Book E9The Years of Chaos

Now I must tell of young Ardeshir’s reign,And once more make the tale of kingship plain.

At seven years the child assumed the throne;Before him Iran’s gathered grandees shone.

The famed old chiefs would hear the Shah’s intent,And learn what rule his new-made kingship meant.

Then young Ardeshir spoke before the crowd:“Well-tested warriors, valiant and proud,

Whoever sits upon the royal throneMust worship God and make skilled speech his own.

We will pursue the former Shahs’ high way,Their farr and Faith, their justice day by day.

May we remember God, the Source of good,And rule with justice as a monarch should.

I will raise those who serve and cast down lowOppressors, making guilty lifeblood flow.

Pirooz Khosrow shall rule as guide and stay,To steer our troops and council day by day.

With such a Pahlevan, let Iran cheer,And keep your hearts and spirits free of fear.”

His words brought many listeners repose;Contentment in their quiet hearts arose.

Then tidings reached Guraz, whose treacherous prideHad helped cast Khosrow and his crown aside.

From Rum he sent a messenger to say:“Shiruyeh’s crown lies trampled in the clay.

Let hell receive his soul, and let his tombBe overturned beneath that bitter doom.

Who ever saw a cypress proud and grandDestroyed by grass that scarcely marked the land?

Khosrow Parviz, whom time could not outshine,Bestowed on me this lordly rank of mine.

I never swerved from what he bade me do,But served the ruler, steadfast, firm, and true.

Yet fate dethroned him; Fortune turned her face,And Heaven made the grave his dwelling place.

The sun and moon cut short his royal reign;His crown and throne he could no more retain.

They gave the crown to Khosrow’s faithless son,And brought Iran to shame by what was done.

When he too passed and Ardeshir took crown,The people all rejoiced in his renown.

If any share of Iran is my right,He shall not feel its breeze by day or night.

I did not know that wicked men had ledKhosrow to ruin through the words they spread.

I will not let a king like this one reign,Though all the age should kingless still remain.

His head is full of strife; his thoughts have strayed;Another army’s counsel is his aid.

Now I will come with armies in my train,With chiefs of Rum and Iran on the plain.

We then shall see who holds this lordly place,And favors schemes that bring such foul disgrace.

I will uproot him, root and branch and name,So he can make no further royal claim.”

He sent a runner with his message, sealed,To Iran’s army elders in the field.

To Pirooz Khosrow now he sent a scroll,With altered plans to reach his darkened goal:

“The Fortune of Sasan is veiled by cloud;A world-seeker must gird himself, stand proud.

Devise a remedy; let thought make clearWhat plans may serve the task before us here.

Seek helpers from all quarters of the land,And sweep Ardeshir from royal command.

Then all your heart’s desires shall be fulfilled;Live safe and glad, with all your troubles stilled.

But if you let this hidden plot be known,You feed revenge’s blade with blood alone.

I shall lead Roman legions in array,Till darkness blots out all your light of day.

Weigh well my words; consider what I state,Lest Roman vengeance seal your bitter fate.”

When Pirooz Khosrow read Guraz’s scroll,He weighed that self-willed man’s intent and goal.

His heart grew dark; he pondered how to bringDestruction on that child of kings, his king.

The Shah would summon him from day to day,For he was learned and skilled in what to say.

As minister and treasurer, he heldThe Shah’s affairs, and in both posts excelled.

Then one dark night he climbed the royal stairAnd found bright wine and speech both smooth and fair.

Ardeshir sat within his royal hall,Attended by a few, and that was all.

When Pirooz Khosrow came before the throne,It seemed his head beyond the heavens shone.

He called for music; all the palace rangWith instruments and songs the minstrels sang.

At midnight, Pirooz drank a man of wine;The guests were drunk, their senses in decline.

He drove the bards and counselors away;He would allow no other men to stay.

He and the Shah remained alone inside;Then outrage rose where royal trust had died.

He clamped the royal mouth, cut off his breath,And held that tender throat in silent death.

Thus Ardeshir six months of kingship filled;By Pirooz’s treachery the Shah was killed.

The palace filled with swords and arrows then;Pirooz Khosrow was joined by all those men.

Both heroes and new seekers after fameAnd power gave their aid to serve his aim.

Pirooz Khosrow sent a lengthy scroll;A camel courier bore it to its goal.

It went to Guraz; when the envoy came,His somber soul grew bright as solar flame.

From those parts he led forth such armed arrayThat ant and gnat alike could find no way.

Like wind toward Tisfoon he drove his train;His soldiers’ hands were dark with blood and stain.

No soldier dared to speak, but bowed instead;Most people in that city dwelt in dread.

He set the Kayanian crown upon his head;Whatever crossed his mind, Farayin said:

“Let me be king awhile, and take my seatUpon this throne, where joy and kingship meet.

