Part 12: Rostam's Night Raid

Those seven warriors rode out with Rostam, leaving the baggage in the care of sharp-witted Ashkash. They dropped the reins over the front of their saddles and drew, every one, the blade of vengeance. He went straight to the court of Afrasiab, at the hour of slackness, rest, and sleep. Suddenly the shouting and the seizing broke out, the flash of swords and a rain of arrows. Many a chief had his head cut from his body, beards full of dust and mouths full of blood. From the corridor Rostam called out: 'May your sleep be sweet and your champions glad.' 'You slept on your throne while Bizhan lay in the pit, as though you had never seen an iron mount on the road.' 'I am Rostam of Zabol, the son of Zal, this is no time for sleep, for rest, or for ease.' 'I have broken open the door of your prison, that heavy stone which was its keeper.' 'Bizhan is freed, head and foot, from his chains, for no one harms his own son-in-law.' 'Enough of this feud and vengeance over Siavash, enough of Rakhsh wheeling across this plain.' Then Bizhan too raised a cry: 'You Turk of evil stock and darkened mind,' 'think back on that blessed royal throne, with me bound and dragged before you by the feet.' 'You sought battle like a leopard, while my hands were tied as helpless as stone.' 'Now see me free upon the open field, where no raging lion of vengeance dares face me.' Afrasiab struck at his own garments in alarm, seeing that sleep had bound his warriors. Then Rostam ordered his men to fall on those renowned nobles who filled the palace. On every side rose the clamor of the assault, and from the spilling of blood a stream ran at the door. Whoever came from the army of Turan, for him the world was emptied of its place. They rushed to press the vengeance home, and out of that house Afrasiab fled. The lord of Rakhsh entered the palace and shared out all its carpets and brocade. The fairy-faced maidens who served the king, every one, took the hands of the champions. There were priceless horses and leopard-hide saddles, and arrows notched with jewels set in their feathers. After that they packed the loads from the hall, for they did not linger long in Turan. For the baggage they drove the horses hard, so that no uproar would rise from the deed. Rostam was so worn by the hardship of the road that the very weight of his helmet ached upon his head. The riders from exhaustion and the horses from galloping, not a vein in any of them still stirred. Rostam sent a message to his army: 'Draw the sword of vengeance from its sheath.' 'For I have no doubt that after this, in revenge, the earth will turn black beneath the horses' hooves.' 'Afrasiab will muster a mighty army, and with their spears they will hide the face of the sun.' The war-riders all set out together, every one sharpening his grip for battle. All the spearmen with polished points, all of them gathering their reins for the fight. Manizheh sat within her tent, a servant standing before her as her guide. Rostam offered her a fitting parable: 'Though the wine be poured away, its scent does not spill.' 'Such is the way of this fleeting inn: now delight and drink, now pain and grief.'