Chapter II: Part 2

For you must know that this angel, who each night flieth seven times around the earth in order to watch over the children of Ormuzd, saw and was moved with compassion for the sufferings of the people; and so, presently, a grandson was born unto Jemshid, whose horoscope decreed that he should not only be the deliverer of his country, but should reign long and gloriously upon the throne of light. And this Kavah knew, for the Blessed Angel had made it known unto him in a dream, after he had proved himself brave and fearless of heart.

And since the Orientals say that a secret known unto two is one no longer, you, too, shall know that the name of the coming hero was Feridoun. But of how, by his splendid deeds, he earned for himself the title of “The Glorious,” you must hear in another story.

FERIDOUN THE GLORIOUS

Upon a starry night, during the festival of roses, long, long ago in the land of Persia, the Angel Serosch, flying through the night, brought unto the home of Abtin, son of Jemshid, a charming babe, destined for mighty deeds. Now the name of the child was Feridoun, and it is related that upon the night of his birth Zohak, the Serpent King, had a terrible dream, which you shall hear.

Behold, it came to pass that as the King lay upon the royal couch, suddenly, in his sleep, he felt himself attacked by three warriors, two of them of powerful stature, but the third a mere youth, slender like unto a young cypress. In his hands the stripling bore a huge, cow-headed mace, and with it he felled Zohak pitilessly to the ground. And useless was all resistance, for though the frenzied monarch struggled madly, the doughty youth bound his hands, and casting a rope about his neck, dragged him rudely along in the presence of crowds of hooting, gibing people. Now at this crisis, so great was the King’s anguish that, screaming horribly, he awoke. And lo! it was all a dream.

But in those times dreams were considered portentous; so now Zohak, springing up terror-stricken from his bed, hastily called together his Mubids, although it was still the dead of night, and, having related unto them the particulars of his frightful experience, he demanded a faithful interpretation of his dream.

Now the Mubids saw in this vision the approaching overthrow of the tyrant, but they were afraid to tell the truth unto Zohak, fearing for their lives. So three days were allowed to pass under the pretence of studying more scrupulously the signs, and still no one had the courage to speak out. Then the King grew angry, and in this dilemma, Zirek, one of the wise men, finally stood boldly forth and said:

“O Lord of the World, much we deplore it, but the stars foretell for thee a bitter fate, since thy dream announces the coming of a great and glorious prince, who shall hurl thee from thy throne, and bind thee in chains upon the mountains. Feridoun is his name, and he shall add lustre unto the house of Jemshid, and unto the land of Persia, though naught but woe shall he bring unto the Serpent King, whose day is already darkening into endless night.”

Alas for the King! Hearing this interpretation of his dream, he fell senseless upon the ground, and the Mubids fled from before his wrath. Now long he lay as one dead, and when consciousness did finally return unto him, he could neither eat nor sleep, but continued overwhelmed with fear and misery. And from this time forth, the legends say, Zohak knew neither rest nor joy, the light of his day being already darkened.

But instead of checking the King in his evil course, this experience seems only to have stimulated him to further cruelty. For, warned by the prophecy of the Mubids, Zohak now issued a decree that every person belonging unto the race of Jemshid, wherever found, should be seized and fettered and brought to him; for he hoped thus to secure the fateful prince of his dream. Sending out his spies everywhere, therefore, he caused the world to be scoured for Feridoun, but in vain.

Nevertheless, the young prince was passing his first baby days peacefully in the King’s dominions, watched over tenderly by his father and mother, and daily growing in strength that should fit him to carry out the noble task assigned unto him by Providence.

For Abtin, the father of Feridoun, knowing of the King’s decree in regard to the race of Jemshid, had avoided discovery by continuing to reside in the most retired and solitary places; but one day his usual caution forsook him, and he ventured beyond the limits of safety. Now this was most unfortunate at this time, for Zohak had learned of the glorious son born unto Abtin, and his spies were everywhere searching for him. Abtin’s imprudence, therefore, was dreadfully punished, for, being recognized, he was carried before the King, in whose presence he was foully slain.

But not so was Zohak to secure the desire of his heart, for when Faranuk, the mother of Feridoun, heard of the dreadful catastrophe which had befallen her husband, at once she took up her infant and fled, pausing for naught. Then, footsore and weary, her heart torn with fear and sorrow, day after day this brave young mother kept up her flight, traversing burning sands and dark, demon-haunted forests, seeking a place of safety for baby Feridoun, who, realizing not his peril, cooed and laughed and slept, always clasped close in his mother’s arms.

Finally, one evening just as the sun was kissing the world good night, away in the depths of the forest Faranuk came upon a beautiful spot of pasture ground. And presently, the soft tinkle, tinkle of a bell falling upon her ear, she hastened forward, and behold! an old, old man, gentle of face and mien, milked a wondrous cow, whose hairs were like unto the plumes of a peacock for beauty. Now the name of this cow of remarkable lineage was Purmajeh, and the keeper of the pasture gave away in charity the abundance of milk which she supplied.

Gently accosting the old man, therefore, Faranuk was assured a welcome; and so here she rested for the night, thinking to continue her flight in the morning. But, as a consequence of the grief and distress of mind which she had suffered, the poor mother was unable to supply her child with food, and so, urged by the gentle old man, she decided to remain in this quiet retreat for a time, at least.

