New NaqqaliPahlevan · son of Nohzar, commander of the host
Tusتوس
TOOS
Son of Nohzar, commander of the Iranian army; lost in the snow after Kay Khosrow's departure.
His story, in the poem’s own sections
9 sections, with the summary from the Notes. Open any one to read it in full here; tap a couplet number to cite it or suggest a better one.
B8.13
Kavus’s Anger at Rostam
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Kavus, furious at the delay, orders Rostam and Giv hanged. Rostam strikes Tus, declares that his strength comes from God alone and rides away. Gudarz talks Kavus into repentance, then shames Rostam into returning with a rumor that he fears Sohrab. King and champion are reconciled.
123 couplets · Tus named 7 times · in the full poem
As Rostam neared the court, Tus crossed the plain,With Gudarz riding in his warlike train.
A full day’s road they traveled out to meet,The champion came riding, proud and fleet.
They left their steeds and hailed him with acclaim,Then mounted, and beside him on they came.
And Rostam too dismounted from his steed;The chiefs inquired of him with gracious heed.
They came before the Shah with spirits light,And bowed in full observance of his right.
But Kavus answered not, nor showed them grace;A darkened fury settled on his face.
Like some wild lion raging from the wood,He stormed in wrath where once in calm he stood.
At Giv he first unleashed his bitter spite,Then turned on Rostam, burning in his sight.
“Who is this man who scorns my royal call,And counts my summons as no thing at all?
Were there a sword beneath my hand this day,His head should fall; a citron, cast away.
Seize Rostam now! Go hang him from the height!Let him not stand before my royal sight!”
At this, Giv’s wounded heart within him burned,To see the Shah against great Rostam turned.
The Shah grew fierce, enraged at both, and stern;The court stood stunned to see his anger burn.
He turned to Tus: “Go take them both and bind!Hang them at once and leave no trace behind!”
He sprang upright as fire through dry reeds flies,While wrath burned red and bitter in his eyes.
Tus stepped ahead and seized him by the hand,To lead him out, obeying the command.
But Rostam, rising fierce in sudden flame,Replied in words that put the court to shame:
“Your every deed grows worse with each new choice;No king should rule by fury in his voice.
Kingship does not suit the course you take;A ruler’s wrath should not the kingdom shake.
Hang that Turk alive if you crave display,Then turn your rage upon the field of fray.
Rum, Sagzar, Mesr, Chin have yielded ground;Mazandaran, Hamavaran were bound.
All these lie prostrate under Rakhsh’s tread,Their hearts by sword and crossbow struck with dread.
You live through me; then turn your rage from me;Let war receive the fury you set free.”
In fury Rostam struck Tus with his hand;Tus reeled beneath a blow he could not stand.
As when a raging elephant might poundA tabira; headfirst Tus crashed to ground.
Then Rostam strode beyond the royal hall,And left in rage before the eyes of all.
He mounted Rakhsh, his anger bearing down:“I slay the lion; I bestow the crown!
When anger wakes, what power has Kavus then?What fear have I of kings or armed men?
And who is Tus, to lay his hand on me?When I grow enraged, who can Kavus be?
My strength is mine from God and God alone;No king or army gives the might I own.
I entered life a free man, not a slave;I serve the Maker who my spirit gave.
The earth my servant, Rakhsh my royal seat;My gorz decides which foemen face defeat.
My sword my signet, helmet as my crown;My spear and gorz strike the enemy down.
My two strong arms and heart are sovereign here;No earthly crown can make their purpose veer.
My shining sword makes darkest night grow bright,And scatters heads across the field of fight.
The warriors once would crown me Shah of all;They set the crown and throne before my hall.
I would not take the crown when it was mine;I kept the ancient law, the royal line.
Had I accepted what they offered then,You would not rule among Iran’s crowned men.
I raised Kay Qobad up to royal height;What need have I of Kavus’s borrowed might?
From Alborz I brought Qobad to the crown;My hand raised up the king of great renown.
Without that deed, Iran’s own belt and bladeHad never marked the kingdom we had made.
Without my hand, what greatness would you wield?You would not boast so boldly in the field.
What care I now for Kavus’s empty claim?His words are wind that cannot stir my name.
Go save yourselves; Sohrab will soon appear,And leave no great nor lowly standing here.
Make haste and flee while time remains your friend;Without my arm, all Iran meets its end.
The land is yours; the vulture’s wings are mine;I leave you now, and cross no more this line.”
He struck his steed and rode in burning rage,While fear and grief possessed both chief and sage.
His very skin seemed splitting from the strain,As fury burned through every bone and vein.
The nobles trembled, for their strength had fled;Without their guide, their hopes and courage bled.
For Rostam was the shepherd, they the fold,And now the fold stood shepherdless and cold.
Then Giv and Gudarz, Bahram, Rohham came,With Gorgin too, and grieved at Rostam’s shame.
They said, “This breach is yours alone to mend;The Shah may hear you where he spurns a friend.”
They turned to Gudarz: “You must mend this break;Your words alone can make the blind Shah wake.
Go, speak to him with patience and with tact;Perhaps your words may yet undo this act.”
“Rostam has risked his life in every need;No rescuer has matched him word or deed.”
They spoke of all his deeds in former years;The trials he faced, the strength that quelled their fears:
“In Mazandaran Divs had bound the Shah;Who broke his chains and struck their hearts with awe?
For Rostam faced the Divs, stroke on stroke,And from their bonds the Shah and nobles broke.
For him what toil and hardship Rostam bore;The dread Div’s liver with his strength he tore.
He set the rescued Shah upon his throne,While chiefs acclaimed the valor he had shown.
When Hamavaran held the Shah confined,Who cut him free and left his chains behind?
In Hamavaran, fetters held the king;Rostam slew kings and broke the captive ring.
If this be how his service is repaid,Then none should stay, and none should come to aid.”
“Now action calls; delay will deepen shame,For this disgrace has stained Iran’s great name.”
Then Gudarz hurried to the Shah to plead,And spoke with measured force that fit the need:
“What wrong has Rostam done to earn your scorn,That you would drive this hero out forlorn?
Why raise such dust through Iran in this strife?Why hang the man whose arm has saved your life?
A king should never speak in reckless heat;Such words make royal dignity retreat.
Have you forgotten Mazandaran’s night,And how he saved you in that desperate fight?
When Hamavaran held you bound and low,Who broke your chains and struck your greatest foe?
If he departs and Sohrab takes the field,What strength remains for you to hope to wield?
Gazhdaham has seen him; heed his warning plain:No man but Rostam should confront his strain.
If Rostam goes, who meets that wolf-like youth,When Gazhdaham has warned us of the truth?
A king with Rostam standing at his side,Who drives him off has wisdom cast aside.
Recall his service; weigh it in your mind;No gain is born when loyalty is maligned.”
