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5.4 THE GREAT WALL OF GORGĀN.
  • 5.4 THE GREAT WALL OF GORGĀN.

    I have mentioned the Great Wall of Gorgān repeatedly in previous posts, but deliberately I have withheld any further comment on the subject because I thought that it deserved to be explained and explored in length and not in a passing commentary. Located in what is today Golestān Province in northern Iran, it is the second longest continuous wall in the Late Ancient world after the Great Wall of China, and it extended along 195 km from the westernmost slopes of the Ālādāgh Range (which is itself a western offshoot of the larger Koppeh Dagh Range that separates the Iranian Plateau to the South from the Turanian Basin to the north) along the valley of the Gorgān River, until reaching the shore of the Caspian Sea. The wall itself was 6-10 m wide, with over 30 fortresses at intervals of between 10 and 50 km, and with a substantial moat than ran parallel to the wall on its northern side and was filled with water of the Gorgān River. A substantial part to the west appears to be buried under marine sediments under the Caspian Sea (it is supposed that the water level of the Caspian was lower back in Sasanian times, as something similar has been noticed at the Darband Wall). It could even be linked up undersea with the similar Tammīšeh Wall, another linear barrier of similar design and built with the same type of bricks built to its west, closing the Caspian lowlands as a north-south barrier, from the Caspian shore to the Ālborz Mountains.

    Aerial_Caspian_Alborz.jpg

    Satellite view of the southern Caspian Sea Shore, looking west. The widening green plain in the lower right corner is the Gorgān Plain, and the mountain chain in the center of the picture is the Ālborz Range, which separates the lowlands of the Caspian Sea from the Iranian Plateau to the south (left in the picture).

    Nowadays, practically nothing remains of it at ground level, as most of the wall was made with fired bricks that were systematically looted by the local population across the centuries. The wall also runs through fertile agricultural flatlands, and many sections have been tilled over repeatedly over the centuries. But despite all these factors, it is still visible by the naked eye in the landscape, as the limits of land plots tend to follow its course, and the massive moat in front of it has not been filled in most places. Its trace becomes even more obvious and visible from the air and on satellite images, where it forms a very visible feature of the landscape. In Iranian lore, it has usually been referred to as “Alexander’s Wall”, as the Macedonian conqueror was described as a wall builder in the Qur’an and the Šāh-nāma, and also (less often) as “Anuširwān’s Wall” (after the Sasanian king Xusrō I) or “Pērōz’s Wall”, while the local Turkmen population called it “The Red Snake” (Qizil Alan, due to the red color of its fired bricks). It was abandoned sometime during the first half of the VII c. CE, as the Sasanian Empire became embroiled in its last great war against the Romans which was followed by its disintegration and the Muslim conquest soon thereafter.

    The valley of the Gorgān River is (as I have said before) a fertile, well-watered and easy to cultivate area, and so it has been inhabited by agriculturalists since the Neolithic. Historically, it has been part that the region known by Classical geographers as Hyrcania, which also included the southern shore of the Caspian Sea to an undetermined limit to the west. It formed a satrapy under the Achaemenids, with its capital at Zadrakarta (located at the site called Qal’eh-ye Ḵandān or perhaps at the modern city of Gorgān. Confusingly, the Sasanian city of Gorgān does not coincide with the modern city of the same name (which was known as Astarābād before the mid-XX c.) but corresponds either to the modern town of Gonbad-e Kāvūs, located directly by the Gorgān River, or to the nearby Sasanian ruins at the site known as Dašt Qal’eh.

    Properly speaking, the Gorgān Plain is the name of the flat land that stretches from the southern bank of the Gorgān River to the foothills of the Ālborz Mountains. The flat land continues across the Gorgān River, but it is usually called Gorgān Steppe here, as far as the southern bank of the Ātrak River, that runs roughly parallel to the Gorgān River to its south and in this part of the country acts as the border limit between the Islamic Republic of Iran and the Republic of Turkmenistan. North of the Ātrak, the steppe becomes dryer until it turns into the Karakum Desert all the way to the lower course of the Āmu Daryā and the Ustyurt Plateau to the north. The soil of the Gorgān Plain and Steppe is formed by fine loess deposited there after the glaciations of the Pleistocene, and is very prone to erosion; due to this all the rivers have ended up excavating relatively deep riverbeds through it, non-paved and human pathways usually end up becoming trenches (which has eased greatly the task for archaeologists and researchers when trying to reconstruct the ancient settlement patterns of this area).

