Tale of Rostam and Esfandiyar

Now is the time to drink smooth, delightful wine, for the scent of musk drifts up from the stream. The air is full of clamor, the earth of ferment. Happy is the one who keeps his heart glad with a drink. Whoever has coins, sweets, and a cup of wine can afford to slaughter a whole sheep. I have none of it. Lucky is the one who does. Be generous to the man of empty hands. The whole garden lies beneath a canopy of rose petals; the mountains are all tulips and hyacinths. In the orchard the nightingale keeps up its lament, and the rose blooms taller from its cry. When I see the wind and moisture pouring from the cloud, I cannot tell why the narcissus turns so sad. Through the dark night the nightingale will not sleep; the rose sways under wind and rain. The nightingale laughs and darts about, and when it settles on the rose it lifts its voice. I cannot tell if it is the cloud that loves the rose, when from the cloud I hear a lion's roar. The wind rips its shirt apart, and fire flashes and glitters through its body. For love, the sky has made the earth its witness before the sun that rules over all. Who knows what the nightingale is saying, what it mourns beneath the rose? Watch at dawn and you will hear the nightingale speaking in the old Pahlavi tongue. It grieves over the death of Esfandiar; nothing but this lament is left of him. Like Rostam's cry in the dark night, the cloud tears open the heart and ears of the roaring lion.

I heard a story from a nightingale, one it recited from the words of the ancients, that when Esfandiar came back drunk, gloomy and troubled, from the king's court. Katayun, daughter of Caesar, was his mother, who kept him close by her, night and day. When he woke in the dark of night, he called for a cup of wine and began to speak. Esfandiar said to his mother: The king keeps doing me wrong. He told me: When you avenge King Lohrasp's blood by defeating King Arjasp in battle, and free your sisters from captivity, you will lift our name high across the world. You will cleanse the world of the wicked and their ways, you will strive and give it a new order. Then all the kingdom and the army will be yours, and so will the treasury, the throne, and the crown. Now, when the sky lifts up the sun and the watchful king rises from sleep, I will remind my father of the words he spoke; he keeps no honest promise from me hidden. And if he shows the least reluctance on his face, then by God who holds up the heavens, I will set the crown on my head against his will, and give the whole realm to the Iranians. I will make you lady of the land of Iran; with strength and courage I will fight like lions. His mother grew sick at heart from his words; the fine silk on her body turned to thorns. She knew the famous king would never hand him the crown, the throne, and the diadem. She said to him: My son, who has known so much suffering, what more can a crowned heart want from the world? You have treasure, command, counsel, and an army; do not reach for more than this. A father holds one crown to pass to his son; you already have the army, the land, and the domain. When he passes, the crown and throne are yours, the greatness, the kingship, and his good fortune are yours. What is finer than a fierce, roaring lion standing girded, ready before his father? Esfandiar said to his mother: A wise man put this saying well, that you should never tell a secret to a woman, for once you speak it you will find it out in the streets. Never do a single thing at a woman's bidding, for you will never see a woman give sound counsel. His mother was filled with shame and embarrassment; she came to regret what she had said. Esfandiar went off to Goshtasp, and passed his time with music and wine. For two days and two nights he drank raw wine, and set his heart at ease with a moon faced beauty. On the third day Goshtasp learned that his son was after the throne. The thought grew heavy in his heart, and the longing for crown and throne came over the son. Then the king summoned Jamasp, the same seer who had served Lohrasp. They came in with their astronomical tables spread out, and the king asked about the hero Esfandiar: Will he have a long life? Will he live in joy, peace, and ease? Will he set the crown of kingship on his head? Will fortune and greatness stand by him? When the sage of Iran heard the question, he studied those ancient tables. His knowledge drew his brows into a knot, and grief filled his lashes with tears. He said: Cursed be my day and my ill star; it is as if fire has rained down on my head. If only fate had thrown me into the lion's claws before the blessed Zarir, or if his father had simply killed me, then Jamasp would not have become the bearer of bad news, nor would he have seen him cast down in the dust like that, thrown before him drenched in blood, an Esfandiar whose grip would tear a lion's heart with fright at his onset, who swept the whole world clean of enemies, who has no rival in battle, who freed the world of the fear of evildoers, who cut the very body of a dragon in two. After this, one must bear grief for him, and taste much turmoil and bitterness. The king said: My worthy man, speak, and do not turn from the path of knowledge. Come now, hurry and tell me plainly, for this question has left a bitter taste in my mouth. If he is to die like the commander Zarir, then living beyond this would be misery for me. At whose hand will he lose his life in this world, that we must weep with such sorrow? Jamasp said to him: O king, do not treat this day so lightly. His death will come in Zabolestan, at the hand of the mighty son of Dastan. Then the king said to Jamasp: Can ill fate be turned aside from me, so that if I hand him the crown of kingship, the crown and the great throne, he will never see the land of Zabolestan, and no one in Kabolestan will know him? Will he then be safe from the turning of fate? Will his good star be his guide? The astrologer answered thus: No one can escape the turning wheel of the sky. From this sharp clawed dragon that has risen, who has ever been set free by courage or by wisdom? Whatever is destined will surely come to pass; no wise man has ever outrun his fated hour. At this the king's heart filled with worry, and grief and pain became his constant companions. Dark thoughts and the turning of fate kept teaching him only toward ruin.

When the night gathered up its reins and rode away, the shining sun raised its lance into the sky. The king took his seat upon the golden throne, and the fortunate Esfandiar came before him. He stood before him like a servant, deep in thought, his hands folded in respect. When the army gathered around him, the famous warriors and champions of the king, all the priests lined up before him, and the commanders stood in ranks. Then Esfandiar, that elephant-bodied hero, began to speak out of his pain. He said: My king, may you live forever; you are the glory of God on this earth. Through you, justice and love have flourished; through you, the crown and throne are made beautiful. You are the king; my father, and I am your servant, always ready to do your will. You know that Arjasp, for the sake of religion, came with those horsemen of China. I swore those solemn oaths and accepted that divine counsel: that anyone who breaks our faith, whose heart turns and becomes an idol-worshipper, I would cut in two with my dagger; I feared no one and dreaded no one. And after Arjasp came to war, I never turned back from battle, fierce as a leopard on the plain. You disgraced me on Gorazm's word, claiming I asked for a cup of wine on the day of feasting. You bound my body in heavy chains, in the columns and iron nails of the smiths. You sent me to the fortress of Gonbadan and handed me over to villains in humiliation. You went off to Zabol and abandoned Balkh; you mistook the whole war for a banquet. Then you saw Arjasp's sword, and old Lohrasp was cast down into his own blood. When Jamasp came and saw me bound, and saw my body wounded by those chains, he offered me the throne and the kingdom, and pressed me hard about it. I said to him: these heavy shackles, these chains and the iron nails of the smiths, I will keep just as they are, by the king's command; I want no army, and I want no crown. On the day of reckoning I will show God, and complain to the Creator about the slanderer. He said to me: if you will not hear my advice, you leave a wicked man upon the throne. He said more: think of the blood of so many chiefs, proud men with their heavy maces, wounded and abandoned on that battlefield, struck down by arrows, and your own sisters carried off as captives; and the noble champion Farshidvard, lying wounded on the field of battle. The king is fleeing from the Turks, while Esfandiar writhes in his chains. Does your heart not burn for such things, for this pain, this grief, and these torments? He said much else besides this, for his speech was wedded to pain and sorrow. I broke apart every shackle and chain, and came running to the king of my people. I killed more of them than could be counted; the king rejoiced at what I had done. If I were to recount the tale of the Seven Trials, it seems it would never reach its end. I severed Arjasp's head from his body, and raised high the name of Goshtasp. I brought his wife and children to this court, along with that treasure, the throne, and the crown. All the good deeds you did filled your treasury, while my only wages were blood, pain, and hardship. Because of all your bonds, oaths, and promises, I never step outside your command. You used to say: if I see you again, I will choose you with all my heart and soul. I will hand you the crown and the ivory throne, for in manhood you are worthy of the crown. But shame rises in me before the nobles, when they ask: where is your treasure and your army? What is the excuse now, and where do I stand? After all this struggle and toil, for whose sake was it?

The king answered his son: There is no path except the path of honesty. You have done more than what you claimed in your words. May the Maker of the world be your ally. I see no enemy anywhere in this world, neither out in the open nor hidden away. Whoever hears your name does not resist you, for to resist you is as good as to die. You have no equal on earth, except, perhaps, that reckless famous son of Zal. For as long as Zabulistan has existed, Bost, Ghazni, and Kabulistan have been his. In manliness he seems to soar past the sky, and he counts no one greater than himself. He was a servant before Kavus the king, and he outlived Kai Khosrow in this world. When it comes to kingship he gives no weight to Goshtasp, for he says our crown is new and his line is old. On earth I have no match in battle, not among Romans, Turanians, or free-born men. Now you must set out for Sistan, and bring to bear your strength, your cunning, and your snares. Draw your sword and your mace bare, and put Rostam, son of Zal, in chains. Do the same to Zavareh and Faramarz; leave no one able to climb into a saddle. By the Creator of the world, who gave strength, who makes the stars, the moon, and the sun shine, once you carry out these tasks, from that day on you will hear no judgment from me. I will hand you the crown, the throne, and the diadem, and seat you upon the throne in the place of honor. Esfandiar gave him this reply: O gifted and renowned king, you are straying from the ancient custom; you should measure your words before you speak. Go seek war and battle with the king of China; raise dust against those famous warriors. Why seek combat with a single old man, the one Kavus called the lion-hearted? From the time of Manuchehr down to Kai Qobad, the hearts of kings were glad because of him. There has been no one in Iran more virtuous than he, no one who has done so much good. They called him lord of Rakhsh, conqueror of the world, slayer of lions, and giver of crowns. He is no upstart warrior in this world; he is great and bound by the pledge of Kai Khosrow. If the pledges of kings hold no weight, then there is no point seeking any decree from Goshtasp. Goshtasp answered Esfandiar: O lion-hearted, gifted, and famous one, anyone who turns away from the way of God, his pledge too scatters like wind across a plain. Surely you have heard how King Kavus, at the command of the devil, lost his way. He rose toward the sky on the wings of eagles, then fell in misery and grief into the water at Sari. He carried off a demon-born woman from Hamavaran and handed her the royal harem. Siavash was killed because of the pain he caused, and the whole household was turned upside down. Whoever breaks the pledge of a world-ruler, you should not even pass by his door. If you want the throne and crown from me, take the road to Sistan and lead an army. When you arrive there, bind Rostam's hands and bring him with a lasso thrown around his arms. Zavareh, Faramarz, and Dastan son of Sam, must not be allowed to set a trap for you. Bring him running on foot to this court, drag him here so the whole army can see him. After that no one will turn his head from us, whether he seeks favor or vast treasure. The commander frowned, his brow full of anger, and said to the king of the world: turn back from this. You have no real need of Dastan and Rostam; you are only looking for an excuse against Esfandiar. You grudge me the seat of kingship, and you want me gone from this world. May this throne and the crown of kings be yours; a single corner of this world is enough for me. Still, I am your servant, with my head bowed to your command and your will. Goshtasp said to him: do not be so harsh. You will rise high, so do not sink into despair. Choose from the army many horsemen, veterans skilled in the ways of war. Weapons, troops, and money are yours to command; let despair be for the souls of your enemies. What good to me are treasure and army without you, or treasure, throne, army, and crown? The hero Esfandiar answered: An army is of no use to me at all. If my final hour is drawing near, no army can hold the world-ruler back from me. He turned back from his father in bitter distress, both over the kingship and over his father's anger. He came into his own hall downcast, his lips full of sighs and his heart full of grief.

