Now a shrewd blow from Idernes cut through my helm and staggered me,
and another before I could recover myself, shore the shield from my
hand, whereat the Easterns shouted more loudly than before. Then fear
of defeat entered into me and made me mad, for this Satrap was a great
fighter. With a shout of "Egypt!" I went at him like a wounded lion
and soon it was his turn to stagger back. But alas! I struck too hard,
for my sword snapped upon his mail.

"The knife!" screamed Bes; "the knife!"

I hurled the sword hilt in the Satrap's face and drew the dagger from
my belt. Then I ran in beneath his guard and stabbed and stabbed and
stabbed. He gripped me and we went down side by side, rolling over
each other. The gods know how it ended, for things were growing dim to
me when some thrust of mine found a rent in his mail made when the
sword broke and he became weak. His spirit weakened also, for he
gasped,

"Spare my life, Egyptian, and my treasure is yours. I swear it by the
Fire."

"Not for all the treasure in the world, Slanderer," I panted back and
drove the dagger home to the hilt thrice, until he died. Then I
staggered to my feet, and when the armies saw that it was I who rose
while Idernes lay still a roar of triumph went up from the Egyptians,
answered by a roar of rage from the Easterns.

With a cry of "Well done, Master!" Bes leapt upon the dead man and
hewed his head from him, as already he had served the hawk-eyed noble.