The Mazandaran Campaign (Part 2)

When his prayer was done, Rostam saddled Rakhsh, mounted, and took the road. He rode onward until the blazing sun began to descend, and he came upon trees and grass and running water — a place fit for a young man's rest. He found a spring bright as the eye of a pheasant, and beside it a goblet of wine red as pigeon's blood, roasted game and bread, a salt-cellar and condiments arranged around it.

He dismounted, unsaddled Rakhsh, and fell upon the food in wonder. The demons who had prepared this feast fled at the sound of his approach. He sat beside the spring amid the reeds, found a ruby goblet full of wine and a fine tambur beside it — the desert had become a lord's banquet hall.

Rostam took up the instrument, plucked the strings, and began to sing: "Rostam is a wanderer of ill fortune, whose share of happy days is small. His arena is always a battlefield; his garden is the desert and the mountain. His wars are with demons and great dragons — from demons and deserts he finds no release. Wine and goblets and fragrant flowers and meadows — fate has never granted these to me. Always I am in the jaws of crocodiles; always at war with leopards."

The song and the sound of the strings reached the ears of a sorceress. She adorned her face like spring — though by nature her looks held no beauty — and came before Rostam full of color and scent, and sat down beside him. Rostam, not knowing what she was, gave thanks to God that in the desert of Mazandaran he had found a feast, wine, music, and a young companion. He did not know she was a foul sorceress — Ahriman hidden beneath a painted surface.

He placed a goblet of wine on his palm and invoked the name of God the Merciful. The moment she heard the name of the Lord, her face transformed — her soul could not endure praise, her tongue could not bear prayer. She turned black when she heard the name of God. Rostam saw it in an instant. He flung the loop of his lasso and caught the sorceress by the head. He demanded: "Show yourself as you truly are." A hideous old crone appeared in the noose — wrinkled, full of trickery and malice. He cut her in half with his dagger, and terror filled the hearts of all the sorcerers.

From there Rostam set his face to the road like a wayfarer. He rode on until he reached a place where no light existed in the world — a night as black as the face of a Zangi, the stars caught in the loop of a lasso. He gave Rakhsh the reins and pressed forward, seeing neither height nor stream in the blackness.

At last he emerged into light. The ground spread before him like silk, thick with young wheat — a world that had turned from old age back to youth, all greenery and running water. His clothes were soaked through like water itself; his helmet was drenched in sweat. He stripped off the tiger-skin armor and spread both garments in the sun. Sleep and rest came upon him in a rush. He removed Rakhsh's bridle and let him loose upon the wheat and the sown fields.

When a field-warden saw the horse in the crop, his tongue flew loose in fury. He ran toward Rostam and Rakhsh and struck the sole of Rostam's foot hard with a stick. The elephant-bodied one woke. The field-warden shouted: "You demon! Why did you turn your horse loose in the wheat? You reap where you never labored!"

Rostam's temper flashed. He leapt up, seized both the man's ears, squeezed, and tore them from his head without a word. The field-warden snatched up his ears and fled, howling in astonishment.

In that region a warrior named Oulad held command — a young, bold, and famous champion. The field-warden ran to him, blood pouring from his head and hands, his ears ripped away. He cried: "A man like a black demon — clad in a leopard-skin coat and an iron helm — sits yonder. He is Ahriman from head to foot, or a dragon sleeping in armor. I went to drive his horse from the field, and he leapt up, tore off my ears, and went back to sleep."

Oulad gathered his warriors and rode out to see this stranger for himself. When they neared, Rostam mounted Rakhsh and drew his glittering sword like a roaring thundercloud. Oulad demanded his name: "What manner of man are you? Who is your king? Why did you tear off my field-warden's ears and let your horse trample the crop? I will bring the sky down dark upon you."

Rostam answered: "My name is the thundercloud — if a thundercloud should fight like a lion. I rain down lance and sword; I bring proud heads into the dust. If my name should pass your ears, the blood in your veins would freeze." Then he fell upon Oulad's host. Like a lion among sheep, he slaughtered all who stood around him, cutting down two heads at a single blow. The army shattered and scattered to the mountains and ravines.

Rostam pursued Oulad like a raging elephant, lasso coiled on his arm. When Rakhsh drew close, Oulad's day went dark. Rostam cast his long lasso, caught the chief by the head, pulled him from his horse, bound both his hands, threw him to the ground, and said: "If you speak truth, I will release you. When I have defeated the demons, I will give the land of Mazandaran into your hands. Show me where the White Div dwells, where Pulad Ghandi and Bid keep their posts, where Kay Kavus is held in chains. If you are true, you shall be king of this land. If you lie, I will make a river of blood run from your eyes."

