Chapter 23
The Religious War
Never before had Djamaspa been so anxious and so lost in thought. He but barely uttered a single word that day. He had hidden himself in his haunt and had given himself to thought. Sorrow streamed forth from the depths of his eyes and grief controlled his radiating countenance—no one could approach him, none dared speak to him.
After some time one of Zarathustra’s disciples approached him to ask the reason for his downcast appearance.
“We have come to a new unwonted stage in our lives—a stage in which the wrathful scythe of rage will rise to reap the stalks of youth. The blazes of the fire of vengeance have flamed to devastate being and a storm of bigotry, ignorance, pride and malice has risen to upheave our lives. The greatest pain comes from the knowledge that there will be no end to these evil days, for as long as the sun does shine, as long as the earth exists so long will men abide by such wicked thoughts and beliefs with which they will eternally blacken the days of human life.”
Unable to grasp the meaning of Djamaspa’s words the disciple said:
“I do not understand your words—tell me what it is that ails you, Djamaspa. What has caused you to be so downcast? What is the reason for such bitter words?”
Djamaspa held out a letter and bid the man read—it was from Arjasb: “I have heard that the honorable Vishtaspa has embraced the creed. Warn him against such an undertaking for we shall all mightily suffer by such a step. You must keep our faith for indeed shall we hold you dear should you abide by our religion and we shall bestow upon you gold, silver, the finest steeds and the best manner of sovereignty. But should you not do so then will we attack you, burn your homes and take you and all that is yours into slavery.”
Djamaspa said: “Do you now see the reason for my sorrow, friend? Read this accursed letter once more and think about its contents. We have all forsaken Mithra worship along with our ruler Vishtaspa and we have turned to Zarathustra’s wise instructions. We have come to know the Almighty Ahura Mazda as the sole Creator of the universe and of being. Zarathustra taught us that the sun is not a god. He showed that there is one far greater than the sun and Mithra who is the power of wise creation. One who once created the moon, the sun, the stars, the skies and the earth. He taught us to raise our eyes to the skies and to behold and praise His glory for His splendor can be depicted in all creation. He taught us that we have nothing to fear of this God but that we have to strive to comprehend Him in our beings. We came to understand that creation is a reflection of His splendor. We strove to grasp the power of creation through the eternal radiance we saw therein and thus to arrive at the understanding of our new God. Zarathustra first introduced us to these beliefs and as we found them reasonable then did we embrace his creed and now do we worship a single deity in place of the numerous gods and goddesses we once worshiped.
We now uphold Ahura Mazda, that singular wise power of creation, as God. We see Him as the power to which we must turn in knowledge for it is only knowledge which can give us a total comprehension of creation—we do not dread this God. Zarathustra has taught us to build our lives upon three major conceptions: blessed thoughts, words and deeds. He told us that benevolence is truth and that there is a single path in life: the way of truth. We have accepted our new creed and now Arjasb who is the ruler of our neighbors and who is still a Mithraist has risen to wage war against us. He has pledged to destroy us for relinquishing the outdated beliefs of our forefathers. He will come to destroy our land, massacre our men, take our women and children into bondage, and to pillage all that we have so painstakingly worked to create.
Woe to such deviltry!
Alas, how can there be such villainy?
We have never hurt a living soul in embracing our new creed, but have chosen our new religion through our wisdom and now one who will not accept our creed is come to deal such a vicious fate unto us?
Why?
In order to make us into Mithraists once more?
Are we to once more acknowledge Mithra as our god and to sacrifice our herds to him? Are we to embrace endless ignorant creeds and various acts of cruelty?
Can there be villainy greater than this?
Do you now see why I have lent my soul to such sorrow?
We have seen many wars, we have heard many threats and we have suffered much destruction in the past, but most of those struggles were for the procurement of land. Then, we fought and eventually arrived at some manner of reconcilement which would end the war and return peace to these burnished lands. But, this is a war made upon the grounds of religious preferment, a war made against God, and belief.