But, continually afraid of being discovered and recognized, Faranuk knew not a moment’s peace. Finally, it was borne in upon her, she knew not how, that it would be safer for little Feridoun if she were not with him, and so, resigning him to the protection of God, she left the pasture, and continued her flight alone unto Mount Alborz.

Now the keeper of the pasture, into whose care the mother had confided her little one, cherished the child with the fondness and affection of a most devoted parent; and so, for three happy years, Feridoun rolled and tumbled in the pasture, and Purmajeh was his nurse. A wondrous playfellow, also, was Purmajeh, and well indeed was it for Persia that the baby shouts of glee reached not unto the ears of the Serpent King.

But better still was it that Feridoun was in the guardianship of Ormuzd, and that Serosch, his messenger, neither slumbered nor slept. For it happened that one night, the Angel of Pity, resting for a moment upon the battlements of Zohak’s palace, after having flown seven times around the world, heard issue thence a fiendish laugh of triumph, which sent the Gentle-hearted One speeding upon swift wings toward Mount Alborz. And there, Faranuk, thinking that she dreamed, listened unto the voice of the Angel, which warned her that Feridoun was no longer safe in the pasture.

As the morning dawned, therefore, Faranuk, with swift feet, hastened back unto the forest hiding-place, confiding unto the gentle old man of the pasture her intention of conveying Feridoun unto a safer place of refuge upon Mount Alborz. But the keeper, who loved Feridoun above all else in the world, remonstrated with the young mother, saying sorrowfully unto her:

“Why, O Faranuk, dost thou take the child unto the mountain? Alas! he will surely perish there, while here he is so happy!”

But Faranuk dared not disregard the warning of the Angel Serosch, and so, comforting the old man, with her boy in her arms she once more took up her flight. And wise was she in doing so, for intelligence had reached Zohak that the young prince was being nourished and protected by the keeper of the pasture, and, like a hungry tiger, he was preparing to spring upon his prey.

That same day, therefore, at the head of a force of picked men, he proceeded secretly unto the pasture, hoping to surprise the keeper, and thus secure the Prince. But once more his prey had escaped him, and when he discovered this, verily, he was like unto a mad elephant in his fury. For, not only did he cruelly slay the keeper of the pasture, and the wondrous cow Purmajeh, but so great was his frenzy that he stopped not until he had slain every living thing around about, and made of the beautiful spot a desert. And this done, diligently he continued his search, but neither sight nor tidings could he get of Feridoun, and his heart was filled with rage and despair.

Now upon Mount Alborz at this time there dwelt a pious hermit, and unto him Faranuk committed her boy, informing the old man that her son was destined for mighty deeds. So, being gladly welcomed, from this time forth the mother and child abode with the pious old recluse, who generously divided with them all the food and comforts which God gave him, at the same time, as Feridoun grew older, developing and storing his mind with various kinds of knowledge. Yea, and he also consulted the Books of Fate concerning him, after which he said unto Faranuk:

“O woman, I perceive that the Prince foretold by wise men and astrologers as the destroyer of Zohak and his tyranny, is thy son. Rejoice, therefore, and be glad of heart, for

“This child to whom thou gavest birth,
Will be the monarch of the earth.”

But Faranuk’s heart was filled, not only with joy, but also with foreboding, upon hearing her own convictions thus confirmed, for well she knew and dreaded the fearful power of Zohak. Nevertheless, her days were happy, for had she not her boy still with her? And was he not under the sheltering care of the Almighty?

But the years tarried not, and so when twice eight summers had passed over the head of Feridoun, he was no longer a child, but a bright, handsome youth of sixteen, strong and valiant of heart. Then one day he sought out his mother, and questioned her as to his lineage. So Faranuk, seeing that the time was ripe, told unto her son stories of Iran and the Shahs of Old; of the valiant Husheng; of the glorious reign of Jemshid, his illustrious grandsire; of the cruel Serpent King; and, last of all, of his father’s tragic fate.

Now Feridoun listened intently unto his mother’s tales; then, standing up straight and tall, with blazing eyes and flushed cheeks, he said unto Faranuk:

“O my mother, verily I will uproot this monster from the earth! Yea, I, Feridoun, will cause his name to be blotted from the Book of Kings, so that soon he shall be no more than an evil memory in the world. For long enough hath Iran groaned under his tyranny, and too long hath my father’s blood cried for vengeance.”

But Faranuk, troubled because of the blaze she had kindled, replied warningly unto Feridoun, saying gently:

“O Pearl of my Heart, let not thy youthful anger betray thee; for how canst thou, friendless and alone, stand against the master of the world? Be not, therefore, precipitate. If it be thy destiny to overcome this tyrant, in due time the Almighty will bless thee with means sufficient for the purpose. Wait, therefore, for the sign.”

But his mother’s words of caution found no echo in the heart of this youth who, hearing for the first time of the cruel monster who had robbed him of a father, and made of his mother’s life that of the hunted, would hear of naught but the immediate overthrow of the tyrant. Therefore he replied unto Faranuk:

“’Tis Heaven inspires me, mother, therefore be not so fearful. As for the Serpent King, not even he, with all his demon host, can stand against a valiant heart and a sturdy arm, guided by the great God of the Persians. Wherefore, then, delay?”