Oulad answered: "Clear the anger from your mind and open your eyes. You will find from me every sign you seek. It is one hundred farsangs to the place where Kay Kavus groans in captivity, and another hundred to the mountain pass of the demons. Between two mountains lies a place of terror. Twelve thousand war-demons stand guard there by night. Pulad Ghandi is their general and Bid their sentinel. The chief of all the demons is the White Div — at his approach the mountains tremble like willows. His body is like a mountain; his shoulders and neck are ten ropes across. You, with all your height and strength — it is not wise to make war on such a demon."

Rostam laughed at his words and said: "If you are my guide, you will see what a single elephant-bodied man can do against that famous Ahriman."

With the royal helmet on his head and the sweat-stained tiger-skin upon his breast, Rostam set his face toward Arzhang, commander of the demon host. He rode up to their camp and let loose a war-cry in their midst so tremendous that you would have said the sea and the mountains split apart.

Arzhang Div burst from his tent at the sound. The moment Rostam saw him, he spurred Rakhsh forward and fell upon the demon like the sacred fire of Adur Gushnasp. He seized Arzhang by the head and ears, and tore his head from his body as a lion tears its prey. He flung the blood-drenched head toward the assembled demons.

When the demons beheld his mace and the savagery of his claws, their hearts were ripped apart with terror. They forgot their homeland and their kin — fathers trampled over sons to find a way of escape. Rostam's sword of vengeance mingled among them, and he emptied that assembly of demons entirely.

When the sun lit the world again, he rode hard to Mount Aspruz, untied Oulad from his bonds, and they sat beneath a tall tree. Rostam asked Oulad the way to the city where Kay Kavus was held. When he heard it, he set his face in that direction, with Oulad running on foot before him to show the road.

When they entered the city, Rakhsh let loose a neigh so mighty that its sound pierced all the way to the place where Kavus was hidden. The king heard it and rejoiced, for he knew that deliverance had come. He told his companions, but they refused to believe him, thinking grief had disordered his wits. But not long did they doubt, for soon Rostam himself stood before them. When the nobles heard his voice and his step they repented of their disbelief.

Kay Kavus embraced Rostam and asked of his journey and of Zal. Then he said: "We cannot waste time with sweet words. You must go at once to the White Div, for if he hears that Arzhang has fallen, he will march from his mountain stronghold with the whole multitude of demons, and even your might may not stand before them all. Go to the Seven Mountains and destroy the White Div before the news reaches him. You alone can save Iran — for I cannot help you, nor can my warriors, for our eyes are filled with darkness. A physician has told me that only the blood of the White Div's heart, dropped into our eyes — three drops — will wash away the darkness and restore our sight. Go forth, my son, and may God be gracious to you."

Rostam girded his belt tight, his head full of vengeance and war, and took Oulad with him. He drove Rakhsh like the wind until they reached the Seven Mountains, where demon warriors swarmed in groups beyond counting. He came to the edge of a bottomless cavern and saw the demon host deployed around it.

He said to Oulad: "Everything I have asked of you, I have found to be true. Now the time to advance has come — show me the way and reveal the last secret." Oulad answered: "When the sun grows hot, the demons fall asleep. That is when you will have victory over them. Wait a little while."

Rostam did not rush forward. He waited until the sun stood high overhead. He bound Oulad hand and foot, then mounted Rakhsh and drew the war-serpent from its sheath. He roared like thunder and shouted his name, and plunged into the demon army like a dust-storm, sweeping heads from shoulders with his blade. Not one stood before him in combat; none sought to match him in honor or shame.

From there he advanced toward the White Div, shining like the sun itself. He found a pit like the mouth of hell, its bottom lost in darkness. He stood for a time with sword in hand — there was no room for battle and no room for retreat. He rubbed his eyelids, washed his eyes, and searched through the dark cave. In the blackness he saw a shape like a mountain, its bulk filling the cavern from wall to wall — face dark as jet, hair white as a lion's, the whole world full of his height and breadth.

The White Div lay asleep. Rostam did not hurry to kill him in his slumber. He roared like a leopard. The demon woke and came to battle. He advanced on Rostam like a mountain army — arms of iron, helm of iron. He seized a millstone and hurled it. Rostam was seized with dread and said to himself: "If I survive today, I will live forever."

He raged like a furious lion and struck a blow with his sharp sword upon the demon's waist. By the force of Rostam's arm, one leg and one foot fell away from the creature's body. Maimed, the White Div grappled with him. Like an exalted elephant and a savage lion they wrestled. The demon fought on one leg against the champion, turning the whole cavern upside down. He seized Rostam's arms and shoulders, striving to bring the hero down. They tore flesh from each other; blood turned the ground to mud.

Rostam said in his heart: "If I survive today, I am alive forever." The White Div said in his heart: "I must give up hope of my sweet life. If I escape the claws of this dragon with my skin and sinews torn, then neither great nor small in all Mazandaran shall ever see me again."

In this way the two battled, blood and sweat running in streams. At last Rostam called upon the strength of the Creator. He strained with all his might through pain and vengeance, twisted the demon down, seized him like a roaring lion, lifted him up by the neck, and hurled him to the ground so that the life left his body. He drove his dagger in and split the demon's chest open, and tore the liver from the dark body.

The cavern was nothing but corpses; the world had become a sea of blood. He returned to Oulad, loosed his bonds, and tied the liver to his saddle. Oulad cried: "O lion — you have conquered the world with your sword. Release this servant, for your bonds have bitten into my flesh. Remember your promise." Rostam answered: "I will — but there is still much to do. I must yet overthrow the King of Mazandaran. When that is done, I will fulfill my word."

They rode back to where Kavus was held. When the king heard that Rostam had returned with victory on his brow, he shouted for joy, and all the host shouted with him. Rostam came before them, took the blood of the White Div's heart, and poured it into their eyes. The eyes of Kay Kavus and his men were opened, and they beheld once more the glory of day.

Kay Kavus now wrote a letter to the King of Mazandaran, counseling him to submit and make peace. He told him that Arzhang was slain, the White Div destroyed, and that Rostam would slay the king himself if he did not pay tribute to Iran. He sealed the letter with the royal seal and Rostam bore it forth.

Word reached the King of Mazandaran that Kay Kavus had sent an envoy — a messenger fierce as a raging lion, with a coiled lasso at his saddle-horn, mounted on a tall war-horse, his body like a maddened elephant. The king selected a company of his finest warriors and sent them out in splendor, arrayed like a spring garden, to receive this famous envoy.

When Rostam's eyes fell upon them, he saw beside the road a tree of thick branches. He seized two limbs, wrenched them violently, and tore the tree out by its roots without the slightest strain to his body. He held it in his hand like a javelin. The welcoming party stood in astonishment. When he reached them, he flung the tree among the riders and brought many horsemen crashing to the ground.

One of the champions of Mazandaran — a man who had been foremost among their lords — stepped forward and seized Rostam's hand to test his grip. Rostam laughed and squeezed. The blood left the man's face, and his veins stood out. Then the king sent Kalahour, his mightiest knight, to retrieve their honor. Kalahour pressed Rostam's hand like a vise, and Rostam felt the sting of it. But he would not let the men of Mazandaran see him yield. He gripped Kalahour's hand and crushed it until the nails fell from his fingers like leaves from a tree. Kalahour returned to the king with his hand hanging ruined, and counseled him to make peace with a land that sent such messengers.

But the king would not sue for peace. He summoned Rostam before him. He studied the envoy's arms and chest and said: "Surely you are Rostam, for you have the shoulders of a champion." Rostam replied: "I am but a servant, unworthy to serve even in his retinue. He is a champion great and strong, the like of whom the earth has never seen."

Then he handed over the letter. When the king read it, he was wild with anger. He said: "Surely the man who sent you is mad. If he is master in Iran, I am lord of Mazandaran, and never shall he call me vassal. It was his own arrogance that delivered him into my hands, yet he has learned nothing. Go tell him the King of Mazandaran will meet him on the battlefield."

Rostam departed without accepting the rich gifts the king offered, for he too was angered. He rode back to Kavus with a heart hungry for vengeance and reported everything he had seen and heard. He told the king: "Worry no more. Prepare for war. Those warriors and champions are contemptible in my eyes — they are not worth a grain of dust. With this mace I will bring ruin upon them all."

When Rostam returned from his embassy, the sorcerer-king of Mazandaran prepared for war. He drew his pavilions out of the city and marshaled his entire army upon the plain. When the dust of the host rose between the two forces, the color of the sun itself vanished. Neither plain nor mountain could be seen; the ground groaned beneath the feet of war-elephants.

The two armies drew up their lines. Kavus placed Tus on the right wing, where the mountain echoed with the wail of trumpets. Gudarz and Keshvad held the left, clad entirely in iron. Kavus himself stood in the center. Before the army rode Rostam, who had never known defeat, the heavy mace upon his shoulder.

A demon champion named Juya rode out before the host, his armor blazing, the heat of his sword scorching the earth. He passed before the Iranian lines and bellowed: "Who will seek combat with me? Who can raise dust from water?" Not one warrior came forward — not a vein stirred in them, not a drop of blood. Kavus rebuked his champions: "What has happened to you, warriors and men of war, that this demon has made your heads spin and his voice has darkened your faces?"

None answered. Then Rostam turned his reins, raised his gleaming lance, and asked the king's leave. Kavus said: "This serpent is yours — no one in Iran will seek this fight. Go, and may the Creator be your ally." Rostam spurred Rakhsh to the dueling ground like a maddened elephant, a leopard beneath a dragon. He cried to Juya: "The one who bore you shall weep — now is the time for grief, not rest." Juya snarled back, but when Rostam shouted his name and charged like a moving mountain, the demon's spirit went dark. He turned to flee, but Rostam was already at his back. He drove his lance through the demon's belt and armor, lifted him from the saddle as a hawk snatches a bird, and hurled him to the ground — mouth full of blood, armor torn to shreds.

The whole army surged forward. For seven days the battle raged — swords and maces flashing like lightning from a thundercloud, screams of demons and shouts of warriors, drums and trumpets and the neighing of horses, blood turning the plain into a lake. Victory leaned to neither side.

On the eighth day, Kavus removed the Kayanid crown from his head and prostrated himself before God. He wept and prayed: "O just Creator, grant me victory and glory over these fearless demons. Renew the throne of kingship for me — not for my sake, who am unworthy, but for the sake of Iran."

He placed the crown back on his head and returned to his army. The trumpets sounded. Rostam surged forward like an elephant. Tus brought up the war-elephants and drums from the rear. Gudarz, Giv, Gorgin, Grazeh, Farhad, and all the named champions pressed the attack. From dawn until the sun stood high, blood ran like water in the channels. Shame and mercy and affection vanished from the world; you would have said the heavens themselves rained maces.

Where the King of Mazandaran held his ground, Rostam advanced with a great force. He raised his mace and roar, and the air filled with his thunderous voice. At the sound, the demons lost their souls and the elephants lost their senses. Elephant trunks and demon corpses lay strewn across miles of the field.

Then Rostam called for a lance and charged straight at the King of Mazandaran. The two came together like thunder — the sorcerer-king and Rostam the champion. Rostam drove his lance through the king's belt and into his body. But as the blow struck, the king used his arts of magic and transformed his body into a slab of rock before the eyes of the entire army.

Rostam was confounded. Kavus arrived with his elephants and standards and asked what had happened. Rostam explained: "I struck him with my lance and thought him finished — but he turned to stone before me." Kavus ordered the strongest men in the army to raise the rock, but none could move it. Then Rostam the elephant-limbed opened his hands — he needed no test of strength. He lifted the great stone and carried it on foot across the seven hills while the army shouted in amazement and scattered jewels and gold upon him.

Before Kavus's pavilion, Rostam set the stone down and said: "Come forth, O King of Mazandaran — or I will shatter you to atoms with my mace." The king heard the threat and was afraid. He emerged from the rock and stood before Rostam in all his ugliness. Rostam took his hand, smiled, and led him before Kavus, saying: "I bring you this piece of rock, whom fear of my blows has brought to submission."

Kavus looked upon the King of Mazandaran — a hideous, long-bodied creature with a neck like a boar — and remembered all the old sufferings. His heart broke and his lips filled with cold sighs. He ordered the executioner to take a sharp sword and cut the demon-king to pieces. Rostam seized the creature by the beard and dragged him out, and the sentence was carried out.

Kavus sent men to the enemy camp and had all the treasure brought forth — crown, throne, gold, jewels, horses, weapons — heaped like mountains. He distributed the spoils to each man according to his suffering. Every ungrateful demon was beheaded. Then Kavus went to the place of prayer and for one week prostrated himself before God in thanksgiving. In the second week he opened the treasuries and gave to all in need. In the third he called for wine and celebration, and held court in Mazandaran.

Then Kavus said to Rostam: "O champion of the entire world, you showed valor at every turn. Through you I have won back my throne. May your heart, your faith, and your creed be radiant." Rostam replied: "Every man has his part to play. But my success came from Oulad, who guided me truly at every step. He has been promised Mazandaran. Now let the king's robe of honor come first — a sealed covenant that he shall be king of this land."

Kavus heard the words of his champion, struck his hand upon his chest in agreement, and bestowed the crown of Mazandaran upon Oulad. Then Kavus turned his face toward Pars and departed, and there was peace in Iran once more.