Bahrám Chúbína, for his part, arrayed
His army like a pheasant's wing and marched
To Marv. Then one came to the Khán to say:—
“Let none pass to Írán from Turkistán
Or Chín to tell Khusrau Parwíz about us,
And make a gift to him of our designs.”
The Khán proclaimed: “If one go to Írán
Without our seal him will I cleave asunder,
And money shall not buy him off, by God!”
Kharrád, son of Barzín, abode two months,
Intent on his close schemes. Then in concern
He called Kulún, gave him the seat of honour
One day and said to him: “None is exempt
From secret sorrow in this world. Thou oft
Hast begged for millet, barley-bread, and sheepskins
From all in Chín, but now thy food is bread
And lamb, and thou art richly clad withal.
Contrast thy present with thy past estate,
Past malisons with present benisons.
Thine years have reached a hundred or at least
Are great in sum. I have a dread emprise
For thee whereby thou mayest gain a throne,
Or darksome dust. I will obtain for thee
An impress from the signet of the Khán;
Then speed as though thou wouldst roll up the earth.
Thou must get access to Bahrám Chúbína,
And bide thy time at Marv. Don thy black sheep­skin,
Provide a knife, and go. Note heedfully
The twentieth* of the month and on that day
Approach this man world-famous for he holdeth
That day ill-omened as I have observed

For many a year. He will admit not then
The public and wear but brocade of Rúm.
Say: ‘From the daughter of the Khán I bring
The mighty chief a message.’ Keep thy knife
Unsheathed within thy sleeve till he shall bid thee
Approach alone and as thou dost say thus:—
‘The noble lady said: “When thou dost tell
The secret in his ear hide it from others.”’
When he shall say: ‘What is the secret? Tell me,’
Approach him quickly, slit his navel, rise,
And seek to flee. All those that hear his cry
Will hurry from the chieftain to the stalls;
This one will go for steeds and that for treasure,
And thou wilt suffer not for slaying him.
If they slay thee … well thou hast seen the world,
And hast approved its weal and woe. Besides
Thou wilt have had revenge and done what use
Enjoineth,* but indeed none will concern
Himself about thee at that time to harm thee,
While if thou scapest slaying thou hast bought
The world and paid for it, the conquering Sháh
Will give to thee a city and withal
A share in this world.”*

To that sage Kulún

Made answer: “Need I any further guide?
Good sooth! although I am a hundred I
Fain would get somewhat so I have no choice.
Be both my body and my soul thy ransom,
Such is the covenant I make with thee.”
Kharrád, son of Barzín, on hearing that,
Sped to the queen and said: “The time hath come
For me to ask my boon, O gracious lady!
And I will tell it. Certain of my folk
Across the river are in bonds. Be pleased
To set mine own feet free. Procure for me
An impress of the Khán's seal and this know
That by so doing thou wilt give me life.”
She said: “He is asleep and drunk: I might
Put clay upon the signet on his hand.”
She asked Kharrád, son of Barzín, for seal-clay,
Went to that drunken sleeper's couch forthwith
From her apartments, presently impressed
The clay upon the signet, came, and gave it
To her petitioner. That scribe gave thanks
Therefor, then went and passed it to the elder.

Kulún received that seal, sped pheasant-like,
* And came to Marv, unmarked. He tarried there
Until the twentieth of the month—the day
That was unlucky for Bahrám Chúbína,
* Who was at home attended by one slave,
With apples, quinces, and pomegranates placed
Before him. All alone Kulún approached
The gate and said thus to the porter: “Sir!
I bring word from the daughter of the Khán,
And I am neither warrior nor Persian.
That pious lady hath entrusted me
With secrets, which for her sake must be kept,
For this great monarch. She is ailing too,
And is with child. Tell him that I may give
My message to the crowned and famous chief.”
The noble chamberlain made haste, went in,
Came to the entrance of the warrior's chamber,
And said: “A scurvy-looking messenger,
Clad in a sheep-skin, hath arrived and saith:—
‘I carry from the daughter of the Khán
A message to thy potent lord.’”

Replied

Bahrám Chúbína: “Say to him: ‘Display
Thy visage also at the chamber-door.’”
Kulún drew near and from the doorway showed
His head. On seeing an old man weak and wretched
Bahrám Chúbína said to him: “If thou
Hast letters give them up.”

Kulún rejoined:—

“I have a message only and will speak not
With others by.”

Bahrám Chúbína said:—

“Approach without more mystery and tell it
Within mine ear.”

