There were the two lions of
Mycenae, the Centaur of the son of Polypaetas, son of Pirithous; there
were the Swan of Lacedaemon, and the Bull of the Kings of Crete, the Rose
of Rhodes, the Serpent of Athens, and many another knightly bearing of
old friends and kindred dear. And now they were the blazons of foemen,
and the Wanderer warred for a strange king, and for his own hand,
beneath the wings of the Hawk of the Legion of Ra.
The Wanderer sent heralds forward, calling to those barbarians who
swarmed behind the wall to surrender to the host of Pharaoh, but this,
being entrenched by the river Sihor, they would in nowise do. For they
were mad because of their slaughtered thousands, and moreover they knew
that it is better to die than to live as slaves. This they saw also,
that their host was still as strong as the host of Pharaoh, which was
without the wall, and weary with the heat and stress of battle and the
toil of marching through the desert sands. Now the Captains of the host
of Pharaoh came to the Wanderer, praying him that he would do no more
battle on that day, because the men were weary, and the horses neighed
for food and water.
But he answered them: "I swore to Pharaoh that I would utterly smite the
people of the Nine-bows and drive them down to death, so that the coasts
of Khem may be free of them.
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