When Katayun heard the news she filled with rage, and came to her son with eyes full of tears. She said to noble Esfandiar: you, the last memory left of the great kings of the world, I have heard from Bahman that you intend to leave this garden and march to Zabulistan, to bind Rostam, son of Zal, the master of the sword and the mace. In this world, listen to your mother's advice: do not rush toward evil, do not push so hard. That horseman has the strength of an elephant; from the blood he sheds he could carve a Nile through the earth. He split open the White Demon's heart; before his sword even the sun loses its way. He killed the king of Hamavaran, and no one dared speak a harsh word to him. Surely no warrior as brave as Sohrab ever rode into the field of battle, yet in the heat of war, in the arena, he was killed at once by his own father's hand. To avenge Siyavash upon Afrasiab, he turned the world into a sea of blood. A curse on this throne and this crown, a curse on this killing, this chaos, this plunder. Do not throw your life away for a crown; no one is born from a mother already wearing the royal crown. Your father has grown old, but you are young, strong in body and mighty in manhood. The whole army has its eyes on you; do not, in anger, cast yourself into disaster. There are other places in the world besides Sistan; do not act rashly, do not reach out your hand. Do not shame me in both worlds; listen to the words of this loving mother. Esfandiar answered her: keep these words in mind, dear mother. Rostam is just as you know him; you recount his feats as if reciting from the ancient book. You will find no one in all of Iran more virtuous than he, no matter how far you search. Since it is not right to bind him, such a wrong does not befit a king. But you must not break my heart; if you break it, I will tear myself from life. How can I refuse the king's command? How can I abandon such a duty? If my end is to come in Zabul, then my star, no doubt, will draw me there. When Rostam comes to obey my command, he will never hear a cold word from me. His mother's lashes rained down blood, and she tore all the hair from her head. She said to him: you, raging elephant, you treat your own life as worthless in your strength. You are no match for Rostam alone; do not go from here without a company of men. Do not throw away your wits before that raging elephant, carrying your fate so recklessly on your shoulders. If your plan is truly to go this way, it is nothing but the wish of the evil-natured Ahriman. Do not lead your children down into hell, so that the wise may call you clear-minded. Then the warrior said to his mother: leaving the children behind is not the way. When a young man hides behind the veil with women, his spirit stays low and his soul grows dark. In every battle he must be watched over, ready to take the blows of the king's mace. I have no need of a whole army, only my kin, my family, and a few horsemen. The loving mother left her son's side, full of pain and with a darkened soul. All night, out of love for her son, she poured blood from her eyes down onto her breast.

At dawn, when the rooster crowed, from the palace gate the war drum's roar rose up. Like an elephant he set his foot in the stirrup and swept the army off like the wind. They marched on until two roads met before him, and elephant and army came to a halt. One road led to the fortress of Gonbadan, the other bent a little toward Zabol. The camel that walked ahead lay down to sleep; you would think it had wedded itself to the dust. The driver struck its head with his staff, and at that moment the caravan stopped moving. The world-seeking prince took this as an omen, and ordered its head and neck cut off, so that the evil would turn back upon it, and nothing remain but the divine glory. The battle-hungry men cut off its head, and at that moment its ill fate returned to it. Esfandiar was grieved over that camel, and just then he made light of the sinister star. He said: whoever comes out victorious, the crown of his fortune becomes a light to the world. Both good and ill come from God alone; a man's lips should stay smiling. From there he came toward the Helmand, still fearful of the harm that might come. By custom they pitched the royal tent, and the great men of the army chose their places. He quickly raised a canopy and set up a throne, and the fortunate hero mounted that throne. He called for wine and summoned the musicians, and showered gold and jewels upon them. He gladdened his own heart with music, and filled the hearts of noble men with memories. From the aged wine the faces of the famous and the warring king bloomed like a rose. He said to his companions: I did not defy the king's command, nor did I stray from the path. He told me: set to work on Rostam, and do not rest at all from putting him in chains and shame. I set out to do it for my father's sake; now this chosen old warrior, he has borne great toil in the place of chiefs, and set the world right with his heavy mace. All the people of Iran are alive because of him, whether they be kings or servants. We need a sharp-witted envoy, eloquent, wise, and quick to remember. A rider of splendor and grace, one whom Rostam cannot deceive. If it happens that he comes to us and brightens our darkened mind, and graciously offers his hands for my binding, and by wisdom lets me spare him from harm, I want nothing for him but kindness, if he keeps himself far from stubborn temper. Peshotan said to him: this is the right way; hold to this, and show respect for good men.

He ordered Bahman brought before him, and gave him more advice than could be measured. He told him: Ride the black horse, and dress your body in fine Chinese silk. Set the royal crown on your head, all engraved with noble gems. So that anyone who sees you would choose you above all proud lords. They will know you are of royal blood, and will remember the Creator because of you. Take five horses with golden bridles, and honor ten priests of good name. Ride straight from the road to Rostam's house, and do not make the task hard on yourself. Give him our greetings and show kindness; make your words graceful and increase their warmth. Tell him: Whoever rises high, ruling the world and safe from every harm, should be grateful to the Judge of all, for He alone forever knows and rewards good. When a man keeps adding to his good deeds, and holds himself back from ill temper, his success and his treasure grow, and he stays glad in this fleeting world. When he keeps clear of ugly deeds, he will find paradise in the next world. Good and bad alike pass over us; the one who has wisdom knows this well. In the end the bed is dark earth, and the soul flies toward the pure God. Everyone in this world who knew what good was, worked hard and kept peace with the kings. Whatever you sow, that you will reap; whatever you say, that you will hear back. Now we take a fair measure of you; there should be nothing added and nothing left out. You have lived through countless years, and seen many kings in this world. If you look back through the path of wisdom, you will know this is not fitting. That all this greatness, treasure, and army, precious horses, throne, and crown, you received from our forefathers, when you rushed eagerly into their service. What vast realms King Lohrasp held, yet you never came near that court. When he gave the land of Iran to Goshtasp, you gave no thought at all to that throne. You never wrote him a single letter, nor performed the courtesies of service. You never went to his court like a servant; you want no one in the world to be your king. From Hushang and Jamshid and brave Fereydun, who tore the kingship from Zahhak's line, trace it forward down to Kay Qobad, who set Fereydun's crown upon his head. There is not one famous man like King Goshtasp in war, in feasting, in counsel, and in the hunt. He embraced the pure and righteous faith; error and going astray were hidden away. When the way of the world's lord shone like the sun, false teaching and the demon's path were hidden. After Arjasp came to war, his army like leopards, their chief like a crocodile, no one could count his host, yet the renowned king went out to meet him. He made a graveyard on the field of vengeance, so wide the face of the earth could not be seen. Surely this story, until the resurrection, will never grow old among the great. Now the east is his and so is the west; he breaks the backs of fierce lions. From the land of Turan to India and Rome, the world has become like soft wax in his hand. From the plain of the lance-wielding riders, many horsemen stand at his court. The border lands send him tribute and tax, for they have no strength to fight him. I told you this, O champion, because his soul is wounded on account of you. You never went to that renowned court, nor gave a glance to those famous men. You have kept to a corner of the world, keeping yourself hidden away. How could the great forget you, unless they tore out their clear minds and hearts? You always sought good, and did your duty by the command of kings. If someone counted all your labors, they would outweigh all the treasure in the world. Yet none of the kings agreed with a servant on such a matter. Rostam told me: With so much wealth, and a land and treasure so richly furnished, he has settled in Zabol and grown drunk; no one can get anything from a drunken man. One day he grew furious and swore an oath, by the white day and the deep-blue night, that from now on the world-ruling king would see him only bound and brought to court. Now I have come from Iran on this errand; the king gave me no leave even to breathe a word. Beware, and bend away from his wrath; have you not seen the anger his eyes can hold? When you come here and obey, and offer up your soul as a pledge of apology, by the shining sun and by the soul of Zarir, by the soul of my father, that lion-hearted lord of the world, I will make the king regret this; I will light up this star and moon again. In what I have said I seek no false glory; I will not go about any task with lies. Peshotan is my witness in this; my soul and my wisdom are my guides. I sought the king's peace with you, yet I still saw fault on your side. My father is the king and I am the lesser one; I will not stray from his command for a moment. Now the whole family must sit together, take counsel, and set their hands to this matter: Zavareh, Faramarz, and Dastan son of Sam, and the world-wise Rudabeh of good name. Listen to all my advice, one by one, and put your faith in these good words of mine. This house must not fall to ruin, becoming a prize for the bold men of Iran. If I bring you bound before the king, I will heap much guilt upon him for it. We will stand before him pleading; we will bring him back from wrath and vengeance. I will not let so much as a breeze blow against you, as befits one of my noble blood.

