Kay Qobad

Kay Qobad sat down upon the throne of kingship, and set the jeweled crown upon his head. All the famous champions gathered, men like Dastan and Qaren the warrior. Kashvad, Khorad, and the champion Barzin scattered jewels over that new crown. Qobad listened to the counsel of the great ones, then looked out at Afrasiab and his army. The next day he moved his army from its place, and a great roar rose up from the royal tent. Rustam put on his battle armor; like a raging elephant he rose, and the dust flew up. The Iranians drew up their ranks and girded themselves to spill blood. On one flank stood Mehrab, lord of Kabul; on the other, warlike Gazhdham held his ground. In the center stood Qaren the warrior, together with Kashvad the champion who breaks armies. Behind them came Zal with Kay Qobad, fire in one hand and wind in the other. At the front flew the banner of Kaveh; the whole world turned red, yellow, and purple beneath it. The army covered the earth like ships upon the sea, where waves rise from the ocean of China. Shields were woven together across plain and hillside, and the flash of blades shone like lamps. The whole world became a sea of pitch, with a hundred thousand candles kindled in it. From the wail of trumpets and the shouting of the troops, you would think the sun had lost its way. Swiftly Qaren the warrior saw all this, and let out a roar from their midst like thunder. Bold he charged into the heart of the army, the commander Qaren, moving like a lion. Now to the left, now to the right, on every side he pressed his vengeance. With mace, with sword, and with the long spear, that proud champion kept killing them. He piled the slain on the ground like a mountain, until those bold Turkish warriors were worn down. The bold champion spotted Shamasas, who was roaring like a raging lion. He came thundering on until he reached him, and quickly drew his sharp blade from its sheath. He struck his head with the poison tempered sword and cried, 'I am Qaren the renowned.' Shamasas the champion tumbled down headlong when he felt such a blow from Qaren's hand. Such are the ways of the ancient turning sky: sometimes a bow, sometimes an arrow.

When Rostam saw what Qaren had accomplished, and how he had waged the fierce fight, he went to his father and asked him: 'Tell me, great champion of the world, where does Afrasiab, that scheming man, take his stand on the day of battle? What does he wear, and where does he raise his banner? I know its purple flag shines bright.' 'Today I will seize him by his belt, and drag him here before you.' Zal said to him: 'Listen, my son, and keep your wits about you for this one day. That Turk is a raging dragon in war, a towering storm of fury and revenge. His banner is black, his coat of mail is black; his forearms are iron, his helmet iron too. His iron armor is chased with gold, and he wears a black emblem upon his helm. Guard yourself well against him, for he is a brave man and favored by fortune.' Rostam said to him: 'O champion, do not trouble your heart on my account. The Creator of the world is my ally; my courage, my sword, and my arm are my fortress.' He spurred Rakhsh with its bronze-hard hooves, and a bull-like roar rose up from him. When Afrasiab saw him out on the plain, he marveled at that young, unripe boy. He asked the Turks: 'This dragon set loose from its chains, who is he? I do not know his name.' One answered: 'This is the son of Zal, son of Sam. Do you not see he comes with Sam's own mace? He is young and has come in search of a name.' Afrasiab advanced before his army, like a ship the waves lift out of the water. When Rostam saw him, he gripped with his thighs and swung the heavy mace up to his shoulder. When he had closed the ground tightly between them, he thrust the heavy mace back into his saddle. He clamped his hand onto Afrasiab's belt and tore him from the back of his leopard-skinned saddle. He meant to carry him before Qobad, so that on this first day of war he could pay him back. But under the champion's weight and the rider's grip, the leather belt did not hold. It snapped, and Afrasiab's head fell to the dust; his horsemen closed around him. When the warlord slipped free of Rostam's grasp, Rostam gnawed at the back of his hand in regret. 'Why,' he said, 'did I not grab him under the arm, instead of taking hold of him neatly by the belt?' When the sound of bells rose from the backs of the elephants, and the war drums thundered for miles, someone brought the news to the king: 'Rostam has ripped through the heart of the enemy army. He drove so far that he reached the king of the Turks, and the warlord's banner vanished from sight. He seized him by the belt and flung him down with ease; a bitter cry went up from the Turks.' Qobad charged forward like fire, and the army stirred like a sea whipped by the wind. The uproar of striking and pounding rose, the flash of daggers and the blows of clubs. Upon those golden helmets and golden shields, heads were gashed and split by the axes. You would say a cloud had risen from a corner and splashed vermilion across a golden fruit. From the dust of the horsemen on that wide plain, the earth became sixth and the sky the eighth. One thousand one hundred and sixty brave warriors were slain, each with a single blow, like fierce lions. The Turks fled before the Persians, and drew their army back toward Damghan. From there they turned their faces toward the Oxus, their hearts pierced, full of grief and murmuring. Their weapons broken, their belts torn loose, no trumpet, no war drum, no order at all.

