Rostam and the City of Cruelty

From there he led his army on, and at a day's march he sighted a city. The name of that city was Cruelty; it was a fortress crowded with people. Their food was human flesh; every so often a lovely, fairy faced one would vanish. At the table of that foul king nothing was served but young children not yet grown. The servants who were beautiful, flawless in face and stature, were prepared as dishes for that table; this is how the king was fed. Rostam gave the order: three thousand armored, mail clad horsemen he sent to that fortress with Gostaham, and two wise warriors alongside him. The man who ruled had the name Kafur; he held the writ of authority over that city. Kafur put on his coat of war, and the whole city stood with him like leopards. They were lasso throwers and men of great strength, tusked elephants in the thick of battle. When Gostaham saw the world in such a state, he saw it turned upside down in the hands of a demon. He ordered his men to rain down arrows and to set his hidden riders upon them. Kafur said to his defiant men: an anvil takes no mark from an arrowhead. Bring out all your swords, maces, and lassos, and bind the heads of these proud men. For a while they clashed so fiercely that they seemed to strike fire from the sea. Many of the Iranians were killed; the sky above turned into a heaven of disaster. Gostaham quickly said to Bizhan: you must rub your reins a little, tell Rostam not to wait so long; set out with two hundred riders. Bizhan, son of Giv, went off like the wind and told the whole tale to Rostam. Rostam pressed heavily into his stirrups; his army could not tell height from hollow. He came upon that battlefield the way a wind comes rushing down from a black mountain. He saw many Iranians slain, and many proud men fled from the fight. He said to Kafur: you dog of vile stock, now your battle and your struggle have reached their end. Kafur launched a fierce charge against that fruitful, royal tree. He hurled a sword swift as an arrow, hoping it might strike the lion taking hero. Rostam raised his shield before it, and Kafur, the fighter, was left helpless. He threw a lasso toward Tus, and Rostam mocked him greatly for it. The son of Zal struck a mace upon his head that shattered his skull, helmet, and crest together. So he pressed his charge right up to the fortress gate; the great could not be told from the small. They shut the fortress gates and from the walls came a roar like the day of resurrection. They cried: 'You man of strength and wits, do not wage such a vengeful war against us.' 'When your father brought you into the world, what did he do, this lasso thrower, if not fight the heavens themselves?' 'It is a pity to spend such effort on this citadel, which the wise call a masterwork.' 'When Tur son of Fereydun rode out from Iran, he summoned masters of every craft.' 'They raised a wall laid out in this fashion, from stone and brick and wood and reed.' 'By skill and toil he built it up like this; he poured out labor and emptied the treasury.' 'Many able men labored hard to raise up the dust of these fortress walls.' 'No king who ruled this citadel could ever repay the effort spent on it.' 'There are weapons here and plenty of food, and supply routes running below.' 'Even if you make war and struggle for years, you will gain nothing but a lawsuit for your pains.' 'No catapult can breach this wall, not even by the spells of Salm or the chants of the priest.' When Rostam heard this he fell to thinking; his heart grew tangled with grief and pain like a thicket. He waged a war he did not relish, and threw his army against all four sides. On one flank Gudarz, on another Tus, and behind him the war elephants with horns and drums. On another side the army of Zabol, in armor, with the daggers of Kabol. When Rostam saw this he took up his bow, and the whole fortress stood amazed at him. Anyone who raised his head above the wall had fate stitch his skull shut on the spot. The arrowhead whispered secrets in the brain, coupling itself with cruel destruction. Then they began to dig out the base of the wall and to bring down men from the ramparts. They set props beneath it and smeared black naphtha over its top. When half the fortress wall had been undermined, they scattered fire through the timbers. The wall built by Tur the warrior came crashing down, and from every side the army poured in around it. Rostam commanded: 'Now make war! Bring out the bows and the poplar shafts of arrows.' The warriors, for the sake of their treasure and their children, and for their homeland and their kin, all threw their lives to the wind together; the luckiest was the one who had never been born. The brave men dismounted then, with Chinese shields and arrows and bows. They advanced alongside the spearmen, with Bizhan and Gostaham at the front. With the fierce breath of fire and the rain of arrows, flight became unavoidable after that. When they came out from the fortress wall, they fled and fled across the open plain. The warrior then sealed off the fortress, and they turned to plunder and to killing. How many they killed, and how many they took captive, carrying off young and old from that city. Much silver, gold, and precious things, along with cattle, servants, and