Now it is recorded that Ormuzd the Blessed caused three sons to be born
unto Feridoun the Shah, and these youths were tall and strong, and fair
of mien, their mother being the lovely Shahrnaz of the house of Jemshid.
But the names of the young princes were not yet known unto men, for it
remained unto Feridoun to test their hearts. But before their hearts
were tested, the princes were wed, and of this you shall hear.
Lo, it is chronicled in the Book of Kings that the great Shah, beholding
that his sons were come unto years of strength, sent forth a messenger
to search through all the world for three princesses, born of the same
father and mother, and adorned with every grace and accomplishment, that
should make them worthy of alliance with the line of Jemshid, in order
that the princes might be wed.
So the messenger went forth, travelling far and wide over many lands, at
last finding the object of his search in the three beautiful princesses
of the house of Yemen. But unfortunately, Serv, the King of Yemen, did
not wish to part with his three fair daughters, and so put hindrances in
the way, requiring the sons of Feridoun to present themselves at his
court before he would give his consent unto the alliance.
Therefore, counselled by their father as to how they should conduct
themselves, the three princes set forth to win their brides. Now they
were received by the King of Yemen with becoming honor, and as they came
through the tests to which they were subjected successfully, the King
could no longer withhold his consent unto the betrothals.
That same night, however, Serv, being a master magician, called forth
biting cold and frost, thinking to freeze to death the three princes as
they lay upon their perfumed couches in the rose-garden of the King.
But, though the cold and frost were sharp enough to kill all the flowers
in the garden, the Angel Serosch awakened the princes in time. Whereupon
seeing that it was useless to fight against the inevitable, the King
finally prepared a great marriage feast, after which the three brides
set out with their husbands upon the long journey back to Persia.
Meanwhile the chronicles relate that when informed by couriers of the
near approach of his sons with their brides, Feridoun at once determined
to go forth to meet them, in order to prove their hearts. And as, above
all things, he was anxious to test their courage, he took upon himself
the form of a terrible dragon that foamed at the mouth with fury, and
from whose jaws vomited mighty flames.
Stationing himself in a gloomy mountain pass, therefore, when the train
from Yemen drew near, he fell upon it suddenly, like a whirlwind,
raising a cloud of dust above the place with his writhings, and roaring
so horribly as to cause even the stoutest heart to quake.
Now, as it happened, the eldest brother was in the lead, and,
consequently, he was the first to see the frightful beast about to fall
upon them. Being given a moment in which to think, however, he said
within himself: “A wise and prudent man fighteth not with dragons.” So,
turning his back upon the monster, he retreated, leaving the dragon to
fall upon his brothers.
So the furious beast, robbed of the first brother, quickly fell upon the
second, who said unto himself: “If I must fight, what mattereth it
whether it be a furious lion, or a warrior full of valor?” Placing
himself upon guard, therefore, he took up his bow and stretched it,
ready for the attack.
But the youngest of the princes, when he saw the danger which threatened
his brother, tarried not afar, but, full of fire and fury, rushed upon
the dragon, crying aloud in his rage: “Thou reptile, flee from out our
presence, for it is not seemly for thee to strut in the path of lions.
Thou beholdest before thee the sons of the glorious Feridoun, armed and
ready for the fight. Beware, therefore, lest we plant upon thy head the
crown of enmity.” Speaking thus, the Prince sprang boldly forward; but,
before he could strike, Feridoun, having now divined the character of
the princes, vanished from their sight.
So, the enemy having disappeared, the train from Yemen proceeded upon
its way; and when they were come unto the royal palace, the Shah warmly
welcomed his sons and the three fair daughters of Yemen, music and
rejoicing being heard everywhere in the land. But at the end of seven
days, behold, Feridoun called his sons into his presence, and, having
seated them upon thrones of splendor, he opened his mouth, and said unto
them:
“O Princes of the house of Feridoun, give heed unto the words which I
shall speak unto you. Know, then, that the raging dragon whose breath
threatened destruction, was but your father who sought thus to test your
hearts. And now, having proved you, I will give unto each a name fitting
unto his character.
