He raised his encampment that was on the side of the kings and had all the tents and carts placed inside the two castles with all the pages. And Tirant held his men back until nightfall. And before the sun had passed the columns of Hercules, Tirant crossed the bridge to the side where he had first been, and he had the foot soldiers climb a hill that was in line with the head of the bridge. When the foot soldiers were up, he had the men with weapons also go up, one squadron behind the other. The sultan, who was on that side, seeing that almost all the men had gone up the side of the hill to give battle, and that there were only four squadrons remaining, went swiftly toward them and attacked them, making them flee up the hill, and sixty Christians were killed. Tirant retreated, battling all the time, and night fell. The Turks came down to the foot of the hill and set up their tents. When Tirant went up the hill, he found all the knights and nobles absolutely disconsolate. They were running here and there, crying and moaning, with sad, woeful countenances. When Tirant saw them acting that way, he called them all together and said: "I only want to tell you that if you will put your effort into this, with the aid of Our Lord and His Holy Mother, Our Lady, I will make you victorious over your enemies within three hours." Nearly all were consoled by the captain's words, except for the Duke of Macedonia who, before the battles were finished, sent a squire of his with instructions about what he should tell the emperor. When he reached the city, he dismounted and left his horse, indicating that he had fled the battle-site and that he had tears in his eyes. When he was in the palace, he found many people there, and he said: "Where is that poor man they call the emperor?" When he was informed that Albi, the Duke of Macedonia's squire, had arrived, the emperor quickly came out of his chambers. When Albi saw the emperor he fell to the ground, pulling his hair and lowering his eyes and face, and he said mournfully: "It has been your will to degrade your captains and vassals, and to honor foreigners of ill repute, men who are known for no deeds, and who wear shoddy tunics. Oh, Emperor! You are lost and so are all your people, for it has been your wish to take away the succession of the empire from that famous and illustrious nobleman, the Duke of Macedonia, to give it to a vile foreigner who has led himself and all the men in the camp to their destruction, and has run away, and we don't know where he is. This is what the person who was the emperor deserved! For the Moors have them trapped on a small hill, and they have no bread or wine, or even water for the horses. By now they must all be dead. I am going to leave with my great pain, and you, who were the emperor, must remain with your own." "Oh, woe is me!" cried the emperor. And he went into his chambers and fell upon his bed, lamenting.