But a mass of pigeons darted in the faces of him and his horse, and the next moment he lay beside his commander.
The rest of them turned and fled, pursued by the birds.
'Ah, friend Peter!' said the maid; 'thou hast come as I told thee! Welcome and thanks!' By this time the battle was over.

The rout was general.

The enemy stormed back upon their own camp, with the beasts roaring in the midst of them, and the king and his army, now reinforced by one, pursuing.
But presently the king drew rein.
'Call off your hounds, Curdie, and let the pigeons do the rest,' he shouted, and turned to see what had become of the princess.
In full panic fled the invaders, sweeping down their tents, stumbling over their baggage, trampling on their dead and wounded, ceaselessly pursued and buffeted by the white-winged army of heaven.

Homeward they rushed the road they had come, straight for the borders, many dropping from pure fatigue, and lying where they fell.

And still the pigeons were in their necks as they ran.