Rostam and Changesh

Changesh spurred his horse across that plain, riding on like a burst of sacred fire. When he came near the Iranians for battle, he drew a sharp arrow from his quiver. He said: This is my battleground, and the heads of your champions are in my grip. Where has that man gone who captured Kamus, who threw the lasso one moment and shot arrows the next? If he comes now to the field of combat, I will not let him return to his army. Rostam stirred from his place with his mace, and at once set Rakhsh in motion. He said: I am the lion-slayer, the taker of heroes, who throws the lasso one moment and shoots arrows the next. Right now, like the warrior Kamus, you too must swallow dust before my eyes. Changesh asked him: What is your name? What is your lineage, and what do you want? So that on the day of battle I may know whose blood I spilled once the dust settled. Rostam said: You wretch of ill fortune, may that tree you sprang from never bloom again. How could such a garden ever bear fruit like you, or count fruit as worthless as you among its yield? The tip of my spear and my very name are your death; you must give up all hope for your head. At once Changesh came like the wind and set both notches of his bow against the string. The bow of that cruel man was like a storm cloud; he faced his enemy in coat of mail and armor. When Rostam saw the arrow would pierce his mail, he raised his shield over his head. He said: Wait, bold rider, for now your head will grow sick of war. Changesh looked upon that mountain of a man, tall as a straight cypress rising from a meadow. Beneath him the horse was like a slab of mountain, never wearied though it carried such a load. Changesh said to himself: To flee now is better than to fight against my own life. He drove that burden-bearing horse from its place and turned his mind toward his own army. Like fire, the brave rider Rostam spurred Rakhsh in pursuit of the champion. At that instant Rostam reached him, and the whole plain filled with talk of them. He seized the tail of Changesh's filthy horse, and both armies watched in astonishment. He held it awhile until the beast grew spent and, from that height, threw itself to the ground. The helmet fell from Changesh and he begged for mercy; but Rostam laid him level with the earth. At once he cut his head from his body, and all his hopes and schemes came to nothing. All the champions of the land of Iran raised their praise upon the hero. Rostam stood between the two ranks, a gleaming spear held ready in his hand. On the other side the Khaqan grew heavy with grief and raged against the turning of fate and the wheel of heaven. The Khaqan of China said to Human: Time and the earth have closed in tight around us. You should go and learn that famous champion's name, seek him out, and send him a message. Human replied: I am no anvil, nor am I a tusked war-elephant on the battlefield. In all the world there was no warrior like Kamus, none so eager for battle and so unyielding. Yet this rider caught him in the coil of his lasso; do not think this hero a trifling thing. I will go and see what the Creator of the world wills, who shall be victorious on this field of vengeance.