بخش 12

With the coming of day, the sun of the cosmos rose, and both armies mounted while Goshtasp watched their array from the height of the mountain. The black steed Behzad was brought forth, the king took his place upon the armored saddle, and when the two hosts stood opposite, brass trumpets sounded over the elephant drums as the field was prepared. First came a storm of arrows like spring hail, darkening the world; the fountain of the sun was veiled beneath a glittering rain of shafts—as though diamonds fell from a cloud. Mace-bearers and lancers charged; the air turned night-hued and the earth everywhere flushed crimson. Amid the tumult, a valiant rider appeared and behind him the world’s lord, Ardeshir, rode into the fray; an archer’s shaft passed through royal armor, and a princely youth was cast down, his pure body drenched in blood. Alas for that moon-faced beauty whom the wise king would never behold again. Then a lion-like champion—Ormazd’s very strength—came before the king, bearing a poison-washed dagger; with a roar he sought to drag the wild beast of war to the ground. The prince slew a thousand of the enemy’s riders, but as he turned back from battle, a shaft struck him in the back and his glory ended. After him, Shidsap the royal—peer to the king like the moon—entered the lists on a blue-hued charger, towering like a mountain, and called out Kahram the mighty; their spears flashed like the wind, and the prince cast the Turk from the saddle, severing his head and sending his golden belt to the dust. He rode before the champions of Chin like a mountain upon the saddle, but a deceiving arrow struck from behind; alas for that cosseted prince whose fair face went unseen ever after.