“Thereupon Ardawán equipped an army of 4,000 men and took the road towards Párs after Artakhshír. When it was mid-day he came to a place by which the road to Párs passed, and asked, ‘At what time did those two riders whose faces were set in this direction pass by here?’ Then said the people, ‘Early in the morning, when the sun rose, they passed by swiftly as the wind Artai, and a very large ram ran after them, than which a finer could not be found. We know that already ere now he will have put behind him a distance of many parasangs, and that it will be impossible for you to catch him.’ So Ardawán tarried not there, but hastened on. When he came to another place, he asked the people, ‘When did those two riders pass by?’ They answered, ‘To-day at noon did they go by like the wind Artai, and a ram ran after them.’ Then Ardawán was astonished and said, ‘Consider: the two riders we know, but what can that ram be?’ Then he asked the Dastúr, who replied, ‘That is the Kingly Splendour (Khurra-i-Khud'á'íh); it hath not yet overtaken him, but we must make haste; it is possible that we may catch them before it overtakes them.’ Then Ardawán hastened on with his horsemen. On the second day they had put behind them seventy parasangs: then a caravan met them. Ardawán asked the people, ‘In what place did you meet those two riders?’ They replied, ‘Between you and them is still a distance of twenty parasangs. We noticed that beside one of those riders a very large and mighty ram sat on the horse.’ Ardawán asked the Dastúr, ‘What signifies this ram which is beside him on the horse?’ He answered, ‘May'st thou live for ever! The Royal Splendour (Khurrak-i-Kayán = Firdawsí's farr-i-kayání, and the Kawaêm Hwarenô of the Avesta) hath overtaken Ardashír; in no wise can we now take them captive. Therefore weary not yourself and your horsemen more, nor further tire the horses, lest they succumb. Seek in some other way to prevail against Artakhshír.’ When Ardawán heard this, he turned back and betook himself again to his home.”

“Then did the King perceive plain that the maiden
With Ardashír had fled, his favours scorning.
Thereat his heart was stirred into dire anger,
And, on his chestnut horse hastily mounting,
Called he his horsemen bold out on the war-trail,
And on the southward road forth like a fire flamed.

On the road came he to a fair township,
Wherein were many men and countless cattle.
Of them demanded he whether at day-break
Any had heard the beat of horses' hoof-strokes,
Or had beheld a pair riding right hotly,
One on a snow-white steed, one on a black barb.
Answered one, ‘Yea, hard by on the road here,
Forth to the plain fared two with their horses,
And at the horses' heels galloped a wild sheep,
Which, like the horses, hurled dust-clouds behind it.’

Then quoth King Ardawán to his adviser,
‘What was this mountain-sheep which ran behind them?’
Answered the other, ‘That Royal Splendour
Which, by his lucky star, leads him to lordship.
If now this sheep should o'ertake him in running
Naught there is left us saving long labour.’

There then King Ardawán hastily halted,
Rested, refreshed him, then hastened onward.
After Prince Ardashír hotly they hurried,
At their head Ardawán with his adviser.

When of the day had passed half, and the world-light
Up to the midmost point heaven had measured,
Saw he again a fair hamlet and fragrant,
Where, too, the village-folk hastened to meet him.
Thus quote the King once more unto their head-man,
‘Tell me, these riders, how passed they your hamlet?’
Thus quoth the head-man: ‘Lord of fair fortune,
Born 'neath a lucky star, cunning in counsel!
What time the sun in high heaven was paling,
And night was spreading her purple vestment,

Hard by our hamlet two riders hastened,
Dry were their lips with thirst, their raiment dust-stained,
And behind one on the saddle a sheep sat:
In palace hunting-scenes ne'er was its like met.’

Then to King Ardawán spake his adviser:
‘Turn we now back again whither we came from,
Since now the matter changeth its aspect,
In that King Ardashír's luck rides behind him.
So with hands empty will the quest leave us.
Unto thy son now send thou a letter,
Unto him, point by point, make clear the matter,
That he, perchance, may gain trace of our quarry,
Ere of the mountain-sheep's milk he partaketh.’

