Kavus's War with the King of Hamavaran

After this Kavus made up his mind: to keep his kingdom, he would rise and move. He left Iran and went to Turan and China, then crossed into the land of Makran. From Makran he pressed on, ready for battle, to Zereh, and found no trouble binding his path anywhere. Every chieftain accepted paying tribute and tax; the ox did not dare to test its strength against the lion. Marching proudly on, they came to Berber, the world seeker with his throne and crown. The king of Berberstan made ready for war, and the times took on a darker color. An army came out from Berber for the fight, and the feasting ended in the king's own camp. You would say the air grew thick as a forest with spears, and the sun grew troubled by the dust of horses. In the army's dust the war elephant vanished; no one could see his own hand or reins through the earth thrown up. They fell upon the blows wave after wave, like waves rising from the sea. When Gudarz saw the world had turned this way, he drew his heavy mace from his side. He spurred his horse with a thousand famous warriors, with spears and arrows that pierced armor. He charged and split the enemy's center; the king came roaring right behind. You would think no rider of Berber was left, no spearman standing amid the dust. In the city, everyone who was old, seeing the wind of war had turned against them, all came before King Kavus, their hearts wounded and heavy with guilt, saying: We are the king's servants and slaves; we all bow our necks to pay tribute. Instead of coins we will give gold and jewels, and set upon our heads gratitude to the treasurer. Kavus forgave and treated them kindly, and set for them a new custom and way. From there the clash of cymbals and bells rose up with the wail of the reed-horn. When his march reached the city of Makran, he turned toward Mount Qaf and the west. When news of the king reached those people, they took to the road with prayers and praise. All the chieftains came out to meet him and laid heavy tribute before him. When they submitted to his command, he took the road, and king and army passed on peacefully. The army marched toward Zabolestan, to be the guest of the son of Dastan. The king stayed a month in Nimruz, sometimes wanting music and wine, sometimes hawk and hunting leopard. Not much time passed like this before a thorn sprouted at the edge of the rose garden. No one escapes the testing of fate; when someone rises high, a fall comes to him. Just when the affairs of the world had gone so smoothly, a decline appeared from among the Arabs. A man of noble blood, with treasure and a name, raised a banner from Egypt and Syria. They turned their faces from King Kavus, disdaining to remain his lowly subjects. When news came to the king of the world that someone claimed a share in his kingship, he beat the war drum and set out from Nimruz, glad at heart, the king who lights the world, with his army. They wrote their names upon their shields, and the swords seethed within their scabbards. He led the army from the plain to the sea, toward the side where the enemy had appeared. He built countless ships and boats, raged, and set his army upon the water. It would surely have been a thousand leagues had one measured the journey step by step. He sailed on to the midst of three cities; this is how men seek their share of the world. On his left hand Egypt, Berber on his right, and Zereh in the middle on whatever side he chose. Before him lay the city of Hamavaran, with a mighty army in every land. News reached them that King Kavus had risen up from the waters of Zereh with his army. They called out to one another, and the army's path turned toward Berber. So many sword-wielding warriors became one, gathering together in Berberstan. An army so vast that sea, desert, and mountain were worn out by the hooves of their horses. There was no resting place left for the ravening lion, nor could the fierce wild ass find a path on the plain. The leopard upon the rock, the fish in the water, and in the air the clouds and the soaring eagle, all sought a way out, but what way was there for beast and prey in such a battlefield? When Kavus led his army onto dry land, no one could see mountain or plain in all the world. You would say the world was made of swords and mail, the stars lit by the points of spears. So many golden helmets and golden shields, and gleaming axes raised over their shoulders, you would say the earth had become the turning heavens, raining down souls from Indian blades. From the helmets the air turned amber-yellow, and the earth grew dark from end to end like ebony. The mountains split at the blast of the war-trumpets, and the earth curved beneath the horses' hooves. From the sound of the drums in Berberstan, you would say the earth had become a land of armies. From the Iranian side the horns and drums rose up; out rode Gorgin and Farhad and Tus, and on that side was Gudarz son of Keshvad, with Giv and Shidush and Milad. They cast the reins over their horses' manes and dipped their spearheads in poison-water. When they bent low over their saddles, there came a roar and the clash of axes. You would say they were forging iron out of stone, or striking the sky against the earth. Kavus stirred in the center; army pressed forward against army. The world grew dark from end to end with dust; it rained vermilion upon lapis blue. You would say the air was raining hailstones, sowing red tulips upon the stones. Fire flew out from the eye of the spear; the earth became like a sea of blood. Three armies of the Iranians grew so mingled they could not tell head from midst. First the commander of Hamavaran flung down his sword and heavy mace. He grew grieved and begged the king for mercy, knowing that these were days of ruin. On the promise that the commander of Hamavaran would render heavy tax and tribute, and send horses, weapons, throne, and crown to King Kavus, so that once this was given he would pass on by, and his army would not trample their land, Kavus the king listened to the messenger, and set down his answer to these words: You are all under my protection; you are the servants of my crown and throne.

