Book E6Khosrow Parviz

From heaven’s vault that turns in ceaseless flight,What hope has man against its restless might?

One head receives the crown by Fate’s decree;Another feeds the monsters of the sea.

One wanders bare of head and bare of feet,Denied all rest, repose, or safe retreat;

Another, nursed in luxury, arrayedIn beaver pelts and shimmering brocade.

Yet both are caught within destruction’s net,And both lie down in dust when death is met.

Had wise men not been born, they would not knowSuch days of hardship, whether high or low.

Now let us take again the thread, and tellThe hearer what in Khosrow’s life befell.

When Khosrow sat upon the golden throne,Men came whose worth and skill were widely known.

They called the great men to the royal hall,And on the new crown let their jewels fall.

He told the Mobad, “Only those whom FateHas favored gain this crown and royal state.

May all my work be founded on the right,For rule without due justice weakens might.

Our will is peace with all beneath the sun;We seek no strife or war with anyone.

This throne, this fortune, rich and newly won,Are mine by grace of God, the Holy One.

Now give your hearts to follow my commands,And keep three pledges that my rule demands:

First, never harm the pious or the just;Next, never rise and break your sovereign’s trust.

Third, shun men’s goods: the smoke returns with painTo those who burn another’s heart for gain.

Now wash your hands of all such petty greed;Let righteousness direct your every deed.

Whatever dignifies mankind will findApproval in the wise and upright mind.

We bear no malice toward the loyal greatWho keep the laws and honors of the state;

Whoever joins pure virtue to high birthShall live in peace and dignity on earth.

Your welfare in our keeping rests secure;We shall not yield to Ahriman’s dark lure!”

All those who heard him blessed his crown and reign,And praised the Fortune he had come to gain.

They left rejoicing, loud in praises deep,While smiles of gladness through the court did sweep;

Yet when the cheering ceased and failed the light,Grief for his blinded father ruled the night.

When ebony had vanished from the sky,And distant cockcrow rang its morning cry,

The young king came before his father’s place,With wounded heart and deeply troubled face.

He saw his sire and broke into lament,Then bowed before him, sorrow-worn and spent.

He lingered long before his father, dumbWith grief, then spoke of service yet to come:

“Ill-fated king, whose life preserves the nameOf Anooshirvan and his royal fame,

Had I stood by you, none would dare to slipA needle’s point against your fingertip.

Command me now; your sorrow fills my heart,And makes it bleed to see you bear its smart.

I am your slave, if you command me so,To guard your head through every wound and blow.

I seek no throne, no crown, no armed array;Before your feet I lay my head this day.”

Hormizd replied, “O prudent son and heir,This day of misery will fade to air.

Three things alone I ask, and nothing more:First, grant your presence, which I now implore;

Each morning, when the dawn unlocks the skies,Console my blinded hours with words I prize.

The second: send a sage to share my place,Well versed in lore of battles and the chase;

Let him bring ancient books of kings of old,To soothe my darkness with the tales they told.

The third: your mother’s brothers must no moreBehold the daylight on this earthly floor:

Slay Bandvi and slay Gostaham outright;Avenge the needle that destroyed my sight!”

Khosrow said: “King, may foes be swept away;Let none who does not mourn your lost eyes stay.

Though grief be held in secret in the heart,It is enough that he should feel its smart.

But weigh what strength may meet us in attack:Bahram has countless horsemen at his back.

He stands as champion, mighty in the fight,With armed battalions terrible in might.

If we lay hands on Gostaham today,And strike down Bandvi in our disarray,

Our army will disperse before our foes,And leave us naked to Bahram’s fierce blows!

Yet for a scribe well versed in ancient lore,To read the scrolls of kings and deeds of war,

And for a Pahlevan to sit beside,I pledge companions faithful, true, and tried.

Bear this dark lot until the tempest cease;Let patient wisdom guide your soul to peace.”

He spoke, then left in tears, his heart oppressed;He told no one the secret he possessed.

The son was gentler-hearted than the king;Hear what an ancient sage was heard to sing:

“A gentle youth whose words are sweet and kindExcels a monarch of unyielding mind.”

The man of virtue and the soul depravedAlike in earth’s cold bosom lie engraved.

Bahram heard how Fortune struck that king,And what a ruin Fate had come to bring.

They branded both his eyes and quenched their light,Two garden-born narcissi plunged in night.

His son now sat upon his royal throne,His Fortune trampled, kingship overthrown.

Bahram was struck with wonder at the news;Distressed, he turned within himself to muse.

He bade them bear the tabiras afield,And bear the mighty banner there, revealed.

He packed the baggage, called his men to horse,And girded for a clash with Khosrow’s force.

His army, like a moving mountain, pressedTo Nahravan, with boldness in its breast.

When Khosrow heard, the news disturbed his mind;Such force and haste in Bahram were combined.

He sent out spies to mark the moving train,And learn what drove him onward to the plain.

“First learn if all his troops are one in aim,Or if delay may yet affect our claim.

Observe where in the army he will ride:The center, baggage train, or either side.

Observe how he holds court, and note his sport:Whether he hunts afield; then bring report.”

The spies went out, observed, and came again,To tell the Shah in private of those men.

They said, “His troops, from chief to youngest boy,All serve Bahram with one consenting joy.

Now, on the march, he rides the central ground,Now left or right, now where the packs are found.

He shares his secrets with his people; theyHave no need to seek strangers on their way.

He sits in audience as monarchs do,And rides into the fields to hunt there too.

He hunts with cheetahs, as the kings have done;In zeal, few riders match this tireless one.

He speaks of battles fought by kings of old,And reads the tales in Dimna’s book retold.”

Then Khosrow told his minister with sighs,“A long and heavy task before us lies.

When Bahram charges at the hostile line,He breaks the hearts of dragons in the brine.

He learned the royal customs from the Shah,The ways that make men hold a king in awe.

Kalila, Dimna; both advise his mind;No scribe with sharper counsel could he find.”

Then Khosrow said to Bandvi and his kin,To Gostaham, “Our trials now begin.”

When Gordvi, Radman; Armenia’s lord;And Shapur, Andiyan, came in accord,

Those shrewd chiefs met in secret with the king,All seasoned men, well versed in warfare’s sting.

He said, “O mighty warriors, hear my plea:When wisdom shines, it lights what men can see.

Then knowledge is the jowshan that we wear,Which nothing but death’s sword can pierce or tear.

Against that sword a steel helm turns to wax;No mortal arm can parry its attacks.

In years I am the youngest of you here;I will not let youth’s judgment rule my sphere.

Instruct me what to do and how to stand;What cure can heal the wounds that grip the land?”

A Mobad said, “May life be yours, and light;May minds find sustenance in your clear sight.

Since first the world’s deep mysteries were known,Four shares of wisdom have to men been shown.

One share belongs to kings, for in their raceBoth farr and wisdom rightly hold their place.

Another share the pious may possess;The third serves those who near the monarch press.

For wisdom will not hide from those who standIn service near the ruler of the land.

The dehqan’s portion is a meager dole;Of all this wisdom, little fills his soul.

The thankless have no wisdom to their name,Nor those who fail to know God’s holy claim.

If now the king will heed the sage’s word,And fix his mind on everything he heard,

He soon will eat the fruit that wisdom brings,When counsel settles in the hearts of kings.”

The Shah replied, “Were I to write in goldThese words, their luster never would grow old.

The Mobad’s words are jewels, clear and bright;Yet I have other thoughts to bring to light.

When our two armies meet in war’s array,And spearheads rise to Gemini that day,

Alone I shall ride from the center line,And call to Bahram; shame shall not be mine.

Before both sides I shall show peace and grace,And praise him openly before his face.

If he accepts, so much the better; whoAt court could serve as well as he could do?

But if he seeks for battle, I will fight,And range my troops against his hostile might.”

All leaders praised the scheme the young Shah planned;The great applauded him on every hand.

They hailed him king of earth, and all replied,“May Fortune’s ills be turned from you aside.

May victory, grace, majesty, and crownBe yours, O king of kings of high renown.”

He answered, “May it be. Enough. May weFrom rout and separation all be free.”

He led his army out from Tisfoon’s plain,And pitched the royal pavilions of his train.

As both great armies neared the battleground,The air re-echoed with a martial sound.

The world’s bright lamp sank down, its light withdrawn,And night shook out its tresses till the dawn.

Scouts came from both the armies, watchful-eyed,To guard their troops against the other side.

When night, scared by the sword of day, had fled,Dry-lipped and trembling from the morning red,

The tymbals sounded loudly from each camp,And Sol led war forth with his fiery lamp.

The Shah bade Bandvi, Gostaham prepare;They put on iron helms for war to wear.

The Shah rode with those chiefs toward the flowOf Nahravan, to meet his marching foe.

A scout rode up to Bahram and he said,“A force lies two bowshots from us ahead.”

On hearing this, he moved his troops to fight,And called the veterans to his side outright.

He rode a piebald charger, nobly bred,With musk-black tail and proud, uplifted head.

Its hoofs were bronze; his Indian blade flashed bright,Its stroke like lightning bursting through the night.

He drove the horse like lightning through the plain;Izad Gashasp rode leftward in his train.

Hamdan Gashasp and Yalan-sina rode,Their hearts intent on strife along the road.

Three Turks, descended from the Khan, now sworeTo ease the burden that his army bore:

“If we should see the Shah ride out alone,Away from all the troops he calls his own,

Seized or slain, he shall be yours; your men shall restFrom every trouble by which they are pressed.”

Khosrow held the near bank, Bahram the far,While Nahravan flowed on, a liquid bar.

Both armies watched the two across the flow,To see how Bahram would approach his foe.

Bahram and Khosrow met; the king showed cheer,The other’s face was grim as he drew near.

The young Shah rode an ivory-gray in pride,With gold and rubies crowned, his chiefs beside.

His robe from Chin was gold brocade in light,A blaze of kingship in the army’s sight.

Gordvi advanced before him as his guide,With Gostaham and Bandvi, both allied.

Kharrad Barzin among them now drew near,A golden helmet flashing bright and clear.

In iron, silver, gold, the chiefs rode by;Their gems and golden girdles caught the eye.

Bahram grew pale with fury at the scene,And spoke before his chiefs in tones of spleen:

“This low-born wretch, this miscreant of shame,Has risen now to manhood, power, and name.

The down is scarcely written on his face,Yet he assumes the royal crown and place.

Now, like Fereydoon, he would seize the throne,And make the gorz and diadem his own.

He takes the style of kings with brazen breath,But soon this world will close on him in death.

This dark-souled bastard leads his troops in pride,With Anooshirvan’s fortune at his side.

Search through his troops and see if any manCould face my sword or match me if he can.

I see no single warrior in that massWho could confront me while one breath might pass.

Now he shall see the work that men can do,The steeds, the swords, the gorzes striking through.

Clubs strike, and arrows rain down from the sky;Once more the heroes raise their battle cry.

When I advance, the elephants give way;The mountains crumble at my voice that day.

The lion flees before my battle yell;Upon the sea my blade shall cast a spell.

The desert I shall fill with blood,” he said,Then spurred his piebald charger on ahead.

As though a homa flew, the charger sped;The army watched, astonished, where he led.

He chose a narrow stretch on which to fight,And rode to Nahravan in Khosrow’s sight.

With him rode several men of Iran’s force,All bent on war with Khosrow in their course.

Khosrow said, “Noble chiefs, make known to meWhich man is Bahram, that my eyes may see.”

Gordvi replied: “O king, observe the steed,That piebald courser of impetuous breed;

The rider clothed in white, with baldric black,Who surveys the field from that charger’s back:

That is Bahram!” The Shah replied in scorn:“That swarthy giant, withered, battle-worn,

Who flaunts his piebald with such haughty show?”Gordvi replied: “He comes to work you woe.”

Then Khosrow said, “Ask him whose back is bowed;His answer will be coarse, his manner loud.

His pig-like nose and sleepy eyes revealThe anger that his heart cannot conceal.

An enemy of God stands in that place;I see no sign of service in his face.

No man, I think, can rule his stubborn head,Or change the path his greedy heart would tread.”

To Gostaham and Bandvi then he spoke:“A proverb suits this man who spurns the yoke:

If to the load the ass will not draw near,Then bring the heavy load beside him here.

If some bold foul Div fooled Bahram’s sight,How should he see the way of God and right?

For hearts that ache with greed are never stayedBy all the counsels sages have conveyed.

Bahram wants war; no justice guides his mind.We must weigh all the outcomes we may find.

Who knows which force shall triumph when they meet,Which side shall rise, which side endure defeat?

His troops stand well-arrayed and battle-bound;Their chief would prove what strength in him is found.

Bahram is grim, a Div who leads the band,With wolf-like fighters gathered at command.

With your consent, lest shame should cling to me,I first will offer peace for all to see.

To greet him first is better than to showA weakness when in battle with the foe.

If he replies in fairness and restraint,His recent wrongs may yet be cleansed of taint.

I will bestow some corner of the earth,And win his thanks by bounty and by worth.

Our war and field endeavors then may cease;This gain is ours if battle turns to peace.

When kings can bargain wisely and succeed,The pious joy in such a prudent deed.”

Then Gostaham replied, “O king, live long;Your speech is strewn with gems of wisdom strong.

Do what you will; your justice lights the way,While that slave’s heart is wind and dust today.”

Then Khosrow rode before his gathered troops,And raised his voice across the hostile groups.

He called to Bahram, seeking to be heard,And sent across the ranks a peaceful word:

“Illustrious man, how do you fare today,Here on the field where troops stand in array?

You are the court’s own jewel, bright and rare,The throne’s strong wealth, the army’s prop and care.

You are a lamp that brightens every feast,And when war rises, valor is released.

You are ambitious, brave, and serve God’s light;May God preserve your name in every fight.

I have weighed all your case, and I intendTo welcome you with honor as a friend.

I will receive you and your ranks with song,And glad my heart will be to see you strong.

I shall appoint you chief throughout Iran,And place you first among each Pahlevan.

For you I shall make prayer to God Most High,That Fortune keeps your glory near the sky.”

When brave Bahram heard Khosrow’s courteous call,He checked his black-tailed piebald before all.

He saluted from the saddle, paused in pride,Then answered sharply from the other side:

“I stand at ease, in Fortune blithe and high;May greatness never lift you to the sky.

You have no grasp of kingship or its right,Nor what is justice in the world’s clear sight.

Alanons’ king would rise to rule the land,With only luckless men to lend a hand.

I have considered you and shaped a snare,A noose well-twisted for your neck to bear.

I will erect a lofty gibbet soon,And hang you under sun and watching moon.

Your hands shall be made fast within the coil,And Fortune’s bitterness shall be your spoil.”

When Khosrow heard, his cheeks grew pale and wan;He knew Bahram would press the battle on.

He knew he would not quit the crown and throne,Nor cast away the claim he called his own.

He answered, “Ingrate, good men do not speakSuch words to guests who come their peace to seek.

When guests arrive from far before your gate,Do you revile them at the feast in hate?

Such conduct is no custom among kings,Nor Pahlevans from whom true honor springs.

No Iranian or Arab, I say,Has treated guests in such a shameful way.

The wise would blush to hear such words from you;Do not embrace ingratitude as true.

When guests salute you with a gracious face,Only a Div’s dark heart returns disgrace.

I fear ill days await your road and reign,For all your counsels wander into pain.

Your remedy is in that King’s commandWho lives forever, ruling sea and land.

Yet in His name you sin and show disgrace,With fear at heart and shame upon your face.

You call me Alanons’ king, yet you knowMy lineage: why then abase me so?

