Book D11Short Reigns and a Crisis with Khoshnavaz

When Yazdegard became the world’s great king,He gathered scattered troops beneath his wing.

The wise and noble held a high conclave,With the princely Mobadan, grave and brave.

The young prince sat upon the throne of gold,And checked oppression, keeping wrong controlled.

He then began: “Whoever does no wrongNeed fear no vengeful foe, however strong.

But when a heart grows dark with envy’s blight,A foul Div is the doctor for its plight.

For envy breeds both greed and burning want,A cruel master, vengeful in its haunt.

Let no one suffer what you would deplore;Bring no such anguish to another’s door.

Forbearance is akin to wisdom still;And wisdom crowns all knowledge with good will.

When you confer a benefit on one,Do not reproach him for the kindness done.

If you do good and patiently endure,The wise will hold your lasting worth secure.

If conquering Fortune favors my decree,And lets my purpose range from sea to sea,

I will inscribe a roll of justice, freeFrom fraud and falsehood, for the world to see.”

He ruled the world with justice for a while;The age grew bright beneath his royal smile.

He sent out countless armies far and wide,And kept the world secure on every side.

When eighteen years of sovereignty had sped,His fortune dimmed, and grief within him spread.

He called the nobles and the sages near,And seated them around the throne to hear.

He said, “This harsh sky spares no child or nurse,And bends all royal crowns beneath its curse.

It heeds no potentate, no king’s decree,But hunts down every quarry that would flee.

My time draws near the end that Fate bestows;My strength is broken by the heavenly blows.

I give to Hormizd signet, crown, and reign,The army and Iran’s wealth and domain.

Now honor him and keep my final word,And let my will within your souls be heard.

Though Pirooz bears the farr and noble frame,And is some years the elder, all the same,

In Hormizd I see wisdom, modest grace,And calm restraint befitting royal place.”

He spoke and lived one week, then passed away;The throne itself wore mourning through the day.

Though life last five score years or twenty-five,None in this passing house can stay alive.

Whatever can be counted has its time;Do not suppose it lasts beyond its prime.

Hormizd succeeded to his father’s seat,And took the golden crown, his rule complete.

Pirooz beheld him and was filled with rage,As envy darkened kingship in that age.

He went at once with treasure, troops, and chiefs,To seek redress and remedy his griefs.

He came to Faghanish to seek his aid;Chaghan’s rich king had mighty troops arrayed.

Pirooz said, “Good friend, hear now my claim:Two sons were fit to bear the royal name.

Our father gave the younger son the crown,Unjustly made that gift, then laid life down.

If you will give me troops to win my right,I have wealth, weapons, majesty, and might.”

The king of Chaghan answered, “This is true;Your claim is royal; help to you is due.

I will show how to gain what you deserve,And furnish troops, if you these terms observe:

Let Tirmid and Visagard be my fee;Your father’s covenant made this decree.”

Pirooz replied, “Yes, this is just and fair;Still greater realms should fall within your care.”

The monarch gave him thirty thousand men,A chosen Heytalian army then.

With them Pirooz led forth a mighty power,Whose dust made moon and sky grow dark that hour.

He fought King Hormizd; long their warfare raged,As each against his brother battle waged.

At last King Hormizd lost the bitter fray;All crowns seemed worthless to him from that day.

When Pirooz saw his brother, pale and bound,His anger softened, and his love was found.

He hastened up and clasped his brother’s hand,Then bade him mount a horse at his command.

He read his covenant, its terms made plain,Then sent him to his palace with his train.

Then Hormizd said, “To God all praise is due;The wise man knows his God and holds Him true.

My brother took my throne and royal state;May Fortune grant Pirooz a victor’s fate.”

Pirooz, at ease about Hormizd and freeFrom care, sat where the royal throne should be.

As one who worshipped God with faith, he rose,And spoke to chiefs where royal counsel flows:

“O worshipful and noble lords, I prayThe Judge who needs no aid to guide my way.

