Chapter XII: Part 12

“O Matchless One, truly thy success hath been marvellous, but to-morrow thou wilt be subjected to a test never before experienced by mortal man, for thy antagonist will be a mighty Simurgh. Now if thou overcomest this giant bird, fierce because of her young, thou wilt have performed a feat not dreamed of by even Rustem the Mighty, and thy name will go ringing down the ages as the hero who conquered a Simurgh. But alas! much I fear that the fifth stage of the Heft-Khan will be thy last.”

But, undismayed, Isfendiyar continued his journey, coming presently unto the mountain where the Simurgh had builded her nest. And here a curious thing happened, for the giant bird, beholding with surprise an immense vehicle drawn by two horses approach at a furious rate, immediately descended from the mountain, and endeavored to take up the whole apparatus in her claws to carry it unto her nest. But alas! the swords and javelins cruelly lacerated both claws and beak, so that after a time the great bird became extremely weakened by the loss of blood. Then Isfendiyar, seizing this favorable moment, sprang out of the carriage, and with his sword cleft the mighty bird in twain. Now never had the Hero beheld a Simurgh, and much he marvelled at the colossal size and wondrous beauty of the giant Bird of God.

Tarrying not, however, the retinue moved rapidly forward, for Karugsar informed them that upon the sixth stage their fight would be with the elements, and they hoped to reach, by hard travel, a place of shelter. And fortunate was their haste, for as they arrived upon the skirts of a mountain there suddenly swept down upon them a furious storm of wind and heavy snow which covered all the ground; yea, and biting cold, which almost froze the heroes where they stood. Now to escape the wrath of the elements, Isfendiyar and his men took shelter in a huge cavern, and there three lingering days they spent, while the snow still fell, and still the chill winds blew, and man and beast grew faint for want of food.

Then, in their desperation and anguish of suffering, Isfendiyar and his warriors, with heads exposed, prostrated themselves in solemn prayer unto the Almighty. And verily Heaven was kind, for soon the snow and mighty wind entirely ceased, enabling the heroes to leave the caves of the mountain safe and unharmed. But when asked of the final stage of the Heft-Khan, Karugsar said:

“Alas, O Valorous One! Forty farsangs yet lie between thee and the Brazen Fortress, and every inch of the road is full of peril.

“Along those plains of burning sand,
No bird can move, nor ant, nor fly;
No water slakes the fiery land,
Intensely glows the flaming sky.

No tiger fierce, nor lion ever
Could breathe that pestilential air;
Even the unsparing vulture never
Ventures on blood-stained pinions there.”

Now though the picture thus painted was dark, Isfendiyar determined to press forward. And lo! when they were come unto the place said to be covered with burning sand, they found the ground cool and pleasant unto their feet, for the storm in its fury had lessened the burning heat, making the last stage of the Heft-Khan the easiest of all.

But though the Heft-Khan was now accomplished, there remained yet to be taken the Brazen Fortress. And as no accessible point of attack could be discovered, Isfendiyar quickly transformed his warlike cavalcade into a caravan of peaceful merchantmen, thus gaining admission into the fort. And being generous of heart, he arranged to give a great banquet unto Arjasp and the demon chiefs, feasting them right merrily. Then, when no man was master of his fate save Isfendiyar alone, suddenly the Persians fell upon the Deevs, completely annihilating them.

And now, this glorious victory achieved, Isfendiyar made haste to return unto Iran, taking with him his sisters and much treasure. And lo! the mouths of all men overflowed with praise for the brave young hero of the Heft-Khan who once more had saved Iran from her foes.

THE COMBAT OF ISFENDIYAR AGAINST RUSTEM

Behold! it is recorded that Gushtasp the Shah, after the return of his glorious son Isfendiyar from the triumphs of his great Heft-Khan, instead of resigning unto him the throne, as he had sworn to do, at once sent him forth upon a new adventure, which was nothing less than to slay, or bring unto him in chains, Rustem, the Champion of the World. For he said:

“Verily, in former days, this Mighty One was obedient unto the Shahs, but now doth he hold himself superior. For did he not decline to come unto my aid against Arjasp? Go, therefore, and conquer him, be it by stratagem or by force, bringing him bound before me. Then shalt thou be Shah of Iran.”

Now Isfendiyar was grieved when he heard these words of his father, and, unchaining the door of his lips, he hastened to remind his sire of all the hero’s glorious deeds. And he said:

“O my father, I pray thee ask of me anything else than this—that I should make war against the King of China, or against any other ruler under the sun; but do not ask me to lay hands upon this grand old champion, who hath been the glory and the defence of Iran for hundreds of years. Sooner would I relinquish the glories of sovereignty forever.”

But Gushtasp would not give ear unto the words of his son, saying angrily unto him:

“Verily, thou forgettest that a son oweth ever obedience, without question, unto his father! Go, therefore, and let me not behold thy face until thou presentest this Haughty One before me in chains, for I will that his pride be brought low, that he may recognize that still there is a Shah in Iran.”