The Shah grew still, and reason found its place;He saw his fault and owned his deep disgrace.
The Shah said, “Age gives counsel worth the cost;The old see roads that younger eyes have lost.
A king needs wisdom; haste and rage mislead;No lasting good can spring from violent speed.”
“You speak the truth,” he said, “your counsel stands;Go bring him back; restore him to my hands.
Tell him my anger rose beyond control;I now repent the storm within my soul.
Bring Rostam back before my royal sight,That this dark soul of mine may turn to light.”
Then Gudarz rode along the hero’s way,With chiefs beside him pressing through the day.
They caught him, saying, “May your life be long;May fortune keep your spirit bright and strong.
May all the world lie subject to your view,And may the throne’s high seat belong to you.”
They gathered round and spoke in earnest tone:“Return in honor; the Shah calls you home.
He spoke in wrath; his anger now has died;Return, for all Iran has lost its guide.”
“You know that Kavus has no brain,” they said;“In haste he speaks, then mourns the words he spread.
You know the Shah: his wrath will quickly rise,Then cool as swiftly when regret grows wise.
Whatever wrong the Shah has done today,Iran itself should not be made to pay.
He gnaws the back of his own hand in shame,Repenting every word that fed the flame.”
But Rostam said: “I need no royal aid;My throne is Rakhsh, my fame by battle made.
My helmet is my crown, jowshan my gear;My heart is pledged to death and knows no fear.
Kavus is nothing but a handful of dust;Why should his anger govern what I trust?
I freed him once from chains that held him down,And led him back again to throne and crown.
I fought the Divs in Mazandaran’s field,And Hamavaran’s kings I made to yield.
Whenever foes had caught him in their snare,I broke his bonds and drew him from despair.
I fear but Yazdan; no monarch shakes my will.I stand as I have stood and shall stand still.”
The gathering grew cold at Rostam’s word;No answer through the silent ranks was heard.
Then Gudarz spoke with sharpened, subtle art:“Men say you fear this youth with lion’s heart.
They whisper: ‘Rostam shrinks from Sohrab’s might;His courage fails before the coming fight.’
They say Gazhdaham read the danger clear;That even Rostam now gives ground to fear.
If Rostam fears him, who can hold the field?Then you and I should both withdraw and yield.
Will you permit such slander to remain,And let base tongues your hard-won honor stain?
Sohrab is all the court will speak of now;Your fame is judged by what you do, and how.
The army now is hard pressed in this fight;Do not make crown and throne grow dark tonight.
From Turan comes a shame we cannot hide;Will you not rise and turn the rising tide?”
Tahamtan stared, astonished by the claim;Then wounded honor kindled into flame.
The hero’s spirit flared at that sharp blow:“I fear no man, as all the nations know.
I turned away from insult, not from fight;Let none mistake my purpose or my right.”
He turned his steed and rode back through the gate,Kay Kavus rose himself and did not wait.
“Impetuous haste is rooted in my soul;It mastered me and drove me past control.
This sudden foe struck all my courage low;My heart grew thin as the new moon’s first glow.
To you I looked for cure when danger came;Your late arrival set my wrath aflame.
Forgive my haste; repentance burns me sore,I filled my mouth with dust upon the floor.”
Then Rostam said: “The world bends to your will;Your servants, we stand ready to fulfill.
I stand prepared before your royal gate,To do your will and meet the coming fate.”
The Shah said, “Champion, may fortune blessYour heart and spirit always with success.
Let joy return and gladness fill this day;Tonight we feast, tomorrow march to fray.”
He had a royal pleasure-hall made fair,Like springtime gardens filled with scented air.
He called the chiefs and scattered gems around,Then feasted till deep night had veiled the ground.
Silken strings and reed-notes filled the hall,While jasmine-faced attendants served them all.
Their talk recalled the deeds of mighty men;They drank till heart and eye grew dim again.
Each wine-dazed warrior then sought his bed,While weary night dragged on with heavy tread.
B10.31
Tus Refuses Allegiance to Kay Khosrow
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At Keshvad’s palace in Istakhr the nobles hail Khosrow, but Tus refuses. Proud of his descent from Manuchehr, he calls Khosrow Afrasiab’s seed and backs Fariborz, son of Kavus. Giv argues with him and reports the refusal to Gudarz.
41 couplets · Tus named 9 times · in the full poem
At Istakhr stood old Keshvad’s palace grand,The nobles prized its splendor through the land.
When from King Kavus’s throne at last they rose,They made for Keshvad’s eyvan as they chose.
Gudarz went with the Shah toward that bower,And reached the golden garden in its flower.
They placed the prince upon a golden throne,And blessed him there as Shah before his own.
Iran’s great champions girded at the sign,But Tus, son of Nohzar, turned from the line.
He held the koust and golden shoes of state,And Kaveh’s banner, signs that marked the great.
Gudarz grew angry, hot with wrath inside,And chose brave Giv to bear his words to Tus’s side.
A champion’s grip was strong within his hand,A lion’s arm renowned throughout the land.
He said: “Go speak to Tus, son of Nohzar:Seek not dispute when joy has come so far.
The nobles and the lions of the courtHave blessed the prince, united in support.
Why heed a Div and turn your head away,Nor see the ruler’s farr that lights his way?
If you refuse young Khosrow as your king,Then feud with Gudarz is what you will bring.
These words are mine; the gathered chiefs agree;Go bear our message, Giv, by their decree.
Stand before Tus and speak what you have heard;Tell him: ‘Turn not your head from any word.’”
Giv left his father, turning from his place,His heart filled full of harsh words for the case.
He said: “O Tus, this counsel you now choose,Has found no fellowship with wisdom’s use.”
Then Tus replied: “Do not make sport of me;Such mockery does not suit our dignity.
In Iran, save for Rostam’s towering might,I stand the foremost in the field of fight.
My line descends from mighty Manuchehr,Whose sword brought all the world beneath his care.
My father Nohzar ruled the earth as king,From Fereydoon’s old stock my branches spring.
In battle I am lion in my pride;I tear the elephant’s heart, the leopard’s hide.
Yet without me you shaped the council’s plan,And raised a new king over every man.
I will not stand behind this reckless choice,Nor speak of Khosrow with approving voice.
If Afrasiab’s seed should take the throne,Then Iran’s fortune sleeps, its power flown.
We need no king sprung from Pashang’s seed;No flock can prosper where a leopard feeds.
Such toil for one so young has gone astray;For Khosrow is but young, though bold in fray.
A king needs honar, gohar, din, and farr,The marks that show how fit for rule men are.
Fariborz, son of Kavus, stands more fitThan Khosrow does, upon the throne to sit.
No enemy blood runs through his noble line;His farr and burz, his mehr and justice shine.”
Then Giv rose grimly from the chief’s own place;His knowledge and his creed seemed raw and base.