After that, a messenger told Kavus that the king of Hamavaran kept a daughter hidden away. She stands taller and lovelier than a cypress, her hair like a crown of dark musk upon her head. Tall in stature, her hair a lasso; her tongue sharp as a dagger, her lips sweet as sugar. She is a paradise all adorned and painted, like the shining sun in the joy of spring. She deserves no husband but the king; how fitting for the king to wed the moon. Kavus felt his heart stir in its place, and he answered: yes, this is the plan. From among the crowd the king chose a sharp minded man, a seeker of wisdom, worthy, brave, and clear of mind; he ordered him to set out for Hamavaran. He said: renew my purpose for me, adorn his mind with sweet words. Tell him that the great and seasoned men of the world seek an alliance with me. The bright sun draws its light from my crown; the earth is but the footstool of my ivory throne. Whoever does not take refuge in my shadow will find his standing diminished. Now I seek an alliance with you; I wish to wash clean the face of peace. Behind your curtain there is a daughter; I have heard she is worthy of my throne. She is of pure lineage and pure body, praised in every city and gathering. When you gain a son in law like the son of Qobad, know that the sun itself has granted you justice. The sharp minded, bright souled man went off to the presence of the lord of Hamavaran. He made his tongue eloquent and his heart warm, and dressed his lips in gentle speech. He gave abundant greetings from Kavus, then delivered the message he carried. When the king of Hamavaran heard him, his heart filled with pain and his head grew heavy. He said to himself: however great he may be, a world ruler, victorious, a commander, I have but this one daughter in the world, more precious to me than my own sweet life. If I turn the messenger away with coldness and scorn, I lack the means and men to wage a war. Better to shut my eyes to this pain as well and lull my anger to sleep in my heart. He said to the sweet spoken man: this wish has neither head nor foot. He asks of me the two things dearest to me, and I know of no third to match them. My comfort came from my wealth, and my heart found joy in my child. From now on no life remains in me, even if the king of Iran takes her. I will now hand over whatever he wants; I will not turn my head from his will and command. Grieved, he called Sudabeh before him and spoke to her at length about Kavus. He said to her: from the proud and lofty lord, who has no need of greatness or good fortune, a smooth tongued messenger has come, a letter like scripture and its commentary in his hand. He wants, against my wish, to carry off my heart, my sleep, and my peace. What do you say now? What is your desire? What is your clear judgment in this matter? Sudabeh said to him: there is no other choice; today no one better could care for me than he. One who is king of the world asks land and country of the great. Why be gloomy about a bond with him? No one counts joy as sorrow. The lord of Hamavaran understood that this had not weighed heavily on Sudabeh. He called the king's messenger before him and seated him above his noble men. They sealed a pact after their own custom, as their faith prescribed at that time. For a whole week the lord of Hamavaran prepared the matter with his nobles. Then the heartsick prince brought forth three hundred servants and forty litters. A thousand mules, horses, and a thousand camels, loaded with silk brocade and gold. A litter adorned like the new moon, with treasures placed before and behind it. An army arrayed as fine as paradise; you would say the earth had been sown with tulips. When she came near King Kavus, the heart's ease, all grace, splendor, and majesty, with two smiling rubies and two dark narcissus eyes, two eyebrows arched like pens of silver, Kavus looked and stood dazzled, and spoke the name of God over Sudabeh. He gathered an assembly of the wise, of clear hearted, aged high priests. He found Sudabeh worthy to be his wife, and they sealed a bond by rite and faith.

Grief weighed on the heart of the king of Hamavaran, and he searched every path for a way out. When a week had passed, on the eighth morning a messenger came to the king. He said: if the king would consent to be his guest and come with all his grace into his hall, the city of Hamavaran would gain honor when they beheld a radiant, exalted throne there. This was how he plotted with him, hiding a trap, though his scheme seemed sound. His hope was that both city and daughter would stay his, and no one would come demanding tribute over him. But Sudabeh understood her father's intent, that behind the feast he carried thoughts of war. She said to King Kavus: this is not wise; there is no safe place for you in Hamavaran. They will seize you without a pretext; do not walk into a feast that becomes a fight. All this talk is only for my sake; from this journey sorrow will come upon you. But he would not believe Sudabeh's words, for none of their people had ever wronged him. So he went with his brave men and warriors to the feast of the king of Hamavaran. The king had a city named Shaheh, wholly given over to celebration, feasting, and delight. In that city he had his palace and his seat; the whole city, end to end, was decked with ornaments. When the proud king entered Shaheh, the whole city bowed before him in homage. They scattered jewels and saffron, mixing them with gold coins and amber. Through the city the sound of lute and song wove together like warp and weft. When the commander of Hamavaran saw him, he dismounted with his nobles before him. From the palace of the lord to the very gate, pearls, rubies, and gold rained down. They poured them from golden trays, and sifted musk and amber over his head. In the hall he set a golden throne, and Kavus sat upon it, glad. For a whole week he stayed there, wine in hand; the place felt pleasant and joyful to him. Night and day, like a lesser servant, the king of Hamavaran stood before him, girded to serve. All his army too stood girded, attending upon the Persians. In this way, at last they all grew easy, free of doubt, threat, and fear of harm. Everything had been said and prepared; the plot was hatched and set in motion. The men of Berber learned of it this way, and this was the plan by which they joined in. One night the blast of trumpets and a sudden onslaught came, when no one was ready to defend. When the army arrived from Berber, the king of Hamavaran was glad at heart. Suddenly they seized Kavus, and Gudarz, and Giv, and Tus. As a wise man might ask: what do you make of this, you who are skilled? When someone is not bound to you by blood, you should never feel too safe with him. And even one bound by blood may lose his love for you, until his face turns cold. When you wish to praise another's love, you must test it in gain and in loss. If your own son rises above you in rank, envy will thin even his love for you. Such is this world of unclean designs, stirring foolishly from its place at every wind. When Kavus was bound by his own carelessness, the whole plan of Hamavaran fell into place. There was a mountain, its peak lost in the clouds, raised up by God from the depths of the water. A fortress had been built upon that mountain, so high you would think the sky lay at its side. To that fortress he sent Kavus, along with Giv, Gudarz, and Tus. And the other nobles too he threw in chains into the fortress with King Kavus. A thousand warriors were set to guard the fortress, all famed men who wielded the dagger. He gave the king's royal pavilion to plunder, and handed out purses and crowns to his favorites. Two