The Reign of Khosrow Parviz (Part 8)

Since Bahram had come from Iran to China, the earth trembled beneath his horse's hooves. The Khaqan called him lord and set a royal crown upon his head. The Khatun — the Khaqan's wife — said to her attendant: "We should take pride in him. I will ask one true favor of him. If the Khaqan does not waver in this matter, perhaps Bahram will avenge me against the dragon and hear my grief and curses."

The attendant replied: "If you bring this story before the great man, you will find no trace of the shir-kapi — unless it is dead and wolves are dragging its legs."

The Khatun was glad to hear this. She was freed from her grief over her lost daughter. She rode swiftly to the Khaqan and told him everything she had seen and heard.

The Khaqan said: "It would be a disgrace — in a court where a horseman like me sits — to say that a shir-kapi devoured my daughter. If we speak of it, shame stains my lineage. People do not understand that this fearsome dragon snatches mountains of iron in its jaws. Even if the princess was a king's daughter, a king's life is also precious to him."

The Khatun replied: "I will seek my own vengeance for the sake of my own eyes. Whether it brings me shame or fame, I will speak — perhaps my wish will be fulfilled."

Many days passed, and she kept the secret hidden from everyone. Then it happened that the Khaqan held a great feast and filled the world with its splendor. He sent for Bahram the champion and seated him upon the golden throne. When the Khatun heard voices behind the curtain, she came forward quickly and saw Bahram. She praised him lavishly and blessed him: "May Turk and China flourish through you! I have one desire to ask of the king — may he grant it."

Bahram said: "Your command stands. In this desire, your wish and your pledge are law."

The Khatun told him: "Not far from here lies a meadow fit for celebration, where the young men of China hold a festival each spring. A bowshot from that grove, you will see a mountain blacker than pitch. Upon that rocky mountain dwells a dragon that has brought calamity upon all China. They call it the shir-kapi — none know it by any other name. I had a daughter by the Khaqan of China, whom the sun itself would have praised. She went from the palace to the festival ground while the Khaqan was out hunting with his army. The fearsome dragon came down from the mountain and snatched my flower in its jaws. Now every spring it comes to that meadow to hunt. Because of it, no young man remains in our city, no famous champion survives. They perished going after the shir-kapi. It has raised dust from our settled land. Chinese horsemen and fighting men have ridden hard through those mountains, but when they see its claws from a distance — its back, its ears, its head, its mane — it roars, and the heart of even a warrior is torn apart. Against it, lion, elephant, and whale are nothing. No one dares approach it once they reckon its size."

Bahram said: "Tomorrow at dawn I will come to see this festival ground. By the power of God, who gave strength — the exalted Creator of moon and sun — I will clear the festival ground of the dragon, if you show me the way."

When the moon appeared in the sky and the dark night scattered its black dust, the guests dispersed in their cups and each went home. When the pale golden sun rose and twisted the dark curls of night away, Bahram the warrior put on padded armor and committed his body to God. He took a lasso, a bow, six arrows, and a two-pronged hunting lance.

When he reached the foot of the tall mountain, he ordered his escort to turn back. As he drew near the shir-kapi, it was as though a dark mountain fell across him. He secured himself to the rocky mountainside with a loop of his lasso and sat firm in the saddle. He rubbed the bow and set the string, and prayed to God for success.

When the dragon's hair was wet — for no one's arrow could pierce it when dry — the shir-kapi had gone into a spring, rolled about, risen, and come out. It roared and struck the rock with its claw; sparks of fire leapt from the stone.

Bahram rubbed his bow. With his arrows he cut the light from the sky. The lion-hearted warrior loosed a shaft of poplar-wood and the shir-kapi staggered from the fight. A second arrow struck its head, and blood poured down like water. The third and fourth arrows he drove into its mouth, stitching its jaws and tongue together. The fifth arrow he planted in its claw, watching its strength and fury. Then he loosened the lasso from his waist, sprang onto the high ridge, and drove the two-pronged lance through the beast's middle. The rocky stone was soaked in blood. After that, the man reached for his sword and split the dragon's body in two. He severed the head from the trunk, cast it down, and descended from the mountain.