May He grant life and teach me due regardFor every man, with justice as my guard.

May He grant wisdom in abundant store,And happy days that open evermore.

Forbearance crowns the mortal and exalts;The hasty man will stumble at his faults.

The pillars wisdom raises never fall:Justice and mercy, greatest gifts of all.

Bounty adorns it; eloquence shines bright;And courage gives its wings their strength in flight.

How can high station keep its royal height,If wisdom’s lamp should fail to give it light?

Even sages die; no mortal man can claimMore farr than Jamshid, bright with royal fame.

His crown once reached the moon; yet when he died,Another took the throne and ruled in pride.

No one forever dwells upon the earth;Take refuge then in God, the source of worth.”

He ruled one year with justice, free from guile;The age grew fortunate beneath his smile.

Next year the face of heaven turned to drought;And water, scarce as musk, was running out.

The third and fourth years passed in this same way;Through drought, all men were miserable each day.

The mouth of heaven dried; the streams ran low;Each drop was balm that none could now forgo.

So many men and beasts lay dead around,There was no room to stand upon the ground.

The king of kings beheld that dreadful sight,And lifted tax and toll by royal right.

In every city where he kept his store,He gave it out to all, and kept no more.

A proclamation rang from court that day:“You lords of wealth, attend to what I say.

Bring forth your grain, and take dinars in trade;Let Pirooz’s coins enrich you, promptly paid.

Whoever stores up grain, or owns a herdOf cattle or of sheep, shall heed this word:

He may set any price on goods to sell;For lack of food, no living thing fares well.”

He sent another letter through the land,To every lord and officer in command:

“Open your barns to all the folk who cry,And give them grain, lest they for hunger die.

If one should die for lack of bread and grain,Man, woman, young or old, by hunger slain,

The storekeeper shall bleed upon the plain;He scorned God’s work, and caused His creatures pain.”

He ordered all the folk to leave their homes,And lift their hands where open daylight roams.

A cry of weeping, pain, and dark distressRose up to heaven from their wilderness.

On hill and slope, in desert and in cave,They called on God for mercy that could save.

For seven years, the people all had seenNo blade of grass, no freshness, and no green.

In Farvardin, the eighth year’s clouds drew near;The long drought broke, and God’s relief was clear.

Like pearls the rain fell on the thirsty ground;The scent of musk rose from the gardens round.

Dew filled the flower’s cup like gleaming wine;The rainbow arched, a bright celestial sign.

The world escaped the grip of grief and pain;Bright bows were bent across the sky’s domain.

When Pirooz passed those bitter years of dearth,He sat in peace, and joy returned to earth.

He built a city at his own command,Called Pirooz-Ram, a blessing to the land.

The city now called Rey, a royal nestWhere kings of happy Fortune came to rest.

He built Badan-Pirooz, renowned and fair,Where peace and pleasure filled the fragrant air.

Now Ardabil, whose justice won acclaim,And drew great Caesar’s favor to its name.

When Pirooz made those regions prosper well,He made the wise rejoice where they might dwell.

He paid his troops in silver, set his courseAgainst the Turks with all his gathered force.

In that campaign, Hormizd led the array,With Iran’s newly mustered men that day.

Behind Shah Pirooz, Qobad drove the train,Swift as a wind that sweeps across the plain.

He was Pirooz’s son, both wise and bright,A fruitful bough that grew in royal light.

Balawsh, the younger, farr upon his face,Sat on the throne and held his father’s place.

A man from Pars, Sorkhab of high renown,Was set beside Balawsh to guard the crown.

Pirooz said, “Serve Balawsh and guide him right,A faithful minister in peace and fight.”

With troops and treasure, warlike gear arrayed,He marched on Khoshnavaz with naked blade.

Brave Bahram once had marked the border plain,And raised a column there within his reign.

A royal covenant was carved and set,That Turk and Iranian must not forget:

“Let neither people cross this boundary line,Nor claim beyond the stream, ‘That land is mine.’”