Am I unfit to wear the crown and reign,With Anooshirvan’s blood within each vein?

Hormizd, my father, wore the royal sign;Whom do you know more worthy in this line?”

Bahram replied, “Mad wretch in word and deed,Hear now the answer that your follies breed.

You speak of guests; your tale is old and worn,Your nature evil from the day you were born.

You are no sage, no Pahlevan to fear,No man whose worth commands a soldier’s ear.

You ruled Alanons, seated on their throne;A slave of slaves has rank above your own.

You are a worthless evildoer, base,No Shah or chief that mighty men would face.

But men bless me as Shah. I will not letYour foot on earth remain where mine is set.

When I called you ill-starred, a mean disgrace,Unfit to govern any royal place,

I said it, worthless Shah; may crown and stateBe never yours by Fortune, will, or fate.

Iran’s men are your foes in heart and hand;They will uproot your power from the land.

They will tear skin and veins and leave your bonesFor dogs to gnaw beside the broken stones.”

Khosrow replied, “Knave, why so fierce and proud?Foul speech disgraces men before the crowd.

From first to last your nature has been clear;Sound wisdom never found a lodging here.

Blessed is the man who nurtures wisdom’s light;A Div always talks when death comes in sight.

I would not see a Pahlevan like youDestroyed by wrath and all the harm you do.

I beg you, banish anger from your heart;Do not let wrath consume your better part.

Remember God, the just Possessor’s name,And found your wisdom on His righteous claim.

A height before you towers, stark and wide,More vast than great Bistoon’s own mountainside.

If from your stock a king should ever rise,The barren thorn would fruit before men’s eyes.

Your heart is full of dreams of royal power;We shall see what God wills in His good hour.

Who taught you such an Ahrimanic creed,And trained your nature for this evil deed?

The one who counsels you and draws you nearIs plotting death with whispers in your ear.”

He spoke, dismounted from his ivory-gray,And took his costly crown off there to pray.

He turned toward the sun with grievous cries,And placed his hope in God who rules the skies.

“O glorious Judge, who brings hope’s tree to fruit,You know who wrongs Your slave with proud dispute.

You know how shame now stains the royal crown,And how this rebel seeks to pull it down.

If royalty must leave our ancient race,I will not strive to hold the royal place.

I will become a servant in the Fire,And live on herbs and milk with no desire.

I shall not hoard up coin of any kind,But wear coarse wool, to holy rites resigned.

Yet if the crown by God is meant as mine,I will serve You with justice as my sign.

Grant victory to my army in this fight;Keep crown and throne beyond that wretch’s might.

If I prevail, this crown and steed shall goTo Azargashasp, where the fires glow.

These armlets, earrings, torque, and robe, which shineWith gold and gems, I too shall give that shrine.

Upon the lapis dome I shall let streamTen bags of dinars, yellow in their gleam.

When I return, the worshippers shall thenHave a hundred thousand silver coins again.

A city by injustice overthrown,Where wild beasts roam, I shall rebuild in stone.

Where thorns grow, lions and wild asses stray;I shall send treasure, driving want away.

Bahram’s men whom we capture shall be madeTo serve the sacred Fire with ready aid.

The Mobadan and Hirbads I shall please,And set their troubled hearts once more at ease.”

He rose, a wronged man, with the truth for shield,And turned from worship back to face the field.

Swift as a dust-cloud from his place of prayer,He called to Bahram through the battle air:

“You hellish, Div-hearted slave of rage,Remote from wisdom, grace, and every sage,

Some rabid Div, tyrannous and strong,Has blinded you and urged your heart to wrong.

Instead of wisdom, vengeance rules your breast;The Divs’ praise is what you love the best.

A thorn-choked plain seems like a town to you,And hell itself a garden fresh and new.

The lamp of wisdom in your brain is dead,And luster from your mind and heart has fled.

Deceitful magic has misled your sight;It shows a downfall in the promised height.

Today you set your hand upon a shoot,With leaves of poison and with bitter fruit.

Your stock has never reached for such a prize,Nor is such grasping honored in men’s eyes.

God has denied you royal farr and grace;No diadem befits your subject race!

Have you forgotten Gorgin, Milad’s son,Whose treacherous folly left his name undone?

Can river crabs contest the falcon’s flight?Can ravens soar above the solar height?

By holy God, by crown and royal throne,If I should meet you troopless, on your own,

And blow a chilling blast against your face,You would not stand before my kingly place.

I have heard harsh words from you, one by one,And lean on Him by whom the day is won.

If I am not fit for the kingly name,May I not live in servitude and shame.”

Bahram replied, “Possessed and witless fool,You never prized your father’s royal rule.

Your sire, the Shah, upheld the sacred creed,Wronged none and followed justice in each deed.

You flung him vilely from his royal seat,And now would set the world beneath your feet.

You would be wise and vigilant? Your stainMakes you God’s foe, with evil all your gain.

Even if Hormizd had been harsh and wrong,And earth and time against him raised their song,

It was not fit for you, his son, to reignBy sin, in Iran or Turan’s domain.

You merit neither life nor throne nor room;Far from good Fortune, you deserve a tomb.

For Hormizd I shall take revenge in fight;In Iran now the crown is mine by right.

Now make this clear to me: what upright manApproved the blinding of the royal clan?

Who said that you might sear the eyes of Shahs,Or bid another do that deed for cause?

From Sun to Fish’s back, accept this sign:The crown and royal power now are mine.”

Khosrow replied, “May I not live to knowA joy that springs from my own father’s woe.

What had been written came; what had to beHas come to pass beneath God’s own decree.

How long will empty boasts exalt your name,While you before your troops the kingship claim?

A shroud will not be yours when death draws near,Yet you proclaim yourself a monarch here.

With others’ horses, barding not your own,You play at kingship, far below the throne.

You have no house, no homeland, birth, or sign;You are a windbag king with borrowed shine.

With such false title and such empty wares,You will not mount the throne of royal heirs.

Brave men before you, with their gorzes great,Were servants, not pretenders to the state.

As lieges, they forbore the sovereign seat,And laid no claim to rule beneath their feet.

But you grow rabid, all restraint denied,And make your shame a thing you cannot hide.

God founded kingship on a threefold claim:On justice, merit, and ancestral name.

He gives it to the worthiest, the wise,To those from whom the least of harms arise.

My father gave Alanons’ realm to me,Made angry with me by your treachery.

And now God has bestowed on me the crown,The throne and greatness, by His will sent down.

I hold them from the Master of the skies,Who sees all deeds beneath His watchful eyes.

With Hormizd’s leave I took the royal place;He held the crown inherited through race.

I hold them from the priests and sages’ word,The mighty chiefs whose judgment has been heard.

I hold them by the Faith that Zardosht broughtFrom Paradise, with wisdom nobly taught.

He gave Lohrasp the word of God in light,And Goshtasb took and held that teaching bright.

All those who wronged me in this troubled hour,And those whose wealth has come into my power,

Are under my protection, foe or friend;My care shall guard them firmly to the end.

Their wives and children, too, shall know my care;I shall call all men pious everywhere.

The destitute in ruined towns shall findWealth at my hand, and leave their grief behind.

Outcast or kin, I will uphold their right,And make their ruined dwellings whole and bright.

Like Paradise, the bramble fields shall growBeneath wide skies, where men and cattle go.

I shall leave goodness in the world, a nameThat lives beyond my death in lasting fame.

Come, let our hearts be scales to weigh the right,And let our arms be strengthened for the fight.

When Shah Hormizd made justice his first choice,Both earth and time had reason to rejoice.

The son should keep the crown his father wore,The throne, the girdle, Fortune, as before.

But you, sly man of treachery and spite,First raised your hand against Hormizd in fight.

No evil came except by your command,Your spells, your plotting, and your treacherous hand.

If God shall will, in the wronged monarch’s name,I will dim light where your war-banners flame.

Now who deserves the crown? If not I, who?What other man can claim it as his due?”

Bahram replied, “The man who takes your crownIs worthy of the throne and its renown.

When Babak’s daughter bore the royal heir,The Ashkanians held sway everywhere.

Did Ardeshir not strike Ardavan dead,And set the crown by force upon his head?

Five hundred years of Sasan’s rule are spent,And cold now grow the heads of that descent.

Now comes my day for diadem and throne;The power and work are mine; the task my own.

Conquering Fortune stands allied with me;The crown is mine by Heaven’s own decree.

When I behold your troops, your face, your crown,My lion-hearted wrath will strike them down.

I will abolish all Sasanians’ fame,And scrape from every roll the Sasan name.

Their head and crown together I will tread;Their Fortune too shall lie among the dead.

Great power rightly to the Ashkanians falls,If wisdom heeds what lineage recalls.”

Khosrow replied, “If rule should leave our line,Who are you to declare, ‘That rule is mine’?

What place have you among that royal breed?What claim can spring from your ambitious seed?

What are the folk of Rey but double-faced,Their manhood weak, their counsel all debased?

From Rey a little force joined in the fightWith Iskandar and Rum’s great legions’ might.

They seized the throne; from them great evil came,Which God the Maker would condemn to shame.

From Rey came Mahiyar, vile heart, foul deed,Who darkened Esfandiyar’s royal seed.

The Iranians girded, each resolved to gainRevenge for all the evil and the pain.

The Judge who gives support crowned Ardeshir,And made his Fortune blaze across the sphere.

He was most worthy of the royal crown,Though lacking wealth, his worth won high renown.

Those heroes’ names have passed; their day is gone,And all our words are wind that wanders on.

Now who deserves the rule and lordly seatWithin this shifting world beneath our feet?”

Bahram replied, “I am the fighting manWho shall uproot the whole Kayanian clan.”

Then Khosrow answered, “You have heard the sawThat teaches noble order, rule, and law:

Do not entrust the gear of royal stateTo mean or wayward men who harbor hate.

You cannot get it back when you demand;Its power has made him drunk who holds command.

My father, rash, ill-counseled, could not knowWhat lay concealed beneath the outward show.

With worthy nobles ranged on either flank,He set the thankless one above each rank.

What did the sweet-voiced sage once say of men?Do not uplift the thankless one again.

To raise up fickle men brings toil and pain;Avoid the thankless, or your hopes are vain.

You once were brave, high-aiming, keen in fight,But nature’s flaw has dimmed your inner light.

My father placed you first among the great;You stood above the chiefs in royal state.

But favor and the silver throne’s bright snareHave made you drunk, beyond all prudent care.

Chubin is now Bahram in name and fame;That silver throne has trapped you in your claim.

You sit upon it, longing for the moon;A sepahbod would be a monarch soon.

No sage has ever held such speech as this;I do know you consort with the Div’s kiss.”

Bahram replied, “Evil man, you knowReviling is the only skill you show.

You heed no covenant, justice, law, or right,And seek a state beyond your rank and might.

You blinded Hormizd; how can such a deedBe hidden from the world or cleansed by creed?

Your friends are yours in word, but mine in heart;They wear your colors while from you they part.

The Khan is my ally, and with him standThe armies drawn from Chin at my command.

I rule with justice, sword held in my hand;No enemy can wrest from me my land.

From Pars to Rey I shall transfer the crown,And cast the Kayanian glory down.

I shall restore the customs Milad knew,And make the ancient laws of Rey come true.

I spring from famed Arash, and in the fightI am a fire no man can quench by might.

I am great Gorgin’s grandson, and I claimThe blazing force of Barzin’s sacred flame.

King Saveh meant Iran to lose its crown,Its throne and signet trampled, broken down.

He meant to raze the temples, and eraseNowruz and Sadeh from their honored place.

The Iranians would have all been enslaved,Had I not risen and my people saved.

If you would know how many marched that day,Four hundred thousand formed his vast array.

Twelve hundred elephants of war he led;The earth beneath their weight bowed low in dread.

That vast array fled from my lion’s cry,Their broken ranks like dust beneath the sky.

No man devoid of deeds and proven mightWould seek the throne or claim the royal right.

My helmet bears the promise of the crown;My sword shall win the ivory throne’s renown.

If but a gnat should war with you in pride,It would unseat you, sweeping you aside.”

Khosrow replied, “Recall Gorgin of Rey:What royal throne or Fortune marked his day?

No throne or majesty to him was shown;He had no state, and he was scarcely known.

Your name was hidden; you were poor and small,Until Mehran Setad reached the Shah’s hall.

He told the monarch of your youth and name,And raised you from the dust to public fame.

The king supplied you treasure, arms, and men,And Rostam’s moon-bright banner rose again.

God did not will the Turks from Chin to spoilIran, or crush the lives upon its soil.

He helped you in that fight; your helmet roseToward clouds because God humbled all your foes.

The Great King’s Fortune brought success that day;You claimed the merit and were led astray.

If kingship leaves the Kayanian line,Why should you strive to hasten its decline?

It takes the force of Iskandar’s own handTo darken kingship over all the land.

May you, with the Div face and dusty head,Attain to nothing but a ditch when dead.

Your wayward conduct dimmed my father’s days;You coined my name to end my life through praise.

You are the source of evil; blood you spillWill hang you in the next world for that ill.

You will not find in sleep throughout the nightWhat all day long you hunt beneath the light.

O luckless, unjust man, give not your daysTo crookedness, nor walk such ruined ways.

Do not bring such disgrace upon your head,Nor live unjust, miserable, misled.

Seek God’s good favor; let your labor showThat wisdom guides your steps where you may go.

For what is mine and yours will pass and fade;Time counts each breath until the debt is paid.

Who says, when guile has clothed your heart in night,That guile is better than the path of right?

Obey, and have your wishes: you shall shareA portion of this realm beneath my care.

Then in this world you will know peace and rest,And leave it, calm of heart, at death’s behest.

Zardosht has spoken in the Zand; his loreWe may not lessen, nor may we add more.

Zardosht has said: who leaves the holy roadHas lost all awe of God, all inward goad.

Counsel him for a year; if counsel fails,Then death by royal order next prevails.

Cast out his guilty corpse upon the way;Slay rebels to the Shah without delay.

Men will shed your blood, for a twisted fateDemands this payment from your rebel state.

A wretched life awaits, and fire’s embrace,If still you turn from Shah and God’s own grace.

You ail, and counsel is the drug you need;I strive to heal your envy and your greed.

If envy rules, another healer’s artI shall bring here to cure your ailing heart.

Your healer, counsel; wisdom is the cureThat may remove the crown’s deceitful lure.

Your victories made you someone in the state,But thoughts of treasure opened ruin’s gate.

Have you heard how Zahhak’s impious reignMade Divs and warlocks fill the world with pain?

When noble hearts could bear his rule no more,What did Fereydoon do? Recall that lore.

Your troops, alive or dead, are mine by right;Through you they gained some honor in the fight.

When I display my treasure to the band,Their hearts will soften at my open hand.

Your men, grown rich when Saveh met defeat,Thought no new foe could force them to retreat.

I would not have Iran’s great warriors slain,Nor bring defeat and ruin on my reign.

Tell me, in Arash’s days, who held the land?”“Manuchehr,” said Bahram, “held command.”

Khosrow replied, “You know he ruled the world,While Arash served where royal flags were furled.

So Rostam learned from Kay Khosrow, and knewThe ways of kings, their throne and customs too.

He kept the customs of the kings; his eyeNever sought their throne or station high.”

Bahram replied: “You shepherd-born disgrace,Sprung from a herdsman of ignoble race!

Did Babak not bid Sasan take his crook,To tend his ewes beside the mountain brook?”

Khosrow replied: “Falsehood procures no crown;Such slanders drag your warrior honor down!

You spring from crooked roots; yet Sasan’s breadEnriched your house and raised your father’s head!”

