As
soon as Cliges sees his men advancing, he betakes himself toward
the Saxons, his own men hotly pursuing him, and not knowing him
in his disguise. It is no wonder that his uncle is in despair
and fear, when he sees the head he is carrying off. So all the
host pursue him fast, while Cliges leads them on to provoke a
fight, until the Saxons see him drawing near. But they, too, are
quite misled by the arms with which he has armed and equipped
himself. He succeeds in deceiving and mocking them; for the duke
and all the rest, when they saw him approaching lance in rest,
cried out: "Here comes our knight! On the point of his lance he
carries Cliges' head, and the Greeks are hotly pursuing him!"
Then, as they give their horses rein, Cliges spurs to meet the
Saxons, crouching low beneath his shield, the lance out straight
with the head affixed. Now, though he was braver than a lion, he
was no stronger than any other man. Both parties think that he
is dead, and while the Saxons rejoice, the Greeks and Germans
grieve. But before long the truth will out. For Cliges no
longer held his peace: but, rushing fiercely at a Saxon, he
struck him with his ashen lance upon the head and in the breast,
so that he made him lose his stirrups, and at the same time he
cried aloud: "Strike gentlemen, for I am Cliges whom you seek.
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