The Murder of Iraj

When the veil was lifted from the sun's face and dawn broke, sleep drained away. The two worthless brothers had set their hearts on that deed, having washed their eyes clean of all shame. Both rose and strode from where they stood, heading toward the royal pavilion. When Iraj saw them coming down the road, his heart full of love, he ran out to meet them. They went inside the tent with him, and the talk turned mostly to 'why' and 'how.' Tur said to him: 'If you are the youngest of us, why have you placed the crown of kingship on your head? Should you get Iran and the throne of the kings, while I stand at the border of the Turks with my belt tightened for war? And my elder brother toil in the East, while a crown sits on your head and treasure lies beneath you? The share that our world seeking father gave, he turned it all toward his youngest son. Now I have neither the crown of the kings nor a throne, neither the fame of greatness nor the army of Iran.' When Iraj heard Tur's words, he framed a purer answer at their root. He said: 'My ambitious elder brother, if you want your heart's desire, seek peace instead. I want neither Iran nor the East nor China, neither kingship nor the whole face of the earth. A greatness whose end is darkness, one must weep over that kind of lordship. Even if the high heavens set you in the saddle, in the end a brick will be your pillow in the grave. Even if the throne of Iran were beneath me, I am now sick of the crown and the throne. I hand over to you the crown and the royal seal; do not hold this against me with hatred. I have no quarrel or war with you; there is no need to burden the soul with such things. I do not want the world at the price of harming you, even if I am kept far from your sight. Humility is my only creed; may greed and arrogance never be my faith.' When Tur heard this from his brother, his brow furrowed with rage. Iraj's words did not please him; honesty held no worth in his eyes. In fury he stamped his foot on the stool, kept talking and kept leaping up from his place. All at once he sprang up from where he sat and seized that heavy golden stool in his hand. He struck it on the head of the crowned prince, and Iraj begged him to spare his life. 'Do you feel no fear of God? No shame before our own father? Is this your judgment? Do not kill me, for in the end the Creator will call you to account for my blood. Do not make yourself one of the murderers, for after this you will find no trace of me anyway. I will be content with some corner of this world; through my own labor I will gather my bread. Why gird yourself to shed a brother's blood? Why set fire to the heart of our aged father? You wanted the world and you have won it, so do not spill blood; do not defy God who rules the world.' When Tur heard these words he gave no reply; the same talk went on, the same cold breath. He drew a bright, water sheened dagger and draped Iraj's whole body in a cloak of blood. With that sharp, poison bright dagger he ripped open the royal chest. That slender cypress toppled from its feet; the belt of imperial majesty snapped. Blood streamed from that rose colored face, and that famed young king was gone. O world, you cradled him in your arms, and then you gave his life no mercy at all. I do not know who your secret friend may be; but for these open acts of yours, one must weep. He cut the crowned head from that elephant strong body with the dagger, and the deed was done. He packed the skull with musk and perfume and sent it to the aged giver of the world, their father. He wrote: 'Here is the head of that beggar to whom the crown of the ancestors was given. Now give him a crown if you wish, or a throne; that shade giving, needy tree has fallen.' Then those two cruel and cursed brothers went their ways, one toward the land of the Turks, one toward Rome.