Reign of Bahman Esfandiyar, One Hundred Twelve Years

When Bahman took his grandfather's throne, he tightened his belt and opened his hand in generosity. He gave his army coins and gold, and granted them many lands and borders. He gathered a council of the wise, the great, and seasoned nobles. He spoke of the fate of Esfandiar, of the good and evil turns of time. Old and young, all of you here, everyone with a clear mind, you remember. You know what Rostam did in his time, and Zal too, that old sorcerer. Faramarz seeks nothing in this world, openly or in secret, but our blood. My head is full of pain and my heart full of blood; I hold nothing in my mind but revenge. Two warriors like Nush-Azar and Mehr-Nush, whose loss brought forth cries of grief. And an Esfandiar, through whom the fortunes of the great in this world stayed fresh and alive. In Zabolestan he was killed in such a way that beast and prey wandered dazed with grief for him. Surely even the painted idol in the palace weeps bitterly over the blood of Esfandiar. And over the blood of our famous men, our young men and our warrior riders. Anyone born of pure lineage will not let the head of his noble line sink into the grave unavenged. Let it be as with king Fereydun: when it turns bloody, it turns blessed. For to avenge the blood of Jamshid he cut Zahhak down from among the world's renowned. Manuchehr, against the mighty Salm and Tur, brought a great army out of Amol. He marched to China and demanded vengeance for his forefather; the tale, as I tell it, is true. When Kay Khosrow rose against Afrasiyab, he turned the world to a sea of blood. My father came and sought vengeance for Lohrasp; with the slain he leveled the earth as high as the mountains. And Faramarz, for the blood of his father, raised his head to the shining sun. He went to Kabul and demanded vengeance for Rostam, and razed the whole land level with the dust. The ground could not be told apart from the blood; they drove their horses over the corpses. I am the one most fit for this vengeance, ready to hurl my horse against the raging lion. If you count the famous of the world, you will see no rider like Esfandiar. What is your view, and what answer do you give? Strive to reach a wise and fortunate decision. When the army heard Bahman's words, everyone who wished the king well said with one voice: We are your servants, our hearts brimming with love for you. You know the past better than we, and you are stronger than warrior men. Do in this world whatever suits your desire, whatever will bring you glory and a great name. No one will turn his head from your command; who would dare break your covenant? When he received such an answer from his army, his mind grew even keener for revenge. They readied all of Sistan for the campaign, settled on this plan, and set out. At dawn the war drums thundered, and the dust of the army turned the sky ebony black. From that famous host marched a hundred thousand sword-wielding riders.

When he reached the banks of the Helmand, he chose a worthy messenger. He sent him to Zal, son of Sam, and gave him many messages of every kind. He said: because of my grudge against Esfandiar, my days in this world have turned bitter. And because of the deaths of Noush-Azar and Mehr-Noush, two noble princes, two blessed spirits. Let us drive this old grudge from our hearts, or else I will drown all of Zabol in blood. The messenger came to Zabol and spoke; Zal's heart was joined with pain and grief. He answered: if the king would reflect on the matter of Esfandiar, he would know that what happened was fated to happen; that whole affair has left my heart wounded. You yourself stood in the midst of the good and the bad; from me you gained benefit, never harm. Rostam did not turn away from his command; his heart was bound to his pledge. Your father, that precious and mighty king, his hour came, and so his end grew grim. In the forest neither the lion nor the fierce dragon escapes the grip of fate. Surely you have heard what Sam the horseman did in his valor in those days. So it went, down to the time of Rostam, who drew his sharp sword from its scabbard. Think what he did for your forefathers, with his courage in times of shame and battle. He was among your servants and guardians, one of the nobles of your army. Now Rostam has died in wretchedness, and all Zabolestan has fallen into turmoil. Night and day I grieve for my son, my eyes brimming with tears, my head covered in dust. Wailing and burning, my heart full of pain, my two cheeks pale and my lips gone blue. Cursed be the one who brought him down, and cursed be the one who showed him the way. If you would look upon our quarrel, and think kindly about our situation, and come and drive the grudge from your heart, and cast a spell of love over this land, then all the treasure of my son and the gold of Sam, the golden belts and golden bridles, I will bring before you when you come; you are the king, and the proud warriors are your flock. He gave the messenger a horse and gold, and many gifts of every kind. When this rich envoy reached Bahman, he told him all he had seen and heard from Zal. When fortunate Bahman heard him, he refused the apology and flew into a rage. He came into the city, his heart full of pain, his head full of grudge, his lips heaving cold sighs. Zal, son of Sam the horseman, came out to meet him, he who was the renowned one of Sistan. When he drew near to Bahman, he dismounted from his horse and bowed low before him. He said to him: this is the time for mercy, the day to cleanse the heart of pain and grudge. By the kindnesses that we have done, we raised you in your youth. Forgive, and do not speak of the past; seek honor, and do not demand vengeance from the dead. For before you Zal, son of Sam the horseman, has come this humbly, leaning on his staff. Bahman grew furious at his words, and his ready wrath cooled a little. At once he put his feet in chains, and would not heed the counsel of his minister or his treasurer. From the palace of Zal, son of Sam the horseman, they loaded burden after burden onto the camels. The gold and unblemished jewels, the thrones and every furnishing there was, the silverware and crowns of gold, the golden vessels, earrings, and belts, the Arabian horses with golden bridles, the Indian swords in golden sheaths, the slaves and the sacks of coins, the musk and camphor, everything great and small, all that Rostam had gathered with hardship, the treasure he had won from kings and proud warriors, he gave all of Zabolestan up to plunder, and handed out purses and crowns to the great men.