He said: “O Tus, renowned in battle’s course,Turn not away when koust calls forth the force.
When spears of Gudarz’s kin advance in line,Your hopes of gain will wither and decline.
Together we have borne long toil and strain,Yet now you cast it to the wind as vain.
Had farr and sound good counsel been your prize,No king from Alborz would have had to rise.
No crown rests on your head; your mind lacks light;No royal wisdom keeps your judgment right.
For God bestows the throne on him aloneWhose farr and burz with soundest judgment shone.”
Thus spoke he fiercely, turning from the place,And left in anger, scorning Tus’s face.
Returning, Giv told Gudarz what was true:“With Tus no farr or wisdom has its due.
His eyes seem blind to what they ought to see;He chooses Fariborz for sovereignty.
No king like Khosrow graces eyvan bright,Nor rides the golden saddle with such right.
No rider like him comes through Iran’s land;On throne, with torque and earrings, none so grand.”
B12.2
Tus Goes to Turkistan
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Kay Khosrow gives Tus the Kaviani banner and command of the army. He warns him to spare civilians and to avoid the road by Kalat, where his half-brother Forood lives. At the fork Tus overrides Gudarz and takes the green road through Kalat.
60 couplets · Tus named 14 times · in the full poem
When Sol arose in all its kingly blaze,Above the Ram he climbed through dawn-lit haze,
And all the world like molten gold burned bright,Tus’s tabiras thundered through the light.
The buq resounded; koust, tabira roared,And battle cries from every throat were poured.
The earth was turmoil; all the air was flame,While neighing chargers shook the heavens’ frame.
From horse-hoof dust the sun and moon grew black,While armor flashed along the army’s track.
The elephants let forth a thunderous cry,As though the Nile had flooded earth and sky.
The air turned yellow, violet, blue, and red,As the Kaviani standard onward spread.
Amid the mounted kinsmen of Gudarz,It waved beneath the ever-turning stars.
Before the royal tents the Shah appeared,In crown and gorz, by all the troops revered.
With royal ney resounding all around,He stood before the ranks in glory crowned.
Great Tus with golden shoes and Kaveh’s sign,With Nohzar’s lofty kindred formed in line,
Advanced before Khosrow in warlike pride,While nobles crowned with gems rode at his side.
Above them waved a banner broad and high,An elephant emblazoned toward the sky.
They moved together like a mountain black,And surged toward the Shah along the track.
The Shah commanded Tus in measured tone:“Bring all the famed sepahbods to my throne.”
The chosen champions came at his command,With flags and helmets, warriors of the land.
Then to the troops he spoke with royal might:“Let Tus command you in the coming fight.
He bears the Kaviani standard in the fray;Therefore obey whatever he may say.”
Before them all the royal seal was passedTo Tus, their salar, while the war should last.
“Tus is sepahbod in the coming war;Obey his counsel now and evermore.”
Then Khosrow spoke to Tus with solemn care:“Be true to me and heed what I declare.
Let none be wronged along the marching road;Such are the laws my royal rule bestowed.
Spare farmer, artisan, and peaceful hand;Harm none but those girt for the fighting band.
Contend with armed opponents in the field,But spare the weak who bear no sword or shield.
Disturb not those who seek a quiet life,For all must leave this world of passing strife.
Above all else, keep far from Kalat’s way,For if you take that road, our plan goes astray.
To Siavash, whose soul shines pure and bright,Whose place among the blessed rests in light,
The daughter of great Piran bore a son,Like Siavash in form, that noble one.
My brother, young, with farr upon his face,Dwells with his mother in that guarded place.
He scarcely knows Iran’s great chiefs by name,Nor men of noble birth and lasting fame.
Therefore turn your bridle from that way,And leave those mountain strongholds where they stay.
For warriors guard the passes of that height,And steep ascents are perilous in fight.
He is a brave and warlike chief, well known,For noble form and courage clearly shown.
Therefore choose well the desert road instead;It is unwise where lions’ claws are spread.”
Then Tus replied: “Your order shall be done;We take the road you name, and no other one.”
Then Tus rode forth without the least delay,While Khosrow turned to court another way.
With Rostam seated proudly at his side,He spoke of grief and Afrasiab’s pride.
The Mobad and the royal counselors allAttended, silent, in the royal hall.
They spoke of Afrasiab and his reign,Of Khosrow’s grief and Siavash’s pain.
Meanwhile great Tus led forth his gathered force,And crossed the spreading plain upon his course.
At length they reached a place where two roads spread:One barren, waterless, and grim with dread,
The other wound by Kalat’s guarded side,Through Charam’s fertile valleys, green and wide.
The elephants and koust remained there still,Awaiting Tus to speak his sovereign will.
The chiefs stood waiting at the branching ways,Until the warrior came through dust and haze.
Whichever road great Tus should choose that day,The army would obey and take that way.
Then Tus spoke long about the desert road,Its burning sands, its thirst, its crushing load:
“Though dust were ambergris beneath our tread,And musk upon the desert wind were spread,
Still on so long and wearying a trackOur troops need water, rest, or strength will crack.
We need green fields and forage for the steeds,A watered country suited to our needs.
Through Kalat and through Charam let us ride,At Mayam camp, with running streams beside.
Why choose the desert, suffering thirst and pain,And count long farsangs on the scorching plain?
I rode that road in former years of war,When Gazhdaham led forth the force before.
No lasting hardship on that road we knew,Save some slight rise and fall we journeyed through.
Far better, then, to take the greener way;Let not the desert drain our strength today.”
Then Gudarz said: “O chief of high command,The Shah has placed the army in your hand.
Conduct the troops according to his word,And let no plea against his will be heard.
Do not bring grief to Khosrow by your will,Lest harm descend upon the army still.”
Then Tus replied: “O seasoned man of war,Let not such fears afflict your spirit more.
The Shah will not condemn this chosen way.”Toward Kalat and Charam they rode that day.
Because he put Khosrow’s command aside,The end will show what fortune would decide.
B12.9
Tus Battles Forood
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Tus climbs the mountain himself. Tokhvar urges Forood to retreat, then to shoot Tus’s horse rather than the commander. Tus walks back in disgrace while the fortress women jeer, and Giv declares that the prince must answer for the shame.
50 couplets · Tus named 8 times · in the full poem
A mighty clamor rose through Iran’s force,The grieving warriors cast their helms off course.
Then Tus, heart-stricken, eyes awash with tears,Put on his jowshan as his fury sears.
He mourned those fallen chiefs with inward grief,And shook with rage and sorrow like a leaf.
He mounted grim, immense in warlike pride,Like mountain mass upon an elephant’s hide.
He wheeled his charger toward the mountain height,His heart held vengeance, smoke obscured his sight.
Then Tokhvar spoke: “A mountain storms this way,In fury climbing upward to the fray.
