Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 5

The famous Kaian, the triumphant Sháh,
Went from the battlefield toward his throne,
And bade Nastúr: “Tomorrow at the dawn
Conduct the army toward our glorious realm.”
That chosen chieftain had the tymbals sounded
At daybreak, and the army packed the baggage.
They turned back to the country of Írán,
Stout-hearted and prepared to fight again.
They passed by no one either killed or wounded,
But bore the wounded to Írán and gave them
To skilful leeches. Now on his return
The monarch of the world bestowed Humái,
His glorious daughter, on his eldest son,⁷⁴

And gave illustrious Nastúr the host,
According to the usage of the Persians,
Gave him ten thousand of that noble race,
World-questing horsemen, wielders of the lance,
Gave him command, and said: “O gallant spearman!
Go forth against the monarch of the Turkmans,
Pass through Áyás and through Khallukh, and slay
All that thou takest to avenge thy sire.”

That gallant swordsman

Replied: “'Tis thine to bid because thou hast
The kingship and the world.”

The famous Kaian

Gave him a golden crown, unlocked for him
The treasures, and committed to his charge
The conduct of Írán, because he had
The might of paladins, gave standard, wealth,
And host, and said: “Thy season for the throne
Is not yet. Mount thy saddle and convert
All nations to the Faith.”

The Sháh's son went—

A hero-slaying swordsman—with his host
To all the nations. Over Rúm he passed,
And Hindústán, passed ocean and the Gloom,

He hath ordered all.
Thou shouldst not now ask tribute of us, we
Have been converted and profess the Faith.
Send us the Zandavasta of Zarduhsht.”
When he had read the letter of the kings
He sat upon his throne and called his peers.
He sent the Zandavasta to each clime,
To every man of name and every chief,
And ordered that the famous paladin
Should go to all four quarters of the world.
Now no one, wheresoe'er that prince appeared
Dared to go forth to meet him in the fight,
But all folk placed themselves at his command,
While evil-doers vanished utterly.
Asfandiyár, when all had recognised
His sire, loosed from his loins the golden girdle,
Sat like a monarch on the royal seat,
And for a season rested with his host,
But called to him his brother Farshídward
And, having summoned troops and warriors,
Bestowed on him dínárs and drachms in plenty,
Gave Khurásán to him and so dismissed him.
Now when a while had passed, and when the world
Had grown all pure and convert to the Faith,

Mine author saith that when the Sháh bestowed
A royal crown upon Asfandiyár
There was a certain noble hight Gurazm,
A famous war-worn warrior, who cherished
A secret enmity against the prince.
I know not why it was, but I have heard
That this man was a kinsman of Gushtásp's,
And always ill-disposed toward his son,⁷⁸

And, when that prince's fame was noised abroad,
Was wont to slander and belittle him.
Once at the dawn of day the famous Sháh,
While sitting in the banquet-hall at ease,
Gave audience to the chosen of his host,
The magnates, kings, and others of high birth.

The great king cleared the hall,

And said to that deceiver: “Come to me,
Reveal the whole to me and what my son,
That man of serpent faith, concealeth from me.”
Gurazm, the ill-disposed, made answer thus:—
“To do the right thing is the part of wisdom.
The Sháh hath satisfied mine every wish,
And I must keep no secrets from the Sháh.
I will not keep my counsel back from him,
E'en though it proveth unacceptable,
I will in no wise keep it from my lord,
Though he should let me never speak again,
Because for me to speak, although he hear not,
Is better than to hide from him the secret.
Know then, O world-lord! that Asfandiyár
Is clearly bent on battle, troops have flocked
In multitudes, and all men turned, to him.

the second Mihr-i-Núsh, the third
Ázar Afrúz—a wary warrior—
The youngest Núsh Ázar; 'twas he that built
The Fane of Fire. Bahman said to his father,
That king of earth: “May thy head flourish ever!
My lord was laughing with a hollow laugh,
I know not why.”

Asfandiyár replied:—

“My son! one cometh to me from the Sháh,
Who is displeased with me and hath some grudge
Against his slave.”

The noble youth said: “Why?

What hast thou done against our sovereign lord?”
Asfandiyár made answer: “O my son!
I know of no offence against my father,
Unless it is that I have taught the Faith,
Have lighted sacred Fires throughout the world,
And purified it with my trenchant sword.
What can have made the Sháh's heart wroth with me?
In sooth the Dív must have seduced his heart,
For he is mad enough to wish to bind me!”
Now while Asfandiyár was thus engaged
The dust of the advancing troops appeared.
He saw it from the mountain-top afar
And, knowing that the messenger had come,

The sage Jámásp made answer:—

“He is both well and happy.”

Then he kissed

The prince upon the head and gave the letter,
Informing him with frankness of the case,
And saying: “The Dív hath led the Sháh astray.”
Asfandiyár said to that man of wisdom:—
“What seemeth to thee best for me herein?
If I set out with thee to go to court
My father will entreat me scurvily,
And if I go not with his officer
I shall no longer be a loyal liege.
Devise some remedy, thou ancient sage!
I may not rest in this bewilderment.”
The sage replied: “O prince of paladins,
So young in body and so old in knowledge!
Thou knowest that the best love of a son
Is not so tender as a father's wrath.
Thou must set forward, that is mine advice,
For, whatsoe'er he doth, he is the Sháh.”
This they agreed upon and went their ways,
The messenger and the exalted prince,
Who made Jámásp alight when they had reached
A goodly seat whereafter both drank wine.
Next day Asfandiyár sat on his throne
And, when he had brought forth the muster-roll,
Entrusted all the army to Bahman,
And setting forth with certain warriors,
His girdle girt, his crown upon his head,
Back to the court-gate of the great Sháh sped.

The Sháh on hearing that Asfandiyár,
His son, had come, crowned with the Kaian casque,

They brought in blacksmiths,

Yoke, chains, and heavy shackles, and then bound him,
Both hand and foot, before the king, the world-lord,
So straitly fettered him that all beholding
Wept bitterly. They brought an elephant,
Like indigo, and set Asfandiyár
Thereon. They bare him from his glorious sire,
With dust upon his head, to Gumbadán,
That stronghold on the mountain-top, conveyed

Thus many days passed o'er Asfandiyár,
The while Gushtásp departed to Sístán
To make the Zandavasta current there,
And archimages testify thereto.
As soon as the illustrious Sháh arrived
There went to him the captain of the host,
The ruler of Nímrúz, whose name was Rustam,
A veteran cavalier, another Sám,
In company with agèd Zál, his sire,
With mighty men and those about the court.
They carried minstrels in their train withal,
And posted them with harps along the route.
Thus went they forth to greet the glorious Sháh
Right jubilantly, and it liked him well.
They brought him to Zábul to be their guest,
And stood before his presence as his slaves.
From him they learned about the Zandavasta,
Adopted it, and lighted sacred Fires.
Two years passed thus in hospitality;
Gushtásp kept feasting with the son of Zál.
Throughout the world, wherever there were kings
That heard about the doings of the Sháh:—
“He hath confined Asfandiyár in bonds,
Hath galled his elephantine form with iron,
And gone to preach the gospel in Zábul
To blast the idols with the Cult of Fire,”
They one and all refused to do his bidding,
And brake with him completely.