When lion-quelling Pirooz reached the ground,He saw where Bahram’s farr and mark were found.

He told his chiefs, “Toward Turkish lands ahead,I will set up a farther mark instead.

With sword and treasure I will build it tall,So Heytalian threats may trouble none at all.

And when the chiefs produce the treaty’s word,This is the answer they shall then have heard:

‘Bahram himself once raised this marker here,Through wisdom, might, and farr that all revere.’

Through Heytal and the Turks’ lands, hill and plain,No trace of Khoshnavaz shall there remain.”

The Khan’s son, Khoshnavaz, heard news of war:Pirooz had crossed the Jihun with his corps.

Bahram’s breached pact brought bloodshed, strife, and fear;A veteran scribe was summoned to appear.

He wrote a letter to the king of earth,And asked that God should bless his royal worth.

He said, “If you forsake the pact you swore,I cannot count you royal any more.

Your ancestors had never acted so,Those sovereign Shahs whose justice used to glow.

By breaking Iran’s compact with your hand,You cast down royal honor through the land.

You force me now to break the treaty too,And draw the sword in self-defense from you.”

He wrote at length and sent abundant gifts,With one whose speech the heart to wisdom lifts.

A noble horseman, eloquent and wise,Went with the letter under watchful skies.

When Shah Pirooz had read the written word,He raged against that prince for what he heard.

He told the envoy, “Rise and go from here;Return to that base man and make this clear:

‘Bahram agreed on Tarak as your bound;There peace had fixed the limits of your ground.

But now as far as mighty Jihun’s strand,Hill, plain, and desert fall beneath your hand.

Behold, I lead a vast and noble force,With warriors eager for the battle’s course.

I shall not leave upon the earth belowThe shade of Khoshnavaz its length to throw.’”

The envoy flew like dust before the gale,And set before Khoshnavaz the full tale.

When Khoshnavaz had heard what had been said,And read the answer sent in anger’s stead,

He called his scattered followers to arms,And led the army forth to war’s alarms.

He fixed upon a spear the written deed,That Bahram gave his forebear in his need.

Its meaning was: “Jihun shall be our bound,”A frontier fixed where royal faith was found.

He chose one marked among his fighting men,Shrewd-hearted, eloquent with tongue and pen.

He said, “Approach Pirooz with courteous speech;Hear his reply and what he has to teach.

Say this: ‘Your forebear’s treaty I shall raiseUpon a spear before the armies’ gaze.

That king of lofty fortune made this clear;His pact shall shine like sunlight on my spear.

All those endowed with wisdom shall beholdThe words of that just king, proclaimed of old.

I shall be praised, while you shall bear the blame,And men will brand your godlessness with shame.

God, those who worship Him, and all your folkWill not approve injustice’s bitter yoke.

No man should seek injustice or descendTo break the treaties kingly rulers penned.

No Shah like Bahram, resolute and just,Has worn the crown, or earned the people’s trust.

God is my witness; yet what man am ITo summon Him to witness from on high?

You march unjustly now to bring me low,And lead your mighty army as my foe.

In this you will not gain victorious fame,Nor gather fruit from Fortune’s honored name.

From this time on, I send no envoys more;God will suffice to aid me in this war.’”

The envoy sped like dust with this reply,And spoke to Shah Pirooz beneath the sky.

When that proud Shah had read the answer through,His anger rose; no gentler course he knew.

He said, “A man who knew the world would shunSuch reckless words as these his pen has spun.

But if from Chakh one step toward the streamYou take, my spearheads in your path shall gleam.”

The messenger to Khoshnavaz returned,And privately told all that he had learned.

He said, “I see no reverence in his breastFor God; no counselor checks his fierce unrest.

He cares for nothing but revenge and strife,And does not walk by God’s command in life.”

When Khoshnavaz heard this, he turned in prayer,And sought from God His shelter and His care:

“O Judge whose judgments guard the cause of right,O Master of the dust and wind in flight,

You know Pirooz, unjust in word and aim,Has no more prowess than Bahram could claim.

