and shattered, towards the plain, and now the Wanderer cried the
word of onset to the horsemen and to the chariots that drew from behind
the shelter of the hill, and following after him they charged down upon
those barbarians who had passed the ambush, singing the song of Pentaur
as they charged. Among those nigh the mouth of the pass was the king
of the nation of the Libu, a great man, black and terrible to see. The
Wanderer drew his bow, the arrow rushed forth and pierced the king,
and he fell dead in his chariot. Then those of his host who passed the
ambush turned to fly, but the chariot of the Wanderer dashed into them,
and after the chariot came the horsemen, and after the horsemen the
chariots of Pharaoh.

Now all who were left of the broken host rolled back, mad with fear,
while the spearmen of Pharaoh galled them as hunters gall a flying
bull, and the horsemen of Pharaoh trampled them beneath their feet. Red
slaughter raged all down the pass, helms, banners, arrow-points shone
and fell in the stream of the tide of war, but at length the stony way
was clear save for the dead alone. Beyond the pass the plain was black
with flying men, and the fragments of the broken nations were mixed
together as clay and sand are mixed of the potter. Where now were the
hosts of the Nine-bow barbarians? Where now were their glory and their
pride?

The Wanderer gathered his footmen and his chariots and set them in array
again but the horsemen he sent out to smite the flying nations and wait
his coming by the camp; for there were mustering those who were left of
the nations, perchance twenty thousand men, and before their ships were
ranged the dense ranks of the Achaeans, shield to shield, every man in
his place.

The Wanderer led his host slowly across the sandy plain, till at length
he halted it two bow-shots from the camp of the barbarians. The camp was
shaped like a bow, and the river Sihor formed its string, and round it
was a deep ditch and beyond the ditch a wall of clay. Moreover, within
the camp and nearer to the shore there was a second ditch and wall, and
behind it were the beaks of the ships and the host of Aquaiusha, even
of his own dear people the Achaeans. There were the old blazons, and
the spears that had fought below Troy town. There were the two lions of
Mycenae, the Centaur of the son of Polypaetas, son of Pirithous; there
were the Swan of Lacedaemon, and the Bull of the Kings of Crete, the Rose
of Rhodes, the