Heard that his sire was prisoned by the Sháh,
And for no fault, Asfandiyár's brave meiny
Came grieving to him with the Kaian princes,
Fulfilled with tribulation and dismay,
And raised his spirits with their minstrelsy,
Not letting him be lonesome in his prison.
Then tidings reached the king of Chín: “The Moon
Hath fallen from the Archer into ambush.
The Sháh, wroth with Asfandiyár, dispatched him,
Dishonoured, to the hold of Gumbadán,
And started for Zábulistán himself
From Balkh to stay with Rustam, son of Zál,
Whose guest he now is at Zábul, and thus
Two years have passed away. Of all the Íránians
And soldiery none, saving Sháh Luhrásp
With seven hundred devotees of Fire,
Is left at Balkh.”

The monarch of Chigil

Called out his chiefs and heartened them to fall
Upon Luhrásp. “Know ye,” 'twas thus he spake,
“That Sháh Gushtásp hath marched with all his host
Sístán-ward and abideth at Zábul:
No cavalier is left in all his realm.
Now is the time for us to seek revenge;
We must take order and prepare ourselves.
His son, illustrious Asfandiyár,

I scanned the verses and esteemed them weak;
In many couplets there was much to seek,
But here have I transcribed them that the king
May know how inartistic verses ring.
Both jewellers have each a gem to sell;
Now let the Sháh give ear to what they tell.
If thou canst speak but in Dakíkí's vein
Speak not at all and spare thy nature pain,
And, mindful of the bondage and the toil,
Ne'er dig in mines whence thou wilt win no spoil.
Unless thou art as fluent as a stream
Lay not thy hand upon this royal theme;
'Tis better that all food should be abjured
Than that thou shouldest spread a tasteless board.
A book fulfilled with legends met my view,
Its words possessed of character and true,
Its stories very ancient and in prose;
The wits had never thought of rhyming those,
No one had thought of linking line to line—
A fact that struck this gladsome heart of mine.
Two thousand years had passed the story o'er,
Two thousand years and haply countless more,

Now will we tell the warfare of Arjásp
Afresh and by our insight clear the garth
Of weeds:—Arjásp had tidings that the Sháh
Had set forth with his host toward Sístán,
And gave commandment that Kuhram, the swordsman,
Should lead the troops before him, for Kuhram
Was eldest-born to him and raised his head
O'er radiant Sol. Arjásp said: “Choose thee horsemen
War-worthy from the host and haste to Balkh,
Which hath embittered and o'ercast our days.
Those of our foes, those worshippers of Fire,
Those Áhrimans, whom thou shalt take, behead,
Burn up their homes, and turn their day to night.
Smoke from the palace of Gushtásp must rise
And lick the azure sky. If thou shalt find
Asfandiyár with fetters on his feet
Put thou an end to him; part instantly
His body and his head, and make the world
Re-echo with thy name. Throughout Írán
The cities have been left at thy disposal,
The foe—the scabbard—left for thee—the sword.
I shall not loiter in Khallukh but follow
Apace, recall our scattered troops, and lavish
My hoarded wealth.”

Kuhram replied: “Thy bidding

Will I perform and pledge my life thereto.”
When from its waist the sun drew forth its sword,
And darksome night drew back its skirts therefrom,

For hall and palace decked with gold, they gave
Them and the Zandavasta to the flames.
The fane had eighty priests, God's worshippers,
And all before the Fire the Turkmans slew,
And swept that cult away. The Fire, that erst
Zarduhsht had litten, of their blood did die;
Who slew that priest himself I know not I.^92a

Gushtásp possessed a wife—a prudent dame,
Wise, understanding, and high-minded. She,
When she had dight herself in Turkman guise,
And mounted on a fleet steed from the stable,
Departed from the palace and set forth,
Aghast at what had happened, toward Sístán.
She tarried not to sleep at any stage,
And ran a two-days' journey into one.
Thus she continued till she reached Gushtásp
In grief with tidings of Luhrásp, and said:—
“Why hast thou tarried this long while and why
Didst thou depart from famous Balkh at all?
An army from Túrán hath reached the city,
And turned its people's day to bitterness.
All Balkh is full of sack and massacre;
Thou must return forthwith.”

Gushtásp replied:—

“What grief is this? Why mourn a single raid?
When I march forth all Chín will not withstand me.”
She answered thus: “Talk not so foolishly;
Things of great charge confront us now. The Turkmans

At length Gushtásp, when fortune had become
So ruggèd, showed his back. The enemy
Pursued him for two stages and were instant
To take him captive. In the way before him
There lay a mountain full of pasturage,
Wherein there were a mill-stream and a mill,
And having in its whole circumference
But one sole path: thereof Gushtásp was ware,

each leader slew
A steed and pondered on his helpless plight.
The proud Sháh, compassed thus, was sore dismayed,
And called to him Jámásp, the veteran,
Held talk at large about the stars, and said:—
“Declare whate'er thou knowest of heaven's will,
And wait not to be asked. Thou needs must tell
Who is to succour me in this distress.”
Jámásp, on hearing, rose and said: “Just king!
If now the Sháh will hearken to my words,
Confiding in the process of the stars,
I will discover to him what I know
If he will recognise my truthfulness.”
The Sháh replied: “Whatever secret thing
Thou knowest, tell it to me and be brief;
My head may touch the clouds, but heaven's changes
I cannot 'scape.”

Jámásp replied: “O Sháh!

List to my words and let me have thine ear.
Asfandiyár, the glorious, by thy bidding
Is wearing chains in this his evil day.
If he were set at liberty the Sháh
Would not be left on this high mountain-top.”
Gushtásp replied: “O trusty counsellor,
Who art a man of truth and of resource!

Jámásp said: “I

Will go, O king! because the case is urgent.”
Gushtásp rejoined: “O thou fulfilled with wisdom!
Thy virtues are as music to my soul;
Depart forthwith by night, greet him at large
From me, and say: ‘The man that did the wrong
Hath left this world with anguish in his heart,
While I, who acted as that little-wit
Desired, repent that I have done amiss,
And will prepare a goodly recompense.
Now if thou wilt put vengeance from thy heart,
And shalt bring down our foemen's heads to dust,
For else the realm and throne have reached their end,
And foemen will uproot the Kaian Tree,
On thee, if thou shalt come, I will bestow
Crown, treasure, and whate'er I have amassed
By toil, and will devote myself to prayer
Thenceforth as did my sire Luhrásp, the world-lord.
God is my witness to these words of mine,
As is Jámásp who is my counsello??
Jámásp attired him in Túránian mail,
And came down from the heights without a guide.

