Part 20

And behold! hearing this groan of horrible heart-break, Sohrab knew at last that the unknown warrior was none other than his long-sought father, Rustem the Mighty. So, though fierce was the pain of his wound, Sohrab managed finally to reach the place where Rustem lay, pillowing his head upon his knee. Yea, and he bathed his face with tears, whispering unto him fond words of endearment, trying thus to coax him back to life.

But alas! When Rustem opened his eyes once more, it was upon a world of woe and anguish. In his agony of spirit, therefore, he rent his clothes, and tore his hair, and beat upon his breast, moaning and crying in his terrible sorrow:

“O my son whom I have slain! My son so young and brave and beautiful! Would that my name had been struck from the lists of men ere I had done this cruel deed. But behold! one grave shall suffice for father and son, for no longer will I cumber the earth.”

Now so speaking, Rustem clutched his sword, and would have slain himself had not Sohrab stayed his hand, saying:

“Father, forbear! For truly, not thou, but Fate is responsible for this woful happening. Ah, how our hearts cried out one unto the other! and how we should have joyed together! But alas! it hath been decreed otherwise by Him who changeth not. Weep not, therefore, and do thyself no harm, for what is written in the stars, shall it not come to pass? And listen! In spite of all, a great joy hath come unto Sohrab—for doth he not behold thy face? O my father, so brave and splendid, how I have longed to see thee! Come, sit beside me on the sand, therefore, and hold me fast. Yea, take my head between thy hands, and kiss me on the cheek, murmuring, just once, the tender words: ‘My son! My valiant son!’ Quick! for my life is ebbing fast.”

Then Rustem, weeping, cast his arms about his son, murmuring unto him broken words of praise and anguish. And Sohrab was content, for had he not his heart’s desire? So, still he lay, and naught disturbed the oppressive silence save only Rustem’s heart-breaking cries of woe.

But behold! The father’s sad lament reached and caused distress unto other ears than those of quiet Sohrab. For Rakush, hearing his master’s plaintive voice, whinnied back unto him distressfully, knowing not what to think. Then, as Rustem came not unto him, presently, after many brave tugs, he tore up the rock unto which he was fastened, and hastened, as fast as his burden would allow, unto his master’s side. But alas! in his terrible grief, stricken Rustem had only words of chiding for his devoted steed, saying unto him:

“O Rakush! Rakush! Verily, thy feet should have rotted in thy joints before ever they bare thy master to this field.”

Now at this outburst, Sohrab raised his head, gazing with bright eyes at the great charger, whose joys and sorrows were so closely bound up with those of his master. And much he wondered to see the big, warm tears roll down from the soft, compassionate eyes of drooping Rakush. Smiling gently, therefore, he said unto him:

“So thou art really Rakush! Ah, how oft have I heard my mother tell of thee, thou faithful, loving steed! And how I envy thee! For thou hast been where I shall never go—even unto far-off Seistan, my father’s sunny home. There White-haired Zal himself hath stroked thy arching neck, and given thee food, and bidden thee bear thy master well. But alas! Sohrab will never see his grandsire’s charming home, nor hear his voice in greeting.”

Thus spake the dying Sohrab, and Rustem, hearing his sorrowful plaint, brake forth afresh in woe, refusing to be comforted. And he cried:

“Oh, that I were dead, and the waves of yon dark river rolling peacefully over me! For never shall I know happiness more in the world.”

But again Sohrab spake words of comfort unto his father, bidding him live for Iran—thus reaping in his old age a second glory of great deeds. Yea, and he also prayed Rustem to ensure that his followers be allowed to cross the Oxus back in peace, and that brave Hujir be granted his liberty. And he said:

“As for me, O my father, carry me back with thee unto Seistan, and bury me with the heroes of my house, for I shall sleep more peacefully there.”

So Rustem, stifling his tears, promised that Sohrab’s every wish should be fulfilled. And he said:

“O my glorious son! Never shalt thou be forgotten. For behold! I will build thee a stately tomb, with a tall pillar rising unto the skies. And so imposing shall it be that all men shall see it from afar, and point to it as Valiant Sohrab’s tomb. Yea, and all thy brave deeds shall be recorded there, cut so deep in the marble that not even Time shall be able to erase them. So shalt thou live forever, thy glory rivalling that of all the heroes of Iran. For, generous hast thou been, as well as mighty and valiant!”

Now hearing these wonderful words, Sohrab smiled radiantly upon his father, caressing his mighty hand. Then sinking back into his arms, he murmured:

“Ah, the world is so beautiful! So beautiful! And I am young to die. Nevertheless, I am content. For, O my father! that was a glorious fight.... And I am not ashamed. Only, my poor young mother!”