Howbeit, though glorying in the spirit of her son, Faranuk still tried to dissuade him from immediate action, but in vain; for, even while she spake, a mighty throng was seen approaching Alborz, led by one who bore aloft, as a standard, an apron uplifted upon a lance. Then both mother and son knew that the time for action was at hand, and glad was Kavah’s welcome. And presently, Feridoun, the helmet of Kings upon his head, sought once more his mother’s presence, saying proudly unto her:

“Behold, O my mother, thy warrior-son, who goeth forth unto the battle against the mighty Zohak! Unto him it is given to fight, but it remaineth unto thee to pray God for our safety, and for victory.”

So Faranuk, understanding, as she gazed, that it was useless to try longer to hold this bold young eaglet in the mountain eyrie, since he sensed power in his wings, blessed her son, bidding him go forth in the name of God to free his country, and to avenge his father’s death.

But, before going, Feridoun caused to be made for him a mighty club, the pattern of which he traced for Kavah upon the ground; and the top thereof was the head of a cow, in memory of Purmajeh, his nurse. He also did honor unto the standard of Kavah, causing it to be encased in rich brocades of Roum and hung about with jewels. Then, when all was ready, the little company set forth toward the west to seek Zohak, the two elder brothers of Feridoun accompanying them.

Now Faranuk, when she beheld her warrior-sons in full battle array, looking so brave and splendid, wept with pride and joy; but fear was in her heart too, and her every breath was a prayer unto Ormuzd, imploring his blessing upon the great undertaking.

But fear was far from the heart of gallant young Feridoun as, at the head of his brave followers, he rode forth upon his patriotic mission. The way was rough, the men poorly equipped, but their hearts were full of courage and hope, and new recruits were added daily.

Nor was the sign of God’s blessing withheld. For, one evening, in the course of their progress, as the valiant host neared the place where it was to camp for the night, suddenly, upon the heights above them, they beheld a shrine, or place of pilgrims, erected for the worshippers of Ormuzd. Placed upon a grassy slope, high above the turmoil of the road, the spot seemed to breathe peace and serenity; so much so, indeed, that, coming upon it unexpectedly, a hush fell upon the horsemen as they gazed; for, bathed in the glory of the sunset, a touch of solemnity thrown about it by the stately old cypresses whose heads soared majestically up into the blue, it seemed indeed a place in which God might delight to meet his people.

Profoundly impressed by the beauty and sacredness of the spot, Feridoun decided at once to visit the shrine, since he felt the need of inspiration and guidance. And in response to his prayers, it is recorded that there appeared unto him a radiant Angel who foretold unto him the varied fortunes he was to encounter, and bestowed upon him a magic power that should enable him to overcome the wiles of his foes. And so radiant was the vision that, when the hero returned from the shrine, all noticed his changed appearance.

“Bright beamed his eye, with firmer step he strode,
His smiling cheek with warmer crimson glowed.”

But alas! When the two brothers of Feridoun saw his altered mien, the pomp and splendor of his appearance, the demon of envy took possession of their hearts, and they privately meditated his destruction, saying one unto the other:

“Are not we, also, princes of the house of Jemshid? and older by birth! Why, then, should Feridoun lord it over us?”

So it came to pass that one day when the two envious ones spied Feridoun asleep at the foot of a mountain, immediately they hastened unto the summit and rolled down upon him a heavy fragment of rock, with the intention of crushing him to death. But the clattering noise of the stone awoke Feridoun, and instantly employing the knowledge of magic which had been communicated unto him, the stone was suddenly arrested by him in its course of destruction.

Now the two brothers, who were eagerly watching to see the result of their effort, beheld with astonishment and fear this event out of the course of nature. Hastening down from the mountain, therefore, they said stutteringly unto their brother:

“We were on the mountain, but we know not how the stone became loosened from its place. God forbid that it should have done injury unto Feridoun!”

Well aware, however, that this was the evil work of his brothers, the young Prince was yet wise enough to take no notice of the conspiracy; and, instead of having them punished, he raised them unto higher dignity and consequence, for he thought of his mother, and wished to fill her cup with naught but joy.

So all went well with Feridoun, and presently the little army, directed by Kavah, arrived at Bagdad, which is upon the banks of the Tigris. Here they halted, and Feridoun called for boats to convey them across; but the ferrymen refused their aid, saying that it was the King’s decree that none should pass save only those who bore the royal seal.

Alas! This angered Feridoun, and so, regarding not the foaming stream, nor the dangers hidden within its treacherous breast, boldly the young leader plunged with his steed into the rushing river; and lo! all the army followed after him. And now, indeed, was the struggle sore, for again and again it seemed as though the waves would bear them down; but the gallant war-steeds struggled on, and finally all stepped out in safety upon the farther shore, where they rested for the night, giving thanks unto Ormuzd for bringing them safely through so great a peril.

On the following day, however, they turned their faces toward the city which is now called Jerusalem, the proud capital of Zohak, whose glorious palace raised its towers unto highest heaven in beauty. Here, Feridoun giving the signal by striking the brazen gates with his cow-headed mace, the army stormed the walls, burst in the gates, and put the garrison to flight. Then, entering the palace, the youthful leader cast down the evil talisman of miraculous virtues that was graven upon the walls, and slew the wicked Deevs who guarded it. He also destroyed or vanquished with his cow-headed mace all the enchanted monsters and hideous shapes that appeared before him, and released, with his own hands, all the black-eyed damsels that Zohak had imprisoned there—among them, the two beautiful sisters of Jemshid.

