BORN OF THE DEMON RACE
Firdowsi was an Arab poet who lived in the eleventh century. He was born in the Islamic province of Tus, or Khurasan, in eastern Persia and came from a family of established landowners. He is best remembered for a book he finished in 1010 AD entitled the Shahnameh, or the Book of Kings, which records the legendary history of his country. This he had gained not just from earlier versions of the same stories now lost, but from other similarly lost histories of the Persian race recorded during the Sassanian, or second, empire period, between the third and seventh centuries AD.
These stories include the legendary foundation of the Iranian royal dynasties and the deeds of the earliest kings and their families, as they battled with demons, rival kingdoms, domestic conflicts and political struggles. There is romance, heartbreak, courage, valour and heroics within the pages of the Shahnameh, as well as much of interest to my understanding of the fallen race. No one knew exactly when or where the scenarios described in this ancient work might have taken place, if at all. Even though historians have attempted to place specific dates on the succession of divine kings it portrays, it is quite clear that the book's assortment of stories must be assigned either to a distant age or to a world of pure myth and fantasy.
The Shahnameh begins with an account of the legendary Kiyumars, the first of the Pishdadian line of kings, who is known by the name Gayomartan or Gayomard in the Avestan literature of the Zoroastrians. He rules from his seat in the mountains as a king of Iran and all the world during a Golden Age of high spiritual and religious values. Yet, like so many of the stories told by Firdowsi, his reign ends in tragedy, in this case with the death of his son, Siyamak, who is killed by a div, or 'black demon'.1
Siyamak's own son, Husheng (the Haoshanha of Avestan literature), then becomes 'king of the seven climes' or regions of the world. He is the founder of civilization and the discoverer of fire, which he uses to separate iron from rock to become the primordial blacksmith, able to fashion tools and weapons. He is also accredited with the introduction of land irrigation and the sowing of seeds.2
In the hundreds of years that follow, kings rise and fall and the exploits of each are outlined in graphic detail. Then the Shahnameh enters a long phase of prehistory in which constant wars are waged between Iran and the kingdom of Turan in central Asia. It is during this troubled period of humanity that many great battles are fought and various heroic deeds enacted.3 It is also during this same phase of pseudo-history that some of the most baffling material begins to surface within its pages – material that appears to echo exactly the stories found in both the Book of Enoch and the Dead Sea Scrolls.
The Miraculous Birth of Zal
The reader of the Shahnameh is introduced to a new sub-dynasty of kings, said to have ruled in a region named Sistan, thought to have been in eastern Iran – although geographical connections with the real world are of little value here (see Chapter II). The first story of importance concerns a king named Sam, the son of Nariman. He marries a beautiful woman who becomes pregnant and gives birth to a boy. Yet, on the child's exposure to the outside world, her husband's cries of joy change to sheer horror and revulsion as he realizes the infant's unearthly appearance: his body is said to have been 'as clean as silver';4 his hair is described as being 'as white as an old man's', and 'like snow';5 his face is 'like paradise' and as 'beautiful as the sun,;6 his eyes are black; his cheeks are 'ruddy and beautifu1'7 'like the rose of spring', while his form is as 'straight as (a) cypress tree,.8
Fearful of this ill-omen, the child's mother decides on the spot to name him Zal, meaning 'the aged'.9 Sam, on the other hand, is persuaded that this infant is not his own but the 'son of some deev (daeva) or magician (i.e. a Magi)'.10 People soon gather to witness the strange sight for themselves, saying to Sam, 'This is an ominous event, and will be to thee productive of nothing but calamity – it would be better if thou couldst remove him out of sight,' for as the text continues:
No human being of this earth
Could give to such a monster birth;
He must be of the Demon race,
Though human still in form and face,
If not a Demon, he, at least,
Appears a party-coloured beast.11
Sam makes a passionate plea to Ahura Mazda, asking for what reason he has been given 'a demon-child' that 'resembles a child of Ahriman' and who is 'an entire Peri' of 'the religion of Ahriman'.12 One can almost sense the sheer distress experienced by Sam and his family at the birth of this strange infant with such pronounced physiological features. To them this birth is seen as a punishment for some unknown crime they have committed. No one can understand what is going on or why this child should so closely resemble one of the daevic race.
