Tale of the Twelve Champions

The world rises up with weeping and wailing; for everyone, the days of good and bad come to an end. Once you tie your belt to walk the road of greed, your dealings with the world stretch out without end. Chasing greatness might seem worthy from one angle, even when a dragon's jaws lie in your path. But then again, the world will not stay still; this fleeting inn, whether wide or narrow, is the same. The slave of greed, the seeker of revenge, will never hear a single word of praise from anyone. When the tall cypress in the garden bends low, its bright lamp begins to darken. Its leaves wither, its roots turn weak, and its head is the first to lean toward the ground. It grows from dust and turns back to dust again; everywhere there is fear, grief, and dread. A person's chief wealth is steadiness and wisdom, and living in this world without harming others suits them well. It lies in knowledge and in honesty; if you lack these two, your soul is diminished. Even if you live long in this world, the body's suffering will make departure necessary. It is a deep sea whose floor cannot be seen; no key exists to its treasure of secrets. The more you gain, the more you want, yet one day that very food you ate will harm you. You need only three things, and there is no way around them, and no one can reproach you for them. Something to eat, to wear, to spread out to sleep; it is wise not to look beyond these words. Once you pass beyond these three, all is toil and greed; whether you writhe in greed or in need, it is the same. Since you know the world will not stay with you, why struggle over the sweet place of Nushirvan's throne? Eat what you have and do not chase for more, for greed keeps eating away at your honor.

The heart of the Turks' king listened to little; greed always led him into pain. After he turned back from that battlefield where Rostam had darkened the whole world for him, he galloped away until he reached Khallokh, his head sunk in shame before the royal line of kings. With a heart full of hurt, he entered his palace alongside his shrewd and clear-minded advisers, his guides Piran and Garsivaz, along with Qarakhan and Shideh and Garsivun. He laid out the whole tale for them and recalled everything that had passed. He said: from the day I set the crown of kingship on my head, both the sun and the shining moon served me. I held power over the great lords; no one could pull my reins aside. Since the days of Manuchehr's wars, Iran's hand had never reached into Turan. Now Iran launches raids to my very doorstep and reaches out for my life. Those once timid people have grown bold; the deer has come to the lion's pillow. If we settle this feud quickly, good; otherwise they will raise smoke from this land. It is fitting that now I send messengers out across every corner of this realm, to gather from the Turks and from China thousands upon thousands girded for battle. Let us bring an army around Iran and set up a battlefield on every side. All the wise counselors laid their sober judgment before their commander's words. They said: we must cross the Oxus and beat the royal war drums on that broad plain. We must set up a camp at Amuy and, day and night, never rest from the charge, for that is a place of war and bloodshed, of grappling with Giv and with Rostam. The proud, city-taking champions, all their vengeful blades tempered in poison. When Afrasiab heard these words, his face lit up with good fortune and he showed his joy. He blessed the champions and the counselors in the manner of the noble lords. He called his scribe before him and dictated a number of necessary matters. He chose envoys from the assembly to send to the emperor of China and the king of Khotan. He sent letters to every land, to every famous man and every chief. He summoned the army, for his mind was set on war; over Bizhan his heart had grown that bitter. Two weeks passed, and from China and Khotan, from every land the army gathered. The earth heaved like a boiling sea, so that no one could see the bright day. Every herd of loose horses he had, he drove them all into the city at once. The treasures too, which since the days of Tur father had kept secret from son, he began to open the mouths of the coffers, and day and night he gave out gold. When the whole army was fitted out, he had no more need of that wealth. From the warriors he picked fifty thousand, all battle-seekers fit for the task. To Shideh, his son, a fighter who stood tall among the battle-champions, he said: I hand you this proud army; make ready the road to Khwarazm. Be the guardian of that Khwarazm frontier, and stay girded for battle always. He ordered another fifty thousand of China's famed men to be chosen by Piran. He told him: march to the land of Iran; leave neither belongings nor the throne of the new commander behind. Seek no kind of peace at all; speak of nothing but war and vengeance. Anyone who tries to mix water and fire has done violence to them both. Two worthy, watchful men, two champions: one old and wise, the other young. They set out with Afrasiab's counsel, the old man calm, the young man swift. With golden helmets, maces, and blades, roaring like a thundering storm cloud.

Then word reached King Piruz that an army had come from Turan against Iran. The cruel, base-natured Afrasiab, driven by hatred, could find no sleep by night or day. Meaning to wash away his shame, he had sent troops to war from every direction. He was grinding poison onto the tips of his spears, hoping to turn his reins toward Iran. Some three hundred thousand warriors on horseback were about to cross the Oxus. An army that, in the hour of pride and battle, raised dust from the Oxus up to the heavens. At Afrasiab's court the brave men could not sleep for the thunder of the war drums. From the blare of trumpets and the clash of bells, you would think the heart would leap from the chest. If that army marches into Iran for battle, even the bravest lion would not stand in its path. He gave the Turan frontier to Piran and sent a considerable army with him. Toward the Khwarazm border, fifty thousand men set out girded for war. Their commander was the lionhearted Shideh, who could snatch a heart from fire with his sword. An army like drunken war elephants, whose onslaught could flatten a mountain. When he heard the report of the scouts, the king of the world sat sunk in thought. He said to the scouts, 'O wise ones, I have heard this from the priests:' 'That when the moon of the Turks rises high, it will bring harm from the sun of Iran.' The black snake whose head is meant to be crushed will writhe out of its hole toward the stick. When a king sows the seed of injustice, his throne and kingship turn against him. He summoned all the priests to him and laid before them the words he had heard. The great, the wise, and the seasoned warriors sat in council with the king of Iran. Men like Dastan son of Sam, Gudarz and Giv, like Shidush, Farhad, and brave Roham. Like Tus and Rustam, the champion hero, Fariborz and Shapur, the roaring lion. And Bizhan son of Giv with Gostaham, like Gorgin and Zangeh and Gazhdaham. And besides these renowned ones, the whole army who were the king's own flock. The king spoke to the champions: 'The Turks are seeking battle and their moment.' 'Since the enemy has raised an army and turned fierce, we too must prepare for war.' He ordered the horns and the great war trumpets sounded and the brass war drums fastened. The king strode from his palace to the field, and they arrayed the royal seat upon the elephant. He cast the signal-stone into the cup on the elephant's back; you would say the earth had been washed with indigo. The sky turned indigo and the earth grew many-colored, the army's brave men fierce as leopards. Maces in their fists, hearts full of vengeance; the ground churned with warriors like a boiling sea. A cry rose from the king's court: 'O champions of the army of Iran!' 'Whoever can grip rein and stirrup must not rest at home.' He commanded that from Rome and from India, chosen warriors and brave fighters be gathered. And the proud, defiant riders of the Arabs, prepared for battle like raging lions. Three hundred thousand girded men would come, spear-wielding riders from the plains. 'Whoever does not reach the king within forty days will not keep the crown upon his head.' Riders scattered across the realm, sent bearing the king's letters. Two weeks passed, and by the king's command the army of the kingdom began to stir. The whole realm surged with soldiers, and a roar rose up across the world. At dawn, at the hour the cock crows, the sound of war drums rose from every side. The nobles of every province, with their troops, set their faces toward the king's court. He opened the ancient treasuries and began to give out coin to the army. From the king's treasury and gold, all the soldiers set jeweled helmets on their heads. In armor and mail like mountains, the whole army gathered together. When the army's preparations were all complete and the king's mind was set at ease over them, First, from that renowned army, thirty thousand sword-wielding riders, Khosrow chose and handed over to Rustam, saying, 'O famous hero,' 'Take the road to Sistan and set out early; lead the army into India.' 'Go from Ghazni along this route until crown, throne, and signet come into your hands.' 'When that kingdom is wholly won, leopard and lamb shall drink together at the water's edge.' 'Give Faramarz the crown and signet, and whomever he chooses from the elite of the army.' 'Sound the brass drum, the trumpet and the flute; do not linger in Kashmir and Kabul longer than this.' 'For because of the war with Afrasiab, we can find no food, no rest, no sleep.' He gave the Alans and Ghazdazh to Lohrasp, saying, 'O hero of royal blood,' 'Go with an army like a mountain; choose a body of warriors for your force.' 'Take riders fit for battle, until you utterly destroy the enemy.' He commanded Ashkash to take thirty thousand roaring, spear-wielding lions. And carry the great war drum toward Khwarazm, an army like ravening wolves, To strike at the gate of the city of Khwarazm, together with the battling, vengeful Shideh. The fourth army he gave to Gudarz, and gave him much counsel and advice: 'Go with the great men of Iran together, like Gorgin and Zangeh and Gostaham,' 'Zavareh, Fariborz, Farhad, and Giv, the commander Garazeh, and brave Roham.' He ordered them to gird themselves for war and to march at once to fight Turan. The commander Gudarz, son of Keshvad, and all the champions and noble free men, Mounted their saddles at the king's command, with Gudarz leading the army. Then the king said to Gudarz, 'When you go girded for battle,' 'Take care not to stretch your hand toward injustice, nor lay flourishing halls to ruin.' 'Toward one who does not gird himself to fight you, act so that no harm comes from you.' 'For the just God does not approve of evil from us; the world is a passing inn, and we are only travelers.' 'When you lead the army to the border of Turan, do not let your quick heart rush into fire.' 'Take care not to boil over as Tus does, nor bind the war drum on the elephant for every trifle.' 'Send a worldly-wise envoy to Piran, a prudent man, and send one of the seasoned ones.' 'Open your ear to his abundant counsel and cast the cloak of kindness over him.' 'In every matter, deal justly with everyone, and keep in mind God's gift of goodness.' The army's commander said to the king, 'Your command stands higher than the sun and moon.' 'I will act just as you command; you are the world-ruling king, and I am your servant.' A great cry rose from the commander's court; the earth trembled with the beat of the drums. The troops came pouring into the camp; the world went dark with the dust of riders. At the head of the army marched sixty elephants; the world was crushed beneath those drunken beasts. And of those mighty war elephants, four were adorned by the king's order. They set golden thrones on their backs, seats for the king in splendor and glory. He ordered Gudarz to mount upon that golden throne atop the drunken elephant. He urged the elephants on and the dust rose; he took it for a good omen, saying, 'May we raise smoke from Piran's life the way this dust rises from the elephants' tread.'

Harming no one, obeying the king's command, the army moved on, stage by stage. When Gudarz reached the outskirts of Zibad, he chose the chief warriors from his army. Thousands of brave men skilled with the dagger, valiant riders from among the army's champions. Ten thousand renowned Iranians, eloquent in speech and fit for battle. Then the commander summoned Giv before him and repeated to him all the king had said. He told him: son of the chief commander, you who stand tall above so many heads, I have chosen for you an army worthy of you, men who are each the leader of a land. Go to Piran; speak to him and listen to what he says. Tell Piran that I have arrived at Zibad with the army, at the king's command. You know your own words and deeds, your own harmlessness or your suffering and grief. All the land of Turan girded itself for evil against the noble kings of Iran. Blessed Fereydun, who left this world with grief and pain, his eyes filled with pale, sickly tears. Iran was full of sorrow, the king full of anguish, for the moon itself could not shine in mourning for Iraj. Among all that gathering of Turks, you alone claim to be a man of love and loyalty. But this name of love is a lie on you; I see no calm of affection in your heart. Still, that honor-seeking king told me to speak gently to you in all things, because in the matter of Siyavash, one day you cast off the foundation of evil. In my eyes you have standing too, and you are innocent of my father's blood. Whatever sin you have committed until now, whichever kings of the world you have wronged, the king forgives all of it from you; he counts all your evil as if it were good. It should not be that you perish at our hands over a load of past sins. Moreover, for the war against Afrasiyab, time is pressing hard upon you. The nobles of Iran and my son will recite all my counsel to you. Say to them whatever you know, and seek their words in the same way. If your heart is honest and matches your tongue, you will pass beyond grief and save your life. Your land, your home, and your kin will flourish, and your neck will be freed from my sword. But if guilt shows itself in you, no love, throne, or crown will remain to you. I will not seek rest or sleep in this feud: only my mace and Afrasiyab's battlefield. For our king to take revenge on him, there is no need to array so vast an army. So heed my counsel from beginning to end, and trust my sober words. He was the first to lay the foundation of this feud, the first to roll up his sleeves for bloodshed. He reached out his hand to spill Siyavush's blood, and brought a whole world low with his injustice. So bind that whole gathering of yours like dogs and send them here to me. So that I may send them to the king; whether he takes their heads or grants them a crown. Have you not heard the great old tale of how the raging lion faced the wolf? That whoever raised a hand against the blood of kings, time gave him no place but the dust. And all that treasure gathered near you is the enemy of your own darkened life. The noble horses, the jewels, the brocade, the gold coins, the crowns, the helmets, the swords, the horse armor, the mail coats, and the Indian daggers, all the gear of war, the silver and gold, send it all to us, every last piece. What you seized from people through injustice, what you piled up by wicked hands, with that you may perhaps buy back your own life, and find your cure at this door without delay. Whatever of it is worthy of the ruler, I will send to the king of the world. The rest we will share among the army, as payment for the wrongs that were done. And besides that, your chosen son, the guardian of your throne and seal, your brothers, both leaders of the army, who at any moment lift their heads to the moon, when you send all three of this renowned company to me as hostages, so that I may be assured of your conduct, then your tree of loyalty will bear its fruit. Then you too may choose between two paths; one is to seek your way to the king. You go with your household to Khosrow and rest in the shade of his kindness. I make this pact with you: Khosrow will raise your dwelling as high as the shining sun. You know his kind heart better than I do; nothing but goodness ever comes from him. You will wash your heart clean of any love for Afrasiyab and never see him even in your dark night's dreams. But if you fear harm from the king of the Turks and would rather not come to Iran, then empty Turan and settle in Chaj; carry off the teakwood throne and raise your crown there. And if your mind is set on Afrasiyab, then go to him and do not wait for our attack. If you choose to prepare for battle, I have the strength of a lion and the claws of a leopard. I will leave the Turks no share of the throne; my bow is a cloud and its rain is poison. Get ready for war and step forward, if you have the footing to stand against a tearing lion. When the two armies drew up their ranks against each other, the guilty stood revealed apart from the innocent. If you refuse to listen to what I say, in the end you will regret your choices. But regret will do you no good once the sword of fate has cut off your head. The warrior told his son to go and deliver every one of these words to Piran. Giv left his father and set out for Balkh, keeping those bitter words in mind. He made camp and quickly sent a messenger, just as Gudarz had ordered. That same night he gathered his troops and marched from the gates of Balkh toward Vise-gard. For Piran was in that city with his army, seeking the crown and throne of Iran. When the messenger reached Piran, the commander Piran reviewed his troops. They told him: Giv has come toward Balkh with his chosen champions, a brave commander. When Piran heard this, he sounded the war drums; the ground turned black as ebony under the horses' hooves. Twelve thousand of his mounted soldiers came forward, ready for battle. He left two thirds of them behind, then went and summoned the experienced veterans. When he came near the Oxus, he drew his army up along the riverbank. He raised a wall of spears along the Oxus, then Gudarz came face to face with Giv. For two weeks they lingered in negotiation, so that the war would not begin unjustly. They spoke of every matter, and Piran listened; it became clear that the Turks were the guilty ones. The Iranian nobles seized the moment and pressed their case hard in argument. In haste, Piran dispatched a swift rider to Afrasiyab. Saying: Gudarz, son of Keshvad, with his army, has claimed the crown of the champions' throne. A messenger came to me, his chosen son, the greatest of the assembly. My ear and heart are turned toward your command; by my pledge, my life is your hostage. When the news reached the lord of the Turks, he picked out an army of warriors. He sent to Piran thirty thousand sword-wielding mounted champions. He told him: Take up the sword of vengeance and wipe them from the face of the earth. Neither Gudarz should survive, nor Giv, nor Farhad, nor Gorgin, nor the brave Roham. For armies have come at us from all four sides, all longing for the land of Turan. From now on I will make cruelty my way in war; I will not delay in shedding blood. With sober strategy and true men, this time I will raise a storm against Kay Khosrow. When Piran saw that great army, each man thirsting for blood like a wolf, He grew troubled once he had gained strength; his heart washed away its virtues and took on flaws. That once kind heart turned to cruelty; his mind filled with brooding, and he longed for battle. Then he said to Giv: get up and go; return to the commander of the army. Tell him: don't ask anything of me that the wise would refuse to consider. For one thing, you demand hostages from our renowned warriors. How could that ever be done? And another, you spoke of weapons and troops, precious horses, a throne, and a crown. My brother, who is the light of my world, and the chosen son of my champion, you tell me to send them away from me. From a wise man such words are foolish. Death is better for me than a life in which I, a commander, would live as a slave. The leopard set an example in this, when it rose to fight the lion: if you spill my blood for the sake of honor, it said, that is better than a life lived in disgrace. And besides, the king's message has come; by his command my army has come for war. When Giv received this answer, he turned back with a famous and valiant army. When Giv came back from him, the commander turned toward battle with a roar. Right behind Giv, the bold Piran drove his troops forward like a lion. He advanced, and when he reached Kanabad, he drew up his army on that mountain slope.

