The Reign of Khosrow Parviz (Part 6)

When the lord of the world had read the letters, he seated the envoy on a golden chair. He said: "O man of great knowledge, consider Bahram beneath contempt in my eyes. You have achieved your aim by what you have done — seek no further glory in this affair."

He ordered his secretary to compose the inevitable reply. In those lengthy letters he wrote: "O proud and lofty chieftain — we have read all your letters and received your envoy. In idle talk we stand with Khosrow, but in our hearts we are with you, fresh as spring. When you bring your army to this land and frontier, let Roman warriors worry about the mace. We shall draw our swords clean and cut down the Romans in battle. When Khosrow sees your army, your valor, your standing — his heart will turn idle and trembling. He will flee before you like a fox."

The king sealed the letters. The worthy well-wisher carried them away. The king said to him: "O wise man, from this service you will find the reward of treasure." He gave the man jewels, gold coins, and a great quantity of precious rubies. He said: "Take these to Chobin. Recount to him everything you have heard."

The man went to Chobin and recounted all the things he had heard. When the world-seeker read the letters, he summoned desire and banished reason. From those letters he took up preparations to march. The Iranians were left in astonishment. The elders went to him when they saw his dark course of action. Everyone said: "Do not go from here. By going, this fresh day will grow old. If Khosrow comes to the land of Iran, you will see nothing but the mace and the sword of vengeance. Do not stake everything on this royal throne — time is blindly deceiving you."

Their words had no effect on him. He ordered the army to march out. He rode hard toward Azerbaijan with a valiant army of noblemen. The armies closed in so tightly that they blocked the path of ants and gnats.

The war-seeking chieftain said: "I will inspect the enemy forces. Let me see who these Roman cavalrymen are, what kind of soldiers they have, who their champions are." The warriors mounted their horses — Yalan Sineh and the chief Izad Gushasp. The nobles set out to observe the battle-hungry army. When they had seen the forces, they returned to their leader and reported: "This is a boundless army. They exceed anything we imagined."

From the other side, the Roman horsemen of the king rode swiftly to the court and girded themselves before Khosrow: "We seek battle against the Iranians." The king agreed to this, for the Roman army desired it of him.

When the sun raised its head above the dark mountain, a roar went up from both sides. You would have said the earth had become the spinning heavens, or that the face of the sun had darkened from the blades. The right and left wings were drawn up in order. The whole earth became an iron mountain. From the neighing of horses and the clamor of the army, the desert sought a path up the mountainside.

When Bahram the warrior surveyed the field, he drew a blue-steel dagger. No fear or dread entered his heart — the lion's heart in the thicket split in two with envy. He told the Iranians: "Draw up the line. Spread the army across the whole region." He rode alone around the host: "Who holds the left wing? Who holds the right?"

To Yalan Sineh he said: "Stay at the center, at the head of the army. Today I am the fighter of this host. When the time comes to retreat, I will be the last to leave."

Khosrow looked out at the battlefield. The world was black with troops in every direction. The face of the shining sun was like a lion's maw; you would have said swords were raining from the clouds. Niatus, Banduy, Gostaham, and the king climbed to a height above the battlefield. Those leaders sat upon Mount Duk, their eyes fixed on the warriors below. From that mountain the king surveyed the army — left, right, center, and flanks.

When the sound of drums rose from both sides, the battle-hungry men advanced. You would have said the earth had become an iron mountain, and the sky above had become the enemy of the dust. When Khosrow saw the fighting unfold in this way — the heavens dark, the earth black as pitch — he prayed to God in Pahlavi: "You who are pure and exalted above all, who knows which man will return from battle today in joy? Who can know this except You, O pure and generous one? Whose fortune will turn sluggish? Whose spear-point will become thorn and thistle?"

Khosrow's heart and soul were full of anxiety. The world before his eyes was a dark forest. Then Kut broke free from the center of the army — clad in iron like a black mountain. He came charging toward the middle of the fray. When he drew near the high mountain where the king sat, he called up to Khosrow: "O proud king, look at that demon-possessed slave — the one you fought and fled from when he gained the upper hand. See where he stands, left or right among the champions. Now let me teach him the art of war. Let him see the heart and the fighting of real warriors."

When Khosrow heard these words from Kut, his heart filled with old pain and bitterness — for Kut had said "you fled from a slave" and "you dropped the warriors' weapons." The king gave him no answer. His heart filled with blood, his head with storm. Then the king said to Kut: "Go before that piebald-horsed warrior. When he sees you, he will come to fight. Do not flee, so that you need not bite your lip in shame."

