Book B2Garshasp and the Transition to Kayanian Kingship

Zav had a son, Garshasp, of royal birth,His father gave that name to him on earth.

He took his father’s throne and royal place,The Kayanian crown and farr adorned his face.

With beauty and with farr he ruled the land,And kept Iran secure beneath his hand.

When word of Zav’s death reached Turan that day,He launched his ship and set his course for Rey.

But Pashang gave no greeting, stern and cold,His heart still burned with grief no words could hold.

For Aghriras, his son, unjustly slain,Had filled his soul with bitterness and pain.

He turned away from Afrasiab in hate,And would not see him nor his shameful state.

Though messengers went often to his door,Through month and year Pashang would meet no more.

“Whatever king may rise to rule the land,Aghriras was fit support at his right hand.

I sent you forth against the foreign foe;You brought your brother only grief and woe.

But you have slain your kin in ruthless pride;I cast you off, and from your sight I hide.”

The tree of calamity bore fruit full-grown,Bitter colocynth from hatred sown.

That year Garshasp, son of Zav, passed away,And fortune showed its ever-changing way.

The word spread wide: “The throne of kings stands bare!”And fear and turmoil filled the heavy air.

Then Pashang sent a hard and stony word,And Afrasiab the bitter message heard.

Though still estranged, he sent this stern command:“Turn once again against Iranian land.

Cross Jihun now and raise your army’s might;Let no new Shah ascend to claim the right.”

Afrasiab arrayed his gathered band,From Sipanjab’s broad plain to river strand.

The earth seemed heaven moving overhead;From Indian swords rained souls among the dead.

That famous army, drawn in battle line,Advanced toward war beneath its banners’ sign.

The rumor reached Iran: “A claimant nears;A buyer for the royal throne appears.”

The throne stood empty; hope grew faint and dim,And all Iran grew dark with fear of him.

In every lane and quarter rose a roar;From all Iran the cry swelled more and more.

Toward Zabulistan then the people turned,And all the world with anxious rumor burned.

At Zabul all their voices turned to Zal,That Pahlevan whose strength sustained them all.

They cried: “You held the world too lightly still;Now danger rises hard against our will.

Since you have borne great Sahm’s commanding place,Our hearts have known no calm nor settled grace.

When Zav had passed and Garshasp wore the crown,The wicked and their deeds were beaten down.

The world stands Shahless; all our ranks lie bare,No chief remains to shield us from despair.

A force has crossed Jihun; its dust concealsThe very Sun beneath its rolling wheels.

If any remedy you know, make clear;For Afrasiab’s army presses near.”

Zal answered: “Since I girded manhood’s belt,No rider matched me in the blows I dealt.

Wherever I set firm my foot in fight,The reins of other riders turned in flight.

No horseman set his foot in stirrup so,Nor bore my sword and gorz against the foe.

Through all my life I fought and did not tire,Yet now old age has worn away my fire.

My warrior’s back is bent now like a ring;The Kabuli khanjar is too hard to swing.

Yet praise to Yazdan: from my root is shown,A blessed, straight and fortunate branch grown.

Its head already rises toward the sky;When manhood comes, his worth no eye can deny.

Rostam now stands, a cypress tall and straight,The cap of greatness suits his lofty state.

But he must find a warhorse for the fight:These Tazi horses cannot bear his might.

I will seek an elephant-bodied steed,Then ask if Rostam joins us in our need.

I will ask him to gird himself and wageHis war on Zadeshm’s seed with vengeful rage.”

The people’s hearts were gladdened at the word,And hope returned with all that they had heard.

Swift hiyuns raced through every distant land,While fighting riders armed at Zal’s command.

Then Zal addressed him: “Elephant-bodied son,Your height stands over every gathered one.

A heavy task now calls you from your rest,To leave your youth and take the warrior’s test.

You are not yet of age for such a field,Where lions fight and mighty warriors yield.

The scent of milk is still upon your breath;Your heart seeks joy, not battle’s dust and death.

How can I send you where the battle burns,Before such lions, whom no terror turns?

Now speak your mind; what answer do you give?May honor guide you in the life you live.”

Then Rostam said: “Have you forgot the dayI proved my strength and drove all fear away?

The elephant I slew; Mount Sepand fell;You saw your warrior son’s great strength full well.

If I should fear the son of Pashang now,Let no trace of my name survive my vow.

This is the hour for battle, not retreat;In war alone are heroes made complete.

A man becomes a lion by felling one,And seeking battle till the fight is won.

No woman wins a great and lasting nameBy eating, sleeping, living soft and tame.”

Zal answered: “Gallant youth, my pride and stay,My heart rejoices hearing what you say.

Mount Sepand and the white elephant’s fallGave hope to me that you could answer all.

That former battle may have been less hard;These words of yours now set my heart on guard.

Bold Afrasiab’s deeds deny me sleep;How can I send you where his armies sweep?

Your years are meant for feasting, rud, and wine,For heroic songs where cups and music shine.

Not battle where the dust in clouds takes flight,From earth to Moon it climbs and veils the light.”

He said: “I am not made for ease and rest;Such softness ill becomes the warlike breast.

These shoulders and these long, extended handsWere never raised for ease in sheltered lands.

Though vengeance brings a hard and bitter fight,Yazdan and victorious fortune aid my might.

In war you shall see me ride through blood-red rain,Upon a rose-hued charger through the slain.

A water-colored cloud rests in my hand,Its rain is blood across the fighting land.

Fire flashes from the substance of its head,And elephant brains beneath its blow are spread.

Whenever I draw cuirass for the fight,Time fears the quiver hanging at my right.

The steed that carries me to battle’s height,Must bear my arm, my neck, and all my might.

Such a horse must not fear ballista’s throw,Nor catapult when stones and missiles flow.

When down my spear inclines its head in fight,Stone’s heart grows red beneath its bloody bite.

I need a steed of power, fierce and strong,To bear my weight through battle all day long.

A charger like a lofty mountain’s height,That bears me when I bend the kamand tight.

It must endure my strength in battle’s course,Yet answer speed with speed and force with force.

I want a gorz like one great mountain mass,To smash the Turanian ranks that block my pass.

If Turan comes, I need no army’s aid;Blood-raining clouds shall darken every blade.”

Zal’s heart was stirred, his soul with anguish torn,On hearing every vow his son had sworn.

He said: “You have had your fill of rest and cup;I bring Sahm’s gorz; now take the heirloom up.

Bring Sahm’s great gorz from Mazandaran’s fight,That felled a raging elephant with might.”

From warrior Garshasp it came as heir,Through father after father into Sahm’s care.

When Rostam saw it, joy lit up his face,And blessings poured on Zal for gift and grace.

He said: “O Pahlevan of world-wide fame,Find one to bear my gorz, my farr, my frame.”

Zal marveled at each word his son had said,And spoke Yazdan’s great name above his head.

When Zal had gathered all his herds of steeds,From Kabul too came horses of famed breeds.

The herdsmen drove them past in proud array,And read each royal brand aloud that day.

Whenever he grasped a horse, he pressed it down,Until its belly touched the very ground.

Their backs bent low beneath his testing hand,And every belly settled on the land.

At last there came a herd in motley hue,A flashing wave of horses swept in view.

Among them moved a white mare, swift and fleet,With lion’s chest and legs both short and neat.

Her ears like tempered khanjars, keen and bright,Full chest and mane, her slender waist drawn slight.

Behind her strode a colt of equal height,With chest and haunch well-balanced, firm, and tight.

Dark-eyed, bay-piebald, cow-tailed, fierce and fleet,Black-testicled, with steel beneath his feet.

His coat like saffron fields with roses spread,A living flame of gold and glowing red.

An ant on black felt could not shun his sight,Two farsangs distant in the depth of night.

His strength was like an elephant in might,His stature like a hiyun raised in height.

A lion’s courage filled his fearless frame,Like those at Bistoon famed for strength and fame.

When Rostam saw the colt, his heart was stirred;He bent his Kayan kamand without a word.

But then the aged herdsman cried: “Take heed!O chief, do not lay claim to another’s steed.”

Rostam replied: “Whose mark is on his thigh?No fire-brand marks him for the passerby.”

The herdsman said: “No owner’s brand appears,Yet tales of wonder have been told for years.

We call him Rakhsh, bay-piebald, fire in hue;No owner known; ‘Rostam’s Rakhsh’ was all we knew.

Three years he has stood prepared for saddle gear,The chosen of the great from year to year.

At sight of any rider’s cast kamand,His dam comes lion-like to make her stand.

We know not what strange secret binds the two;Do not circle this dragon; heed what is true.

She tears a lion’s heart, a leopard’s hide;No man should meet her fury stride for stride.”

The warning entered Rostam’s mind, but stillHe cast Kayanian kamand with iron will.

Then like a maddened elephant she sped,To tear with furious teeth at Rostam’s head.

But Rostam roared as lions roar in fight,Then struck her head and neck with all his might.

She fell and shook, then rose in sudden dread,And, head held low, among the herd she fled.

He tightened the kamand with all his force,Then pressed one mighty hand upon the horse.

The colt stood firm; his back would never bow,As though he scarcely felt the hero now.

Then Rostam thought: “This is the steed I planned;Now all the work of battle fills my hand.”

He mounted like the wind upon his back,The rose-hued colt flew down the open track.

He asked: “What price is set upon this steed?Who knows what sum the owner has decreed?”

The herdsman said: “If Rostam is your name,Turn straight toward Iran and earn your fame.

The price of Rakhsh is Iran, all its ground;Upon his back set right the world around.”

His coral lips broke open in delight:“From Yazdan comes all good.” He saddled for the fight.

Swift-gaited, stout of heart, of worthy name,He bore the cuirass, helm, gorz, Rostam’s frame.

Each night they burned espand against all blight;On left and right men spoke of magic’s might.

Zal’s heart bloomed like the spring at horse and heir;He scattered dinars, careless when or where.

A bead was struck in bowl on elephant’s back,Its voice rolled several mil along the track.

The koust resounded, karnays split the sky,And elephants bore Indian daray high.

From Zabul Resurrection rose and cried:“Rise, sleeping earth!”; the call rang far and wide.

An army surged like lions toward the fray,Their hands washed red with blood along the way.

In front rode Rostam, valor’s very seal,Behind, the chiefs in battle-hardened steel.

Across each vale and meadow stretched the force,No crow could find above an open course.

The tabiras thundered through the martial roar,Till head from foot could be discerned no more.

Thus Zal advanced as spring adorned the land,And led from Zabul all his gathered band.

When Afrasiab learned of Zal, aghast,His rest and food and sleep were from him cast.

Toward Khar of Rey he marched across the mead,And camped where water flowed among the reed.

Iranian forces crossed the desert way,And streamed toward battle through the dust all day.

When but two farsangs stretched between each side,Zal called the wise radan to stand beside:

“O wise radan, world-tested in the fight,Whose counsel long has proved both sound and right,

I have arrayed this mighty force today,And sought the good that leads us on our way.

Yet without Shah or throne our counsels spread;An army without kingship lacks its head.

When fortunate Zav sat upon the throne,New praise throughout the world arose and shone.

Iran now needs a Shah of Kayan seed,With Kayanian throne and girdle for the deed.

A learned Mobad showed the Shah we need,With royal farr and Kayan gorz decreed:

Kay Qobad, sprung from Fereydoon’s great line,Whose farr, just rule, and kingly stature shine.”

Then Zal addressed his son with words of weight,“Take up your gorz; toward Alborz ride straight.

Choose worthy men and hasten on your quest,And bear our homage to the kingly guest.

Delay not there and turn with utmost speed;Let neither sleep nor idleness impede.

Within two weeks be back before my sight;Press onward; do not halt for rest or night.

Say: ‘All Iran awaits your sovereign hand;No worthier ruler lives in any land.

The throne and Kayan crown await your reign;Come rescue Iran and end her grief and pain.’”

When Zal had spoken, Rostam bowed his head;His lashes swept the dust; then off Rakhsh sped.

Turanian pickets barred the mountain way,But he rode forth and drove them to the fray.

He raised his ox-headed gorz in wrath and might,And struck as thunder cleaves the clouds in flight.

Their ranks were broken; courage ebbed and died,The rest turned back and fled the battle tide.

Beneath his blows the Turkish courage broke,Their strength dissolved beneath each crushing stroke.

No outpost held where Rostam drove ahead;The road lay open as the riders fled.

The routed riders fled with hearts of blood,Their streaming eyes poured tears as from a flood.

They told Afrasiab what had been done,How one fierce rider broke them, one by one.

He mourned their loss and summoned Kulun then,A cunning chief among his chosen men.

“Take horsemen strong and guard the mountain way;Be watchful lest the foe should seize the day.

Be brave and wise; keep constant watch by night,And let no heedless hour escape your sight.

These crafty men of Iran strike unseen;Their sudden raids are swift, their purpose keen.”

With guides before him Kulun moved ahead,While chosen horsemen followed where he led.

With elephants and men in ordered rank,He sealed the mountain pass from flank to flank.

Meanwhile bold Rostam pressed along the way,To seek the Shah before the close of day.

One mil away from Alborz’ lofty height,He saw a royal court in splendor bright.

Tall trees stood thick beside the flowing stream,And youthful nobles rested in its gleam.

A golden seat beside the stream was laid,And musk and rosewater around it sprayed.

A moon-faced youth sat shining in the shade,Upon the golden throne his place was made.

Warriors stood around in ordered file,Their belts were fastened in the nobles’ style.

Their court was fair as gardens in the spring,A place befitting some celestial king.

They saw him come and rose from shaded ground,Then hurried forth and gathered him around.

They said, “We are the hosts, and you our guest;Dismount and share with us a little rest.

Come, drink with us and let your cares depart;We honor chiefs renowned for strength and heart.”

Rostam replied, “O noble chiefs, now know:A weighty charge commands where I must go.

To Alborz I must ride without delay;A grave affair allows no rest or stay.

I have no time for pillow, ease, or play;A long hard road still calls me on my way.

Iran’s high throne is empty of its king;Until he comes, no wine can pleasure bring.

All Iran stands encircled now by foes,And grief through every street and province grows.

In every house the voice of mourning spreads,While Shahless Iran bows beneath its dreads.

I seek Kay Qobad; show me where to ride,And point the road that leads me to his side.”

The young men asked: “Whom do you seek today?What prince has drawn you toward Alborz this way?

We know this mountain country, stream and plain;Speak plainly, chief; our guidance is not vain.”

Said Rostam: “One of Fereydoon’s just line,Kay Qobad, whose justice is his sign.”

Their leader said, “I know the prince you seek,And know the signs of whom you come to speak.

Dismount and share our bread beside the stream;Your presence here will make our spirits beam.

Then we will tell you how the prince is known,His signs and ways, his manner and his tone.”

At that, bold Rostam, swift as wind, stepped down,For now the road to Qobad had been found.

He crossed at once to where the river played,And took his place beneath the cooling shade.

The youthful lord upon the golden throneTook Rostam’s hand and made his welcome known.

With his free hand he filled a cup of wine,And drank in honor of the freeborn line.

He filled another cup and raised it high,Then gave it Rostam with a welcoming cry.

“You asked for Kay Qobad; who sent you here?Who spoke his name and bade you seek him near?”

Said Rostam: “From my father Zal I ride,With news that all the nobles have allied.

The throne is decked; the chiefs now call your name,And bid you come to take your rightful claim.

My father, Zal, is foremost in the field;The chosen Pahlevan, Iran’s great shield.

He sent me toward Alborz with this command:Find brave Kay Qobad; take him by the hand.

I must salute him Shah and urge his ride;No needless hour may keep him from our side.

Iran’s great chiefs now call with one acclaim;The world grows bright at sound of his great name.

If you can point me toward the prince I seek,You help restore the realm, now worn and weak.”

The youth replied with laughter on his face:“I am that Shah, descended from that race.

I am Kay Qobad, from Fereydoon’s line;My fathers’ names through generations shine.”

Then Rostam rose and bowed in solemn awe,And honored him according to the law.

“O king of kings, the refuge of the great,May strength and wisdom guard your royal state.

May Iran’s throne be blessed beneath your care,And mighty elephants fall in your snare.

May throne and kingship prosper in your sight,And royal farr keep all your fortune bright.

I bear my father Zal’s salute to you,And bring his message faithfully and true.

If you permit, your servant now will sayThe words my father charged me to convey.”

Kay Qobad rose and listened, grave and still,Prepared to hear the message and its will.

Then Rostam gave Zal’s message, full and clear,And spoke each charge the prince was bound to hear.

The words had scarcely reached the listening king,Before his heart leapt like a bird in spring.

He filled a brimming cup of ruby wine,And drank to Rostam’s strength and noble line.

Then Rostam raised his cup to drink, and turnedTo bless the king in whom new hope now burned.

“In you Fereydoon’s blessed sign I see;My heart rejoices that you stand with me.

May throne and world forever hold you fast;May Kayan crown and kingship bloom and last.”

Then song rose high and low throughout the place;Joy filled the court, and sorrow lost its trace.

Then Kay Qobad said, “Hear the dream I saw,A vision bright that filled my heart with awe.

Two white-winged falcons crossed Iran’s bright sky,And bore a sun-bright crown as they flew by.

They came with grace and hovered by my bed,Then set the shining crown upon my head.

I woke with hope, the vision burning bright,The crown and falcons vivid in my sight.

So in this meadow I prepared my place,And formed a royal court with fitting grace.

Now you have come as that white falcon came,With crown and kingship carried in your name.”

Then Rostam heard the vision from the king,And weighed the omen borne on falcon wing.

He said, “Such dreams are signs the prophets knew;The crown and falcons show the omen true.

Rise now; together we must ride away,To join Iran’s great chiefs without delay.”

Then Qobad sprang like fire and took his seatUpon his bay warhorse, both proud and fleet.

Then Rostam girded up and took his place,And rode with Qobad at a driving pace.

They rode and never paused to sleep or rest,Till Turan’s outposts barred the mountain crest.

When Kulun learned the royal pair drew near,He rushed like fire to battle without fear.

The Shah would set his ranks in war’s array,But Rostam said, “Stand back, my king, and stay:

This battle is no work for you, my king;Stand back and watch what Rakhsh and I shall bring.

With Rakhsh, my gorz, his bargostvan, my hand,I need no other force to break their band.

My heart, my arm, my gorz are force enough;I need no shield from men however tough.

Yazdan alone protects me in the fight;With rose-hued Rakhsh, who stands against my might?”

He spurred ahead and struck with all his strength;One rider tumbled lifeless at full length.

He seized one rider, swung him from his place,And struck another full across the face.

From shattered noses brains and blood were shed,As riders toppled from their saddles dead.

He plucked mailed warriors from the saddle high,And hurled them broken on the earth nearby.

Heads, necks, and backs gave way beneath his hand;No mounted chief could firmly make a stand.

To Kulun, mighty Rostam seemed a Div dread,His gorz and kamand raised above his head.

Then Kulun charged; his spear the jowshan found,And tore apart its clasp, the scales unbound.

But Rostam seized the shaft with iron grip,And Kulun stared to see the spear not slip.

He wrenched the spear from Kulun’s straining hand,And roared like thunder rolling through the land.

Then with the spear he struck and raised him high,And planted its butt; Kulun hung awry.

Upon the spear he hung in open sight,Like bird upon a spit held firm and tight.

Then Rakhsh came on and trampled Kulun’s head,His brains were scattered where his body bled.

The Turanian ranks broke up and fled in fear,Their fortune darkened as the Shah drew near.

Beyond the rout he struck the pickets dead,Then toward the mountain road he swiftly sped.

He reached a meadow where clear waters flowed,And there dismounted from the mountain road.

Until the daylight faded from the plain,He made all ready for the royal train.

He brought Pahlavi robes and crown to light,And chose the royal steed for that same night.

When darkness fell, the watchful chief arrayedThe Shah in royal dress, his crown displayed.

In silence Rostam brought the Shah away,And reached old Zal unseen before the day.

For seven days they sat in close debate,While Mobadan weighed needs of crown and state.

They found no king like Qobad in their quest,Revealed or hidden, he surpassed the rest.

Another week they feasted round the king,With wine and song until the halls would ring.

On the eighth day they raised the crown on high,And set the ivory throne beneath the sky.