    Gorgan_climates.jpg

    The different climate and settlement areas in the Gorgān region (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The amount of rain received by the land decreases sharply following a south-north gradient, with the Gorgān River roughly being the limit between the lands where sedentary agriculturalists are attested, while settlement in the steppe to the north of the river has been more sporadic and dictated by climate changes and political circumstances. In the Sasanian era, the Caspian Sea underwent a regression event (known as the Derbent or Darband Regression) and its level was quite lower than it is today; this marked probably its lowest level between the two maximum reached around 500 BCE and the XIV-XV c. CE. Due to this, the western part of the steppe, closer to the Caspian seashore, displays several saline flatlands where only vegetation adapted to salt-ridden soils can grow, and where agriculture is not possible. The movements of the Caspian seashore also have left other marks on the landscape, like sand dunes and small cliffs where the ancient seashore used to be. Apart from the main south-north rain gradient, there is also an east-west gradient, with the eastern part of the Gorgān Steppe receiving more rainwater than the western part.

    In 2007, Iranian and British archaeologists began the Gorgān Wall Survey (GWS), on which our current state of knowledge of the Great Wall of Gorgān and its environment rests. Previously, the Iranian archaeologist Mohammad Kiani had conducted an important field research which included the drawing of an excellent and very accurate set of maps of the area, but GWS employed satellite images, mainly from the CORONA satellite system taken in the 1960s and that were declassified in the 2000s as well as other satellite systems, and which offered excellent aerial pictures of very great resolution before the great changes to the landscape suffered since then by the increases in population density, the extension of irrigation networks and the deployment of heavy machinery for agrarian improvements. The results of the GWS were later published in a book, Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh, and published by Oxbow Books. Most of the information and maps that displayed in this chapter come from this book.

    The results of the survey show that the settlement north of the Gorgān River peaked in the Late Iron Age (ending with the Achaemenid era) and concentrated (as was to be expected) on the eastern part, which receives more rainfall. Archaeologists though are unsure if these settlements should be ascribed to active colonizing policies encouraged by the Median and Achaemenid Empires or to spontaneous settlement of nomadic populations, a pattern well attested historically in Iran and the Middle East. Settlement also peaked on the western part of the steppe, but at a lower density, and thanks to the building of two large irrigation canals that drew water from the Gorgān River. The river itself has also shifted course repeatedly during historical times in its lower course, as this is a seismically active area, and several of these ancient riverbeds were identified during the survey.

    Satellite_image_Gorgan.jpg

    Another satellite image, with the position of the modern city of Gonbad-e-Kāvūs on the Gorgān River. The Alborz Mountains merge to its southeast with the Ālādāgh Range that then runs on a southeast course forming the northern limit of Khorasan. The Koppeh Dagh Range runs parallel to the Ālādāgh Range to its north, and the upper valley of the Ātrak River separates both mountain chains. The region to the north of Gorgān and to the west of these mountains is Dihistān.

    Gorgān and the steppe region immediately north to it (Dihistān) were the home of the Aparni tribe of the Saka tribal confederation, a group of which eventually moved south crossing the Alborz Range and settling in the Seleucid satrapy of Parthia in the III c. CE under the leadership of Aršak. The first Arsacid capital, know to archaeologist as Old Nisa (ancient Mithradatkert) was located to the east of the Gorgān Steppe, on the foothills of the Koppeh Dagh (today in southern Turkmenistan, very near the Iranian border), and some modern scholars have related the depopulation of the steppe north of the Gorgān River to the displacement of the Arsacid capital to Hekatompylos (its remains are located at Šāhr-e Qūmes to the west of Dāmḡān) in Parthia proper further to the south in the Iranian Plateau.

