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How Hurmuzd slew Ízid Gashasp, Zarduhsht, Símáh Barzín and Bahrám Ázarmihán, his Father's Ministers*

The Sháh ruled well until he felt secure
And had attained his ends but then he raged,
Displayed his evil nature, left the path
Of right and, as he had determined, slew
Those most in honour with his father—men,
Who, innocent and happy, feared no ill.
Among the scribes of Núshírwán were three,
Two old, one young, their names Ízid Gashasp,
Burzmihr—a learnéd scribe of Grace and presence—
And Máh Ázar, wise, shrewd, and prosperous.
The three had been vizírs and ministers
Before the throne of Núshírwán. Hurmuzd
Was longing to bring ruin on all three

C. 1794
Because he feared that they might prove ingrate.
Without a cause he raised his hand against
Ízid Gashasp, bound and imprisoned him.
The high priest's heart was straitened and his cheek
Wan with anxiety, for he was good,
An ancient named Zarduhsht, and at the bondage
Of scribe Ízid Gashasp it was as though
His own heart had been arrow-pierced.

Now when

Ízid Gashasp had passed a day untended,
Without food, clothes or solacer, a friend
Conveyed for him this message from the prison
To the high priest: “O thou that to the captive
Art skin and marrow! here am I within
The prison of the Sháh without attendance,
And none can come to me. I crave for food;
A famished paunch increaseth my distress.
Send to me what is fit and, when I die,
Some linen* and a stitcher for my shroud.”
The high priest's heart was grieved at his afflic­tion,
His message, place, and lodging. He replied:—
“Complain not of the matter of thy bondage
If thou art not in jeopardy of life.”
Albeit the message left him broken-hearted,
And troubled for himself. He thought: “If news
Shall reach this Graceless and ungenerous Sháh
That his high priest hath sent things to the prison,
My life and body are not worth a mite;
This world-lord will destroy me and will turn
A livid face toward me in his wrath.”
Yet through affection for Ízid Gashasp,
The scribe, his heart was wrung, his face like gall.
He bade his heedful cook take to the prison
Food for the prisoner and afterwards
Gat on an Arab steed and went to him.
The keeper of the prison paled with fright,
On seeing the high priest, but dared not say:—
“Go not within the prison for this king
Is self-willed and a novice.”

Bathed in tears

That agéd man alighted from his steed,
And visited Ízid Gashasp. They clasped
Each other in a close embrace, all anguish,
The lashes of their eyes like clouds in Spring,
And held talk of the Sháh's malignity
Until words failed them. Then the board was spread
Before those holy men who next began
To mutter prayers with sacred twigs in hand,
And afterwards Ízid Gashasp in whispers
Conveyed his wishes, while the high priest heark­ened,
As to his hoarded treasure and dínárs,
His mansions, palaces, and property,
And said: “O noble man! on going hence

C. 1795
Say to Hurmuzd from me: ‘Though thou mayst spurn
My words yet think upon the toils and care
That I supported with Sháh Núshírwán,
And how I cherished thee too on my breast.
My recompense is chains and fear of worse,
And I shall show God on the Judgment Day
A guiltless heart aggrieved against the king.’”
Now when the high priest had gone home a spy
Departed hastily and told the news
To Sháh Hurmuzd whose heart conceived fell schemes.
He did not spare Ízid Gashasp but sent,
And slew him in the prison, heard reports
At large about the high priest, made no sign,
And pondered how by fair means or by foul
To slay him; then gave orders to the cook
To mingle bane in secret with some dish,
And when the high priest came at audience-time
To pay his duty to the illustrious king,
Hurmuzd said: “Tarry here to-day for I
Have a new cook.”

The high priest sat; they spread

The board; he paled; he felt that 'twas his last,
And so it proved. The cooks brought up the meats,
And Sháh Hurmuzd partook of all in turn,
But when he had the poisoned dish brought in
The high priest glanced thereat and looked again.
There was an ill surmise in his pure heart:—
“His remedy is poison in that dish!”
Hurmuzd, on seeing this, said not a word,
But stretched his hand out to that dish of bane,
And, in accordance to the use of kings
When paying servants honour and regard,
Put his own noble fingers to the board,
And, having taken marrow from the dish,
Said to the high priest: “O thou honest man!
I made this luscious morsel for thyself,
So open wide thy mouth and take this food,
And such should be thy nourishment henceforth.”
The archmage answered: “By thy life and head,
And may thy head and crown endure for ever,
Bid me not eat it; I have had enough,
* So do not press me further.”

