Prince Bahram Gur knew no greater joy than the polo field and the thrill of the hunt. One day, setting aside the formalities of the court, he mounted his swift, prancing camel alongside his beloved Roman harpist, Azadeh, whose cheeks bore the radiant color of fine wine. The camel was draped in rich brocades, adorned with four stirrups—two of solid gold and two of refined silver, encrusted with brilliant gems. Beneath his quiver, the prince also carried a pellet-bow, skilled as he was in every weapon and art of combat.
As they rode into the open wilderness, two pairs of gazelles emerged from the desert mist. Smiling, Bahram turned to Azadeh and asked, "O my moon, when I string my bow, which of these shall I strike down for thee? Behold, there is a young female and an old male."
Azadeh, bold and playfully defiant, replied, "O lion-hearted warrior, brave men do not seek glory in ordinary hunts! If thou wouldst have me call thee world-shining, turn that female into a male with thine arrows, and make the old male appear as a female! Then spur thy swift beast forward, shoot a pellet near the ear of a gazelle so it raises its leg to scratch, and in that fleeting moment, stitch its head, ear, and hind foot together with a single arrow!"
Accepting the impossible challenge, Bahram Gur strung his mighty bow. Drawing a double-pointed arrow, he loosed it with unmatched precision, severing the horns of the male gazelle so cleanly that it instantly appeared as a hornless female. Next, he shot two arrows into the head of the female gazelle, leaving the twin iron points protruding like gleaming horns. Urging his camel forward, he fired a clay pellet from his sling-bow, striking the ear of a third gazelle. As the startled creature raised its hind hoof to scratch its ear, Bahram released a heavy arrow, stitching head, ear, and foot together in one breathtaking display of marksmanship.
Yet when Azadeh beheld the pinned gazelle, her heart melted with pity and she wept for the wounded beast. Enraged by her grief—viewing her impossible challenge as an attempt to humiliate his royal honor had he failed, and her tears as disrespect—Bahram reached out, cast her down from the saddle, and drove his heavy camel over her. Beneath the trampling hooves, the fair musician perished. "O foolish harpist," Bahram declared, "why seek to lay a trap for my lineage? Had my hand faltered, my royal essence would have been shamed forever!" And from that fateful day forward, Bahram Gur never again took a woman with him to the hunt.