Reign of the Ashkanians

Now praise the king of the world, who is drawn to battle, to the feast, and to knowledge. The exalted Mahmud of blessed judgment, through whom the name of greatness endures. The wise ruler Abolqasem, whose counsel is always nourished by wisdom. May his heart be glad forever, freed from suffering and sorrow. The king of kings of Iran and Zabolestan, from Kannauj to the borders of Kabolestan. Blessings upon him and upon his army, upon his kin, his lineage, and his land. His mighty commander is Prince Nasr, in whom the turning age itself rejoices. He never grudges any gift he gives, nor does he rest on the day of battle preparations. When war comes to him he takes up war, and seizes the heads of chieftains in his grip. Whoever gives away his own treasure, he too gives freely, heedless of his own hardship. May the world belong to King Mahmud, and may generosity and justice flow from him. When the general is like Abol-Mozaffar, the army's leader stands higher than the moon. For he is called victorious and blessed with fortune; his arrow drives clean through the tree. May the king's body be forever free of pain, and may his seat always be atop a treasury. Likewise may his commander be glad, his heart bright and his treasury thriving. As long as the turning heavens endure, may love for this lineage never fade. Father after father, son after son, all of them crowned and triumphant. When fourteen days of Shawwal had passed, a blessing came upon the king. For we gave glad news about the custom of the tax, since the order came from the glorious, crowned king: That in a whole year they will demand no more tribute from the vigilant believer and the devout man. By this decree the age of Nushirvan was renewed, and every matter was set on a new measure. When that long-awaited time arrived, he cast open again the veil of justice. You will see, by this justice and goodness, I believe, that he will receive a robe of honor from heaven, one that will never grow old upon his body, and the crown of kings will stay upon his head. May his fortune stay fresh and his body unharmed, his spirit soaring beyond the lofty sky. Let no one hold my omen in contempt, for it reckons the months and years of my life. See how this book, forever after, will be a banner raised over the wise. It will remain through ages like this, so that everyone who reads it will bless him. Nushirvan, son of Qobad, said this: when a king's heart turns away from justice, the wheel of fate blackens his decree, and the stars no longer name him king. Injustice is the writ of dethronement for kings, like the heart's pain of the innocent. May this noble jewel endure forever, talented, wise, and just. The world stays loyal to no one; only a good name remains as a memory. Where are Fereydun, Zahhak, and Jamshid, the lords of Arabia and the kings of Persia? Where are those great ones of the Sasanians, from the line of Bahram to the Samanids? The most reviled king was Zahhak, for he was unjust and impure. Blessed Fereydun earned praise; he died, but his name never died. The word remains in the world as a keepsake; the word is better than a royal pearl. He who was unjust won no praise, even glad with his treasure and throne of power. His desire in the world is cut short, and no one on earth recites his name. From this book of the enemy-crushing king, may he sit forever proud upon the throne, all the people came out of their homes to the plain, and their prayers rose past the heavens: May the head that wears the crown live forever, and may the turning of time be blessed for him. May he see nothing in the world but his own desire, his name inscribed upon the palace halls. The same for his lineage, his army, and his land, and for his kingly stature and countenance.

Now, old poet, turn your gaze back once more to the time of the Parthian kings. What did the book of the truthful say when the teller recalled the ancient days? After the era of Alexander, what does it tell of who held the throne of the great in this world? The wise landowner of Chach said this: after him no one held the ivory throne. The nobles born of Arash's line were bold, quick to act, and defiant. Each held a corner of the world, taking a small piece from every land. When they were seated happily on their thrones, they were called the petty kings, the regional lords. In this way two hundred years slipped by; you would think the earth had no king at all. None of them thought about the others, and for a while the face of the earth rested at peace. Alexander had planned it this way, so that Rome would remain standing and prosperous. First came Ashk, of Qobad's lineage, then the hero Shapur, of Khosrow's blood. On one side stood Godarz of the Parthians, and Bizhan, who came from the royal Kayanid line. There were Narsi and the great Ormazd, and Arash, whose name was mighty and famed. Beyond him, the renowned Ardavan, wise, sound in judgment, and bright of soul. When Bahram of the Parthians took the throne, he gave away a treasure to the worthy. They called him Ardavan the Great, for he tore the wolf's claw from the sheep. From Shiraz to Isfahan was his, and the wise called it the land of the great. In Estakhr, Babak served under his hand, for a roaring dragon rose from his grasp. When their branch and roots grew short and failed, the chronicler tells no history of them. For I have heard nothing of them but their names, nor seen them in the book of kings. When Alexander lost all hope of the world, he cast a plan among the great ones. So that no one would remember Rome as a threat, that land would stay prosperous and glad. Since the king upon the earth was wise, his wisdom bore fruit in this way.

When Dara was killed in battle, fortune turned its back on his whole line. He had one son, a joyful spirit, wise, a fighter, and Sasan was his name. When he saw his father slain that way, he saw the luck of the Iranians overturned. He fled from that Roman army and did not let himself fall into the trap of ruin. He died in India in misery, and a small child was left behind from Sasan. In the same way, down to the fourth son, each father named his boy Sasan. They were shepherds or camel drivers, all their years spent in hardship and heavy toil. When the youngest son came to Babak's lands, in the open plain he met the head shepherd. He said to him: could you use a hired hand, one whom hard times have driven here? The head shepherd took the unlucky youth in and kept him at labor day and night. When the man proved skilled and won approval, he rose to head shepherd over the flock. For a time the man lived on like this, his heart full of grief, his body full of pain. One night Babak, seeking the river's path, lay asleep and saw a vision, clear in his soul. He saw Sasan mounted on a raging elephant, an Indian sword gripped in his hand. Everyone who came before him praised him and bowed down low. He made the earth beautiful and swept the darkness of grief from every heart. The next night, when Babak slept again, the same thought was married to his mind. In his dream he saw a fire worshipper carrying three blazing fires in his hands. Fires like Azar Goshasp, Khorrad, and Mehr, glowing like the turning wheel of heaven. All of them blazed before Sasan, and in each fire fragrant aloeswood burned. Babak woke startled from his sleep, his mind and heart full of worry. Everyone who was skilled at reading dreams, capable in every branch of knowledge, gathered in Babak's hall, the great and the wise counselors. When Babak opened up and spoke his secret, he told them the whole dream from start to end. The interpreter fell deep in thought, listening closely to shape his reply. At last he said: O noble king, one must look carefully at what this means. Whoever is seen this way in a dream will rise to kingship higher than the sun. And if this dream passes him by, then he will have a son who prospers in the world. When Babak heard this he grew glad and gave each of them gifts to match their rank. He ordered the head shepherd to leave the flock and come to Babak in the frost of dawn. The shepherd came before him in a cloak, its woolen cover half torn and packed with snow. Babak cleared the place of strangers; the servants and the guide went out. He asked about Sasan and treated him kindly, and seated him near his own side. He asked him about his lineage and stock, but the shepherd was afraid and gave no answer. Then he said to him: O king, if you grant this shepherd his life and safety, he will tell all there is about his lineage, once you take my hand in a pledge, that you will do me no harm in this world, neither openly nor in secret. When Babak heard this he began to speak and called upon God the giver of good. He said: I will do you no injury; I will keep you glad of heart and honored. Then the young man spoke to Babak: I am the son of Sasan, O champion, the descendant of the world ruler King Ardeshir, whom they called Bahman, remember that, the proud son of the hero Esfandiar, a memory left in the world from the brave Goshtasp. When Babak heard this, tears poured down from those bright eyes that had seen the dream. Then he brought out a princely robe and a mount with royal harness. Babak said to him: go to the bathhouse and wait until new robes of honor are brought. He built him a splendid palace and raised his head high above the head shepherds. When he had settled him in that palace, he stationed servants and attendants at his door. He gave him honor with every possession and made him free of every need with wealth. Then he gave him his own daughter, worthy of him, and his own crown as well.

