"Duke," quoth Cliges, "you talk idly. You shall say it aloud in
the hearing of all, and never shall it be told or related that
you have done me a kindness, or that you have had mercy on me. In
the hearing of one and all of these who are here, you will have
to declare it if you wish to make peace with me." The duke
declares it in the hearing of all. Thus have they made peace and
agreement; but whatever the issue of the matter, Cliges had the
honour and the renown of it; and the Greeks had very great joy
thereof. But the Saxons could not make light of the matter; for
well had they all seen their lord exhausted and worsted; nor is
there any question but that, if he had been able to do better for
himself, this peace would never have been made; rather would he
have rent the soul out of Cliges' body if he had been able to do
it.

The duke returns to Saxony, grieved and downcast and Ashamed; for
of his men--there are not two who do not hold him a conquered
man, a craven, and a coward. The Saxons, with all their shame,
have returned to Saxony. And the Greeks delay no longer; they
return towards Constantinople with great joy and with great
gladness; for well by his prowess has Cliges assured to them the
way. Now the emperor of Germany no further follows or attends
them. After taking leave of the Greek folk and of his daughter
and of Cliges and of the emperor, he has remained in Germany; and
the emperor of the Greeks goes away right glad and right joyful.
Cliges, the valiant, the well-bred, thinks of his father's
command. If his uncle the emperor will grant him leave, he will
go to request and pray him to let him go to Britain to speak to
his uncle the king; for he craves to know and see him. He sets
out for the presence of the emperor, and begs him if it please