KAVAH THE BLACKSMITH

Once upon a time, so the old chronicles relate, during the reign of

Jemshid the Shah, there dwelt in the deserts of Arabia a King named

Mirtas. Now Mirtas was rich in flocks and herds of goats, sheep and

camels which yielded up a bounteous store of balmy milk; and this milk

the generous King always distributed in charity among the poor. So God

was pleased with Mirtas, and increased his favor upon him accordingly.

Now this King, smiled upon by the Almighty, had one priceless

possession, his only son, Zohak, who, in his youth, seemed destined to

rival his father in nobility of character. But, alas! upon this noble

young cypress, so luxuriant in buds of promise, there suddenly fell a

blight, disastrous alike to the house of Mirtas and to the land of

Persia. And this is how it came about.

One day Iblis, the Evil One, roaming the earth in search of mischief,

chanced to stray into the palace of Mirtas, and, in so doing, he

happened upon the charming young Zohak. Now Iblis was disguised as a

noble, and so eloquent and full of guile was his discourse, that the

young prince, fascinated, eagerly besought his new friend to let the

music of his voice continue to delight him.

Then Iblis, who saw here a fertile field for his guile, was pleased to

see the charm work so well. So, his tongue dropping honey, he thus spake

unto the youthful Zohak:

“O Pearl of the East, alas! for though I am master of still sweeter

converse, I may not address it unto one so young unless thou wilt first

enter into a solemn compact with me never under any pretence to divulge

what I shall tell unto thee.”

Alas! Zohak was guileless and simple of heart, and so, suspecting no

evil, he sware unto Iblis that he would obey him in all things, for he

believed him to be noble and good. Judge, then, of his surprise and

horror when, the oath taken, Iblis said unto him:

“O Light of the Universe, thou who art fair and wise and valiant, give

ear unto the voice of thy friend, and soon thy stately young head shall

be raised above the stars. Listen! Thy father hath become old, and

longeth to enter into his reward. While he liveth, necessarily thou wilt

remain unknown. Let him, therefore, no longer stand in thy way. The

robes of sovereignty are ready, and better adapted to thee. But raise

thy hand, therefore, and the name of Mirtas shall be naught but a

beautiful memory in the world. The leaves in the Book of Fate turn

slowly, but who can change what is written on its pages?”

Thus spake wily Iblis and as the meaning of this fiendish suggestion

dawned fully upon him it would be hard indeed to picture to you Zohak’s

horror and dismay. Enough to say that at first he refused utterly to be

a party to his father’s death, but, though the struggle was long and

obstinate, Iblis finally terrified and subdued the youth by telling him

that if he refused, his own life would be the forfeit. Then, in order to

make it easier for him to agree to the proposal, Iblis assured Zohak

that he need not perform the deed with his own hands, but merely consent

to it.

So Iblis dug a pit on the pathway that led to Mirtas’s house of prayer,

and covered it over with grass. And presently, when night was preparing

to throw her dark mantle over the earth, as the King, according to his

custom, was going unto the house of prayer, it came to pass that he fell

into the pit, and his legs and arms being broken by the fall, he shortly

after expired.

Thus, according to the legend, perished Mirtas, that father whose

tenderness would not suffer even the winds to blow upon his son too

roughly. And thus also Zohak, in his tender youth, sold himself unto the

Evil One.

Now Iblis, having succeeded in getting Zohak into his power, continued

to bestow upon him the most devoted attention and flattery, with the

view of moulding him entirely unto his will. Among other things,

therefore, he taught him the art of magic; and, having done so, he

assured him that through it he should become the greatest monarch of his

time. But though the ear of Zohak was ever open unto Iblis, he ruled his

people in both good and evil, for he was not yet wholly given over unto

guile.

Seeing this, therefore, Iblis imagined a new device in his black heart,

for he was not yet satisfied with the degree of authority which he had

obtained over the young King, desiring above all things to see him

completely given over unto evil. Consequently, with this end in view, by

the aid of magic, he took upon himself the form of an engaging youth,

and, appearing thus before Zohak, he craved permission to serve him as

director of the royal kitchen. Pleased with the guileless manners of the

youth, and with the delicious and savory food which he caused to be

spread before him, the King finally commanded that the keys of the great

store-rooms be given him, and that he be allowed to reign supreme over

the royal board.