He speaks unjustly, eager to extendHis realm by sword and make new kingdoms bend.

Break from the earth the footing where he stands;Leave strength, wit, courage empty in his hands.”

Around his troops he dug a trench and laidA covering across the breach he made.

More than a kamand’s length the trench ran deep;Full twenty arash spanned its sides so steep.

This done, he called on God and marched his forceFrom Samarkand along the battle’s course.

Across the field, rash Shah Pirooz came fast,And drove his troops before him like a blast.

On this side Khoshnavaz drew near the snare,His heart weighed down by fear and anxious care.

Karnays and tabiras rang through both lines,And dust made black the sky with war’s designs.

From both sides arrows fell in storming rain,Till blood ran down like water on the plain.

Then Shah Pirooz spurred on his horse ahead,With gorz and Roman helmet as he led.

When he drew near the Turkish chieftain’s line,Khoshnavaz wheeled in flight by his design.

Pirooz pursued; his troops swept on in force,Fierce as the wind upon their headlong course.

He plunged into the hidden fosse with allThe chiefs and lions doomed that day to fall.

There Narsi fell, his brother of renown,And glorious Qobad too was hurled down.

Great men and princes of the royal racePlunged headlong in that dark and fatal place.

Seven kings of name with golden helmets fell,And none could break that trench’s deadly spell.

Then Khoshnavaz returned with heart elate,And stood beside the fosse to view their fate.

He raised the living from that ruinous grave,While earth wept for the fortunes of the brave.

Shah Pirooz, chief of chiefs, the royal-crowned,Lay with his head and back crushed on the ground.

Of all those kings, Qobad lived on that day;The wind swept throne and army both away.

Then Khoshnavaz advanced in proud content;His troops behind him followed where he went.

He gave the foemen’s baggage up as spoil;The ranks dissolved in turmoil on the soil.

Some men were seized as captives in the field;More lay upon the ground, their wounds congealed.

It does not suit a monarch to seek more;The greedy heart finds ruin at its core.

The restless sky ordains one common fateFor subject, servant, king, and high estate.

It crushes those whom it has nursed and fed,Though wisdom guard the path on which you tread.

No man forever dwells upon this earth;Take righteousness as stores of lasting worth.

When Khoshnavaz had crossed the trench, his forceSeized all the baggage, every load and horse.

They bound Qobad’s two feet in iron chains,And showed no care for royal blood or reigns.

When news reached Iran of that fatal fight,And how Pirooz had fallen from his height,

A cry of anguish rose through all the land,For princes fallen by the Turkish hand.

When these dread tidings reached the court of state,Balawsh came down, and mourned his father’s fate.

He tore his hair, and on the throne he spreadThe dust of grief in mourning for the dead.

Throughout Iran, from troops and towns rose cries;Men, women, children mourned beneath the skies.

With hair torn out and faces scratched in woe,They sought a king, and sought which way to go.

They asked how they might flee from Iran’s plain,Should horsemen come from where their kings lay slain.

A month Balawsh sat grieving for the dead,His face all scratched, with dust upon his head.

The troops and the Mobadan sought him out,With warriors and sages, grave, devout.

They spoke at length in counsel wise and clear,With words of profit for his heart and ear.

They set him on the throne with one acclaim,And showered gold and jewels in his name.

When seated on the throne, he said, “O chiefs,Seek out the sages’ wisdom and beliefs.

You shall receive due honor in my sight,When on my dark affairs you cast your light.

Let all who strive for good throughout the landBe sure their deeds do not thwart my command.

The wicked man who would his king defy,And lift himself to stand as great as I,

First I shall offer counsel wise and sound;If spurned, then with his blood shall I be crowned.

If any subject brings a grievance hereAgainst these troops who hold religion dear,

The unjust man shall answer for the grief;And I will tear his treason, root and leaf.

Take no bold liberties with kings; keep checkedYour tongue; to pious kings show more respect.