When nine months had passed for that moon faced woman, a child arrived, radiant as the shining sun. He was like the famous Ardeshir of old: thriving, blessed, and a delight to the heart. His father named him Ardeshir as well, and his grandfather rejoiced to see his face. He raised him tenderly and with great care, and a long stretch of time went by like this. Now the sharp minded people came to call him Ardeshir, son of Babak. They taught him every skill there was to learn, and these skills only enriched his noble nature. He grew so fine in looks, in knowledge, and in face, you would say the very sky drew its glow from him. Then word reached Ardavan about the young man's learning and wisdom: that in battle he was a raging lion, yet on feast days he shone gentle as Venus. So Ardavan wrote a letter to the renowned champion Babak, saying: You wise man and true guide, eloquent, honored, and pure in judgment, I have heard that your son Ardeshir is a rider, articulate and quick to learn. As soon as you have read this letter, send him gladly to my court. I will free him from every need, and raise him high among the heroes. When he is near, like a son to me, no one will say he is not of our own kin. When Babak read the king's letter, he shed streams of bloody tears down his cheeks. He ordered his scribe to come before him, along with the young, newly grown Ardeshir. He said to him: Read this letter from Ardavan, and study it with a clear mind. Now I will write a letter to the king and send it with a trustworthy messenger. I will say: here I have sent you the light of my heart and eyes, this brave and worthy young man, and I have given him advice for when he reaches your high court. You should treat him as befits the custom of kings; no harm should ever come near him. Babak opened his treasury swift as the wind and gladdened the young man with gifts of every kind. Golden bridles, a mace, a sword; he held nothing back from his son. Gold coins, fine silk, horses and servants, Chinese cloth and royal gold brocade, he brought them all and set them before the young man. So the youth became a servant of Ardavan. And many gifts were sent along with Ardeshir: silk and gold coins, musk and sweet perfume. Leaving his grandfather, the fortunate boy set off for the court of King Ardavan.

When he reached the court, they told the king that a petitioner had arrived. Ardavan called the young man forward with kindness, and spoke at length of Babak. He seated him near the throne, and prepared a place for him in the city. He sent him every kind of food, and clothing too, and furnishings. The young man came, along with the nobles, to the place Ardavan had assigned. When the sun set its throne above the wheel of the sky, the world grew bright as a fair Roman face. Ardeshir summoned a servant, and gathered the gifts that were needed. Babak's brave envoy sent them to King Ardavan. Ardavan saw them and was pleased; the young man had proved useful to him. The king kept him like a son, never leaving him neglected for a moment. At wine-drinking, at the feast-table, and in the hunting field, he kept him at his side year after year. He treated him like his own child, never parting him from his company. It so happened that one day at the hunting ground the army and the king's sons scattered wide. Ardeshir rode beside Ardavan, and the young man was dear to the king's heart. King Ardavan had four sons, each of them like a prince in his own right. A wild ass appeared in the distance across the plain, and a stir rose up from that great host. They spurred all their swift horses forward, until dust and sweat mingled together. Ardeshir galloped out in front, and when he drew near he loosed an arrow from his bow. He struck a wild male ass on the flank; the point and feathers passed clean through it. At that very moment Ardavan came up and saw the shot and the young man who made it. He saw one wild ass brought down and said, 'May skill be the partner of the hand that did this.' Ardeshir answered the king, 'It was I who brought this ass down with my arrow.' The king's son said, 'It was I who felled it, and I will find its mate as well.' Ardeshir replied to him, 'The plain is wide, and there are plenty of wild asses and arrows.' 'Bring down another one just like this. Lying is a sin for proud men.' Ardavan grew full of rage at that young man, and shouted at him. The king said to him, 'This is my own fault, for raising you was my custom and my way.' 'Why should I take you along with the army to the feast and the hunting field,' 'so that you outdo my son, and set yourself above him in valor?' 'Go, look after our Arabian horses, and choose a lodging for yourself right there.' 'Be master over that stable, and help everyone in every task.' Ardeshir came away with eyes full of tears, forced to go to the horse stable. He wrote a letter to his grandfather, his heart full of grief and his head full of cunning. telling what had befallen him from Ardavan, wishing pain on the king's body and torment on his soul. He recounted all that had happened, and why Ardavan had grown so enraged. When that letter reached Babak, he did not reveal its words to anyone. His heart filled with pain and sorrow at the matter; he brought out some gold coins from his treasury. He sent ten thousand of them to him, dispatching a swift camel and a rider. He ordered a scribe to come before him and had a letter written to Ardeshir. 'You foolish, inexperienced youth, when you went hunting with Ardavan,' 'why did you race ahead of his son? You are a servant, not one of his kin.' 'He did you no wrong; if any wrong was done, you brought it on yourself through foolishness.' 'Now seek his favor and his goodwill, and never turn your face from his command.' 'I have sent you some gold coins, and in the letter I have given you counsel.' 'Whenever you have spent this sum, ask for more, so the days may pass on.' The swift camel, old and worldly-wise, came running to Ardeshir. When he read that letter he was content, and his heart turned toward schemes and cunning. He spread out every kind of furnishing, of clothing and of food. Near the horses he chose himself a dwelling, though not a place fit for the work. Night and day his business was feasting; wine, the cup, and musicians were his companions.

