That same sword has another tale that I will tell. My father (may God have mercy upon him) had a groom called Jami’. Once, the Franks made a raid on us, so my father put on his kazaghand-armour and left his house to mount up. But he could not find his horse, so he stood there for a while, waiting. Eventually Jami’ the groom, who had been delayed, arrived with the horse. My father struck him with this same sword while it was still hanging from his waist in its scabbard. The blade cut through the scabbard-trappings, the silver scabbard-tip and the thick garment and woollen mantle that the groom was wearing, and then through the bone of his elbow. His forearm fell to the ground. As a result, my father (may God have mercy upon him) supported this groom and his children after him on account of this wound. That sword was named al-Jami’i after that groom.