Reign of Yazdgerd, Eighteen Years

When Yazdgerd became king of the world, he gathered together the scattered army. They sat down with the priests and the sages, with the nobles and the wise men who ranked like commanders. The world-seeker took his seat on the golden throne, and shut the door on hardship and on the hand of evil. First he said this: the one who is free of sin stays safe from anyone who seeks revenge. Whoever keeps a heart darkened by envy, no doctor can reach that pain and cure it. For envy breeds greed, burning, and torment; it is a spiteful demon that lingers long. Whatever seems wrong to you, do not fix upon it the heart of either friend or foe. Patience walks side by side with wisdom, and wisdom is the crown that sits atop knowledge. If you do someone a kindness, do not throw it back in their face and break their heart. If you are a doer of good and patient, you will never seem worthless in the eyes of the wise. If triumphant fortune lends me its aid and grants me mastery over the world, I will write a book founded on justice, one that shuts the door on crookedness and flaw. For a while he ruled the world with fairness; the age was glad with him, and he with it. He sent countless troops in every direction, and kept the world guarded from its enemies. Eighteen years passed over him, and when in autumn his crown grew dim, He summoned the great men and the learned, and seated them kneeling before the golden throne. He said: this unsteady wheel of heaven knows neither the one it raised nor the one it nurtured. It pays no heed to the crown of the noble; whatever prey it finds, it hunts it down. Now my day is coming to its end; my strength is breaking apart. I have handed to Hormoz the crown and the seal, and all the army and treasure of the land of Iran. Listen, all of you, and obey his command; find peace of soul in keeping his covenant. Even though Piruz, with his glory and strength, is a few years older than Hormoz, In Hormoz I see calm, wisdom, justice, and worth. He said this and lived one more week after; then he passed, and the throne wept over him a while. Whether you stay a hundred years or twenty-five, you must depart from this fleeting inn. Anything that can be counted, it is right that you should not call it lasting.

When Hormoz rose to his father's throne and set the royal golden crown on his head, and the will singled out Piruz with anger, tears of envy welled up in his eyes. He suddenly went to the king of the Hephthalites with an army, a treasury, and a group of nobles. There was a king of Chaghan named Faghanish, a world seeker with army, treasure, and power. He said to Faghanish: 'My well wisher, we were two sons, both worthy of the throne. My father handed the royal crown to the younger one, then, being unjust, he passed it on and died. If you give me an army, I have treasure, weapons, high rank, and strength of arm.' Faghanish said to him: 'Yes, this is just; a king holds authority even over his father.' 'By a pact I will hand you an army, and I will show you the road to justice, on the condition that Termez and Visehgard be mine, for I hold this blood pledge from the time of Yazdgerd.' Piruz said to him: 'Yes, this is fair; you deserve even more than that in kingship.' He gave him thirty thousand swordsmen, a renowned army from the Hephthalites. King Piruz brought forth an army so vast that its dust darkened the moon and the sky. He clashed with King Hormoz, and their fighting went on and on. In the end Hormoz was taken captive, and all the crowns were worthless before Piruz. When Piruz saw his brother's face, his heart chose the love of their bond. He ordered a horse to be brought and mounted, rode swiftly, and stroked his brother's face with his hand. He sent him back to his own palace, having reminded him of his vow and his pact.