    But the survey has revealed that at the time of the construction of the wall, the steppe north of the Gorgān River was mostly uninhabited or very scarcely settled, despite the finding of administrative bullae and the writings of X c. CE Islamic geographers that attest to the existence of Sasanian/Iranian settlements in Dihistān, the survey has failed to locate substantial traces of them between the Gorgān and Ātrak rivers during the V-VI c. CE. Thus, even if the Sasanian kings claimed their rule over territories located to the north of the Gorgān River, the lands cultivated by sedentary agriculturalists ended at this river, that acted at the time as a sort of border between the sedentary and nomadic worlds. There were also two other important factors that probably influenced the decision to have it built in this location: this is the pace the place where the Ālādāgh Mountains are closer to the Caspian Sea, and where the Gorgān River helped with the building process and also offered an easy way to supply the garrison of the wall with water.

    During the survey, the archaeologists discovered that the trace of the wall was mainly influenced by hydraulic considerations, i.e. that the wide moat (actually a proper canal) that ran in front of the wall kept enough of a gradient to channel the water to the Caspian in a controlled way. In this, the Great Wall of Gorgān actually resembles more in its conception the linear water defenses of Mesopotamia (like the “Ditch of Šābuhr” built by Šābuhr II to protect Āsūrestān against A’rab raids on the western bank of the Euphrates) than to other linear barriers like the Darband Wall, the Wall of Hadrian or the Great Wall of China. The trace of the wall was thus determined by the trace of the canal/moat/ditch in front of it, and three connecting canals were built carrying water from the upper course of the Gorgān River to feed it. these canals had to cross river valleys in some cases (of the tributaries of the Gorgān River in its upper course), so aqueducts had to be built to keep an optimum hydraulic gradient. The survey determined that the eastern end of the wall was prolonged 15 km into the Ālādāgh Mountains, and ends in a heavily wooded region, against a steep rock cliff, atop of which the remains of a Sasanian building (probably a fort) were detected. In this part of its trace, the terrain is too steep for a moat, so the wall actually runs south of the Gorgān River, that acts as a natural moat in front of it.

    Before entering the plain, the wall crosses over the Gorgān River and then continues its trace all the way to the Caspian seashore to the north of the river. Nowadays, the lower course of the Gorgān River deviates to the southwest after passing the town of Gonbad-e Kāvūs, but in Sasanian times the riverbed followed closely the trace of the wall, quite further north. In the 1930s, the American geologist Lester Thompson noted that along the entire trace of the wall across the plain, the moat formed a continuous ditch of 8-9 m. wide and 2 m. deep. The land displaced in order to dig the moat was used to erect a large linear earthwork that was located directly behind the wall, and to manufacture the fired bricks the made was built with. Due to the lack of wood or stone in the plain, the wall had to be built with bricks, but unlike in Mesopotamia, mudbricks could not be used as they would have lasted only a few years under the winter rains in this environment, so fired bricks were the only alternative. As they had to be produced as near to the building place as possible, thousands of kilns were built (which were located during the survey) along the wall to produce the 100-200 million bricks necessary for the construction of the wall. The canal/moat provided the water necessary and perhaps also allowed for the transportation of supplies for the kilns and the building crews. The result of this is that until the recent massive disruption of the site in the latest decades, the remains of the wall actually resembled three parallel obstacles: the outer embankment, the moat/canal bed, and the inner embankment on which the wall was built. And as a last line of defense, the Gorgān River followed closely the trace of the wall to its south (which became a further ditch after the lower course of the river moved).

    Gorgan paleochannels.jpg

    Map of the Gorgān Plain showing the ancient riverbeds of the Gorgān River and the old irrigation channels dated to the Bronze Era that had been long abandoned when the Wall was built (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The bricks were all produced following exactly the same pattern: square in plan (40x40 cm, approx.) and 7-8.5 cm. high. The fact that the wall was built with fired bricks in a landscape that is otherwise barren of building materials has been the main reason for the poor state of preservation of the wall: for centuries, the local population robbed the bricks for other uses, until only the foundations were left. In the eastern section of the wall, the best-preserved section found by the section contained thirteen courses of bricks, to a total height of 1.47 m. In all the excavated trenches, the wall proved to be five bricks wide (2 m). In the plain, this 2 meters-thick wall was then abutted on its southern side by a large earthwork made with the earth extracted from the moat’s ditch that had not been used for making the bricks of the wall. Obviously, once the wall entered the rocky landscape of the Ālādāgh, where there was no moat, this earthwork behind the wall is also absent. The collapse of this earthworks northwards as the wall was robbed from its bricks is what has allowed the lower courses of bricks in the lower parts of the wall to survive.