Then Isfendiyar, perceiving his father’s intention, said unto him coldly:

“Alas, my father! now truly I perceive that thou sendest me forth in guile. For well thou knowest that no champion in all these long years hath ever been able to stand before the might of Rustem, and so thou thinkest thus to rid thyself of Isfendiyar, and the necessity of abandoning unto him the throne. I say unto thee, therefore, that Isfendiyar desireth it no longer. Nevertheless, since he is thy slave, he will go forth at thy bidding, and if peradventure he falleth, then truly wilt thou be the murderer of thy son, and his blood will be upon thy head.”

So, though against the wishes of his mother, Isfendiyar placed himself at the head of a mighty host and set forth upon his disagreeable errand. But behold! when they had gone but a little way, the camel upon which the Hero was seated laid him down in the dust, refusing to rise from the ground, though the driver struck him many times. Now as this was regarded by all as an evil omen, lo! the head of the beast was cut off that the evil might fall upon it and not upon his rider. Nevertheless, Isfendiyar was troubled at this misfortune, pondering what the sign might mean.

Now when the cavalcade drew nigh unto Seistan, Isfendiyar called unto him Bahman, his son, giving unto him a message to carry unto Rustem. And behold, the message contained none but kind words, for Isfendiyar hoped that thus all might yet be well. So Bahman sped forth, but when he was come unto the courts of Rustem he found only Zal within, for the great Pehliva was absent with his followers upon a hunting trip. Now the aged Prince would have entertained the youth until his son’s return, but Bahman declared the need of haste, so without tarrying he set forth for Rustem’s camp.

And behold! after a long day’s travel, the youth arrived at the halting-place of the hunters of Seistan. Now it was evening as he drew nigh, and at once he perceived about the blazing fire a man, like unto a mountain, roasting a wild ass for his supper. Yea, and about him were many brave heroes all gaily preparing their evening meal. But lo! as he gazed, what was Bahman’s astonishment to behold that Rustem, of himself, devoured the whole of a wild ass for his meal; nor did this wondrous feat appear to be anything out of the ordinary.

Then was the youth filled with consternation, for he thought as he gazed upon Rustem, who seemed unto him as a huge mountain of might, that not even Isfendiyar, his gallant father, could stand before such an elephant of war. So, in his fear, Bahman hastily loosened a large rock from the mountain-side and sent it rolling unto the place where Rustem sat, hoping thus to save his father from harm.

But Rustem, when warned by his followers as to the speeding rock, smiled, and rising leisurely, with his foot he sent it spinning far out upon the plain. Then was Bahman still more amazed, and also affrighted, so that for long he dared not come forth from his hiding-place. Yet when his courage finally allowed him to present himself before the Pehliva, Rustem welcomed him warmly. And as he entertained his guest, behold, again he ate as though his day’s fast had but now been broken, and once more Bahman marvelled at the might and majesty of the great hero of Seistan. But, the meal being ended, the youth delivered at once his father’s message. Then was Rustem filled with wrath and amazement, yet restrained he his anger, replying courteously unto Bahman:

“O Noble Youth! I pray thee bear greeting unto Isfendiyar, thy gallant sire, whose glory hath added such lustre unto the crown of Iran, and say unto him that Rustem rejoiceth that at last he is to behold his face. But as for his demand, surely it is the device of the Evil One, and can in nowise come to pass, for no man shall ever behold Rustem in chains. Wherefore, say unto thy glorious sire that the Pehliva of Seistan beg him to honor their house as his guest, and when we shall have feasted together, then will I go forth unto Gushtasp. And his anger, which is unjust, will vanish like unto the morning mist, and all will again be well.”

So Bahman sped back unto his father, and Rustem followed after to present, in person, his homage unto the Prince. And behold! when he was come near unto the royal camp, the Pehliva dismounted from Rakush, going forward upon foot to pay his respects unto Isfendiyar. For he wished to pay honor unto him, not only as his Prince, but also as the brave hero of the Heft-Khan. Now when the two had embraced, Rustem said:

“O Valorous Prince, whose wondrous deeds have filled the world with glory, behold, I have a boon to ask at thy hands, for I desire that thou enter into my house as my honored guest.”

But Isfendiyar, whose eyes could not cease from gazing upon the mighty form of Rustem, nevertheless replied unto him:

“O Champion of the World! Unfortunately my errand forbiddeth me to eat of thy bread and salt, otherwise my soul would joy in thy hospitality. And alas! though it is grievous unto me, yet must I be faithful unto my mission.”

Then Rustem replied unto Isfendiyar, speaking still more earnestly, and he said:

“Yet again, O brave Isfendiyar, do I entreat thee to enter into my house in friendship. Then will I do all that thou desirest, except only that I cannot submit unto the chains, for that would be neither fitting nor right—as thou well knowest.”