He came and took his seat upon the royal throne, just as a God-worshipping king should be. First he spoke to the nobles: 'You skilled and pure-hearted leaders,' 'I ask this of the Judge who needs nothing: that my life be long,' 'so I may keep each person in their rightful place, the humble as humble, the great as great, and grow in wisdom day by day.' The mark of humanity is patience; the frivolous mind is always brought low. The pillar of wisdom is justice and generosity; giving is its finest ornament. Eloquent speech and fine expression are its glory; courage and manliness are its wings. Any famous man who has no wisdom, how will he ever enjoy the throne of greatness? Yet even the wise man does not live forever; no glory rises higher than the glory of Jamshid. When his crown reached the height of the moon, he died; and the throne passed on to another king. No one remains forever on this earth; take refuge in God alone from every evil. For one year he reigned with justice and good counsel, wise and untouched by any wrong. The next year the face of the sky went dry; the water in the streams turned scarce, like the last drops in a musk-pouch. The third year the same, the fourth the same; the drought left no one glad. The sky's mouth grew dry as dust; from scarcity the stream's water became as bitter as poison. So many people and animals died that no space was left on the ground for a corpse. When the king of Iran saw this horror, he lifted all taxes and tribute from the world. Every hidden storehouse he had, he shared out among the lowly and the great. A cry went out from the king's court: 'You famous ones who have wealth and means,' 'bring out whatever grain you hold, and fill Piruz's treasury with gold coins.' Whoever secretly holds grain, or has cattle, sheep, or flocks, let him sell it at whatever price he wants; only see that no living soul goes without food. To every official and every willful lord he sent, in haste, a letter: 'Throw open the storehouses to everyone in the world who is in need.' 'If anyone dies for lack of bread, whether young or old, man or woman,' 'I will spill the blood of that storehouse keeper, for he has held God's work in contempt.' He ordered them to leave their homes; they came out to the plain and raised their hands in prayer. A great cry rose to the heavens, from all the wailing, grief, and lament. From mountain and desert, from plain and cave, they begged God for mercy. In this way, for seven years the world saw no green, neither the small nor the great. On the eighth day of the month of Farvardin, a blessed cloud rose in the sky. It rained pearls down onto the parched earth, and the scent of musk drifted from the gardens. The dew lay on the flowers like wine in a cup, and a rainbow shone out from the cloud. The world was freed from its evil suspicion; everywhere bows were strung and ready. When Piruz was freed from those hard times, he settled peacefully on the royal throne. Piruz, now content, built a city and ordered a name given to it. The world-ruler, its founder, said: this is Ray, the resting place of fortunate kings. He named another town Badan-Piruz, and everywhere it was famed for peace and plenty. That town you now call Ardabil, the one the Caesar still values for its justice. When he had made all these lands prosperous, he gladdened the hearts of the wise. He paid his renowned army in silver and set about preparing for war. In that campaign Hormoz led the way, marching out with fresh commanders. Behind King Piruz came Qobad, driving the army along the road like the wind. Piruz had a pure and worthy son, a wise and fruitful branch of his line. Balash took the throne with joy, though he was the younger son, full of love and justice. There was a very famous Persian nobleman whom the king called Sufra. Piruz ordered him to stay behind, since he was a fitting adviser for Balash. He led the army against the Turks, a course worthy of a royal crown and throne. He marched with troops, treasure, and gear to make war on Khushnavaz. The marker that the hero Bahram had set, raising it high from the low ground, bore a written pact of the kings of kings: that between the Turks and the Iranians of this world, no one should ever cross beyond this mark, nor claim any land past that river. When Piruz, slayer of lions, reached that spot, he saw the marker the king of Iran had placed. He said to all his proud warriors: from the Turks, right at this same marker, I will raise a tower with sword and treasure, so no one from Hital will be troubled again. When the tower stands before the fortress, the great ones will bring me their pledges of tribute. I will proclaim what Bahram Gur once did, through his courage, wisdom, glory, and strength. I will leave Khushnavaz no foothold anywhere, no Hital or Turk, in low ground or high. When the Khaqan's son heard that the king had crossed the Oxus himself with his army, and was breaking the pact of Bahram Gur, killing, war, and turmoil flared up anew. Khoshnavaz called for his worldly, experienced scribe, and ordered him to come forward. The scribe wrote a letter of praise, invoking the Creator's blessing upon the king of the earth. He wrote: since the days of just kings, no one has counted you brave, though you are of royal blood. This was not the pact of your ancestors, your chosen rulers and your pure forebears. When you break the oath of free and noble men, you throw your greatness down into the dust. Now I too must break my pact with you, and of necessity reach my hand to the sword. In the letter he informed him of every matter, and sent many gifts along with it. An eloquent, proud horseman set off carrying Khoshnavaz's letter. When King Piruz had read that letter, he flew into a rage before his renowned court. He told the messenger: get up and go, return to that madman. Tell him: up to the river Balkh, it was Bahram Chak who sent you