One of Asfandiyár's exalted sons,
Whom he named Núsh Ázar, was on the ramparts
To see who came forth from the Íránian host,
And advertise his sire. At sight of any
He used to hurry from the walls forthwith.
When he perceived Jámásp upon his way,
And on his head a fair Túránian helm,
He said: “A horseman from Túrán hath come:
I will descend and tell Asfandiyár.”
He hastened downward from the castle-rampart,
And spake on this wise: “Noble paladin!
I see a horseman coming in the distance,
And on his head there is a sable helm.
I will go see if he is from Gushtásp,
Or from Arjásp, a foe. If he shall prove
A Turkman then will I cut off his head,
And fling his feckless body in the dust.”
Said great Asfandiyár: “The traveller,
Since he is unattended, is but lowly.
In sooth he is a warrior from Írán,
And cometh unto us with some dispatch;
My sire hath put that helmet on his head
In apprehension of our valiant foes.”
When Núsh Ázar, the paladin, had heard
He went in haste upon the castle-rampart;

He had it opened,

The sage came in, did reverence and, coming
Before Asfandiyár, repeated to him
The message of Gushtásp, his sire, in full.
Asfandiyár replied: “O Memory
Of this world's heroes, wise, courageous,
And of exalted rank! why bow to one
In chains, for one in irons, hand and foot,
Is not of man's seed, but an Áhriman?
Thou givest me greeting from the king of kings,
So that thy heart is not informed by knowledge,
Since it is for Arjásp to greet me now,
Because the plain is all Íránians' blood.
They bound me innocent. Gurazm forsooth
Must be the Sháh's son, I be fettered thus!
Mine irons are my witnesses to God
That I have had injustice from Gushtásp,
And that Gurazm's words pleased Áhriman.
Such was the recompense of all my toil,
While for my treasury 'tis stocked with irons.
Oh! may I ne'er forget this injury,
And stultify my wisdom through thy talk.”
Jámásp replied: “O speaker of the truth,
World-taker, lion-thrower, bent on fame!
If thou art thus heart-wearied of thy sire
His throne is overturned; yet for the sake
Of pious Sháh Luhrásp, slain by the Turkmans
In battle, and of those God-fearing priests,
Who had the Zandavasta in their hands,
Of whom four score were slaughtered—archimages
And sages pure of heart, quenched in whose blood
The sacred Fire hath died within the fane—
Such ill deeds cannot be accounted lightly.

Asfandiyár

Thus answered: “Did Humái at any time
Remember me in my confinement here?
And, further, as for noble Bih Áfríd,
She never looked on me, as thou mightst say!
Why now should I distress myself for them?
No one from them hath ever come to me.
A father well may see to his own daughters,
A sire the better undertake for them.”
Jámásp replied to him: “O paladin!
Thy sire, the world-lord, with his soul all gloom,
Is now upon a mountain with his chiefs,
With tearful eyes and unfed lips; the Turkmans
Beleaguer him; henceforth thou wilt not see
His head and crown. The Maker will condemn
Thy disregard of love and Faith. Thy brethren,

Jámásp, on hearing this,

And noting how the captive's heart was seared,
Rose to his feet in sorrow and in anger,
With anxious heart and eyes fulfilled with tears,
And said to him: “O chief of paladins!
Although thy heart and mind are darkened thus,
What sayest thou of the case of Farshídward,
Who went so heavily on thine account?
Where'er he was, at fray or festival,
He was all pain and curses on Gurazm;
His body hath been slashed with scimitars,
Helm and cuirass are cloven, and his soul
Is breaking with his love for thee! Oh! pity
His weeping eyes.”

Asfandiyár wept blood, his heart was grieved,
He cried: “O wretched, valiant warrior!
O lion-hearted hero, chieftain, prince!
I have been wounded by those wounds of thine,
And I have bathed my cheeks in my heart's blood.”
When he became composed he asked Jámásp:—
“What was thy purpose in concealing this?
Give orders that some blacksmiths shall be brought,
And let them file the fetters from my feet.”
Jámásp fetched blacksmiths, and they brought with
them
Their heavy hammers and their files of steel.
They filed the rings, the rivets, and the chains,
And all the bridge-like fetters made in Rúm.
The bonds took long to file; the captive's heart,
Remiss no longer, grew impatient.
He said thus to a smith: “Thou awkward lout!
Thou bindest but thou canst not break the bonds!”
He drew his hands away, arose in dudgeon,
And, stretching out the chains to their full length,
Strained with his feet and struggled with his hands,
And brake in pieces fetter, ring, and chain.
The breaking of his bonds exhausted him,
The anguish overcame him and he swooned.
That reader of the stars who saw the marvel
Was full of praises of the noble prince.
Whenas the lusty hero had regained
His wits he ranged the bonds and chains before him,
And said: “These presents given by Gurazm
Have severed me from fight and festival.”

Night came like vengeful Áhriman, the bells

He spake and wanned;

That noble Lion, Farshídward, was gone.
Asfandiyár clutched at his own cuirass,
Marred all the painted silk, and cried: “O Lord
Supreme and holy! lead me to take vengeance
For Farshídward, to send the dust-clouds flying
From stones and water, from Arjásp to set
The blood a-stream, and give Luhrásp's soul peace.”
With heart all vengeance and with head distraught
He laid his brother's corpse upon the saddle,
Then mounted to the heights, his brother's body
Bound on the bay, and said: “What at this present
Can I achieve for thee, how raise thy charnel?

He answered them:—

“All that ye care for on the battlefield
Are sleep and feast. When tidings reached Kuhram:—
‘Asfandiyár hath made his passage through you,’
He said to me: ‘Take thy sharp scimitar,
And bring the Day of Doom upon their souls.’”
Then, mindful of the battle with Gushtásp,
He drew his scimitar and laid about him,
O'erthrew full many of them on the road,
And thence departed toward the Sháh's abode.

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.

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:—

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.”

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.

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,

Asfandiyár, on his return to camp,
Took counsel with the Sháh about Luhrásp,
And the revenge for Farshídward and all
Those men renowned upon the day of battle.
To him Gushtásp said: “Thou, O mighty man!
Rejoicest while thy sisters are in bondage.
Oh! happy they that died upon the field,
Not frantic with dishonour from the Turkmans!
When men behold me sitting on the throne
What will my subjects say? So long as life
Endureth I shall weep for this disgrace,
And burn within my brain. By most high God,
The Omnipotent, I pledge myself—if thou
Shalt go without disaster to Túrán,

Gushtásp invoked

A blessing on him, saying: “Now may wisdom
Be with thee ever, in thy going forth
May God protect thee, and the throne be thine
On thy return.”

He called the host together

From all parts where were warriors or archmages,
And from among them chose twelve thousand men,
All skilful cavaliers of high renown,
Distributing to them a donative
That well contented them. He furthermore
Bestowed upon Asfandiyár a throne,
And such a jewelled crown as monarchs use.
Then from the portal of the royal court
A shout rose: “Bring the princes' noble steeds.”
They bore the tent-enclosure to the plain,
They bore the eagle-standard, and the host
Marched out mid dust that gloomed the radiant sun.
From palace plainward went Asfandiyár,
And saw an army ready dight for war.

The poet, after inditing a Prelude in praise of Mahmúd, tells how Asfandiyár set forth with his host to rescue his sisters from the Brazen Hold; how he met with divers adventures by the way, captured the Brazen Hold by a stratagem, delivered his sisters, slew Arjásp, defeated the Túránians, and returned in triumph to his father.

