Book D6The Ashkanian Dynasty

Now let the world’s great monarch be my theme,In feast and fight and knowledge held supreme.

A king, Abul-Qasim, most sage and wise,From wisdom all his counsels take their rise.

May joy forever in his heart remain,Free from all trouble, weariness, and pain.

Great Mahmud rules with counsel firm and sound,Through him the name of greatness holds its ground.

King of Kings of Iran, Zabulistan,From Ghanooj to the bounds of Kabulistan.

Bless him, his army, and his kindred band,His royal house and all his subject land.

Bless Nasr, Mahmud’s sepahbod and amir,The joy of time’s revolving, circling sphere.

Victorious, famed and fortunate is he;His arrow passes cleanly through a tree.

With one like Abul-Muzaffar in command,Above the moon the army’s head shall stand.

May Shah Mahmud live safe forevermore,And hold his throne above his golden store.

May his sepahbod prosper, glad and true,Bright-hearted, with his treasury thriving too.

While turning heaven still maintains its place,May love be never severed from this race.

May all his line rejoice in triumphs won,Crowned from the father down from son to son.

Now fourteen days of Shawwal have gone by;Let blessings on our sovereign multiply.

The crowned and gracious Shah has made it clear:Glad news of his decree on tax we hear.

No tax shall be demanded for one yearFrom men of ardent faith and godly fear.

The age of Anooshirvan now returns;The world is changed, as any eye discerns.

When many years have passed, he still shall spreadThe canopy of justice overhead.

By justice and the good that he has done,He has a robe of honor, heaven-won.

That robe upon his form shall never fray,While on his head the Kayanian crown shall stay.

May vigor crown his head, his flesh be sound,His spirit rise beyond the heavens’ bound.

Let none who count my months and years denyThe worth of what I now shall prophesy.

Look well: this book shall stand through every age,A lasting banner raised above each sage.

Through this, his stock shall be like Kioumars’ own,And all shall bless the lineage thus made known.

Thus Anooshirvan, son of Qobad, said:“When any king from justice turns his head,

Heaven blacks the charter of his royal claim;His star no longer calls him Shah by name.

Injustice is the writ that ends his reignWhen blameless hearts are burdened with its pain.”

Forever may this royal house endure,In worth and wisdom, righteous and secure.

No lasting foothold here has anyone,But a good name will last when life is done.

Jamshid, Zahhak, and Fereydoon: where lieThe Arab chiefs, Iran’s kings, long gone by?

Where are the great ones of Sasanian fame,The house of Bahram and the Samanian name?

Of all the kings, Zahhak was most reviled,Unjust in rule, impure, by wrong defiled.

But glorious Fereydoon won praise from all;He died, yet still his bright renown stands tall.

The word remains, a lasting, precious storeOf memory, worth royal gems and more.

The unjust man whose joy was crown and goldLeaves no good name for later men to hold.

No worldly joy remains for him to keep;His name, which later tongues forget, will sleep.

This writ from him whose people are his care—May throne and royal ease remain his share—

Sent people from their houses to the plain;Their prayers rose past the heavens in this refrain:

“May he live long, the crowned head of our land,And fortune guide him with a generous hand.

May he see only joy; may halls proclaimIn writing on their walls his royal name.

May all our blessings with one voice embraceHis kin, troops, realm, his royal form and face.”

O singer, seasoned by advancing age,Now let Ashkanian times your thoughts engage.

What does the chronicler of old record?What does his book of ancient truth afford?

What mighty chiefs remained to rule the land,With great Iskandar gone from all command?

The dehqan out of Chakh says none could claimThe world’s great ivory throne in his own name.

But princes, born of Arash’s noble breed,Were bold and headstrong, rash in thought and deed.

Each held a corner of the scattered land,A little realm beneath his own command.

Rejoicing, each was seated on his throne;As Tribal Kings these rulers then were known.

Two hundred years passed by with none to claimThe earth entire and rule it in his name.

Each left the others to their own domain;The earth found rest a while from strife and strain.

For Iskandar had split the realm apart,That Rum might flourish through his ruling art.

The first was Ashk, of Qobad’s line and breed,Then warrior Shapur, born of blessed seed.

Gudarz the Ashkanian, brave and bright,And Bijan, a Kayanian of might.

Narsi, great Hormizd, and Arash acclaimed,A mighty warrior, far and widely famed.

Next, Ardavan is named upon the page:A just king, bright of soul, in counsel sage.

When Bahram of the Ashkanians came to reign,He shared his treasure, easing poor men’s pain.

They called him Ardavan the Great, who toreThe wolf’s claws from the sheep they gripped before.

He ruled Shiraz and Isfahan as lord,“The Great Lords’ Land,” as learned men record.

Babak held Istakhr from him; such strength he bore,His hook could make a mighty dragon roar.

Their root and branch cut short, no tale is toldBy the experienced chronicler of old.

I heard their names alone; no more was knownTo me, nor in the Book of Kings was shown.

When great Iskandar knew his end was near,He laid before the chiefs his counsel clear:

That none should turn their thoughts to Rum’s domain,And Rum should thrive, secure from grief and pain.

When wisdom guides the monarch of the land,Such wholesome fruit grows from his wise command.

When Dara fell in battle, fortune fled;His house was left with darkened days ahead.

His son was blessed with joy and noble name,Wise, brave Sasan, of royal stock and fame.

He saw his father lying with the slain,And saw ill fortune over Iran reign.

He fled before the Roman troops in dread,Escaped the snares of ruin, onward sped.

In Hindustan his mournful days were done;He left behind a little boy, his son.

Each father gave his son the selfsame name;Down to the fourth, Sasan remained the same.

They drove the camels, shepherded the sheep,And labored through the years in hardship deep.

The young man left in search of work and gain,In hope that wealth would ease his toil and strain.

He saw the master-shepherd on the plain,At Babak’s flocks, and spoke of need and pain:

“Have you some work for one who seeks his bread,Whose life in bitter need and want is led?”

The master-shepherd took him on, and bentHis back to labor till his strength was spent.

His work won favor; now his charge would beThe flocks, with all their shepherds to oversee.

One night Babak, the son of Rudyab, dreamedA vision clear within his soul, which gleamed:

He saw Sasan, an Indian sword in hand,Ride a fierce elephant, majestic, grand.

All those who came before him blessed his name,And bowed to him in homage as they came.

He made the earth more fair in every part,And cleared the grief and darkness from each heart.

Next night, as sleep lay heavy on his head,His mind was stirred by thoughts that came and fled.

A worshipper of fire appeared in sight,With three fires in his hands, each one alight.

Azargashasp, Kharrad, and Mehr shone bright,Like turning heaven in their blazing light.

Before Sasan the fires in splendor glowed;In each burned aloes, and their radiance flowed.

Babak awoke, his soul disturbed and grave,And anxious thoughts rose up like wave on wave.

He summoned those whose skill in dreams was sound,In every branch of learning, wise, profound.

Nobles and counselors came to his hall;The wise men gathered there at Babak’s call.

Then Babak spoke of what his mind concealed,And told them all the dreams, each part revealed.

The interpreter listened, weighing what was said,And turned the visions over in his head.

At last he said, “Exalted king, attend:This vision must be scanned from end to end.

The man thus seen in sleep will raise his crownAbove the sun in glory and renown.

Or if the dream refers not to that one,The world itself will pass to his own son.”

Babak rejoiced at what the sages said,And fitting gifts before each one were spread.

He sent for Sasan, head shepherd of the fold,On a day of driving snow and bitter cold.

