Part 17

Behold! on the morning following the reconciling feast of Kaikous and Rustem, the Shah caused the clarions of war to be sounded throughout the city, calling the loyal sons of Iran to go forth to meet the Tartar host. Now over one hundred thousand horsemen in glittering mail responded unto the call, so that the earth was covered with warriors like unto blades of grass, and all the air was darkened with their spears. A troop of ponderous war-elephants also accompanied the legions, making the ground tremble beneath their mighty tread.

Thus marched the army, and so imposing was it that when at evening they pitched their tents, and the torches gleamed in the canvas streets, the camp seemed like unto a great city. So, marching by day and resting at night, the legions finally drew near unto the White Castle, where Sohrab still remained, preparing his forces for an advance upon the capital. When they were come unto the plains where stood the great fortress, however, they set up their tents silently in the dead of night, planning a surprise for the Tartars.

Now thus it happened that, the black veil of night being lifted, behold, the watchman upon the high towers of the White Fortress saw spread out on the plains before him an immense white city, set up as by magic. Surprised and dismayed, therefore, he set up a great shout, which at once brought Sohrab and Human, the two great Tartar chiefs, out upon the ramparts.

And behold! when Human saw upon every side the mighty Persian legions, looking so brave and formidable, he grew suddenly pale, and trembled like unto an aspen. But Sohrab, demanding a cup of wine, drank unto their destruction, speaking words of cheer unto his companion. And he said:

“Look, Brave Human! There are many men in this hostile army, it is true, but within its ranks I see no hero with mighty mace who can stand against the fearless son of Rustem. When that mighty champion himself appeareth, then will it be time indeed for us to rally our courage. But as for these others—why, they are but dogs! And see, I spit upon them! for without Rustem to inspire them, they have neither courage nor heart.”

So saying, Sohrab went down from the ramparts, and proceeding unto his pavilion, which was pitched upon the plain in front of the Fort, he invited his great warriors and chiefs unto a banquet. Yea, gayly he issued his invitations, saying unto his guests:

“To-day let us feast; let us banquet to-day, For to-morrow to battle we’ll hasten away.”

But behold! at Sohrab’s banquet there was to be one uninvited guest. For when night had swathed the earth in darkness, Rustem the Mighty went boldly unto the King, demanding permission to go forth unarmed to spy out the forces of the enemy, and to learn the character of the chieftains opposed unto him—particularly of Sohrab, whose renown had aroused such dread in the heart of Kaikous.

So, permission being granted, the dauntless Rustem clad himself in the dress of a Tartar, and thus disguised, under the cover of darkness, he stole forth like a lion which stalketh a herd of antelopes, penetrating into the very presence of the great Sohrab and his warriors as they sat at their feast. Now so stealthy had been his advance that none dreamed of his presence as they feasted and made merry around the festal board—nay, not even the valiant Sohrab, as he sat relating unto his warriors some of the mighty deeds of the heroes of old.

Wherefore, as Rustem stood by the door watching, he beheld that the young Champion was like unto a tall cypress of good sap, while round about him were seated more than a hundred brave warriors, scarcely equalled in the Persian army—so fiery and courageous appeared they as they listened unto the inspiring tales of Sohrab. And it was indeed a festive scene! For torches gave back the flash of arms, and the gleam of eyes eager for the morrow’s battle, even as they were now bright with the red wine which slaves poured from golden bugles into the crystal glasses before them. And behold, not only was there glorious fare to delight the palate, but music to charm the ear! So gayety and merriment ruled the hour; neither did they dream of coming sorrow.

But as Rustem watched the scene from the shadow of the door, presently it came to pass that Zendeh, one of the warriors, having occasion to go forth, came nigh unto the spot where the Hero was concealed. Now Zendeh was brother unto the Princess Tamineh, who had sent him forth with her son that he might point out unto him his father, whom he alone knew of all the army. And the Princess did this that harm might not befall should the two champions meet in battle. But alas! as Zendeh retired from the banquet, it chanced that he perceived the shadow of some one in ambush. So, advancing unto the place where Rustem was hidden, he said quietly:

“Vile Persian! Come forth into the light that I may see thy face. For well I know, by thy stature, that thou belongest unto Iran.”

