The Reign of Yazdegerd III (Part 1)

When the throne passed to him, Yazdegerd became king in the month of Esfandarmaz, on the day of Ard. As a wise poet once said, weary of the turning of fate: "Would that my mother had never given me birth, that the high heavens had never turned above me. Caught between the narrow compass and the two poles, what can I say? Silence is the only way. Neither days of greatness nor days of need last long for anyone. Time is but a moment, when you look at it clearly, and no one holds the tools of judgment. So drink from the feast table and fill your cup -- do not even speak the name of the world's sorrows. Even if the turning wheel tears the saddle from under you, in the end dust is your pillow. Do not bind your heart with so much grief, and do not grow too confident under the high heavens, for when fortune plays games with elephants and lions, know that it does so from sheer indifference. You will die and it will endure -- the tale is long, so do not boast so much. You are no greater than Feridun, nor do you sit with crown and throne like Parviz."

Look closely at what the seven turning spheres did to Yazdegerd. When he sat joyfully upon the royal throne and placed the crown of greatness on his head, he spoke thus: "By the turning of the heavens, I am the pure descendant of Nushin-Ravan. Kingship is mine, father upon father. The sun, the star-cluster, and the zodiac house are mine. I will exalt whoever is lesser, and I will not trouble whoever is greater. I do not seek grandeur, wisdom, battle, fierceness, or valor -- for neither strength nor fortune, neither treasure nor royal crown nor throne endures for anyone. What endures is an everlasting name, not fleeting pleasure. Cast aside desire and raise up your name."

In this manner sixteen years passed, with the sun and moon revolving over his head.

Then Umar sent Sa'd ibn Abi Waqqas with an army to seek battle with the king. When Yazdegerd learned of this, he gathered troops from every direction. He commanded the son of Hormozd to march out with the army -- this was Rostam, a man of vigilance, wisdom, valor, and authority over the world. He was an astrologer of great intelligence, and even the chief priest inclined his ear to Rostam's counsel.

Rostam set out, taking with him all the men of worth -- every man who was alert and brave. For thirty months they fought at Qadisiyyah. Many were slain on both sides, yet neither army turned its face from the other.

Rostam knew the reckoning of the heavens, for he was a star-reader, just and compassionate. He kept saying, "This battle has no favorable aspect. The royal road does not run through this channel." He brought out his astrolabe and cast the stars, and at the day of calamity he clutched his head in despair.

He wrote a letter to his brother, full of anguish, setting down everything he knew. First he praised the Creator, from whom he had seen both the good and the ill of the age. Then he said:

"From the turning of the heavens, a thoughtful man grows full of dark suspicion. The most sinful one in this age is me, and that is why I am caught in the grip of Ahriman. For this royal house is emptied of kingship -- this is no time for victory or royal glory. From the fourth house the sun looks down, and from this battle only ruin will come upon us swiftly. From Bahram and Venus comes our harm -- one cannot escape the high wheel of heaven. Tir and Keyvan stand in conjunction, and Mercury has entered the sign of Gemini. Such it is, and a great matter lies ahead. The heart grows weary of life itself. I see all that is to come, and yet I choose silence over speech.

"I weep bitterly for the Iranians. I am scorched with grief for the Sasanians. Alas for this throne and crown and justice and sovereignty. Alas for this greatness, this fortune and glory -- for after this, defeat will come at the hands of the Arabs, and the stars will turn only toward ruin. Four hundred years will pass after this, and none of this lineage will be counted in the world.

"Their envoy came to me and various proposals were discussed in the assembly: that from Qadisiyyah to the banks of the river, we should divide the land with the king; and on their side, a road should be opened to a city where there is a marketplace, so they may buy and sell goods; and beyond that they would seek nothing more. They would accept heavy tribute and taxes from us, and would not seek the crown of the mighty. They would obey the king of kings as well, and if he demanded hostages, they would provide them.