    Due to this robbing out process, archaeologists have no way of knowing for sure how tall the wall might have been, although they consider that it may have been quite similar in this respect to the (better preserved) Tammīšeh Wall further west. All sections of the wall (even in the Ālādāgh Mountains) were built using the same type of fired brick, and with no bonding other than mud. Archaeologists also have no clue about how the parapet of the wall might have looked like, or even if it existed at all. In the plain section, where there is the earthwork behind the wall, archaeologists have suggested that this earthwork could have been paved on its top with fired bricks and acted as a communications road behind the wall, either at the same height of the parapet, or slightly under it. That would explain the obvious absence of a road along the wall on its southern sider, as it was common in the Roman border walls, and as it would have been necessary in order to allow the garrisons to displace themselves quickly to any spot under menace. Due to the light loess soil in the area, even if such a road had been unpaved, it would have quickly become a ditch and it would have left visible traces in the landscape.

    Eastern_Gorgan_Wall.jpg

    Easternmost track of the Gorgān Wall, showing how it changed course from being north to south of the Gorgān River (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    East of the Pīš Kamar Rocks, where the wall leaves the plain, the earth bank at the bank of the wall disappears, even though there is still a dry moat in front of it, which also disappears in front of it. Archaeologists think that in this part of the wall, the top of the wall must have been three or four bricks wide at the top (1.20-1.60 m), far too narrow to allow for a parapet or a walkway, and think that some sort of wooden scaffolding behind the wall might have been a possibility. And there is still a further possibility to be considered: that the wall lacked indeed any parapet or walkway and that it acted just as a demarcation line. In this respect, it is worth nothing that the survey unable to elucidate if there were interval towers along the wall. CORONA satellite images from the 1960s seem to show small mounds adjacent to the wall, near Fort 8, but these remains are still unexcavated. Archaeologists though warn that towers, especially if they were built on an elevated earthwork base, could have been robbed out of bricks all the way to their foundations, which would make them difficult to detect. Only one interval tower was located by the archaeologist J. Nokandeh, and the survey was able to locate another one later at the Tammīšeh Wall.

    The conclusion of the members of the survey was that the wall had not been designed to be an insurmountable obstacle in itself, but that its purpose was to bring small-scale raiding to a halt and to turn any large-scale attacks into dangerous and difficult enterprises. Given that any attackers from the north would have been a cavalry army, and possibly nomads (although this conclusion of the surveyors does not really apply to the Hephthalites, who were far from being “real” nomads), even if they managed to climb the wall, they could not bring their horses with them, and any attack that would have wanted to breach the wall would have needed the use of siege machines like rams, difficult to use given the wide and deep moat and the fact that the wall was well cushioned by the earth mound on its back. Mining would also have been easily detected by the defenders in the flat and bare landscape of the steppe, and the nature of the loess soil would have made the mining in itself quite risky. In short, breaching the wall would have needed the attack of a large army, with the establishment of large-scale siege operations, that conceivably would have given the Sasanian defenders time to react and prepare countermeasures.

    But rather than simply its design or construction, the real interest of the Gorgān Plain Survey lies in the fact that it has shed new light onto the organization and numbers of the Sasanian army of the V c. CE, and as a consequence, on the very nature of the Sasanian state itself. Over thirty forts separated about 5-6 km from each other, have been detected along the wall through satellite images, of which Fort 4 was chosen to conduct a more thorough archaeological study.

