Section 12

As he spoke, he strapped on his armor in haste; the leather straps nearly tore against his body. He mounted his fierce, dragon-like horse and rode proudly toward Charm. When Forud saw Siyavash, he drew a cold sigh up from the depths of his heart. He said: this war-hardened army does not know the ups and downs of this ground. Each is braver than the next; their forms shine like the blazing sun. But a warrior without wisdom is like a head without a mind, a body without a soul. I fear they will not win this vengeance unless Khosrow himself comes to the land of Turan. For our father's blood we will all rise up, so we may crush our enemies in our grip. Tell me: who is that proud rider whose hand and blade should be mourned? Tokhvar looked out from the height; through his foolishness, thorns sprang up on the meadow. He said to him: that is a fierce dragon who can bring a bird down from the sky with his breath. The one who bound Piran, your grandfather's ally, and broke two Turkish armies together. He orphaned many a young son, and crossed many mountains, rivers, and deserts. He left many a father without a son, and trampled the necks of fierce lions underfoot. He carried your brother off to Iran, crossing the Oxus though he saw no boat. They call him Giv; he is an elephant, no less, and in battle a Nile-like sea, no less. When you fit an arrow to the string and draw, your poplar shaft will not pierce his armor. In battle he wears Siyavash's own war-gear, and fears no arrowhead of any poplar shaft. Instead, aim your bow and arrow at his horse, so that his heavy mount may be wounded. Then he will go on foot and perhaps turn back, dragging his shield on his neck like a commander. Forud, the warrior, strung his bow, then set the grip of the crossbow against his palm. He shot an arrow into the chest of Giv's horse; Giv, the brave one, came down from his mount and turned back. Laughter rose from the top of White Mountain; the mockery gnawed away at Giv's pride. The champions all came before Giv, saying: thank God, O brave commander, that it is the horse that is wounded, not you; you can go on again, you are not bound. Bizhan, the lionhearted, came to Giv and spoke many words about the fight. He said: O father, lion-slayer of the fierce claw, where no elephant would go into battle beside you, how did a single rider see your back, you whose hand won every combat? By some Turk your horse is wounded, and you went off dazed and reeling like a drunkard. He answered: when my mount was killed, I would have given my head to him outright. Bizhan kept speaking his harsh words, and when Giv saw this, he too turned away. Giv flew into a rage at his son's taunts and struck him a lash across the head. He said to him: have you not heard from the wise, that thought must go along with your fighting? You have neither brains, nor judgment, nor wisdom; such talk deserves to be punished. Bizhan's heart ached from that harsh blow, and he swore an oath by the sustaining God: that I will not turn this saddle from the horse's back until I am slain avenging Zarasp. From there he went, his heart full of grief and his head full of vengeance, to Gostaham. He said: give me from your horses one steed, obedient to the hand, that climbs the heights with ease, so I may put on my war-gear, and it will be shown which is truly a man among men. A single Turk has gone up onto the mountain crest, and yet the whole host just stands and watches him. He answered thus: this is not the way; do not go chasing recklessly after disasters. Zarasp the commander, and Rivniz too, a warlord for whom the world counted as nothing, and your father, who could tear apart a raging elephant and thinks nothing of the turning heavens, all turned back from him, their hearts full of pain; no one could do anything against that granite mountain. Only a vulture's wings could be your guide there; otherwise, who could scale that fortress on foot? Bizhan said to him: do not break my heart, or I will tear my own shoulder and arm apart. I have sworn a solemn oath by the moon, by the world's Creator and the king's crown, that I will not turn my horse away from this Turk, though my time end as Zarasp's did. Gostaham said to him: then there is no path; your reason has no sense of this rashness. The world is all heights and hollows and plains; if you must cross from here, look, only a pack-horse carries my armor; two remain, and if this Turk kills one of them, I will never find another its equal in color, speed, strength, and stature. Bizhan said to him: to avenge Zarasp I will go on foot; I want no horse of yours at all. Gostaham answered him thus: I will not withhold from you even a single hair, no more, no less. Even if I had ten thousand steeds, every one with a bridle full of royal jewels, I would not begrudge you any of it, neither treasure, nor life, nor horse, nor sword. Go and look over all the horses one by one; choose whichever suits you best. Order them to saddle the one you wish; even if it is killed, so be it. He had one Rakhsh-like steed, wolf-limbed, with a tucked flank, tall and mighty. For the sake of the young world-seeking man, they threw a horse-armor over it. Giv's heart filled with smoke at those words, as he thought over Forud's marksmanship. He sent and summoned Gostaham, and told him many fine stories. He sent Siyavash's coat of mail to him, along with a royal helmet. Gostaham brought the battle-mail, and Bizhan put it on swift as the wind. He set his face toward White Mountain, as a man bent on war would do.