English
Section 22: The Great Battle
When the new moon rose and the hour of war arrived, they broke their truce and cast aside all thought of honor and shame.
A roar went up from both armies, and all at once they marched toward the battlefield.
From the endless blare of trumpets and Indian bells, the very sky seemed torn from its place.
From the manes of horses, from hands and reins, from maces, swords, bows, and spears, the din swelled.
You would think the world had become the jaws of a raging dragon, or that the sky had crashed flat onto the earth.
Not even a gnat could find a way through, so thick were the maces, blades, spears, and shields.
On the right wing stood Giv, son of Gudarz, a chief, a priest, and the great lord of the borderland.
On the left was Ashkash of the fierce grip, who in battle drove rivers of blood before him.
The champions stood with King Fariborz, son of Kavus, the royal banner raised at his back in the center.
Fariborz said to his own army: our skills have stayed hidden too long.
For just one day let us fight like lions and make the world close in tight on our enemy.
Or else, over this disgrace, mace and Roman helmet will laugh at this army forever.
They loosed a fierce rain of arrows, like an autumn wind that strips the trees bare.
You would think the air was filled with vultures, and the earth trampled flat beneath elephants' feet.
There was no room in the sky even for a bird, so thick were the arrows, the maces, the army's dust.
The flashing of diamond-bright blades cut through the swirling dust like fire.
You would think the ground had turned the face of a Zanzibari, and every star had become the heart of a war elephant.
From the mass of spears, maces, and sharp swords, a Day of Resurrection seemed to rise across the world.
From the heart of the army Giv rode out before the ranks, shouting, foam upon his lips.
Beside him stood the famed warriors of Gudarz's house, on whom hung the whole balance of gain and loss.
With sword and spear they clashed, striking sparks of fire from the iron.
When Gudarz's fight with Piran grew savage, he cut down some nine hundred of Piran's kin.
When Lahhak and Farshidvard saw the dust rise up from that vast army,
they launched a charge straight at Giv, at those mace-bearers and brave lions.
The chieftains rained arrows from their bows down upon those armored champions.
It came to this: no one could see the country's face, for the dead so covered the earth it vanished from sight.
Body was piled upon body, and no one gave up the ground he held.
Human said to Farshidvard: we must strike at the enemy's center.
We must make Fariborz flee from that center and slip away behind his army.
Then the fight against the right wing will be easy, and that battlefield and its stores will fall into our hands.
Then they pressed on to the heart of the army, toward Fariborz, son of King Kavus, to make war.
The champion fled from Human; defeat fell upon the ranks of the warriors.
The proud commanders gave up their ground; they no longer trusted their own judgment.
One by one they surrendered their positions to the enemy; not one of Iran's heroes held his place.
The drums and banners were left behind; their eyes turned dark from the bitter struggle.
The brave men turned their backs on the enemy; from that battle, only sorrow filled their hands.
The drums, banners, and spears were toppled; stirrup could not be told from rein.
When the enemy swarmed in from every side, Fariborz withdrew to the foot of the mountain.
Of the Iranians, whoever still lived, one would have to weep over such a life.
Only Godarz and Giv held their ground, along with many famous heroes of the army.
When Godarz, son of Keshvad, looked to the center and saw the banner of Fariborz, son of King Kavus,
and did not see it, nor see the heroes of the host, his heart blazed up like fire.
He turned his rein toward the road of flight; an uproar rose among Godarz's men.
Giv said to him: 'Old commander, you have seen much of mace and club and arrow.'
'If you flee from Piran, then dust should be poured over my head first.'
'No one remains alive in the world, not the brave, not the seasoned great ones.'
'There is no escape from death for you or me; no monster is more relentless than death, delay it as you may.'
'Since this harsh day has come upon us, it is better they see your face than your back.'
'Let us turn from this spot back into battle, and bring no shame on the house of Keshvad.'
'Have you not heard from the wise that old tale, told from the sayings of ancient days,'
'that when two brothers stand back to back, the body becomes a stone the mountain cannot crush?'
'You have seventy warrior sons, many honored and renowned from a praised lineage.'
'With our blades we will break the hearts of enemies, and even a mountain we will tear up by the roots.'
When Godarz heard Giv's words and looked at that wakeful, helmeted head of the hero,
he grew ashamed of his own wisdom and counsel, and planted his feet firmly in place.
Goraza and Gostaham came forth, together with Borteh and Zangeh the hero.
They swore heavy oaths, in which there was no breaking of the vow:
that they would not turn their faces from this battlefield, even if blood from the mace ran in streams.