Bahram retorted: “Though your words be bold,A shepherd’s crook was Sasan’s lot of old!”

Khosrow said: “When King Dara breathed his last,To noble Sasan was the kingship passed!

Though Fortune waned, the royal seed remained;By lies no sovereign title is attained!

With such blind judgment, would you govern men?”He laughed in scorn, and turned his rein again.

The three Turks of the Khan’s own lineage sworeTo win a name upon the field of war.

One horseman, fierce and reckless, forward came;Like wolves, the three were bent on martial fame.

“We shall, upon the battle day,” they said,“Bring you the Shah, whether alive or dead.”

That horseman rushed forth, grim and seeking fight,His kamand wound in sixty coils held tight.

He neared the Shah’s bright ivory-colored steed,And aimed at crown and head, kamand half-freed.

He cast his sixty-coiled kamand in flight,And snared the royal crown in all men’s sight!

Quick Gostaham unsheathed his blade to tearThe rawhide loops, and cut the deadly snare;

While Bandvi loosed a shaft of whistling fire,To pierce the treacherous raider in his ire.

Bahram cried, “May dust conceal your head,And may the earth alone become your bed.

Who bade you strike the Shah before my eyes?I stood in parley under open skies.”

Distressed in soul and body, he withdrew,And back toward camp his troubled spirit flew.

His sister heard of his return that day,And cast her splendid crown and pomp away.

An aide brought forth her veil; with wounded heart,She ran to meet him, shaken in each part.

“O warlike chief,” she said, “now plainly say:How fared your meeting with the Shah today?

If in his youth he burns too hot and fast,Relax no effort till you make peace last.”

Brave Bahram answered, “He has no true claimTo stand among the kings or bear their name.

He is no sage, no Pahlevan of might,Nor generous, nor fearsome, nor yet bright.

In kings, true merit counts for more than birth;A king must have those gifts that prove his worth.”

His sister said, “O shrewd, ambitious chief,My words will stir your anger, not belief.

Recall the sage of Balkh, who wisely said:‘The truth tastes bitter when our faults are read.’

Do not destroy your country. You possessYour share of earth; do not pursue excess.

A wise man said: ‘An ass once tried to donAn ox’s horns; and both his ears were gone.’

Do not invite the world to cast you down;No ancestor of yours has worn the crown.

Had not this youth laid claim to kingly power,I would not grieve through each benighted hour.

His father lives; the royal line remains,Yet you stretch out your hand toward crown and reins.

How this will end I do not understand;All night my eyes shed blood; my grief is fanned.

Your aim is pain; your path is cursed and wrong;You breathe a poisoned flower all day long.

Chubin, your name, will bear the stain of shame,And scorn shall cling forever to your name.

God will be angry, and your soul shall dwellIn darkness, driven by rebellion to Hell.

Consider who first sought you out and raisedYour hidden worth, and had your service praised.

Was it not King Hormizd who gave you place,And lifted you to honor, rank, and grace?

But since King Saveh’s goods and throne were won,You have assumed the crown beneath the sun.

Through Hormizd’s trust your name became renowned,Yet now your heart is set on being crowned.

Know every blessing comes from God above;Repay your Shah with loyalty and love.

Do not presume upon the fields you won;Take honor humbly for the deeds well done.

You have gained fame; do not let pride command,Or give to Ahriman your heart and hand.

When Hormizd raved in anger and in pain,And Ayin Gashasp stirred his rage and bane,

You should have borne it patiently; your placeAs servant gave no right to war’s disgrace.

When Hormizd suffered, and his son, who burnedFor vengeance, now from Barda had returned,

You should have sought the youthful monarch’s court,And graced his throne with homage and support.

He then would have accepted your advice,And spared you evil days and their steep price.

You would have known peace, triumph, and delight;Why aim at crown and throne through wrongful fight?

You know that princes still survive and shine,From Ardeshir’s old stock and royal line.

The princes still remain with wealth and force;Who in Iran would sanction such a course?

If any king with troops and treasure’s storeCould eye this land and force its guarded door,

It would have been King Saveh, prince of Chin,Who marched against Iran, his hatred keen.

But God set you against him in the fight,And saved Iran and all its chiefs from blight.

Since God first vaulted heaven’s dome on high,No noble like Sahm has passed beneath the sky:

No raging lion faced his iron brand,Nor dared against his gorz to make a stand;

Yet when King Nohzar governed in disgrace,And broke the ancient customs of his race,

Iran’s grandees offered Sahm the royal throne,To make the turquoise diadem his own.

He cried: ‘Forbid that I should dare to reachFor sovereign rank, or prompt such lawless speech!

My throne: the dust where Manuchehr now lies;The throne of Nohzar is the crown I prize.’

I tell you this, my brother: none may gainThe throne unless good Fortune aids his reign.

He must be generous, of royal line,And in his bearing kingly farr must shine.

He must be wise, with justice for his guide,And hold a heart enlightened deep inside.

I do not know what Fate will bring on you;Wisdom has vanished from your heart and view.”

Bahram replied, “I own the truth you tell,And holy God has marked the matter well.

But matters now have passed beyond recall;Distress now holds my heart and mind in thrall.

I must gain power or bow my head and feelThe death that pierces through a helm of steel.”

The youthful king, rejoicing to the core,Recrossed the Nahravan bridge to the shore.

He called the captains of the army near,And ranged them by his throne to speak and hear.

He said, “Good-hearted chiefs, experienced, wise,My reign is new and needs your searching eyes.

I must be tested; none yet owes me praise,Though I know kindness shown in others’ ways.

No good from me has reached you to this day,And now fresh toil and war obstruct your way.

You served my ancestors; you long have knownThe harsh and bitter things the world has shown.

I will reveal the purpose I conceal,But guard it well; let no one break the seal.

If published to the troops, my scheme will fail;Let silence stand around it like a veil.

Tonight I mean to lead our force to war,For I have parleyed with that man before.

Bahram is active, skillful, bold afield,A horseman who will fight and never yield.

Yet little wisdom could I see or findIn him or in his chiefs of matching mind.

His fight with Saveh is his only tale;He tells it over, though the tale is stale.

He thinks me foolish, young, and full of fear,And hopes his sword and gorz will daunt me here.

He does not know I shall attack by night,And drive out fear by meeting him in fight.

If you will share this battle’s risk with me,Once night is dark, no more delay shall be.

When night with ambergris has washed her face,And shakes her musk-sweet hair across this place,

Mount armed with gorz and scimitar in hand,And strike with me against the hostile band.”

They all agreed to follow his command,And each one pledged, with sword and heart, to stand.

When he returned, he cleared his tent of all,And let no stranger linger by the wall.

He called for Gostaham and Bandvi then,And Gordvi, seasoned chief of fighting men.

He told them of his planned attack by night,And hoped that they would aid him in the fight.

Then Gostaham replied, “O king, beware;Why place such faith in battle’s hidden snare?

A night assault may alienate your own;Your troops and his are kinsmen, closely known.

Grandfather here, and grandson there, they stand;Their hearts are bound together, hand to hand.

What art could change their minds? Their ties are dear:A brother there, a father standing here.

How shall the father fight his son? Take care:Do not fulfill the wish your foes would share.

This was no matter for the troops to know;Your words have ruined all and laid us low.”

Gordvi said, “Our plan is lost from sight;Your words have cast it to the winds tonight.

Power, desire, wealth, armies in arrayCan turn even a prudent man astray.

Do not remain here while the plain is dark,Nor leave your troops and treasure as a mark.

I have no doubt our secret is now known;The other camp has heard what we have shown.

Do not expose your head to hostile might;Preserve the throne and turn from rash delight.”

Pleased with their counsel, Khosrow gave assent,And chose devoted chiefs of firm intent.

Kharrad Barzin came at the monarch’s call,With lion-like Gostaham among them all.

Shapur, Andiyan, Bandvi, proved in field,With fierce Nastooh, the hero-scorching shield;

These loyal captains drew their swords to keepThe youthful Shah, a watch that knew no sleep:

Upon a grassy knoll they set their tent,To watch the plain until the night was spent.

The Shah surveyed his army from the height;Bahram sat down with men of rank and might.

When all the chiefs drew near, Bahram began:“What news have you of kinsman, friend, and clan?

Send word to all your kinsmen, one in mindAnd faith with you; if they should be inclined

To come, obey, and pledge their lives, then allTheir strength shall answer to our army’s call.

He has but Barda, Ardabil, and thoseArmenian troops to face us as our foes.

We fear them not when battle’s fury wakes;For Barda’s men are dust the whirlwind takes.”

The chieftains heard Bahram’s proposed design,And chose a scribe from men within their line.

Eloquent, wise, with memory keen and clear,He took the secret charge he came to hear.

Throughout the long dark night he made his way,And told Iran’s chiefs what he came to say.

He gave the message; they replied, “UntilThe armies meet, we stand by Khosrow still.

We fear this matter may be long and grim;He plans a night attack; do not trust him.”

The envoy heard and wheeled, swift as a gust;He raced to Pahlevan Bahram through dust.

In private, word for word, the man made clearIran’s full answer, meant for Bahram’s ear.

When Bahram learned the troops inclined his way,He ordered fires to keep the dark at bay.

In every quarter watchfires blazed and spread;Then Bahram marked the fiercest men he led.

Six thousand swordsmen, chosen for their might,The scribes had counted, ready for the fight.

He cried, “When tabiras at cockcrow sound,Raise battle-shouts that shake the solid ground.

Charge in, and let your battle-shouts resound;With blood let all the noble heads be crowned.”

Led by three Turks, the troops rushed to the fight,And fell upon the king’s troops in the night.

A din of gorz and club and sword arose;Earth turned to iron; dust obscured the foes.

The soldiers cried, “Where is Khosrow the king?Today our victory shall make earth ring.”

Khosrow stood on the hill in bitter pain,His eyes like blood, his cheeks a lapis stain.

Bewildered by the battle’s fearful turn,He pondered what to do with deep concern.

Until the shafts of dawn began to rise,The slaughter weighed upon his heart and eyes.

But when dark night had drawn its skirt away,He saw the dead and wounded where they lay.

He told his chiefs, “Now help me. Strike the foe;Let all your strength and loyal courage show.

For God the Victor is my help and stay;My task is striking with the sword today.”

He charged straight at the three proud Turks in wrath,Three wolves of blood that barred his battle path.

One closed with him and raised his glittering blade,And at the royal crown a fierce stroke made.

The royal rider caught it on his shield,Then struck and hurled the Turk upon the field.

“Famed fighters, stand a little longer here!”He cried to all the warriors standing near.

Yet all his troops turned back and fled the fight,And left the prince alone in sorry plight.

He said to Gostaham and bold Bandvi,“I read ill omens in what now I see.

I have no grown son fit to take command,Nor kin to wear the crown of Iran’s land.

If I am slain in battle’s storm today,The world will have no king to guide its way.”

Bandvi replied, “O noble prince, ride on;Do not remain, for all your troops have gone.

Let all the world still yearn for you; take flight;No man remains to guard your royal right.”

Then Khosrow said to Gordvi, “Hasten now;Take Tukhar with you, loyal to his vow.

Secure the tents, the treasure, and brocade,The crown, the slaves, the money bags displayed.

Lead out a thousand horsemen; bring awayThe ivory throne and what you find today.”

The nobles labored hard to load the train,And bear the treasure from the battle plain.

Then rose a dragon-banner in the fight;The world turned violet before its sight.

Behind that flag rode Bahram, fierce and proud,Who dimmed the world’s bright luster like a cloud.

Then Khosrow met him, fighting hard and long,Two fierce war-lions, terrible and strong.

Like elephants of war, with fury red,They struck their blows at one another’s head.

Bahram wheeled lion-like around the field;His weapons failed to force the king to yield.

The sun passed through the dome; upon the ground,Their struggle raged beyond all measure’s bound.

Then Tukhar came: “The treasure and the trainHave crossed the bridge; none on this side remain.”

The monarch said to Gostaham, “No friendRemains to help us see this warfare end.

We are but ten; their army fills the land,Led by a Pahlevan of high command.

If only some would help me in the fray,I would not turn my head and ride away.

Timely retreat is better than to fight;Alone, we must withdraw from hostile might.”

The youthful king then reached the bridge in pain,Pursued by Bahram, vengeance in his brain.

Khosrow beheld him, stopped, and called his guide,The seasoned Gostaham, to stand by his side.

“Bring me my bow,” he cried, “whose tongue shall tellMy words in battle, where it serves me well.”

The treasurer brought the bow at his command;For Gostaham directed what was planned.

The Shah poured arrows forth, and darkness spread;One shaft would stitch a helmet to a head.

Then Bahram charged with kamand raised on high,A dragon under him against the sky.

His horse was bare of armor in the fight;The king turned back and saw him with delight.

He strung his bow and struck the charger’s chest;The wounded horse collapsed and lay at rest.

The sepahbod, on foot, then raised his shield;He grasped his head, distressed upon the field.

Then Yalan-sina charged; the king, in scorn,Shot at the horse by which the chief was borne.

On foot he left the bridge, his charger lame;The troops withdrew along the way they came.

When Bahram drew away from bridge and fight,Khosrow destroyed the bridge and took to flight.

He sped to Tisfoon, full of grief and fears,His heart in pain, his eyes with bloody tears.

He barred the city gates with iron tight,And sat with anxious thoughts of all their plight.

He summoned all his chiefs, from ward and post,And manned the gates where danger threatened most.

Then heart-transfixed, with blood-red tears, he cameBefore his sire in sorrow, grief, and shame.

He paid his father homage, grieving then,And lingered long before he spoke again.

“The mighty horseman, the Pahlevan you chose,Came like a king whose royal splendor glows.

He came with farr and with a mighty force;He spurned my counsel and pursued his course.

He cared for nothing but the clash of war;May no such name be honored evermore.

Against my will we fought a bitter fray,And many suffered under Fate that day.

My troops all left me then, and would not stay;They scorned me like a stranger on the way.

They hailed Bahram as king, nor gave a thoughtTo all the perils with which this was fraught.

His mountain-moving troops pursued my flightTo Nahravan’s great bridge with all their might.

When hope of holding out had failed, I fled,And slipped the net of ruin round me spread.

As I now weigh the profit and the cost,Arabs alone can win back what is lost.

If you command, I shall bring Arab steeds,And countless horsemen for our battle needs.”

Hormizd replied, “This plan will bring no gain;Your footing is too weak for such a strain.

To go to them is toil; their tents are bareOf wealth for you, of arms against despair.

The Arabs will not help where no rewardOr treasure waits to draw them to your sword.

For payment they may hand you to your foes,And leave you helpless in your bitter woes.

Yet God will aid you; Fortune’s face may turn,And smiling farr beside your banner burn.

If you would quit this land and elsewhere roam,Depart at once; in Rum seek safer home.

Tell Caesar all this helpless servant’s plea;Repeat my words to him as words from me.

There wealth abounds, with Christian troops prepared,Great legions armed, no gold or iron spared;

For Caesar springs from noble Salm of old,Whom Fereydoon enriched with crowns of gold:

That ancient stock will recognize your claim,And shield an allied prince in honor’s name!”

Then Khosrow kissed the earth and gave due praiseTo God, who governs all men’s nights and days.

To Bandvi, Gostaham, and Gordvi thenHe said, “We dwell with toil and grief again.

Prepare at once; pack up and take the road,And leave our land beneath the rebel’s goad.”

Just then the watchman cried, “O just Shah, hear!Dark dust has risen on the roadway near.

A dragon on the army’s flag is shown;Like that at Nahravan, by Bahram flown.”