Now unto this Isfendiyar replied:

“Alas! not only can I not feast with thee, O Mighty One, but, furthermore, if thou wilt not hearken unto my demands, then must I fall upon thee in enmity. But, as my soul goeth out to thee on account of thy deeds of valor, to-day let there be peace between us, and do thou feast with me in my tent.”

So Rustem, hoping that thus unpleasantness might yet be avoided, replied:

“Gracious Prince, gladly will I come unto thee, but first must I change my robes, for, as thou seest, I am attired for the chase, and not as is fitting unto the guest of a Prince. When thy banquet is ready, therefore, send forth a messenger, and I will come unto thee with joy.”

But behold! when Rustem was gone, Isfendiyar pondered over that which was come to pass, and his heart was full of care. So he said unto his brother:

“Verily, since the sword must decide our strife, not only have I no place in the house of Rustem, but neither is it fitting that he should enter into mine. Wherefore, I shall not send for him to come unto my feast!”

But Bashutan, shaking his head sadly, replied unto Isfendiyar:

“O my brother, truly it seemeth unto me a pity that heroes like unto Rustem and Isfendiyar should meet in enmity. I counsel thee, therefore, to disregard the unjust demands of our father, for much I fear that he seeketh but to ensnare thee.”

Then Isfendiyar was thoughtful, but finally he said:

“Truly I am not deceived as to the desires of Gushtasp, but if I obey not my father it will be a reproach unto me in this world, and in the next I shall have to render account for it before God, my Maker—for so teacheth Zerdusht the Holy One.”

So, though Isfendiyar prepared him a feast, when it was ready he sent not to summon his guest. And behold! when Rustem had waited long, he was angry because the messenger came not. Nevertheless, he tarried not at home, but hastened unto the tent of Isfendiyar to see what had befallen.

Now when the warriors of the Prince beheld Rustem draw near, lo, they gazed in open-eyed admiration, saying among themselves:

“Saw you ever such limbs, and such a chest on mortal man? Surely Gushtasp is bereft of reason, or never would he send Isfendiyar thus unto his death. But alas! the old Shah huggeth his throne and his treasure ever closer as age creepeth on, caring naught for the welfare of Iran.”

But, all unconscious of the admiration and fear he was exciting, Rustem, hot and angry, presented himself before the Prince, saying:

“O Young Man, thou mayest be a hero, but certainly thou seemest not to be acquainted with the laws of courtesy due unto an invited guest, since thou deemest him not worthy of a messenger. But perhaps thou knowest not that it is Rustem whom thou treatest thus disdainfully?—Rustem, whose glorious deeds have made the throne of Iran to shine as a beacon light unto all the world!”

Now Isfendiyar, abashed at the anger of the Great Pehliva, excused himself for his breach of courtesy, saying:

“O Mighty One, verily I had thought to save thee the long, hot journey hither; but since thou art come, pray enter, and let us drink a cup of wine together.”

Now, thus speaking, behold! Isfendiyar offered unto Rustem a place at his left hand, smiling courteously:

But Rustem, advancing proudly, said quietly unto Isfendiyar:

“Not at thy left, O Prince, for never yet hath Rustem sat save at the right hand of the Shahs of Iran.”

Thus spake Rustem, and behold! so majestic was the mien of the old Hero, as he thus calmly asserted his rights, that at once a chair of gold was brought and placed at Isfendiyar’s right hand. But, though outwardly calm, the heart of Rustem burned at the dishonor done unto him, and even the wine soothed not his ruffled spirit. Yea, and the unfavorable impression made by the Prince was further increased by his words. For, after drinking for a few minutes in silence, he said:

“So thou hast ever sat at the right hand of Kings, Old Warrior! Strange! for surely it hath been said unto me that Rustem is sprung of evil stock. Now, truly, is not Zal, thy father, of demon extraction? And was he not reared by a vile bird that gave unto him garbage for nourishment? So, at least, it hath been reported unto me.”

Alas! this was an insult too biting for Rustem to bear with any degree of patience, so, frowning angrily, he said:

“Thou and I, O Prince, can boast of the same origin, as thou well knowest, since we are both descended from Husheng the Shah. Why, then, use such injurious language? Yea, and would it not, perhaps, be becoming for Isfendiyar to remember that but for the honor and fidelity of Rustem and his house unto the Shahs, Isfendiyar of the Heft-Khan would not be numbered among the heroes of Iran? But, after all, what hath he done? Why! he hath slain Arjasp, one puny King, while over against that is the long record of Rustem’s glorious deeds, which need not to be recounted.”

Now Rustem’s vehemence and the disdainful tone of his voice made it hard for Isfendiyar to remember the courtesy due unto a guest, but, restraining his anger, he said softly unto him:

“O Modest One! Why dost thou raise thy voice so high and speak so loftily? For, after all, thou wert, and art still, but the slave of the Shah, dependent for thy very breath upon his clemency. And after all, what were thy seven boasted labors to my terrible Heft-Khan? And who, I ask you,—by the power of his sword—diffused the blessings of the faith of Zerdusht throughout the world? Verily, Rustem hath performed the duties of a warrior and a servant, but Isfendiyar the holy functions of a sovereign and a prophet. But now have we boasted enough, for behold, the day is almost ended and I am hungry. Let us eat and drink, therefore, for to-morrow will we meet in enmity upon the field of battle.”

