International Society for Iranian Studies

In the Enemy's Camp: Homer's Helen and Ferdowsi's Hojir Author(s): Dick Davis Reviewed work(s): Source: Iranian Studies, Vol. 25, No. 3/4 (1992), pp. 17-26 Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. on behalf of International Society for Iranian Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4310801 . Accessed: 24/09/2012 03:59
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Dick Davis

In the Enemy's Camp: Homer's Helen and Ferdowsi's Hojir

This paper will attempt to compare a famous scene in Ferdowsi's Shahnameh with an equally well-known one in Homer's Iliad. There are broadlythree ways in which such a comparisoncan be made. Similaritiesand differences can be ascribed to reasons of genre, or to the natureof the underlyingmythical material and sources utilized by the poets in question, or to a consciousness of, and use by, the later poet of the earlier poet's work, at whatever stage of remoteness. Elsewhere I have touched on genre as a cause for apparentsimilarities between the two superficiallyquite differentepic traditionsof Greece and Iran,indicating that the king/championconflict describedby W. T. H. Jacksonas typical of the European epic is also a characteristicof the IranianShchncmeh.1 The most usual and perhaps most suggestively fruitfulkind of comparison is that implying a common source in Indo-European myth for episodes in Greek mythology and episodes in the earlier mythicaland legendarystages of the Shahnameh;the Greek story of Prometheus,for example, seems to be a close parallelto the story of Jamshidand Zahhak-Jamshid's introduction of the artsof civilization and his sense of himself as rivaling in power the supremeGod echoing similar topoi in the story of Prometheus, and the punishment meted out to his rival, Zahhak, with whom he is closely associated, being a parallel to that meted out to Prometheus himself, so that what appears as a story about one mythological figure in the Greek sources appearsas a story abouttwo associated figures in the Persian sources. This paper will concentrate on a much narrowerfield of possibility, and will more or less eschew speculation as to a common mythological origin. The aim here is to draw attention to the existence of what are extremely strong structural and even possibly linguistic similarities between a scene in Homer's Iliad and one in Ferdowsi's Shahnameh,and to suggest that the parallelsbetween the two imply something more than the mere repetitionof a topos relatively common to epic/heroic poetry. The circumstantialevidence of the texts as they now stand implies that the Homeric episode was to a considerable extent, through some now unrecoverablemeans of transmission,a specific model for the scene in Ferdowsi's poem. We are not, therefore,talking about a common mythical source or a coincidence of genre usage so much as the utilization by Ferdowsi of the scene in Homeras a literarymodel.
1. See Dick Davis, Epic and Sedition: The Case of Ferdowsi's Shahnameh (Arkansas, 1992), 36-8; W. T. H. Jackson, The Hero and the King: An Epic Theme (Columbia, 1982), passim.

18 Davis
It is betterto leave aside the altogetherbroaderand very vexed question of how such a transmissionof the Homerictext to the point where Ferdowsi could have utilized it might have occufred. That the Homerictexts had some impact on the medieval Islamic world is not in dispute-there is the example of the incorporation of motifs from the Odyssey into the Thousand and One Nights, most famously that of Odysseus's escape from Polyphemus by binding his men to the undersides of sheep. But a specific transmissionof the texts, or of motifs derived from the texts, to the Persian cultural milieu is more problematic. Jorg refersto a report,datingfrom the 13th Homerverse" Kraemer'sarticle"Arabische century, of a translationinto Syriac of the Homeric texts by one Theophilos of Edessa, who died in 785 and who was the chief astrologer to the Caliph alMahdi. Since the translationprecedes Ferdowsi's work by about two hundred years, this would allow ample time for the poems' motifs and scenes to be diffused throughoutMesopotamiaand Persia, and it is at least possible that it was the point of entry to that milieu for the scene underdiscussion in this paper. The scenes referredto are, in the Iliad, that of Helen's description to Priam of the Grecian camp as it can be seen from the walls of Troy, and, in the Shahnameh, of Hojir's description to Sohrab of the Iraniancamp as it can be seen from the walls of a borderfortresscapturedsome lines previously from the Iraniansby the invadingarmyof Turan-specifically by Sohrab. Though Sohrabis not the commanderof the army of Turan (his extreme youth and dubious parentage-he is, after all, half Iranian-make this an impossibility), his almost single-handedtaking of the enemy fortress and captureof its commander,Hojir, make him the outstandingfigure on the Turanianside at this moment in the poem. In each poem we have, duringa respite in the fighting, a figure who is, nominally or actually, "of' the enemy (Helen, who is a Greek in the Trojancity; Hojir, who is an Iranianin what is now a Turanianstronghold) describing to the leader of an army (Priam, Sohrab)the layout of the opposing and besieging camp. Helen appears because she is summoned by the goddess Iris, Hojir because Sohrabhimself calls him. The two appearon a "tower"(purgon) in Homer (Bk. 3, 1. 