Book A5Zahhak’s Tyranny and the Uprising of Kaveh

A thousand years Zahhak held power alone,And ruled the trembling world, its crown his own.

The age itself bent wholly to his will,And thus his long dominion ran on still.

The customs of the wise were hid from sight,While madmen’s wishes spread with growing might.

True virtue sank, while sorcery rose high;Truth hid, and harm walked plain to every eye.

The Divs reached out their hands on every side,While goodness spoke in whispers, forced to hide.

Two pure young women from Jamshid were led,Like willows trembling underneath their dread.

Both daughters of Jamshid, in beauty crowned,Above all women, peerless and renowned.

One, Shahrnaz, was veiled and passing fair;Chaste Arnavaz, her sister, formed the pair.

They bore them to Zahhak’s accursed hall,And gave them to the dragon-king in thrall.

He trained them in dark sorcery and guile,And taught their hearts to welcome all things vile.

For all he knew was evil’s crooked way:To kill, to burn, to plunder, and betray.

Each night two youths were taken for the deed,Whether low-born or Pahlevan by breed.

The cook would bear them to the royal hall,To feed the snakes that held Zahhak in thrall.

The cook then slew them, took each youthful brain,And fed the serpents to relieve their pain.

Then two pure men arose from royal line,Devout and worthy, joined in one design.

One, pure in faith, was Armayl by name;Farsighted Garmayl shared his noble aim.

One day together they discussed it all,From weighty matters down to details small.

They spoke of Zahhak’s bloody, cruel reign,And of the custom born from serpent pain.

One said: “We must approach the Shah with art,And enter as his cooks to play our part.

Once we are in, we shall devise a scheme,And test each thought that offers hope or dream.

Perhaps of every pair condemned to grave,At least one youthful life we still may save.”

They learned the cook’s full craft with patient care,Each dish and measure mastered for the fare.

In secret then they won the full commandOf Zahhak’s kitchen with a watchful hand.

When came the hour to kill the chosen two,The cooks prepared the bloody work they knew.

The murderous guards dragged in the youthful pair,And drove them toward the cooks in their despair.

They drove them forward, savage in their speed,Then cast them down to face the bloody deed.

The cooks’ hearts filled with pain, their eyes ran red;Their hatred for the tyrant fiercely spread.

They looked at one another, sick at heart,And cursed the tyrant’s vile and bloody art.

Of those two, one they killed; no means they knewTo save them both from what they had to do.

They drew a sheep’s brain from its severed head,And mixed it with the brain of him they bled.

They spared the other: “Hide your head from sight;Guard well your life and vanish in the night.

Do not remain where settled cities stand;The plain and mountain shall become your land.”

The sheep’s brain took the spared youth’s place inside,And fed the snakes while truth remained denied.

Each month they saved from slaughter thirty more,And sent them out across the desert floor.

When two full hundred had escaped their fate,They kept them hidden past the city gate.

They gave them goats and sheep to earn their bread,Then sent them where the open pastures spread.

From that same stock the Kurdish tribes descend;Their hearts toward settled cities do not bend.

Such was Zahhak’s inverted law and way:He followed every cruel whim each day.

He chose a fighting man when whim arose,And sent him forth to perish by his foes.

If some renowned and lovely maiden brightLived chastely veiled and hidden from men’s sight,

He made her serve his pleasure at his side,With neither royal law nor faith his guide.

When forty years remained of Zahhak’s reign,Observe how God prepared his mortal bane.

He slept one night beside Arnavaz fair,When dark foreboding filled the midnight air.

He dreamed that three armed warriors appeared,Within the royal palace, fierce and feared.

Two elder men, a younger one between,Cypress-tall, royal farr upon his mien.

He girded like a king and took his stand,An ox-head gorz held ready in his hand.

He rushed on Zahhak, fierce in his attack,And struck the tyrant with a crushing crack.

From head to foot he drew a leather thong,And mastered him who once had seemed so strong.

With that same binding he secured his hands,And broke the pride that ruled so many lands.

A halter then he fastened round his neck,And dragged him forth, his royal pride in wreck.

Toward Mount Damavand the warriors sped,And dragged the humbled tyrant as they led.

The lawless Zahhak writhed beneath the strain;It seemed his very liver split with pain.

He screamed so loudly in his troubled sleep,His hundred-columned palace shook full deep.

The sun-faced women sprang up from their place,Alarmed by cries that filled the royal space.

Arnavaz spoke: “O king, why this dismay?What dream has torn your peaceful sleep away?

You slept in peace within your royal hall;What threat to life could make you cry at all?

The Seven Climes obey your royal hand;Beast, herd, and humankind heed your command.”

He answered: “Such a dream should hidden stay;Its fearful secret I will not convey.

For if I tell the vision I endured,You will lose hope my life can be secured.”

Arnavaz replied: “Let truth become clear;You must unfold the secret of your fear.

Perhaps some remedy may yet be made known;Some cure for every evil can be shown.”

The king then told his vision, one by one,And hid no part of what the dream had done.

She said: “Do not abandon this to fear;Seek out the remedy and make it clear.