So a great banquet was spread, and the two heroes sat down to feast, Rustem astonishing Isfendiyar greatly, for never had the Prince dreamed that mortal man could eat and drink so much, and he wondered not now that Rustem’s might was reckoned equal to that of a hundred strong men. When the time of departure was come, however, once more Rustem begged Isfendiyar to be his guest on the morrow, but again the Prince refused. Then the Hero knew that words were idle, and he was sorrowful in his soul, for within himself he said:

“Truly the Evil One is in this whole affair, and no good can come of it. Now if I suffer these chains, men will mock that Rustem permitted a boy to bind him, and the dishonor of it can never be wiped out. Yet if I slay this stripling on the morrow, the glory of a lifetime will be tarnished, for men will say that in his last days Rustem lifted up his hand against one of the royal house.”

Nevertheless, concealing his sorrow and dismay, he replied gaily unto Isfendiyar, saying:

“So be it then, O Stubborn One! to-morrow will we meet in conflict, since naught else will content thee. And behold! when I shall have lifted thee lightly from off thy saddle, straight will I convey thee unto Silver-crowned Zal, who shall place thee upon the ivory throne, while upon thy head a crown of gold shall glitter. Yea, and when that we have feasted, right loyally our troops shall fight for thee as King, and we will serve thee faithfully as thy Pehliva forever and a day.”

But Isfendiyar, thinking that Rustem mocked, said angrily:

“Old Man! Verily thou hadst best save thy breath for combat, since to-morrow, by the aid of Zerdusht, will I make the world dark unto thine eyes.”

Then Rustem, laughing, said:

“O Foolish Youth, when Rustem wieldeth his mace, behold, the world trembleth, and the head of his enemy falls. Consider, therefore, thy course.”

Now when he had thus spoken, Rustem rode forth from out the tents of Isfendiyar, and though his lips smiled, his heart was heavy with foreboding. Nevertheless, when he was come unto his palace, he commanded that his armor and implements of war be brought before him. Then, as he gazed upon them, sighing, he said:

“O my raiment of battle, verily thou hast rested long, yet once again must I don thee for combat. And alas! I greatly fear me that it is for my last fight.”

But behold! when sunshine once more flooded the world, then the Pehliva threw off his sadness, for he resolved once more to speak persuasive words unto the Prince. So, having received his father’s blessing, he armed himself for battle, and rode forth unto the tents of Isfendiyar, and lo! when he was come near, he shouted gaily:

“Ho, Brave Isfendiyar! Why sleepest thou when the hero with whom thou wouldst try thy strength hath come forth to meet thee?”

Now Isfendiyar, at this call, quickly issued from his tent, and, leaping upon his charger, rode like the wind unto his waiting antagonist. So the two met, the old warrior and the young, and truly they were a doughty pair. But Rustem’s efforts at persuasion were vain, for Isfendiyar would hear of naught but battle.

So, after the useless controversy, behold, the Champions began their combat. Now they began the fight with their spears, but as the contest lasted for long hours, they tested their strength and skill successively with their swords, clubs, and lassos; but still the end came not. For, though they fought until both they and their horses were worn out with weariness, neither could prevail. So they stopped them awhile to rest.

But behold! as they rested, Bahman, the son of Isfendiyar, rushed up to his father, informing him that Rustem’s lieutenants had provoked a battle between the two armies, and that as a consequence two valiant youths, sons of Isfendiyar, were slain, and the Shah’s troops put to rout with great slaughter. Then was Isfendiyar transported with rage. Calling aloud unto Rustem, therefore, he said:

“Ho, Old Man! Dost thou hear this? Thy chiefs have fallen upon my troops, killing my two brave sons. Verily, I had thought such treachery beneath the Mighty Rustem.”

Now when Rustem heard these words, behold, he trembled like a leaf. But he said:

“O Isfendiyar, I swear unto thee by the head of the King, by the sun, and by my conquering sword, that no part have I had in this matter. Yea, and to prove it unto thee, I swear that whoever hath been in fault, even though it be my dearest, lo, he shall be bound hand and foot and given over unto thee for vengeance.”

But, unplacated, the Prince cried angrily unto Rustem:

“Verily, O Treacherous One, thy words have a pleasant sound, but I say unto thee, it is idle to kill the snake that the peacock’s death may be avenged. Thine own blood, therefore, shall pay for that of my sons, for verily my arrows shall make the world dark unto thine eyes.”