154) or "high point" on the city walls in Ferdowsi (2:211, 1. 531), from which the enemy camp can be viewed spread out on the plain below.3 In the Ferdowsi poem the incident is mainly noticeablebecause it is anomalous at this point. Just a moment before Sohrabsummons Hojir to the walls he mounts his horse (1. 528) and affixes his lariatto his saddle (1. 530)-he is ready, that is, to charge out from his camp against the Iranianforces. We are then to envisage him going up on the city walls, which seems unlikely on horseback. Mounting one's horse is the usual preparationfor the daily hostilities of the Iran-Turan conflict, and the climbing of a tower/wall to view the opposing forces is virtu2. Jorg Kraemer, "Arabische Homerverse," Zeitschrift die deutsche morgenlandische Gessellschaft 106 (1956): 261. 3. A. T. Murray (ed.), Iliad (London, 1924), reprinted 1937; Bartel et al (eds.), Shajhndmeh-ye Ferdowsi, vol. 2 (Moscow, 1966).

In the Enemy's Camp 19 ally unique, though of course there are cogent reasons why it should happen at this point (Sohrab is anxious to identify his fatherRostam from among the opposing forces). The whole situation of Turanand Iran vis-a-vis one anotherat this point in the poem has been reversed,in thatalthoughit is Turanthat is here the aggressor against Iranianterritory,we are concernedwith a fortressoccupied by Turaniansand from whose walls the enemy is now to be viewed-i.e., the actual aggressors become for a moment the defenders. This reversal brings the episode's details in line with the situation in the Iliad in which the citadel of Troy is being besieged by the invading Greeks. The capture of the border fortress commanded by Hojir becomes then not only a device by which Sohrab will have someone to question concerningthe opposing camp, but also a means by which the observationcan take place from the walls of a citadel underthreat, as in the Iliad. That Ferdowsi neverthelessthinksof the Turanianarmy as being basically an invading army on the move, sallying forth from camp, is indicated by his having Sohrabmount his horse ready for battle before summoningHojir. Priam and Sohrabeach ask their respective interlocutorsfor a descriptionof the enemy's encampment. Each first points out a specific notable featureof the enemy camp-Priam asks abouta particular personwho seems pre-eminentamong the Greeks, Sohrab about a particulartent that seems pre-eminent among the Iranians. Each has in fact asked about the king of the opposing arny, Agamemnon of the Greeks and Kavus of the Iranians,and the answersby Helen and Hojir are suitably fulsome in theirdescriptivepraise. If this were the only parallelbetween the two sets of question and answer, one could not perhaps find it especially remarkable. It seems perhapsonly "natural" in terms both of poetic convention and basic realism that the king's person and-tent should be the most conspicuous. Each asks next about a second feature: again Priam asks about a person and Sohrab about a tent. This time Priam, Helen says, has pointed out Odysseus; Sohrab, Hojir says, has pointed out Tus, or, to be more exact, his tent. Superficially the two have little in common, and yet they do share a particular characteristic given to a specific kind of hero in many epic cultures. Odysseus is the tricksterhero parexcellence, someone who achieves his ends by guile and subterfuge ratherthan by direct force. Tus is a problematicfigure in the Shdhnameh,a psychologically less dense personage than, say, Esfandyar,Seyavash, Kavus or Sudabeh, but insofar as he is given specific identity it is as a malcontentwithin the Iranianarmy. He has been passed over for the throne(he is the son of Nozar, the king murdered by Afrasyab)and his actionsand speeches often drawattention to his resentment of this fact; his loyalty is not altogetherabove suspicion (for example, he disobeys Khosrow's direct order that Forud not be killed); when Kavus acts rashly (by dismissing Rostam and disowning Seyavash's actions), it is to Tus he says he is ready to turn, implying that for Ferdowsi Tus can be a willing tool for what would in the poem's terms be wrongdoing. Like Odysseus, then, he is a warriorwhose intentionsare masked,whose outwardacts are governed by a secretive innerlife; someone about whom therehovers an aura of indirection, a man with an amoral eye to the main chance. Though Odysseus's guile is directed against the enemy and Tus's can be directedagainst