Kut heard these words and turned back. He became one with the wind. He rode out seething, lance in hand, and entered the dueling ground like a maddened elephant. As he drew near, he challenged Bahram and raised his war cry. Yalan Sineh shouted to Bahram: "Be alert, O mounted warrior! A demon has come, like a maddened elephant, with a lasso at his saddle-strap and a lance in his fist."

Bahram heard this. He drew his sword from its scabbard swift as the wind and called out his name. When Khosrow saw this, he rose to his feet and raised his head from that mountaintop, his eyes fixed on Kut and Bahram — his eyes full of tears, his heart full of fury.

The Roman charged with his lance, but the world-seeker held his ground. When the lance proved useless against him, Bahram brought his war-shield crashing in, and struck one blow with his sword across head and neck — he cleaved Kut's dark body down to the chest.

When the sound of Bahram's blade reached Khosrow, he laughed — he had seen the quality of that blow. The warrior Niatus turned away his eyes. He was enraged by Khosrow's laughter.

"O famous king," Niatus said to Khosrow, "laughter is unseemly on the battlefield. You have received nothing from Rome but alchemy and gold. Yet I see your heart set blindly on ancestral vengeance. A man like Kut of the Thousand — in all of Iran and Rome, in any civilized land, they will never see his equal. You laugh now that he has been killed? Know that your fortune has turned."

Khosrow replied: "I do not laugh at his death, nor at his severed body. Know this: whoever mocks others receives the same blow from the turning wheel. He said to me, 'You fled from a slave — you had no valor to stand and fight.' But there is no shame in fleeing from a slave whose blow on the day of battle is like this."

From the other side, Bahram called out: "O nobles of blessed lineage — Yalan Sineh, Ram, Izad Gushasp — bind this dead man upon a horse and send him back to his camp, so that his king may see him cut in two." The men of war quickly strapped Kut's body tight across the saddle. The horse galloped back with its proud rider to its own camp.

Khosrow's heart was stricken with grief for Kut. They unbound the lasso from the dead man and scattered musk upon his wounds, then ordered the body dried. They sewed him in linen cloth just as he was, mail-coat on his body and belt cinched at his waist, and sent him back to the Caesar with this message: "The sword of this demon-possessed slave struck thus on the day of battle. If I was routed by him, there is no shame in it."

All the Romans were heartbroken. Without even fighting, their spirits were wounded. The patriarch wept bloody tears, his face wet and his heart burning with jealousy and grief. Then ten thousand of the Christian champions came forward — Catholicos warriors, all mounted and battle-hardened. They launched a charge so fierce that the mountains seemed to split from the roar of the Roman host. The clashing of steel rose up, and the shouts of commanders, and the blows of swords and heavy maces. You would have said the sea was boiling and the moving heavens were screaming.

So many were killed in the space between the armies that the dead blocked the road where they lay. An entire legion of Romans was slaughtered — every man among the brave who held rank. Khosrow's heart was pierced with grief for them. He bound the wounds of the living. All the dead were heaped together into a mound as high as a tall mountain. They called it "Bahram's harvest." Khosrow lost all hope in the Romans.

Khosrow said: "If the Romans fight like this even one more time, you might as well count the world as having no Roman army — consider their steel swords no better than wax."

He said to Sargas: "Tomorrow, do not send your fighters into action. Rest tomorrow while I bring the Iranian warriors to seek vengeance." To the Iranians he said: "Tomorrow you must go to battle without delay." They all answered as one: "We will do it. We will fill the mountains and the desert with blood."

When the white banner of dawn rose from the sea and the stars lost hope in the darkness, the drummers marched out from both camps with elephants and trumpets. A roar went up, and the wail of ox-hide horns, and the bronze kettledrums from the backs of elephants. You would have said the plain and the meadows were shaking. The face of the sun turned black as a crow's wing.

When the Iranians drew up their line — lances and Indian swords in every hand — the whole earth seemed made of mail-coats, and the stars shone bright from the tips of spear-points. When Khosrow took his place at the center, the entire army took heart. His right wing was commanded by Gorduy, who was brave, bold, and ambitious. On his left stood a famous Armenian lord, clad in mail with a demonic blade. Champions like Shapur and Andian had girded themselves tight for the fight. Gostaham remained at the king's side to guard him from the enemy.

When Bahram the champion saw no Romans on the field, he paused and chose silence. He ordered the war-drums tied to the backs of elephants, and a dark pall spread over the army. He mounted a white elephant — his opponents lost hope at the sight. He drove the elephant toward the right wing and called out to Shapur: "You vile wretch! Was this not your covenant in those letters — that you would come before me on this field of blood? This is not the way of men of worth. You are throwing your life away for nothing."