Said Hurmuzd:—

“By sun and moon, and by the purity
Of soul of him who is the Sháh and world-lord,
Thou shalt accept this morsel from my hand,
And frustrate not my wish herein.”

He answered:—

“The Sháh hath bidden and I have no choice.”
He ate, then left the board, in sore distress,

C. 1796
And hurried home, spake of the poisoned food
To none but spread a robe and lay lamenting.
He ordered one to fetch an antidote
From those old hoards of his or from the city,
But it availed not aught, and bitterly
Complained he unto God against Hurmuzd.
The Sháh dispatched a trusty man to learn
The high priest's state, the action of the poison,
And if the scheme had failed. Now when the eye
Of the high priest beheld the messenger
Tears fell from his eyelashes down his cheeks.
“Go, tell Hurmuzd,” he said: ‘Thy fortune changeth.
Hereafter, through thy mischievous designs,
Thou shalt be blind and shiftless in the world,
Thy foes shall have their hearts' desire upon thee,
And lasting shame shall dog thy soul for this.
Soon wilt thou die and leave an evil name.
I go to lay my cause before the Judge,
Where we shall face each other. Never more
Sleep free from ill, for chastisement divine
Confronteth thee. I take my leave of thee,
Malignant man! Ill done will bring thee ill.’”
The trusty envoy heard and went with tears
To take the king the message. He repented,
Writhed at the high priest's righteous words but saw
No way to cure that smart and deeply sighed.
Anon the high priest died, and all the wise
Wept o'er him sorely. In this world of pain
And toil why court renown and clutch at gain?
The wise count breaths because no joys remain.
The high priest's wretched end convulsed the realm
With grief, but that blood-shedding, brutal world-lord
Recked not of evil fortune, girt his loins
For bloodshed, made Bahrám Ázarmihán
His tool, called him by night and made him kneel
Beside the throne, then said: “Thou wouldst feel safe
From evil treatment at my hands? Then when
The sun is bright in heaven, and mountain-tops
Are shining like a back-plate, come among
The nobles of Írán and take thy stand
Before my throne. Then will I question thee
About Símáh Barzín: make answer boldly.
I shall inquire: ‘What is this friend of thine,
An evil man or one that serveth God?’
C. 1797
Reply: ‘He is an evil man, a villain,
And sprung from Áhriman.’ Then ask whatever
Thou wilt—a handmaid, signet, throne and crown.”
Bahrám replied: “I will, and multiply
The ill a hundredfold.”

The Sháh thus sought

An artifice to put Símáh Barzín,
One of the chiefs, beloved by Núshírwán—
That Lustre of the age—beyond the pale
Of sympathy.

Now when the Robe whose hue

Is ivory-bright grew visible, and Sol
Rose in the Sign of Gemini, the world-lord
Sat on the ivory throne, and o'er his head
They hung the costly crown. The Íránian chiefs
Met and drew up in rank before the court-gate.
The audience-chamberlain withdrew the curtain,
And all the throng approached the king. First came
Bahrám Ázarmihán, Símáh Barzín,
And valiant chiefs. Each took his proper seat,
The crowd still standing in the monarch's presence,
Who questioned thus Bahrám Ázarmihán:—
“Now doth Símáh Barzín, in presence here,
Deserve our wealth or is he troublesome,
Because the ill-disposed deserve not treasure?”
Bahrám Ázarmihán well understood
The question of the monarch of the world,
Its base and motive: “We must weep therefor,
And from the ruler of the people I
Shall have at last a charnel but no shroud!”
And thus he made response: “O noble Sháh!
Look for no goodness from Símáh Barzín,
For he hath wrecked Írán. Would that his body
Had neither brain nor skin! He speaketh naught
But villainy and thus produceth strife.”
Símáh Barzín, on hearing this, replied:—
“My good old friend! defame not thus my person,
And be not thus confederate with the Dív.
Since thou hast been my friend what words and deeds
Of Áhriman hast thou perceived in me?”
Bahrám Ázarmihán thus answered him:—
“Thou hast been scattering seed throughout the world,
And thou wilt be the first to reap the crop.
Black smoke shall be thy portion of the fire,
For Núshírwán once summoned thee and me,
And made us kneel before the royal throne
With the high priest, Burzmihr, and with that chief
Of comely face, Ízid Gashasp, and asked:—
‘Who doth deserve the imperial throne and who
Possesseth Grace? On younger son or elder
Shall I bestow it? Which is worthier
Of kingship?’

