English
Rostam Finds Rakhsh
The champion was so moved by his words that you would think he was about to pour out his very soul.
He gathered whatever herds he had in Zabolestan and brought a portion of them to Kabol.
They drove them all past Rostam, each one bearing the royal brand of its owner.
Every horse that Rostam pulled forward, he pressed his hand down hard on its back.
Under his strength their spines would buckle, and their bellies sank to the ground.
So it went until a swift herder came from Kabol, driving a string of horses of every color.
A gray mare passed by, quick and lean, her chest like a lion's, her legs short and firm.
Her two ears like a pair of gleaming daggers, her chest and neck broad, her middle slender.
Behind her ran a colt as tall as she, its haunches and chest as wide as her own.
Black-eyed, chestnut with a bright coat, its tail like an ox's, dark-hooved and fiery, with hooves of steel.
Its body dappled from head to tail, like the mark of a red rose scattered on saffron.
When Rostam looked at that mare, he saw beside her that elephant-bodied colt.
He looped his royal lasso, ready to catch the colt and halt its bolting.
The old herder said to Rostam, 'Master, do not take another man's horse.'
Rostam asked, 'Whose horse is this, whose two flanks bear no branding mark?'
He answered, 'Do not look for its brand, for there are all sorts of tales about that.'
'We call him Rakhsh; he is a bright chestnut, fiery in temper and the color of fire.'
'We know of no owner for him; we simply call him Rostam's Rakhsh, and nothing more.'
'For three years now he has been fit for the saddle, and in the eyes of great men he stands out as the best.'
'When his mother sees a rider's lasso, she charges like a lion and fights.'
Rostam cast his royal lasso and suddenly caught the bright colt's head in the noose.
Its mother came on like a raging lion, trying to tear off his head with her teeth.
Rostam roared like a raging lion, and at his voice the mare froze, dazed.
He also struck a single blow to her neck, and from that blow her body reeled and shook.
She fell, rose, and turned away from him, setting off swiftly back toward the herd.
The mighty Rostam braced his thighs and drew the noose tighter around the colt.
He reached out his hero's fist with force and pressed one hand down on the chestnut's back.
The back did not give an inch under the pressure; you would think it felt nothing at all.
He said in his heart, 'This is my mount. Now the work I must do lies in my own hands.'
He asked the herder, 'This dragon of a horse, what is his price, and who claims payment for him?'
He answered, 'If you are Rostam, then mount him and set the land of Iran to rights.'
'His price is the whole realm of Iran; upon him you will set the world right.'
Rostam's lips reddened like coral with a smile, and he said, 'All good comes fitly from God.'
He set the saddle on the rose-hued horse, whose spirit rose keen for vengeance and battle.
He saw its jaw was open and its pace swift, and saw it had heart, mettle, and strong sinews.
It could bear his armor, helmet, and mace, an elephant-bodied frame with a mighty chest and neck.
The bright horse grew so splendid that every night they burned wild rue for it, to ward off harm.
Right and left, you would say it had turned to magic; in the charge it became as swift as a living gazelle.
The heart of Zal, golden of hair, bloomed like glad spring at the sight of Rakhsh and his fresh, fortunate rider.
He threw open his treasury and gave out gold, with no thought for today or tomorrow.