English
Part 22: The Duel of Rustam and Isfandiyar
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.