When Bahman heard the words of that famous man before the throne, he set out on his way. He put on royal robes of gold brocade and set the great crown upon his head. He came striding proudly from the royal tent, a bright banner following behind him. The world seeker crossed the Helmand River, a proud young man on a tall horse. At once the watchman spotted him and raised a cry toward Zabolestan, That a bold warrior had come, riding a black horse under trappings of gold. Behind him rode a modest band, and he passed easily along the riverbank. At once Zal the golden-haired mounted up, a lasso at his saddle-straps and a mace in hand. He rode out from the watchtower and saw the man, and drew a cold, heavy sigh from his heart. He said, this is a famous champion, a proud man dressed in the garments of kings. He surely comes from the line of Lohrasp; may his coming to this land be blessed. He rode back from the watchtower to his court, and for a while lay lost in thought upon his saddle. At that moment Bahman appeared, spreading out his royal banner. The young man did not know Zal; he lifted high his kingly neck with pride. When he drew closer he called out and said, you there, man of noble farmer stock, Where is the chief of the assembly, the son of Dastan, the one on whom the age leans for support? For the hero Esfandiar has come to Zabol and pitched his tent by the river's edge. Zal said to him, ambitious young man, come down, call for wine, and take your rest. Rostam will soon return from the hunting ground, along with Zavareh, Faramarz, and some troops. Stay here honored among these riders, and cheer your heart with a few cups of wine. He answered thus: Esfandiar did not order us to feast and drink. Choose me a man who knows the way to guide me to the hunting ground. Dastan said to him, what is your name? You pass by so swiftly; what is your purpose? I think you are a kinsman of Lohrasp, or perhaps of the line of King Goshtasp. He answered thus: I am Bahman, grandson of the world ruler, the brazen-bodied one. When Zal heard the words of that proud youth, he came down from his horse and bowed before him. Bahman smiled and dismounted; Zal asked after him, and Bahman listened. He begged him many times to stay here, saying there is no reason for you to leave so hastily. Bahman replied, the command of Esfandiar must not be treated so lightly and cheaply. So Zal chose a man who knew the road and sent him with Bahman to the hunting ground. The guide went on ahead of him, a worldly-wise man whose name was Shirkhun. He pointed out the hunting ground with his finger, and then turned back and left the road.

A mountain stood before the young man, and the champion urged his horse ahead. Bahman looked out toward the hunting ground and saw the great champion of the army there. He had grasped a tree in his fist, and many spits of meat were laid upon it. He had spitted a wild male onager on that tree, and set down his mace and gear beside him. In his other hand a cup full of wine, and his son stood serving before him. Rakhsh grazed there in the meadow, where there were trees, grass, and a running stream. Bahman said to himself: this is Rostam, or else the very sun of dawn. No one in the world has ever seen such a man, nor heard of his like among past heroes. I fear that even the champion Esfandiar could not stand against him, and would turn his head from battle. With a single stone I will leave him lifeless, and wring the hearts of Zal and Rudabeh. He tore a boulder from that granite mountain and sent it rolling down from the high peak. From the hunting ground Zavareh saw it, and heard the roar of the granite stone. He cried out: noble lord, a boulder is tumbling down from the mountain! Rostam did not stir, nor set down the onager, though Zavareh kept raising the alarm. He stayed as he was until the stone drew near, and its rolling darkened the mountainside. He struck it with his heel and hurled it far off; Zavareh and his son praised him. Bahman's heart sank at this deed, when he saw such greatness and such strength. He kept saying: if the blessed Esfandiar makes war upon so renowned a man, he will disgrace himself in the fight; better that he deal gently with him. And if it turns out that he wins in battle, he will seize the whole land of Iran in his grip. He mounted his swift steed and, lost in thought, went back down from the mountain. He told the priest of the wonder he had seen, and then took the easy road onward. When he drew near the hunting ground, Rostam at once caught sight of him from afar. He said to the priest: who is this man? I think he must be of Goshtasp's line. He went out to meet him, Zavareh at his side, and with them everyone in the hunting camp. Bahman dismounted swift as smoke, greeted him, and showered him with courtesies. Rostam said to him: until you tell me your name, you will get nothing you desire from me. He replied: I am the son of Esfandiar, chief of the righteous, the renowned Bahman. The champion at once took him in his arms and began to apologize for his late welcome. They both went to the place of sitting, he and the noble servants of the king. When Bahman sat, he gave his greeting and spoke well of the king and the Iranians. Then he said: Esfandiar set out like fire from the court of the sovereign, and pitched his tent on the bank of the Helmand, by command of the blessed and lofty king. I bring a message from Esfandiar, if the mounted champion will hear it. Rostam said: I hold the king's command higher than the sun and moon. First let us eat what we have; after that the world is at your command. He spread soft bread on the cloth and brought a whole onager roasted warm. When he set the tablecloth before Bahman, he recalled to him the tales of old. He seated his brother beside him too, but called none of the other nobles. He set another onager before himself, for his portion each time was a whole one. He sprinkled salt, cut, and ate, while the proud young man watched him. Bahman ate only a little of the onager, not a hundredth of what Rostam ate. Rostam laughed and said: so the prince keeps this manner at his eating. If you eat so lightly at the table, how did you pass through the Seven Trials? How did you wield the lance in battle, my prince, if this is how you eat? Bahman said: one of royal blood should be talkative and not a heavy eater. Let eating be little and effort and fighting much; in that hour we lay our very lives in our palms. Rostam laughed and said aloud: a man's courage cannot be hidden from other men. He filled a golden cup with wine and drank to the memory of noble, free-hearted men. He placed another cup in Bahman's hand: take it, and drink to whomever you wish to remember. Bahman feared the cup of wine, so Zavareh took the first draught. He said to him: son of the sovereign, may the wine and the wine-pourer gladden you. Bahman took that cup into his hand, though his heart was uneasy and he lingered over the wine. He remained amazed at Rostam, at his eating, his neck, his arms, and his shoulders. The two horsemen mounted, and Bahman rode along beside the renowned one. He delivered, one by one, the greeting and the message from Esfandiar, that hero of good name.

When Rustam heard what Bahman had to say, the old man's mind grew heavy with thought. He said: Yes, I have received the message, and my heart is glad at the thought of seeing you. Carry back my answer to Isfandiyar: O lionhearted, renowned prince, anyone whose soul holds wisdom looks first to the root of things. When manhood, victory, and possessions are his, along with a well-stocked treasury, and greatness, valor, and a lofty name, honored among the noble ones, then, being what you now are in this world, you should not carry an ill temper in your head. Let us stand by justice and the worship of God, and never take the hand of evil in our own. Words that are not worth saying are like a tree that bears neither fruit nor fragrance. If greed takes over your soul, a fruitless struggle will drag on for you. It is better when a great man speaks measured words, and keeps his tongue clear of harmful talk. This servant was gladdened by your words, when you said no mother has borne one like you; that in manhood, courage, judgment, and wisdom you surpass your own ancestors. Your name is known in India, in Rome, in China, and in the land of sorcerers. I am grateful for this counsel; I will offer praise day and night through the three watches. I have longed and prayed to God, and now I have set my heart on you. To look upon your admirable face, your greatness, your valor, your affection; to sit together in contentment and raise our cups in the king of kings' honor. Now I have found everything I sought; I hurried eagerly to make my plea. I will come to you now without an army, and hear from you all the king has commanded. I will bring you the covenants of just kings, from Kaykhusraw back to Kayqubad. Now, O prince, consider my situation, look at all I have done and all I have suffered. The good deeds I have performed, and the hardships I have endured, and my long service to sovereigns, the same today as in ages past, if the reward for that toil is to be chains, if harm should come to me from Iran's king, then it would be better that no one see this world; and having seen it, not linger long in it. Let me come and tell all my secrets, and raise my voice for the whole world to hear. I will fasten a halter on my arm, and let my feet hang bound in leopard hide, just as I once tied down the raging elephant and hurled it into the river Nile. If any fault of mine is proven, then after that my head may be cut off. Keep such unpleasant words away from me; leave harm to grieve the devil's heart. Do not say what no one has ever said; you cannot cage the wind by force of arms. The great find their way through knowledge; there is no crossing the sea without a guide. The blaze of the sun cannot be hidden, nor can a fox be mated with a lion. Do not pour out strife upon my path, for I myself am a wellspring of battle. No one has ever seen a chain on my foot, nor has a raging elephant taken my ground. Do as befits kings: do not keep the demon of greed at your right hand. With true manhood drive anger and spite from your heart; do not view the world with youth's rash eyes. Keep joy in your heart and cross the river; may the greeting of holy God be upon you. Honor our hall with a feast, and do not stay far from one who serves you. Just as I was a servant to Kayqubad, now my heart and mind are glad because of you. When you come to my hall with your army, stay here in gladness for two months. Let man and beast rest from their toil, and let the eyes of enemies go blind with envy. The whole plain is full of game, and birds upon the water; if you delay, they will scatter in flight. Let me see in you the strength of warriors, whether with your sword you can bring down lion or leopard. When you wish to lead your army back to Iran, to bring it before the king of the brave, I will open my ancient treasuries, the ones I won here by the edge of the sword. I will lay before you all that I possess, everything I gathered by the might of my own hand. Take whatever you want and give the rest away; do not bring such a bitter day upon my heart. Pay the army in silver and show no harshness; when you find goodness, do not turn sullen. When the time to depart draws near, and you long to see the king, I will ride rein to rein with you on the road, and come with dignity to the king's presence. With apology I will soften his anger; I will kiss his head, his feet, and his eyes. I will ask the wakeful, exalted king why my feet should be put in chains. Keep in mind everything I have told you, and repeat it to the noble Isfandiyar.

When Bahman had heard Rostam's words, he set off with the pure priest at his side. For a while the great Rostam lingered on the road, then called his brother Zavareh and Faramarz before him. Go from here to Dastan, go to the lord of Kabolestan. Tell them that Esfandiyar has come, a man who seeks the whole world has come. Set golden thrones in the halls, and spread royal robes upon them. Just as in the days of King Kavus, but with a station even more magnificent than that. Prepare whatever food is fitting, fine dishes to nourish a guest. For the son of the king has come to us, full of enmity and hungry for battle. He is a famous hero, a bold prince; he would not fear a whole plain of lions in war. I will go to him, and if he accepts a friendly greeting, then everyone may hope for a good outcome. If I see goodwill in his mind, I will bring him a crown of rubies and gold. I will not grudge him treasure and jewels, nor horse armor, nor mace, nor sword. But if he sends me back with no hope, no day of mine with him will dawn bright. You know that this coiled lasso of mine can drag down the head of a raging elephant into bonds. Zavareh said to him, do not worry about this; no one seeks battle where there is no grudge. I know no one in the world like Esfandiyar, so renowned in judgment and in courage. A wise man does no wicked deed, and he has seen no wrong from us. Zavareh went to Zal, while Rostam, on his part, raised his neck with pride. He rode swiftly to the bank of the Hirmand, his mind on edge from fear of harm. He drew rein at the edge of the river and waited there for Bahman to bring word of greeting. When Bahman came to the pavilion, he stood before his father, on his feet. The blessed Esfandiyar asked him what answer that famous hero had given. When he heard, he sat down before his father and told him all he had heard, door to door. First he delivered Rostam's greeting, and then recalled his words. He told his father everything he had seen, and kept hidden the things he had not seen. He said to him: no gathering has ever seen a man like the elephant-bodied Rostam. He has the heart of a lion and the body of a mighty elephant; he could haul crocodiles up from the river Nile. He has now come to the bank of the Hirmand without armor, helmet, mace, or lasso. He longs to see the king; I do not know what secret he holds with you. Esfandiyar grew angry at Bahman and humiliated him before the whole gathering. He said to him: it does not suit a man of honor to sit and share secrets with a woman. And if you send children on a great mission, they will not prove bold or strong. Where have you ever seen proud warriors? You have only heard the yelp of a fox. So now you make Rostam out to be a battle-elephant, breaking the courage of the famous gathering. Then he said in secret to Pashutan: this war-making, battle-crafting lion, he pretends to be a young man; it seems the years have never worn him down.

