But soon the horses in the chariots, maddened with wounds, plunged
this way and that, breaking their companies and trampling the soldiers
down. Now some strove to fly forward, and some were fain to fly back,
and many an empty chariot was dragged this way and that, but ever the
pitiless rain of shafts poured down, and men fell by thousands beneath
the gale of death. Now the mighty host of the Nine-bows rolled back,
thinned and shattered, towards the plain, and now the Wanderer cried the
word of onset to the horsemen and to the chariots that drew from behind
the shelter of the hill, and following after him they charged down upon
those barbarians who had passed the ambush, singing the song of Pentaur
as they charged. Among those nigh the mouth of the pass was the king
of the nation of the Libu, a great man, black and terrible to see. The
Wanderer drew his bow, the arrow rushed forth and pierced the king,
and he fell dead in his chariot. Then those of his host who passed the
ambush turned to fly, but the chariot of the Wanderer dashed into them,
and after the chariot came the horsemen, and after the horsemen the
chariots of Pharaoh.
Now all who were left of the broken host rolled back, mad with fear,
while the spearmen of Pharaoh galled them as hunters gall a flying
bull, and the horsemen of Pharaoh trampled them beneath their feet.
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