Khosrow Parviz mounted like smoke in flight,His blue flag streamed behind him in their sight.

He fled like dust for Rum; then, looking back,He saw the two ride slowly on his track.

He shouted, hot with anger, “Shameless two!Why lag so slow with foemen close in view?

Have those pursuers now become your friends?Why lag while danger on our backs descends?”

Bandvi replied, “O king, take no alarm;He will not see our dust or do us harm.

The army’s great banner is far away;Our friends have weighed this flight, and this they say:

This flight will fail. Bahram will come and bringThe crown again to Hormizd as the king.

He then will take the minister’s place besideThe Shah, and serve with counsel as his guide.

From Hormizd he will write to Caesar thus:‘A worthless slave has fled in fear from us.

Grant him no refuge under Rum’s high dome;Let him not rest in peace or make a home.

Each time he rose, our troubles would increase;His crooked dealings robbed us of our peace.

When he arrives, put him in iron chain,And turn his gladness into grief and pain.

Return him swiftly to this royal court,Before his fortunes gather new support.’

They then will bind him and return him fast,A guarded captive, weeping and aghast.”

Khosrow heard this with troubled heart and mind,His cheek grew dark; he answered them resigned:

“Ill Fortune may indeed treat us this way;Long words and grievous work are ours today.

Let us trust God.” He urged his steed and said,“Whatever good or evil lies ahead

Must come as God has written on our brow;No anxious thought can turn it from us now.

May we not need an enemy in flight,Nor seek his help to save us from our plight.”

When Khosrow rode ahead, the uncles turned,While in their breasts a ruthless hatred burned:

They sought the darkened chamber of the king,And from a war-bow loosed the braided string;

They cast the hempen cord around his head,And choked his royal breath until he lay dead!

Without a wound to spill imperial blood,They quenched his spirit in a silent flood.

His throne and crown had vanished with his breath;As though he had not lived, he passed in death.

Such is the turning world: its fruits may growNow sweet, now poisonous, bringing bitter woe.

Seek no sure profit from a stock like this;Its quest brings pain, not certainty or bliss.

When Hormizd’s life was ended, spent and flown,The throne and crown were left to stand alone.

Tabiras boomed; pale with fear, the killers eyedBahram’s approaching flag, his troops beside.

Bandvi and Gostaham fled from the place,And reached Khosrow with fear upon each face.

He saw their pallor, knew their secret well,And why they had turned back; no need to tell.

His face grew yellow as the fenugreekIn flower; yet he did not choose to speak.

He hid his knowledge from the pair, and showedNo sign, but bade them shun the way men rode:

“The army presses close; take the long roadThrough wilderness, and bear all hardship’s load.”

When Bahram entered in the royal hall,He chose fierce troops obedient to his call.

Six thousand men who swung the curving blade,All mailed for the pursuit and war arrayed.

He gave those troops to Siavash’s son,Bahram, to chase the king till flight was done.

And Khosrow crossed the wilds in desperate pain,To keep his life across that barren plain.

At last he reached a shrine of towering height,Its lofty battlements were lost to sight.

“The House of God,” the people called that place,A blessed shrine of penitence and grace.

There Christian clergy made their dwelling nearThe penitents who sought seclusion here.

The king asked of a priest, “What have you storedOf food within this house to spread the board?”

A bishop said, “Unleavened loaves we keep,And watercress, if hunger cuts you deep.

If such plain fare will suit your need today,May it sustain you kindly on your way.”

The king dismounted with his weary train,And turned to prayer to ease his inward pain.

With his two courtiers, barsom twigs in hand,He prayed, then sat upon the yielding sand.

They ate in haste of what the place could give,That grief might let these weary men still live.

Then Khosrow said, “Blessed elder, tell me plain:Have you no wine to ease the heart of pain?”

The bishop said, “We make clear wine from dates;But little now remains within our gates.

Like rosewater it shines, both pure and bright,And red as garnet in the shining light.”

He brought a cup whose color struck the eye,And dimmed the hue of Sol within the sky.

Khosrow drank three, then barley-bread he ate,While grief and wine contended with his fate.

When ruddy wine had warmed his weary head,He slept where soft sand made his troubled bed.

His head lay on Bandvi’s lap in trust,His soul grief-pierced, his fortune turned to dust.

Just as he slept, the bishop, old and wise,Came near and spoke of what had met his eyes.

“Black clouds of dust have risen on the way;Behind them comes an armed and vast array.”

Khosrow replied, “Our fortune now is grim;Both men and horses fail in every limb.

Our foes have found us when our strength is done;The day of helplessness has now begun.”

Then loyal Bandvi, friend in need, replied:“That chief draws near, with armed men at his side.”

Khosrow said, “Good friend, guide us through this hour;Show us a way beyond the foeman’s power.”

Bandvi replied, “I know what course to take,Though death may be the payment for your sake.

In this hard strait I give my life away,To save the monarch of the world today.”

Khosrow replied, “A sage of Chin once saidThat loyal service lifts the faithful head.

Who sows his service at a monarch’s gateShall reap in Paradise beyond this state.

When city walls are leveled to the ground,No lesser fort can stand there safe and sound.

When mighty cities perish from the land,Do not expect their hospitals to stand.

Use any stratagem you know to try;Yet still on holy God you must rely.”

Bandvi replied, “Give me the golden crown,The earrings, girdle, and the royal gown.

Give me the robe from Chin, gold-woven, bright,Its ruby color blazing in the light.

While I put all these on, do not remain;Go with your troops across the open plain.

Fly like a ship its sailor drives at sea;With all your troops, make haste away from me.”

The youth obeyed Bandvi without delay,And rode beside the wind upon his way.

Gostaham rode beside him, grim and wan,His heart weighed down with grief as they fled on.

When Khosrow vanished in that swift retreat,Bandvi prepared his stratagem complete.

He told the bishop, “Seek the mountain height;Stay out of every hostile rider’s sight.”

Then Bandvi swiftly entered in the shrine,And shut the iron door with firm design.

He donned the robe embroidered all with gold,And set the royal crown on, bright and bold.

He climbed the roof and looked across the plain;On every side he saw the hostile train.

He waited while the armed men, fierce of face,Drew close beneath the walls around the place.

He stood upon the roof in open sight,Clad in the signs of kingship, gleaming bright.

They saw the crown, the earrings, torque, and gold,And cried, “Khosrow is trapped within the hold!”

When Bandvi knew the foe had been deceived,He hurried from the roof, his aim achieved.

He swiftly donned his ordinary clothes,Then climbed the roof again above his foes.

Fearless, he said, “Young warriors, answer true:Which chief among you leads and speaks for you?

I bear a message from the Shah today,For him who leads your warriors’ array.”

The son of Siavash, in answer brief,Said, “I am Bahram, and I am the chief.”

Bandvi replied, “The Shah has said, ‘My roadHas sorely tried me with its weary load.

Our beasts are bruised and weary from the way;The long road leaves them broken where they stay.

With five companions I have come to restWithin this house, by toil and pain oppressed.

At dawn I shall ride with you, and proceedTo proud Bahram Chubin with every speed.

I seek no further time than that, unlessHigh heaven sends some aid in my distress.

My ancestors upheld their faith and ways,And honored lesser men in adverse days.

From shining sun to earth beneath our feet,God’s will alone directs all we shall meet.’”

The chief agreed; all those who heard were stirred,And pitied Khosrow when they heard that word.

The troopers all dismounted for the night,And kept their guard around the holy site.

Next day Bandvi went to the roof and cried:“The Shah still prays; let him in peace abide.

He prayed all night; the sun is high today;Do not afflict him with the burning ray.

Let him rest here today; when dawn is bright,He will ride with your troops and end his flight.”

“This may prove trifling,” Bahram told each chief,“Or prove a weighty matter past belief.

If pressed too hard, his anger may arise,And he may fall upon us by surprise.

He is an army in himself, and bold,World-seeking, shrewd, a warrior hard to hold.

If he should fall, Bahram Chubin will turnHis wrath on us; for this our lives will burn.

Best wait today, though stores are running low,And see if without conflict he will go.”

Thus matters stood till night climbed mountain height;The troops closed round; on each side fires burned bright.

When earth grew sun-hued, eloquent BandviClimbed to the roof where all the ranks could see.

“Young Bahram, Pahlevan,” cried Bandvi then,“Look on these walls, and hear my words again!

While you stood watchful through two nights and days,The Shah spurred westward through the desert haze;

Though eagle-winged you soared above the sun,You could not track the prince whose flight is done!

He crosses now into the Roman lands,Beyond the reach of all your rebel bands.

But grant me quarter; I shall gladly goBefore your chief and tell him all I know.

About our group of men, both low and high,Whatever he may ask, I shall reply.

If not, I don my armor for the fightAnd meet you as a warrior, with full might.”

The young man’s heart grew old beneath his grief;He turned and spoke to every fellow chief:

“What profit comes if Bandvi now is slain?His death will bring us neither news nor gain.

The better course is this: take him alive,That through his answers our designs may thrive.

Before the Pahlevan let him be led,To gain an honored crown or lose his head.”

He called, “You schemer, take your words of blameTo Chubin; let him hear the case you claim.”

Bandvi the Lion left the heights behindAnd rode beside the chiefs, of fearless mind.

Bahram Chubin heard his troops had returned,And how revenge in Khosrow’s bosom burned.

He heard the Shah had fled to Rum; his ireAt Siavash’s son blazed up like fire.

“You luckless wretch! This task surpassed your skill;I praised a man unfit to do my will!”

The sepahbod, in pride, called Bandvi then,And poured his anger out before his men:

“You miscreant, deceitful, lying man,Who fooled my troops by trickery and plan!

Your treacherous heart could find no quiet rest;You joined that cursed stripling, breast to breast:

You teach a boy the wickedness of state,Reviving ancient feuds and bitter hate!”

Bandvi replied, “Exalted chief, be still;Seek truth from me, and curb your angry will.

Know that the king of kings is kin to me;His greatness and his bounty guide my plea.

For him I risked my life, as duty bade;I did what must be done, and gave him aid.

If you are truly chief, act straight and plain;Let justice rule; let wrath no longer reign.”

Bahram replied, “I will not take your breathFor this offense, nor put you now to death.

But Khosrow’s hand will kill you soon; that dayYou will admit the truth of what I say.”

They bound his limbs with irons, and conveyedThe captive to young Bahram’s watchful blade.

Chubin sat brooding till the day had fled,With dark forebodings circling in his head.

When Sol took up his sword and cleft the night,Bahram Chubin called chiefs in jowshans bright.

He called Iran’s nobles to his side,And set them high where kings in glory bide.

With golden seats about the throne now placed,He sat in joy, with royal triumph graced.

Then with a mighty utterance he spoke,And from his lips a kingly question broke:

“O noble, honored men, now make reply;Advise me truly under Fortune’s sky.

Search all the world: none worse than Zahhak came,Who slew his sire to win a monarch’s name.

Through that dark deed Iran fell to his hand,And evil’s shadow covered all the land.

Now Khosrow, cursed, has slain his father too;He fled to Rum when that foul deed was through.

Until a worthy royal heir is foundTo wear the crown, with kingly girdle bound,

Who is the man among us fit to stand,And raise the ancient customs of the land?

By Him who keeps the sun in heaven bright,I pledge my aid to set this matter right.”

The nobles heard the famous chieftain’s word,And in the hall no voice of dissent stirred.

Then Shahran Guraz, aged, brave, and bold,A warrior chief, stood eminent and old.

He answered, “You are helper of the world,A prince before whose flag the foe is hurled.

Had you not faced the threat when Saveh came,No man could match his might or check his aim.

He crossed our border to make free men slaves,And roll Iran beneath invading waves.

You armed yourself and turned that trouble back;Iran was safe from danger and attack.

Four hundred thousand warriors in the fightFled from your single shaft in broken flight.

Thus Iran rested after heat and strife;Her throne befits your Fortune and your life.

Whoever dares to turn from your command,Or shuns the pact by which we take our stand,

However brave, we shall compel him still,Though Khosrow be the cause that moves his will.”

He spoke and sat; Khorasan’s chief drew near,And stood before Bahram devoid of fear.

He said, “This elder, wise in ancient lore,Has spoken of the deeds that went before.

He told of all the good that you have done,And cheered the hearts of those here, every one.

Yet in the Zand-Avesta, Zardosht gaveA saying honest minds should heed and save:

Whoever turns from God, let counsel guideHis steps for one full year, with needs supplied.

If, when that year has passed, he still should stray,The Shah commands his death without delay.

If he remains the just Shah’s open foe,Then strike his head and let his lifeblood flow.”

He spoke and sat; then Farrokhzad arose,And weighed just speech against misfortune’s blows.

“O helpful chief,” he said, “let right prevail;Let none rejoice in words that tip the scale.

May you be blessed, Bahram; may your sightSustain the world and keep its order bright.

If what we say is judged unfit to stand,The conquering God lends us no helping hand.

This throne befits you; through your heart’s pure light,You cleanse the realm and set its wrongs to right.

May evil hands and tongues be kept at bay;May you, our Shah, live on in joy each day.”

He sat; then Khazarvan, the chieftain, came,A lion-hearted chief of noble name.

He said, “Though many men talk much today,The right still shows a better, plainer way.

Dispatch a cameleer with utmost speed;Do not delay or turn from wisdom’s lead.

Let not Khosrow Parviz, exalted still,Wear out the road to you through fear of ill.

Seek pardon for your deeds; do not now climbThe throne too boldly in an evil time.

No chief of chiefs deserves the royal throneWhile Khosrow lives to claim it as his own.

If Khosrow’s wrath has filled your heart with fear,Quit Pars and Tisfoon; withdraw from here.

Keep power in Khorasan; live in peace,And write to him to let your quarrel cease.

Send plea on plea with humble, careful art;Perhaps Khosrow may yet relent at heart.”

Before he moved, Zad Farrokh rose upright,And spoke with justice clear before their sight:

“O chiefs of noble race, I listened longTo Iran’s chosen leaders, right and wrong.

First comes a slavish plan, both dark and grave:To make a Pahlevan the Shah we crave.

Such counsel sickens every wise man’s frame,And brings a noble warrior lasting shame.

Khorasan’s words were lofty in their tone;Yet in them wisdom’s light has never shone.

But Farrokhzad spoke rashly, fierce and hot;Sound counsel has restraint; his words did not.

The fourth was Khazarvan, whose words rang true;His counsel kept the wiser course in view.

Begin with Zahhak, Arab, foul of mind,Whose unjust rule left righteousness behind.

He slew proud Jamshid, king of ancient fame,And seized the world through violence and shame.

The holy then grieved to see the Div reign,Their hearts oppressed with sorrow and with pain.

Next Afrasiab, miscreant of Turan,Crossed streams and raised his sword against Iran.

He cut off Nohzar’s head with ruthless steel;The fortunes of the land began to reel.

Third, Iskandar of Rum came to invade,Ravaged Iran, and there his dwelling made.

He slew brave Dara, noble, battle-tried,And joy and rest throughout Iran had died.

Fourth, foul Khoshnavaz laid our honor low,And dealt Iran a catastrophic blow:

Heytal’s fierce warriors slew King Pirooz then,The pride and glory of Kayanian men;

Yet those four scourges sprang from foreign seed,While we today perpetrate a fouler deed:

Our very army drives our prince astray,To beg for refuge in a land away!”

He sat and wept; his eyes were washed in grief,While sullen silence seized on every chief.

Bahram grew pale; then Sambaz took his stand,A veteran with Indian sword in hand.

Before the gathered chiefs, the elder cried:“This noble Pahlevan stands justified.