For Sam and his family the sight they beheld that fateful day was quite abhorrent, but to me a sense of déjà vu crept quickly through my veins, for the account of the birth of Zal was almost identical to the miraculous birth of Noah presented in the Book of Enoch. The similarities were too striking to ignore:
Zal is described as having a body 'as clean as silver' with 'ruddy' cheeks 'like the rose of spring'. Noah is described as having a body as 'white as snow and red as a rose'.13
Zal is described as having hair 'as white as an old man's', and 'like snow', while Noah is described as having hair 'as white as wool'.14
Zal is described as having a face 'like paradise' and 'as beautiful as the sun', while Noah's eyes are said to have 'glowed like the sun'.15
Zal is described as 'a demon-child', 'an entire Peri' and the 'son' or 'child of Ahriman' or 'some deev (daeva) or magician', while Noah is described as looking like 'the children of the (fallen) angels of heaven', whose 'conception was (due) to the Watchers . . . and to the Nephilim'.16
The only additional information not contained in the Hebrew account of Noah's birth is Zal's black eyes and his appearance as a 'party-coloured beast', or a 'two-coloured leopard' in other accounts – metaphors probably linked to the belief among the Persians that leopards' skins worn by the earliest Pishdadian kings signified 'courage and manhood'.17
Somehow there had to be a direct link between the account of the ominous birth of Zal recorded in the Shahnameh and the strange birth of Noah recorded in the Book of Enoch. One appeared to have been based on the other, but which had influenced which? Since I had already established that Iranian mythology and religion had helped form post-exilic Judaism, including the Enochian and Dead Sea literature, there seemed every reason to suppose it was the Persian story that had influenced the Judaic variation, and not the other way round. The only other possibility was to suggest that a much older primary source was responsible for both stories. If so, then where was this primary source?
All of this was revealing information indeed. Here in the Shahnameh was a legend which implied that in ancient Iran, perhaps the place of origin of the Book of Enoch, a new-born child bearing specific physiological characteristics was looked upon as the result of an unholy union between a fallen angel, or demon, and a mortal woman, even though on this occasion there were no accusations of infidelity made against Sam's wife and consort.
Yet why should an infant bearing such seemingly mundane physical characteristics have appeared so abhorrent to the ruling dynasty of Iran? Were new-born infants the world over cast as demon-spawn, or the result of supernatural cohabitation, simply because of their distinctive physical features, or had this belief been confined to Iran alone? The antediluvian patriarchs of the Old Testament would seem to have had a very similar aversion to infants born with what appear to have been extreme white Caucasian features, while the concept of angel children bearing similar traits is known to have persisted in Western culture right down to the twentieth century.
The birth of Zal was perfect confirmation of the clear relationship between the Iranian belief in the corruption of mankind by the daevas and the fall of the Watchers in Judaic tradition. There was, however, much more of direct relevance to this debate in the eventful life of Zal, the son of Sam, than simply his birth . . .
