As time passed with Bijan remaining hidden in Manijeh's pavilion, the vigilant eyes of the palace guard finally pierced the secret. Investigating deeply, the guard discovered the stranger's true identity and origin. Terror seized him, knowing that concealing such a perilous reality would cost him his head. He hurried to the royal court and revealed the astonishing truth to Afrasiab: that the princess had chosen a consort from the realm of Iran.
Upon hearing the report, the world turned dark for King Afrasiab. He trembled like a willow in the autumn wind, tears of rage and dishonor streaming down his face. The king bitterly cursed his fate for fathering a daughter, lamenting that daughters bring only disgrace to sovereigns and a son-in-law from an enemy bloodline brings nothing but calamity. Distraught, he summoned General Qarakhan to seek counsel. Qarakhan urged prudence, reminding the monarch that hearing is not equivalent to seeing, and that the matter must first be verified beyond doubt.
Afrasiab then turned to his brother and chief general, Garsivaz. Heartbroken and wrathful, he commanded Garsivaz to take an elite detachment of horsemen, surround Manijeh's palace on all sides, smash through the gates, and bring the intruder bound in chains. Garsivaz rode to the pavilion. From within the high halls came the resounding music of harps and the clamor of revelry. The Turanian cavalry sealed off every entrance and rooftop. Garsivaz struck down the door and burst inside.
Within the grand hall, three hundred maidens and songstresses were assembled in festivity, with Bijan seated among them. At the sight of the intruder, Garsivaz's blood boiled with fury. Bijan, finding himself weaponless, armorless, and separated from his mighty stallion Shabrang, realized the gravity of his plight. With no earthly helper save the Almighty, he invoked the revered names of his grandfather Goudarz and his father Giv. Yet the young champion refused to surrender meekly. Hidden inside his boot was a razor-sharp steel dagger. Drawing it instantly, he stood at the threshold and proclaimed: 'I am Bijan, son of Giv, of the line of Kashvad! None shall tear the skin from my flesh unless he is weary of his own life! Even if the Day of Resurrection rises, none shall see my back in flight!'
Seeing Bijan's fiery defiance and lethal weapon, Garsivaz realized that attacking him directly would lead to a bloodbath. He chose deceit instead, swearing solemn oaths of protection, promising that if Bijan yielded his dagger, he would intercede with King Afrasiab on his behalf. Bijan trusted the oaths and parted with his blade. Instantly, Garsivaz broke his pledge, binding Bijan tightly like a captured leopard and dragging him bareheaded before the throne.
Standing bound before Afrasiab, Bijan craftily invented a tale to shield Manijeh from harm. He claimed he had come to the border to hunt wild boars, but a Peri had enchanted him under a cypress tree, placing him while asleep into a litter, carrying him into the princess's quarters without her knowledge. Afrasiab mocked the story as a coward's lie. Bijan fiercely retorted, asking the king to unbind his hands, grant him a horse and a heavy mace, and set him against a thousand Turanian warriors on the battlefield to prove his valor.
Bijan's audacity inflamed Afrasiab's fury beyond measure. He ordered Garsivaz to immediately erect a high gallows before the palace gates and hang the bound youth alive, so that no Iranian would ever dare gaze toward Turan again. Dragged out toward the gibbet, Bijan wept tears of blood—not out of fear of death, but from the humiliation of perishing weaponless and bound like a captive. In his agony, he dispatched a desperate message upon the wind to King Kay Khosrow and his father Giv in Iran, crying out that Bijan lay trapped like a helpless deer in the jaws of the Turanian lion.