Now thus saying, Isfendiyar seized his bow, and whiz! whiz! went a shower of arrows through the air, fastening themselves in the body of Rustem and Rakush, his steed. Yea, twice thirty arrows were there in all, and not one of them was there that did not wound the Hero or his horse, while Rustem’s missiles fell harmless upon Isfendiyar, because that Zerdusht had charmed his body against all danger so that it was like unto brass.

Then Rustem, seeing that Rakush was like to perish of his wounds, and feeling also his own strength going from loss of blood, cried unto Isfendiyar:

“Behold, night is at hand, O Angry One, and since even heroes cannot combat in the darkness, go thy way, and we will meet again in the morning.”

But Isfendiyar, seeing that Rustem staggered in his saddle, said:

“Old Man, think not to escape me thus, for yet there is light enough to finish our combat.”

But Rustem replied unto the Eager One:

“Not so, O Isfendiyar! Farewell, therefore, until morning.”

Now so saying, quickly Rustem turned him and swam across the stream. And behold! Isfendiyar was amazed, for he knew that both steed and rider were sore wounded. Then, standing upon the bank, with his lips he reviled the fleeing Hero, but lo! in his heart he was filled with admiration and wonder at his prowess.

And now, Rustem having escaped him, sorrowfully Isfendiyar returned unto his tent, where he mourned over the bodies of his two sons. But when the night was far spent, lo, he placed them on biers of ebony, in coffins of gold, and sent them unto the Shah with this message:

“O King of Evil Devices! Behold, I am sending unto thee the first fruits of thy seeds of guile. Isfendiyar is yet alive, but Heaven alone knoweth what may befall to-morrow.”

Then the Prince said unto his brother:

“O Bashutan, my brother! Verily this Rustem is not mortal. For neither with my sword nor javelin could I do harm unto his body formed of rock and iron. But, thanks unto Zerdusht, the charmed arrows have done their work, and it will indeed be wonderful if the Mighty One liveth throughout the night.”

Meanwhile, when the wounded Hero, of whom Isfendiyar spoke thus feelingly, was come into the presence of Zal and Rudabeh, behold, they rent the air with their cries of woe; for never yet had Rustem returned unto them vanquished; neither had any man e’er done such harm unto his body. Now they cried out sore in their distress, and Rustem, too, lamented, for the pain of his wounds was great. Presently, however, seeing that the case of his son was indeed serious, Zal bethought him of a remedy. So he said:

“O my glorious son, mourn not so bitterly, for yet there is hope for thee, since in this, our extremity, once more I shall call unto our aid the Wondrous Bird of God.”

So at once Zal went forth unto a high mountain, taking with him three golden censers filled with fire, and as many mighty magicians, who caused the fires to glow brighter and ever brighter. And lo! at the end of the first watch of the night, Silver-crowned Zal dropped into the brightly glowing fire the glorious golden feather of the Simurgh. Then instantly a mighty stir of wings filled all the air, and the Wondrous Bird of God dropped down beside her child, listening sympathetically unto his plaint. And, the story being told, the Simurgh said:

“Let the Mighty Rustem and his glorious steed be brought unto me, for lo! there is healing in my wings.”

So quickly the magicians hastened back unto the palace, and though Rustem and Rakush had scarcely strength to move, yet went they unto the mountain with all the speed they could, pausing not until they were come into the presence of the Bird of God.

And now the glorious Simurgh, swiftly passing her golden beak over the body of the wounded Hero, drew thence four wicked arrow-heads. Then caressing the wounds softly and lightly with her fluffy wings, lo, in a moment, Rustem felt all his strength return. Yea, and Rakush, too, rejoiced, neighing, and tossing his mighty head for gladness when that the six charmed arrow-heads troubled his peace no more; and then, the work of healing done, the Simurgh said unto Rustem:

“Alas, O Son of Zal! Wherefore hast thou entered upon combat with the son of the Shah, and the beloved of Zerdusht? For verily it can bring thee naught but woe; and there is little that even I can do to aid thee. For never hath there appeared in the world so brave and so perfect a hero as Isfendiyar. Yea, and the favor of Heaven is with him also, for in his great Heft-Khan, by some clever artifice, he succeeded in killing a Simurgh, and the farther thou art removed from his invincible arm, therefore, the greater will be thy safety. For alas! in the Book of Fate it is written that whosoever sheddeth the blood of Isfendiyar, he also shall perish miserably, never again knowing joy in this life, and also suffering pangs in the life to come. But if this fate dismay thee not, come forth with me, and I will reveal unto thee a way to lay thine enemy low—if the stars decree that his hour is come.”

