“That is not enough,” returned Isfendiyār. “Thou must be fettered, I will not disobey the commands of the king,” and he seized his bow to commence the combat. Rustem did the same, and as he placed the Sīmūrgh’s arrow in the bowstring, he exclaimed, “I have wished for a reconciliation, and I would now give all my treasures and wealth to go with you to Īrān and avoid this conflict, but my offers are disdained, for you are determined to consign me to bondage and disgrace.”
An arrow from Isfendiyār came quickly against his armor, but by turning himself he eluded its point, and in return he quickly lodged the Sīmūrgh’s arrow in the eyes of his antagonist.
“And darkness overspread his sight,
The world to him was hid in night,
The bow dropped from his slackened hand,
And down he sunk upon the ground.”
Bāhman, the son of Isfendiyār, seeing his father fall, uttered loud lamentations, and all the Persian troops drew near in sorrow and mourning. The stricken man was carried to his tent, and the next day both Zāl and Rustem came to offer their sympathy and condolence.
The wounded prince replied, “I do not ascribe my misfortunes to thee; fate would have it so, and thus it is. But I consign my son Bāhman to thy care and guardianship; instruct him in the science of government, the custom of kings, and the rules of the warrior, for thou art perfect in all things.” Rustem readily promised, saying that it should be his duty to see that the young prince was firmly seated upon the throne of his fathers.
Then Isfendiyār sent a message to his father, and with a few tender, loving words for his mother, he lay back and died. Then Rustem returned home, carrying with him as a sacred trust the son of the slain prince, who was carefully instructed in all the arts of war and the accomplishments of peace, and finally placed upon the throne that should have been his father’s.
But the blood of the gallant Isfendiyār carried with it a curse, as the Sīmūrgh had said, and Rustem himself fell a victim to the treachery of his half-brother. He and his gallant horse fell together in a pit which had been prepared for them while on a hunting excursion, and although Rakush bounded gallantly out of the first, it was only to fall into another, and they struggled on, until mounting up the edge of the seventh pit, and covered with deep wounds, both horse and rider lay exhausted. With one supreme effort, Rustem sent an arrow through the man who had betrayed him, and then Persia’s gallant son was dead, and not a kingly follower remained. Zūara and other followers had fallen and perished in other pits dug by the traitor king and traitor brother. All were lost save one, who escaped and carried the sad tidings to Sistan, where Zāl in agony tore his white hair and cried, “Why did I not die for him, why was I not present fighting by his side?” And never again did the land of Īrān bear a chieftain like the gallant Rustem slain.