Part 18

How many hardships people have suffered in this world, willingly borne for the sake of greatness. In the end, the only bed is the dust; from it you get only poison, never any cure. Since you know you will not stay here long, why set the crown of greed upon your head? That same greed you will drag beneath the earth; you will lay its head down in the grave. Let this world's joy be enough for you. Why should your labor be for someone else? You toil, and another eats it easily; he won't so much as glance at your grave or coffin. His joy too will come to an end; his head will sink under the dust as well. Think about the day you must pass on; make worship of the just Lord your practice. Fear God and harm no one: this alone is the road to salvation, nothing more. Now, wise one with a watchful heart, do not fall into doubt; pull your foot free of the mud. The Creator is the one who sustains you; you are the servant, the handiwork of the Creator. When you bow your neck in thought, do not question or pass judgment on existence itself. It is not right to eat, sleep, or sit with one who will not confess that God exists. Such a person's heart is blind, his mind is dull; the wise do not count him among human beings. There are signs of His existence upon water and earth; through knowledge, do not bury your mind in the grave. He is the powerful, the knowing, the possessor of all; He is the fashioner of mind and soul. He created the world, both place and time, for the sake of the tiny gnat and the heavy elephant alike. When the commander of the Turks said in his heart, 'I will raise my head above the gathering through excess,' he killed the young prince like that; he knew nothing but treasure and the edge of the sword. Yet from that prince's line the shining Creator raised up a tree, reaching high with fruit. For someone told him that there is One beyond you, and in this world that Creator is enough. Lord of the sun, of Saturn, and of the moon; from Him come victory and dominion. Lord of existence and of truth; He wants no crookedness or falsehood from you. There is no path but His will and command; even the sun and moon are not aware of this knowledge. Old Gudarz commanded his son that going to Turan was a task that could not be avoided. At his command Giv girded his waist and set out like a raging lion. He rode on until he reached the border of Turan; whomever he found alone along the road, he would speak to in the Turkish tongue and ask for word of Kaykhosrow. When the man said, 'I have no news of the king,' he would swiftly empty that body of its life. He would hang him in the coil of his lasso and quickly scatter the dust of him to the ground. He kept it hidden so no one would learn his secret, nor even hear his name or his voice. He took one man along with him, someone from that gathering to serve as his guide. Alert, he traveled the road with him, but for a long while he never revealed his secret. One day he said to him: in this world I want to ask you something in private. If I find you truthful, and you cleanse your heart of falsehood with knowledge, I will give you whatever you ask of me; I will hold back nothing, not even great wealth. The man answered: knowledge is enough, but it is scattered among many people. If I know the thing you are asking, your tongue will not go empty of an answer. Kaykhosrow said: where is he now? You must tell me the truth. He answered: I have never heard such a name, nor have I ever asked about it. When he got such an answer from his guide, he struck with his sword and flung him headlong. He wandered into Turan like a man dazed, hoping to find some trace of the king. So it went on for seven years, his body worn thin by sword and by leather straps. His food was wild game, his clothing the skins of wild asses; his horse fed on grass, and he drank brackish water. He roamed the deserts and mountains, in hardship and pain, far from his people. It happened one day that he was lost in thought when a lush, fruitful thicket rose before him. Gloomy, he came into that meadow; the world was bright, but the man's heart was heavy with grief. He saw green earth and a spring brimming with water, a place for rest and sleep. He dismounted and let his horse go free, then lay down, still turning worries over in his heart. He said: perhaps a foul demon deceived the champion who had that dream. I see no sign of Kaykhosrow here. Why do I keep dragging myself on like this? Now, whether my companions are at war, or my comforters are gathered at a feast, one seeking a name in battle, another spending happy days, my fortune scatters walnuts across a dome that cannot hold them. I keep scattering my life for nothing; my back is bent like a curved bow. It seems Kaykhosrow was never born of his mother, or if he was, time has thrown him to the wind. This search brings me only pain and hardship; blessed