English
The Story of Mahbud and Zarvan
The priest said: on the ivory throne, no one has ever set the crown like Kasra.
In feasting, in war, in temperance and justice, no king in memory can match him.
He learned knowledge from those who knew, and lit up his heart with wisdom.
He ate and slept among the wise priests, always lifting his mind toward knowledge.
Since through knowing your words gain worth, never grow lazy about learning.
You must not say, I have become wise, and can now do whatever I desire.
When you hear this tale, take it to heart, from the words of the old village storyteller.
I asked about the ancient days, and he recalled this tale of Nushirvan the Just.
He had one honest minister, clear of heart and keeper of the treasury.
He had a mind full of wisdom and sound judgment; in this world he sought nothing but a good name.
That pure spirit was named Mahbud, his soul and heart full of graceful speech.
He had two sons, fresh as bright spring, always in the king's service.
Whenever the king held a feast, or called for the priestly rites,
he would eat nothing except from Mahbud's hand, and trusted those two sons as well.
He kept his kitchen in Mahbud's house, and made himself a guest of his table.
The two sons of that famous devout man prepared the food for the king.
The nobles grew envious of Mahbud, and shed tears of resentment upon their cheeks.
There was a famous man named Zarvan, who held favor at the king's court.
He was old and the king's chamberlain, one who kept the customs of the court shining.
Because of Mahbud and his two blessed sons, he was left burning with wounded pride all year.
He kept scheming to turn the king's mind sharp and hostile against that devout man.
He slandered them but found no opening to poison the king's heart against them.
The wise Mahbud had no idea he had an enemy at the court.
Not once did the words or deeds of that shameless man make Mahbud's face turn pale.
It happened one day that a Jewish man came to Zarvan asking for money at interest.
His visits to Zarvan grew frequent, and he entangled himself with that man's evil soul.
When he had grown familiar with the king's chamberlain, he became a servant of the royal palace.
One day, in secret, talk turned to spells, about the court and the king of the world,
about trickery, deceit and sorcery, about crooked deeds and wickedness.
When Zarvan considered the Jewish man's words and heard him speak in such a way,
He unlocked the secret and said: reveal this to no one but your own heart.
You must devise a plan to rid the world of Mahbud.
For his greatness has reached such a height that fate can no longer bear it.
No one on earth counts for anything in his eyes; you would think there was only Nushirvan and no one else.
The king will accept no food at all except from the hands of Mahbud's sons.
So swollen with pride has he grown from royal favor that fate itself kisses the hem of his robe.
The Jew answered Zarvan like this: over this matter you need not multiply your grief.
When the mighty king asks for his meal, watch the dishes and see what comes along the way.
See whether there is any milk in it; go up and smell the food.
It is enough that I glimpse the milk from afar, and you will see neither Mahbud nor his sons alive.
For if he eats from it, without doubt his face and his body will crumble away at once.
Zarvan considered his words, and his heart grew fresher at the sight of him.
He would not go to the court without that Jew; no meal, no joy, no pleasure was complete without him.
So it went on for some while, the corrupter creeping about the king's court.
Every morning Mahbud's two sons walked gracefully before the generous king.
Behind the curtain of the renowned steward was a woman, pure and pure of mind.
Whenever King Khosrow wanted food, she would set out a golden tray.
She placed three jeweled bowls upon it, covered over with a cloth of gold brocade.
From the hands of that noble man's two sons it reached the exalted king.
He would eat the dishes of honey, milk, and rosewater, then have his bed made ready.
It happened that one day the two young men carried the tray to Nushirvan.
A servant carried it on his head, one to whom the food was entrusted.
As the tray came into the king's hall, Zarvan the chamberlain looked at it.
Smiling, he said to the two young men: you who feel so safe from King Nushirvan,
show me this food that is meant to nourish the king.
What color is this that gives off such sweet fragrance? Draw back a silk cover from it.
The young man quickly uncovered the food; Zarvan watched it from a distance.
The Jew likewise stared at it, then, when he saw the color of the dishes, he stepped forward.
Then he said to the steward of the court: the tree you planted has come to fruit.
The two wise and alert young men carried the tray to Nushirvan.
