The Persians have a great epic which is to them about what the _Iliad_
and the _Odyssey_ were to the Greeks and the _Æneid_ was to the Romans.
In character, however, the Persian epic is more like the English
narrative _Morte d' Arthur_, from which readings will be found elsewhere
in these volumes. This wonderful poem, the _Shah Nameh_, relates
exploits of the Shahs of Persia for a period that is supposed to extend
over more than three thousand years. It was written by Firdusi, a famous
Persian poet, toward the close of the tenth century, and is filled with
tales of the marvelous adventures and stirring achievements of national
heroes. Fierce monsters like those that appear in the legendary tales of
all nations stalk through its pages, and magicians, good and bad, work
their enchantments for and against the devoted Persians. The imagination
of Eastern writers is more vivid than that of the Europeans, and for
that reason the stories are more full of thrilling episodes and
supernatural occurrences.
Chief among the heroes is Rustem, who seems to have lived through many
centuries, and to have been the one great defender of the Persian
throne. From the cradle he was marked for renown, for he was larger,
stronger and healthier than any other babe that was ever born. His
mother alone could not feed him, and ten nurses were required to
satisfy the infant's hunger. His father, Zal, the white-haired, looked
with pride upon his growing son, who as soon as he was weaned fell upon
bread and meat as his only diet and required as much of them as would
feed five ordinary men. Such a child ought to make a wonderful man, and
this one fulfilled the highest hopes of his parents, for he became
taller in stature, broader in shoulders, deeper in the chest and
stronger in all his muscles than any other man the Persian race had ever
known.
His childish exploits were quite as wonderful as those of his later
years. One night he was awakened from his slumbers by hearing the
servants say that the great white elephant on which his father rode on
state occasions had broken loose and was running about the royal
gardens, mad with rage, pulling up the trees, tearing down buildings and
killing every one that came in his way. Not a man dared stand against
the fierce beast, and though the archers had tried again and again their
weapons had no effect upon him.
Rustem rose from his couch, put on his clothes, caught from the wall the
huge club his grandfather had owned, and made for the door of his
chamber.
"Where are you going? What will you do?" cried the frightened servants.
"Open the door. I must stop that elephant before he does greater
damage," answered the boy.
One of his serving men, braver than the rest, opposed the boy. "I dare
not obey you," said the man; "your father would never forgive me if I
let you go forth to be slain by that ferocious beast whose broken chains
clank about his legs and whose huge trunk brings destruction to
everything it strikes. You will be knocked down and trampled to death.
This is pure folly!"
"Out of my way," cried the enraged Rustem. "You rush upon your own
doom."
Almost blind with anger, the furious youth swung his club about him and
struck the faithful servant so fearful a blow that his head was knocked
from his body and rolled along the floor like a huge ball. The other
servants fled to the corners of the room and gave Rustem a clear path.
One blow from his great club broke the iron balls from the door and sent
it flying from its hinges. Shouldering his club Rustem hurried into the
garden, where he soon found the maddened elephant in the midst of the
ruin he was making. When the unwieldy animal saw the boy approaching it
rushed at him with savage bellowings, swinging its long, powerful trunk
from side to side in great circles. The terrible spectacle frightened
Rustem not in the least, and the dauntless youth rushed forward and
struck the elephant a single blow full in its forehead. The great legs
trembled and bent, the huge body tottered and fell, making a mountain of
quivering flesh. Rustem calmly shouldered his club, returned to his
chamber, and finished his sleep.
As Rustem grew to manhood he became the owner of a great horse little
less wonderful than his master. Raksh, for that was the animal's name,
not only carried Rustem in war and in the chase, but he fought for his
master in every conflict, watched over him in his sleep, and defended
him with human intelligence. On one of his expeditions Rustem lay down
to sleep near the den of a lion, that as he came forth to hunt at night
saw the horse and rider asleep before him. The lion, knowing that if he
could kill the horse the man would not get away, made ready to spring
upon Raksh, but that wary animal was sleeping with one eye open and met
the leaping lion more than half way with two great hoofs planted
squarely in his face. Before the astonished animal could recover his
senses Raksh seized him by the back and beat his life out upon the
ground.
Of Rustem's countless struggles with dragons, witches, genii and other
strange beings, and of the wonderful battles by which he defended the
throne of Persia, we cannot stop to read. They were all very similar in
one respect at least, for always he escaped from deadly peril by his own
wisdom and strength, aided often, as we have said, by Raksh. But there
is one part of his life, one series of more than human adventures that
we ought to know.
One day Rustem was hunting over a plain on the borders of Tartary when
he discovered a large herd of wild asses. No animal could outstrip
Raksh, and so his master was soon among the herd, killing the animals to
right and left. Some he slew with the arrows of his strong bow, others
he lassoed and killed with his trusty club. When his love for hunting
was satisfied he built a fire, roasted one of the asses and prepared for
a great feast. In time even his sharp appetite was quenched, and lying
down upon his blanket he was soon buried in a sound slumber.
As he slept Raksh wandered about the plains quietly feeding. Without
noticing it he strayed far away from his master, and in fact quite out
of sight.
Then it happened that seven Tartars who had been following Raksh made a
dash at him and tried to capture him with their lassoes. The noble horse
fought them manfully, killing two of them with the blows of his forefeet
and biting the head from the shoulders of another. But the ropes from
the lassoes became tangled with his legs, and even the marvelous Raksh
was at last thrown, overpowered and led struggling away.
When Rustem awoke his first thought was for his horse, but though he
looked everywhere the faithful animal was not in sight. Such a thing had
never happened before, and Rustem grew pale with sorrow and dread.
"What can I do without my noble charger?" he said. "How can I carry my
arrows, club and other weapons? How can I defend myself? Moreover, I
shall be the laughingstock of friends and enemies alike, for all will
say that in my carelessness I slept and allowed my horse to be stolen."
At last he discovered the tracks of Raksh in the dust of the plain, and
following them with difficulty he found himself at the town of Samengan.
The king and nobles of the town knew Rustem, but seemed surprised to see
him come walking. The wanderer explained what had happened, and the wily
monarch answered, "Have no fear, noble Rustem. Every one knows your
wonderful horse Raksh, and soon some one will come and bring him to you.
I will even send many men to search for him. In the meantime, rest with
us and be happy. We will entertain you with the best, and in pleasure
you will forget your loss till Raksh is returned to you."
This plan pleased Rustem, and the king kept his word in royal
entertainments in which he served his guest with grave humility.
Moreover, the princess Tehmina likewise served Rustem with becoming
grace and dignity. No maiden was ever more beautiful. She was tall as
the cypress and as graceful as a gazelle. Her neck and shoulders were
like ivory; her hair, black and shiny as a raven's wings, hung in two
long braids down her back, as the Persian horseman loops his lasso to
his saddle bow; her lips were like twin rubies, and her black brilliant
eyes glanced from highly-arched eye-brows.
Rustem fell deeply in love with the fair maiden as soon as he saw her,
and at the first opportunity told her of his affection. Tehmina then
confessed that she had long loved Rustem from the reports she had heard
of his noble character and deeds of great prowess. The capture of Raksh
was a part of her plan for meeting the owner, for she felt sure he would
follow the animal's track to her father's capital. All this served to
make more strong the love of Rustem, who immediately demanded of the
king his daughter's hand in marriage. The king, glad enough to have so
powerful a man for his son, consented willingly to the match, and after
they were married amid great rejoicings, Rustem settled down at the
court in quiet enjoyment of his new-found home.
A powerful man like Rustem cannot always remain in idleness, however,
and when news came to him that the Persian king was in need of his
greatest warrior, Rustem took his lasso, his bow and arrows and his
club, mounted Raksh and rode away. Before going, however, he took from
his arm an onyx bracelet that had been his father's, and calling
Tehmina to him handed it to her, saying:
"Take this bracelet, my dear one, and keep it. If we have a child and it
be a girl, weave the bracelet in her hair and she will grow tall,
beautiful and good; if our child be a boy, fasten the bracelet on his
arm, and he will become strong and courageous, a mighty warrior and a
wise counsellor."