    Canal_01.jpg

    Canal_02.jpg

    Remains of two of the canals that fed the moat of the Gorgān Wall (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The reason for this choice was the mound of this fort was the best preserved along the wall, probably due to the existence of a small burial ground on its top, which had caused it to be left undisturbed. As a contrast, Forts 28 and 33, which are perfectly visible on the CORONA images, had been completely flattened by the time the survey took place. The forts along the wall in the plain followed a standard plan, of which Fort 4 is a representative example, although not all of them were of the same size.

    Fort 4 was built on a raised earth platform built directly against the Gorgān Wall, that enclosed it to the north, and was surrounded by a moat filled with water, and fed by its own canal that took water from the Gorgān River to the south. It is possible (but not proved) that this moat was connected to the main moat of the Gorgān Wall and so that some (or perhaps all of the forts) acted like an integral part of the whole hydraulic system, helping to keep the water flowing along the main moat. It follows a rectangular plan with a total surface inside the walls of 5.50 ha. On the west, south and west sides it was surrounded by a defensive wall built of mudbricks as the Gorgān Wall and provided with projecting towers that projected 4.50 m in front of the wall, at intervals of 30 m. As with the main wall, it is impossible to know with any degree of certainty how tall the towers and the walls of the fort were; the surviving mounds for the towers measure about 3.70 m in height. The walkway of the wall and the top of the towers may have been paved with paved bricks to reduce the damage caused by winter rains, and the same may have been possible in the case of the parapet.

    Inside the walls, there were eight long buildings distributed symmetrically, with two buildings by quadrant, with the long streets between them in the north-south direction being much wider than the narrow passageways in the west-east direction. Each of these buildings measured 116 m of length and was divided into 24 pairs of rooms (one room opening to each long “street” to its east and west) at ground level, for a total of 748 rooms at ground level. Archaeologists are almost sure that these buildings were military barracks, and that they had two floors, as the height of the surviving mudbrick walls is 3.30 m, far too high for a single height military building of this sort. This would mean that the total number of rooms (if they were indeed fully divided, and the upper space did not work as an attic) may have been as high as 1,496.

    Gorgan_canals_02.jpg

    Map of the reconstituted track of the Gorgan Wall (its westernmost end is located in a saltwater lagoon heavily covered by sediments), the Gorgān River and the forts along it, which were numbered by the Survey. The arrows indicate the canals that brought water to the moat from the Gorgān River (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Gorgan_Fort_04.png

    Reconstructed plan of Fort 4, showing the barracks and the canals that crossed the compound and the trenches dug during the excavation (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Not all these rooms may have been soldiers’ lodgments, as there would have been a need for storage space, as well as larger lodgments for officers. This has allowed for some rough estimates about the size of the fort’s garrison, using as a guide the well-studied Late Roman forts of El-Lejjūn (Israel) and Deutz (Divitia) in Germany, as well as the Late Roman or Sasanian fortress at Ain Sinu in northern Iraq. The researchers thought that the garrison must have been around 2,000 men (same as the garrison of El-Lejjūn between 300 and 363 CE, while Fort 4 is actually 120% of the size of the Roman fort). There is also the possibility that all or at least part of the garrison may have consisted of mounted soldiers, as the main north-south “corridors” onto which the rooms open are wide enough (21 m, and 34 m in the case of the central one) to keep horses tethered in front of the barracks, on both sides of the corridor. Incidentally, a number of 2,000 men would be the equivalent of two gunds (regiments), with each half of the fort, divided by the wider central corridor, lodging one gund.

    The German historian Franz Altheim showed in the last century, based on an episode by Tabari concerning events in the 630s CE, that Sasanian soldiers in permanent garrisons lived with their wives and children. But the barracks seem quite cramped for this sort of coexistence, and inside the fort not a single “gendered” object attributable to women or children has been located. Instead, there are quite telling remnants of some sort of dispersed habitat outside the fort, that the surveyors think may have been where the families of the garrison lived in. Although no excavations were conducted there, the reasoning behind this is that Ammianus Marcellinus wrote that in the IV c. that Sasanian soldiers in garrisons were not paid in cash but in kind (only the field army was paid in cash), and that this is possibly also applicable to the Sasanian garrisons of the V-VII c. CE. This is reinforced by the fact that no coins at all have been found in the fort. The lack of cash would have meant that these forts might not have attracted traders and so that commercial settlements that the ones that appeared next to legionary encampments during the High Empire might not have formed in this case. This leaves the families of the soldiers as the only plausible reason for the existence of such settlements.