In this Part the rivalry between the two greatest heroes of Íránian legend proper, the priestly and the popular hero— Asfandiyár and Rustam—may be said to get fairly under way. For the present it is a rivalry of achievement only. In Part III. it is a personal contention in which every faculty of mind and body is exerted to the utmost in a desperate struggle that results tragically for both protagonists. This rivalry in legend may be said to have commenced even in Part I., where, just as Rustam delivered Tús and the Íránian host when beleaguered by the Turkmans on Mount Hamáwan,¹¹⁶

so Asfandiyár delivers Gushtásp and his army in similar circumstances from Arjásp.^116a

In the present Part, however, the rivalry becomes more pronounced. As Rustam went alone to release Kai Káús from imprisonment in Mázandarán and encountered seven adventures on his way, so Asfandiyár goes to Túrán to rescue his enslaved sisters and has a similar series of difficulties to overcome. Again, just as Rustam twice donned merchant's garb, on one occasion to get possession of Mount Sipand,^116b

and on another to rescue Bízhan when captive in the pit,^116c

so Asfandiyár assumes a like disguise to win the Brazen Hold.^116d

We should notice further that though the parallel expeditions of Rustam and Asfandiyár pass under the same name,¹¹⁷

yet the priestly redactors of the latter's legend have taken care that his achievements should be attended with more pomp and circumstance than his rival's. Thus Rustam goes alone to Mázandarán,^117a

but Asfandiyár, whose princely rank has to be recognised, makes his expedition to Túrán accompanied by his brother and minister—Bishútan—and an army. This, however, is not allowed to militate against the merit of his exploits. When an adventure has to be achieved, the hero sets forth alone, while Bishútan and the troops remain at a respectful distance in the rear till all is over, and then come up to offer their congratulations. Again, Rustam sleeps through his first adventure —the killing of a lion—and only wakes up to find that his steed Rakhsh has done the business for him.^117b

Asfandiyár slays successively and single-handed two monstrous wolves and a lion and lioness.^117c

The third adventure of both is the slaying of a dragon.^117d

Rustam succeeds with the help of Rakhsh, Asfandiyár with the assistance of a break and pair of horses! In the next adventure both, after an interlude of wine, lute, and song, put to death a witch;^117e

Ghúl, however, whom Asfandiyár slays, is represented as being the more formidable of the two beguilers. Finally, the taking of the Brazen Hold and the slaying of Arjásp by Asfan-diyár ^117f

evidently is intended to eclipse Rustam's capture of Mount Sipand^117g

and his encounter with the White Dív in the cave.^117h

We may add that both heroes have a prisoner to guide them during part of their respective expeditions. Rustam rewards Úlád.¹¹⁷ⁱ

Asfandiyár slays Gurgsár.^117j

The champion of the Faith must not show a mistaken merey to infidels! Evidently, however, from what we have seen above, it was not considered enough that Asfandiyár should be merely a great religious hero; it was desired that he should be a great popular hero as well, and surpass Rustam on the latter's own ground, for Rustam's Haft Khwán obviously is the original one. There seems also to be a malicious hit at Rustam in Asfandiyár's fifth adventure,^117k

that in which he kills the Símurgh, the traditional guardian of the race of Zál. Popular legend, however, stood firm on behalf of its great hero; it refused to supersede him or to acquiesce in the death of the Símurgh; on the contrary, it kept the great bird alive so that it might compass indirectly its own revenge by providing Rustam with the means of vanquishing Asfandiyár. Worsted in this world, and to redress the balance, priestly tradition called in aid the next, and declared Rustam's lot therein to be an unhappy one. This conflict between the legends of the two heroes is typified in the story of their personal encounter in Part III., and we shall gather from Firdausí's splendid version of it, “the deepest conflict of soul in the poem and one of the profoundest in all national epics,” as Professor Nöldeke justly calls it,¹¹⁸

that after centuries probably of unconscious give and take the conflicting claims of the two protagonists were compromised, and their combined legend settled down into the marvellous equilibrium which now characterizes it.

A scene that, bright in sunshine, having spied
The tulip and narcissus still wet-eyed,
Will laugh and cry: “Ye minxes! thus again
I weep for love of you, not wrath or pain.”
Earth hath no laughter while the heaven is dry.
I do not call our great king's hand the sky,
Which only giveth forth its rains in spring,
For such is not the usance of a king.
As Sol, when it ariseth gloriously
In Aries, such shall the Sháh's hand be,
For whensoe'er there cometh to his hand
A wealth of pearls or musk from sea or land,
The radiance that is his he doth not scant
To proud-necked monarch and to mendicant.
Abú'l Kásim! our great Sháh's hand is still
Thus generous alike to good and ill.
He never slackeneth in bounteousness,
And never resteth on the day of stress,
Delivereth battle when the times demand,
And taketh heads of monarchs in his hand,
But largesseth the humble with his spoils,
And maketh no account of his own toils.
Oh! may Mahmúd still rule the world, still be
The source of bounty and of equity!

A rustic bard hath spread the board and there
Set forth “The Seven Stages” as the fare.
He took within his hand a cup of gold,
And of Gushtásp and of the Brazen Hold,
And of the doings of Asfandiyár,
His journey and the counsels of Gurgsár,
Spake thus:—Now when embittered, tongue and soul,
Asfandiyár reached Balkh he left his sire,
And set out with Gurgsár toward Túrán.
He marched until he came where two roads met,
And camped there with his host, bade spread the board,
And furnish wine and harp and minstrelsy,
While all the captains of the host drew near,
And sat at table with the king of men,
By whose directions presently Gurgsár,
In miserable plight, was brought before him,
And furnished with a golden goblet filled
Four times successively. Thereafter said
Asfandiyár to him: “Thou luckless one!
I will advance thee to the crown and throne,
Will give thee all the kingdom of the Turkmans,
And will exalt thee to the shining sun,
As soon as I return victorious,
If thou wilt tell me truly what I ask,

Gurgsár replied:—

“O famous, glorious Asfandiyár!
From me the king shall hear naught but the truth,
And be it thine to act the kingly part.”
“Where is the Brazen Hold,” Asfandiyár
Said, “for its marches march not with Írán?
What roads are there to it? How many leagues?
How can it be approached without mishap?
Say too how many troops there are within it,
And tell me what thou knowest of its height.”
“O kind and glorious Asfandiyár!”
Gurgsár replied, “three roads lead hence to what
Arjásp hath titled ‘Battlestead.’ One route
Will take thy troops three months, the second two.
The first hath water, grass, and towns, and chiefly
Pertaineth to the chieftains of Túrán.
The second road, that which will take two months,
Will furnish for the troops but little provand;
There is no grass or water for the beasts,
And thou wilt find no camping-grounds. The third
Will occupy but seven days; the troops
Will reach the Brazen Hold upon the eighth,
But that road is all lions, wolves, and dragons,
And none can scape their claws; yet mightier
Than lion, wolf, and savage dragon are
A witch's charms, who raiseth from the deep
One to the moon and flingeth to the abyss
Another headlong. There are wastes, símurghs,
And bitter frosts which rise like blasts and cut
The trees. Then will appear the Brazen Hold,
And none e'er saw, or heard of, such another.
It toppeth the dark cloud-rack. Arms and troops

The chieftain answered:—

If thou art with me thou shalt see the heart
And strength of Áhriman. What, sayest thou,
Will meet me first? What must I fight for passage?”
Gurgsár replied: “O famed and fearless man!
Two wolves, each like a lusty elephant,
A male and female, having horns like stags
And all a-gog to make a fight of lions,
Broad in the neck and breast and thin of flank,
With monstrous elephants' tusks, first will confront
thee.”
Asfandiyár then bade lead back Gurgsár
Bound as he was in miserable plight,
And blithe himself assumed his Kaian casque,
And held his court.