Compassion of the Simurgh
In the knowledge that the infant Zal resembles the appearance of the daevas, Sam makes the immediate decision to rid himself of this demon-child by depositing him on the slopes of a mountain named Elburz, where he will be devoured by the beasts of prey and the birds of the air. Mount Elburz also happened to be the abode ('kingdom' in one account) of a fabulous bird, 'a noble vulture',18 known as the Simurgh, whose gender varies from one account to another. In search of food for its young, the hungry Simurgh espies the young child lying among the rocks, crying and sucking on its fingers. Yet, instead of devouring the infant, the bird shows overwhelming compassion and carries it to its nest, high on the mountain, where the Simurgh's own children eagerly await their mother's return. They, too, are kind and affectionate to the mortal child, which is nourished and protected by the Simurgh until it grows to become a fine youth. Some accounts suggest that the bird intended feeding Zal to its young, but that after depositing it on the ground the voice of Ahura Mazda asked the Simurgh to take care of the child, for one day he would bring forth 'from his loins . . . the champion of the world'.19
The years go by, and in time Sam mourns the loss of his ill-formed child, whom he assumes to be dead. Then, after a dream-vision that suggests his son is still alive, the king embarks on an unsuccessful journey to find him. A second dream follows, and with renewed vigour Sam makes another journey to Elburz. Having ascended to the top of the mountain, he prays before the throne of Ahura Mazda, saying:
'If that forsaken child be truly mine,
And not the progeny of Demon fell,
('not from the sperm of the ill-descended Ahriman' 20)
O pity me! forgive the wicked deed,
And to my eyes, my injured son restore.' 21
The Simurgh, having heard the lamentations of Sam, knows it must now return the youth it has protected 'like a nurse' and 'like a father', and to whom it has given the name Dustan. Zal, on learning of his imminent departure, weeps in the knowledge that he is to be separated from the Simurgh and its family, for not only had the mysterious bird protected him, it had also taught him many knowledgeable things, including the language and wisdom of his own country. The Simurgh consoles the youth by saying that it will not abandon him completely. As proof of this affection, the bird plucks a feather from a wing and proclaims: 'Whenever thou are involved in difficulty or danger, put this feather (or "feathers"22) on the fire, and I will instantly appear to thee to ensure thy safety. Never cease to remember me.'23
Then, in a touching scene, the Simurgh returns Zal to Sam, who blesses both the youth and the 'wonderful bird'. He also admits his shame at having abandoned the child in the first place, and says he will endeavour to redeem himself by treating the boy with the utmost respect and honour he deserves.
Zal grows to become a handsome prince and in time falls in love with a foreign princess, named Rudabeh, the daughter of Mehrab, the 'king of Kabul', and a descendant of the serpent king Zahhak (Azhi Dahâka in Avestan literature), who was said to have ruled Iran for a thousand years (see Chapter 14).
In one account, Mehrab's daughter is described, in the words of one of her slave-girls to one of Zal's own slaves, as 'a handsome beauty who outtops your king by a head. In figure she resembles the teak-tree, though she is like ivory for whiteness, and her face is crowned with a diadem of musk . . . It would be proper, and very suitable, for Rudaba to become the wife of Zal.'24 In another description of the princess, it is said of her that from 'head to foot she is white as ivory; her face is a very paradise and for stature she is as a plane-tree'25
These special qualities were obviously seen as unique, and for Rudabeh to have out-topped Zal – who was himself of 'cypressstature'26– by 'a head', would presumably have made her an extremely tall woman. Indeed, there seems every indication that Zal and Rudabeh were purposely brought together because they each bore very specific qualities that were deemed necessary to perpetuate the existing line of divine kings.
Inevitably, Zal takes Rudabeh's hand in marriage, and in time she falls pregnant. But prior to the birth of her child, the foreign beauty begins experiencing 'unbearable pains of childbirth',27 for as Firdowsi explains:
The cypress leaf was withering; pale she lay,
Unsoothed by rest or sleep, death seemed approaching.28
In desperation Zal recalls the feather given to him by the Simurgh, and so burns it on a fire. 'In a moment darkness surrounded them, which was, however, immediately dispersed by the sudden appearance of the Simurgh.'29 The 'kind nurse'30 consoles Zal by saying that he is soon to become the father of a son 'with the height of a cypress tree and the strength of an elephant'.31 Furthermore, the great bird proclaims that:
'. . . the child will not come into existence by the ordinary way of birth. Bring me a poniard of tempered steel and a man of percipient heart versed in incantation. Let the girl be given [an intoxicating] drug [prescribed by the Simurgh32] to stupefy her and to dull any fear or anxiety in her mind: then keep guard while the clairvoyant [i.e. hypnotist] recites his incantations and so watch until the lion-boy leaves the vessel which contains him. The wizard will pierce the frame of the young woman without her awareness of any pain and will draw the lionchild out of her, covering her flank with blood, and will sew together the part he has cut. . . There is a herb which I will describe to you. Pound it together with milk and musk and place it in a dry shady place. Afterwards spread it over the wound and you will perceive at once how she has been delivered from peril. Over it all then pass one of my feathers and the shadow of my royal potency will have achieved a happy result.'33
Zal does as the bird directs and as a result 'the giant child was cut from the side of his mother, who immediately she had given birth, exclaimed, "Ba-Rastam" – I am relieved.' From this sudden outburst, the infant was given the name Rustam, meaning 'strong growth'.34 Afterwards Rudabeh quickly regains her health, thanks to the special healing herb prescribed by the Simurgh, leaving the child to become indisputably Iran's greatest legendary hero.