all. Now the far bank of the Oxus is yours, the heights and the lowlands and the plains are yours. But look, I am bringing a heavy army, proud warriors, champions of battle. I will leave nothing of Khoshnavaz but his shadow, stretched long across the face of the earth. The messenger returned swift as the wind, and recalled all the words he had heard. For a while he spoke with Khoshnavaz of that stubborn, obstinate king. When Khoshnavaz heard the words and read the letter, he mounted his scattered troops for war. He brought his army to the battlefield, and raised that old treaty high upon a spear: the pact he had received from King Bahram, that the Oxus should stand as the boundary between them on the road. He picked from his army a clear-sighted, smooth-tongued man of honor. He said to him: go to Piruz; speak with gentle words and listen to his answer. Tell him: the pact of your ancestor, that man of high fortune and guidance, I raise here on a spear before the army, bright as the shining sun upon the road, so that everyone who has wisdom may look upon the decree of that just king. For me, to bless you would be to curse you, for your very name is that of a faithless king. Neither God approves it, nor those who worship God, nor any humble person in the world: that a man should seek injustice in the world, and turn his head from the oath of kings of kings. No one ever wore the crown with the justice and the manliness of King Bahram. To this the world-ruling God is witness, though it is unworthy to demand a witness of Him, that it is he who seeks injustice by making war on me, and by marching against me with an army like this. You will not come out victorious from this war; no lucky star will favor you. From now on I will send no one to plead; in this war God alone is enough for me. The messenger arrived with the letter like a whirlwind and repeated its words to Peroz. When the proud king read Khoshnavaz's letter, he was filled with rage. He told the messenger: an experienced old man would never say so many such words. If he sets even one footstep from Chach toward the river, I will send him my greeting on the point of my spear. The messenger came back to Khoshnavaz and spoke with him at length in private. He said: I saw no fear of God in Peroz, and no one to guide him. I saw him seeking only war; he does not bow to God's command. When Khoshnavaz heard these words, he took refuge in God and bowed in prayer. He said: Lord of justice and purity, you are the creator of sun and earth. You know that the tyrant Peroz has no more skill than Bahram. Wipe his footprint from the face of the earth; take his strength, his purpose, and his heart. He speaks only words of injustice and seeks greatness by the sword. Around his army he dug a great trench, covered its opening and disguised it well. It was deeper than a lasso is long, and thirty cubits wide. When this was done he called upon God's name and led his army out from before Samarkand. From the other side, the bewildered king Peroz drove his army onward like the wind. And on this side, his heart full of fear, Khoshnavaz advanced until he reached the trench. From both armies rose the sound of horns and war drums; the sky turned black as ebony with the dust. Such a rain of arrows fell from both sides that blood ran in the channels like water. As he neared the trench, Khoshnavaz kept whispering his secret prayer to the pure Lord. From the other side, king Peroz galloped like the wind with his scant force. When he drew near Khoshnavaz, the Turkish commander turned away from him. He wheeled his reins and showed his back, and behind him his army pressed hard in retreat. Then king Peroz spurred his horse and rode on with his mace and his Roman helmet. He plunged into the trench with several men, the great lords and lions of the battlefield. Along with Narsi his brother and Farrokh Qobad, the nobles and kings of blessed lineage. In this way the heads of seven kings went down, all the famous men with golden crowns. And from there, glad at heart, Khoshnavaz came forward to the edge of the trench. Everyone who came alive out of that trench, even the earth itself wept over their fate. The great ones and the warriors, all of them, whoever met their end in that trench, Piruz the king lay with his head and back broken, the king of the famous, once crowned and enthroned. Of the royal line, none survived but Kayqobad; that army and that kingdom were scattered to the wind. Khushnavaz rode on, his heart's wish fulfilled, proud and triumphant with his battle-ready host. The army and its gear were given over to plunder; no one could find left flank or right anymore. How many Iranians they carried off as captives, how many they cast on the ground or wounded with arrows. A world-seeker should not be arrogant and hard, for the hard heart is wedded to the dark earth. This is how the unsteady wheel of fate turns, the same with the lowly as with the king. It turns against the very one it raised, even if you become the guardian of wisdom. No one remains on this earth forever; let your provision for the road be honesty, nothing else. When Khushnavaz had passed over the trench, his army had no more need of spoils. They bound Qobad's feet in iron, giving no thought to his throne or his lineage. When word reached the Iranian army about that trench and the battle of King Piruz, a cry of grief rose up from the whole land, mourning those noble, freeborn kings. When this news spread through the world, Balash came down from his golden throne. He tore the flesh of his arms with his teeth, and poured wretched dust upon the throne. Soldier and citizen alike throughout Iran grieved; woman, man, and child all wailed. All with their hair torn out, their faces scratched, all searching for a king, all seeking a way, wondering how they might flee from the land of Iran, should that vengeful army come from the plain.

