a
_holbaschi_,[19] who prepared his army and attacked David at Maratuk. He
met on the march seven women, and said to them, "Sing and dance until I
return," and they answered: "Why shall we dance and sing? We know not
what we should say."

[19] This Turkish title shows that the legend has been altered at a late
date.

And Holbaschi sang for them:

"May the little women busy themselves grinding corn;
May the stout women help with the camel-loading;
For Holbaschi carries grim war to Sassun.
Strong yoke-oxen and red milch-cows he'll bring back
In the springtime; butter and Tochorton
Will be plentiful in the Land of Moesr."

Holbaschi saw the women begin dancing and singing, and started his host
again and went to Maratuk and entered its gates. The daughter of the
priest of Maratuk had often glanced slyly at David, and he was not
indifferent to her. The priest's daughter went to David and said:
"David, I am ready to die for you! Arise and see how many warriors are
congregated in the courtyard."

When she had spoken she went out and closed all the gates from without.
David stretched himself and cried: "Bread and wine, the Lord liveth!"
and began to knock off the heads of the men of war. He beheaded them so
that the bodies flew over the walls and the heads remained lying in the
court. And he laid hold of Holbaschi, and tore out his teeth and drove
them into his brow like nails. And he bent his lance till it curved like
a dog's collar and put it around his neck. "Now," he said, "take
yourself off and tell all to Moesramelik. If people still remain in his
country let him herd them together before I come."

Holbaschi met the women a second time, and they were singing and
dancing. And one of them sang:

"Holbaschi, dear Holbaschi, went hence like a cruel wolf,
Why come you back to us like a hunting dog?
Your lance lies on your neck like a dog's collar,
Thy mouth gapes like an open window,
And slime flows out like curdled milk from a skin;[20]
And whole caravans of flies buzz round it."

[20] In Armenia, as is usual in the East, they make butter out of
curdled milk; and for this reason the vessel is always covered with
scum.

And Holbaschi sang:

"Oh, you shameless, worthless hussies,
I thought that Sassun was a free field.
Think not that only rocks and clefts opposed me.
There new-born children are fierce devils,
Their arrows like beams of the oil-mill;
And like windows they te