Before they could
touch him he was on his feet again, crying his war-cry terribly, the cry
that shook the towers of Ilium, and he rushed upon them, clutching at
his sword hilt. The men who were nearest him and had hold of the rope
let it fall from their hands and fled, but the others swung behind him,
and dragged with all their force. If his arms had been free so that he
might draw his sword, it would have gone ill with them, many as they
were, for the Sidonians have no stomach for sword blades; but his arms
were held in the noose. Yet they did not easily master him; but, as
those who had fled came back, and they all laid hands on the rope
together, they overpowered him by main force at last, and hauled him,
step by step, till he stumbled on a rock and fell. Then they rushed at
him, and threw themselves all upon his body, and bound him with ropes in
cunning sailor knots. But the booty was dearly won, and they did not all
return alive; for he crushed one man with his knees till the breath left
him, and the thigh of another he broke with a blow of his foot.
But at last his strength was spent, and they had him like a bird in a
snare; so, by might and main, they bore him to their ship, and threw him
down on the fore-deck of the vessel. There they mocked him, though they
were half afraid; for even now he was terrible.
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