The Story of Siavash (Part 5)

Garsivaz the trap-maker set forth with a heart full of hatred and a head full of secrets. When he drew near Siavash's city, he chose a smooth-tongued man from the army and said: "Go to Siavash and say: 'O renowned son of a glory-seeker — by the life and head of the king of Turan, by the life and head and crown of Kay Kavus — do not rise from your throne on my account, and do not come out to meet me on the road. For you are higher than I in dignity and fortune, in glory, lineage, crown, and throne. It is not fitting that you should gird yourself for every wind and empty the seat of kings.'"

The messenger came to Siavash and kissed the ground. When he delivered Garsivaz's message, Siavash grew uneasy in secret. He sat for a long time in wakeful thought, saying: "There is something hidden beneath this. I do not know what Garsivaz has said about me at court."

When Garsivaz arrived at the gate, Siavash came on foot from the palace into the street. He asked about the road and the king, the army, the throne, and the crown. Garsivaz delivered the message of the Turanian king, and Siavash was gladdened by it. He answered: "With his memory, I would not turn my face from the blade of steel. I am ready to depart at once, my bridle tied to your charger. Let us spend three days in this gold-painted garden with wine, for the world is but a caravanserai full of pain and toil — a curse on him who lives there in sorrow."

When Garsivaz heard the wise king's words, he twisted inwardly. He thought: "If Siavash comes with me before Afrasiab, with this lion-heartedness and this much wisdom, he will trample my suspicions underfoot. My words will lose their light; my schemes will become lies before the king. I must now fashion some stratagem to throw his heart off the path."

He sat silent for a time, his eyes fixed on Siavash's face. Then tears of pale yellow fell from his eyes — he was working his trick with weeping. Siavash saw his tear-filled eyes, like one writhing in anguish.

He said gently: "Brother, what has happened? Sorrow is no help to the sorrowful. If you are angry with the king of Turan, if grief has brought moisture to your eyes, I will come with you on the road and make war against the king of Turan, so that he does not torment you without cause or hold you lower than your station."

Garsivaz said: "O renowned one, my trouble is not with the king, nor does it come from any enemy. It rises from the blood itself, and the truth must be spoken straight. First, consider Aghrirath — how he was killed without cause. He was a brother from the same body and the same blood, and yet Afrasiab killed that blameless, wise man. After him, many other innocent nobles have perished at his hand. My special sorrow is for you — that you should be alert of heart and sound of body.

"Since you came to this land, no one has seen any evil from you. You have sought only humanity and truth. But now the fiend of heart-division has filled Afrasiab with resentment and hatred toward you. I do not know what the Creator intends.

"You know I am your friend — your particular ally in every good and evil. I do not want you to think tomorrow that I knew of this quarrel and kept silent. Think on this and seek a remedy. Speak fair words and measure them."

Siavash said: "Fear nothing from this. The Creator of the world is my companion. The king gave me no reason to expect that he would turn my bright day into black night. If there were anger in his heart against me, he would not have raised my head above the assembly. He would not have given me a kingdom, a throne, a crown, lands, children, and the treasures of the army.

"I will come with you now to his court without an army and see what troubles the king." But Garsivaz said: "O seeker of fame, it is not fitting for you to go before him. One should not walk into fire, nor stand safe upon the waves of the sea. You are rushing headlong toward evil and putting your laughing fortune to sleep.

"I am perhaps man enough for this task. Perhaps I can throw cold water on this fire. Let me return alone. I will write a letter setting out everything, fair and foul. If I see his head empty of enmity, I will send you a rider and light up your dark spirit. My hope is in the Creator of the world that this will turn back toward truth and that crookedness and deficiency will be far from him.

"But if I see any heat remaining in his head, I will send a fast camel at once. Then prepare yourself quickly and do not drag things out. It is only a hundred and twenty leagues from here to China, and three hundred and forty to Iran. On this side, all are your friends. On that side, your father longs for you, and the army is bound to you by love."

Siavash believed his words. That wakeful spirit fell asleep. He said: "In the matter you have raised, I will not swerve from your counsel and judgment. Be my intercessor — plead for me and show him the way to peace."

He summoned a learned scribe and poured forth his thoughts. First he invoked the Creator who frees His servants from grief, then praised wisdom, then offered his respects to the king of Turan — the same letter as before, speaking of Farangis's illness and his longing to see the king's face.

He sealed the letter and gave it to Garsivaz of evil lineage. Garsivaz called for three swift horses and rode day and night. In three days he covered the long and steep road. On the fourth he came before Afrasiab — his tongue full of malice, his heart full of guilt.

Afrasiab said: "Why have you come in such haste?" Garsivaz said: "When times grow dark, sitting still is of no use. Siavash did not so much as glance at me. He did not come out to meet me on the road. He did not hear my words, did not read my message. Letters come to him constantly from Iran. He has armies from Rum and from China. The earth trembles at every hour. If you delay, you will find yourself grasping at the wind."

For three days Siavash wept bitterly at the faithless turning of fortune. On the fourth night, lying beside his moon-faced wife, the crown-seeker was deep in sleep when he shuddered and leaped from his sweet slumber, crying out like a maddened elephant.

Farangis held him in her arms and said: "O king, what has happened to your love?" He cried out, and they lit candles and burned aloe-wood and ambergris beside him.

The daughter of Afrasiab asked: "O wise king, what did you see in your dream?" Siavash said: "Do not open your lips about my dream before the assembly. I dreamed of an endless river of water. On the far bank was a mountain of fire, and warriors crowded the water's edge. On one side the fierce fire blazed, and from it Siavashgerd caught light. In the foreground were an elephant and Afrasiab — fire on one hand, water on the other. He looked upon me with a grim face and blew upon the fierce flames."

Farangis said: "This can only mean good fortune. Perhaps tonight you should not sleep. Shame will come upon Garsivaz — he will be killed by the hand of the Khaqan of Rum."

Siavash summoned his men one by one and stationed them at the palace gate. He sat armed, dagger in hand, and sent scouts toward Gang. When two-thirds of the dark night had passed, the mounted scout came from the plain: "Afrasiab with a great army has appeared in the distance, riding fast."

A rider came from Garsivaz: "Bind your waist for the sake of your life. My words did no good — instead of fire I see only dark smoke. Consider what must now be done and where the army must be deployed."

Siavash did not understand Garsivaz's game. He still believed his words were true.

Farangis said: "O wise king, do not look back at us. Mount a swift horse. Do not be at ease for a moment in the land of Turan. I want you alive. Save yourself and do not wait for anyone."

When they returned from that fair land, Siavash kept counsel with his own heart. He asked the astrologers: "I have built a place here. Will my glory and fortune be in order there, or will my heart be filled with regret for what I have done?" They answered the king of the earth with one voice: "This foundation is not auspicious."

Siavash flared with anger at the astrologers. His heart filled with grief and his eyes with tears. He kept a gentle rein on his swift horse, and warm water flowed from his eyes.

Piran said: "O king, what has happened to you? Why have you become so sorrowful?" Siavash answered: "The high heavens have filled my heart with grief and my soul with wretchedness. For however much I gather — riches, treasure, adorned palaces — in the end all of it will reach the enemy. Evil is evil; death will come upon me.

"For there is no place in the world like Gang Dezh, no city so delightful. The grace of God was my companion, and wisdom and wakeful fortune. I built a city in that fashion and raised its head to the Pleiades. Now here too I will put my hand to work and adorn it with many images. But when it is pleasant and prosperous, full of treasure and palace and riches — my time of happiness will not be long. Another person will sit in this place. Neither I will be glad, nor my son, nor any worthy man of my line. My life will not be long. I will pass beyond the need for palaces and halls.

"My throne will become the seat of Afrasiab. He will hasten my death without guilt. Such is the secret of the high heavens — sometimes glad, sometimes wretched."

Piran said: "O proud one, do not stretch dark thoughts long in your heart. Afrasiab is your shield against calamity. You are the signet in the ring of his kingship. As long as I have life in my body, I will strive not to break my pact with you. I will not allow even a wind to pass over you, or a hair on your body to be counted by the air."

Siavash said: "O good-named one, I see nothing as your desire except good fame. All my secrets are open to you — may you be alert of heart and sound of body. I give you foreknowledge from the grace of God, and I am privy to the secrets of the high heavens.

"I will tell you what is to come — truly — beginning with the palace and garden, so that when you see it happen you will not say: 'Why did Siavash keep this hidden from me?'

"O Piran, open your ears wide to these words. Not much time will pass before the careless king makes a secret decision and kills me without guilt. Another will come to this throne and crown. You keep your pact and walk the straight road, but the heavens intend otherwise.

"From the speech of slanderers and from wicked fortune, such harm will fall upon the innocent. Iran and Turan will be thrown into turmoil together. Life will turn bitter with hatred. The whole earth will be filled with hardship, and the age will be full of the sword of vengeance. You will see so many banners of yellow, red, black, and purple marching from Iran to Turan — so much plunder and captives and wealth. Kingdom after kingdom will be trampled under the hooves of horses, and the waters of the streams will run with blood.

"The commander of Turan will repent of his deeds and his words alike. But repentance will avail him nothing when smoke rises from the prosperous land. From Iran and Turan will rise a cry. The world will boil because of my blood.

"The lord of the world wrote this upon the heavens, and by His command all that was sown shall yield its harvest. Come, let us give and eat in gladness. When the time of passing comes, let us pass. Why bind your heart in this caravanserai? Why take pride in treasure and groan at hardship? For that treasure will be enjoyed by another. Why should a man of experience nurture an enemy?"

When Piran heard this and reflected, his heart filled with pain from Siavash's words. He said: "If he speaks true, the calamity comes from me. I am the one who brought Siavash to Turan in toil and gave him kingdom, crown, and treasure. I heard the king's speech clearly, for he would say these things to me from time to time."

Then he said with love: "What do you know of the turning heavens and their movements? Who opened these secrets to you? Perhaps you are remembering Iran — Kay Kavus and the throne of kings, and the good days have come to your mind. Make your heart content with this speech, and harmonize your purpose with the wise."

All along the road they spoke thus, their hearts searching for what was to come. When they dismounted, they paused a moment from speech, ordered a golden table laid, and called for wine, music, and minstrels.

Siavash said to Farangis: "My dream has come true. My waters have darkened. My life is reaching its end, and the sorrow of bitter days is closing in.

"Even if my palace reached the stars, I must still taste the poison of death. Even if my life were a thousand and two hundred years, my place would be nothing but the dark earth. One breast will be a lion's lair; one will house a vulture; another, the royal huma-bird. No one who has a share of knowledge seeks light from the darkness of night.

"You are five months with child — this renowned offspring who is to grow. This chosen tree will bear fruit and bring the world a king. Name him Kay Khosrow, the proud one, and make him your comfort in the eating of grief.

"From the shining sun to the dark earth, there is no escape from the justice of holy God. From the wing of the gnat to the foot of the living elephant, from the spring of water to the river Nile — my hidden resting-place will be the dust of Turan. Who will say my dust lies in Iran?

"Such is the turning of this swift vault. They do not see the old house made new. Henceforth, by the command of Afrasiab, my fortune too has fallen asleep. They will sever this guiltless head. They will set a crown of heart's blood upon me. I will have no coffin, no grave, no shroud. No one from the assembly will weep over me. I will remain like a stranger in the dust, my head split from my body by the sword.

"In shame, the king's guards will drag you bareheaded and bare-bodied along the road. But Commander Piran will come to the gate and beg your father for your life — asking mercy for one who committed no crime. He will take you, grieving, to his own palace.

"In the house of that wise elder, from Iran will come a man of resourcefulness, girded by the command of the Creator. He will take you and your son in secret to the bank of the Oxus and away. They will seat your son upon the throne of kingship, and fish and fowl will obey his command.

"From Iran he will bring an army for vengeance. The whole earth will be thrown into turmoil. In this fashion the heavens will pass. They will not incline with love toward anyone. Army after army will don armor in my name, following my custom. From all the world a cry will arise. The age will boil because of Kay Khosrow. The hooves of Rostam's Rakhsh will trample the earth, and no one in Turan will count for anything.

"From today until the resurrection, you will see nothing but the mace and the sharp sword."

Then Siavash turned his face toward Farangis and bade her farewell. He said: "I am a man who must go, O good companion. Harden your heart against these words. Empty your body of luxury and your throne of ease."

Farangis wailed and groaned, her heart full of pain. She went out from the palace with both cheeks pale, crying: "O world, I do not know why you nurture what you then devour."

Farangis scratched her face and tore her hair, letting two streams flow from her eyes down her cheeks.

When Siavash had spoken all his griefs to his wife, she threw her arms around him, wailing. His face was smeared with the blood of his heart and the water of his eyes. He went to the stable of his Arab horses and brought forth Shabrang Behzad, his night-colored steed, who on the day of vengeance could catch the wind. He pressed the horse's head against his chest and wept over it, speaking into its ear in secret:

"Be wakeful of heart and do not bond with anyone. When Kay Khosrow comes to seek my blood, let him alone put the saddle and the rein upon you. Cut your heart from this stable once and for all, for you will be his mount in vengeance. Be his steed and trample the world. Sweep the enemy from beneath your hooves."

Then he turned to other preparations for death. He blazed like a fire-striker. Of brocade, gold coins, pearls, and gems, of crowns, swords, crowns, and belts — whatever was packed in the treasury — he set fire to the palace and the gardens and raised smoke.

When Afrasiab heard Garsivaz's slander, the old days were freshened in his mind. His heart filled with fire and cold wind. He gave Garsivaz no answer in his rage. He ordered the trumpets and horns to sound — cymbals, bugles, and Indian drums. He marched out of Gang, that laughing paradise, and planted a fresh tree from the root of hatred.

At the hour when the treacherous Garsivaz set his weight heavy in the stirrup, Siavash came to his wife's chamber in grief, his body trembling, his face sallow. Farangis said: "O sharp-clawed warrior, what has happened? You look like a different man."

Siavash answered: "O beautiful one, in Turan my honor has turned to ashes. I do not know what answer to give; I am bewildered by this affair. If Garsivaz speaks truth, the center of the compass is mine."

Farangis seized her tresses in her hand and bruised the rose with her fist. That musk-scented coral filled with blood, her heart caught fire, her face streamed with water. She poured tears over her silver mountain of a breast. She tore her hair and wept.

She said: "O proud king, what will you do? Reveal your secret at once. Your father's heart has been turned against you. You cannot speak of Iran. The road to Rum is long. You will not go to China, for it brings disgrace. From all the world, whom will you take as shelter, save the Lord of sun and moon?"

Siavash said: "Garsivaz the well-wisher has gone to bring good news to the king — for he has relented and softened his heart, and brought his head of hatred to a respectful end." He spoke thus, and turned his back on God's justice, his heart darkened by the harshness of the times.

When his preparations were made, Siavash set forth, astonished at his own wicked fortune. He mounted a rested horse, his face stained with blood-tears like a Judas-tree blossom. He set out toward the road to Iran.

He had ridden barely a league and a half when the army of the king of Turan caught up with him. He saw the host with swords and maces and coats of mail, and Siavash had knotted a knot over his own armor. He said to himself: "Garsivaz spoke true. Such truth should not be concealed."

Siavash was afraid for his life, yet he did not wish to flee in hiding. He stood his ground until the army reached him. They halted before Siavash the king. Siavash remained standing in his place, as though he thought: "Perhaps the enemy will be destroyed." Each side looked at the other, for there had been no hatred between them before.

The Iranians drew up their line and bound their waists for the spilling of blood. They fought alongside Siavash and saw no room for retreat or delay. They said: "Now they will kill us anyway. We should not let ourselves be dragged upon the dust alone. Let them see what an Iranian assault looks like. Do not count this as a small thing."

But Siavash said: "This is not the counsel. This is no place for war. I will not bring shame upon my lineage by offering battle to the king. If the turning heavens intend to destroy me guiltless at the hands of the wicked — there is no room for manhood on that day, for there is no war against the Creator of the world."

As the wise man of judgment and sense once said: "Against an evil star, do not strive with valor."

Siavash said to Afrasiab: "O king of skill, of station and honor, why have you come with an army seeking war? Why do you wish to kill me without guilt? You will fill the armies of two kingdoms with hatred and cover earth and time with curses."

Garsivaz of little wisdom said: "Who are you to speak such words? If you came here as an innocent man, why did you come before the king in armor? Coming to meet someone in this fashion is not the road of peace. A bow and armor are not gifts for a king."

Siavash knew this was all Garsivaz's doing — that the king's fury was his handiwork. He said: "O worthless seeker of hatred, you will reap the harvest of what you have done. The seed you planted will bear its fruit. Thousands of innocent heads will be ruined by your words. Through your speech I was led astray from the path. You are the one who made the king angry."

Then he said to Afrasiab: "O king, do not hold fire in your embrace in haste. This is no game, this spilling of my blood. Do not give the city of Turan and yourself to the wind by the words of Garsivaz of evil birth."

Garsivaz saw the color of things — how Siavash's words were reaching the king — and flared up: "O commander, enough! What need is there to talk and listen to the enemy?" When Afrasiab heard Garsivaz's words and the sun climbed high, he commanded the army to draw sharp swords and cry out as at the resurrection.

Siavash, for the sake of the oath he had sworn, did not reach for sword or spear. He commanded none of his companions to set foot in battle. The army of Turan made war upon the Iranians. Garsivaz commanded: "Cut them all down with the sword. Lay a ship of slaughter upon this plain of blood."

Of the Iranian host there were a thousand men, all renowned warriors of the battlefield. All were killed, wounded, and overthrown. Their time had come.

No Turk dared raise his hand against the face of the king. But when Siavash's fortune had turned and all his warriors lay slain, they seized the king by the arms. Fifty or sixty arrows struck him. He was wounded by arrows and spears. The king fell headlong from the back of his horse and rolled in the dark dust like a drunkard.

Goruy Zerah bound his hands. They put a halter around his neck, his arms tied behind his back like stone. Blood ran from that rose-colored face, and the eyes of the young prince, who had never seen such a day, were blinded.

They dragged him on foot, those man-killing guards. They took him toward Siavashgerd, with soldiers crowding in on every side.

Afrasiab commanded: "Drag him off the road. Sever his head from his body in a waste place where no grass will ever grow. Pour his blood upon the hot earth. Do not delay, and do not be afraid."

Garsivaz looked at Goruy. Goruy the tyrant twisted his face. When he came before Siavash, all manliness and shame vanished. He seized the king's hair and dragged him by it across the ground.

Siavash cried out to the Creator: "O You who are above all place and time! Let one branch appear from my seed, shining like the sun over the assembly — one who will seek vengeance from these enemies, who will make fresh again the customs of my realm, who will bring the whole world under his foot and carry the deeds of manhood to their rightful place."

Behind him walked Pilsam, his eyes full of blood and his heart full of grief. Siavash said to him: "Farewell. May the dark earth be your eternal home. Carry my greeting to Piran. Tell him the world has changed its shape."

"I did not expect this from Piran. All his hope became wind, and I became like a willow. He told me that with a hundred thousand armored cavalry, he would be my ally when my day turned dark, that he would be my pasture in the time of grazing. Now here I am before Garsivaz, running on foot, despised and dark of spirit. I see no friend with me. No one will cry out in anguish over me."

When they had passed through the city and the army, they dragged him out upon the open plain. From Garsivaz, Goruy Zerah took the blue-gleaming dagger meant for blood. He dragged the prince by his hair. When they came to the place of the mark — where on that day the arrow-target had been set, where Siavash and Garsivaz had once competed — when they reached that mark, Goruy the evil-natured threw the roaring lion to the earth. He felt no shame before that commander, no dread.

Goruy set down a golden basin. He twisted Siavash's face like that of a sheep. He severed from the silver cypress its head. Blood ran into the basin from above.

To the place that had been appointed, Goruy carried the basin of blood and overturned it. A plant sprang up at once from the blood — there where the basin was overturned. I will give you its sign now: they call it "the blood of Siavash."

When the sun moved far from the silver cypress, the head of the king fell into sleep. What a sleep — for so much time has passed, and he has never stirred, never awakened.

A wind came with dark black dust and turned the sun and moon to darkness. No one could see another's face. All cursed Goruy.

When the king's throne was emptied of the king — no moon, no sun, no straight cypress — the poet cries: "I look left and right, I turn this way and that, and I cannot find the head or foot of the world. One man does evil and does not walk the earth in goodness, yet the world becomes his slave and fortune comes to him. Another walks only in goodness throughout the world, and withers always in wretchedness. Do not bind sorrow to your soul. Do not give your life and heart to grief over the world, for it is unstable and discordant. Such it has been, as long as this age has stood. Know that whatever is born from it will not abide with it forever."

From the palace of Siavash a cry arose. The world boiled with rage against Garsivaz. All the servants tore their hair. Farangis cut her long musky tresses, bound them around her waist, bruised the rose of her face with her nails, and cursed the life of Afrasiab at the top of her voice, weeping and pouring water.

The heads of the moon-faced women hung in broken tresses, their faces scratched, their spirits crushed. The shrieking reached Afrasiab's ears. When he heard that bitter wailing and cursing, he said to Garsivaz: "Bring this woman out from behind the curtain. Drag her by her hair to the guards. Have them tear the veil from her head and beat her with sticks until the seed of hatred falls from the soil of Turan. I do not want from the root of Siavash any tree, leaf, fruit, crown, or throne."

All the nobles of that assembly cursed him, man by man, saying: "From king, counselor, and army, no one has heard such judgment."

Pilsam came forth, his face full of blood, his spirit branded, his heart full of grief. He recounted all that had passed and said: "Hell is better than the throne of Afrasiab. There can be no rest or sleep in this land." He said: "Let us ride hard and go to Piran. Let us be prisoners and captives in sorrow."

Three men saddled three fine horses and rode as though inscribing the earth. They reached Piran, all three horsemen — their faces full of blood, their spirits full of thorns. They told him everything, how the king had laid the foundation of all these evils.

When Piran heard their words, he fell from his throne, his senses leaving him. He tore all the garments upon his breast. He pulled his hair and poured dust upon his head.

He said, weeping: "O worthy one, deserving of the crown — the ivory throne will never see your like again."

Pilsam said: "Hurry, for a pain will be added to this pain. They have taken Farangis from her throne. Her body trembles like a tree. They are dragging her in shame, wailing, to the man-killing guards."