You must know that up to this time, men had been nourished with bread,

and fruit, and herbs alone; Iblis, however, prepared flesh for Zohak,

and invented the art of cooking. And cunning indeed was this device, for

the King was delighted with the new dishes made from every variety of

bird, and four-footed animal, and lived but for each new repast. Every

day, therefore, something dainty and rare was prepared for the royal

table, and every day Iblis increased in favor, for the flesh gave unto

the King courage and strength like unto a lion, and the fame of his

table was great in the land.

But of all the new dishes prepared for the King, an egg was unto him the

most delicious of all. “What can be superior to this?” he cried in

ecstasy, rolling his eyes toward heaven, and heaving a sigh of profound

content.

“Speak not so,” replied Iblis, smiling, “for to-morrow thou shalt

partake of something still more savory.”

The next day, therefore, the magician of the King’s kitchen brought unto

his majesty’s table delicious fare, served exquisitely to please the eye

as well as taste, partridge and pheasant, a banquet for a prince. Then

Zohak, delighted beyond measure, exclaimed impulsively:

“O Prince among Cooks, verily for this new wonder wrought in our behalf,

whatsoever thou desirest, and I can give, is thine. Thou hast but to

speak the word.”

Then Iblis, glad and little anxious, replied unto His Majesty that he

had but one request—one unimportant wish. It was to kiss the mighty

monarch’s naked shoulder—a mere whim!

So Zohak, unsuspicious, stripped his shoulders, glad to gratify a wish

so flattering and so simple. Then cunning Iblis quickly stooped, and

twice he kissed the King with fiendish glee, and, having done so,

vanished from the sight of men.

But alas, alas for Zohak! for forth from his shoulders, at each salute,

sprang hissing serpents, venomous and black, whose fiery tongues darted

unceasingly about, as though in search of prey. And at this, imagine, if

you can, Zohak’s horror and dismay! his angry cries of fear and rage!

the frenzied haste with which he gave command to have the ugly creatures

severed at the roots! But vain their utmost haste; vain all their zeal,

for no sooner were the writhing things cut off, than quickly forth once

more they sprang, like veritable jacks-in-a-box. And though the King’s

servants wearied not, but struck again and again, and yet again, it was

all to no purpose, for every time that the vile creatures were severed,

they sprang forth bigger, blacker, and uglier than before, each new pair

writhing and hissing yet more angrily, as though, like Iblis, they

longed for naught so much as to lodge their poisonous venom deep in the

hearts of men.

And now, indeed, was there tumult in the King’s court! And well was it

for Iblis that, though the most diligent search was instituted, he was

nowhere to be found throughout the whole dominion. Useless, therefore,

was their search; and all to no purpose did the King’s ministers offer

mountains of gold as a reward for him who should rid His Majesty of the

awful evil laid upon him. In response to the proclamation the most

celebrated magicians and wise men of the East flocked unto the court of

Zohak, but, among them all, not one was found able to charm away the

dreadful vipers.

Every sunrise a new magician, every sunset failure reported; this was

the record of the wretched days of Zohak the King from this time forth,

until hope was almost dead in his heart. Then one day, as the unhappy

monarch sat upon his gorgeous throne, sunk in the most abject misery,

Iblis, in the guise of a skilled physician, once more presented himself

before the King, and, after examination and mature deliberation, thus

spake the cunning one unto his prey:

“O Shelter of the Universe, I have searched the heavens diligently

concerning the horrible evil which hath fallen upon thee, and in thy

horoscope I read a bitter tale. For behold, in the Book of Fate it is

written that from this time forth thou shalt be known among men as the

‘Serpent King,’ since the stars have decreed that the hissing, writhing

vipers shall remain connected with thee throughout thy life, involving

thee in perpetual misery. Hope not, therefore, by the arts of magic to

avert thy fate, for charms are of no avail when pitted against the

stars.”

Alas! As Zohak heard this dire interpretation of his horoscope, he

uttered an exceedingly bitter cry, and gave himself up utterly to

despair; seeing which, Iblis smiled, for he knew that the hour of his

triumph was near. Concealing his satisfaction, however, he thus spake

unto Zohak:

“O Heaven Accursed, despair not yet so utterly, for one faint ray of

hope saw I glimmering for thee from afar, which, if thou wilt, thou

mayest cause even yet to burst forth into a sunbeam of promise. For lo,

it is written, that if yonder writhing creatures be fed daily upon human

brains, which would be the same unto them as poison, in the course of

time they may die; at any rate, in this way only can thy life be

prolonged and made easy. It is for thee to decide.”