"Such are their words, but there is no substance behind them -- it is nothing but the crooked turning of the compass. And yet at every moment there is battle, in which a hundred roaring lions are slain.

"The great men who fight alongside me pay no heed to the Arabs' proposals. Men like Miruy the Tabari, and the Armenian -- they fight against this faith of Ahriman. And Kalbuy the Syrian, and these commanders who wield heavy maces and war-clubs -- they hold their heads high and say: 'Who are these people? What are they to Iran and Mazandaran? Whether it is borderlands or roads, good or ill, we must seize it all by mace and sword. Let us strive and show our manhood. Let us make the world narrow and dark upon them.'

"No one knows the secret of the turning heavens. Fortune has changed its face toward us. When you read this letter, do not drive away your reason. Make ready and take counsel with the lords. Gather up all the treasure you have -- servants, garments, and riding gear. Ride swiftly to Azerbaijan, to the place of great men and nobles. Drive all the horses you have as a herd to the treasury-keeper of the Azargoshnasp temple. If any come seeking refuge from Zabulistan or from the armies of Iran, shelter them, clothe them, and show them kindness.

"Watch the turning of the high heavens -- from it comes both joy and dread. One moment it lifts you high, the next it casts you down. Tell our mother everything I have said. She will likely never see my face again. Give her my greetings and much counsel, so that she will not be wretched in this world.

"If someone brings you evil tidings of me, do not grieve too much over this matter. Know that in this transient inn, whoever stores up treasure with the labor of his hands -- when his time comes, he passes from this world, and another enjoys the fruit of his toil. Always turn toward the worshippers of God. Empty your heart of this fleeting guesthouse, for the time has grown narrow upon us, and the king will not see me after this.

"With everyone of our lineage, whether old or young, pray before God. Praise Him in the dark night. Strive and be generous -- do not keep for tomorrow what you can give today. For I am in hardship with my army, in suffering and grief and ill fortune. I will find no deliverance from this in the end. May the sweet breeze blow over the land of Iran.

"When the world grows tight around the king, do not hold back treasure or body or life, for of this renowned and noble lineage, none remains but the exalted king. Do not slacken in your efforts, for we have no other memorial in this world. He alone is the last remnant of the Sasanians -- after this, none will see anyone of this seed again. Alas for this throne and crown and justice and compassion -- this royal seat will be scattered to the wind.

"Farewell, and be without harm. For the sake of the king's person, keep yourself in readiness. If evil comes to him, go before him and dedicate your sword to battle on his behalf."

"When they make the pulpit equal to the throne, and all names become Abu Bakr and Umar, then this long labor will be ruined. There is a long descent before the upward slope. You will see neither throne, nor crown, nor city -- the stars have allotted everything to the Arabs.

"When one day stretches into many days, an unworthy man will become a proud king. Among them, a group will wear black, and set upon their heads caps of brocade. There will be no throne, no crown, no golden shoes, no jewels, no diadem, no banner above their heads. One will enjoy what another has labored for, paying no regard to justice or generosity. At night someone will set a lamp blazing and drag a hidden man out screaming. They will wear belts at the waist and caps on the head.

"They will turn away from oaths and from truth. Crookedness and diminishment will become precious. The man of war will go on foot, while the rider will be one who boasts and chatters. The farmer will become a soldier without skill. Lineage and merit will count for nothing. They will rob one another -- this one from that, that one from this. They will not know blessing from curse. What is hidden will be worse than what is shown. The hearts of their kings will become hard as flint. Fathers will plot ill against sons, and sons will scheme against fathers in turn. The slavish and skill-less will become rulers. Lineage and greatness will count for nothing. No one in the world will have loyalty. Spirits and tongues will be full of treachery.