The age’s signet crowns your royal seat,And fortune lays the whole world at your feet.

The world lies wholly underneath your ring;Beast, man, bird, Div, and pari serve the king.

From every land assemble men of fame,Star-readers, sorcerers, wise in craft and name.

Reveal the dream to Mobadan, and learnThe truth through wisdom that they may discern.

Learn whose hand holds the ending of your breath:A human, Div, or pari bringing death.

Once this is known, devise the remedy;Let groundless fear not make your courage flee.”

Her counsel pleased the proud and mighty king;Night black as raven’s feathers spread its wing.

Then at once a lamp rose from the height,And crowned the mountain with returning light.

Across the lapis dome the rising sunSpread yellow ruby when the night was done.

Wherever lived a Mobad wise and clear,Wakeful of heart, he summoned each one near.

From every land they gathered at his call,And Zahhak told the dream before them all.

He laid before them what had long been sealed,Of good and evil and what time revealed.

“When will the measure of my lifetime end?To whom shall crown and girdle then descend?

You must reveal this secret as it stands,Though shame and ruin fall upon my hands.”

Mobadan lips went dry, their faces wet;They whispered, trapped within the tyrant’s net:

“If we speak truth, we risk the tyrant’s blade;If we speak false, the same price must be paid.

If what must happen is not plainly said,We still must pay tonight with life instead.”

So none dared speak, and three long days passed by,While dread hung over them like darkening sky.

On the fourth day the king in fury spoke:“Speak now, or all shall perish at a stroke!

Reveal what fate has written while you breathe,Or from the gallows you shall hang beneath!”

The Mobadan bowed low beneath his frown,Their hearts full of fear, blood-filled eyes cast down.

Among those men one saw with keenest sight,Sharp-eared and watchful, judging wrong from right.

Wise, wakeful, Zirak was that Mobad’s name;Among them all he stood the first in fame.

His heart grew tight, yet boldness conquered fear;He opened up his tongue for Zahhak’s ear.

“Empty your head of vanity,” he said;“No child is born except to join the dead.

Before you many kings have worn this crown,And bore their joy and grief, then lost renown.

They counted grief and pleasure in their day,Then left the world to others and to clay.

Though in an iron fortress you should stay,The turning heavens wear its strength away.

Another after you shall take your throne,And cast your head and fortune down to stone.

His name is Fereydoon, born to command;Beneath his rule shall prosper every land.

Not yet has that great prince been born today;His destined hour has not yet come your way.

Born of a noble mother, skilled and wise,Like some fruit-bearing tree he soon shall rise.

To manhood grown, his head shall reach the moon;The crown and throne shall be his destined boon.

The royal cap shall mark his kingly claim;A steel ox-headed gorz shall arm his frame.

That ox-head gorz shall strike you in the fray,Then he shall bind and drag you far away.

In bonds he shall lead you from palace gate,And drag you through the street in humbled state.”

Zahhak replied: “Why will he bind me so?What grievance makes him rise to be my foe?”

Zirak replied: “If wisdom guides your eye,No man does evil without reason why.

His father’s life shall perish by your hand;Revenge will drive him forth at fate’s command.

A cow named Barmayeh shall nurse the child,And guard the world-seeker, tender and mild.

That cow as well shall perish by your blow;For both these wrongs his gorz shall lay you low.”

Zahhak gave ear to Zirak’s fateful word,Then toppled from the throne at what he heard.

The noble Mobad turned from throne and king,In fear of what such truthful words might bring.

When sense returned, Zahhak rose from the floor,And set his foot where kings had stood before.

Through all the world for Fereydoon he pressed,By open search and secret, without rest.

No rest, no sleep, no food could bring him ease;His bright day darkened under fate’s decrees.

The years passed on, calamity drew nearThe dragon-king, whose days dragged on in fear.

Then Fereydoon was born, and from that hourThe rosebud of the world began to flower.

Tall as a cypress, heir of Jamshid’s race,He bore the farr of kings upon his face.

The royal splendor Jamshid once had wornIn him returned, renewed and newly born.

More welcome than the sun, more prized than rain,As fit for man as knowledge fits the brain.

The turning heavens loved him from the start,And held him dear within their secret heart.

A wondrous cow, Barmayeh, grazed the plain,The finest cattle found in that domain.

Each hair upon her hide a color bore,Like peacock plumes no eye had seen before.

Wise men, star-readers, Mobadan met round;No equal to this creature could be found.

Meanwhile Zahhak searched on, year after year,And filled the world with turmoil through his fear.

Fereydoon’s father, Abtin, good and true,Found all the earth grow narrow as fear grew.

He fled from place to place to save his breath,Till Zahhak’s guards came on him, armed for death.

They seized and bound him like a leopard fast,And dragged him off; his freedom now was past.

Before Zahhak they brought the captive man,And then the tyrant ended Abtin’s span.

When Faranak, his wise and faithful wife,Beheld the ruin of her husband’s life,

She fled in grief when Abtin’s days were done;Her heart was filled with love for her young son.

