as he espied
them, he spurred after them; and when they saw him coming on, a foolish
thought occurred to them: "It is the duke," they said, "who comes. Let
us rein in a little; for he has left the troops and is riding hard after
us alone." Every man thinks that so it is. They all want to turn back to
meet him, but each one wishes to go alone. Meanwhile, Cliges must
needs descend a deep valley between two mountains. He would never have
recognised their blazons, if they had not come to meet him, or if they
had not awaited him. Six of the twelve come to meet him in an encounter
they will soon regret. The other six stay with the damsel, leading her
gently at a walk and easy jog. And the six ride quickly on, spurring up
the valley, until he who had the swiftest horse reached him first
and cried aloud: "Hail, Duke of Saxony! God bless thee! Duke, we have
recovered thy lady. The Greeks shall not get her now, for she shall be
placed in thy hands." When Cliges heard the words this fellow shouts,
his heart is not gay; rather is it strange that he does not lose his
wits. Never was any wild beast--leopard, tiger, or lion--upon seeing its
young captured, so fierce and furious as Cliges, who sets no value upon
his life if he deserts his sweetheart now. He would rather die than not
win her back. In his trouble he feels great wrath, which gives him the
courage he requires. He urges and spurs the Arab steed, and rushes
to give the Saxon such a blow upon his painted shield that without
exaggeration, he makes his heart feel the lance. This gives Cliges
confidence. He drove and spurred the Arab charger on for more than the
space of an acre before he came upon the next Saxon, for they came up
singly, each fearless of his predecessor's fare, for Cliges fights
them one by one. As he takes them thus individually, no one receives
another's aid. He makes a rush at the second one, who, like the first,
thought to give him joy by telling him of his own evil fate. But Cliges
has no concern to heed his talk and idle charter. Thrusting his lance
into his body so that the blood spurts out when it is withdrawn, he
deprives him of life and the gift of speech. After these two he meets
the third, who expects to find him in good humour and to make him
rejoice over his own mischance. Spurring eagerly he came up to him;
but before he has time to say a word, Cliges ran a fathom of his lance
through the middle of his body, leaving him senseless on the ground.
To