to present Cliges' own head if he could meet him in the fight. No
sooner had Cliges placed the helmet on his head, taken the shield
, (not his own, but the shield of him who had fought with him),
and no sooner had he mounted on the foeman's horse, leaving his
own rider-less in order to dismay the Greeks, than he saw more
than a hundred banners and battalions, great and fully equipped,
of Greeks and Germans mingled. Now will begin a very fierce and
cruel melee between the Saxons and the Greeks. As soon as Cliges
sees them come, he goes straight towards the Saxons; and the
Greeks exert themselves to pursue him; for on account of his arms
they do not know him; and his uncle, who sees the head that he is
bringing, is marvellously discomforted thereat. No wonder is it
if he fears for his nephew. The whole host musters in his wake;
and Cliges lets them pursue him in order to begin the melee till
the Saxons perceive him coming; but the arms with which he is
clad and furnished mislead them all. He has mocked at them and
scorned them; for the duke and all the others as he advanced with
hoisted lance, say: "Our knight is coming! On the point of the
lance that he holds he is bringing the head of Cliges; and the
Greeks follow after him. Now to horse to succour him!" Then they
all give the rein to their horses; and Cliges spurs towards the
Saxons, covering himself behind his shield and doubling himself
up, his lance upright, the head on its point. Not one whit less
courage than a lion had he, though he was no stronger than
another. On both sides they believe that he is dead--Saxons, and
Greeks and Germans--and the one side are blithe thereat; and the
other side, grieved; but soon will the truth be known. For now
has Cliges no longer held his peace: shouting, he gallops towards
a Saxon, and strikes him with his ashen lance with the head on
it, full in the breast, so that he has lost his stirrups; and he