Chapter VIII: Part 8

“Methinks I see before me another wild ass for my lasso. Come forward, Puny One, for verily Hujir is lonely in his captivity.”

Now having thus spoken, with a smile of exultation Sohrab rode forward to his second encounter; and the maid, at his approach, let fly a storm of arrows, attacking him first from one side, then from the other. Yea, the missiles fell thick like hail, whizzing about the hero’s head so that he could not defend himself, and behold, he was angry and ashamed, for was not the whole army gazing upon his discomfiture?

Nevertheless, it was a pretty sight to watch the maid! For, as she rapidly wheeled her horse from side to side, now retiring and now advancing, smiting her shield with her spear to frighten the hero’s horse, and raining her shower of arrows, verily she seemed the personification of dexterity and skill, and it looked as if the overthrow of Sohrab was at hand.

But, though for a time the contest was doubtful, the advantage was not to be always upon the side of the maiden. For Sohrab, mortified and enraged, advanced with fury, regarding not the arrows. But think not that he dismayed Gurdafrid a whit! Nay, for when she saw him approach, dexterously she threw her bow over her shoulder, put her spear in rest, and galloped to meet him. Then Sohrab, drawing his spear back until the point was almost level with his body, delivered it with all his force, striking Gurdafrid upon the girdle. Now the force of the blow was so great that it burst the fastenings of her coat of mail and hurled her from her saddle like a ball struck by a racquet, and you would have said that now the contest was ended. But not so, for, quick as a flash, the maiden twisted herself under her saddle, drew a sword from out her girdle, and cut Sohrab’s spear in half. Then, having performed this feat, quickly she sprang again into her saddle and turned to go, for she was weary from the fierceness of the combat, and she saw that the day was hers.

But Sohrab, perceiving her intent, slackening the reins of his horse, galloped after the fleeing one at full speed, and, having come up with her, boldly grasped the helmet from her head; for he desired to look upon the face of the hero who could thus withstand the son of Rustem. Imagine his surprise, therefore, when from out the iron helm there rolled coil upon coil of beautiful dusky hair! For this informed him that his valiant adversary was no battle-tried warrior, but only a fair young maid. Now confounded at this most astonishing discovery, Sohrab cried:

“O Valiant One, truly thou confoundest me! For if all the daughters of Iran are like unto thee, then not even the mightiest hero can conquer thy land.”

But though overwhelmed with astonishment, Sohrab neglected not to make captive his fair prisoner, though he dreamed not that as he bound her with his lasso, even so was she snaring him with her bright eyes. For continually he gazed at Gurdafrid with ever-increasing admiration, and he said:

“O Moon of Beauty, I understand it not, but verily thy soft radiance delighteth my heart more than thy brilliant splendor in battle. Seek not to escape me, therefore, for surely never captive like unto thee hath fallen into the hands of hero.”

Then Gurdafrid, beholding the spell which her beauty wrought in the heart of the hero, turned unto him her fair face that was unveiled, for she perceived no other means of safety. Nevertheless, she spake derisively unto Sohrab, and she said:

“O Hero without Flaw! verily I envy thee not. For will not thy army laugh and jibe when they learn that the brave Sohrab was all but o’ercome by a woman? Let us hide this adventure, therefore, lest thy cheek have cause to blush because of me; and let us conclude a peace between us. For verily the Fort with all its soldiers and treasure now belongeth unto thee; thou hast only to follow and take possession of thine own.”

Alas! Sohrab was too young and ardent not to be affected by the beauty and witchery of the maid, as well as by the fear of derision, so he was easily beguiled into following his fair captive unto the Fort. And he said:

“Verily, thou doest well to make peace with me, Fair Warrior-Maid, for though the walls of thy fortress were as high as the vaults of heaven, my club would easily level them unto the ground.”

Now so speaking, the gallant Sohrab and his captive came unto the entrance of the Fort. And behold, Gustahem, when he saw their approach, opened unto them the portal, and the warrior-maid stepped leisurely over the threshold. But alas! when Sohrab would have followed after her, he was not able, for the door had swung quickly to, leaving him upon the outside. Then Sohrab knew that he had been duped, and his fury knew no bounds. And—would you believe it?—as he yet lingered, overcome with surprise and shame, lo, the beautiful warrior-maiden came out upon the battlements, and there floated down unto the hero, from her smiling lips, words of poison coated o’er with honey. And she said;

“Why, I wonder, doth the Mighty Lord of the Tartars—the Invincible Sohrab—weary himself with waiting? Surely, since he cannot stand before a mere woman, he will fall an easy prey unto the great Rustem, when the Pehliva learneth that vile robbers from Turan have broken into the land, hoping to subdue it unto black-hearted Afrasiab.”

So spake the triumphant maiden, and as the mocking words floated down unto Sohrab, verily he raged with all the fury of a wild elephant. And he cried:

“Treacherous One, well mayest thou mock! but I swear, by Ormuzd and all the Peri of Paradise, that yet will I bring thee into subjection. And upon that day, verily thou shalt pay dearly for thy guile and thy double-faced words.”

But the maiden, beholding how the Hero raged, laughed tormentingly, giving no heed unto his words. Then, leaning far over the battlements, so that her bewitching face was once more plainly visible to the discomfited Sohrab, again she mocked. And she said:

“Such noble stature! Such arms, and such a chest! What a pity that it should become food for jackals! Such strength, and such softness of heart! And yet, I fear me the stupid cow will soon be ruminating upon the grass which covers thy grave. Ah, woe is me!”

