§ 32 How Asfandiyár came to the Mountain to Gushtásp

Asfandiyár climbed that high, flinty mountain,
And did obeisance when he saw his father,
Who seared at heart, arose, kissed, and caressed
His son's face, saying: “I thank God, my boy!
That I have seen thee happy and still ardent.
Regard me not with anger and dislike,
And be not slow to take revenge. Gurazm,
Malignant miscreant that he was, obscured
My heart toward my son, and ill hath come
Upon him for his calumnies, since evil
Befalleth evil men for their ill deeds.
Now by the Ruler of the world I swear,
Who knoweth all things open and concealed,
That if I prosper and o'ercome the foe
I will bestow the realm, the crown, and throne
On thee, establish many a shrine, and give thee
My secret hoards.”

Asfandiyár replied:—

“Let me find favour in the monarch's sight;
It will be treasure, throne, and crown to me
If he shall be content with me, his slave.

V. 1575

The monarch knoweth that when I beheld
Upon the field the face of slain Gurazm
I shed tears o'er that slanderer and burned
To think what anguish he had caused the Sháh.
Our past mishaps are now but wind to me.
Hereafter when I draw my vengeful sword,
And set my face to quit this rocky height,
I will not leave Arjásp, Áyás, or Chín,
Kuhram, Khallukh, or country of Túrán.”
The soldiers, hearing that Asfandiyár
Was freed from heavy bondage and ill-fortune,
Pressed on, troop after troop, upon the mountain
Before their chieftain, while the mighty men,
The alien, and akin bowed down to him.
Thus spake high-starred Asfandiyár: “Famed swords-men!
Draw ye your watered blades, advance to vengeance,
And slay the foe.”

The chieftains blessed him saying:—

“Thou art our crown and falchion of revenge!
We all will pledge our lives for thee and make
The sight of thee the rapture of our souls.”
They spent the night in ordering the host,
And getting ready coat of mail and spear.
Gushtásp held further talk of fortune's ills
With glorious Asfandiyár and set
His eyes a-stream in telling of the blood
Of all those valiant youths that had been slain
Upon the battlefield, whose princely heads
Were now encircled by a crown of gore.
That very night the tidings reached Arjásp:—
“The son of Sháh Gushtásp hath come to him.
He hath slain many scouts upon the way,
And those that were not slaughtered showed their
backs.”
He was in dudgeon, called to him the magnates,
Held converse with Kuhram at large, and said:—

V. 1576

“Our thoughts were other of this war what time
The host set forth. I said: ‘If we can catch
That dív still chained the world will issue scathless,
I shall obtain the Íránian throne, and all
Will offer me their homage overywhere.’
Now, since that dív-begotten hath broke loose,
We deal in grief and sighs. None of the Turkmans
Can match him in the fight, so let us march,
Still blithe and yet unworsted, to Túrán
While crown and throne are ours.”

He bade to bring

The treasures and the steeds caparisoned—
The booty carried off from famous Balkh—
And charged Kuhram therewith. Arjásp possessed
Four sons, all younger than Kuhram, and these
Packed, and then loaded up a hundred camels,
Which went, each with a guide, by divers roads.
The king was full of terror and of haste,
He could not eat or take his ease or sleep.
There was among the troops a Turkman named
Gurgsár who came before the king, and said:—
“O monarch of the Turkmans and of Chín!
Fling not away thy glory for one man.
Yon host is smitten, beaten, and in flight,
Its fortune all astound, the Sháh himself
Is all consumed with grief, his sons are slain,
And who hath come except Asfandiyár
To help him? Yet thou break'st thy soldiers' hearts,
And woundest by thy words without a battle!
Wise kings fear not, poltroons cause ruin. No mace
Hath fallen on a helm nor arrow struck
A barded steed. I will encounter him,
If he come forth, and fling him to the dust.”

V. 1577

Arjásp, on hearing what he said and marking
His courage and wise counsel, made reply:—
“O warrior eager for the fray! name, birth,
And parts are thine. If thou make good thy words,
And prowess the corrival of thy tongue,
All from this tent up to the sea of Chín,
And all the treasures of Írán, will I
Bestow on thee; thou shalt command my host,
And never will I swerve from thine advice.”
Forthwith he gave the army to Gurgsár
With lordship o'er the more part of the world.
Whenas the sun took up its golden shield,
And dark night did obeisance, putting off
Its musk-black raiment while the world's face grew
All ruby-like in tint, a mighty host
Descended from the heights. Asfandiyár,
The ruler of the world, the valorous,
Led on the troops himself. An ox-head mace
Depended from his saddle. Sháh Gushtásp

V. 1578

Was at the centre of the host, his soul
Full of revenge upon Arjásp. Moreover,
The offspring of Zarír, Nastúr, at whom
The lion wont to flee the wood, assumed
His station on the right as general,
And ordered all the battle under him.
Gargwí, the warrior, upon the left
Came forth as bright as Sol in Aries.
Arjásp on his side ranked his troops; the stars
Saw not the plain for spears and blue steel swords;
The air was full of silken flags. The centre,
Where was Arjásp, seemed ebony; Kuhram
Was on the right with trumpets and with tymbals,
And on the left the monarch of Chigil,
From whom a lion might take heart in fight.
When king Arjásp beheld the mighty host
Of chosen, lance-armed cavaliers he went,
Chose out a height, and thence surveyed the armies
On every side. The forces of the foe
Frayed him, the world turned black before his eyes.
Anon he bade the cameleers to bring
A hundred strings of camels from the waste,
And said in private to the men of name:—
“If this affair prove long, if victory,
Success, and glory show not on our side,
I and my friends will need for safety's sake
To take the road upon these rapid beasts.”
Now when between the lines Asfandiyár,
Like some fierce lion with his lips afoam,
Was wheeling like the turning firmament,
And brandishing in hand the ox-head mace,