Ardavan had a lofty palace, and inside it lived a treasured servant. Her name was Golnar, that moon-faced beauty, a lovely woman full of grace, color, and fragrance. She was like a minister to Ardavan, and she kept the keys to his wealth as well. She was dearer to him than his own life; the sight of her filled him with joy and laughter. It happened one day that she went up to the roof, and her heart grew glad with that delight. She glanced at Ardashir, whose lips were smiling; the young man took a firm place in her heart. She stayed until the daylight faded, until night drew close upon the day. She fastened a rope to the battlement, tied several knots in it, and steadied it with her hand. Boldly she climbed down from the wall, giving thanks to the giver of good things. She came gracefully to Ardashir, adorned with jewels and the scent of musk and perfume. She lifted his head from the silken pillow; when he woke, she held him close in her arms. The young man looked at that beautiful face, at that hair, that face, that color and scent. He said to that moon: Where have you come from, you who have adorned my grieving heart? She answered: I am a servant, and in this world I live only for the sight of you. I am Delaram, keeper of King Ardavan's treasure; he was happy and light of soul because of me. Now, if you will accept me, I am your servant; my heart and soul are filled with love for you. Whenever you wish, I will come to you and turn your dark days into radiant ones. When some time had passed in this way, a break came upon the old teacher. The world-wise, watchful Babak died, and left the ancient dwelling to another. When the news reached Ardavan, he was filled with grief and his spirit turned dark. Each nobleman remembered Pars; the commander gave Pars to his eldest son. He ordered the war drums to be brought out, and the army marched from the court onto the plain. The world went dark for Ardashir at losing that clear-hearted, supporting old man. He turned his heart away from Ardavan's army, and after that news he made another plan. For his heart was full of struggle from that pain, and he searched everywhere for a way to escape. After that it happened that King Ardavan summoned some of the bright-minded astrologers. He brought a number of them to his court and sought to learn his star and his fate. He wanted to know how the wheel of fortune would turn, and who would rule as guide after him. He sent them to Golnar, the king's keeper, so they could study the stars. Three days passed in that work, and the king's horoscope was examined. When the keeper heard their voices speaking of the horoscope and their secret, On the third day, three watches after nightfall, the girl finished with the astrologers. Her heart full of longing, her lips full of sighs, she kept their words in her memory. On the fourth day the bright-souled man went to reveal that secret to Ardavan. They set out with their astrolabes in hand, from the girl's chamber to the king. They told him the secret of the high heavens, its ruling on the what, the how, and the how much: That from now on, before too long, the famous king's heart would be twisted by something, That a lesser man would flee from a greater one, a man of commanders' blood and full of courage, And after that he would rise as a great king, a world-ruler, fortunate and beneficent. The renowned, lucky lord's heart grew heavy and sick from their words.

When the face of the land turned as dark as pitch, the slave girl came to Ardeshir. The young man raged like a stormy sea: how could Ardavan not endure his absence even a single day? The girl repeated what the bright-souled astrologer had said to the famous Ardavan. When Ardeshir heard such words from Golnar, he chose patience and silence. The young man's heart was stirred by that quick-witted moon, and from then on he sought a way to escape. He told her: if I go to Iran, I will travel from Rey toward the city of the brave. Think it over, whether you will come with me on the road, or stay here beside the king. If you come with me, you will grow rich, and you will wear the crown of the whole realm. She answered: I am your servant; I will never be parted from you as long as I live. She spoke with lips full of cold sighs, and pale tears streamed from her eyes. Ardeshir said to that moon-faced girl: tomorrow we must go, there is no other way. The girl went back to her own chambers, having placed her body and soul in his hands. When the world's face turned pale as the sun set, the deep-blue night curved over everything. The girl opened the treasuries and began to pick out every kind of jewel. She gathered rubies and royal gems and as many gold coins as would be of use. She came to the place where she lodged, and set the jewels down in that room. She waited until night rose over the mountains; Ardavan fell asleep and the place emptied of company. She rushed from the hall like an arrow and brought the jewels to Ardeshir. She found the ambitious young man with a cup in hand, and the grooms of the horses all fast asleep and drunk. For Ardeshir had made them drunk, since he was set on leaving no matter what. He had chosen two precious horses, standing at the manger, already saddled. When the young man saw Golnar's face, and the jewels and the red gold coins, at once he set the cup aside and bridled the Arab steeds. He put on his armor and mounted, a poison-tempered sword in his hand. The moon-faced girl mounted the other horse, and together they set off all at once. From the hall he turned his face toward Pars, riding on with a happy heart, seeking his way.

It was so that without his moon faced love, Ardavan found no peace by night or day. He would not lift his shoulders from the silken bed unless he had first glimpsed Golnar's face for luck. When the time came for him to rise, and to adorn his royal seat with silk, the servant girl did not come to his bedside; he grew furious and writhed with resentment at her. At the gate his army stood ready on their feet, the throne and crown and palace all made splendid. The chief usher rose from the court and came before the famed king. He told him: the great ones are at the gate, everyone who leads a province of the land. The king said to his attendants: how is it that Golnar, so mindful of custom and rule, does not keep her habit and come to my bedside? Who can grasp the meaning behind this tale? Just then the chief scribe arrived: Ardeshir left late last night. He took from the stable the white and the black, the mounts that were the famous king's own steeds. At once it became clear and bitter to the king that his treasurer, Golnar, had fled with Ardeshir. The warrior's heart leapt from its place; he flared up in rage and sprang to his feet. He led out many battle riders, as if his horse were treading over fire. Along the road he saw a well known place, full of people and pack animals. He asked them: at dawn today did you hear the sound of horses' hooves? One of them said: yes, two riders passed by, coming onto the plain on two mounts. They swept past along the road at a run, one on a white steed, the other on a black. Behind the riders ran a pure wild ram, scattering dust like a galloping horse. Ardavan said to his vizier just then: why is this ram running along after them? He answered thus: that is his royal glory; kingship and good fortune ride upon its wing. If this ram catches up to him, do not give chase, for then this business will drag out long for us. Ardavan dismounted there in that place, ate, rested, then came on at a run. They galloped on behind Ardeshir, Ardavan and the vizier leading the way. The young man with the servant girl raced like a gusting wind, never pausing from the chase for a moment. Whoever has the high heavens as an ally suffers no harm from any enemy. Ardeshir grew weary from that riding; from a height he spotted a pool of water. The noble youth said to Golnar as he ran: now that we have been paired with hardship, we must go down to this spring, for horse and rider are worn thread bare. Let us stay by the water and eat something, then move on at ease afterward. When they both reached the water's edge, their two cheeks pale as the setting sun, just as Ardeshir wished to dismount, he saw two young men at the pool. The young men called out at once: touch your reins and stirrups and be gone, for you have escaped the dragon's jaws and breath; now stopping to drink is not worth the price. You must not come down to eat and drink; you must give your own body its farewell blessing. When Ardeshir heard this from the counselor, he told Golnar: remember these words. He pressed hard on his stirrups, loosened the reins, and raised his gleaming lance to his shoulder. Behind, like a gusting wind, came Ardavan, riding on in hardship and dark of soul. By the time half the day had passed, and the world lighting sun had crossed the sky, he saw a fine town, full of color and scent; many people came out to meet him. He said to the honored priests: when did that bold rider pass through here? The guide answered him: O king of good fortune and pure judgment, just as the sun turned yellow and set, and night spread its dark blue cloak, two people passed through this town at a run, mouths dry and covered in dust. A wild ram ran behind one of the riders, so fine that I have never seen its like painted on any palace wall. The town's headman said to Ardavan: perhaps you should turn back home from here. Gather an army and prepare for war, for now the judgment has turned another way. His fortune has mounted up behind him; from this chase only wind remains in your hand. Write a letter to your son; set out this whole affair in it, point by point. Perhaps he can find some trace of Ardeshir; he must not stray far like a lion following the ram. When Ardavan heard these words from him, he knew that his own voice had grown old and weak. He came down and rested in that town, giving thanks and praise to the generous Giver.