Now Sohrab was covered with shame that he must hear such derisive words. Nevertheless, the dauntless spirit of the maiden delighted him, while the soft, mocking lips, the fair, flushed cheeks, and the laughing, dark eyes exercised a strange fascination over him, causing his heart to beat with more than shame and anger. Realizing, however, that he could not hope to compete with his fair adversary in a battle of words, he now replied proudly unto her:

“Fair Mocker! I go; but if the Fort be not surrendered by dawn to-morrow, then shall it be levelled to the dust!”

And, having thus hurled at the Warrior-maid this telling bomb, the hero gave rein unto his horse, and galloped back unto the army, followed by the sweet, mocking laugh of Gurdafrid, which rang in his ears like beautiful, tantalizing music.

True to his word, however, at dawn Sohrab marched with his army against the Fort. But as they drew near they beheld not a single soldier upon the walls, and upon advancing unto the gates, they were found to be open, while there remained not a single armed man in the place. You see, the truth was that the governor of the Fort, well knowing the fate that awaited them if they tarried until Sohrab stormed its walls, had escaped with all his people, in the darkness of the night, by a secret passage known only unto the Persians.

So thus was Sohrab again outwitted, and thus also vanished the Warrior-maid, so beautiful and so brave, from the sight and grasp of the bold eaglet who had flown so gayly and confidently forth from the heights of Samengan to conquer the world.

THE WRATH OF RUSTEM

Now although Sohrab, the son of Rustem, was known throughout the length and breadth of Turan as a valiant young warrior, yet up to the time of his adventure with the Warrior-maid his fame had not spread unto Iran.

But this was now to be changed. For behold, the governor of the White Fort, when forced to give into the hands of Sohrab this key to the heart of the empire, hastily sent forth a swift messenger bearing a letter unto Kaikous the Shah. And the letter told how that an army, like unto locusts for multitude, had flown forth from Turan, at whose head rode a chief whose head towered above the stars, and whose prowess, though he was still but a child in years—shamed that of the lion, the dragon, and the fierce crocodile. Yea, and he told how that Hujir had been overcome and taken prisoner by this great champion, and how he now threatened to overrun and conquer all Persia, unless the great Shah right speedily opposed his progress.

Now Kaikous, when he had read the letter of Gustahem, was greatly troubled. So he called about him his nobles to take counsel, and behold, with one accord they cried:

“Verily, Rustem alone can deliver us from this great peril!”

So the Shah hastily summoned a scribe, dictating unto him a letter. And he said:

“O mighty Pehliva, whose glorious deeds have ever caused the throne of light to shine with splendor greater than the sun, behold, once more thy country calleth thee unto her aid! For lo! among the Tartar host there hath appeared a mighty champion whose like hath never been seen save in the house of Saum and Neriman. Already hath he demolished the White Fort, and only Rustem can bar the path that leadeth to the throne. Come quickly, then, to Iran’s aid, rivalling the wind-footed dromedary in thy speed. Be it night or day, tarry not e’en to speak the word that hangeth upon thy lips, and if thou bearest roses in thy hands, stop not to smell them, lest Sohrab conquering come and all be lost.”

Now having finished the letter, the Shah gave it unto a warrior named Gew to carry unto Rustem. And he said:

“O my Pehliva, truly my soul suffereth an agony of fear! Haste thou, therefore, unto the great Champion, pausing for neither rest nor food. And when thou art come unto thy journey’s end, do not linger there for even an hour, for my heart crieth, haste! haste! and truly the need is great.”

So Gew departed, pausing for naught until he set foot within the gates of Rustem. And so great was his speed that the watchman upon the tower at Zabulistan, noting his approach, marvelled greatly, hastening quickly unto Rustem with the news. And he said:

“O Mighty One, the watch-tower revealeth a warrior coming by the way of Persia, riding like the wind. I fear me that he bringeth bad news.”

Now being thus informed, at once Rustem and his chiefs rode out to meet the messenger, as was the Oriental custom. And when he beheld that it was Gew, he greeted him cordially, for they were old comrades in arms. Being informed of his mission, however, and of the strength and courage of the gallant young Tartar, who was causing the Shah such agony of soul, Rustem marvelled greatly. And he said:

“Verily, I should not have been surprised if such a hero as thou namest had arisen in Iran; but that a warrior of such renown should spring forth from amidst the Tartar horde is certainly past belief. Yet thou sayest—dost thou?—that the lineage of this Pehliva, so like unto Saum and the great heroes of my house, is Turanian? Strange! Now I myself have a child whom the daughter of a Tartar King bare unto me; but the child is a girl. And even if it were a son, it is yet but an infant, while that which thou sayest hath been done, surely it is not the work of a babe! But enter, I pray thee, into my house, and we will then confer further as to this matter.”

Then Rustem, seeing that his guest was fatigued, commanded that a great banquet be made ready, and he feasted his comrade so royally that he caused him to forget both care and time. But when morn was come, Gew remembered the commands of his Shah, and he spake thereof unto his host, who replied unto him:

“O my brave comrade! Behold, we must all die some day. Let us, therefore, bask in the sunshine of the present! As for this Tartar, disquiet not thyself concerning him, for though he be a hero, the like of which the world hath not seen, verily he shall fall into my hands! But all in good time! To-day, however, we will feast, for I perceive that thy lips are yet parched with the speed of thy journey.”