When Sol displayed its crown

On high, and heaven showed earth its mysteries,
The din of drums rose from the royal tent,
Earth turned to iron, air to ebony,
While in high spirits and with fair array
The prince set forward toward the Seven Stages,
And toward Túrán. When he approached the First
He chose a veteran among the host,

The steel-tipped shafts disabled both the beasts,
And neither could approach unscathed. With joy
Asfandiyár perceived them growing weak
And sore distressed, unsheathed his watered glaive,
And charged. He hacked their heads and made the
dust
Mire with their blood, lit from his noble steed,
Acknowledging his helplessness to God,
And washed the wolves' gore from his arms and person,
Then sought a spot that had not been defiled^123a

Upon the sand and turning toward the sun,
With troubled heart and checks besmirched with dust,
Exclaimed: “O righteous Judge! Thou hast bestowed
Upon me strength, Grace, prowess. Thou hast laid

When Bishútan came with the host

They saw the hero at the place of prayer.
The warriors were astonied at his exploit,
And all the troops thought: “Shall we call these wolves
Or lusty elephants? May such a heart
And sword and hand live ever! Never may
The throne of kingship, majesty, and feast,
And host lack him.”

The wary warriors

Approached and pitched the tent-enclosure round him;
They set a golden board whereat to dine,
Partook of victuals and called out for wine.

As for Gurgsár his portion was chagrin
About those fierce wolves and Asfandiyár,
Who bade the prisoner be brought before him.
They brought him quaking, with his face all tears.
The prince bestowed on him three cups of wine,
And asked: “What wonder shall I next behold
By thine account?”

He answered thus the chief:—

“O monarch crowned and leonine of heart!
Upon the next stage lions will assail thee,
Such as no crocodile would dare encounter;
The lusty eagle, valiant though it be,
Will fly not in their path.”

Asfandiyár

Laughed with light heart, and said: “O feckless Turk-man!
Tomorrow thou shalt see a valiant man
Address the lion with the scimitar.”
When night grew dark the monarch gave command,
And they resumed the march. He led the host
Apace amid the gloom, blood in his eyes,

Asfandiyár then ordered to his presence
The luckless and malevolent Gurgsár,
Gave him three goblets filled with rosy wine,
And, when the wine had cheered that Áhriman,

Rising from the ground like one

Awakening from a drunken drowse he sought
The water, plunged therein, and bathed, bespeaking
A change of raiment from his treasurer.
Then in the presence of all-holy God
He wallowed in the dust and wept, exclaiming:—
“Who could have slain that dragon if the World-lord
Had not assisted him?”

His soldiers too

Bent to the earth and praised the righteous Judge;
But thus to find alive Asfandiyár,
Whom he thought dead, was grievous to Gurgsár.

Asfandiyár pitched by the water-side
His tent-enclosure while the troops camped round him.
He set forth wine, called boon-companions,
Rose to his feet, and drank to Sháh Gushtásp,
Commanding too to bring Gurgsár who came
Before him, quaking. Then Asfandiyár
Gave him to drink three cups of royal wine,
Spake laughingly with him about the dragon,
And said: “Thou worthless fellow! now behold
How with its breath that dragon sucked us in!
When I go forward for another stage
What greater toils and troubles are in store?”
Gurgsár replied: “O conquering prince! thou hast
The fruit of thy good star. When thou alightest
Tomorrow at the stage a witch will come
To greet thee. She hath looked on many a host,
But quailed at none. She turneth waste to sea
At will and maketh sunset at mid day.

The atheling replied:—

“Tomorrow, knave! thou shalt recount my prowess,
For I will break the warlocks' backs and hearts,
So will I maul that witch, and trample down
Their heads by might of Him, the one just God.”
When day donned yellow weeds, and this world's
Lustre
Sank in the west, he marched on, packed the loads,
With prayer to God, the Giver of all good,
And led the army onward through the night.
When Sol had raised its golden casque, begemming
The Ram's face, and the champaign was all smiles,
The prince gave up the host to Bishútan,
And took a golden goblet filled with wine,
Called for a costly lute and, though he went
To battle, dight himself as for a feast.
He had in view a wood like Paradise;
Thou wouldst have said: “The sky sowed tulips
there.”
The sun saw not within it for the trees,
And streamlets like rose-water flowed around.
He lighted from his steed as seemed him good,
And, having chosen him a fountain's marge
Within the forest, grasped the golden goblet.
Now when his heart was gladdened with the wine
The hero took the lute upon his lap,
And out of all the fulness of his heart
Began to troll this ditty to himself:—

“Oh! never is it mine to see
Both wine and one to quaff with me,
But mine 'tis ever to behold
The lion and the dragon bold,
And not, from bales' elutch, liberty.

Tis not my lot to look upon
On earth some glorious fay-cheeked one,

V. 1596

Yet now if God will but impart
A winsome breaker of the heart
The longing of mine own is won.”

Now when she heard Asfandiyár the witch
Grew like a rose in springtide, saying thus:—
“The mighty Lion cometh to the toils
With robe and lute and goblet filled with wine.”
Foul, wrinkled, and malevolent she plied
Her magic arts amid the gloom and grew
As beauteous as a Turkman maid, with cheek
As 'twere brocade of Chín and musk-perfumed,
Of cypress-height, a sun to look upon,
With musky tresses falling to her feet.
Her cheeks like rosaries, she drew anear
Asfandiyár, with roses in her breast.
The atheling, when he beheld her face,
Plied song and wine and harp more ardently,
And said: “O just and only God! Thou art
Our Guide upon the mountain and the waste.
I wanted even now a fay-faced maid
Of beauteous form as my companion;
The just Creator hath bestowed her on me,
Oh! may my heart and pure soul worship Him.”
He plied her with musk-scented wine and made
Her face a tulip-red. Now he possessed
A goodly chain of steel which he had kept
Concealed from her. Zarduhsht, who brought it
down
From Paradise for Sháh Gushtásp, had bound it
About the prince's arm. Asfandiyár
Flung it around her neck; her strength was gone;
She took a lion's form. The atheling
Made at her with his scimitar, and said:—
“Thou wilt not injure me though thou hast reared
An iron mountain. Take thy proper shape,
For now the answer that I make to thee
Is with the scimitar.”

Within the chain

There was a fetid hag, calamitous,
With head and hair like snow, and black of face.

The head-piece of Gurgsár

Flamed at these triumphs of Asfandiyár.

The atheling laid face upon the ground
Awhile before the Maker of the world,
Then pitched his camp-enclosure in the wood.
They spread the board in fitting mode and then
Asfandiyár gave orders to the deathsman:—
“Bring hither in his bonds that wretch Gurgsár.”
They brought him to the prince who, seeing him,
Gave him three cups of royal wine. Now when
The ruddy wine had gladdened him thus said
Asfandiyár: “Thou wretched Turkman! mark
Upon the tree the head of that old witch,
‘Who turneth,’ so thou saidst, ‘the plain to sea,
And doth exalt her o'er the Pleiades.’
And now what marvel shall I see next stage,
Judged by the standard of this witch?”

He answered:—

“O Elephant of war in battle-time!
Upon this stage thou hast a harder task:
Be more than ever cautious and alert.

their wills to hers affined,
And when it flieth the earth is impotent,
The sun is put to shame. 'Twill profit thee
To turn back for thou canst not strive against
Símurgh and mountain-height.”

The hero laughed.

“A wonder!” he exclaimed. “I will sew up
Its shoulders with mine arrows, cleave its breast
With Indian scimitar, and bring its head
From height to dust.”