V. 1579

Thou wouldst have said: “The whole plain is his steed;
His soul is greater than his skin can hold.”
Arose the war-cry and the clarion's blare;
The warriors of the host advanced. “The waste,”
Thou wouldst have said, “hath grown a sea of blood,
And all the air is Pleiad-like with swords.”
Then brave Asfandiyár rose in his stirrups
And shouted, brandishing his ox-head mace
Of steel, then, gripping it still tighter, slew
Three hundred Turkmans of the central host,
Exclaiming: “In revenge for Farshídward
This day will I raise dust-clouds from the sea.”
Then letting his swift charger have the reins
He charged against the right wing of the foe,
And slaughtered eight score of the warriors.
Kuhram, when he beheld it, showed his back.
Asfandiyár exclaimed: “Thus I avenge
My grandsire whom my father loved so well,”
Then turned his reins toward the left, and all
The earth became as 'twere a sea of blood.
He slew of mighty men eight score and five,
All men of name possessed of crowns and wealth.
“Thus,” said he, “I revenge my noble brothers,
Those eight and thirty who have passed away.”
Arjásp, on seeing this, said to Gurgsár:—
“Our warriors in numbers numberless
Are slaughtered all; not one of them is left;
Not one remaineth still before the line.
I know not wherefore thou remainest silent,
Or why thou hadst so much to say before.”
The words aroused the spirit of Gurgsár,
And he advanced before the line of battle.
Within his hand he bare a royal bow,
And poplar arrow with a point of steel.
As soon as he was near he aimed his shaft,
And struck the paladin upon the chest.
Asfandiyár hung over on his saddle
So that Gurgsár might deem: “The shaft hath pierced
His breastplate, and the prince's radiant form
Is wounded,” and Gurgsar accordingly
Unsheathed his flashing falchion, purposing
To smite the head off from Asfandiyár;

V. 1580

But he, all fearless of disaster, loosed
The coiled up lasso from the saddle-straps,
And in the Maker's name, the Omnipotent's,
Flung it about his foe whose head and neck
Were taken in the toils. Asfandiyár
Then hurled Gurgsár all quaking to the ground,
Secured, firm as a rock, his hands behind him,
And, having set a halter round his neck,
Dragged him along the ground before the lines,
With blood-foam on his lips, toward the camp,
Dispatched him to the Sháh's safe custody—
That conquering monarch of the golden helm—
And said: “Keep this man in the camp-enclosure
In bonds and no wise think of slaying him
Till we shall see how fortune will incline,
And which side gain the day.”

Departing thence

He led his whole host onward to the fray,
And shouted to the troops: “Where is Kuhram,
Whose flag is seen no more upon the right?
Where is Kundur, the swordsman, too—that taker
Of Lions who was wont to pierce the mountains
With spears and arrows?”

They informed Arjásp:—

“Asfandiyár, the hero, hath encountered
Gurgsár in fight and ta'en him prisoner,
Bold Lion though he was. The atmosphere
Is violet-dim with swords of warriors,
The banner blazoned with the wolf hath vanished.”
That portent grieved Arjásp. He bade to bring
The camels and then took the desert-route.
He and his courtiers rode those lusty beasts,
And led their chargers. Thus he left behind
His army still upon the battlefield,
While with his lords he fared toward Khallukh.

V. 1581

Asfandiyár sent up a battle-shout,
The mountain-top re-echoed at his voice.
He shouted to the Íránians: “Brandish not
Your scimitars of battle fruitlessly,
But sheathe them in your foemen's hearts and blood,
And pile on earth a mount Kárun of slain.”
The troops, inspired with vengeance, gripped their
saddles,
And host encountered host. Dust, stones, and grass
Were saturate with gore, and had a mill
Been standing there the blood had driven it.
The plain was all bestrewn with feet and trunks,
With severed heads and fists still grasping swords,
While still the cavaliers of war charged on,
And gave themselves no time for pillaging.
Now when the Turkmans heard: “Arjásp hath fled,”
The skins upon their bodies burst with grief;
Those that had steeds betook themselves to flight,
While all the rest threw down their casques and mail,
And came in sorrow to Asfandiyár,
Came with their eyes like spring. That mighty one
Accorded quarter and then ceased to slay.
He set a chief to guard them, and thenceforth
Grieved not his grandsire's death. He and his troops
Came to the Sháh, breast, sword, and Rúman casque
All blood; it glued the falchion to his hand,
And his cuirass had galled him, chest and shoulder.
They washed his hand and scimitar in milk,

And drew the arrows from his mail, and then
The atheling, triumphant and unharmed,
Went forth and bathed him. Afterward he called
For raiment meet for worshippers and sought
The all-righteous Judge. Gushtásp, all fear and awe,
Made for a week thanksgiving with his son
Before the just Creator of the world.
Upon the eighth day, when Asfandiyár
Had come again, Gurgsár appeared before him,

V. 1582

Despairing of sweet life and all a-quake
With terror like a willow in the wind,
And said: “O prince! my death will not renown thee;
I will attend thee as a slave and ever
Guide thee to good, abate all future ills,
And show thee how to reach the Brazen Hold.”
The prince bade take Gurgsár bound hand and foot,
Just as he was, back to the camp-enclosure,
And went to the encampment of Arjásp—
The slayer of Luhrásp—distributed
The spoils midst horse and foot, committed all
The captives taken to his chiefs, and slew
Those that had given the army cause to rue.