is the one who dies by poison instead. His head full of grief, he roamed that meadow, still calling out and searching for the king. Far off he saw a shining spring, and a tall, cypress like youth, gentle and calming to the heart. In his hand he held a cup full of wine, with a fragrant, colorful sprig set upon his head. From his figure shone a divine glory, and the mark of wisdom was plain upon him. You would have said Manuchehr sat there on an ivory throne, a turquoise crown upon his head. A scent of love rose from his face, and his hair seemed made to grace a crown. Giv said in his heart: this can be none but the king; such a face fits nothing less than the throne. On foot he turned eagerly toward him, and as the king seeking hero drew near, the knot of his long suffering loosened, and the famous treasure he sought appeared before him. When Kaykhosrow spied him from the spring, he smiled, and his heart swelled with joy. He said in his heart: this warrior can be none but Giv; in this land there is no other hero of his mark. He has come to seek me out; he will carry me to Iran and make me king. When Giv reached him he bowed low and said: O renowned and lofty one, I am certain you are the son of Siyavash, of the royal line, Kaykhosrow himself. The king answered him: and you are Giv, son of Gudarz, O famous one. Giv said to him: O chief of the just, who told you tales of Gudarz? Who gave you news of Keshvad and of Giv, that you should live in gladness and glory? Kaykhosrow said to him: O lion of a man, my mother recalled this to me from my father, who spoke of the divine glory when his life was drawing to its close. He would say to my noble mother: what evil may yet fall upon my head from this place? In the end Kaykhosrow will appear and turn the key that opens every lock. When the ruler of the world grows to be a hero, proud Giv will come from Iran, and carry him to the throne of Iran, bring him before the famous men and the lions of war, set the world in order by his valor, and take our vengeance at last. Giv said to him: O head of the proud, what sign do you bear of your royal glory? The mark of Siyavash was clear to see, like a spot of pitch upon a bed of roses. Uncover your arm and show it to me; your sign is plain before this gathering. The king bared his own body, and Giv looked upon that dark mark, which had come down as an inheritance since the days of Kayqobad; by it the true lineage of the kings was known. When Giv saw that mark he bowed low, poured out tears, and whispered his secret. The lord of the earth embraced him, and in his joy called down blessings upon him. He asked about Iran, the throne and the court, about Gudarz and about loyal Rostam. Giv said to him: O world ruling king, proud, vigilant, and blessed of fortune, the world ruler who holds all good and ill, if he had shown me all of paradise... The seven realms are yours to rule, with greatness and the royal crown placed upon you. My heart never knew such joy as this, that I have seen your face here in the land of Turan. Who in all the world could know if I am still alive, whether I lie in dust or was thrown into fire? Thanks to the ruler of the world that fortune has brought this bitter suffering to an end with joy and good. The two of them left that thicket and took the road; Khosrow asked news of King Kavus. And of those seven years of grief and pain, of his rest, his sleep, and his food. He told the king the whole story from start to finish: what fate the world's creator had laid down. Of Gudarz's sleep and his long ordeal, of food and clothing, of pain, of peace and comfort. How the years had stripped Kavus of his glory, how grief for his son had left him without wing or foot. How color and fragrance had drained from Iran, how the whole land had turned toward ruin. Khosrow's heart burned with grief and pain for him; his face blazed like fire. He said to him: Now, after this long suffering, fortune will grant you peace and comfort. Be like a father to me, and tell no one; let us see what time will bring to pass. The commander mounted Giv's horse, while Giv went on foot before the young hero. He held an Indian blade in his grip; whoever crossed his path, without delay, the clear-hearted Giv struck off his neck and buried his body under earth and clay. They went toward the warrior son of Siavash, and when the two men had gathered their hearts and wits again, they made Farangis their ally too, and secretly set the plan in motion: that all three should set out on the road, hidden from the fierce and war-seeking warriors. Farangis said: If we delay, we will make the whole world close in tight upon our hearts. Afrasiab will learn of this; he will neither eat nor rest in sleep. He will come like the White Demon, his heart despairing of its own sweet life. No one, in the open or in secret, will see even one of us left alive in