Until one born of royal race shall rise,And claim the realm before the nation’s eyes,

He should now take the royal crown and reign,Since conquering Fortune marks him for that gain.”

Bahram, chief of warriors, heard him through,And from its sheath his sharpened sword he drew.

He cried, “If in this quarter we should findA woman of the royal Shahs’ own kind,

My sharpened sword shall strike her head away;Her final breath shall rise that very day.

I will let no one rule this ancient land,Or ride as king amid a mounted band.”

When chiefs possessed by Ahriman had heardTheir leader’s foul and overweening word,

They drew their scimitars and rose as one,And uttered monstrous words beneath the sun:

“Bahram is Shah; we serve him and shall treadUpon our foes and crush each hostile head.”

When Bahram saw the drawn swords in their hands,He chose good sense and issued these commands:

“Who leaves his seat and grips his sword,” he said,“Shall lose his hand to sober him instead.”

He sought the garden; one by one they went,Their faces furrowed and their spirits spent.

When pitch-hued night unveiled its starry face,And watchmen’s cries resounded through the place,

He called for pen and paper; then there cameA wise and generous scribe to serve his aim.

The scribe set out the inkstand and the pen.Bahram said, “Write this pact from Iran’s men:

‘Bahram Chubin is Shah, let him be praised,Deserving crown and throne, by Fortune raised.

He seeks but truth, in all he may reveal,And equally in what he may conceal.’”

The writing done, they pondered through the night,And troubled faces waited for the light.

When lapis-colored darkness passed away,And all the world grew sun-gilt with the day,

A Fortune-favored man prepared the hallWithin Bahram Chubin’s palace wall.

He set the throne; they swept the great hall bare,Then hung the crown above the royal chair.

Upon the golden throne they set the seat;Then opened court, its setting now complete.

He took his place as Shah upon the throne;He wore the crown; his power was plainly shown.

The scribe then brought the royal scroll to light,On precious silk inscribed, both fair and bright.

Each chief then testified and signed his name:“Bahram is monarch, worthy of his fame.”

He sealed it with his golden seal and said:“Let holy God bear witness overhead.

This realm is mine; may kings of my descentHold crown and throne through ages heaven-sent.

For one full thousand years may they remain,With son succeeding son throughout that reign.”

On Khorshid day, when Azar’s month was new,The spheres revolved in portents strange to view:

A lesser star usurped the solar throne;The world was turned to dust and shadows lone;

The royal cypress fell beneath the blade,While choking briars filled the garden glade.

Then Bahram spoke: “Our strife has passed away;No vengeance stands among us here today.

Whoever will not own this settlement,Whether upright or false in his intent,

May stay three days; then, at the fourth day’s glow,Must leave Iran and straight to Khosrow go.”

Men blessed him, though their hearts denied the word:“May earth not lack you!” through the hall was heard.

But those still loyal to their rightful kingGrieved that Bahram now ruled everything.

They left Iran and made for Rum’s frontier,Dispersing from the land they held so dear.

For seventy days Bandvi, a cheetah bound,Lay prisoned where Bahram held guarded ground.

Bahram, the son of Siavash, kept ward,Yet grieved to keep him captive for his lord.

Still scheming in his bonds, Bandvi beganTo lure the youth with every practiced plan.

“Despair not of Iran’s true monarch’s right;Though Fortune tarries, day will follow night.

Though Pirooz fell, and Fortune turned away,Though Khoshnavaz prevailed upon that day,

In King Qobad the royal line rose new,And God restored the throne where it was due.

So Bahram cannot keep the crown and throne;Can this usurper think it is his own?

Let none of noble stock so lose his wayThat he should throw his life like dust away.

Count on your fingers; two months more shall bringRum’s legions to Iran against this king.

They shall one day set crown and throne alight,And sweep his claims to kingship out of sight.

They shall break the jewels on this rebel’s head,And all his dreams of sovereignty lie dead.”

Bahram replied, “If Khosrow grants me grace,Your counsel in my heart shall have its place.

I will obey you wholly in this thing,But swear an oath to bind the help you bring:

By moon, Azargashasp, by throne and crown,That when Khosrow returns with Rum’s renown,

When he brings Caesar’s legions to this land,You shall secure my life from his own hand.

Let no Iranian word revoke his grace;Do not dismiss the peril that I face.”

He brought the Zand-Avesta to his side,And made Bandvi swear by the words inside.

Bandvi took up the scroll and made this vow:“May pain and toil descend upon my brow,

And may I never know one hour of rest,But dwell in grief, by lasting sorrow pressed,

If I prove false. When Khosrow takes the throne,I shall approach and make your wishes known.

Once in his presence, I shall urge my questUntil he grants the mercy you request:

A signet and a crown of high renown,To mark your rank in every field and town.”

Bahram, when he had heard the solemn vow,Believed that Bandvi’s heart was faithful now.

He said, “I shall disclose my scheme aloud:I shall strike down the tyrant, fierce and proud.

I shall ensnare Chubin within the hall,And at the feast my deadly sword shall fall.

The sea itself has not a drop to bring,Now that we have to name this Bahram king.”

Bandvi replied, “O seasoned man, attend:I know the path by which such troubles end.

When Khosrow comes from Rum with force and state,And takes the throne assigned by royal Fate,

You will find Khosrow grants me every prayer;His heart will bend to any plea I bear.

For your past wrong I shall present my plea;He would give up his very crown to me.

If you will keep your word and hold no guile,Then loose my bonds and trust me for a while.

First think of Khosrow; this will make it clearWhat you intend, and news will reach his ear.”

Then Bahram’s face grew bright; he loosed the chain,And freed Bandvi from prison’s bitter pain.

When musk-hued night grew pale at dawn’s first ray,Bahram said, “If my heart holds firm today,

When Chubin plays at polo, I shall aimA killing blow to end his royal claim.

Last night I planned with five to strike him down,And end his wicked grasp on throne and crown.”

His jowshan brought, he drew it to his side,Then hid it under robes and went to ride.

The warrior’s wife was wicked, false of heart;She loved Chubin and played a traitor’s part.

She wished her spouse cut down and left to die,While love for Chubin burned within her eye.

She sent this secret warning to his ear:“O helpful chief, take heed; a threat is near.

Bahram conceals a jowshan in his robe;What evil he intends, I cannot probe.

Keep far from him; do not join him in play;Whatever harm he plans, keep well away.”

Chubin touched each back gently, keen to feelBeneath the robes the hidden links of steel.

He greeted each with courteous words of cheer;At last the son of Siavash drew near.

He found him mailed beneath his silken gear,And spoke with wrath for all the court to hear:

“O viler than a snake! What man is foundIn jowshan under silk on polo-ground?”

He drew his vengeful scimitar; one strokeCut young Bahram through jowshan and through cloak.

The city heard that young Bahram was slain;When Bandvi learned, all light left heart and brain.

He donned his jowshan, mounted, filled with dread;With trembling hands he girt himself and fled.

He took Bahram’s kin and all allied,All those who staked their fortunes on his side.

They fled to keep Chubin’s revenge at bay;One stage beyond, more riders joined their way.

They pressed toward Ardabil with desperate speed,While fear behind them spurred each flying steed.

When Chubin left the polo game, he woreA robe whose bloodstains showed the wrath he bore.

He ordered Mahrwi, “Guard Bandvi for me!”They answered, “He has fled; the man is free.

When he was told of Bahram’s death that day,He mounted on the wind and fled away.

He grieved to hear about his comrade’s doom,And saw the road ahead wrapped all in gloom.”

The King cried: “Cursed be he whose witless endFails to distinguish between foe and friend!

One sleeps by elephant tusks in foolish pride;Another trusts his bark to ocean’s tide;

A third provokes a monarch to his face;A fourth would grip a lion in embrace!

Pity all four: their judgment runs perverse;Their headlong folly breeds their early curse!

One calls a crowd to move a mountain’s height,Then grasps but wind for all his wasted might.

To sail in ships unfit to face the tideIs safer than to let rash haste decide.

You seek to see the spring, but turn away,Bewildered, with your anger on display.

Who takes a blind man as his guide will roamLost on a road that never leads him home.

Who grips a dragon forfeits life and breath;The beast breaks free and brings its captor death.

Who tries a poison, sipping it to test,Wins but the mortal fire that burns his breast.

I spared Bandvi when first I had him caught;He schemed and won the freedom that he sought.

My deed is one for which I still must weep,And wait to learn what God would have me reap.”

Meanwhile Bandvi, with his devoted band,Sped like the wind across the rugged land;

By secret tracks where desert creatures strayed,He rode until he saw a camp displayed:

There noble Mawsil, northern frontier chief,Lay camped beside a stream in watchful grief;

Brave Bandvi sought his tent in hopeful mood,And was received with fellowship and food;

He bowed to Mawsil, and in private toldHow young Bahram had died, how treason rolled.

Mawsil replied, “Stay here with me and hearThe latest news of Khosrow’s purpose clear;

What Khosrow does in Rum, and what the newsReveals of peace or war; which he will choose.”

Bandvi agreed to linger where they lay,And called his waiting comrades up that day.

Khosrow Parviz crossed parched terrain in pain;No guide was there; no grass grew on the plain.

Slack-reined, to Bahila they rode ahead,With bitter hearts, along the road they sped.

There all the well-disposed among the greatCame out to meet the Shah outside the gate.

As he drew near, he bade his ranks alightThere in the town, worn down by dust and flight.

Scarce had they done so when a courier cameFrom Iran, riding hard with secret aim.

He bore a secret letter at his breast,From Bahram to the ruler, a request:

“Detain all the armies that come this way;My troops pursue and will arrive today.”

The ruler read the letter’s hidden thought,And hastened to the Shah with what it brought.

Khosrow read on, amazed at Fortune’s change,And how her turn made all the world seem strange.

He feared pursuit and mourned his weary state,Then mounted swiftly and passed through the gate.

He gathered up his reins and onward went,Until he reached the Farat, travel-spent.

No rest was his within his own domain;His followers went hungry through the plain.

Then they beheld a wood and water bright,And on its grass the Shah bade them alight.

They strung a bow and sought for game to eat,But found no living quarry for their meat.

A caravan appeared, a laden train;A cameleer led on across the plain.

The youth beheld Khosrow and blessed his name,And honored him for farr and royal fame.

The noble Shah asked, “Tell me who you are,Your trade, and from what land you come so far.”

He said, “I am Kais, Haris’ noble son,Heir to Arab chiefs by lineage won.

From Mesr I came with caravan and gear;I am its chief and foremost cameleer.

Beside the Farat’s waters I abide,And from that home I came to this wood’s side.”

Khosrow asked, “What food have you to share,And rugs to spread? Our stores and gear are bare.”

The Arab answered, “Stay; I stand with you,With body, soul, and goods, devoted, true.”

He loved the Shah and brought a fatted cow;They slaughtered her beside the forest bough.

They kindled fire from sticks both green and dry,And sent the smoke ascending to the sky.

He grilled kabab; the Shah’s companions fedUpon the roasted meat, but had no bread.

The faithful said the prayers their creed had taught;The others ate the food the Arab brought.

Each chieftain made himself a place to rest;They slept, then rose to pray at God’s behest.

They offered prayers to God, the Judge Most Just,Who made the mighty and the weak from dust.

Then said the Shah, “Who bears the greater blameShall find more honor with me, greater fame.

Still those who have done worst and gone astray,Rebelled, and left the Almighty’s righteous way,

May trust me with assurance in their need;Give them fair hopes in counsel and in deed.”

His comrades blessed him: “Upright, pure, and true,May joy protect you when hard times pursue.

May joy be yours through all the years ahead;May crown and throne be yours,” his comrades said.

He asked the Arab, “Tell me of the track;How shall my troops fare, and what shall they lack?”

He said, “Some seventy farsangs you must goThrough desert land and mountains, high and low.

Give me your leave, and let your haste abate;I shall bring meat and water if you wait.”

Khosrow replied, “No other course remains;With food and guidance, we may cross these plains.”

The Arab sent a swift camel ahead,To show the troops where mountain pathways led.

They hurried on through toil and anxious care,With hunger, thirst, and dust upon the air.

Far off another caravan appeared,Upon the route by which the army steered.

A wealthy merchant came before the king;The Shah began to question everything:

“Say where you travel, and what trade you ply;Declare your home beneath the turning sky.”

He said, “I am a merchant and a scribe;From Khorra-e-Ardeshir comes my tribe.”

“What name did your own father give to you?”“Mehran Setad,” he answered, speaking true.

The king requested goods and food from him,For all his weary troops grew faint and grim.

The chief replied, “Our stores are rich and vast,”Though on the merchant’s face a cloud was cast.

The Shah said, “When you meet a guest one dayUpon the road, more wealth shall come your way.”

The merchant loosened bales of varied wares,And brought forth provender to ease their cares.

He sat upon the ground and blessed the king,While all received the food that he could bring.

When all had eaten, he came forth to standBefore the Shah, a ewer in his hand.

But Kharrad, son of Barzin, saw the scene,And quickly crossed the open space between.

He took the warm ewer to spare the kingThe shame the merchant’s service there might bring.

When next the merchant brought clear wine to him,Like bright rosewater, shining to the brim,

Kharrad again received it from his hand,And gave the goblet by the Shah’s command.

In true observance servants profit find,For faithful service is repaid in kind.

The Shah then asked, “What route shall soldiers try?Where in that district does your dwelling lie?”

He said, “O Shah, may wisdom be your guide;I am a Karzi merchant,” he replied.

He bade his scribe, Rozbeh, record the nameAnd village of the youth from whom help came.

“Go on your way,” he said, “and let your heartBe wisdom’s warp and woof in every part.”

The little troop left that refreshing ground,And rode toward the Roman border’s bound:

They reached the fortress of Karsan at last,Whose Christian wardens made the portals fast;

They barred the gates in terror and surprise,And watched the strangers with suspicious eyes.

Within, they shot the bolts and stood aghast;The Shah remained outside, his heart downcast.

The royal exile waited, sore distressed,Three days outside, with hungry troops hard-pressed.

Upon the fourth he sent a man to say:“Our troops are few and worn upon the way.

We have not come to fight against this town;Do not let hunger wear our people down.

Send provender and relief in our need;Do not oppose us with so harsh a deed.”

They scorned his words; his troops were weak and worn,Their strength by hunger and exhaustion torn.

Then suddenly a murky cloud arose,And roared like a war-lion at its foes.

A storm swept over that embattled place;From every quarter rose a cry for grace.

By midnight part of its great walls fell down;Amazement seized the people of the town.

The bishop prayed; they gathered food in fear,From every quarter, and drew quickly near.

Three venerable priests went forth that day,With Roman fruits and gifts in bright array.

They brought the Shah fine robes and a led horse,And begged forgiveness for their erring course.

“Our fault, O Shah, is manifest,” they cried;The noble youth did not reproach their pride.

Within the city walls a palace rose,Whose summit met the clouds in high repose.

Caesar had built its hall and domes that loom,With many slaves, the pride of royal Rum.

The Shah went in and left the dusty plain,Then walked the city streets despite his pain.

The Romans all acclaimed his royal feet,And strewed bright jewels through the echoing street.

Possessing that fair dwelling, he took rest,Though Roman exile still oppressed his breast.

He wrote to Caesar of the storm and rain,The blackened cloud, the town, and all its pain.

Then on toward Manwi went the royal train;He named it Minu on the open plain.

The shrewd, the wise, the great in power and fame,With priests and monks, before the monarch came.

They brought him gifts and offerings, and spokeOf storm and cloud, and how the tempest broke.