From there they spurred their steeds hard and wielded their maces in the fight.
On every side, countless troops were slain; the times kept turning toward evil.
Old Gudarz spoke to Bizhan like this: go quickly from here and get the message through.
Ride toward Faribarz, and bring me the royal Kaviani banner.
Perhaps Faribarz himself, with that banner, will come and turn the enemy's face pale.
When Bizhan heard this, he spurred his horse and came on like a bolt of lightning.
He reached Faribarz and said: why are you keeping the army hidden here?
Turn your reins like the heroes and move; don't linger on this hilltop any longer.
If you won't come yourself, then give me the banner, the riders, and these gleaming swords.
When Bizhan spoke his words to Faribarz, Faribarz did not join wisdom to his heart.
He shouted at Bizhan: get away! You act too rashly, still new to war.
The king gave me this banner and this army, this rank of champion, this throne and crown.
The banner is not for Bizhan, son of Giv; and yet there is no braver man in all the world.
Bizhan seized a gleaming sword and struck it suddenly across the banner's shaft.
He cut the Kaviani banner in two, and carried off one half from among them.
He set out to bring it to the army; when the Turks saw the banner on the road,
a whole force of lion-hearted warriors turned their faces toward Bizhan.
They drew their maces and gleaming swords to fight for that Kaviani banner.
Human said: that is the banner in which the strength of Iran resides.
If we take the gleaming banner in our grip, we will make the whole world close in on their king.
Swift as dust, Bizhan strung his bow and rained arrows down upon them.
The whole army scattered from his arrows, and it became a feast for the ravening wolf.
The riders who were with him spoke to Giv and to Gostaham:
we must ride against the Turanian army and snatch the crown and throne from them.
Many spear-bearers, brave chiefs among Iran's warriors, went forth.
They killed many of their riders, and the famed Bizhan came in along the road.
The army closed in around the banner, and the sky turned dark with the riders' dust.
Once again they rose up and set a fresh battle on that plain.
Before the army Rivniz was killed, who was dear to Kavus as his own life,
a crowned king's younger son, Faribarz's hope and his father's very soul.
His head and crown fell into the dust, and many a noble tore his garments in grief.
After that Giv let out a cry: O renowned ones, O brave heroes!
No one like him was ever on this battlefield: young, proud, a king's own son.
The grandson of old Kavus, lord of the world; three men were killed, cruelly and for nothing.
Forud son of Siyavash, along with Rivniz; what greater tragedy could the world hold?
If the crown of that youth who never reached his prime falls to the enemy, my soul will burn with shame.
If I move even a step from this field, the whole Persian army will break.
That royal crown must not fall to the Turks in the line of battle.
It would pile shame upon shame: losing this crown and the killing of Rivniz too.
So it was that Piran, the proud, brave commander, heard the shout of Giv.
A fresh battle broke out among the troops over that famous crown.
On every side, soldiers were slain; the fortune of the proud warriors turned dark.
Bahram the hero charged in like a lion and made an assault on them with his spear.
On the tip of his lance he lifted the crown away, and both armies stood amazed at him.
It went on this way until dusk fell, and eyes grew blind from the darkness.
Again and again they clashed in fury, hammering down on one another's heads.
Of the house of Godarz only eight remained alive; the rest lay fallen on that field.
And of Giv's line some twenty five, men worthy of the crown and the treasury.
And of the line of Kavus, seventy men, horsemen and lions on the day of battle.
Apart from Rivniz, that crowned head, it is fitting that he not be counted among them.
About three hundred of Afrasiyab's kin, whose fortune had fallen asleep.
Of Piran's relatives, some nine hundred riders were lost on this day of war.
Yet the upper hand and the day belonged to Piran, thanks to his world-brightening star.
It was not the Persians' day to fight; the time for their battle-seeking had run out.
They turned their faces from the field and abandoned their wounded to their fate.
In that moment when fortune had turned, Gostahm's snorting steed lay killed.
He went on foot, spear in hand, in his armor and helmet, like a drunken man.
When Bizhan drew near to Gostahm, night came and the day grew dark.
He said to him: come, climb up behind me; no one is dearer to me than you.
They both mounted on that single horse just as the sun went wholly dark.
They fled toward the skirt of the mountain, their cause overturned.
The Turkish horsemen were all glad at heart, freed from their toil and grief.
They came back to their own camp, striding proudly, ready now for feasting.
A roar rose up from the champions of Iran; the pounding of the war drums nearly deafened every ear.