He ordered them to saddle the black horse, to place a golden saddle on its back. Then a hundred famous riders from the army rode out with noble Esfandiar. He came at a gallop to the bank of the Hirmand, his lasso coiled and fastened to his saddle. From this side Rakhsh let out a cry, and from the other side neighed the horse of the crown-bestowing hero. So they came near the water, both hurrying eagerly for the meeting. The mighty Rostam stepped from dry land into the river, dismounted, and greeted the young hero. After his blessing he said: I asked the one God to be my guide, That you would come to this place with your renowned men, safe and sound, and with your army, So we might sit together and speak, and set our talk on the path of good sense. Know this: God is my witness, and reason is my guide in these words, That I seek no glory in mere talk, nor do I ever busy myself with lies. If I had seen the face of Siyavash, I would not have felt as freshly happy as this. You look like no one but Siyavash, that world-giving, crowned king. How lucky the king who has a son like you; a father proud of your stature and glory. How lucky the land of Iran, whose people serve your throne and your bright fortune. Dark be the fortune of anyone who fights you, who seeks your throne and is turned to dust. May all your enemies dread you; may the hearts of the ill-willed be split in two. May your fortune be victorious every year; may every dark night be like Now-Ruz to you. When Esfandiar heard his words, he came down from his famous steed. He took the mighty warrior into his arms, and when he was content, began his blessing: Thanks be to God, O champion of the world, that I have seen you happy and bright of spirit. You are worthy of praise; the heroes of the world should be dust before you. How lucky the man who has a son like you, who sees a lofty, thriving branch of his own. How lucky the one who has a support like you; he is safe from the harshness of the times. How lucky Zal, that when his days are done, you will remain in the world as his memorial. Seeing you, I remembered Zarir, the horse-felling general, that lion of a man. Rostam said to him: O champion, ruler of the world, watchful and bright of spirit, I have one wish to ask of the prince, that I may have my desire fulfilled in it: That you come strolling to my home and brighten my soul with your presence. If what I have is not worthy of you, still we will try, and reach out with what we can. Esfandiar answered him thus: O living memorial of the world's heroes, Anyone as renowned as you makes the whole land of Iran glad. One should not go against your wishes, nor pass by your land and your home. But I will not turn my soul, openly or in secret, from the command of the king of the world. He did not order me to linger in Zabol, nor to make war on the nobles of this land. Do what you can gain from these times, and follow the path the prince commands. Put the chains on your own feet without delay; there is no shame in the king of kings' bonds. If I bring you bound before the king, all the blame will fall back on him. My heart is wounded by this binding; I stand before you with my belt fastened in readiness. I will not let you stay in chains even till nightfall, and if any harm should come to you, Charge it all to me, O champion; surely no evil will come from my king. Once I place the crown upon my head, I will place the world in your hands. There will be no sin in the sight of God, nor will I feel any shame before the king. When you return to Zabolestan, in the season when the rose garden blooms, You will also receive much wealth from me, so your land and home will be adorned. Rostam said to him: O renowned one, I was asking of the Creator and Judge That I might gladden my heart with seeing you; how then could I accept hurting you? We are two lofty men, old and young, two wise and vigilant champions. I fear the evil eye may strike, that we may wake from this sweet dream. That the devil may find his way between us and twist your heart for the sake of crown and throne. It would be a disgrace for me in this matter, one that would never grow old, even in eternity, That such a chosen and eminent commander as you, a proud lion and a warrior, Should not come for a moment into my home, nor be my guest in this land. If you take this sharpness from your mind, and try, and lay a soothing charm on the wounded, I will do whatever you command of me, and I will delight my soul in seeing you. Only the chains, for chains are shameful; wearing them would be a broken, ugly deed. No one will see me alive and in chains; my bright soul is set on this and nothing else. Warriors greater than you came before you, yet none ever set heavy chains on my feet. Esfandiar answered him thus: O living memorial of the world's heroes, You have spoken all truth and told no lies; true men do not gain their glory through crookedness. But Pashutan knows what the king commanded when I set out on this road. If I now come to your home and become your glad and honored guest, And you then turn away from the king's command, the light of day will turn black for me. And another thing: if I make war on you and bring out the fighting temper of a leopard, I will forget the bond of bread and salt, and the wheel of fate will turn against me. And if I turn my head from the king's command, in the next world my dwelling will be fire. If this is your wish, then just for today let us reach out our hands to the wine. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? There is no need to dwell on such tales. Rostam said to him: I will do so; I will go and take off my traveling clothes. For a week I have been hunting, eating wild game instead of lamb. Call me back at mealtime, when you sit with your kin before the table. From there he mounted Rakhsh, his wounded heart bound up in thought. He came at a gallop until he reached the palace, and saw the face of Zal, son of Sam and Nariman. He said to him: O renowned chief, I have reached Esfandiar. I saw him mounted like a slender cypress, wise, graceful, and full of glory. You would say the brave King Fereydun had handed him all greatness and wisdom. Seeing him surpassed even what I had heard; the splendor of kingship shone out of him.

When Rostam left the bank of the Hirmand, the great hero grew heavy with thought. Pashutan, who was the prince's guide, came at once to the royal tent. The champion Esfandiar said to him: we have taken on a hard and thankless task. I have no business in Rostam's hall, nor is there any meeting between me and him. If he does not come, I will not summon him either, even if it means one of us is undone. A living heart is scorched by the thought of the slain, and the head weeps at the loss of a friend. Pashutan said to him: O renowned one, what brother could match Esfandiar? By God, at first I saw the two of you as men who bore no grudge against each other. My heart turned green as spring at that sight, glad for both Rostam and Esfandiar. But when I looked closely at your affair, I saw the demon blocking the road of reason. You know the ways of faith and wisdom; your soul has always been nourished by good sense. Take care, do not wage war against life; listen to your brother's words. I heard everything Rostam said; his greatness is matched by his humanity. Your fetters will never touch his feet, nor will he come lightly to be bound by you. The world's great rider, the son of Dastan and Sam, will not let himself be trapped in some game. No wise man has ever named in this world a champion among the proud to equal him. How can you put his foot in chains? Do not speak of a thing that will never win favor. Foul and unwelcome words: it is fitting that a lion-hearted hero not utter them. I fear this matter will drag on to an ugly end between two proud men. You are noble and wiser than the king, stronger in courage and horsemanship. One man seeks a feast, another seeks battle and hate; consider which of them earns praise. The renowned prince answered him: if I turn my head away from the king, it would be a disgrace in this world, and a reckoning before God as well. I will not sell both worlds for Rostam; no one has ever sewn shut the eye of faith with a needle. Pashutan said: whatever counsel I gave was for the good of your pure body and soul. I have said it all; now choose the better path. The hearts of kings should not reach for hatred. The commander called the cooks to lay the table, but ordered no one to go and invite Rostam. When the meal was done he took up the cup of wine, and then began to speak of the Brazen Fortress. He recalled his own feats of valor, and drank a cup to the memory of the king of kings. Rostam meanwhile stayed in his own hall, holding to his pledge to abstain from the meal. After a while no one came; Rostam kept watching the road again and again. When the hour for the meal had passed, the brave man's patience boiled over. He laughed and said: brother, set out your own table and invite the noble free men. If this is Esfandiar's way of hospitality, then remember this hero's way in return. He ordered Rakhsh to be saddled, and the saddle adorned in Chinese fashion. I will go and tell Esfandiar to his face how lightly he has treated our affair.

He mounted Rakhsh like a maddened elephant, a bull-headed mace in his hand. He came thundering up to the riverbank, and the army rushed to catch sight of him. Every soldier who looked upon him felt his heart bind itself to him in love. Everyone kept saying that this famous hero resembled no one but Sam the rider. On that saddle-cantle of iron, Rakhsh himself seemed a very demon. If a mighty war-elephant met him in battle, he would shake the dark dye from the beast's brow. No one had ever seen such a man in the world, nor heard of his like among the famous men of old. There is no sense in the king's head, that he should seek battle with this renowned man. In this way, for the sake of crown and throne, he gives up to death a hero bright as the moon. In old age he reaches more eagerly for treasure, and grows prouder of throne and diadem. Rostam came from afar like a lion, and beneath him a bold dragon of a horse. When he drew near to Esfandiar, the famous prince at once came out to meet him. Rostam said to him: O warrior, fresh in ways, of new fashion, and fortunate young man, your guest was not worth even a stroll to greet, so it was, and so your word has proven. Take to heart every word I say: do not rise in reckless heat against an old man. You think yourself great, and reckon yourself above these famous heroes. You hold my manhood cheap, and count my judgment and knowledge as slight. Know that in this world I am Rostam, the one who lights up the seed of Nariman. The White Demon still gnaws his fingers in fear of me; I have crushed the hope of many a sorcerer. The great men who saw me in battle, and saw my roaring Rakhsh, that raging lion of mine, warriors like Kamus of the fight and the Khan of China, war-riders and men of vengeance, these I plucked from their saddles with the curl of my lasso, and bound them head and foot. I am the guardian of Iran and Turan; everywhere I am the backbone of the brave. Do not think ill of this request of mine, and do not set yourself higher than the sky. For the sake of your glory and majesty, I seek your goodwill and your friendship. I do not want a king like you to have his days destroyed by my hand. For I would call brave Sam the hero, the man from whom the fierce lion fled the forest. Now I am his memorial left in the world, and the other is the hero-prince Esfandiar. I have long been a champion of the world, and have heard tales of every kind. I thank God that the years have passed and I have lived to see a fortunate king, my equal, one who takes vengeance on the man of impure faith, so that a whole world calls down blessings on him. You are the famous, gifted king, the very crown of battle in the fight. Esfandiar laughed at Rostam and said: O son of Sam the rider, you grew heavy-hearted that I did not come to greet you, but I sought no advantage or glory in this. The day was so hot and the road so long; I did not mean to trouble you, so do not be harsh. I kept saying: at early dawn I will make my way, with apology, toward what is just, I will be gladdened by the sight of Dastan, and delight my soul for a while with you. Now you have taken on this hardship, come out to the plain and left your home behind. Sit at ease and lift a cup; speak no more of heat or sharp temper. He set a place for him at his own left hand, arranging the gathering to honor Rostam. The world-seasoned hero said: This is not my place; I will sit where my judgment tells me to sit. The mighty-bodied one said: Prepare a seat at the right hand; that lower place is not fit for me. He spoke to the prince in anger: Look at my custom, and open your eyes. Behold my worth and this noble lineage of mine, for I am a warrior of the line of Sam. A man must have merit, glory, and noble blood, a generous hand and a heart full of justice. If you have no place worthy of me, I have victory, wisdom, and good judgment of my own. After that the king's son gave the order to set a golden chair before the throne, so that the famous champion, the great hero, might sit beside the young king. He came and sat upon that golden chair, full of anger, a fragrant citron in his hand.

