When Bahram Chubin seized the royal palace, he selected a formidable host of thirty thousand armored, sword-wielding warriors and placed them under the command of Bahram, the son of Siyavash, ordering him to hunt down Khosrow Parviz without mercy. Meanwhile, Khosrow fled across the desolate wilderness, seeking to preserve his life from the malice of his enemies. After a grueling journey, the fugitive king and his small retinue reached a majestic hospice whose soaring walls seemed to touch the sky—a sacred Christian sanctuary known as Yazdan-Sarai, home to monks and mourners led by the venerable bishop Sakuba and the archbishop Motran.
Exhausted and spent, King Khosrow inquired of the holy worshipers if any food could be provided. Sakuba humbly explained that in their austere refuge, there was nothing to eat save flat unleavened bread and wild stream-side herbs, though he prayed it would bring health to the royal guest. Khosrow dismounted, performed the ancient sacred rites with the barsam branches, murmured the traditional grace, and hastily consumed the simple meal. He then asked if any wine was to be had. Sakuba brought forth a vessel of date wine, crafted during the height of summer—red as sparkling garnet and clear as rosewater. Khosrow drank three golden goblets, and as the warm spirits flowed through his weary body, he laid his head upon the lap of his faithful uncle Bandoy and fell into a deep slumber upon the soft sand.
His rest was short-lived. Sakuba rushed to his side with grave news: a dark column of dust was rising from the horizon, signaling the swift approach of a massive army. Khosrow awoke in anguish, lamenting that fate had turned against him and that neither his men nor his steeds were fit for battle. In that desperate hour, the resourceful Bandoy stepped forward, offering to sacrifice his own life for the sovereign. He urged Khosrow to give him the royal golden crown, the earrings, the jeweled belt, and the scarlet Chinese robe. Bandoy vowed to don the royal attire and stand atop the battlements, deceiving the pursuers while Khosrow and his companions fled like a vessel riding the surging foam.
Recalling the ancient Chinese adage that when the main citadel falls, the outer battlements cannot stand, Khosrow accepted Bandoy's heroic sacrifice. Dressed in the king's glorious garb, Bandoy instructed the monks to hide in the surrounding mountains, barred the heavy iron gates of Yazdan-Sarai, and climbed to the roof. When the troops of Bahram son of Siyavash surrounded the sanctuary, they beheld the radiant figure upon the roof wearing the crown and jeweled girdle, taking him to be Khosrow Parviz himself. Bandoy, playing the role with masterly composure, called down to the commander, claiming the king was exhausted from prayer and travel, promising that at dawn he would surrender peacefully. Fooled by the stratagem, Bahram son of Siyavash ordered his army to encamp and light watchfires around the fortress until morning—unaware that the true King of Kings was already riding far away into the night.