troops of veiled women set out, with one grand litter borne among them, to bring Sudabeh back and to trample down her pavilion. When Sudabeh saw the veiled women, she tore the royal robe from her body. She clawed at her dark, musky hair, and with her fingers reddened her rose cheeks with blood. She said to them: true men do not count such deeds as praiseworthy. Why did they not chain him on the day of battle, when his garment was armor and his throne a warhorse? A commander like Giv, Gudarz, or Tus: your hearts split at the mere sound of his war drum. You make an ambush of a golden throne; keep your hands off from any such bond of kinship. She named the envoys dogs, and kept pouring her bloody tears upon the ground. I will not part from Kavus, she said, even if his hiding place is the grave itself. If Kavus must be dragged into chains, then let my innocent head be cut off too. They reported her words to her father; his mind filled with rage and his heart with blood. He sent her to the fortress, to her husband's side, her heart wounded with grief, her face washed in blood. She lived in one room with the king, serving him and easing his sorrow. When that crown seeking king was thus imprisoned, his army turned back toward Iran. Word spread through the world that the tall cypress had vanished from the garden. When they no longer saw the king on his golden throne, everyone began to grasp at a crown of his own. From the Turks and from the plain of the lancers, heavy armies poured in from every side. Afrasiab raised a mighty host, giving up food, rest, and sleep. From every corner of Iran rose an outcry; the peace of the world turned to war and turmoil. Then Afrasiab flew into fury and clashed with the army of the Arabs. For three months the armies were locked in war, giving up their heads for the sake of the crown. Such is the way of this fleeting world: now ease and delight, now pain and sorrow. In the end its good and its bad both pass; death is a hunter, and it hunts us down. Defeat came upon the Arabs from the Turks; their greater numbers only brought greater loss. The army was scattered across Iran; woman, man, and child, all were made captives. All fled Iran seeking refuge; for the Persians the world turned black. Two thirds of them went toward Zabolestan, coming to plead with the son of Dastan. They said: be our shelter from these evils, now that the crown of King Kavus is lost. It is a grief that Iran should fall to ruin and become a lair for leopards and lions. It was once a place of warrior horsemen, a seat for kings. Now it is a place of hardship, toil, and disaster, the den of the sharp clawed dragon. One who has sucked milk from leopards, be our helping hand in this suffering. Now a remedy must be devised, to free our hearts from this pain. Rustam wept pale tears from his eyes; his heart filled with blood, his soul with pain. He answered: I have girded myself with my army, ready for war and hungry for revenge. When I get word of King Kavus, I will empty the land of Iran of the Turks. Then news came of King Kavus, of his imprisonment in the ambush and the state of his army. One by one he summoned his troops from Kabul, and, girded for war, marched his army out.

A watchful man, one searching for the way, sent word to King Kavus. To the lord of Hamavaran there came a famous man among the champions. He wrote a letter full of clash and struggle, crammed with maces, swords, and battle. It said: You laid an ambush for the king of Iran, and by pretending peace you plotted evil. It is not manly to seek out war by trickery, nor to abandon the way of the brave leopard, who in battle never sets a hidden trap, however full of hatred his heart may be. If King Kavus is set free, you will have escaped the dragon's claws and jaws. If not, then prepare to fight me; put my strength to the test man to man. The messenger went to Hamavaran and delivered the chiefs' words, one by one. When the lord heard the message and read the letter, he was left astonished at his own deeds. As he read the letter his head reeled, and the whole world turned dark before his eyes. He answered thus: King Kavus will never set foot upon this plain again. Whenever you come to the land of Barbar, you will meet nothing but the blade and the heavy mace. The same chains and prison are prepared for you, if this is the desire your mind has chosen. I will come with an army to fight you; this is the custom and the path we will follow. When the elephant-bodied hero heard the reply, the bold warriors of the army gathered. He went to war by way of the sea, since the road by land would be slow with delay. With ships and boats he took a great army to the borderland of Hamavaran. They turned to plunder and killing, and the land ran with rivers of blood. News reached the king of Hamavaran that Rostam had saddled his horse Rakhsh for war. The time had come for him to march to battle; those days left no room for rest or delay. When he set out from his city with his army, the bright day turned as black as night. They arrayed their forces on left and right, and called for the famous ones to fight. The elephant-bodied hero said: I am the warrior; on the battlefield I am the one who holds his ground. He hoisted the heavy mace onto his shoulder, spurred Rakhsh, and a great roar rose up. When the army saw his chest and shoulders, and the mace and club gripped in his fist, you would think their hearts fled their bodies; from terror of him the whole host scattered. The king and his famous, defiant chiefs, when they saw the signs of Rostam one by one, fled back toward Hamavaran, a mighty army retreating before the mighty hero. When the commander sat down with his counselor, he summoned two young men from the gathering, so that at once he might send them, swift as a rushing wind, to Egypt and to Barbar, each with a letter clutched in his hand, written in heart's grief with tears of blood. It said: this kingdom is not far from yours; good and bad, war and feast, we share together. If you stand as one with me, I will not fear Rostam in the least in battle. But if not, then that kingdom will fall too; the hand of ruin reaches far on every side. When the letter reached them, saying that Rostam had led an army onto this plain, they all rose with hearts full of dread and mustered an army from the land. They set out toward Hamavaran; the earth became a mountain from end to end. The host arrayed its ranks from mountain to mountain; even an ant could not find a path on the ground. When Rostam saw this, he quietly sent a man onto the road to the king, to say: three kings have joined their forces and risen up in this fashion. If I stir myself to battle, they will not know their heads from their feet in this war of vengeance. But no harm must come to you from this feud, for evil comes only from evil men. The throne of Barbar is worth nothing to me if any harm reaches the king's body. The messenger heard this and hurried off, and slipped in secret to King Kavus. He repeated the whole of the hero's message; when Kavus heard it, he was struck with wonder. He answered thus: do not worry about this; the earth was not spread out for me alone. It has always been so, as long as the heavens turn: with sweetness comes poison, with love comes war. And besides, the Lord is my friend; His greatness and His love are my fortress. Give the shining Rakhsh his rein, and adorn his ears with the point of your spear. Leave not one of them alive in the world, neither in the open nor in hiding. The messenger brought back the answer swiftly and rushed to Rostam, son of Zal, like smoke. When the hero heard his words, he made ready and turned his face toward war.