The king is poison, then a healing brew;You seek in poison what can rescue you.

In all things seek to give the Shah delight;Approach his court with joy, and not with fright.

When anger grips the king, seek pardon still;Praise him for both his justice and his ill.

When you declare, ‘I am both wise and strong,In every field of knowledge never wrong,’

Know then that ignorance has made you blind;To your own self, do not become unkind.

If you obey the counsel I declare,And keep these words with diligence and care,

You shall receive the treasures of wise kings;No harm can rise from what true knowledge brings.”

The chieftains marveled at his wise command,And blessed him, all the leaders of the land.

They left the palace, joyful and content,Entrusting him to God before they went.

Their hearts held love; their tongues spoke words of praise:“May such a king endure through endless days!”

When Shah Pirooz was marching off to war,He sought a trusted Pahlevan of lore,

A man of counsel, weight, and noble mind,To guard the crown and throne he left behind.

He bade him stand as young Balawsh’s friend,A loyal heart on whom he could depend.

Now Sofrye, exalted in the state,Was fit to bear this charge of royal weight.

From Shiraz came this seasoned man of might,A lofty chief, a sepahbod born to fight.

Exalted both in heart and rank and name,A marzban strong in dignity and fame.

Zabulistan, Kabul, and Ghaznin’s land,With Bost were placed beneath his guiding hand.

When tidings came of Shah Pirooz’s fall,Who spurned wise counsel and was lost to all,

His lashes drenched his cheeks; in grief he toreThe garments that the Pahlevans all wore.

The warriors took their helmets off to showTheir grief, and mourned a month in bitter woe.

Then Sofrye asked, “Can young Balawsh repayThe blood of Shah Pirooz in battle’s fray?

That effort cannot thrive; I see it plain:The royal crown is black with smoke and pain.”

He gathered scattered soldiers to his side,And sounded all the kousts with martial pride.

Dust rose upon the plain; from every landA hundred thousand swordsmen joined his band.

He paid his troops, relieved each soldier’s lack,And stirred the hearts that burned for the attack.

He called a sweet-tongued envoy, shrewd and wise,Fit for the court, with keen and watchful eyes.

Though seared with grief, wan-faced and wet with tears,He wrote wise counsel for Balawsh’s ears.

He named Jamshid and Kay Khosrow to show,With Kay Qobad, the counsel kings should know.

He sent Balawsh this counsel to allayHis grief: “Let death not take your peace away.

All men must taste of death; choose patience now,Choose lasting fame, and calm your royal brow.

What comes upon the wind returns with breath;Some call it justice, others wrongful death.

With your approval I shall arm for fight,And seek revenge beneath the heavens’ light.

For sun and moon cry out from heaven’s heightFor Shah Pirooz’s blood and royal right.”

The envoy left, while Sofrye wept in pain;Like pheasant feathers, he arrayed his train.

From Zabulistan he marched, Marv his aim,With vengeance in his heart, his blood aflame.

He chose a wary messenger again,Whose words could soften proud and hostile men.

He said to one who served the scribal art,“Rise now; your pen has work to stir the heart.

Write Khoshnavaz: ‘You witless fox, whose willIs bent, like the Divs’, on devising ill!

Before God’s sight you stand in guilt and shame;Your very shirt shall weep to bear your name.

False lord, for what you did to him, my bladeShall take revenge; your debt shall be repaid.

You slew a guiltless man, the king of kings,And loosed a feud from which destruction springs.

The grandson of great Bahram was your prey;You stirred a feud that will not pass away.

Why, at the tabiras, did you not goAnd fawn before him like a dog bowed low?

Your forebear by this royal house was fed;Your father served great Bahram for his bread.

At Marv I stand; I come to end your race,And leave of Heytalians neither sign nor trace.

The captives and the wealth you took in fight,My sword of vengeance shall reclaim outright.

To Marv I shall bring dust from Turan’s plain;No child or kin of yours shall here remain.

