The Tale of Haftvad and the Worm

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.