Book D1The Reign of Bahman, Son of Esfandiyar

Bahman ascended his grandfather’s throne;He donned his belt, and made his bounty known.

He gave the troops both silver coins and gold,And many lands and borders theirs to hold.

He called the wise and noble to his gate,With chiefs and trusted officers of state.

He said, “Give ear, both youthful men and old,All those whose minds are steadfast, wise, and bold.

You know how Esfandiyar met his end,And all the good and ill the heavens send.

You know the deeds of Rostam while alive,And what the sorcerer Zal dared contrive.

Now Faramarz, in public or apart,Seeks vengeance on us, nursing it at heart.

Pain racks my head; my heart is drenched in gore;I think of retribution, nothing more.

Nush Azar and Mehr-e-Nush, that fearless pair,Gave death no thought, nor let it bring them care.

And great Esfandiyar, whose presence castNew life upon the nobles’ age now past,

Was killed in Zabul; beasts both wild and tameWere lost in grief and wandered without aim.

The painted figures in the palace weepFor him whose blood has brought us grief so deep,

And for our famed young warriors who lie dead,Our horsemen, for whose blood these tears are shed.

No noble man of high ancestral fameWill cast his lineage in the pit of shame.

He takes Fereydoon’s deeds to be his guide,A sky of happy fortune, far and wide.

For Jamshid’s blood, Fereydoon brought disgraceOn Zahhak, and wiped out his glory’s trace.

From Amol, Manuchehr led troops of mightTo distant Chin, great Salm and Tur to fight.

For his grandfather’s blood he piled the slainAs high as mountains rising from the plain.

When Kay Khosrow struck Afrasiab, the landBecame a sea of blood on every hand.

My father likewise avenged Lohrasp’s fall;My own case follows theirs, and echoes all.

For his slain father, Faramarz arose,His head raised toward the sun that shines and glows.

He marched on Kabul, seeking Rostam’s due,And leveled all its lands as he passed through.

The earth was lost in blood where men lay dead;Across their bodies charging horses sped.

For vengeance, none has greater cause to fight;I charge both elephant and lion in might.

Count all the famous horsemen of the earth:None like Esfandiyar has come to birth.

What counsel can you offer to your king?Strive for a plan that happy ends may bring.”

The army heard the words its monarch spoke;His well-wishers stood there among the folk.

They cried, “We are your servants, bound to you;Our hearts are filled with love both deep and true.

You know the past more fully than the rest,And stand in strength above the warriors’ best.

Do as you wish, if what you choose will bringYou royal farr and fame as reigning king.

No man will turn against your high command;Who dares to break the pledge by which we stand?”

When Bahman heard their words, his anger burned;With sharper zeal to vengeance now he turned.

To march on Sistan, they prepared their array;Resolved on this, they rose and moved away.

At dawn tabiras thundered far and high;The army’s dust made ebony the sky.

A hundred thousand horsemen rode that day,All swordsmen, in that army on its way.

When Bahman reached the Hirmund’s riverside,His heart was fixed on vengeance as his guide.

He chose a noble envoy from his court,And gave him words of stern and grave import:

“Go tell old Zal my days are steeped in painFor great Esfandiyar, my father slain,

And for Nush Azar, Mehr-e-Nush, noble pair,Two princes born of lineage blessed and fair.

I shall sate ancient vengeance for the dead;All Zabul’s streams with blood shall be stained red.”

The envoy came before the aged chief,And spoke; his words plunged Zal in bitter grief.

He answered, “If the Shah will contemplateEsfandiyar’s deeds and his appointed fate,

Then he will know that destiny so meant;My heart was broken by that dark event.

Through good and ill, you stood among us here;From me you gained and found no harm to fear.

Great Rostam served your father at command,And kept his pledge with heart and loyal hand.

Your father, that great prince of noble name,Grew fierce and stubborn when his last hour came.

The forest’s lion, dragon, all must fall;The claws of Time will close upon them all.

Recall great Sahm, renowned in every age;You know his deeds, the battles he would wage.

Then came the time when Rostam drew his blade,The sharpened sword that at his waist was laid.

Before your fathers, think how he would fight,When honor was at stake, with all his might.

He was your servant, guardian of your days,Among your troops a man of worth and praise.

Now Rostam lies beneath the mournful ground,And grief has spread through Zabul all around.

If you will end this quarrel and relent,And weigh our deeds with generous intent,

Then come in friendship, free of wrath and rage,And soothe with love the sorrows of this age.

The wealth of Sahm and Dastan in these stores,The golden belts and trappings, shall be yours.

When you arrive, I shall bring all I keep;You are the Shah; your chiefs, a flock of sheep.”

He gave the envoy robes and minted gold,A noble horse, and treasures from his hold.

The envoy then returned and told the kingEach word of Zal and every offered thing.

But Bahman spurned the plea that Zal had sent;His heart remained on blood and vengeance bent.

He entered, full of pain and vengeful thought,And breathed cold sighs for all that grief had brought.

Zal went to meet him; with the elder cameThe chiefs of Sistan, men of noble name.

He reached the Shah, dismounted from his steed,And bowed before him as the court decreed.

He said, “This is the time to grant releaseFrom grief and rancor; let the heart find peace.

Here Dastan, son of Sahm, before you stands,Humbled, with walking staff in aged hands.

Remember how we guarded you in youth,And dealt with you in loyalty and truth.

Forgive; let bygone deeds be left unsaid;Seek virtue; seek no vengeance for the dead.”

But Bahman’s fury mounted at the plea;Zal’s former standing ebbed for all to see.

He bound Zal’s feet, and would not lend an earTo minister or treasurer standing near.

They loaded camel after camel, packedFrom Dastan’s palace, all its treasures sacked:

With gold coins, uncut gems, and thrones arrayed,And all the rugs that in the halls were laid;

With gold and silver ware, with crowns of gold,With earrings, belts, and riches from the hold;

With Arab steeds in trappings bright with gilt,And Indian blades sheathed golden to the hilt;

With garments, bags of silver, camphor white,And musk; all things of value, great or slight.

All this had Rostam gained with toil and care,From kings and mighty chiefs, their treasures rare.

He gave all Zabul up to plunder then,And crowns and bags of coin to noble men.

At Bost, Faramarz mourned his grandfather’s plight,And bound himself to vengeance and the fight.

He marched against the Shah, his troops arrayed,Recalling battles fought by Rostam’s blade.

When Bahman heard the news upon his throne,His anger rose; his fury now was shown.

He packed the baggage, and his horsemen rodeTwo weeks without a halt along the road.

Then karnays blared and Indian bells rang round;The mountains’ hearts seemed lifted from the ground.

The sky grew black beneath the arrows’ flight,As shafts descended and extinguished light.

The crash of axes and the bows’ sharp cryMade earth shake more than all the trembling sky.

For three full days and nights the battle raged;By sun and moon the bitter war was waged.

The swords and gorzes rained upon the field;The sky to clouds of army dust would yield.

Upon the fourth, a wind brought sudden night,As swirling darkness blotted out the light.

Against Faramarz now the wind blew strong;The Shah rejoiced to see it sweep along.

Behind the dust he charged with sword to slay,And brought the terrors of the final day.

The men of Bost, Zabul’s advancing band,And Kabul’s swordsmen could no longer stand.

No mounted warrior stayed upon that ground;No famous chief among their ranks was found.

The greatest chiefs lost hope and turned to flight,And left brave Faramarz exposed to fight.

The slain lay mountain-high; the field was strewnWith dead from both the armies, heaped and hewn.

Yet with a handful of his warriors by,Brave Faramarz stood firm and would not fly.

He bore the wounds of many a sharp blade,Fearless lion, born of lions, he stayed.

He knew this was affliction’s bitter day;Time’s snare and Fate’s trap held him as their prey.

He said, “The dragon’s breath surrounds me here;No path of safety from this place is clear.

My gorz and sword shall leave, with all their power,Their mark upon this ground till Judgment’s hour.”

He charged the center of the army’s might,And drew close to the Shah amid the fight.

He struck the heads from Indian chiefs of fame,From mighty champions, men of noble name.

The warriors saw, and anger filled their breast;With all the army, hard on him they pressed.

The horsemen hemmed him in, a circling ring;Each sword wound made him feel its bitter sting.

His horse grew weak beneath the arrows’ rain,And fell face-first, helpless upon the plain.

Time held a heavy gorz within its hand,And struck the mighty warriors of the land.

From loss of blood his senses slipped away;He stood there still; no word had he to say.

A roaring lion, when his strength was past,Seized that famed warrior, held him captive fast.

Before the Shah, they brought him from the fight;The Shah gazed for a while, still set on spite.

He ordered that a gibbet be prepared;No hope of life, no quarter, he declared.

They hung his elephantine frame on high,Alive and headfirst, underneath the sky.

Then Ardeshir, in vengeance for the slain,Had him shot dead beneath the arrows’ rain.

Wise Bishutan, the minister of state,Grew sick at heart from bloodshed and from hate.

He rose before the Shah and said, “Take heed:Let justice curb the punishments decreed.

If vengeance was the aim you battled for,Your seeking brought you loss; now seek no more.