And behold! having accomplished this marvellous feat, Feridoun was hailed by all the people of the city as their deliverer, for they were sick unto death of the cruelty and tyranny of the Serpent King. So, with shouts of rejoicing, Feridoun mounted the empty throne, and the crown of Iran having been placed upon his head, all the people bowed before him, and named him Shah.

But, you may ask, where was Zohak that he perished not at the hands of the fateful Prince? Well, from Jemshid’s sisters Feridoun now learned that the tyrant, with an immense army, had gone upon a secret mission toward Ind; and, upon questioning further, he ascertained that in this direction lay the country of the magicians with whom the Serpent King was in secret conference, hoping, from a renowned enchanter there, to obtain such means as should enable him to charm his enemy into his power. For, said the damsels:

“Night and day the terror of thy name, O Feridoun, oppresseth him. His heart is all on fire, and life is one long torture to him.”

But if Zohak was troubled before, imagine his surprise and terror when he learned from Kandru, the keeper of the talisman, the strange tidings of the fall of his capital! Disguising his fright, however, the tyrant immediately turned unto his army, hoping by its aid to regain his throne. But in vain; for both soldiers and people at once declared loyalty to the new Shah, resisting, to a man, the offers of gold and jewels and treasure made them.

So, disappointed in the army, Zohak determined to seek revenge alone. Stealing away secretly, therefore, he proceeded rapidly toward his capital, arriving by night at the palace of Feridoun. There, ascending a height, himself unobserved, he beheld the new Shah, in all the glory of his kingly robes, seated beside the lovely Shahrnaz, sister of Jemshid, enjoying her beauty and the charm of her conversation. Alas! at this sight, the fire of jealousy and revenge made blind with rage the fallen monarch, who, like a mad elephant, dashed upon Feridoun, thinking to slay him unawares.

But Feridoun, roused by the noise, started up quickly, and, meeting the charging Serpent King—who was indeed a most terrible sight—with his cow-headed mace he struck him a powerful blow upon the temple, crushing the bone. Then observing the hissing vipers, Feridoun knew his enemy, and was about to strike again, but his hand was stayed, as the Angel Serosch, swooping down, cried warningly:

“O Glorious Hero! Slay this human monster not, for his hour is not yet come. To a beetling mountain crag must he be chained, far from the haunts of men, there to die slowly and in torture, for so it is decreed.”

So the cruel Serpent King was led forth unto Mount Demavend, accompanied by a hooting, mocking multitude; and there, on the edge of the precipice, over the abyss, he was bound with mighty chains and nails driven into his hands, and left to perish.

And oh, the woe of Zohak! for behold the hot sun shone down upon the barren cliffs, and there was neither tree nor shrub to shelter him; also the chains entered into his flesh, and his tongue was consumed with thirst. But he was not alone, for continually before him there passed the great procession of his victims: Jemshid, sawn asunder, mockingly performing obeisance; then for hours a mighty throng of youths and maidens, sighing as they passed along, “We are the serpents’ victims”; and Iblis, too, appeared before the Serpent King, assuring him, as he rubbed his hands and laughed in fiendish glee, that he should continue to live so—on and on in torture—for a thousand years. So was the wicked Zohak punished for his evil deeds.

But as for Feridoun, for five hundred years he ruled the world gloriously, and all his days he did that which was beneficent and good, his heart being ever open unto his people. Yea so brave and just and generous was he that, writing of him many hundreds of years later, the great poet Firdusi, to whom we owe these hero tales, is able to say of his countryman

“The work of heaven performing, Feridoun
First purified the world of sin and crime.
Yet Feridoun was not an angel, nor
Composed of musk or amber. By justice
And generosity he gained his fame.
Do thou but exercise these princely virtues
And thou wilt be renowned as Feridoun.”

IRIJ, A GENTLE HERO

Now it is recorded that Ormuzd the Blessed caused three sons to be born unto Feridoun the Shah, and these youths were tall and strong, and fair of mien, their mother being the lovely Shahrnaz of the house of Jemshid. But the names of the young princes were not yet known unto men, for it remained unto Feridoun to test their hearts. But before their hearts were tested, the princes were wed, and of this you shall hear.

Lo, it is chronicled in the Book of Kings that the great Shah, beholding that his sons were come unto years of strength, sent forth a messenger to search through all the world for three princesses, born of the same father and mother, and adorned with every grace and accomplishment, that should make them worthy of alliance with the line of Jemshid, in order that the princes might be wed.

So the messenger went forth, travelling far and wide over many lands, at last finding the object of his search in the three beautiful princesses of the house of Yemen. But unfortunately, Serv, the King of Yemen, did not wish to part with his three fair daughters, and so put hindrances in the way, requiring the sons of Feridoun to present themselves at his court before he would give his consent unto the alliance.

Therefore, counselled by their father as to how they should conduct themselves, the three princes set forth to win their brides. Now they were received by the King of Yemen with becoming honor, and as they came through the tests to which they were subjected successfully, the King could no longer withhold his consent unto the betrothals.

That same night, however, Serv, being a master magician, called forth biting cold and frost, thinking to freeze to death the three princes as they lay upon their perfumed couches in the rose-garden of the King. But, though the cold and frost were sharp enough to kill all the flowers in the garden, the Angel Serosch awakened the princes in time. Whereupon seeing that it was useless to fight against the inevitable, the King finally prepared a great marriage feast, after which the three brides set out with their husbands upon the long journey back to Persia.

