A tall, slender young woman stood on the slope of a hill overlooking a lake, among the olive trees, watching a ship drawing near.
The vessel was being pulled by several deer walking through the shallow waters along the shore. From inside the boat came the melodious voice of a woman singing:
“O my beloved, come, let us go to the mountain,
There we shall milk the cows,
And afterward sit upon the grass.”
The young girl, gazing at the approaching ship, murmured to herself:
“Today, Iranban is joyful—she is singing.”
Her guess was correct. Iranban was indeed cheerful that day, and all her subjects knew that whenever their queen felt happiness, she would sing.
Iranban—meaning the Lady of Iran—was a tall woman of about forty, broad-shouldered, with golden hair and a commanding presence.
She always carried a wooden staff made from the tamarisk tree and ruled over a vast realm of nearly two hundred thousand people.
The western boundary of her land lay at Sialk1 , and the eastern at Nikath (present-day Nishapur). Between these two points stretched only the waters of a great lake. Whenever Iranban wished to travel from one side of her country to the other, she journeyed across the water in her ship, drawn by the same deer that roamed along the lake’s edge.
As her vessel neared the hill where the young girl stood, the girl ran down toward the shore, letting the wind play with her golden hair.
While running, she shouted:
“Zab! Zab! Zab!”
Her voice reached the ears of Zab, a youth of about eighteen, who, upon seeing her, shouted joyfully in reply:
“Rud! Rud! Rud!”
From within the ship, Iranban looked at her son Zab—tall and strong like all the men and women of Sialk—and said with a smile:
“Do you love her very much, my son?”
“Yes, mother,” Zab replied.
“I wish,” said Iranban, “that instead of having a bride, I had gained a son-in-law. For lacking a daughter, I feel my household fire has gone cold.”
According to legend, in the first three thousand years of Iranian history, only women ruled.
After each queen’s death, her daughter ascended the throne, while the sons were barred from kingship.
Iranban knew that after her own death, Rud would succeed her as ruler of Iran.
This knowledge filled her heart with jealousy.
If she could have stopped the marriage between her son and Rud, she might have—but she also knew that Zab loved the girl deeply.
To deny him would drive him to despair, perhaps even to throw himself into the lake and be devoured by the dragon of the waters.
A mother’s love would not allow her to bring such sorrow upon her son.
When the ship reached the shore and the deer halted, Rud hurried to meet Zab, who had just disembarked after his mother.
Placing her hand upon his arm, she asked playfully:
“Zab, do you love me—or the wild ducks?”
Zab laughed.
“I love whatever you love to eat,” he said.
Rud smiled. “I knew this morning that you would visit me today,” she said. “So I caught some fish from the lake. Come to my house, and I shall roast them for you.”
Turning to his mother, Zab called out:
“Mother, I’m going to Rud’s house to eat fish,”
and without waiting for her reply, he walked off with the girl.
Meanwhile, men and women of tall stature and golden hair—subjects of the queen—had gathered along the lakeside to greet their ruler.
When they wished to speak with Iranban, they would touch her arm or shoulder, and she would do the same in return, often laughing heartily.
To an outsider, it would have been impossible to distinguish the queen from her people, except for the tamarisk staff in her hand—a symbol of her authority.
The crowd asked her eagerly about her journey northward.
“What did you see there, my lady?” they said.
Iranban replied:
“In the north, I saw nothing new. The lions still hunted the deer, the elephants still roamed through the forests, and their trumpeting echoed over the waters. The people there say that this year, the wild ducks are more plentiful than ever—anyone who wishes can catch hundreds in a single night.”
A man asked, “Is it true that a sickness has spread among the northern deer, killing thousands?”
Iranban nodded. “There is some truth to it,” she said, “though not as many as that.”
A woman spoke anxiously: “We fear our deer might fall ill as well.”
Iranban advised, “To keep your deer healthy, drive them away from the lake and into the mountains.”
The woman objected: “But in the mountains, the deer and the cattle will fight; they do not live in peace together.”
Iranban smiled. “Then bring the cattle down from the mountains and let them graze by the lake, and send the deer to the heights.”
Her wise counsel pleased everyone.
1- Read more about Sialk
عالی بود ممنونم که مارو با فرهنگ وتمدن ایرانی آشنا میکنی
عالی بود