So, wishing not to face defeat, Rustem mounted into the golden chariot of which he had heard so oft from his father, and the Simurgh bare him far, far away, even unto the shores of a mighty sea. Now there she put the Hero down softly in a garden wherein grew a tamarisk-tree, whose roots were in the ground, but whose branches pierced unto heaven. Then the Simurgh said:

“O Glorious Son of Zal, I pray thee choose from this tree the longest, straightest and finest branch that thou canst find, for to this tamarisk bough is bound the fate of Isfendiyar. Yea, and after thou hast secured it, make it yet straighter before the fire, search out a well-tempered arrow-head, feather it well, and if Isfendiyar’s hour is come, this is the weapon which, when directed unto his forehead, will cause him to perish, for only through his eye can this hero be wounded, since Zerdusht hath made the rest of his body invulnerable. But yet once more I counsel thee, bring this matter to a good end, for so shalt thou escape much sorrow.”

Now having thus spoken, behold, the Simurgh carried Rustem safely back unto the palace of Zal, bidding him be of good cheer. After her departure, however, the Hero hastened to carry out her commands as to the fashioning of the fateful arrow.

But behold! when morning was come, Rustem mounted upon fiery Rakush, and rode serenely forth unto the camp of Isfendiyar. And lo! his antagonist yet slumbered, for he thought of a surety that Rustem must have perished from his wounds during the night. So, beholding that Isfendiyar yet slept, Rustem, lifting up his voice of thunder, cried:

“Ho, Brave Crocodile of War! Is it a time to slumber when thou hast challenged a hero to combat? Get thee up, for verily Rustem is not accustomed thus to be kept waiting.”

Now when Isfendiyar, thus awakened, beheld that it was really Rustem who awaited him without the tent, he was amazed. But quickly donning his armor, and mounting his horse, he soon appeared in the presence of Rustem, saying unto him:

“O Elephant-limbed Warrior! Yesterday thou wert wounded almost unto death by my arrows, and to-day there is no trace of them either upon thee or thy steed. Pray how is this?

“But, then, thy father, Zal, is a sorcerer,
And he by charm and spell
Hath cured all the wounds of the warrior,
And now he is safe and well.
For the wounds I gave could never be
Closed up except by sorcery.
Yea, the wounds I gave thee in every part
Could never be cured but by magic art.”

Then Rustem, replying unto Isfendiyar, said:

“O Royal Archer! Know that if thou wert to shoot at me a thousand arrows, they would all drop harmless unto the ground. Therefore, let us be friends, and not only shalt thou be placed upon the throne, but all the treasure of the house of Zal shall be thine.”

But Isfendiyar replied impatiently unto Rustem:

“Brave Prater! Wilt thou never cease from thy idle talk? Now once for all I say unto thee that never will I forsake the paths of God by disobeying my father. Choose, therefore, between chains and battle.”

Then Rustem, seeing that his submission was not accepted, though he had offered to sacrifice much, bent his bow, and laid the arrow of tamarisk in rest, and so held it while he prayed unto God. And lo! the Prince, noting that the Hero delayed, thought that he did so from fear, and he taunted him. Then Rustem, hesitating no longer, let his arrow fly toward his enemy, and behold! it sped straight unto its mark, piercing the eye of Isfendiyar, so that the bow dropped from his hand, and he clutched at his horse’s mane. Yea,

“And darkness overspread his sight,
The world to him was hid in night;
The bow dropped from his slackened hand,
And down he sank upon the sand.”

Now long Isfendiyar swooned, and his kinsmen and chiefs, beholding what had befallen, rent the air with their woe. But the Prince, when he revived, said unto them calmly:

“O Heroes of Iran, trouble not yourselves on account of my death, for it is not Rustem who hath slain me, nor the Simurgh, nor yet the magic arrow, but my father, who knowingly sent me forth unto my death, and verily the curse of the Great Prophet shall fall upon his head. As for thee, O Rustem, being but the instrument of fate, thou art guiltless in this matter, and that thou mayest know how I honor thee, I desire that thou take unto thee Bahman, my son, and rear him for Iran, even as thou didst noble Siawush, for lo! it hath been revealed unto me that Bahman will sit upon the throne that hath been denied unto me.”

Alas! having thus spoken, behold, Isfendiyar sighed, and the sun of his life was set, and great was the lamentation for the brave young hero lost unto Iran. As for Rustem, sorrowfully he made ready for Isfendiyar a coffin of gold, causing it to be lined with silken stuffs and perfumed with amber. Then he laid therein the valiant hero-prince of the Heft-Khan, and all beholding him wept with bitter sorrow. Tenderly then the coffin of gold was placed upon the back of a slow-moving dromedary, forty others following in its wake. And lo! there followed after them the brave army of the Prince, clad in robes of mourning, while Bashutan marched at the head of the sorrowful train, leading Isfendiyar’s horse, whose saddle was reversed and whose mane and tail were shorn, while from its sides hung the armor of the vanquished one. Now thus it was that they brought brave Isfendiyar back unto the palace of his fathers, and behold! all the world mourned this great loss unto Iran.

But while Iran sorrowed for Isfendiyar, behold, Bahman grew up in the courts of Rustem, the Pehliva loving him as a son. For in his heart he grieved bitterly that by his hand brave Isfendiyar had fallen. Yea, and he gloried not in his last great fight, even though he knew that now his star would shine on undimmed unto the end, and that the children of Ormuzd would sing his praises through all the ages as the one great unconquered hero of the Persians.