Esfandiar spoke to Rostam like this: You kind hearted, famous chief, I have heard from wise men, from great lords and clear minded priests, the stories of your ancestors who came before, your proud, devout, and blameless forefathers, that Zal, of tainted stock and born of demons, had no lineage worth counting in this world. They hid him for a long time from his father Sam; he became the family's dread and turmoil. His body was dark, his hair and face white; when Sam saw him, his heart lost all hope. He ordered them to carry the child to the sea, hoping birds and fish would tear him apart. The Simorgh came and spread her wings; she saw in him no grace or majesty at all. She carried him to her nest, thinking Zal would make a good meal for her. Yet however hungry the Simorgh was, the body of Zal seemed too poor a thing before her. So she cast him down in front of the nest; no one took any joy in looking at him. He fed on the carrion she dropped, naked, his stripped body wretched. When the Simorgh took pity on Zal, the heavens turned above him this way for a time. After he had tasted carrion for a while, he was dragged, naked, back toward Sistan. Sam took him back, though he had been abandoned for his childishness, his ignorance, his demon nature and coarseness. My blessed lords and kings, my forefathers and my well wishers, raised him up and gave him wealth; and so many years passed over this too. He was like a cypress with an untouched crown; when it bore branches, Rostam came from him. By his manhood, his stature, and his presence, his fortune rose all the way to the sky. In this manner he seized the kingdom, grew strong, and turned to godless ways.

Rostam said to him: settle down. Why do you speak such unwelcome words? Your heart keeps straining toward crookedness, and your soul is nourished by demons. Speak only what befits a king. A king says nothing but the truth. The ruler knows that Dastan, son of Sam, is great, wise, and of good name. That same Sam was the son of Nariman, and Nariman the hero came from noble stock. He is great, and Garshasp was his father, a crowned king in this world. Surely you have heard the fame of Sam. There was no one of such good name in his time. At Tus he killed a dragon whose grip no one ever escaped. A sea monster in the water, a leopard on land, no one ever saw him flee from battle. In the sea he scorched the heads of fish, and in the air he burned the vultures' wings. He would drag an elephant by the tail. My glad heart grows heavy remembering him. And there was another demon, evil-minded, his body on the earth and his head in the sky. The sea of China reached only to his waist, and the blazing sun could not harm him. He would lift fish out of the water, raising his head past the dome of the moon. He roasted his fish in the sun, and the turning heavens wept at the sight of him. Two such monsters writhed in agony, and both were slain by a hero's blade. My mother was the daughter of Mehrab, through whom the land of India flourished. Zahhak was her fifth forefather, one who rose to power among the kings of the world. Who else has a lineage more renowned than this? A wise man does not turn away from the truth. Moreover, throughout the whole world, warriors must seek their skill from me. First I hold the pledge of Kavus, so no one can find fault with me. And the pledge of the just Kay Khosrow, whose belt of kingship no other of the royal line ever fastened as he did. I have crossed the whole earth from end to end and killed many an unjust king. When I crossed over the waters of the Oxus, Afrasiab fled from Turan to China. When Kavus was in the war of Hamavaran, I went alone into Mazandaran. I left no Arzhang alive, nor the White Demon, nor Sanjeh, nor Ulad the son of Ghandi, nor Bid. For the sake of the king I killed my own son, brave and wise as he was. There was never a champion like Sohrab in strength, in manhood, and in tested battle. It is surely more than five hundred years since I was born from Zal's line. I have been the champion of the world; my hidden self was one with my open self. Like Fereydun of blessed birth, who set the crown of greatness on his head, who threw Zahhak down from the throne and gave that head and crown to the dust, the second was Sam, our forefather, who carried knowledge and mastery through the world, the third am I: since I fastened my belt, the world has rested easy under its crown. There was never a day so bright, no lawless man ever set foot in the fortress, while I was the master of this world, with my sword and my heavy mace in hand. I told you all this so you would understand: you are the king, and the proud chiefs are like a flock. You have only newly come into the world, however much you bear Kay Khosrow's glory. You see only your own self in the world; you are not aware of hidden matters. Since so much has been said, let us drink now, and drown the mind's worry in wine.

When Esfandiar heard this from Rostam, he laughed, and joy swelled in his heart. He said to him: I have heard of all your labor and your deeds, all your pain and your grief. Now hear the things that I myself have done, how I have brought low the necks of the proud. First I girded myself for the faith, and cleared the land of idol worshippers. No warrior in all the world has seen so many enemies vanish beneath the dust as those I slew. My lineage comes from the seed of Goshtasp, and Goshtasp himself sprang from Lohrasp. Lohrasp was the son of King Arvand, who held crown and throne among the great. Arvand himself came from the line of Kay Pashin, whom his own father blessed. Pashin was of the seed of Kay Qobad, a wise king whose heart was full of justice. Trace it back this way to King Fereydun, who was king of the world and worthy of the throne. My mother too is a Caesar's daughter, she who is the crown upon the heads of the Romans. That Caesar's descent runs back to Salm, from Fereydun's seed, glorious and just. Salm was the son of the mighty Fereydun, who carried the name of kingship among rulers. I will speak, and none can say it is false, for the crooked ways are many and the true path few. You are one who, before my forefathers, before my great, watchful, and pure ancestors, served alongside my grandfather; I seek no magic trick to prove this. You gained your greatness from my kings, when you rushed eagerly into their service. I will tell you everything as it is; if one word is a lie, then hold up your hand and object. Ever since the throne was given to King Goshtasp, I have kept my belt tight with manhood and good fortune. Whoever went to China for the sake of the faith, afterward everyone praised him for it. After Gorazm's slander turned things against us, my father chained me and cast me from the feast. Because of my imprisonment, harm reached Lohrasp; the whole earth vanished under the Turks. Jamasp brought the blacksmiths to free us from our heavy chains. But the smiths' work was slow, and my heart was set on the clang of the sword. My patience broke, I shouted at them, and tore my body free from the smiths' hands. I raised my head up from where I sat and snapped the shackles and fetters apart with my bare hands. Arjasp fled before me, though he commanded so famous an army. With courage I bound the belt at my waist and went after him like a raging lion. You have heard what came upon me in the Seven Trials, from lions and from the demon. By a clever ruse I entered the Brazen Fortress, and turned a whole world upside down within it. I took full revenge for the Iranians, and girded myself to avenge the blood of the great. What I did in Turan and China, and the toil and hardship I endured there, surely no wild ass ever saw such things from a leopard, nor any crocodile from a fisherman's net. Since the days of Tur and mighty Fereydun, no one in the world had spoken the name of that fortress. There was a dark stronghold on a mountaintop, so high it stood far from any crowd. When I went there, they were all idol worshippers, dazed and reeling like drunkards. With my own courage I seized that fortress and dashed all their idols to the ground. I raised up the fire of Zoroaster, which he had brought in a censer from paradise. By the victory granted by the one just God, I returned to Iran again so that no enemy was left for us anywhere, and no brahmin remained in the idol temples. I fought that battle alone, with my own body, and no one shared the burden of my struggle. Now our words have grown long between us; if you are thirsty, raise up the cup of wine.

So Rostam spoke to Esfandiar: What we do is what remains of us. Now be fair and listen to the words of this famous old man. If I had not marched into Mazandaran, my heavy mace lifted upon my shoulder, where Giv and Kavus and Tus lay chained, their ears deafened by the war drums, who else could tear the heart and brain from the White Demon? Who else trusts his own arm that far? I ripped the sorcerers' heads from their bodies; they got no grave, no shroud, no tomb. I freed the king from his heavy chains and brought him to the throne; Iran rejoiced and he was blessed with fortune. In the Seven Trials my Rakhsh was my ally, and my sharp sword was what saved the world. And later, when he went to Hamavaran, they bound his feet with heavy shackles. I led an army of Iranians to a land ruled by chieftains and princes. I killed their king in battle and emptied his famous throne. The world's ruler, Kavus, lay imprisoned, his heart broken by suffering and grief. I brought Kavus out of prison, and Giv and Gudarz and Tus with him. At that time Afrasiab held Iran, and the world was full of pain from that evil-minded man. I marched from Hamavaran into Iran, myself and the king with a boundless army. In the dark night I rode out alone; I sought only glory, not my own rest. When he saw my flashing banner and the neighing of Rakhsh reached his ears, he abandoned Iran and fled toward China; the world filled with justice and praise. If blood had flowed from Kavus's line, how would Siavash have sprung from his loins, and from him the pure and noble King Kaykhosrow, who set the crown on Lohrasp's head? My father, that brave and worthy man, ate dust from the shame of it in that assembly, that Lohrasp had to be called king, though no great name of his lasted in the world. Why boast about this crown of Goshtasp, this new-fangled rule of Lohrasp? Who is he to say, Go bind Rostam's hands? Not even the high heavens can bind my hands. If heaven itself told me, Hear this and obey, I would box its ears with my heavy mace. From childhood until I grew old, I never spoke this way to anyone. Pleading and begging demean me; this soft talk only wears me down. Esfandiar smiled at his sharp words, reached out and gripped his hand firmly. He said: Rostam, you elephant of a man, you are just as I heard in the gatherings. Your arm is thick as a lion's thigh, your shoulders like a bold dragon. Your waist is trim and narrow like a leopard's, especially when your hand takes up the mace. He squeezed his hand hard in the middle of speaking; the old man laughed at the youth. Yellow fluid ran from under his nails, yet the man did not flinch at the pain. Then Rostam took the prince's hand in his and said: You god-fearing king, how blessed is King Goshtasp, that famous man, to have a son like Esfandiar. Blessed is he who fathers a son like you, who adds to the splendor of the world. He said this while gripping his hand so hard that the prince's face went red as blood. He filled his nails with blood, and the commander's brows twisted in pain. But blessed Esfandiar laughed and said: Famous Rostam, drink your wine today, for tomorrow you will writhe in battle and forget all feasting. When I set this golden saddle on my horse and place the royal crown on my head, I will throw you from your horse to the ground with my spear; after that you will seek no more strife or revenge. I will bind your two hands and lead you to the king, and tell him I found no fault in you. We will stand before him and plead, and work out every kind of settlement. I will free you from grief and pain and suffering; after hardship you will find kindness and treasure. Rostam laughed at Esfandiar and said: You will grow sick of war soon enough. Where have you ever seen the battle of true warriors? Where have you felt the wind of a heavy mace? If the heavens do not turn some other way, love may veil the faces of two men. Instead of red wine we will bring red vengeance, the lasso of combat and the ambush. For the sound of the lute we will want the roar of war drums; our greeting will be sword and battle club. Then you will see, blessed Esfandiar, the surge and turning of real war. When you come tomorrow to the field of battle and man closes with man in combat, I will lift you from your horse into my arms and carry you off the field to Zal. I will seat you on the famous ivory throne and place the heart-gladdening crown on your head. The treasure I received from Kayqobad, may his soul rejoice forever in paradise, I will open its doors and lay every riches out before you, all arrayed. I will make your army free of every want and raise your crown up to the heavens. Then I will come before the king, strutting and laughing and cheerful on the road. By my own valor I will set the crown on your head and lay this duty of gratitude upon Goshtasp. After that I will bind the belt around my waist, just as I bound it before the kings of old. I will clear the whole garden field of weeds and renew my own body with joy. When you are king and I am champion, no living soul will dare stand against us.