"From Iran and from Turk and from Arab, a mixed race will appear -- neither peasant-lord, nor Turk, nor Arab. All words will become like a game. They will hide all their treasure beneath their skirts, and die, leaving their effort to the enemy. Men will be called 'learned' and 'ascetic' in name only, and will strive until they get what they want. Grief and toil and tumult will become so widespread that the joys of Bahram Gur's time will be forgotten. No feasts, no pleasure, no striving, no desire -- nothing but scheming and laying traps. Father will bring enmity against his son. Their food will be dried curd and their clothing will be rough wool. They will seek the ruin of others for their own profit, and bring religion forward as their pretext.

"There will be no distinction between spring and winter. They will not bring wine at the time of celebration. When much of this tale has passed, no one will look toward nobility. They will shed blood for the sake of wealth, and the age of the great will be diminished."

Rostam's letter continued: "My heart is full of blood and my face is sallow. My mouth is dry and my lips have turned dark blue. Since I became the army's commander, the fortune of the Sasanians has darkened like this. The turning wheel of heaven has become faithless and turned its face from us in anger.

"The sharp iron-tipped arrow no longer penetrates even bare flesh for me. The sword that never tired of cutting through elephant and lion in battle -- it cannot even cut the skin of the Arabs. From my own knowledge only harm upon harm has come to me. Would that I had no such intellect, no ability to foresee good and ill.

"The great men with me at Qadisiyyah are fierce and hostile toward the Arabs. They imagine that it will all turn out for the better -- that the enemy's land will become a river of blood like the Oxus. But none are aware of heaven's secrets. They do not know that this suffering is not short-lived. When an era passes over a dynasty, what use is toil and battle?

"May your body be well, brother. May the heart of Iran's king be glad through you. For this Qadisiyyah is my burial ground. My shroud is my coat of mail, my blood my crown. Such is the secret of the high heavens -- do not bind your heart to my sorrow. Do not take your eyes off the king of the world. Sacrifice yourself in battle for him, for soon this day of Ahriman will come, when the turning wheel makes itself our enemy."

When he sealed the letter, Rostam said, "May the courier be blessed, who carries this letter to my brother and tells him all that is fitting besides."

He then sent another envoy, swift as lightning and thunder, to Sa'd. A letter was written on white silk, bright as the shining sun. The heading read: "From the son of Hormozd, the king -- Rostam, commander of the realm and well-wisher of the world -- to Sa'd ibn Waqqas, seeker of war, who has made the world narrow and dark upon himself."

The letter began: "We must hold the pure Lord of the world in awe and fear, for by Him the turning heavens stand, and all sovereignty, justice, and compassion are His. May blessings from Him be upon the king, who is worthy of crown and throne and signet ring, who by his glory keeps Ahriman bound, lord of the sword and the high crown.

"Now this unwelcome matter has come before us -- this pointless toil and battle. Tell me: who is your king? What manner of man are you, and what is your custom and your way? By whose authority do you seek power? Your commander is bare and your army is bare. With a crust of bread you are both sated and hungry. You have no elephants, no throne, no baggage, no provisions.

"Life in Iran should be enough for you, for crown and signet ring belong to another -- to one who has elephants and treasure and glory and greatness, whose fathers were renowned kings, father upon father. No moon in the sky matches his beauty, no king on earth matches his stature. Whenever he smiles at a feast and his silver teeth flash, he gives away the price of all the Arab leaders' heads, and it does not diminish his treasury. He has twelve thousand hunting dogs, hawks, and cheetahs, all with bells and golden earrings. In a year, the lancers of his whole hunting plain cannot eat their fill of game from one end to the other -- for his cheetahs and dogs alone eat more than all that, and the king counts it as nothing.

"Have you no shame in your eyes? Have you no sense of courtesy or respect by the path of reason? With that appearance and that birth and those manners, you desire this crown and throne? If you seek the world in proportion to your worth and do not speak recklessly, then send to us a man who can speak -- someone worldly-wise, brave, and worthy -- so that he may tell us what your intention is and who guides you toward the throne of kings. We will send a rider to the king, and we will ask for whatever you desire. But do not seek war with such a king, for in the end it will bring you only ruin.