So Rustem made ready another banquet, and for three days the comrades feasted and made merry without ceasing. But on the fourth day Gew, who feared the anger of the Shah, uprose with resolve, appearing before his host girt for departure. And he said:

“O Glory of Iran, generous hath been thy hospitality, and long will it warm the heart of Gew! It behooveth us now, however, to return unto the Shah. For behold! the fear of Sohrab weigheth upon his soul like a nightmare, and he burneth with impatience, since sleep and rest have deserted his pillow, and hunger and thirst are exercising their dominion over him! Let us make haste, therefore, for well thou knowest that Kaikous is a man senseless and easily aroused to wrath.”

But Rustem, smiling, replied with easy courtesy unto Gew:

“Really, comrade, there is no need for such haste! It is true that thou art right about Kaikous, but as for his anger, let it give thee not a moment’s anxiety! For verily the man liveth not who dareth to be wroth with Rustem.”

Nevertheless, his army being now recruited, the great Pehliva commanded that Rakush be saddled, and they set forth unto the Court; and great was the train that followed after them. And behold, when they were come near unto the King’s palace, a great company of nobles rode out to meet them to do honor unto the Glory of Iran, and to conduct him into the presence of the Shah.

So, presently, Rustem entered the great audience-room of kings and, advancing unto the throne, performed obeisance unto the Lord of the World. But alas! Kaikous was black with rage, and so, opening the doors of his mouth, words of folly escaped his lips. And he said:

“So thou art come at last, O Insolent Pehliva! Verily, it is well. And now I should like to ask, ‘Who is Rustem, indeed, that he dareth to defy my power and disobey my commands?’ Truly, if I had a sword in my hand at this moment, like an orange would I split his head, half in half, and throw it unto the jackals! As I have not—Guards, seize him!—for I will that he be hanged alive upon the nearest gallows, and that his name be blotted out from the list of my heroes.”

Now Gew, when he heard these words of anger, was confounded, and in his sore dismay he cried unto the King:

“O Lord of the World, wilt thou really lay hands upon Rustem? I pray thee, forget not that he alone is the bulwark of the throne—yea, e’en as he and his house have ever been through long generations!”

But alas! Gew’s words of wisdom but fanned the blaze of the King’s anger. Beside himself with fury, therefore, he raged in his wrath like unto a mad elephant, shouting with a roar that made the very throne tremble:

“Guards! Seize yon barking dog also, and hang him alive with the other. Haste! Out of my presence!”

Now at this, Tus, who feared that Kaikous in his mad rage might do unto the Mighty One an injury, laid his hand gently upon that of Rustem, to lead him from the audience-chamber; but the Pehliva would not suffer it. Breaking away from his grasp, therefore, he stood boldly before Kaikous, his anger rivalling that of the King. And he said:

“Petty Monarch, darest thou really to rage at me—Rustem? Verily thou shalt bitterly rue thy temerity! And now, in turn I ask of thee, ‘Who, after all, is Kaikous that he ventureth to talk of the gallows unto me—Rustem?’ Listen, and I will tell it unto thee:

“Verily, Kaikous is that madman who led his brave army into Mazinderan and Hamaveran, and who also winged his foolish flight, once upon a time, into heaven; Kaikous is that Shah who hath ever in his folly brought derision and shame unto Iran and sorrow and woe unto his subjects; Kaikous is the monarch who ever sendeth for his Pehliva when danger threateneth, instead of going boldly forth himself to meet his foes—aye Kaikous is a brave fellow! for, hath he not the heart of a mouse and the head of that stubborn creature who flappeth his long ears and brayeth unto the moon?

“And now, having disposed of the glorious Kous, I will answer unto thee as to Rustem:

“Verily, Rustem is the son of Zal and Saum and Neriman, heroes who have ever supported the throne of light, and but for whom Kaikous would never have sat upon its seat; Rustem is a free man, being slave unto none and servant alone unto God, who hath given unto him his glorious strength and courage; Rustem is the Pehliva whose deeds shine as the sun in a dark world, and who again and again hath been entreated to take his true place upon the throne of Iran; Rustem is the Champion who hath the world at his feet, and yet who hath desired no throne except Rakush, no crown but his helmet, and no sceptre but his grandsire’s mighty club; yea, Rustem is the Pehliva who, times without number, hath risked his life to save the illustrious Kous from the penalty of his foolish deeds.

“But at last, O Senseless One, hath Rustem reached the end of his patience. And now he sayeth unto thee, behold, when the brave Tartar chieftain cometh, go thyself out to meet him—thou who art brave, and wise, and full of strength and valor like unto the Shahs of Old! Perchance thou canst then use thy boasted gallows for him. But as for Rustem, verily thou shalt see him no more in the land of Persia, for he is sick unto death of thy follies.”

Thus spake the Great Rustem in his wrath, and having finished, fearlessly he turned him, and strode unhindered from out the presence-chamber. And having mounted upon Rakush, lo, he vanished, ere the dumfounded Kaikous had rallied from his astonishment.

Now the nobles and chiefs of Iran were greatly troubled by the wrath of Rustem, for they were sheep and the Great Pehliva was their shepherd. So they murmured against Kaikous, saying:

“Truly the Shah, in his anger, hath forgotten all gratitude and decency! else how dare he threaten the Great Rustem, to whom he oweth his life and his throne, with the vile gallows? Verily, the wrath of the Mighty One is righteous! But what, alas, is to become of Iran, if her only invincible Champion forsaketh her now that so great a peril threateneth?”