They said, “We are your slaves, and bow beforeThe least command that issues from your door.”

He stayed three days; the fourth day brought the light,When Sol’s bright sword cut cloud and dark from sight.

Toward Warigh then the royal party came;Its cross and hospital had won great fame.

Upon the plain he saw a hermitage,And heard a hermit speaking, worn with age.

The Shah drew near the door and cried aloud:“May God bless you beneath this desert cloud.

Come forth, if you will leave your ancient cell,And may your worship long with blessing dwell.”

The hermit heard, descended from his place,And saw the Shah and knew his royal face.

He said, “In truth, you are Khosrow the king,Whom one man’s treachery to Rum would bring.

That wicked slave, puffed up with scorn and spite,Has driven you from throne and royal right.

All this affliction for your father’s throneHas forced you from the realm you call your own.”

He spoke at length; the Shah was cheered in heart,By all that kindness and prophetic art.

Amazed, they praised the Maker for the sage,Whose mind was burnished by his holy age;

From saddle-bow the Shah addressed the seer,Who bowed in reverence as the prince drew near;

To test his sight, young Khosrow said: “I rideTo speak as herald for our sovereign’s side;

I bear dispatches to Caesar’s royal hand,And shall return his answer to our band.

Will this my journey prosper? Let me knowWhat end awaits me, whether joy or woe.”

He answered, “Do not speak as one who serves;The Shah commands the homage he deserves.

I knew you at first sight; do not deceive;Your holy Faith forbids the lies you weave.

Deceit is not your custom or your way;You have endured much toil from day to day.

At last you fled before your slave in fear.”Khosrow stood shamed, amazed at what came clear.

He started to excuse himself, but thenThe hermit said, “Do not begin again.

Ask what will come; take heart and be secure;Your coming here will lead to triumph pure.

Stand like a bough in fruit, with farr-lit face;God’s favor soon will lift you to your place.

He will bestow high Fortune, crown, and might;From Caesar you will gain both arms and right.

You shall have legions, and his daughter fair,A worthy bride to share the crown you bear.

Yazdan of all keeps watch and will assistYour battle with the slaves who now resist.

The miscreant will flee and then recallThe days when Fortune raised him over all.

Far from the battlefield he will alight,And dwell removed from your victorious sight.

Yet rather than submit to you and stand,He will choose exile in a distant land.

Still they will shed his blood at your behest,And death will bring his rebel heart to rest.”

The Shah replied: “May God fulfill this sign;Yet tell me when the kingship shall be mine?”

The hermit said: “Twelve months must pass away,And to their number add the fifteenth day:

Then as the King of Kings, the world’s bright sun,Your throne shall rise, your enterprise be won!”

The Shah then asked, “Who here will strive to bringDistress and pain upon me as his king?”

The hermit said, “Bistam, a man of pride,Your uncle, in whose fortune you confide.

Beware of him, for he will bring you pain,And harm and sorrow in the years you reign.”

The Shah grew angry. “Speak,” he said. “ExplainThe truth behind these names, and make it plain.

Your mother named you Bistam; yet you claimGostaham, when in battle, as your name.”

“This is my mother’s brother,” Khosrow cried;Then to the Shah the holy man replied:

“Yes, he is that same man; of him beware:Through Gostaham you will know pain and care.”

“And afterward,” the Shah said, “what will be?”His counselor replied, “Let that thought flee.

From that time onward praise shall mark your days;No evil shall descend upon your ways.

If hardship comes, it comes by God’s decree;This rebel will disturb your peace,” said he.

“Then all shall be as you yourself command;For all his spite, his end is in your hand.”

Then Gostaham said, “King, dismiss this fear.By holy God who made the moon appear,

Who fashioned such a Shah to rule mankind;By sun and moon, whose courses He designed;

By Azargashasp, and by our Shah’s own head,And by his life, whose fame is widely spread:

While Gostaham still draws the breath of life,He shall seek right and never turn to strife.

If ever I should choose another course,May Gostaham’s own soul depart its source.

Since God first made the world that all men see,No mortal has beheld His mystery’s key.

Why trust, then, what this Christian has declared,Or heed the idle words that he has shared?

Grant me protection from this Christian’s claim;Do not seek cause to stain my loyal name.

Now I have sworn my oath before your sight;Do not let baseless doubt obscure the right.”

Khosrow replied, “Holy men speak true;And I have never witnessed wrong in you.

You do not stoop to folly or deceit,Nor set your mind where crooked counsels meet.

Yet heaven’s course may make a good man stray,For when God wills, even wisdom turns away.”

Then to the hermit: “May your heart be bright,And may your days be filled with joy and light.”

He left the hermitage like lightning castFrom cloud to earth, and rode to Warigh fast.

And when he reached the city on his way,The men of worth came forth without delay.

When Khosrow came, from noble Caesar’s sideA horseman then appeared with courtly pride.

He said, “Ask what you will within our land;Conceal no wish; make known your full demand.

This realm is mine, yet you are equal here;So dwell secure and honored, free from fear.

Stay in this city, fearing no offense;My rule shall be your shelter and defense.

All Roman chiefs, however proud and high,Shall serve your need and never aid deny.

I shall seek neither food nor sleep nor rest,Till arms and legions answer your request.”

The Shah rejoiced to hear that noble word;His anxious soul was eased by what he heard.

He called brave Gostaham, Balvi, and thenShapur and Andiyan, his seasoned men.

Kharrad, Barzin’s son, stood among the rest,To these the Shah his royal charge addressed:

The monarch said, “At break of day prepare;Set golden saddles on each stallion rare.

Wear tunics woven with the gold of Chin;Be one in heart and purpose, conscience clean.

Depart and parley at great Caesar’s hall;Let courtesy and measured sense guide all.

Be wise, attentive; hear what he will say,And let your gracious speech prepare the way.

If Caesar goes to polo or the groundFor archery, let all your skill be found.

Strive to the utmost with his chiefs in play;Let none of you be worsted there that day.

Let him know riding is Iran’s own art,And victory comes with a lion’s heart.”

The Shah then said to Kharrad, Barzin’s heir:“Bring silk from Chin and black musk, with due care.

I must write Caesar with resplendent light,Like Sol in Paradise to gladden sight.

Let words be few, yet rich in meaning, soEach heart retains the wisdom they bestow.

His wise philosophers will weigh each word;Let no vain phrase within that court be heard.

They measure every word in all they do;Let them find nothing faulty or untrue.

When Caesar reads the letter, be so deftThat none among them has an answer left.”

Then to Balvi he said, “When Caesar speaks,Hear what he asks of me, and what he seeks.

To oath or treaty, kinship, pledge, or bond,With honeyed words be ready to respond.

You are my tongue before that foreign court,Interpreter of good and ill report.

Use every means to guard our royal fame;Save us from shame and safeguard Khosrow’s name.

Take my assurances; keep firm in mindThese words, and leave no royal charge behind.”

Those ardent veterans heard the youthful king,And blessed the crown that Fortune soon would bring.

They said, “May none but you the diadem wear,”Then went to Caesar with glad hearts and care.

When Caesar heard that men of lofty name,Khosrow’s Iranian envoys, to him came,

And neared the palace, he without delaySent legions out to meet them on the way.

He decked a palace with brocade of Rum,Gold-ground and jeweled, star-bright from the loom.

He sat upon his famous ivory seat,And donned the crown whose light made all complete.

He bade the chamberlains draw back the veil,And lead the envoys in their shimmering mail:

First noble Gostaham, with stately tread,Advanced; then Balvi and Shapur were led;

Kharrad and Andiyan, in gold arrayed,With jeweled belts and coronets displayed,

Approached the throne, made low obeisance meet,And scattered lustrous pearls before his feet!

They scattered gems before the throne’s bright gold;He asked of Khosrow, seeking to be told

Of Iran, troops, and hardships on the way;Kharrad came near, the letter to display.

By Caesar’s order four gold seats were set;Four envoys sat where honor’s ranks were met.

The men of high and well-advised renownSat, but Kharrad stood and would not sit down.

Then Caesar said, “A traveler should sit.”Kharrad replied, “The Shah has not deemed fit

To give me right to sit while in your sight;I hold his letter and uphold his right.

By standing, I may serve this embassy,And show the Shah’s command through courtesy.”

Then Caesar said, “Speak now. What says your king?”Kharrad began, and wisdom took its wing.

And Caesar held his words within his mind.Kharrad praised God, with heart and speech combined:

“The Maker reigns above all heights, all-wise,And holds all might beneath His vaulted skies.

By His command the heavens turn and climb;He stands beyond all bounds of place and time.

The sphere and stars are works of His command;He shaped mankind from dust within His hand.

From earth He gave the living creatures birth,And first brought life to Kioumars on earth.

The line continued down to Fereydoon,Whom God chose from the great to grant His boon.

The hidden stock grew known, of high renown,Till Kay Qobad received the royal crown.

His house kept God’s true way and knew no ill;A slave now holds the Kayan throne at will.

I seek redress against injustice shown,Not crown or cap or girdle, nor the throne.

Whoever rules must wisdom’s gifts possess,With Fortune and renown to bring success,

And know whose throne this is, whose royal crown,And whose the farr that marks the Shah’s renown.

Help me; defeat this faithless man. Too longOur exile shames us in the gazing throng.”

When Caesar heard, his cheeks grew fenugreek-pale;Tears dewed that flower as he began to wail.

A bitter cry broke from his tongue and breast,As grief and pity robbed his heart of rest.

He read the letter; grief within him grew,The throne before his eyes turned lapis-blue.

Then Caesar spoke to Kharrad, wise of heart:“The wise know well the truth I now impart.

I hold Khosrow above my nearest kin,Above the living soul I bear within.

I have arms, legions, treasure; now declareWhat he requires; his needs shall be my care.

If he should ask my eyes, I would agree,Though more than all my wealth they mean to me.”

Then Caesar called an old and practiced scribe,A man of skill and wisdom in his tribe.

He bade him write an answer rich with art,Like Paradise to gladden every heart,

With counsels, promises, and royal lore,Of former times and present days and more.

When done, he chose a horseman free of fear,Ardent and wise, whose fluent speech was clear.

That learned warrior, weighing matters well,Was sent to where the exiled Shah would dwell:

“Proclaim: ‘O noble Shah, who treads the way,My power shall sweep your bitter cares away!

Both arms and gold are ready to your hand;No guest shall suffer sorrow in my land.

And had I lacked them, I would beg the aidOf every prince until the cost were paid,

That you might turn to Iran satisfied,With all your hopes fulfilled, your wants supplied!

Such are the turns of heaven: grief and care,Then sudden triumph in the place of snare.

Grieve not, but rest while fortune turns its wheel:I shall supply the legions and the steel!’”

The envoy reached Prince Khosrow and conveyedThe words of Caesar and the pledge he made.

Then Caesar cleared his hall, and sat and weighedThe matter, with his counselor to aid.

He told the priest, “This man has sought our grace,And chosen us for refuge in this place.

What shall we do to help him win reliefFrom shame imposed by that rebellious chief?”

The counselor replied, “What now we needIs counsel from the shrewd in thought and deed.

Let some of our philosophers attend,Well-advised men who know where counsels end.”

So mighty Caesar sent, and four men came,All Roman sages, men of noble name.

They said, “Since Iskandar departed life,The Iranians have worn us down with strife.

By frequent raids and war, by shedding blood,They wounded us and spilled a causeless flood.

Now holy God repays their evil ways;Sasanian Fortune dims beneath His gaze.

Give him no aid. If Khosrow now regainsThe royal crown and over Iran reigns,

He soon will ask for tribute from this land,And trample Rum beneath his haughty hand.

Consider whether such a course is wise;Hold all their promises as empty lies.”

When Caesar heard, his purpose turned about;The Shah’s first hope was dimmed by Caesar’s doubt.

He sent a swift horseman out to conveyHis note and what Rum’s sages had to say.

The envoy reached the place where Khosrow stayed,And spoke the words that Caesar had conveyed.

He gave the letter and explained at large;The Shah’s heart tightened under every charge.

His face turned wan with care; he then replied,With royal grief restrained by royal pride:

“If we must lay to heart, from ages past,Each charge that our accusers choose to cast,

Then all the hardships we have borne are vain,And all our weary toil has brought no gain.

Consider now our ancestors’ long fight:Was it unjust, or did they fight for right?

Ask ancient men who keep such matters clear,And question Rum’s wise sages without fear.

So be it; we shall turn from Rum and go;May you not need Iran in time of woe.

Let them decide which bird began the fight:The crow or owl, and which one acted right.

Not all who rise in Rum can therefore standWithout the Maker’s aid and guiding hand.

My ancestors were men of high renown,And prospered in the world beneath their crown.

They bore no man’s rebellion or his pride,Nor foolishness, nor harshness would abide.

But what does all this matter, when my headLies in the dragon’s maw, enclosed by dread?

Greet Caesar; say, ‘The great will not deviseSuch empty words to lay before the wise.

Though good and ill pass onward in the end,I will not rest, nor shall my purpose bend,

Until I free my robe from this foul stream,And wake from exile’s dark and shameful dream.

If Rum will not support me in my need,Envoys shall go where the Khan’s banners lead.

My words were vain, deprived of all their force;The running stream was darkened at its source.

When my returning messengers draw near,I shall depart and cease to linger here.’”

He told Iran’s men, “Let no heart be torn;Obey my word, though Fortune turns in scorn.

For God the Conqueror will bring us through;Our part is to be brave, and kind, and true.”

He wrote his answer, gave it to Tukhar,Who bore it to the Roman court afar.

When Caesar read the letter, thought returned,And in his heart deliberation burned.

He called his noble minister and said,“Unfold these problems, weigh them in your head.

Summon the great and brave; tell how things are,And learn what Fortune grants this exiled farr.

Will Khosrow triumph in this present strife,Or writhe beneath the turning wheel of life?

If you shall say, ‘No triumph waits for him;No New Year comes; his Fortune will be dim,’

Then let him seek the Khan in some far land,And find his cure at that great ruler’s hand.

But if he shall regain his father’s throne,Then let him not go helpless, on his own.

It would be well to send him legions, lestHe keep a lasting hatred in his breast.”

The prudent minister obeyed forthright,And summoned star-readers of ancient sight.

Through three long watches of the darkened night,They spoke with nobles, weighing Khosrow’s plight.

At last an astrologer began and said:“O Caesar, lord whose fame is far outspread,

I have consulted Plato’s tables old,Where star-wise signs and destinies are told.

Before long Khosrow will regain the throne;The realm and royal Fortune are his own.

For thirty-eight full years his reign shall last;No darkening dust shall over him be cast.”

Then Caesar told his minister, “Our doubtConcerning Khosrow now is driven out.

What shall we answer? What shall now be said?What salve upon this wound can we now spread?”

The minister replied, “The Khan may lendHis aid to Khosrow, prove a helpful friend.

If soldiers come from anywhere but Rum,He will avenge his wrongs and bring us doom.

Advise, O king; your wisdom counts for more,Your strength in all the stratagems of war.”

Then Caesar said, “We must dispatch him aid;Let legions go; let no delay be made.

When all is weighed, the wiser course is shown:Spend wealth to guard the safety of the throne.”

He wrote then, praise on praise in formal art:“With our wise priest we weighed each troubled part.

On good and ill we searched the matter through,And now resume the course we first held true.

Our counsels now are settled; I have laidThe ancient hoards wide open for your aid.

In Constantinople few legions standTo keep secure the borders of our land.

We called for legions, summoned far and wide;As each arrives, we send it to your side.

This long delay, this guarded hesitation,Arose from grave and careful calculation.

