بخش 28
Prose Version
A wise, swift messenger woman rode from Iran to Sistan without rest, compressing two days into one, and brought Goshtāsp the grievous news: Lohrāsp has been slain before Balkh, the city laid waste; the king’s daughters carried off captive; at Nōsh-Āzar the priests were butchered until the sacred fire died in their blood. Goshtāsp wept blood, cast off his crown and left the throne, called for the scribe and sent letters to every side to muster the host. Warriors gathered from every province and arrayed for battle: the right wing under Farshidvard, the left under Bastūr, Goshtāsp at the center; on the Turanian side, Kahram held the left and Arjāsp the center. The boom of drums and the uproar of war turned the field into hell for three days and nights; lances bent, maces broke, and the plain filled with the dead. Farshidvard grappled with Kahram; Goshtāsp was wounded by Kahram’s blade—though he escaped death—yet many Iranians fell and the king’s fortune darkened. Thirty‑eight sons of Goshtāsp—mountain‑brave and riders of the plain—were slain to a man in that battlefield, and the land was drenched in the blood of champions.