Faramarz grew heavy with grief at the borderland, and washed his hands of any hatred left in this world. All the bright souled champions came, every one of them, to gather before the hero. He opened his tongue to those famous men, and spoke often of what Zavareh had said. For that worldly-wise man had told my father, his lips full of cold sighs: 'Bahman will seek from us revenge for Esfandiar; do not treat this lightly.' But my father, that renowned and worldly-wise man, turned his head away from Zavareh's warning. He would not accept it, nor heed the counsel, and now his borderland lies ruined because of it. When my grandfather passed, Bahman rose to kingship, and the crown of royalty climbed to the moon. Now Bahman, the famous ruler, is reviving his vengeance for Esfandiar. Both out of love-driven revenge for that brave horseman, and for Nush-Azar, that tearing lion of a warrior, he now demands their blood-price from us, to carry out his vengeance and his custom. From Iran he has led an army like a black cloud, thirsting for revenge, right up to us. My grandfather, that lofty and famous man, he seized and bound in chains, the man who had been a shield before the Iranians, his loins girded bravely for their cause. What has befallen this renowned family, that harm now comes at us from every side? My father slain, my grandfather's shadow in chains: within my mind, blood has turned to poison. I have given all my borderland up to plunder; I no longer see any source of my worth. Now what do all of you say in turn, each one of you who stands proud and tall? They said, 'O bright souled warrior, father after father, you are our hero. One by one we are all your servants; we live by your will and your command.' When he heard this, he put on his battle armor, his heart full of hatred, his head full of shame. He raised an army and set out toward Bahman, remembering many battles of mighty Rostam. When the news reached Bahman, he flew into a rage upon his royal throne. He loaded the baggage, mounted his troops, marched into Ghur, and stayed two weeks. Faramarz came forward against him with his army; the world turned dark from the dust of the horsemen. From the other side Bahman drew up a line so vast the shining sun could not see the ground. From the blare of trumpets and Indian bells, the very heart of the mountain leapt from its place. The sky washed the face of the earth with pitch, and arrows rained down like hail from a cloud. From the crash of battle-axes and the twang of bows, the earth trembled more than the heavens. Three days and three nights upon that battlefield, through the shining day and the glowing moon, maces rained down and steel blades fell; the sky turned to fog from the army's dust. On the fourth day a wind arose; you would say that night had come level with day. The wind turned toward Faramarz, and the hero grew glad at its breath. He went after them with a sharp sword and raised a resurrection-storm among that host. From the men of Bost and the army of Zabol, from the sword-wielding warriors of Kabul, no horseman was left upon the field, and none of those proud, famous ones remained. Every one of them turned their backs and fled, abandoning Faramarz to his ruin. The whole battlefield was heaped with slain like mountains, bodies from both armies flung together. Faramarz, with only a few fighters left, turned his face bravely to face them. His whole body was covered with sword wounds, for he was the son of lions, and a lion himself. At last, by the reaching hand of Ardashir, the brave and famous one was captured. He was brought before Bahman from the battlefield; the vengeful king gazed at him a while. When he saw him, he granted him no mercy for his life; the ruler ordered a gallows raised. He hanged Faramarz alive upon the gallows, turning his elephant-like body upside down. After that, King Ardashir gave the command, and they killed him with a rain of arrows.

