King Keiwan was almost overcome with dismay when the news of the invasion was brought to him, for the Tartar chief was not a foe to be despised; the court was in more or less confusion on account of the suddenness of the attack, and in the midst of the general terror, the nurse of Nahīd went to Meher and told him the story of the great love that the princess bore for him, and informed him that it was in deference to this feeling that the king had refused to give his daughter to the king of Samarcānd.
Feeling that he was the unfortunate cause of the attack upon his royal friend, the prince went to the king and offered to withstand the foe with five hundred chosen men. Although the offer was refused, being looked upon as a useless sacrifice, Meher and his friends insisted that they should be allowed the privilege of joining the army which marched out to repulse the attack of the Tartars.
Soon the wild horde of mountaineers bore down upon the Khārizmians, and it could be seen that the attacking force greatly outnumbered them, but the troops of Keiwan stood bravely at their post and sent their death-dealing arrows into the ranks of the foe.
The Tartar chief clad in black armor was leading his troops in person, and he looked a very fiend as his bloody falchion made great vistas in the ranks that opposed his progress. The heads of horsemen rolled beneath his splendid charger, and it seemed that only another Rustem could withstand the fury of his attack. The black banners were spread upon the air, and the wild music of gong and tymbalons cheered his reckless hordes in their fatal work.
There was the clash of spears, the ringing of armor, and the shouts of the chieftains, mingled with the trampling of horses and the cries of dying men; still onward came the Tartar chief, cleaving his path through the opposing forces, even while blade for blade sprang up to meet him. The Khārizmians were falling back before the irresistible fury of the onset, and victory was surely perching upon the black banner above the fatal field. Confusion already reigned amidst the flying troops, when a warrior youth with a broidered vestment rode out of the retreating ranks and called upon the men to follow him.
It was a voice of imperial command, the order of a man who rode fearlessly into the ranks of the foe, and the troops of Keiwan quickly rallied, the officers reformed their lines, and followed the new leader into the very jaws of death.
Kāra Khān laughed mockingly as he saw the stripling, who had turned the retreating lines, riding towards him, but in another moment the boy was by his side, and before he could draw his sword a quick motion had thrown him from his horse; the cry went through the Tartar ranks that the king was slain, and, in the momentary panic caused by the false alarm, he was captured by the dauntless youth, who hurried him back within the Khārizmian lines.
Leaving his prisoner in the hands of his own attendants the prince again turned his horse to the front, and again he led the troops of Keiwan, this time to an easy victory; the fate of the day being turned by the capture of the Tartar king, the hordes of the invader either fled from the field or surrendered to the new leader.
When the royal prisoner was brought before the victorious king, the order was issued according to the barbaric custom, that he should be beheaded; but Meher interfered, with the plea that it were far better to send him back to his own dominions pledged to make an annual tribute to Keiwan. This would not only increase the royal revenue, but it would hold the Tartar host in subjection, and also preserve the peace; whereas, upon the execution of their king his successor would declare perpetual war against the Khārizmians.
After a time Meher succeeded in convincing the king of the wisdom of a humane policy, and the captive was allowed to depart in peace, having taken a solemn pledge to send a rich tribute to the conqueror every year on the anniversary of his attack.