Our sages spoke of former wars and wrong,Remembered through the years, both deep and long.

Under Shah Shapur, Ardeshir’s son,Our youths knew toil before that war was done.

Then ravage, slaughter, and assault were rife,And wrongful vengeance drove the chiefs to strife.

Both Hormizd and Qobad forgot the wayOf God’s just law, and let their judgment stray.

Iranian arms laid thirty-nine towns low,And left but bramble, dust, and ruin’s woe.

The fields were drenched with blood of chiefs, and soTheir wives and children captive had to go.

So marvel not that Roman hearts have weighedRevenge for grief upon their fathers laid.

To cause hurt violates our holy creed;May God preserve us from each evil deed.

No better thing than uprightness we know,With no deceit or knavery to show.

We called the wronged and spoke to them at length,Until old rancor lost its hold and strength.

Their evil passions now have passed away;The ancient poison finds its cure today.

We have ensured that none shall raise a cryOf past revenge or let old hatred fly.

They pledge their souls to carry out your will,And swear to keep that solemn promise still.

You too must pledge that none shall ever bearIll will toward Rum or scorn the aid we share.

Say, ‘While I reign, I shall not scorn or slightThe Roman labors witnessed in my sight.

I will not ask Rum’s tribute anymore,Nor sell these labors for a richer store.

Your Roman frontiers shall remain secure;No inroad from Iran shall they endure.’

Go further in goodwill: make treaty now,And bind affinity by sacred vow.

Whatever comes, through peace or bitter war,Let us remain true brothers evermore.

When power shifts, and need has passed away,Let not revenge return another day.

Else men will speak once more of Tur and Salm,And ancient wrongs will shatter present calm.

I ask a binding pact fit for your seal,A sign that future years may read and feel.

From now on, we will never speak in rageOf Iraj’s blood or wrongs of ancient age.

Let Rum and Iran now be joined in peace;Let no hand break the bond or make it cease.

There is a daughter in our ladies’ bower,Fit for the greatest of the great in power.

Ask her according to our holy rite,And by our Faith make treaty firm and bright.

A child of Caesar’s line will not demandRevenge for Iraj from the Roman land.

The earth will rest; its war and strife will cease,And walk, the past put by, in righteous peace.

With wisdom’s eye, esteem this pact as just;For kinship gives alliance lasting trust.

Such is the precept that we have from God;It turns the sword from field and bloodied sod.

Long years have passed since Pirooz’s blood was shed,When Khoshnavaz stood firm and Pirooz fell dead.

But perish every treaty-breaking king,Whose faithless hand makes dust and ruin spring.

Our Prophet, the Messiah, said this word:‘When justice goes, the mind grows warped and blurred.’

Khoshnavaz strove with every means to savePirooz from ruin and an early grave.

But when Pirooz used force against his foe,In battle he saw nothing but black woe.

His troops and throne were scattered far and wide,Because he cast the path of right aside.

You are a youth and new to kingly care;Take Fortune’s fruit; keep faith in all you swear.

Do not make one who breaks a pact your friend;He is not worth a shroud when life shall end.

The crown and throne curse any king who breaksHis pledge for any vengeance that he takes.

Read through this letter closely; then prepareYour answer with a king’s attentive care.

I would not have this known to any scribe;Write it yourself; let no one else transcribe.

When I shall read your answer, I shall findThe purpose of your independent mind.

Then I shall send you arms, our legions, gold,To ease your care and strengthen what you hold.

As for the honored men who stand beside,And those against whom anger may abide,

Put hatred firmly from your heart and mind;Leave their misdeeds to God, all-wise and kind.

Be neither harsh nor proud with friend or foe;Let measured justice govern high and low.

If you would have victorious Fortune last,And rule the world, your crown and throne held fast,

Do not seize others’ goods to sate your greed;Keep bright the pathway of your soul and deed.

Be gracious; keep your people’s lives secure;Protect the working folk who toil while poor.

If you are generous and a friend in need,None will attempt your crown, nor foes succeed.

The watchful Shahs kept harm and foes at bay;Their God-given farr grew brighter day by day.

Great men seek kinship for themselves, or planSuch ties for their own children, clan with clan.

Now all of us advise you, loyal, true,And offer words of faithful counsel due.”

He stamped the musk seal when the ink was dry,And blessed the envoy sent with this reply.

When word of Caesar’s wish for peace was plainTo Khosrow Parviz, joy displaced his pain.

He told Iran, “The sun turns strange today;A letter from wise Caesar comes our way.

He seeks to end the ancient feud and strifeThat long has troubled Rum and Iran’s life.”

They answered, “When this quarrel finds its end,No chief will seek the crown or war extend.

Nor shall the troops remain in want and pain;Such peace will bring them comfort in your reign.

Such peace, if won by you, will earn acclaim;On royal crowns they will inscribe your name.”

When all approved the counsel and the plan,Khosrow dismissed the courtiers, to a man:

He called for Chinese silk, for ink and quill,And took the pen himself with monarch’s skill;

In ancient Pahlavi his hand portrayedThe solemn covenant and vow he made:

“Khosrow Parviz swears by the holy God,By circling sun and earth’s sustaining sod,

That while I sit as Shah upon the throne,With Iran’s troops and treasures as my own,

I shall demand no tribute from your hand,Nor lead an army to invade your land;

The border fortresses that Rum has lostI shall restore, unmindful of the cost:

I pledge our seals to ratify this claim,And ask your daughter, worthy of your name:

Her mother, pure, belongs within your house;With your consent, I take your child as spouse.

Entrust her to Iranians at your court,Who dwell beneath your shield and strong support:

Gostaham, Kharrad of Barzin’s honored name,Shapur and Andiyan, of noble fame.

Send her with legions when you grant that aid,That wise young bride, renowned and well-arrayed.

Through this affinity I join with you,As ancient royal houses used to do.

First Kioumars came forth in ancient light,Then Jamshid, hope and terror in men’s sight.

From Abtin and Fereydoon came that raceOf noble kings who held that honored place.

From crowned old monarchs runs the sacred streamTo Kay Qobad, whose virtues brightly gleam;

Then Kay Kavus and Kay Khosrow upheldThe royal right, whose justice wolves repelled;

The line flowed on through Lohrasp’s righteous reign,And valiant Goshtasb followed in that train.

Then Esfandiyar, first among the bold,From whom came Bahman, famed in days of old.

Through Ardeshir Babakan, Fortune’s lightGrew young again; his star was clear and bright.

Now Khosrow, son of Hormizd, heart and hand,Is one with Caesar over sea and land.

Among your distant fathers Salm is known;No falsehood mars the ancestry here shown.

We shall end every feud of former days,And join Iran and Rum in peaceful ways.

Roman and Iranian shall be one;Of ancient quarrels, there shall linger none.

I take from Caesar’s house his daughter fair,The choicest blossom that his gardens bear.

Whatever vice or virtue she may claim,I shall receive her to my crown and name.

God witnesses this letter I have made,And by my hand its every word is laid.

I set my seal to every word I write,According to our ways, our Faith, our rite.

For those who follow you upon the throne,This pledge shall stand, in writing clearly shown.

My soul and wisdom witness what I say;In great or small, I shall not turn away.

My heart, my star, and holy God attestThat every word is true within my breast.

Now keep your promise; grant no more delay;Too long I linger here, day after day.”

When all was said, he placed the scroll in trustWith Khorshid, son of Kharrad, wise and just.

Swift as the wind, that chief arose and sprangUpon his chestnut horse; the hoofbeats rang.

He sped until he came to Caesar’s throne,And made the words of Khosrow fully known.

Then Caesar broke the band and read the scroll,The Shah’s exalted words before him whole.

He called on wise, well-spoken men to meet,And questioned each before his royal seat.

“What course is best? How shall this treaty standBetween Rum’s realm and Iran’s royal land?

His letter leaves no pretext now,” he cried;“Rum and Iran stand firmly side by side.”

The chiefs and sages rose and answered then:“We are your subjects, Caesar, all your men.

The counsel and command are all your own;Our lives and souls are bound to serve your throne.”

Caesar approved those pious chiefs and wise,And praised the judgment shining in their eyes.

He waited till the lamp of day grew dim,And darkness spread across the heavens’ rim.

When circling Sol sank down and darkness towered,And stars awoke where nightly shadows flowered,

Caesar bade skilled mechanicians deviseA talisman to baffle watching eyes:

They shaped a lifelike woman with such artThat none could tell the counterfeit apart.

She sat in trailing raiment, robed and crowned,With handmaids near and servants ranged around.

Before, behind, on both her sides they stood,While she sat silent, fashioned fair and good.

That moon-faced form appeared as one who wept,And in her grief a queenly stillness kept.

At intervals, one hand would gently rise,And wipe the tears that gathered in her eyes.

All those who gazed upon it from afarBeheld a woman radiant as a star.

She seemed to weep for Christ; her cheeks were red,Her lashes, like spring clouds, their showers shed.

When those adepts had set it in its place,One went to Caesar, wonder in his face.

When Caesar heard the expert’s word, he rose,And hastened from the throne to view it close.

He saw the talisman and stood amazedAt secret arts on which in awe he gazed.

He sent for Gostaham, the warrior famed,And richly paid the sorcerers acclaimed.

With money, robes, and gifts of every kind,He honored all whose craft had fooled the mind.

Then Caesar said to Gostaham, “Attend:I had a daughter, beauty without end.

She grew to marriageable years in grace;I found a kinsman of aspiring race.

I married her to him by Christian rite,And sent her to his palace out of sight.

I chose that youth; I chose in error then;Now heaven has taken him from mortal men.

His soul has gone to Heaven; grief has spread,And daylight now seems lapis-dark instead.

She will not heed my counsel or reply;Our youthful world grows aged while we sigh.

Go speak with her; use learning and your art,And ease with measured words her wounded heart.

Young Pahlevan, born of a noble stock,Perhaps your words her silence may unlock.”

He said, “I will; perhaps this love will cease,And I shall bring her troubled spirit peace.”

With cheerful heart and potent words in mind,The chief approached the image so refined.

As Gostaham drew near the royal seat,The guileful form bowed low, his glance to meet.

Illustrious Gostaham took his place,And spoke to that sad woman, full of grace.

“O daughter born of Caesar’s royal line,The wise do not lament Yazdan’s design.

The eagle in the sky, the lion’s pride,The fish beneath the waves where waters glide,

Are none exempt from death’s supreme command;All creatures pass beneath the turning hand.”

But all his words were wind; the form lacked breath,No tongue to answer, silent as in death.

Only at times she raised her hand, to dryThe tears that, by design, fell from her eye.

While Gostaham was lost in wondering thought,Caesar sent for him and the answer sought.

“How did you find my child, whose endless griefHas robbed my heart of comfort and relief?”

He answered, “Long I counseled her; her tongueStayed mute; no answer from her lips was wrung.”

Next day said Caesar, “Balvi, take the roadWith Andiyan and Shapur to her abode.

The nobly born may help to make me glad;Go speak with her whose grief has made me sad.

Speak to the mourner of the famous king;Perhaps your words some answer now may bring.

She heaps upon my head the fire of grief;Her tears deny my weary heart relief.

Help me by speaking with my mourning child;Let counsel make her wounded spirit mild.

I feel assured today she will reply,And I shall be released from grief thereby.”

Those three Iranian nobles came to plead;Each offered counsel she refused to heed.

That tongueless form remained in silence bound;No living answer in the hall was found.

The baffled three returned to Caesar’s hall,And said she had not answered them at all.

“We spoke and counseled as our wisdom could,But none of all our counsel did her good.”

Said Caesar, “Fortune wounds us when we grieveFor one whose grief no counsel can relieve.”

Since those great nobles failed, he next addressedKharrad, whose piercing thought surpassed the best.

Caesar then said, “From Ardeshir’s great lineYou come; perhaps her voice will give a sign.”

He sent him to the mourner from the court,With one attendant trusted for support.

Kharrad arrived and studied her array,Her crown, her face, and how she sat that day.

The guileful talisman bowed down to greet;Kharrad watched closely from her head to feet.

He marked the servants standing all around,Then spoke at length, but heard from her no sound.

That scion of the chiefs grew full of thought:“Can grief explain the signs my eye has caught?

If grief had robbed her reason and her will,Why are her servants also silent still?

If these are tears that truly fill her eyes,Her passion should abate beneath the skies.

She lets the drops fall always on one place;Her hand repeats its course before her face.

No other part has stirred, no foot has strayed;The same stiff gesture, endlessly replayed.

Were life within this form, its tears would stray,Or else its hand would move another way.

I see no living motion in her frame;The Roman sages forged this clever game.”

He came to Caesar smiling and at ease:“This moon-faced lady neither breathes nor sees.

She is a talisman the Romans made,Both Balvi and Gostaham it betrayed.

You mock us with the marvels you devise,And cast this spell of blindness on our eyes.

Our Shah will smile when he shall hear the tale,And show his silver teeth where tricks must fail.”

Said Caesar, “Live forever. You are fitTo serve as minister where monarchs sit.

I have a wondrous chamber in my hall;No mind can grasp the marvels of it all.

When you behold it, you cannot decideIf craft or heavenly power stands inside.”

Kharrad beheld a rider in the air,Suspended on his horse, a wonder rare.

He came to Caesar: “Such a wondrous stoneDeserves a place upon a royal throne.”

Then Caesar asked, “Who made this talisman,And raised this lifeless semblance of a man?”

He said, “The horseman is of iron made;The dome of lodestone holds him there displayed.”

The lodestone draws the iron, and suspendsThe horse and rider where the dome ascends.

The Romans set him on an iron steed;The Indian books bring joy to those who read.

Then Caesar asked, “What heights do they attainUpon the path that Indian creeds maintain?

Do they bow down to idols when they pray,Or does some sacred law direct their way?”

Kharrad, the son of Barzin, answered soon:“In Hind they serve the ox and praise the moon.

They put no trust in God or turning sky,And pass beyond the circling sun on high.

They do not reckon men like us as wise,And hold their bodies worthless in their eyes.

Who kindles fire and steps within its flameBelieves self-burning earns a righteous name.

They say a fire abides within the height,Set by Yazdan, great Lord of sovereign might.

The sage names this high fire the Ether’s sphere,And speaks of it in words that please the ear.

When earthly flame and ether-flame combine,They say man’s sin is purged by fire divine.

For this they kindle fire and feed its blaze,And deem the burning worthy of their praise.

Your own beliefs are not the truth you claim;Christ’s spirit is my witness to the same.

Mark what Lord Jesus, Mary’s son, once taught,When hidden truths were into daylight brought:

‘If someone seizes your shirt, let anger go;Do not resist or strike him blow for blow.

If one should strike your face with bitter blows,Until your eyes grow dark beneath your woes,

Do not grow angry; let no cheek turn pale;Speak no cold word, and let not patience fail.

If food is scarce, be with the little fed;If bedding fails, ask for no cloth to spread.

Return no harm for harm, no wrong for wrong;Pass through this darkness harmless, calm and strong.’

But now desire is king above your thought;Through overweening greed your hearts are caught.

You raise your palaces to Saturn’s height;Your treasure keys proclaim your wealth and might.

Besides your wealth, you marshal mailed arrays,With Roman helms and armor bright with rays.

You send your legions out against the right,And leave your ease to draw your swords and fight.

The wilderness has turned to seas of blood;Christ did not guide you to that crimson flood.

He was a poor man, earning his own breadThrough toil, by which his humble life was fed.

He lived on curds and milk and simple fare,With butter only for his further share.

A Jewish man seized him and saw him standWithout a friend or any helping hand.

