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109. The eloquent and nice-worded one ended this letter, he tied gold round his waist, habited himself to travel alone;[1] he said: "I shall mount in the plain." The soldiers formed in line, then they came forth; he tarried no time indoors.
170. He said: "Let all go hence; herein I need none as a partisan." He sent the slaves away also, he remained by himself, alone he withdrew himself, he hastened through the rushes. His slayer, T'hinat'hin, is always in his thoughts.
171. He galloped over that plain; he was lost to the soldiers' sight. Whatever human being might have seen him and pursued him, his sword could not harm him; his arm was hampered.[2] He was heavy laden with a burden of grief for her sake.
172. When the soldiers hunted and sought their lord, and could no longer find the sun-faced, their countenances paled, their great joy turned into heaviness, they ran everywhere to seek him, whoever had a swift horse.
173. O lion, whom can God put in thy place! They ran and brought out other messengers from elsewhere; they could learn nothing of him; he passed from that place. His disheartened hosts shed hot tears.
174. Shermadin assembled together the courtiers and nobles; he showed them the letter in which he (Avt'handil) had told them his tidings. When they heard it, all remained heart-pierced, they beat themselves, there was not a tearless heart, not an unbruised breast.
175. All said: "Though our state without him is irksome to us, to whom save thee could he give his seat and throne? Of a truth we shall obey thee, whatever thou commandest any of us." They made that vassal lord; all did him homage.