So talked the nobles of Iran, and finally in their dilemma they decided to choose a mediator, Gudarz the Aged, who should stand before the King; and, though the mission was fraught with danger, Gudarz quailed not, but spake long and without fear unto the Shah, counting over, as a string of pearls, each glorious deed of Rustem. And having so spoken, then fearlessly he reproached the weak monarch with ingratitude. And he said:

“O King of Kings, can it really be possible that so soon thou hast blotted out from thy book of remembrance all that Rustem hath done for thee and this land? How he conquered Mazinderan and the Great White Deev; and how he gave back unto thee the sight of thy eyes? Yet now as his reward thou commandest that he be hanged alive upon a gallows, thou who art King only by his grace! Now I ask thee to answer me truly—is this the justice of a great and wise Monarch, or that worthy of the great King of Kings?”

Alas! beholding his acts, spread out thus naked before him, Kaikous was ashamed of that which he had said in his anger. So, humbling himself before Gudarz, he said:

“O white-haired Pehliva, verily thou speakest well! The words of a mighty monarch should be those of wisdom and not such as provoke wrath. Go, therefore, unto Rustem and say unto him that Kaikous repenteth him of his bitter words and calleth him back to be his most honored Pehliva.”

So, thus armed, swiftly Gudarz rode forth in search of the angry Rustem, and behold, all the mighty chiefs of Iran joined themselves unto him, so that there was a great company. Now they rode fast and far before they overtook the anger-spurred hero, but when they were finally come up with him, lo, the entire company prostrated themselves in the dust before him. And Gudarz said:

“O Hero of Heroes! Listen, I pray thee, unto the words of an aged warrior who loveth both thee and Iran well. Now truly thy wrath is just, and so have I said unto Kaikous, whose thoughts in his anger o’erflow like unto new wine that fermenteth, being sour and bitter unto the taste. But, though hasty, the Shah soon repenteth him of his anger, and behold, already is he both ashamed and sorry for his ingratitude unto the Pehliva, who is the light of his eyes and the support of his throne!

“Now as for Kaikous—alas! For yet oft must the sun revolve above his head ere he learneth the wisdom of the great—even as hath been so aptly said by Zal, thy silver-crowned father. But behold, the whole world knoweth that Rustem is noble of mind as well as wise, and brave, and strong of limb! And though he be justly angered against the Shah, yet hath Iran done no wrong that it should be left to fall into the hands of black-hearted Afrasiab.”

So spake the aged Gudarz in his wisdom. But alas! though so aptly spoken, the words fell upon deaf ears, for Rustem was still in a towering rage. Turning unto the old man, therefore, he said:

“Speak not unto me of Kaikous, Brave Gudarz—either of his anger or his repentance—for what is he unto me but a grain of vile dust? Behold, Rustem feareth only his Creator, and from henceforth Him alone will he serve. As for Kaikous, let him do his worst, for verily I am not only sick, but ashamed in my soul of his weakness and follies, and I will fight no more of his battles.”

Now when the nobles heard these words, they wailed in sorrow, and cast dust upon their heads. But Gudarz despaired not, for he had not grown old at the Court without learning much of human nature, which he knew to be the same in a great hero as in ordinary mortals. So, in his wisdom, he still held in reserve a barbed arrow, sharp enough to pierce even the armor of the invincible Rustem; and this he now shot forth, saying gently unto the hero:

“O Glorious One, all that thou sayest, verily it is just and true! But it appeareth unto me that there remaineth somewhat still to be considered. For, when it shall be learned throughout the land that the Mighty Rustem—undisputed Champion of the Whole World—hath fled before the face of a much-heralded Tartar chief, young and full of prowess, will not all the warriors say:

“‘Alas! alas! We had not thought it, but truly Rustem is getting past his prime. What a pity that a hero’s glory vanisheth so quickly, when he beginneth to grow old! Now soon will Rustem also be heard of no more, for since he feareth this valiant young Tartar, surely he must be a mighty hero, who will soon supplant the Elephant-limbed as Champion of the World.’

“Yea, greatly I fear, O mighty One, that not only this, but much more bitter unto the taste will be said. Therefore I, Gudarz the Aged, ask thee: Is it wise, at this hour, to turn from thy allegiance unto the Shah, thus tarnishing thy glory and causing the downfall of Iran to rest upon thy head? Verily, nay; for thy retreat would be the path of folly, which thy soul hateth. Put from thee, therefore, the empty words of Kaikous, and lead us forth unto battle against this Tartar. For verily it must not be said that Rustem feared to fight a beardless boy!”

Thus sharp was the poison-tipped arrow of Gudarz, and not fruitlessly did it speed unto its mark. For behold! Rustem stood confounded by this view of the matter, such thoughts being new unto him. Rallying from his surprise, however, he said proudly unto the Shah’s messenger:

“Verily, if by searching, Rustem could find one atom of fear in his heart, quickly would he tear his soul from his body in shame! But the slayer of the Great White Deev needeth not to vindicate his courage, for it is known unto all the world.”

So spake Rustem. Nevertheless, he continued to ponder the words of Gudarz, for he knew them to be the message of an old man grown wise in the thoughts of men. And so, the current of his anger being changed, soon he decided to do for the sake of Iran, what he knew to be right. For, though he really feared not for his glory, yet well he knew that none but Rustem could meet this crisis in the history of his country. And besides, deep in his soul was the longing to meet this vaunted Tartar champion and joy once more in battle.

