Rustam Breaks the Turanian Line

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.