When Giv came before his father, he reported everything, point by point. He said to Gudarz: Bring the army forward to the place where you plan to make your battlefield. For Piran has no thought of peace; there is no room for justice in his heart. I argued with him in every way, and laid before him all that you had said. When their treachery became clear, he sent a swift courier to the king. Saying: Gudarz and Giv have come to war; I need reinforcements here without delay. An army has come from Afrasiyab; once we withdrew, it crossed the river. Now vengeance has strapped its drums to the elephants; he rushes to strike the first blow against us. Then the commander said to Giv: Piran has grown weary of his own life. I always expected this hidden malice, but by the command of the world's king we had to go, there was no other way; now the sovereign has tested Piran's heart. I told the king a saying once, when he ordered the army onto the road: Cut your heart free from love for anyone whose heart does not match his tongue. All Piran's loyalty lies with the Turks; let the king wash his hands clean of him. When Piran marched his army out of Kanabad, no daylight was left in the day. A hundred thousand armored riders, Turks with their belts girded for battle, set out with their belts strapped for war, all with spears and Indian swords in hand. When Gudarz knew the army was coming, he struck the war drum and set out from Zibad. He came down from the mountain to the plain, and they drew the army across that broad field. Both armies stood like mountains, with helmets of iron upon their heads. The blare of trumpets rose so loud you would think the mountains shook from their place. From Zibad all the way to Kanabad the troops stretched; their masses turned valley and plain dark and black. The army's dust left no bright daylight; the sky was nothing but a wall of spears and armor. From the noise of the horses and the dust of the host, the light went out of both sun and moon. The spear tips were stars, the swords a sun; the ground was of iron, the maces its storm clouds. The earth trembled from the roar of the warriors; the sky itself turned to iron with helmets and spears. When Gudarz saw the Turanian army, the ground heaving up like a surging sea, banner packed against banner, mass against mass, unbroken, until night rose over the mountain. When the dark of night fell, they brought the elephants to the front of the army and blocked the way. They lit fires on both sides, amid the shouting of the battle-hungry warriors. You would say the whole world had become a demon, with the enemy lurking close inside your own sleeve. The war drums thundered against the mountains, and hearts ached through the pitch-black night. Dawn broke over the dark mountain, and Iran's commander rode out before his troops. He set his fresh horse in motion, assigning each hero his position on every side. The mountain guarded the army's right flank, so the brave felt no worry about the fight. A flowing river ran along the left, fitting the army as the soul fits the body. He ordered the foot soldiers skilled in combat to stand out in front of the cavalry. The spearmen formed a line, alongside the mace-bearers and the mighty warriors. Likewise many spear-carrying infantry, armed with quivers, arrows, and armor-piercing gear. Bows slung across their arms, their hearts boiling over with battle-lust. Behind them stood the war-riders, whose daggers had stolen the very color of fire. Behind the whole army came the herd of elephants; the ground itself groaned beneath their tread. The blessed banner stood at the army's center, blazing with gems like the moon. The earth turned the gray of elephants everywhere, and the dust of the riders dyed the air deep blue. Violet blades gleamed in the shadow of the royal banner of Kaveh. You would say that on a dark-faced night the heavens were scattering stars. He arranged the army like paradise, planting the cypress of vengeance in the garden of loyalty. He gave the right flank to Fariborz, and placed the baggage train and defenses at the rear. Garaza, of the line of the Giv clan, and Zavara, guardian of the royal throne, rose to support Fariborz, and together arrayed one wing of the army. Then the commander said to Rohham: 'You, who are the very soul of crown, throne, and wisdom, go with your riders to the left flank; keep the wolf's claws away from the lamb.' Light up the camp with your own glory, and hold the army close to your side. With that gleaming, hero-slaying dagger, wage war among the champions like a raging lion. His comrades went along with him; among the army's champions was Gostaham, and Gazhdaham, indispensable in battle, and Foruhel, whose arrows pierced through stone. He ordered that two thousand armored riders go out with Giv. He then entrusted the army's rear to him, the station of the battle-seeking champions. Warriors went with Giv, men like Gorgin and Zangeh of Shavaran. He sent a banner and three hundred riders to guard the army along the riverside. He sent toward the mountain a banner and three hundred picked warriors. A lookout stood atop the heights, watching by day and counting stars by night. Night and day he kept his neck stretched high, made into a sentinel at that watchpost. He searched so keenly that if the Turanian army left even an ant's track on the road, he would spot it. From his post he would raise a cry, report to Gudarz, and rouse the camp. He arranged that battlefield so finely that the sun and moon themselves longed to join the fight. When the commander is fit for war, the army does not fear even a fearless crocodile of an enemy. After that he came to the commander's station to guard the troops against the foe. He raised the heart cheering banner and set the army firm in the center. He summoned all the chiefs close: Shidush guarding the rear, Farhad at the front. On his left the battle tested Hajir, on his right the lion catching Katmareh. They ringed his position with an iron wall, and set the war elephants standing at the rear. Commander Gudarz stood among them, the Kaviani banner casting its shade above him, borrowing light from the moon and sun. From afar Piran gazed at the host. Seeing that array and that ordered army, he cleared his heart of shame and grief. Over pass and plain, mountain and desert, spear was woven with spear, rein braided with rein. Commander Piran grew deeply troubled, and raged against his dark, ill fated luck. Then he studied the enemy's ground and found the battlefield not as he had wished. He saw no room for a proper clash, no space to form his ranks; in fury he wrung his hands. He would have to make do with things as they were, since he had to draw the sword against these heroes. Then, from among Afrasiab's famous men, those whose heads race quickest toward vengeance, he chose thirty thousand swordsmen fit and ready for the fight. He gave the center then to Human, a lion slaying, battle hungry force. He called Andariman and Khast, and set them to the left and right of the army. He entrusted his left wing to them, with thirty thousand bold and gallant men. And warlike Lahhak and Farshidvard, with thirty thousand daring warriors, took their place on the right wing; the whole world turned black with iron. Zanguleh, and Garad and Kalbad, and Sepahram, who was a man for the day of alarm, went out with ten thousand spearmen behind the dagger wielding horsemen. Ruyin of the brazen body marched forth with ten thousand heroes of Khotan. So that, like a lion in that forest, he could set an ambush with his brave warriors. He sent a scouting party toward the mountain, to wear down the commander of Iran. Whether the enemy advanced a step from the battlefield, or moved out on his own too far, Then the commander Rouyin, fierce as a lion, would fall upon his rear. He posted a lookout on the mountaintop, one who could watch the horsemen fight without fear. If a single Iranian rider from afar turned his reins toward battle with Tur, The watchman would raise a cry, and the whole battlefield would boil into motion. The two armies stood face to face, all famous men, hungry for the fight. They stood like this three days and three nights, and no one moved his lips to speak. Gudarz kept saying: if I turn my back to them and set my foot forward, Their army will come in behind me, and nothing but wind will be left in my grip. Night and day, standing before the army, he watched the sun and moon for a lucky star, Wondering which day would be the fortunate one, and whose move would fare the best, And when the wind would rise on the day of battle to blind the horsemen's eyes with dust, So that perhaps he might gain the upper hand and drive his army in like the wind. The commander Piran, too, kept both eyes fixed, hoping Gudarz's heart would boil with rage, That he would turn his back to the plain and drive his troops, army pressing behind army.

On the fourth day Bijan, son of Giv, rode out from the front lines to the center of the army. Before his father he tore his clothes in frustration and flung dust into the air. He said: Father, you experienced warrior, why do you keep us waiting here for nothing? This is now the fifth day, and night and day have taught us only idleness. The sun has seen no sword flashing in a warrior's hand, no dust has risen into the sky. Our riders sit inside their armor and helmets, not a drop of blood stirs in anyone's veins. In Iran, after the famous Rostam, there was never a horseman to equal Gudarz. Yet ever since he came from the war of Pashan, from all that killing and that crowded field of battle, since Lavan, where he saw so many of his sons slain and saw the fortune of the Iranians turn against them, his heart is wounded and he has lost his way; he no longer even wants to look at a battlefield. He should keep his eyes fixed on Piran, but instead he has set his mind on the high mountains. A commander who, instead of counting his troops, counts the stars circling the moon. Know this: there is no blood left in his body; he has grown feeble in the face of these fighting warriors. I am not surprised at the world-wise Gudarz, for his spirit is no longer set on this frontier. But you astonish me, father, you from whom even a raging lion would seek courage. Two armies keep their eyes on you: sharpen your mind and kindle your anger. Now, while the world is warm and the air is bright, let the battle of the armies begin its song. For when this pleasant season passes and the face of the earth freezes hard as steel, when hands go numb upon the spears, with the sword's edge behind and stone before, who among the champions will ride out before the army, who will take up the fight on this field? And if he is truly afraid of some ambush, of the war of horsemen and men of vengeance, then he should give me a thousand riders, my chosen men, fit for the fight. We will raise the dust from their hiding places and scatter heads from up above their moon-like standard. At Bijan's words Giv laughed and showered praise upon his brave son. He said to the Creator: I thank you, for you gave me a son who knows what is good. You gave him both wisdom and the strength for vengeance, one who understands every task and seeks the faith. This bold young man has taken after me, just as a hero's cub ought to be. The fierce lion said this to his mate: if our offspring should not prove brave, we will cut off our pure love and bond from him, though his father is the water of the sea and his mother the earth. But you, my sharp-tongued son, do not open your mouth against your grandfather. For he is seasoned and wiser, the leader over this renowned army. A man who is tempered by battle needs no teacher for every single task. If our riders sit still and hold back, it is not that the Turks are men of mere color and ornament. They too are ill-fortuned and heads turned in grief, their eyes full of blood and their hearts wounded. This experienced elder wants only this: to draw the Turks into the fight, so their line of retreat stays far from the mountains, and this vengeful army sweeps them all together. Then you will see the mace of Gudarz, how he will overrun the whole frontier. And besides, from the good and evil of the stars he reads the turning of the heavens. When that good day comes, he will clear the face of the world of the Turks. Bijan spoke thus before his father: O champion of all the world, if this is the plan of my blessed grandfather, then it is fitting that we set aside our fine Roman robes. I will strip off my mail and helmet, and with wine bring color back to my faded face. And when the world's champion has need of me, I will come with my belt fastened, ready for war.

From the army of the Turks, brave Human came before his brother like a lion. He said: commander and chief of Afrasiab, on this field haste has caught up with us. For seven days now this struggle has dragged on, with so many riders girded for war. Wrapped in iron, hearts full of hatred, both eyes fixed on the land of Iran. Why do you keep turning things over and over? Tell me what worries lie in your heart. If your mind is set on war, then test it; if your mind is set on retreat, do not linger here. For this would be a disgrace to you, commander; old and young alike would laugh at it. This is the same army that once marched out to fight us and left, its color and glory gone. For back then their whole battlefield lay slain, the earth from end to end a river of blood. Our nobles are no fewer in horsemen now, and their house has no Rostam for a champion. If you have no wish to shed their blood, if you will not rouse the army to fight, then pick a force of warriors from the ranks, hand them to me, and watch me wage this war of vengeance. When Piran heard Human's words, he said to him: do not rush, do not act with heat. Know this, brother: the war-seeker who has come against us with an army is the chosen chief of Kay Khosrow, the foremost of every champion and hero. First, Kay Khosrow holds his head higher than my own king in every assembly. Second, among the king's champions I know none who equals Gudarz in rank, in loftiness and manliness, in shrewd judgment and wisdom. Third, his liver is seared with scars, his heart full of blood from the loss of so many sons, whose heads we severed from their bodies, when we sank the earth in dust and blood. Now, as long as there is life in his body, he writhes over this vengeance like a coiling snake. Fourth, he has brought his army down between two mountains and gathered it as a wall. From every side you probe, there is no way in; think well, for this hardship will not be brief. We must strive hard so that perhaps we may draw them out from that mountain foothold. Perhaps they will grow weary and slacken, and rush too soon to open the battle. When they lead their army out of the mountains, I will rain a storm of arrows on their heads. We will ring them round like a wall, and fall upon them like a raging lion. Then all our desire will turn out well, and our name will rise up to the sun. You are the backbone of the army, the king's marshal, your crown lifted above the turning sky. One who has no need of a lofty name, why should he circle round after mere greed? And another thing: none of their famous warriors will come to face us without hesitation. Whichever of their champions is the least known, the most restless of their fighting riders, they will send from their army against you, seeking blood. If you lay him low on the ground, your name will not rise high because of it, nor will the Iranians suffer any real harm. But if he gains the upper hand and spills your blood, these brave Turks will be humbled. Human looked hard at his brother's words, and thought his caution about the fight was foolish. He answered thus: there is no rider from Iran who could stand and do battle with me. This gentleness is simply your nature; for me, it is battle that I long for. And if you have no urge to seek revenge, if the fire of war is not in your heart, I will do whatever must be done on this field, and show my skills to the army of Iran. I will saddle my swift dun horse and, at first light of dawn, ride out to seek my vengeance.