So, with his mother’s name upon his lips, Brave Sohrab sighed gently, his head drooped, and then, white and motionless, the fair young body lay forever quiet in his father’s arms. But behold, the smile upon his lips still spake of content, for it said that the beautiful spirit had soared once more unto the sunny Gardens of the Blessed.

But alas! In departing, Sohrab took all the sunshine of the world with him. For now night came down, heavy and dark, upon the plain, and a chill fog rose up from the rushing river. By and by, however, the moon came out, shining solitary through the mist, and its rays fell softly upon Sohrab, lying with radiant, upturned face, so still upon the sand. But alas! The Queen of the Night could not lighten the dark figure that—with horseman’s cloak drawn low over bowed head—sat silent and immovable by the side of the sleeping youth. Nay; not even Rakush could rouse his master now, though he caressed and whinnied and coaxed for long hours.

Alas! so it was that the warriors, sent out by the two great chiefs, found the morning’s gay champions. But so great was their awe that none dared draw near to question. So, silently they rode back, and gave the news unto their leaders. But not even the Shah dared disturb the Great Pehliva in his grief, when it was learned that Rustem had slain his son. In the morning, however, the gentle hands of many brave warriors lifted the sleeping Sohrab and bare him in a litter, sorrowfully unto the Persian camp, amid such wailing as the earth ne’er heard before. For the mighty hosts of both great armies mourned for the brave young Hero gone.

Yea, and after this, Rustem, having built a great fire, flung into it his tent of emerald and his trappings of Roum, his saddle and his leopard-skin, his armor well tried in battle, and all the appurtenances of his throne. Now thus was the pride of the mighty warrior laid low. Yea; and without regret saw he his heart’s treasures burn, for his soul was sick of war. And he cried:

“O Sohrab! Sohrab! Not even for thee will I fight more. For what availeth glory unto me now?”

And having thus sacrificed his pride, behold, Rustem commanded that Sohrab be swathed in rich brocades of gold, worthy his fair young body; and when they had thus enfolded him, he made ready his army to return unto Seistan. But for one night, Brave Sohrab lay in state, watched over by his own gallant chiefs, who had feasted with him so merrily in his tent, and who now, alas, mourned for him with a bitterness that filled the night with woe.

When morning dawned, however, the sorrowful procession set forth unto Seistan. Now all the nobles of Iran marched before the bier, their heads covered with ashes and their garments rent and tattered. And behold! Rustem heaped black earth upon his head, and tore his hair, and wrung his hands; but his cries could not be heard for the mighty wailing of the army. And not only this, but lo! the drums of the war-elephants were also shattered, and the cymbals broken, and the tails of the horses torn to the roots, for thus did the Persians mourn their mighty dead.

Now when the mournful train drew near unto Seistan, Zal marvelled to see the host returning thus in sorrow. For, as he beheld Rustem at their head, he knew that the wailing was not for him, and he could think of no other worthy such martial honors. When they drew near, however, Rustem led him unto the bier, and showed unto him the youthful Sohrab, so like in feature and might unto Saum, the son of Neriman. Then he told unto him all that had come to pass, and behold! Zal, too, tore his white hair and wept at this dire misfortune and loss that had come unto his house, and for brave, laughing Sohrab gone.

And lo! the days of mourning being ended, the Mighty Ones built for the sleeping hero a tomb like unto a horse’s hoof; and therein they laid him to rest, in a chamber of gold, perfumed with amber. Yea, and they covered him with soft brocades, and placed his arms beside him, so that right royally he took his rest. And when it was done, behold, the house of Rustem grew like unto a grave, and its courts were filled with the voice of sorrow. So they mourned for Sohrab in the home of his fathers, and it seemed as if joy could never again take up her abode in the anguish-smitten heart of Rustem.

But alas! not alone in the home of his fathers was Sohrab mourned. There at least his passing left no gap. But in far Samengan, how different! For, though so brave about letting her nestling fly forth, well Tamineh knew that until he winged his glad flight back unto the home nest there would be no more sunshine in her life. Now gladly would she have laid herself down and slept, even as the Princess of old, until the glad day when her brave young Prince should, by his kiss, call her back once more unto the joy of life. But behold! even slumber was denied her.

So, night after night, too restless and anxious to sleep, Tamineh sat upon her balcony, gazing down the moonlit road by which one day her brave young warrior must return. For at first she dreamed not of ill. But alas! one night as she gazed with longing that would not be stilled, suddenly she fell to shivering. For behold! no longer did she see the long dusty road, but in its stead there flowed a great silent river, which shone in the moonlight like molten silver. And alas! upon its surface floated Sohrab, a radiant smile upon his lips, and in his hands a bunch of blood-red flowers, which silently he offered her.

Now Tamineh knew that she had but dreamed, and yet a vague foreboding took possession of her heart, causing her more anxiously still, from this time forth, to watch for her boy’s return. And alas! one night as she sat soothed and entranced by the magic beauty of the moonlit world, suddenly she saw loom up from out the shadows, upon the white gleaming road, a great riderless horse, led by a man upon horseback, whose figure seemed strangely familiar, seeing which, Tamineh thought that again she dreamed. But alas! this time she dreamed not. For slowly the riderless horse, with shorn tail and saddle reversed, advanced unto the palace gates, and then there floated up unto the waiting mother a terrible cry, which was taken up and echoed through every corner of the palace, and it ran:

“Sohrab is dead! Sohrab is dead! The brave young Prince will return no more unto his native land.”

And now, indeed, was there grief and lamentation throughout the Court. For not only did the nobles and warriors wail and throw dust upon their heads, but the women also tore their long white veils, and wrung their hands as they clustered around the bereaved Tamineh, who at the first sight of the face of Piran-Wisa, before ever his sad errand was told, knew what had befallen, and with a terrible cry had swooned at the feet of her maidens.

And alas! long Tamineh lay as one dead, but, when consciousness finally returned, from the lips of aged Piran she heard the whole sad story of her boy’s untimely death. And behold! as the white-haired general recounted how Sohrab had borne himself in that last mighty conflict, the mother’s eyes flashed and dilated, while the soul looking out from behind them seemed to cry aloud with pride, and joy, and woe, and despair, in turn. To be slain by Rustem, and slain in equal combat was a hero’s death, truly. But ah, the woe of it!

Yea, the woe of it! For all Turan mourned for the child of prowess that was fallen in his bloom; but never was there grief like unto that of Sohrab’s mother. Night and day she grieved for her son, her only comfort being the horse and cloak which once had been his. Weeping, she would kiss the horse’s mane and cling about his neck, while at night she held his cloak in her arms, pressing its empty folds unto her bosom. So she mourned, neither eating nor sleeping till her love for her dead son drew her spirit like a strong cord—away from the weary body—away from the sunless earth which no longer held her heart’s dearest.

But behold! Tamineh’s mourning lasted but the accustomed time, for, seven days after Piran-Wisa’s return with the riderless horse, she also floated away upon the silent river, and the beautiful smile upon her lips, as she lay, surrounded by her weeping maidens, said plainly that Rustem’s Bright Singing-bird had flown also unto the Gardens of Paradise—she and her brave nestling happy forever in the smile of Ormuzd the Blessed.

SIAWUSH THE PERSIAN SIR GALAHAD

Behold! it is recorded that upon a certain day, while the great Shah, Kaikous, was still seated upon the throne of light, Tus, Gew, Gudarz, and other brave Pehliva of Iran departed from the stately court upon a hunting excursion. Now it was in all a goodly company, for the warriors were accompanied by numerous retainers and falconers, and also by leopards such as are trained to hunt the gazelle and the wild ass of the desert.

So they went forth, and after a merry day’s hunting, at evening they came unto a vast wood, reaching many leagues. And behold! as the huntsmen entered its dark recesses, what was their surprise to discover there a maiden of marvellous beauty, her hair and neck spangled with costly jewels. And, strange as it may seem, with the exception of the horse which nibbled the grass near by, this beautiful maiden was entirely alone in the green solitude.

Now much the huntsman wondered at this most unusual sight, and Tus, who first discovered the maiden, advancing courteously, said: “O Maiden Fair, by the sun, and moon, and all the silvery stars, I swear that——

“Never was seen so sweet a flower, In garden, vale, or fairy bower; The moon is on thy lovely face, Thy cypress-form is full of grace; But why, with charms so soft and meek, Dost thou the lonely forest seek?”

Then the Princess—for she was a princess of the house of Feridoun—told unto the Pehliva how that she had fled from her home to escape the wrath of her father who was angry with her because she had refused to wed Poshang, the ugly, bad-tempered old ruler of Turan. And she said: “Alas! my father is quick——

“But when his angry mood is o’er, He’ll love his daughter as before; And send his horsemen far and near, To take me to my mother dear. Therefore, I would not further stray, But here, without a murmur, stay.”

Now the maiden was so beautiful that the impressionable hearts of both Tus and Gew warmed toward her, each desiring her for his wife. And alas! so great was their ardor, that almost the two heroes came to blows, in their hot discussion as to the possession of the Princess. However, misfortune was finally averted by wise old Gudarz, who persuaded the rivals to refer the matter unto the King.

So behold! they led the Peri-faced maiden before Kaikous who, when he gazed upon her blooming cheeks, her smiling lips, and fascinating mien, smiled, and bit his lip, saying unto Tus and Gew:

“O my Pehliva, I perceive that ye have brought back from the hunt but a single gazelle—one, however, which, unless I mistake me, belongeth unto a King’s garden. As Queen of the moon-faced beauties of my palace, therefore, shall she reign, for I perceive she is worthy to recline upon cushions of silver broidered with gold.”

Now, this unlooked-for decision of the King was as the essence of wormwood unto Tus and Gew. However, the Lord of the World sweetened the bitter cup by presenting unto each brave warrior a diadem, and ten superb horses. But upon the Princess he showered rubies and pearls, and in his heart she reigned as Queen of Queens.

[Illustration: At evening they came unto a vast wood, reaching many leagues.]

And behold! in the course of time there came to take up his abode in the King’s palace a splendid son, tall and fair and strong of limb. And the name that was given unto him was Siawush.

Now Kaikous rejoiced greatly in this son of his race, and offered grateful thanks unto Ormuzd the Blessed. But he was grieved, also, because of the message of the stars concerning him. For alas! the astrologers foretold for the infant a career of great vicissitude, ending in sorrow. Neither would his virtues avail him aught, for these, above all, would bring destruction upon him.

But Kaikous, who was of a sanguine disposition, soon allowed hope to delude him into forgetting the inevitable, and so he thought of Siawush only as a child of promise; while unto his beautiful young mother he was the very joy of life.

Yea, and also unto another brave heart did Siawush cause joy. For behold! when the news that a son had been born unto the Shah spread unto far-away Seistan, Rustem the Mighty, aroused him from his sorrow for Sohrab, and going up unto the Court, he asked for the babe that he might rear it for the glory of Iran. And Kaikous suffered it, feeling that a great honor had been done unto the child. So joyously Rustem bare Siawush back unto his kingdom.

And fortunately for Iran, as time passed by, so absorbed became the Great Pehliva in this child of his care, that once more he experienced the joys of living. For, anxious that justice should be done unto the surprising virtues of Siawush, Rustem himself taught his charge horsemanship and archery; the use of arms, and how to hunt with the falcon and the leopard; how to conduct himself at a banquet, and in fact, all the manners, duties and accomplishments of Kings, and the hardy chivalry of the age. His progress, too, in the attainment of every species of knowledge and science was surprising, for in this his soul delighted. So, as the years passed by, this King’s Son grew to be a youth of such noble proportions, possessing a face so radiant with winsomeness and intelligence that verily you would have said that the world held not his like.

Now when Siawush had become skilled and strong so that he could easily ensnare a lion or a tiger, behold, one day he came unto Rustem bearing high his head. And he said:

“O Glorious Pehliva! single-handed have I this day ensnared and slain a mighty king of the forest. Is it not time, therefore, that we go up unto the Shah, my father, that he may perceive what manner of man thou hast made of me? Now truly I love Seistan, and thee, and thy dear father—the White-haired Zal. But now I am no longer a child, and it appeareth unto me that out in the world there must be work for me to do.”

Then Rustem smiled, for the lad’s words pleased him well. And, as his wishes accorded with his own plans for the Prince, almost at once they marched with a mighty host unto Iran. Now when they were come unto the Court, a royal welcome was accorded them, and so pleased was Kaikous with his son that he rained upon Rustem jewels, and gold, and precious things past the telling, and all the land rejoiced and gloried in Siawush, the noble heir unto the throne. Yea, and to celebrate his return, there was given a banquet such as the world hath not seen the like, and behold! none were toasted save Siawush alone.

But unto the Prince, his return home brought no joy so great as that of being reunited with the beautiful young mother whom he not only resembled but also adored. But alas! his happiness was of short duration. For, in the midst of the festivities which celebrated his homecoming, the fair young Queen fell suddenly ill and died.

Alas! no words can describe the sorrow of the noble young Prince for his mother. For, unto the impressionable lad, who had lived his life thus far principally as a warrior among men, the gentle presence of this lovely spirit exercised a wonderful charm. So, quickly had mother and son become inseparable, and this congenial companionship did much, though unconsciously, to develop that strength and beauty of character which was the Queen’s most precious legacy unto her son, and which causes his name still to be loved and revered by all the Children of Ormuzd.

But not long was Siawush allowed to indulge his grief, for after the days of mourning were over, for seven years longer was his education continued, under the tutorship of the wisest men in the land. Howbeit, in the eighth year, after that Kaikous had proved his spirit, he gave unto his son a throne and a crown. So all was well, and men forgot the evil message of the stars concerning Siawush. But alas! the day of ill fortune was now not far distant from the noble son of Kaikous.

For behold! Sudaveh, the wife of the Shah, having no son of her own, became jealous of Siawush, the noble heir to the throne. And, finding that she could not by wile lure him into the paths of evil and destruction, lo, she hated him—though she tried to win his liking. But Siawush would not make friends with Sudaveh because he perceived that her thoughts were evil, and because enshrined in his heart was the memory of his own fair mother who had taught him to value honor, and purity, and truth above all things in the world.