He came, his woolen wrap all snowy white;His heart was split in two by bitter fright.

Babak cleared the room; the guide withdrew,And all the servants left the chamber too.

He welcomed young Sasan and drew him near,And seated him beside him with good cheer.

He asked the shepherd’s lineage and race;The frightened man sat silent in his place.

“O prince,” he said, “first pledge that I shall live,And shield me from the harm these words may give.

Then I will tell my lineage, strand by strand;First swear your oath, and take me by the hand:

That neither open harm nor hidden illShall ever reach me through your act or will.”

Babak invoked the Giver of all good,And swore his oath, as Sasan asked he should:

“No harm from me shall ever come to you;In joy and honor I shall keep you too.”

Then said the youth, “O noble Pahlevan,Know that I am the son of Sasan.

I spring from King Ardeshir, known to fameIn ancient chronicles by Bahman’s name.

His father was Esfandiyar the bold,Whose father Goshtasb wore the crown of gold.”

Babak, on hearing this, let fall a streamOf tears from those same eyes that saw the dream.

“Go bathe,” said Babak, “wait there till they bearThe new robes I am sending you to wear.”

He brought out royal robes to clothe Sasan,And gave a horse equipped for a Pahlevan.

He raised him from the shepherd’s humble place,And built him a grand palace, rich in grace.

Sasan was settled there, and at his callStood slaves and servants, ready in the hall.

He gave him gear and wealth in ample store,So want and need could trouble him no more.

He gave Sasan his cherished daughter’s hand,And his own crown, the emblem of command.

Nine months had passed; the moon-faced mother’s boyShone like the sun, a radiant birth of joy.

He seemed the image of great Ardeshir,A source of growing joy and constant cheer.

His father looked with wonder on the child,And named him Ardeshir, and gladly smiled.

He reared him fondly, cradled at his breast,And years went by; the boy grew, richly blessed.

Discerning men, whose minds were sharp and clear,Now called the youth “Babakan Ardeshir.”

They taught him every art of hand and mind;These arts enriched the gifts his birth assigned.

In learning, face, and stature, rising high,He seemed a light that set ablaze the sky.

News of his learning reached the royal ear;King Ardavan heard praise of Ardeshir:

“He is a savage lion in the fight,And, feasting, like Nahid in grace and light.”

He wrote to Babak, Pahlevan of fame,And thus addressed the chief of honored name:

“O learned man of pure, discerning mind,A knowing guide, in speech and thought refined,

I hear Ardeshir, your son, is skilled in speech,A horseman quick to learn what others teach.

When you have read this letter, send him here;At once, and gladly, let the youth draw near.

I shall supply his needs and raise his nameAmong the chiefs to dignity and fame.

Among my sons he shall receive his place;I shall embrace him as of royal race.”

When Babak read, red tears ran down his face;Blood from his lashes marked their downward trace.

He summoned both the scribe and Ardeshir,The newly risen youth he held so dear.

He said, “Now read what Ardavan has penned,And weigh each word; let all your wits attend.

I now will send the king a fair reply,Through one I trust beneath the turning sky:

‘Behold, I send a gallant youth to you,My heart and eyes, approved and loyal too.

I have advised him well. When he appears,Receive him royally among your peers.

Let no misfortune touch him in that place;Not even wind should blow upon his face.’”

Then swift as wind he opened treasure’s doors,And gave the youth rich gifts from royal stores:

Gold harness, gorz, and sword he freely gave;He held back nothing that the youth might crave.

Brocade and coins, with slaves, steeds, cloth of gold,And Chinese wares; a royal wealth to hold.

He laid before the youth each precious thing;The youth became a servant of the king.

Babak sent more gifts along with Ardeshir:Gold dinars, musk, and fragrant, sweet abir.

The youth left his grandfather on his way,And rode to Ardavan’s great court at Rey.

They told the king the youth was drawing nearAnd asking leave before him to appear.

He called him in with kindness and good cheer;Of Babak he spoke much for him to hear.

He sat him near the throne, a seat of grace,And in the town arranged his dwelling place.

He sent him food and clothing, every kind,With rugs and spreads for comfort there assigned.

With nobles, Ardeshir then took his wayTo where the king had ordered him to stay.

When sunlight sat upon its throne one day,Earth, white as a Roman face, shone in its ray,

Ardeshir called the envoy to his side,And had the gifts arranged in royal pride.

He sent the gifts to royal Ardavan;The envoy bore them with a Pahlevan.

The king approved the gifts; they brought delight,And raised the youth in favor in his sight.

He held the youth as fondly as a son,And let no care distress him, no, not one.

At wine, at table, or upon the chase,He took the youth along to share his place.

He held him as his kin, in warm affection;His son and Ardeshir shared like protection.

One day, the troops and prince rode out for sport,Then scattered widely, far beyond the court.

Now Ardavan had four sons of his own,In each the signs of royal blood were shown.

Ardeshir stayed beside great Ardavan,Who prized him as a noble of Iran.

A Gur-e-Khar appeared upon the plain;A clamor rose from all the hunting train.

They urged their steeds; the dust rose thick and high,And mingled with the sweat as they sped by.

Ardeshir rode ahead and neared the game,And set an arrow, taking careful aim.

He struck the male Gur-e-Khar’s rump; straight throughIts body went the point and feathers too.

Then Ardavan arrived upon the plain,And saw the fallen Gur-e-Khar lie slain.

He asked, “Whose arrow felled this quarry grand?May life remain united with that hand!”

Then Ardeshir addressed the king to say:“It was my arrow, Shah, that felled this prey.”

One prince replied, “I brought it to its fate,And now I am in search of its own mate.”

Ardeshir answered, “See, the plain is wide;With game and arrows here, let skill decide.

Then strike another with the selfsame art;A lie brings shame upon a noble heart.”

Then Ardavan grew angry with the youth,And roared at him for speaking open truth:

“The fault is mine; I never stand aloof,But nurture those who come beneath my roof.

Why should I keep you always at my side,At feast and hunt, and treat you as my pride,

So you may outshine my own son in skill,And flaunt your strength before him at your will?

Go now and tend my Arab steeds each day;Beside the royal stables you shall stay.

Be master of the stables; ply the tradeOf every groom, and lend the others aid.”

In tears, Ardeshir went to tend the steeds,His heart consumed by grief at Ardavan’s deeds.

“See how I suffer from him, how I smart!May anguish seize his body and his heart.”

He wrote his grandfather, with heart distressed,While schemes and stratagems his mind possessed.

He told the tale of all that had occurred,And why the king to such great wrath was stirred.

When Babak read the letter, he concealedIts news; to no one were its words revealed.

His heart grew dark, weighed down by sorrow’s gloom;He brought out dinars from the treasure room.

Ten thousand dinars for the youth he sent;A rider on a camel with them went.

He called the scribe and bade him ink his reed,And write to Ardeshir with thought and heed:

“O thoughtless youth, still young, recall the dayYou rode with Ardavan to hunt your prey:

Why ride before his son? Your place is clear:A servant of his house, no kinsman here.

He did you no injustice out of spite;Your witless act itself brought on this slight.

Now strive to make him pleased and satisfied;Do all his will and set your pride aside.

I send you gold, and in this letter tooHave set down all the counsel meant for you.

When you have used this sum, ask more to last,And let the passing days go drifting past.”

The old, experienced rider hastened near;His swift camel brought him to Ardeshir.

He read the letter; sorrow gripped his heart,Which turned toward guile and schemes of cunning art.

He chose a lowly lodging by his steeds,Far less than royal birth or honor needs.