By God’s command, I will strike off your head;A sea of blood across your realm shall spread.

Beneath my army’s feet shall come your end;His soul to God a plea for right shall send.’”

The envoy took the letter on his way,A lion fierce and eager for the fray.

He came in anger, stood before the throne,And paid no homage; his contempt was shown.

He gave the letter; then the chief withdrew.“Read this in private,” said the king, “all through.”

The scribe replied, “This letter is a hoardOf arrow, gorz, and scimitar and sword.”

Brave Khoshnavaz was deeply grieved that dayBy all that Sofrye had dared to say.

He set himself at once to make replyTo good and ill beneath the turning sky:

“We fear Yazdan and Fortune’s changing ways;God’s servants keep the pacts of former days.

I sent Pirooz the pact the Shahs had made,And counseled him, but he would not be swayed.

From Bahram Goor that ancient pact arose,But Pirooz spurned the peace its wisdom chose.

He sought revenge, while I sought out a wayTo meet the danger as he pressed the fray.

When line met line in battle on the plain,The stars raged over him with death and pain.

Your Shah was slain, but not by will of ours;He broke his oath beneath the circling powers.

Since he broke faith with kings who ruled upright,His youth knew not a single day’s delight.

The Maker did not favor him that day;Earth seemed to seize his foot and bar his way.

Who treads his forebears’ treaties in the dust,And casts aside the right, betrays the trust,

Will be like Pirooz on the battlefield,Crushed in a dusty ditch and forced to yield.

Come here: my ranks are mustered, fresh and whole;No man or coin is missing from the roll.”

The envoy bore the letter from that place,And reached Sofrye through a week’s hard pace.

He read it, cursed aloud, and all aroundThe karnays and brass cymbals shook with sound.

To Kashmihan, Sofrye led his array,Whose dust hid sun and sky and light of day.

They journeyed onward as the days passed by,And made the road their home beneath the sky.

When tidings came to Khoshnavaz, he wentToward the plain, on war and vengeance bent.

He reached Baigand and chose a battlefield,Where heaven’s turning eye by troops was sealed.

On his side, vengeful Sofrye came on,A storm-wind raging till the light was gone.

When night had fallen, Sofrye barred the wayWith rested elephants in close array.

The outposts walked their rounds on either side,And warrior-shouts rang through the darkness wide.

The sentries’ challenges, the bells’ harsh cry,Rose from both armies to the darkened sky.

The sun broke through the clouds and shed its light;The dales and deserts shone like crystal bright.

Both armies then prepared themselves for war,And raised their mighty banners by the score.

The warriors shouted till the dragon’s heartSeemed torn within its breast and split apart.

The sky trapped vultures in the arrows’ flood;The earth became a pool of chieftains’ blood.

Wherever one might look across the plain,Lay heaps of warriors, wounded or slain.

Then Sofrye charged out from the army’s core,With all his troops amid the battle’s roar.

Khoshnavaz rode from his vantage-ground,His sword of vengeance flashing all around.

Then Sofrye struck his head; the club’s great mightSeemed to dislodge the heavens from their height.

Khoshnavaz escaped and spurred his steedDown from the heights in flight at headlong speed.

But when he saw that Fortune proved unkind,He turned his rein and left the field behind.

He showed his back; then Sofrye pursued,A desert storm in fierce and wrathful mood.

His driving spear struck fleeing warriors dead,And left the Turkish ranks in ruin spread.

He captured many nobles in the fray;More fell by sword and arrow on that day.

He chased them to Kuhandizh’s fortress wall,While slain and wounded choked the road for all.

From ramparts Khoshnavaz looked out and sawHis troops dispersed by battle’s iron law.

Across the desert’s hills and dales they fled,While all the road was strewn with armored dead.

The road was heaped with precious arms and spoil,As though a jeweled garden decked the soil.

The soldiers heaped the spoil beneath the sky,And brought Sofrye war’s harvest, piled up high.