When Ardawán had heard thus from the spokesman
He for a surety knew his fortune faded.
So in the hamlet straight he alighted,
And rendered praises to the All-Giver.
But when the night was spent, at early morning,
Bade he his armed host turn themselves homewards.
So, with cheeks sallow like the scorched reed-bed,
Did he to Ray return in the dark twilight.”

The Legend of Haftán-bókht (Haftawád in the Sháh-náma ) and the Worm of Kirmán is too interesting to be entirely omitted, though lack of space compels me to give only that portion of it which relates to the actual destruction of this monster. The connection of this Worm (Kirm) with the city of Kirmán is, of course, a piece of popular etymology, but it serves to show that those who persist in writing the name of this town as Karmán adopt a pronunciation which has certainly not been used in Persia for nine hundred years, whatever may have been the case in more ancient times. A similar word-play occurs in the Bústán of Sa'dí (ed. Graf, p. 87, l. 535). On the name Haftán-bókht, “the Seven have delivered,” Nöldeke has a very interesting note (Kár-námak, p. 49, n. 4). He points out that many names, notably of Christians, were compounded with the word bókht, “hath delivered,” e.g., Mârâ-bókht, “the Lord hath delivered,” Yishú'-bókht, or Bókht-yishú', “Jesus hath delivered,” while amongst Zoroastrians we find Si-bókht, “the Three (i.e., good thoughts, good words, and good deeds) have delivered,” and Chahár-bókht , “the Four have delivered.” “The Seven” referred to in the name of Ardashír's opponent are, he adds, the seven planets, which belong to the Creation of Ahriman the Evil Spirit. This name is therefore peculiarly appropriate for one whose reliance is in the powers of hell and the magic of the demons. Firdawsí was compelled by the exigencies of his metre to alter the name into Haftawáa (explained in the Sháhnáma glossaries as meaning “Having seven sons”),* a form obtainable from the Pahlawí by excision of the three middle characters of the word, since the last three characters can equally well be read -ókht or -wát.

*

“Then he sent forth people to wage war with the Worm, summoned Burjak and Burjátur before him, and took counsel with them. Thereafter they took many gold and silver coins and garments; he himself [Artakhshír] put on a dress of Khurásán, came with Burjak and Burjátur to the foot of Castle Gulár, and said: ‘I crave of my august masters the boon of being admitted to the service of the Court.’ The idolaters admitted Artakhshír with the two men, and installed them in the house of the Worm. Then for three days Artakhshír showed himself eager in service and devoted to the Worm. The gold and silver coins and the garments he presented to the servants. Then all who were in the Castle, marvelled and were loud in his praises. Then said Artakhshír, ‘It would give me pleasure to feed the Worm for three days with my own hand.’ To this the servants and attendants consented. Then Artakhshír dismissed every one, and commanded an army of four hundred valiant and devoted men to conceal themselves opposite that place in a cleft of the mountain. Also he commanded, ‘When on the day of Ásmán* ye see smoke from the fortress of the Worm, then put forth your valour and courage and come to the foot of the Castle.’ On that day he himself held the molten copper, while Burjak and Burjátur offered praise and glory to God. When now it was the time for its meal the Worm roared, as it did each day. Artakhshír had previously made the attendants and watchers of the Worm drunk and senseless at a meal. Then he went him­self with his attendants to the Worm, bringing to it the blood of oxen and sheep, such as it received daily. But as soon as the Worm opened its mouth to drink the blood, Artakhshír poured the molten copper into its throat, and when this entered its body it burst asunder into two pieces. Thereupon such a roaring arose from it that all the people from the Castle rushed in thither, and confusion arose amongst them. Artakhshír laid his hand on his shield and sword, and made a great slaughter and massacre in the Castle. Then he commanded, ‘Kindle a fire such that the smoke may be manifest to those knights.’ This the servants did, and when the knights who were in the mountains saw the smoke from the Castle, they hastened to the foot of the Castle to help Artakhshír, and forced the entrance with the cry, ‘Victorious be Artakhshír, King of kings, the son of Pápak!’”