It is the chief himself, the mighty Tus,A seasoned nahang; challenge him and lose.
Withdraw within the fortress and remain;Await what fate hereafter may ordain.
His son and son-in-law you slew in war;Now think of feast and pleasure nevermore.”
Young Forood answered him with heart aflame:“What dread should battle kindle in my frame?
Let Tus come on with lions in array,With raging elephants to join the fray;
With fighting nahang, Babr-e Bayan dire;Such foes cast no flowers on raging fire.”
Then Tokhvar, rich in wisdom, answered clear:“Wise kings do not reject advice they hear.
Though you were iron fit to split a hill,And wrench a mountain-root by force of will,
Yet still you stand one horseman, all alone,Against Iran’s great army, steel and stone.
Thirty thousand warriors soon will riseAnd storm the mountain upward to the skies.
No fort, no stone, no dust will here remain;They tear the whole foundation from the plain.
And should some evil strike that mighty chief,Prince Khosrow’s heart would break beneath the grief.
Your father’s vengeance too would be denied;Turn back, shoot not, within the fortress bide.”
What should have first been spoken, he concealed;The needed counsel never was revealed.
From such a witless counselor came the cost:War gained its profit; precious life was lost.
Eighty moon-faced serving girls stood near,Upon the rooftop watching him with fear.
They watched him ceaselessly with eager eyes,And filled the fort with talk beneath the skies.
He could not flee beneath their watching sight,Nor stain his name by shrinking from the fight.
But Tokhvar said: “Before you make your stand,Now hear the course that wisdom would command.
Do not destroy noble Tus in this strife;Strike first his horse, and let him keep his life.
His destined hour may still lie far from sight;Fate has not marked him yet to leave the light,
The time of fate has not yet come to show;One wooden shaft will never lay him low.
Once Tus ascends and reaches to the crest,His troops will surge behind him without rest.
You lack the strength to stem that rising tide,Or face the storm in which his archers ride.”
Young Forood listened closely to that speech,Then bent his bow with deadly strength and reach.
The poplar arrow struck the charger square,A marksman’s stroke that none could hope to bear.
The horse fell headlong, lifeless on the ground;Tus burned for vengeance, wrath his senses bound.
Back to the camp the dusty chief withdrew,Afoot, shield at his neck, bewildered too.
Meanwhile Forood pursued him with these cries:“What grief has struck the mighty chieftain’s eyes?
How shall he lead the armies to the fight,Who cannot face one youth upon the height?”
The serving women laughed in mocking tone,From high walls down their scornful taunts were thrown.
They cried: “The great chief stumbled down in fright,Undone before a stripling! What a plight!”
When Tus descended from the mountainside,The chiefs approached him, grieving at his side.
They gathered round the Pahlevan in prayer,Their praises rising through the mountain air.
They said: “O mighty champion, safe and sound,What joy to see you back on level ground!
We need not wash our cheeks with bitter tears,So long as you still live to lead your peers.”
The noble Giv was grieved to see him pressed,Returned on foot, bewildered and distressed.
He cried: “This shame has passed all proper frame;It pales the faces of the men of fame.
Though royal-born and decked in gems and gold,Must he insult an army brave and bold?
Though Tus was rash and showed too little care,Forood has spread upheaval everywhere.
For Siavash we gladly give our breath;For him we would not shrink from wounds or death.
Yet still we must not overlook this shame,Nor leave such foul dishonor free from blame.
Zarasp, Nohzar’s noble scion, lies,And Rivniz drowned in blood before our eyes.
Though Jamshid’s blood and Kay Qobad’s mind he claim,Through ignorance he lit war’s shameful flame.”
B12.20
Kay Khosrow Recalls Tus
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Grieving for Forood and the army, Kay Khosrow writes to Fariborz, giving him command with Gudarz as adviser, and recalls Tus. Tus hands over the banner and returns. The Shah curses him, spares his life only for his royal blood, and imprisons him.
65 couplets · Tus named 11 times · in the full poem
Then to the Shah the courier’s tidings passed:How dark the army’s day had turned so fast.
Brave Khosrow heard, and anguish seized his breast;Grief struck his soul and robbed his heart of rest.
His sorrow for his brother newly slainWas joined to grief for all who strewed the plain.
Through dark of night he cursed bold Tus by name,Till cockcrow, pouring wrath upon his fame.
He summoned then a prudent scribe to hearHis grief-filled words, made sharp by anger, clear.
A tearful letter then the monarch wrote,For his lost brother, wrath in every note.
It went to Fariborz, Kavus’s son,And to the army’s chiefs, renowned each one.
First came God’s praise, as custom, rite, and creed,The ancient form by which such words proceed:
“In name of Him who rules the moon and sun,Who gives the good the station they have won.
From Him come victory, patience, good and ill;Desire and splendor answer to His will.
He shaped the world and fixed both place and time,The ant’s small foot, the elephant in prime.
He grants men wisdom, soul, and body strong,To Him greatness, diadem, and throne belong.
No soul escapes the circle of His reign;To one He grants both farr and orung’s gain.
To one come hardship, misery, and grief;Ill fortune, need, and pain grant no relief.
From blazing sun to earth and darkened clay,All is the justice of pure Yazdan’s way.
I sent out Tus beneath the Kaviani sign,With forty golden-shod men in his line.
I sent them with a mighty force away,And first my brother perished in the fray!
May no such chief command Iran’s array;May no such sepahbod rise to lead one day.
Alas for brave Forood, lost to my sight,The chief renowned, the champions’ prop in fight.
I burned for vengeance for my father slain;Now grief for my lost brother wakes that pain.
Now for my brother I must weep and grieve;I know not foe from friend, whom to believe.
I warned bold Tus: ‘Let Charam’s road alone,And keep from Kalat and Sepid Kooh’s stone.’
For there Forood commands a fighting band,A Kayan warrior guarding that land.
He cannot know whose army draws that way,From Iran’s ranks or Chin’s remote array.
He will descend the mountain for the fight,And many chiefs will meet their destined night.
Alas for that young prince of noble seed,Whom wretched Tus cast to the wind by deed!
Had Tus been sepahbod in days before,King Kavus’s fortune would have suffered sore.
In battle sleep overtakes him where he lies;Without his wine, unrest will make him rise.
All arts, it seems, are gathered in his name;May no such darkened soul endure in fame.
Put food and rest and sleep aside today;Send Tus back swiftly here without delay.
Obey my order; let no counsel stray;Do not replace my word with your own way.
The golden shoes and Kaviani signAre yours to bear; command the battle-line.
Let wise Gudarz advise you in each need;In every matter, heed his word and deed.
Rush not to battle; keep your judgment bright;Stay far from wine and sleep that clouds your sight.
Remain encamped until the wounded heal,Till wounded men regain their strength and zeal.