    Fort_4_canal_02.jpg

    Satellite image of Fort 4; notice the canal that brought water to the fort on its southern corner (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The main “irregularity” in the outlay of the Wall is the inclusion of the hill/mound known as Qīzlar Qal’eh within the defenses. This is a 16-meter-high mound located 200-400 meters north of the wall, and it was a potentially weak point of the defense, as from its top it would have been possible to oversee the troop movements happening behind the wall. Two wall sections protrude from the main wall at this point at a 90º angle and run all the way to Qīzlar Qal’eh, surrounding all its base in a “loop-shaped” extension. Qīzlar Qal’eh itself is part of a much larger site, called Qārniāreq Qal’eh, which extends well to the south and west of the “loop” The occupation of this larger site may have lasted from prehistory to Arsacid or Sasanian times. If it was still in inhabited when the Great Wall of Gorgān was built, then it must have been evacuated, as the “loop” cuts right across the sight. Due to its singularity, it was submitted to a more detailed survey.

    It is possible that Qīzlar Qal’eh may have been the citadel of the larger site. It was itself surrounded by a 2.20-meter-wide mudbrick wall, while the mount was surrounded at the base by the “loop” built with the same fired bricks as the rest of the Gorgān Wall. The moat in front of the main wall also followed the track of the loop, enveloping the Qal’eh on three sides. The awkwardness of the whole design has made archaeologists think that its inclusion within the defensive system was probably an afterthought. The Qal’eh may also have acted as another fort along the Wall, as it is located between Forts 29 and 30, which are separated by a distance of 9.70 km, greater that between any two other forts.

    Fort_4_canal_eroded_02.jpg

    Heavily eroded remains of the canal that brought water to Fort 4 (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Given the results of the Survey, the archaeological team ventured into an estimate of the permanent garrison of the Great Wall of Gorgān. Although they did not explore all the forts, the CORONA images clearly show that although not all the forts were of the same size as Fort 4, all of them had remains of barracks in their interior. The more plausible size of the garrison estimate was 30,000 men (between a minimum of 15,000 and a maximum of 45,000). In order to further test the plausibility of this estimate, they compared it to the well-studied case of Hadrian’s Wall in Britain. If the same density of soldiers per kilometer that existed there were to be applied in the case of Gorgān, we would obtain a result of 26,000 men, which the archaeological team considered close enough to their estimate. In their opinion, the higher number of 30,000 men would be more credible if we account for the fact that the enemy north of the Gorgān Wall was much more dangerous than the one across Hadrian’s Wall.

    The surveyors also noticed that the larger forts were concentrated on the eastern part of the Wall, and they concluded that this was probably due to the fact that terrain is more irregular in this part of its trace, where there are several valleys that the Wall has to cross, and which are potentially weak points. Also, if the Sasanian city of Gorgān was located at Gonbad-e Kāvūs or at the nearby site of Dašt Qal’eh, then the large Forts 10, 12 and 13 would have provided added protection to it.

    The westernmost end of the Wall is the most damaged part, and the visible remains (visually or by CORONA images) disappear some km before reaching the actual coastline. Given that the water level of the Caspian Sea was then lower than in contemporary times, a part of the Wall might be laying submerged under the waters, north of the medieval port of Ābeskūn, which according to the surveyors was probably also in existence during the Sasanian era. There is a possibility that the forts laying under the waters there may also have been of the larger sort, in order to prevent the possibility of a flanking attack that tried to outflank the Wall with boats.

    The Tammīšeh Wall was built further to the west, on a north-south axis from the northern slopes of the Ālborz Mountains to the southern shore of the Caspian Sea. It receives its name from the nearby town of Tammīšeh, located immediately to the east of the Wall. Traveling west to east along the southern Caspian shoreline, the distance between the Alborz Mountains and the shore diminishes, so the location of the Wall is the most convenient one, as in this point the coastal plan has been reduced to a narrow corridor. It is slightly oriented on a N-NW axis because of the presence of a nearby river valley. In 1964, A. H. D. Bivar and G. Fehérvári were able to conduct excavations in this area before modern agricultural machinery was able to have much of an impact, and this helped immensely the survey, because in the 40 years in between the landscape has changed considerably. The fertile land and the humid climate make this one of the most productive agrarian landscapes in Iran, and the place has been heavily disturbed. On top of it, the bricks of the Wall have been robbed even more intensely than at Gorgān, and the humid climate has damaged remains other than brick or stone in a much more extensive way.

    Tammīsheh_Wall_01-02.jpg

    CORONA image of the northern terminal of the Tammīšeh Wall, with the remains of a fort submerged in an area of shallow water in the Caspian Sea (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The extension of the damage is such that archaeologists do not even know how wide it might have been. XIX c. travelers wrote that to them the wall looked like a succession of three ditches, but today the only remnants are a ditch and a land embankment to the east of it, suggesting that (contra intuitively) the ”enemy” side of the Wall was the western one, where the wide ditch might have acted like a moat. The embankment was 5.60-5.10 meters wide at the base, and 1.00-3.00 meters high, and 2.00-2.25 meters wide at the top. The surveyors think (although with a considerable degree of uncertainty) that this earthwork was probably flanked on both sides by walls of fired brick to protect it from erosion (given the rainy climate), and that it acted as a foundation for the Wall proper, which would have been built on top of it. This relies of the results from Bivar and Fehérvári’s 1964 dig: by chance, they found at the southern end of the Tammīšeh Wall the remains of a brick wall and a projecting tower of semi-elliptical plan built on top of the embankment. Due to the lack of remains elsewhere, this is the only real inkling at what the actual wall could have been like in Sasanian times.

    Some more guesses can be made from comparisons with other Sasanian defensive walls. At the Darband wall (made of stone), the interval between the towers is of ca. 3.00-4.00 km. At the Ghilghilchay Wall (which is 50 km long in total, and made of mudbrick), the projecting towers are placed at variable 29-49 m intervals, with smaller projecting semi-circular protrusions that acted as buttresses located every 7.00-7.30 m; the wall was 4.10 m thick and the buttresses projected 5.20 m from its faces, on both sides. This can also serve as a guide for the Gorgān Wall, where few projecting towers have been found too.

    The Tammīšeh Wall was built with fired bricks remarkably similar to the ones used in the Gorgān Wall (only slightly smaller, 38x38 cm instead of 40x40 cm), and actually these bricks are identical to the ones employed in the westernmost parts of the Gorgān wall. This suggests that both walls were built at the same time, and that probably the same teams that worked at the Tammīšeh Wall worked also in the western part of the Gorgān Wall. The construction of the Tammīšeh Wall was not uniform; in its southern part the wall climbs up a deep slope when it meets the Ālborz Mountains for a while before reaching its end. Here, building the earthwork as a foundation would not have been practical, but the moat was remained in front of the wall. When the Wall ends, it is followed by an earth bank that the surveyors believe may have been the aqueduct that fed the moat with water The survey team thought that as for the height of the wall, the earthwork at its base would have been 2.80 meters high at the very least and 4.00 m high maximum. As for the possible height of the upper wall, that is not possible to ascertain in situ due to the systematic robbing of its bricks. The only guess that can be made is again through comparison with other Sasanian walls, or through the accounts of XIX c. travelers or earlier Islamic accounts.

    Still today, the parts still standing of the Darband Wall reach a height of 6 meters. In a report from 1580, the two parallel walls at Darband that go from the city to the sea would have been still 9 feet thick and 28-30 feet tall (i.e. 9.00 meters). Another report from 1770 stated that the walls still stood to a height of 9 meters. Another report of the XIX c. gives a height of 8-9.00 meters. This seems to be in agreement with the volume of the piles of rubble detected by Russian archaeologists under the Caspian Sea in the submerged part of the Darband wall. The current wall at Darband was built in the VI c. CE to replace an earlier one built of mudbrick between 439 and 450 CE, and which according to the descriptions of the ancients sources had a width of 8.00 m and a height of up to 16.00 m. The better-preserved parts of the Ghilghilchay Wall stand today to a height of 6.00-7.00 m. As an additional comparison, the earthen walls built in China during the IV c. CE survive to a height of 18 m. To the archaeologists of the GWS, it seems unlikely that the Gorgān Wall, built without foundations and without lime mortar, may have been higher than the Darband Wall, but the Tammīšeh Wall may have been higher.

