The Reign of Shiruyeh (Part 2)

"I surrendered the world, for good and ill -- not so that evil should one day befall me. We traversed many hard roads. We swept many enemies from our path. Every land is full of my treasure. Wherever there is water and soil, there is my labor. When the world comes to its end for me in this fashion, the hopes of the great grow dark. The throne will not remain for my children either; fortune will turn, and their luck will run out."

"When the angel of death, the soul-taker, comes, I will say to him: take my soul gently. For the crossing over the Chinvad Bridge is all mire beneath one's feet. Let us brighten our upright hearts with repentance and make our harmlessness a coat of mail."

"The wise and knowing men of the world understand: when waking fortune takes a fall, one must expect fear from every side. When a man's good days have passed, it does him no good to call them back. This is my message to the world, to the low and to the great. Farewell to you as well -- be happy, and do not remember me only for the bad."

When Ashtad and Khorrad Borzin the warrior heard the message of that foremost of kings, their hearts were pierced as by arrowheads. They struck their hands upon their heads in grief. Both sages were filled with remorse for their own words. They struck their cheeks with their palms. The garments on their chests were torn, and the heads of both wise men were covered in dust. They went out weeping from his presence, their souls full of pain and their minds full of anguish.

The two men went before Shiruyeh, their faces wrinkled and their hearts heavy with grief. They delivered the king's message, point by point, to that brainless and powerless Shiruyeh. When Shiruyeh heard it he wept bitterly. His heart grew fearful of the crown and throne.

But when that faction rose from before him -- those who had been wearing him down with their talk, goading the young man with ugly words and his father's blood -- Qobad descended from the royal throne and placed both precious hands upon his head. Blood dripped from his eyelashes onto his breast. When word of his anguish reached his enemies, and the sun raised its head above the dark mountain, the ill-wishers woke from sleep. They went as one body to the court. When the king heard, he took his seat upon the throne. The proud nobles came before him -- strangers and kinsmen from among the warriors. They sat with darkened faces, and his tongue did not stir to address them.

He understood why they sat so grimly, heavy with pain and sorrow. He said to them: "Any king who comes from his forefathers' line and does not grieve for his father's suffering -- I would call him nothing but base-born and vile. No one should put hope in such a man, for he is more rotten than rotten wood."

He received this answer from a man of ill intent: "Whoever claims to serve two kings at once -- call him unwise at heart, and if he holds rank, call him worthless." Shiruyeh answered: "When a king is without treasure, his army is worth nothing. For a good half-month more, let us speak no harsh words. Perhaps we will find comfort in his counsel, for this entire realm is his treasure."

When they heard the answer, they rose and made for their homes. Shiruyeh spoke to the cooks: "Nothing must be withheld from Khosrow. Set before him golden trays, with rich and sweet foods upon them." But the servants carried the food in and Khosrow would not eat -- not anything they brought, hot or cold. All his nourishment came from Shirin's hand alone, and Shirin grieved at having to feed him.

Now hear the tale of Shirin's sorrow. Hold the heads of the great men close.

When Shirin heard the news that the king had given up the throne without justice and without will, she came from Jahrom to Ctesiphon, her eyes brimming and her heart full of blood. She came to his chamber and saw him there -- his bright cheeks turned to the pallor of saffron. She stood awhile before the king, then went crying toward the court. She lamented like a warrior, her cheeks sallow and her heart full of pain.

Her wailing was such that it reached the king's ears, and even those who stood guard over him -- the watchmen themselves -- broke into tears, as though they were roasting on the fire of love. She kept crying out: "O noble one! O king! Where is all your greatness, all your might? Where is your glory and your throne and crown? Where is your stature and your height and your diadem? Where are your bracelets and your ivory throne? Where is your manhood and your strength and your royal splendor? You held the world beneath your wing. Where is the harem and the musicians? Where are the courts of the lords? Where is the royal crest and the Kaviani banner? Where are all those violet-dark swords? Where are the brave battle-seekers? Where are the nobles, the priests, the lords? Where are the feasts and the spectacle of the hunt? Where is the proud stride of war? Where are the golden-belted pages? Where is all the wisdom, the custom, the glory? Where are the proud warriors who laid down their lives, who sat on golden thrones and wore jeweled earrings? Where are all the armies and the lands? Where is all the exaltation and the golden throne? Where is the helmet-crown and golden mail, jeweled link upon link? Where is Shabdiz the horse with golden stirrups, who could not bear to stand still beneath you? Where are the horsemen with golden bridles, whose swords the enemy dared not sheathe? Where is all that wise counsel? Where is all that divine glory? Where is all that giving on feast-days? Where is all that striving on battle-days? Where are all those smooth-gaited mules, the golden litters and the obedient servants? The war-elephants, the tall steeds, the white elephants -- all now bereft of hope in you. Where are those words spoken with sweet tongue? Where is that heart, that judgment, that bright spirit? Of all things, why have you been left alone? In what book did you ever read of such a day?"