There can never be a reconciliation—no end. As long as man lives, as long as there is creed and belief, as long as there is immaturity of thought and ignorance so long will this war last. There is no boundary to religion and belief. Thus, there will never be an end to this war. Each man has his own religion based upon his own conception of the world and upon his own wisdom. Hence, should men come to fight over their beliefs there will never be an end to such struggles as there is no end to the variety of individual beliefs. Through eternity will there be religious war and nations will come to perish, women and children will come to suffer, and suffering and pain will grasp the world in their clutches.
That ignorant Arjasb has undertaken such a war. What a difference there is between Zarathustra’s creed and the wicked beliefs of this man! Our Teacher has always taught us to rise and help even the most wicked of the dorvand when he is in need, he has taught us to succor the evil ones and to lead them to the truth that they might be saved.
O Mazda Ahura,
Should the wise and the strong who have embraced
truth rise in accordance with the creed of the Lord
and in love to aid the dorvand who seeks their help
then can they lead him through their wisdom away
from his evil ways and unto the path that he might
come to know himself.
(Gathas, chapter 46, verse 5)
Should the able not aid those who seek his help he
himself will fall to the evil of the dorvand and he
will be deceived, for in accordance with the creed
which Ahura Mazda has created from the beginning
he who seeks the best for the dorvand is of the
dorvand and he who honors the true is of the true.
(Gathas, chapter 46, verse 6)
Thus, does our Lord see the lives of men and thus does one as ignorant as Arjasb see men.”
Men ceaselessly spoke of Arjasb’s letter and of what was to be done.
Were they to relinquish the new creed?
Were they to return to the old worship?
Were they to take their stand against Arjasb?
Most of all it was Vishtaspa who gave himself to thought.
When Vishtaspa heard the words of the letter he was indeed overcome by the evil of their message. Then did the Brave One who expected the wrath of the king enter the palace to speak with Vishtaspa.
“Should your Majesty command me to reply to the message I will most gladly do so.”
Vishtaspa bade him do so.
Thus did Zarir respond to the letter of Arjasb:
“We will not forsake our religion. Never again shall we join your fold. We are prepared to fight. In the white forest, in Marvzartushtan, in the valley of Hamoun will we set out to meet you. There will we show you how the wicked are destroyed.”
Ourham Dabir stood to give the message to Vidrafsh the messengers of Arjasb.
When the messengers had left there reigned a heavy silence over the royal hall—all were given to thought.
Were they to seek peace or to give their nation to war? The fatal day was at hand.
Once again it was Djamaspa who sat most deeply contemplating the outcome of what they all faced. As he sat alone brooding their fate the kingdom addressed him:
“I have known you, Djamaspa, to have always been good and wise. You have always told me that the stormy clouds above would rain. You could always tell me when the sun would come forth to warm the earth after the bitter cold winds had done lashing the land. You would tell me who could survive the storms and who would be most brutally killed by them.”
Djamaspa could find no words with which to answer the king’s trust. Thus, stood he before the sovereign with his eyes firmly cast downwards. Vishtaspa once more questioned his minister and Djamaspa was forced to respond.
“O that I might never have been born! May I now be given the chance to take flight to a distant land to die therein! O Great king, how I wish that you had not set this question to me!
You fatal question has been posed and I have no choice but to respond. May the infant within the womb never come forth into this world and may those who are born never come to manhood for from the day when this evil war is launched mothers will mourn their sons, daughters will bewail the early death of fathers, brothers will rise to avenge the blood of brothers, wives will wear the widow’s weed and the earth itself will weep.”
Thus, did Djamaspa foretell the end of this war. He spoke of the traitorous murder and fall of the brave Zarir who would be killed in the heat of battle.
Having heard Djamaspa’s dreaded prophecy of events to come Vishtaspa leapt from his throne with a dagger held in his right hand and a lethal sword in his left to beat upon Djamaspa.
Then cried he:
“Woe unto you son of an evil witch! Had I not sworn an oath upon the life of Zarir, had I not sworn upon the holy Mazda to bear you no harm I could cut your lying throat with this sword!”
Djamaspa rose to calm the king:
“Ascend your holy throne of kingship, great Ruler, for that which is to come will come and it shall be as I have said.”
Once again the court of Vishtaspa awaited the reply of Arjasb. When it eventually came it read: “Forsake your new creed or prepare for war.”
Angrily Vishtaspa leapt from his throne and cried: “Should all my brethren and my sons by Hovatous of which there are thirty be destroyed, I will not forsake this new creed of the Mazdayasni faith. The messenger departed and it was not before long that the king’s royal guard entered to announce that Arjasb had prepared for war.
That evil battle began and the mighty Zarir entered the field of war. The winds were with that noble warrior as he lifted his sword to strike down innumerable enemies at a time. Arjasb watched this valiant leader strike at his army and fear took hold of him. He called his men about him to scheme some manner in which they might prevent the onslaught of Zarir and his warriors. Thus, he declared that should any man set foot onto the battlefield to murder Zarir he would to that man give his daughter the chaste Zarestan to be his wife and he would make him his own minister. For should Zarir live, the entire army would soon be undone. At this the evil necromancer Vidrafsh rose to plunge the tip of his poisoned lance into the belly of the noble Zarir.
In time Vishtaspa realized that he could no longer detect Zarir’s sharp shooting arrows nor his merciless lance rise and fall above the head of the foe. Thus, he set out to send a messenger into the battlefield that he might learn of what had befallen his brother. He promised to give his own daughter Homadokht unto any man who brought him news of his army and who strove to avenge the blood of Zarir.
From amongst the warriors, Zarir’s youngest son, Bastavar, volunteered to be the one to seek news of the great hero of Iran. But the king was reluctant to let him go for the youth had not as yet mastered the arts of soldiery and knew not the manners of war. Yet, that noble youth would not have another bring him news of his own father’s death and he furtively set out to find what had befallen the leader by himself.
Bastavar rode furiously into the heat of the battle tearing down the enemy as he rode forth to seek his father. He soon came to that plot of land which cradled the torn body of Zarir in its arms. On seeing what had become of his valiant father Bastavar raised a bewailing moan unto the heavens lamenting how the hero had been unable to see the victory of his nation for which he had so ardently fought. The son defied the earth which allowed such noble blood to quench it and dared the audacious wind to sweep through such silvered hair, but could not at that time give this great hero the burial which was his due and instead he rode back to warn the king of what had happened to his army. Bastavar begged Vishtaspa to allow him to return unto the arena and avenge the foul murder of so valiant a father.
“Soar, swift arrow,” cried he, “and rip open the hearts of all those who dared confront our mighty nation!” With that he rode upon the enemy to slash and to deal death unto any who faced him.
Once more as King, Arjasb saw the noble youth avenging the blood of his father. He contrived to find a means to check his victory and said:
“I find one in the heart of the battle who seeks to avenge the blood of Zarir. I will give my lovely daughter Dahestan Dokht unto him who destroys the valiant youth for if he is not undone not one of our men will see the light of the morrow! He whosoever checks Bastavar will be my first minister!”
Then once more the vile necromancer Vidrafsh rose to deal with the son as he dealt with the father. Upon seeing the sorcerer Bastavar immediately knew what his wicked scheme was and cried:
“Approach vile dorvand, approach! I know not the manner of warfare, but come unto me that I might lodge my lance into your wicked heart as you did to my noble father!”
At that the soul of Zarir rose to guide his son. So loudly did he roar that the vicious lance fell from that atrocious necromancer’s hand. The spirit of the father gave the son such strength as to let him mount his horse and ride unto the enemy in glory. Bastavar rode on dealing death to all those who approached him from every side until he came to where the valiant Geramikerat lay in his own blood with that dagger with which he had ruthlessly slaughtered the enemy still clenched between his teeth.
That bitter war came to an end, but not before the innocent bodies of young soldiers had strewn the battlefield. The vile and blood seeking Arjasb had taken to his heels like all those who have mercilessly brought nations to ruination.
