Part 8: The Rose and the Seal

That night passed with food and talk and listening, until the dawn lifted its head above the mountains. When the meadow raised a banner of gold, the master of the garden went to his guest. He said to him: may your day be blessed, and may your head rise higher than the rain-giving clouds. This place was not worthy of you, nor was there a fitting seat for your rest. As the guest of a poor man you found no proper food, no fine clothing, and no comfort. Shapur said to him: fortunate man, I chose this house over crown and throne. Bring me a bundle of sacred twigs and the ritual verses, so in whispered prayer I may ask you a question. He brought all that the king had commanded, and his standing rose in the king's eyes. In a hushed voice the king said: tell me the truth, where is the chief priest, where is he now? The gardener answered him like this: kind-hearted man of sweet speech, from where I sit, both my eyes are turned toward that house where the chief priest holds power. Secretly the king told the gardener: ask the master of the village for a sealed rose. When the gardener heard these words from him, he rushed to fetch roses, musk, and wine. The lord of the world set his signet upon the rose, handed it to the gardener, and blessed him. He said: give this rose to the chief priest, and watch closely, listen to every word he says. At the break of dawn the man, carrying the king's seal, came early to the chief priest. When he reached the door of the priest's gate, he found the guards scattered and the door shut. He called out loud for entry at that court, and when the door opened, the gardener went straight in. When he came close before the priest, he showed him the seal and bowed low in respect. When the priest looked and saw that signet ring, the wise counselor's heart leapt with joy. Then he wept a while over that name, and asked the gardener: whose seal is this? He answered: renowned one, this rider is staying at my home. With him is a moon-faced woman, straight as a cypress, wise, graceful, and full of splendor. The priest said to him: seeker of fame, what marks does he bear in height and face? The gardener said: anyone who has seen spring, and a cypress at the edge of a stream, his two arms like the thighs of a swift camel, his chest like a lion's, his face flushed like blood, modesty itself takes color from his seal, and a crown draws its beauty from his face.