Faramarz's Revenge on Kabul

When Faramarz had mourned for Rostam, he led all his army out onto the open plain. He opened the house of the mighty warrior and fitted out his troops from his father's treasury. At dawn the war trumpets roared, along with the drums, the brass horns, and the Indian bells. He marched an army from Zabol toward Kabul so vast that the sun vanished from the world. When the king of Kabul learned of those famous warriors of Zabol, he gathered his scattered army; the earth turned to iron and the sky to deep blue. He came out to meet Faramarz with his host, and the light of sun and moon grew dim. When the two armies stood face to face, the world filled with the clamor of battle. From the crush of the elephants and the army's dust, even the lion in the thicket lost its way. A wind rose and a dark dust with it; the earth could no longer be seen from the sky. Faramarz came before his troops and never once took his eyes off the enemy king. When the drums thundered from both sides, the warriors could no longer hold still. Faramarz, with a small band of men, hurled himself straight into the center of the enemy line. The air went dark with the dust of the horsemen, and the commander of Kabul was taken captive. That great army was scattered, while the brave men of Zabol struck like wolves. From every side they laid ambushes, then charged in among the enemy ranks. They killed so many of the champions of India, and of the proud, famous men of Sind, that the dust of the battlefield turned to mud with blood, and the armies of India and Sind broke apart. They gave up all hope of their land and homes, abandoning their wives and little children. The body of the lord of Kabul, drenched in blood, was thrown into the howdah on an elephant's back. Faramarz led the army to the hunting ground, to the very place where the pit had been dug. They carried off the enemy with his hands bound, and forty of his kin, all idol worshippers, as well. He drew a bowstring across the commander's back so hard that bone and sinew showed through. Then they hung him head down into the pit, his body caked with dust, his mouth full of blood. He set his forty kinsmen to the fire, then went from that place toward Shaghad. He kindled a fire like a mountain and burned Shaghad, the plane tree, and the very ground. When he led the army back toward Zabol, he brought all the earth back to Dastan. When he had ended the days of the cruel man, he set up a lord as king in Kabul. No one of that dynasty was left in Kabul over whom he had not read the decree of the sword. He returned from Kabul full of grief and smoke, and the bright day had turned dark and blue upon him. All Zabol and Bost were crying out; not one had a whole garment left on his body. They came back before Faramarz with torn collars and hearts consumed by sorrow. For a whole year there was mourning in Sistan, and all their clothes were black and dark blue.