C. 1798

Then the rest of us arose,

And framed our tongues to utter this reply:—
‘This man of Turkman kindred is unworthy;
None would give aught for such a Sháh, for he
Is Khán-descended, is of evil nature,
And like his mother both in looks and bearing.’
Thou saidst: ‘Hurmuzd is fit to be the Sháh,’
And now art guilty of the consequence.
For this cause have I testified against thee,
And opened thus my lips in thy dispraise.”
Hurmuzd at that archmage's truthful words
Turned pale with shame. At night he sent them both
To prison and for two nights made no sign
Withal, but on the third, what time the moon
Arose above the mountains, he dispatched
Símáh Barzín by slaying him within
The prison of the thieves yet gat thereby
But toil and malison. On hearing how
That man of honest heart had passed away
Bahrám Ázarmihán sent to the Sháh
A message saying: “Thou whose crown is over
The orbit of the moon! thou knowest how much
I have endured to keep thy secrets close,
And ne'er was aught but well disposed to thee
Before thy father, that illustrious Sháh.
If thou wilt summon me and make me sit
Beside the royal throne I will reveal
A matter to thee in thine interest.
Free me at once from bondage in the prison;
'Twill help Írán and keep the wise unscathed.”
Hurmuzd, when this came, chose a confidant
To bring Bahrám Ázarmihán to him,
And to that court renowned. The monarch sum­moned
Bahrám Ázarmihán when it was night,
Caused him to kneel before the royal throne,
And then said: “Tell me what this matter is
That will secure my life in happiness.”
He answered: “In the royal treasury
I have observed a plain black cabinet.
Deposited within it is a casket,
And therein is a document in Persian.
'Tis written on white silk: the Íránians' hopes
Are centred there. 'Twas written by thy sire,
That Sháh and world-lord, and thou shouldest see it.”
Then to his treasurer, good at need, Hurmuzd
Sent one to say: “Seek in the ancient hoards
A plain sealed cabinet and on the seal
The name of Núshírwán, and may his soul
Be ever young! Dispatch and bring it me
Ere night be past.”

C. 1799

The treasurer was prompt,

And brought it with the seal intact. The world-lord
Oped it, invoking oftentimes the while
The name of Núshírwán. He saw within
A casket, which was also sealed, wherefrom
He eagerly took forth the piece of silk,
And saw the characters of Núshírwán
Inscribed thereon, and thus the writing ran:—

“Hurmuzd for two years more than ten
Will prove a matchless monarch, then
The world will be convulsed, his name
Pass to abeyance with his fame.
Foes will spring up in every place
Led by a man of evil race,
An Áhriman, the monarch's host
Will be dispersed, his throne be lost.
* Him will that villain blind, and they
Will, after, take his life away.*

On seeing that script, and in his father's hand,
Hurmuzd was frayed and rent the silk asunder.
With bloodshot eyes and livid face he cried:—
“Injurious man! what was thine aim herein?
Wouldst have my head?”

Bahrám Ázarmihán

Said: “Turkman-born! how long wilt thou delight
In bloodshed? From the Khán, not Kai Kubád,
Art thou upon whose head the crown was set
By Núshírwán.”

Hurmuzd knew: “If he can

He will o'erthrow me,” heard out his abuse,
And sent him back to prison where next night,
What time the moon rose o'er the mountain-tops,
The deathsman slew him. At the court no sage
Or counsellor or archimage was left.
From ill self-governance all evils spring;
See that thou disregard that evil thing.