They brought the battle-gear, the girdles, steeds,And slaves, the gathered fruit of warlike deeds.

They made a heap as high as Alborz’s height,A mountain of the spoil of that day’s fight.

He paid no heed to all that Turkish gain,But gave it to his soldiers on the plain.

Then Sofrye addressed his men and said,“Today our cause has prospered; foes have fled.

Through Fortune’s favor we have gained our aim,Yet idleness would now dishonor fame.

When morning’s sun lifts up its hand on high,We march like lions where those ramparts lie.

We must attack that fortress, come what may,And avenge the king of kings without delay.”

His soldiers struck their chests and had their say;Each offered counsel in a different way.

So passed the night until the heavenly domeGrew bright as morning called the sun from home.

Then all the kousts resounded, sharp and clear,And Sofrye rode forth as dawn drew near.

An envoy came from Khoshnavaz that day,And met the sepahbod upon his way.

He said, “From battle’s bloodshed in the field,Come grief and death, the only fruits they yield.

Shall we, two men deemed wise as well as brave,Send both our souls toward Hell and to the grave?

If you still seek the road that wisdom shows,Then know that God’s own will ordained our woes.

Pirooz fell not by chance, but by fate’s plan:His months and years had run their measured span.

He was to blame for breaking treaty’s trust,For casting honey down into the dust.

He chose the bitter colocynth instead;What had to come descended on his head.

Blessed is the man who keeps harsh deeds at bay,And will not choose to walk that bitter way.

The captives and all spoil our armies won,The goods abandoned when the war was done,

The gold, the silver, and the uncut gems,The steeds, the weapons, thrones, and diadems,

Pirooz’s treasures and his troops’ wealth too,All shall be sent back, sepahbod, to you.

Then, proud and satisfied, march home again,And lead in honor all your fighting men.

I will not trespass on Iranian ground;Keep Bahram’s pact; do not transgress its bound.

The king of kings apportioned earth of old:Turan and Chin are ours, Iran you hold.”

When Sofrye received the envoy’s word,He called the soldiers in, that all be heard.

Before them all he bade the envoy stand:“Repeat the foeman’s words before this band.”

The envoy spoke and left no matter veiled;He told them all his master’s words entailed.

Then Sofrye stood, his purpose to declare:“What course seems wisest? Speak with honest care.

What should our judgment be upon this deed?”The troops replied, “Command us; we will heed.

It is for you to frame and seal the peace;Your wisdom makes all doubt and discord cease.

None knows Iran’s true interest more than you;You are our king, our lord, our leader true.”

Then Sofrye addressed his noble chiefs:“Our course today must turn from further griefs.

The only policy that fits the hourIs not to waste our strength against that tower.

I will lead back the army toward our land,With speed and prudence under my command.

Qobad, the son of King Pirooz, is heldWithin their hands, by iron bonds compelled.

With him the high Mobad, Ardeshir, remains,And all the army’s leaders, held in chains.

If we fight Khoshnavaz, the war runs long;Its little gain will breed a greater wrong.

They then may slaughter all the men of name,Qobad and Ardeshir, to seal our shame.

Were Qobad not exposed to this dark fate,The Mobad’s peril would hold lesser weight.

Yet if the Turks should harm the captive’s life,Iran will echo long with grief and strife.

Till Resurrection, this disgrace will stay,And strife among our chiefs will not decay.

We therefore give a courteous answer now,And seek wise counsel under peace’s vow.

Perhaps we yet shall see Qobad restored;May kingship never lack him as its lord.

May God preserve him, Iran’s crown and pride,With Ardeshir and all men at his side.”

The soldiers blessed him, saying, “This is right;This treaty is our precedent and light.

This is our faith, our settled law and way.”Then Sofrye called back the envoy that day.

He spoke to him with gentle, measured pace:“Enough; the act of God has shaped this case.

The world conceals the evil it would do,And tells no soul the harm it has in view.

The foremost men of Iran held in chainAre Prince Qobad and Ardeshir in pain.