attendants too. The mighty Rostam came and washed his head and body, and first went before the Lord of the world. For his victory he began to pray, and he offered praise to the Creator of the world. He said to the Iranians that the Creator had come to their aid, both in secret and openly. Offer prayers for this victory, and give praise to the Creator of the world. The nobles bowed their heads to the ground before the Creator of the world and began to pray. When they had finished with the pure God, they turned to praise that famous hero. They said: anyone who is not like you in war had better stay home, whether for honor or for shame. You have the body of an elephant and the claws of a lion, and you are never for a moment weary of battle. The mighty one answered: this strength and glory are but a robe of honor from the Just One. You all share in this, every one of you; there is no cause to complain of the world's Creator. He ordered that Giv, with ten thousand shield-bearers and armored horsemen, should ride swiftly to the border of Khotan, so the Turks would not gather to muster. When night showed its curling black locks, the moon's back was bent with worry. Giv set off with those warrior riders; three days that raid lasted. When the sun revealed its crown, Rostam rose and took his seat on the ivory throne. The proud Giv came back from Turan, having captured many renowned brave men, and many fair-faced idols of Taraz, precious horses, and every kind of gear. He sent half of it to the king, and shared the rest among the army. After that, Gudarz, Tus, and Giv, along with Gostaham, Shidush, and brave Farhad, together with Bizhan son of Giv, rose up and offered fresh praise. Gudarz spoke thus: O proud one, the world stands in need of your love. It is not right that from now on we should open our lips, by day or by night, without your praise. Anyone who has traveled the face of the earth, who has seen the world, its peace, its strife and its hatred, has never seen so great an army gathered in one place, nor heard of it from an aged sage, of such kings and elephants and ivory thrones, of such men and horses, of such treasure and crowns. The very stars looked down upon that plain, seeing this army helpless before the battle. We circled that fortress here many times, and found no cure for anyone but vengeance. You freed us from the dragon's jaws; your bow was the thing that set us loose. You are the backbone of Iran and the crown of its leaders, worthy of honor, and we are the humble ones before you. May God repay this deed of yours and keep your face forever smiling. We have no means to reward you; our tongues can offer nothing but praise. Your greatness grows greater every day; your skilled horse Rakhsh alone is worth a hundred armies. The mighty hero blessed them, saying: may the whole world flourish through such heroes. My strength comes from noble, free people; my bright heart is witness to my words. Then he said: let us stay here three days, joyful, lighting up the world. On the fourth we ride to war against Afrasiab, and set fire even to water. All the famous warriors agreed with his words and turned to feasting and drinking. Then word reached Afrasiab that his land and realm had been ruined by the enemy. His heart filled with grief at that news, and all his silks turned to thorns against his body. He asked himself: whose work is this battle? The army is large, but who is its commander? If it is that Rustam I have seen, I have twisted away in agony from his combat many times. He recoiled, then said aloud: who among us can stand as his equal in war? There was once a child, slender as a reed, against whom I had led an army. He came and lifted me from my saddle; that whole army was left astonished. The army answered Afrasiab: do not keep turning your head away from a war with Rustam. You are the one who from the dust of the battlefield can send boiling blood as high as the moon. There are plenty of weapons and fighting men; why let your heart be tight with dread over Rustam? Do not grieve over a single horseman's fighting; look at these new famous warriors of ours. Consider him made wholly of iron; yet, brave as he is, he is still one man. Short talk has run long: you, with a whole army, devise a way to deal with him. Bring his head down from the saddle to the dust; after that, why fear the king of Iran? Neither Kaykhosrow's realm nor his treasure will survive; this battle costs us no great trouble. Look at this famous army, young men, fit for war. For the sake of our land and home and our kin, our women, our little ones, and our children, we will all, every one of us, give our lives to death; that is better than handing the world to the enemy. When Afrasiab heard these words, he forgot that old defeat. He ordered the army to be readied, and they rose up for fresh revenge. About the land of his ancestors and his own city, he laid out a fresh plan. He answered: When things get hard, I will bring my weapons of war to the front. I will not let Kaykhosrow sit happy and content on his throne, blessed by his good fortune. On the day of battle I will drag down the Zabuli hero's head into the dust with my long reach. The proud chiefs cheered him on and called their leader to vengeance. They said: Live long, be