THE DEATH OF RUSTEM

Lo! it is chronicled by Firdusi, who, in his great epic poem, hath made immortal the heroes and kings of Persia, that Zal in his old age had born unto him a son of remarkable beauty. But alas! when the astrologers cast the horoscope of this beautiful babe, they read therein that few and evil would be the days of Shughad; that he would be the ruin of the house of his fathers, also bringing destruction upon the land of Iran.

Now Zal was overwhelmed with dismay when this message of the stars was communicated unto him, and he prayed continually unto Ormuzd that he would avert this terrible fate from the head of his boy. Yea, and he reared him carefully, sparing no pains to inculcate in the youth the principles of truth, honor, loyalty unto his house and unto the King.

Then, when Shughad was come unto man’s estate, Zal sent him unto the King of Kabul, who, when he saw that he was tall and handsome, and fit in every way to sit upon the throne, showed unto him great kindness, even giving unto him his daughter in marriage, and providing for him bountifully.

Now the King of Kabul paid tribute unto Rustem, every year being required to send unto the Hero of Seistan a bull’s hide as a token of sovereignty. And alas! this was a great grievance unto his soul, for he was proud in his spirit and desired to be bondsman unto none. So it was not alone kindness which prompted him to take Shughad unto him as his son, for in his heart he hoped thus to have the tribute remitted.

But behold! when the proper time came, Rustem sent his messenger as usual to demand the bull’s hide, which made the King very angry. So, in his disappointment, he hesitated not to express his opinion of Rustem’s conduct unto Shughad, stirring up his mind against his brother. Then Shughad, becoming angry and discontented also, said unto the King:

“Verily, since my elder brother hath behaved unto me thus unkindly, in my heart he shall be unto me no more than a stranger. Let us consider, therefore, how we may ensnare him.”

So all night the King and Shughad talked and pondered how they might rid the world of Rustem, and at last they decided upon a scheme.

Consequently, it came to pass that presently the King of Kabul gave a great feast, and when all had become excited with wine, behold, Shughad, the son of Zal, began to boast of his lineage, saying:

“Verily, Shughad alone of all this great company should be toasted! Yea, and I except not even the King, our host! For is not the Mighty Rustem my brother? And do I not come from a long line of heroes, extending from Husheng the Shah even unto Zal of the white hair?”

Now hearing this, lo, the King sprang up in pretended wrath, saying:

“Upstart! Thinkest thou to lord it over me, the King of Kabul? Verily, nay! For thou art really no brother unto Rustem, since thy mother was but a slave in thy father’s household. Therefore, boast not so loudly.”

Then Shughad, feigning great anger, hastily left the banqueting-halls, threatening to call forth Rustem to avenge the insulting words of the King. So, with guile in his heart, the Prince rode forth unto the palace of his brother. And behold! after they had exchanged greetings, Rustem said:

“And how fares it with thee at Kabul, O my brother? Art thou still happy and contented in the King’s palace?”

Then Shughad, rejoicing at the opening thus given him, said:

“I pray thee do not speak unto me of Kabul, for the word is hateful unto mine ears. For verily this night hath the King insulted me beyond bearing. Yea, and thee, too, and my father! So I came away in a rage, and never will I return until the vile words which he spake of my family are avenged.”

Now when Rustem learned what had been spoken by the King of Kabul, he said unto Shughad:

“O my brother, trouble not thyself concerning this matter, for verily it shall bring thee naught but gain. Alas! ever hath the King of Kabul been vain and arrogant of spirit, but for this he shall be humbled unto the dust, for no longer shall he reign in Kabul, since his crown shall henceforth grace thine own fair brow.”

So, at once Rustem set forth to avenge the wrongs of his brother, but lo! when they were yet far from Kabul, they were met by the King, who, bowing himself low in the dust, said unto Rustem:

“O Lord of the World! Thou beholdest before thee, with uncovered head and bare feet, the proud King of Kabul. Pardon, therefore—thou who art gracious as the River Nile—the foolish words of thy slave, spoken when his head was troubled with wine. For lo! his mouth is filled with dust and his soul with sorrow and repentance.”

Now hearing these words of humility, Rustem’s anger was appeased. Granting unto the King forgiveness, therefore, he graciously consented to be his guest. So a great banquet was made ready to celebrate the reconciliation, and as they feasted the King lauded his wondrous hunting-grounds, wherein the deer and the wild ass furnished such excellent sport, and he invited Rustem to hunt therein for a day before returning unto Seistan.

So Rustem, who loved the chase almost as well as the field of battle, consented to remain the King’s guest for yet another day, for he suspected not that poison lurked in the honey of the monarch’s words. But alas! in a certain part of these beautiful hunting-grounds, the schemers had caused to be dug treacherous pits, lined thickly with swords and lances and hunting-spears, yet no man would have suspected their existence, so cleverly were they covered over.