Command no further plunder, blood, or cries;Do not approve the grief that fills the skies.

Fear God, feel shame before us, guard your ways,And mark the turns of fortune through your days.

It lifts one man to heaven’s highest sphere,Then casts another down to grief and fear.

Your father’s march to Nimruz was not madeTo find a coffin where he would be laid.

Nor did great Rostam hunt on Kabul’s plainTo perish in a pit and there remain.

While you retain your crown and royal worth,Do not oppress the nobles of the earth.

For should the son of Sahm, in bonds and pain,Cry out to God against your lawless reign,

Your lucky star will fail to ease your plightWhen he calls God to judge and set things right.

Remember Rostam, guardian of the crown,Who donned his belt for toil and won renown.

You owe this crown to Rostam’s mighty hand,Not Goshtasb’s nor Esfandiyar’s command.

From Kay Qobad through Kay Khosrow’s reign,Recall the kings his sword helped to sustain.

Their greatness rested on his battle-blade;Beneath their feet the world’s wide lands were laid.

Release old Zal and let your anger cease;Turn now from cruelty and choose true peace.”

The Shah heard Bishutan’s wise words; his mindFelt deep remorse for deeds now left behind.

A cry rose from the royal tent to all:“O Pahlevans, heed justice and its call.

Prepare to turn for home; let bloodshed cease,And plunder end; depart this place in peace.”

He ordered Zal’s bound feet released that day,And much advice was given on his way.

At Bishutan’s request, within a tombThey laid slain Faramarz amid the gloom.

When Zal returned at last to his own door,His wife Rudabeh’s tears began to pour.

She cried, “Alas for Rostam, brave and bold,Descendant of great Nariman of old!

While you still lived, who knew Goshtasb had reigned,Or that the world beneath his rule remained?

Your treasure plundered, Zal in bonds of dread,Your son, by arrows slain, lies cold and dead.

May no one see such days of grief and need;May earth be bare of Esfandiyar’s seed!”

Her cries of mourning spread across the plain,And reached both Bishutan and Bahman’s train.

The minister grew pale to hear her cries,Then spoke to Bahman, prudent still and wise:

“O youthful Shah, whose crown is newly bright,Like the young moon that climbs the vault of night,

At dawn lead all your forces from this place;A grave and difficult affair we face.

May evil eyes not touch your crown or reign;May all your days be feasts, and free of pain.

Within brave Zal’s own house, the Shah should stayNo longer; let him take the homeward way.”

When dawn poured gold across the mountain’s side,Tabiras called the march both far and wide.

From Zabul toward Iran he led his men,Back to its city’s people once again.

He rested, sat upon the throne with cheer,And ruled with custom and with justice clear.

He gave the poor vast wealth and coins of gold;Some hearts were glad; in others, grief took hold.

King Bahman had a son, a lion in might;He named him Sasan, dauntless in the fight.

He had a daughter, Homahyi the wise,Accomplished, prudent, lovely in all eyes.

They called her Chehrzad, wondrous to his sight;Her father looked upon her with delight.

He took his lovely daughter as his bride,As Pahlavi belief then justified.

Fair Homahyi, bright as the moon at night,Conceived a child by Bahman, lord of might.

Six months had passed; her heart was weighed with woe;The king fell ill to see her burdened so.

Oppressed by pain, the king could scarcely stand;He called Homahyi near at his command.

He summoned all the nobles of the land,And seated them in honor at his hand.

He said, “This chaste Chehrzad has had to bearA life with little joy to ease her care.

To her I leave the crown and royal claim,The troops and treasures vested in her name.

I name her heir and name the child she bearsTo take the crown and all its royal cares.

Whether the child shall prove a girl or boy,The crown shall be that child’s to wear with joy.”

When young Sasan had heard what Bahman said,The world grew dark, and hope within him fled.

Three days and nights, a leopard in his flight,He fled Iran in shame at such a slight.

He hurried to Nishapur, sore at heart,And from his father chose to live apart.

He wed a woman born of noble race,And cherished her with heartfelt love and grace.

He told no living soul of royal birth,Nor that his kin had ruled the breadth of earth.

His virtuous wife then bore a noble child,Of Bahman’s line, through Sasan, now exiled.

He named the child Sasan; his time ran fast,And soon the father breathed his very last.

From childhood into manhood, year by year,He lived in want, with little cause for cheer.

He took the king of Nishapur’s great flocks,Across broad plains and up the mountain rocks.

He served the crown as shepherd in those lands,And was content with work on plains and sands.

Now I return to Homahyi’s domain,When Bahman died and left to her the reign.