joyful and victorious; may you light up the world to your heart's desire. The commander had seen many wars and had proven himself in every task. There was a lionhearted man named Farghar, one who had known the cage and escaped many traps. He cleared the place of strangers and said to Farghar: O worthy man, Go now toward the Iranian army and take a good look at this war-seeking Rostam. See how many horsemen there are and of what kind, and who leads them across this land. And among those renowned warriors, see how many they are and of how many ranks. See how many of their proud-souled champions are ready to fight on the day of battle. When Farghar set out and took the road, he went as a spy to the Iranian army. The war-seeking man grew sick at heart and showed nothing of it to the strangers. He sent for his son and called him near, and shared with him many urgent secrets. He said to Shideh: O wise one, when has your army ever truly cared for you? Know this: the countless troops that have come to this border, so many thousands, their commander is the lionhearted Rostam, who with his sword turns the earth to mud. The elephant-bodied champion Rostam of Zabul, look and see who could ever be his match. Warriors like Kamus, Manshur, and the Khaqan of China, Gahar and the celebrated Gorgvi, and Kandar, and Shangol the king of India, with an army stretching from Kashmir to the banks of the Indus, by the strength of this lion-catching Rostam they were killed, and many were taken captive. For forty days the war dragged on, sometimes battle, sometimes feasting and restraint. In the end Rostam brought them down from their elephants with the loop of his lasso and put them in chains. The horsemen and champions of every land, the chief of every great house from all sides, have now come to this country in this fashion, the crowned and defiant lords among them. I will not stay here with so much treasure and throne, for the situation has turned grim in this hard business. Now whatever treasure there is, the crowns and belts, the golden collars and golden shields, I will send all of it toward the Almas River; this is no time for wine, feasting, and song. I am afraid of Rustam, the fierce clawed one; only the fool believes he can be a crocodile's easy prey. On the day of battle he is not like other men; he does not flinch from fear, nor cry out from pain. He fears neither the spear nor the sharp blade; he raises a doomsday storm over his enemy. You would say he is made of copper and iron, not born of human stock, but a demon. On the day of vengeance he carries so much armor that the very back of the earth grows weary of its weight. He wears mail, breastplate, helmet, and armor; he roars like a thundering cloud. A mighty elephant cannot withstand his charge, nor could a ship carry his weapons across the Nile. Beneath him a whole mountain moves like the wind; you would think he was born of the wind itself. He has the speed of gazelles and the terror of a lion; in combat he grows bolder than a lion. If you ask him to speak, on the day of action he is like a ship upon the sea. I have fought that brave one many times; he wears a coat of armor made from leopard hide. My weapons never harmed him; I tested him again and again with mace and axe. Now, to test our fate, let us wage one battle and see how the day turns out. If God grants us his aid, the lofty wheel of fortune will turn as we wish. Neither that city will remain nor that king; perhaps this war will end in my favor. If on the day of battle Rustam's hand prevails, I will not linger here for long. I will go to the far shore of the Sea of China and leave to him this land of Turan. Shida said to him: Wise king, may you be blessed as long as crown and throne exist. You have glory, majesty, and courage, noble birth, heart, fortune, and wisdom. You need no teacher to give you counsel; just look at how the world keeps turning. Men like Piran, Human, and Farshidvard, like Kalbad and Nastihan, that lionhearted warrior, their weapons are broken and their hearts are shattered; from fear and grief they break apart at every moment. Do not steer this battle's ship into the wind, now that you know a mighty army has come. You are the chosen one among the kings of the world, a seeker of glory and seasoned by experience. By the life and head of the king of Turan's army, by the sun and moon, by the throne and crown, the fate of Kamus and the Khaqan of China has filled my heart with blood and my head with rage. The dark night opened its grim eye; from grief the moon's back bent low. The world turned as black as musk when Farghar returned from the army of Iran. He came to Afrasiyab in the dark night, at the hour of rest and sleep. He said: From the lofty court I went out toward Rustam, the demon binder. I saw a great green royal tent, and around it an army fierce as ravenous wolves. A dragon banner stood raised, restless, as if it could hold neither still nor to any one spot. The reins hung down over the saddle's ridge, and a coiled rawhide loop was tied to the saddle straps. Inside the tent, a furious war elephant of a man, girded tight in a tiger-skin battle coat. A bright bay stallion stood before him, so eager you would think it was about to spring from its place. Commanders like