devour the penitent sinner whole, spurs and all. But no! We’re still gripping our sword, our face is still flushed with strength. Mikoláš dodged the horsemen, and since they were riding too fast they could not stop their horses just like that. God willed that they be separated and that Mikoláš’s fury slay each in turn. On that day Kozlík was taken captive and many a son was felled. Apart from this misfortune, nothing memorable happened either to those who were fleeing or to those in pursuit or to those who lingered to gather up spoils. Mikoláš caught the soldiers’ horses and rode off after his brothers. The tale leaves him here.
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