Therefore, great were the shouts of joy when, in obedience to his master’s hand, Rakush faced once more toward Persia. But verily it was with proud step and uplifted head that the hero appeared once more before the Shah. When Kaikous beheld Rustem, however, so great was his relief that he stepped down from off his throne to welcome him, saying unto him in deep humility of spirit:

“O glorious Pehliva! Verily, I am foolish of soul, as thou sayest, and not worthy to sit upon the throne of light. But must not a man be as Ormuzd hath made him? Now thou art brave, but alas! my heart was full of fear because of this mighty Tartar, and I looked unto thee for safety, for art thou not the bulwark of my throne? But, though haste is my birthright, long thou wert in coming, and so in my wrath I spake unto thee foolish words, though now my mouth is full of dust.”

So spake the contrite Shah, and Rustem, beholding his humility, replied unto

“O King of Kings! Verily the world is thy footstool, and all its inhabitants thy slaves, for such is the prerogative of the Shahs. As for Rustem, ever hath his loins been girt in fealty unto Iran, and so may it ever be while he liveth.”

So, peace being once more restored, Kaikous made a great feast, inviting unto it all his heroes. But of all the mighty ones present, none were lauded save only Rustem, the Champion of the World, before whom rich gifts were poured—yea, until mountain high rose the enormous pile! Then, and not until then, did Kaikous say unto the slaves “enough!” for Rustem would have no more. And now all was well again within the gates of the Shah, for lo! the wrath of Rustem had been appeased.

RUSTEM THE SPY

Behold! on the morning following the reconciling feast of Kaikous and Rustem, the Shah caused the clarions of war to be sounded throughout the city, calling the loyal sons of Iran to go forth to meet the Tartar host. Now over one hundred thousand horsemen in glittering mail responded unto the call, so that the earth was covered with warriors like unto blades of grass, and all the air was darkened with their spears. A troop of ponderous war-elephants also accompanied the legions, making the ground tremble beneath their mighty tread.

Thus marched the army, and so imposing was it that when at evening they pitched their tents, and the torches gleamed in the canvas streets, the camp seemed like unto a great city. So, marching by day and resting at night, the legions finally drew near unto the White Castle, where Sohrab still remained, preparing his forces for an advance upon the capital. When they were come unto the plains where stood the great fortress, however, they set up their tents silently in the dead of night, planning a surprise for the Tartars.

Now thus it happened that, the black veil of night being lifted, behold, the watchman upon the high towers of the White Fortress saw spread out on the plains before him an immense white city, set up as by magic. Surprised and dismayed, therefore, he set up a great shout, which at once brought Sohrab and Human, the two great Tartar chiefs, out upon the ramparts.

And behold! when Human saw upon every side the mighty Persian legions, looking so brave and formidable, he grew suddenly pale, and trembled like unto an aspen. But Sohrab, demanding a cup of wine, drank unto their destruction, speaking words of cheer unto his companion. And he said:

“Look, Brave Human! There are many men in this hostile army, it is true, but within its ranks I see no hero with mighty mace who can stand against the fearless son of Rustem. When that mighty champion himself appeareth, then will it be time indeed for us to rally our courage. But as for these others—why, they are but dogs! And see, I spit upon them! for without Rustem to inspire them, they have neither courage nor heart.”

So saying, Sohrab went down from the ramparts, and proceeding unto his pavilion, which was pitched upon the plain in front of the Fort, he invited his great warriors and chiefs unto a banquet. Yea, gayly he issued his invitations, saying unto his guests:

“To-day let us feast; let us banquet to-day,
For to-morrow to battle we’ll hasten away.”

But behold! at Sohrab’s banquet there was to be one uninvited guest. For when night had swathed the earth in darkness, Rustem the Mighty went boldly unto the King, demanding permission to go forth unarmed to spy out the forces of the enemy, and to learn the character of the chieftains opposed unto him—particularly of Sohrab, whose renown had aroused such dread in the heart of Kaikous.

So, permission being granted, the dauntless Rustem clad himself in the dress of a Tartar, and thus disguised, under the cover of darkness, he stole forth like a lion which stalketh a herd of antelopes, penetrating into the very presence of the great Sohrab and his warriors as they sat at their feast. Now so stealthy had been his advance that none dreamed of his presence as they feasted and made merry around the festal board—nay, not even the valiant Sohrab, as he sat relating unto his warriors some of the mighty deeds of the heroes of old.

Wherefore, as Rustem stood by the door watching, he beheld that the young Champion was like unto a tall cypress of good sap, while round about him were seated more than a hundred brave warriors, scarcely equalled in the Persian army—so fiery and courageous appeared they as they listened unto the inspiring tales of Sohrab. And it was indeed a festive scene! For torches gave back the flash of arms, and the gleam of eyes eager for the morrow’s battle, even as they were now bright with the red wine which slaves poured from golden bugles into the crystal glasses before them. And behold, not only was there glorious fare to delight the palate, but music to charm the ear! So gayety and merriment ruled the hour; neither did they dream of coming sorrow.

But as Rustem watched the scene from the shadow of the door, presently it came to pass that Zendeh, one of the warriors, having occasion to go forth, came nigh unto the spot where the Hero was concealed. Now Zendeh was brother unto the Princess Tamineh, who had sent him forth with her son that he might point out unto him his father, whom he alone knew of all the army. And the Princess did this that harm might not befall should the two champions meet in battle. But alas! as Zendeh retired from the banquet, it chanced that he perceived the shadow of some one in ambush. So, advancing unto the place where Rustem was hidden, he said quietly:

“Vile Persian! Come forth into the light that I may see thy face. For well I know, by thy stature, that thou belongest unto Iran.”