Esfandiyar answered him like this: too much talk gets nothing done. My stomach is empty and half the day is gone; there has been enough fighting through words. Bring out whatever food you have. Do not invite a man who only talks and talks. When Rostam set to and began to eat, he was left amazed at how much he ate. The hero Esfandiyar and all his warriors set roasted lambs before him from every side. The prince ordered: bring the cup, and instead of aged wine, bring it raw and green. Let us see now what Rostam will say over the wine, and what he will bring up about King Kavus. The cupbearer brought a cup of wine so large it could have carried a ship across it. Rostam drank it to the king's health and stirred up dust from that yellow spring. The young cupbearer brought that same cup back, filled with royal wine. Then Rostam said quietly to Pashutan: over wine there is no need for water. Why pour water into the cup of wine and dull the sharp bite of the old vintage? Pashutan said to the cupbearer: pour a cup of wine without water, and bring it. He brought the wine and called for the musicians, still marveling at Rostam. When the time to leave drew near, the red wine had lifted Rostam's spirits high. The hero Esfandiyar said to him: may you be joyful as long as time endures. May the wine and all you ate be sweet to you; may the brave man's soul stay full of strength. Rostam said to him: you renowned one, may wisdom always be your teacher. Every wine I drink with you turns sweet and becomes nourishment for the wise soul. If you drive this grudge out of your mind, you will only grow in greatness and knowledge. Come in from the plain to my house; be my guest for a while and be glad. I will make good on everything I promised, and bring wisdom to guide you. Rest a while, do not strive for evil; turn toward humanity and come to your senses. The hero Esfandiyar said to him: do not sow a seed that will never grow. Tomorrow you will see the skill of men, when I gird myself for the charge. Do not praise your own body either. Go home and prepare for tomorrow's work. You will see that on the field of battle I am just as I am with wine and cupbearer. When I go from Zabol back to Iran, to the king and his brave men, you will see more skill than talk from me; do not look for pity from me in this. Rostam's heart filled with grief and worry; the world before him became like a tangled forest. For if I let him bind my wrists, or if I raise my head and wound him, both are cursed, evil deeds, a harmful new precedent and a bad one. If he binds me, my name goes bad; and my end will come badly through Goshtasp. Wherever anyone in the world tells the tale, the blaming of me will never grow old. They will say Rostam was wounded by a young man, went to Zabol, and had his hands tied. My name will turn to disgrace, and nothing of my color and scent will remain in the world. And if he is killed on the field of battle, my face will turn yellow before the kings. They will say that he killed a young king just because that king spoke harshly to him. For that there would be curses after my death, and my name too would be counted godless. And if I am the one killed by his hand, no color or scent will remain in Zabolestan. The name of Dastan, son of Sam, will be broken; no one will take pride in Zabol anymore. But at least my fine words will be spoken among the people from now on. Then he said to that proud man: this worry has turned my face yellow. You keep telling me to accept binding, but your chains and your plan will bring me only harm. Unless heaven has a different word, for the turning sky is beyond all guessing. You take in every counsel of the demons and lift no word of wisdom from it. You are young in years and do not yet know the wicked trickery of a king. You are single-hearted and have not seen the world; the king secretly works toward your death. For if Goshtasp, by his fortune, is never satisfied with crown and throne, he will send you running around the world, breeding hardship after hardship for you. He has searched across the whole face of the earth, wisdom like an axe, his mind like a hatchet, to find who in the world is renowned yet never turns his face from battle, so that harm might come to you from that famous man, and the high crown and throne stay with the king. Better that we curse that crown and make dust our pillow rather than follow this tale. You keep reproaching my very soul; why not turn your heart to inquiry instead? You are sowing trouble for your own body with your own hand; nothing but ill will comes from suspicion. Do not do it, my prince, do not be so rash; do not chase after ruin like this. Do not grieve my heart, my prince; bring no harm to your own life or to me. Have shame before God and before my face; do not gamble away your own life. You have no need to fight me, no need for this effort and this scheme of yours. Fate has driven you with your army so that you will be destroyed by my hand. A bad name of me will linger in the world; let the bad ending fall upon Goshtasp. When the proud Esfandiyar heard this, he said to him: Rostam, famous man, look at what the sages of old said, back when the soul was joined to wisdom: that a deceiving old man is a stupid old man, no matter how victorious and wise he seems. You keep casting your spells on me, hoping to slip the collar off your own neck. You want everyone who hears this to be won over by your fine speech. They would call me pure of heart but foul of intent, and call you the sober man who does good. They would say he came with grace and good tidings and offered him some hope. The commander turned his head from that talk, seeing that nothing was left but war. He held all of Rostam's pleas as worthless, his tongue full of bitter words. Know that I will not turn my head from the king's command, not for throne, not for crown. Through him I find the good and the ugly of the world; through him is hell, through him is heaven too. May all you ate be strengthening to you, and wounding to those who mean ill. Now go pleasantly home to your palace; tell Dastan everything you have seen. Ready all your weapons for the fight; from now on, do not measure words with me. Come at dawn to fight me, and find your remedy; from now on, do not draw out this business over yourself. Tomorrow you will see on the battlefield how the world turns black before your eyes. You will learn how the combat of true warriors is on the day of war and battle. Rostam said to him: you lion-natured one, if this is truly what you desire, I will make you the guest of my horse Rakhsh's charge and cure your head with my mace. You have heard talk in your own province and given credit to their words, that the sword of brave men is useless against Esfandiyar on the battlefield. Tomorrow you will see my spear and my reins gathered for the charge, so that never again, with such a temper, will you go to battle against famous men. The young man's lips filled with laughter, and the jewels of his teeth became slaves to that laugh. He said to Rostam: you seeker of fame, why have you turned so sharp over this talk? When you come to the field of battle tomorrow, you will see the combat of true warriors. I am not a mountain with a mountain of a horse beneath me; I am one single man, yet worth a whole crowd. If your head feels the wind of my mace, your mother will weep in bitter grief. And if you are killed on the field, I will tie you to the saddle and carry you to the king, so that no other subject will ever again seek battle against his sovereign.

When Rostam stepped out of the royal tent, he stood at the doorway for a while. He said to the entrance hall: 'O house of hope, blessed was the day when Jamshid dwelt in you.' You were auspicious in the reign of King Kavus, and just as fortunate in the days of good Kaykhosrow. But now glory has shut its gate on you, since one unworthy sits upon your throne. The hero Esfandiar heard these words and came on foot toward the famous champion. He said to Rostam: 'You who wander in your thoughts, why have you turned so bitter at the royal tent?' It would suit this land of Zabolestan if the wise gave it the name 'the land of complaints,' for when a guest grows tired of his host, he slanders the keeper of the garden. You called the royal pavilion cursed, though once it sheltered Jamshid at its side, and in those days it was the curtain and the shade of King Kavus's court, when he sought the path of God and wished to set the very stars aright. The whole earth was in turmoil because of him, full of daggers, plunder, and the club. Now your patron and support is Goshtasp, and beside him is a counselor like Jamasp, with Zoroaster seated at one hand, who came from paradise bearing the Zend and Avesta. At the other hand is Peshotan, a good man who has tasted much of the world's warmth and cold, and before them the fortunate Esfandiar, through whom the turning of the age grew glad. The hearts of good men came alive through him, and the wicked bowed in fear of his sword. The champion rode out through the gate, and Esfandiar watched him from behind. When he turned back, he said to Peshotan: 'Manliness and valor cannot be hidden.' I have never seen such a horse and rider; I cannot guess how he will fare in battle. He is like a great war-elephant on Mount Gang if he enters the fight in full armor. If he fights in that armor, then that surely is the very way of manhood. His splendor and grace rise above all others; I fear that tomorrow he will meet his fall. My heart burns with love for his glory, yet I will not break from the Creator's command. When tomorrow comes and he reaches the field, I will turn the bright day black upon him. Peshotan said to him: 'Hear my words. I tell you, my brother, do not do this.' I have told you, and I will say it again: I will not turn my heart away from what is right. Do not harm anyone, for a free and noble man will not stoop to cause suffering or pain. Sleep tonight, and early tomorrow morning go to his palace, without any army, and there we will spend a happy day, answering with words whatever words they speak. Everything he does in this world is good, among both the humble and the great. He will not turn his head from your command; I see his heart true to his pledge with you. Why do you speak to him with spite and anger? Wash the hatred from your heart and the rage from your eyes. Esfandiar gave him an answer: 'A thorn has sprung up at the edge of the rose garden.' He said: 'From a man of pure faith it hardly befits one to speak like this.' If you are the vizier of Iran, the heart and ear and eye of the brave, and you approve of such a path, then you scorn wisdom and offend the king. Then all our toil and care have been for nothing, and the very faith of Zoroaster has become injustice, the faith that says whoever defies the king's command will have his place in hell. How long will you tell me to become a sinner, to renounce the words of Goshtasp? You say this, but when would I ever act so as to abandon his judgment and command? If you are afraid for my life, today I will break that fear of yours. No one in this world has died before their time; the one who won a great name never truly dies. Tomorrow you will see what I do on the field of war, facing that clawed leopard. Peshotan said to him: 'O famous one, how long will you keep talking of battle?' Until the moment you took up bow and arrow, even the devil had no such thoughts of you. Now you have given the demon a path into your heart, and you will not hear the advice of this guide. I see your heart blind and full of strife; now all that I have said is shattered to pieces. How can I drive fear from my heart in this way, and cut myself off from these anxieties? Two fighters, two lions, two brave men, how can I know whose back will be pressed to the ground? The famous hero gave him no reply; his heart filled with pain and his head with wind.

