When with the daughter of Shangul Bahrám
Consorted she found out that he was Sháh;
By night and day she wept for love of him,
And kept her eyes upon his face. Her father
Heard of her love and ceased to doubt Bahrám.
One day the pair sat happily, discussing
Things great and small, and Sháh Bahrám spake thus:—
“I know that thou dost wish me well, so I
Will tell to thee a secret; keep it close.
I would quit Hindústán. Dost thou consent
Thereto? I will take thee withal, but none
Among this folk must know. Within Írán
My state surpasseth this and, furthermore,
She said: “O worthy of the throne!
I will, with fortune's aid. Not much removed
There is a place where festivals are held,
For in the forest there my father feasteth.
It is a place that men deem fortunate,
And thither gather idol-worshippers.
Hence to the forest is a score of leagues,
And one must weep before the idols there.
That is a place for hunting onager,
A place too for the worshippers of God.
Both king and host will set forth to the feast;
He will not leave a soldier in the city.
Go then if thou art minded to depart:
Let feasts grow old but be thou young for ever.
Wait for five days, then when the world's Light shineth,
And he shall quit the city, get thee ready
To go thyself.”
His wife's words pleased Bahrám,
Who slept not till the dawn for thought.
Now when
The sun displayed its hand upon the sky,
And dark night packed, he mounted on his steed,
And rode forth with his weapons to the chase.
He told his wife: “Make ready and tell none;
Let us prepare and set out on our way.”
Bahrám departed, neared the stream,*
and saw
The baggage of some merchants on the road.
They recognised him, and he bit his lip,
For they were of Írán—bold travellers
O'er sea and land. He bade them offer him
No reverence; not even had he told
His comrades what he purposed. To the merchants
He said: “Shut fast your lips; on that depend
Our profit and our loss, for if in Hind
This secret be divulged the Íránian soil
Will be as seas of blood. Enlarged is he
Whose lips are shut, the tongue must be confined,
And both hands open. By a mighty oath
Will I bind fast your tongues till I regain
My throne. Say thus then: ‘May we turn away
From God, the Holy and Supreme, and follow
to a crown; but if the throne
Be void of me armed hosts will come from all sides,
And leave no merchants here, no Sháh, no thane,
No host, no throne, no crown.”
When they perceived
The import of his words they came with cheeks
All wet with weeping. “May the nobles' lives
Thy ransom be,” they said, “and youth and kingship
Thy habit. If the treasure of thy secret
Should be revealed our country would resemble
A sea of gore! Who dareth contemplate
Such things and turn his wisdom to an ax,
His counsel to a hatchet?”
Hearing this,
The Sháh 'gan praise those honourable men
Of Grace and Faith, and fared home ill at ease,
Committing to God's charge his soul and body.
He tarried till the banquet-hall was decked,
And till the nobles had departed thither,
But when Shangul himself prepared to go
Bahrám's wife said to him: “Barzwí is sick,
Would be excused, and saith: ‘Be not concerned
For me, O king! The banquet-hall to one
That aileth is distasteful, and the king
Must know thus much.’”
“Let none,” Shangul replied,
“That aileth think of banqueting.”
At dawn
He left Kannúj and hurried to the place
Of feasting. When 'twas night said Sháh Bahrám:—
“'Tis time to go, good wife!”
He seated her
Upon her palfrey and invoked God's name
O'er her in ancient Persian, donned his mail,
And mounted too, his lasso in the straps,
And mace in hand. He hurried to the river,
And found the merchants sleeping. Rousing them
He gat a skiff in readiness wherein
He seated Sapínúd. With day begun
They came to land, and brightly shone the sun.