Now unto this Rustem answered never a word. But ere Zendeh had ceased from speaking, he struck him so fierce a blow upon the nape of the neck that he laid him dead at his feet. So, though there was to be no more feasting and fighting for Zendeh, yet so swift and silent had been Death’s messenger, that the revellers within dreamed not that the Dark Angel still hovered at the door.

But presently Sohrab, beholding his uncle’s place at the table still vacant, asked wherefore he tarried; and, attention being thus called to his long absence, one of the chiefs went forth to seek him. Now in so doing he found the body of the unfortunate warrior cold upon the pavement. Quickly returning unto Sohrab, therefore, he related unto him in an awed voice the fatal happening. But Sohrab would not believe that, almost within their midst, without a struggle or cry, death could have so suddenly o’ertaken his uncle. So, commanding that torches be brought, he ran quickly unto the spot of the tragedy, followed by all the warriors and bright singing-girls. But alas! here Sohrab found that the bad news was indeed true; and being sore grieved, he said unto his nobles:

“Woe! Woe unto Turan! For behold! the wolf hath stolen into the fold and, in spite of the shepherds and the dogs, hath taken the best of the flock. But verily, God helping me, I will be fully avenged for the death of Zendeh!”

Now having thus spoken, Sohrab came back unto his place at the table and continued the feast. For, though his own heart was heavy with sorrow, he wished not the spirits of his warriors to be dampened by pity, or fear of this terrible, silent, unknown foe. Raising his glass unto his lips, therefore, he cried lustily:

“Drink, my brave comrades, drink! Death to the slayer of Zendeh, and destruction, utter and sure, unto the Persian host.”

So the warriors and chiefs all drank, standing upon their feet; and as the hours passed by, Sohrab continued to fan into a yet more glowing flame the lust of battle which slumbered in each warrior’s soul, so that finally one and all desired naught but death unto the Persians, and a glorious victory for Sohrab, their gallant young leader, whom they toasted with such mighty shouts of pride and joy that it was heard even within the lines of Iran.

As for Rustem, having accomplished his purpose, after silencing Zendeh, he returned quickly and silently unto the Persian camp, knowing not that his victim was the loved brother of Tamineh, who was to have stood between Sohrab and his fate.

But behold, as Rustem would have entered the Persian lines he encountered Gew, who was acting that night as sentry. Now as this doughty warrior suddenly perceived—looming up mountain-high out of the darkness—a warrior clad in the garb of a Tartar, his heart quaked with fear, for he thought that surely he had to do with Sohrab, the terrible Tartar Champion. Nevertheless, he quickly drew his sword ready for combat, challenging the invader to give his name and errand.

Now this demand was greeted by a burst of mighty laughter, for Rustem, surmising from the quaver in Gew’s voice what his thought had been, could not but enjoy the situation. Still laughing, therefore, he said unto Gew:

“Brave comrade! tremble not so. For lo! thou beholdest before thee a most harmless creature—Rustem the Spy—who returneth from the banquet of Sohrab and his chiefs. Now Sohrab presenteth his compliments unto Gew, the brave warrior of the Persians, saying that he will be unable to meet him until to-morrow, when he will hurl forth unto him his challenge to combat.”

So spake the Mighty Rustem unto Gew, twitting him yet again upon his lion’s roar and his great disappointment at being deprived of his much-longed-for combat with Sohrab. Then when they had laughed together, Rustem described unto Gew his adventure, ceasing not to sing the praise of Sohrab, who, he said, had not his equal in the world.

Whereupon, having thus spoken, the Great Champion said good-night unto his comrade, bidding him roar gently in case of danger. And so with merry jest ended the adventure of Rustem the Spy.

THE COMBAT OF SOHRAB AGAINST RUSTEM

Give ear unto the combat of Sohrab against Rustem, though it be a tale replete with tears. So runneth the legend as told by Firdusi. But upon the morning after the night of feasting in his pavilion, tears were far from the eyes of brave Sohrab. For was he not bent upon the accomplishment of great deeds? Yea, and did he not hope soon to behold the face of his illustrious father?