When Rustam came into his own great hall, he looked for a while around his court. Zavara came to him and found him worn down and pale of face. He told him: go, bring the Indian sword, a coat of mail and a famous helmet. Bring the bow, the horse armor, and the tiger cloak; bring the lasso, the heavy mace, and the battle vest. Zavara gave the order, and everything he asked for the keeper brought up from the stores. When Rustam saw the arms of war, he shook his head and drew a sigh from his heart. He said: my armor of battle, for a while you have rested from war. Now the fight is upon you, so be strong; be my shirt of good fortune wherever I go. This is a battlefield where two roaring lions, both brave, will come to fight. Now let us see what Esfandiar brings, what game he plays at the moment of combat. When Zal heard these words from Rustam, the old man's spirit filled with dread. He said to him: renowned champion, what did you say that has darkened my soul? From the day you first mounted for battle, you were nothing but a kind and noble man. Always your heart was free of grievance, your head held high in service to the kings. I fear your day is coming to its close, if your star should sink into sleep. They will tear the seed of Zal out by the roots, and cast the women and children into the dust. If by the hand of a youth like Esfandiar you should be killed in battle, no water or soil will remain in Zabulistan; its heights and homeland will become a pit. And if instead this harm should fall on him, your name too will win no glory. Everyone will tell tales of it, and split your once great name apart: they will say he killed a prince of Iran because that prince spoke harshly to him. So stand upright before him, or else give up your place right now. Go down among the lowly, to some forsaken corner, where no one in the world hears your name. This evil will darken your soul; keep clear of this young prince. Buy your life back with treasure and effort; do not raise the axe against Chinese silk. Deck out his army with robes of honor too; ransom yourself from him with gifts. When he turns back from the banks of the Hirmand, then set your foot on the tall Rakhsh. Once you are safe, serve humbly along the road, so that at last you may see the king's face. When he sees you, how could the king do evil? And when has evil ever suited a king? Rustam said to him: old man, do not take these matters so lightly. Many years have passed me in manhood; much good and ill have gone over my head. I reached the demons of Mazandaran and fought the riders of Hamavaran. And the battle of Kamus and the Khaqan of China, when the earth trembled beneath them. If I flee from Esfandiar, then you keep neither palace nor garden in Sistan. When I put on the tiger cloak on the day of battle, I bring the heads of sun and moon down into the dust. As for the pleading you spoke of, I have offered plenty; I have read to him the whole book of humility. He treats my words with contempt; he turns his head from my wisdom and my counsel. If he would bring his head down from Saturn's height, if his soul would offer me a greeting, I would not begrudge him treasure or jewels, nor horse armor, nor mace, nor sword. I have spoken so much in these many meetings, yet all our words are only wind in our hands. If tomorrow he goes to war, do not grieve your heart the least over his life. I will not turn my rein against him in the fight; he will see neither my mace nor the wound of my spear. I will not block his path on the field, nor grip his waist with all my strength. I will lift him from his horse into my arms, and grant him the kingship over Goshtasp. I will bring him and seat him on the throne of ease, and after that fling open the doors of my treasury. When he has been my guest for three days, on the fourth, when the sky's world-lighter, casts off that veil of deep blue, and rises like a cup of yellow ruby, at once I will gird my belt with him and set out from here toward Goshtasp. I will seat him on the famous ivory throne and set upon his head the heart-brightening crown. I will bind my belt before him like a servant; I will seek no parting from Esfandiar. You know what deeds of valor I did before the throne of Qobad; you hold it in memory. Zal the golden-haired laughed at his words, and for a moment his head stirred with thought. Zal said to him: my son, do not speak like this, or cut his head off at the root. For only madmen could hear such talk; no one will believe this raw, empty boast. Qobad was sitting somewhere in gloom, with no throne, no crown, no ancient treasury, while Esfandiar is one whose name the emperor of China engraves upon his signet ring. And you say you will lift him from his horse and carry him off to the house of Zal? No man of years talks like this; do not go circling the door of thanklessness. He said this, laid his head upon the ground, and began to call blessings upon the Creator. He kept saying: just Creator, turn the evil of these times away from us. In this way, until the sun rose over the mountain, his tongue never wearied of prayer.

When day broke, Rustam put on his armor and covered it with a tiger-skin coat to guard his body. He tied a lasso to his saddle straps and mounted his elephant-bodied steed. He summoned his brother Zavareh and spoke at length with him about the army. He told him: Go and marshal the troops; take your stand on the sandy ridge. Zavareh went and gathered the soldiers onto the field of action, the plain of battle. The mighty Rustam rode out, lance in hand, leaving the place where he had rested. His soldiers called down blessings on him: May horse and mace and saddle never be without you. Rustam moved on with Zavareh behind him, for Zavareh was the man he trusted most in the realm. He came at last to the bank of the Hirmand, his heart full of foreboding, his lips full of warnings. He left the army there with his brother and rode alone toward the Iranian king's forces. Then he said quietly to Zavareh: This is a fierce man, a demon in his craft. I fear I may not be a match for him; I do not know what will come of this. For now, keep the troops here while I go to see what fate holds. If I find him as fierce as they say, I will not call the chiefs of Zabulistan. I will fight him alone, by myself; I will not put a single soldier to trouble. The one whom fortune favors, glad and victorious, is he whose heart is always full of justice. He crossed the river and climbed the rise, marveling at the ways of the world. He shouted: Noble Isfandiyar, your challenger has come; make ready for battle. When Isfandiyar heard these words from that old, battle-seeking lion, he laughed and said: Look, I have been armed and ready since the moment I rose from sleep. He ordered his mail and helmet brought, along with his quiver and his war-lance, and they brought them; he put the mail on his body and set the royal crown-helm on his head. He ordered the black horse saddled and led to him. When the battle-seeker donned his mail, out of the strength and joy within him, he set the butt of his lance to the ground and vaulted from the dark earth into the saddle, like a leopard springing onto the back of a wild ass, rousing terror in it. The army stood amazed and called down blessings on that famed hero. He rode until he reached the mighty Rustam and saw him alone on his mount. Then he said to Pashutan from horseback: We need no companion or comrade against him. Since he is alone, let us too go alone; let us climb from the low ground up that steep rise. So the two of them went to battle as if there were no such thing as feasting in the world. When they drew near, the old man and the young, two proud lions, two champions, such a roar rose from both their horses you would think the field of war had split apart. Rustam spoke out in a strong voice: O king, glad of heart and blessed by fortune, do not fight like this, do not strive for evil; turn toward humanity and come to your senses. If you truly want war and bloodshed, to clash this harshly, say the word and I will bring the horsemen of Zabul, armed with Kabuli blades. We will bring them here to battle, and let us two hold back for a while. You will have your fill of bloodshed; you will see the charging and the fighting. Isfandiyar answered him: Why do you talk so much like a coward? You rose from your hall at dawn and summoned me to this steep height. Why do you set snares and tricks and deceit? It seems you have seen how narrow the ground is beneath you. What need have I to war on Zabulistan, or to make war on Iran and Kabulistan? May such a thing never be my custom; this deed does not befit my faith, to give Iranians up to slaughter so that I might set a crown on my own head. I lead the way against whoever comes to fight me, even if a crocodile came against me in battle. If you need a helper, bring one; but I have never any use for a helper. My ally in battle is God; my dealings are with a smiling fortune. You are a warrior and I am a seeker of war; let us contend one against the other without armies. Let us see whether Isfandiyar's horse will return to its stall without a rider, or whether the mount of Rustam the warrior will turn toward the hall without its master. The two fighters swore a pact that no one would come to either's aid in that fight. First they clashed with lances, and blood poured down from their mail. They fought until the lance-heads shattered against each other, and they were forced to turn to their swords. On the field they raised their necks high and charged, left and right, at each other. From the force of the horses and the blows to their heads, those heavy blades broke apart. Like fighting lions they raged and, full of fury, pounded each other's limbs. The handles of the heavy maces snapped too, and the champions' hands were left useless. Then they seized each other by the belt-straps, their two swift horses driving their heads down. This one strained against that, and that one against this, yet neither lion stirred from his saddle. They drew apart from the field, both worn out, the horses grieved and the men ruined. Their mouths foamed with blood and dust, their armor and horse-mail torn to shreds.