“Lo, the first-born shall be called Selim, for in the hour of danger,
prudence became his guiding star.
“And the second, who showed no whit of fear when suddenly confronted by
peril, but whose spirit burned ardent as a flame, him will I call Tur,
the courageous, whom not even a mad elephant can daunt.
“But as to the youngest, him I find to be a man both prudent and brave,
knowing both how to haste, and how to tarry. Irij, therefore, shall he
be called, for first did he show gentleness, but his wisdom and bravery
tarried not in the hour of danger.”
And now the ceremony of naming his sons being completed, Feridoun called
for the Book of the Stars wherein is written the fate of men, for he
wished to divine the destiny of his sons. But alas! after searching the
planets, he learned that though the signs pointed to success and renown
for the two eldest, the horoscope of Irij, the youngest and best loved
of his father, indicated misfortune and a tragic end, which disclosure
grieved Feridoun deeply.
Howbeit, the King’s programme was not yet finished, for next he
proceeded to divide his vast empire, giving the three parts unto his
sons in suzerainty. Now unto Selim, he gave the lands lying toward the
setting sun; and unto Tur, the eastern provinces reaching even unto
China. But unto Irij, he gave Iran with the throne of might, and the
crown of supremacy, regarding him as the ablest to rule over the heart
of the empire.
So the brothers now separated, each taking charge of the reins of
government in the respective kingdoms, and for many long years they sat
upon their golden thrones in happiness and peace. But alas! evil was
written in the Book of Fate, and, day by day, as the leaves turned, it
brought tragedy ever nearer unto the house of Feridoun.
Verily the great Shah, after a romantic and glorious youth devoted to
valiant deeds, had been blessed by Ormuzd with long life, honor, and
peace; but now was he grown hoary-headed and full of years, and his
strength inclined toward the grave. And—sorry to relate—as their father
grew weak and feeble, the two eldest brothers became jealous of their
younger brother, Irij, who was destined to take precedence of them upon
the death of Feridoun.
And it was the heart of Selim, particularly, that was turned toward
evil, and whose soul gradually became steeped in greed and envy. Day
after day, therefore, he pondered bitterly in his spirit the parting of
the lands, and anger filled his soul. For Persia was a beautiful land,
the garden of spring, full of freshness and perfume, while the other
provinces were wild and uncultivated.
Finally, Iblis gaining full possession of the heart of Selim, he called
unto him a messenger, mounted him upon a swift dromedary, and sent him
unto his brother Tur with a letter, sealed with his private seal. And
the letter read:
“O King of the house of Feridoun, may thy days be many and glorious! So
sayeth thy brother Selim who greeteth thee from out the west, and asketh
of thee, shall we, the elder brothers, remain ever satisfied to see the
youngest born set high above our heads upon the throne of light? What
sayeth Tur the Courageous?”
Now when Tur had read this letter, behold, his imagination became filled
with wind, so that his head was raised above the stars. Calling the
messenger into his presence, therefore, he said unto him:
“Thus sayeth the mighty Tur unto his brother: O Star of the house of
Feridoun, verily I say unto thee that since our father took advantage of
our innocence when we were young and simple of heart, with his own hands
hath he planted a tree destined to bear bitter fruit for him and his
loved Irij. In order, therefore, that thou and I may counsel together
how this great wrong may be righted, I follow the swift feet of thy
messenger.”
So Selim and Tur met, and, as a result of their conclave, the following
haughty message was sent unto Feridoun, their aged father:
“O thou who draweth with swift feet unto the tomb, behold, thy sons
Selim and Tur ask of thee, art thou not afraid to go home unto thy God?
For verily thine eldest born hast thou treated unfairly, and injustice
doth cast its black shadow both before and after thee, since thou hast
allotted thy realm with iniquity. We say unto thee, therefore, command
the stripling Irij to step down from the throne of light, and hide him
in some corner of the earth where he will be forgotten as we, and where
he shall no longer offend our sight. For, are not we the elder brothers?