He left the riverbank and went to Pashang, his tongue full of words but his hand grown short. He told him: renowned king, this war you sought to wage was your own fault. First, the great men of old never saw it right for a king to break his pledge. The world was not cleansed of Iraj's line, and no antidote turned a deadly poison harmless. One is lost, another comes to take his place; the world is never left without a master. Qobad has come and set the crown upon his head; out of old spite he has opened a new door. A horseman has appeared from Sam's line, one whom Zal has named Rostam. He came on like a raging sea-monster, as if his breath could set the earth on fire. He charged up the heights and down the slopes, striking with his mace, his blade, and his stirrups. His mace tore the air into shreds; my life was not worth a single fistful of dust. He ripped our whole army apart; no one in the world had ever seen such a marvel. He spotted my banner off to one side and swung his heavy mace from the saddle. He plucked me from my saddle so easily, as if I weighed no more than a gnat. My belt snapped and my coat's fastening gave way; I tumbled head-first from his grip beneath his feet. No lion ever had such strength, his two feet on the earth and his head in the clouds. It took all our warriors, gathered together, to drag me out from before that mountain of a man. You know, my king, my heart and my grip, my strength and my drive in battle. In his hands I was a mere gnat, and I am left full of dread at that creation. I saw an elephant-bodied man with a lion's claws, with no reason, no learning, no thought or restraint. He gave the reins to that drunken elephant of a horse, an ox-headed mace in his hand. It was as if three hundred thousand clubs had struck that helmeted crown of his. You would say they had forged him from iron, molded him from stone and bronze. The sea before him, the armored tiger-skin, the tearing lion, the furious elephant, all were one to him. He rode on as if it were a day of the hunt; war came to him like a game. Had Sam ever had such power in his blows, not one proud Turkish champion would have been left standing. You have no choice but to seek peace, for your army cannot stand against him. The land that brave Fereydun back then handed over to valiant Tur, was given to me and rightly apportioned; you should never have chased this old grudge. You know that seeing is not like mere hearsay; there is always a hollow gap in what is only heard. A rose garden that blooms today: if you pick the flowers tomorrow they are of no use. Do not leave today's task for tomorrow, for who knows how the times will turn tomorrow? War with Iran looked to you like a game, and from that game the toll on the army only grew. See how much gold-worked harness, gilded helmets and golden shields they took. The Arab steeds with golden bridles too, and the Indian blades in gilded sheaths. More than this, Qobad came and carried off our brave champions into disgrace, men like Kalbad and bold Barman, whose prey used to be nothing but raging lions. And Khazravan, whom Zal broke to pieces, showing him the might of his heavy mace. Shamasas, the vengeful shelter of the army, whom Qaren killed on the field of battle. Besides these champions, more than a hundred thousand were slain in the hour of war. Worse than all of this is the shame and disgrace of defeat, a defeat that can never be mended. If a renowned head was lost through me, it was that wise Aghrirath was killed. I was young, and the days were still kind; today I have reckoned the past as gone. For those same defiant lords came at me, each with a banner streaming behind him. They reminded me of many days gone by, roaring at my back while I fled, wretched and humbled. Now recall nothing of the past; reach out toward peace with Kay Qobad. If some other desire rises in you, armies will close in on you from all four sides. On one flank Rostam, whom even the shining sun cannot match in strength when it comes to battle. On another flank Qaren the warrior, whose eye has never seen defeat. Third, Keshvad of the golden helm, who came to Amol and carried off that army. Fourth, Mehrab, lord of Kabul, who is the king's counselor and ruler of Zabol.