Far better this than sixty years to spendIn service, bowed by toils that never end.

When I am gone, my son shall take my place,And wear the crown with confidence and grace.”

His elder son then spoke to him aside:“You wear the crown, and rule the country wide.

Do not feel safe; take thought for all your gold;Make firm the world you now are crowned to hold.

If any scion of the royal raceShould come, you will not long remain in place.”

The younger said, “You hold the royal crown,With troops and treasures, master of renown.

Yet one without a hoard must labor still;Treasure gives kingship force and royal will.

What forebear of Fereydoon, Abtin’s son,Had worn the crown before his own was won?

He gave the world to three sons, blessed and bright,And found in justice all his heart’s delight.

With men and treasure keep your kingship’s might;No man is born possessing royal right.”

The younger son’s advice pleased him the best;He told the elder, “Let such folly rest.”

He set the royal muster in the halls,And summoned all the troops within the walls.

He scattered robes and gold in wanton sport,And squandered honors freely through the court.

Within two weeks, Shah Ardeshir’s whole storeHeld not one shaft’s feather’s worth anymore.

When Guraz sought the garden for his wine,He brought but amber candles there to shine.

Eighty before him, eighty in the rear;His helpers followed close, all gathered near.

His basins shone in silver or in gold;The gold was gem-inlaid, a joy to behold.

He feasted through the watches of the night.The nobles’ hearts were dark with hate and spite.

By night, in drunken pride, his steps were bentThrough gardens; to the riding-ground he went.

In all Iran no friend remained to stay;The tide of Fortune turned the other way.

He lost all justice, wisdom, bounty, grace;An ignoble heart had taken honor’s place.

For gold he shut his eyes to wrong and right;For coins he would have sold the world outright.

He shed the blood of innocents at will,Then turned upon the troops in anger still.

The people cursed him; all desired his death,And met in secret, speaking under their breath.

Ormozd Shahran Guraz, a horseman bold,From Istakhr’s city, famed in deeds of old,

The glory of the chieftains, spoke one nightIn secret to the men of Iran’s might:

“O chiefs, Farayin’s tyranny grows severe;He scorns Iran’s great lords and feels no fear.

Why have your hearts grown narrow, courage small?Through him all eyes must weep, all hearts turn gall.

Is no physician to be found for pain?Must this disease of kingship still remain?

No Kayanian, nor of Sasan’s race,Why serve him, girded, to your own disgrace?

Either your hearts have fled out of your breasts,Or courage fails you in the hour that tests.”

The troops replied, “Since none of worth was left,The throne of fitting rulers stood bereft.

None thinks to vie with him for royal fame,Or turn against this man of tainted name.

Tell us from all the stores of lore you knowHow we may bring this hot-brained Shah down low.

How shall Iran be freed from such a one,Whose thought and word and deed no good have done?

May no good blessing reach him.” Then the chiefReplied, “Iran has borne him long in grief.

If you will do me no harm, stand for right,And act as warriors, then by God’s might,

I shall cast him from horseback to the dust.”They answered, “In your purpose we will trust.

May no harm touch you; all the troops todayStand as your shields and helpers in the fray.

If evil falls from this, we stand with you.”He heard and knew what valiant men could do.

Proud Ormozd sought the tyrant to overthrow,And strike for royal blood this mortal blow.

One day the monarch ordered forth the train,And rode out from the city to the plain.

He went to hunt, and with him rode a bandOf Iranian lords and warriors of the land.

He spurred his steed, as though his head were flame,Like Azargashasp, famed by its fiery name.

The Pahlevans rode with him in the chase,And hunted, urging on their steeds apace.

When they turned back toward the city gate,Shahran Guraz resolved to seal his fate.

He chose a shaft from out his quiver’s store,Straight, steel-tipped, fit to drink a tyrant’s gore.

He spurred his black steed while the watching bandBeheld the bow he carried in his hand.

He raised the bow to breast and head in play,And nocked a shaft as though in sport that day.

He drew until the point was hidden tight,Then loosed his thumb and let the shaft take flight.

The arrow struck the monarch in the back;His loosened fingers let the whip fall slack.

The shaft sank to its feathers, stained with red;Out through his navel thrust the iron head.

Headlong he fell; his blood began to flowIn streams upon the trampled earth below.

He writhed upon the dust and groaned in pain,And gave a bitter sigh upon the plain.

The soldiers drew their swords; a cloud of dustRose through the night as blade met savage thrust.

All night they plied their swords and blindly fought,Not knowing whom their swinging edges sought.

Each took from others in that darkened fight;Some earned a curse, and others praise that night.

Dawn’s yellow brocade spread; each mountain’s backSeemed like a leopard’s, mottled gold and black.

For fifty days alone his rule remained,Till blood and dust the usurper’s glory stained.

The mighty army scattered in dismay,Like sheep that see a wolf and flee away.