At dawn he mounted his saddle, fierce as a raging lion, with a single interpreter at his side. He came near the Iranian army, his heart full of war and his head full of the king's hatred. When Piran learned that he had gone to fight, the whole world grew narrow around him with grief. His heart seethed with sorrow over Hooman, and he recalled a saying from his father: A wise man takes his time in every task; he does not rush headlong into fighting and disgrace. The reckless man shows his fury first, but in the end his rashness brings real grief. A tongue with no brain behind it, even when it pours out words, offers nothing worthwhile. Since Hooman has rushed so hotly into this battle, I do not know what good will come of it in the end. May the Judge of the world come to his aid; I see no other friend for him but Him. When Hooman, son of Visa, reached that battlefield where Godarz son of Keshvad stood with his army, he came seeking combat with the champions, and the army's sentry ran into him. The scout came to the interpreter, and all the Iranian riders were filled with suspicion. He asked: who is this quarrelsome man who has recklessly turned his face toward the plain? Where does he mean to go, swift as a courser, a mace in his grip and a lasso on his saddle? Then the interpreter said to the Iranians: the hour of mace, arrow, and bow has come, for this lion-hearted and renowned man means to do battle with you. He is the chief of the Visa clan, Hooman by name, whose sword makes the lion's heart its scabbard. When the Iranians saw his mace and the royal splendor of his lofty stature, every spear-wielding hand fell idle, overwhelmed by the glory of that famous warrior. One and all they turned back from him and set their faces toward his interpreter, saying: go to Hooman and, in the Turkish tongue, deliver to him everything we have said, that we have no intention of fighting you; Godarz has given no order for battle. If he seeks combat, the road lies open toward the renowned commander of the army. One by one they gave Hooman a sign of the general of the heroes and of the proud chieftains, of where the champions were and where the leader stood, who held the army's left flank and who the right. After that, the scout sent a swift, snorting camel racing toward the commander, to say that Hooman, like a leopard, had left that battlefield and come here to fight the commander. When Hooman left the presence of those riders, he came swiftly to Roham. From there he raised a mighty shout: O son of a vigilant, fortunate commander, you are the left flank of the army and the claw of its lions; you are the guardian of Iran's leader. Spur your horse onto this field of war, between the two lines where the armies stand drawn up. You must come face me in single combat, whether you choose the riverside or the open plain. And if you cannot find Gostaham, let Farhad come charging out alongside him. Who among your warriors will seek battle with me, with sword and spear and heavy mace? Whoever comes against me looking for a fight, fate will fold the earth beneath him. And if he sees my blade in combat, it tears the lion's heart and the leopard's hide. Rahham answered him this way: O famous, quarrel seeking champion, I took you for a man of sense among the Turks; I never imagined you were like this. coming alone onto this battlefield, riding out so boldly before your own army, convinced that in all the world no other rider who carries a sword could ever gird his belt like you. Recall for once a tale of the ancient kings, and free your neck from the debt you owe to wisdom. Whoever enters a fight must first look for the road that leads back out of it. These men you named for battle, they all keep their claws sharp for war. But without the order of the army's commander, no one will make ready for the fight. If you truly seek to fight our champions, then why not go straight to the general himself? Ask Gudarz for leave to fight; then come seeking combat with us afterward. Homan said to him: Don't talk nonsense. Don't look for excuses with me this way. You think of this battle as a place for true men, but you're no horseman fit for the field of vengeance. From there he swept on to the center of the host, charging until he reached the far side of the army. He came to Fariborz, with an interpreter beside him, sweeping in like a raging wind. He roared out: O man of evil mark, you who bow your neck low before your betters, the horsemen, the elephants, the golden boots, and the royal banner of Kaveh were yours to hold. On the day of battle you handed them to the Turks; your heroes in Iran no longer call you a man. When you are the commander you sink to a subordinate; you should tie on the belt of servitude. You are brother to noble Siavash, and by birth you stand higher than the general. You are the one who should be seeking revenge; you should be preparing yourself for vengeance. Now you must come out with me to the arena, in front of the army. Your name would rise as high as the shining sun if you dared to step forward against me. And if you won't come to fight me, that's fine; look then and see where Zavareh and Gorazeh are. Send me one of your champions, someone renowned among the Iranians. Fariborz answered him again: Don't pick a quarrel with a tearing lion. This is how the day of battle ends: one man glad and victorious, the other in pain. Even in victory, fear the harm to come, for the high heavens never stay the same. If the king took my banner, that is just; he gave it, with elephants and troops, to whom he wished. To avenge Siyavash, after Kay Qobad, the man who set the crown of majesty on his head, he girded himself and made the world flourish: commander Gudarz, son of Kashvad. Ever the avenger before the kings, father after father, a hero and the king's own marshal. And besides, from his mace, without a doubt, your commander's time will surely come to its end. The army takes its orders for war from Visa; to him return all honor and all shame. If he commands me to fight you, my heart is full of pain, but I will give the cure. Then you will see how I lift my head from disgrace, once I step into the fight. Human answered him: Enough. I see your only mastery is in words. With this sword you've buckled at your waist, nothing but grass has escaped your battles. You seek combat with a mace like this, one that is useless against helmet and armor. From there he turned back in his arrogance, as if he had become a lion primed for evil. Girded for vengeance for the noble free-born men, he rode up to Gudarz, son of Kashvad. He came and raised a loud cry: Hey, you arrogant chief who binds up demons, I heard everything you told the king, and how afterward you led the army out on its way. This was your pledge to the king, your order concerning Piran the commander: the messenger who came to the army of Turan, your chosen son Giv, the shelter of the host, after you swore your oath before the throne, by the sun and the moon, by throne and crown, that if my eyes fell on Piran on the field of battle, I would destroy him. Like a raging lion you arrayed your army, and craved war with us as if it were your wish. Now, wretched, you have settled behind the mountain like a miserable mountain sheep. Like prey fleeing a furious lion, with the bold lion pressing close behind, that chooses a narrow den within the thicket and, out of dread for its life, seeks neither name nor honor. March your army out onto the open plain. Why keep your troops hidden behind the highlands? Was this your pledge to the king, to take a mountain as your fortress on the battleground? Gudarz said to him: Think it over, as to whether it's fitting to speak such words to you. Now that you'll get your answer from the assembly, you'll see you laid out these words in ignorance. Know this: this was the king's command to me, this was my oath and my binding promise. Now I have come with a heavy army, with Iran's chosen, brave commanders. And you, like an old fox, hiding in the thicket for fear of the hunter, you keep scheming, plotting tricks and traps, fleeing the mace, the spear, and the lasso. Don't play the daredevil; don't seek battle with me, for a fox does not walk the same road as a lion. When Human heard Gudarz's answer, he roared like a lion on that field of war. He said to Gudarz: if you won't come to fight me, it is not because you feel any shame. Ever since you saw the battle of Pashan, you have turned your head away from fighting the Turks. At Lavan you tested me in war, and on the battlefield you praised me. If, as you now claim, you truly seek revenge in this feud, then choose one man from your army to face me on the field of combat. For I sought battle with Fariborz and Roham like a bold, fierce leopard. I roamed through the whole assembly of warriors; not one of your heroes will come out to meet me. The knot of this quarrel weighed on Gudarz; their words were not worth hearing. You are the one who says: on the day of battle I will paint the yellow mountain red with tulips by my sword. So come out now with me on this battlefield, and with the heavy mace demand your vengeance. You have many sons, O famous one, all of them girded and ready to fight me. Send one against me to war; if you want a fight, why do you delay? Then the champion Gudarz fell to thinking: which of my braves should go out to fight him? If I send one of the roaring lions among my heroes against this ill-omened man, and Human is killed on this battlefield, no one from the Turks will rise to seek revenge. Their champion's heart will twist with grief, and after that he will not press so fiercely for battle. His army will retreat to Mount Kanabad, and in the fighting our hand will grow weak. But if one of the famous men of my own ranks is lost, my name will be lost with him. My heroes' hearts will break in the fight, and after that they will not stand their ground anywhere. It is better that I do not join battle with him, but instead close off his path with an ambush. Perhaps they will grow reckless and seek the fight, and lead their army out from that narrow ground. So he answered Human: go on; you are hasty in speech and rash in action. The moment you opened your tongue before me, I understood your hidden thoughts from what you revealed. For none among the Turks has the wisdom to find peace of mind through his own good judgment. You know a raging lion, on the day of battle, never soils its claws by striking at a fox. And besides, when two armies are drawn up like this, all their swift horses standing with heads held high, and two men go out to fight in a feud, all the famous warriors gnaw their fingers in dismay. The whole army must move forward and strike blows in the thick of the press. So now go back to your own army; lift your neck proudly before your new commander. Tell them that I challenged the Iranians many times to combat, and no one came against me but a cold wind. On that battlefield your name will rise high, and all your wishes from Piran will be fulfilled. Human answered him in a loud voice: how much talk, and no deeds done? The world's ruler once spoke a wise saying that I recall here on this field of feud: if you will not seek the throne of kings, then do not seek it; and if you reach for fire, do not turn your face away. You have no real desire for war and combat; yet if you pick roses, no path is without thorns. You have not a single lionhearted man in Iran who will fight me in front of the army. You keep trying to send me away with clever tricks; but I will not fall for your deception, if I have any sense. All the battle-hungry warriors said to Gudarz: this is the right course, that you send one of us to the battlefield to face him and answer his challenge. He answered: today is not the right day to go and fight him. When Human turned back from Gudarz, having prevailed, he flared up like a bold lion. He laughed, turned his face from the commander, and rushed toward the army's sentries. He strung his bow and struck four of them down from their horses onto that meadow. When those sentries of the army saw from afar the blows of the proud descendant of Tur, they cleared his path and fled; they would not grapple with him in combat. He climbed the height like a man drunk with victory; his roar brought the mountain low. He whirled his spear around his head, crying that Human, son of Visa, was victorious. The blare of the brass horn rose across the plain as the spear spun on the height. In their joy the brave men of the Turanian army rubbed their helmets against the sphere of the moon. When Human returned in such triumph, Gudarz writhed at that insolence. The commander, full of shame, grew grim, gripped by anger and violent frustration. In shame before his warriors he broke into sweat; the commander launched an arrow to mark the spot. so that they would know it was the enemy who first drew blood, and that they had set the path to evil. After that he looked at his proud champions to see which of them would step forward to fight him.

Word reached Bijan that Human, fierce as a lion, had boldly come before your grandfather. When Bijan heard this, he flared up with rage; that lion-pawed hero was furious at his luck. He gave the order and they saddled the far-sighted grey horse for that elephant-bodied warrior. He put on his Roman armor for battle and tightly girded his night-black steed. Full of cunning schemes, he went to his father and spoke with him about his grandfather. He said to Giv: Father, I have told you everything, point by point. Gudarz's wits have failed him; can't you see how changed he is now? His heart is full of dread and his liver bleeds from grief and pain over so many sons. He saw their heads cut from their bodies, all of them fallen on that battlefield. The sign of it: a bold Turk came, lion-like among the brave. Spear in hand he rode up to my grandfather, roaring like a drunken man. It got so bad that in this famous army there was no rider left fit for war, whom he would not lift up on his spear the way a bird is skewered on a spit. You, my loving and wise father, sheathe my shoulders in the armor of Siyavash. No one but me should fight him, so that I may grind his manhood into dust. Giv said to him: My son, be wise; listen to my words from start to finish. I told you before, do not be rash, and do not speak ill of Gudarz. He is experienced and wiser than you; he is the chief of this renowned army. War-riders stand at the front, men who can tear an elephant apart on the field of vengeance. He ordered no one to fight this Turk. Has youth blinded you? That you raise your neck so high and gallop before me with such a wish. I do not agree to this venture; do not tell me such a tale again. Bijan replied: If you will not seek my desire, then you do not want my good name. I will go before the commander with belt tightened and set my hand to fighting Human at once. With that he spurred his horse and turned, riding swiftly toward Gudarz. In sorrow he came before him, full of praise, and told the whole story over again. He said: O champion of the world-ruling king, master of every task and worthy of the throne, I see one strange thing in you, even though my own wisdom is but little, that you have made a garden of this battlefield and emptied your heart of vengeance against the Turks. And stranger still: from the midst of the army, a single wretched, misguided Turk... He came, this man of wicked soul, though the God of goodness meant only good for him. God brought him out ahead of the army of Turan, so that he would be destroyed by your hand. The wolf has stepped into the trap; I do not know what you were thinking to yourself about this. You know that if his blood is spilled at once, Piran will not come to fight. Do not imagine he brought greater malice by leading his troops onto this plain. Look, I have washed my hand in blood; I have girded myself for battle with him. If my commander gives me leave, I will go against him like a roaring lion. Let the general now order Giv to bring the fine armor of Siyavush, and give me the helmet and the Roman mail, and loosen the knot of its fastenings. When Gudarz heard his words and saw his brave heart and clear mind, out of joy he blessed him warmly: May everlasting fortune never turn from you. Ever since you first mounted the leopard-skin saddle, the crocodile has rested from lashing and the lions from war. You enter every battle boldly; in every fight you are victorious like a lion. But consider carefully whether you can face him on the field, and only then seek combat. For Human is a vile, treacherous man; in combat and war he is like a demon. You are young, the sky has not yet turned fully over your head; you have no pity on your own life. Wait, and I will send a battle-tested lion against him, sweeping in like a storm cloud, who will rain arrows on him like hail, and pin the steel helmet to his very head. Bizhan said to him: O commander, a bold young man can still be skilled and worthy. If you saw me in the battle at Forud, then it is time to put me to the test again. In the fight at Pashan I trampled the ground; no one sees my back on the day of vengeance. My life is not worth living if my skill falls short of others'. And if you hold me back from this affair, telling me not to make a move against Human, I will complain to the king about the commander; after that I want neither belt nor helmet. Gudarz laughed and was gladdened by him, and stood tall like a free-growing cypress. He said: How lucky is Giv's star and fortune, that he sees a son as brave as you. Ever since you opened your grip for battle, even the leopard's claw fell helpless in the fight. Now I grant you this combat with Human; may your good fortune be your guide. If this demon's life is to end by your hand, then strive by the will of God. In the name of God, our world-ruler, and for the victory of our king and heroes. Now I will tell Giv to hand over that armor Bijan wants. If you defeat him, your honor will stand even higher with me. I will raise you above Farhad and Giv in rank, with treasure, an army, a throne, and a crown. He spoke these words to his grandson through his grandfather, the young man full of cunning and craft. He got down from his horse, kissed the ground, and called blessings on his father. Then the champion summoned Giv and spoke with him on behalf of the young man. He mentioned that royal coat of armor that Bijan wanted for the battle. The son answered his father: O champion of the whole world, my mind, my life, and my world are all one thing; his life is not so cheap in my eyes. Gudarz said to him: O kind one, you must think of him differently than this. For though Bijan is young and new, in every task wisdom leads the way for him. And besides, this is the place to seek vengeance, to cleanse the world of demons. In avenging Siyavash, by the king's command, one must not look to family bonds. Even if the clouds rained down steel swords, we must not hold our own lives dear. You should not break his spirit before battle, nor dress him in the garment of shame and disgrace. For when a young man takes up idleness, his spirit stays low and his soul grows dark. When he got such an answer there was no choice; he tested his son with one more trick. He said to Gudarz: O champion of the world, in a place where the fight risks one's very life, I already have work before me night and day; why should I give up my own life? I need no son, no treasure, no army, no respect for the commander or the king's command. If he wants to fight, where are his weapons? He has armor; what does he need to ask of me? The battle-ready youth said before his father: We have no need of your coat of mail. Do you believe that everywhere in this world men seek glory in your armor? As if without Siyavash's armor in war the proud warriors would not seek honor and renown. He spurred his horse out from the midst of the troops to come from the army to the battlefield. When he vanished from Gudarz's sight, Giv's heart flared up with grief for him. He regretted it, wept tears of blood from the pain in his heart; see what the sorrow and love for a child can be. He raised his head toward the sky, his heart full of blood, his liver wounded with pain. He said to the Creator: If you are the judge of the world, cast one glance toward this broken heart. Will you not let my heart burn for Bijan's life? For from the tears of my eyes to my heart I am sunk in mud. Give me your mercy once more, Creator, and turn the cruel days away from his life. The warrior came with a troubled heart, his heart full of blood for the young man who had gone. He told himself: I foolishly wounded him. Why did I not bring him what he asked? If harm comes to him at Human's hand, what use to me are armor, sword, and belt? I will be left full of regret, pain, and rage, my heart full of longing, my eyes full of tears. So from there, swift as blowing dust, he rode after his son to the field of battle. He said to him: why do you press us so, rushing with haste where patience is called for? The black serpent hisses so fiercely on the day of war that the crocodile rises from the deep sea. The moon shines bright only for as long as the blazing sun stays hidden. Now you hurry off toward Human, turning your head away from my command. You choose your own way like this, not knowing how the matter will turn out for you. Bijan said to him: brave father, do not turn my heart from vengeance for Siyavash. For Human is not made of bronze or iron, nor a raging elephant, nor a demon. He is one man of war, and I am a warrior; by your good fortune I will not turn my face from him. Unless what is written on my brow is otherwise, for fate lies in the hand of the world's judge. If what must be will be, it is right you not sink your heart in grief and gloom. When Giv heard the words of his bold son, girded for battle like a lion, he came down from his roan warhorse and handed Bijan the shield and armor of Siyavash. He said to him: if battle is your desire, then let your wish rule over reason. Mount this striding steed that will devour the earth beneath you. My weapons too will serve you well when you go to war against the demon. When Bijan saw his father's horse standing before him, he came down from his own like the wind. He mounted that royal steed, tightened his belt, and took the mace in his hand. He sought out an interpreter from the army, one who knew the speech of the Turks well. He came on like a raging lion, girded for vengeance for Siyavash. When Bijan reached Human, he saw a mountain sheathed in iron. The whole plain gleamed with his mail; an elephant seemed to move beneath that armor. Then he ordered the interpreter to shout out to that ill-willed man: If you seek battle, turn back this way, for Bijan comes looking to fight you. He says: you war-tried horseman, why do you gallop your horse about this meadow? Evil comes to you from Afrasiyab, and you deserve the curse of the land of Turan. You laid the foundation of this feud, you vicious man; of all the Turks, no one is more guilty than you. Rein in this swift racing camel of yours, for now your blood boils with hatred. Choose a place for battle and face me, whether on plain, valley, or mountain. And if you ride between the two armies, boasting for the sake of fame and rank, so that friend and foe alike may see you, where would your heart choose to stand now? When Human heard this, he said: Well done. You have tied the knot of my armor with your spite. Thanks to God, and to Him I take refuge, for bringing you before me to this field of war. I will send you back to your army in such a state that Giv will be left burning and grieving over you. I will part your head from your body before long, just as I have done to many brave men of your line. What use is this, now that night has come? Go now, protected by the dark of night. I will now return once to my army and at dawn draw near to my chief. And from there, roaring, with my head held high, I will come ready to fight you. Bijan answered him: Go then. May you be brought low, with Ahriman leading the way before you. May all your enemies be slain to the last man, or driven off as wanderers who fled the fight. When you come tomorrow to the battlefield, neither your king nor your army will see you again. I will part your head so far from your feet that afterward you will never think of your army again.