When night turned to day and early morning came, he gave the order for the army to withdraw. Two faces came, pale as reeds; and when the dark night fell, they drew near. He wrote a letter to his son, telling him to bring the crooked matter into the garden. Ardeshir sprang up from our bedside so fast that no arrow ever left a bow so swiftly. He came toward Pars in secret search of it. Say nothing of this to anyone in the world.

From this side Ardeshir came down to the sea and spoke to God: 'You who take my hand, You kept me safe from the man of evil deeds. May his body never see a single good thing.' He rested, then called the sailor forward and spoke at length about all that had passed. The wise old sailor studied Ardeshir, his stature, his face, his bearing. He knew this man was of royal blood, and the glory and majesty of him made him glad. He hurried down to the sea and launched his boats in every direction across the water. When word spread of the famous Ardeshir, an army gathered by that shore. Everyone who was of Babak's house in Estakhr took pride in the king becoming known. And all who came from the line of Dara, renowned men in every province, when the news came of King Ardeshir, the old man's heart grew young with joy. People came from sea and mountain to the young man, group after group. From every city a wise counselor gathered around the world-seeker. The young Ardeshir opened his lips: 'You famous men of enlightened souls, there is no one in this noble assembly, no sage or counselor among you, who has not heard what the treacherous Alexander did in his baseness to the world. He killed our forefathers one by one and seized the whole earth through injustice. Since I am of the seed of Esfandiar, and Ardavan rules as king within this land, it is fitting that we do not call this justice, and that we not let this old tale be forgotten. If you stand with me in this and help me, I will leave no one else a great name or a high throne. What do you say, and what answer will you give? Let your answer be a blessed cry.' Everyone in that assembly, the swordsmen and the counselors alike, when they heard his words rose to their feet and spoke honestly all that was in their hearts: 'All of us who are of Babak's line rejoice at the sight of your face. And more, we are the Sasanians; we gird our waists to avenge this wrong. Our bodies and souls, all of them, are yours. Our sorrow and joy rise and fall with you. By two virtues you stand above all others: kingship and heroism suit you well. At your command we will level mountains into plains and turn the sea's water all to blood with our blades.' When Ardeshir heard such an answer, his head rose higher than Venus and Mercury. He showered blessings on those chiefs, while in his heart he spread the thought of vengeance. Near the sea he laid the foundation of a city, and that city became a great work. A high priest said to Ardeshir: 'O king of good fortune and pleasing heart, you are renewing the seat of kingship; you should first make yourself at home in Pars, and only then make war on Ardavan, for your fortune is young and you, the prince, are young. He surpasses the petty kings in treasure, and from him you have seen hardship and pain. Once you have removed him from his throne, no one after this will stand against you.' When the proud Ardeshir heard these fitting, pleasing words, as the sun lifted its head over the mountain peak, he set out from the shore toward Estakhr. News reached the young Ardavan, and his heart filled with pain and his soul grew dark. He did not linger at all on his royal throne, but brought out an army equipped for war.

There was a famous man named Sabak, with a fine army, good weapons, and clear judgment. He was the king of the city of Jahrom, worldly wise, just, and commanding. He had seven fortunate sons; when he learned the news, he left Bahman's side and departed. He came from Jahrom toward Ardashir with his army, war drums, and full battle gear. When his eyes fell upon the commander's face, he dismounted, as was proper and fitting. He rushed forward and kissed his feet, recalling much the glory of the Sasanians. The world-seeking king honored him greatly, and valued his coming so swiftly. Yet the ambitious king grew thoughtful about Sabak; his heart filled with fear and unease at that old man. Even on the road he stayed watchful, for a world-conquering army marched with the old man. The worldly, alert-hearted old man sensed what Ardashir was thinking. He came and brought the Avesta and Zand, and said: I swear by the exalted Creator, the noble soul of Sabak be wretched if his heart is not loyal to the pure king. When the news of King Ardashir reached me, that he had brought his army to this land, I had grown so weary of Ardavan that, like an old woman turned young, I felt renewed. Know me as a devoted, loyal servant of good fortune, patient of heart and a keeper of secrets. When Ardashir heard these words from him, he set aside his old suspicion and thought anew. He treated the old man as he would his father, and set him above those other nobles. The king's heart was freed from worry, and he turned toward the fire temple of Ram Khorrad. He offered many prayers before God, that He might guide him toward goodness, and grant him victory in every deed, letting the tree of his greatness bear fruit. From there he went to the royal pavilion, where the muster passed before him with his steward. He paid the army in coin and made them prosper, and gave thanks to God, the giver of good. When his army was fierce as a bold leopard, he marched to war against Bahman son of Ardavan. When the two sides drew near each other, the battle-hungry warriors advanced. The armies formed their ranks on both sides, spears and Indian blades gripped in hand. They clashed like battling lions and spilled blood like a flowing stream. It went on this way until the sun turned yellow, the air thick with dust, the ground littered with men. When the sky's canopy turned turquoise with dusk, Sabak's army entered the fight. A wind rose and a dust dark as pitch, coming from the heart of Ardashir's army. He struck down many of them with his mace, for he was full of strength, courage, glory, and stature. Bahman son of Ardavan fled, his body pierced with arrows, his spirit darkened. King Ardashir chased close behind him, with the blare of trumpets and a rain of arrows, chasing him this way to the city of Istakhr, where Bahman had held his fame and pride. When the king's fame rose through the world, countless troops joined him from every side. They showed him great treasures, wealth that Bahman had painfully hoarded. He scattered the hoarded coins freely, and grew strong, then led his army out of Pars.