The next day both sides arrayed their armies and dressed their banners for war. Hamavaran had a hundred mighty elephants, an army drawn up across two miles. The mountain shook with the roar of the warriors; the earth grew weary under the horses' hooves. You would think the whole world was made of iron, or that Mount Alborz itself was clad in armor. Behind the elephants the banners flashed, and all around were streaks of red, yellow, and violet. The heart and claws of the fierce lion were torn with dread; the bold eagle let its wings fall. The clouds melted away in the sky, for who could bear to stand against such a force? When the commander led his army onto the plain, he saw the hosts of three kings and three lands. He said to his proud soldiers: do not hold back from the spearpoints that seem thick as eyelashes. Watch the manes and shoulders of the horses and their reins, keeping both eyes fixed on the tips of the lances. Even if they are a hundred thousand and we only a hundred riders, mere numbers will not decide this fight. The flash of arrows and javelins rose up; you would think the sky had sown the earth with tulips. The plain seemed a tavern of blood, and the air a thicket of upright spears. On every side lay severed helmeted heads, and shattered mail scattered across field and cave. The mighty Rostam spurred Rakhsh into swift action, keeping clear of the blood of lesser men. He galloped in pursuit of the king of Syria and hurled his curved lasso through the wind. The noose closed around the king's waist so tightly that its coils seemed frozen there. He lifted him from the saddle like a ball, and struck him down as a mallet strikes. He threw him down, and Farhad bound his hands; the famed chieftain was taken prisoner. With blood the earth turned to a sea and the plain to a mountain, so many were slain from every host. The king of Barbarestan fell into Goraz's grip, captured along with forty of his war leaders. The ground grew heaped like a mountain with the dead, and the king of Hamavaran was worn down at last. He agreed to bring Kavus and his nobles from Hamavaran back to Rostam, along with the royal pavilion, treasure, crown, and jewels, servants, throne, and a golden belt. On these terms they rose up, and all three lands set everything in order. When he freed Kavus from the fortress, along with Giv, Gudarz, and Tus as well, the arms of three lands, three treasuries, three kings, the pavilion, the army, the crown, and the throne, besides these, whatever wealth the commander saw, he sent into the treasury of Iran's champion. Kavus, radiant as the sun, had a golden litter made, lined with Roman brocade. Its frame was of turquoise, its seat of ruby, with gems woven upon black silken cloth. Beneath it stood a smooth-paced horse, its head fitted with a bridle inlaid with gold. The litter's poles were all of fresh aloeswood, and set with jewels of many kinds. He bade Sudabeh take her seat; she sat and gave praise to the sun. He brought his army from the city to the camp; this is how men seek their share of the world. His army grew to more than three hundred thousand, riders in mail with their horses armored too. There gathered around him riders from Barbar, and a hundred thousand from Egypt and Hamavaran. A vast army of Barbar came, a host of war-seasoned horsemen.

