بخش 17

After this, the king entrusted Behzād with the host, his mail and steel helmet, and sent him forth in black raiment. Behzād mounted the dark-colored horse and advanced to the battlefield; he stood before the enemy line and cried: I am Bostur, son of Zarīr—no lion will dare confront me. Where is the sorcerer Bidarafsh, who bears the purple Jamshidi standard? When the nobles gave no answer, he spurred Shabrang, Behzād’s steed, and slew many of the Tarkhān ranks, and none would face him. On the other side, Esfandiyār was also felling men beyond count. The commander of China, seeing Bostur, said to his army: This is the one who knows to wield the spear thus; he has slain countless of my Tarkhāns—has Zarīr the rider come back to life? Just as he first came against me and charged, now call that chosen Bidarafsh hither. Bidarafsh came rushing, the purple standard in hand, seated on a royal horse and wearing the Pahlavi mail. He strode before the king’s ranks, guardian of border and court, holding the same poison-tempered blade that the rider Zarīr had cast down. They circled with javelins and arrows: the eternal Turk and the son of Zarīr. Then they informed Esfandiyār of the combat; he charged and, when he saw the head of the eternal one, he felled the horse in the midst of battle, knowing the man’s fate had come upon him. They cast the poison-tainted powder upon his face, hoping to mar his radiant countenance; the venomous blade did not take upon him, so he seized the king’s firm sword and struck a champion’s blow to his liver, such that the point came out the other side. Bidarafsh, like a gazelle, toppled from his horse and died; the Kayan-born saw their plunder. Esfandiyār dismounted, drew forth Zarīr’s chosen arms from that old sorcerer, and cut his head from mid-body. He took Zarīr’s fine-colored steed and the standard, and the graceless head of Bidarafsh as well. The Kayān host raised a cry that passed beyond the clouds: The king is victorious and the enemy is cast down; the bay horse was brought back. The brave prince Esfandiyār led Zarīr’s bay to the king and set the old sorcerer’s severed head before him—the slayer is slain: such is the law and creed of justice.