When the news reached Ardavan, his heart filled with dread and his soul went dark. He said: The secret of the lofty sky, the Lord of counsel foretold to me. Whatever lies beyond our reckoning, no effort can escape the fate that is decreed. I never imagined that from Ardeshir a conqueror and seeker of fame would rise, taking cities. He opened his treasury and paid the wages, raised an army and loaded the baggage for march. From Gilan and Deylam the troops came, and the dust of the army rose up to the moon. From the other side the king brought an army too, a host that blocked the very road of the wind. So loud were the horns and trumpets, the clang of bells and the Indian gongs, that between the two armies only a bowshot remained, like a snake writhing helpless in the dust. The army roared and the banners flashed, and hearts were scattered by the violet blades. For forty days the fighting went on like this, and the world grew narrow for the men beneath. Food of every kind ran short, and the roads for bringing supplies grew closed. So many were killed that the plain rose like a mountain, and the living grew sick and weary of their lives. At last a black cloud gathered up, and it became the instrument of struggle and war. A wind rose up from the gathered host, and the hearts of the fighters were shaken and broken. The mountain roared and the plain trembled, and its clamor passed straight through the sky. Ardavan's army was seized with fear, and they all agreed upon a single word: This blow against Ardavan is heaven's own will; now we must weep for this whole army. On the day when the battle turned harshest, they all cried out then for mercy and quarter. Ardeshir came out from the heart of his army, the clash of swords rose up and arrows fell like rain. In the thick of it Ardavan was captured, he gave his sweet life away for the sake of the crown. He was taken by a man named Khorrad, who seized his bridle and led him away. He brought him captive before the world seeker, and from afar Ardeshir caught sight of Ardavan. King Ardavan came down from his mount, his body wounded by arrows, his soul gone dark. King Ardeshir commanded the executioner: Go, take the enemy of the throne, cut him in two through the middle with your blade, and fill the hearts of the evil minded with terror. The grim one came and carried out the order, and that famous man vanished from the world. Such is the way of this aged wheel of heaven, with Ardavan just as with Ardeshir. Though it lifts a man high as the stars, in the end it hands him over to the wretched dust. His two sons were captured as well, and through him the line of Arash was brought low. The lofty king put both of them in chains by the feet, and sent them off to prison. Two of the disloyal ones fled from the battle, and did not get caught in the snare of ruin. Weeping, they made their way to India; it is fitting if you make a tale of this. The whole battlefield was full of harness and belts, full of weapons, troops, and silver and gold. The king ordered it all gathered up, and then he shared it out among his army. Sabak went out from among the nobles and washed Ardavan's body clean of blood. Weeping, he cleansed it of the dust of battle, and built a tomb in the manner of kings. He clothed the wounded body in brocade, and set a crown of camphor upon its head. He measured out the ground of his palace by paces, and everyone from the army set off toward Ray. After that he came before Ardeshir and said: O king who welcomes wisdom, you are the ruler, so ask for his daughter, for she is full of grace and glory, crown and throne. The crown, the throne, and the treasure will come to you, all that Ardavan gathered with such toil. He listened to this counsel and said it was right, and at once he asked for the man's daughter. For a month or two he stayed in his palace, a wealthy commander with a wealthy army. Then the fame seeker came from Ray toward Pars, at rest from battle and from all the wrangling. He built a city full of palaces and gardens, with springs and plains and green meadows within it. Even now the venerable old farmer calls it the province of Ardeshir. There was a boundless spring within it, and from it he opened many rivers and streams. By that spring he raised a fire temple, and through it the feast of Mehregan and Sadeh was renewed. Around it were gardens, a square, and a palace, and a spacious dwelling place was raised up. Since the king was wise, glorious, and strong, they called him the warden of the city of Gur. Around it he built up villages, and once he made it thrive, no one could rival it. In one place he saw a deep body of water, and a mountain had to be cut through before it. They brought pickaxes and skilled workmen, and from that mountain cut a hundred channels. The water was led from the mountain to the city of Gur, and that city filled with houses and livestock.

He led a countless army out of Estakhr, ready and equipped to make war on the Kurds. He sought a reward from God for good deeds, hoping to shed the blood of thieves across that land. When King Ardeshir pressed forward into the narrow pass, the Kurds came out in vast numbers to meet him in battle. It turned into a grim and brutal fight, for the whole region had joined the Kurds as allies. The Persian force was small; the enemy warriors outnumbered them thirty to one. They clashed from dawn until nightfall, and at last the king's army fled. With so many dead and wounded across the battlefield, the whole killing ground grew cramped. Only the king and a meager band remained; no famous champions were left on that field. From the blazing sun and the swirling dust, their tongues cracked with thirst. Just then night raised its banner and stilled the roar and turmoil of battle. He saw a fire on the mountainside, and the king went toward it with his troop. Ardeshir turned his face toward the fire, with only a few men, young and old. When he drew near he saw shepherds keeping watch over sheep and goats. The king and his men dismounted, their mouths full of the dust of the battlefield. Ardeshir quickly asked them for water, and at once they brought water and yogurt. He rested and ate a little of what he found, then in the dark night he pulled his armor over his head. His armor served well enough as bedding, and that king laid his helmet as his pillow. When dawn broke over the sea of water, the king of Iran raised his head from sleep. The chief shepherd came to his bedside and said: may your days and nights be happy. What has happened that your road led you here, to a place unworthy of your resting? The king asked that chief shepherd about the way: where can I find a proper resting place from here? He answered: you will not find a settled place unless you have a guide. From here it is a road of four leagues; once you have gone that far, a resting place will appear. Beyond that, villages join one after another, and in each village there is a well-known headman. When Ardeshir heard this from the chief shepherd, he took several elders from the flock as guides. The commander came down from the mountain into the village, and the headman quickly came out to meet him. He sent riders, young and old, from that town toward the district of Ardeshir. When his army got word of the king, all with glad hearts set out on the road. He sent scouts among the Kurds to secretly find out what they were doing. They went off swiftly and returned, coming back to the king of Iran. They reported: the Kurds are all seeking glory and rejoicing; not one of them gives the king a thought. They believe that Ardeshir has grown old in Estakhr and that his youthful fortune has aged. When the king heard this he grew glad, and the memory of what had passed blew from his heart like wind. From that famous army he chose thirty thousand sword-wielding riders. The king also brought with him a thousand archers with their bows and quivers.