The Khaqan and the Khatun hurried from the grove, breathless and burning, up to the mountain. A great shout rose from the warriors of China — so loud you would say the earth shook. They called down blessings upon Bahram and scattered jewels and gold over him. The Khatun went forward and kissed his hand. The nobles of illustrious lineage all blessed him in one voice and called him King of Iran.

The commander of China embraced him, and from that day called him "lord of lords." When the Khaqan returned to his palace, he chose a gracious envoy and sent ten purses of treasure in silver coin, along with slaves and goods in abundance, saying: "Go before Bahram the warrior and tell him: 'You have won honor in our eyes. Behind my curtain is a daughter who is a crown upon the heads of stars. If you wish, ask me for my daughter — I will entrust my army and my kingdom to you.'"

Bahram replied: "This is proper. The lord of the world is sovereign over his servants." The Khaqan gave him his daughter then and there, and his entire realm came under Bahram's command. He ordered a scribe forward, and they wrote a new charter on silk. The Khaqan said: "Whoever among the Iranians is a man of rank — see who deserves a reward." They prepared robes of honor in the Chinese fashion and distributed many crowns and belts.

Bahram had no care except justice, feasting, and the hunt. The turn of fortune gave him no anxiety. The grandees and nobles of China took their mark from Bahram the champion. All China said: "We are his servants — we live in this world for his sake." Bahram feasted and gave liberally, and blessings were heaped upon him.

So it went until reports reached Iran and came before the king of warriors — that Bahram's sovereignty and treasure now exceeded Khosrow's own, and without any effort. Khosrow was filled with grief and resentment. His heart twisted at Bahram's conduct. He took counsel with the great men and debated the matter at length.

One dark night, he ordered the scribe forward and sharpened his pen to a spear-point. He composed a letter to the Khaqan of China — you would say he had fashioned his pen from a dagger. First he praised the Creator: the Powerful, the Knowing, the Beneficent of Time; the Adorner of sun, Saturn, and moon; the Setter of kings upon thrones; the Punisher of all who seek evil; the Increaser of divine wisdom.

"Through ignorance and knowledge, through uprightness and crookedness and diminishment — you will find the truth when you say that God is One, and has no companion, no equal, no partner. Whoever seeks goodness shall find it. May he be cursed who has washed his hands of goodness.

"There was a servant, ungrateful to the king — knowing neither his lord nor God. He was small, idle, and nameless. His father raised him up because the time demanded it. His deeds are no secret in the world, among the lowly and the great alike. No one of substance accepted him, even if he stood on the highest rung of wisdom. He came to you, and you received him. You took his hand as though he were a man of worth. Would any righteous man take this path? I do not approve of this affair.

"When this letter is brought before you, let your dark counsel grow full of thought. If you bind that servant's feet in chains and send him to us, you will profit. If not, I will send an army from Iran and turn your bright day to black across Turan."

When the letter reached the Khaqan and he heard Khosrow's words, he told the messenger: "Come to the gate tomorrow at dawn and ask for the reply."

The messenger came away with his heart racing. There was no place for rest or sleep after that. He waited until he saw the bright lamp of morning, then ran to the Khaqan's court. The Khaqan called for his scribe at once, with pen, musk-ink, and Chinese silk.

He wrote in reply: "Hidden blessings from me, a servant, upon the Creator of the world." Then he said: "I have read that letter and seated your envoy before me. You speak to your servants in such terms — it does not befit that ancient house of yours, which cannot tell the great from the great, nor recognize the small in the place of the small. All of China and Turan is mine entire; over Hephthal too my command runs. I have never in my life been a breaker of oaths. Do not spin such tales with me. If I were to take Bahram's hand in mine and then betray my bond of affection, the Judge would not call me clean. I fear none but the pure God. If greatness were truly growing in you, more wisdom than this would have been fitting."

He sealed the letter and said: "You had better ride with the wind."

The messenger returned to the king in just under a month's travel. When Khosrow read that letter, he writhed and grew fearful of what was coming. He summoned the Iranians and laid out everything the Khaqan had said. He showed them the letter, and they read it aloud. The great men were stricken with doubt.

