بخش 19

When the Turks saw that matters had gone awry and sharp blades were coming from every side, all their chieftains dismounted and came before the bull-like Esfandiyār; they cast aside their Chāchi bows and drew out their battle cloaks. In supplication they said: If the king grants his servants amān upon their lives, we will enter into this rite, petition you, and worship all the Fires. When Esfandiyār heard their words, he granted them amān in life and limb. Then that renowned, noble-born warrior cried out over the great host: O Iranian champions, withdraw from this Chinese army; now that the enemy host is cast down, refrain from terror and slaughter. They are miserably wretched and forlorn; grant these dogs amān upon their lives. Stay your hands from seizing and binding, shed no blood; do not rush—leave the slain where they lie, circle about and count the wounded. Do not take them in the name of Zarīr’s soul, and do not tarry long upon your war-steeds. When the army heard his voice, they passed by the wounded gently, returned to their own camp, and beat the kettledrums for victory. That whole night they did not sleep for joy, for their triumph was like the coming of Rostam. When that dark night broke and blood sank into the steppe and wilderness, the famed king came with the commanders to behold the battlefield. He walked around the slain—whomever he saw, he wept and moved on. He saw his brother, slain and wretched, thrown down in the arena, abject; when he beheld him thus, he tore all his royal garments. He dismounted from the fair-colored horse, seized his beard with both hands, and cried: O king of the champions of Balkh, our whole life is made bitter. Alas, O rider, O king, O Khosrow, O brave war-fighter, chosen witness, pillar of mine, veil of the kingdom, lamp of the world, brilliance of the army. Then he lifted him from the dust, wiped his face clean with his own hands, and laid him within a golden coffin—you would say Zarīr had not been born of his own store. The Kayan-born and their youths set the dead into coffins before them. He ordered: Count the dead and bring out whoever is wounded. They circled the battlefield, through mountain, wilderness, and plain: thirty thousand Iranians were slain, of whom seven hundred were proud and renowned; one thousand and forty of the notables were wounded, those who had escaped from under the feet of the elephants. And of the others, one hundred thousand lay dead—one thousand one hundred sixty-three were famed; and three thousand two hundred were wounded. Stand upon this place as long as you can, O moon-like one.