When the sun turned yellow, he moved his army on; whoever could not march was left behind. When half the night had passed and darkness fell, the world ruler drew close to the Kurds. He saw the whole plain filled with sleeping men, and saw that every heart in that army was troubled. When the commander reached the Kurds' bedsides, he handed off the reins of his swift horse. He drew his sword and set to the work, crowning the grass with blood. The whole plain filled with severed heads and hands; the ground split apart under the mass of the dead. Countless of them were taken captive; their arrogance and folly were brought low. He gave all their lands over to plunder, and handed the army their treasure sacks and crowns. Things grew so safe that even if an old man carried a basin of gold coins across the open plain, no one would so much as glance at his gold, such was the good fortune, the luck, and the king's justice. He took no boastful pride in that battle's valor; he came proudly back to the city of Istakhr. He ordered that the horses be made strong, and the riders' weapons kept flawless. When everyone had settled into feasting, knowing the thought of the day of war returns quickly, the brave men turned their minds to eating, now that the battlefield and the war-belt were at rest. Ardeshir remained lost in thoughts of war; when you hear this tale, take it to heart.

Look at this wonder the farmer told, when he unveiled a secret long hidden. In the town of Kojaran by the Persian Sea, what he says of the heights and breadth of Persia. There was a small, crowded town, where everyone earned their bread through hard labor. In that town there were many daughters who, without pleasure, went seeking their bread. On one side, close by, stood a mountain; all the girls would gather together there. Each one carried cotton by the measure, and a spindle-case made of poplar wood. The girls would go out through the gate together, strolling from the town up to the mountain. They pooled their food and ate as one, with no more and no less for anyone. No talk of sleeping or eating passed between them; their pride and rivalry was in that spinning. At nightfall they would return home, their cotton spun into fine thread. In that poor but cheerful town there was a man whose name was Haftvad. Why did his name come to be so? Because he had seven sons. He had one beloved daughter, no more, though he counted daughters as nothing. It so happened that one day they all gathered, sitting with their spindles before the mountain. They pooled whatever they had brought, and at mealtime set their spindles aside. It happened that this fortunate girl found an apple the wind had shaken from a tree. She saw it on the path and quickly picked it up; hear this strange story from me. When that lovely-faced girl bit into the fruit, she found a worm nestled inside it. She lifted the worm from the apple with her finger and gently placed it in her spindle-case. When she took the cotton from that case she said: in the name of God who has no companion or peer, today, by the luck of the apple worm, I will outdo you all in spinning. All the girls grew happy and laughed, their faces bright and their teeth like silver. She spun twice as much as she usually spun in a day, and wrote the tally on the ground. Then she came home swift as smoke, and showed her mother all she had spun. Her mother blessed her with love: may I take joy in you, lovely-faced child. At dawn, when she counted the thread, she carried off twice what she took each time. When the resourceful girl came to the gathering, her heart, ear, and body set on spinning, she said to the noble girls: O moon-faced ones of good fortune, by the luck of the worm I will spin so much fine thread that I will never lack for more. She spun what she had brought before; it would have served her had there been more. She took home the fine thread she had spun, and her mother's heart became like a joyful paradise. Every morning the fairy-faced girl fed a little piece of apple to that worm. However much she increased her cotton, the enchanting girl spun it all. It happened that one day her mother and father spoke to the skilled girl: You spin so much, pure one; have you taken a fairy as your sister? At once the silver-bodied girl told her mother of the apple and the little worm she had hidden. She showed them the lucky worm, and it brought light and joy to husband and wife. Haftvad took those words as a good omen, and never gave a thought to any labor. As time passed in this way, each day the fortune grew brighter. Whenever they spoke of the worm's good luck, their old times were made new again. They did not treat this worm with contempt; they kept it well fed. The worm grew large and gained strength; its head and back took on a fine color. The spindle-case grew too tight for its body, and its skin turned black like dark musk. Within the black was a figure of saffron running along its back from end to end. She made it a clean black chest and built a dwelling for it inside. Things went so far that no one in the town spoke a word, fair or foul, without Haftvad. Honor, respect, and wealth came to him, and his seven sons grew rich as well. There was a governor in that town, proud, with an army, splendor, and renown. He kept making excuses against Haftvad, meaning to seize gold from the lowborn man. When word of this reached him, the man grew afraid and left that town with an anxious heart. His seven sons went ahead of him, their hearts full of grief, their eyes full of blood. From every side he raised a cry and clamor, and young and old gathered around him. Wherever gold was needed, he gave it, and he gave much wealth to the warriors. An army gathered around him, all renowned swordsmen. All together they marched behind his sons and set out seeking battle.

A cry went up from the city of Kojaran; they marched out with spear and sword and arrow. Haftvad pressed forward into the front lines, and in the fighting he gave a manly account of himself. He seized the whole city and killed its ruler; many jewels and much treasure fell into his grasp. Crowds gathered around him, and from the city of Kojaran he moved toward the mountain. He built a fortress on the mountain's peak, and the whole town rallied to his side. In that fortress he set an iron gate; it served both as a refuge and as a place of war. There was a spring high on the mountain that flowed down from above into the stronghold. He raised a wall around it so high that no sharp eye could see its top. When the chest grew too tight for that worm, they made a stone basin for it on the mountain. When the mortar and stone warmed in the air, they gently, gently laid the worm inside. Each morning the keeper would go running down from Haftvad's presence. With great care she prepared its feed, and stuffed the worm's body full. Five years passed at this task, and the worm grew like an elephant, with horns and a mane. After some time had passed for Haftvad, the province took the name Kerman from that worm's fame. The cheerful girl became the keeper of the worm, and her father became the warrior commander of the worm. They gave it a minister and a scribe, and its meals of hard labor were honey and milk. Haftvad became the general over the fortress, and the one who judged what was just and unjust. Army, counselor, and chamberlain, and everything a king could need. They arranged all it required, just as they equip kings. His army spread across the land, and his whole realm was set in order. From the Sea of China to Kerman, he spread his troops over the entire face of the country. He had seven sons and ten thousand swordsmen, along with treasure and war gear. Whatever king marched out against him, his army closed in around the worm. Any army that came was broken the moment it heard the news of this legend. Haftvad's fortress grew so famous that even the wind dared not stir around it. Every day his fortune rose higher, and he adorned himself with great splendor. They began to call him king, and the mind of the wise man was dizzied by him. Any commander on the frontier he crushed helpless in war with a single stroke. No one could stand against him in battle, and in this way some more time went by. His fortress filled with treasure and troops; not even the wind could find a way over that wall.