Meanwhile the chronicles relate that when informed by couriers of the near approach of his sons with their brides, Feridoun at once determined to go forth to meet them, in order to prove their hearts. And as, above all things, he was anxious to test their courage, he took upon himself the form of a terrible dragon that foamed at the mouth with fury, and from whose jaws vomited mighty flames.

Stationing himself in a gloomy mountain pass, therefore, when the train from Yemen drew near, he fell upon it suddenly, like a whirlwind, raising a cloud of dust above the place with his writhings, and roaring so horribly as to cause even the stoutest heart to quake.

Now, as it happened, the eldest brother was in the lead, and, consequently, he was the first to see the frightful beast about to fall upon them. Being given a moment in which to think, however, he said within himself: “A wise and prudent man fighteth not with dragons.” So, turning his back upon the monster, he retreated, leaving the dragon to fall upon his brothers.

So the furious beast, robbed of the first brother, quickly fell upon the second, who said unto himself: “If I must fight, what mattereth it whether it be a furious lion, or a warrior full of valor?” Placing himself upon guard, therefore, he took up his bow and stretched it, ready for the attack.

But the youngest of the princes, when he saw the danger which threatened his brother, tarried not afar, but, full of fire and fury, rushed upon the dragon, crying aloud in his rage: “Thou reptile, flee from out our presence, for it is not seemly for thee to strut in the path of lions. Thou beholdest before thee the sons of the glorious Feridoun, armed and ready for the fight. Beware, therefore, lest we plant upon thy head the crown of enmity.” Speaking thus, the Prince sprang boldly forward; but, before he could strike, Feridoun, having now divined the character of the princes, vanished from their sight.

So, the enemy having disappeared, the train from Yemen proceeded upon its way; and when they were come unto the royal palace, the Shah warmly welcomed his sons and the three fair daughters of Yemen, music and rejoicing being heard everywhere in the land. But at the end of seven days, behold, Feridoun called his sons into his presence, and, having seated them upon thrones of splendor, he opened his mouth, and said unto them:

“O Princes of the house of Feridoun, give heed unto the words which I shall speak unto you. Know, then, that the raging dragon whose breath threatened destruction, was but your father who sought thus to test your hearts. And now, having proved you, I will give unto each a name fitting unto his character.

“Lo, the first-born shall be called Selim, for in the hour of danger, prudence became his guiding star.

“And the second, who showed no whit of fear when suddenly confronted by peril, but whose spirit burned ardent as a flame, him will I call Tur, the courageous, whom not even a mad elephant can daunt.

“But as to the youngest, him I find to be a man both prudent and brave, knowing both how to haste, and how to tarry. Irij, therefore, shall he be called, for first did he show gentleness, but his wisdom and bravery tarried not in the hour of danger.”

And now the ceremony of naming his sons being completed, Feridoun called for the Book of the Stars wherein is written the fate of men, for he wished to divine the destiny of his sons. But alas! after searching the planets, he learned that though the signs pointed to success and renown for the two eldest, the horoscope of Irij, the youngest and best loved of his father, indicated misfortune and a tragic end, which disclosure grieved Feridoun deeply.

Howbeit, the King’s programme was not yet finished, for next he proceeded to divide his vast empire, giving the three parts unto his sons in suzerainty. Now unto Selim, he gave the lands lying toward the setting sun; and unto Tur, the eastern provinces reaching even unto China. But unto Irij, he gave Iran with the throne of might, and the crown of supremacy, regarding him as the ablest to rule over the heart of the empire.

So the brothers now separated, each taking charge of the reins of government in the respective kingdoms, and for many long years they sat upon their golden thrones in happiness and peace. But alas! evil was written in the Book of Fate, and, day by day, as the leaves turned, it brought tragedy ever nearer unto the house of Feridoun.

Verily the great Shah, after a romantic and glorious youth devoted to valiant deeds, had been blessed by Ormuzd with long life, honor, and peace; but now was he grown hoary-headed and full of years, and his strength inclined toward the grave. And—sorry to relate—as their father grew weak and feeble, the two eldest brothers became jealous of their younger brother, Irij, who was destined to take precedence of them upon the death of Feridoun.

And it was the heart of Selim, particularly, that was turned toward evil, and whose soul gradually became steeped in greed and envy. Day after day, therefore, he pondered bitterly in his spirit the parting of the lands, and anger filled his soul. For Persia was a beautiful land, the garden of spring, full of freshness and perfume, while the other provinces were wild and uncultivated.

Finally, Iblis gaining full possession of the heart of Selim, he called unto him a messenger, mounted him upon a swift dromedary, and sent him unto his brother Tur with a letter, sealed with his private seal. And the letter read:

“O King of the house of Feridoun, may thy days be many and glorious! So sayeth thy brother Selim who greeteth thee from out the west, and asketh of thee, shall we, the elder brothers, remain ever satisfied to see the youngest born set high above our heads upon the throne of light? What sayeth Tur the Courageous?”

Now when Tur had read this letter, behold, his imagination became filled with wind, so that his head was raised above the stars. Calling the messenger into his presence, therefore, he said unto him:

“Thus sayeth the mighty Tur unto his brother: O Star of the house of Feridoun, verily I say unto thee that since our father took advantage of our innocence when we were young and simple of heart, with his own hands hath he planted a tree destined to bear bitter fruit for him and his loved Irij. In order, therefore, that thou and I may counsel together how this great wrong may be righted, I follow the swift feet of thy messenger.”

So Selim and Tur met, and, as a result of their conclave, the following haughty message was sent unto Feridoun, their aged father:

“O thou who draweth with swift feet unto the tomb, behold, thy sons Selim and Tur ask of thee, art thou not afraid to go home unto thy God? For verily thine eldest born hast thou treated unfairly, and injustice doth cast its black shadow both before and after thee, since thou hast allotted thy realm with iniquity. We say unto thee, therefore, command the stripling Irij to step down from the throne of light, and hide him in some corner of the earth where he will be forgotten as we, and where he shall no longer offend our sight. For, are not we the elder brothers? Now art thou warned, and if thou heedest not, then shall come down upon thee from the mountains, fierce warriors filled with vengeance, who will utterly destroy thee.”

Now the herald, who bare this message unto the court of Feridoun, was greatly awed by the magnificence which everywhere greeted him, and marvelled much at the audacity of the writing destined for the King. And this impression was deepened when, having been admitted into the great audience-room of kings, he beheld the mighty monarch, proud and venerable, with snow-white beard reaching unto his waist, seated majestically upon his gorgeous golden throne. But behold! the look of serenity and peace vanished from the face of Feridoun as he listened unto the cruel words of his sons—his soul becoming kindled with fury. Rising majestically, therefore, he straightway said unto the messenger:

“Return, O herald, unto your masters—these men senseless and perverse of heart—and say unto them: Truly Feridoun rejoiceth that at last his sons have laid bare their hearts before him, for now he knoweth what manner of men they really are. As for the parting of the realm, it was done in equity, according to the wisdom of many counsellors. But I ask of you, what shall be said of him who betrayeth his brother for greed? Verily, he is not worthy to be sprung from a noble race! And now, listen unto the word of warning sent unto you by an aged father. For I say unto you, if you persist in your vile threat, lo! your names shall be blotted out from the house of Feridoun, and destruction utter and sure shall be your inheritance. Pray God, therefore, that he turn your hearts from evil.”

After the departure of the messenger, behold, Feridoun at once informed Irij of the intent of his brothers, advising him to prepare a great army to oppose them, should they really attempt to carry out their threat. For he said:

“Alas that it should be true, O my son, but in this world we can look for no defenders unless we are prepared to defend ourselves, and unto the evil of heart, a mighty army speaketh more loudly than the cry of justice.”

But Irij, as he listened unto the words of his father, was very sorrowful, for he was gentle of heart, and loved not strife and bloodshed. Therefore he said unto Feridoun:

“O Royal Cypress, casting thy gracious shadow over the whole sun-kissed world! Good and not evil hath been thy influence throughout thy long reign for, blessed by thy protecting shade, the beauteous flower of peace hath blossomed radiantly throughout thy kingdom for more than a hundred years. Now I, too, O my father, would reign beneficently, for I care not to be a dragon of war, vomiting upon the world destruction and woe. Suffer me, therefore, to go forth alone unto my brothers that I may still the anger which they feel against me, since rather than dip my hands in fratricidal blood, gladly will I sacrifice both diadem and throne. For verily

“I feel no resentment, I seek not for strife,
I wish not for thrones and the glories of life;
What is glory to man?—an illusion, a cheat;
What did it for Jemshid, the world at his feet?
When I go to my brothers, their anger may cease
Though vengeance were fitter than offers of peace.”

Now tears filled the eyes of the aged Feridoun as he listened unto the noble words of his son and with heart soothed and quickened as by a gentle shower, he said unto his youngest born:

“If such be thy desire, O my gentle son, go forth, and may flowers spring up in thy pathway, brightening and making glad unto thee every step of thy feet. But forget not that my life is rooted in thee, and return unto thy father with the speed of the swift-footed dromedary.”

But, before Irij started upon his mission of peace, Feridoun wrote and gave unto him a letter that he should bear unto his brothers. Now the writing was signed with the royal seal, and it read:

“Thus sayeth Feridoun the Mighty unto his sons, Selim and Tur: Behold, your youngest brother hath descended from off his throne and is come unto you with peace in his heart, esteeming your friendship of more value than his crown and throne. Banishing from your hearts, therefore, all hostility, be kind unto him, for it is incumbent upon the eldest born to be indulgent and affectionate unto their younger brothers. As for me, I am now old, and desire naught so much as to see my sons united; and though your consideration for my happiness seemeth to have passed away, yet are your names still graven upon my heart.”

So, armed with his father’s letter, Irij hastened with his modest retinue into Turkestan, where he found the armies of his brothers already assembled. However, he was received courteously by Selim and Tur, and was lodged in the royal quarter. But alas for Irij! for it seemed as if his very good qualities were to bring about his destruction, as you shall hear.

Now it is related of this Prince of the house of Feridoun that, in addition to beauty of character, he was also extremely prepossessing personally—so much so, in fact, that in every place all eyes were fixed upon him, and wherever he moved he was followed and surrounded by the admiring soldiers, and crowds of people who, filled with wonder at his beauty and kingly presence, murmured among themselves, saying: “Surely this is the Prince worthy to bear the sceptre of Iran!” all of which exasperated the malignant spirit of the two brothers, bringing down upon Irij his fate.