This is the story of the birth of Rustam as presented in the Shahnameh.
There can be little doubt that the infant's unnatural birth harbours extraordinary insights into not only the legendary history of Iran but also the Enochian religious literature of Judaic tradition.
One is immediately reminded of the Ethiopian Kebra Nagast, where the Daughters of Cain give birth to gigantic Nephilim babies through the process of Caesarian section. Can it be coincidence that a child of Iranian myth and legend is born into the world in exactly the same manner as the mighty Nephilim? Caesarian section takes its name from Julius Caesar, alleged to have been the first child delivered in this way.35 Yet here were two quite separate examples of this medical practice being employed in unknown epochs of human history, perhaps thousands of years before the coming of the Romans.
From the tales presented in the Shahnameh there appeared to be compelling evidence to suggest that the ancient Iranians really did believe that the daevas could not only possess physical form, but that they could also lie with mortal women to produce offspring with physical characteristics that matched, almost exactly, the progeny of the Watchers in Hebraic tradition. To me it was a remarkable discovery, and one that made it all the more likely that the daevo-data, 'the law according to the daevas', as taught by the Magi priests, did indeed involve knowledge of the carnal trafficking between supernatural beings and mortal kind. It also strengthened my view that the Magi's dualistic doctrine included the belief that the world around us was the creation not of Ahura Mazda but of Angra Mainyu, the 'wicked spirit' – the very tenet of faith preached by Mani and the various gnostic cults many hundreds of years after the daeva-worshipping Magi disappeared from the pages of history.
The Glorious House of Sam and Nariman
The mention of Mani with respect to these traditions is also of extreme relevance, for he appears to be able to provide us with even further clues concerning the clear overlap between Iranian myth and Enochian literature. The Manichaeans are known to have translated into various different Asian languages one particular Enochian text concerning the plight of the Nephilim. As this was done, the original Aramaic names of key characters were replaced by those of specific Iranian figures who feature in the Shahnameh. For example, in Persian tradition Zal's father is Sam, while Sam's own father is Nariman; the descendants of these mythical kings being referred to as the 'glorious house of Sam and Nariman'.36 This patrilineal relationship between the two royal figures is matched in Mani's translations of the Enochian literature where the two visionary sons of the fallen angel Shemyaza are given as Sam and Nariman in place of their original Aramaic names of 'Ohyâ and 'Ahyâ.
The usage of these two quite specific names from the Shahnameh seems to imply that Mani saw the Iranian royal dynasty of Sam and Nariman as direct descendants of Shemyaza, the leader of the Watchers. Since this kingly line included both Zal and Rustam, who both possessed the physiological features of the fallen race, this supposition was not to be taken lightly.
What might Mani have known about the relationship between Iranian myth and the stories concerning the fall of the Watchers, as well as the birth of Nephilim children and their final destruction in the cataclysms of fire and water? He cannot have been unaware of the clear parallels between the stories surrounding the miraculous birth of Noah and the strange birth of Zal, the son of Sam. How much did this influence him to name the sons of Shemyaza as Sam and Nariman, after the great Iranian heroes who bore these selfsame names? Perhaps Mani had been aware of independent, now lost traditions linking the house of Nariman and Sam with the fall of the ahuras.
Scholars have thrown no obvious light on the matter, though W. B. Henning, the linguistic expert who collated the various fragments of Enochian text translated by Mani and his followers, did have this to say: 'the translation of Ohya as Sam had in its train the introduction of myths appertaining to that Iranian hero (of this name)'.37 In other words, Mani chose these names so that he could deliberately introduce these characters to Enochian literature. Why?
