One day, as King Jamshid sat under his tent watching his archers practice, a large bird appeared in the sky. It seemed to be struggling to stay aloft. Jamshid saw that a snake was wrapped around the bird's neck and was threatening the bird with its fearsome fangs.

For Jamshid, this was a hateful sight. He could not stand by and allow the bird, a symbol of good, to be devoured by a snake, the foulest symbol of evil.

Without hesitation, the king ordered his best archer to kill the snake without harming the bird. A few moments later, the serpent fell to the ground, an arrow through its head. The great bird soared toward the sun in homage to the triumph of good over evil, then swooped down and landed next to Jamshid. It opened its beak and dropped a few bright green seeds at the king's feet. Jamshid had never seen seeds like these. He looked up to question the bird, but it had already flown away.

When the king returned to his palace, he summoned his best gardeners and consulted the wisest men in his kingdom, but not one was able to identify the strange seeds. Finally, he ordered that the seeds be planted in the most fertile soil of the royal gardens.

Some time later, a strange plant rose from the ground. During the warm season it proliferated, sending out long branches covered with many large leaves. But once winter arrived, it began to dry up and shrivel to the ground, as if to protect itself from the cold.

Finally, one spring the first of its fruit ripened. A gardener brought some of it to Jamshid, who examined them in wonder. The fruit was as strange as the plant that bore it. On each stem, there grew not one but twenty to forty dark blue, round berries. The skins burst easily, releasing the juice within. So that not a drop would be lost, the king ordered his servants to gather all the fruit and place it in large receptacles.

One evening the king returned to the palace very thirsty after a long day's hunt in the hot sun. He decided to try a glass of the mysterious juice, believing it would be a refreshing fermented drink. No sooner had he taken the first bitter sip than he spat it out. "This must be a dreadful poison," he said. "I must make certain it does not fall into the hands of the wrong people."

He turned his attention to more pressing royal concerns and thought no more about the matter. Months passed.

Now as it happened, Jamshid had a beautiful slave girl who had become his favorite. One day while he was away, she fell violently ill, suffering from terrible headaches that none of the palace doctors could cure. The pain was so intense she decided to kill herself. Remembering the strange juice and the king's remark that it was poison, she drank one glass and was quite surprised to find that it did not have the bitter taste the king had complained of. To ensure that she would die, she drank a second, then a third glass, and finally fell into a deep sleep.

When she awoke, her terrible headache was gone. Although her mouth felt dry, she believed that she was healed.

When the king returned to the palace, she confessed what she had done and described the miraculous cure the drink had brought about. Because Jamshid loved the beautiful slave girl, he did not punish her. Instead, he asked to try the juice himself. He tasted it, cautiously at first, then with more and more pleasure. Unable to disguise his delight, he decreed the drink would be used as a remedy for all the people. The effect was so beneficial, especially among the elderly, that the liquid came to be called daru-shah, the king's medicine.

That, according to legend, is the origin of the grapevine and the discovery of wine. Cynics will probably question the truth of this tale. It is certain, however, that the grapevine originated in the Middle East, and it was there that, one long-forgotten day, the juice of the grapes turned into wine.

The Moslem religion forbids believers to seek paradise on Earth through artificial intoxication. The Koran promises its followers a far more precious nectar-but in another world.