For although at first Selim and Tur had intended to kill Irij, his youth and gentleness had in some degree subdued their animosity; now, however, they were glad to have this excuse for removing him from their pathway. So, retiring into their tents, all night they fanned their jealousy and hate, counselling how they might do hurt unto Irij; and as the day broke, Selim said unto Tur:

“O Courageous One, thou must put this usurper to death; then his kingdom will be thine.”

So, when the curtain that hid the sun was lifted, revealing a glorious new day, Selim and Tur went forth unto the tent of their brother. And Irij greeted them joyously, for his heart was full of sunshine. But Tur, frowning darkly, said: “O Perfidious Stripling,

“Must thou have gold and treasure,
And thy heart be wrapped in pleasure,
Whilst we, thy elder born,
Of our heritage are shorn?
Must the youngest still be nursed,
And the elder branches cursed?
And condemned by stern command,
To a wild and sterile land?”

Now when Irij heard these bitter words from Tur, behold, he grew not angry, but replied gently unto him: “O my brother,

“I only seek tranquillity and peace;
I look not on the crown of sovereignty,
Nor seek a name among the Persian host;
And though the throne and diadem are mine,
I here renounce them, satisfied to lead
A private life. For what hath ever been
The end of earthly power and pomp, but darkness?
I seek not to contend against my brothers;
Why should I grieve their hearts, or give distress
To any human creature? I am young
And Heaven forbid that I should prove unkind!”

But alas! the gentle words of Irij unconsciously rebuked the greedy, self-seeking spirit of his brothers, and so they softened not the heart of Tur, which was proud and full of evil. Utterly unable to comprehend a nobility of soul so wonderful, he thought that Irij feigned, and so, springing up, furiously he seized the golden chair, but now his seat, and with it struck a violent blow upon the head of his brother, calling aloud, “Bind him! Bind him!”

Then Irij, thinking of his aged parent, and fearing his hour was come, begged piteously for mercy, saying unto his brother:

“O Cruel One, think of thy old father, and spare me! and if not of him, then have compassion upon thine own soul, and destroy me not, lest God ask vengeance for my blood. Verily, thou wouldst not crush even the tiny ant that beareth a grain of corn, for she hath life, and sweet life is a boon; therefore spare thy brother. For thy father’s sake, grant that I may yet behold the sun. I ask only to live in peace and retirement.”

Alas! strange to say, these words of piteous pleading but angered Tur the more, so that, drawing from his boot a poisoned dagger, he thrust it deep into the breast of gentle Irij. And behold, the Kingly Cedar fell, never again to raise his glorious head in the sunshine of the world. Alas, the pity of it!

But pity was far from the heart of Tur; for, in his vileness, he severed from the trunk the royal young head of his brother, and filling it with musk and amber, sent it unto their aged father with these cruel words:

“Behold the head of thy darling! Give unto him now the crown and the throne.”

Then, their evil deed accomplished, behold, the brothers furled their tents and returned each unto his own land. But the end was not yet.

All this time the aged Feridoun kept his eyes fastened eagerly upon the road whither Irij had gone, for his heart yearned exceedingly to behold his boy again. And, as the time of his return drew near, he caused the walls of his palace to be readorned, and gave orders that musicians, dancing-women, and banquets should be in readiness to give his son a joyous welcome home. Then, when at last the day of his return was come, the aged King sent forth a host to greet him, he himself following close in the wake.

But when the joyous company had gone a little way, a strange thing happened. For Feridoun, riding at the head of his expectant army, suddenly beheld a mighty cloud of dust upon the sky, which, when it cleared, revealed a solitary dromedary looming out of the far horizon, whereupon was seated a rider clad in the garb of woe. And, the mournful figure drawing nearer, the King beheld that he bare in his arms a casket of gold which, upon reaching the retinue, he gave with sorrowful mien into the hands of the aged monarch.

Now Feridoun, suspecting not to what lengths greed and envy had driven his wicked sons, yet felt a dire presentiment in his heart as he gazed upon the case of gold. Commanding that it be opened, however, when the lid was raised, there was revealed at first naught but rich stuffs of silks; but when the silks were unrolled, lo! the hoary-headed King gazed upon the head of his loved Irij. Alas for Feridoun! horror-stricken by this grim sight and the cruel words of his sons, the world grew suddenly dark unto his eyes, and he fell from his horse in a swoon.

Then there rent the air a mighty cry of sorrow such as the world hath seldom heard. For the whole army wailed with grief, in their woe casting dust upon their heads, and tearing their garments in twain. And not only that, but the banners were rent, the drums broken, and the elephants and cymbals hung with the colors of mourning, because that the gentle Irij was now but a beautiful memory in the world, and that the house of Feridoun was left unto him desolate.

As for the stricken monarch, when he recovered his senses, he returned upon foot into the city, and all the nobles accompanied him, trailing their steps in the dust, and followed by the lamenting army. But Feridoun was dumb in his sorrow until they were come unto the garden of Irij, the spot loved best in the world by the noble young King. Here his grief o’ercame him, and, casting black earth upon his head, he tore his white hair, and shed bitter tears, his cries and lamentations being so piercing that they mounted even unto the seventh sphere. Then pressing the golden casket unto his breast, he spake unto God in his grief, and he said:

“O Omnipotent One! Thou who art all-just! look down, I beseech thee, upon this innocent whom his brothers have so foully slain, and grant unto me vengeance for his blood. His murderers, O God, are my sons, but I, their most unhappy father, beg of Thee to sear their wicked hearts that they may never again know joy or peace in the world. O Lord of the World, I long for the earth to cover me, but let me not go hence until a warrior, mighty to avenge, shall be sprung from the loins of Irij; then will I depart with joy, for I am weary of turmoil and strife.”