A rider was sent from the king to Caesar, one who covered the distance swiftly. He ordered that among the famous men of the West, whoever takes pride in that land and soil, a seasoned warrior should hold the reins; a spear and shield are companion enough for him. Such an army should come from the borders of the West to march with me into settled lands. Then news arrived from Hamavaran, to the plain of the lance-bearing horsemen, of what Rostam had done in Egypt and Barbar to those kings on the day of battle. The knights and champions sought a brave one, a rein-turner, a man-thrower, a lancer. They wrote a manly letter, with fitting and eloquent words. When the army came from Gorgsaran seeking the throne of the exalted king, our hearts grew pained at their deeds, that their hearts recalled such arrogance. Afrasiyab desired his crown; his mind had strayed in haste from the path of reason. We went out with our long spears and turned his peace and pleasure bitter. Many were slain, from them and from us; fortune turned toward every good and ill. Now that news of his deeds has come, that the imperial throne has been renewed, all the famous sword-wielders have gathered on this field of vengeance. When the king turns his reins from Barbar, we will raise our spears together as one. We will fill the land with blood from mountain to mountain, and turn the desert of the enemy into a Jayhun river. The Arab messenger set off at once and turned his face swiftly toward Barbaristan. When the letter reached the king of Iran, he found its words fitting. Their conduct pleased him, and at that moment he wrote a letter to Afrasiyab: Leave Iran and seek no more; our heads are full of talk about you. The land of Turan is enough for you; you reach out toward evil in vain. Seek no more if you are content, for it will bring you grief and long suffering. It is best for you to act as a lesser one and keep the skin safe on your own body. Do you not know that Iran is my dwelling, and the whole world lies beneath my hand? Though the fierce leopard be bold, it dares not step before the lion's claws. When the news reached Afrasiyab, his head filled with vengeance and his heart with haste. He sent his reply: such talk suits none but an ugly-natured man. If you were worthy of Iran, you would not have needed help in Mazandaran. He said this: Iran is mine on two counts; you must hear these true words. For the son of Fereydun is my ancestor, and the whole realm of Iran is my house. And besides, with the arm of the sword-wielder I cleared the gathering of Arabs away. With my sword I will seize the blade from the mountain and bring the eagle down from the dark cloud. Now I have come ready for war, my shining banner raised high. The messenger returned like the wind and repeated the words to Kavus the king. When Kavus heard his speech, he arrayed his army to fight him. From Barbar he came toward the Syrians, an army without limit or measure. Afrasiyab prepared for battle against him; the dust rose from the water to the sky. The world went deaf with the cry of horns and drums; the earth turned to iron and the air to ebony. From the blows of battle-axes and the clash of arms, a wave of blood rose from the field of war. The star of Afrasiyab's champions fell asleep upon that battlefield. Two thirds of the army of Turan were slain; the heads of their chieftains were wholly overthrown. When the commander saw the affair go that way, he boiled without fire like fermenting wine. He cried aloud: My brave men, my chosen champions, my manly lions, it was for a day like this that I cradled and reared you at my side. Fight and give strength to the battle; press Kavus hard and make the world narrow for him. Strike the champions with javelin and dagger; bring down their brave ones one and all. That same lion-hearted Rostam of Sistan, who tore the heart from a lion with his sword, may you, through bravery, put him in chains and drag his head into the snare of harm. Whoever, on the day of battle, throws him from his leopard-skin saddle into the dust, I will give my daughter and kingship to him and raise his head above the highest heaven. When the Turks heard his words, they all turned toward the fight. He charged fiercely at the army of the Syrians, but that quest for gain ended in loss. When the bright one saw fate turn that way, he withdrew from there toward the land of Turan. His heart wounded and two thirds of his army slain, he sought honey from the world and found poison.

King Kavus came toward Pars, and set the world on a new foundation of joy. He arranged his throne and spread justice, and set his heart on feasting and delight. To every quarter he sent a champion, a world ruler, alert and bright of spirit. To Merv, Nishapur, Balkh, and Herat he dispatched an army to each region. The whole world was filled with justice, so even the wolf turned its face from the lamb. From such abundance of treasure, beauty, and glory, fairies, beasts, and wild game all became his servants. The great ones bowed before Kavus as his lessers, and all crowned kings became his army. He entrusted command of the world to Rostam, and counted every good day as coming from him. He built a dwelling on Mount Alborz, where the demons were worn down by suffering. He ordered two houses made of hard granite, each one ten lasso-lengths in size. Inside the stone he furnished it well, with spikes of steel and pillars of granite. They tethered war horses there, also litter-bearing camels and pathfinding mounts. He made two more houses of crystal glass, setting emeralds into them everywhere. He arranged a place for leisure and dining so the body might be nourished by food. Two more houses, meant for weapons of war, he ordered fashioned from raw silver. A golden palace, meant for his seat, he raised up, giving it a height of sixty. Summer could not be told from winter there; the air was fragrant, its rain like sweet wine. In its hall rubies were put to use, and it was adorned with turquoise designs. All year long the bright springtime lasted, and the flowers were like the faces of comforters. It was far from pain, sorrow, and heartache, while evil's own body, the demon, lay in torment. Bad times fell into slumber under the teaching of goodness and justice. The demons were caught in his torment, wailing under the punishment he dealt them.