Then noble Giv shall lead the vanguard line,For farr and burz with leopard-claws combine.
Gather war gear and stores from every side;Let thoughts of feast and revelry subside.”
They sealed the letter with the Shah’s own seal;Then Khosrow spoke with stern and fierce appeal:
“Ride night and day; let no delay impede;At every post exchange your weary steed.”
The messenger rode swiftly on his wayAnd reached the gathered chiefs without delay.
He placed the royal letter in his hand;Fariborz took the Shah’s own sealed command.
He summoned Tus and every champion near,And told them all the tidings, sharp and clear.
He called Giv, Gudarz, riders from the field,And border champions armed with sword and shield.
When Khosrow’s royal letter had been read,The world became a tree with new fruit spread.
The chiefs and warriors gathered, and they raisedTheir blessings on Kay Khosrow, whom they praised.
Then Tus brought Fariborz the Kaviani sign,The koust, elephants, and golden shoes in line.
“The worthy meets the worthy. Fortune rise;May every day be Nowruz in your eyes.”
Then Tus assembled all of Nohzar’s clan,Hard warriors versed in every battle plan.
Without delay they hastened from the plainAnd rode straight to the Shah by road and rein.
Arriving there, brave Tus bowed to the ground,But Khosrow turned his gaze and looked not round.
The Shah poured curses on the warrior’s head,And shamed him before all with words of dread.
At last he cried: “O man of evil sign,May fame among the champions cease to shine!
Do you not fear pure Yazdan’s watchful eye?Before the champions, does your shame not rise?
Did I not warn you, ‘Shun the Charam road’?Yet there you marched, and grief became my load.
You first took up the vengeance that was mine,Then brought disgrace and loss to Siavash’s line.
My brother, Prince Forood, was brave in fight,No warrior could match his noble might.
You slew him, though to bring that chief to groundRequired an army gathered all around.
And afterward, once camped upon the plain,You did but feast and drink through song’s refrain.
You have no place among the city’s men;The madman’s ward and bonds should hold you then.
You have no place among the good and true,For wisdom never made its home in you.
Nails, bonds, and fetters are the things you earn;Not crown, diadem, nor wine-cup in return.
Manuchehr’s blood within your veins yet flows,And that alone, with age, your life bestows.
Else I would order, here before this band,Your head struck from your body where you stand.
Go now; let prison hold you from this hour;Your own ill nature keeps you in its power.”
He drove out Tus and bound him in the cell,His joy, torn by the root, in fetters fell.
B13.2
Khosrow’s Rebuke of Tus
🏇👥😢👨👦💀👑😠📜🚫🧭⚠️👴⛓️🚪💔15 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
The beaten army returns from the disastrous campaign against Forood. Kay Khosrow curses Tus for disobeying him, killing his brother and losing the war, and sends the chiefs away in disgrace. They beg Rostam to plead for them.
39 couplets · Tus named 8 times · in the full poem
Fariborz and the breaker, Giv, now led, With aged Gudarz, ranks whose hearts knew dread.
Their cheeks were wet with tears, their hearts besetBy grief for all the ruin they had met.
When they had reached along the Charam way,Kalat rose high; below, Mayam’s waters lay.
They spoke of how they fought Forood that day;Their only gain was grief and dark dismay.
Fear of the Shah filled every heart with pain,For guilt was theirs, and blood-tears fell like rain.
They came before Khosrow with spirits down,Ashamed and guilty there before the crown.
They had destroyed his guiltless brother’s life,And yielded crown and signet in the strife.
With folded arms and hearts consumed by pain,Like servants they stood silent in his train.
Khosrow beheld them with an angry gaze,His heart in pain, his eyes in tearful haze.
He spoke: “O righteous Judge, by whose decreeCame throne and fortune, honar, all to me,
Now I stand shamed before Your searching view;The why and how are better known to You.
Else I would order in the open plainA thousand stakes to rise for all this stain.
Then Tus and all who carried arms with himWould hang impaled, their names forever dim.
I mourned my father’s death in bitter grief;My heart was filled with sorrow past relief.
Forood too calls for vengeance to be done:The head must fall of Nohzar’s warrior son.
I said: ‘Avoid Kalat; from Charam stay,Though silver coins be showered along your way.’
Forood dwelt peaceful with his mother still, My brother, framed with Kayan blood and skill.
He is a warrior of the Kayan race;How could he know why Tus approached that place?
From mountain height he would attack his foe,And many chiefs would fall beneath his blow.
Why did hard-hearted Tus, in reckless haste,March toward that hold and lay my counsel waste?
The Master of the sky withdrew His graceFrom Tus and all the army in that place.
The house of Gudarz suffered for his pride;Curse Tus, his koust, his elephants beside.
I gave him khilat, counsel from my hand,And sent him forth; he struck his kindred band.
Alas, Forood, of Siavash’s own seed, A hero proven in both word and deed,
Like his great father, innocent, was slainBy my own chief and army on the plain.
I know none worse than Tus; he now is fitFor chains, the dungeon, and the blackest pit.
No brain within his head, no vein in frame;To me base Tus and dog are much the same.”
He writhed to seek revenge for both the dead:His murdered father and Forood, who bled.
He sent the troops away in deep disgrace,While blood-tears streamed in torrents down his face.
He shut the audience chamber’s guarded door,His wounded soul grieved young Forood the more.
The warriors, sad, sorry, then withdrew,And toward the court of mighty Rostam drew.
They said: “By God’s decree this thing was done;Who wished to fight Forood, the noble son?
Yet when brave Zarasp, Tus’s son, was killed,The chiefs with grief and dark regret were filled.
And when his son-in-law, brave Rivniz, died,Disaster darkened all the Iranian side.
Who knew Forood by lineage or name,Or wished against the Shah to kindle flame?
Plead with the Shah; still young, he may refrainFrom vengeance on the troops and end this pain.
Was not brave Forood, prince of royal breed, A noble shoot of King Kavus’s seed?
A younger prince of Kay, well-bred for war, A moon-faced youth whom we shall see no more.
Thus battle ends, whatever men may crave:To one a crown, to one a narrow grave.”
B13.8
Tus and Houman Meet in Combat
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Houman and Tus exchange insults and offers of peace, and Giv angrily urges an end to talk. The two commanders fight with gorz, sword and bow. Tus kills Houman’s horse, but night separates them before either wins.
95 couplets · Tus named 13 times · in the full poem
Then Houman mounted on his eagle-steed,And spurred toward the field where warriors bleed.
He seemed an iron wall before their eyes,Or Mount Alborz in jowshan scraping skies.
He came before the men prepared to fight,And grasped a spear that glittered in the light.
Tus too advanced; the earth rang far and wide,While brazen karnays thundered at his side.
He cried: “From luckless Viseh’s root has grownA bitter tree whose wretched fruit is known.