From that place they turned back and, as night fell, they left the field of battle. They returned to their own camps and rejoined their warriors. All night, even in sleep, they were troubled and unsettled, their hearts unable to bear the thought of the fight ahead. When dawn lifted its head above the mountains, the dark hem of night vanished. Human put on his battle armor and brought to Piran all that had passed. He said: I challenged Bijan, son of Giv, and all night I have made ready to fight him. He called a messenger from the army and set him on a fast, wind swift chestnut horse. He said: Go to Bijan and tell him to come quickly; if I arrive first, let him rush like smoke. The messenger went and told him: May wisdom be the companion of your pure soul. Commander Human came like dust on the wind to seek battle with Bijan. When Bijan heard, he came swiftly, already primed for the fight, along with the messenger. The saddle girth bound tight on his night black horse, he rode like a battling leopard, fierce and eager for war. His mail was knotted tight across his mighty chest, his head blazing beneath a royal helmet. He said to Human: You empty braggart, last night you carried off the day; remember that. But today I trust that this blade of mine will sever your head clean from your body, so that flowers spring from the earth watered by your blood. Take this old story to heart: The fierce mountain ram said to the deer: even if the whole plain turned to fine silk, once my foot has broken free of a snare, I will never wander that lush field again. Human answered: Today it is Giv whose liver will be left wounded, grieving over his brave son. You are in my grip like a pheasant that a falcon has carried up to the top of a cypress bough, screaming, blood dripping from both eyes, dragged in its talons, its blood a place of slaughter. Bijan said to him: How long will you keep talking? Where do you want to make your stand? Will you fight on Mount Kanabad, or shall we set the battle over toward Zibad, somewhere far off, where no rescuer can reach us, where neither Iran nor Turan comes to help? They spurred their horses, dust rose, and they set their war bows to the string. Two men bent on bloodshed lifted their heads to the moon, both fired with hatred for the king's sake. They galloped out from Mount Kanabad and drove their steeds toward the open plain. They rode until, across the land, they saw no trace of any human footprint, no vultures crossing the sky, no ground trodden by the paws of a lion, no friend or rescuer from the armies; all around them they saw no one at all. They made a pact that no one would suspect the herald of unfairness in reporting who prevailed. So that he might tell the king, both good and bad, the true turn of events in this fight. How each acted, how the battle went, and what suffering fell upon this field of blood. They spoke, then dismounted, and tightened the fastenings of their armor at the waist. The two warriors of battle drew their war horses close, hard as stone. When they had saddled their swift steeds, both heroes were full of rage, their hearts full of hate. They took up their bows as needed and charged into the narrow field. Wheeling left and right, reins turning, with spears and tempered blades. Their armor was torn to shreds; watch now to see whose day and fortune would turn. Their mouths hung open from the heat, and they longed for water and for rest. Then they rested and caught their breath, sprinkling moisture on that fierce fire. They raised their shields and sharp swords, and a cry rose up like doomsday. Like flashing lightning from a dark cloud, each blade struck sparks of fire. Iron met that tempered iron, yet neither blade bent under the blows. Like fire, the winged blades slipped from the hands of those brave men. They could not manage to draw blood, yet their hearts were not sated with the fight. After the swords they took up their maces, pushing the struggle beyond all measure. After that they set their task on this: to test their strength in open combat. In this way they sought honor and battle, each trying to throw the other from his saddle. Whoever had more strength would grip the belt, tear the other from his horse and cast him down in disgrace. From the heroes' force the stirrup straps snapped in the arena from the shock. Still neither was parted from his horse; neither could master the other. Then both dismounted from their horses and paused a while from the fight. The herald held their horses by the reins, while the two fighters roared like lions. In that weariness they rose again and readied themselves to wrestle. From dawn until the sun cast long shadows, two men of blood stood so, between fear and hope. They kept seeking combat with each other; neither turned his head aside from the feud. Mouths dry, bodies drenched in sweat from that toil and the burning of the sun. After that, by mutual consent, they went hurrying toward the water. Bijan drank and rose in pain, and gave thanks to God, the giver of good. His body trembled with pain like a willow in the wind, and his heart despaired of his sweet life. He said to God: Creator, you know what is hidden in me and what is plain. If you see justice in our fight, and in our seeking of this vengeance, do not cut off my strength today; keep my mind sharp and awake. Wounded to the liver, Human came on like a crow; his face went dark with pain, like a guttering lamp. Wounded as they were, they returned to battle, charging like leopards on the prowl. Each forced his weight against the other; now this one struck the ground, now that one. Human was stronger than Bijan, but skill turns to weakness when the sun turns away. They tested every kind of strength and grip, until the turning of the high heavens brought its chance. Bijan struck like a leopard; he reached out his claws from head to waist. He seized the neck with his left, the right thigh with his right, and bent that heavy giant's back. He lifted him off the ground and slammed him down, then, swift as the wind, went for his dagger. He drove it in and cut the head from the body, throwing him down like a slain dragon. Human rolled in the dust; the whole plain became, end to end, a river of blood. Bijan looked upon that mighty man, fallen like a tall cypress across a meadow. He was struck with deep wonder, and turning from him, he faced the Creator of the world. saying: You who are above all place and time, who give the soul its speech and the spirit its light, you alone are you; there is no ruler of the world but you, and reason cannot contend with this work. None of this feat is mine at all, for I had no courage to seek battle with an elephant of a man. In vengeance for Siyavash I cut off his head, for the seventy kinsmen slain, father and brother. May his soul be a slave to that soul; may his body be torn by the claws of lions. He tied the head to the saddle straps of his black horse and flung the body low into the dust. The armor was undone, the belt broken; the body lay in one place, the head in another. Time is nothing but deceit from end to end; in your hard hour it will bring you no rescue. Since the world's show does not match its deeds, it is not worthy to hand it your heart. When Human's ally saw this, he grew afraid, seeing what had befallen his chief. When the work of Human, son of Vise, was done, the interpreters of both armies came running. Full of praise, they came before Bijan, as Brahmins bow before the idol of China. Bijan told them: do not fear any harm; the pact stands as before, and he loosed the bond. Now go back to your own army, and tell them everything you saw of me. The translator went, and Bijan came running to the mountain of Kanabad, his bow strung and ready. When Bijan surveyed that battlefield, he saw no way out except straight through the army of Turan. He feared that among those crowds of soldiers, someone would recognize what had happened. They might rush at him in battle like a mountain, and one man alone could not stand against a whole host. So he stripped off Siyavash's mail from himself and put on Human's coat of armor instead. He mounted that elephant-bodied warhorse, the banner of the great chiefs in his hand. He rode off and blessed that plain, blessing his wakeful fortune and that blessed ground. When the army's lookouts saw from afar the banner and emblem of the commander from the line of Tur, seeing them, they rose from their watchtower and raised their voices in shouts of joy. A scout sent a swift camel racing off, quick as smoke, toward Piran, to say that Human, victorious for the king, came galloping back from the heart of the fight, the banner of Iran's commander overturned, his body left drowning in the dust, the whole Iranian army in an uproar, and the commander listening for word of Human. When Bijan, between the two facing armies, reached that place beneath the crown and throne, at that moment the translator reached Turan and told the ill-boding suspicions of what he had seen. Just then the news reached Piran that the royal splendor had gone dark. Swiftly, in the midst of the army, Bijan flipped that black banner upside down. When the lookouts of the Iranian army saw that black banner overturned, they turned their faces toward their commander and raised a great cry from the watchtower. From there a scout launched a swift, camel-like courier toward the commander, to say that Bijan had come back victorious like a lion, having brought the black banner low. Giv, meanwhile, had grown frantic like a madman, crying out and running in every direction, searching for news of that hero-son, turning a time of feasting into mourning. When word of Bijan reached him, he set off at once, galloping toward his son. When his eyes fell on that beloved face, he came down from his horse as was fitting. He rolled in the dust and pressed his head to the ground, calling out praise to the just God. He clasped his son to his chest once more, the brave, young, and wise one. And from there, giving thanks, they set out at a gallop toward the king's commander. When they saw the commander from afar, the grandson of Tur's line came down from his horse. His weapons soaked in blood, his head covered in dust, Human's severed head tied to his saddle-straps. Bizhan rushed to his grandfather like smoke, and kept remembering where he had just been. He gathered Human's weapons, his head, and his horse, and carried them to the commander Gudarz. The champion was so overjoyed with Bizhan that he seemed ready to pour out his very soul. Then he gave praise to the Creator, and to that star and his wakeful fortune. The champion then ordered his treasurer: bring a crown along with royal garments, woven with jewels, figured on a ground of gold, the crown and belt glittering like the sun. They brought ten horses with golden bridles, ten servants lovely as fairies, in golden belts. He gave them to him and said: since the days of Sam the lion, no one has ever brought a dragon down like this. You have opened the way to victory for the army in this war, and shattered the heart of the king of the Turks. The whole army of the king of Iran was like lions, roaring, charging, their swift steeds beneath them. But Piran's grief turned to fury, his heart worn by pain, his eyes brimming with tears. He then sent a messenger to Nastihan: O renowned warrior, my champion who comes to aid, it is fitting that you strike hard and fierce in battle, and waste no time in avenging your brother. Launch a night raid upon the Iranians, and make the earth run with blood like the Oxus. Take ten thousand seasoned horsemen, girded for vengeance and for war. So that you may avenge your Human, and crush the heads of the enemies in your jaws. When you have drawn near the army, send part of the force toward Human's place. Nastihan replied: I will do it so that I make the earth run like the Oxus with blood.

When two-thirds of the dark night had passed, the plain came alive with the surge of riders. The Turks launched their charge, and in that charge they held their heads high with pride. When Nastihan led that vengeful army close to the Iranian ranks, he reached the spot at dawn, just as the lookout spotted him from his watchtower. As soon as the scouts got wind of it, they hurried swiftly to Gudarz, saying: An army has come like a moving mountain, so silent you would think they had no tongues. It moves the way a night raid does; the commander knows well what that means. Then the chief ordered his troops: Stay awake and keep your wits clear. At that hour he summoned Bijan, son of Giv, along with the brave, sword-wielding warriors. He told him: Your star is bright and your will succeeds; the enemy's heart is already broken by your name. Take whoever you need of my champions, of these renowned men of mine. Face this charge like a lion; drive their army down with your valor. Bijan picked from the army a thousand bold, battle-hungry riders. Then the two forces closed on each other, both full of hatred and ready for war. They all drew their maces clean out, and a cloud rose above the dark earth. A black cloud came down from the mountain and hid the Turanian army from sight. When the commander saw the dark dust that made the Turks vanish from view, he ordered the bows to be strung; a roar went up from the great and the small. When Bijan reached Nastihan, he saw the banner at the head of the house of Vis. The sky turned entirely the color of rust, and the ground became like a sea of blood. Two-thirds of the Turks lay fallen face-down, drowned in blood beneath the hooves of the horses. An arrow, loosed from the string, struck Nastihan's horse and reached Bijan too. The swift steed fell forward from the pain; the warrior Bijan reached him. He struck a mace on the head of the helmeted man; his skull was emptied, and the tide turned. Bijan spoke thus to the Iranians: Whoever girds his belt for battle and takes anything but mace and sword in hand, I will smash a bow flat over his head. For the Turks are fair to look at, like fairies, but in war they have no skill at all. The champions took heart, and the sword-bearing troops pressed forward. Across the whole plain, like elephants, they toppled one another, heads torn from bodies. From that battlefield all the way to the Turanian army, they gave chase, storming along the road. When Piran did not see his brother among the troops, the world turned black before his eyes. He told the scouts: Let a fast camel-rider gallop from this battlefield to the field, to bring me some trace of Nastihan, or else I will tear both eyes from my head. They sent a camel-rider out then; he went, he saw, and came back storming. He said: There on that battlefield lies Nastihan, along with the famous men of Turan, his head cut off, his body toppled like an elephant, wounded by the mace and bruised the color of indigo. When Piran heard this he boiled over; at that moment the commander lost his senses. He tore at his hair and shed tears; food, rest, and sleep all left him. He struck himself and ripped his fine Byzantine robe, and burst into loud, wailing sobs. He kept saying: O Creator of the world, surely I have done some hidden wrong against you, for the strength has gone from my arms, and my star and my sun have gone this dark. Alas for that lion-slayer, that seizer of the field, that brave young man, that skilled rider, my dear brother, my world-protector, chief of the house of Vis, my hero Human, and Nastihan, that raging lion in battle, before whose fighting even a leopard was a fox. Whom can I find now on this battlefield? I must lead the army into war. He sounded the brass trumpet and struck the war-drum; the sky turned indigo, the earth turned ebony. The army poured out from Mount Kanabad; the light of sun and moon was dimmed. The Iranian commander blew the horn, brought his army in, and took his position. In the midst of the army stood the Kaviani banner, and before it flashed violet-tinged blades, all the renowned warriors, spoiling for a fight, with spears and ox-headed maces. At dawn the army came in and fought until the world turned black. After that they returned to their camps; this one to his tent, that one to his pavilion. The Iranian commander reached Zibad, and his heart welled up with worried thought. He kept saying: Today we fought a heavy battle and killed their chieftains. I suspect that Piran will now send a camel-rider galloping to the king of the Turks, and will ask him for troops to help in the war; so now I will send word to the king myself.