The commander of the Turks, his eyes brimming with tears, stood amazed at Afrasiab. He chose a wise and clever man and, as was fitting, sent him as envoy to Iran. He wrote a letter like a masterpiece, adorned with a hundred kinds of color and design. In the name of the Lord of sun and moon, who granted the power to bless and praise. And upon the soul of Fereydun be greeting, for from him our whole line takes its warp and weft. If, for the sake of crown and throne, evil befell the fortunate Iraj at Tur's hand, we must now speak of that; the bond between us must be kept from breaking. If that feud began with Iraj, Manuchehr has already taken full revenge for it. Let us do as Fereydun did at the first, when he sought fairness through the sharing out. It is fitting we keep our hearts on that same path, and not turn from the way and custom of our leaders. From the Oxus to the lands beyond the river, with the Oxus running as the border between us, these lands were ours in the time of that king; Iraj never cast an eye on that frontier. Iraj's share was the land of Iran, which Fereydun gave him with his blessing. If we stray from that and make war, we only make the world narrow around our own hearts. There would be the wound of the sword and the wrath of God; we would gain nothing in either world. But if we act as the valiant Fereydun did, who entrusted lands to Tur, Salm, and Iraj, let us divide and then seek no revenge, for the land is not worth so much misery. The poet's hair turned white as snow with years; the earth turned crimson with the blood of kings. In the end no one gains from his place more than the length of his own body. On the last day we stay beneath the earth, wrapped head to foot in linen, our home the grave. And if there is greed, sorrow, and pain, it only fills the heart with grief in this fleeting inn of a world. Perhaps Kay Qobad will be won over by this; a wise man's head never turns away from justice. None of us shall so much as see the Oxus in our dreams, nor shall the men of Iran cross to this side of the water. Perhaps with greeting, blessing, and message the two nations will be gladdened by these words. When the king had sealed the letter, he sent it toward the army of Iran. They brought the letter to Kay Qobad and recounted its words to him as well. He answered thus: You know full well that we were not the ones to strike first. The first cruelty came from Tur, when a king like Iraj was cast down from the throne. And in these days Afrasiab came in fury and crossed the river. You heard what he did to King Nozar; the hearts of beasts and birds were filled with grief and pain. Out of spite he did not treat the wise Aghrirath as decency demanded. If you now regret those evil deeds, make the pact anew from the start. I have no torment of malice or greed; I have made my peace in this fleeting world. I grant you all that far side of the water, so that Afrasiab may find some calm. He wrote out the pact anew and, in the garden of greatness, planted a tree. The envoy came like a leopard and delivered the letter to Pashang. He loaded the baggage, marched off the army, and flung dust up to the sky. He crossed the Oxus like the wind, and news of it reached Kay Qobad, that the enemy had withdrawn without a battle; the king's heart grew glad at this. Rostam said to him: O king, do not seek peace in the very hour of war. There was no sign of peace before; it was my mace that brought them to this day. The renowned Kay Qobad replied: I have seen nothing finer than justice. Fereydun's descendant, the fortunate Pashang, out of weariness now turns his head from war. It is right that anyone who has wisdom should not look toward crookedness and dishonesty. From Zabulistan to the sea of Sind, we have written for you a covenant upon silk. Keep the throne and the crown of Nimruz, and go on lighting up the world. And on this side, give Kabul to Mehrab; but keep every spearpoint of yours steeped in poison. For there is no kingdom without war, though the face of the earth is wide enough. He adorned Rostam's head with a golden crown and his waist with a golden belt. He entrusted one half of the world to him, and the valiant man kissed the ground. Then the fortunate Qobad said: May the throne of greatness never be without Zal. The world is not worth a single hair of Dastan, who remains for us a keepsake of the great ones. A royal robe worked in gold, a crown and belt of ruby and turquoise, they placed a litter upon the backs of five elephants, gleaming with turquoise blue as the Nile. He spread gold-woven cloth over the litter, a treasure no one could reckon. He sent all this to Dastan, son of Sam, with the words: My wish was to give you more than this robe of honor. If my life is long, I will keep you free of all need in the world. So too the brave Qaren and Keshvad, and Barzin and Kharrad of iron will, he bestowed a robe of honor as befitted each one he deemed worthy of it. He gave coins and gold, sword and shield, and to whoever it suited, a helmet and a belt.

From there he headed toward Fars, for in Fars lay the key to the treasuries. His seat then was in Estakhr; that place was the pride of the kings. A whole world turned its face toward him, for he was the crown-seeking lord. He set foot on the throne of the kings, with justice and tradition, a man of blessed judgment. He said to the renowned nobles: the world is mine from end to end. If the elephant makes war on the gnat, it tears a breach in justice and faith. I want nothing in this world but honesty, for God's wrath falls upon deceit. My ease comes only through pain and toil; where there is soil and water, there lies my treasure. Army and city are all one to me; the whole kingdom is my host. Be all under the world-ruler's shelter; be wise, and do no harm. Whoever has, let him eat and give; and thank me for what you eat. Whoever holds back from eating has no provision to get his work done. My court is their pasture, for everyone who serves in my army. He recalled the great names now gone, and made the world flourish with justice and giving. In this way he lived joyful a hundred years; see, was there ever such a king in the world? He had four wise sons who remained as his memory in the world. First was Kavus, the praiseworthy, second Kay Arash, and next Kay Pashin. The fourth was named Arash; to them he handed the world in peace and contentment. When a hundred years had passed with crown and throne, at last his fortune began to fade. When he knew death was drawing near, that the green leaf would soon wither, at the turn of the month he summoned Kavus the king and spoke with him at length of justice and giving. He told him: I have packed my bundle; you tend the coffin and take up the throne. It is as if you might say I have just now come down happy from Mount Alborz with a crowd. Fortune is like a moment that passes unnoticed; the one who serves it has no sense. If you are just and pure in faith, you will get nothing but praise from everyone. But if greed catches your head in its snare, you will draw a sharp sword from its sheath. He said this and left this wide world; he chose a coffin in place of a palace. Now the tale of Kay Qobad is done; we must turn to speak of Kavus.