The Fall of Faramarz

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.