With carpets, food, and garments it was dressed,And spreads of every kind were laid for rest.

He passed his days in feasting, wine and song,With strings and minstrels through the whole night long.

Now Ardavan possessed a palace tall,Where dwelt his cherished slave within its wall.

Her name was Golnar, favorite by far,Moon-faced, jewel-bright, sweet-scented as a star.

She kept the keys to every treasure chest,And served as counselor at his behest.

He smiled with joy whenever she was near;More than his life, he held that maiden dear.

One day she climbed the palace roof above,And there saw Ardeshir, and fell in love.

His smiling lips, his youth, and beauty’s artAwoke both joy and love within her heart.

She waited till the deepening fall of night,Then bound a kamand to the rampart’s height.

She knotted it and tested it by hand,To learn what weight its knots could withstand.

She boldly climbed down by the knotted strand,Invoking God, whose favors ever stand.

In gems and musk and fragrant spice arrayed,She came with graceful steps to where he stayed.

From his brocade pillow she raised his head,And clasped him as he woke upon the bed.

He saw her face, her hair, her jeweled light,Her fragrance and adornment in the night.

He said, “How did you come before my eyesTo grace my troubled heart with such surprise?”

She answered, “I am yours in heart and soul;Your love has filled my heart and claimed it whole.

I shall come to you when you want me near,And make your darkest day shine bright and clear.”

Those words made Ardeshir’s young heart rejoice;He found delight in her, in face and voice.

Thus time passed on, until misfortune fellOn him who guided Ardeshir so well.

Wise Babak, seasoned in the ways of men,Died, leaving this old house to others then.

When news reached Ardavan, his grief was deep;His darkened soul had only grief to keep.

The chiefs each sought to govern Pars instead;He chose his eldest son to be their head.

He bade them bring the brazen kousts outside,And march the army to the plain stretched wide.

Ardeshir grieved for Babak, old and wise,And all the world grew dark before his eyes.

He loathed his service to the king; the newsHad turned his mind to what new course to choose.

On every side he sought escape, forlorn;He longed for flight, by grief and anger torn.

Then Ardavan called in his learned seers,Wise men who traced the planets through their spheres.

He brought a few to court to learn his fate,And seek the course his stars would indicate.

He wished to learn what future days might bring,And whom good fortune next would make a king.

He sent them to Golnar, to watch the skies,And read what fate the turning stars devise.

For three full days they toiled to calculate,And weighed the sky by measure and by date.

The treasurer heard their secrets, word by word,And marked with care the hidden things she heard.

When the third day and three night watches ceased,The girl was from those learned men released.

She sighed with longing in the deep of night,And held each secret in her memory tight.

Upon the fourth day, all the sages wentTo tell King Ardavan what heaven meant.

With tables of the stars held at their breast,They left her rooms; the king they then addressed.

They told the secrets written in the sky,Their force and scope, and how they would apply.

They said, “The lofty heavens show this thing:Soon sorrow will disturb the heart of the king.

One now held low among your court will flee,A warrior-chief of noble pedigree.

Thereafter he will rise to royal might,And bless the world beneath his fortune’s light.”

The king grew troubled at the words they said;Their forecast filled his heart with grief and dread.

When night was black as pitch, Golnar drew near,And came into the presence of Ardeshir.

He stormed like seas: “You cannot stay awayFrom Ardavan for even one whole day?”

She told him what the stargazers had said,And how the signs of kingship lay ahead.

Ardeshir grew calm and silent at the word,And chose to bear in patience what he heard.

Her words made sharp his heart’s resolve to flee;He sought the road by which he might go free.

He thought of flight and asked, “If I leave Rey,And seek Iran, where brave men lead the way,

Will you come with me on that dangerous road,Or stay and serve the king in this abode?

If you will come, great wealth shall be your own;And you shall be the crown upon the throne.”

She pledged to stay with him until she died:“I am your slave; I shall not leave your side.”

Cold sighs escaped her lips as thus she spoke;From both her eyes the yellow teardrops broke.

Ardeshir said, “Tomorrow we depart.”Necessity had gripped the young man’s heart.

She went back to her rooms, her life in hand,Prepared to risk herself for what she planned.

As soon as dawn had gilded earth with light,And driven back the darkness of the night,

She opened up the treasure’s golden cache,And searched through gems whose priceless colors flash.

Of rubies, royal gems, and dinars bright,She took the wealth they needed for their flight.

She reached her rooms with all the gems she bore,And laid them there, a secret, precious store.

Her heart was pained and troubled by the deed;She weighed what plans might serve her in her need.

How could she flee the king and safely go?With that young man, what future would she know?

She waited till night rose from mountain height,The king asleep, his people gone from sight.

She left the palace like an arrow’s flight,And brought the gems to Ardeshir that night.

He held a cup; his grooms were all asleep,And wine had sunk them into slumber deep.

For Ardeshir had plied them all with wine,Since he must flee in secret by design.

He chose two noble steeds, the finest bred,Now saddled at the manger where they fed.

He saw Golnar, and saw the jewels she bore;The ruddy dinars gleamed among her store.

He said, “We must be gone; we cannot stay;No longer here; now we must ride away.

May we escape this dragon’s claws and go,And save our youthful lives from all this woe.”

He put the cup aside, his purpose steady;He bridled both the Arab steeds, made ready,

Put on his khaftan, mounted, helmed, alert,And with a poison-watered blade was girt.

She mounted on the other steed to ride;Together they departed, side by side.

Together in the night to Pars they sped,Their hearts rejoicing as in stealth they fled.

Ardavan found no pleasure or delightUnless fair Golnar stood within his sight.

Upon his brocade couch he chose to stayTill Golnar’s face brought fortune to his day.

The hour had come for courtiers to convene;Brocade adorned the throne; she was not seen.

His anger rose, and grief disturbed his breast;By Golnar’s absence, he grew more distressed.

Before the gate the troops stood, one and all,While crown and throne stood ready in the hall.

Then from the court the chamberlain drew near,And spoke these words into the monarch’s ear:

“The foremost nobles of the realm await;They stand assembled at the palace gate.”

The monarch asked his servants, “Why todayDoes Golnar shun her duties, stay away?

Why does she leave my bedside? Does she nurseSome grievance that has made her grow averse?”

The chief scribe came with tidings to report:“Last night young Ardeshir deserted court.

One gray, one black, he took from royal stalls,The king’s own mounts, most prized within these walls.”

Then Ardavan knew she had left his sideTo flee with Ardeshir upon that ride.

The warrior-king sprang up in wrath and ire,His heart ablaze with anger’s sudden fire.

He took a throng of horsemen in his train;His charger seemed to tread a burning plain.

He reached a noted settlement that layWith people and their herds beside the way.

He asked them, “Did you hear at break of dayThe sound of horses hurrying away?

Did two ride past, one gray horse and one black,Both pressing onward down this very track?”

A man replied, “Two riders passed this way;They rode into the plain without delay.

A mountain ram ran after them; its forceThrew dust into the air as would a horse.”

Then Ardavan asked, turning to his aide,“Why does this ram pursue the tracks they made?”

The minister replied, “That is his farr,His wings toward kingship and his fortune’s star.

If that ram reaches him, then call retreat;A long and grueling labor you will meet.”

There Ardavan dismounted for a stayTo eat and rest, then hurried on his way.

They followed close the tracks Ardeshir made,And Ardavan rode foremost with his aide.

Swift as the wind Ardeshir and Golnar sped,Without a pause, by fear and fortune led.