20 Davis his own ruler, the two are examples of a distinctive epic type, one whose implied nature involves a disjunction between an uncomplicated open outward mannerand an inner guile. Both are men who survive, Odysseus in the world at large, Tus in the Iraniancamp and court, by masking feeling and intention and by a readyopportunism. With the third question the parallel is equally striking, if not more so. Priam asks again about a specific warrior,and Sohrababout a specific tent. Priam has asked about Ajax, Sohrababout the tent of Gudarz. Each warriorin his respective culture and poem is a prominentmemberof what one might call the second rankof characters,frequentlymentioned,given a distinctive genealogy and individuality, though not "filled in" with the same density of detail as those of the first rank. Ajax cannot compare in significance, for example, with Achilles or Agamemnon in the same way that Gudarz cannot compare with Rostam or Kavus. Insofaras Ajax is given a distinctive"personality," it is as a "dumb-ox" of a warrior,a man of massive strengthand unquestioningloyalty but of little mental or spiritualpenetration. Gudarzis a similar figure. In general he is simply one of the many Iranianwarriorson whose great strength and prowess the king can rely, but he is also presentedas someone morally obtuse, of less mental agility and sensitivity thanmore noble and gifted Iranians. The most striking example of this is when Piran, the Iraniancouncilor to the king of Turan, is killed. It is Gudarz who kills him, and when prior to his death Piran protests that he has always tried to influence Afrasyab toward conciliation with Iran, Gudarz answers with contemptuous invective and an invitation to combat. When he kills Piran he rejoices in the fact. This is in strong contrast with the attitudeof both Rostam and Khosrow who confirm Piran's version of events (a version with which the readeris alreadyfamiliar),and who deeply regretPiran's death (5:226-8). The first three questions in the interviews are thus parallel; in each case rather than simply asking for a description,or allowing his interlocutorto choose the orderin which the enemy camp is described,the questionerand "leader" points to specific featuresand asks for informationabout them. The first question elicits an answer about the king of the opposing forces, the second about an enemy hero known for guile and opportunism,the thirdabout the enemy's "dumb-ox" hero. Each list has a similarprogressioninvolving a descent in importance;first the king, second a noble hero (Odysseus a king in his own right, Tus the son of a king) characterized chiefly by inwardamoralqualities,thirda second-rankhero characterized by physicalprowessand mentalobtuseness. It is after this third question that the climactic moment of the interview arrives in the ShIhnameh; Sohrab points out not only the tent but also the actual person of Rostam and asks for his identity. Hojir answers that he does not know who this can be, that it is probablysome famous Chinese warrior(az Chin yeki namdar); he does this because he is afraidthat if Sohrab is told this is Rostam, the pre-eminent Iranianhero, then Sohrab will seek him out and kill him and Iran will be left defenseless. There is no parallel to this situation in the Iliad, and thoughHelen does very briefly identifyone more hero (Idomeneus),she con-

In the Enemy's Camp 21 tents herself with saying that thereare many more she could name, and the interview seems readyto end. But it does not end just yet. Helen wonders at the absence of two heroes whose presence she expected, Castorand Polydeuces, who are her twin brothers. Where are they? Why are they not presentas they should be? Sohrab,too, wonders at an absence: where is Rostam? Why is he not presentas he should be? In each case the scanner of the enemy camp looks for a member of her/his family who he/she knows should be there, and is unable to find this member. In each case there is a consciously deployed dramaticirony in the situation,in that the reader knows that Rostam actually is there, and that, as Homer tells us a moment later, Castorand Polydeuces are, unbeknownst to Helen, alreadydead. Superficially the interviews, which have followed fairly close parallel courses during the first three questions, now apparentlydiverge. But though, due to the quite different contexts of plot within which these descriptionsfrom a tower of the enemy camp are embedded, the accounts become outwardlydifferent, on a more subtle level they retain strong similarities. After the three questions comes, in each case, a momentof puzzlementas to the "absence"of a close family member-real in Helen's case (where are Castorand Polydeuces?), contrived in Sohrab's (where is Rostam?