To throw himself forward; to push the arm across the man's throat and over his right shoulder, and turn him left side front; to strike surely with the ready left hand; to strike the bare neck under the ear--were but petty divisions of the same act.
No need of a second blow.

The myrmidon fell heavily, and without a cry, and lay still.
Ben-Hur turned to Thord.
"Ha! What! By the beard of Irmin!" the latter cried, in astonishment, rising to a sitting posture.

Then he laughed.
"Ha, ha, ha! I could not have done it better myself." He viewed Ben-Hur coolly from head to foot, and, rising, faced him with undisguised admiration.
"It was my trick--the trick I have practised for ten years in the schools of Rome.

You are not a Jew.

Who are you ?" "You knew Arrius the duumvir." "Quintus Arrius?
Yes, he was my patron." "He had a son." "Yes," said Thord, his battered features lighting dully, "I knew the boy; he would have made a king gladiator.