Whoever has high heaven as a friendNeed fear no harm an enemy may send.

At length Ardeshir, weary from his flight,Beheld a pool below him from a height.

Still riding, he said, “Golnar, you and IAre joined to hardship as we onward fly.

Let us dismount beside this spring; the strainHas worn both horse and rider on the plain.

Beside the water, let us rest and eat,Then ride refreshed and hasten our retreat.”

The two drew near the water, almost done;Their faces had grown yellow as the sun.

About to leave his horse, he saw besideThe pool two youths who called to him to ride.

They cried, “Be quick! The stirrup and the reinMust serve you now; ride hard across the plain.

You slipped the dragon’s jaws and burning breath;To halt now may expose your life to death.

Do not dismount to eat beside this pool;Preserve your life; let that become your rule.”

Ardeshir heard and told Golnar, “They speakGood sense; now let us ride, and safety seek.”

He pressed the stirrup, gave the charger rein,And shouldered his bright spear to cross the plain.

Behind them Ardavan came like a blast,His soul in toil and shadow overcast.

When half the day had passed, the burning sun,The world’s bright lamp, still had its course to run,

He saw a thriving city, fair and wide;Its people hurried out from every side.

He asked the noted Mobadan: “RecountThe hour that valiant rider spurred his mount.”

Their leader answered, “King of fortune bright,Whose thoughts are pure and whose intent is right,

Just as the sun grew yellow, losing light,And lapis cloaked the world with spreading night,

Two riders hurried past, their mouths gone dry,Their faces thick with dust as they rode by.

Behind one rider ran a ram so rare,No painted palace creature could compare.

With Simorgh’s wings and peacock’s tail it sped,With Rakhsh’s ears and hooves and mighty head.

Like redbud blossom, crimson; in its speed,A storm wind; none recalls so strange a breed.”

The minister said, “King, give up this chase;Return from here to your accustomed place.

Assemble troops and all the gear to fight;The contest now stands in a different light.

His fortune rides behind him; have a care:To follow farther is to grasp at air;

Write to your son concerning this pursuit,And set the whole in order, branch and root.

Perhaps your son may track him and restrainThis ram before it grows a lion’s mane.”

When Ardavan had heard, he knew his dayOf high renown was passing into gray.

Within that city, Ardavan then stayedAnd praised the One from whom all good is made.

At dawn, when night had yielded to the day,He bade his troops return without delay.

His cheeks as pale as reeds, the king rode back;By night he reached great Rey along the track.

He wrote his son: “Deceit has upward grownAnd raised its head toward the crown and throne.

So swiftly Ardeshir has fled my sight,No arrow ever matched him in its flight.

Toward Pars he rides; in secret seek his trail,And tell no other person of this tale.”

Ardeshir reached the water, raised his prayer:“O Helper, You have saved me from his snare.

You kept me safe from that man’s wicked hand;May he find nothing good in all the land.”

He rested, called the boatman, then beganTo tell his past to that seafaring man.

The wise old sailor looked upon his guest,His stature and his features and his chest.

He knew the youth was of Kayanian line,And joyed to see his farr and splendor shine.

He hurried to the water, took command,And sent his boats toward every distant strand.

At famed Ardeshir’s name, along that shore,An army gathered, swelling more and more.

In Istakhr, too, the kin of Babak heard,And glory rose in every heart and word.

The line of Dara, scattered through the land,Were men of name, a widely honored band.

At news of Ardeshir, their joy took hold;Their hearts grew young, although their years were old.

From mountain, sea, and city, troop on troop,The people came and formed a widening group.

Counselors and sages joined his side,Around the youth who bore the royal pride.

Young Ardeshir then raised his voice and said,“O chiefs whose souls with wisdom’s light are fed,

Of all the sages gathered here, no one,No counselor, can doubt what has been done.

All know the shame that Iskandar has sown,The baseness that through all the world was known.

He slew my ancestors with wrongful handAnd seized, against all right, the royal land.

I spring from Esfandiyar’s exalted line,Yet Ardavan holds what is rightly mine.

We cannot call this justice, nor can thoughtAccept as just the rule that force has wrought.

Give me your help; I will not yield my right,Nor let a rival seize the realm by might.

What answer do you give? Speak fair and true;Declare the counsel that is held by you.”

Then all who stood assembled in that place,Both men of counsel and the warrior race,

Rose at his words and answered from the heart;They spoke their inmost thoughts, concealing no part.

They answered: “We, the heirs of Babak’s line,Rejoice to see your royal fortune shine.

We sons of Sasan gird ourselves to fight,To claim the vengeance that is ours by right.

Our souls and bodies wait at your command;Our joys and griefs lie wholly in your hand.

Your worth through father, mother, blood, and nameSurpasses ours and grants you kingship’s claim.

We shall make mountains level with the plain,Our swords turn waters crimson with the slain.”

When young Ardeshir heard their loyal cries,Past Venus, Mercury, his head would rise.

He blessed the chiefs; his thoughts of vengeance woke,And spread within his heart like rising smoke.

Beside the water, on the site he chose,A city by his bold design arose.

A Mobad spoke: “O Shah of fortune bright,Who wins men’s hearts and fills them with delight,

You now renew the kingship of the land;First clear fair Pars of weeds with steady hand,

Then turn on Ardavan while you are strong,And fortune young; to you these days belong.

His wealth exceeds the other Tribal Kings’;From him will come the grief that warfare brings.

But once his throne is shattered by your hand,No other king shall challenge your command.”

Ardeshir heard the counsel with delight,And judged the Mobad’s words both wise and right.

When sunlight crowned the mountain peaks with day,He left for Istakhr, riding on his way.

News reached Bahman, Ardavan’s eldest son;His heart grew dark with grief at what was done.

He did not linger on his throne of might,But gathered troops and weapons for the fight.

There was a noble Pahlevan, Tabak by name,With arms and troops and counsel known to fame.

He ruled in Jahram, veteran, wise, and old,A seasoned lord whose word was firm and bold.

He had seven noble sons, and when he heardOf young Ardeshir’s rise, his heart was stirred.

From Jahram then he came in battle train,Troops, tabiras, deserting Bahman’s reign.

When he beheld Ardeshir, as was right,He left his horse and hastened to his sight.

He kissed his feet and spoke of Sasan’s fame,Recalling much about that royal name.

The prince received him with a gracious face,And praised his swift arrival at that place.

Yet caution still arose within his breast,For fear of Tabak gave his heart no rest.

Since great Tabak commanded such a force,He watched him on the march along their course.

The veteran understood his hidden fear,For long experience made his vision clear.

He brought Avesta and the Zand, and stoodTo swear by God, the source of every good:

He said, “May God cut short Tabak’s poor life,If in my heart there lives deceit or strife.

When news first reached me of Shah Ardeshir,Who brought his army to the water here,

I wearied of King Ardavan that dayAs young men tire of women old and gray.

Know this: I am your slave in heart and will,Patient and kind, to guard your secrets still.”

Ardeshir probed him with a searching gaze,And found him loyal, true in every phrase.

He treated him as father, grave and sage,And set him over chiefs of name and age.

His doubts dispelled, he sought the sacred flameOf Ram Kharrad, and called upon God’s name.

He prayed to God to guide him in the rightAnd lead him toward all goodness by His light.

He asked for triumph in each new pursuit,And that his tree of majesty bear fruit.

He sought his tent, where troops were brought to view,His steward at the muster with him too.

He paid the soldiers, armed them for the fight,And called on God, whose gifts are never slight.

His force stood like a leopard, fierce and strong;He marched on Bahman with that warlike throng.