The noble Pashutan, who served as counselor, had a heart worn down and pained by all the killing. He rose to his feet before the ruler of the world and said: You, just and honest king, if you carried hatred in your heart, you have had your wish; right has come out of wrong. Now do not order plunder, killing, war, and turmoil; do not approve of so much clamor. Fear God and feel shame before us; look at how the fortunes of this world keep turning. It lifts one man up to the high clouds, and casts another down into misery and disgrace. Your father, that world-conqueror who lit up armies, was carried in his coffin toward the south. And Rostam went to the hunting ground at Kabul only to be destroyed in a pit. As long as you live, pure and generous king, do not torment anyone of noble blood. When the son of Sam, son of Nariman, in his chains cries out to the God on high, you will suffer for it, lucky as your star may be, once he brings his case before the Creator. It was Rostam who guarded the throne of kings, always girding himself for hardship at its gate. You received this crown as a keepsake from his line, not through Goshtasp and Esfandiar. Trace the record from the age of Kay Qobad all the way down to pure-minded Kay Khosrow: their greatness rested on his sword, and he kept the great ones all beneath his power. Free him from his chains, if you have any sense, and turn your heart away from the path of evil. When the king heard Pashutan's words, he grew ashamed of his pain and his old grudge. A shout went up from the royal tent: You champions of justice and good counsel, prepare now to turn back; let there be no plundering, no killing. He ordered Dastan freed from his fetters, and they released him with much kind advice. By the word of the pure-hearted counselor, they laid the slain in a proper tomb. Zal passed from the prison into the hall, and his blessed companion wept bitterly over him, crying: Alas, brave one, warrior Rostam, grandson of the famed hero Nariman, while you were alive, who even knew that Goshtasp ruled as king of the world? Now the treasury is plundered, Dastan a captive, and my son cut down miserably by an arrow's point. May no one's eyes ever see such days; may the earth be left barren of Esfandiar's seed. Word of all this reached Bahman, and it reached the blessed Pashutan too. Pashutan was filled with grief for Rudabeh; her lament turned his face pale. He said to Bahman: You, new king, bright as the young moon in the middle of the sky, at dawn lead the army out of this land, for this matter has grown hard and heavy. May the evil eye stay far from your crown; may all your days be days of celebration. In this house of Zal, son of brave Sam, it is not fitting for the king of kings to linger long. When the mountain turned the color of pale amber, the sound of the war drum rose from the court. Then the vengeful Bahman gave the order to march the whole army out of there. At once from the royal tent came the drums, the horns, and the Indian bells. From there they set their faces toward Iran, by the word of the noble-natured counselor. He led the army from Zabol to Iran, bringing it near the city of the brave. He rested and sat gladly on the throne, ruling the world with law and justice. He gave some coins to the poor; some he made joyful, and some he left downcast. O world, what do you want from those you raise? What of those you raise but slaves with hearts branded by grief?

He had a son as brave as a lion, whom they called Sasan, son of Ardeshir. He also had a daughter named Homay, gifted, learned, and wise in judgment. They also called her Chehrzad, and the whole world took joy in seeing her. Because of her goodness, her father took her as his own, following the faith they call Pahlavi. It happened that Homay, heart-brightening and radiant as the moon, became pregnant by the king. When six months had passed, the king was worn with grief, and seeing this, Bahman fell ill. When pain brought the king low, he ordered that Homay be brought before him. He summoned the nobles and the fortunate ones, and seated them on thrones of honor. He said: this pure-bodied Chehrzad has known little happiness in this world. I hand over to her the crown and the high throne, the army too, and the treasury of great worth. She is my heir in this world, along with whoever is now born hidden within her. Whether a daughter comes to her or a son, this crown and throne of the father shall be theirs. When Sasan heard these words he was stunned, and Bahman's speech darkened his heart. For two days and two nights, fierce as a leopard, he fled Iran to another frontier out of shame. Raging, he went toward the city of Nishapur, full of resentment, far from his father. He asked for a woman of noble stock, cared for her, and treated her rightly with heart and soul. He told no one in the world of his own lineage; he kept that truth concealed. The pure-bodied woman bore a fine child, of Bahman's line through the noble Sasan. The father named him Sasan then, but his own time soon came to an end. As the child grew from childhood into manhood, he saw nothing in that house but poverty. He took a flock from the king of Nishapur, one that grazed freely over mountain and plain. For a time he served as the king's shepherd, across mountain, desert, and resting place. Now I return to the story of Homay, who took the throne after Bahman's death.