He slew him, raised him on the gibbet-tree,And mocked his Faith for all the world to see.

Grown ardent, eloquent, and wise in youth,He sought deep knowledge and proclaimed the truth.

In youth his wit had brought him learning’s light;In time he gained a prophet’s rank and right.

You say he was God’s son and smiling died,Upon the gibbet, mocked and crucified.

At such a claim the sage will smile and seeThe flaw that lies within this mystery.

God needs no wife or child; within His sightAll hidden things lie open, clear and bright.

Why turn from great Kioumars’ ancient way,Or Tahmuras’ wisdom from an elder day?

They taught that the Creator rules alone,And righteous worship makes His glory known!

The pious priest recites his holy prayer,And holds the barsom twigs with reverent care;

He tastes no water, though with thirst he bleed,Subduing nature to his sacred creed;

He trusts in God upon the battle day,Nor asks cold water in the deadly fray.

He turns in worship to the sacred fire,Above earth, air, and water rising higher.

Our Shahs barter no sacred faith for pay;They serve Yazdan, whom earth and heavens obey;

They prize not hoards of gems or golden store,Seeking through justice fame forevermore;

Then comes the warrior whose dust shall riseTo veil the sun in battle-darkened skies:

He shields the frontiers with his sword and spear,And holds the King of Kings, in vigil, dear.

He guards the land from foes with lawful might;The wise Shah asks for this, and deems it right.

For him who seeks in Faith what is not true,May curses fall upon him as his due.”

When Caesar heard, he praised the speech as wise;Its counsel brought new light before his eyes.

He said, “The Maker placed you high amongThe great; all men must heed your learned tongue.

You hold the key to secrets long concealed;Through you their hidden meaning stands revealed.

A king with such a servant may look downFrom heights above the moon’s resplendent crown.”

He gave him silver, gold, a crown, and said,“Through you may Iran thrive in years ahead!”

When Caesar learned the legions gathered near,And horsemen’s dust made heaven’s vault unclear,

Full seventy thousand chosen Roman spearsHe picked for war, seasoned through veteran years;

He ordered gold and chargers and display,Refusing longer to endure delay.

He had a daughter, Maryam by name,Wise, grave, resolved, and high in royal fame.

He gave her to the Shah by sacred rite,And prayed that God would bless their union bright.

Gostaham took her in the royal way,And gave her to the Shah in due array.

He brought such bridal wealth, so great a load,That swift pack-beasts grew slow upon the road.

Gold ornaments and jewels fit to wear,Gemmed raiment, carpets costly, rich, and rare,

Roman brocade with golden patterns bright,On silk embroidered, wondrous to the sight,

Torques, bracelets, earrings, all of gold refined,Three diadems with jewels intertwined.

Four gilded litters, too, with curtained screensSewn thick with royal jewels, fit for queens.

And forty more of ebony were made,With jewel-bright designs across them laid.

Three hundred moon-faced maids came in her train,All fragrant, graceful, lovely, free from stain.

Five hundred slaves, alert, came in array,With gold and silver harness on display.

And forty Roman eunuchs, fair of face,Illustrious men, moved on with courtly grace.

Four philosophers of Rum were sent,Wise, learned men in counsel eloquent.

He gave them their instructions, then apartAddressed fair Maryam with a father’s heart.

He spoke of rest, desire, and daily need,Of gifts and food, and seemliness in deed.

The bridal wealth was counted; its vast storeWas thrice a hundred million, even more.

To every envoy present in his courtHe gave rich robes and steeds of noble sort.

He gave them jeweled crowns and gold past count,And robes, and each a noble steed to mount.

He bade them write, “O servants, yours the rightTo raise your heads up to the moon’s own height.

No man more worthy, high or low in birth,Than Gostaham shall rise upon this earth.

What man like Shapur speaks with judgment clear,And mediates the counsels that we hear?

Balvi keeps secrets; nothing men can payWill make him sell the noble-born away.

And none who lives through many years shall knowA man like Kharrad, wise in joy and woe.

God taught him mysteries no eye could find,And made his counsel sunlight to the mind.

Faultless as sunlight, all his deeds are bright;His works are godly, guided by the right.”

The star-reader was summoned to adviseWhen they should march beneath propitious skies.

On Bahram day great Caesar led the way,With happy omens blessing their array.

Three stages Caesar rode beside the train;The fourth, he halted there, and drew his rein.

He bade fair Maryam come and spoke at length,With tender counsel, fatherly in strength:

“Keep, dearest child, your girdle round your waistTill you reach Iran, guarded, pure, and chaste.

Let Khosrow never see your body bare,Lest some new matter take you unaware.”

He said farewell with tenderness and care:“May heaven shield you safely everywhere.”

Caesar had one brave brother, strong and wise,Niyatus, honored under Roman skies.

He said, “Fair Maryam is your blood and race;In Faith and kinship, guard her life and grace.

I charge you with these legions and this wealth,With her fair safety, honor, peace, and health.”

Niyatus took the charge without delay;Then Caesar turned in tears and rode away.

The legions marched along the road ahead;With gorz and sword, Niyatus rode and led.

When Khosrow heard the legions had arrived,He led his armed men out, his hopes revived.

When standards rose through dust across the plain,And riders clad in jowshans came in train,

The legions came like clouds in iron bright,In helm and cuirass, terrible to sight.

His spirit bloomed like roses in the spring;New royal pride revived the warrior-king:

He spurred to meet Niyatus on the plain,Embracing him before the Roman train,

And poured forth praises on great Caesar’s name,Who sent such legions to redeem his fame!

Then joyful Khosrow, to the bride’s abode,Rode in, and there to Maryam’s presence strode.

He greeted her, and, kissing her soft hand,Rejoiced to see the bride from Caesar’s land.

He bore his Moon back to his royal tent,And there three days in talk with her he spent.

Upon the fourth, when Sol began to shine,They decked a chosen lodging, fair and fine.

He summoned Sarges, Kut, Niyatus all,With great and lesser chiefs into the hall.

He asked, “Which chiefs among these men todayCan wield the gorz and sword in war’s array?”

Then Niyatus chose seventy chiefs of might,Each set above a thousand men in fight.

Khosrow Parviz surveyed that chosen throng,The noble horsemen, keen for war, and strong.

He praised the Maker of the earth and sky,Who turns both time and heaven wheeling high.

He praised Niyatus and the troops he led,And Caesar and his realm, so widely spread.

Then said, “If mighty God shall aid my fight,The world shall see the measure of my might.

I shall make earth a sea where jewels gleam,My gifts shall flow among you like a stream.

You will rejoice that you have joined my cause,Your tongues, once silent, now shall voice applause.

Let thoughts of friends alone within us flower,With heaven our friend, and noble love our bower.”

Upon the seventh day, the Shah arrayedHis troops, with all their royal might displayed.

It seemed the turning sky had taken form;The court resounded with the tymbal-storm.

The air grew black with dust the horsemen made,As ranks of warriors gathered in parade.

He chose a freeborn force and set his faceToward Azar Abadagan’s wide embrace.

Two weeks passed by, while at the Shah’s commandFresh troops arrived in camp, a mighty band.

Upon Duk’s plain his royal tent was spread,Amid the mighty force that he had led.

He gave the legions to Niyatus’ hand:“All troops are yours to lead across the land.”

Then with some courageous horsemen he rode;His swift steed carried him along the road.

He took the road toward Khanjast that day,And rode with gladdened heart along the way.

There Mawsil camped, a lord among the great,Armenia’s chief, a man of high estate.

Bandvi, the Shah’s own uncle, shared his train,A kinsman trusted, loyal to his reign.

When these two heard that Khosrow stirred again,They left their camp and rode to meet him then.

When Khosrow saw two horsemen on the way,He turned to Gostaham and had his say:

“O warrior, two men hurry through the field;Ride out; see who they are, what haste may yield.”

He answered, “King, unless my eyes mislead,My brother Bandvi rides the piebald steed.

That other rider is not one we know;Yet both come swiftly where the dust clouds blow.”

The Shah replied, “What hope of him remains?If still alive, he must be held in chains.

If dead, his body on the gibbet sways,Within the public square, before men’s gaze.”

Said Gostaham, “Regard him well, O king;That is your uncle whom the roads now bring.

If I am wrong, let death fall over me;No other man could wear the face I see.”

The two dismounted in that shaded place,Approached, and bowed before his farr-bright face.

They praised him deeply, made obeisance low;The Shah gave Bandvi welcome after woe.

“I thought,” he told him, “earth had claimed your breath,And you lay buried in the dust of death.”

Bandvi recounted all his sore dismay,And how the Shah’s own robe led foes astray.

He told how Bahram granted him his grace,And how he fled from that most deadly place.

The Shah wept greatly as the tale was told,Then asked, “Who is this man that I behold?”

Bandvi replied, “O sun-faced Shah, be kind:Does Mawsil find no welcome in your mind?

Since you left Iran for the Roman land,He knew no settled peace on any hand.

His palace was the tent beneath the sky;He waited for your face with watchful eye.

He has great troops, with ample arms supplied,And gold and treasure he has set aside.”

Then Khosrow said to Mawsil, “Can your toilLie hidden, and your service earn no spoil?

We shall repay your days with joy and fame,And set among the greatest your good name.”

Mawsil replied, “Give me new life, O king;Let me approach your stirrup now and bring

My homage to your farr.” Khosrow replied,“Your toil and words shall swell your treasure’s tide.

I shall fulfill your wish and raise your nameAbove the great in dignity and fame.”

He drew one foot out; Mawsil, full of awe,Kissed foot and stirrup of the Shah he saw.

When that devoted liege was satisfied,The Shah bade him remount and onward ride.

Across the barren plain the monarch rodeTo Azargashasp’s shrine, the Fire’s abode.

With murmured prayer and aching heart he cameWhere burned the fire-temple’s sacred flame.

A priest approached, the Zand-Avesta borne;The pious Shah stood humbled and careworn.

He loosed the golden belt upon his waist,And jewels on the sacred Fire he placed.

He cried beyond the priest in grief profound:“Just Judge, bring all my foes’ heads to the ground.

You know I plead with justice and intendTo walk the path of good until the end.

Do not approve the wrong the wicked do.”He bound his golden belt when he was through.

He turned to Duk, grief lodged within his breast,And reached his camp when night had quenched the west.

He sent alert and seasoned scouts to seeHow matters stood, and what the news might be.

When Nimruz heard the Shah was near their ground,The tabiras on elephants were bound.

The earth seemed like the Nile; their hearts grew strong;They came to aid the Shah, a mighty throng.

When Bahram heard that Khosrow’s royal lightHad shone anew, with kingly Fortune bright,

He fixed his eyes upon a trusted man,A soldier chosen for his secret plan.

Dara Panah, wise, famed, and full of art,Had served Bahram with faith and loyal heart.

He called a noted scribe and gave commandTo write grave letters through Iranian land.

He bade them write to men of warlike fame:Gostaham and Bandvi, both chiefs of name.

To Gordvi, warrior of renowned degree,Whose fame was known wherever chiefs could be.

To brave Shapur and Andiyan beside,And all in whom true greatness could abide.

“I seek the Maker’s blessing evermore,And in my secret heart His grace implore.

Awake; let evil lead you not astray;Let wisdom guide the counsels of the day.

Since first the Sasanian line ascended,Its kings in pride and greed have all contended.

Ardeshir, sprung from Babak, first arose,And filled the world with conflict and with woes.

His scimitar cast shadow on his age,And dazed the great with warfare, wrath, and rage.

First call to mind Ardavan and the brave,Whose names have vanished with them in the grave.

Their absence is the throne’s enduring grief;Gone are their names, and gone each noble chief.

You heard what Qobad, with his wicked will,Brought on Sofrye, and how he served him ill.

He freed Qobad from fetters, grief, and woe;Qobad repaid him as a mortal foe.

When treacherous Qobad at last grew strong,He cast all virtue off and turned to wrong.

He slew that famed and faithful Pahlevan,And filled with grief the nobles of Iran.

Who spurns his child and kin for passion’s sakeWill keep no faith with strangers; trust will break.

None seeks ivory in ebony’s grain,Nor rubies in red willow; both are vain.

Do not put trust in the Sasanian throne;Their stock can yield no ruby of its own.

When this my letter finds you in your place,May holy Ormozd’s farr light heart and face.

You hold a splendid station in my sight;To me your worth is manifest and bright.

The breast and sleeves are one within the shirt;So are our hearts in Fortune, joy, and hurt.

Come all to me; by darkness or by day,Rest here as one; my gloom will pass away.

I do not fear the Romans or their king;Their throne beneath my feet I mean to bring.”

They sealed the letters with Bahram’s own seal;He dressed for trade, his purpose to conceal.

In haste he came where Khosrow held his court,With caravan and wares of every sort.

He carried letters, gifts, and presents too,All veiled beneath a trader’s outward view.

He marked that grandeur and that mighty train,And saw no passage through the crowded plain.

“Who,” thought he, “seeing such a king stand tall,Would seek Bahram’s protection now at all?

I am from Iran, free from foe and care;Full thirty camel-loads of goods I bear.

Why bring destruction on myself, when ISee from the pit such majesty rise high?

These letters to the Shah I shall convey,A novel gift, and tell him what they say.”

Perturbed, he came before the Shah with allThe hostile gifts and letters from that hall.

He brought the silver, gifts, and letters sealed,And to the Shah their messages revealed.

The Shah read all the letters brought that day,Then bade him on a golden seat to stay.

He said, “O man of wisdom, you should knowThat in my eyes Bahram stands mean and low.

You have attained your end; seek no acclaim,Nor strive in this affair for further fame.”

He called a scribe; false letters were prepared,As though the chiefs themselves their minds declared:

“Your letters reached us; we have weighed each word,We gave your envoy place, his message heard.

In outward speech we fight for Khosrow’s claim,But in our hearts you are new spring and flame.

When you have led your army to the field,Who then will count the Romans or their shield?

We will draw scimitars and strike them low,And make their blood upon the battlefield flow.

When Khosrow sees your troops and hears your name,He will behold your prowess and your fame.

His heart will quail upon the battle-day,And like a fox he will be chased away.”

He sealed the letters, gave them to that chief,And spoke of toil that would bring sweet relief:

“For this your conduct, sage, you shall have fruit;Your toil shall flower from a faithful root.”

He gave him jewels, gems, and shining gold,Rewards whose worth could scarcely all be told.

“Take these replies to Chubin; let him hearAll you have heard,” he said, “and make it clear.

You shall lack nothing when my Fortune grows,And when my crown again in splendor shows.”

Dara Panah departed from the court,Swift as the wind, to carry his report.

The youth fulfilled his charge without delay;He gave the letters, told what he must say.

When that ambitious chief had read the lines,Greed rose and drove out wisdom’s sound designs.

Deceived by their replies, he raised his band;Amazement spread throughout Iran’s broad land.

The elders saw his blindness and drew near,And spoke to him with words of warning clear:

“Do not depart; this day, so fresh and bright,Will soon grow old if you march out to fight.

If Khosrow comes, then nothing meets our sightBut gorz and scimitar in vengeful might.

Do not break faith for royal pomp and pride;Time blinds you, then becomes your reckless guide.”

Their words were vain; he called his troops to horse,Packed baggage; tabiras proclaimed the course.

That freeborn force of Iran onward cameTo Azar Abadagan, bright with fame.

The armies closed; so dense their masses grew,No ant or fly could thread a passage through.

Bahram said, “I would scan their full array,And learn who rides for Rum in war’s display.”

The chiefs, with Yalan-sina, took their way;And, with Izad Gashasp, rode to survey.