He read the letter to the scribe and said: I will bring the hidden secrets out into the open. But if you loosen your tongue and let it slip, that tongue will bring disaster upon your head. He ordered a letter written to the king, to inform him of the state of the army. He laid out for Khosrow all that had happened, every word that Piran had spoken to him. How Giv had been sent, the bonds of kinship and affection, and the workings of the turning heavens. And the answer that the nobles and the brave wise men had given to Giv. And the army that Giv, fierce as a leopard, had brought to Kanabad for battle. How after that they set the field of war, and cleared their hearts of everything but the fight. He recalled in the letter, one by one, the warlike Human and Nastihan. And Bizhan's deeds, how on the day of battle he dealt with those mace-wielding Turanians. When he had told the whole story from start to finish, all the clashes and the war that had passed, he then turned to Afrasiab, who had come with his army near the water. If he leads his troops across the banks of the Jayhun and sends his army onto the road to Iran, you know we cannot stand against him, O blessed lord of the world. Unless Khosrow himself comes to back the army and sets the crown upon his servants' heads. And if Piran should make the first move and ask his own king for reinforcements, then word will reach Khosrow of what he plans to do, and by your fortune we will find the way, my lord. And another thing: of Rostam who binds demons, of Lohrasb and of the shrewd Ashkash, may the victorious king send word of their deeds to this humble servant. When he had sealed and bound the letter, he ordered it carried on a swift mount. They prepared a royal seat and led out many fast steeds. He ordered Hojir to come before him, a young man who acted with the wisdom of an elder. The champion told the whole matter, word for word, before that wise young son. He said to him: O son of sharp mind, set your heart quick and keen upon this task. If ever you sought high standing with me, now is the time to prove it. As soon as you take this letter, go at once, swift as the roaring wind. Do not rest by night or day, do not pause to scratch your head; carry my letter to the king. In farewell he took him into his arms, and Hojir left the presence of his noble father. He called two men of the army to his side and quickly mounted them on swift horses. He set out from his father's royal tent, taking a fresh camel-mount at every stage. Their food, sleep, and rest were all in the saddle, whether in the dark of night or the blazing sun. In this way they pressed on down the road and within a week they neared the king. When the rider came along the road of Iran, someone brought word to the renowned Khosrow. He sent Shammakh out to meet him, along with a host of bold and fearless warriors. When he saw Hojir's face, he asked him: O lion-hearted son of a champion, at least is all well, that you have come so suddenly to the king of the world? He ordered the curtain drawn aside and let him ride his horse straight through the gate. When Hojir entered and Khosrow looked at him, he rubbed his face on the ground before him. The king asked him many questions and seated him, and blessed Hojir a thousand times over. The king set a jeweled turquoise crown upon his head, gleaming like the shining moon. The king asked after Gudarz and the leaders of the army, one by one about each of them. Hojir delivered the nobles' greetings to Khosrow and recounted to him all the army's affairs. Then the young man, wise and bright of soul, handed him the champion's letter. They seated the scribe before them and ordered the letter to be read aloud. When the scribe had read the letter to Khosrow, the king filled Hojir's mouth with shining rubies, and after that he told the treasurer: bring gold coins and brocade from the vaults. When he heard the command, the treasurer brought a purse and poured until its top was buried out of sight. Then he brought a robe of gold thread, such as befits the royal court. Likewise they brought before Hojir ten fine horses with saddles of gold. He also gave robes of honor to Hojir's companions, and handed out silver, gold, and every kind of gift. After that, when they rose from their places, they set up the seats for a feast. Hojir and the nobles devoted to Khosrow all took cups of wine in their hands. They sat together for a day and a night, while Khosrow weighed his plans, great and small. At dawn Khosrow washed his head and body and came first before the Judge of the world. He put on fresh garments of servitude, his two eyes raining like a cloud. With bent back and bowed head, he offered praise to the just God. He asked Him for victory and glory, and sought from Him the crown and throne of kingship. He lamented to God about Afrasiab, and in his pain the tears poured down from both eyes. Then he rose from there, tall as a straight cypress, and took his place upon the throne of the king of kings.

He called the wise scribe to his side and spoke with him about all that had to be said. The scribe wrote a swift reply to that letter, laying out in it both the good and the bad. First he praised the Creator, from whom he had seen both the good and the ill of his days. Then he praised the champion: May you live forever, with a shining soul. Blessed commander of great intelligence, all wisdom and counsel, all fire and fight. Lord of the mace and the gleaming sword, raiser of the royal Kaviani banner. Thanks to our God, ruler of the world, that our warriors have come out victorious. Fortune showed you its light and suddenly raised smoke from the enemy's ruin. First, about what you said regarding Giv, among the great and wise and brave ones: I sent him to Piran, and how much advice I gave him. After that he did not accept my counsel; in this matter he sought no bond with me. The commander told a tale about this, of how a former minister took his revenge: That every chief whose soul has been diminished dresses himself in good deeds only for an evil fate. I already knew this: that Piran's heart would never be free of spite. Yet because of his fair conduct, I did not seek out a fierce fight with him. Now the heavens have made it clear that Piran leans toward Turan out of love. Now, since he sees no one but Afrasiab, do not turn your heart from love for him. If he chooses desire over reason, then no matter how you try, grass will not grow from solid rock. If you speak kindly even to an enemy, that is fine; kind speech befits the noble. And another thing, about the battle of the warriors, where you struck with the heavy mace: About good fortune, the turning of sun and moon, and the effort shown on that field of war, this is certain to me: that by your deeds you will be victorious on the day of battle. What grandson has an ancestor like you, so that in war he carries such a magic touch? What is born of lions but a fierce lion, just as famous and bold as its kin? This work of yours does not rest on injustice; God is enough as your protector. Know your strength and courage as gifts from God, and give Him thanks as long as you live. Third, about what you said, that Afrasiab is moving his army across the water, a messenger was sent from Piran to him, and his army has turned its face toward Iran. It is exactly as you said, word for word; now we have laid the foundation of our reply. Know this, my thoughtful commander, worthy of my trust in every task. He lingered on the bank of the Oxus not because he means to come and fight us, but because the Khaqan is marching an army against him from China, and an ambush has closed in on him from two directions. And also because the chieftains, with their heavy forces, are scattered all across Turan, enemies have risen against him on every side; that is why he has drawn back to the bank of the Oxus. As for the fifth matter: you asked for news, and you have gladdened the hearts of the warriors with your love, men like Lohrasp, like the sharp-clawed Ashkash, like Rostam, the commander, a roaring crocodile. Know this, commander, and stay alert: in every task keep fortune at your side. On the side where Rostam the lion-hearted went, he raised the dust of war over Kashmir and Kabul. On the side where quick-witted Ashkash went, a great uproar rose up from Khwarazm. In the fighting Shideh turned away from him and set his face toward the city of Gorgan. On the side where Lohrasp advanced with his army, all the great lords opened the road before him. The lands of the Alans and the Ghuz were cleared, and that whole kingdom was subdued. If Afrasiyab takes to the road and marches his army from the Oxus toward us, our warriors will strike at his rear, and nothing but wind will remain in his grasp. Understand that his flourishing city, his homeland, his blessed foundations, if he listens to Piran's counsel, will not stand; he will hand them to the enemy and step forward to ruin. He will not so much as move his lips to tell a tale without news of it reaching me, day and night. May no day of peace ever come on which he leads his army across the river. If he strikes first against us in battle, no one will see a day as dark and narrow as that. I now command that the roaring commander Tus mount the war drums upon the elephant, that he seize Dehestan, Gorgan, and that whole territory, and lift his head to the sun. I will follow behind Tus, with elephant and throne, coming to support the rear of the army. Do not turn your face from battle with Piran; array your forces and seek vengeance on him. Once Human and Nastihan are cut off from his rear, only wind will remain in his grasp. If he asks to fight the champions of Iran, grant it, and do not turn away from that. When brave Piran seeks combat with you, do not be faint-hearted; face him like a lion. In fighting, have no fear of Afrasiyab; take heart and do not turn your face from him. When the war-seeker comes to battle, you must never turn your face from the fight. You will be victorious over them in war; take care not to let your heart shrink from this task. This is my hope from the Creator: that you will be triumphant in the fray. My belief is the same: that I too will come by the road and bring an army up behind your army. Over them you will have won your desire, and lifted your names up to the shining sun. The king sent abundant greetings to the army, from Kavus and from Tus. Khosrow sealed that letter with his ring, gave it to the messenger, and blessed him. When Hojir left the king's presence, the commander took counsel with his minister. Out of all the affection he had for the army, the king's whole intent was for battle. He said: if Afrasiyab's army stirs from its place and crosses the water, and tears my army from its position, then I must move. That is the plan. At once he summoned the king of the Nozar clan and ordered him to march the army swiftly. He led the troops toward Dehestan and spread his army across the whole plain of Khwarazm. He was the guardian of the army on the day of war, entering battle like a leopard. The war drums sounded from Tus's court, and the clamor of the brazen trumpet and the kettledrum rose. The army and its commander set out; the horses' hooves buried the earth from sight. You would think the shining sun had halted in its place, stopped by the terror of the riders. For two whole weeks the army marched on this way, and the light of the sun and moon grew dim. News spread across the land of the marching of the victorious king. When Tus left the court of Iran's king, the king quickly made ready to set out in haste. With ten thousand chosen chiefs, all of them famous and valiant men. He turned his face toward Gudarz, along with his renowned, battle-seeking warriors. With elephants, with kettledrums, and with royal glory, with the throne and the crown of kingship. Hojir came rushing from Khosrow's presence, striding proudly, laughing, his heart glad. With a robe of honor, with grace and joy, you would think he was folding up the earth beneath him. When he reached the royal tent, the trumpet's cry rang out. The chiefs came out to welcome him, one and all: the ground filled with iron, the air with gold. As though a dispute rose in the sky among the moon, Venus, and Jupiter. The army was arrayed bright as a rooster's eye, with golden bells, elephants, and drums. When he came before the renowned champion, he told all he had seen of the king of kings. He spoke of the king's kindness and his bond of loyalty, of his generosity and his counsel. How he had spread his love over the troops, and how his face had brightened at the message. Then he gave that letter of the king of the world to Gudarz, along with the greetings of the great ones. He heard the king's kind words to him, and pressed the letter to his eyes and face. When he broke its seal, he handed it to a reader, and the reader recited its words aloud to him. The commander praised the king, and in obedience kissed the ground. He stayed that night and took counsel with his son, then at dawn sat down and opened the gate. Early in the morning all the famous men of the army came forward, helmets set upon their heads. Then the fortunate Hajir brought the king's letter and laid it before the scribe. At once the scribe read the king's counsel and command from the letter before the whole army. The commander summoned the paymasters and set them at the treasury to hand out gold coins. Every herd of horses he had in the mountains he brought all together to the army's camp. The treasure of gold coins, swords, and belts, those costly coats of mail and helmets of gold, he handed all the keys to the paymasters, now that the time had come to prove one's name. He scattered that wealth among the army, and the horsemen and foot soldiers stood well equipped. A dense host as vast as a mountain, the ground worn out beneath their swift steeds. The heart of the roaring lion trembled in fear of them, all of them plunged in iron, gold, and silver. He ordered them to make ready for battle, to set their hearts and ears on drawing vengeance. The troops advanced before the commander, the crowded army rising like a mountain. The chief looked over them: he saw the earth gone dark and the sky pure blue. He said: since the wars of old, no one has drawn up a battlefield like this, with such horses, weapons, silver and gold, with war elephants and fierce lions of men. If the Creator of the world is our ally, we will not turn our reins back until we reach China. When he sat down, he called the wise ones and seated the famous men in celebration. He drank in joy, keeping his heart steady, and took counsel for war with the champions. News of this reached Piran: that the commander of Iran had laid such a foundation. That news filled his heart with dread, and he turned to schemes, traps, and deceit. Then from his blessed and wise counselor he sought a way to press his vengeance.

He ordered a scribe to write a letter to the noble champion. He opened the letter with high praise, placing him under God's shelter against the mighty demon. Then he said: I ask of the Creator of the world, in things seen and unseen, that the Lord of the world might lift this field of hatred from between the two armies. If you, Gudarz, wanted this, to fill the world with vengeance, your wish from this battlefield of hatred has been granted. Tell me, what will your ending be? Look how many of my brave men, my close kin, my lions, you have flung headless to the dust. You feel no shame or fear before God. You turned your face from love and wisdom; now you have found all that you sought. The time has come for you to tire of this hatred. How long will you be so bold in spilling blood? See how many riders of Iran and Turan have been destroyed in this war. To avenge a dead man who is already gone, how many heads of the living must be cut off? The time has come for mercy to reach you, for you to find rest by ending your vengeance. If you find better days again, do not sow the seed of hatred in the world. Do not torment your soul or ruin your body; hold yourself back from spilling blood. After death, a curse falls on the one whose evil name lingers on. You should not leave behind a name of infamy, even if that end brings you delight. Once black hair has turned white, little hope of living remains. I fear that if the army marches once more into battle on this field, you will see no one from either side left standing: souls gone, bodies fallen where they lay. After that, who can say who is the victor, who the ill-fated, and who the one who lights up the world? But if your aim is war, spilling blood, and grappling with me on this battlefield, that in this way you make lions fight, doing it all for the sake of the land of Iran, then say the word, and I will at once, in all haste, send a rider to Afrasiab, so that he may command me to divide the land, and then we can roll away this vengeance. Just as in the days of King Manuchehr, the world was kept in order by fair division, any city you set within the border of Iran, say the word, and we will clear it of the Turks. And of the settled and the ruined lands, every region and realm that just Kaykhosrow decreed, starting from Iran into the mountains, the Gharchegan region above the land of Bost, then Taleqan and its city as far as Faryab, likewise Balkh down to the river. Then there is Panjshir and Bamiyan too, the frontier of Iran and the seat of the kings. And Guzganan too, that blessed place, which they have named the master of the world. And from Mulyan all the way to Badakhshan, this is the mark of this kingdom. Lower down there is the plain of the Oxus and Zam, which stretches up to the city of Khatlan. And Shughnan, and Visagird beyond Termez, Bukhara and the town that lies around it. So too onward as far as Sughd, let no one dispute that kingdom. And on the side where Rostam went riding hard, I will hand him the land of Nimruz. From mountain and plain I will summon the army, and open a road toward the West. I will clear all this up to the borders of India, and after this we will not walk in darkness. From Kashmir, Kabul and Kandahar, all of that share will belong to you. And on the side where Lohrasp went to battle, I will hand him the Alans and the mountain passes. From this frontier stretching to Mount Qaf, we will give it to the king without war or boasting. And on the side where Ashkash went as well, I will now settle all the land, end to end. And once I have done all of this, from every side I will call my flocks back home. With an oath I will make a pact before you, that from now on I will bear you no ill will. You will know that we wanted honesty, that we adorned our hearts with love and loyalty. I will send word to the king of the Turks, telling him to turn his head away from spite. In the same way, with affection, write a letter to Khosrow and show your true face. In this way, out of a wish for love rather than war, my words with you are about the shedding of blood. Once we have set every pact straight, whatever Khosrow asked of me, I will send it all, every bit, to the king, so that perhaps he shuts the door of vengeance upon his army. And after we have done this too, sending hostages and giving over goods, I will bind together this love, this custom and faith, and with the hand of loyalty I will shut the eye of hatred. For in the time of the great king harmony was broken by the evil nature of Tur and the mighty Salm. Fereydun, who was left bewildered with grief when the renowned Iraj was slain. Ask of me in good faith whatever you need, and after that carry this letter to the king. The assembly must not, because of these kind words of mine, suspect any weakness in me. For I say all this only out of affection; in the end it is goodness that I seek. My treasure and my warriors are greater than yours, yet in valor your name stands ahead of mine. But to stir up this vengeance, to shed blood unjustly everywhere, My heart burns for the army; I will try to cut this hatred away. The third reason is that I fear the Creator of the world, both openly and in secret. The Just One does not approve of evil from us, nor will He let this chaos and cruelty pass unnoticed. If you turn away from my words and refuse to weigh my deeds deeply, if you call me guilty though I am innocent, and will not even look at what I say, since justice and injustice are one and the same to you, and your only aim is to spread hatred, then choose from the champions of Iran, from its chieftains, whoever wields the heavy mace, and likewise I will choose men from my own army, as many as needed for the fight. We will bring them together, one against another, and set the chiefs against each other in combat. In the same way, you and I on the battlefield will face each other, seeking revenge. Perhaps then the innocent will be spared bloodshed and find rest from the fighting. Whoever you count as guilty, and against whom your heart holds a grudge, I will bring him before you on the day of battle; but you too must make one promise: that if you win and shed our blood, if the fortune of the Turkish heroes is overturned, you will not harm my army in the least, nor burn my land and my dwelling, but let them pass through to Turan, and lay no ambush or trap for them. And if I become the victor over you, if a good star favors me, I will lay no ambush for the Iranians; we will hold no anger and seek no revenge. I will grant them the road toward Iran, and send each one back to their king. Not one of them will suffer loss; they will be safe in life and in property. But if you refuse to fight this way and want to do the matter differently, if you seek battle with the full host, throwing the whole army into war, then every drop of blood spilled in vengeance will hang around your neck in the next world. He sealed the letter shut and called his precious son. He had a son, foremost in the gathering, named Rooyeen, of brazen body. He told him: Go to Goodarz. Speak wisely and listen for his reply. When Rooyeen left the gate of the famous one, the messenger, with ten more riders, the wise one, bright of soul, came galloping to the pavilion of the champion. When Rooyeen, son of Piran, reached the court, someone ran to the commander of the army. The champion then summoned the messenger, and the young man came galloping in from behind the curtain. When he came and saw Gudarz, he crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head low. The commander sprang up and, swift as smoke, pulled him into a tight embrace. He asked about Piran and his army, about the warriors, the king, and his land. Then wise Ruyin brought the letter forward and delivered his message. The scribe came and read the letter at once, telling Gudarz all that was written in it. When they had read the letter to Gudarz, all the famous chiefs were left in wonder, at its sweet words and good counsel, and at the fine path toward alliance it laid out for him. They marveled at what wise Piran had recalled in the letter, and at the good advice he had given. Then the commander said to Ruyin: 'You, son of a chieftain, fortunate young man, first you must be our guest; only then should you seek the reply to this letter.' They set up a fresh pavilion and prepared a royal seat of honor. They adorned it with Roman silk, called for food and for musicians. The commander's heart grew full of thought; he wrote after consulting with the wise counselors. They composed the reply to the letter, choosing the finest words they could find. For a whole week Gudarz, with music and wine, kept putting off the answer to the letter. When from on high the world-lighting sun turned past its zenith at midday, the commander would set out wine, music, and a feast, and summon the messenger before him. When a week had passed, at dawn on the eighth day the king's chief called for the scribe. He ordered the reply to be written, and by it planted, once again, a fresh tree of enmity.