The Iranians answered: "O upholder of the glory and crown of kings — do not take such matters lightly. Consult with a wise elder. Do not handle this so carelessly through letters. Do not dim the ancient flame and glory. Choose from Iran a man who is old, wise, capable, a warrior-scribe — let him go to the Khaqan, speak with him, and hear his reasoning. Let him explain who Bahram was in the beginning, what he sought after his rise to military command, and how once his affairs prospered, he wanted to make his master a servant. When a month's work turns out well, it takes a year to bring it to completion. Since Bahram is now the Khaqan's son-in-law, speaking ill of him will not be easy. The envoy must speak with great skill, and no one must know it is happening in secret."

When Bahram heard that someone had carried a letter from Iran to the Khaqan, he came storming into the Khaqan's presence: "O blessed lord! I hear that loathsome, talentless man keeps writing letter after letter. Choose a valiant army from China, so that the land of Iran becomes yours. I will conquer Iran and Rome by the sword. I will proclaim you king over those lands — in your name the watchmen will open their lips at night across Iran and Turan. I will cut off the head of that worthless Khosrow — may neither foot nor head remain of them! When a servant like me girds himself for battle, I will tear the Sasanian seed out by the root."

The Khaqan heard this and was filled with thought — the thoughts in his heart grew like a forest. He summoned his elders, the eloquent, the learned, and the long-memoried, and told them everything Bahram had said, laying bare all secrets.

The wise men answered — kinsmen and outsiders alike: "This is a matter both easy and hard, for the measure of the Sasanian seed is running full. But if Bahram leads the army, the wise will see the plan and the way. He has many supporters in Iran. With the Khaqan as his kinsman and ally, this business will succeed quickly by your fortune. Bahram's words deserve to be heard."

Bahram's heart was refreshed when he heard this. He laughed and rose to a new stature. They agreed unanimously that two young commanders should be chosen, each fit for leadership, hardened and experienced in war. In China there was a chief named Hasnuy, and another bold man named Zanguy. The Khaqan summoned these warriors and seated them in the treasury to receive gold. He told them: "Stay alert on the day of battle. Keep your eyes always on Bahram, in times of joy and in times of wrath. Hold the crossings of the Oxus clean — raise dust from the Oxus to the heavens."

He entrusted a brave army to them — all famous warriors and fierce lions. The war-drums thundered from Bahram's gate, and the dust turned the face of the sun to ebony. From China they set their course straight for Iran, on the morning of Spandarmad Day.

When word reached the great king that the wolf had stalked out of the forest — that Bahram had brought an army so vast it blotted out the light from the sky — Khosrow said to Kherad Barzin: "Take four months for this mission. Go to that worthless Khaqan. Say everything you know that needs saying. In Iranian and non-Iranian matters, you are the most learned; on the tongue, you are the most capable." He opened the treasury and brought out such a quantity of jewels, swords, and golden belts that Kherad Barzin stood amazed and silently invoked the name of God.

When he set out with the gifts on the road to China, he took a different route by the Oxus.

When Kherad Barzin reached the Khaqan's court, he looked around and chose a herald to announce: "An envoy has come from the king to this court." The Khaqan heard and had his hall prepared, ordering the way opened. The envoy approached respectfully, kept his tongue short, and bowed.

He said: "Whenever you give permission, I will open my tongue to speak." The Khaqan replied: "With a sweet tongue, an old man's heart becomes young. Say whatever is useful — spoken words are the kernel, unspoken words the husk."

Kherad Barzin heard this and remembered the ancient grievances. He began with praise to the Creator: "The Powerful, the Knowing of Time, who created the heavens, space, and time, who created the strong and the weak. The turning sphere without pillar, neither obedient to why nor how — praise to Him who created the world, who spread the high sky and the earth. He is the Powerful, the Knowing, and the Sustainer; He is the Painter of the heavens and the earth. In the sky He created the sun; He created night and day, rest and sleep. The power is His — we are servants, we declare all His truths. To one He gives crown and high throne; another He makes a slave and wretched. He has neither love for this one nor hatred for that — no one knows this except the Creator of the world. We are all, every one, born of dust, and in our helpless bodies we are given over to death."

Then he invoked the lineage of kings: "Let me begin with blessed Jamshid, and Tahmuras the world-ruler, and onward through Kay Qobad and all the famous ones we remember — likewise down to Esfandiyar, Kay Khosrow, and Rostam the renowned. From the world, a tomb was their portion; in the place of healing, they tasted poison.