Now art thou warned, and if thou heedest not, then shall come down upon
thee from the mountains, fierce warriors filled with vengeance, who will
utterly destroy thee.”
Now the herald, who bare this message unto the court of Feridoun, was
greatly awed by the magnificence which everywhere greeted him, and
marvelled much at the audacity of the writing destined for the King. And
this impression was deepened when, having been admitted into the great
audience-room of kings, he beheld the mighty monarch, proud and
venerable, with snow-white beard reaching unto his waist, seated
majestically upon his gorgeous golden throne. But behold! the look of
serenity and peace vanished from the face of Feridoun as he listened
unto the cruel words of his sons—his soul becoming kindled with fury.
Rising majestically, therefore, he straightway said unto the messenger:
“Return, O herald, unto your masters—these men senseless and perverse of
heart—and say unto them: Truly Feridoun rejoiceth that at last his sons
have laid bare their hearts before him, for now he knoweth what manner
of men they really are. As for the parting of the realm, it was done in
equity, according to the wisdom of many counsellors. But I ask of you,
what shall be said of him who betrayeth his brother for greed? Verily,
he is not worthy to be sprung from a noble race! And now, listen unto
the word of warning sent unto you by an aged father. For I say unto you,
if you persist in your vile threat, lo! your names shall be blotted out
from the house of Feridoun, and destruction utter and sure shall be your
inheritance. Pray God, therefore, that he turn your hearts from evil.”
After the departure of the messenger, behold, Feridoun at once informed
Irij of the intent of his brothers, advising him to prepare a great army
to oppose them, should they really attempt to carry out their threat.
For he said:
“Alas that it should be true, O my son, but in this world we can look
for no defenders unless we are prepared to defend ourselves, and unto
the evil of heart, a mighty army speaketh more loudly than the cry of
justice.”
But Irij, as he listened unto the words of his father, was very
sorrowful, for he was gentle of heart, and loved not strife and
bloodshed. Therefore he said unto Feridoun:
“O Royal Cypress, casting thy gracious shadow over the whole sun-kissed
world! Good and not evil hath been thy influence throughout thy long
reign for, blessed by thy protecting shade, the beauteous flower of
peace hath blossomed radiantly throughout thy kingdom for more than a
hundred years. Now I, too, O my father, would reign beneficently, for I
care not to be a dragon of war, vomiting upon the world destruction and
woe. Suffer me, therefore, to go forth alone unto my brothers that I may
still the anger which they feel against me, since rather than dip my
hands in fratricidal blood, gladly will I sacrifice both diadem and
throne. For verily
“I feel no resentment, I seek not for strife,
I wish not for thrones and the glories of life;
What is glory to man?—an illusion, a cheat;
What did it for Jemshid, the world at his feet?
When I go to my brothers, their anger may cease
Though vengeance were fitter than offers of peace.”
Now tears filled the eyes of the aged Feridoun as he listened unto the
noble words of his son and with heart soothed and quickened as by a
gentle shower, he said unto his youngest born:
“If such be thy desire, O my gentle son, go forth, and may flowers
spring up in thy pathway, brightening and making glad unto thee every
step of thy feet. But forget not that my life is rooted in thee, and
return unto thy father with the speed of the swift-footed dromedary.”
But, before Irij started upon his mission of peace, Feridoun wrote and
gave unto him a letter that he should bear unto his brothers. Now the
writing was signed with the royal seal, and it read:
“Thus sayeth Feridoun the Mighty unto his sons, Selim and Tur: Behold,
your youngest brother hath descended from off his throne and is come
unto you with peace in his heart, esteeming your friendship of more
value than his crown and throne. Banishing from your hearts, therefore,
all hostility, be kind unto him, for it is incumbent upon the eldest
born to be indulgent and affectionate unto their younger brothers. As
for me, I am now old, and desire naught so much as to see my sons
united; and though your consideration for my happiness seemeth to have
passed away, yet are your names still graven upon my heart.”
So, armed with his father’s letter, Irij hastened with his modest
retinue into Turkestan, where he found the armies of his brothers
already assembled. However, he was received courteously by Selim and
Tur, and was lodged in the royal quarter. But alas for Irij! for it
seemed as if his very good qualities were to bring about his
destruction, as you shall hear.
Now it is related of this Prince of the house of Feridoun that, in
addition to beauty of character, he was also extremely prepossessing
personally—so much so, in fact, that in every place all eyes were fixed
upon him, and wherever he moved he was followed and surrounded by the
admiring soldiers, and crowds of people who, filled with wonder at his
beauty and kingly presence, murmured among themselves, saying: “Surely
this is the Prince worthy to bear the sceptre of Iran!” all of which
exasperated the malignant spirit of the two brothers, bringing down upon
Irij his fate.
For although at first Selim and Tur had intended to kill Irij, his youth
and gentleness had in some degree subdued their animosity; now, however,
they were glad to have this excuse for removing him from their pathway.
So, retiring into their tents, all night they fanned their jealousy and
hate, counselling how they might do hurt unto Irij; and as the day
broke, Selim said unto Tur:
“O Courageous One, thou must put this usurper to death; then his kingdom
will be thine.”
So, when the curtain that hid the sun was lifted, revealing a glorious
new day, Selim and Tur went forth unto the tent of their brother. And
Irij greeted them joyously, for his heart was full of sunshine. But Tur,
frowning darkly, said: “O Perfidious Stripling,
“Must thou have gold and treasure,
And thy heart be wrapped in pleasure,
Whilst we, thy elder born,
Of our heritage are shorn?
Must the youngest still be nursed,
And the elder branches cursed?
And condemned by stern command,
To a wild and sterile land?”
Now when Irij heard these bitter words from Tur, behold, he grew not
angry, but replied gently unto him: “O my brother,
“I only seek tranquillity and peace;
I look not on the crown of sovereignty,
Nor seek a name among the Persian host;
And though the throne and diadem are mine,
I here renounce them, satisfied to lead
A private life. For what hath ever been
The end of earthly power and pomp, but darkness?
I seek not to contend against my brothers;
Why should I grieve their hearts, or give distress
To any human creature? I am young
And Heaven forbid that I should prove unkind!”
But alas! the gentle words of Irij unconsciously rebuked the greedy,
self-seeking spirit of his brothers, and so they softened not the heart
of Tur, which was proud and full of evil. Utterly unable to comprehend a
nobility of soul so wonderful, he thought that Irij feigned, and so,
springing up, furiously he seized the golden chair, but now his seat,
and with it struck a violent blow upon the head of his brother, calling
aloud, “Bind him! Bind him!”
Then Irij, thinking of his aged parent, and fearing his hour was come,
begged piteously for mercy, saying unto his brother:
“O Cruel One, think of thy old father, and spare me! and if not of him,
then have compassion upon thine own soul, and destroy me not, lest God
ask vengeance for my blood. Verily, thou wouldst not crush even the tiny
ant that beareth a grain of corn, for she hath life, and sweet life is a
boon; therefore spare thy brother. For thy father’s sake, grant that I
may yet behold the sun. I ask only to live in peace and retirement.”
Alas! strange to say, these words of piteous pleading but angered Tur
the more, so that, drawing from his boot a poisoned dagger, he thrust it
deep into the breast of gentle Irij. And behold, the Kingly Cedar fell,
never again to raise his glorious head in the sunshine of the world.
Alas, the pity of it!
But pity was far from the heart of Tur; for, in his vileness, he severed
from the trunk the royal young head of his brother, and filling it with
musk and amber, sent it unto their aged father with these cruel words:
“Behold the head of thy darling! Give unto him now the crown and the
throne.”
Then, their evil deed accomplished, behold, the brothers furled their
tents and returned each unto his own land. But the end was not yet.
All this time the aged Feridoun kept his eyes fastened eagerly upon the
road whither Irij had gone, for his heart yearned exceedingly to behold
his boy again. And, as the time of his return drew near, he caused the
walls of his palace to be readorned, and gave orders that musicians,
dancing-women, and banquets should be in readiness to give his son a
joyous welcome home. Then, when at last the day of his return was come,
the aged King sent forth a host to greet him, he himself following close
in the wake.
But when the joyous company had gone a little way, a strange thing
happened. For Feridoun, riding at the head of his expectant army,
suddenly beheld a mighty cloud of dust upon the sky, which, when it
cleared, revealed a solitary dromedary looming out of the far horizon,
whereupon was seated a rider clad in the garb of woe. And, the mournful
figure drawing nearer, the King beheld that he bare in his arms a casket
of gold which, upon reaching the retinue, he gave with sorrowful mien
into the hands of the aged monarch.
Now Feridoun, suspecting not to what lengths greed and envy had driven
his wicked sons, yet felt a dire presentiment in his heart as he gazed
upon the case of gold. Commanding that it be opened, however, when the
lid was raised, there was revealed at first naught but rich stuffs of
silks; but when the silks were unrolled, lo! the hoary-headed King gazed
upon the head of his loved Irij. Alas for Feridoun! horror-stricken by
this grim sight and the cruel words of his sons, the world grew suddenly
dark unto his eyes, and he fell from his horse in a swoon.
Then there rent the air a mighty cry of sorrow such as the world hath
seldom heard. For the whole army wailed with grief, in their woe casting
dust upon their heads, and tearing their garments in twain. And not only
that, but the banners were rent, the drums broken, and the elephants and
cymbals hung with the colors of mourning, because that the gentle Irij
was now but a beautiful memory in the world, and that the house of
Feridoun was left unto him desolate.
As for the stricken monarch, when he recovered his senses, he returned
upon foot into the city, and all the nobles accompanied him, trailing
their steps in the dust, and followed by the lamenting army. But
Feridoun was dumb in his sorrow until they were come unto the garden of
Irij, the spot loved best in the world by the noble young King. Here his
grief o’ercame him, and, casting black earth upon his head, he tore his
white hair, and shed bitter tears, his cries and lamentations being so
piercing that they mounted even unto the seventh sphere. Then pressing
the golden casket unto his breast, he spake unto God in his grief, and
he said:
“O Omnipotent One! Thou who art all-just! look down, I beseech thee,
upon this innocent whom his brothers have so foully slain, and grant
unto me vengeance for his blood. His murderers, O God, are my sons, but
I, their most unhappy father, beg of Thee to sear their wicked hearts
that they may never again know joy or peace in the world. O Lord of the
World, I long for the earth to cover me, but let me not go hence until a
warrior, mighty to avenge, shall be sprung from the loins of Irij; then
will I depart with joy, for I am weary of turmoil and strife.”
Thus cried Feridoun in the bitterness of his soul, and, refusing to quit
the garden of Irij, he threw himself upon the grass, and, his white
locks wet with dew, he lay night after night under the stars. Yea, the
earth was his couch, and he watered the garden with his tears, and lo!
he moved not from the spot until the grass had grown above his bosom,
and his eyes were stricken with blindness from much weeping. And,
moaning continually, in his agony he lamented:
“O my son! My gentle Irij! Never prince died a death so pitiful as
thine!”
[Illustration: Then pressing the golden casket unto his breast, he spake
unto God in his grief.]
Now all the land wept and bemoaned the death of Irij, and the sorrow
which had come unto the great King, so that for many years Iran was like
unto a house of mourning. And the voice of lamentation ceased not in the
land until the happy day upon which they placed in the arms of Feridoun
a babe, fair and strong, the hero destined to avenge the gentle Irij’s
death. But of this you must hear in another story.