Then the table was brought, and Zarvan moved swift as dust; he spoke to the king, that noble man:
'O king of good fortune and justice, do not eat before the food is tasted,
for the face of heaven smiles on your luck, and the world shines bright from your throne and your field of power.'
The cook had mixed poison into the milk; may that poison be the portion of every scheming enemy.
When King Nushirvan heard this, he looked closely at the two young men,
whose own mother was his cook, wise, and devoted to their well-being.
The young men, out of purity and honesty, rolled back their sleeves to the backs of their hands.
The moment they drank the milk from the bowl, it was as if both were struck by arrows.
Both young men collapsed on the spot and gave up their lives before Nushirvan.
When the king of the world saw this, he flew into a rage and turned pale as a withered flower.
He commanded: 'Level Mahbud's house to the ground, and fear no one.
On that rubble his head must be cut off, both Mahbud's and the cook's alike.'
No one was left in Mahbud's palace; scarcely any of his kin remained in the world.
He gave all that wealth to plunder: the women, the children, and the well-appointed treasure.
By this deed Zarvan reached his desire; at that hour he gained both his wish and a name.
The proud Jew came to him, raising his head high as the clouds.
The heavens turned on for a while, keeping the truth hidden from the king's sight.
It happened that the king, lord of the world, set his mind on hunting wild asses.
He ordered that many of the hunting horses be paraded before the king.
Among the horses that Khosrow was surveying, he saw one bearing Mahbud's brand.
At the sight of those Arabian horses his heart flared up, and his love for Mahbud burned within him again.
In grief he let tears pour from both eyes, and remembered Mahbud with a sorely wounded heart.
He said: 'That man of high rank and wisdom, some foul demon carried him off from his place.
With all that devotion and that honesty, why did his soul turn to treachery?
No one but the Creator of the world knows the truth hidden beneath what seemed so plain.'
From there he rode on toward the hunting ground, his heart still grieving and thirsting for vengeance.
Along the way he asked each person for their words, and cheered his heart with what they said.
He kept many storytellers with him and shortened the road with their tales.
The scribes, Zarvan, and the king's minister one day set out briskly on the road.
Talk turned for a time to spells and snares, to sorcery, and to the harm the devil does.
Then the king spoke to the priest:
Do not trouble your heart with sorcery.
Speak only of God and of faith;
seek no wonders in a magician's tricks.
Zarvan said to him: May you live forever;
your words are nourishment for the mind.
Whatever they say about magic is real,
but only the sorcerer's devotee truly knows it.
If he has milk for someone to drink,
from a distance he can turn it into poison.
When Nushin-Ravan heard these words,
the old days came fresh before him again.
He remembered Mahbud and his two sons,
and a cold sigh escaped his lips.
He looked at Zarvan and fell silent;
he urged his swift, steady steed onward.
His soul was thick with dark thoughts:
that Zarvan had been the enemy of Mahbud.
He kept saying: this quarrelsome man,
I do not know what he did back in those days,
so that Mahbud was killed by my hand,
and that household's fortune was overturned.
Perhaps the Creator will bring it to light
and ease our heart and our mind.
For I see his words stained with guilt,
and I am full of grief from those old days.
He rode on with a heart full of pain and sorrow,
his face wrinkled, his eyes wet with tears.
When the king reached the halting place,
he pitched his tent by the edge of the stream.
When Zarvan came into the royal tent,
they cleared the place of all outsiders.
There was talk of magic, of honey and milk;
the king told him: this matter is now agreeable to me.
Then the king asked him about Mahbud,
and about his sons, why they had been ruined.
When he heard the answer, trembling and shaking,
Zarvan's guilt became plain.
Khosrow said to him: tell the truth;
do not twist things or look for any excuse.
For crookedness brings nothing but evil deeds;
a good heart is corrupted by a bad companion.
Zarvan told the whole truth from start to finish;
he brought what was hidden out into the open.
He threw all the blame onto the Jew,
and filled his own body with pain and anguish.
When the exalted king heard this from him,
at once he put him in chains.
He sent a rider on twin horses, swift as smoke,
to the trickster Jew.
When the man came to that lofty court,
the great king questioned him gently:
Tell me how this affair happened;
do not show me the face of a single lie.
The Jew begged the king for mercy,
promising to reveal the true secret of the trick.