When bright Sol showed its back,

Which ruffled all the bosom of the west,
The chief of warriors led the army forth,
And pondered that account of the Símurgh.
Thus he and host fared onward all the night.
Whenas the shining sun rose o'er the mountains
The Lamp of time gave freshness to the earth,
Transforming dale and plain. Asfandiyár
Gave up the army to its chief^132a

and took
To steed and box and break. He sped along,
Like an imperious blast, and spying in air
A peak stayed in its shadow break and steed,
Absorbed in contemplation. The Símurgh
Marked from the mount the box, the troops behind it,
And all their trumpeting, and, swooping down
Like some dark cloud obscuring sun and moon,
Essayed to seize the chariot with its talons,
As leopard seizeth quarry, but transfixed
Its legs and pinions with the swords, and all
Its might and glory passed away. It beat

With that arose

The sound of clarions, and Bishútan
Set forward with the host. None could behold
The desert for the bird, but only saw
Its form and talons bathed in blood which covered
The earth from range to range, and thou wouldst say:
“The plain was lost in plumes!” Men saw the prince
Blood-boltered, 'twas a sight to fray the moon,
And all the captains, cavaliers of war,
And mighty men applauded him. Anon
Gurgsár heard tidings of that famed chief's triumph,
Quaked, paled, and fared with tears and heart all
anguish.

Asfandiyár, the illustrious prince, then bade
Gurgsár to come and gave him in succession
Three cups of wine whereat his cheeks became
Like bloom of fenugreek, and then the prince
Addressed him: “Miscreant in mind and body!
Observe the doings of this whirling world!
Evanished are Símurgh and lion, wolf
And dragon sharp of claw and valorous!”
Gurgsár then lifted up his voice and said:—
“O famous, glorious Asfandiyár!
God is thy Helper, O most fortunate!
The royal Tree hath come to fruit; howbeit
Tomorrow there confronteth thee a task
That none in war expecteth. Thou wilt take
No thought of mace or bow or sword, and see
No opening for fight, no way of flight,
For snow, a spear's length deep, will come upon thee,
A crisis will confront thee, thou with all
Thy famous army wilt be lost therein,
O glorious Asfandiyár! No marvel
If thou turn back, nor need my words offend thee;
Thou wilt be guiltless of this army's blood,
And quit this road for other. Sure am I
That earth will rive beneath a mighty blast,
The trees be levelled. E'en if thou shalt make
At last thy way through to the plain beyond
The next stage will be thirty leagues across,

all shifting sands.
Thus wilt thou fare along for forty leagues;
Men's souls will fail and horses lose all heart.
Thy host then will approach the Brazen Hold,
Which thou wilt find upon no fruitful spot.
Its soil is in the maw of poverty;
Its summit holdeth conclave with the sun.
Outside the castle beasts look not for food,
The army will not have a horseman left.
Though there should come a hundred thousand men,
Sword-wielders from Írán and from Túrán,
And should beleaguer it a hundred years,
And shower arrows there, it recketh not
How many enemies or few there be;
They are but as a knocker on the door.”
The Íránians heard Gurgsár, were pained, and said:—
“O noble prince! forbear with all thy might
To compass thine own ruin. If things are
As said Gurgsár we cannot blink that we
Came hither to our death and not to wreck
The Turkmans. Thou hast traversed this rough road,
And 'scaped disaster from wild beasts. Not one
Of all our warriors and heroic Sháhs
Can reckon up so great a tale of toils
As thou hast met with in these Seven Stages.
So thank the Maker for it all, and since
Thou wilt return victorious thou mayst go
Light-hearted to the Sháh, while if thou marchest
To war elsewhere the whole state of Írán

On hearing this

That young, heroic paladin replied:—
“Why fray me thus and open for yourselves
The door of terror? Came ye from Írán
To counsel then and not for high renown?
If this was then the mind of all of you
Why did ye gird yourselves to fare with me
Since at this miserable Turkman's words
Ye tremble like a tree? Where then are all
The counsels and the presents of the Sháh,
The golden girdles, thrones, and diadems,
Where all your oaths, your bonds, and covenants
By God 'neath favouring stars that now your feet
Should falter thus and one march wreck your plans?
Turn back then happy and victorious,
But as for me may I seek naught but fight.
The World-lord is my conquering ally,
And fortune's head reclineth on my breast.
Now by my manhood I will none of you
As comrades whether I am slain or slay,
And by my manhood, might of hand, and triumph
Will show the foe what prowess is. Withal
Ye shall not lack for tidings of my Grace
Imperial, famed, and that which I have wrought
In His name, who is Lord of Sun and Saturn,
Upon this stronghold by my might and manhood.”
The Íránians looked upon Asfandiyár,
Beheld his eyes all wrath, and went before him

Their leader, hearing this,

Grieved for his words and praised the Íránians.
“Prowess,”
He said, “will show itself. If we return
Victorious we shall enjoy the fruits
Of our past toil; it will not be forgotten,
And your own treasuries shall not be void.”
The prince took counsel till the world grew cool,
And zephyrs wafted from the mountain-top,
Then trump and clarion sounded from the court-gate,
And all the host set forward, sped like fire,
And called upon the Maker. When the dawn
Rose o'er the mountain-tops, and night drew o'er
Her head her filmy wimple as a veil
Against the blazing sun which pressed behind,
That mighty host—all mace-men clad in armour—
Reached their next stage. It was a glorious day
In spring, a day to gladden heart and world.
The prince bade pitch the tent and tent-enclosure,
Then had the board spread and the wine brought forth.
With that there came a fierce blast from the mountains,
And sore dismayed him. All the world became
Like ravens' plumes, and none knew plain from upland.
From that dark cloud descended showers of snow;
The earth was filled with snow and raging blast,
And o'er the desert for three days and nights
The fury of the wind was measureless.

Then Bishútan

Made prayer to God, who is the Guide to good,
While all the soldiers lifted up their hands,
And offered supplications numberless.
Thereon a gentle breeze arose which bare
The clouds away and heaven became serene,
And when the Íránians had taken heart
They offered thanks to God. They stayed three days
And, when the world's Light shone upon the fourth,
The leader called the officers to him,
And spake to them at large and graciously:—
“Leave baggage here and take but gear of war.
Let every chief that hath a hundred beasts
Load half of them with water and supplies,
The other half with means of serving them.
Leave all the other baggage here, for now
The door of God is opened unto us.
When any man hath lost all hope in God
His portion of success is small indeed;
But we by help of God shall overcome
That evil-doer and idolater,
While ye shall be the richer for yon hold,
And all have crowns and treasures.”

Drew o'er its head its yellow veil, and when
The west became like flower of fenugreek,
The warriors, having loaded up the beasts,
Marched with the king of men. Now in the night
A sound of cranes came from the sky above.
Asfandiyár was wrathful at the sound,
And sent this message to Gurgsár: “Thou said'st:—
‘There is no water for thee on this stage,
Nor rest nor sleep withal.’ Yet cranes give note
Above! Why didst thou make us dread a drought?”
Gurgsár replied: “The baggage-beasts will get
But brackish water here, and thou wilt find
The fountains poisonous, though birds and beasts
Use them.”

The chief said: “In Gurgsár have I

A hostile guide.”

He bade the host proceed.

Invoking God they hurried on at speed.

When one watch of the darksome night had passed
There rose a clamour from the plain in front.
The young prince, smiling on his charger, rode
Forth from the centre of the army vanward.
When he had ridden past the troops he saw
A deep, unfathomed river. Now a camel,
One of the caravan whose cameleer
Had kept it in the front, had tumbled in.
The chieftain seized and dragged it from the mud,
And that malignant Turkman of Chigil
Quaked. At the bidding of the prince he came—
That fell Gurgsár—both seared of heart and fettered.
“Base villain!” said the prince, “why hast thou used
This snake-like subtlety? Didst thou not say:—
‘Here thou wilt find no water, and the sun

He said: “Thy host's destruction

Would be as bright to me as sun and moon.
I get from thee but fetters; what should I
Wish but thy bale and loss?”

