He was a taller and a bigger man than myself, but older and one who had lived too well.
Therefore I thought it wise to keep him at a distance and tire him, which I did by retreating and catching his sword-cuts on my shield, only smiting back now and again.
"He runs! He runs!" shouted the Easterns.

"O Idernes, beware the dwarf!" "Stand away, Bes," I called; "this is my game," and he obeyed, as often he had done when we were hunting together.
Now a shrewd blow from Idernes cut through my helm and staggered me, and another before I could recover myself, shore the shield from my hand, whereat the Easterns shouted more loudly than before.

Then fear of defeat entered into me and made me mad, for this Satrap was a great fighter.

With a shout of "Egypt!" I went at him like a wounded lion and soon it was his turn to stagger back.

But alas! I struck too hard, for my sword snapped upon his mail.
"The knife!" screamed Bes; "the knife!" I hurled the sword hilt in the Satrap's face and drew the dagger from my belt.