So, having thus cunningly lodged this evil suggestion in the mind of the

King, Iblis once more vanished, evidently through the ceiling, for there

floated down thence unto the ears of the unhappy monarch the mocking

refrain:

“If life hath any charm for thee,

The brain of man their food must be!”

Now the truth was, Iblis hated the human race, and he was, therefore,

greatly delighted to think that as a result of his cunning, in time a

great portion of mankind would be destroyed by the dreadful serpents.

For well he knew that Zohak had now become so desperate that he would do

anything to obtain release from his misery. What he did not know was

that all his craft and cunning were powerless to affect God’s plans for

the children of Adam.

But alas for Zohak! And alas also for his subjects! For the chronicles

relate that from this time forth was he given over wholly unto evil, and

that each sunrise saw two young men of the flower of the land slain to

gratify the furious hunger of the serpents. And lo! the fear of the King

was great in the land.

Nor did the fame and fear of the Serpent King confine itself to his own

borders. Alas, no! for Persia was also to suffer at his hands. And now

you must hear something of the Shahs of Old, but particularly of the

great Shah, Jemshid, whose fate was so closely bound up with that of

Zohak.

In the old chronicles of Persia we read that Kaimurs was the first Shah

of Iran, and that he was chosen by the people to rule over them. Prior

to his time, each man lived for himself, in the most primitive way,

owning allegiance to no one but Ormuzd, the great God of the Persians.

Now the legends tell us that Kaimurs was so wise and good that even the

animals assembled to do him homage, and to help fight his battles. Yea,

it is even said that, when he was crowned, great lions and tigers came

forth from their lairs in the distant forest, and that with them there

crouched low before the monarch wolves and leopards, together with the

fierce wild boar, and the fleet-footed ass of the desert. A strange

coronation pageant, surely!

But Kaimurs was loved by men, as well as beasts, and so he prospered and

grew strong. Unfortunately, however, he had one very powerful enemy, the

great King of the Deevs, who ruled over Mazinderan, a province to the

north of Kaimurs’s kingdom. And since not only Kaimurs, but, later on,

many other of the Shahs and heroes of Iran were called upon, again and

again, to battle with this wily race, you will be interested to hear

what they were like.

Well, these wicked Deevs, according to the descriptions given of them,

appear to have been a strange mixture of man, and animal, and evil

spirit. They walked upright, like men, but were possessed of horns, long

ears, and tails; and many of them are described as cat-headed. Great

numbers of them too are said to have been small and black, but there

were also many giants among them, and as one and all of them were past

masters in the arts of sorcery and enchantment, it required very great

courage indeed to fight against them, since in battle they could, at

will, call up whirlwinds and great fires, while they, themselves, could

vanish whenever it pleased them to do so. You can easily understand,

therefore, that it took the courage of a real hero to go forth to battle

against the Deevs.

This, however, Kaimurs’s subjects were called upon to do, since a day

came when the King of the Deevs sent out against Iran a great army of

cat-headed men, giants, and other monsters of horrible aspect, with the

command utterly to subdue the land. Now in this emergency, the son of

Kaimurs, who was very brave, was sent at the head of a large army to

repulse the invading host. But alas! the young prince was slain at the

very beginning of the battle, and his army scattered unto the four

winds. Then was Kaimurs forced to flee, and Persia was given over unto

the Deevs.

Now long and bitterly did the Shah of Iran grieve for the loss of his

son, and the overthrow of his kingdom. But presently, in the far-off

cavern where he lay hid from his enemies, he heard the voice of the

Angel Serosch, which said unto him:

“O Beloved of Ormuzd, come forth into the sunshine of the world, for lo!

victory lieth in the hands of thy grandson. Send him forth, therefore,

to grasp it.”

So Kaimurs took heart, and calling before him his dearly loved grandson,

the youthful Husheng, he commanded him to go forth to meet the mighty

Deevs in the name of Ormuzd the Blessed, who promised a sure victory

unto his children.

Before going, however, Husheng, who was wise, as well as valiant of

heart, in addition to his loyal subjects, summoned to his assistance all

the wild beasts of the forests, and even the birds of the air, whose

duty it was to confuse the foe by flying in their faces, and by making

fearful swoops at their eyes.

A strange sight, therefore, must have been Husheng’s army, when drawn up

in battle array; but a yet more terrible thing to see was the mighty

host of advancing Deevs, enveloped as it was in lurid flames and clouds

of smoke. But the sight caused brave Husheng not a tremor, so filled

with courage and the certainty of victory was he.

And, in the fiercely contested battle which ensued, so great was the

heroism of the Persians, inspired as they were on all sides by their

brave young leader, that not even the Deevs could stand before them.

Husheng himself, also, performed marvels in valor, slaying in single

combat, not only the King of the Deevs, but also the most important

members of his family. Whereupon, in dismay, the remnant of the Deevs

betook themselves to ignominious flight. Howbeit, few escaped; for, by

the orders of Husheng, they were pursued by the tigers, wolves, and

panthers, which tore them to pieces as they fled.

It was indeed a glorious victory, and as a result of it, the kingdom of

Persia was at last secure; and from this time forth, under Husheng’s

mighty sway, civilization grew apace, reaching at last a climax in the

long reign of Jemshid, who was grandson of the valiant Husheng.

Now it is related of Jemshid that for seven hundred years he sat upon

the throne of light, during which time Persia enjoyed her Golden Age of

prosperity. And not only was Jemshid girt about with power and glory,

but the whole world was happier for his sake; since, smiled upon by

Ormuzd, during all this period, no one died or was ill, and the King,

along with his subjects, remained ever in the prime of youth and

strength, old age, death, pain, and sorrow being unknown.

During this period, also, the Deevs were subservient unto the great

Shah, building for him magnificent palaces, inside of which were lofty

halls with springing fountains, silken carpets covering soft divans on

which to lie, and walls hung with pictures, embroidered silks, and

jewelled hangings, all of which were fashioned by the Genii. They also

erected for Jemshid a most glorious throne, upon which they transported

him from one city to another in the twinkling of an eye. Now so

gorgeously beautiful was this throne that it became the wonder of the

world.

Jemshid, however, was not a valiant warrior like Husheng, but a builder

of civilization. He first separated men into classes, divided the year

into periods, encouraged building, and likewise is credited with the

discovery of perfumes, the art of healing, the invention of ships, and

many other useful means of benefiting mankind. It was he also who

instituted the Neurouz, or New Year, at the time of the spring solstice,

a festival still celebrated in Persia with many ceremonies during ten

days.

You will not be surprised to hear, therefore, that Jemshid’s power

increased continually; for, learning of his wisdom and goodness, men

flocked unto his standard from all corners of the earth. And small

wonder, since he was indeed a most beneficent and glorious King. But

alas! the time came, so the legends tell us, when Jemshid’s head was

turned by the height of power that he had reached. Then it came about

that pride took possession of the heart of the King, and he forgot unto

whom he owed his power and the source of his blessings. It is even said

that the time came when, so great was his arrogance, he beheld only

himself in the world, and he named himself God, and sent forth his image

to be worshiped.

Alas for Jemshid! When the Mubids, who are astrologers and wise men,

heard this decree of the King, they bowed their gray heads in sorrow,

for they feared that the downfall of the Shah was near, since,

forgetting his Creator, he assumed himself to be the sole architect of

his greatness. But their words of wisdom only resulted in driving the

King, who seemed possessed of an evil Deev, into still greater folly.

So there finally came a day when Jemshid commanded by proclamation that

all his subjects should assemble in the great square in front of the

royal palace, and there, at the appointed hour, a wonderful scene took

place.

Howbeit, in order to appreciate what happened, you must know that the

Deevs had made of the royal abode a palace like unto a fairy dream.

Indeed yes; for all the outside walls, we are told, were covered with

beautifully painted tiles, while the many windows and balconies were

made of fretted stone work, encrusted with cut and polished glass, so

that the whole glorious building, whose towers seemed almost to pierce

the heavens, glittered and sparkled as though besprinkled with diamonds.

But in front of the beautiful palace, there glittered something still

more gorgeous: it was the throne of the mighty Jemshid, studded, not

with glass, but with every precious stone you have ever heard tell of,

and a great many that you have not. In fact, so resplendent was it when

lit up by the brilliant Eastern sunshine, that it became almost too

dazzling for mortal eyes.

On the morning in question, however, the gorgeous throne was empty,

though about it were stationed, as guards, a great company of cat-headed

Deevs, gigantic Afreets, and fearsome-looking Jinns; while the

magnificent, jewel-studded awning was held in place by graceful Peris, a

kind of fairy. All of which indicated that the Shelter of the Universe

would soon appear.

But though yet quite early, already every inch of standing room in the

great square, as far as the eye could see, was crowded with dark faces

and eager, upturned eyes. So impatient were the people to behold the

Glory of the World and to learn his purpose in so calling them together!

And presently, the trumpets having been sounded, and the tom-toms

beaten, the glorious Jemshid deigned to gladden the eyes of his loyal

subjects. Slowly he mounted the gorgeous throne, and, as he did so, all

the people fell on their faces before him, performing obeisance. As they

rose to their feet, however, so majestic and magnificent was Jemshid’s

presence that, with one accord, the people burst forth into a loud and

prolonged “Bah! Bah!” of admiration, which form of expressing

astonishment and pleasure is said to be customary among the Persians

still to-day.

But you must hear how Jemshid looked to cause such a “Bah! Bah!” of

approval. Well, to begin with, the great Shah wore many silken coats,

one over the other, and a beautiful fur mantle outside all the rest. As

for his gorgeously embroidered, baggy trousers, behold, they were tight

at the ankles, while his slippers were of pure gold. Yes, and upon his

head he wore an immense, many-colored turban, in the front of which

blazed a huge diamond, set about with rubies and pearls. As for the

rest, he was tall, and dark, and majestic, looking every inch a king.

As he raised his sceptre, therefore, commanding silence, the tumult at

once ceased, while all awaited breathlessly his words. But the great

Jemshid merely asked his people a simple question. He said:

“Long, long, O my people, have you basked in the sunshine of a Golden

Age. Now tell me, unto whom do you owe this marvellous prosperity?”

In response to this query, at once the air rang with shouts of, “Hail

unto Ormuzd the Blessed! Hail unto the great God of the Persians!”

Alas! This was not the reply that the arrogant Jemshid had desired or

expected, so with a frown as black as the cloud of smoke which one could

see curling lazily up into the blue from the great volcano Demavend, not

far distant, the great Shah thundered forth at his people:

“O Foolish Ones, blind as moles or worms, know you not, then, that there

is but one God of the Persians, even Jemshid the Glorious? Bow the knee

unto him, therefore, and not unto Ormuzd.”

Now the wonder of such arrogance held the great crowd breathless for one

intense moment; then, suddenly, a shiver ran through the vast multitude,

and the cry went up: “Demavend! Look at Demavend! The volcano! Oh, the

volcano!” Then all eyes turned unto the mountain. And lo! the

snow-covered crest was all aglow with dusky red, while a huge black

cloud issued from the crater, and moved with lightning speed down toward

the plain, finally hovering like a great black bird of ill omen over the

awe-struck people, who turned in their terror for aid unto Jemshid.

But in vain, for even as his subjects gazed upon him, the grandeur and

glory of the proud king vanished as if by magic. There was no thunder

and no lightning, but suddenly, without a sign of warning, the gorgeous

palace fell silently into a heap of unsightly ruins; the gem-studded

throne, the wonder and glory of the world, crumbled into a heap of

worthless dust; and Jemshid’s royal robes became fluttering rags, such

as the very beggars of the streets would disdain.

However, this was not the most terrible thing that happened upon that

eventful day, for along the ground glided venomous snakes and loathsome

lizards, which quickly sprang up out of the ruins, while down from the

black clouds there rained a veritable army of huge scorpions,

tarantulas, and swiftly running centipedes.

Now it is unnecessary to say that very soon these loathsome creatures

had the great square to themselves, for verily in their mad terror and

anxiety to escape, the people fairly flew from the spot. And thus ended

their allegiance to Jemshid, for recognizing in the day’s happenings a

sure sign of the displeasure of Ormuzd the Blessed, they cried out in

their anger that they would no longer obey Jemshid as their Shah, since

through his pride and presumption he had forfeited the favor of the

Almighty.

So it happened that the people of Iran and Turan, having heard that in

the land of Arabia there reigned a monarch mighty and terrible unto his

foes, now turned unto Zohak, and Jemshid, fleeing upon his milk-white

charger before the Arab host, became a wanderer upon the face of the

earth, without a friend, and with many foes. And Zohak, the Serpent

King, ruled in his stead.

But though the royal wanderer carried a high price upon his head, the

chronicles relate that for the space of twice fifty years no man knew

whither he was gone, for he hid from the wrath of the Serpent King.

Howbeit, such was the zeal of his enemy, that in the course of time

Jemshid could no longer escape the spies of Zohak, who finally captured

him, as he wandered upon the shores of far Cathay, and brought him in

triumph before the Serpent King.

Yea, like the narcissus bent with heavy dew, oppressed with shame, his

hands behind his back, and ponderous chains passing from neck to feet,

thus stood before the cruel King the once so glorious Jemshid. But alas!

the sorry sight awakened in the breast of Zohak not the lightest thrill

of pity as, gazing with a scornful smile upon the fallen monarch,

tauntingly he said:

“O Lord of the World, and Heaven, behold thy worshippers at thy feet!

But—where is thy diadem? thy throne? Where is thy kingdom now? Where thy

sovereign power? Alas, I see them not!”

At this cruel speech, the drooping figure straightened, and kingly

Jemshid, gazing unflinchingly into the serpent eyes of his tormentor,

thus calmly spoke:

“O Serpent-haunted One, unjustly am I brought in chains before thee,

betrayed, insulted—thou the cause of all. Feign not, therefore, to feel

my wrongs, but work thy cruel will, and thou shalt see that still I am a

King.”

Imagine Zohak’s rage at this defiance mixed with royal scorn! His inward

fury! Though smiling, still he said:

“Most Kingly King, bereft of throne and power, one thing at least

remaineth yet unto thee: to choose the manner of thy passing. Shall I

behead thee, stab thee, impale thee, or with an arrow’s point transfix

thy heart? What is thy kingly choice?”

Now seeing the evil intent of the King, and scorning to cringe before a

thing so base, Jemshid, raising high his royal head and smiling proudly,

said:

“O Slave of Iblis, since I am in thy power, do with me what thou wilt.

Why should I dread thy utmost vengeance? Why express a wish to save my

body from a moment’s pain? True, I have lived too long, but Jemshid’s

memory in the world will live, undimmed by thee.”

Then Zohak, realizing from these words that it was not in his power to

break the spirit of proud Jemshid, resolved upon a most horrible deed of

vengeance. Ordering, forthwith, that two planks be brought, the royal

prisoner was fastened between them, and his body divided the whole

length with a saw, making two figures of Jemshid out of one.

So perished the great Jemshid, because he was presumptuous, and in his

pride would have lifted himself above his Maker. But the good deeds

which he wrought in the first half of his reign have caused his name to

live, and even to-day the Persians look back with pride unto the

splendor of their country in the days when the great Shah Jemshid sat

upon the throne of light, comparing it with the glory of King Solomon.

But Persia groaned under the tyranny of Zohak, who day by day continued

to pile evil upon evil until the measure thereof was full unto

overflowing, and darkness had settled over all the land because of his

wickedness. Shedding blood had now become the evil King’s pastime, and

he hesitated not at committing every species of crime, until despair

filled all hearts.

“The serpents still on human brains were fed,

And every day two youthful victims bled;

The sword, still ready, thirsting still to strike,

Warrior and slave were sacrificed alike.”

Howbeit, things could not go on thus forever, and so, in the course of

time, thanks unto Ormuzd, there sprang forth from among the Persians a

hero who should avenge the wrongs of his countrymen, and add new lustre

unto the glory of Persia. And of this you shall hear.

For behold, it happened that, all unheeded by Zohak, there lived in his

dominion at this time a man named Kavah, a blacksmith, remarkably strong

and brave, and possessing a large family of fair sons, who were the joy

of his life. One by one, however, they were taken from him to be killed

to feed the King’s serpents, until but one remained unto him, and

finally the lot fell also unto this last of his sons to meet a like

death. Then Kavah arose in his wrath and sought the court of the Shah.

But you will not be surprised to learn that about this same time, Zohak

was having evil dreams; and so, oppressed by terrors of conscience, he

called together an assembly of his nobles, and insisted that they sign a

document asserting that he, Zohak, had ever been unto Persia a just,

wise, and beneficent King. And behold, it was even as this remarkable

paper was being signed that the cry of one who demanded justice was

heard at the gates.

Wishing to show unto his nobles, therefore, that he stood ever eager to

do justice, Zohak commanded that the petitioner be brought immediately

into the audience-room. And lo! Kavah, the avenger, stood before the

King, and the assembly of the nobles. Now so terrible was the aspect of

this deeply wronged man that, for a moment, all gazed at him in wonder.

Then Zohak, the Serpent King, opened his mouth and thus addressed the

sturdy Kavah:

“O Brawny One, I charge thee give a name unto him who hath done thee

wrong!”

Then Kavah, knowing by the two writhing serpents that it was the Shah

who questioned him, smote his head with his hands and uttered a savage

cry. But, by a mighty effort, regaining his self-control, he once more

faced the King calmly, as he said:

“O Serpent King, thou beholdest before thee Kavah the blacksmith, a

blameless man, who hath come into thy presence to sue for justice. And

lo! it is against thee, O King, that I raise my cry, and with reason.

Seventeen brave sons have I called mine, yet to-day but one remaineth

alive, and even now the mouths of thy brain-devouring serpents yawn to

feed upon him also, to still their demon hunger. Thou art the King, ’tis

true, but why on innocent heads cast fire and ashes? If Iblis, for thy

evil deeds, hath given unto thee the form of hissing dragon, why to me

be cruel? Why give the brains of my fair sons as serpent food, and then

dare prate of doing justice? But thy doom is fixed, thou Cruel One, and

even now the avenger’s hand is at the door. Behold, and tremble!”

Now so fierce and sudden was this assault that Zohak, appalled by the

rage and sorrow of a father whose language sounded indeed like a cry of

doom, at once ordered that the son of Kavah be brought forth and

restored unto him. Then, regaining somewhat his arrogance, he bade the

brawny smith inscribe his name upon the lying register, already signed

by some of the mightiest nobles of the land.

But Kavah, when he learned the purport of the register, hesitated not,

but turned wrathfully upon the assembled nobles, crying indignantly:

“O Feeble-hearted Ones, are you then men, or what, leagued with this

human monster? Only a common man am I, and yet never will I lend my hand

unto such a lie, and no more shall you, nobles though you be!”

Seizing the hated register, therefore, to the astonishment of all, Kavah

tore it fiercely into bits, and trampled it under his feet with rage and

scorn. Then, pausing not, he strode forth from the palace, taking his

rescued son with him. And so majestic and fearless was his bearing as he

passed, that none, not even the King, dared raise a finger to detain

him.

So, feeling that at last the time had come for action, from the palace,

Kavah went straight unto the marketplace. Here he rehearsed unto the

people what wrongs the nation suffered, urging them to shake off the

yoke of the cruel Serpent King, who was not even of their land. And so

confident of success was Kavah, so eloquent and so brave, that

multitudes, whose children had been sacrificed unto the brain-devouring

vipers, flocked eagerly about the blacksmith, shouting madly: “Justice!

Give us justice!”

Then Kavah, feeling the need of a standard about which the people might

rally, took off the leathern apron wherewith blacksmiths cover their

knees when they strike with the hammer, and, raising it aloft upon the

point of a lance, cried out joyously:

“Behold, O my countrymen, the banner which shall lead us on to victory,

delivering us from out the hands of the cruel Serpent King.”

Then a glorious shout, the music of which reached even unto the palace,

went up from the people, who thronged eagerly about their brave and

brawny leader, mad for revenge. So Kavah led them forth from the city

bearing aloft his standard—that standard which, later on, adorned with

gold and jewels, and called the “Flag of Kavah,” became a sacred symbol,

honored by every Persian king in succeeding generations as the true sign

of royalty.

But Kavah knew that not unto him was it given to be the real liberator

of Persia from the tyranny of Zohak. He had kindled the flame of revolt,

but a greater than he must make of the spark a devouring fire. Howbeit,

the hero was ready, as you shall hear, thanks unto Serosch, the blessed

Angel of Pity.

For you must know that this angel, who each night flieth seven times

around the earth in order to watch over the children of Ormuzd, saw and

was moved with compassion for the sufferings of the people; and so,

presently, a grandson was born unto Jemshid, whose horoscope decreed

that he should not only be the deliverer of his country, but should

reign long and gloriously upon the throne of light. And this Kavah knew,

for the Blessed Angel had made it known unto him in a dream, after he

had proved himself brave and fearless of heart.

And since the Orientals say that a secret known unto two is one no

longer, you, too, shall know that the name of the coming hero was

Feridoun. But of how, by his splendid deeds, he earned for himself the

title of “The Glorious,” you must hear in another story.