She sought the meadow where Barmayeh fed,And wept before the herdsman as she said:

“Protect this nursing child and keep him near;Receive him as a father; hold him dear.

Nourish my son on Barmayeh’s rich flow,And guard the child wherever he may go.

If payment you desire, my life I give;Ask what you will; only let my child live.”

The herdsman said, “Your wish shall be obeyed;Like one who serves your son, I pledge my aid.”

She left her infant son within his care;He was to guard the child from every snare.

That guardian, a faithful and loving soul,Sustained the child on milk that made him whole.

For three long years the boy in safety grew,On Barmayeh’s milk, safe from Zahhak’s view.

But Zahhak never ceased his ruthless quest,And rumor’s voice disturbed his cursed rest.

The tale of that rare cow had reached the king,And Faranak felt dread’s returning sting.

She came again: “A thought from God through senseHas come to me, of consequence immense.

My child and my sweet life are wholly one;We must erase all trace and save my son.

This land of sorcerers I now must flee;No trace of child or mother must they see.

To Hind I will go, and withdraw from sight;Then Mount Alborz shall hide him from their might.”

She bore the child away in dead of night,As quick as any bird that takes to flight.

Upon Alborz a holy man had madeHis dwelling, far from worldly toil and trade.

To him she said: “O man of sacred way,A grieving mother stands by you today.

This precious child shall lead the world one day,And bring Zahhak’s dark kingship to decay.

He shall cast the tyrant’s crown and power low,And strip the royal girdle from his foe.

Take him and raise him as a father would,And guard his life with all a father should.”

The holy man drew him to his embrace;No harsh word darkened Fereydoon’s young face.

He guarded him, a father true and wise,And kept him safe beneath the mountain skies.

When Zahhak learned where Barmayeh had fedThe child, his wrath rose hot within his head.

Like a mad elephant he charged in wrath,And slaughter followed hard along his path.

Barmayeh fell beneath his murderous hand,The wondrous cow he sought throughout the land.

He killed each beast that his mad eyes could see,Until no living cattle wandered free.

He searched Fereydoon’s house from room to room,But found no trace of him within the gloom.

He set the lofty eyvan all aflame,And fire consumed the hall’s imposing frame.

He brought the lofty palace to the ground,And ruin spread through all the lands around.

When twice eight years had passed, the prince drew near,Descending Alborz to the meadow clear.

He sought his mother on the open plain,And asked the question he could not contain:

“Reveal the truth: what was my father’s name?What blood is mine, what house, what line, what fame?

What shall I say, when men would ask, what clan?Tell me my lineage, all that you can.”

She said: “My son, I will not hide from you,The tale I tell is bitter, hard, and true.

Your father, Abtin, lived in Iran’s land,Of Kayanian stock, noble and grand.

From Tahmuras his noble bloodline came;A warrior wise, gentle, free from blame.

He was your father and my husband dear;Through him alone my day shone bright and clear.

Zahhak the sorcerer sought out your breath;Across Iran his hand reached for your death.

I hid you from his sight and bore the strain;Through bitter days I wandered deep in pain.

Your noble father, young and bright of soul,Gave up his life that yours might yet be whole.

Two serpents on Zahhak’s shoulders were fed,And ravaged Iran while their hunger spread.

Your father’s brain was torn from him that day,And to the hungry serpents cast as prey.

At last I found a meadow hid from view,A secret refuge Zahhak never knew.

There Barmayeh stood, bright as spring in hue,Each hair upon her hide a color new.

A watchful herdsman guarded her nearby,And kept that hidden pasture from the eye.

I placed you in his care and went away;Barmayeh’s milk sustained you day by day.

Peacock-hued Barmayeh your strength supplied;You grew like a bold leopard at her side.

At last the news of meadow and of cowReached Zahhak’s court; I dared not linger now.

I took you from the forest, fled, and toreFrom eyvan, home, and all I knew before.

He came and slew Barmayeh, nurse so mild,The cow whose milk had nourished you, my child.

From eyvan to the sun he raised the dust;He turned that height to pit with savage thrust.”

The prince grew fierce at all that he had heard,His heart inflamed, his thoughts to vengeance stirred.

With knitted brow and voice made sharp with pain,He spoke of wrath he could no more restrain:

“A lion proves his courage through the test;I too must prove the fire within my breast.

This sorcerer has done the harm he planned;Now I must take the sword into my hand.

By God’s pure command I shall rise and go,And raise dust from his eyvan, bring it low.”

She said: “My son, this counsel is not wise;Against the whole world you cannot arise.

Zahhak still holds the royal throne and crown,And armies girded for him gather round.

When he commands, from every realm and landA hundred thousand gird themselves and stand.

Such is no proper course for blood’s redress;Do not let youthful sight make wisdom less.

Who drinks youth’s wine sees none but self; his mindHolds the whole world beneath his throne confined.

Drunk with youth’s wine, he casts his head to air,And pride outruns both judgment and all care.

May all your days be fortunate and bright;May joy attend you and your path be right.

Remember, son, the counsel I impart;Beside your mother’s words, take none to heart.”