But alas! a bitter disappointment awaited the hero in the early morning, for in vain did he try to learn from Hujir, the defeated champion of the White Fort, which of the mighty warriors encamped upon the plains before them was Rustem, the great hero of the Persians. For that brave patriot, fearing for the safety of Iran, refused utterly to discover the identity of the Great Champion unto his enemy, even though Sohrab strongly suspected a certain great warrior in a green tent, who was, indeed, Rustem.

Defeated in this endeavor, therefore, Sohrab returned unto the Fort, where, donning his chain mail and arming himself, he and his band of sturdy warriors sallied forth unto the plain. Now so sudden and swift was the onset that the Persians were taken unawares, so that Sohrab in hurling the army of Turan against the intrenched camp of the Shah, was able to penetrate almost at once unto its very centre. And truly it was a magnificent sight to behold the irresistible charge of this stripling, who, though but a mere youth, yet appeared a very god of war.

But, though taken by surprise, the Persians soon rallied, and then so fearful was the contest that the very earth seemed to shake beneath the shock, and the carnage was fearful. For, though from end to end the plain glittered with bright steel armor, it covered, alas, the forms of fallen heroes as often as it shielded the daring hearts of living riders, since as the tide of battle ebbed and flowed, thousands fell upon either side, night alone putting an end to the fearful conflict.

Now through all the long hours of battle, although Sohrab seemed to be everywhere upon the field, never once did he catch a glimpse of the owner of the green tent, and much he wondered. Nay; not even when he thundered forth words of pride in the very face of the Shah, telling him he had sworn to hang him alive upon a gallows, to avenge the death of Zendeh, and challenging him to combat, did he—or any other champion—stand forth. So great was the terror that his valor had aroused in the hearts of his foes!

But in spite of the day’s successes, that night Sohrab lay wakeful in his tent, restlessly tossing upon his bed of skins, while busy thoughts surged through his brain. Finally, however, when the first faint streak of dawn had crimsoned the eastern sky, behold, the Hero arose, passing through the silent line of tents, until he reached the one set apart for Piran-Wisa, the old chief who had but reached the scene of battle the by-gone eve. Here, lifting the heavy curtain, Sohrab entered silently, but seeing that his old friend was also awake, he said:

“O glorious chief, whose wisdom hath ever been my guiding star, behold, once more I come to seek thy counsel and to make known unto thee a plan which hath kept me wakeful upon my bed.

“Now it is indeed well to fight valiantly and win success upon the field of battle as we did to-day, but for me, Sohrab, that is not enough; for I long without ceasing to perform some mighty deed that shall reach the ears of Rustem, my father, whom I seem destined never to find. So now I have reached a conclusion: I would have thee challenge the bravest of the Persian Pehliva to meet me, man to man, in single combat. If I prevail, Rustem will surely learn of it; while if I fail, no man need hear of me again.”

So spake impetuous Sohrab, and Piran-Wisa listened quietly. When he had finished, however, he said unto him:

“My son, much I love thy valorous spirit, which hath ever striven and longed for the noblest and best. Nevertheless, in this matter I counsel thee to think of thy mother, and be content to share the common risk of battle which falleth unto all alike. Or if thou wouldst seek that loved father whom thou hast never seen, seek him where men say he now dwelleth, in far-off Seistan with his aged father Zal.”

But to this wise advice Sohrab replied passionately:

“Alas, good old Piran! Canst thou not understand that I wish not to go unto my father empty-handed? I am so proud of him, and with reason I must make him proud of his son also. For are we not of the same noble blood? And see! am I not tall, and strong, and brave, like unto my father? Fear not, therefore, for truly I will overcome the bravest of the warriors sent out by the Persians to meet me. Then surely the great Rustem will hear of it and I shall perhaps meet him.”

Now though Piran-Wisa liked not the plan, yet could he not withstand Sohrab’s eloquent pleading. For verily who can restrain the eagle in his flight toward the sun?

Having given his consent unto the challenge, therefore, the old general summoned unto him his herald, and taking his ruler’s staff in his hand, he went forth, marshalling the whole Tartar army upon the plain. Then the Persians, noting this move of the enemy, also formed into battle array opposite, bright in burnished steel and splendid in rank upon rank of brave warriors.

And presently, all being in readiness, Piran-Wisa advanced unto the front, while the herald blew a blast upon his trumpet to make known that he had something to say. Then silence, deep and thrilling, reigned in both great armies as Piran, in ringing tones, offered Sohrab’s challenge.

And when the Tartar host heard called the name of their champion, behold, they rent the air with their shouts, cheering long and loud for Sohrab. No Persian, they felt sure, could match their gallant young leader, who now, in all the pride of his youth and strength, advanced and stood by Piran-Wisa’s side.

But alas! unexpected was this call unto the Persians, and as a consequence deep silence reigned within the lines of Iran. For so great was the fear of Sohrab that no man dared take up the challenge. After the first shock, however, from mouth to mouth there was breathed the one word: Rustem! Rustem! So quickly Kaikous sent a messenger unto the Great Pehliva, saying:

“O Mighty One! Come quickly, for behold, the faces of my warriors grow pale before this young Tartar, and only thy sword can cause the sun to weep.”

Now when Gudarz, the messenger, entered the tent of Rustem, the hero rose and greeted him joyfully, both hands outstretched in welcome. “These eyes could see no better sight,” he cried; and added quickly, “What news?”

Then Gudarz delivered his message, hearing which, Rustem frowned, for he remembered the bravery of the Shahs of Old, and the cowardice of Kaikous made him sick with shame. Nevertheless, he said nothing, being too angry for words. Whereupon, Gudarz continued:

“Truly, this young hero is marvellous! and this time, Kaikous is not to be condemned for his terror. For, as I live, the Champion existeth not who can match Sohrab—save only Rustem the Mighty, unto whom all eyes turn.”

But Rustem, who was once more angered at Kaikous, replied bitterly unto Gudarz:

“If the Shah himself feareth to meet this young lion, let him send forth any one of the young striplings whom he, in these days, delighteth to honor. When other Shahs have called me, it hath been sometimes unto battle and sometimes unto the banquet, but behold, Kaikous never calleth me except to fight for him. Therefore, I say, let one of the King’s favorites meet Sohrab to-day; I will fight him to-morrow.”

Gudarz, however, would not listen unto Rustem when he spoke thus of delay, but urged him even as he had upon another great occasion, saying unto him:

“Take heed, O Mighty One, lest men say that thou fearest to peril thy fame with younger men!”

Then Rustem, frowning with displeasure, consented to meet the Champion, but only upon condition that he fight unknown and in plain arms. So, his consent being won, the hero was allowed neither to linger nor to waste time in words; for quickly the nobles buckled upon him his armor, threw his leopard-skin around him, saddled Rakush and made him ready for the strife. Now when he appeared among the Persians they greeted him with mighty shouts of pride and joy, causing the Tartars to wonder much as to the identity of this stalwart Champion fighting in plain armor and giving no name.

But behold! the combatants being now ready, at a signal the Persian and the Tartar hosts formed themselves into two long lines, down which the two great Champions advanced to meet each other.

Now as Rustem moved forward, once more he eyed with wonder the slender youth who dared thus to defy all the most valiant chiefs of the army. Who could he be? Where was he reared? What was there about him so strangely familiar? As he gazed, therefore, suddenly a great pity filled his soul that this noble-spirited youth, so full of life and manly beauty, must shortly be lying upon the sand, his life-blood paying the penalty for his temerity. Verily, never had Rustem, the fierce warrior, felt moved like this before, and so he spake gently unto his adversary, saying:

“O Young Man, the air of heaven is soft and warm, but the grave is damp and cold. Wherefore, then, wilt thou rush upon death? Truly pity filleth my soul at the thought, and I would not take from thee the boon of life. Yet if we combat together, surely wilt thou fall by my hands, for behold! I am vast and clad in iron, and tried, and none have been able to withstand my power—neither man, nor Deev, nor dragon. Desist, therefore, from this perilous enterprise, and come over unto Iran. Then shalt thou be as a son unto me, and fight beneath my banner while I live, winning both honor and fame.”

So spake Rustem, and Sohrab, listening unto his voice, and gazing upon his mighty form, planted like a great tower upon the plain, felt his heart go out unto him strangely. And, a sudden hope filling his soul, eagerly he ran forward, knelt before the hero, and gazing up at him wistfully, said:

“O Glory of the World, verily my heart leapeth forth to greet thee as unto a loved kinsman! Tell unto me, therefore, thy name, for it seemeth unto me that thou must be Rustem, the mighty son of White-haired Zal. For surely unto none other is it given to be so gloriously perfect as thou!”

But Rustem, misunderstanding Sohrab’s ardor, replied coldly unto him, saying.

“Rash Boy! Men look upon Rustem’s face and flee. And well I know that if that mighty hero stood here to-day, then would there be no further talk of fighting. But, unfortunately for thy pride, thou hast now to do with no noble Pehliva, but with a common man, possessing neither throne, nor palace, nor crown.”

Now Rustem spake thus sternly unto the youth that he might be afraid when he beheld his prowess, and think that still greater might was hidden in the camp of the Persians.

But Sohrab, when he heard the words of Rustem, was sad, and his hopes, that had risen so high as he beheld his mighty antagonist, were shattered. Yea, and the day that had looked so bright was made dark unto his eyes. Howbeit, hiding his disappointment, with flashing eyes he replied unto Rustem:

“Fierce Warrior! Thinkest thou to terrify me by thy proud words? If so, verily thou errest. Now it is true that thou art more vast and tried than I, but unto whom will be the victory only the event will teach us in its hour. Yet in one thing, I give thee right: Did Rustem stand where thou art standing now, then, indeed, would there be no combat here to-day. But come! Let us not parley words.”

So the two Champions chose a narrow place, marked out the lists, and mounted upon their powerful steeds, ready for the combat. Now they began the attack by hurling their javelins; and when they were blunted against the steel bucklers they drew their long Indian swords and fell to work again. And behold, when their swords were broken, then they used their clubs. Terrible blows they dealt each other with these implements of war and great was the skill and agility with which they fought, calling forth many a shout of admiration from the breathlessly-watching armies.

Nevertheless, they seemed to be about equally matched in wariness, skill, and strength. For, though Rustem’s eye shot fire as he raised high his spear and hurled it down with swift, unerring aim, quick as a flash Sohrab sprang to one side, and the spear buried itself deep in the sand, doing naught of harm. In return for this, however, Sohrab struck full upon Rustem’s shield, so that the iron rang and rang again. Then Rustem, furious, seized his gigantic club, which no one but himself could wield, and with one mighty stroke would have felled Sohrab to the earth, had he not again been too quick for him in springing aside. But alas! the club came thundering down with such prodigious force that it caused Rustem himself to fall forward and loose his hold upon it. And behold! in an instant, Sohrab could have pierced the fallen hero where he lay. But instead he drew back, without even unsheathing his sword, saying unto his unknown foe:

“O Mighty One! Thou sayest thou art not Rustem. Well, be it so! But who art thou, then, that thou canst so touch my soul? I pray thee, let the fight end here, and let there be peace twixt thee and me.”

But Rustem, trembling with rage and fury, would not hearken unto the words of Sohrab; rather, they increased his wrath and shame. For it was, indeed, bitter for the old Champion to think that he owed his life unto this slight, sunny youth. So, again seizing his spear, with taunting, bitter words he rushed upon Sohrab, attacking him with renewed vigor. Then Sohrab saw that this fight must be to the death, and he, too, allowed the lust of conquest to take full possession of his soul.

Falling to again, therefore, behold, the heroes fought until their spears were shivered, and their swords hacked like unto saws, and all their weapons were bent and broken. Even then, however, they did not desist, but wrestled with each other until the sweat and blood ran down from their bodies and their throats were parched and dry like unto parchment. But at last so weary were they that neither the warriors nor their horses could move more, yet to neither was given the victory. So, with mail shattered and torn, and with bruised and wounded bodies, the exhausted heroes stayed them awhile to rest. Then Rustem said unto himself:

“Verily, never in all my long life of battle have I seen man or demon with such strength and activity as is possessed by this redoubtable Sohrab! Why, even my great battle with the White Deev was but as child’s play unto this, and though never yet have I been conquered, alas, now my heart faileth me before this youth without a name!”