Shapur replied: "O demon-faced one, you have bowed your own head in servitude. When was there any name or sign in those letters for what you now proclaim before these champions?"

The noble Khosrow said to Shapur: "I was the one who paired that letter with his counsel. Through that letter you will receive your reward from me, and from the lords of this assembly. When the time comes I will tell you, and wash evil thoughts from your mind."

When Bahram heard Khosrow's voice, he perceived the sorcery in it. He flew into a rage. The situation closed in on him. Fury took hold and battle became his only thought. The ruthless man rode his elephant alone, straight and fast toward Khosrow's center.

When Khosrow saw this, he said to Andian: "O fierce raging lion, rain arrows upon this elephant! Make your bows like the clouds of spring." Every Iranian who was blessed with good fortune strung his bow at once. Arrowheads struck the elephant's trunk so thickly that you would have said the beast had turned blue-black from its wounds.

Bahram instantly called for a horse. He called for a royal helm. The arrow-storm resumed. Bahram, the proud-necked champion, flew into a rage. The battle-seeker dismounted, tucked the skirt of his mail-coat into his belt, raised his shield overhead, and — sword flashing — raised a storm of destruction among the warriors. The foot soldiers fled from Bahram. They dropped their Chachi bows.

A warhorse was brought to him at once. The commander mounted, breathing fire. Roaring, he charged toward the center — the very place where the king stood without troops. He tore the center apart completely. The sovereign's banner vanished from sight.

From there he swept toward the left wing, all the noblemen at his back. The guardian of that flank was Gorduy, a brave and ambitious warrior — and Bahram's own brother. When brother saw brother's face, he strung his bow and drew. The two blood-relatives fought so savagely you would have said they were fused together. For a long time it went on like this, neither one breaking away from the other.

Bahram said to him: "You fatherless wretch — why do you gird yourself with your brother's blood?" Gorduy answered: "You piebald wolf — have you not heard the great proverb? When a brother is your friend, he is better than all. But when he is your enemy, he is better off skinned and boneless. You are an enemy, foul of body, full of treachery — an enemy of God in your heart. A brother does not come to fight his brother if he has any sense of honor or shame."

When Bahram heard this, he wheeled away. He was enraged, but turned from him in dark fury. Gorduy rode back to the king, his warrior's face blackened by iron. Khosrow blessed him with affection: "May the turning heavens reward you."

Khosrow sent word to Shapur: "Be a rescuer for Mosul. Fight until you bring your backs together — perhaps you will seize bright fortune in your fist."

Then the king said to Gostaham: "If any Roman fights in this battle and Bahram is broken or even wounded, the Romans will raise their heads to the sky and boast beyond all measure. I do not want Romans to hold their heads high and lord their valor over us in this fight. I have seen all the Romans' skill — they are like a flock in a blizzard. Better that I, with a small force, seek single combat with Chobin. I want no one's help in this. My hope is in God alone."

Gostaham said: "O king, by your sweet soul, do not stake everything on this. If this is your resolve, then summon warriors for vengeance — do not darken the face of the earth."

Khosrow replied: "That is just what you said — now seek companions from the army." Gostaham selected fourteen renowned Iranian champions. First he wrote his own name and placed it at the head of the list. Then the warrior Shapur with Andian; Banduy and Gorduy, the pillars of the dynasty; Adur Gushasp and Shir Dhil; Zanguya the Bold with his lion-and-elephant emblem; Takhvareh, who was a terror in battle and a nightmare to Yalan Sineh; Farrokhzad; the proud Khosrow; Eshtad the Victorious, destroyer of enemies; blessed Khorshid with Ormozd, before whom foes would wither.

When he had chosen fourteen men from Iran, the king rode swiftly apart from the army. He said to these lords: "O proud warriors and loyal followers — turn your backs toward God. Make your hearts glad and laughing. Nothing happens except by God's will; so it has been since the ancient wheel began to turn. Better to die in battle than to live as a slave in your own house. Be my guardians in the fight. When the moment comes, I will not hesitate."

They all spoke blessings in one voice and called him lord of the earth. They swore an oath that none would turn back from the king in this battle. The commander heard and found peace. He was pleased, and gained what he wished from the lords. He entrusted the army to the blessed Bahram and rode out with fourteen warriors.

A shout came from the lookout post. They told Bahram: "An army is coming." The wakeful-hearted world-seeker mounted — a lasso at his saddle-strap, a sword in his hand. From his height, when he saw how few men there were, he selected a handful of fighters. He said to Yalan Sineh: "This ill-born man once proved his valor in battle — I know him. No one else would dare to stride onto this field of vengeance. He has come to fight with this handful of men — or else he has walked into the jaws of a crocodile. There are no more than twenty champions with him. I do not know who any of them are. If he comes before me, I will be enough for the world. If I cannot best him, I am nothing."