Henning also pointed out that in some Manichaean fragments of Enochian material the name Sam is rendered S'hm,38 an interesting observation since in Hebrew shm means 'name', 'pillar' or 'high'. It is also the name of one of Noah's sons, as well as the root behind the first part of the name Shemyaza. Furthermore, the suffix yaza is so closely linked to the Zend word yazd or yazata, meaning 'angel', or divine being, that there seemed every possibility that the name Shemyaza stemmed originally from Iranian sources.
The Divine Glory
Yet the biggest mystery seemed to be why giant babies, with demon-like characteristics, should at first be abhorred by their immediate family, but then go on to become the greatest heroes or teachers of their age; the cases of Zal and Noah being prime examples. A clue appeared to lie in the metaphors and synonyms used to describe the otherworldly features of these chosen ones. Zal, for instance, is said to have been as 'straight as (a) cypress tree', while Rustam is described as having 'the height of a cypress tree'. This usage of the cypress tree -an evergreen with tall, dark plumes that once grew abundantly on mountain-sides in the Near East – to denote immense stature also appears earlier on in the Shahnameh. For instance, Kiyumars, the first king of Iran and 'ruler over the whole world', was said to have reigned from his palace in the mountains like 'a two weeks old moon shining over a slender cypress',39 while Feridun, the king who finally vanquished the serpent king Zahhak, is said to have been 'as tall' and 'as beautiful as a slender cypress'.40 The similarity between this metaphor and the reference to Watchers as 'trees' in the Enochian literature was surely no coincidence.
Zal's face is described as 'like paradise' and 'beautiful as the sun', while his queen, Rudabeh, is said to have had a face that was 'a very paradise', references, it would seem, to their shining countenances – matching the Hebrew metaphor in which the faces of both the Watchers and their offspring are said to have glowed 'like the sun'. This same expression is also used in the Shahnameh to describe the brilliance that shone from the face of Kiyumars, as well as another king named Jemshid.41 Here, however, the strange supernatural effect is explained, for according to Firdowsi it was created by the presence of the so-called khvarnah, or Kingly Fortune, also known as the farr-i izadi (or farr-i yazdan), the Glory of God. This is a concept based on the firm belief that some kind of divine essence, or manifestation, could be transmitted through the rightful family chosen by Ahura Mazda.42 With this holy essence Jemshid was said to have been able to 'mould iron into such equipment as helmets, chain-mail, laminated armour as well as missile-proof vests, to swords and horse-armour',43 while at the same time it provided him with intimate knowledge of God. Most peculiar of all, 'with the aid of the royal farr he fashioned a marvellous throne', which henceforth became his seat of sovereignty.44
Nobody knows what the royal farr might actually have been, for in one sentence it is a magical power able to forge metal, in the next it is the manifestation of God himself, and finally it is a means of carving hard substances without the use of conventional tools. One thing is for certain, though: without the Divine Glory a king could not reign. Jemshid, for example, eventually loses his farr because he 'ceases to believe in a higher power and regards himself as the only and ultimate ruler'.45 Everybody abandons him – his priests, his army and the people, while the world outside is thrown into utter confusion and discord, ushering in an age of human history when evil, in the form of the 'wicked spirit', Angra Mainyu, is able to control the destiny of humanity.
In the Zend-Avesta, Jemshid is equated with an important figure named Yima, a 'king of Paradise', who ruled over the entire world (see Chapter Twenty). He, too, loses the Divine Glory, this time because he finds 'delight in the words of falsehood and untruth'. As a result of this sin, 'the Glory was seen to flee away from him in the shape of a bird' named Varaghna.46
Jemshid, or Yima, never regains the Divine Glory, ending his seven-hundred-year reign. The next Iranian hero to possess its magical power is Feridun, the 'slender cypress', of whom it was said the 'royal farr radiated from him'.47
So what did all this mean? What did the Divine Glory actually represent?