Zahhak would speak Fereydoon’s name with dread;Its echo never ceased within his head.

His stature bent beneath that inward strain,A king in form, yet captive to his pain.

One day he sat upon his ivory throne,With turquoise crown, those serpents fully grown.

He summoned chiefs from every land afar,To brace his tottering rule with bolt and bar.

“O wise and noble lords,” Zahhak began,“A hidden foe pursues me: find the man.

Though young in years, this foe is wise and keen;No common youth like him has yet been seen.

His numbers may be few, his forces slight;A little foe neglected gathers might.

Though weak he seems, I do not doubt his rise;I fear what fate may bring before my eyes.

I need more troops, a greater force arrayedOf fearless men and Divs and paris made.

Now sign this scroll and bear your witness clear:Our king acts justly, righteous and sincere.”

The scroll declared: “I sow no evil seed;I never turn from justice in my deed.

I speak but truth, a king who tells no lies.”Too cowed with fear to answer or advise,

Their hands obeyed, their hearts refused assent;They signed the scroll, but none believed its intent.

Then from outside the palace gate there cameA voice that cried aloud in grief and blame.

They brought the man before the kingly seat,The silent nobles staring at their feet.

Zahhak in anger said, “Now speak your claim!Who wronged you so? Declare to me his name.”

The man beat on his head before them all,His fury shaking that unjust king’s hall:

“My name is Kaveh! I demand my right;I come in grief, compelled by bitter plight.

If justice lives, then let it here be shown;A righteous act will strengthen every throne.

I have endured oppression at your hand;My heart is pierced by deeds none should withstand.

If such injustice springs not from your will,Why drag my son away from me to kill?

I once had sons; eighteen in number born;Now one remains, the rest from me are torn.

Have mercy! Witness now the grief I bear,My soul is full of sorrow past repair.

If I have sinned, then let the charge be known;But spare the guiltless! Leave my boy alone!

My back is bent with age and heavy care,My youth is spent, my life stripped almost bare.

No bond is closer than a child to man,Yet all are lost by this destructive plan.

Oppression has a measure, start and end;What cause have you such cruelty to defend?

A harmless smith am I, who works for bread;Yet from the Shah fire falls upon my head.

If Seven Climes acknowledge you as king,Why does our grief increase beneath your ring?

If all the world must bow before your power,Why must the hardship crush us hour by hour?

You still must answer what must be most just,Though everything lies crushed beneath your dust.

Between us now accounts remain unpaid;The truth will stand though all the world be swayed.

Now set the reckoning before us all;Let every man hear justice in this hall.

Of all who live beneath the turning sky,Why must my sons be chosen still to die?

Why does the turn fall always on my door,To feed your serpents with the sons I bore?

My sons as well your serpents’ maws have fed;Must I be bled till all my house is dead?”

The monarch heard and marveled at his tone;Such words had rarely pierced the guarded throne.

He freed the son and tried with measured speechTo calm the father, soften grief’s sharp reach.

They brought his son and sought to make amends;Zahhak spoke softly, as if they were friends.

But when he urged him sign the scroll with all,Kaveh read through and raised a furious call:

“You pillars of the Divs, corrupted here,Your hearts have lost the World-Creator’s fear.

You turned your faces toward the road of hell;On Zahhak’s words your captive spirits dwell.

I will not sign, nor bow to such a lord,Nor lend my name to prop a reign abhorred.”

He tore the lying scroll from end to end,Then trampled it, too furious to bend.

With son before him, fierce in wrath and cry,He thundered from the court with head held high.

The courtiers asked the king with anxious breath:“May heaven guard your throne from harm and death.

Why was this man admitted to your side?He shamed your court, then turned and left in pride.

He tore your pledge and cast your words aside,Then left as though with Fereydoon allied.

He spoke before you as an equal man,And shattered what your own command began.”

The king replied, “A strange and troubling sight:When first he spoke, I felt a sudden fright.

Between us rose an iron mountain high,Within the eyvan, looming toward the sky.

It towered between us, iron-hard and vast;My courage failed before the shade it cast.

When both his hands struck hard upon his head,Something within me broke; my heart knew dread.

My strength went out; no answer could I find,As though his cry had struck my heart and mind.

What end awaits I cannot clearly know;The secrets of the heavens none can show.”

When Kaveh left, the market roared aloud,And men surged in to form a swelling crowd.

He raised his voice and called on all to rise,To stand as one against the tyrant’s lies.

He seized his apron, blackened, rough, and worn,And raised it on a spear, though poor and torn.

He raised it high and strode the market way,While dust rose thick and swallowed up the day.

He cried, “O men of name who worship God,Cast off his chains and break the tyrant’s rod!

Let those who seek release from chains of painNow gather round Fereydoon upon the plain.

Come all together, rally to his side;Beneath his royal farr let hope abide.

This king is Ahriman upon the throne,His serpent-fed injustice widely known.

Within his heart the World-Creator’s foeHas made his home and filled the world with woe.”

That simple leather, rough and poor to see,Became the sign of truth and loyalty.