"He is the great-grandson of Nushin-Ravan, whose justice made old men young again. Father upon father, king upon king -- time itself has no memory of his equal. Do not fill the world with your own curse. Do not be deluded in your customs. Until one has royal lineage, the lord of wisdom and justice does not seek the throne of kings. Look at this letter of counsel -- do not close your eyes and ears and mind."

When the letter was sealed, it was given to Piruz Shapur, a man of noble birth. He went as an envoy to Sa'd, together with Iranian lords of clear vision. They were drenched in armor, silver, and gold, with golden shields and golden belts. When Sa'd heard that this distinguished man had come, he went out to meet him with an army like a dust storm. They received him at once, and Sa'd asked after the health of the commander, the king, the vizier, the army, the generals, and the provinces.

Piruz threw down his cloak and said, "We carry only the spear and the sword as our companions. Men of valor do not speak of brocade, of wine, of silver, of sleep and feasting." Then Piruz delivered the letter and recounted Rostam's words. Sa'd listened to the words and read the letter, and was struck dumb by what it contained.

He wrote a reply in Arabic, setting forth both the fair and the harsh. He spoke of the jinn and of mankind, of the words of the Prophet of the Hashemites, of the oneness of God and the Quran, of promise and warning, of divine support and the new ordinances. He spoke of boiling pitch and hellfire and freezing cold, of paradise and the houris and the rivers of milk, of camphor and fine musk, of the trees of heaven and wine and honey:

"If the king accepts this true faith, both worlds are his in kingship and joy. He may keep his crown and his earrings, forever surrounded by fragrance and color and beauty. His intercessor for sin will be Muhammad, and his body will be like distilled rosewater. For a deed whose reward is paradise, one should not sow enmity in the garden of affliction.

"The body of Yazdegerd and the wide world -- these gardens and fields and palaces and halls, all these throne rooms and feasts and celebrations -- I would not trade them for a single glimpse of a houri's hair. Your two eyes in this fleeting guesthouse have grown blind for the sake of crown and treasure. You have grown too comfortable on that ivory throne, with those cheetahs and hawks and that crown and signet ring.

"This world is not worth a sip of cold water -- so why do you keep your heart in pain? Whoever comes against me in battle will see nothing but hell and a narrow grave. But if you believe, paradise is your abode. Now what is your decision?"

He set the seal of the Arabs on the paper, invoking blessings upon Muhammad.

Then Shu'ba son of Mughira was named to go before Rostam the commander. A scout came from the road to the army's chief and reported: "An envoy has come -- he is on foot, has no horse, no arms, and one eye is missing. A narrow sword hangs at his neck, and his shirt is torn."

When Rostam heard the description, he had a tent of brocade raised high. Golden Chinese threads were drawn for its canopy, and the army came in like ants and locusts. A golden dais was set out, and the army's commander sat upon it. Sixty Iranian warriors surrounded him -- cavalry and men of battle -- wearing gold-brocaded purple robes and golden shoes on their feet. All wore golden torques and earrings. The pavilion was adorned like a king's court.

When Shu'ba came to the great tent, he did not step upon the fine carpets. He walked humbly over the bare ground, having fashioned a scabbard from his sword. He sat on the earth and looked at no one, nor did he glance toward the army's commander.

Rostam said to him, "May your spirit be glad. Keep your body and soul well through wisdom."

Shu'ba replied, "Noble one, if you accept the faith, I will be content."

Rostam recoiled from his words. His brows furrowed and his face went pale. He took the letter from him and gave it to his reader, who recounted its contents aloud.

Then Rostam gave this answer: "Tell him that he is no king and no seeker of the crown. Your spear-point has not yet seen fortune, yet your heart already craves the throne. Words are not taken lightly among the wise -- you have no standing in this matter. If Sa'd were of the seed of Sasan, making war against him would be easy for me. But know that your stars are faithless -- what more can I say? Today is a day of calamity. Even if Muhammad leads your way, I will speak of the old faith against the new. The crooked compass of this hunchbacked wheel means to deal harshly with us. Now return in good cheer, for the day of battle is not the time for words. Tell him that to die fighting with honor is better than to live while the enemy rejoices over you."