Kulún drew near. The knife

Was up his sleeve. His villainy grew plain.
He feigned to whisper and then struck. A cry
Rose from the room. Now when Bahrám Chúbína
Called out the people ran to him. He said:—
“Arrest the fellow. Ask who prompted him.”
Then all within the palace came and dragged
That hoary-headed man off by the feet,
The servants in their fury smiting him
With palms and fists. He took the buffetings,
And opened not his lips from noon till midnight,
Then when he had been broken, hand and foot,
They flung him down within the palace-court,
And gathered in their sorrow and dismay
About Bahrám Chúbína. He still bled,
And groaned. His cheeks were lapis-lazuli.
His sister too had come to him forthwith.
She tore her hair, laid on her lap his head,

Then wailed and cried right bitterly: “Brave horse­man!
The lion used to flee the woods before thee!
Who hath removed this Column of the world?
Who hath o'erthrown this mighty Elephant?
Woe for the cavalier of chieftain-mould,
World-conqueror, undaunted, lion-queller!
Thou didst not serve the Sháh, and no God-server
Was he that smote thine elephantine form.
Alas! who tore this tall, exalted Mountain
Out of the pleasant waters by the roots?
Who hath plucked up so flourishing a Cypress?
Who cast this crown of greatness basely down?
Who filled the ocean suddenly with dust?
Who hurled this moving Mountain to the abyss?
Now alien, friendless, helpless, and alone
We live despised in other men's domains.
I said to him: ‘O captain of the host!
Uproot thou not the sprout of loyalty,
For if a daughter only had been left
Sprung from Sásán she would assume the crown,
The whole face of the land would be her slave,
Her blest crown touch the sky.’ Thou wouldst not hear
My profitable words but now repentest
Thy deeds and bear'st a guilty soul to God.
Ill is on our great house; we are the sheep;
Our foemen are like wolves.”

The wounded man,

On hearing what she said and seeing all
Her heart and prudent counsellings, her cheeks
Rent by her nails, her hair plucked out, her heart
And eyes all blood, her face all dust, though faint
And suffering loosed his tongue and answered thus:—
“My noble sister! nothing ever matched
Thy counsel yet the measure of my days
Is full. I acted not on thine advice;
A dív-like guide led me in everything.
No prince was more exalted than Jamshíd,
Through whom the world was full of fear and hope,
Yet erred he at the bidding of the dívs
So that he made the world black for himself.
'Twas just the same with watchful Kai Káús,
Heaven's favourite whose steps were fortunate.
The loathly Dív's incitements ruined him;
The evils that befel him thou hast heard:
He mounted heavenward to look upon
The circling sky and course of sun and moon,
But fell into the deep beyond Sarí,
Headforemost.* In like manner hath the Dív
Caused me to err and docked my hand from good.
‘Thine is the royal diadem,’ he said,
‘From Aries to Pisces all is thine.’
I do repent mine evil deeds. God's pardon

Were gracious to me. Thus was destiny
Writ o'er my head; why should I mourn the past?
The water riseth o'er me; grief and joy
Are both as wind to me: 'twas written thus;
What was to be hath been; none can abate,
Or greaten ills. Thy counsels are mine heirlooms,
Thy sayings are mine earrings. Right and wrong
Are over; call not fruitless words to mind,
But turn to God and place your confidence
Where fortune smileth. He is friend enough
In troubles; tell none of your grief and joy.
My destined portion of the world is mine,
The end is come and now I must depart.”
Then to Yalán-sína he said: “I leave
The whole host, throne, the kingship and the state,
To thee. Do thou take heed of my good sister:
Thou wilt not need another counsellor.
Part not asunder. May disunion
Ne'er come between you twain. Abide not long
Within this hostile territory. I
Came hither and am weary of the place.
Go and present you to Khusrau Parwíz,
Speak and hear him.* If he shall pardon you
Hail not another as your sun and moon.
Take many greetings from me to Gurdwí,
And tell him what hath chanced.* Make me my charnel
Within Írán, and wreck my palace here.
Much trouble have I suffered through the Khán,
And have not found him gracious for one day.
It was no guerdon for my toils to have
A dív dispatched to slay me, yet in truth,
If he shall hear of this, he will not know
What he should think. None save Íránians
Conceived this plan, and had the Dív for guide.”
He called a scribe and wrote, as there was need,
This letter to the Khán: “Bahrám Chúbína
Hath passed away in failure, shame, and woe.
Be good to those I leave and keep them safe
From toil and trouble caused by enemies,
For I have never wronged thee but ensued
Whate'er was wise and right.”

He gave his sister

Much good advice, embraced her darling head,

And laid his mouth against her ear, his eyes
Suffused with blood, and he gave up the ghost.
All wept him bitterly and lived in sorrow.
His sister in her pain bewailed him sorely,
And kept recalling all her brother's words:
Her heart was riven by her grief for him.
She had a narrow silver coffin made,
She wrapped brocade around that warrior-form,
With raiment of fine linen neath his vest,
And covered him with camphor, face and all.
The process of this Wayside Inn is so!
Toil not, thou knowest that thou needs must go.
Quaff not thou grief but wine by day and night
With lips all laughter and with heart-delight.