"Let no one grow bold before fate, for its poison exceeds the venom of the serpent. You wanted a son to be your ally and your support -- now from your son comes your ruin. Through their sons, kings gain power and escape the torments of the age. But when the great king's strength waned and his son's stature grew tall -- whoever hears the story of Khosrow should never be complacent before the world. Consider all the land of Iran destroyed, a lair of leopards and lions. The king was the head of the Sasanian line, for none like him shall see the crown and throne again. This lineage is ruined, and Iran with it. The desire of every ill-wisher has been fulfilled. No one will ever command such an army again, nor so many who came to him seeking deliverance. Harm came from the very man set as his guard. Now the wolf will enter through the breach. Your army too will not endure when war rises from every quarter."

"May the Just One be the ally of your soul. May the heads of the ill-wishers be cast down. By God and by your name, O king -- by Nowruz, by Mehr, by the green of spring -- if henceforth my hand should so much as touch a stringed instrument, may no blessing ever fall on me again." She burned all her instruments. She cut off all four of her fingers and held the severed digits in her fist. When she went inside, she lit a fire and burned every piece of her musical equipment, so that she would never again lay eyes on anything that belonged to her enemies.

Everyone who had wronged the king now lived in terror day and night. For Shiruyeh was fearful and raw, and the throne before him was a trap. Every astrologer who cast a chart could see that the days of the great would not return.

Those who had committed evil, who had stoked the fire of this affair, went from the court as one body to Qobad and reminded him of the unfinished injustice: "We said it once, and this is the second time. You have quite another judgment in mind. Two kings seated in one city -- one holding court, one cast below -- when kinship between father and son grows warm, they will cut the heads off every one of us servants. We will not consent to this. Do not spin any more tales before us."

Shiruyeh was afraid -- and fearful he already was, for he was in their clutches, a mere slave. He gave this answer: "Only a man of ill fame brings his head toward the snare. You should go home and deliberate on a plan as you see fit. Find someone in the world who will bring this trouble to an end for us in secret."

The king's enemies went seeking an assassin to destroy him in secret. No one in the world had the courage for it -- none had the manhood either -- for shedding the blood of such a king would be like hanging a mountain from one's neck. From every direction the ill-wishers searched, until at last they found a man on the road: his eyes blue, his cheeks sallow, his body gaunt and hairy, his face the color of lapis. His feet were caked in dust, his belly empty, his wicked body naked. No one in the world knew his name, neither among the low nor among the great.

This ugly wretch went to Zad-Farrokh -- may he never see the green of paradise -- and said: "This battle is my business. Feed me, and this prey is mine." Zad-Farrokh told him: "Go -- do it if you can, and speak no more of it." He gave him a purse of gold coins and said: "I give you to him as his son's companion." He gave him a razor-sharp dagger, wet as water. The killer took it and went in haste.

When the villain came near the king and saw him shackled and fettered before the gate, Khosrow trembled when he caught sight of him. Tears fell from his lashes to his cheeks. He said to the man: "O ugly one, what is your name? The woman who bore you should weep for you." The man said: "They call me Mehr-Hormizd. I am a stranger in this city, without companion or ally."

Khosrow said: "The hour has come. He no longer looks human to anyone. No one in the world seeks his love." A young page stood before him. Khosrow said to the boy: "Go, bring a basin of water, and musk and ambergris, and a clean, pleasing garment." The servant heard his voice but did not understand the king's secret purpose. The young attendant went out and brought a golden basin before the king, with garments and a ewer and water. Khosrow made haste to prepare himself.

When he saw the barsom, he began to recite the sacred words -- it was no time for talk or idle speech. When the king had put on the garments, he murmured prayers of repentance for his sins. He drew a fresh cloth over his head so that he would not see the face of the soul-taker.

Mehr-Hormizd came forward, dagger in hand. He locked the door of the king's chamber. Swiftly he went and tore the cloth away and ripped open the belly of the king of the world. Khosrow writhed and heaved one cold sigh. In agony, upon that garment, he gave up his life.

So turns the world upon itself, keeping its secrets ever hidden from you. The word-weigher who has only boasts and nothing else will see from his deeds nothing but ruin. Whether you have treasure or toil and heat, you will not remain in this transient house. Choose harmlessness and uprightness if you wish to receive the blessing of justice.

