After several years of Rud’s reign had passed, she gave birth to a daughter — her second child — and was overjoyed, knowing that after her death the girl would succeed her, just as she herself had succeeded her mother-in-law.
At the very time of Rud’s childbirth, sad news came from the south of the lake: dark-haired, dark-eyed men and women had attacked a settlement on the southern shore, killing three men and two women before fleeing.
Until that day, such a thing had never occurred in the land of Iran. No man had ever attacked another man, nor woman another woman, for there had been no cause for violence. Food was so abundant that even if all the people of Iran had gathered in one place, they would not have suffered hunger. They lived on the meat of deer, ducks, fish, and cattle.
Agriculture had not yet begun, so there were no quarrels over land or water that might lead to bloodshed. Even if disputes arose, the land was vast and water plentiful, leaving no one desperate enough to commit a crime.
In those days, Iranians died only in battles with wild beasts—lions, tigers, or great herbivores like elephants.
Therefore, the killing of three men and two women by the dark-haired strangers was an extraordinary event. Rud did not know what decision to make, for murder and crime had never existed in Iran, and there was no precedent to guide her.
To seek counsel, Rud gathered the men and women of the city by the lake. When all had heard of the tragedy, she came straight to the point and asked:
“What shall we do?”
The potter—Rud’s father—spoke:
“Did no one ask the Turs why they killed the men and women?”
The people of Sialk called those dark-haired, dark-eyed men and women Tur, meaning “black.” The slain Iranians had been killed near the land of the Dragon.
Since no one knew the reason for the murders, the young Iran-ban decided to travel herself to the southern region to investigate. She did not intend to punish the killers, for the idea of punishment did not yet exist. Even with her wisdom, she could not yet conceive that a murderer should be punished.
What drove her southward was curiosity — to learn why the Turs had slain those five Iranians.
A boat was prepared and harnessed to deer. Rud, her husband Zab, their two children, and several companions boarded and followed the shoreline southward until they reached the place where the killings had occurred.
Rud stepped ashore and summoned the local people, asking:
“What happened? Why did the Turs attack you and kill five of your people?”
The locals replied:
“Whenever the Turs approached, as soon as they saw us they fled, leaving behind nothing but their scent.”
Rud asked, “What was their scent like?”
“It was neither pleasant nor foul,” they said, “and it vanished once the wind blew.”
“And then what happened?” Rud asked again.
They answered:
“On the day of the attack, when the Turs saw us, they did not flee. We saw them rushing toward the House of Fire, and the air was filled with their smell. We wondered why they were running there and tried to stop them. They struck at us with thick heavy sticks and killed five of us.”
Rud said:
“Did you not ask them why they were going to the House of Fire?”
“We asked not once but ten times,” they replied, “yet they uttered sounds we could not understand. It was clear they did not understand us either. When we saw them raging like lions and elephants, killing our people, we fought back. The bodies of our slain lay on the ground; we gathered them and carried them to the mound of Gom.”
Rud asked:
“Have you seen the Turs since that day?”
“We saw them twice again,” they said, “but this time we were cautious and ready to defend ourselves. Had they tried to attack, we would have killed them.”
Rud said:
“You must find a way to understand what they say and what they want.”
The locals replied:
“We can understand the speech of deer and wild ducks, but not the language of the Turs.”
Rud said:
“Since that day when they committed murder, they were heading toward the House of Fire. I think they came to take fire. You should have given it to them so that those five would not have been killed.”
“How could we know they wanted fire?” the people asked.
Rud answered:
“From now on, if you see the Turs approaching, fill a clay vessel with fire and go toward them. Set it on the ground near them. The important thing is that they see the fire in your hands and understand that you wish to give it to them.”
“They are too savage,” the locals said. “We do not think they can understand such a thing.”
Rud replied:
“I cannot believe they are so ignorant. If you hold out a handful of grass toward a deer, it knows you wish to feed it and comes near. The Turs, being human, cannot have less sense than a deer.”
Rud stayed in the region for five days, hoping the Turs might reappear, but they did not. So she returned to Sialk.
When she arrived, she saw men and women gathered by the lakeshore, watching something with great attention.
Her return, as always, drew everyone away from their daily work. They surrounded their queen, eager to hear what she had learned and why the killings had occurred.
Rud, holding the royal staff as Iran-ban before her had done, said:
“My inquiries have shown that the Turs came to take fire, for they were heading toward the House of Fire. The villagers, not understanding their language, blocked their way, so they attacked and killed five people. I have told them that if the Turs come again, they should give them fire so there will be no more killing. But when I arrived, I saw you all watching something. What were you watching?”
At that moment a young girl named Tir, no more than seventeen, with golden hair blown by the wind, came forward laughing and said:
“We were watching these birds.”
Rud looked and saw birds she had never seen before. Some were so beautiful that she could not turn her eyes away. She asked Tir, whom she knew to be the daughter of a boatman:
“Where did these birds come from?”
Tir laughed again. “I brought them,” she said.
“From where?” asked Rud.
The girl pointed toward the northeast of the lake. “From there.”
“How did you catch them?” Rud asked.
Tir replied:
“I went ashore and saw a number of these birds pecking at the ground. Their beauty astonished me—especially those with crimson crests and long tails. I wanted to catch them and soon discovered they could not fly. So I took several and brought them home.”
Rud approached the birds and delighted in watching them. In the following days she noticed that those with crests and long tails were males, the others females. When the male birds found a grain of food, they uttered a particular cry to call the females to eat.
From that cry, Rud named the birds “Chugh”—a sound resembling the crow of a rooster.
Until then, the people of Sialk had never heard the crowing of a cock. Thanks to the boatman’s daughter, who had brought roosters and hens to Sialk, the Iranians heard that sound for the first time.
