sides at the siege of Troy.Horses are seldom seen in the Colosseum and these pairs, frantic at thesmell of blood, taxed to the utmost the skill and strength of theirdrivers, particularly as they were controlled by the old-fashioned reinsof the Heroic period, the manipulation of which calls for methodsdifferent from those effective with our improved modern reins.

  The charioteers were capable and their dexterous maneuvering for everyadvantage of approach and relative position won many cheers. Eight pairsfought, then the eight victors paired off, then the four victors, then thetwo. The sole survivor then retired and while he was out of the arenathere entered a superb pair of bay horses, drawing a chariot of Greekpattern, in which, to the amazement of all beholders, was Narcissus, thewrestler, himself, habited as Automedon and acting as charioteer; whilebeside him, magnificent in a triple crested crimson-plumed helmet of theThessalian type, in a gilded corselet of the style of the Heroic age, withgilded scales on its kilt-straps, with gilded greaves, with a big gildedArgive shield embossed with reliefs, and holding two spears, manifestlyhabited as Achilles, stood Palus.

  When his refreshed antagonist reentered in a Trojan chariot and armoredand armed as Hector of Troy, Palus handed his two spears to his Automedon,leapt from his chariot, walked over to Hector's, and spoke to him. I heardit reported afterwards that he said:

  "It would spoil the program for Hector to slay Achilles, but you have asmuch chance of killing me as I of killing you. I am so shaken by Murmex'sdeath that I am not the man I was yesterday morning and up till then. Inever felt so nearly matched as by you, not even by Murmex. Attack andspare not. I have given orders that, if you kill me, you shall not sufferfor it in any way. I don't want to live, anyhow, now Murmex is dead."

  Whether he said this or something else, he spoke earnestly and walked backto his chariot nearby, without any elasticity in his tread.

  Narcissus, the wrestler, to the astonishment of the spectators, provedhimself a paragon horse jockey. Everyone knew him as a wrestler, asreported the strongest man alive, as claimed by his admirers to have amore powerful hand-grasp than any rival, as the favorite wrestling-mate ofthe Emperor; all the notabilities had seen him and Commodus wrestle in theStadium of the Palace; all Rome knew him for a crony of the Prince; yet noone had ever heard him praised or even mentioned as a charioteer. Yet heshowed himself a matchless horseman. Hector's charioteer was a master, yetNarcissus outmaneuvered him, gained the advantage of angle of approachand, after many turns, gave Palus his chance. The two great lances flewalmost simultaneously; but, as Achilles dodged, Hector fell dying of amortal wound in the throat.

  What followed was, apparently, according to the prearranged program andwas indubitably in keeping with the equipment of the two champions andtheir charioteers; yet it horrified me, and I think all the senators andnobles as well as most of the audience. As Hector sprawled horridly on thesand Narcissus veered his pair and, as they passed the fallen man,Achilles leapt from his chariot. Drawing his Argive sword he slashed thedying man across his abdomen; then, sheathing his blade, he stood, onefoot on his adversary's neck and, raising his lance and shield, shouted:"Enalie! Enalie! Enalie!" the old Greek invocation to the war-god. Then hethrew aside his lance and shield and stripped off the armor from the dead.Arena-slaves carried it to the pyre and placed it upon it, by Murmex.

  Narcissus had wheeled the chariot in a short circle and halted it as nearPalus as he could keep it and control the frantic horse. Palus took fromone of the hand-holds at the back of the chariot-rail a long leathernthong. With his dirk he slit each foot of the corpse between the leg-boneand the heel-tendon; through the slit he passed the thong, knotting it tohis liking. The doubled thong he tied securely to the rear rim of thechariot-bed. Retrieving his lance and shield he posed an instant, everyinch Achilles, stepped over Hector's naked corpse and mounted the chariot.From Automedon he took the reins and the whip, passing him his lance, yetretaining his great circular shield, nowise hampered by which he drove thechariot round and round the pyre, the picture, as all could see, he felt,of Achilles placating the ghost of Patroclus.

  This exhibition shocked the whole audience, upper tiers and all. The ghostof a hiss breathed under the tense hush of the silent beholders. A shudderran over the hollow of the amphitheater, as the dragged corpse, mauled bythe sand and turning over, became a mere lump of pounded meat. The chillof the onlookers appeared to reach Palus. He halted his team near thepyre, arena-slaves dragged away Hector's corpse, one brought a lightedtorch and Palus himself kindled the pyre at each of its four corners,walking twice round it. When it was enveloped in crackling flames, hemounted the chariot and Narcissus drove him out; drove him out, to thehorror of all beholders by the Gate of Ill-omen.

  After he vanished through that gate no amphitheater ever again beheldPalus the Gladiator.

  When he was gone all eyes were fixed on the kindling pyre. The flamesblazed up all round it and above it, the smoke mounted skyward in a thickcolumn, the crackle and roar of the flames was audible all over theamphitheater; so deep was the solemn stillness. I shall carry to my lastliving hour the vivid recollection of that picture: under the grim graysky, framed in by the sable hangings which draped the upper colonnade, andby the clingy audience, against the yellow sand, that column of sootysmoke and below it the red glare of the blazing pyre.