English
The Plot Against Rostam
So the old seeker of wisdom tells the tale, a skilled and eloquent, splendid man:
That in Zal's household there was a servant, a woman who played the lute and sang.
One day this slave girl bore a son, a boy who lacked nothing of the moon's beauty.
In height and looks he was like Sam the horseman, and the famous house rejoiced in him.
The astrologers and the wise, chosen leaders from Kashmir and Kabul,
both fire worshippers and those who worship God, came forward with the Roman star charts in hand.
They all studied the turning of the heavens to see what fate the small child held.
The stargazers saw something strange; they kept glancing from one chart to another.
They said to Zal, son of Sam the horseman: 'You who are the keepsake of noble stars,
we have searched and questioned the secrets of the sky, and the heavens hold no love for this child.
When this fair face grows into manhood, when he reaches the age of courage and strength,
he will destroy the line of Sam and Nariman; he will bring ruin upon this dynasty.
All of Sistan will cry out because of him, all the land of Iran will boil with turmoil.
Through him each day will turn bitter for everyone, and after that little of the world will remain.'
Zal, son of Sam, grew grieved at this news and kept invoking the name of the world's Creator.
He said to God: 'You who are our guide, you keep the flowing heavens on their course.
In every task you are my support and shelter; you are the one who shows me thought and path.
You created the sky and the stars alike; let our expectation be only of good.'
May nothing but joy, peace, and goodness be his lot. The chieftain named the boy Shaghad.
The mother nursed him until he had his fill of milk, gentle, well spoken, and quick to learn.
When the child that year lifted his neck and grew, Zal sent him off to the king of Kabul.
He grew tall as a lofty cypress, a bold rider skilled with mace and lasso.
The lord of Kabul looked upon him and saw one worthy of the crown and throne of kings.
He was glad of his presence in the world, and gave him his daughter to continue the line.
From his great treasure he sent whatever suited her, along with his renowned daughter.
He cherished Shaghad like a fresh apple, so no harm from the stars might touch him.
The nobles of Iran and India would tell tales of Rostam far and wide.
Now it was custom that each year Rostam demanded from Kabul, as tribute, a cowhide filled with coin.
In the mind of the lord of Kabul, the thought was that once Shaghad became his son in law,
Rostam of Zabol would no longer even remember such a matter, would not think of a single coin.
But when tribute time came, they took it just the same, and all Kabul was thrown into uproar.
Shaghad grew bitter at his brother's deed, yet he spoke of it to no one.
In secret he said to the king of Kabul: 'I have grown sick of the ways of this world.
A brother who has no shame before me, toward whom I have no road of respect,
what difference is an older brother from a stranger, a wise man from a madman?
Let us scheme and lure him into a trap; by this deed we will make our name in the world.'
They spoke, and the two came to agreement; in their scheming they rose above the moon.
See what the wise man has said: whoever does evil will bear its punishment.
That night, until the sun rose over the mountains, the heads of the two never touched sleep.
'Let us erase his name from the world, let us fill Zal's heart and eyes with tears.'
Shaghad said to the king of Kabul: 'If we want to settle this matter,
prepare a feast for the nobles at your table; call for wine, music, and minstrels.
While the wine is flowing, speak coldly of me; among the great call me a coward.
Insulted, I will go off toward Zabolistan, and there I will complain of the lord of Kabul.
Before my brother and before my father, I will call you low born and unworthy.
His head will boil with rage on my behalf; he will come to this renowned city of mine.
The plan will fall right into our hands; our reach will stretch to the wheel of heaven.
You keep watch on the road to the hunting ground; dig several pits there in that place.
Make them to the measure of Rostam and Rakhsh; plant long blades at the bottom of the pits,
spears too, and glittering weapons, points turned upward, shafts set below.
If you dig a hundred pits it is better than five, if you want to be freed of this trouble.
Set to work a hundred cunning men; dig the pits, but do not scatter the secret to the wind.
Then cover the pit mouths firmly, and speak of this to no one at all.'
The king went off and cast good sense from his mind; on that fool's word he set out to hold the feast.
He summoned all the nobles of Kabul and seated the worthy at his table.
When the meal was done, they set the gathering; they called for wine, music, and minstrels.
When their heads were filled with royal wine, Shaghad, with feigned ill temper, stirred up trouble.
He said to the king of Kabul: 'I hold my head high in every assembly.
With a brother like Rostam and a father like Zal, who bears nobler blood than I?'
At this the king of Kabul flared up and said: 'Why do you hide such words all this while?
You are not of the seed of Sam and Nariman; you are no brother, no kin of Rostam.
Zal, son of Sam, has never mentioned you; when would your brother ever speak your name?
You count for less than the servants at his gate; your own mother would not call you her son.'
At his words Shaghad grew heartsick; he flared in anger and turned toward Zabol.
He set off with a few men of Kabul, his heart full of hatred, his lips heaving cold sighs.
He came to the court of his noble father, his heart full of scheming, his head full of spite.
The moment Zal saw his son's face, that height and stature, that splendor and strong neck,
he asked him much and made much of him, and at once sent him on to Rostam, the elephant bodied.
The champion rejoiced to see him, finding him wise and bright of spirit.
He said: 'From the seed of Sam the lion, none is born but the strong and the brave.
How stands your affair with the man of Kabul? What do they say there of Rostam of Zabol?'
Shaghad answered Rostam thus: 'Do not even speak of the king of Kabul again.
Before this he was good to me; when he saw me he sang my praises.
Now he drinks, he picks quarrels, he lifts his head above everyone.
He shamed me before the whole assembly and let his vile nature show plainly.
He kept saying: How long this tribute and tax? We have no more strength to endure Sistan.
From now on we will not say, Where is Rostam? Our manhood and blood are no less than his.
He said to me: You are no son of Zal, and even if you were, you would not be worth a thing.
My heart filled with pain from those nobles; I rode out of Kabul, my cheeks gone pale.'
When Rostam heard this he flared up and said: 'Such talk will never stay hidden long.
Do not worry about him or his army; may both his army and his crown be brought low.
For these words I will strip him of life, and twist the heart of his whole house with grief.
I will seat you upon his throne, and drag the head of his fortune into the dust.'
He kept Shaghad in honor for a few days, giving him a lofty place.
From his army he chose worthy men, those who had made a name in battle.
He ordered them to make ready for the march, to move their camp from Zabol to Kabul.
When the army's arrangements were all complete, the champion's heart was set at ease.
Shaghad came to the warlike man and said: 'Do not think of war with the king of Kabul.
For if I write your name upon the water, no one in Kabul finds rest or sleep.
Who would dare come out to fight you? If you so much as stir, who would linger?
I believe he now regrets what he did, and since my leaving he seeks a remedy.
He will now bring forward, as intercessors, many chosen chiefs from Kabul.'
Rostam said: 'This is the way. I need no army at all to enter Kabul.
Zavareh is enough, and a hundred renowned riders, and likewise a hundred famous men on foot.'