Part 9

Bahram the lion picked the best of his troops, a world conquering army of brave warriors. When the scribes counted them alongside him, the army came to a hundred thousand swordsmen. Among the Khaqan's men were those three fierce Turks, who snarled like wolves. He told the fighters: when the war drum sounds at dawn, at the crowing of the cock, raise your battle cry and charge in; crown the enemy chiefs with their own blood. At the hero's command the army moved swiftly, the three proud Turks leading the way. They came against the king's army, brutal and full of spite. A din rose from maces, clubs, and blades; the ground turned to iron and the dust to clouds. Everyone was asking, where is Khosrow? For today victory belongs to us. Khosrow stood on high in anguish, both eyes filled with blood, his face gone pale. So it went until dawn broke over the mountains; he grew sick of the sword strokes and the slain. When the dark skirt of night faded, he saw the whole battlefield strewn with the dead and wounded. He said to his warriors: give me your aid, gain the upper hand over these foes. For the Victorious One is my support and helper, and the sword stroke is my work. He charged forth against those three Turks, three great elephants, no mere brave Turks. One galloped up until he reached Khosrow, and drew out a gleaming blade. He meant to strike the king upon the head, but the mounted king raised his shield over it. Beneath the shield he brought his poison bright blade, struck, and threw the man down headlong. He cried out: famed warriors, we must hold on for one more while. But his whole army turned its back and shamefully abandoned the world seeking king. Then he said to Bandavi and Gostahm: now I have grown fearful about this matter. I have no grown son of my own, no heir linked to the crown. If I am killed in battle, the world will be left without a king. Bandavi said to him: exalted one, may you never come to such a day of need. The army has fled now; do not stay here, for no one in the world stands as your ally. Then the king said to Zangui: ride swiftly from here, to Tatkhwar. Take a thousand horsemen from these survivors, and bring back whatever you find on that battlefield. The silk pavilion, the treasure and the crown, the money bags, the captives, and the ivory throne. The nobles loaded the baggage and treasure, and took great pains to carry it away. Just then a dragon emblazoned banner appeared, and the world turned dark purple. Behind them Bahram the warrior came riding, and in his onslaught he drove the light from the world. Bahram and Khosrow came face to face, two bold fighters, two grim lions. Like war elephants they raged, and hammered blows upon each other's heads. Bahram wheeled about like a lion, and no weapon could take hold on him. So it went until the sun crossed the dome of the sky, and the fight passed all bounds. Then Takhwar reached Khosrow and told him the treasure and baggage had crossed to the far side of the bridge. When Khosrow heard this he said to Gostahm: we have no match to stand with us in this fight. We are but ten men against this huge army, with a mighty champion at its head. Retreat at the right moment is better than battle; when you are left alone, there is no time to linger. The untried young man rode on this way until he reached the bridge of Nahrawan. Behind him Bahram galloped hard, his head full of spite, his heart full of strife. When Khosrow saw this, he halted on the bridge and called the world experienced Gostahm to him. He said: bring me my bow, my interpreter in the midst of battle. The treasurer brought his bow; Gostahm was in charge of that task. The warrior commander took up the bow, and with his arrows drove the light from the air. He rained arrows down like hail; with a single shaft he stitched helmet to head. Behind them Bahram the lion galloped on, a lasso in his hand, a dragon-swift steed beneath him. When he saw Khosrow he turned back gladly, and fitted two black feathered arrows to the string. He loosed one arrow at the horse; and that mount's course ended all at once. The commander on foot took up his shield, and in helplessness clutched his head with his hands. Yalan Sina rushed forward like the wind; how could the world seeking king count him a real man? In that moment his horse was wounded, and Yalan Sina leapt across the bridge on foot. The army retreated from the bridge of Nahrawan, everyone among them, old and young alike. When Bahram turned back, Khosrow, like the wind, threw the whole bridge of Nahrawan open. Grieving, he rode toward Ctesiphon, his heart full of sorrow, his eyes full of blood. He barred the city gates with iron, and sat down beneath a crowd of worries. From every quarter he summoned the chiefs, and set watchmen at the gates.