The chieftain laughed,

Stared, was amazed at him, but showed no wrath,
And said: “Gurgsár, thou man of little wit!
When I return victorious from the fight
Thou shalt be captain of the Brazen Hold:
Far be from me to harm thee. All the realm
Is thine if thou wilt give me honest counsel.
I will not hurt thy children, kith, or kin.”
Gurgsár grew hopeful at the words. In wonder
He kissed the ground and asked to be forgiven.
The prince replied: “Thy words are passed, but water
Hath not been turned to land by thy wild talk.
Where is the ford? Thou must direct us right.”
Gurgsár rejoined: “No arrow plumed and pointed,
When ironed thus, can find its way across.
Thou shalt work magic with the mighty stream
If thou wilt but unfetter me.”

The hero

Astonished bade to loose him, and Gurgsár,
When he had seized a camel by the halter,
Descended to the stream and at a spot
That was within his depth essayed the passage.
The soldiers followed him in single file.
Inflating at Asfandiyár's behest
Their water-skins forthwith, and binding them
Along the barrels of their beasts of burden,
They all plunged in. The host and baggage reached
Land, and reforming to the left and right
Marched till the Brazen Hold was ten leagues off.

They told about Arjásp

At large and of the hold. “Observe,” they said,
“How long and wide it is! One gate is toward
Írán and one toward Chín, while in it are
A hundred thousand swordsmen—all renowned,
Exalted cavaliers—yet all of them
Are slaves before Arjásp and bow the head
To his command and counsel. There is provand
Past all compute with stores of grain in case
Fresh food should fail, while if the monarch closed
The gates for ten years there is food enough,
Great though his host is, while, if he so willed,
A hundred thousand noble cavaliers
Would come to him from Chín and from Máchín.
He hath no need of aught from any one,
For he possesseth provand and defenders.”
They spake. His Indian sword the chieftain drew,
And put to death the simple-minded two.

Thence he departed to his camp-enclosure.
They cleared the place of strangers, Bishútan

Hath come.”

The dealers and the nobles went;

To buy, and asked the owner: “What hast thou
Of use within these bales?”

He made reply:—

“The first thing is for me to see your king,
And show my wares to him. When he commandeth
I will display them to your eyes.”

He loaded

One of the camels and himself proceeded.
To see how he could make his market quickly.
He took a goblet filled with royal gems,
And many a piece of gold to give in largess,
Some signets set with ruby and with turquoise,
A steed, and ten bales of brocade of Chín.
He draped the goblet in a piece of silk,
Perfumed throughout with musk and spicery,

Arjásp replied:—

“Be happy and secure from every ill;
No one shall do thee hurt within Túrán,
Nor when thou goest to Máchín and Chín.”
At his command they gave Asfandiyár
Within the Brazen Hold a spacious dwelling—
A warehouse with a mansion at its back¹⁴⁵

—
And thither brought the baggage from the plain
That he might make the warehouse a bázár,
And keep his goods in safety. They departed,
And led the camels, after loading them.
A shrewd man asked: “What is inside the chests?”
A cameleer replied: “Our wits, for we
Must carry them themselves.”

Asfandiyár

Prepared the warehouse, decking it to look
Like flowers in spring. On all side buyers sprang up,
And there was busy trafficking within it.

Arjásp smiled, showed him favour,

Assigned him a more honourable seat,
And asked: “What is thy name?”

He said: “Kharrád,

A merchant, traveller, and well to do.”
The king replied: “O noble man! concern not
Thyself with more excuses. Ask no longer
For audience through the chamberlain, but come
Before me when thou wilt.”

He then inquired

About the labours of the road, Írán,
The Sháh, and host. Asfandiyár replied:—
“My journey hath been five months' pain and toil.”
The king said: “In Írán what tidings were there
Both of Asfandiyár and of Gurgsár?”
He said: “My gracious lord! folk speak of them,
Each as his fancy is: ‘Asfandiyár,’
Said one, ‘is in revolt for injuries
Inflicted by his sire.’ Another said:—
‘He is advancing by the Seven Stages
In haste to fight Arjásp; he will attempt
War with Túrán and boldly seek revenge.’”
Arjásp replied with smiles: “No man of age
And knowledge of the world would talk like that!

Now when the bright sun set and buying ceased
The sisters of Asfandiyár descended
Lamenting from the palace to the street,
And bearing water-jars upon their shoulders.
They came heart-broken and in deep dejection
Toward Asfandiyár who, when he saw
That monstrous spectacle, concealed from view
His features from his sisters, for his heart
Misdoubted how they might comport themselves,
And so he hid his face behind his sleeve.
They both drew near him and the cheeks of each
Were running with the torrents from their eyes.
The hapless ones began to question him—
That wealthy man of merchandise—and said:—
“May all thy days and nights be prosperous,
The nobles be before thee as thy slaves!
What tidings hast thou from Írán, brave chief!
Both of Gushtásp and of Asfandiyár?
We twain, the daughters of the king of kings,
Are captives in the hands of wicked men,
And carry water, bare-foot and unveiled.
Our sire hath merry days and peaceful nights,
While we fare naked in the throng. How blest
Is she that hath a shroud to cover her!
The tears that we are shedding are of blood:
Be our physician and relieve our pain.
If thou canst tell us aught of Sháh and home
Our bane here will be changed to antidote.”

The young man left

The warehouse, hurried to Arjásp, and said:—
“O king! be happy, master of the world,
And live for ever. While upon my journey
I chanced upon a deep sea all unknown
To merchantmen. A whirlwind rose thereon;
The boatman said: ‘I mind me of no like.’
On board we all were wretched and in tears,
Consuming for our persons and our lives.

Arjásp

Said: “Go the way that pleaseth thee; the host
Is king at home.”

The paladin rejoicing

Conveyed a mass of firewood to the ramparts.
They slaughtered steeds and sheep, and carried them
Up to the summit of the hold. The wood
Sent up a smother that obscured the sky.
He brought forth wine and, when they had partaken,
Each reveller became a slave thereto.
The chiefs all left bemused; to steady them,
While in their cups, each clutched a narciss-stem.¹⁵⁰

He told Turkhán:—

“Exalted chief! speed forth with troops for fight.
Take thou ten thousand of the garrison,
All men of name and battle-loving swordsmen,
Discover who are our antagonists,
And why it is that they attack us thus.”
Turkhán, the chief, with an interpreter
Went in all haste to that side of the hold.
He saw a host equipped with arms and armour,
Their flag a leopard on a sable ground.

The words distressed the heart of king Arjásp,
Because the old feud had revived again.
He gave the Turkmans orders: “Go ye forth
Upon the plain in mass, surround the foe,

The soldiers marched away

With wounded hearts and eager for the fray.