Have you come mounted, spear in hand, for strife,To seek revenge and hazard here your life?
By Khosrow’s life, I will then face your might,No jowshan, gorz, or Roman helm in sight.
Like mountain leopard springing on its prey,I would seize you and drag you down today.
If you have courage, you shall learn outrightHow heroes meet their enemies in fight.”
Houman replied: “Do not grow proud in speech;Such arrogance should stand beyond your reach.
Though fate has struck one luckless chief through you,Do not despise all Turan’s warriors too.
Arzhang would count himself no warrior then,If measured beside me among brave men.
Have Iran’s warriors no shame at all,That their sepahbod answers battle’s call?
Does no hot blood in any bosom boil,That you must take the challenge and the toil?
Have all their fighting hands grown weak and slow?Where are Bijan and Giv before the foe?
Where is Gudarz, son of Keshvad renowned,That world-seizer whose name has shaken ground?
If you are a chief, why now leave the line,And seek the duel where lone weapons shine?
The wise will call you stranger from this day;The sane will call you mad and turn away.
Go, hold the Kaviani standard’s place;Sepahbods should not meet men face to face.
Seek one whom royal khilat marks with fame,A tested chief who seeks a warrior’s name.
Choose one who seeks the signet and the crown,And send him forth to strike a warrior down.
Let him bring down a warrior like me,And prove Iran’s strength for all eyes to see.
It would go ill with all this band of yoursIf you were slain amid these battle-roars.
Your troops would be forsaken, overrun,Their hearts cast down beneath the darkened sun.
If they survived, they would be broken still,With shame and fear beneath the foeman’s will.
Apart from Rostam, mighty Zal’s own heir,And Sahm, whose mounted fame all men declare,
I see no noble like you in the land,Whose royal fathers held a king’s command.
What need of armies if you fight alone?Go back and send some chief who is well known.
And if you heed the counsel I declare,Which heart and soul and tongue together share,
The bravest learn when they encounter meWhat pain in battle and hard steel can be.”
Then Tus replied: “Exalted chief of might,I lead the line, yet still I seek the fight.
You lead the foremost warriors of your side;Why come to face me where the champions ride?
If your heart takes the counsel that I give,Seek league with me, and let your honor live.
Come with Piran, your captain, from the fieldBefore the Shah, where honor shall be sealed.
While one man lives among our fighting band,Revenge will burn while one of us can stand.
Do not cast life and honor both away;Let wise advice restore your heart today.
Leave those who must be slain to fight our line;No guilty man escapes the Shah’s design.
So take the wise man’s path and understand:The Shah has given this order to my hand:
‘Do not harm Piran; keep his honor clear,My foster-father, specially held dear.
World-tested, noble, wise, my trusted friend;Against him unjust battle do not send.
See that he heeds the counsel you have made;Let no unjust desire unsheathe the blade.’”
Houman replied: “Through right or wrong or death,When kings command, we go with loyal breath.
We have no remedy, no path but this;We serve the king in hardship or in bliss.
Piran himself did not desire this fight;His soul is generous, his counsel right.”
While Tus still parleyed, Giv’s face burned with shame,Like sandarac touched by a rising flame.
He left the band and spurred across the plain,While wrath surged through his heart and every vein.
“O Tus,” he cried, “of noble race and name,Why let this false Turanian bring you blame?
Between the lines he foams and talks too long;Seek no accord where every word is wrong.
Speak only with your sharp and tempered blade,And let your sword reply where words have strayed.”
When Houman heard, his heart was set afire;He turned on Giv and spoke in bitter ire:
“O luckless man, may Gudarz perish too;At Ladan’s field you saw what I could do.
You saw my Indian sword there in the fray,Where Keshvad’s fighting seed opposed my way.
Of Keshvad’s seed no warrior could evadeThe written charter of my tempered blade.
Your fortune wears dark Ahriman’s own face,And casts its shadow over all your race.
Mourning forever dwells within your door;Your house has drunk deep from grief’s endless store.
If Tus should slay me, gopal still will sound,And koust will thunder over all the ground.
Piran still lives, and great Afrasiab too;Both will avenge me if I fall to you.
But if Tus falls beneath my hand today,None of his troops will find Iran’s way.
Go mourn your brother and his bitter pangs;Why rail at Tus while grief around you hangs?”
Tus said: “What wrath is this? I am your foe.Come, wheel about; let battle’s anger grow.
Let us begin the fight without delay,And bend our brows in combat here today.”
Then Houman said: “All heads below a crownOr helm must one day fall and be cast down.
Since death must come, the battlefield is best;By one with honar, a chief may find his rest.”
Each grasped his massive gorz and charged to fight;Earth reeled beneath them, day dissolved in night.
A dust-cloud gathered over all the field,And battle’s face was hidden by its shield.
Dark night appeared to fall upon the day;The world’s bright sun was hidden far away.
Their mighty gorz all curved like Chakhian bows;Their rings of steel rang thunder from the blows.
The clash of steel rose upward to the cloud;Its battle-wind reached Shahd, immense and loud.
Beneath each iron helm seemed stone, not head;Their blows made Death’s own face turn black with dread.
They took their Indian scimitars in hand,And sparks streamed out from steel and stone and sand.
Beneath the strength of those two chiefs in fight,The keen blades bent, then shattered in the light.
Dust-stained and thirsty, each kept an iron hold,Gripped the other’s belt with fingers firm and bold.
They drove their weight through stirrups in the strain,Yet neither warrior fell upon the plain.
At last the belt of Houman snapped in two;He leapt upon a charger strong and new.
Tus took his bow and quiver from his waist,And on the string a poplar arrow placed.
He showered arrows at his noble foe,And wheeled as horsemen wheel against a blow.
Steel points and eagle-feathers filled the sky,Until the sun was hidden from the eye.
Though noon, the world seemed wrapped in deepest night;Its face was strewn with diamonds flashing bright.
One poplar arrow struck Houman’s own steed;It fell beneath him, pierced by that swift reed.
He raised his shield to guard his face and head,And stood afoot while battle round him spread.
The Turanian chiefs beheld him on the plain,And brought a noble charger by the rein.
Houman remounted on the noble steed,With Indian sword in hand for battle’s need.
He meant to turn and ride at Tus in wrath,As ebony night fell across his path.
The famous chiefs and warriors gathered round,Those battle-seeking men of high renown.
But darkness fell and brought the war to close;Their hands withdrew from battle and its blows.
He thought: “May evil eyes be driven away;May this fierce battle end in feast today.”
Houman turned rein while Tus still held his spear,Its point aimed straight at him as night drew near.
He reached Piran from that contested ground;A mighty Turanian shout rose all around.
The Turanians cried: “How did the battle goWhen you faced Tus, and met him blow for blow?
Our hearts were filled with blood in fear for you;Yazdan alone knows what we suffered through.”