The armies neared; their champions sought the field,Advancing in their might, too proud to yield.

On either side the ranks were ranged and braced,With Indian swords and spears, the foe they faced.

They clashed like fighting lions, and the floodThey poured ran like a stream of flowing blood.

They fought until the sun grew yellow; thenThe air was thick with dust, the ground with men.

When heaven spread its turquoise canopy,Tabak’s whole army joined the battle’s sea.

A wind arose; a pitch-black cloud drew near;From out the army’s center came Ardeshir,

Then Ardavan’s son Bahman fled the fight,His body pierced with arrows, heart in night.

With karnays blaring through the arrow-rain,Shah Ardeshir pursued him on the plain.

They reached Istakhr, where Bahman held his crown,The city of his glory and renown.

The Shah’s renown went out through every land,And countless troops came flocking to his hand.

They showed him all the wealth that Babak gainedThrough toil and hardship, gathered and retained.

Ardeshir shared those riches with his train,Then marched from Pars to wage his next campaign.

When news reached Ardavan, dread seized his heart,And gloom obscured his judgment’s better part.

He said, “A counselor once read the skyAnd told me what its hidden signs imply.

Yet can a man, by caution or by care,Escape the snares that fortune may prepare?

I never thought Ardeshir’s heart would dareTo win renown and cities everywhere.”

He opened treasuries, assigned the grain,Made ready baggage for the long campaign.

From Gilan and from Dilam came the train;Its dust rose to the moon above the plain.

Ardeshir led out legions, vast and strong,The wind seemed trapped and helpless in their throng.

Two bowshots only lay between each side;No snake could rest beneath the earth and hide.

The tabiras and long horns blared; gongs rang,And Indian bells replied with clash and clang.

The banners waved, the blades of blue steel shone,The armies roared as heads to earth were thrown.

For forty days the battle raged away,Till common folk had nowhere safe to stay.

All food grew scarce; the routes for stores were strained,And little passage for supplies remained.

The plain grew mountain-like with heaps of slain,The wounded tired of life beneath their pain.

At last a mighty sable cloud arose,And brought a halt to battle’s crushing blows.

A frightful storm swept down upon the field;The warriors’ hearts with fear and anguish reeled.

The mountains echoed, and the plain was torn,While thunder through the shaken air was borne.

Then Ardavan’s men, shaken through with dread,Agreed as one upon the words they said:

“This judgment comes from God upon our king;For our poor ranks, what grief and tears will spring!”

When battle reached its fiercest, every sageBegged quarter in the midst of all that rage.

Then from the center charged brave Ardeshir,While clashing steel and arrow-showers drew near.

Amid the fighting Ardavan was caught;His crown would cost the life for which he fought.

A man named Kharrad seized him by the reinsAnd brought him to the prince, a king in chains.

He led the captive king to Ardeshir;The Shah looked out and saw him drawing near.

King Ardavan dismounted from his steed,His body pierced, his wounds still made him bleed.

His soul was dark. Ardeshir gave command:“Executioner, take this foe in hand.

With your khanjar, cut him in two,” he said,“Across the waist, and fill our foes with dread.”

The headsman did as Ardeshir had willed;And by his hand that famous king was killed.

Such is the ancient sky’s relentless way:Both Ardavan and Ardeshir must pay.

Whom heaven raises to the stars on high,It gives at last to dust beneath the sky.

Two sons of Ardavan were captive made;On Arash’s proud line the shame was laid.

Their feet in fetters, by the Shah’s decree,They went to prison, stripped of liberty.

Two elder sons escaped the bitter fight,And slipped beyond the victor’s net in flight.

They fled in tears to Hindustan; their plightDeserves a tale for others to recite.

The field was strewn with horse gear, belt, and blade,With gold and silver, weapons all displayed.

By royal order all those spoils were stored,Then granted to the troops by their new lord.

Then Tabak stepped out from the noble bandAnd cleansed the king of blood with grieving hand.

He washed him, weeping, of the battle stain,And built a royal dakhmeh for the slain.

He dressed the wounded breast in rich brocade,And on his head a camphor crown was laid.

Of all the troops that later went to Rey,None trod his palace grounds along the way.

Tabak then came before Shah Ardeshir,And said, “O king, incline your heart and hear:

Ask Ardavan’s own daughter for your bride;Farr, beauty, crown, and throne are on her side.

His diadem and treasure you will gain,The wealth he gathered through long toil and pain.”

The Shah accepted what the elder said,And asked for Ardavan’s own child to wed.

A month or two he stayed within that hall,A wealthy chief whose troops were wealthy all.

From Rey the monarch, weary of the war,Returned to Pars, and rested from its roar.

He built a city, gardens, courts, and halls,With springs and fields and valleys in its walls.

The old dehqan still calls it, speaking clear,By its own name of Khorra-e-Ardeshir.

Within, a spring ran ceaseless from its source,And fed the channels in their winding course.

He raised beside the spring a house of fire,Where Sadeh and Mehrgan relit its pyre.

Around it gardens, courts, and halls were laid,A spacious place magnificently made.

When that wise Shah of farr and strength was gone,The border-chief called it Gur from then on.

He founded villages around that land,And settled people there by his command.

He saw a deep lake, but the mountain layBetween its waters and their destined way.

They brought skilled workers, picks, and tools, and boredA hundred channels where the waters poured.

He led the channels down to Gur below,Where homes and herds increased with water’s flow.

From Istakhr’s gates the Shah rode to the field,With mighty troops and many a sword and shield.

He sought God’s blessing for a righteous deed:To make the robbers of that country bleed.

When he drew near, the Kurds advanced in might,In countless ranks that crowded all his sight.

What first had seemed a light and passing thingBecame a grievous trial for the king.

The people rose to join the Kurdish side,Whose greater numbers filled the country wide.

All day the burning battle raged and swayed,Till all the Shah’s disheartened troops gave way.

The field grew narrow with the maimed and slain,Their bodies crowded all the fighting plain.

Of all his chiefs, not one would now remain;The Shah had but a small and humble train.

Their tongues were cracked with thirst from dust and heat;The burning sun upon their bodies beat.

When night unfurled its flag and ended strife,And stilled the clash that threatened every life,

The Shah saw fire upon the mountain height,And led his few survivors toward the light.

Ardeshir turned toward its distant glow;His handful following where he would go.

He drew up close and saw the shepherds keepTheir watch upon the herds of goats and sheep.

The Shah and all his men dismounted, worn;Their mouths were thick with dust from battle borne.

He asked the shepherds there for drink with haste;They brought him water, curdled milk to taste.

He ate a little of their fare, at ease,Then drew his khaftan off in night’s cool breeze.

He spread his khaftan out to make his bed;His royal helmet lay beneath his head.

When dawn rose from the deep with light of day,The Shah awoke where on the ground he lay.

The chief of herdsmen hastened to his side:“May peace attend your days and nights,” he cried.

“What trouble brought you to this mountain height?This is no fitting place to rest at night.”

The Shah then asked the shepherd, “Show the way:Where can I find a sheltered place to stay?”

The chief replied, “No settled place is nearThat you can reach without a guide from here.

A guide can lead you four farsangs by trailDown to the nearest hamlets in the vale.

Beyond, the villages lie close and spread;In each, a well-known chief stands at its head.”

He took old herdsmen, guides who knew the ground,To lead him where those villages were found.

Down to the village then the Shah descended;Its headman came to meet him, and attended.

He sent out mounted heralds to reportBack to Khorra-e-Ardeshir’s great court.

