The Words of Daqiqi

Two weeks passed in this fierce fighting, and hour by hour the situation grew darker. The warrior Zarir came forward, riding beneath him a great chestnut steed. He fell upon the enemy camp like fire driven by a sharp wind into dry grass. He killed them and laid them low; no one who faced him could withstand him. When Arjasp realized this king's son meant to destroy his whole army, he called out to his own troops: Is this the account you will give of yourselves? Two weeks have dragged on in this deadlock, and I see no end to this war. The champions of King Goshtasp have cut down many of our famous soldiers. Now Zarir has come into the thick of it, a savage wolf and a fearless lion. He has slaughtered all my finest men, my proud champions and my Turkish warriors. We must think of some plan, or else it is time to flee. If this goes on much longer, neither Aytash nor Khallukh nor China will be left. Who among you is the man hungry for glory who will step out from the ranks? Any bold rider who advances and makes his name famous throughout the world, anyone who can knock him from his horse and turn his back and make him flee, I will give my daughter to that man, and I will hand him command of my army. His soldiers gave no answer back; the proud army was gripped by fear. Like a lion he charged, like a raging elephant, killing them, crushing them down. Everywhere he trampled them beneath his feet, the fortunate commander of Iran. When Arjasp saw this, he was so stunned that his bright day turned into black night. Again he said: My great ones, my nobles, my chosen commanders, look at your kinsmen and your relatives, listen to the groaning of the wounded from the blows of that fiery champion, whose mace is Sam's and whose arrows are Arash's, as if he means to burn my whole army, and now he is setting my country ablaze. Which of you is skilled enough of hand to go out against this raging elephant? Whoever can reach for that mighty warrior and throw him down from his horse, I am generous, I will give him even more; I will raise his crown above the sky. Still no one gave him any answer; he was baffled, and his face went pale. Three times he repeated these words to them, and when no answer came he fell silent. Then that huge Bidarafsh came forward, foul and evil, a sorcerer and an old wolf. He said to Arjasp: You lofty sun, in strength and body like Afrasiab, I bring my life before you; I make my sweet life a shield for yours. I will go against that maddened, raging elephant, and if I get my hands on him, I will hurl his body to the ground, my king, if only fortune's wheel turns our way. The king was pleased with him and blessed him, and gave him his own horse and saddle. He gave him a poison-tipped javelin that could pierce straight through a mountain of iron. When the ugly, reckless sorcerer rode toward that wise and mounted champion, seeing him from afar he grew furious: his face was caked with dust, his eyes full of blood, a mace in his hand like the hero Sam, before him the slain heaped up like a mountain. He dared not approach him from the front, so he crept in and circled around him from hiding. From his hiding place he hurled the poison-tipped javelin at that royal rider. It passed clean through his kingly armor, and his royal body was drowned in blood. Then the prince fell from his horse; alas for that fine royal rider. That foul Bidarafsh dismounted and stripped off all of his weapons and gear. He carried off to the king of China his horse and belt, his black banner, and his jewel-studded crown. His whole army raised a shout, and their cries rose past the clouds. When Goshtasp looked down from the mountaintop and did not see him on the battlefield, he said: I suspect that warrior, bright as the moon, who lit up the whole battlefield, my brother, the fortunate warrior Zarir, who brought down the savage lion, has been thrown from his horse in the charge, for the champions have stopped their attacking. No shout comes now from the princes; perhaps the king of the noble ones is slain. A rider on a camel galloped to the battlefield, near that black banner, to see what had become of my king; for grief my heart has filled with blood. The king of the world was in this state when a rider came, blood dripping from his eyes. He said to the king of the world: May your moon guard your crown and your army, the world's champion, that rider Zarir, has been cruelly killed by the Turkish horsemen. The chief of the world's sorcerers, Bidarafsh, struck him down and carried off that banner. When word of his death reached the world-seeking king, and he saw his brother was slain, he tore his garments clean down to his feet and poured dust upon his royal crown. Goshtasp cried out: My king, they have cruelly killed the lamp of your heart. Then he said to the wise Jamasp: What shall I say now to King Lohrasp? How can I send a messenger to the court? What shall I say to that aged father? What shall I say I did with your darling, when that warrior rider was taken from you? Alas for that eloquent prince, alas, gone into the mist like the shining moon. Bring the roan horse of Lohrasp, and set upon it the saddle of Goshtasp. He made ready to seek his vengeance and to uphold his faith and his creed. The world-wise minister said: Wait; it is not wise for you to go for vengeance. At the counsel of the minister who knows the secrets, he came down from his horse and sat again. He said to the army: Who is the lion who will bring back vengeance for the fortunate Zarir, who will spur his horse forward to avenge him and bring back his horse and saddle? By the God of the world, and by the pledge of the righteous and the great, whoever from among you steps forward, I will give him my daughter Homay. Not one of them stirred from his place; no one in the army stepped forward.