“One of life and death, Marcus the son of Emilius,” he answered, in such a tone that the Roman drew his sword and stood watching him.

“Be plain and brief, young man,” he said.

“I will be both plain and brief.  I love that lady from whom you have just parted, and you also love, or pretend to love, her.  Nay, deny it not; I have seen all, even to your kisses.  Well, she cannot belong to both of us, and I intend that in some future day she shall belong to me if arm and eye do not fail me now.  Therefore one of us must die to-night.”

Marcus stepped back, overcome not with fear, but with astonishment.

“Insolent,” he said, “you lie!  There were no kisses, and our talk was of your neck, that I gave to her because she asked it, which is forfeit for the murder of the Jew.”

“Indeed,” sneered Caleb.  “Now, who would have thought that the noble Captain Marcus would shelter thus behind a woman’s robe?  For the rest, my life is my own and no other’s to give or to receive.  Guard yourself, Roman, since I would kill you in fair fight.  Had I another mind you would be dead by now, never knowing the hand that struck you.  Have no fear; I am your equal, for my forefathers were nobles when yours were savages.”

“Boy, are you mad,” asked Marcus, “to think that I, who have fought in three wars, can fear a beardless youth, however fierce?  Why, if I feared you I have but to blow upon this whistle and my guards would hale you hence to a felon’s death.  For your own sake it is that I pray you to consider.  Setting aside my rank and yours, I will fight you if you will, and now.  Yet think.  If I kill you there is an end, and if by chance you should kill me, you will be hunted down as a double murderer.  As it is, I forgive you, because I know how bitter is the jealousy of youth, and because you struck no assassin’s blow when you might have done so safely.  Therefore, I say, go in peace, knowing that I shall not break my word.”

“Cease talking,” said Caleb, “and come out into the moonlight.”

“I am glad that is your wish,” replied Marcus.  “Having done all I can to save you, I will add that I think you a dangerous cub, of whom the world, the lady Miriam and I alike will be well rid.  Now, what weapon have you?  A short sword and no mail?  Well, so have I. In this we are well matched.  Stay, I have a steel-lined cap, and you have none.  There it goes, to make our chances equal.  Wind your cloak about your left arm as I do.  I have known worse shields.  Good foothold, but an uncertain light.  Now, go!”

Caleb needed no encouragement.  For one second they stood facing each other, very types of the Eastern and Western world; the Roman—­sturdy, honest-eyed, watchful and fearless, his head thrown back, his feet apart, his shield arm forward, his sword hand pressed to his side from which the steel projected.  Over against him was the Jew, crouched like a tiger about to spring, his eyes half closed as though to concentrate the light, his face working with rage, and every muscle quivering till his whole flesh seemed to move upon his bones, like to that of a snake.  Suddenly, uttering a low cry, he sprang, and with that savage onslaught the fight began and ended.