To Izad Gushasp and Yalan Sineh he said: "True men do not hide their manhood. We need not be more than four. Against Khosrow, I need no one's help." There was one man called Janforuz, who could turn dark nights bright as day. Bahram gave his army to this man and rode forward himself, galloping hard with his three companions.

When Khosrow saw Bahram from the road, he told the Iranians: "The army is coming. Do not let your hearts grow tight. My hour of reckoning has arrived. It is between me, my mace, and that accursed Chobin. You fight the champions — you are fourteen, they are three. May you never see defeat."

Niatus and the Roman army girded themselves reluctantly and withdrew from the battlefield toward the mountain, where they could watch both sides. Everyone said: "Why does the precious king sell his life for a crown? He leaves all these horsemen on this plain and goes blindly alone to battle." They all raised their hands to heaven, for they thought him already dead.

When Bahram the warrior spurred his horse — with Yalan Sineh and the great Izad Gushasp — Khosrow's companions all saw them. Bahram was the wolf; those champions were the flock. The king then held back from engaging, from the tumult and the charging of horses. The lord of the world turned his horse unwillingly. Izad Gushasp followed behind.

Gostaham, Banduy, and Gorduy fell back. The hero Tajvar called upon the name of God. Gostaham said to the king at that moment: "Evil times have closed in. What was the point of this futile upheaval? They have seen my back in flight."

Gostaham replied: "The horseman has come. You were alone — how can you make war?" Khosrow looked behind him. Of the four pursuers, Bahram was in the lead. He kept his body watchful against the enemy and slashed through the black horse-armor. Two riders fell behind him. The vengeful enemy was at his back.

Ahead lay a narrow cave. Three fighters behind him like leopards. The back of the cave was sealed by the mountain. The lord of the world was cut off from his men. The fortunate young man dismounted and ran on foot up the mountain. He went on foot, and his path was blocked. The hearts of the champions ached for him. No place to stand, no place to flee — and Bahram was coming fast behind.

Bahram called to Khosrow: "O master of deception — before your rise has come your fall. Why did you rush your wits against me, loading them upon your own shoulders like this?"

When the situation closed in on the king — a sword behind and stone before — he said to God: "O Creator, You who are above the turning of time, in this place of helplessness be my help. You alone — I will not cry out to Saturn or Jupiter."

At that very moment, as a cry rose from the mountain, the blessed Sorush appeared upon the road. His garments were all green, and beneath him was a white horse. At the sight of him, Khosrow's heart grew bold. When Sorush drew near, he took Khosrow's hand — from the pure God, this is no wonder. He lifted Khosrow away from the enemy's presence and carried him to safety with ease.

Khosrow said to him: "What is your name?" He spoke for a while, and wept for a while. The angel said to him: "My name is Sorush. Now that you are safe, be far from clamor. From this day forward you will be king of the world. But you must be nothing other than righteous. You will swiftly reach the throne, and in these years you will reign for thirty-eight."

He spoke these words and vanished from sight. No one in the world had ever witnessed such a marvel.

When Bahram saw this, he stood dumbfounded. He called upon the Creator again and again. He said: "So long as the fight was among men, let no one say that manhood was lost in me. But I believe my fight now is with spirits. Over this dark throne I must weep."

On the other side, Niatus on the mountainside was begging God for mercy. Maryam tore at her own cheeks in anguish for her royal husband. The army was spread across mountain, plain, and meadow, and the Romans' hearts were full of grief and anguish. When Niatus could no longer see Khosrow's face, he drew the golden litter aside and said to Maryam: "Get in. I fear the king of Iran is gone."

At that very moment, Khosrow appeared on the far side of the mountain, emerging from the road, far from the crowd. The whole illustrious army rejoiced. Maryam's heart was freed from pain.

When Khosrow came to Maryam, he told her everything he had seen and how he had escaped from that flint-hard mountain. He said: "O moon of the Caesar's lineage, the righteous Judge has given me justice. It was not from cowardice or faintheartedness — in war, the faint of heart become lazy. I was trapped in that pathless cave. In my heart I called upon the Creator. The keeper of the world's affairs concealed me — He made the hidden manifest for this servant. The blessed Fereydun never saw such a thing even in a dream, nor Tur, nor Salm, nor Afrasiyab. What I saw today, O proud ones, was a sign of victory and kingship."