Now unto this Rustem answered never a word. But ere Zendeh had ceased from speaking, he struck him so fierce a blow upon the nape of the neck that he laid him dead at his feet. So, though there was to be no more feasting and fighting for Zendeh, yet so swift and silent had been Death’s messenger, that the revellers within dreamed not that the Dark Angel still hovered at the door.

But presently Sohrab, beholding his uncle’s place at the table still vacant, asked wherefore he tarried; and, attention being thus called to his long absence, one of the chiefs went forth to seek him. Now in so doing he found the body of the unfortunate warrior cold upon the pavement. Quickly returning unto Sohrab, therefore, he related unto him in an awed voice the fatal happening. But Sohrab would not believe that, almost within their midst, without a struggle or cry, death could have so suddenly o’ertaken his uncle. So, commanding that torches be brought, he ran quickly unto the spot of the tragedy, followed by all the warriors and bright singing-girls. But alas! here Sohrab found that the bad news was indeed true; and being sore grieved, he said unto his nobles:

“Woe! Woe unto Turan! For behold! the wolf hath stolen into the fold and, in spite of the shepherds and the dogs, hath taken the best of the flock. But verily, God helping me, I will be fully avenged for the death of Zendeh!”

Now having thus spoken, Sohrab came back unto his place at the table and continued the feast. For, though his own heart was heavy with sorrow, he wished not the spirits of his warriors to be dampened by pity, or fear of this terrible, silent, unknown foe. Raising his glass unto his lips, therefore, he cried lustily:

“Drink, my brave comrades, drink! Death to the slayer of Zendeh, and destruction, utter and sure, unto the Persian host.”

So the warriors and chiefs all drank, standing upon their feet; and as the hours passed by, Sohrab continued to fan into a yet more glowing flame the lust of battle which slumbered in each warrior’s soul, so that finally one and all desired naught but death unto the Persians, and a glorious victory for Sohrab, their gallant young leader, whom they toasted with such mighty shouts of pride and joy that it was heard even within the lines of Iran.

As for Rustem, having accomplished his purpose, after silencing Zendeh, he returned quickly and silently unto the Persian camp, knowing not that his victim was the loved brother of Tamineh, who was to have stood between Sohrab and his fate.

But behold, as Rustem would have entered the Persian lines he encountered Gew, who was acting that night as sentry. Now as this doughty warrior suddenly perceived—looming up mountain-high out of the darkness—a warrior clad in the garb of a Tartar, his heart quaked with fear, for he thought that surely he had to do with Sohrab, the terrible Tartar Champion. Nevertheless, he quickly drew his sword ready for combat, challenging the invader to give his name and errand.

Now this demand was greeted by a burst of mighty laughter, for Rustem, surmising from the quaver in Gew’s voice what his thought had been, could not but enjoy the situation. Still laughing, therefore, he said unto Gew:

“Brave comrade! tremble not so. For lo! thou beholdest before thee a most harmless creature—Rustem the Spy—who returneth from the banquet of Sohrab and his chiefs. Now Sohrab presenteth his compliments unto Gew, the brave warrior of the Persians, saying that he will be unable to meet him until to-morrow, when he will hurl forth unto him his challenge to combat.”

So spake the Mighty Rustem unto Gew, twitting him yet again upon his lion’s roar and his great disappointment at being deprived of his much-longed-for combat with Sohrab. Then when they had laughed together, Rustem described unto Gew his adventure, ceasing not to sing the praise of Sohrab, who, he said, had not his equal in the world.

Whereupon, having thus spoken, the Great Champion said good-night unto his comrade, bidding him roar gently in case of danger. And so with merry jest ended the adventure of Rustem the Spy.

THE COMBAT OF SOHRAB AGAINST RUSTEM

Give ear unto the combat of Sohrab against Rustem, though it be a tale replete with tears. So runneth the legend as told by Firdusi. But upon the morning after the night of feasting in his pavilion, tears were far from the eyes of brave Sohrab. For was he not bent upon the accomplishment of great deeds? Yea, and did he not hope soon to behold the face of his illustrious father?

But alas! a bitter disappointment awaited the hero in the early morning, for in vain did he try to learn from Hujir, the defeated champion of the White Fort, which of the mighty warriors encamped upon the plains before them was Rustem, the great hero of the Persians. For that brave patriot, fearing for the safety of Iran, refused utterly to discover the identity of the Great Champion unto his enemy, even though Sohrab strongly suspected a certain great warrior in a green tent, who was, indeed, Rustem.

Defeated in this endeavor, therefore, Sohrab returned unto the Fort, where, donning his chain mail and arming himself, he and his band of sturdy warriors sallied forth unto the plain. Now so sudden and swift was the onset that the Persians were taken unawares, so that Sohrab in hurling the army of Turan against the intrenched camp of the Shah, was able to penetrate almost at once unto its very centre. And truly it was a magnificent sight to behold the irresistible charge of this stripling, who, though but a mere youth, yet appeared a very god of war.

But, though taken by surprise, the Persians soon rallied, and then so fearful was the contest that the very earth seemed to shake beneath the shock, and the carnage was fearful. For, though from end to end the plain glittered with bright steel armor, it covered, alas, the forms of fallen heroes as often as it shielded the daring hearts of living riders, since as the tide of battle ebbed and flowed, thousands fell upon either side, night alone putting an end to the fearful conflict.