Thus cried Feridoun in the bitterness of his soul, and, refusing to quit the garden of Irij, he threw himself upon the grass, and, his white locks wet with dew, he lay night after night under the stars. Yea, the earth was his couch, and he watered the garden with his tears, and lo! he moved not from the spot until the grass had grown above his bosom, and his eyes were stricken with blindness from much weeping. And, moaning continually, in his agony he lamented:

“O my son! My gentle Irij! Never prince died a death so pitiful as thine!”

Now all the land wept and bemoaned the death of Irij, and the sorrow which had come unto the great King, so that for many years Iran was like unto a house of mourning. And the voice of lamentation ceased not in the land until the happy day upon which they placed in the arms of Feridoun a babe, fair and strong, the hero destined to avenge the gentle Irij’s death. But of this you must hear in another story.

MINUCHIR THE AVENGER

The old Persian chronicles relate that the Princess of Yemen wedded by Irij, son of Feridoun, bare unto him an only child, a daughter fair and sweet as a garden in spring. Now the fame of her beauty travelled far, and kings became her suitors. But her grandsire, giving her the desire of her heart, wedded her unto Pescheng, a hero of Jemshid’s race; and, in the course of time, there was born unto them a son who, in form and feature, resembled the lost Irij.

Now great was the rejoicing on the occasion of his birth, and, when he was yet a tender babe, they carried him unto the aged Feridoun, saying:

“O Shelter of the Universe, rejoice! for here is thy loved Irij come back unto thee a sweet and smiling babe.”

Then,

“The old man’s lips, with smiles apart,
Bespoke the gladness of his heart.
And in his arms he took the boy
The harbinger of future joy;
Delighted that indulgent Heaven
To his fond hopes the pledge had given.
It seemed as if, to bless his reign,
Irij had come to life again.”

But alas! as Feridoun held the child in his arms, a mighty yearning took possession of him to behold the face of this babe like unto his gentle Irij. Vain, however, was his desire, for as you know, he was blind. Then in his longing he cried aloud unto the Almighty, and he said:

“O Lord of the World, in Thine infinite goodness, grant unto me the sight of my eyes, that I may behold this image of my son.”

And God was good unto Feridoun; for, even as he prayed, his eyes were opened, and his sight rested upon the babe who, pleased with his grandsire’s hoary locks, smiled up at him and cooed in glee; seeing which, Feridoun gave thanks unto Ormuzd, and called down blessings upon the child, naming him Minuchir. For he said, “Lo, a branch worthy of a noble stock hath borne fruit.”

As for the child, he was nourished with the greatest care during his infancy, in the house of Feridoun, who bestowed upon him a mother’s tenderness, suffering neither sorrow nor ill to come near unto him. So the years passed over his head, and the stars brought him naught but good. And, as he grew up, his grandfather had him carefully instructed in every art necessary to form the character, and acquire the accomplishments of a warrior. Brought up in the saddle, he could ride as no other; with his spear could he pierce all shields; with his arrow shoot farther and straighter than any in Feridoun’s court; while in wrestling, he overcame the strongest. And, in addition to his prowess, he possessed all the personal charm which had so endeared Irij to the whole world, so that the army adored him as no other.

Now when the young Minuchir was come unto years of maturity, Feridoun gave unto him a throne of gold and a mace; he also decorated his brow with the crown of sovereignty, and bestowed upon him the key unto all his treasures. And when this was accomplished, he commanded his nobles that they should do homage unto him as King. Now at this important ceremony, there were gathered about the throne, Karun, the brawny son of Kavah; Serv, King of Yemen; the great Neriman, and many other mighty princes and heroes of renown, more than tongue can name. But the young King outshone them all in strength and beauty and valor; and joy took up her abode once more in Iran.

And, presently, tidings of the splendor and glory of the new Shah pierced even unto the ears of Selim and Tur, who, hearing of the intrepidity and valor of Minuchir, and of the immense army that had flocked to his standard with the purpose of forwarding his plans for revenge, were filled with inexpressible terror; for they feared an immediate invasion of their kingdoms.

Thus alarmed, these slayers of their brother counselled long together, finally determining to try the efficacy of rich gifts and conciliatory language, hoping thus to regain the good-will of Feridoun, and also to lure Minuchir into their power, for they feared him greatly.

In pursuance of their plan, therefore, the two brothers loaded a train of elephants and dromedaries with rich treasure: gold, and silver, and jewels, and other articles of priceless value; and a messenger was despatched with them charged with abundant acknowledgment of guilt, and profuse expressions of repentance.

Now when the messenger arrived at the court of Feridoun, at once he delivered the magnificent presents, the sight of which caused the old monarch to observe unto Minuchir, who in all his splendid robes of state was seated upon the golden throne at his side:

“These gifts, O my son, are unto thee a prosperous and hopeful omen; they show that thy enemy is afraid of thee.”

Then, all being in readiness, the great Shah commanded that the messenger be given audience, who, when he had performed obeisance, thus stated his mission: