Mehrab, the ruler of Kabul, returned to his palace radiant with joy, his speech laden with praise for the white-haired champion, Zal. Yet upon entering his inner chambers, he found his noble consort, Sindokht, lying despondent, her countenance withered like a faded rose. When asked the cause of her grief, Sindokht spoke in heavy allegories of the transience of all earthly glory—how palace halls, Arabian steeds, royal crowns, and mortal lives must inevitably yield to the narrow tomb. Then she revealed the hidden truth: their fair daughter Rudabeh had been entangled in the coils of love for Zal, the son of Sam.
Upon hearing these words, fury erupted within Mehrab like a dormant volcano. His complexion turned dark as lapis lazuli, his limbs trembled with rage, and drawing his keen blade, he roared that he would drench the floor of the palace in Rudabeh’s blood. He foresaw the terrible vengeance of King Manuchehr and Sam the warrior, whose armies would turn the lands of Kabul into ash and smoke. Desperate to save her daughter, Sindokht threw her arms around Mehrab, imploring him with tears and wisdom until she bound him by a solemn oath that no harm should befall Rudabeh.
With his wrath stayed by oath, Sindokht hastened to Rudabeh, telling her that the fierce leopard had been mollified. She urged her daughter to present herself before her father. Rudabeh, arrayed in magnificent robes adorned with rubies and gold, stepped forth radiant as the springtime sun. Astonished by her splendor yet consumed by anger, Mehrab sternly rebuked her, lamenting how a fairy could bind herself to a demon. Rudabeh lowered her dark eyelashes in sorrowful silence. Glaring fiercely, Mehrab swept away, leaving Sindokht and the heart-stricken maiden to cast their prayers toward Yazdan, seeking divine shelter from the looming tempest.