him, for they were sore wounded in their bodies. The other four,
in great wrath, go all together to strike Cliges; but he neither
stumbles nor trembles nor have they unhorsed him. Swiftly he
snatches from the scabbard his sword of sharpened Steel; and that
she who awaits his love may be right grateful to him, he
encounters with lightning swiftness a Saxon, and strikes him with
his sharp sword, so that he has severed from his trunk, his head
and half his neck: no tenderer pity had he for him. Fenice, who
watches and beholds, knows not that it is Cliges. Fain would she
that it were he; but because there is danger she says to herself
that she would not wish it. For two reasons is she his good
friend; for she fears his death and desires his honour. And
Cliges receives at the sword's point the three who offer him
fierce combat; they pierce and cleave his shield, but they cannot
get him into their power or cleave the links of his shirt of
mail. And nought that Cliges can reach stands firm before his
blow; for he cleaves and breaks asunder all; he wheels round more
quickly than the top which is urged on and driven by the whip.
Prowess and love entwine him and make him bold and keen in fight.
He has dealt so grievously with the Saxons that he has killed or
conquered them all, wounded some, and killed others; but he let
one of them escape because they were a match, one for the other,
and so that, by him, the duke might know his loss and mourn. But
before this man left him, he prevailed upon Cliges to tell him
his name; and went for his part to tell it to the duke, who had
great wrath thereat. Now the duke hears of his misfortune, and
had great grief and great care thereat. And Cliges leads away
Fenice, who thrills and tortures him with the pangs of love; but
if now he does not hear her confession, long time will love be
adverse to him; and also to her if she, on her side, is silent