The high Mobad, with all the captive restWhose feet in fetters suffer at your behest,

Send them with honor fitting their degree,And let them come to us, each captive free.

Moreover, all the booty in your hand,Dinars and crowns and wealth from every land,

Send every item here, before this band,To me and all the chiefs who round me stand.

We will not stretch our hands to spoil or slay;We worship God and need no blood today.

On day ten we shall cross Jihun, and thenOur feet shall never tread your soil again.

Give ear to everything that I have said,And bear it back to him by whom you are led.”

The envoy spurred to Khoshnavaz’s court,And gave the message whole in his report.

Then Khoshnavaz rejoiced at what he heard,And acted swiftly on the envoy’s word.

He freed Qobad from bonds without delay,And stripped the iron fetters all away.

The Mobad Ardeshir he freed from thrall,With other captives pent behind the wall.

He gathered all the plunder from the ground,The scattered wealth that on the field was found.

He sent Shah Pirooz’s throne and royal crown,With all the spoils seized when his troops went down.

A trusted Pahlevan conveyed the loadTo Sofrye with the honor he was owed.

When soldiers gazed on Qobad, freed and hale,Their hearts, so long in grief, no more were pale.

They hailed Qobad and Ardeshir restored,With captives freed before their rightful lord.

The mighty men rushed from their tents to raiseTheir hands to heaven in their joy and praise.

They thanked Yazdan whose mercy let them seeThe king of kings’ own son from fetters free.

Whole in his limbs he stood, with all the restWhose loss had left Iran so sore distressed.

Forthwith the chief broke camp and took the road,Glad and triumphant, lightened of grief’s load.

He crossed Jihun in triumph, homeward bound,With Ardeshir and Qobad, safe and sound.

When tidings reached Iran, the people knewWhat mighty deeds their Sofrye could do.

They heard how war with Khoshnavaz was done,And how his policy this peace had won.

They heard, “He has returned from war with fame;Qobad is freed from fetters and from shame.

And Sofrye brings Ardeshir home in peace,With every captive granted glad release.

He crossed Jihun and reached Iran’s domain;His army fills the mountain and the plain.”

Such shouts arose that one would almost sayThey deafened all who heard them on that day.

The prudent nobles rose in haste to meetThe victors, and their homage was complete.

Balawsh then had a golden throne preparedWhere Qobad and the Pahlevan were paired.

When Sofrye journeyed home to great renown,The nobles gathered, circling round the crown.

Balawsh rode forth with all his troops that day,To greet Sofrye and young Qobad on their way.

When he beheld Qobad released from chains,He clasped him close, rejoicing in his gains.

For Heytal’s deeds and Chin’s he clasped his head;Then all into the royal hall were led.

Their hearts were sore, on retribution bent;The sting of old defeat was not yet spent.

At his command they spread the festive board;Wine, harp, and song were brought before their lord.

Yet grief for generous Pirooz held them fast,And little joy could banish what had passed.

The singers praised Sofrye’s high renown,And harped Turan’s defeat before the crown.

Each chieftain fixed his hopeful eyes on him;Their former dread before his fame grew dim.

All those who sought revenge throughout the landOn Khoshnavaz backed Sofrye’s command.

They found their joy in him and eased their care;Their minds were freed from fears they used to bear.

Four years went by; no equal could be found,And his commands prevailed the kingdom round.

Nothing occurred except as he decreed;Whatever he desired became the deed.

When all the realm submitted to his will,He moved Balawsh from the throne, gently still.

He said, “You cannot rule the realm with skill,Nor tell the good from those whose deeds are ill.

Your crooked pride has led your rule astray;You make of kingship nothing more than play.

Qobad is wiser in affairs of state,More fit than you to bear the kingdom’s weight.”

Balawsh withdrew in silence to his hall;He dared not answer or resist at all.

He could not tell Sofrye, “Go your way,”But sought to ease his loss with words that day:

“This modest seat will never burden me;From toil and pain and curses it is free.”