Ardeshir

When the time of childbirth drew near, no secret of that hidden matter was divulged to the wind. Ardavan's daughter gave birth to a blessed son—a child endowed with royal disposition and a radiant soul. The wise minister kept all assemblies away from his private hall, naming the young royal child Shapur. For seven full years, he raised him in absolute secrecy, watching him grow into a youth adorned with divine glory and noble stature.

It came to pass one day that the wise minister approached King Ardashir and noticed tears glistening upon his face, his countenance weighed down by dark thoughts. The minister bowed and said: 'O King, may you live immortal! Why do you feed your soul with grief? You have achieved every desire of your heart in this world and cast down the heads of your foes from their thrones. Now is the season for celebration and joy, not for surrendering your mind to anxiety! The seven climes are entirely under your sway, and your justice has set the cosmos right.'

Ardashir replied: 'O pure-hearted and trustworthy Mobad! The era was set right by my sword, and pain and hardship have passed away. Yet my years have now reached fifty-one; camphor has replaced musk in my hair, and the rose of youth has withered. I ought now to have a son standing before me—heart-delighting, strength-giving, and a guide for the realm. A childless father is like a fatherless son; no stranger will ever embrace him as his own. After me, crown and treasure will fall into the hands of enemies, while for me only dust, grief, and suffering will remain.'

The wise old counselor knew that the proper moment had arrived. He said: 'O King who favors his servants, chivalrous and exalted! If I receive a pledge of safety for my life, I shall lift this heavy sorrow from the sovereign's chest.' The King granted him safety, urging him to speak freely.

The minister bade the royal treasurer bring forth a sealed casket left long ago in his custody. When the treasurer delivered the casket, Ardashir asked: 'What lies within this sealed vessel, and whose mark is placed upon its lock?' The counselor answered: 'Within this box lies my warm blood—my manhood, cleanly severed from the root! When you handed Ardavan's daughter to me to be slain, I realized she carried your child. Fearing the Creator of the world, I spared her. Yet to protect my honor while disobeying your royal decree, and so no man could ever wash me in the ocean of slander, I severed my manhood that very hour, sealed it in this casket, and gave it to your keeper. Now your son Shapur is seven years old—a child resembling none save the bright moon in the sky—and his mother remains safe, nurturing him.'

King Ardashir was struck with wonder by the counselor's noble sacrifice and fidelity. Determined to reward the minister and embrace his heir, Ardashir devised a test to recognize his bloodline. He commanded that a hundred boys of Shapur's exact age, height, chest, and stature be gathered, all clad in identical garments. They were to be sent onto the polo field to play with ball and mallet, so that the King's own heart and royal intuition could single out his true son among them.