Now through all the long hours of battle, although Sohrab seemed to be everywhere upon the field, never once did he catch a glimpse of the owner of the green tent, and much he wondered. Nay; not even when he thundered forth words of pride in the very face of the Shah, telling him he had sworn to hang him alive upon a gallows, to avenge the death of Zendeh, and challenging him to combat, did he—or any other champion—stand forth. So great was the terror that his valor had aroused in the hearts of his foes!

But in spite of the day’s successes, that night Sohrab lay wakeful in his tent, restlessly tossing upon his bed of skins, while busy thoughts surged through his brain. Finally, however, when the first faint streak of dawn had crimsoned the eastern sky, behold, the Hero arose, passing through the silent line of tents, until he reached the one set apart for Piran-Wisa, the old chief who had but reached the scene of battle the by-gone eve. Here, lifting the heavy curtain, Sohrab entered silently, but seeing that his old friend was also awake, he said:

“O glorious chief, whose wisdom hath ever been my guiding star, behold, once more I come to seek thy counsel and to make known unto thee a plan which hath kept me wakeful upon my bed.

“Now it is indeed well to fight valiantly and win success upon the field of battle as we did to-day, but for me, Sohrab, that is not enough; for I long without ceasing to perform some mighty deed that shall reach the ears of Rustem, my father, whom I seem destined never to find. So now I have reached a conclusion: I would have thee challenge the bravest of the Persian Pehliva to meet me, man to man, in single combat. If I prevail, Rustem will surely learn of it; while if I fail, no man need hear of me again.”

So spake impetuous Sohrab, and Piran-Wisa listened quietly. When he had finished, however, he said unto him:

“My son, much I love thy valorous spirit, which hath ever striven and longed for the noblest and best. Nevertheless, in this matter I counsel thee to think of thy mother, and be content to share the common risk of battle which falleth unto all alike. Or if thou wouldst seek that loved father whom thou hast never seen, seek him where men say he now dwelleth, in far-off Seistan with his aged father Zal.”

But to this wise advice Sohrab replied passionately:

“Alas, good old Piran! Canst thou not understand that I wish not to go unto my father empty-handed? I am so proud of him, and with reason I must make him proud of his son also. For are we not of the same noble blood? And see! am I not tall, and strong, and brave, like unto my father? Fear not, therefore, for truly I will overcome the bravest of the warriors sent out by the Persians to meet me. Then surely the great Rustem will hear of it and I shall perhaps meet him.”

Now though Piran-Wisa liked not the plan, yet could he not withstand Sohrab’s eloquent pleading. For verily who can restrain the eagle in his flight toward the sun?

Having given his consent unto the challenge, therefore, the old general summoned unto him his herald, and taking his ruler’s staff in his hand, he went forth, marshalling the whole Tartar army upon the plain. Then the Persians, noting this move of the enemy, also formed into battle array opposite, bright in burnished steel and splendid in rank upon rank of brave warriors.

And presently, all being in readiness, Piran-Wisa advanced unto the front, while the herald blew a blast upon his trumpet to make known that he had something to say. Then silence, deep and thrilling, reigned in both great armies as Piran, in ringing tones, offered Sohrab’s challenge.

And when the Tartar host heard called the name of their champion, behold, they rent the air with their shouts, cheering long and loud for Sohrab. No Persian, they felt sure, could match their gallant young leader, who now, in all the pride of his youth and strength, advanced and stood by Piran-Wisa’s side.

But alas! unexpected was this call unto the Persians, and as a consequence deep silence reigned within the lines of Iran. For so great was the fear of Sohrab that no man dared take up the challenge. After the first shock, however, from mouth to mouth there was breathed the one word: Rustem! Rustem! So quickly Kaikous sent a messenger unto the Great Pehliva, saying:

“O Mighty One! Come quickly, for behold, the faces of my warriors grow pale before this young Tartar, and only thy sword can cause the sun to weep.”

Now when Gudarz, the messenger, entered the tent of Rustem, the hero rose and greeted him joyfully, both hands outstretched in welcome. “These eyes could see no better sight,” he cried; and added quickly, “What news?”

Then Gudarz delivered his message, hearing which, Rustem frowned, for he remembered the bravery of the Shahs of Old, and the cowardice of Kaikous made him sick with shame. Nevertheless, he said nothing, being too angry for words. Whereupon, Gudarz continued:

“Truly, this young hero is marvellous! and this time, Kaikous is not to be condemned for his terror. For, as I live, the Champion existeth not who can match Sohrab—save only Rustem the Mighty, unto whom all eyes turn.”

But Rustem, who was once more angered at Kaikous, replied bitterly unto Gudarz:

“If the Shah himself feareth to meet this young lion, let him send forth any one of the young striplings whom he, in these days, delighteth to honor. When other Shahs have called me, it hath been sometimes unto battle and sometimes unto the banquet, but behold, Kaikous never calleth me except to fight for him. Therefore, I say, let one of the King’s favorites meet Sohrab to-day; I will fight him to-morrow.”

Gudarz, however, would not listen unto Rustem when he spoke thus of delay, but urged him even as he had upon another great occasion, saying unto him:

“Take heed, O Mighty One, lest men say that thou fearest to peril thy fame with younger men!”

