The flying throne of Kay Kavus

The divs (demons) are tired of building palaces for Kavus. One morning Iblis gathers them in secret: their labour is hard, he says, and they need a clever div to turn the king's heart from God and soil his royal glory. No one answers, for fear of Kavus, until a wicked div stands up and says this is work for him.

He turns himself into a handsome, well-spoken young man and waits until the king goes hunting. Then he kisses the ground before Kavus and hands him a bunch of flowers. The whole earth obeys you, he says, but one thing is left that would make your name last for ever. Why should the sun keep its secrets from you? How does it rise and set? What is the moon, what are night and day, and who rules the turning sky? Kavus is won over. The poet steps in to say what the king forgot: the sky has no power of its own, the stars are many but God is one, and the heavens were made for man's sake.

Kavus asks his astrologers how far it is from the earth to the moon, and chooses, the poet says, a crooked and foolish plan. Men climb to the eagles' nests and take their young. The eaglets are raised in the houses on fowl and lamb until each is as strong as a lion and can carry off a wild sheep. Then Kavus has a throne made of Qamari aloe-wood, its joints bound with gold, with long spears fixed to its sides and a leg of lamb hanging from each. Four eagles are tied to it, and he takes his seat.

The hungry eagles strain towards the meat and lift the throne off the ground and into the clouds. Ferdowsi gives the rival stories without choosing: some say Kavus wanted to reach the angels, others that he meant to make war on heaven with bow and arrow; only the wise know. The eagles fly a long way and then tire, as all the greedy do, and the throne comes down in a forest near Amol. Kavus is not killed, because Siyavash is still to be born from him. He sits in the wood in shame, praying.

Rostam, Giv and Tus find him there. Old Gudarz, who has served kings all his life, has never seen one like him. A madhouse would suit you better than a city, he tells Kavus. Three times now he has brought disaster on himself and his men: in Mazandaran, as the guest of an enemy in Hamavaran, and now in the sky. People will tell the story after him, of a king who went up to the heavens to look at the sun and moon and count the stars. Kavus, ashamed, admits that Gudarz is right.

He goes home in a litter and does not leave his palace for forty days. He stands in the dust before God, weeping, gives away treasure, and shuts his doors to the nobles out of shame. At last God forgives him. He rules justly again, and the princes of every land come back to his court.