It happened that one early morning, Iblis held a secret gathering, hidden from the king. He told the demons: Today our work with the king goes hard, full of trouble and pain. We need now a clever demon, one who knows every kind of scheme and manner. One who can lead Kavus astray and cut short this labor for us demons. One who turns his heart from the pure God, and throws dust on that beautiful glory of his. They listened and kept it in mind, but out of fear of Kavus, none replied. A savage demon rose to his feet and said: This cunning belongs to me. He disguised himself as a young servant, eloquent and fit for any gathering. He waited until one day the king rode out from the palace to go hunting. He came, bowed his face to the ground, and handed Kavus a bunch of flowers. He said: This beautiful glory of yours, only the turning sky is worthy to be your seat. The whole face of the world bends to your will; you are the shepherd, and the proud are like your flock. One task remains, so that your name in the world may never be hidden. What secret does the sun keep from you, that it rises and falls the way it does? What is the moon, what are night and day, and who commands this turning wheel of heaven? That demon led the king's heart astray; his mind grew short of clear thought. He came to believe that the turning sky showed its face to no one in the world but him. He did not know the sky itself is nothing at its core; the stars are many, but God is One. All the stars are helpless under His command, though they burn and clash and threaten. The Creator of the world has no need of them; the sky and the earth exist for your sake. That king's mind grew full of the thought: how could he rise into the air without wings? He asked many wise men: how far is it from this earth up to the sphere of the moon? The astronomer answered, and the king listened; then he chose a crooked and ugly plan. He gave orders that at nightfall men should go to the nesting places of eagles. They took many young birds from the nests, leaving only two in each. For months and years they raised them well, feeding them on fowl and lamb's meat. When each grew strong as a lion, strong enough to bring a wild sheep to the ground, He made a throne of aloewood, fastening its joints firmly with gold. To its sides he tied long spears and rigged it in that fashion. From each spear he hung a leg of lamb, his heart wholly caught in this scheme. Then he brought four bold eagles and bound them firmly to the throne. King Kavus sat upon the throne, his heart already led astray by the demon. When the swift-flying eagles grew hungry, each one lunged toward the meat. They lifted the throne from the ground, raising it from the plain up into the clouds. As long as their strength held out, they strove and pushed on toward the meat. I have heard that Kavus rose to the heavens, going up to reach the angels. Another version says he went to the sky to wage war there with arrow and bow. There are all kinds of stories of this; only wisdom's wing can know its secret. They flew a long way, then fell back exhausted; such is the fate of anyone seized by greed. When no strength was left in the flying birds, sorrow overcame them and their fury died down. They plunged headlong down from the black clouds, dragging the king's throne from the air to the ground. They came down toward the lion-filled forest, landing on the earth near Amol. The wondrous world did not destroy him; fate kept hidden what was still to be. Siyavush was yet to come from him; some things still had to graze and take their course. Instead of greatness and a royal throne, he was left holding only regret and pain. Stranded in the forest, wretched and abased, he raised his prayers to the Creator.

He kept begging forgiveness for his sin, while the army searched for him in every direction. Rustam, Giv, and Tus got word of him, and set out with a great army and war drums. Old Gudarz spoke to Rustam this way: from the day my mother first weaned me from her milk, I have seen in this world crowns and thrones, kings and great men with fortune awake to them. But I have never heard of anyone like Kavus, nor seen his match among the humble or the great. He has no wisdom, no knowledge, no judgment, his mind is not in place, nor is his heart. Then the champions came to him, full of reproach, sharp and ready to quarrel. Gudarz said to him: a madhouse would suit you better than a royal city. Time after time you hand your place to the enemy, and you speak your foolish plans to no one first. Three times such hardship and pain have struck you, yet your head has learned nothing from the trials. You marched the army off to Mazandaran; look what suffering came of it there. Once more you became the enemy's guest; you were an idol, and now you have turned priest to it. No one is left in the world but the pure God whose realm your sword has not tried to claim. You have raced across every inch of the earth in war, and now you have set your sights on the sky as well. After you they will make of this a tale: that a king rose up to the lofty heavens, to gaze upon the moon and the sun, and to count the stars one by one. Do what watchful kings do, what those who praise God and wish well perform. Seek nothing but servitude before God, reach out for good or ill toward no one but Him. Kavus answered thus: from honesty no flaw ever comes into one's affairs. You have spoken justice, not injustice; my life is not free of debt to your name. Kavus fell silent and burned with shame before those heroes of the day of battle. He made ready and sat in his litter, regret and pain his companions. When he came to his throne and high seat, his heart was still worn down and grieved by the affair. For forty days he stood before God, pacing the ground and clearing his mind. He shed pale tears from his eyes, and kept remembering the Creator of the world. From shame he did not step out the palace door; it was as if his skin was peeling off him. He wept pure blood from his eyes, begging pardon of the one who guides. Shame before the brave men humbled his spirit; he stopped his outings and shut the gate of audience. He grew repentant, chose sorrow and pain, and gave away much treasure freely. He rubbed his face in the dark dust, offering prayers before the pure God. When some time had passed in weeping like this, the Creator of the world had mercy on him. He brought a new justice into the world, which shone upon the humble and the great. It was as if the world had put on silk from his justice, and the king again sat handsome on his throne. From every land a renowned lord, one who set a lofty crown upon his head, came to the court of King Kavus, abandoning that path of defiance. Time became as it had been at first; the king washed his face in the water of loyalty. All the great ones became lesser than he, his worshippers and his servants. Wherever a king is just and nothing else, no need drives him to cry for help. I have told this tale for whoever will hear; now the battle of Rustam must be sung.