Around him gathered many, bold and strong,Resolved no more to bear the tyrant’s wrong.

Kaveh knew well where Fereydoon would stay;He led the swelling multitude that way.

He led them forth and toward Fereydoon came,And cries of welcome rang to greet his name.

The young prince saw the banner and its sign,And read within it heaven’s clear design.

He dressed it then in Roman brocade bright,With jewels and gold that flashed against the light.

Red, yellow streamers, others violet-dyed;Their jeweled tassels fell from either side.

He gave the standard its enduring name:Derafsh-e Kaviani rose to fame.

Thereafter every king who gained the crownAdded new jewels to its old renown.

Fine brocade and treasure decked its fold,The once-poor leather bright beneath the gold.

It shone like sunlight through the darkest night,It filled the world’s heart with new hope and light.

What once was leather, cast aside and worn,Became a blazing sign of glory born.

When Fereydoon saw Zahhak’s world was lost,He girded for the fight at any cost.

He placed the Kay cap firmly on his head,Then sought his mother, Faranak, and said:

“I go to battle; prayer is yours to give;Ask God to guard me so that I may live.

All strength for goodness comes from God alone;By His command the path of right is shown.”

Tears from Faranak’s lashes fell like rain;Her heart ran blood with mingled fear and pain.

She raised her tearful eyes and called in prayer:“O God, receive my son into Your care.

Turn every sorcerer’s evil hand aside,And let no dark enchantment reach his side.

To You I give my son with all my heart;Preserve his life from every evil art.”

She prayed He cleanse the world of foolish ways,And end the senseless evil of their days.

Then Fereydoon prepared himself to go,But kept his purpose hidden from the foe.

He told no one the road that he would take,And guarded every word for caution’s sake.

He called his elder brothers to his side;Kianush, Parmayeh, his strength and pride.

Both brothers, noble-born, were blessed that day,Fereydoon addressed them without delay.

“Be glad and bold; the heavens turn our way;The crown of greatness soon shall come to stay.

Now bring me smiths who know the forge and flame;I need a heavy gorz to end this shame.”

The brothers hurried to the smiths’ bazaar;They summoned masters skilled in forge and bar.

Renowned smiths gathered at the prince’s call;The finest craftsmen stood before his hall.

With compass Fereydoon drew on the groundAn ox-head gorz, broad-horned and iron-bound.

The smiths obeyed and forged the gorz entire;It shone like the high sun, not earthly fire.

He gave them robes, and silver, gold besides,And praised the skill that in their craft resides.

“When I cast down the Dragon to the ground,No dust of grief shall on your heads be found.

For justice will prevail, and right be won,And truth will rise to greet the coming sun.”

Fereydoon then raised his head toward the sun,And girded for the vengeance now begun.

On Khordad’s day he joyfully made way,Beneath a favored star and omen’s ray.

The army gathered round him in a crowd,His royal station rose into the cloud.

On elephants and buffaloes in train,Provisions moved ahead across the plain.

Beside him rode his brothers, true allied,Kianush and Parmayeh at his side.

From stage to stage like driving wind he sped,And thoughts of vengeance burned within his head.

He turned at last where Arvand’s waters glide,And sought the royal crown with swelling pride.

If Pahlavi speech is not known to you,The Arabs call the Arvand “Dijla” too.

His next halt lay beside the Dijla’s strand,Near Baghdad, where he camped upon the land.

When near the Arvand’s bank the leader drew,He sent the river-keepers greeting due.

“Prepare the ships at once,” the victor cried,“And set them on the current, side by side.

Take me and all my army to the strand;Let none remain behind upon this land.

Make haste by ship and skiff to leave this shore;We all must gain the bank that lies before.”

The river-keeper brought no vessel near,Nor bent before the prince or showed him fear.

He said, “The ruler gave me orders plain,And spoke them privately: I must refrain.

Not even one mosquito may go byWithout the ruler’s seal before my eye.”

Fereydoon heard; his anger rose in flame;No depth of river could deter his aim.

He bound the Kayanian girdle tight,Then mounted his swift charger for the flight.

His mind was bent on vengeance and the fray;He drove his charger through the river spray.

His comrades girded up and followed fast,And plunged into the current as he passed.

Their wind-foot steeds sank saddle-deep in tide;The rushing water rose on either side.

They gained dry ground, still seeking vengeance due;Toward Bait al-Muqaddas then they drew.

In Pahlavi they named that place this way:Gang Dezh-Hokht, as the ancient records say.

In Arabic, the Holy House was known;There Zahhak raised his eyvan and his throne.

Across the plain they neared the sought-for town,The city where the tyrant held the crown.

One third mil out, Fereydoon raised his eyesAnd saw a royal palace pierce the skies.

It shone like Jupiter, serene and bright,With signs of peace and welcome to the sight.

Its eyvan towered higher than Saturn’s place,As though its crest might brush the starry space.

He knew the Dragon’s house before his eyes,A seat of wealth beneath a royal guise.

He told his men, “Who raises from dark claySuch height from earth’s abyss into the day,

I fear the world conceals some hidden tie,A bond that fortune will not yet deny.