Tus, Gudarz, and Giv, with Faribarz, Shidush, and brave Gorgin. The vanguard scout was Goraz, together with Gostaham, who stands beside Bizhan, son of Giv. The king grew troubled at Farghar's report, and a messenger went to the army's chief commander. General Piran came swiftly as the wind, along with the nobles and the warriors of battle. He spoke at length of what Farghar had said, asking who among them would face this foe in single combat. Piran said to him: what choice is left to us in war but to seek honor and to guard against disgrace? When Afrasiab received such an answer, he hurried to press the quest for vengeance. He ordered Piran to march out with the army and confront the vengeful Rostam. Piran drew his forces out before the commander and led them toward the open plain for battle. A roar rose from the field with the sound of war drums; the world went dark as ebony with the army's dust. The troops were so many, you would say the whole world was vanishing behind the dust of the horses. The drummers cried out and roared, and they drove elephant upon elephant forward. Afrasiab came from his palace to the plain, hurrying to throw himself into the fight. He told Piran what needed to be said, for the secrets of the great must be kept hidden. Prepare a letter to Puladvand, and untie the knot of your resolve with wise counsel. Tell him what has befallen us at the hands of this renowned, quarrelsome hero. If high heaven is willing to help, let Puladvand come to this battlefield. Many armies from the lands of Saqlab and China have been overthrown and bewildered in this. Their army moves like a rolling mountain, and their commander is Rostam, the great champion. Their marshal is Rostam, and their general is Tus, and their war drums thunder up to the clouds. If Rostam is destroyed by your hand, the wheel of fate will find no path into this land. All the suffering of this whole land comes from him alone; be our rescuer in this matter. If his final hour comes at your hand, the whole face of the earth will surely be brought to submission. From my prosperous kingdom I will take no more than one share of the toil for myself. The other half of the crown and the treasure is yours, since today the battle and the hardship are yours. They sealed the letter with the king's own seal, just as the moon rose from the House of Cancer. Shideh buckled on his belt before his father; he was the messenger, and grief was his burden. Like fire, dreading harm and delay, he came to Puladvand. He praised him and handed over the letter, and told him everything about Rostam's deeds. How Rostam had come from Iran to war, and with him an army fierce as leopards. How he had bound Kamus in chains, along with the Khaqan, Manshur, and Fartus. Many captives and herds of elephants he sent, all of them, straight off to Iran. He summoned the border chiefs and the warriors and told tales of every kind. He told them what the letter said: that the world conqueror was young and headstrong. He ordered the war drums brought out and his royal tent carried onto the plain. The army gathered like demons, and a roar rose from the mounted troops. The banner behind and before Puladvand, the shield bearer with quiver and lasso. He came down from the mountain and crossed the river, and reached Afrasiab. One by one the soldiers came to welcome him, and the drums sounded from the king's court. The world seasoned man took him in his arms and recalled much of what had passed. He asked: who is the cause of the Turks' sorrow, and what in the end is the cure for this trouble? Walking gracefully, they entered the king's hall, turning things over with fresh thought and counsel. Afrasiab spoke of every matter, of delay in war and of the need for haste. Of the blood of Siavash spilled by his own hand, of what had come from all the strife and quarrels. Of the Khaqan, Manshur, and the hero Kamus, he recounted all the past events one by one. He said: all this pain comes from a single man, one who wears a shirt of leopard skin. My weapons had no effect on him, on that leopard hide, that helmet, that Chinese shield. You have crossed deserts and long roads; now devise a plan to deal with him. Puladvand's mind filled with worry over how that trap could ever be set. He answered Afrasiab: in war one must not rush so much. If this is the Rostam who ravaged Mazandaran and seized it with his heavy mace, who tore open the flank of the White Demon, the very heart of Pulad-Ghandi and Bid, then I have no strength to stand against him in battle; I dare not set myself to harm him. May my body and soul serve your will, and may wisdom always be your guide. I will keep him in mind for battle and circle around him like a leopard. Throw your army against his army, in such numbers that his head reels in confusion. Perhaps I can find a way; if not, his arms and shoulders cannot be broken by force. Afrasiab's spirit lifted at these words; he called for bright wine, harp, and lute. When Puladvand was drunk with wine, he spoke to him in a loud voice: I have made the eating, sleeping, and peace of Fereydun, Zahhak, and Jamshid turn to misery. Even Brahman trembles at my voice, and at this proud, high necked army of mine. With my sharp sword I will cut this man of Zabol to pieces on the battlefield.