When Ardeshir learned about Haftvad, the news did not sit well with his heart. The commander sent against him an army of high fortune and eager for battle. When Haftvad learned of this news, he felt no fear of them in his heart. He set an ambush in that corner of the mountain, then came to his own battle with his troops. When the whole army rose up in fury, they struck hard with mace and battle axe. The hidden troops burst from their ambush; the ground turned dark beneath those famous men. No one could tell his own hand from his foot; you would think the earth had bound their hands. The gates, plain, and mountains were so heaped with the dead that even the victor grew sick of killing. Everyone who was still alive from that battlefield hurried back to the side of the king. When the renowned Ardeshir learned of that slaughter, plunder, and pillaging, he grew grieved and summoned his army back, and quickly scattered arms and money among them. In fury he marched toward Haftvad; the evil breed lifted his head to the sky. He brought treasure and weapons out from the fortress; the army and the war became trifling to him. His elder son was far away from him, and when he learned of his father's battle, he sprang up from rest, from food and sleep, and came by boat across the water. The warrior's name was Shahvi, a man of evil ways and evil tongue. He came from the boat to Haftvad, and Haftvad's heart grew glad at his son. He arranged his place on the right wing, being himself the commander and marshal of his army. Two armies both stood ready, full of hatred over that treasure heaped with plunder. King Ardeshir looked upon them; the young man's heart was troubled by the old man's harm. He drew up his troops in two lines on either side; heat rose from the sun and from the swords. When the sound of the drum came from the elephants' backs, a man would faint from two leagues away. The blaring of the horns rose up; the world filled with the din of brazen trumpets. The earth quivered under the nails of the horseshoes; the air turned crimson from the chieftains' banners. From the clash of maces, helmets, and headpieces, the heavens seemed to send greetings to the earth. The gallop of swift steeds tore up the ground; gate and plain filled with headless bodies. Haftvad's army heaved in such a way that you would think the sea was stirred by the wind. The desert grew so packed with both armies that the road narrowed even for ant and gnat. It went on this way until the day turned yellow and night raised its azure canopy. Ardeshir called his troops back from every side; behind his back lay a lake. When the verdigris-colored sea turned black, the scouts came out from both armies. Provisions were scarce for the king's army, for his enemy had cut off the road.

In Jahrom there was a man of vile stock, whose name was Mehrak Nushzad. When he learned that Ardeshir had marched out and had halted there beside the pool, he saw how cramped that battlefield had become, its supply routes cut off, food blocked from reaching them. He came from Jahrom to the king's own palace and gathered troops from every direction beyond counting. He handed over all his treasure to be plundered, giving out to the army bags of gold and many a crown. When word of this reached King Ardeshir, he grew troubled there at the water's edge. He said: with my own house left unsecured, why did I prepare for war against a stranger? He summoned the great men of his army and spoke at length about Mehrak. He said: what is your counsel, chiefs of the army, now that our means have grown so tight? I have tasted plenty of life's bitterness, but the trouble Mehrak brings I never counted on. With one voice they answered: O king, may your eyes never see an evil day. Since Mehrak is only a hidden enemy, why should you search the whole world in worry? You hold greatness, and the world is yours; we are all your servants, and command is yours. He ordered the table spread, and called for wine, goblets, and musicians. They set out several roasted lambs upon the table and all bent their heads to eat. Just as Ardeshir reached for the bread, at that very moment a swift arrow came flying. It struck one plump, tender lamb, and the arrow sank fully into it. The wise and battle-hardened nobles drew their hands back from the food at once. They saw writing marked on that swift arrow, and the scribe among those nobles read it out. Everyone's heart bled with grief; one of them pulled the arrow from the lamb. On the arrow was written in Pahlavi: O wise king, if you will hear me, such a swift arrow flew from the fortress wall, for by good fortune the fort is defended with the strength of a mighty warrior. Had we aimed it at Ardeshir himself, the way through him would have filled with arrows. It would not be right for a king like him to be brought low by a mere warrior in these days. To those famous priests Ardeshir read out the message on that arrow-shaft. The fortress lay two leagues away from him, and the hearts of the chiefs were pained by those words. Then every one of them called down blessings, praising God for the glory of the king of the earth.

That night the king was lost in thoughts about the Worm, as the sun settled into its resting place. Ardeshir gathered his army from the water's edge and marched, roaring, toward Fars. Then the enemy's forces came on, blocking the king's road from every side. They killed every man of rank and rode hard in pursuit of the king. A shout rose behind him: 'Long live the Worm's fortune, may the Worm's throne shine on!' Everyone said, 'What a wonder this is; let each man take a lesson from it.' He came fleeing, his heart full of terror, racing over hill and valley. He saw a large walled town somewhere, and the riders drove toward it like wolves. When he drew near he saw a house, and at its door two young strangers standing. They lingered a while at the door, and these two clear-minded youths asked him: 'Where have you come from at this late hour, covered in road dust and so distraught?' He said, 'Ardeshir passed by here, and to no purpose we were left behind by him. He fled from the Worm and from Haftvad and from that low born, worthless army.' The two young men sprang up, filled with grief, their spirits darkened. They helped him down from the saddle and called down blessings on these great ones. They prepared a pleasant place and set out a fine meal. The riders sat at the table with the king, and both young men rose to serve them. They said aloud, 'O proud one, neither sorrow nor joy lasts long. Consider what the unjust Zahhak brought upon himself from that royal throne. And Afrasiab too, that man of evil designs, from whom the hearts of kings were torn with pain. Alexander, who came into this age, killed whoever was king in the world. They passed away, and nothing but an ugly name remained of them; they will find no green paradise. The same will not last for Haftvad either; in the end this low born wretch will writhe.' At their words the king's heart grew as fresh as a rose in springtime. The comforting speech pleased him, so he spoke openly and revealed his secret: 'I am Ardeshir, son of Sasan; I need some counsel that my heart can accept. What shall we do against the Worm and Haftvad, whose name and lineage should vanish from the earth?' When the commander of Iran revealed his secret, both young men bowed low before him. They both said, 'May you be joyful, and may the hand of evil always stay far from you. May our bodies and souls be your servants; may your spirit endure forever. The things you asked us, we will tell you truly, so you may first devise a plan. In war against the Worm and Haftvad you are not enough, unless you turn from mere justice.' 'They hold a place on a mountain peak, and there are the Worm, the treasure, and the horde. In front lies the city and behind it the sea; a fortress on the mountaintop and a rough road. This Worm, born of the mind of Ahriman, is an enemy of the world's Creator. You call it a worm within its skin, but it is a warring, blood shedding demon.' When Ardeshir heard their words, all full of seeking affection and pleasing to the heart, he told them, 'Yes, this is right; their good and evil, I will share with you.' The young men shaped their answer and set his wise heart at ease: 'We are servants standing before you, and always your guides toward good.' At their words his heart grew glad, and he went on, victorious, his heart full of justice. When the world ruling king set out from there, the young men went along the road with him. Bright of heart and keeping their counsel, the proud king went on to Khoreh Ardeshir. When the army assembled around the king, the great, the wise, and the counselors, he rested a while, and one day, seeking justice, he moved against Mehrak Nushzad. When Mehrak made ready to go to war, the world turned dark and narrow around him. When the king drew near Jahrom, the faithless Mehrak went into hiding. The king's heart was set on battle; he waited until Mehrak was captured. With an Indian sword he struck off his neck and cast his headless body into the fire. Everyone of that lineage who fell into his grasp he killed at once with the dagger. Only a daughter who had hidden from him escaped, and the whole city was filled with searching for her.