He began the letter with praise, then gave a full and correct reply. He wrote: I have read your letter from start to finish, and heard your rambling words point by point. Ruyin delivered your message to us, every single thing you named, one by one. But your conduct amazed me, along with all this smooth, flattering talk of yours. Your heart is no neighbor to your tongue; your soul has no substance drawn from wisdom. Everywhere you apply your sweet talk; that is how you bring out such ornamented speech. Anyone who has no wisdom at his core might mistake you for a kind and caring man. Like a salt flat that from a distance looks like water when the sun beats down on it. But this is no time for deceit and trickery; it is the hour of the mace, the sword, and the lasso. Between you and me there is nothing but hatred and battle; this is no time for replies or a day for talk. Watch now how the wheel of fate will turn; this is no place for deceit, bonds, or affection. To whom the Lord of the world will grant strength, to whom triumphant fortune will hand the light. Still, hear my answer to what you said: keep wisdom in mind, let fortune lead the way. First, what you said: out of love, and by God and the turning of doom itself, you do not want war to come upon you, that your heart had grown weary of this unjust affair. Your heart was no friend to your tongue at the moment you fastened those words to it. If there were justice within your heart, you would not have been the first to reach for blood. For from the very start of this business you were never slow to shed blood. The first who came before you was Giv, one of Iran's shrewd and valiant men, who had readied an army for war, roaring from one land to another. You were the one who reached first for war; you were the one who uprooted the troops from their place. If wisdom had come last and you had come first, in the end there would have been more peace. But an evil nature and an evil temperament will not let you walk the road of wisdom. Evil itself is bred into that lineage; doing evil suits that seed. You have heard what came to the fortunate Iraj from Tur, for the sake of crown and throne. When the land fell into the hands of Tur and Salm, they spread injustice and hatred everywhere. Fereydun, who from the pain in his heart, day and night, opened his lips to curse the two of them. That evil hatred passed on to Afrasiab, one of those famed men of little wisdom. From the start he nursed fresh hatred against Manuchehr, and likewise against Nozar and Kai Qobad. And what he did to Kavus, he did indeed: he raised dust from flourishing Iran. After that, to avenge Siavash, he cast this fresh and long feud upon us. Didn't it come back to you then, how he gave up his sweet life though he was innocent? How many great men were torn from their thrones and destroyed in Iran through this feud. And another thing you said: that no one girds himself to shed the blood of an old man. Know this, you world-worn deceiver, you who have seen the heights and depths of every affair: God granted me a long life, along with a proud and towering fortune, so that on the day of battle I might raise the dust of vengeance from the land of Turan up to the sun. I fear only this: that my God might tear the soul out of my body before I have carried out this vengeance, before I have trampled your land and soil beneath my feet. Third, you said you see no fear or awe of holy God in my heart. Don't you know that by this reckless bloodshed you have in the end brought yourself to ruin? Now, if because of these fine words of yours I were to turn back from fighting you, then when the Creator questions me about the turning of these days, he would say: I gave you leadership, treasure, and courage, strength and wisdom too. Why, then, did you not gird yourself before the people of Iran to avenge Siavash? For the seventy slain and my dear son, the just Judge will call me to account. What would I say in answer before the world's Creator, why I turned back from vengeance? The fourth point about Siavash, old commander, is the argument you laid before me: you said that for the sake of one who has already turned to dust, it is not right to take a living man's pure soul. But you should recognize these ugly deeds, this heart filled with every kind of grievance, the things you people did to the land of Iran, how many of its noble kings you have wronged. Breaking pacts, plotting hatred, always rushing toward evil. When I remember all this, how can I make peace, when you sowed nothing but evil in return for kindness? Fifth, you said you would make a treaty and hand over the chiefs of Turan as hostages, that we would send treasure to Khosrow and shut the road of suffering upon ourselves. Know this, guardian of the army of Turan: our orders from the king are otherwise. He commanded me to make war, to close in and shed blood in vengeance for Siavash. If I do not carry out Khosrow's command, my soul will feel shame in the next world. And if you hope that Khosrow, out of love, will show you a kind face for these words, then send the hostages and all the wealth there is, along with Lahhak and Ruyin, devoted to the king. Send word quickly to the king; the road to the land of Iran now lies open. The sixth thing you named was the land of Iran, a flourishing realm of noble stock. You said we would hand it all over to Khosrow, and I would gather my flocks around me from every side. But God has made you free of that need; if you do not know it, let me reveal the secret. From the west all the way to the border of the Khazars, the whole land has fallen entirely to Lohrasp. In the south, as far as Sind, the world has become like a face of shining silk. Mighty Rostam the brave, with his sharp sword, raised among them the breath of doomsday. Rostam sent the head of the Indian chief, with his black banner, to the king. Dehestan and Khwarazm and all that land where the Turks had risen up in revolt, he cleared the desert of them, then made ready to strike toward the west. Ashkash rained hail down upon Shideh and brought him close to death. He sent the captives and much of the spoils to Khosrow as well. And on this side, you and I are locked in battle, staking our honor and our name on this ground. In a single fight you have seen the full might of these famous warriors and valiant men. But if you will meet me face to face, I will free you from all this talk. By the power of God and the king's command, I will drown this battlefield in blood. You, renowned commander of the army, look at this turning of the sun and the moon, for the trap of the heavens has closed in, and the fortune of the Turks has come to its end. See what the Creator of the world will bring down upon your head for your evil deeds. Fate has withdrawn its skirt from evil; the punishment for evil appears as evil in return. Think clearly and open your ears; listen to the words of a wise man. Know that an army as renowned as this, a hundred thousand sword-wielding riders, all seekers of glory, all thirsting for revenge, will not be turned from this field by any spell. The seventh point has come: you cast your loyalty to the ground and made oaths worthless. I have no talk of pacts with you; wisdom will not let your soul buy such trust. For with everyone you make a pact, you break your faith in the end. By your oath Siyavash was thrown to the wind; let no one feel safe trusting your word. You were no help to him on his day of pain, though how often he called on you in his hardship. As for the eighth, you said the crown and throne, my manhood and fortune, are greater than mine; likewise I surpass you in warriors and treasure, but my heart is tormented for want of love. I think that by now you have surely tested me in battle. If you found me without skill on the day of war, then watch me now again. In the end you said: choose a few brave men from among the warriors for the fight. In the same way, I will bring from the Turkish army riders who kill men. But out of the love I bear my troops, I do not want to spread the injustice of vengeance. You step forward with kindness, though you know the hidden thoughts and purpose of your own heart. The world ruling king would be angered by me if I tore the two armies apart from each other. I accept what you proposed: choose a champion to face me on this field of vengeance. There is an army full of guilt before me, hearts filled with malice from their gathering. The king would not agree with me were I to turn away from them in this matter. First, in the crowded press, the whole group must be struck down with a blow like a mountain. Draw up two ranks between the two armies; if victory shows itself, so be it. But if not, we will bring these same famous men and set the ground for battle. If you break away from this proposal, I for my part will not withdraw from my word. And if you do not wish to meet me on the field with your army, then ask for troops and support from your commander, and guard your fight with care. The wounded scattered through your army, your close kinsmen and relations, leave them until the physicians heal them; now is your time to ask for a respite in this matter. If you want a delay from me, take it; and if you seek war, then prepare for war. I say this so that on the day of battle you cannot make excuses against us, claiming that you came upon us suddenly in war, that you set an ambush and struck without warning. If I hold to this vengeance for a hundred years, it stays the same, and it is the same even now. There is no hope of turning away from this hatred; for the blind, night and day are one and the same. When the reply to the letter was finished, the messenger came, swift as a fairy. Belt at his waist, mounted on a fast steed, with a few men riding around him. The brave Ruyin dismounted from his horse and led all the warriors before Gudarz. The commander ordered the priests and all the renowned wise men of the army to come quickly to the champion, wise and clear of soul. Then the champion ordered the reply to the letter to be read aloud before the warriors. The nobles, who listened to that heart pleasing letter, heard the words of the blessed scribe. They gave little weight to Piran's wisdom and counsel; they treated all his advice as trivial. They called down blessings on Gudarz and named him their chosen champion. Then he sealed the letter and handed it to Ruyin, of Piran's line, son of Viseh. When they rose from Gudarz's presence, he ordered robes of honor to be prepared: Arabian horses with golden bridles, crowns as well, and swords in golden sheaths. He gave his companions silver and gold, and to each, as fit him, a helmet and a belt. The champion left the court with his troops and made his way back toward his own army. When Ruyin reached Piran, he came before his father as was proper. He bowed his head low before the throne; the world-worn Piran took him in his arms. When he had delivered the message of the army's commander, he told all he had seen on that battlefield. Then the scribe read the letter aloud before him, and the face of the army's champion went dark as pitch. His heart filled with pain, his soul with dread; he knew he had come to a narrow, downhill pass. He chose patience and silence, and kept those words hidden from the troops. After that he spoke before the army: Gudarz's heart would not turn toward the path of peace. Because of the blood of his seventy chosen sons, his heart will not rest one moment from its grudge. If, over what is past, he means to stir up the old hatred all over again, then why should I not gird myself to avenge my brother, why not scratch open the head of this feud? Think too of the blood of nine hundred noble heads, cut from their bodies in the hour of battle, so that in all the land and soil of the Turks no rider like Human will ever gird his belt again, nor one like Nastihan, that shade-casting cypress, who has vanished from every gathering. Now we must gird ourselves for war; I will leave no land or home to the Iranians. By the power of God and my sharp sword, I will raise a day of resurrection among that host.

From the herds he quickly brought every worthy horse to the camp from all directions. He turned every foot soldier into a rider, and each rider had a spare horse for the battle. He opened up the old treasuries, setting his heart on handing out gold. When this was done, at sleeping hour he sent a swift messenger to Afrasiab. A messenger with the mind and judgment of an elder: eloquent, brave, a horseman and a scribe. He said: Go and tell the king of Turan's army, O just and glory-seeking king, that from the time the lofty wheel of heaven began turning above this dark and wretched earth, no king like you has ever sat upon the throne, nor has the name of kingship joined anyone else. None but you was fit for the throne, for the crown, the belt of rule, and fortune. The Lord of the world raises dust and ruin over anyone who faces you on the day of battle. I am a servant of yours, one who has sinned, one who has risked his life for your watchful care. The king grew angry with me over Kaykhosrow; beyond this I know no fault of my own. What happened was divine will; there is little use in saying much about it. If he still sees me guilty of this, let him set me free of it and return to the right path. Now I bring the king word of what fate has laid before his servant. I led the army to Mount Kanabad and blocked the road against the Iranians. From the other side came a mighty host, the commander Godarz and the chiefs with him. Since the days of King Manuchehr, no larger army has come from Iran into Turan. At Zibad they made a stronghold and settled their troops upon that mountain. For three days and three nights, like leopards, the two forces closed in face to face. We did not seek battle on that field of vengeance, hoping the enemy would come down to the plain. But their army did not come out, since the heads of our champions were brought low. The commander of Iran did not weary, and he never brought his troops down from the mountain to the plain. My brother Human, that world-conqueror, boiled with vengeance against this gathering. He went into the Iranian army seeking combat; I do not know what befell that lion-man. The son of Giv came to take his revenge and circled around brave Human. He was killed at the hand of one like Bizhan; my head is worn away with grief for him. Who ever imagined that a tall cypress could be harmed in the garden by mere grass? The hearts of all the champions were broken, and every joy was laid low by sorrow. Then again there was the famed Nastihan, with ten thousand seasoned riders. He set out from me at dawn, and that same Bizhan cut off his head at once. In heartbreak I drew up my army and marched, crying out, to the battlefield. We fought a battle, all bound together, one against another, until night rose over the mountain. About nine hundred of the king's champions had their heads severed from their bodies on this field. Two thirds of the warriors of this host had their hearts wounded by the sword's grief. The Iranians gained the upper hand over us, all girded tightly for vengeance. I fear that the turning heaven means to cut its love from us entirely. After that I heard grim news that left me utterly bewildered: that Kaykhosrow is coming with an army to back the commander here on this battlefield. If this report proves true, that Khosrow is marching toward us, the king should know that I, with my army, cannot go out to face him seeking vengeance. Perhaps the king himself, with a vengeful army, should turn toward Iran to settle this feud, and turn this evil away from the people of Turan, girding his belt for vengeance, for if harm should come to our lives from the Iranian army, there will be no one left to avenge it. When the messenger heard what Piran had said, he rushed off like a roaring wind. He mounted a swift bay horse, a tall camel-like steed, fast as fire. He went straight to Afrasiab, taking no breath, no rest, no sleep on the road. He came before the king like the wind, kissed the throne, and delivered his message. When the king heard Piran's grievous words, his heart filled with blood and his face turned pale. Wounded in heart by the death of the slain, he fixed his mind steadily on that grief. And also because of the enemies harrying his army, his realm laid waste, its people in flight, as leopards clawed at him from every side, and the world grew dark and narrow around him. When he heard Piran's words like this, he saw his whole army holding its ground.

