Section 8: Rostam and the Sorceress

When he had finished his prayer, he brought his horse, rose colored Gulrang, all made ready. He mounted the saddle and set off, taking the winding road toward the sorcerers' land. He rode on swiftly down the long road, until the shining sun had passed its height. He saw trees and grass and running water, a place fit for a young man. He saw a spring as bright as a pheasant's eye, and beside it a golden cup full of wine. A roasted wild sheep with bread laid over it, a salt cellar and pickles set all around. It was a feast the sorcerers had set; when Rostam arrived, at the sound of him the demon vanished. He climbed down from his horse and lifted off the saddle, and marveled at the sheep and the bread. He sat by the blessed spring and saw a golden cup filled with wine. Along with the wine he found a lute as well, and found that wilderness like a banquet hall. The mighty hero took the lute in his arms, struck its strings and began to sing. He sang: I am Rostam, the wanderer, the ill fated one, whose share of joyful days is only sorrow. War is his only ground, the desert and the mountain are his only garden. All his battles are with lions and fierce dragons, where no dragon escapes his grip. Wine and cup and fragrant flowers and a companion to drink with, the Creator has granted him none of these. He is forever fighting a crocodile, or else at war with leopards. The song reached the ear of the sorceress, that lament of Rostam and the striking of the strings. She made up her face to look like spring, though her beauty was not truly lovely. Full of color and perfume she came to Rostam, greeted him and sat down close beside him. The mighty hero began to pray to God, and lifted up his praises higher. Thanking that in the plain of Mazandaran he had found a feast, wine and a cup, with a young companion to drink with. He did not know that she was a foul sorceress, a devil hidden beneath the colors. He set a bowl of wine upon his palm and remembered the good gifts of the Giver. When he called on the loving Lord, the sorceress's face began to change. Her spirit had no thought of prayer, her tongue had no strength for praise. She turned black when she heard the name of God; the hero quickly looked at her. He hurled the coiled noose swift as the wind and suddenly caught the sorceress by the head. He questioned her and said: tell me what you are, show your face just as it truly is. A rotting old hag appeared in the noose, full of wrinkles, trickery, snares, and harm. He cut her in two at the waist with his dagger, and filled the hearts of the sorcerers with dread.