What did that bold poet-singer say, who once suddenly grappled with a fierce lion? If you seek to earn the name of a real man, then wash the face of your Indian blade in blood. You must not shy away from hardship, for the day of honor and battle will come to you. When your fated hour presses close, it will not turn back from you no matter how you avoid it. If you bring reason along as a companion to war, the brave will not count you among the warriors. Reason and faith walk a different road; the best words are bound within restraint. Now here is a colorful, fragrant tale about the warrior Rostam. I have heard that one day the mighty-bodied hero threw a great feast for the gathering. In a place called Navand, where tall palaces stood, the very place where the fire-temple of Azar Borzin now blazes as a guide. The nobles of Iran came to that feast, a famous host gathered as one army. Men like Tus and Gudarz son of Keshvad, like Bahram and the noble Giv, like Gorgin and Zangeh son of Shavaran, like Gostaham and Khorrad, the fighting men, like proud sword-wielding Borzin, and Gorazeh who led the assembly. Each of these chieftains brought several men, forming one renowned and honored force. The army never rested a moment from its work: polo, archery, wine, and the hunt. One day in his cups Giv said to Rostam, 'O renowned champion, if the thought of a hunt appeals to you, and the swift cheetah is put to use for you, let us go to the hunting ground of Afrasiab and darken the bright face of the sun. With the dust of riders, hunting cats, and hawks, let us seize a full long day of pleasure. Let us cast the lasso over the swift wild ass, and bind the lion with our swords. Let us make such a hunt on the plain of Turan that it becomes a legend in the world.' Rostam said to him, 'May nothing ever cross your will until your very end. At dawn let us go to the plain of Turan, and never tire of the hunt and the chase.' They all agreed together on this plan; no one proposed a different idea. At dawn, when they rose from sleep, they prepared to set out on their desire. They set off with hawk and falcon and litter, striding cheerful and happy toward the Shahd river, to the hunting ground of Afrasiab, with sand on one side and water on the other. On the other side lay Sarakhs and its desert; the plain was covered with herds of deer and sheep. The whole plain filled with pavilions and tents, and the deer grew frantic at the crowd. The land was emptied of tearing lions; word of it reached even the birds in flight. On every side lay heaps of birds and game, some killed, some wounded by arrows. Their lips never rested from laughter for a moment; they were bright of heart and joyful. For a whole week it went on like this with wine: now the chase, now sitting in revelry. On the eighth day the mighty one came early and laid a fitting plan before the army. Rostam said to those proud men, to those mace-bearing warriors: 'By now, word of us has surely reached Afrasiab without doubt. He will scheme, come to battle, and close in the hunting ground against our cheetahs. We need a scout on the road, so that when he gets the slightest news, he can come and warn the army, lest the enemy seize the way against us.' Gorazeh, bow strung and ready, came and girded himself for that task. With a guardian like him over the army, dealing with the enemies seemed an easy thing. They turned back to the hunt and to feasting; no one gave a thought to the coming fight. Then, in the dark of night at the hour of sleep, word of them reached Afrasiab. He summoned the seasoned men of his army and told many tales about Rostam, and about those seven brave mounted champions, each of whom was like a lion. 'Now we must make ready and suddenly launch a raid. If we can seize these seven heroes, we will make the world narrow for Kavus. We must move as if on a hunt, and fall upon them suddenly with the army.' He chose thirty thousand swordsmen, all eager for battle and ready for war. He said to his famed warriors, 'This is no time for us to delay.' They rode out across the desert road, all of them raising their heads for the fight. He sent countless troops from every side to cut off the road against those proud men. When Gorazeh saw the dust of the army, he came and studied the whole force. He saw the face of the world turn black, the banner of Turan's commander looming. From there he turned back like a roaring wind; you would say a wild boar had charged in for the strike. He came galloping to the hunting ground, where the mighty one was drinking wine with the army. The lion-like man said to Rostam, 'Rise, and turn away from your merriment. For there is an army beyond all measure; the whole host looks like one solid mass, hill and hollow alike. The banner of tyrannous Afrasiab gleams through the dust like the sun.' When Rostam heard this he laughed hard and said, 'Victorious fortune is on our side. Why do you fear the king of the Turks like this, and the dust of the horsemen of Turan? His army is no more than a hundred thousand rein-turning, armored riders. On this field of vengeance, if there is even one of us, then fighting the Turks looks like a small thing. We are seven mounted champions gathered, all so renowned and skilled with the sword. Each one of us is worth a thousand of them, so what does the count of the Turkish host matter? On this plain, even if I alone stand here, mounted on Rakhsh and clad in armor, if such a foe comes seeking vengeance against me, I would need no army from Iran. You, cupbearer, pour me Babylonian wine, measure me a nightingale's-fill to the brim.' The cupbearer measured the wine and gave it quickly; the mighty one grew glad at once at the gift. He took that shining cup in his hand and first spoke the name of Kavus the king. 'May the king of the age be remembered by me; may his land and realm be ever flourishing.' Then the mighty one kissed the ground and said, 'This wine is in memory of Tus.' The world's leading men rose up and made a plea to the champion: 'This cup of wine is beyond our measure; even the Devil cannot keep pace with you in drinking. Wine, the single-stroke mace, and the field of war have come to no one's grasp but yours.' Red Babylonian wine in a golden cup, the mighty one drank to Zavareh's face. Zavareh, like a nightingale-cup, took it in his hand and also spoke the name of King Kavus. He drank and kissed the ground, and the mighty one praised him, saying, 'A brother drinks the brother's cup; a true lion is he who drains the cup of wine.'