At dawn, when he set the crown upon his head, he at once had the messenger brought in. He ordered him to return to his place, back to the renowned servant and steward of the realm. He gave this answer: Tell him, you kind man, good of heart and true of speech, from the day your pure mother bore you, you have stood proud in every gathering. You hold the highest standing at my side; you rank above all my champions in honor. Always you have been armor before me, making your soul a shield and your body a sacrifice. In every task you spent your own treasure, and chose to suffer hardship for my sake. You led an army from China to Iran; you darkened the heart and fortune of the enemy. No army will ever see a commander like you, nor will any so clear-headed gird for battle. Though it turn to affection, the sky will never bring forth from Tur and Pashang a champion like you. First, as for what you said, that among the people you hold yourself guilty, because Kaykhosrow came from Turan to Iran and spread this feud against us, I, who am king, have not been wounded by this; I have never let such a thought enter my heart. You should not be so grieved by this; do not let sorrow rust your heart. For what happened was ordained by the Creator; no one taught this evil into being. Kaykhosrow does not draw his splendor from me; call him no grandson of mine, for that is false. I am likewise no grandfather to him; I seek no alchemy of profit from such talk. In this affair no one is to blame; I hold no quarrel with the Lord of the world. So it was, and this was a thing destined to be; why should my heart hold any grievance against you? And next, as for what you said about the state of the army, and the turning of the dark sun and moon, the way of war is always like this: from every side this dark dust wheels about. Sometimes it lifts your head up to the sun; sometimes it brings you down from the sun. The high heaven does not turn all one way; at times it makes glad, at times it grieves. At times with wine and music and minstrels; at times with sorrow, sighing, and grief. Do not let this pain wound your heart; do not bind your soul to this trouble. The dead have fallen silent into sleep; do not turn your face from avenging your brother. A heart clawed by grief for a brother finds no cure in the healers' treatment. Third, as for what you said, that at dawn Khosrow will come to battle with his army, may no one's eye ever see the day when he strikes the first blow in this business, for I myself am resolved to march an army from here across the far side of the Oxus. I will leave neither Gudarz, nor Khosrow, nor Tus, nor throne, nor crown, nor horn, nor war-drum. I will drive such an army into Iran that afterward no one will see crown or throne there. I will not leave this world to Kaykhosrow; I will fall upon him suddenly and end him. I will cut off his head with the sword in such a way that his army and his country will weep for him, unless the heavens turn matters another way through the wheeling of fate. You, proud man who has seen the world, God has left you in need of nothing. Warriors, treasure, and strength of arm: whatever you require is a divine gift already yours. A renowned army, ten thousand strong, brave, wise, valiant horsemen, I now send to you, to brighten your darkened soul. Set ten of the Iranians against one of these; ten of their riders will seem few beside one of ours. When the army reaches you, do not linger; tear Gudarz's head and crown from their place. That mountain he has turned into a fortress, bring it down under the hooves of your war-horses. Do not hold your hand from shedding their blood; you will be victorious in the fight. Leave none of them alive on earth, for many of them will come against you. The messenger heard the king's message and came before the commander of the army. He came forward like a worshiper, bowed low as a jasmine branch bent under its blossoms. He delivered the king's message to Piran, and word of those renowned warriors of the army. When Piran heard, he summoned the troops, as the messenger repeated these words. He gave heart to all the soldiers together: Be free of sorrow, take courage. But secretly his soul was full of pain, his heart full of blood, his fortune turned away. For on every side he saw the king's army dwindling in the battle. His heart was also grieved over King Khosrow; he feared he would come to war one by one against them. He said to God: O Creator, how much wonder there is in this age of ours. Whom you raise up is never cast down; there is no ruler and sustainer but you. Look at Khosrow: who but the Creator knew that a king would rise from him? Consider the work of this turning age, upon the one it has made its own portion: it brings a fresh rose from a dry thorn; with waking fortune it turns dust into musk. Stranger still, out of greed a man forever keeps his own heart in pain. Between grandfather and grandson, two kings, I do not know why this ground of feud must be. Two kings and two lands so bent on war, two armies faced off against each other. What can you say of how this battle ends, whom the turning of fate will raise up? Then he cried out bitterly to God: O bright and just Creator, if Afrasiab in this ground of feud, along with the renowned lords of Turan's army, is to be slain on this battlefield, and our good fortune is to be undone, and when Kaykhosrow comes from Iran for vengeance the whole land returns to him, then let it be right that, wounded in my armor, the Creator draws my soul out of my body. May my seeing eye never behold anyone taking over my way and my custom; for the one whose fortune does not turn to his wish, his life and his death are all one. After that, from the Iranian army the trumpets rose, the blast of horns and Indian bells.

A roar rose from both armies, and the earth boiled beneath the horses' hooves. Troops poured in from every side, until armor covered the whole plain and mountains. The two commanders, each like a leopard, led their forces into the fight. Like rain from a black cloud, arrows poured down on that battlefield. The world turned dark as night beneath the murky fog, like a cloud whose rain was arrows and blades. The horses' hooves turned the ground to iron, and the heroes' hands were stained red with blood. So many Turks lay wounded on that field, their severed heads scattered across the road. No room was left on the field to turn, no path was left for a horse to pass through. The ground turned tulip red, the air turned indigo, and a sea of blood swelled up in waves. The two commanders said: if we keep our heroes fighting on this field of hatred like this, no one will be left alive by dark of night, save the turning heavens and the God of the world. When Piran saw the state of the battle, he gave orders to Lahhak and Farshidvard: Of all the army under your command, pick out whoever is fit for this battlefield. Divide the leaders into three groups to press the fight for vengeance on this field. Of them, choose the ones most alert, best able to guard the army from the enemy. Hand the rear of the army over to them, while you two take the roads on both flanks. He ordered Lahhak to lead his whole force toward the mountain, and likewise Farshidvard toward the river, to raise dust up to the sun. When those famed men of the Turanian army broke off from that vengeful host, a swift rider was sent to the lookout, from that watchtower to the champion himself. The watchman, Gudarz, with his army was keeping guard on every side against the enemy. From two flanks Lahhak and Farshidvard sprang from ambush and stirred up the dust. The riders of Iran clashed with them, mixing the dust with blood. Swift messengers rushed off in every direction to alert the champion. Gudarz looked to see who guarded his rear among his battle-hungry heroes. His dear son, Hajir, a raging lion, stood at his father's back with sword and arrow. He ordered him to go to the rear of the army, to Giv son of Gudarz, the shelter of the host, and tell him to send troops, group after group, to reinforce the river and the mountain. And he ordered another word for Giv: that he should pick a brave man for the army's rear, choose him and hand over his own post to him, then advance forward from that place. Wise Hojir, ready and girded for war, heard the words of his noble father. He ran to his brother and repeated everything the commander had said. When Giv heard these words he flared up with anger, and chose a famous warrior from the army. His name was Farhad the brave; Giv summoned him and handed the whole force over to him. Two hundred battle-tested, daring chiefs; then he ordered Zangeh of Shavaran to make a charge toward Farshidvard, and raise dust from the river and the water itself. He gave two hundred horsemen, with a banner swift as the wind, to blessed Gorgin, son of Milad. He told him: turn your reins from here, with your mace and your tempered spear-point. Now we must ride to that battlefield and turn the world dark against them. For the backbone of their army has been broken, and the hearts of their champions are low with pain. To Bizhan he said this: brave lion of a man, you are the tearing lion on the day of war. Now your lion-heart will be needed, when you must wage battle with the enemy. Ride from here to the center of the army, to Piran, that vengeful one, in his place. Do not shy from them; press your body forward, for the hour of vengeance has come in battle. For all of Turan's city leans on him; when it sees your face, its skin will split with dread. If you can lay hands on him, the deed is done; the Lord of the world and good fortune will stand with you. The army will rest from hardship and toil, and the world-ruler and the king will rejoice. The back of Afrasiab will be broken; his heart will fill with blood and his two eyes with tears. The commander said this to his son, and the son girded himself tightly for the fight. He ordered all the horsemen on the left flank to be summoned, every one of them. Garazeh came out, and Gostaham, and Hojir the general and Bizhan together. From there toward the heart of the Turanian army these noble men set out on their way. Like wolves on a day of hunting, mounted on those swift-footed, gelded steeds, they charged into the midst of the army and emptied their hearts of vengeance. The whole plain of armored riders was scattered across the field of war. So many lay fallen under the hooves of horses, their shrouds their coats of mail, their chests like a wild lion's. When Ruyin, son of Piran, saw from the rear of the army that turmoil and that black dust, he came to the rear of the great host with his famous men, like a wolf. He clashed like a raging leopard; he struggled, yet could not prevail in the fight. He let the Indian sword fall from his fist, and in despair he turned his back on the battle. The commander Piran and his own warriors stepped forward into the heart of the battle. When Giv caught sight of Piran at that moment, he turned his reins toward him, ready to fight. Four of the noble lords who rode before Piran he easily hurled from their horses with his spear. Piran, son of Visa, strung his bow and rained arrows down on his malicious foe. The mighty Giv raised his shield above his head and charged in with his spear like a wolf. When he set his aim on the commander Piran, meaning to seek single combat with him, his horse froze suddenly in place; it would not put one foot forward from where it stood. The famed hero, in his anger, brought a whip down hard upon that once swift-footed steed. He boiled over and let loose his tongue, cursing the cruel, wretched creature. He threw down his spear and took up his bow, lifting a rhino-hide shield over his head. He strung the bow and drew it wide, meaning to pin Piran's hand fast to his shield. He struck four willow-shafted arrows at his head, but the arrows did no more than strike solid rock. Likewise Giv shot three shafts at the rider's horse, iron heads that could pierce through anything. Neither the horse was wounded nor the brave Piran, and at that point Giv's comrades reached the spot. When Piran saw this, he turned back at once, and Giv rushed after him, racing like smoke. Then Giv's son came up to him and said: 'O renowned and blessed father, I have heard this from the king himself, that Piran will fight in many battles yet. From the claws of many sharp-clawed dragons he will escape on his day of hardship. In the end his life will be taken by Gudarz's hand; so, father, do not wear yourself out over this.' Then Giv's comrades came up behind, brave riders full of wrath and vengeance. When Piran saw this, he swiftly turned and set his face toward his own army. Crying out, full of pain, his face gone pale, he went to Lahhak and Farshidvard. He came and said: 'O my renowned ones, my brave men, my wielders of the dagger, it was for a day like this that I raised you, holding you close and rearing you. Now that the army has entered the fight, the enemy has turned the world dark upon us. I see no one who, for the sake of honor and pride, will step to the front of the army to fight.' When Piran's words reached them, the hearts of those famed men flared with vengeance. They set out and said: 'If our pure souls leave our bodies, we have no fear or dread. We will bind our skirts to one another; there is no undoing our belts from this feud.' Lahhak and Farshidvard went toward Giv and sought out combat with him. The brave Lahhak charged at Giv and drove a spear into his waist. He tried to lift him off the saddle, to fling him headlong to the ground. The spear tore through the armor with its force, yet Giv's foot never slipped from the stirrup. Then Giv thrust his spear at Lahhak's horse, and the swift steed collapsed onto its face in pain. Lahhak was left standing, thrown from his mount, and Farshidvard came riding up from afar. He swung a sword like the wind at Giv's spear, cut it clean through, and turned away pleased. When Giv saw the wound that blow had left, he drew a heavy mace from his side. He struck like a sharp-breathing dragon, so hard that the dagger flew from Farshidvard's hand. Quickly he landed another blow on his neck, so fierce that fire seemed to rain upon his body. Blood surged up from his liver to his mouth; his body went limp and his head reeled with faintness. While Giv was busy with this, Lahhak swiftly mounted a wind-footed horse, fast as smoke. With mace and spear, like two lions, both warriors charged at Giv. How much those bold chieftains' hands rained heavy maces down upon him! But the rider sat firm in his poplar-wood saddle; no weariness of battle overcame him. When Lahhak and Farshidvard saw such steadfastness in that lion of a man, in sheer fury they said to each other, 'What has fate done to us?' 'On this saddle sits a mountain of iron; nothing but a lion could tear his skin.' Then Giv called for a spear from his comrades and wheeled about on every side, left and right. He struck terror into them from both flanks, yet neither of the two bent his head low. He said to himself, 'A strange trial has come upon me from these battle-hungry warriors.' 'These are not chieftains from the land of the Turks; these are demons out of Mazandaran.' Toward the right, Garaza came like dust to grapple with Farshidvard. In his grip a silver-shafted column of steel, and beneath him a steed like a camel of war. When Garaza let his hand fly like the wind, that steel-riveted helmet rose to the saddle's height. He drove a spear against Farshidvard's belt, but the armor held and its links did not break. Bizhan, a sword in his fist, brave as a lion, came in behind Garaza. He struck at Farshidvard's head and helmet; the Turk was hurled to the ground from the fight. He reached out his hand for his horse and climbed on, but what he hoped for was not to be. Then Bizhan and the charging Gostaham, together with the famed heroes of Iran, closed in upon the army of Turan, their hearts wounded and thirsting for revenge. From Turan, Andariman came like a cloud of dust, rushing forward to the field of battle. He brought his mace down hard on Gostaham, meaning to split his waist in two. Gostaham met it with his blade and cut it clean in half, yet his heart was flooded with fear. Hojir came up behind the champions and rained arrows down on Andariman. His shaft tore through the horse's armor, and in that moment the mount fell lifeless. The rider dismounted from his steed, raised his shield overhead and readied himself for the fight. A great cry went up from all the Turks, and their horsemen charged in like demons. With cunning they pulled him from the battleground, dragging him back before the army's front. The commander Piran came from the general's post and set the center of his army in order. From dawn until night rose over the mountains, the horsemen of Iran and Turan clashed in their ranks. They stirred up the dust of vengeance, and mixed the earth with blood. The horses and men had all lost their senses, their mouths dry, their bodies drained of strength and vigor. When the face of the earth turned the color of ebony, the horns and war drums sounded from both armies. The drummers upon the backs of the elephants signaled the retreat from that battlefield at last. Both armies agreed on this: that at night they would withdraw from the field. At dawn they would pick out their bravest men, those who could raise dust from the depths of the sea. All the renowned, battle-hungry warriors would face one another, one on one. That way the army would be spared, and no innocent blood would be spilled. They made a pact and turned back, cutting short the long and bitter fight. Both commanders, aching with hatred, turned their faces away from the battle. One rode off toward Mount Kanabad, the other hurried swiftly toward Zibad. At once Gudarz, the king's commander, sent scouts out ahead of the army. Every armored man who was worn out, his hands and blade stained with blood, loosened the knots of all their gear: breastplate and helmet, casque and coat of mail. Once relieved of the weight of the iron, they sought food, and cups of wine were poured. To make their plans, they went to the champion, old and young alike, still alert. Then Giv said to Gudarz, 'Father, what an astonishing thing befell me.' 'When I charged into the army of Turan, I tore through their ranks and they opened a path.' 'I reached Piran, but my swift horse gave out; it faltered and would not step forward.' 'I was so desperate at my own plight that I thought I would never be my own ally again.' So Bijan kept the king's words in his memory, and at that moment he reminded me of them. That Piran would be destroyed by your hand: this the king had foretold from the stars. Gudarz said to him: 'My son, his fate rests in my hand without doubt. For the blood of my seventy chosen sons I will take vengeance on him, by the strength of the world's Creator.' After that he looked out over the army and saw every one of his chiefs worn down and weary, from the toil of battle and the spilling of blood, and grappling with the enemy at every turn. The commander's heart filled with grief when he saw the faces of his noble warriors gone pale. The fortunate commander and guide ordered them to withdraw to their camp, so that their weary bodies might rest from war and fighting. They went, and at dawn they returned, full of vengeance and ready for battle. They called out praise upon their leader: 'You, renowned champion of the earth, how was your sleep tonight, and how did you rise? What have you planned for the fight against the Turks?' Then the champion said to them: 'You, good men and blessed heroes, it is fitting that you praise the Creator of the world by day and by night, for until now, everything that has happened in this war has turned out as our hearts desired. I have met with many wonders; I have seen the world as nothing but a passing road. Whatever came to a king, whether justice or injustice, the same road leads there for good and for evil alike. The turning wheel of heaven planted many like us; where has it ever reaped a harvest to its own liking? First, when the unjust Zahhak lifted his head to kingship over the world, how long did he hold the world in hardship, and the world's Creator let all of it pass? By justice, which exposed his tyranny, that kingdom was swept away like wind in a breath. When the Just One would no longer endure his injustice, He set a just man over him. His reign went on for several years, then God cast down ruin upon that evil-minded one. Fereydun, the blessed and just king, girded himself for that kingship. He broke open every demonic chain and adorned the whole world with justice. Just as Zahhak, of evil nature and evil temper, whom kings held up in reproach, the same evil ways came from Afrasiab: the plundering, the killing, the slander. For he spread hatred through the land of Iran and turned away from the path of justice, custom, and faith. In the end he killed Siyavash and brought devastation upon Iran. And after that, when Giv rode out from Iran, how much hardship he endured there in Turan.' His bed was the bare earth, his pillow a stone; his food the meat of wild game, his clothing a leopard's skin. Lost and dazed like one out of his senses, he wandered, hoping to find some trace of Kaykhosrow there. One by one, as he drew near to Khosrow, whoever saw him offered him blessings. After that they turned their faces toward Iran; the news reached the war-hungry Piran. Swiftly he set out on the road with his army, meaning to destroy them both along the way. He did all the harm that lay within his power, but their sole protector was the Lord of the world. After that, to avenge Siyavash, the army took the road toward Kasa-rud. When the mighty host reached Lavan, there was Piran's night raid and the battle of Pashan. So many of my sons have been killed before me that the hearts of all the great men have turned to grief. Now with such a vengeful army he has come, meeting us face to face. Since he will not be a match for us alone, he means to fight with tricks and stratagems. He is scheming to bring a fresh army from Turan onto this battlefield. Now he is calling their chiefs to battle; one by one we must be quick and fierce of grip. For if we grow slack in this task, or if instead we do not strike first, he will find an excuse and turn back from the fight, dodging revenge, honor, and shame. If you stand together with me as one, though they are many and we are few, we will raise the dust of those renowned men at the very moment he prepares for war. But if Piran does not shift from this plan of his and sets his foot forward to fight, I accept the pledge among you, each and all, that I will be the first to gird my belt for this vengeance. With an old man's head I come to this battlefield; I will give my body up to be killed before the army. I and brave Piran, and Ruyin, and Giv, one by one we will play the part of warrior men, for no one stays forever in the world; nothing of us remains on earth but a tale. Let it be our name, then, that endures on high, when death casts its lasso toward us. In time's eyes death and being slain are one; the turning heavens keep little faith with anyone. You too must be like this, with spear and blade, men who cut others down, gird your belts for vengeance, every one of you who counts among the famous. For fortune has begun its decline against them; now we must strike hard in revenge. In Turan there was no horseman like Human, who tested himself in battle against Bizhan, son of Giv. When his luck turned and toppled, his head was cut from his body like a camel's. We must not tremble before them in battle; we cannot withdraw our hand from the fight. And if Piran comes wanting war, bringing his grief stricken army like dust on the wind, then we too, massed together like a mountain, must advance against him as one. For all these brave men, their hearts wounded, are worn down by constant sorrow and grief. I believe that if we are given the chance, we will raise a black cloud of dust over them. The commander said all this in full before the wise and fortunate warriors. When their leader showed such kindness, they all sprang quickly to their feet. One and all they praised him: there is no one like you for justice and faith. Even Fereydun, who ruled the whole world, never had a servant as loyal as you. You are the pillar of the army and the king's commander, the one who raises up crown and throne and diadem. You have given up life and children and wealth; what more could the king of kings ask? All that the king sought from Fariborz and from Tus, he will now see fulfilled through you. Every one of us is your servant, our heads bowed to your command and counsel. So if Piran leads the chiefs of Turan against us, thirsting for vengeance, let ten of our warriors face a thousand of theirs, and watch who turns his head from the fight. And if the whole army comes into battle massed like a mountain, our hearts are all wounded by this feud; we have girded our belts for war. May our bodies and souls be sacrificed for you: this, entirely, is our vow. When Gudarz heard this answer, joy grew in his heart. He praised those famous men, saying: O lions of the land of Iran, he ordered the army to mount, and once more girded himself for the feud. The left wing of his army he entrusted to brave Rahham and to Farhad, radiant as the sun. The right was Fariborz's place; he gave it at once to Katmareh of the line of Qaren. He said to Shidush: O my son, my worthy deputy in every task, take the Kaviani banner and the troops; go and be the support and shelter behind the army. Then he ordered Gostaham: Go, and be the vanguard of the army now. You must hold the commander's post, and watch, alert, over the army's rear. He commanded the troops: See that you do not move a single step forward from your place. Praise Gostaham, one and all; night and day stay ready in the saddle. A cry rose up from the midst of the army; they broke into weeping on that battlefield. They all rushed toward him, throwing dust upon their heads in grief. So the old commander of the army buckled his belt and rode toward the field of battle. Then the general summoned Gostaham and gave him much advice and counsel. He said: Take care, stay alert, and guard the army against the enemy. Night and day keep your armor on, seeking revenge; be sure you never leave yourselves exposed. When you begin to prepare for war, sleep will try to steal over you. And just as you drop your head to rest, terror from the sleepless enemy may strike you. Post a lookout on the mountaintop, and keep the army free of worry over the enemy. And if from the land of Turan a sudden night raid or ambush should come, then you must fight like a true man and turn your resolve against their champions in battle. And if from us here at this battlefield bad news reaches the army of Turan, that they have overpowered us on the field and dragged our headless bodies off to Turan, then be careful not to lead the army into battle; you must wait here for three days. On the fourth day the renowned king himself will come to reinforce the army, with his elephants and his throne. When Gostaham heard Gudarz speak this way, tears dripped from his lashes down his cheeks. He accepted every word of his advice and sought to bind himself to that duty. He told the general: Whatever you command, I stand ready to serve, my belt tightened like a servant's. After the earlier battle that ended in defeat, in which Turan was crushed by that grief, fathers wailed over sons, faces pale; brothers were in agony over a brother's blood. All of them, one and all, mourning and broken, made grim by the turning of the lofty sky. When Piran saw the whole army like this, like a flock savaged by a ravening wolf, he called all the chiefs of the army together and spoke to them at length. He said: You experienced warriors, both old and young, all seasoned in battle, how much greatness, rank, and honor you hold in the eyes of Afrasiab. Through victory and glory, as you wished, your names have spread across the world. Yet at one battle that brought you defeat, you all withdrew your hands from the fight. Know this, every one of you: if the army retreats from this battlefield in weakness, the brave chiefs of Iran will come after us, swinging their heavy maces, and no one, high or low, will see even one of us left alive in the world. You must drive the terror from your hearts and choose patience for these grieving men. The king of priests once told this tale: God's victory endures forever. The world is nothing but rise and fall, ups and downs; it stays this way until we pass in fear of death. Now who cares for his homeland and his children, who worries about his own life and family ties? This is the same army that turned away from our battle and gave up its assault on us. On this battlefield we must gird our loins and march in vengeance against the Iranians. Gudarz made this pledge: 'I will choose the champions from this gathering.' 'We will face them one by one, so both armies can rest from all this talk.' 'If you keep the pact and bring their leaders down from the army,' 'and if the whole force joins the fight, we must not pull our hands from battle.' 'If we all bend our heads toward the sword, we were born on a day and we die on a day.' 'And if not, I will hang their leaders high; fortune turns two ways.' 'If anyone disobeys my word, I will order his head cut from his body.' The warriors rushed to answer: 'O commander who rebuffs Afrasiyab,' 'for so long now, with your own treasure, you have chosen hardship for our sake.' 'Girded for battle before us like a servant, you would give up son and brother to be killed.' 'Why would we disobey? Who are we ourselves? Why should we be the king's servants if not for this?' They spoke, then rose from where they sat and prepared themselves fully for the fight. All night they laid these plans, for the wakeful commander had cast the die. At dawn the sound of trumpet and flute rose from the tents of both camps. At first light all the famous warriors mounted their saddles, bows on their arms, so that from the horses' hooves you would say the earth was draped in a veil of iron. The commander spoke to Lahhak and Farshidvard: 'O renowned and manly warriors,' 'you must stay as guardians of the army of Turan on this battlefield.' 'Set a lookout on the mountaintop, a watchman by day and a counter of the stars by night.' 'If ill comes to us from the turning heavens and it strips its pure love from us,' 'do not rush anyone into the fight; hurry off to Turan swift as smoke,' 'for of this house of Vaisa no one is left; all were killed, and none remain but you.' They took each other in their arms and wept bitterly, hearts full of pain. They set out and turned their faces away, breaking into cries and lament.