Balash sat in mourning for a full month, his head covered in dust, his face torn with grief. The army came, and the chief of the priests, and every noble and wise man there was. They gave him counsel in abundance, words that would serve him well. They seated him on the royal throne and scattered heaps of gold and jewels. Once seated on the throne he said: nobles, seek out wisdom and the hearts of the wise. You hold high honor in my eyes when your counsel brightens my clouded judgment. Whoever in this world does good, let him strive not to break our resolve. As for anyone who is a schemer of evil, wanting only to serve his own gain, first I will enrich him with advice; if he will not accept it, I will crown him with his own blood. Whenever one lowly man from this god-fearing army cries out to us in complaint, I will break the heart of the unjust man and tear him out, root and branch. Do not be insolent before a king, especially one who is righteous, for at times he is poison, at times the antidote; do not seek a cure from that poison. In this world seek the king's approval; do not come before his throne unless with a bright face. When the king grows angry, choose apology; call even his injustice a blessing of justice. Whenever you say, I have become wise, I have grown skilled in every branch of knowledge, know that in that very moment you are most ignorant; do not think too highly of yourself. And if you put my counsel into practice, my words will prove useful to me. From knowing kings you will gain treasure; I have never seen anyone suffer from wisdom. The great men blessed him, amazed at his wisdom. They left his palace pleased, having entrusted his body and soul to God. When Piruz set out for war, he sought a commander of judgment and weight, one who would guard the throne and crown and wish young Balash well. For that task Sufaray was fit, a renowned man of pure judgment. Worldly-wise, he was from the city of Shiraz, a bold commander who held his head high. He was also the warden of Zabulistan, and had secured Ghazni and Kabulistan. When word reached Sufaray of Piruz, gone without counsel and without a guide, tears dropped from his lashes onto his cheeks, and he tore all his Pahlavi robes. The warriors took the crowns from their heads and sat in mourning, grieving the king. He spoke of avenging the fallen ruler: how could young Balash be the one to seek it? He knew the effort had been useless; the royal crown was clouded with grief. He gathered his scattered army, beat the war drums, and dust rose from the plain. A hundred thousand swordsmen came to him, all warriors ready for battle. He paid them coin and made that army thrive; he gladdened the hearts of vengeful men. He summoned a messenger with a sweet tongue, wise, alert, and clear of mind. He wrote a letter full of anguish and pain, his eyes brimming with tears, his face gone pale. In the letter he offered counsel, recalling Jamshid and Kaykhosrow and Kayqobad. Then he sent it to Balash, saying: O king, do not grieve over death. Not everyone will taste this death; one must choose patience and a good name. A breath that came from the wind returns to it: one man calls it justice, another calls it cruelty. Now, with the king's leave, I prepare myself for war in this manner: so that from this grudge and the blood of Piruz Shah, the souls of sun and moon will cry out against the heavens. The messenger set out from that side, and returned home weeping. He arrayed his army like the feathers of a pheasant and marched from Zabulistan toward Merv. He chose a clear-minded man, one who kept a calm heart in speech. He told the scribe: rise, for the tip of the pen has met its day of resurrection. Write a letter to Khushnavaz: You mindless fox, servant of demons, you have made your body guilty before God; may your very shirt mourn for you. For what you did to the king, O faithless one, you will now feel the force of the sword of retribution. For you killed the king of kings, though he was innocent, the grandson of the world-ruler Bahram Shah. You have created a new grudge in the world, a grudge that will never stay hidden. Why, like a flatterer, did you not march before him when the war drum sounded? Your grandfather was kept alive by this house; your father lived on in Bahram's service. Here I have come to Merv seeking revenge; no crown and throne will remain to the Hephthalites. The captives and all the wealth, whatever came into your hands from the battlefield, I will take it all back with the sword of vengeance, and I will carry the soil of Turan to Merv. I will leave the world neither to your son, nor to your kin and family and lineage. By God's command I will cut off your head and turn your country into a sea of blood. There is no vengeance greater than this, however long I speak of it: the grudge of Piruz against Khushnavaz. May my footprints be ruined beneath the earth if, before God, his soul is not the one seeking justice. The messenger set out with Sufaray's letter, leaving his place like a brave lion. When he came, distraught, before Khoshnavaz, he approached the throne and bowed low. Then he handed him Sufaray's letter and stood a while, waiting before him. Khoshnavaz gave it to his scribe and said, 'Tell me in private what is gentle in it and what is harsh.' The scribe said to his lord, 'This letter is full of maces, swords, and arrows.' That battle-tested man was shaken by the sharp words of Sufaray's letter. At once he wrote a reply, whatever the words held, both fair and foul. First he said, 'Let us fear the Creator and the turning of fate.' 