"Now the King of Iran is in his own person your kin. All his joy and grief, his fortunes great and small, are bound to you. In the time of the blessed kings, his forebear's mother and father was the Khaqan of China. In this age, our bond is renewed. Everything is now on a different scale. From the victorious one, blessings be upon you — may you be the head of the renowned men of the earth."

The Khaqan listened with full attention and said: "O merchant of wisdom! If there is another in Iran like you, heaven's praise is sufficient for him." He cleared a place for him at court and seated him near his own person. At his instruction, the gifts were brought forward and counted out one by one to the Khaqan's treasurer. The Khaqan said: "May you never be diminished in the world for lack of wealth. If you wish to accept something from me, say so and I will accept something from you in return. But if not, you yourself shine brighter than any gift — you are a crown upon the wise men of the world."

They prepared a pleasant lodging and fashioned garments of every kind. At banquets, on hunts, at feasts with wine — Kherad Barzin was always welcome near the Khaqan. He watched and waited, and one day found his opening. He pressed forward boldly in his speech:

"Bahram is base in nature — worse than Ahriman himself in his evil conduct. He sells worldly men for silver that is not worth a penny. Hormozd the crowned king raised him up; he lifted his throne higher than the sun. No one in the world knew his name, yet every desire of his was fulfilled from the world. If he shows you great kindness now, in the end he will break your oath — just as he broke faith with the King of Iran. He worships neither Khosrow nor God. If you send him to the king, you will raise Iran's king to the moon. After that, all of China and Iran will be yours — you can set your throne wherever you wish."

The Khaqan heard this and was stunned. His eyes darkened at the words. He said: "Do not speak this way! You will dim your honor in my eyes. I am not an ill-wisher or an oath-breaker — the oath-breaker finds only a shroud."

When Kherad Barzin heard this, he knew his direct approach had failed — Bahram had given the Khaqan hope of Iran, and his own words would be wind and willow.

When his hope through the Khaqan turned dark, he went in desperation toward the Khatun. He searched for someone close to her who might illuminate his dark soul. He found a steward of her household and gained access to sit with him. He reminded the man of Khosrow's cause and gladdened the spiritless man's heart.

The steward said: "The Khatun will support me — I can become a scribe at her gate." But the resourceful steward also warned: "Her wishes will not be fulfilled through her, because Bahram Chobin is her son-in-law. Bahram is her core and substance. You are a man of the pen — devise some stratagem, and do not release this secret to the wind."

Kherad Barzin heard this and saw no beginning or end to his predicament. There was an old Turk named Qalun, whom the Turks held in contempt. His clothing was all sheepskin; his food was dried curds and millet. Kherad Barzin sent someone to summon him and seated him in a place of honor. He gave him silver and gold coins, gave him clothing and abundant food. Whenever he sat down to eat, he invited Qalun and seated him among the notables.

The man was full of thought — much-knowing, patient-hearted, shrewd, and capable. Meanwhile, through the household steward, Kherad Barzin was working on a plan through the Chinese Khatun. But whenever he went before the Khaqan by day or night, he kept his lips sealed.

The old man said to the envoy: "A distinguished man and scribe like you — if you also had some skill in medicine, and if your name were known from afar, it would be a new crown upon his head — especially since his daughter has fallen ill."

Kherad Barzin said: "I have that knowledge too. If you say the word, I will set my hand to this task." The steward ran to the Khatun: "A learned new physician has arrived." She said: "May you live and drink sweetly! Bring him — do not delay in this matter."

The steward went to Kherad Barzin and said: "This secret must be kept hidden. Go before her — do not give your name. Present yourself as a physician, fresh-faced."

Kherad Barzin went to the Khatun's quarters. He examined the patient and found her liver damaged. He ordered pomegranate juice and watercress from the stream — he called the herb chicory — intending to draw the fever from her brain. By God's grace, after seven days the girl shone like the world-illuminating moon.

The Khatun brought gold coins from the treasury — a purse and five bolts of gold brocade. She said: "Take this unworthy thing, and ask for whatever else you need." He answered: "Keep this for now. I will ask for it when the time comes."