The army surged like a sea from its place. A cloud rose up and a roar went high -- the clamor was so great it deafened sharp-eared men. Diamond-tipped spears in the dark dust blazed like fire behind a curtain of lapis lazuli. Spears struck upon polished helmets but could not hold fast against the blows.

For three days the battle raged in that place. Human heads were trampled under hooves. Thirst crippled the hands of the warriors, and even the fine warhorses faltered. Rostam's lips turned to dust from thirst, his mouth was dry, his eloquent tongue cracked and split. When men and horses were scorched and weeping from battle, they chewed wet clay for moisture.

A roar went up like thunder -- Rostam from one side and Sa'd from the other. Both rode out from the center of their armies and withdrew to a corner of the field. When the two were alone, apart from their forces, they came together beneath a tall cypress.

Two commanders, both with hearts full of hatred. A shout rose from Rostam like thunder, and he struck a blow with his sword upon Sa'd's horse's head. When the warhorse fell, Sa'd the fighter was thrown clear. Rostam drew a sharp blade, intending to visit upon him the day of resurrection. He meant to sever Sa'd's head from his body, but a cloud of dust from the armies hid them from view. Rostam dismounted from his war-saddle and tied the reins to his belt. But the dust hid Rostam's vision -- and Sa'd ran back toward the fighting.

Sa'd struck a blow on Rostam's helmet, and blood poured down from the crown of his head over his face. When Rostam's vision was darkened by blood, the Arab warrior gained the upper hand. He struck again at Rostam's chest and neck and cast that fighting body down upon the earth.

Neither army knew what had happened. No one could reach the commander. The troops searched for their general and came to the dueling ground. They saw him from afar, covered in blood and dust, hacked from head to foot by the sword. Many renowned men were slain in the midst of that field. Many died of thirst still in the saddle. The cup of the world's kings was filled to the brim.

The army came back toward the king of Iran, riding through the dark night and racing by day. Yazdegerd was in Baghdad at that time, where he had gathered his army.

Farrukhzad son of Hormozd came weeping to the Arvand River in fury. He launched an attack at Karkh so fierce that not a single spearman remained standing. At that same moment the Iranians poured out of Baghdad and rode to battle on the open plain. But when the dust of combat cleared, defeat fell upon the Iranians.

Farrukhzad turned back and came to the king, covered in dust and bearing the tools of war. He dismounted and bowed before him, his eyes full of blood and his heart burning.

He said to the king, "How long will you wait and watch while the throne of kings is toppled? Of the seed of the Kayanids, no one remains but you who can sit upon the throne with the crown. You are one man and the enemy numbers a hundred thousand. How will you wage war in the midst of the world? Go to the forest of Narun. The world will rally around you there. And from that place, like Feridun, go forth -- you are young, fashion a new enterprise."

Farrukhzad spoke and the world-lord listened, but a different thought came to his mind.

The next day the king sat upon the throne and placed the royal crown on his head. He convened an assembly of the wise -- the great men and the alert priests. "What is your counsel in this matter?" he asked. "What do you remember from the ways of old?"

He continued: "Farrukhzad says we should cross with our retinue to the forest of Narun. In Amol your servants await you, in Sari your slaves are ready. When a great army has gathered, turn back -- with men one can make a stand against shame and battle."

"Is this counsel agreeable to you?" he asked. With one voice they said, "This is not the way."

The king said, "That counsel has merit, but I have a different thought in my heart. The great men of Iran and all these armies, this prosperous land, this throne and crown -- if I save only myself and abandon everything, that is neither greatness nor valor nor wisdom. I would rather fight the enemy than live with disgrace. As the leopard once said in a proverb: 'Never show your back to the foe when harsh times come upon you.' Just as a lesser man must heed the king's command in good and ill alike, so must the lord of the world not leave his men to hardship and go off to his treasury."