Then Rustem, frowning with displeasure, consented to meet the Champion, but only upon condition that he fight unknown and in plain arms. So, his consent being won, the hero was allowed neither to linger nor to waste time in words; for quickly the nobles buckled upon him his armor, threw his leopard-skin around him, saddled Rakush and made him ready for the strife. Now when he appeared among the Persians they greeted him with mighty shouts of pride and joy, causing the Tartars to wonder much as to the identity of this stalwart Champion fighting in plain armor and giving no name.

But behold! the combatants being now ready, at a signal the Persian and the Tartar hosts formed themselves into two long lines, down which the two great Champions advanced to meet each other.

Now as Rustem moved forward, once more he eyed with wonder the slender youth who dared thus to defy all the most valiant chiefs of the army. Who could he be? Where was he reared? What was there about him so strangely familiar? As he gazed, therefore, suddenly a great pity filled his soul that this noble-spirited youth, so full of life and manly beauty, must shortly be lying upon the sand, his life-blood paying the penalty for his temerity. Verily, never had Rustem, the fierce warrior, felt moved like this before, and so he spake gently unto his adversary, saying:

“O Young Man, the air of heaven is soft and warm, but the grave is damp and cold. Wherefore, then, wilt thou rush upon death? Truly pity filleth my soul at the thought, and I would not take from thee the boon of life. Yet if we combat together, surely wilt thou fall by my hands, for behold! I am vast and clad in iron, and tried, and none have been able to withstand my power—neither man, nor Deev, nor dragon. Desist, therefore, from this perilous enterprise, and come over unto Iran. Then shalt thou be as a son unto me, and fight beneath my banner while I live, winning both honor and fame.”

So spake Rustem, and Sohrab, listening unto his voice, and gazing upon his mighty form, planted like a great tower upon the plain, felt his heart go out unto him strangely. And, a sudden hope filling his soul, eagerly he ran forward, knelt before the hero, and gazing up at him wistfully, said:

“O Glory of the World, verily my heart leapeth forth to greet thee as unto a loved kinsman! Tell unto me, therefore, thy name, for it seemeth unto me that thou must be Rustem, the mighty son of White-haired Zal. For surely unto none other is it given to be so gloriously perfect as thou!”

But Rustem, misunderstanding Sohrab’s ardor, replied coldly unto him, saying.

“Rash Boy! Men look upon Rustem’s face and flee. And well I know that if that mighty hero stood here to-day, then would there be no further talk of fighting. But, unfortunately for thy pride, thou hast now to do with no noble Pehliva, but with a common man, possessing neither throne, nor palace, nor crown.”

Now Rustem spake thus sternly unto the youth that he might be afraid when he beheld his prowess, and think that still greater might was hidden in the camp of the Persians.

But Sohrab, when he heard the words of Rustem, was sad, and his hopes, that had risen so high as he beheld his mighty antagonist, were shattered. Yea, and the day that had looked so bright was made dark unto his eyes. Howbeit, hiding his disappointment, with flashing eyes he replied unto Rustem:

“Fierce Warrior! Thinkest thou to terrify me by thy proud words? If so, verily thou errest. Now it is true that thou art more vast and tried than I, but unto whom will be the victory only the event will teach us in its hour. Yet in one thing, I give thee right: Did Rustem stand where thou art standing now, then, indeed, would there be no combat here to-day. But come! Let us not parley words.”

So the two Champions chose a narrow place, marked out the lists, and mounted upon their powerful steeds, ready for the combat. Now they began the attack by hurling their javelins; and when they were blunted against the steel bucklers they drew their long Indian swords and fell to work again. And behold, when their swords were broken, then they used their clubs. Terrible blows they dealt each other with these implements of war and great was the skill and agility with which they fought, calling forth many a shout of admiration from the breathlessly-watching armies.

Nevertheless, they seemed to be about equally matched in wariness, skill, and strength. For, though Rustem’s eye shot fire as he raised high his spear and hurled it down with swift, unerring aim, quick as a flash Sohrab sprang to one side, and the spear buried itself deep in the sand, doing naught of harm. In return for this, however, Sohrab struck full upon Rustem’s shield, so that the iron rang and rang again. Then Rustem, furious, seized his gigantic club, which no one but himself could wield, and with one mighty stroke would have felled Sohrab to the earth, had he not again been too quick for him in springing aside. But alas! the club came thundering down with such prodigious force that it caused Rustem himself to fall forward and loose his hold upon it. And behold! in an instant, Sohrab could have pierced the fallen hero where he lay. But instead he drew back, without even unsheathing his sword, saying unto his unknown foe:

“O Mighty One! Thou sayest thou art not Rustem. Well, be it so! But who art thou, then, that thou canst so touch my soul? I pray thee, let the fight end here, and let there be peace twixt thee and me.”

But Rustem, trembling with rage and fury, would not hearken unto the words of Sohrab; rather, they increased his wrath and shame. For it was, indeed, bitter for the old Champion to think that he owed his life unto this slight, sunny youth. So, again seizing his spear, with taunting, bitter words he rushed upon Sohrab, attacking him with renewed vigor. Then Sohrab saw that this fight must be to the death, and he, too, allowed the lust of conquest to take full possession of his soul.

Falling to again, therefore, behold, the heroes fought until their spears were shivered, and their swords hacked like unto saws, and all their weapons were bent and broken. Even then, however, they did not desist, but wrestled with each other until the sweat and blood ran down from their bodies and their throats were parched and dry like unto parchment. But at last so weary were they that neither the warriors nor their horses could move more, yet to neither was given the victory. So, with mail shattered and torn, and with bruised and wounded bodies, the exhausted heroes stayed them awhile to rest. Then Rustem said unto himself: