Now it is said of young Afrasiab the Prince that he was as strong as a lion or an elephant, and that his shadow extended for miles; that his tongue was like a bright sword, his heart as bounteous as the ocean, and his hands like the clouds when rain falleth to gladden the thirsty earth. Therefore his father found it not difficult to imbue his chivalrous and youthful spirit with the sentiments he himself cherished as, calling him into his presence, he said unto him:
“O my son, generous and brave, even as the great Minuchir in days gone by took vengeance for the blood of his sire, so ought thou now to take vengeance for thine; for I say unto thee that the grandson who refuseth to do this act of justice is unworthy a noble ancestry.”
So, inspired by the thought of avenging old wrongs, and lured on by ambition as well, in the council which followed, Afrasiab gave his voice for war. But Aghriras, his younger brother, advised peace, for he said:
“Though Persia can no longer boast the prowess of Minuchir, O my father, still be not precipitate. For behold! the great warriors Saum, and Zal, and Karun yet live, and we have only to remember the result of the war in which Selim and Tur were involved to be convinced that it would be better not to begin the contest at all than to bring ruin and desolation upon our own country. Think well, therefore, before undertaking so mighty an enterprise.”
To this prudent counsel, however, Poshang turned a deaf ear, for he coveted the rich provinces of Persia, even as Selim and Tur before him, and he thought the time particularly fit and inviting to carry out his ambitious schemes. So when the verdure of spring covered the plains the Tartar army set forth.
Now this event could not have happened in a more unlucky hour for Persia, since the great Pehliva Saum had just been gathered unto the dust; and Zal, his white-haired son, tarried in his house to build him a tomb; while Rustem was ill with the small-pox. Nevertheless, the grandson of Feridoun, when he learned of the coming of the Tartar horde, raised as great an army as he could, and prepared to meet the foes of his land, which covered the ground like ants and locusts.
And presently it came to pass that the two great armies had approached within two leagues of each other, whereupon, a Tartar champion, Barman, by name, rode forth challenging the Persians to single combat; and as it happened, there was no one to answer the call but the aged Kobad, the oldest warrior in the army. Now Karun and Kobad were brothers, being both sons of Kavah, and both leaders in the Persian army. Seeing how unequal would be the conflict, therefore, Karun tried to dissuade his brother from the undertaking, saying unto him:
“O my brother, go not forth to meet this giant, for should thy hoary locks be stained with blood, thy legions would be overwhelmed with grief and, in despair, decline the coming battle!”
But brave old Kobad resisted all the arguments and entreaties of Karun, replying unto him:
“This body, this frail tenement, O my brother, belongeth unto death. No living man hath ever yet gone up to heaven, for all are doomed to die—some by the sword, the dagger, or the spear, and some devoured by roaring beasts of prey; some peacefully upon their beds, and others snatched suddenly from life, endure the lot ordained by the Creator. And if I perish now, fighting against my country’s foe, doth not my brother live, my noble brother, to bury me beneath a warrior’s tomb, and bless my memory? And what can a soldier brave ask more?”