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92. The slaves went forth, they drew nigh to him, their armour clanked. Then indeed the knight started up, he wept still more woefully; he raised his eyes and looked round, he saw the band of warriors. But once he said, "Woe is me!" and spoke no word more.
93. He passed his hands over his eyes, he wiped away the hot tears, he made fast his sabre[1] and quiver,[2] and braced his strong arms. He mounted his horse—Why should he heed the words of slaves?[3] He wended his way elsewhither, and healed not their troubles.
94. The slaves stretched forth their hands to seize that knight; he fell upon them—alas! even their enemies would have pitied them; he beat one against another, he slew them without raising (on high) his hand, some with his whip he smote, cleaving them down to the breast.
95. Wrathful was the king, and annoyed; he shouted to the slaves. The youth looked not back nor heeded his pursuers till they were upon him; as many as overtook him he made to look like dead men, he threw down man on man; Rosten lamented thereat.
96. The king and Avt'handil mounted to follow the youth. Proud and haughty, his form swayed to and fro,[4] his steed was like Merani,[5] the sun shone brightly on the field; he perceived that the king pursued him.
97. When he saw that the king was come, he struck his horse with his whip; in that very moment he was lost, our eyes see him not; he seemed to have sunk into an abyss or flown to heaven; they sought, but could find no trace of his course.
98. His footprints they sought, and marvelled to find no trace. Thus, leaving no vestige, the man passed away like a Devi.[6] The soldiers mourned for their dead; they hastened to bind up the wounded. The king said: "I have seen cause for loss of joy."