Houman replied: “O chiefs of proven might,O battle-tested lions of the fight,
When this dark night gives way before the sun,The world-bright standard shall by us be won.
Then joy shall be the portion all may claim,And mine the honor of enduring fame.”
Tus shouted through the darkness till cockcrow:“Is Houman fit to stand against my blow?
A raging lion should confront me here;No lesser foe deserves to draw me near.”
B13.14
The Iranians Make a Night-Attack, Tus, Giv, Rohham Are Surrounded but Are Saved
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Short of food, Gudarz urges a night attack. Tus, Giv and Rohham strike Piran’s camp and split his standard, but Houman surrounds them. Bijan and Gostaham ride to the rescue, and at dawn the Iranians withdraw to the mountain.
79 couplets · Tus named 12 times · in the full poem
Gudarz and Tus suspected what was planned,And fear fell heavy on the chieftains’ band.
Old Gudarz said to Tus: “We now must fight;No other course remains upon this height.
Three days of food remain, no open way;No road lies open for us night or day.
We have no tents, no huts, no baggage-train;A hungry army cannot long remain.
So when the sun turns pale and leaves our sight,A lapis curtain spreads across the night.
Let chosen horsemen then descend the height,And ride together toward the field of fight.
We will make a night attack and test our fate,And see if Fortune comes to aid our state.
We perish one by one, or else obtainThe hero’s crown through battle, blood, and pain.
Such is the end that every battle brings:One gains the dust, one crown and rank of kings.”
Tus listened to Gudarz; his heart was soreWith pain from ancient vengeance borne before.
He waited till the night had crossed the sky;The sun went down, and darkness gathered high.
When one watch passed and every voice was still,Tus armed himself to test his strength and will.
He called the men of action to his side,And set the wings where chosen chiefs would ride.
One wing to brave Bijan he gave that night,One to Shidush and Kharrad for the fight.
The Kaviani standard Gostaham bore,And Tus gave counsel for the coming war.
Then Tus with Giv and Rohham, chiefs of fame,Raised their heavy gorz as the battle came.
They made for bold Piran without delay,Like fire they struck the Turanian array.
The field became a sea of blood and cries;A mighty shout rose upward to the skies.
Piran’s great standard split beneath the blow;His troops were panic-stricken by the foe.
When Houman heard that cry, he mounted fast;His coal-black Arab bore him toward the blast.
He came and saw the slaughtered where they lay,And fighting men turned from the field away.
He wept blood-tears upon his breast and cried:“Was there no watchman posted on this side?
Had none among you heart enough to fight?We outnumber them three hundredfold tonight.
Such sleep is evil when the battle calls;Draw swords and gopals, raise Chinese shield-walls.
The moon above the mountain lifts its light,And draws a silver blade across the night.
Surround the foe and bar each outward way;Let neither fighting man nor laggard stray.”
The karnay rang; the ranks pressed on ahead,And ringed the horsemen, filling them with dread.
Iran’s riders, raging lions, stood at bay,While foes closed round, and none could break away.
Sparks flashed from helm and sword through murky air;It seemed the clouds rained heavy gorz everywhere.
Night, dust, and scimitars concealed the light,No star was seen; the moon was veiled from sight.
It seemed a wall of jowshan hemmed them round,A sea of pitch had swallowed sky and ground.
Then Houman cried: “Bring chiefs as captives; striveTo let no arrow wound them; take them alive.”
They shouted back: “Their hands we bind, or allBeneath our gopal and our zhupin fall.
Crown every chief of Iran with blood-red gore;Let blood become the crown that each one wore.”
Then Tus said to Rohham and Giv: “Our livesAre lost unless Yazdan our strength revives,
And frees both soul and body from this net,And guards us from the ruin round us set.
We hang like prey within an eagle’s clutch,Or sink beneath the sea beyond all touch.”
Like savage lions springing to the fray,They charged together, sweeping foes away.
The pipe, the koust, Indian daray, and zangAcross the field in brazen clamor rang.
No man could see his horse’s mane or rein,Spearpoints drove near his eyes through dust and pain.
Houman exclaimed: “You have no room for flightOr fight; ill fortune found you here tonight.
Ill fate has driven you from guarded height,So evil finds the guilty in this fight.”
Amid such strife those three heroic menHeld fast though little strength remained to them.
They thought of Rostam’s prowess everywhere,And longed for aid within that deadly snare.
They thought of Shidush, Bijan in the fray,And Gostaham; would no one come their way?
They cried: “Will no Iranian aid our cause?We rushed headlong into the nahang’s jaws.
Woe to the Shah’s great throne and portal high;For we shall soon be seized beneath this sky.
Rostam and Zal in Zabulistan stay;Iran itself will fall to ruin today.”
“Iran will perish!” Then rose the koust’s sound,With gopal blows from Iran’s waiting ground.
But Giv and Tus returned not from the plain;Shidush and Gostaham cried out in pain.
The lion Gostaham said: “Tus too longHas fought where gorz and sword strike fierce and strong.”
Guraza said to brave Bijan: “Our chiefHas labored long in battle without relief.”
Then from the plain the koust began to sound;Air darkened, earth grew ebony around.
The warriors hastened toward Tus’s cry;Blood stained the field beneath the darkening sky.
They came behind the foe with their gorz raised,And struck with heavy blows as fury blazed.
Tus knew that help had reached the deadly field,And roared like koust above the sword and shield.
His rein grew light; the stirrup heavy lay,His fallen fortune rose from low that day.
Rohham and Giv, who heard Bijan’s brave voice,Became like lions and made hearts rejoice.
Thus fought they on until the night had fled,When light above the mountains rose and spread.
Then they recalled their men and drew them back,Toward rocky heights along the mountain-track.
The chieftain Tus then spoke before the band:“From sunset till the koust you held your stand.
May evil eyes stay far from every one;May battle turn to feast when strife is done.
I never knew of warriors who could showSuch gallantry against so vast a foe.
My first prayer is that God may guard and keepUs from the evil eye, awake or asleep.
He is my refuge always, and I trustThat He will lift you from this blood and dust.
I trust that aid, like smoke, will soon draw near,Before despair can master us through fear.
My hiyun stands before the Shah to plead;He knows at last our bitter state and need.
My letter’s fire will burn his heart clean through;And Rostam, elephant in might, comes too.
With noble lions gathered at his side,We shall return in triumph, satisfied.
We shall behold Khosrow before his men,And tell him of the griefs we suffered then.
We will report to that triumphant kingAll open, hidden deeds this war may bring.
Through royal kindness, through the Shah’s own grace,Each man shall find good fortune in its place.”
A swift courier then sped upon its way,To bear their message to the Shah that day.
Both sides ceased fighting, spent from what they bore;The field stood balanced, even as before.