When the news reached the streets and the roads that Khosrow had perished in that fashion, the ill-wishers went to the prison and entered the palace of the wretched captives. Fifteen of Khosrow's beloved sons were held in bonds in the king's palace. They slaughtered them in the prison without guilt, at the very hour when the king's fortune had turned. The world-lord dared not speak a word of it. He kept that grief locked inside.

When Shiruyeh heard, he wept for a time, then sent twenty guards to watch over the women and children, so that after the death of the slain king they might be kept safe. Thus passed that sovereignty, and all that army, that greatness, that manhood, and that might -- such as no king of kings had ever possessed, nor had been heard of among the famous men of old. In the end, the man who once held all of it became equal to one who cannot find a crust of bread and never sees a homeland or a palace.

The wise man says: no man should feel safe from the dragon. Call the world nothing but a bold crocodile -- it gnaws with its teeth whatever it clutches.

So ends the story of Parviz the king. Gone is that famed throne, that treasure, and that army.

Now that I have brought the days of Khosrow to their close, I open the tale of Shiruyeh and Shirin.

Fifty-three days had passed since the anointed king was slain. Shiruyeh sent a messenger to Shirin, saying: "O brazen sorceress without resource! You know nothing but sorcery and ill temper. In all Iran, no one is more guilty than you. By your spells you held the king in thrall. By your wiles you would pull the moon itself from the sky. Be afraid, O sinner, and come before me. Do not sit so content and safe in your palace."

Shirin flew into a rage at his message and his filthy, sinful insults. She said: "May the man who sheds his father's blood never know stature or prosperity. I will not see that evildoer, not from afar -- not in mourning and not in celebration." She summoned a scribe who could ease her grief, and a Pahlavi ledger already prepared. To that learned man she gave her instructions, and she assessed the full value of all her possessions. She had kept a quantity of poison in a box -- a poison so deadly it need not be sought in any city. She kept the poison on her person and began sewing a shroud for the tall cypress of her body.

She sent her answer back to Shiruyeh: "O crowned king, proud and tall -- every word you spoke was leaves and wind. May the heart and soul of that evildoer be crushed. Where in the world is there sorcery except in name? Ask around -- you will hear as much from any satisfied man. And if the king was of such a nature that his judgment was refreshed by magic, then whoever practiced sorcery in the king's own harem would have been seen by you looking upon the king's own face. The king kept me for the sake of good fortune, for at first light when he opened his eyes he would summon me from the golden harem and adorn his soul with the sight of me. Be ashamed of speaking such words. Why do you tie lies together before the king? Remember God, the giver of good, and do not say such things in anyone's presence."

They brought the answer to the king, and Shiruyeh flew into a rage at the innocent woman. He said: "There is no escaping a visit to me. No one in the world swallows words the way you do." When Shirin heard, she was filled with pain. She twisted in anguish and her face went pale. She gave this answer: "I will not come before you unless an assembly is present -- learned men, worldly-wise, who can read character and intention." Shiruyeh sent fifty men and brought together the aged and the learned.

After that he sent another messenger to Shirin: "Rise and come. Enough talk." When Shirin heard, she put on blue and black and went before the king. She went straight to the Rose Garden of Shadgan, where the orators and noblemen sat. The king took his seat behind a curtain, in the manner of a pious man.

He sent someone to her with this message: "Two months have passed since the mourning for Khosrow. Now be my consort, and enjoy what the world offers, so that you need never look toward any lesser man. I will keep you just as my father did -- and more honored, and more favored still."

Shirin said to him: "First give me my rights, and then my life is yours. After that I will not rest from answering you -- your command, your judgment, your fortunate heart." Shiruyeh consented, agreeing that the fair-faced one should speak her piece.

The great lady raised her voice from behind the curtain: "O king, may you be victorious and glad! You said I am a wicked creature and a sorceress, that I stand apart from purity and righteousness." He answered: "That was spoken in haste. The young should not nurse grudges from such heat."

Shirin then addressed the noblemen in the Rose Garden of Shadgan: "What evil have you ever seen from me? What darkness, what crookedness, what folly? For many years I was the lady of Iran. In every matter I was the backbone of the brave. I sought nothing but uprightness; crookedness and failure were far from me. Many a person gained a city through my words; from every quarter of the world they gained their share. Who in Iran ever saw the shadow of my belongings -- or even the shadow of my crown and jewels?" She told them: "Let anyone who saw or heard speak now. The whole matter will be made clear by this testimony."

The great men who stood before the king spoke well of Shirin, saying: "There is no woman like her in the world, neither in public nor in private."

Shirin then said: "O great men, worldly and experienced leaders -- three things make a woman excellent, worthy of the station of greatness. The first: she has modesty and wealth, and her husband's house is adorned by her. The second: she bears fortunate sons and increases the lot of her noble husband. The third: she has figure and beauty, and in modesty, she has such hair as well."

