Within the quiet chambers of the Kabuli palace, Princess Rudabeh gathered her five trusted, wise handmaidens—devoted attendants who had long served as her closest confidantes. Unveiling the deep sanctuary of her heart, she confessed that her soul had become a tempestuous sea, tossed by towering waves of passion. Her mind and spirit were consumed day and night by Zal, the silver-haired son of Sam. Neither sleep nor waking could sever the thread of her longing, for his countenance haunted her every dream. Desperate for relief from this agony of devotion, she bade her maidens devise a scheme to cure her heartache and bring comfort to her spirit.
The five handmaids stood astonished and aghast at her words, reacting as though a dark spirit had arisen among them. Surrounding their mistress, they began to plead and reason with her: 'O crown of all world-born ladies, whose beauty outshines all maidens from Hindustan to China! No cypress in the meadow can match your stature, and the moon itself pales before your glowing cheeks. How can you, whose likeness adorns the halls of kings, turn your eyes from royalty? How can a maiden with lips like ruby coral seek a groom who was discarded by his own father and reared by a bird upon desolate mountain peaks? The sun on the fourth heaven is your fitting match, not a white-haired recluse!'
Hearing their rebukes, Rudabeh’s heart ignited like fire struck by wind. Her dark eyes flashed with fury, her brows knit tight, and her voice pierced the silence of the hall. 'Cease this empty chatter!' she commanded. 'I desire neither the Caesar of Rome, nor the Faghfur of China, nor any crowned monarch of Iran! My choice is Zal, the son of Sam—he who possesses the arm of a lion and the shoulder of a giant. Call him old or young as you will, to me he is soul and breath alike. My heart fell in love with his untamed virtue and mighty renown long before my eyes ever beheld his face!'
Perceiving her unyielding resolve and the sheer depth of her devotion, the handmaids immediately bowed their heads in submission. 'We are your humble servants,' they declared softly. 'Command us as you will. If we must master sorcery, bind eyes with dark enchantments, sprout wings to fly like birds, or range the earth like swift gazelles, we shall do so! We shall bring the hero-king to the threshold of our shining moon.' At these words, a brilliant smile broke across Rudabeh’s ruby lips, her blushing face shone with renewed hope, and she promised her maidens boundless riches and gems if their perilous quest succeeded.