When the battle of the champions dragged on, the proud Rostam was slow to return. Zavareh brought up the army from his side, a force with wounded hearts and thirsty for revenge. He asked the Iranians: Where is Rostam? Why is he silent, wasting this whole day? You came to fight beside Rostam, striding boldly into the jaws of the crocodile. Will you not lend Rostam a hand? This is no battlefield to sit idle on. Then Zavareh opened his lips to curses, hurling out ugly words. At this, a son of Esfandiar flared up, a famous rider who could bring down a horse and its man. A young man named Nush-Azar, proud, warlike, and full of joy. That renowned youth raged at the man of Sistan and loosed his tongue in scornful curses. He said: Yes, that arrogant fellow does his evil deeds only at his kings' command. The hero Esfandiar never ordered us to make war on such dogs as these. Who would turn from his will and command? Who would dare break the pact he made? If you insist on this crooked, unjust fight, then be quick to strike the first blow. Come see how warriors truly clash, with sword and spearpoint and heavy mace. Zavareh gave the order: Lay into them! Crown the chiefs' heads with a diadem of blood. Zavareh came to the front of the army, and a roar rose from the field of battle. They killed countless Iranians; when Nush-Azar saw this, he readied himself. He mounted his proud chestnut steed and came forward, an Indian blade in his hand. There was a famous man named Alva, proud, a bringer-down of horses, full of joy. It was he who carried Rostam's spear; he never let anyone slip past behind him. When Nush-Azar saw him from afar, his hand flew and he drew his sword from its sheath. He struck one blow to Alva's head and neck; that elephant-bodied man split in two. Zavareh spurred on his warhorse and shouted fiercely at Nush-Azar: Now that you have felled him, stand your ground, for I will no longer count Alva among the riders. Zavareh drove a spear into his chest, and at once his head fell to the dust. When the famous Nush-Azar was slain, his army was routed for the whole day. His brother, weeping, his heart boiling, a young man whose name was Mehrnush, The swordsman's heart filled with grief, and he spurred on that elephant-bodied steed. He rode out from the ranks to the front line, foam of heartsick rage on his lips. From the other side came Faramarz, like a drunken elephant, an Indian blade in his hand. Mehrnush grappled with him, and a cry rose from both armies. Two noble, battle-seeking young men: one a prince, the other a champion. Like warring lions they raged, hammering blows on one another. On the field Mehrnush pressed hard, but he had no strength to match Faramarz. Faramarz struck his own horse's neck with the sword and sent the swift beast's head down before him. Faramarz destroyed him on foot; the battlefield dust turned red as a ruby with blood. When Bahman saw his brother slain, the earth beneath him soaked like wet clay with blood, He came running to Esfandiar, to where the fire of battle raged. He said: O fierce and roaring lion, an army from Sistan has come to fight. Your two sons, Nush-Azar and Mehrnush, gave up their lives in shame to the man of Sistan. You are locked in single combat, and we are full of grief; our young men and royal-born lie in the dust. This disgrace will cling to our line forever, born of the deeds of fools. The hero's mind grew sharper with rage, his brain aflame and his eyes brimming with tears. He said to Rostam: You man of ill omen, is this the pact of proud warriors? You said you would not bring an army into the fight. You have no care for honor or for shame. You feel no shame before me or before God; you do not fear the questioning on Judgment Day. Do you not know that men who break their word are never praised among the people? Two men of Sistan have killed my two sons and gone back to boast of that outrage. When Rostam heard this, he grieved deeply and trembled like a branch on a tree. He swore by the life and head of the king, by the sun, by the sword, by the field of war, That he had never ordered this fight, and that he praised no one who had done such a thing. I will now bind my brother's two hands, if it was he who led the way to this evil. I will also bring Faramarz, his two hands bound, before the God-worshiping king. Kill them in payment for the blood of your noble sons, but do not let this thought unsettle your good sense in vain. Esfandiar said to Rostam: To avenge a male peacock by spilling a snake's blood, That would be foul and unworthy; it is not the way of proud kings. You, man of ill omen, prepare your own remedy, for your time has closed in tight upon you. I will now pin you to Rakhsh through both your thighs with an arrow, blending you together as milk blends with water. So that no servant, from this day on, will ever seek to avenge himself on his lord. And if you stay alive, I will bind your hands and take you at once before the king. Rostam said to him: What comes of all this talk, except that my honor is diminished? Take refuge in God and turn to God, for it is He who guides in good and ill.

They lifted their bows and their sharp poplar arrows, and stole the color from the face of the sun. From the arrowheads they kindled fire, and stitched the armor tight against their chests. The heart of Iran's king grew heavy at this; his brows and face were creased with lines of worry. Whenever he reached his hand toward the bow, no one, for certain, escaped his arrow alive. The world would turn the color of dark blood, and the sun would hide itself for fear of him. He drew a bow so wide from its span you would think the sun had entered its sail. With an arrow whose head was diamond, armor before it was like a sheet of paper. When he loosed the arrow from the bow, it tore into the bodies of Rustam and warlike Rakhsh. Rakhsh grew weak from those arrows; neither the horse nor the fighting man was whole. Esfandiar galloped round about him, yet Rustam's arrows did him no harm. Rustam dismounted from Rakhsh like the wind, and set his famous head toward the high ground. Radiant Rakhsh made off toward his stable, so estranged he grew from his master. Blood streamed from Rustam up the height; he grew as weak and trembling as Mount Bisotun. When Esfandiar saw him he laughed, and said to him, 'Renowned Rustam, where has the strength of the drunken elephant gone? Why has an arrow wounded the war elephant? Where went your courage and your mace, your glory and your stature in battle? Why have you fled up to the high ground, as if you heard the roar of a raging lion? Why has the war elephant become a fox? Why has your hand grown so short in the fight? You are the one who made demons weep, and scorched wild beasts with the heat of your blade.' Zavareh suddenly caught sight of Rakhsh's tracks, and rode down toward the river in dismay. The world turned black before his eyes; shouting, he galloped to the place of battle. He saw the body of the warrior so wounded, all his wounds still open and unbound. He said to him, 'Rise, mount my horse, let me put on the armor of vengeance for you.' Rustam said, 'Go, tell Dastan that the color and scent have faded from Sam's line. See now what remedy there is for this affair, and who is to blame for these wounds. For if from Esfandiar's arrows I should bring one night's end upon my days, then, Zal, I will believe that today I was born anew before this gathering. When you have gone, arrange for Rakhsh's care; I will come now, though I may be a while.' Zavareh left his brother's side, and turned his eyes swiftly toward Rakhsh. Esfandiar stayed there on the lower ground, and cried out, 'Renowned Rustam, how long will you stand up there on the height? Who will be there to guide you now? Throw the bow from your hand and take off your armor; draw your sword out and let it drop from your side. Repent, and give your hands to be bound; after this you will suffer no harm from me. Wounded as you are, I will take you to the king; I will clear your name of these deeds. But if you still seek battle, make your will; appoint someone to guard this frontier. Ask God for the sin you have committed; it is fitting he forgive it if you repent. May the just Judge be your guide when you depart from this fleeting house.' Rustam said, 'The hour has grown late; let the hand be stayed from battle and from harm. Who ever seeks combat in the dark night? Go back now in this state of peace. I will go now to my hall, rest a while, and take some sleep. I will bind up all my wounds, and summon those I keep close to me, Zavareh, Faramarz, and Dastan of Sam's line, and whichever of my kin has a name of note. I will do now whatever you command; all that is right lies under your covenant.' The brazen-bodied Esfandiar said to him, 'You proud and stubborn old man, you are a great man and a tester of strength; you know many tricks and stratagems and schemes. I have seen all your glory and grace; I do not wish to see your fall. For tonight I grant you your life in mercy; when you reach your hall, do not scheme any crookedness. Do whatever you have promised; from now on measure out no more words with me.' Rustam said to him, 'I will do just so, once I have worked a healing charm upon my wounds.' When Esfandiar turned away from Rustam, he watched to see how the famous man would fare. When Rustam crossed like a ship over the river, he gave thanks to God for his body. He said, 'Pure and just Judge, if I perish from these wounds, who will take my vengeance from the proud, who will carry on my heart, my way, my custom?' When Esfandiar looked after him, he saw him on the far bank, upon dry land. He said, 'Do not call this one a man; he is a mighty elephant of endurance and strength.' Covered with wounds he crossed the water, driven in haste by that wound of the arrowhead. Esfandiar was left in astonishment, and said, 'Almighty Judge, you have created just as you willed; you have adorned time and the earth.' When the renowned man had returned home, Pashutan came out from the royal tent. Over Nush-Azar, that hero, and over Mehr-Nush, there was a wailing full of pain and grief. The king's pavilion was full of dust, and all the nobles' garments were torn. Esfandiar dismounted from his horse, and laid the heads of those proud youths on his knees. He said, 'Alas, two young heroes, your lives have left your bodies with all their strength.' Then he said to Pashutan, 'Rise; do not pour so many tears upon these slain. I see no gain in shedding blood; one should not cling in struggle against death. We all belong to death, young and old; may wisdom take our hand as we depart.' In coffins of gold, in cradles of teak, he sent them off to the crowned king. He sent a message to his father: 'The branch of your policy has borne its fruit. You threw a ship into the water; you tried to make a servant out of Rustam. When you see the coffins of Nush-Azar and Mehr-Nush, do not struggle so much in your greed. Esfandiar's fate is a bull sewn in its own hide; I do not know what destiny will drive upon him.' He sat upon his throne in mourning and grief, and recalled all of Rustam's words. Then he said to Pashutan, 'Even the lion recoils from the grip of a brave man. Today I looked upon Rustam, upon the great height and stature of that elephant-bodied man, and I began to praise the pure God, from whom comes hope and from whom comes awe and fear, that the Creator fashioned such a one. Blessing on Him who made the world. Such deeds have passed through his hand that the sea of China stretched only to his wrist. He would haul the crocodile up from the sea, and drag the leopard by its tail from the plain. I wounded his body with arrows so that the pool turned to dust with his blood. On foot, by our pact, he left the height, heading swiftly to the river with armor and sword. So wounded he came up from that pool, his whole body full of arrowheads. I believe that when he reaches his hall, his soul will rise from that hall to the heavens.'

From there Rustam reached the great hall, and Zal saw him in that broken state. Zavara and Faramarz burst into tears, seared with grief at his wounds. Rudabeh tore the hair from her head, clawing her face at the sound of their crying. Zavara quickly loosened his belt, and they drew the tiger-skin armor off him. Every wise man in the land came and sat, one and all, at his door. He gave the order to bring Rakhsh before him, along with everyone skilled in remedy. Noble Zal tore his hair, and rubbed his face against those wounds. He said: I, alive with my old gray head, have lived to see my dear son like this. Rustam said to him: what use is this grief? What happened was written in the heavens. Ahead of me lies a harder task, one that fills my heart with even greater dread. However much I plead and try to soothe this lionhearted man, he seeks nothing but trouble, in word and deed and stubborn pride. I have traveled to every corner of the world; I have learned its open secrets and its hidden ones. I seized the White Demon by his belt and slammed him to the ground like a willow branch. Yet I cannot turn my head away from Esfandiar, from that strength and that gift for war. My poplar arrow would pierce through an anvil, and cut down a shield if it found one. I struck Esfandiar's armor many times, but my striking hand meant nothing to it. If a leopard had seen my blade, it would have hidden itself beneath a rock. But my sword could not cut the mail on his chest, nor the piece of fine silk upon his head. I thank God that the dark night came, and in that darkness his eyes were blinded. I escaped the claws of that dragon, but I do not know if I will survive these wounds. What can I think now? There is no other plan than to turn Rakhsh's feet away tomorrow. I will go somewhere no trace of me can be found, even if he scatters ruin over Zabulistan. In the end he will grow tired of this business, though he is slow to tire of doing harm. Zal said to him: my son, listen, and keep your wits about you as you remember these words. Every affair in the world has its door, except death, which opens onto a different one. I know one remedy, and it is the best: to call the Simorgh to help us in this. If she guides us through this trouble, our land and home and place will remain ours.