English
Section 20
He called the wise scribe before him, his heart heavy with grief that he poured out.
He wrote a letter, his eyes full of tears, filled with pain and anger over his brother.
One copy went to Fariborz, son of King Kavus, another to the noble leaders of the army.
The letter opened, as custom and faith require, with praise.
In the name of the Lord of sun and moon, who grants goodness its power.
He created the world, place, and time, made both the ant and the mighty elephant.
From Him come victory and patience; good and bad, joy and beauty all come from Him.
He gave wisdom, life, a strong body, greatness, crown, and a lofty throne.
No head escapes His bond; to one He gives all glory and majesty.
To another He gives misfortune, need, sorrow, pain, and hardship.
From the shining sun to the dark earth, I see everything as just, coming from the holy God.
Tus set out with the Kaviani banner and forty gold-shod men from the army.
I sent him to Turan with the troops, and my brother was destroyed by an old grudge.
May Iran never have such a chief, nor ever such an army commander.
Alas for my brother, young Forud, the head of the famous and the pillar of warriors.
I was already mournful and weeping over my father's murder, scorched by that pain for so long.
Now I must weep for my brother too; I no longer know who is my enemy or my friend.
I told him: do not take the road through Charam, do not go near Kalat and Sepid-kuh.
Forud is on that road with an army; he is of the same blood, a brave fighter.
He does not know whose men these are, that they are the army of Iran, even if scattered.
From that mountain he will surely wage war, and the fate of many great men will end.
Alas for such a royal-blooded hero, whom the worthless Tus threw to the wind.
Even before this, when he was general, ill fortune came from King Kavus.
In the middle of battle sleep overtakes him; without wine he grows impatient and rash.
He has every skill at hand; may his soul not stay so darkened.
The moment you read this letter, drive food, rest, and sleep far from your heart.
Quickly bring Tus back to his place; do not turn from my command or make your own plan.
As commander and general, gold-shod one, you keep the Kaviani banner yourself.
From that gathering, let the proud Gudarz be your counselor in every matter.
Do not rush into battle at all; stay away from wine and do not measure out sleep.
Do not seek combat hastily at the start; wait until the enemy is worn down and weakened.
Let Giv lead you in battle, for he has glory and stature and the claws of a leopard.
Gather war supplies from every side; let no thought of feasting come to you.
He set the royal seal on the letter and told the messenger: get on the road.
Do not rest at all, night or day; at each station take a fresh horse.
In this way the messenger came to those renowned commanders.
The letter-bearer went to Fariborz and handed him the king's letter.
Fariborz called Tus and the champions and spoke at length about what had happened.
He summoned the famous Giv and Gudarz, the riders and heroes of that border.
When he read out the king's letter, the world was like a tree bearing new fruit.
The great men and lions of Iran all called down blessings on the king.
Tus brought that honored banner, along with the war drums, the elephants, and the gold-shod men.
They brought them to Fariborz and said: the worthy has found its worthy match.
May your fortune be victorious all year long, may all your days be like Now-ruz.
Tus left and took with him the Nowzari men, the war-riders and the troops.
He came to the king from the field of war, making no delay at all on the way.
He kissed the ground before the king, but the prince did not look at him at all.
The king opened his lips with reproach and shamed Tus before that assembly.
Then he said to him: You of evil mark, may your name be least among the proud.
Do you not fear the pure Lord of the world? Did you feel no shame or fear before the heroes?
Did I not say, do not take the road to Charam? You went and handed my heart to grief.
First you set out to avenge me, and then you cut down the line of Siyavash.
My proud warrior brother Forud, whose like never existed in this age.
You killed the one who, in battle, wished you and your whole army well.
And after you went to that battlefield, you did nothing but revel and feast.
There is no place for you in the city; chains and the madhouse suit you.
You have no business among noble men, since you have no sober judgment.
You deserve nails, shackles, and irons, not a crown, a diadem, and wine.
The lineage of Manuchehr and your white beard gave you hope of staying alive.
Otherwise I would have ordered your head, you ill-wisher, severed from your body.
Go; the prison is your home forever, and that same evil nature is your keeper.
He drove him from his presence and ordered him bound; with those chains he tore the root of joy from his heart.