Bahram and the Lion

When his hunting cheetah was ready for the task, he stirred, and the thought of the hunt came over him. He mounted a swift steed and rode out to the open plain, his falcon on his fist. A thick, wooded grove came into view before him, a place fit for fortunate people. A green spot, like paradise itself, where he saw neither people nor cattle. He said: 'This is a haunt of lions, and a battleground for the brave.' The bold man strung his bow, and at that moment a male lion appeared. The lion let out a roar as it closed in; the king raised his hand and drew the bow. He loosed the arrow and pinned its flank through to the heart; the heart of the lioness burned with grief for him. Then the lioness charged at Bahram, roaring, and raked his body with her claws. The rider struck a sword blow across her middle, and the fierce beast fell dead in that combat. An old man came out from the grove, his tongue ready with sweet words. His name was Mehrbandad, and he was overjoyed by that sword stroke. He was a landholder, a worshipper of God, and that grove was his dwelling place. When he came up to the king of Iran, he blessed him and bowed low before him. He said to him: 'O renowned lord, may the star of fortune turn to your wish.' 'I am a farmer, O pure of heart, the owner of this land, these crops, and this house.' 'Master of cattle, donkeys, and sheep, worn down and heartsick because of the lions.' 'Now God has placed this deed in your hands, accomplished by your grip and your thumb-guard.' 'Stay a while here in this grove, and enjoy milk, wine, and honey.' 'There are as many lambs as you could need, and trees that bear fruit and give shade.' King Bahram dismounted from his steed and looked about that grove for a place, somewhere the ground was green and water flowed, the kind of spot fit for a young man. Mehrbandad went and brought back musicians and some of the village elders. He slaughtered many a fattened sheep and came forward with a golden cup in his fist. When the food was eaten and cups of wine poured, they set roses and yellow blossoms before him. When Mehrbandad grew merry with wine, he said to Bahram: 'O warrior of good fortune, 'know that you look just like the king, and like his golden throne and his high seat.' Bahram said to him: 'Yes, that could be. The one who paints faces is the true king; 'he creates whatever he wills and chooses whomever he wishes.' 'If I truly resemble the king so closely, I grant you this grove and this dwelling.' He said this, then mounted from that place and, tipsy, rode off to a cheerful hall. That dark night he slept in the garden, remembering the lips of his loved ones.