Here in this strait, delay will serve us ill;We must make haste and press upon him still.”

He spoke, then seized the heavy gorz he bore,And loosed the reins; his charger forward tore.

He sprang like fire before the palace gate,Where watchmen stood to guard the tyrant’s state.

He raised his heavy gorz above the ground,As though the earth itself would roll around.

No keeper at the entrance still was found;He called the World-Creator, looking round.

He rode on horseback through the palace wide,A mighty youth whom time had not yet tried.

A talisman rose towering toward the sky,Raised not to Him who rules the world on high.

Fereydoon saw the false charm had been planned,And smashed it with the ox-head gorz in hand.

Within the eyvan, mighty male Divs remained,By sorcery and Zahhak’s dark power sustained.

Beneath his heavy gorz their heads all fell,And from that place he swept each darkened spell.

Zahhak’s own seat he claimed before them all,And set his foot within the tyrant’s hall.

The Kayanian cap he set in place,With kingly farr resplendent in his face.

From Zahhak’s shabestan came women fair,Sun-faced and dark of eye, with flowing hair.

Among them Jamshid’s daughters stood forlorn,Their minds by Zahhak’s sorcery were worn.

Like those made senseless by a drunken state,They stood confused beneath their noxious fate.

He had their heads washed clean of stain and dread,And purged the darkness Zahhak’s teachings spread.

He showed the path that leads to God the Pure,And cleansed the taint they long had to endure.

For raised in false belief beneath that reign,Their minds had wandered far from truth’s domain.

Their narcissus eyes overflowed with deep grief,And crimson cheeks found tears but no relief.

“May you endure while this old world is fair;May fortune guard the royal star you bear.

What star is yours, what fortunate decree?What fruit are you, from branch of what great tree?

What man before has dared the lion’s lair,Or entered Zahhak’s palace, reached his chair?

No one before has sought his throne or place,Or dared desire his station face to face.

This tyrant serves Ahriman, the foe;What grief has filled the land beneath his blow!”

He answered: “Fortune rests with none for long;It shifts with time from right and turns to wrong.

My father, Abtin, bore an honored name;From Iran Zahhak seized him without shame.

He killed him wretchedly; for that I cameTo seek revenge and end the tyrant’s claim.

He slaughtered Barmayeh, who gave me milk,Whose patterned hide shone bright as painted silk.

What profit could that impure tyrant gainBy spilling blood of one who caused no pain?

From Iran, girded for revenge, I came,And brought this ox-head gorz to end his name.

With this great gorz I mean to crush his head;No mercy stays my hand till he is dead.”

When Arnavaz these words had clearly heard,She grasped the truth and in her heart it stirred:

“You are Shah Fereydoon, whose hand will breakThe talisman and every spell they make.

Now all the world’s release depends on you;Your girding shows what righteous strength can do.

We two are women born of Kayan blood,Kept pure though trapped beneath this evil flood.

We yielded only out of fear of death;What choice had we beneath the Dragon’s breath?

Would we by choice, awake or sleeping, dwellBeside these serpents in so dark a hell?”

Then Fereydoon replied with steady will:“If heaven stands with me and guides me still,

I shall uproot the Dragon from our sight,And wash the world of stain by God’s own light.

Now speak the truth, conceal no part from me:Where is this tyrant? Where can Zahhak be?”

She answered: “Far away toward Hind he went,To work his sorcery with dark intent.

Afraid of what his evil stars portend,A thousand guiltless heads he brings to end.

A seer foretold: ‘The earth will cast you down;Another comes to take your throne and crown.’

His fortune fades beneath that prophecy;All joy and ease from him have ceased to be.

From tame and savage beasts he gathers blood,And pours it all into a single flood.

The blood of men and women joins that tide;One vat receives the slaughter from each side.

He bathes his head and body in that gore,To void the fate the starry omens bore.

Two shoulder-serpents grant him no repose;Their torment follows everywhere he goes.

From land to land he wanders without peace,No hour arrives when torment finds release.

His time to turn again is drawing near;No country holds him long, consumed by fear.”

Thus Arnavaz disclosed the hidden thread,While high-born Fereydoon heard all she said.

While Zahhak ranged abroad and left the state,A wealthy servant stayed to watch and wait.

He held much treasure, palace, throne, and hall,A steward deeply mindful of it all.

They called him Kundrav; walking at his side,He moved one pace behind the tyrant’s stride.

He hurried to the palace in surprise;A newly crowned king met his startled eyes.

Serene he sat within the royal hall,A cypress ringed by moon-bright beauties all.

Shahrnaz, cypress-tall, sat at his right;Moon-faced Arnavaz shone, a beauty bright.

The city brimmed with troops who did his will,While girded ranks stood marshaled, poised and still.

Kundrav felt no fear, nor asked the reason why;He bowed with reverence, then came nearby.

He blessed him: “King, may you forever reign,As long as time and turning world remain.

Blessed your seat, your royal farr and fame;You merit well the Shahanshah’s great name.