It would appear that, to become a rightful king or hero in Iranian legend, the successful candidate needed to possess certain specific qualities, including great height and a divine countenance, seen as the royal farr; indeed, Zoroaster himself was said to have been born with a shining radiance and is depicted with such in at least one stone relief.48 Was it not curious that both these physiological features were originally associated with the ahuras, the Iranian equivalent of the Watchers, who in Indo-Iranian myth were said to have been 'shining' gods of great stature?
In Persian art of all periods, the Divine Glory was generally depicted as a large ring or diadem held by Ahura Mazda, who is shown offering it to one of the kings of Persia, as if to confirm their divine right to rule. Because the diadem finally became the sole representation of the Divine Glory, it seems probable that this concept heavily influenced the rise in importance of the crown in Eurasian beliefs and customs concerning sovereignty and kingship. In other words, the usage of a crown to symbolize the right of a king to rule may well have developed from the shining countenances once associated with the faces of the fallen race.
If these wild assertions were in any way correct, then it implied that, just occasionally, certain infants may have been born with pronounced physiological features that bore too close a resemblance to the original 'shining' race, and so were cast out as direct progeny of the fallen ahuras. In time, however, these traits would have been genetically watered down and misunderstood to such a degree that, in Iran at least, they simply became the necessary qualities of a true divine king, descended of Kiyumars, the first Iranian monarch. Even later these physical traits would have become purely symbolic, with legendary figures such as Zoroaster being posthumously accredited them, simply because it was deemed necessary for a rightful prophet, king or hero of Persia to have possessed such virtues during their own life-time.
The accounts in the Book of Daniel of Watcher-like figures with shining faces are prime examples of how strongly these concepts must have been adopted by the exiled Jews in Persia, for they do not appear in Judaic tradition until after the period of exile in Susa. To the Hebrews, the presence of such holy qualities would appear to have been viewed a little differently. In their opinion, only a true patriarch or teacher of righteousness, descended of the line of Seth, would have possessed a shining countenance; probably the reason why biblical figures such as Abraham, Elijah, Enoch and Noah were all accredited with having both a facial radiance49 and great stature50 in post-exilic apocrypha and folklore.
In much later Christian and Islamic iconography, the divine countenance would have been seen in terms of the halo or nimbus depicted around the heads of angels, saints and holy men; its original meaning having long since been lost. The best example of this style of art is provided by Christ himself, who is often portrayed in Nativity scenes welcoming the three Magi with a shining radiance 'as brilliantly as if covered with phosphuretted oil', or so wrote the nineteenth-century Hebrew scholar Thomas Inman.51 Little could he have known how these inspired words might turn out to be closer to the mark than he ever thought possible.
Yet somehow the belief in a shining countenance associated with infants born of the angels would appear to have lingered right down to twentieth-century London. The account told to Margaret Norman by her mother of the 'angel child', whose face 'just shone', is a perfect example of this survival. So if such beautiful countenances were once a sign of the 'shining' angelic race, then did this imply that the royal farr bestowed upon the legendary kings of Iran had some basis in reality? If so, then how on earth was it able to fashion metal, carve ivory without the use of conventional tools and know God? Might the farr have involved some kind of secret knowledge passed down from generation to generation, like that provided to the Daughters of Men by the Watchers? Were the royal dynasties of ancient Iran really blood-line descendants of the ahuras and daevas, the Shining Ones who fell from grace in Indo–Iranian myth?
Even if a quite obviously unique race of shining appearance and tall stature had once walked the earth, then to try and find them so many thousands of years after their assumed demise seemed an almost impossible task.
There was, however, one vital clue . . .
In the Shahnameh, the Simurgh bird features in both the story of the strange birth of Zal and the delivery of his huge son Rustam. This extraordinary creature could act as a nurse and teacher to mortal children. It could be a physician to rightful kings. It could prescribe intoxicating drugs and herbs that anaesthetized pregnant women and healed open wounds. It could also advise on the delivery of giant babies through the process known today as Caesarian section.
How many birds do you know that possess such diverse capabilities? Clearly, such a 'wonderful' creature was worthy of further investigation.
I felt that somehow this 'noble vulture' would bring me closer to unravelling the mysteries surrounding the origins of the fallen race – but only if I was to accept that the Simurgh may have been not a bird at all but a human being adorned in feathers.