-in frontof him, but Hojir hides the fact). The irony of both moments turnson an ignoranceof the ways of death, in the Iliad's case a dual death that has occurredprevious to the interview,in the Shahndmeh's a death still to come. Castorand Polydeucesare alreadydead,and because of Hojir's deceit Sohrab is not deflected from fighting with Rostam and will die at his hands. Furthermore,we are concerned with death inflicted by family members. Castor and Polydeuces have died at the handsof theircousins, while Sohrabwill die at his father's hands. In each case knowledge gives way to puzzlement because of the absence of a family member(membersin Helen's case) whose presence is expected; in each case the puzzlementis placed by the authorwithin the larger context of a puzzlement at the hidden reality of death, a death which has been (in the Iliad) or will be (in the Shahnameh)inflicted by a family member. The differences are real: it is the one who knows (Helen) who is suddenlypuzzled in the Iliad; it is the questioner (Sohrab)who is puzzled in the Shdhnameh;the death is in the future in the Shahnameh, in the past in the Iliad; Sohrab himself will die, Helen of course lives on; the death will be at a father's hand in the Shdhndmeh,it was at the hands of cousins in the Iliad. But taken together with the exordium to the moment, the identical setting of the tower, the questioning of the enemy who is conveniently present in one's own camp, the parallel progressand content of the threequestionsand answers-given all this, the similarities between the climactic moments of the interviews are also striking:puzzlement, an absence real or feigned, deathspelled out by the authoras having already occurred in the Iliad and waiting in the wings in the Shdhnameh, the familial relationshipof the murderers to their victims. Strongest perhaps is that the emotional core of each interview is here; what was a simple recital of information,a kind of catalogue of those presentat a martial event such as is common in most epics (as in the previous book, Bk. 2 of the

22 Davis Iliad) becomes suddenlya momentfilled with a dreadof destiny-a frisson to be felt by the audience ratherthanby the poem's characterswho, as yet, know only a vague unease. It is a moment in which the speaker is ignorant of a fact that will, when known, have a profounddestructiveimpact on him/her. In each case the poem suddenly opens beyond the apparentdescriptionof the visible world, and familial murderis invoked as a shadowof which the audience is aware but of which the poem's momentarily foregrounded protagonistremainsin ignorance. After Helen's wonderat the absenceof her cousins, and Homer'sbrief recounting of their death, the scene changes in Homer to preparationsfor combat. In Ferdowsi it continues, with Sohrabquestioning Hojirabout three other heroes, Giv (son of the already mentionedGudarz),Fariborz(son of the already mentioned Kavus),and Goraz(a relativeof Giv and Gudarz). This amplification of the scene, if Ferdowsi was using the Homeric model at whatever numberof removes, is entirely consistent with what can be deduced about Ferdowsi's use of sources elsewhere. His sources have, of course, disappearedand so no directcomparisoncan be made, but wheneverroughly contemporary authorsrefer to the stories with which Ferdowsi deals, his treatmentis invariably the fuller, more circumstantial,and more detailed. Innumerableexamples of this can be found when we compare the works by the historian Tha'alebi with Ferdowsi's treatmentof the same stories; the plot outlines and broad characterizationsare so close as to make it virtually certain that they worked from the same major source, but Ferdowsi almost always fills out the story with greaterdetail thanTha'alebiallows himself. The additionof the extra questions in Ferdowsi's versionof the interviewcomparedwith the Homericone cannot, therefore,be taken as an indication that the earlier poet's work was not in some degree a model for Ferdowsi at this point. Similarly the relatively greateramplitudeand gorgeousnessof the descriptionsin the Shahnameh,even within the threequestion-and-answer episodes indicatedas parallel, does not invalidate the likelihood of this having happened. It was, so far as we can tell, Ferdowsi's habit to amplify his sources. What is interestingat this point is that Ferdowsi here amplifies Homer very conservatively; he describes three more heroes who are in a sense extensions or furtheramplifications of the heroes he has alreadyenumerated,in thatthey are theirsons (he is in effect underliningthe father-son relationshipthat lies at the heartof the episode he is recounting) or relatives, and he does not choose heroes with particularly distinctive as he does when parallelingthe threelisted in Homer. "personalities" Significantly enough, despite this apparentamplificationof the earlier Homeric episode, Ferdowsi ends his scene where Homer ends his, in that he has Sohrab returnto asking about the warriorwhom the audience knows to be Rostam, and he again has Hojir prevaricate(this time he tells us why Hojir is unwilling to reveal Rostam's identity). That is, Ferdowsi has Sohrab returnto his puzzlement, while the poem returnsto the hidden theme of a familial slaying and to the shadow of a malign destiny which the audience sees clearly but of which the hero is unaware. In denying that the hero Sohrab points to is Rostam, Hojir

In the Enemy's Camp 23 also expatiates on Rostam's prowess and, while preventing Sohrab from "seeing" Rostam, increases his longing to do so. Such repetition is also typical of Ferdowsi's methods, and is particularlycommon during his telling of the Sohrabstory. Sohrab's questioning of Hojir as to the identity of the mysterious warrioris an opportunityfor the truthto emerge and the fated combat to be avoided. Throughout the course of the story Ferdowsi provides many such moments in which it seems the tragedy will be averted. When Kavus dismisses Rostam (because Rostam has delayed in responding to his summons) it seems that Rostam will not fight Sohrab. Twice, as we have seen, Sohrab asks Hojir who the mysterywarrioris, and twice we feel Sohrabto be on the brink of an understandingthat will prevent their combat. Twice Sohrab questions Rostam himself as to his identity,even asking directly if he is indeed Rostam, and again we feel thatthe truthwill emerge. Even after the fatal blow has been struck,the episode of the nushddru(the drug possessed by Kavus which can save Sohrab's life) provides the possibility that Sohrabwill not actually die, until Kavus churlishly refuses to supply Rostam with it. This heightening of dramatic tension by repeatedlyholding out the teasing possibility that the tragic denouement will somehow not occur is characteristicof Ferdowsi's narrativetechnique-we see similar strategiesemployed in the Esfandyarnarrative-when recountingthe events leading up to the deathsof heroes whose passing he particularlyinvites the audience to lament. Therefore, it seems entirely plausible-given his propensity to amplification, attested elsewhere in the poem-that he should take the hint of this moment of perplexity in Homer and then, after a slight excursion in which he repeats in substance the interview so far (three heroes were describedbefore the first such moment, three more are described before the moment recurs),returnto it in this way. The structuralsimilarity of the two scenes as set out above is highly suggestive of a utilization by Ferdowsi of the Homeric scene, but though this is the most cogent evidence it is not the only evidence; there is also a certainamountof less conclusive but noteworthylinguistic similarity. The word/phrasegiven for the "high point" from which Sohraband Hojir view the Persian ranks in the Moscow edition is borz; in some it is tond bdla. The modem vocalization of brz tends to be barz. but Dehkhoda'sLoghatndmehgives the vocalization borz (root of the modern"Alborz,"the mountainchain, as well as the name Fariborz)and one is inclined to believe that the word was, at some point in the development of Ferdowsi's text or that of his source text, borj (i.e., "tower"). This would make it identical in meaning to, and incidentally cognate with, the word Homer uses at this point (purgon). The line in which the phrase appears in Ferdowsi's poem marks the moment at which the material possibly derived from the Iliad is spliced into Ferdowsi's narrative. The slight awkwardness of this "high point" marks the moment of transition into the Homeric scene. Ferdowsi, or his source, has Sohrab mount his horse ready for battle in the normal way and then the Iliad scene is inserted. Then, one might suggest, either Ferdowsi or an early copyist, recognizingthe absurdityof having someone on horseback climb up a tower (by stairs?), substitutedthe much less specific

24 Davis word borz for borj, as this could mean a high point generally, such as a hill overlooking the enemy encampment. That we are not dealing with a hill is plain from a point laterin the scene when Hojirrefers to the fortressfrom which they are looking out over the enemy ranks. It would not be far-fetched to suggest that the names of the two informants, Helen and Hojir, are also possibly cognate and that the name Hojir could well have been derived from Helen. Superficiallythe names are not that similar, but a linguistic transitionfrom the one to the other is simple and plausible. The difference in vowels is of no significance, since the first vowel of Hojir is unvocalized in Ferdowsi's text, (Dehkhoda'sLoghatnamehvocalizes the word as hejir, thus making the first vowel equivalent to that in Helen), and the second vowel could well be changed for exigencies of meter,as was Ferdowsi's frequentpractice. Jalal Khaleghi-Motlagh gives numerousexamples of Ferdowsi's adaptation of names for metrical reasons.4 This leaves us with the consonants of the names; the initial aspirateis identical;the '1' of Helen could easily have become the 'j' of Hojir through palatalizationand later affrication, and the 'n' could equally easily have become 'r', probably through the interrnediaryform, '1'. Two possible objections to the derivationmay be raised: one, that Homer's informanton the tower is a woman and that Ferdowsi's is a man; the other, that the word hojir is a separatelyattestedword (with various meanings, the chief of which is nimrdiz, i.e., midday) in early modem Persian. Neither objection seems decisive: we have a similarexample of gender confusion in borrowingfrom another culture's literarytraditionin Villon's Ballade des Dames de TempsJadis; here the name of the beautiful woman of antiquity,Archipiades, is almost certainly derived from that of the Greek soldier Alcibiades. In borrowings from other cultural traditions, when the greater context of the name may well have fallen away, it is perhapsnaturalthata narrowlyknown context or attributewill generatesuch errors. Alcibiades was known for his beauty,beauty is a feminine attribute,"therefore" was obviously a woman. Helen is Alcibiades/Archipiades standingon a besieged tower describingan enemy encampment;this is clearly a male, military thing to be doing, "therefore" Helen/Hojir is obviously a (male) warrior. The word hojir, it is true, is present as a name elsewhere in the Shahnameh, and does exist as a separatelyattested Persian word; but the existence of the word in Persian could well have "attracted" whatever intermediate form "Helen"had evolved into as the name enteredthe Persianculturalpurview, so that a proximateform would have been domesticatedas Hejir/Hojir,i.e., assimilated to an alreadyfamiliarword. It may be thoughtthat this linguistic evidence is at best highly speculative, and I accept this (though I am still inclined to believe it likely); the main thrust of the argument, however, rests on the structural ratherthanlinguistic parallels. The possibility that the Homeric narrativewas a source for at least one part of the Sohrab story is somewhat enhanced by the negative evidence that no other source immediately available to Ferdowsi is known for the story. It is absent
4. J. Khaleghi-Motlagh, "Payramuin-evazn-e Shdhndmeh," Iranshenasi 2, no. 1: 48-63, especially 51-3.

In the Enemy's Camp 25 from Tha'alebi's telling of the events of Kavus's reign, in which most of the aboutRostamby Ferdowsican also be found, albeit in a much anecdotes narrated abbreviatedform, and it is also absent from Tabari's Tarikh. Its absence from Tha'alebi and Tabaridoes not mean, of course, that it is necessarilyto Homer,or indeed anywhere outside greater Iran, that we should look for an origin to the tale, though the existence of broadly similar stories in which a father inadvertently slays a son in Russian, Germanand Irish myth suggests a possible common Indo-Europeansource, and this perhaps leaves room for some Homeric seepage, as it were, into the Iraniantale.5 Beyond the specific similarities of structure,content and emotional focus between the scene of Helen's descriptionto Priamof the Greek camp and the scene of Hojir's descriptionto Sohrabof the Iraniancamp thereare broader,more general parallels to be drawnbetween the background to the story of Sohraband that of the Iliad. In drawing attention to these parallels it must be fully acknowledged that the suggestion of anythingapproaching a direct influence or common origin for the broadersweep of the two stories can only be speculative at best, though it is circumstantiallylikely in the case of the specific Helen-Priam,Hojir-Sohrabscenes. Both these scenes depend for theirrealityon a quirkof fate:in a citadel threatened by an enemy there exists a person from the enemy's side who is (apparently) willing to instruct the commanderon the identity of members of the enemy's forces. Now this presence of an intruderin another's camp or citadel does not only occur