The great men blessed him, saying, "This is the way of righteous kings. Now tell us what you command. What do you desire, and what pact will you set with us?"

The king answered the lords: "My heart is torn by thought. Let us go toward Khorasan, where we can rest from the enemy's assault, for on that side I have a great army. The lords and the Turks of the Khaqan of China will come and pay us homage. We will strengthen that friendship further by making a marriage alliance with the daughter of the Faghfur. A great army of aid will come -- lords and warrior Turks. And Mahouy, the Kanarang of Marv, is there too, with army and elephants and all manner of resources. I elevated him because he was eloquent and also eager for battle. When we gave name and rank to one who was worthless -- gave him the governorship, elephants, soldiers, and territory -- even though he is of little substance..."

The king paused. "I have heard this proverb from a priest, who quoted it from the words of the ancients: 'Beware of the one you have wronged, whom you have offended without cause. Place your hope in the one whom you raised from nothing to the heavens with your favor.'"

Farrukhzad clapped both hands together and said, "O king, worshipper of God -- do not trust too much in men of base nature. There is a fresh proverb for this: however much you polish a base stone, however hard you try to change its color, since the Creator made it so, you will not find the key to undo God's work. You cannot strip from them their color and their blood. May you have nothing but greatness and kingship!"

The king replied, "Bold lion -- there is no harm in putting it to the test."

That night he stayed, and at dawn the next day, from Baghdad he took the road to Khorasan, accepting all hardships upon his heart. The great men of Iran, all full of grief, set out with the noble king. They called down blessings upon him: "Without you, may neither time nor world endure."

A bitter cry rose from the army, from the grief and the departure of the king. Those among them who were landowners, and those who were kin and allies of the Khaqan, came before the king weeping, their eyes streaming like rivulets: "How can our hearts be glad in our homeland and our homes without the king's face? We leave behind our prosperous lands, our children, and our treasure, and we choose hardship with you. We do not want a world without your throne. May your fortune never falter. We will all come with you, whatever fate may bring in the clash of war."

Those of the Khaqanid line who were eloquent placed their faces on the dark earth: "We have abandoned our prosperous lands. We believed the world was under your protection. Now, with grieving hearts, we will go to the Khaqan. From the Arabs we will go toward the land of the nobles."

The king's eyelashes filled with tears. He spoke thus to the lords in anguish: "Pray together to God. Praise Him and increase your devotion. Perhaps I will see you once more, and this sharpness of ruin will lessen. You are all of my household. You are my father's legacy to me. I do not wish harm to come upon you. Do not be my companions in misfortune. Let us see upon whom the turning wheel of heaven will now bestow its favor. Make your peace with its course -- there is no escaping its turning and its will."

Then to the merchants of China he said: "For a time, do not remain in the land of Iran, for from the Arabs only loss will come from this pursuit of profit."

They turned back from him with grief and turmoil, with lamentation and cries of woe. Farrukhzad son of Hormozd led the army onward, summoning the experienced men of Iran. The king rode on with lament and sorrow, the commander at the head with his forces. Stage by stage they traveled. For a while he rested with music and wine. From Ray he came like the wind to Gorgan, where he stayed for a time, neither happy nor unhappy. From Gorgan he came toward the road of Bost, his face furrowed, his heart unsound.

He summoned his worldly-wise scribe and unburdened everything that weighed upon his heart. The lord of the world, resolved to go to Marv, wrote a letter to Mahouy the Syrian, the Kanarang of Marv -- a letter full of anguish and urgency, full of longing and brimming with tears.

First he praised the Creator, the Lord of knowledge and sustenance, the Lord of turning Bahram and the sun, the Lord of elephant and ant, who makes something from nothing whenever He wills, needing no teacher for His craft.