The Words of Daqiqi

When Esfandiar, that mighty hero, the master of the throne, awesome in body and might, heard from that mountain the cry of his father, he bowed his head low in grief. He rode out with his spear gripped tight, his head hanging down in front of his father. Mounted high on a dark grey horse, like a demon that had broken free of its chains, he crashed into the enemy army the way a gust of wind falls upon rose petals. He kept killing them and cutting off heads; everyone who saw him died of sheer terror. Then Bastur, the mounted son of Zarir, rode out from the tent toward the keeper of the horses. There was a rested, swift horse, a spirited, full blooded runner. He asked his father's horse keeper for it, and set a golden saddle upon its back. He dressed it, threw on the armored covering, and tied a coiled lasso to the saddle straps. He put on his mail, mounted the horse, and slipped out secretly, spear in hand. He rode on this way all the way to the battlefield, making straight for where his slain father lay. He drove that swift, whirling steed forward, seeking vengeance and cutting men down. Every noble he met along the way, he asked about the famous warrior. He would say: where has Zarir fallen, my father, that brave and battling horseman? There was a man named Ardashir, a worthy rider, a bold champion. The wise young man asked him the way, and the champion showed him the road to his father. He has fallen, he said, in the midst of the army, near that black banner. Go quickly, for that is where he lies; perhaps you may see his face one last time. Then the prince spurred his chestnut horse, killing men in the dust and raising an uproar. He rode hard until he reached him, and saw him lying slain there in the dirt. When he came close and looked upon him, the bright world turned dark before his eyes. His heart and senses left him; he flung himself down from the saddle onto the ground. He cried: O my shining moon, light of my heart, my eyes, and my soul, you raised me through all that pain and hardship; now that you are gone, to whom have we been left? From the day King Lohrasp gave you the army, and gave Goshtasp the throne and crown, you kept the army and the country in good order, and eagerly longed for battle. Now that your name has blazed bright across the world, you have been killed before reaching your desire. I will go to your brother, the blessed king; I will tell him to come down from his fine seat, for this death you suffered was not worthy of you. Go and demand vengeance for him from the enemy. For a long while he stayed like this, then he mounted his horse again. Loudly wailing, he rode to the king, who was seated above the battlefield. The king of kings said: O life of your father, why have you filled these eyes with tears? The royal born youth said: O world conquering king, do you not see that my father is now destroyed? Then he said: O world conquering king, go and demand vengeance for my father. My father lies out on that dry earth, his black beard nourished with musk. When the king heard these words from the boy, the bright day turned utterly black for him. The world went dark for the world seeker, and his elephant like body grew thin with grief. Bring me, he said, my dark horse, my war coat, and my helmet, for today, to avenge him, I will drive rivers of blood from these enemies. I will light such a fire across the world that its smoke will rise all the way to Saturn. When the warriors saw that from the battlefield, from that dark field of combat, the king was preparing to arm himself and meant to ride out to seek vengeance, they said: we will not agree that the king of kings, the lord of the world, should enter the battle himself to seek vengeance. Why must this whole army be arrayed for that? The honored counselor said to the king: you must not go to that battlefield. Give Bastur a horse to mount, and send him against the enemy in battle, for it is better that he win back vengeance for his father than that you go and reclaim it.