He told them all that the king had witnessed. Then he ordered the army to renew their charge and invoke Khosrow's name in battle.

From the other side, Bahram was filled with pain, regretting all he had done. At once the army descended from the mountain. The world turned black with the dust of horsemen. From the far side Bahram drove his forces forward — in broad daylight, the light vanished. Everyone was saying: "To lead an army requires wisdom, valor, and resources. The champions who saw my javelin-throw and my warrior's nature — they chose me over all the kings. I will cast the name of Anushirvan into the dust."

From the army, one man rushed recklessly toward the king. He strung his bow and loosed a single arrow. It struck Khosrow suddenly in the waist — the arrowhead lodged at an angle. A servant saw the wound of the arrowhead, came forward, and drew it from the king's silk garment. The king instantly charged, breathing fury, at Bahram Chobin the accursed.

He drove a lance into Bahram's belt. The mail held — the links did not break. The lance-head split in two. The heart of the wayward man filled with dread. When the lance broke, the king flew into rage and struck his sword upon the enemy's helm. The sword shattered entirely against the face of the helmet and lodged in its frame. Everyone who saw it — and everyone who heard the clash of iron — called down blessings.

The nobles charged after them and smashed into Bahram's army. Banduy rode up to the king: "O you whose crown outshines the moon — this army is like ants and locusts, covering every sandhill and cliff in the desert. It is not noble to spill blood recklessly, nor fitting for a king to grapple with a slave. Anyone who seeks quarter from us is better off than dying or being wounded in battle."

Khosrow replied: "I will never hold their sins against them. I seek no vengeance. They are all under my protection. They are jewels in the crown's ear."

Night rose from the dark mountain. Both armies withdrew. When the watchman's cry and the night-bells sounded, scarcely anyone in the army was asleep. The world-seeker Banduy left his position and rode swiftly between the two armies. From the army he found a herald — sweet-voiced, eloquent, without equal. He ordered the man to mount a horse and gird himself for the task of waking souls.

The herald rode into the space between the two armies until he was close enough for the enemy to hear. He cried out: "O servants — sinners and fortune-seekers! Whoever among you is most guilty, most famous in battle — the king of the world has forgiven him through God, every sin committed openly or in secret."

In the dark night, when the cry went up, everyone leaned in to listen. All the renowned men of Bahram's army girded themselves to leave as one.

When the sun that lights the world raised its head above the mountain and day draped the earth in silk, the whole plain was empty of men — only tents remained. Bahram had known nothing of the night's defection. Inside those pavilions they found no one except Bahram's closest personal companions.

When Bahram learned what had happened to his army, he rode past those empty tents. He said to his companions: "Flight is better now than comfort followed by catastrophe." He called for three thousand camels from the caravan-master — frothing, renowned pack-beasts. Everything portable from the treasury — carpets, provisions, gold and silver vessels, ivory thrones, bracelets, golden torques, and crowns — they loaded it all. He mounted and girded himself for retreat.

When the bright sun took its throne, the scouts came from the king's side. Inside the enemy camp they found no one. Those tents that still stood were nearly gone. The scouts reported this to the king. The king's heart tightened against the battle-seeker.

He chose three thousand warriors — mail-clad, armored, and mounted. He ordered Nastud to ride in pursuit, girded for a champion's chase. Nastud rode hard, his heart full of grief — but he was no match for Bahram on the day of battle.

Bahram likewise, with his forces, was not safe on the road or in the land. He rode off the roads, his heart full of fear, carrying gold and silver with him. Yalan Sineh and the warrior Izad Gushasp rode at one side of the army. Through trackless country they drove the host, reciting the tales of kings.

A small village appeared in the distance — a hamlet, not the seat of any great man. Bahram rode at the front, full of regret, his heart bleeding with pain. When their mouths grew dry with thirst, they came to the house of an old woman. They spoke to her with honeyed tongues and asked for bread and water.

The old woman heard their words. She brought out a battered old sieve. On it she had spread a piece of leather, and on the sieve she had placed barley bread with dried curds. Yalan Sineh, observing the custom, served it to Bahram. In their misery no one remembered the ritual prayer. They said the blessing and ate the bread, the women watching the famous men.

When they had eaten the curd bread, they asked for wine. They set their tongues to murmuring prayers. The old woman said: "If you want wine, there is some — and also an old gourd that will do for a cup. I cut the top off the gourd when it was fresh and made a goblet of it; I set it before you."

Bahram said to her: "How perfect wine can be — when could one find a finer cup than this?" The old woman went and brought the goblet. From that cup Bahram found contentment. He placed a cup full of gold coins in her palm, so that the old woman too might find a moment of joy.