When news of him had reached the royal train,The troops set out, rejoicing, through the plain.

He sent out scouts to watch the Kurdish force,And learn in secret all their actions’ course.

They hurried out and then returned to bringTheir secret tidings back before the king:

“They seek renown and all rejoice and cheer;No thought of you has stirred a moment’s fear.

They think you sit in Istakhr, worn and weak,Your aging fortune fading as they speak.”

The Shah rejoiced and cast the past aside;His former loss no longer checked his stride.

From all his seasoned troops he chose the best,Ten thousand swordsmen, mounted for the test.

A thousand archers joined, each bowman skilled,With quivers at his side, with arrows filled.

He led his troops as sunset spread its veil,And left the weak behind as day grew pale.

When half the night had passed, across the groundHe neared the Kurds, with darkness all around.

The plain was filled with men who lay asleep;His soldiers’ hearts were seething, poised to leap.

Ardeshir reached the camp where Kurds lay still,And loosed his charger’s rein to speed at will.

He drew his sword and charged across the plain,And crowned the grass with blood of warriors slain.

The heads and hands of Kurds lay all around;Full sixty upon sixty strewed the ground.

Captives past number fell into his hand;Their pride and folly could no longer stand.

He gave their lands as spoil to all his men,And dealt out crowns and bags of money then.

An elder might across the plain conveyGold on his head, borne safely in a tray;

No man would glance at it or lift a hand;His fortune and his justice ruled the land.

He made no boast of prowess in the fray,But back to Istakhr turned upon his way.

He bade them, “Let your horses’ strength renew;Put all the riders’ weapons right and true.

When feasting has restored your strength and might,Then turn your thoughts again toward the fight.”

The warriors ate and loosened every belt,Then rested from the toil their bodies felt.

Ardeshir’s mind on war was firmly set;Now hear and keep in mind; do not forget.

Now hear the strange, eventful tale I tell,The dehqan’s tale of marvels that befell.

Of Kojaran beside the Persian shore,And Pars’s breadth and height, he tells us more.

The city, cramped and crowded, held a throng;Each earned his food by labor all day long.

Young maidens labored daily for their bread,Compelled by need to keep their bodies fed.

Beside the city rose a mountain height;Together all the girls would reach that site.

Each bore a poplar case, her distaff stowed,And cotton weighed to be her daily load.

They gathered daily by the city gate,And walked toward the mountain with their freight.

They pooled their food, and when the meal was laid,An equal portion went to every maid.

Their talk was not of rest or midday bread,But who could spin the greatest length of thread.

At night they journeyed home, their labor done,The cotton into patterned yarn now spun.

Haftvad lived there, a man of little gold,Yet cheerful in his nature, we are told.

And why was he called Haftvad? You shall hear:His seven sons had made the meaning clear.

He had one daughter, cherished from her birth;Yet he esteemed all daughters of no worth.

One day the girls together took their place,And sat with spindles at the mountain’s base.

They pooled the food they brought to eat that day,And at their meal set all their tools away.

Beside the path the lucky maiden foundAn apple blown down from a tree to ground.

She saw it, picked it up, and held it near;Now hear the wondrous tale I tell you here.

She bit the fruit, and in its flesh she spiedA worm that lay within the apple’s side.

She lifted it with fingers from its place,And set it gently in her distaff case.

She took the cotton, saying as she spun,“In God’s name, peerless, partnerless, and One!

Today, through this small worm, you all shall seeWhat wondrous spinning fortune brings to me.”

The girls grew merry, laughing in delight,And flashed their silver teeth, all clear and bright.

That day she doubled all she had to spin,And on the ground marked what she gathered in.

She hurried home like smoke and showed the skein;Her mother praised her labor and her gain.

Her mother blessed her lovingly: “Well done!Fair-faced, what starry favor you have won!”

Next dawn she counted yarn that she had twined;She took a double share with eager mind.

With heart and body bent on spinning more,She joined her friends where she had spun before.

She told the other girls with laughing cheer,“O moon-faced friends, whom lucky stars hold dear:

By this worm’s fortune I shall spin so wellThat poverty with me shall never dwell.”

She spun the doubled share, and could have spunStill more, so readily the work was done.

She bore the yarn back home; her mother’s eyesBeheld it, and her heart was Paradise.

Each dawn she brought an apple for its meal,And fed the worm with patient, tender zeal.

However large the cotton share might grow,The artful girl could spin it all just so.

One day her parents questioned her to seeThe secret of her great ability.

“Have you, pure maiden, made a fairy kin,Your sister, that so much your hands can spin?”

The maiden told her mother all the tale:The apple, worm, and luck that did not fail.

She showed the lucky worm to both, and brightTheir hearts became, rejoicing at the sight.

Haftvad received it as an omen, glad,And put aside all other work he had.

He spoke of nothing but that worm’s good fate;His aged fortune grew both young and great.

Time passed; his prospects widened day by day,And brighter grew his fortunes on the way.

They would not slight the worm or stint its feed;They tended it and nourished it with heed.

It grew in strength and size, and colors spreadIn beauty on its back and on its head.

It soon outgrew the case in which it lay;Its skin grew black as musk from day to day.

Across that blackness saffron markings ran,And covered all its back in one broad span.

Haftvad prepared a sable chest with skill,And lodged the growing creature safe and still.

He rose in honor, consequence, and gold,And all his seven sons had wealth to hold.

Within that city people soon beganTo seek Haftvad as judge and leading man.

The city’s governor, of martial fame,Had troops and wealth and rank to match his name.

He sought a pretext, plotting every day,To take the low-born man’s dinars away.

Yet many nobles took Haftvad’s side,And joined his seven warlike sons in pride.

From Kojaran the karnay’s summons rang;With spears and swords and arrows forth they sprang.

Haftvad himself advanced before the train,And showed his valor in the battle’s strain.

He took the city, struck its ruler down,And seized his gems and treasure in the town.

The people gathered round him in their might;From Kojaran he moved toward the height.

He built a fortress on the mountain crest;The townsfolk joined him there and made their nest.

He fitted iron gates to guard the place,A home in peace, in war a sheltered base.

Upon the mountain-top a spring ran clear,Its waters entering the fortress here.

Around it he built walls of towering height,Whose summits rose beyond the gazer’s sight.

When once again the worm outgrew its chest,They built a masonry tank at his behest.

When stone and mortar warmed within the air,They placed the worm inside with gentle care.

Each dawn the keeper hurried on his way,From Haftvad’s presence at the break of day.

He made a great rice ration for its feed;The worm consumed it all to meet its need.

Five years passed by; its neck and body spread,An elephant in bulk from tail to head.

His daughter kept the creature at her side;Her father led its troops with martial pride.

In Chinese silk they clothed the worm with heed,While rice and milk and honey met its need.

The foolish man rejoiced in it the more;Haftvad, its chieftain, waited at its door.

From Chin’s far sea to Kerman spread his band;His armies stretched across the whole broad land.

His seven sons, ten thousand swordsmen strong,Had treasure, arms, and war gear borne along.

Whatever king against him came to fight,And brought his army near the worm’s dread might,

That army would be broken in its turn;The tale spread far for all the world to learn.

So famed and mighty grew Haftvad’s high hold,No wind could stir around its ramparts bold.

When Ardeshir heard news of Haftvad’s name,Displeasure stirred his heart and lit his flame.

He sent against that chief a chosen band,High-starred and valiant warriors of the land.

When Haftvad heard, he held the threat as light,And gave no thought to those who sought the fight.

He hid his troops within a mountain fold,Then marched to battle with his warriors bold.

When battle raged, and gorzes, face to face,And battle-axes thundered in that place,

The hidden troops emerged to join the fray;For Iran’s chiefs, the earth grew black that day.

No man could tell his hands from feet; the groundItself, it seemed, had held their feet fast bound.

On dale and mountain such a slaughter grewThat even victors tired of those they slew.

Whoever lived came swiftly from the fight,Back to the Shah from that disastrous plight.

Renowned Ardeshir learned what war had wrought:The slaughter, plunder, and the battle fought.

In grief he called his army to array;He hurried to distribute arms and pay.

Then angrily the Shah advanced; on highThe base-born chieftain’s head rose toward the sky.

He brought forth arms and treasure from his hold,And scorned the war and army, growing bold.

His eldest son, who then was far away,Heard that his father stood in war’s array.

He left his ease, his feasting, and his sleep,And came by boat across the water deep.

Shahvi, the world-seeker, was his name;Ill temper and foul speech went with his fame.

He left the boat and came to Haftvad’s side;The sight brought joy his father could not hide.

Haftvad arranged his station on the right,Commanding and arraying troops for fight.

Both armies stood well-furnished and supplied,With treasure stored and hatred deep inside.

The young Shah’s heart grew old with grief and dread,When he beheld the armies massed ahead.

They drew their battle lines on either side;From sun and swords the heat rose far and wide.

From elephants the mighty kousts rang out;At two farsangs, men swooned beneath that shout.

Karnays roared high; the tabiras gave sound,Their clamor filling all the world around.

Earth shook beneath the horseshoes’ nails and tread;Chiefs’ banners made the air a tulip red.

As gorzes rang on helmets in the fight,The heavens hailed the earth from their great height.

Wind-footed chargers tore the ground; the slainLeft severed heads strewn through the pass and plain.

So vast was Haftvad’s army, one might say,“The sea is lashed by winds in wild array.”

No ant or fly could find a place to stand,Both armies packed so close upon the land.

When daylight waned, and night across the worldIts cloak of lapis lazuli had hurled,

Ardeshir drew his forces from the war;Behind him lay the water and its shore.

The verdigris-green sea grew black with night;Scouts from both armies came within its sight.

The Shah’s men then grew faint for lack of bread;The foe had blocked the road by which they fed.

In Jahram lived Mehrak, Nushzad’s son,Whose line from Kayanian kings had run.

He heard how Shah Ardeshir marched away,And by the sea in hunger had to stay.

He learned what hardship held the troops in thrall,With roads barred shut and food denied them all.

From Jahram to the palace marched his band,With countless troops brought in at his command.

He gave the royal treasure as the spoil,With crowns and purses for his soldiers’ toil.

The Shah beside the sea received the word,And anxious thoughts within his spirit stirred.

He said, “Why leave my home without defense,To wage a foreign war at such expense?”

He called the chiefs and spoke of Mehrak’s raid,And told at length what havoc he had made.

“What counsel now can answer this dark need?Our means are straitened; how shall we proceed?

Much have I drunk from fortune’s bitter cup,Yet never dreamed that Mehrak would rise up.”

They raised their voices, crying, “May our kingBe spared the evil days that time may bring.

Since Mehrak was a hidden foe, why bearThe world’s adversity with such despair?

You hold high greatness; yours the world’s command.We are your slaves and wait beneath your hand.”

He ordered tables spread with cups and wine;Musicians played before the royal line.

They set roast lambs in plenty on the board,And all bent down to eat with one accord.

But when Ardeshir first began to eat,A pointed arrow struck the roasted meat.

It struck the plump roast lamb and sank from sight,Its whole length buried in the flesh outright.

The wise and warlike nobles, filled with dread,Drew back their hands at once from meat and bread.

Each heart bled anguish; none could bear the feast.One drew the arrow from the roasted beast.

They saw the writing on the shaft; aloudA scribe among them read it to the crowd.

In Pahlavi the words addressed the king:“Wise Shah, give ear to what these letters bring.

From our high fortress roof this shaft was sent;The Worm’s good fortune guards each battlement.

Had I aimed this arrow at Ardeshir,Its very feathers would have pierced him clear.

A monarch such as he should not engageThe Worm in warfare in this present age.”

Before Shah Ardeshir, the reader readThe words borne on the sharpened shaft that sped.

The fortress stood two farsangs from their place;The words brought dread to every noble face.

Yet all invoked the blessing God bestowsUpon earth’s king, whose royal grace still glows.

That night the Shah thought long upon the Worm,And feared the power that kept its fortune firm.

When sun displaced the moon, he marched away,And led his army toward Pars that day.

The foe pursued and blocked the roads around,So no clear passage for the Shah was found.

They cut his noted chiefs down in the flight;He fled with his own comrades from their might.

Behind him rose the cry: “The Worm’s good star!May fortune make its throne shine bright afar!”

All marveled at the strange event and said,“Here is a thing to ponder in our dread.”

As he fled on through hill and desert wide,He saw a spacious city at his side.

They drove their horses onward, hard and fast,Like wolves across the rising ground they passed.

As he drew near, a house came into view,And at its door stood young men, strangers, two.

He halted there with those who still remained;The honest youths saw men by travel strained.

They asked, “Where have you come from, here so late,With dust upon you, in this troubled state?”

He said, “Ardeshir passed along this way;We lagged behind amid the disarray.

He flees from Haftvad and the Worm in fear,And from the base-born, worthless troops they rear.”

The two young men sprang up to hear his woe;Their hearts grew dark with grief at such a blow.

They helped him from his saddle to the ground,And blessed the noble chiefs who stood around.

They furnished pleasant quarters for their stay,And set a meal before them in array.

The warriors sat beside the Shah to eat;The two young hosts attended them at meat.

They said, “Exalted one, beneath the sunNo grief or joy endures when once begun.

Recall what wrong the tyrant Zahhak wrought,What ruin to the royal throne he brought.

Remember how Afrasiab brought pain,And made the hearts of many monarchs wane.

And how Iskandar came and struck them down,The kings who wore the world’s imperial crown.

All these have gone and left an evil name;No bliss of Paradise shall these men claim.

So Haftvad too shall fall from power and pride,And writhe in woe when fortune turns aside.”

The Shah’s heart freshened like a rose in spring;Their gracious speech relieved the burdened king.

Their counsel eased the burden on his soul;He told his secret and again grew whole.

“I am Ardeshir; Sasan’s son am I.I need your counsel; give me your reply.

How deal with Haftvad and the Worm he rears?May name and line be lost to future years.”

When Iran’s chief revealed his royal name,Both youths bowed down before his kingly frame.

They said, “All hail to you, O king, and mayThe hand of evil ever keep away.

We both are slaves to you in heart and soul;May lasting strength preserve your spirit whole.

As for the question you have set in view,We shall give counsel clear and sound to you.

Against the Worm and Haftvad, force will failUnless you leave fair dealing’s open trail.

Their stronghold crowns the mountain, high and bold,With Worm and troops and treasure in its hold.

The town in front, the sea behind is spread;A rough path climbs the fortress overhead.

The Worm was born from Ahriman’s dark brain,The Maker’s enemy, the source of stain.

You call it worm, yet hidden in its skinA bloodthirsty Div is housed within.”

Ardeshir heard their words and felt relief;Their counsel lifted all his weight of grief.

He said, “So let this secret art proceed;To you belong the praise or blame of deed.”

The young men answered, and their words made clearA counsel pleasing to his prudent ear.

“We stand before you, servants at your side,And ever toward the good your steps will guide.”

Made glad by them, he hastened to his cause,His heart intent on justice and its laws.

The youths accompanied the Shah that day;He left with ardent heart and rode away.

He held his head high, strong in hope and cheer,And reached the town of Khorra-e-Ardeshir.

Troops, sages, counselors of noble nameFlocked to the Shah as tidings of him came.

He rested, gave supplies to everyone,Then marched on Mehrak, Nushzad’s faithless son.

Since Mehrak dared not venture out to fight,The world grew narrow for him, dark as night.

When Shah Ardeshir drew near Jahram’s height,The faithless Mehrak hid himself from sight.

The king grew wrathful, lingered, and delayedHis march until the traitor was waylaid.

He struck with Indian steel and cleft his neck,Then cast in flames the body’s headless wreck.

All captives of his lineage were slain;His khanjar left none living of that train.

One daughter hid herself and slipped the snare;The city rang with searches everywhere.

Then toward the Worm’s dark tower he repaired,While all his men for combat now prepared.

He chose twelve thousand horsemen, fierce and tried,Veteran riders gathered to his side.

When all his scattered troops had gathered round,He led them where two mountains flanked the ground.

A prudent man named Shahrgeer took commandOf all the troops that waited in that land.

The Shah said, “Stay here, watchful at this base;Keep outposts manned and watching every place.

Choose shrewd horsemen, guides, and watchmen too,And send out riders every pathway through.

Safeguard the camp by night and through the day;For I myself will take a hidden way.

Now I shall use my ancestor’s device:Esfandiyar showed how such arts suffice.

If watchmen see by day a smoke-cloud rise,Or fire by night like sunlight in the skies,

Know then the Worm’s whole course has reached its close;Its star has set; its trade no longer grows.”

He chose seven men, all lions in the fight,Brave chiefs who kept his secret sealed from sight.

Among his trusted men no word was breathed;Their tongues were bound, their plans in silence sheathed.

He chose fine gems, gold coins, and rich brocade,With gear and goods to serve a merchant’s trade.

He spent with prudent eyes, his plan concealed,And packed two chests with lead and solder, sealed.

He packed a brazen pot to play its part,For he was skilled and practiced in that art.

He called the chief equerry to his side:“Bring ten strong asses for the load,” he cried.

He dressed in donkey-drivers’ blanket wear,And loaded gold and silver with great care.

He left the army, seeking out the way,His anxious heart intent upon the fray.

The two young countrymen rode with him, true,As friends and counselors the journey through.

They were the youths who once received him well,And now came close where danger’s shadow fell.

Near that stronghold they halted on the crest,And caught their breath, allowing time for rest.

The Worm’s own servants formed a busy crew;They numbered sixty, each with work to do.

One saw the group of men and called aloud,“What wares are hidden underneath each shroud?”

The Shah replied, “All sorts of wares I bring:Clothes, gold, and silver, every costly thing.

Brocade, gold coins, rich silks, and jewels bright,And ornaments to please a buyer’s sight.

I am a merchant from Khorasan’s land,With toil that leaves no leisure to my hand.

The Worm’s good favor made my fortune rise,And now I bring these gifts before its eyes.

It blessed my work; if I may serve it here,Then all my hopes will brighten and be clear.”

The servants of the Worm unbarred the door,And led the laden asses to the store.

When all his loads were brought within the gate,He set his business in its proper state.

He opened up a pack and gave a shareOf goods he judged that he could rightly spare.

He spread a cloth before them on the ground,As donkey-drivers do when gathered round.

He loosed the bindings, turned the key, and pouredA cup of wine from what the chest had stored.

Those whose appointed task was to provideThe Worm with milk and rice remained aside.

They would not take the cup or drink the wine;Their turn to feed the Worm made them decline.

Ardeshir sprang up: “Rice and milk I bear,Enough to feed the Worm with greatest care.

If its chief servant grants me room and grace,For three days let me feed it in this place.

Perhaps its star will grant a share to me,And through its fortune I may famous be.

For three days drink with me, and take your ease;Then, when the fourth dawn lights the lands and seas,

I shall erect a storehouse, broad and tall,Its roof above the palace and the wall.

As merchant come with precious wares to vend,Thus I shall make the Worm itself my friend.”

His words prevailed; they granted his request:“Then feed the Worm yourself, and let us rest.”

The servants sat with wine-cups in their hands,While he, disguised, fulfilled his scheme’s demands.

They drank till wine had mastered every mind;They served the cup, the Worm now left behind.

When wine had left their tongues too slack to speak,He came with his two hosts, the Worm to seek.

He brought the metal and the cauldron near,And lit the fire while daylight still was clear.

When feeding time arrived, the Worm was fedWith molten metal, boiling hot instead.

Its tongue came out, with all a cymbal’s hue,As when the rice was brought for it to chew.

One young man poured; the molten metal sank,And left the Worm all helpless in its tank.

A rumble from its maw convulsed the ground;The pit and earth both trembled at the sound.

Then Ardeshir came rushing like the gale,The two young warriors followed on his trail.

With sword and gorz and shafts their fury spread;Not one escaped; the drunken men lay dead.

From fortress roof he raised black smoke on high,A signal for the captain standing by.

The lookout saw and ran to Shahrgeer’s side:“Ardeshir has won!” the watchman then cried.

Shahrgeer then made no pause when this was said,But marched his ranks to meet the Shah ahead.

When Haftvad knew the Worm had met its end,His heart was torn by grief no hope could mend.

He came to take the fortress, pressing hard;The Shah rushed to the walls to stand on guard.

Haftvad strove hard, but failed to gain the height;A lion’s foot still held the rampart tight.

Iran’s troops came like mountains in their might,Then halted, hearts still burdened by their plight.

Then Shah Ardeshir called across the wall,“Advance to battle, Shahrgeer! Hear my call.

If Haftvad slips away, what will you gain?But wasted toil, and wind your hands retain?

I fed the Worm hot metal; it is dead;Its luck is gone, its vaunted glory fled.”

The army heard the Shah’s resounding call,And iron helmets armed the heads of all.

Still stung by former shame, they rose to fight,And armed their hearts with vengeance and with might.

The wind now turned against proud Haftvad’s side;Soon he was seized, his boast and power denied.

His eldest son, Shahvi, was also bound;The battle-chief was captured on the ground.

Ardeshir left the rampart and came down;Shahrgeer came on foot before the crown.

They brought a steed with golden trappings bright,And Shah Ardeshir mounted in their sight.

He ordered two tall gibbets on the strand,To rise beside the sea at his command.

He hung both living foes upon that height,And woke his enemies to fear their plight.

From out the army’s center Shahrgeer sped,And rained his arrows till the two were dead.

He gave the wealth as spoil to every man,And gladdened hearts grown dark since war began.

From end to end they emptied out the keep,And brought its riches down in heap on heap.

Whatever pleased the Shah among the hoardWas sent to Khorra-e-Ardeshir and stored.

He built a fire-temple, raised its flame,And brought Mehrgan and Sadeh back to fame.

His two young hosts received both crown and throne,With lands to govern, granted as their own.

He left in triumph, and his just commandSpread through the realm of Pars across the land.

When man and beast had rested from their strain,He led his troops toward Zur with all his train.

To Kerman he sent troops, and gave the leadTo one wise chief well fitted to the need.

He journeyed on to Tisfoon, where the throneOf his defeated foe became his own.

Such is the manner of the turning wheel,Whose mystery no mortal can reveal.

Bend to the world, for it will never bend;For low and high alternate without end.