The Fall of Dara

When Dara read that reply to his letter, he was left amazed at the ways of the world. At last he said: this is worse than death, that I should bow down and serve a Roman. The grave is better for me than disgrace. This hard-hearted man had told a fitting story: If the whole sea's water comes rushing in, a single raindrop within it goes unseen. I once stood beside everyone in battle; now my own fortunes have grown so narrow. I see no friend for me anywhere in the world; no one hears my cry but my God. Since he had no ally near or far, he wrote a letter to Poros, king of India. It was full of pleading, submission, and pain. First he offered praise to the Lord of the world. Then he said: O chief of the Indians, wise and learned, with a bright soul, Surely word has reached you of what fate has brought down upon my head. Alexander has brought his army from Rome; he has left us neither soldiers nor a flourishing land. No kin, no children, no throne, no crown, no royal diadem, no treasure, no army. If you would be my ally, so that I might ward this harm off from myself, I will send you so many jewels from my treasury that you will never again know want. You will also win fame throughout the world, and become honored among the great. He sent off a swift camel, fast as the wind, and it came to Poros of Poros's line. When Alexander learned of this news, of what foundation Dara son of Dara was laying, he ordered the trumpets sounded; the roar of the war drums rose, and the Indian bells. So great an army came out from Estakhr that the sun lost its way in the sky. The shout of the armies rose from both sides; the warriors grew restless for the fight. Alexander drew up his ranks in order; the air turned indigo, the earth vanished from sight. When Dara brought his army onto the field, it was a force with no real heart for war, broken in spirit and sick of fighting; the star of the Iranians had sunk low. They did not clash at all with the Romans; that field of fierce lions turned into foxes. The noble men begged for quarter; from the peak of greatness they fell into disgrace. When Dara saw this, he turned his face and fled, running off amid cries and uproar. Three hundred horsemen went with the king, every one of Iran's renowned men. He had two honored ministers, two men who had stood with him on the field of battle. One was a priest named Mahyar; the other man was called Janoshyar. When they saw that the cause had come to nothing, that Dara's high star and name were finished, one said to the other: this luckless man has lost his crown and diadem and throne. We must drive a dagger into his chest, or an Indian blade upon his head. Alexander will grant us a province; through this kingship we too will become rulers. His two ministers rode along with him, the men who were his counselors and his treasurers. Mihin on the left, Mahyar on his right. As the night grew dark, a wind rose in the air. Janoshyar took up a dagger and struck it into the king's chest and breast. The head of the renowned king was brought low, and the whole army turned away from him.