On both sides scouts advanced upon the plain,Where valiant warriors had been newly slain.
Houman came forth; dead bodies choked the way,And spoke to wise Piran without delay:
“Withdraw today; this battle missed our aim;Let proven horsemen rest, their strength reclaim.
Then I shall wage a fight of such a kind,No sun or moon its equal yet could find.”
Their counsel ended; each withdrew apart,Intent upon the schemes within his heart.
C4.63
The Pahlevans Are Lost in the Snow
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At sunrise the Shah is gone. The five chiefs search, give up, camp by the spring and talk of the wonder; then the storm comes and buries them. Zal, Rostam and Gudarz wait a week on the mountain, then send searchers, who bring the bodies back for burial.
53 couplets · Tus named 1 time · in the full poem
The chieftains bowed their heads beneath that word,The warriors slept in pain from what they heard.
When sunlight rose above the mountain height,The Shah had vanished from the world of sight.
They ranged across the mountain, every faceTurned toward the plains, but found no royal trace.
They saw no sign of Kay Khosrow that day,And turned with stricken hearts back from the way.
They searched the crags like men bereft of mind, Yet not a sign of Khosrow could they find.
Lamenting, stricken, sorrow in each breast,They reached the spring and halted in their quest.
Each bade farewell, his heart consumed by woe,To that world-ruling Shah, great Kay Khosrow.
Then Fariborz spoke of the counsel wise:“May wisdom with his spotless spirit rise.
Let us take food, and rest till night is past;Beside this spring tonight our camp is cast.
The earth is soft and warm, the sky is clear;I see no cause to move our camp from here.”
They all dismounted by the water’s side,And spoke of Khosrow, grieving as they cried.
“No living soul will see such wonders shown,Though years beyond all counting may have flown.
When did we see a king depart this way?What chief has told a tale like ours today?
Alas for all his fortune, grace, and thought,The majesty his noble bearing brought.
The wise will smile at paths no man has trod:A mortal king has walked alive to God.
Who knows what hidden fate has made him go?What tale that men will credit can we show?”
Then Giv addressed the chiefs with sorrow grave:“No warrior ever rose more just or brave.
None matched his manhood, bounty, noble birth,His justice, stature, face, or fame on earth.
He stood in battle, elephantine and bright;At feasts he shone, a crowned moon of light.”
They ate the food still left them from the day;Then soon in sleep the weary warriors lay.
Then wind arose and clouds obscured the sky,Which took the aspect of a lion’s eye.
The snow unfurled its sail of blinding white;Across the plain, each lance was lost to sight.
A heavy, raging snowfall swept around,And leveled all the wide expanse of ground.
The helpless heroes perished in the snow: Tus, Gostaham, and Fariborz lay low;
With valiant Giv and young Bijan, they passed, Enclosed within that frozen tomb at last.
One after one, the snow closed round them deep;I cannot tell how long that grip would keep.
They struggled for a while beneath the storm;Deep hollows in the ground began to form.
No strength remained to struggle or to strive;Their souls departed; none was left alive.
Now Rostam, Zal, Gudarz, and horsemen stayedUpon the mountain, grieving and dismayed.
They waited three full days upon that height;The fourth day dawned and filled the sky with light.
They spoke: “How long must we endure delay,And on these rocks and in these mountains stay?
The Shah has vanished, borne like breath away;No trace of him is left to us today.
Where are the other nobles, then, withdrawn?Perhaps they scorned the counsel urged at dawn.”
A full week passed upon that mountain height,And grief had robbed them of all strength and might.
Distraught and grieving, worn by inward fire,They burned with sorrow, anguish, and desire.
Gudarz, the son of Keshvad, tore his hair,And clawed his cheeks in grief beyond repair.
He cried, “Who saw such grief as now I see?What grief from Kavus’s house has come to me?
My sons and grandsons were an army grown,Each one a ruler, with a crown his own.
For Siavash’s vengeance, all were slain;My house was overthrown upon the plain.
And now the last have vanished from my sight.Who ever saw such grief, so strange a plight?”
Then Zal spoke long, with ancient wisdom stored:“May wisdom with Yazdan’s decree accord.
Perhaps they yet may find the path and turn,When roads beneath the melted snow return.
We cannot live upon this mountainside;We have no food, and cannot here abide.
We shall send men on foot along the way;They may yet find the warriors’ trace one day.”
They left the mountain, weeping as they went;On those they loved each grieving thought was bent.
They mourned their sons, their kinsmen, friends now gone,And him who stood like cypress on the lawn.
On foot, the searchers found the fallen band,And bore their bodies from that frozen land.
Thus to the city they conveyed the slain;Such was the share those chiefs left to their train.
For each they built a tomb to hold the dead;Then ceased the mourning and the tears they shed.
Such are the ways the turning world has known;It never leaves the best of days our own.
It lifts one man from black earth to renown,And from the Kayanian throne casts others down.
For this, no joy; for that, no bitter pain:Such is the way of earth’s brief, fleeting reign.
Where are the kings and heroes of the past?Turn from these thoughts as long as strength shall last.
Family
- Parents
- Nohzar
- Children
- Zarasp, Tus’s daughter
On the maps
B4.3Kay Kavus Ventures to Mazandaran
B5.10–B5.11Kavus's Mazandaran Campaign and the Return to Iran
B6.1The Hamavaran Sea-War and Kavus's Captivity
B7.1The Frontier Hunt and the Clash of the Seven Champions
B9.31–B9.32Siavash Crosses the Jihun into Exile
B10.34–B10.37Bahman Castle and Kay Khosrow's Accession
B11.3–B11.7The Realm Restored: Kay Khosrow’s Fronts and the Division of Commands
B12.2–B12.15The Wrong Road: Forood's Mountain and the Snowstorm CampaignWhere he appears
Named mentions by book, from the Universe Registry. Titles such as “the Shah” and epithets are not counted.
A0The Prelude1B1The Crisis after Manuchehr5B4The War with Mazandaran8B5The Seven Labors of Rostam6B6The Folly of Kay Kavus8B7The Fight of the Seven Warriors4B8The Tragedy of Rostam & Sohrab20B9The Story of Siavash25B10Vengeance for Siavash and the Retrieval of Kay Khosrow45B11Kay Khosrow’s Kingship7B12Forood and the Snowstorm Campaign84B13Mount Hamavan and the Kamus Campaign137B14The Great Battle with the Khan of Chin22C1Rostam and the Div Akvan1C2The Tale of Bijan and Manijeh7C3The Battle of the Twelve Rukhs11C4The Final Afrasiab Wars and the Disappearance of Kay Khosrow30C6Goshtasb, Zardosht, and the War with Arjasp1C8The Tragedy of Rostam and Esfandiyar2D9Yazdegard I and the Rise of Bahram Goor2E5Hormizd, Son of Anooshirvan1E10Yazdegard3