On the following day, therefore, the King directed the hunt unto the place in the forest where the pits were hidden. And behold! Shughad ran beside the horse of Rustem to show unto him the path. But when they were come unto the place of peril, Rakush, smelling the newly-turned earth, reared high in the air, refusing to advance. Then Rustem, thinking he was afraid, commanded him to go forward; but Rakush, backing, refused to give ear unto his master’s voice. Now this made Rustem angry so that lightly he struck him with his whip, though never before in all their long wanderings together had he done so. Then, alas! surprised and maddened by the stroke, Rakush sprang forward, but only to fall into one of the treacherous pits.

Now sinking into the midst of this cruel bed of pointed weapons, many a ghastly stab and many a cut in limb and body received Rustem and his gallant steed. Yet from this awful grave, at one prodigious spring, Rakush escaped with his master still upon his back. But alas! what availed that mighty effort? For, down again into another pit, yet deeper, both fell together. And though again they rose, and yet again, it was only to be engulfed once more, and yet again. Yea, seven times down prostrate, seven times bruised and maimed, did Rakush struggle on, until mounting up the edge of the seventh pit, all covered with deep wounds, both horse and rider lay exhausted, Rustem swooning in his agony.

But when once more the mighty Hero opened his horror-stricken eyes upon the world, lo, he beheld Shughad his brother, smiling in triumph at his side. Then knew he unto whom he owed this infamous treachery, and he said:

“Thou Wicked One! Is it possible that thou, the son of Zal, hast contrived and wrought this evil deed against thy brother? Verily thy heart is as black as thy shadow, which shall not long darken the earth.”

Then the treacherous Shughad, trying to justify his cruel deed, said sternly unto the dying Hero:

“Verily, God hath decreed this awful vengeance to recompense thee for all the blood that thou hast shed in thy long life as a warrior. Not I, but He, hath determined thy fate.”

Now at this moment the King of Kabul drew near, feigning great anger and sorrow when he beheld the dying one. And he wailed:

“Alas the day! That the Mighty Rustem should perish so ignobly, and as my guest! Quick, bring the matchless balm for Rustem’s cure, for the great Champion of Iran must not be allowed to die a death so wretched!”

But Rustem, smiling scornfully, said unto the treacherous King:

“O Man of Wile! Right well thou knowest that Death, that cometh unto all men in their turn, is the only physician that now can heal the great Rustem of his wounds. But why should the mighty son of Zal complain of Fate? For verily, many a mighty King hath died and left me still triumphant, still in power unconquerable. And behold! yet there liveth valiant Feramurz, who will be revenged upon thee for his father’s death.”

And now the Mighty Rustem sighed, saying unto Shughad in a weak and mournful voice:

“Verily, my spirit will soon be free! But alas! it grieveth me sore that my faithful body may this night be food unto the wolves and lions. String, therefore, my bow, and place it in my hands that I may appear unto the wild beasts that would devour me, even as a live warrior, ready to defend his life. For our father’s sake, O Shughad, refuse not thy brother this last request.”

So, suspecting naught, Shughad drew the great bow from its case, and placed it in Rustem’s hands, smiling with satisfaction to think that his brother’s end was so nigh. But verily he smiled not but a moment, for noting the strength with which Rustem gripped his bow, and the peculiar look of his eye, shuddering with terror, quickly Shughad dodged behind a plane-tree close at hand. But useless was the shelter, for though the dimness of death was come over the eyes of the Hero, he yet spied Shughad where he hid, and whiz! went an arrow, straight through the tree and the wicked Shughad, transfixing them together. And Rustem, when he saw the fate of his brother, was content, knowing that he could do no more harm unto his house.

But alas! of all that mighty hunting-party not a knightly follower escaped. For Zuara and all the others perished in the treacherous pits of the traitor King, save only one, who quickly fled with the dire news unto Seistan.

Then Zal, in agony, tore his white hair and rent his garments, lamenting bitterly for Rustem, crying again and again:

“Why was I not present, fighting at his side? Why could I not die for him? Wherefore, alas, am I left alone to mourn his memory?”

But behold! though bowed to the earth with grief, quickly the white-haired old warrior sent Feramurz forth with a great army to avenge the death of his father. And verily the work of the Hero was complete. For not only did he make of Kabul a desert, but he laid low the head of the treacherous King and all his race. Then the work of vengeance finished, lo, he sought out the body of Rustem, and of Rakush his gallant steed, and bare them back in sorrow unto Seistan, where they were placed in a noble tomb.

And alas! never was there such wailing in the land of Iran as for Rustem the Mighty. Nay, not even for the glorious Shahs of Old! And well might it be so, for never again did Persia rejoice in such an unbroken line of heroes, and never did she achieve such telling victories, for with Rustem her glory departed; yea, for many long years!

End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Rustem, by Elizabeth D. Renninger