When King Bahram II realized that the inescapable hand of death was drawing near and no living soul could flee the cosmic decree, he wept tears of blood. He commanded his royal hall to be spread with noble carpets and summoned his son, prince Bahram, to his presence. Looking upon the youth's cypress-like stature while recalling how his own crimson spring had turned to the pale hue of autumn, the dying monarch prepared his heir for the heavy burden of the crown.
The aged sovereign imparted immortal wisdom upon his son, teaching him that the foundation of a lasting realm rests solely upon justice and wisdom. He charged the prince never to stain his tongue with falsehood, never to turn away from the seeker of justice, and never to let base desire rule over his soul. Wisdom was to be the supreme master of his spirit, and shame his closest adviser. He warned him to banish slanderers, fools, and flatterers from his court, to keep wrath in chains, and to cast out greed—the root of fear and ruin. Patience, he taught, is the crown of manhood, yet it must not cross into excess lest the brave mistake it for weakness; in all things, reason must serve as the balance.
Bahram urged his son never to seek true friendship from a former foe, comparing such false alliances to a poisonous tree that yields only bitter fruit. He commanded him to purge his heart of envy, for an envious king burns his own soul and wrongly persecutes the innocent. When these profound teachings were concluded, the royal scribe inscribed the testament and placed it before the grand vizier. The king sighed a cold, final breath; the vibrant ruby of his face faded to pale yellow, and his soul departed. Heartbroken by his father's demise, young Bahram donned the robes of grief and observed forty days of solemn mourning, leaving the throne vacant in honor of the dead—reflecting the eternal nature of the turning heavens, which offer now mercy, and now unbearable pain.