From there he set out to fight the Worm, and his army marched toward it as well. He brought a force of twelve thousand horsemen, all seasoned veterans hardened by war. When the scattered troops had gathered into one body, he led them to a spot between two mountains. There was a man named Shahrgir, a wise commander in the service of King Ardeshir. Then the king said to his champion: Stay here, and keep your mind clear and alert. Keep sentries posted night and day, riders who know their craft and can guide the way. Maintain both lookouts and watchmen, guarding the army through day and night. I will now devise a scheme, just as my ancestor Esfandiar once did. If the lookout sees smoke by day, or fire at night blazing like the world lighting sun, know then that the Worm has met its end; its lucky star has set, its heyday is over. From among the nobles he chose seven men, brave as lions on the day of battle. Everyone who was his confidant would never let his secret slip to the wind. From his treasury he also picked out many jewels: silk brocade, gold coins, and every sort of thing. With a wise eye he turned the precious into worthless: he filled two chests with lead and tin. Among the load he placed a bronze cauldron, for he was a master at such work. When he had readied the goods to carry, he asked the quartermaster for ten donkeys. He dressed his men like donkey drivers in coarse woolen cloaks, though their loads were all gold and silver. With a troubled heart, seeking his path, they turned from the army toward the fortress. The two young village men who had once been his hosts one day, he took along with him from that gathering, for they were both his friends and his advisers. He traveled along with that caravan, disguised as a merchant. When along the road he neared the fortress, he saw its walls, ramparts, and town from afar. The Worm's attendants were sixty men, and none of them ever left their duties. One of them looked up and called out: What is hidden inside these chests? The king answered him: I carry all sorts of goods in my load, ornaments and garments, silver and gold, coins and brocade, pearls and gems. I am a merchant from Khorasan, worn out with toil, with no rest for my body. I have gained great wealth through the Worm's good fortune, and now I have come gladly to the Worm's throne. If I add to its worship, that is only right, for it was by its luck that my fortunes were set straight. The Worm's attendant revealed the secret sign, and at once they opened the fortress gate. When he had driven his load into the stronghold, that renowned man set his plan in motion. Ardeshir quickly opened the bundles and gave away whatever he could spare. He spread a feasting cloth before the attendants and waited on them like a servant. He undid the locks and clasps of the chest, brought out its contents, and lifted a cup of wine. Everyone who used to bring food to the Worm, milk and rice, the fare on which it was reared, turned his neck away from the cup of wine, for it was his turn on duty and no time for drunkenness. When Ardeshir heard this, he sprang to his feet: I have plenty of rice and milk with me. With the leaders' permission, for three days let me be the one who cheers you by feeding it. Perhaps I too will become famous in the world, and take some share of its lucky star. You drink wine with me for three days, and on the fourth, like the world lighting sun, I will rise up and build a broad shop, its arch loftier than any hall or palace. I am a seller in search of buyers; this will raise my standing before the Worm. With these words all his aim was fulfilled; they said: Go, take on its worship yourself. The disguised donkey driver put on every kind of manner; the attendants sat down with wine in hand. They drank cup after cup and grew drunk; the Worm's attendants became worshippers of wine. When wine had loosened their tongues, the world ruler came forward with his hosts. He brought the tin and the bronze cauldron and lit a fire in broad daylight. When it was the Worm's feeding time, its nourishment now was boiling molten tin. They saw its tongue take on the color of a scale, just as when it used to eat its rice before. The young man poured the molten tin down, and inside the pit the Worm grew helpless. A crash burst from its throat, so loud that the pit and its ground trembled. Ardeshir rushed in with the young men, swift as the wind, armed with mace, sword, club, and arrows. Of the attendants who were drunk, not one escaped their blades alive. He raised dark smoke from the fortress roof, showing his valor to the army's commander. The lookout ran to Shahrgir with the news: King Ardeshir has won the victory. Swiftly the champion came with his army and brought the troops close to the king.

When Haftvad learned of what had happened, his heart filled with pain and his head with empty rage. He came to reclaim the fortress, and the king climbed the rampart in fury. Haftvad struggled a while but gained nothing, for the walls of the fortress were guarded like a lion's den. From the other side his army came on like a mountain, but that host was left branded with grief and pain. From the rampart King Ardashir called out: 'Come near for battle, you who would seize cities!' 'If Haftvad is lost from your midst, nothing will stay in your grasp but toil and wind.' 'For I poured molten tin into the Worm; that fortune of his is gone, and its swift power softened away.' The whole army heard the king's voice, and they set their iron helmets upon their heads. At that the Iranians took heart, and with fury they girded themselves for vengeance. Fortune turned back from the Worm's army, and Haftvad was taken captive in their midst. So too was Shahvi, his cunning man, who was his eldest son and his commander. King Ardashir came down from the rampart, and the conqueror of cities stood before them on foot. They brought a horse with a golden bridle, and the great king mounted it, content. Then the lofty king ordered two tall gallows raised at the edge of the sea. He hanged the two villains alive on the gallows, waking the enemy's heart from its slumber. The conqueror came from the center of the army and killed those two with a rain of arrows. He gave over all the wealth to be plundered, and the army was enriched with the spoils. Whatever was in the fortress, from end to end, his officers carried down. Every precious and pleasing thing he sent along toward Khoreh of Ardashir. He built a fire temple in that land, and through it the feasts of Mehregan and Sadeh were renewed. Then he handed the land, crown, and throne to those loyal governors of watchful fortune. From there he departed, victorious and glad, and spread justice across the land of Persia. When men and beasts had grown more rested, he led his army toward the city of Gur. He sent a force to Kerman, along with a man worthy of crown and throne. From there he went on to Ctesiphon, having overturned the fortune of every enemy. Such is the way of the world, this world that keeps its secret hidden from you. It will not bend to you, so make your peace with it, for one day is descent and another is ascent. Now that I have finished the tale of the Worm, I have opened another door onto Ardashir.