Full of bitter hatred, the commander of Turan's army came roaring to the battlefield. When he saw Gudarz, son of Keshvad, he spoke at length and heard replies. He said to him: 'You wise and noble warrior, how long will you torment your soul in this suffering? What good does it do the spirit of Siyavash if you send smoke rising over the city of Turan? In that other world he chose a place among the good; he found his peace, but you will find none. Two whole armies against each other, heads struck from bodies like fallen elephants. The forces of both lands are wholly ruined; the time has come to set aside this feud. The whole world has been emptied of men; over this hatred our battle has grown cold. But if you still nurse such a grudge, then bring your army down from that mountainside. Step out alone, away from your troops; perhaps this vengeance will finally be satisfied for you. Just you and I, on this field of hatred, let us fight it out, and the vengeance-seekers do the same. Whichever of us is favored by fortune will reach his aim and sit upon the throne. If I fall by your hand, Turan's army will seek no more revenge. They will come before you and obey your commands, and by oath they will pledge their lives as hostages. And if you are killed by my hand, I will harm no one among your people. I have no quarrel with your army; from me they need fear no grief.' When Gudarz heard Piran's words, he saw his fortune turned upside down by the stars. First he gave praise to the Creator, then he remembered the renowned king. He said to Piran: 'You famous man, I have heard your words from first to last. What benefit did Afrasiyab gain from Siyavash's blood? Do not turn your face from justice. For he cut off Siyavash's head like a sheep's, his heart full of blood and his liver wounded with pain. After that a cry rose up from Iran, with all this killing, plunder, war, and turmoil. Siyavash surrendered on the strength of your oath, and you cast him needlessly to the wind. After that, when my son came to you, you turned your head away from my counsel. You rushed to make war and charged forward like fire. My prayer to the world's Creator, both openly and in secret, was for this: that one day you would come to face me in battle. Now you have come, and there is no room for delay. So, Piran, now to the battlefield, let us face each other, one against one, with no armies.'

The commander of the Turks made his plans, and from his army he chose ten riders. With horses, gear, and full weapons, every one a lion of a man, every one renowned. At that same moment the Persian commander called out ten young riders. They galloped out from the ranks and rode straight to the field of combat. No eye had ever seen such a thing: two leaders testing battle in this way. For each rider of the Persian army, one from Turan rose to challenge him. They matched Giv against Gorui, for both were equal in strength and eager for the fight. Gorui Zereh, upon whom, throughout the army, the king's curse fully rested, who had seized Siyavash's beard in his hand and cut his head from his pure body. Next, swift Fariborz, son of Kavus, went to face Kalbad son of Viseh in combat. Then Roham son of Gudarz and Barman went out against each other, each wary of the other. Garazeh went to fight Siyamak, like a raging lion against a snorting crocodile. Then Gorgin, the battle-seasoned rider, who would wage war against Andariman. Against Bizhan son of Giv came the hero Ruin, who in battle stole the light of the world. When he was ready, he faced Zangeh son of Shavaran; then Barteh went against Kahram among the allies. The next were Foruhel and Zangeleh; they galloped out from the midst of the throng. Hojir and Sepahram, like lions, entered that battlefield with courage. Then Gudarz son of Keshvad and Piran together, both hearts hardened for pain and cruelty. Both commanders girded themselves for vengeance, one for his kingdom, the other for his faith. They swore an oath to one another that no one would turn his face from this feud. So that it would be settled this very day whose task would be done, who would ride away victorious from the battle. There were two high hills, one on each side of the armies, from which one could look out in every direction. One faced Persia, the other faced Turan, so that the troops could be seen from afar. Before them lay open plain and desert, over which a living man could ride across. The commander Gudarz gave this sign: whoever among the proud, defiant champions brought a foe down like smoke should at once raise a banner high upon the hill. The commander Piran set the same sign, doing the same upon the other hill. After that they turned toward the plain, the champions girded to spill blood. With sword and mace, with arrow and lasso, they tried every kind of hold and stroke. The brave men of Turan and their warriors, with mace and sword and gleaming blades, such that if a mountain had stood before them on the day of battle, they would not have paused in the fight. Yet all their hands fell useless and slack, for God's power had bound them fast. They were caught in the snare of disaster, because they had spilled so much blood in cruelty. Their war-horses stood frozen in place, as though their legs were tied to their forelegs. For them all fortune turned upside down, for the day turned against them and blood surged. So the Creator of souls willed it, as if the earth itself had seized those warriors. For all the courage that stood with their fortune, they had thrown themselves into war for the sake of their throne. The chiefs went to battle for the sake of a kingdom and gave up their lives for honor and shame. They came roaring onto the field of combat, each set against the other, thirsting for revenge.

First, the brave hero Fariborz charged out from the army like a lion. Roaring, he came toward Kalbad son of Viseh, his bow already strung. He circled him, but when he wanted to shoot, the arrow failed him; so he drew that gleaming blade with his right hand. He raised it and struck the sword across his neck, splitting his body in two, down to the waist. He climbed down from his horse and loosened the coils of that royal lasso from his saddle. He bound Kalbad's corpse to his mount and stripped the steel armor from his chest. As the victor, he rose to the high ground, let out a shout, and strode forward. 'May our commander be triumphant, and every enemy of the king lie wounded to the heart.'

And then Gorui of the coat of mail, the demon Niv, rode out against the son of Gudarz, Giv. They clashed hard with their lances, mixing venom together with blood. The lance point dropped from the rider's grip, undone by the terror of that battle. They took up their bows and arrows of white poplar, charging at each other like leopards. Giv had to take him alive, to throw the champion Niv down from his horse. So he could carry him bound before the king, bringing a fresh gift from the Turks. As Giv pressed in, Gorui, in his fear, let the bow slip down from his hand. Then he reached for his sword, and the fierce Giv, the champion, came rushing forward. He struck a mace upon his head and helmet, so that blood ran down from his crown to his face. In the same instant he swept him from the saddle, seized him tight to his chest and crushed him. The man on the saddle went limp and weak, he fell from the horse and lost consciousness. The battle leopard climbed down from his mount and bound both his hands behind his back like stone. He sat back in the saddle, drove the captive ahead of him, and rode off to reach his comrades. He climbed the height with a banner in his hand, and with his cry he laid the mountain low. To the victory of the king of the land of Iran, he sang praise upon the champion.

As the third pairing, Siamak came out from the Turanian army to face Garazeh on the battlefield. They advanced with spears in hand, roaring like maddened elephants. Full of fight and burning with hatred, they then took up their heavy maces. They raged like battle lions, hammering blows down upon each other's heads. Their tongues split from thirst; that grueling struggle grew tight and desperate. They dismounted and grappled, kicking up clouds of dust in their fury. Garazeh struck with the force of a lion and, quick as the wind, brought him down. He slammed him against the ground so hard that his bones shattered and the life left his body. Right then Garazeh tied him to a horse and, like blazing fire, mounted his own saddle. Then he seized Siamak's horse and rode up the field as if drunk with triumph. The lucky banner in his hand, he was proud and joyful, his enemy laid low. Roaring, seething, and shouting, they cheered praise upon their champion.

The fourth was Forouhel, who faced Zangoleh, two warriors as fierce as unchained lions. In all Iran there was no archer more deadly, none more accurate with bow and arrow than Forouhel. When from a distance he saw the grim Turk, he strung his bow and drew it back. He pulled out his poplar shafts, took up the bow, and rode forward to battle. He rained arrows down on Zangoleh, cutting off the enemy riders from every side. An arrow struck his thigh swift as the wind, tearing through both the joyful rider and his horse. The swift steed pitched forward from the pain, and pale-faced Zangoleh was thrown from the saddle. Zangoleh's head fell low and he gave up his life, as if he had never been born from his mother at all. Forouhel leaped down and cut off the head, then stripped the Byzantine armor from the body. He fastened the head to his saddle straps and came and took the man's horse by hand. He climbed the height like a leopard, his chest, sword, and grip drenched in blood. He raised the blessed banner high, joyful now, having gained all he desired. Then he cried out: victory to the king, the greatest of monarchs, of blessed lineage!

Fifth came Rahham the son of Gudarz, who put his skill to the test against Barman. They took up their bows and poplar arrows, and the shouts of the warring riders rose. Their bows all shattered clean against each other, so they turned their hands to the spear, swift as the wind. Two fighters, both brave and skilled in the saddle, alert, and long tried in battle. They circled each other many times, then Rahham, hungry for the fight, wheeled about. He drove a spear into his enemy's thigh, and at that stroke the man came tumbling from his horse. The Turk was thrown from his steed just then; that mighty Turk fell down from his horse. Rahham struck him again with a spear in the back, and the point drove clean into his liver. He dismounted and gave thanks, praising God for the good fortune of the king of the land. In vengeance for Siyavash he threw him down face first, and in his fury smeared his face in blood. He hauled him onto the saddle and bound him like a stone, head hanging down, feet under the girth. He mounted his own saddle and, dragging the dead man's horse, came running back to the appointed place. He climbed the hill with a joyful heart, freed at last from pain and sorrow. In triumph for the king and the lofty throne, his wish fulfilled beneath a soaring fortune. The commander of the army sang out his praise for King Kay Khosrow, his crown, and his throne. 'May the victorious king be ever victorious, and may all his days be a New Year's feast.'