Now he feels his luck has come, when he can display
his chivalry and bravery openly before her who is his very life.
Now may he die, if he does not rescue her! And she, too, is at
death's door from anxiety for his sake, though she does not know
that he is no near. Lance in rest, Cliges made an attack which
pleased him well; for he struck first one Saxon and then another,
so that with a single rush he carried them both to earth, though
it cost him his ashen lance. And they both fall in such
distress, being wounded in the body, that they have no power to
rise again and do him any harm or ill. The other four in bitter
rage join in an attack upon Cliges; but he neither quails nor
trembles, and they are unable to dislodge him from his seat.
Quickly drawing his keen sword from its sheath, in order to
please her who awaits his love, he rode hard at a Saxon and,
striking him with his whetted blade, he severed his head and half
his neck from the body: such was the limit of his pity. Fenice,
who witnesses what transpires, does not know yet that this is
Cliges. She wishes that it were he, indeed, but because of the
present danger she says to herself that she would not have him
there. Thus, doubly she shows the devotion of a sweetheart,
fearing at once his death, and desiring that honour may be his.
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