May all Seven Climes serve beneath your hand;May your head rise above the rain-cloud’s band.”

Fereydoon called him forward to draw near;Kundrav disclosed his rank and office clear.

The Shah commanded, “Let the feast be great;Prepare the board before the hour grows late.

Bring wine and minstrels; let the cups be poured;With every fitting dish adorn the board.

Bring those whose music merits my delight,Whose knowledge lifts the heart and clears the sight.

Assemble all around my royal throne,In state befitting fortune now my own.”

The steward heard and did the king’s command;He set the feast exactly as was planned.

He brought bright wine and minstrels skilled in art,And noble guests of rank and honored heart.

Fereydoon cast his grief aside that night,And held a feast in royal joy and light.

When revels stilled and night had settled down,Kundrav slipped out from him who wore the crown.

He mounted then a swift and tireless steed,And rode to Zahhak with the utmost speed.

When he arrived, he stood before the king;He told him all that sight and sound could bring.

He said, “O king, the signs are plain to view:Your fortune’s turning now is plain to you.

Three proud men march, their army is now near;They come from foreign lands, their purpose clear.

The youngest stands between the elder pair,Cypress-tall, royal in mien, proud and fair.

Though youngest in his years, his worth is more;He strides ahead of those who came before.

He bears a gorz like one great mountain stone;It shines amid the ranks with light its own.

On horseback through your royal eyvan cameThe other two beside him, men of name.

He sat upon the ancient royal seat,And broke your bonds and spells beneath his feet.

Whoever in your eyvan stood that hour,Both mortal men and Divs who served your power,

He struck them down together, rank on rank;Their brains with blood across the pavement sank.”

Zahhak replied, “Perhaps it should be so;A guest should find delight where he may go.”

Kundrav said, “A guest who comes to your hall,Who bears an ox-head gorz before us all,

Who boldly takes your station as his own,And strips you of your girdle and your throne,

Who bends the court and realm to his own way;If this is guesthood, call it so today.”

Zahhak replied, “Why grieve? A guest more boldBrings better omens, or so I am told.”

Kundrav replied, “I heard the words you say;Now hear me too, and answer if you may.

If this renowned man truly is your guest,Why in your shabestan has he found rest?

Why sit with Jamshid’s daughters side by side,And speak of every matter they decide?

One hand now rests on fair Shahrnaz’s cheek;One brushes Arnavaz’s lips as they speak.

At dark of night he does still worse than this;Their musk-dark tresses serve his bed of bliss.

Those musk-black tresses of the moon-faced twoBelong to those your heart once held as true.

Half-drunk, he draws them close against his breast;That is no proper conduct for a guest.”

Zahhak erupted like a maddened beast;He wished for death when Kundrav’s words had ceased.

With filthy curses and a thunderous cry,He raged against his fortune and the sky.

He shouted, “In this royal house of mine,No longer shall you serve in steward’s line!”

Kundrav replied, “O king, I think you right;That judgment now accords with present plight.

No share of former fortune now remains;How can you grant me, then, the steward’s reins?

If you no longer hold the royal seat,How can you place an office at my feet?

First set your own affairs before they slide;No such disaster ever reached your side.

From greatness’ crown you have been drawn so low,Like one hair cleanly pulled from kneaded dough.

Your enemy has come and seized your throne,Ox-headed gorz in hand, his claim made known.

He broke your spells and stripped them of their might;He took your loves and seized your royal right.”

Roused by that talk, Zahhak resolved to ride,And swift, keen steeds were saddled at his side.

With warrior Divs in multitudes he came,By hidden roads, his heart consumed with flame.

By secret paths he neared the palace gate,His heart on vengeance, blind to crown and fate.

The warning reached Fereydoon’s armed array,They moved at once to block the passageway.

They left their war-steeds, closing rank on rank,While townsmen armed themselves on either flank.

From roofs and gates the city rose in wrath,Their hearts made fierce by Zahhak’s bloody path.

The young came forth, the old in battle tried,And cast the tyrant’s falsehoods all aside.

From walls came bricks, from roofs came stones in sheets,While swords and arrows filled the crowded streets.

They fell like hail from one black cloud in flight,Till not a foot could find a place to light.

The mountain roared beneath the warriors’ cry,The earth grew weary as the hooves flew by.

War-dust arose and hid the sun from view,While spears struck stone as though to pierce it through.

A fierce cry rose from the fire-temple’s hall:“Why should this impure Dragon rule us all?

Let every man among us back the right,Not bow before the serpent-shouldered blight.”

From street and roof a cloud of darkness grew,The bright sun turned a deep lapis hue.

Then Zahhak, fired by jealousy and fear,Drew close in iron, masked in battle gear.

A sixty-zara kamand he unwound,Then climbed the palace wall without a sound.

Below, young Fereydoon sat in his place,With Shahrnaz beside him, face to face.

Her narcissus eyes were dark, her cheeks like day,Her night-black hair across her shoulders lay.

Her lips were open, cursing Zahhak’s name;At once his jealous heart burst into flame.

He cast his kamand down into the hall,And risked both life and kingship in that fall.