He told what Zarvan had said to him,
every word that had passed in secret.
The king listened and was stunned;
he summoned the chief priest and the marshal of the marches.
Once again the just king turned to the priests and asked to hear the case set out.
He ordered two tall gallows raised, with twisting nooses hanging down from each.
The executioner set to work before his gate, while all the kingdom stood and watched.
On one gallows Zarvan, on the other the Jew; the hangman drew tight and did his grim work.
Under a rain of stones and a rain of arrows they gave up their lives for their lion's deceit.
The world should not be entrusted to evil, for the evil-minded surely meet with evil.
He searched among Mahbud's kin for a while, to find some who were sound and honest.
He found one veiled daughter and three worthy men of good character.
He handed them all of Zarvan's treasure, and everything else the Jew had owned.
His soul burned with grief for Mahbud; from dark night till day he wept.
He begged God for mercy and forgiveness, pouring the blood of his heart out at his side.
He gave much to the poor, and his tongue was full of praise as well,
praying that God might pardon his sin, and not call him an oppressor but a just man.
Whoever is pure and worships God will never stretch his hand to an evil deed.
For although doing wrong is easy, in the end the soul is left in terror of it.
Even if an evil heart turns to hard stone, it will not stay hidden; it comes to light.
And however softly you speak, all your secrets will still escape.
The tongue does not keep a person's secrets, so it is better to do good in the world.
If you live free of guilt and clean in intent, you will reap its reward in both worlds.
Now the affair of Zarvan and the Jew is ended; let us praise wisdom instead.
If you are just and hold your head high, you will pass, but your name will endure long.
An unjust king brings his own body nothing but the grave and men's curses.
If your heart makes honesty its craft, know that you have adorned the whole world.
If you want to be praised after your death, let wisdom be your crown and your helmet.
Just as after the death of Nushirvan his justice was made young again by my words.
Once the world was set right under him, he asked for nothing in his greatness but blessings.
Small and great slept safely on the plain, and sheep and wolf came to drink together.
The great honored even the lowest, and asked that his name be set upon the crown.
Necks rested, freed from the weight of mail; the warriors loosened the knots of their armor.
Shoulders were relieved of mace and dagger, and nothing reached the ear but the sound of music.
No one had the strength to stand against the world ruler; everyone bound themselves to him with tribute and tax.
The king took hardship lightly and turned to the pleasures of hunting and the open field.
He sat in his jewel painted palace, taking counsel over wine with his cup companions.
He built a city in the Byzantine style, more than two leagues in the height of its walls.
Within it were palaces, halls, and gardens; a river on one side, a meadow on the other.
There was a royal quarter in the Byzantine fashion that Khosrow himself measured out and apportioned.
He raised up lofty palaces there, and no one in the world found them anything but pleasing.
The king built one great palace, and within it a hall painted with jewels.
The arches were set with beams of silver and gold, and among the gold were gems of many kinds.
A dome of ebony and ivory, its designs made of ivory, black wood, and teak.
From Byzantium and India, whoever was a master craftsman, and had learned the arts from his own master,
and from Iran and the land of the southwest, all the skilled workers who brighten the world,
he gathered them all in that city, so that it was both a city and a workplace.
The captives he had brought from Berber lands, from Byzantium, and everywhere he had raided,
he gave each of them a house, filling the whole city with these foreigners.
Once the city was completely laid out, they built the countryside all around it.
He arranged farmland on every side, fertile ground and orchards bearing fruit.
He gave each person a task, and where one worked alone, he sent a helper.
One was a craftsman, another a farmer; another measured out the leagues and boundaries of the land.
Merchant and worshipper of God alike, one raised high and another set beneath.
He made that city as lovely as paradise; the eye found no ugly spot anywhere in it.
Khosrow named it Surestan, the place of feasting, for in feasting the ruler finds his desire.
Nothing filled his heart, in the open or in secret, but justice and making the world prosper.
When fate took the kingship from him, it handed the whole crown to someone else.
Know that all of it is nothing but a deception; neither height nor lowness stays with anyone.
Now take up the war of the Khaqan and the Hephthalites; when battle comes, take hold of the mace.
What does the eloquent teller of praises say of the king, the Hephthalites, and the Khaqan of China?