at this point in the narrative;it is also, in both cases, the particular circumstancewhich sets the whole trainof events in motion. The story that lies behind the Iliad begins with the visit of Paris to Menelaus in Spartaand his abduction of Menelaus's wife Helen to Troy; the story of Sohrab and Rostam begins with Rostam's accidental wandering into Samangan,a frontier town with ambiguous loyalties, and his sleeping with Tahmineh, the king of Samangan's daughter-"sleeping with" because it is clear from the oldest version of the text (the so-called Florence MS) that the lines describingRostam's marriageto Tahmineh are a later interpolation.6 Both stories begin with the seduction of a noblewoman by someone who is potentiallyan enemy to her male guardianand master (Helen's husband,Tahmineh's father) whilst the visitor is enjoying the hospitality of her guardian. Both are stories about love and deceit between potential enemies, and in each case the love between the enemies generatesthe subsequent tragedy: the rape of Helen ultimately produces the fall of Troy, and the
5. The resemblances between these Indo-European tales of filicide are brought out in Khaleghi-Motlagh's article, "Yeki dastan ast por az ab-e chashm (dar bareh-ye mawzf'-e nabard-e pedar o pesar)," Iran Nameh 1, no. 2: 164-205. Khaleghi-Motlagh draws attention to the stories of Hildebrand (in Germany), Cuchulain (in Ireland) and Ilya Muromec (in Russia) as parallels to Rostam's inadvertent slaying of his son. He suggests that the story was originally of Saka origin, and that it was incorporated into the Iranian cultural tradition during the Parthian period. 6. Mojtaba Minovi (ed.), D&stan-e Rostam o Sohrab az Shdhnameh (Tehran, 1974), footnote to lines 89-92; Jerome Clinton, The Tragedy of Sohrab and Rostam (Washington, 1987), 181-2, n. 8.

26 Davis union of Tahminehand Rostamproducesthe son who will be the cause and victim of Rostam's deepest personaltragedy. By the time we reach the moment of the interview,and the motif of the trustedenemy in one's own camp is repeated, the erotic element associated with Helen and Tahmineh has retreatedinto the background of Ferdowsi's narrative, but is still strongly foregrounded in Homer's, as we see in the famous lines describing the wonder of the old men who see Helen climb the tower and ... like grasshoppersrejoice, A bloodless race, thatsend a feeble voice. These when the Spartan queenapproach'd the tower, In secret own'd resistlessbeauty'spower. (Pope's translation) But though the erotic element has disappearedfrom Ferdowsi's narrativeat this point, it has been replacedby a parallelkind of love or intense desire-the filial longing felt by Sohrab for his father, later to be echoed by Rostam's paternal anguish when he realizes just who it is he has slain. The erotic element in Ferdowsi has been transformed into a relatedemotion, thatof familial love, but it is still a love that seeks to exist across enemy lines. The filial and paternal love felt by Rostam and Sohrab is a love existing, or attempting to exist, between the championsof two opposed armies,just as the erotic love between Helen and Paris is that between nominal enemies. In both cases tragedy is precipitatedby an erotic adventureinto enemy territory, and thoughthe pathstakenby the narratives then diverge the continuinguxoriousaffection of Paris for his enemy-bride is paralleledby the father-sonlove of Rostam and Sohrabthat seeks to exist despite the fact that the two are championsof opposing armies and thus sworn enemies. Deceit, too, is present still, in Hojir's lies to Sohrab and Rostam's subsequent denials of his own identity. In fact, of the two elements that generate both stories, duplicity and desire, it is duplicity that is foregrounded in Ferdowsi's text-Hojir's and Rostam'slies-and erotic desire in Homer's, as we see in the old men's wonderat Helen's presence. The similarityof the overall situationof the two poems' personages at these respective moments in the poem (they are, in both poems, faced by a crisis which is ultimately the military result of the seduction of a noble stranger's wife/daughter), of the structuralparallels between the two scenes as they now appearin the Iliad and in the Shahndmeh,and the admittedly more speculative linguistic evidence (the "high point"which may or may not be a tower, the possibility of the derivation of the name Hojir from Helen) together constitute, in my opinion, a strong case that Ferdowsi's scene derives closely, and even perhaps consciously, from the Homeric model, and it may be of interest to know whether there are similar parallelsthat have been noticed by other readersto be found at other moments in the two epic traditions. Dick Davis, Ohio State University