When twenty-eight golden years of Khosrow Parviz’s reign had passed, the renown of his royal court reached every corner of the realm. Hearing that the King held secret appreciation for masterful minstrels and rewarded divine talent above all, Barbad—a young minstrel of incomparable genius—set out for the royal palace. However, Sarkash, the chief musician of the court, foresaw his own eclipse. Envious and alarmed, he showered the chief doorkeeper with silver and gold, commanding him to block Barbad’s entry at all costs. Turned away repeatedly by cold guards, Barbad harbored no malice but sought another path. Taking his lute, he made his way to the royal gardens where the King spent two weeks every Nowruz. There he won the friendship of Mardoy, the chief gardener. Barbad clad himself in vibrant emerald garments, wrapped his wooden lute in matching green silks, and concealed himself high amidst the dense boughs of a towering cypress tree. As dusk descended and King Khosrow sat drinking ruby wine, Barbad struck his first spellbinding chord, pouring forth the magnificent air known as Dad-Afarid. The King and his courtiers stood bewildered, searching every thicket in vain. With the next golden goblet, Barbad unloosed the fierce melody of Peykar-e Gerd, captivating the King’s heart. Finally, as night turned lazurite, the wondrous chords of Sabz-dar-Sabz echoed through the leaves. Emotionally overwhelmed, King Khosrow drained a massive goblet of wine and swore by the heavens that whoever produced such otherworldly music—be it angel, demon, or mortal—would be crowned supreme over all musicians and rewarded with jewels. Descending gracefully from the cypress tree, Barbad prostrated himself before the throne, revealing his identity and Sarkash’s deceit. Khosrow Parviz reproached the jealous Sarkash and elevated Barbad to be the master minstrel of the Sasanian empire.