Vishtaspa commanded that the Turks be liberated and rode with his officers to the remains of his army. Never again would the king know a moment of peace after what he beheld upon that inglorious field. Never again would Djamaspa rise after the vicious loss of his only son which he beheld upon that evil battleground. Never again would those innumerable parents know joy nor happiness after they lifted the lifeless corpses of their sons from that burnished plot.
From the moment Geramikerat had risen with the royal dagger clenched between his teeth to deliver his deathblows unto the enemy, Djamaspa had watched his son until the moment when the youth had stumbled from his mare in the clutches of death. This father had watched that wretched arrow lodge itself in the bosom of his child. He has seen that blood drench the ground. He had witnessed those once stalwart legs weaken and lose the ability to hold the beloved form upon its mare. He had gazed on in endless agony unable to look elsewhere as the blood had seeped out of his child leaving the hero paled and lifeless. He had watched the light of life expire from those once brilliant eyes. And, finally, he had seen his child take in his last breath before he lay back with a gaping mouth as the earth drank his blood. Djamaspa had seen it all and as he rose he was never to straighten his back again. Someone ran forth to support the wise minister and to take him by his icy fingers, but Djamaspa turned to his mentor and screamed: “Who are you?” before he fled. He ran from corner to corner of the field not knowing what he sought or where he was going. When he came to a wall he thrust his burdened frame upon it and let out the most piercing wail ever heard by man. He could but utter a single word: “Geramikerat!”
At this time there came close a tumult from afar—they had brought in the warrior’s riderless horse with his battle gear upon it. From behind there followed a procession of soldiers carrying the corpse upon their lances. The sight produced another agonized wail from deep within Djamaspa to rise and permeate the skies.
One by one the riderless horses were brought in with each hero’s battle gear and one my one the hapless parents came forth to claim the bodies of their children amongst the most pained wails and cries of grief. But amongst the mourners there were some whose grief was so great that they could neither moan nor wail as nothing would ever be able to alleviate their pain.
Even the king was not exempt from this agony for he too stood beside the lifeless form of his beloved brother Zarir.
There was only Frashsushtra who tried, as he mourned, to prevent the mourners from harming themselves in the heat of their grief. He tried to remind them that grief and sorrow had no room in their benevolent creed and he would try to return some form of calm to those about him.
However, most painful of all was the moment in which Pourvachista, mother of Geramikerat, entered the field unaware of the tragedy which had befallen her. She arrived at the very moment when the lifeless form of her son was being brought back from the battleground. As she approached those who were bringing in the corpse watched her with anguished eyes and she immediately read the message within their looks. As she struggled to hold herself upon her quivering knees she came to the place where her son lay. Suddenly her arms rose unto the heavens and beat themselves with all their might upon her head. She fell to the ground and tried to beat her head again with her hands, she lay there wailing and beating herself in spite of all that those about her did to prevent her from harming herself. She did not weep for she had not the energy with which to shed tears but all she could do was to run in a mad frenzy. In the end Pourvachista gave in to her agony which penetrated her and all those about her as she threw herself upon her son.
It was the most painful wail yet heard by man!
It was the most bitter experience yet known to man!
The war had ended. That bitter meaningless battle which the ignorant Arjasb had commanded had come to its violent end. It had been a war through which Arjasb had sought to appease his deities by returning the followers of Zarathustra unto them. Most wondrous of all was how the Great Teacher had sought to warn his followers of what awaited them:
I ask Thee to tell me in truth for Thou art able to succor
the true through the radiance of truth.
When two mighty opposites clash, which of them, according
to Thy creed, wilt Thou support?
When will Thou lead them unto victory?
About the clash of mighty opposites, Zarathustra had always said that as long as ignorance, malice and crime existed amongst men that long would such wars exist. For they could only come to an end through wisdom. There would eventually come that day in which Man would strive to free himself of malice, ignorance and crime and turn instead to righteousness and to the benevolent creed. Upon that day would men cease to try to appease their gods through bloodshed but seek to do so through the cultivation of friendship, love and happiness.