'For whoever has worshipped God has never broken faith with kings.' 'I sent him a letter full of counsel, and also the covenant of that lofty king.' 'But the words I spoke were worthless to him, as was the memory of the old days.' 'When he turned vengeful and I sought a way out, when army faced army head to head,' 'the star of fortune turned against Piruz; it was not by my will that your king was slain.' 'When he broke the pact, the just kings' bond, he had not a single happy day in his youth.' 'It did not please the Maker of the world; you might say the earth itself seized his feet.' 'Whoever breaks the covenant of his forefathers throws the head of honesty underfoot.' 'When Piruz is on the field of battle, broken, his moat is full of dust within.' 'If you come here, we are ready too: neither our war nor our warriors have grown less.' The messenger raced off with the letter and reached Sufaray within a week. When the champion read that letter, he opened his mouth eloquently in curses. From the field they heard the blast of the ox-horn trumpet and the sound of the brazen drum. He led such a great army to war that the sun in the sky lost its path. In this way they passed their days, taking the road itself for a home. When news reached Khoshnavaz, he came out to the plain and made ready for battle. He went to Baykand and chose a battlefield the turning heavens had never seen the like of on any plain. From this side, Sufaray, his heart full of vengeance, moved forward like the wind. When the dark night fell, the army's champion barred the road with rested elephants. The scouts patrolled on both sides; the world was filled with the clamor of those seeking a fight. The cries of the sentries and the ringing of bells came from afar, before and behind. So it went until the sun appeared from the mist, and hill and plain turned white as crystal. The two armies drew up for war and raised their great banners high. From the roar of the raging warriors, even a dragon's heart would have split apart. The sky became a snare of vultures thick with arrows; the earth turned into a pool of the chieftains' blood. On every side lay heaps of slain men, those whose days in the world had run out. Sufzai moved into the center of the battle, and the whole army surged forward at once. From the other side, Khoshnavaz, sword of vengeance in hand, wheeled about and pressed in close. Sufzai struck a sword blow at his head, and the army rushed swiftly from its place. The sword flew from Khoshnavaz's grip, and he sent his horse plunging down from the height. When he saw his fortune had turned harsh, he pulled his reins around and showed his back in flight. Like a raging wind, Sufzai chased after him, galloping with his lance leveled at his head. He took many of those famous men captive, and many were killed by spear and arrow. He galloped on until he reached the front of the host, and along the road he saw many dead and wounded. Then Sufzai gazed down from the height over the army spread across the plain, in the low ground and the high. The whole plain was strewn with the slain and with plunder; the field was adorned like the turning sky. Weapons and belts, horses and servants, harness and lance-points and royal crowns, everyone brought their spoils before Sufzai, until the pile grew like Mount Alborz. He gave it all away, every bit, among his soldiers, and cast no covetous eye on the Turks' treasure. He said to the army: today fortune has gone according to our wish. When the sun stretches its hand out from the sky, we must not sit idle here on this plain. We will go to avenge the King of Kings of Iran; we will fall upon that fortress like lions. The whole army struck their hands upon their chests, and each man offered a different counsel. And so it went until, from the curve of the heavens, the sun's crown showed its ornament. The drum rang out from the royal tent, and Sufzai mounted his steed. An envoy came from Khoshnavaz to the proud commander, saying: from war and battle and the spilling of blood comes nothing but suffering and struggle. Two wise, well-meaning men, and we send both their souls down to hell. If you seek out the truth of the matter honestly, you will know that deed was God's will. Piruz-Shah's death was not thrown to the wind; his years and months were ended by his star. He fell into guilt because he broke his oath, chose bitter colocynth and threw away the honey. What was fated to happen has now happened and passed us by; blessed is the one who does not linger over what is gone. The prisoners and all the wealth there was, silver, gold, and untouched jewels, the horses, the weapons, the crown and the throne that lucky Piruz left behind that day, I will send them all to the king's commander: the royal tent, the treasure, the elephants, and the army. When you return victorious to Persia, go to the king of the brave. I have no plan to march on Persia; do not break faith with the pact of Bahram. The king of the world divided justly: the Turks and China are mine, and Persia is yours. When Sufaraz heard his message, he brought the army to the royal tent. He told the envoy: before the troops, repeat what you heard from the warrior. Khoshnavaz's envoy stepped forward and told everything, open and secret alike. The army said: the command is yours; the choice of this peace and its terms are yours. In Persia no one knows a better man than you; to us you are the king, the leader, and the greatest. Sufaraz spoke to the proud chiefs: today we have no other choice. From now on we will not seek war with them; let us take this army to Persia without delay, for in their hands is Kai Qobad, the son of Piruz, of royal descent, and Ardeshir, the chief priest of priests, and the great ones of the army, young and old. If we make war on Khoshnavaz, the task will drag on with no gain for us. Whoever holds Persian captives would kill Qobad the seeker of the world, and Ardeshir too. If Qobad were not among them, I would not spare a thought for the priest at all. If harm should come to him from the Turks, nothing would be left to Persia but idle talk. It would be a disgrace lasting until Judgment Day, a strife left standing among the brave. Let us give the envoy a fine reply, and set our minds on this blessed peace, so that we may see Qobad's face again; without him let there be no crown of kingship, and the pure hearted priest Ardeshir, and whoever else you can find, young or old. Then the champion called the envoy in and spoke to him with sweet words. He said: this comes from God alone; a man who wishes the world ill says nothing to anyone. The Persian nobles who are held captive, Qobad and the renowned Ardeshir, and everyone else you hold in chains, send them to me with all their honor. And all the wealth you hold as well, the gold coins, the crown, and every kind of thing, send it to me piece by piece, before the great ones of this assembly. We will not stretch our hands to plunder and slaughter, for we want nothing and we worship God. On the tenth day we will cross the Oxus, and after that we will not trample this soil any longer. Take to heart everything I have told you; once you set out, keep track of each point one by one. The messenger turned back at once and came, striding proudly, to Khoshnavaz. He reported what he had heard, and Khoshnavaz rejoiced; at that very moment he struck off Kobad's chains. He gathered up all the plunder he had found on the earth and across the battlefield. The throne and crown of Piruz Shah, along with the scattered belongings of that army, he sent, all of it, to Sufaray, in the care of a man of pure judgment. When the army saw Kobad's face, the whole gathering grew glad at the sight of him. The nobles all left their tents and raised their hands to the heavens, for they saw the son of the king of kings unharmed, honored by everyone. At once the pavilion curtain was lowered, and the commander set his foot in the stirrup. Kobad crossed the Oxus, triumphant and glad, together with the renowned high priest. When word reached the land of Iran of that fortunate, blessed prince, and of the war and struggle against Khoshnavaz, and of the plan devised by that cunning man, and of Ardeshir, the high priest of priests, and of the captives, young and old, that he had returned from the war triumphant and glad, and that Kobad's feet were freed from their chains, and had brought them along and now crossed the Oxus, and that an army from Iran covered mountain and plain, a cry rose up from Iran so loud that you would think it could deafen the ear. The wise and great men rose up and made ready to go out and welcome him. At that time Balash set out a golden throne so that Kobad could sit upon it. When Sufaray entered the city, the nobles all rose from their places. The king prepared to go out and meet him, and set forth with all his army. Then Balash saw Kobad's face, freed from his bonds, triumphant and glad. The king quickly took him in his arms, laying a hand on his head in gratitude for the deliverance from the Hephthalites and China. From the road they came into the royal hall, open-hearted and full of goodwill. He ordered the table to be spread, and called for wine, music, and singers. Yet it was a feast without true joy, still shadowed by grief for the noble-natured Piruz. Every minstrel praised Sufaray and sang of the war with the Turks to the sound of the lute. The great ones all fixed their eyes on Sufaray, glad because of him and giving him their trust. The whole land of Iran turned back to him, everyone who had held a grudge against Khoshnavaz. He gladdened the heart of that great warrior, and freed his soul from every worry. Sufzai became unrivaled in all the world, and things went on this way for four years. Nothing existed except what he wished; he arranged the world however he saw fit. When his command became known throughout the city, he skillfully stripped the throne away from Balash. He said to him: you do not rule as a king should; you cannot tell the wicked from the good. You treat kingship as a game, ruling only out of luxury and contentment. Qobad understands these matters better than you, and is more capable of this kingship. Balash withdrew into his own palace; he dared not say to Qobad, do not be here. He kept telling himself: this was a throne won without effort, without struggle, pain, or curse.