Then Giv said to the champion: You who are the pride of kings and warriors, let me go and block Afrasiab's path; I will not let him cross to this side of the water. I will seize the head of the bridge against that treacherous man and hold him back on the far side for a while, so that our warriors can put on their armor, for the time for pleasure and jest is over for us. He rushed off at speed toward the bridge, two black bows strung and ready in hand. When he drew near the bridge and saw the banner of that man given to cruelty, he saw that Afrasiab had already crossed to this side of the water, at the head of his army. The mighty Rustam put on his tiger-skin armor and mounted his raging elephant of a horse. When Afrasiab saw him there in his mail, you would think his very wits took flight from his heart, at the sight of Rustam's grip, chest, arms, and shoulders, and the mace slung across his neck. And there were Tus and Gudarz, the lance-wielders, and Gorgin, and Giv, the brave horseman; and Bahram, and the fortunate Zangeh, and Farhad and Barzin, all men of war. Such an army, all proud in battle, every one gripping lance and Indian sword, rose up together as one and lined up like leopards ready to spring. Giv threw himself into the fight like a lion that has lost its prey. On every side, front and back, he swung his mace and bent many a tall body double. The warriors of China fled from him, and the lord of Turan was left stunned. Afrasiab was afraid of Rustam and made no haste to seek battle with him. He kept driving his army forward, gently calling his champions back from the front. Many of Turan's chiefs were killed; the fortune of the proud men was overturned. Afrasiab asked Piran: Is this a battlefield, or a place for sleep? In seeking battle we used to be brave; we made our plans and were like lions. Now I see only a field of foxes; I see the appetite for war grown short. Of the men of Turan you are the most renowned, a seeker of glory and seasoned in war. Turn your spear-point to fury for once; go quickly and clear a space among them. If you are victorious, Iran is yours; the body of an elephant and the claws of lions are yours. When Piran heard this from Afrasiab, his heart flared up like fire before the wind. He made ready with ten thousand famous men, dagger-wielding Turkish warriors. He came like fire against the elephant-bodied Rustam, from whom flowed the strength to fight and to break the foe. The mighty Rustam brought foam to his lips; you would say he had taken heat from the sun. He spurred his horse and a shout went up like the sea rising to a boil. Shield on his head, Indian sword in his fist, he killed two out of every three of those famous men. Afrasiab watched from the edge and said to his renowned nobles: If this fight goes on like this until nightfall, among the brave and the proud, not a single horseman will be left; we should never have set our minds on this battle. He asked: Where is Alkus the warrior, who so often called out to fight with lions, who in his cups used to challenge Giv and prepare to take on Rustam himself? He was always talking of Iran; where has that fire and wind of his gone now? Word of these words reached Alkus, how the lord of Turan had thrown down the challenge. Alkus spurred his night-black horse, his hand no doubt already washed in blood. Out from the army rode with him more than a thousand fighting men on horse. All raised their spear-points high, in mail and helmet, with maces in hand. The warrior Zavareh appeared, and Alkus fiercely set his face toward him. He guessed that this was Rustam, and knew he was of the line of Nariman. Zavareh grappled with him, like a proud elephant and a raging lion. He cut the spearman's lance in two and filled the heart of that clawed lion with fear. He struck and drew his sword from its sheath; the ground vanished under the dust of the fighters. The swords of the vengeful men shattered against each other, and their hands flew to their maces like wind. Alkus swung a mace as heavy as a mountain, and Zavareh was overwhelmed with dread of it. In the saddle he was left drained by the blow; he tumbled from his horse and fell senseless. Alkus dismounted and pressed close over him, wanting to cut the head from his body. When Rustam saw his brother in that state, he raced toward him like fire. He let out a sharp cry at Alkus, at which his hand went weak and his sword lost its edge. When Alkus heard the voice of Rustam, you would think his heart burst out through his skin. He leapt into the saddle like the wind; no memory of courage remained in his heart. Rustam said to him: You have never measured the lion's claws, and that is why you grew so bold. Zavareh sat in the saddle in pain, his body full of blood, his sword still in his hand. Alkus closed with the elephant-bodied Rustam, wrapping a silk shroud over his own saddle, as good as dead. He drove a lance at Rustam's belt, but its point did not tear far from the hem. The mighty Rustam struck a lance against his chest, and his helmet was drowned in the blood of his heart. On the lance he lifted him clean out of the saddle, and both armies stood amazed at him. He dashed him to the ground like a chunk of mountain, and the soul of the Turanian host filled with terror. In the same way, the seven brave champions drew their swords like lions. Behind their backs, the valiant chiefs laid their heavy maces upon their shoulders. They swept the enemy army from its ground so completely that head could not be told from foot. They killed so many of the warriors that the earth turned crimson from end to end. Everywhere the dead lay like fallen elephants, some with bodies whole, some with heads struck off. On the battlefield there was no room left to turn, and no path left for the army to pass through.

Rostam spurred Rakhsh on in a rush, driving straight at the back of the warrior Afrasiyab. He said to Rakhsh: My good companion, do not falter now in the heat of battle. For I will take the king's life on your back, and stain the stones red as coral with his blood. Rakhsh, born of fire, grew so hot that you would think wings had sprouted from his flanks. From his saddle strap Rostam loosed the lasso, meaning to bring the enemy down in its coils. The loop of leather settled around the Turk, but the Turkish commander slipped his neck free. And the swift steed beneath him leapt from the spot, blazing away like fire. The mighty champion sprang after the lasso, mouth parched, his body soaked with the sweat of struggle. Of all the army's warriors ready for the fight, two out of three never returned to their tents. Whether killed or wounded, they were left captive in the hands of that host. Priceless horses with gilded harness, helmets, and swords in golden sheaths, and besides these, whatever else was most precious: a great store of it was left to the Iranians. No one loosened the belt of a fallen man; they did not search out the fugitives who had fled. They came back to that hunting ground, wanting for nothing good. They wrote a letter to King Kavus about the Turks and about the hunting field, and how not one of the brave men had been killed; only Zavareh had taken a fall from his horse, nothing more. On that blessed plain the champion, bright of spirit, stayed for two full weeks. On the third week they came to the king's court, to look upon his fortunate crown. Such is the way of this fleeting inn we call the world: one man lives at ease, another in pain. This way or that, the day passes all the same; why should a wise person grieve? The words of this tale have reached their end; now I will tell the story of Sohrab and Rostam.