Long did they live without a king to reign;No claimant came the royal crown to gain.

They searched through every province for a sonOf royal blood, but of that line was none.

Poorandokht was her name; when she ascended,To heal the realm her royal care extended.

They seated her upon the royal throne,And chiefs spread jewels where her glory shone.

She said, “I will not break this gathered band,Nor scatter those who now before me stand.

I will enrich the poor from royal store,That none need suffer hardship anymore.

May no one in this realm endure such pain;His grief is mine; beside him I remain.

From all our land, our foes shall be expelled;The customs of our kings shall be upheld.”

She sought for Pirooz Khosrow; then there cameA trusty man with tidings of that name.

She chose renowned men from the ranks that day;They brought Pirooz to hear what she would say.

She cried, “Foul-hearted villain, face your fate;Receive the dark reward your crimes create.

Now you shall pay for all the wrong you sow;I shall make a stream of blood from your neck flow.”

She bade them lead a wild colt from its stall,That never yet had felt the saddle’s gall.

They bound him, firm as stone, upon its back,A noose about his neck that held no slack.

The untamed colt was led, with Pirooz bound,Into the open, on the riding-ground.

She sent some riders out across the course,Each with a kamand strapped upon his horse.

The wild steed plunged and reared in frantic flight,And dashed the traitor down in all men’s sight.

His skin was torn; the blood began to flowOut of his body, seeping soft and slow.

Pirooz at last surrendered breath in pain,And died in shame upon that dreadful plain.

Why should the wrongdoer seek justice then?The harm he dealt returns to him again.

Poorandokht ruled the world with gentle hand;No harsh wind lifted dust across the land.

But when six months had run their measured course,Her life’s revolving circle lost its force.

She died, a week of sickness having known,And carried fair renown with her alone.

Such is the working of the turning sphere:All-powerful, while we are powerless here.

Another lady, Azarmidokht by name,Assumed the crown and rose to royal fame.

She sat upon the Kayanian throne,And made the world’s dominion all her own.

Her first words were: “O sages, veterans all,Who know the world’s affairs, how fortunes fall,

We shall uphold the ancient law with pride,Till in the grave, on bricks, our heads abide.

To those who love me I shall be a stay,A lord who will sustain them, come what may.

But he who breaks my pledge forsakes the roadOf wisdom and rejects the rightful code;

I shall hang him, shamed, on the gallows high,Iranian, Arab, Roman; he shall die.”

Four months she filled the throne in royal state;The fifth brought ruin through the turns of fate.

With her, the realm lost virtue’s shielding light;Her star was dimmed, eclipsed in fortune’s night.

She died; the throne was left without a king,To those who wished her ill, a welcome thing.

The turning sphere makes hatred plainly knownToward those it nurtured once and called its own.

From Jahram Farrokhzad they called to reign,And raised his seat above the royal plain.

There with a pious heart, he first was heardTo praise his God, then spoke this royal word:

“A son am I of kings of honored name;I seek the world’s repose: that is my aim.

While I am Shah, no mischief-maker’s handShall rise to honor anywhere in the land.

Who from the heart pursues the rightful way,And works no mischief, I shall love each day.

As my pure soul, I hold such people dear,And harm no guiltless man through wrath or fear.”

The army blessed him: “May you long remain;May earth and time your presence still retain.”

Yet when his throne had lasted one short moon,His head and Fortune fell to dust too soon.

He had a slave, a cypress in his height,Fair, vigorous, pleasing to the outward sight.

May turning Heaven never bring to birthAnother Siyah Chashm upon this earth.

One day a serving maid came into view;Within his heart a love for her then grew.

He sent to say, “Meet me in such a place;Great gifts shall crown your life with jeweled grace.

I will adorn your crown with gems and gold.”She answered nothing, keeping silence cold.

She went and told the matter to the king;Farrokhzad burned at hearing such a thing.

His anger burned; his sorrow ran so deepThat he could neither take his food nor sleep.

He fettered Siyah Chashm by both his feet,And cast him into prison’s harsh retreat.

When time had passed, the just Shah’s heart grew kind;The many pleas for mercy swayed his mind.

He freed the slave, who served him as of old,But now the love he once had felt ran cold.

The king enjoyed his little share of rest;Into his wine the slave his poison pressed.

The monarch drank, then withered day by day;For one full week in agony he lay.

The kingship neared its end in dark dismay,While eager foes appeared from every way.

Such are the ways of time that turns the sphere;Consider what your share may be while here.

Eat what you have; trust not tomorrow’s gain,For what today bestows may not remain.

It takes from you and gives to someone new;Another wears the crown once worn by you.

Enjoy your wealth, and give, and do not keepYour labor’s fruit for enemies to reap.

When once your day has passed, your hoarded gainBecomes no more than wind upon the plain.