the world. The world is full of ill-wishers and enemies; every border of ours is a haunt of the devil. You, my blessed son, my prince, take care to listen to one piece of my advice. For if that cursed man gets word of us, he will set fire to this settled land. There is a meadow not far from here, off to one side of the road the horsemen of Tur travel. There are streams and running water there, whose very sight refreshes the soul. Take the black saddle and bridle and go to those meadows at dawn. When the sun climbs to the peak of the sky's dome, it will be time for the commander to sleep and to eat. Whatever herd there is in that meadow comes down to drink at the stream. Show Bahzad the saddle and bridle; once he grows calm, step forward. When you reach him, show a kind face; be gentle and stroke his head with love. When Siyavash lost all hope of the world, the bright day turned dark before his eyes. This is what he said to the night-black Bahzad: 'From now on, obey no one but the wind.' 'Stay on the mountains and in the meadow until Kaykhosrow comes seeking you.' 'Be his mount, and trample the world; sweep the earth clean of the enemy with your hooves.' The brave commander mounted his horse, while Giv went on ahead on foot. They set their faces toward that steep slope, as resourceful people do. When the herd came up to the narrow place, they drank their fill and turned back. Bahzad looked and saw the king, and drew a cold sigh up from his heart. He saw Siyavash's saddle, tiger-marked, the long stirrup and the arrow-notch. He kept his feet in the water and, from where he stood, would not step forward. When Kaykhosrow found him standing still, he ran and hurried toward him with the saddle. He rubbed his hands over the horse's eyes and face, stroked his chest and neck, and combed his mane. He gave him the bridle and set the saddle on, and remembered his father with much grief. When he sat on the steed and pressed his thighs, that great war-horse sprang up from its place. Like the wind he blazed through the air, leaping away until he vanished from Giv's sight. Giv's heart filled with grief and he stood stunned; in that bewilderment he called on God's name. He said: 'The scheming demon has turned into a mount and shown its face.' 'Now Khosrow's life is gone, and all my toil; that very toil was my only treasure in the world.' When the king had crossed half of that mountain, he drew back that black rein hard. He waited until Giv came up to him, and the clear-hearted, brave king spoke thus: 'I can bring the warrior's thought into the open with my bright soul.' Giv said to him: 'O proud king, it is fitting that the secret should be plain to you.' 'You have the divine glory and majesty of the kings; you can trace a hair and see its very center.' He said: 'Because of this horse of blessed breed, a thought came into your heart.' 'This was the warrior's thought: that a demon had come to this young man.' 'Now he has gone, and turned my toil to wind, and made my glad heart deeply joyless.' The world-seeing Giv came down from his horse and called down blessings on the brave king. May your days and nights be blessed, and the heads of those who wish you harm be cut off. For the Judge, God, has granted you stature, a throne, wisdom, and glory, with talent and noble birth. They came down from the heights toward the hall, minds full of thought, souls searching for the way. When they returned to Farangis, they spoke for a while about the long road ahead. So that their plans would stay hidden and no one would learn their secret. When Farangis saw the face of Behzad, the horse, tears blurred her cheeks from sight. She laid her face against its mane and chest, and remembered Siyavash's grief again and again. When she had let the tears from her eyes fall freely, she turned lightly toward her hoarded treasure. In her hall she had a hidden treasure that no one in the world knew of. It was a treasure heaped with gold coins, with armor and abundant rubies. The same store held maces and horse armor, daggers, swords, and heavy clubs. She opened the treasure before her son, her face bloodied, her heart worn with pain. She said to Giv: O you who have suffered so much, look and choose from these jewels what you want. From the coins and royal gems, from rubies and the jewel-studded crown. The warrior kissed the ground before her and said: O greatest of ladies, We are all your guardians, and this treasure is yours; sacrificing our lives and toil is for your sake. Through you the earth becomes the spring of paradise; through you the heavens give birth to good and ill. May the world be a servant to your son, and the heads of those who wish him harm be laid low. When Giv's eye fell on the goods, he chose Siyavash's fine coat of mail. From the gems they found the most precious, they took as much as they could carry. Also the helmet and the rich horse armor, weapons worthy of a warrior. The king sealed the treasure securely and made ready for the road across the desert. When this was done, they saddled those swift, blessed steeds. Farangis set a helmet on her head, and all three rode off like the wind. The chiefs headed eagerly toward Iran, secretly, softly, step by gentle step. The whole city filled with talk that Khosrow had set out for Iran. This news did not stay hidden even a moment; someone came to Piran and told him, That the proud Giv had come from Iran to the clear-hearted, valiant king. They had turned toward the land of Iran: Farangis, the king, and the battle-seeking warrior. When Piran heard this, he grew heavy with grief and trembled like a leaf on a tree. From his best warriors he chose Kolbad, along with Nastihan and brave Pulad. He ordered three hundred Turkish riders, and they galloped off to that battlefield. 'Raise Giv's head on a spear,' he said, 'and Farangis must be buried in the earth.' 'Bind the wretched Kaykhosrow, that unlucky star, and lay waste his land.' With a force like this, bold and young, the two warriors rode out, wide awake. Farangis, along with her weary-eyed son, had laid their heads down in sleep. Worn from the long road and nights of hardship, Giv stood as guard for the young king. Two of them slept while Giv, weary and fierce, kept both eyes fixed on the riders' path. Giv's horse was armored in its barding, fully equipped as brave men's mounts should be. A coat of mail on his body, a helmet on his head, his heart aroused, his body ready to die. When from afar he saw the army's dust, he struck out and drew his sword from its sheath. He let out a roar like a thundercloud that darkened the mind and eyes of the lion. He swept among the riders like the wind; from his fury the dust turned deep blue. Now with his dagger, now with his mace, he poured down iron from a great height. Under the blows of brave Giv's club, the warriors grew sick of the fight. Giv's heart laughed with the strength of his rage; what seemed a mere spring loomed to him like a sea. After that they closed in around him, an army fierce as a raging lion. The battlefield became a forest of spears that hid the light of sun and moon from sight. The lion's heart grew heavy in that reed-thicket, yet with blood he turned that thicket to a tavern of wine. Giv struck many of them down, and those riders grew helpless before his valor. Warrior Nastihan said to Kolbad, 'This is a mountain of granite, not mere neck and shoulder.' All of them, wounded and beaten, turned back toward the proud, haughty Piran. Every hollow and plain was full of the slain, and the earth had turned red as redbud blossoms with blood. When the brave man came to Kaykhosrow, his chest and hands bloodied like a lion's. He said to him, 'O king, keep your heart glad, free your mind from worry.' 'An army came against us to fight, with sharp-clawed men like Kolbad and Nastihan.' 'Those who survived went back in such a state that one must weep for their necks and shoulders.' 'Apart from Rostam, I know of no rider in Iran who could stand in battle against me.' The pure-hearted Khosrow rejoiced at his words, praised him greatly and blessed him. They ate whatever they could find and hurried off along an untraveled path. When the Turks reached Piran, they arrived wounded, wretched, and weeping. Piran flared up and said to Kalbad: such a strange thing cannot be hidden. What did you do against Giv, and where is Khosrow? Tell me the truth, how do things stand? Kalbad said to him: O commander, if I open my mouth before you, and tell you what brave Giv did to our warriors, your heart will turn away from the battlefield. You have seen me often among the army, and you have approved of the way I fight. That famous man tore more than a thousand maces from my grip. You would think his head had become an anvil, his chest and forearms of elephant ivory. I have watched Rostam in combat many times, and I have heard tales of other war heroes too. But I never saw anyone so unyielding under blows, nor so relentless in the strain and clash of battle. At every moment he grew fiercer and more furious, roaring afresh like a raging elephant. Piran flared up and said: enough, it is shameful to speak of anyone this way. So much talk over a single horseman? Don't turn what men do in battle into legend. You went out, and the renowned Nastihan, with an army that fought like fierce lions. Now you have made Giv into a drunken war elephant; among the champions your name has been brought low. When Afrasiab gets word of this, he will cast down the crown of his kingship, hearing that two bold, mounted commanders with such an army, on the field of war, turned their backs before a single rider who killed many of the brave Turks. You will face endless taunts and mockery; you were no man of battle, mace, or war drum.