This relief of Bahrām II at Naqš-e Rustam belongs to a broader Sasanian strategy in which the rock face becomes a political stage: not a narrative in the later literary sense, but a tightly coded assertion of kingship, martial legitimacy, and courtly hierarchy. Although heavily eroded, the scene is recognisable as one of Bahrām II’s “battle-reliefs,” a type peculiar to his reign, where the king is shown combating foreign enemies in the presence of his noble entourage. Unlike the investiture formula of Ardashir I or Šāpūr I – which centres on divine bestowal of sovereignty – Bahrām’s reliefs shift emphasis toward the king’s personal prowess and toward his integration within a visibly defined aristocratic order. This change reflects the political atmosphere of the late third century, when the monarchy had to negotiate authority not only against external powers (Rome, nomadic groups) but also within a powerful aristocratic network that was becoming increasingly central to Sasanian governance.

The relief’s bipartite composition is itself meaningful. The upper register shows Bahrām II on horseback, armed with a long lance, in combat with an armoured opponent who appears to fall or retreat before him. The lower register mirrors the scene with additional mounted warriors, probably high-ranking nobles identifiable not as individuals but as types – Sasanian elites bearing the privilege of proximity to the king in visual representation. This duplication of martial action – king above, nobles below – articulates a hierarchical model of warfare: the king’s victory orders and legitimises the victories of those beneath him. The structure also evokes the cosmic dualism familiar from Zoroastrian thought: an upper, paradigmatic act of royal triumph mirrored in the earthly domain by the acts of his followers. Even without divine figures carved into the scene, the relief communicates a cosmological reading of kingship: the king’s success is the ordering principle of the realm.

If later literary tradition casts Bahrām II as a ruler beset by internal unrest and noble assertiveness, these reliefs aim to counter precisely that image. Their emphasis on the coordinated action of king and nobles suggests an attempt to project internal unity at a time when centrifugal pressures were strong. The presence of nobles in official reliefs is unusually prominent in Bahrām’s reign compared to earlier kings. In investiture scenes, the highest-ranking dignitaries appear beside the king; in hunting and battle scenes, they are granted distinctive positions rather than relegated to background ornamentation. This is unlikely to be accidental. Epigraphic and numismatic evidence indicates that aristocratic houses were gaining influence in the later third century, and the relief visually acknowledges their role while ensuring their subordination to the king’s leadership. It is a delicate balance: acknowledging noble identity without undermining the ideological supremacy of the crown.

The absence of inscriptions in this relief – unlike the investiture scenes of Ardashir I or Šāpūr I – shows that iconography alone is being asked to carry the ideological weight. Bahrām II cannot rely on a divine investiture scenario because he is not founding a dynasty nor refuting a recent usurpation. Instead, he claims legitimacy by demonstrating that he fulfils the quintessential duty of an Iranian king: defending the realm through personal martial excellence. This fits a long Iranian tradition in which the ideal ruler is above all a victorious warrior whose xwarrah (royal glory) is manifested through triumph in battle. The relief thus positions Bahrām within an unbroken line of Achaemenid and early Sasanian rulers who legitimated themselves through heroic action. Yet the novelty lies in how the relief deploys the king’s entourage: they form a visual constituency, implying that royal authority is embedded within a social framework of loyalty and status rather than derived solely from divine favour.

The placement of this and other Bahrām II reliefs at Naqš-e Rustam further strengthens their ideological intent. The site already bore the monumental tombs of the Achaemenid kings and the great Sasanian investitures of Ardashir I and Šāpūr I; it is, in essence, the most symbolically charged location in the Iranian monumental landscape. For Bahrām II to carve his battle scenes here is to assert both continuity and competition: he places his deeds alongside the foundational moments of the Sasanian dynasty and the ancestral authority of the Achaemenids. Yet he does so through a different representational mode. Rather than divine investiture, we see collective military action; rather than a solitary king before the gods, we see the king embedded within the martial elite. Bahrām invokes the legacy of kingship but tailors its visual grammar to address the conditions of his own reign.

This relief therefore functions as political argument: that Bahrām II is the victorious centre of a loyal aristocracy; that his kingship is proven through action rather than merely sanctioned by divinity; and that the Sasanian order – under pressure both internally and externally – remains unified under his command. Even in its damaged state, the relief reveals a sophisticated ideological shift within Sasanian royal art: the monarchy’s authority is presented not only as divinely conferred but as socially affirmed through the visible cooperation of the nobles who ride beneath their king.