"When I was Khosrow's consort, I was a new thing in the world through our union. When he came from Rome, reluctant and downhearted, there was no place for him to rest in all this realm. After that, he reached such a height of fortune as no one in the world had seen or heard. From him I bore four children, and the king rejoiced in them: Nastud, Shahriyar, Forud, and Mardanshah -- that crown of the blue firmament. From Jamshid and Fereydun none like them were born; may my tongue wither if I bend from the truth."

She spoke, and then she opened the veil from her face -- all face like the moon, all back like flowing hair. "This third quality is my face, as you see it. If any of it is a lie, raise your hand." She continued: "My hidden talent was my hair, which no one in the world had ever seen." She showed them everything. "I have displayed all of this before you -- not through sorcery or cunning or ill nature. No one had seen my hair before this, nor had any great man heard of it." The elders were struck speechless. They bit their lips in wonder.

When Shiruyeh saw Shirin's face, his hidden soul fled from his body. He said to her: "I want no one but you. If I find a consort like you, that is enough for all Iran."

The fair-faced woman gave him her answer: "I am not free of need from the king of Iran. I will ask three favors, if you grant permission -- and may kingship endure upon you. First: all the possessions and wealth that I have gathered in this kingdom -- from now on, hand them over to me, here before this noble assembly. Set your seal to a document stating that I am free and clear of his property, more and less."

Shiruyeh did everything she commanded at once. When the woman heard the answer to her requests, she left the Rose Garden of Shadgan, departing from before the great men and nobles.

She went home and freed her slaves. With her wealth she made each servant glad. Everything else she gave to the poor, and she gave the most to those who were closest to her. She donated a portion to the fire temples, for holy days and for the festival of Sadeh. The rest she gave for ruined shelters and for caravanserais that had become the lair of lions -- all given for the spiritual merit of Khosrow the world-lord, to bring gladness to his soul.

Then she went to that garden and opened her face. She sat upon the bare earth, colorless and without perfume. She called all her servants to her side and seated each one kindly. She said in a loud voice: "Every one of you who is dear to me -- all of you, listen to my words. No one will ever see my face again. Speak nothing but the truth, all of you. No failure should come from the knowing. After I went to Khosrow and entered his golden harem, I was the head of the queen's court and bore the king's splendor. But if any sin has appeared from me, then no word should be spoken in my defense, for what excuse can a scheming woman offer?"

They all rose from their places and opened their tongues in reply: "O renowned lady of ladies, eloquent and wise and bright of soul -- we swear by God that no one has ever seen you act wrongly, nor has anyone heard a sound from behind your curtain. From the time of Hushang until now, no one like you has ever sat upon the throne of ease."

All the attendants and servants -- the worldly, alert, devoted ones -- said together in one voice: "O exalted one, praised in China, in Rome, and in Taraz -- who would dare speak ill of you? Doing evil to you -- how could that ever be fitting?"

Shirin said: "This wretch, whom the turning sky will rebuke -- he killed his father for the sake of the throne and crown. May he never see happiness or good fortune again. Perhaps he thought death was behind a wall when he made his father's life so cheap. He sent a message to me that darkened my slender soul. The reason I have told you all this is that I am still alive and still a worshiper of the Creator. I have made plain my entire path. I was full of pain from my enemies. After my death, let no one -- before any assembly -- let his tongue speak evil of me."

At her words they fell to weeping, burning also with grief for Parviz. The speakers went to the king and reported what they had heard from the guiltless woman.

Shiruyeh asked: "O one of good nature -- what is your third desire?" Shirin sent someone to Shiruyeh with this word: "Now only one wish remains. Open for me the door of the king's tomb. I long to see him once more."

Shiruyeh said: "This too is granted. To see that great one is her sovereign right." The keeper of the tomb's door opened it. The virtuous woman began to keen.

She went in and pressed her face against Khosrow's face. She spoke to him of all that had passed. And then at once she swallowed the deadly poison. From Shirin, the soul departed in a gust of wind. She sat beside the king with her face covered, wearing upon her body a garment scented with camphor. She set her back against the wall and died. She died, and took every trace of herself from the world.

When Shiruyeh heard, he fell ill. The sight of her filled him with grief. He ordered them to make a separate tomb and to crown her with musk and camphor. He sealed the door of the king's tomb fast.

Not many days passed after this before Shiruyeh too was given poison. The world had its fill of kings. He was born in ill omen and died in ill omen, and handed the royal throne to his son. A man who reigns seven months and in the eighth receives a crown of camphor -- in this world there is nothing better than goodness, and nothing worse than a life cut short.

Now I shall tell of the reign of King Ardeshir, for it lies before me and must be told.