Asfandiyár, when night was growing dark,
Arrayed himself again in fighting-gear,
Undid the chest-lids that more air might come
To those inside, and brought kabáb and wine
With other provand, battle-mail, and raiment.
When they had caten he supplied to each
Three cups of wine, which gladdened them, and said:—
“This night is one of bale. Hence we may well
Win fame. Put forth your powers. Quit you like men,
And from calamities make God your refuge.”
Then of those warriors adventurous
He formed three troops, one in the stronghold's midst
To combat any that they met, the second
To move upon the gate and take no rest
From strife and bloodshed, while he told the third:—
“I must not find hereafter any trace
Of those that revelled with me yesternight,
So take your daggers and behead them all.”
He went with twenty valiant men of war
In haste, committing to them other work,
Went boldly to the palace of Arjásp,
Arrayed in mail and roaring like a lion.
Humái, when these shouts reached her in the palace,
Came rushing with her sister Bih Afríd,
Their cheeks all hid by tears, to meet the chiefs.
Asfandiyár perceived that spring-like pair

This said, he turned from them,

And vengeful sought the palace of Arjásp.
He entered with an Indian sword in hand,
And slaughtered all the nobles that he saw.
The audience-chamber of that famous court
Was blocked, its floor was like a billowing sea,
So many were the wounded, stunned, and slain.
Arjásp awoke, was troubled at the din,
Arose in fury, donned his coat of mail
And Rúman helm, a bright glaive in his hand,
The war-cry on his lips and rage at heart.
Asfandiyár rushed from the palace-gate,
And, clutching with his hand a glittering sword,
Cried to Arjásp: “Now will this merchantman
Supply thee with a sword that cost dínárs.
I give it as a present from Luhrásp,
And on it is impressed Gushtásp's own seal.
When thou shalt take it thine heart's blood will flow,
And thy next stage will be beneath the dust.”
They closed in strife outrageous, foot to foot
With sword and dagger, striking whiles at waist
And whiles at head. Arjásp failed 'neath the blows;
He was a mass of wounds; his huge form sank,
And then Asfandiyár beheaded him.
Such is the fashion of life's changeful day!
Thou hast by turns its sweetness and its bane.

Whenas the moon had left her silvern throne,
And when three watches of the night had passed,
The watchman shouted lustily, proclaiming:—
“Gushtásp, the Sháh, hath gained the victory,
And may Asfandiyár be ever young.
May heaven, moon, and fortune be his helpers,
Who hath in vengeance for Luhrásp beheaded
Arjásp and, adding lustre to our Grace
And customs, cast him down from throne to dust,
And made the name and fortune of Gushtásp
Resplendent.”

Hearing such a cry the Turkmans

All listened while Kuhram grew dark of heart
By reason of that watchman, was astonied,
And spake thus to Andarímán: “How clear
This cry is in the night! What, sayest thou,
Can be the cause? Let us consult, for who
Would dare to bawl thus by the monarch's couch
And after dark? What tricks might such an one
Play in the day of battle and thus bring
Our nobles into straits! So send and have
His head cut off, whoever he may be.
If one of our own household is our foe,
And he is backing up our enemies

this host.”

Kuhram was straitened

At heart about that watchman, writhed, and frowned.
He told the troops: “These men have filled my
heart
With dread about the king. We must return
At once, past question. What may happen after
I know not.”

So that night they left the field,

Whereat Asfandiyár, with ox-head mace
And mailed, pursued them. When Kuhram had
reached
The portal of the hold, and saw the Íránians
Pursuing, “What is left us,” he exclaimed,
“Unless to fight with brave Asfandiyár?
Unsheathe and send your message by the sword.”
But fortune frowned and those famed chiefs fared ill.
The two hosts raged and smote each other's heads
Till morning came, and then the chiefs of Chín
Had had their day. Ascending to the ramparts
The warriors of Asfandiyár inside
The hold flung down therefrom the severed head
Of brave Arjásp—the king that slew Luhrásp.
The Turkmans fought no longer, from their host
Arose a cry, and all the troops unhelmed.

The soldiers longed

For death, and from Khallukh up to Taráz
Was universal anguish. In the end
They all of them advanced to certain death,
Advanced in armour with their helms and casques.
Rose from the battlefield the sound of strife,
The air above was like a dusky cloud.
The slain lay everywhere in heaps, the plain
Was thick with trunkless heads and limbs; else-where
Lay hands and maces, while a wave of blood
Rose at the portal of the hold, and who
Could tell left hand from right? Asfandiyár
Advanced; Kuhram, the captain of the host,
Opposed him; and those warriors grappled so
That thou hadst said: “They are one!” The peerless
chief
Took by the waist Kuhram, whirled him aloft—
A wondrous feat—and dashed him to the ground
While all the Íránian army roared applause.
They bound his hands and bore him off in shame,
And all his splendid armament dispersed.
Then maces fell like hail, the earth was full
Of Turkmans, and the air was charged with death;
Heads showered beneath the swords like leaves from
trees;
One side lost all, the other gained a throne;
Blood dashed in billows on the battlefield;
Here heads were trampled and there heads were
crowned.

living, sent out troops on all sides,
And when they lighted on some chieftain's seat
His orders were that they should burn it down:
They wrecked thus all the cities of Túrán;
No man of name was left in any place,
And not a horseman in Túrán or Chín.
Thou wouldst have said: “There rose a murky cloud,
And poured down fire upon the battlefield.”
The atheling, with matters in this trim,
Brought wine and gathered all the chiefs to him.

Asfandiyár called for a scribe and told
The story of his stratagem and fight.

And all Írán re-echoed with the news.
Now when they had returned the cameleers
Came to the exalted chief who had no peers.

Asfandiyár, when he had read the letter,
Distributed dínárs and made an end,
Reserving but the treasure of Arjásp,
While lavishing the treasures of his kinsmen:
The troops were all enriched beyond compute.
On plain and mountain there were steeds and camels,
All brand-marked by the monarch of Túrán.
Ten thousand head of these Asfandiyár
Collected from the plain and mountain-top,
And bade his men to load of them a thousand
With gold out of the royal treasury,
Three hundred with brocade and thrones and casques,
Five score with musk, with ambergris, and jewels,
Five score with crowns and splendid diadems,
One thousand with brocaded tapestries,
Three hundred with the native stuffs of Chín,
With hides both raw and tanned and painted silks
He furnished litters with brocaded curtains,
And carried off from Chín two troops of girls,
With cheeks like spring and tall as cypress-trees,
With reed-like waists and pheasant-like in gait.
A hundred ladies, beautiful as idols,
Went with the sisters of Asfandiyár.
Five ladies of the kindred of Arjásp—
His mother, his two sisters, and two daughters—
Toiled on in misery and wretchedness,
In pain and grief and stricken to the heart,

Told is the story of the Stages Seven,
Peruse it in His name—the Lord of Heaven,
Lord of the sun and of the shining moon,
Him who alone hath power for bale or boon.
If this tale please our conquering monarch's eye
I set my saddle on the circling sky.
The time to quaff delicious wine is now,
For musky scents breathe from the mountain-brow,
The air resoundeth and earth travaileth,
And blest is he whose heart drink gladdeneth,
He that hath wine and money, bread and sweets,
And can behead a sheep to make him meats.
These have not I. Who hath them, well is he.
Oh! pity one that is in poverty!
The garth is strewn with rose-leaves and each hill
With tulip and with hyacinth, and still
The nightingale complaineth in the close,
And at its plaining burgeoneth the rose.
At night it never ceaseth to complain;
The rose is overcharged by wind and rain.
I see the cloud's sighs and its tears, but why
The narciss should be sad I know not I.
The nightingale bemocketh rose and cloud;
Perched on the rose it carolleth aloud.