He reached the ground, his khanjar bared to kill,And thirsted for the women’s blood to spill.

But Fereydoon came rushing like the blast,His ox-head gorz in hand, advancing fast.

He struck Zahhak upon the helmet’s crown,And smashed its iron crest and drove him down.

He raised the gorz again above his head,Then Soroush cried, “You must not strike him dead.

His time has not arrived; do not yet slay.Bind him, and bear him from the world away.

Take him between the mountains, narrow, steep,Where kin and comrades cannot reach his keep.”

Fereydoon heard and stayed his lifted hand,Then bound the tyrant fast with leather band.

With lion-hide he bound his hands and waist,And drew the knots with neither slack nor haste.

So tight the bonds around the tyrant lay,No elephant in rage could break away.

Then on the golden throne he took his seat,And cast the tyrant’s customs at his feet.

He called aloud: “O men of wakeful mind,Lay down your arms and leave this strife behind.

The warrior and craftsman have their art;Let neither seize the other’s proper part.

One works with craft; one wields the gorz with skill,The realm stands firm when each fulfills his will.

If each should seize the other’s task instead,Disorder through the whole wide earth would spread.

So each return to work that is his own;From rightful order lasting peace has grown.

The tyrant who made all the world afraidNow lies in bonds, his evil customs stayed.

Return in peace, resume your proper trade;Live joyfully beneath the realm remade.”

The city’s nobles, wealthy men of name,Came bearing gifts and praising Fereydoon’s fame.

Those who possessed a share of crown or goldCame joyfully, with gifts a thousandfold.

He welcomed each according to his state,And heard with grace what each chose to relate.

He gave them counsel, blessed them one by one,And praised the World-Creator for what was done.

He said, “This realm is mine by Heaven’s grace;A fortunate star now shines upon this place.

The Pure God raised me from Alborz on highTo cleanse the world where Dragon’s shadows lie.

By this great gorz He gave my hand its might,To clear the earth of Dragon-darkened night.

When the Good-Giver sends His boon, we shouldMake answer to His gift through doing good.

The whole wide world now lies beneath my reign;I must move on; no ruler can remain.

Else I would gladly stay for many days,And share with you this city’s feast and praise.”

They bowed and kissed the ground before the king,Tabiras, karnays made the city ring.

They cried, “Bring out the Dragon bound in chain;Let all behold the ending of his reign.”

Fereydoon’s army took no spoil or gold,But left the city’s wealth for them to hold.

They laid Zahhak across a camel’s back,Bound in disgrace upon the mountain track.

Toward Shir-khvan they drove the tyrant low,His former state reduced to shame and woe.

“Call this old world ancient,” says the tale;How many ages crossed each hill and vale.

And countless ages yet will turn and pass,While men depart like footprints from the grass.

Fereydoon then resolved to strike him dead,And end at once the tyrant’s life of dread.

Again came Soroush, calling from the sky:“Do not yet kill him; he must not yet die.

Bear him to Damavand, securely bound;Take only those you need upon that ground.

Bring no great crowd; take only chosen few,Companions firm in hardship, tried and true.”

Fereydoon hastened onward at full speed,The city’s walls fell far behind his steed.

He brought Zahhak to Damavand, the peakWhere crags enclosed him, overcast and bleak.

He chose a cave whose bottom none could see,A hidden cleft where none might set him free.

He brought great iron spikes and massive chains,And fixed the tyrant where the rock constrains.

His hands were bound against the mountainside,New chains were drawn above the first and tied.

He left him hanging there in grievous pain,While blood ran down and darkened rock and plain.

The name of Zahhak sank beneath the clay,And earth was cleansed of evil on that day.

Cut off from kin and comrades, left alone,No friendly voice could reach him through the stone.

So let us not surrender earth to wrong;Let goodness rule our conduct all life long.

Neither the good nor evil long remain;Let goodness be the memory we retain.

What use are treasure, coin, or palace walls,When Time at last upon the owner calls?

Your words live on to mark you when you go;So never count good speech as mean or low.

Fereydoon was not born of angel kind;Nor musk nor ambergris in him combined.

His fame was born of justice, open hand;Those virtues raised his name throughout the land.

Practice those two: be Fereydoon in deed;Show justice; give wherever there is need.

Through godly action first he cleansed the earth,And gave a wounded world a second birth.

He bound Zahhak, the impure king of wrong,And broke the terror he had spread so long.

He then avenged the father he had lost,And drove the foolish from the land they crossed.

He took the earth away from wicked hands,And justice rose again throughout the lands.

Yet where is he who once possessed the throne?He too departed, leaving all his own.

From Time he carried nothing in the end,Except regret for what he could not mend.

O world, how loveless is the path you choose:You nurture what you later hunt and lose.

Such is the fate of mighty and of small,The shepherd and the flock alike must fall.

The crown, the treasure, every lofty wallRemain behind when death has made its call.

But goodness lives when body, wealth, and powerHave passed like shade before the final hour.

So leave a name made luminous and just;Good deeds endure when crown and gold are dust.