    Then there is the added matter of the submerged parts of both walls, and the possibility that they may have been joined back in the day of their construction due to the lower water level of the Caspian Sea. Underwater research under the Caspian in this area was complicated due to the murkiness of the water, but archaeologists were able to confirm the presence of a submerged fort under shallow waters where the Tammīšeh Wall reaches the current coastline, and that this Wall continues 700 meters following its same N-NW axis under the sea.

    Old_house_Sarkālateh.jpg

    Old house at the village of Sarkālateh whose foundations have been built with bricks from the Tammīšeh Wall (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    But there was less luck in the case of the Gorgān Wall. Nowadays, traces of the Wall disappear in what is now a shallow water lagoon, and the in area where it supposedly should have entered the Caspian Sea the bottom of the sea is completely silted up by sediments of the Gorgān River, which anciently used to meet the Caspian a bit to the south from here. According to a XIX c. traveler, he could observe that the wall ran to the south along the coast to the mouth of the Qarah Sū stream, which is located southern than the current mouth of the Gorgān River, but the survey was unable to verify these claims. From the mouth of the Qarah Sū current to the current end of the Tammīšeh Wall there is only a distance of 2.4 km, but the fact that the underwater survey detected that said Wall is prolonged 700 m to the N-NW under the current water level makes any possibility of both walls joining according to this XIX c. report quite implausible.

    Other than the submerged fort at the Caspian shore, only another fort has been detected along the Tammīšeh Wall, at its southern terminal, where the Wall starts its climb of the steep slopes of the Ālborz Mountains. This is the Bānsarān Fort (Qal’eh-ye Bānsarān). It is actually located 500-700 meters east of the Wall, and the archaeological team though this was probably done so that its garrison would be better positioned to intercept any attempt at outflanking the Wall through the mountains. At this point, the surveyors also noted that the town of Tammīšeh itself was known as a strongly fortified town in the early Islamic era, and is already attested by Ṭabarī to have been in existence in 650-651 CE, and so that in Sasanian times it may also have had a strong garrison.

    Bānsarān Fort is somewhat shrouded in legend. According to Ferdowsī, the legendary King Fāridūn resided here, and the same tale is repeated by Ibn Isfandīyār. It covers a surface of 5 ha. and it was built on a distinct raised platform. It was surrounded by a defensive wall built exactly like the main Tammīšeh Wall. The excavations inside the precinct though provided a different result than at Fort 4. Mudbricks were of no use here due to the rainy climate, so probably wood was the main construction material. Many ceramic tiles were also found scattered around the site, which perhaps formed the roofs of the buildings. Also, at the center of the compound the excavators found the remains of a large three-aisle building with a monumental façade, all built in fired brick. They were unsure about its use or chronology; it could even be an early Islamic mosque; the bricks were of a different, smaller size than the bricks used to build the Wall, so archaeologists suspect that this building was built during a later stage. Given the amount of rubble generated by its collapse, the building might have been of substantial height, and certainly the higher one within the fort.

    Kiln_02.jpg

    Remains of one of the excavated kilns that were used to make the fired bricks for the Gorgān Wall (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    As for garrison estimates, the surveying team gave an amount of 2,000 men at Bāndirān Fort and 500 men at the submerged fort. There may also have been more forts further north (under water now) and as I wrote above, it is quite possible that the town of Tammīšeh was also garrisoned, with its prominent citadel. As we will see later in more detail, the plan of the old town strongly resembles that of one of the “campaign bases” at the Gorgān Plain: rectangular with a citadel on a corner, like the great encampment of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh. If this was indeed its origins, then in Sasanian times, with a surface of ca. 20 ha. (about half of that of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh) could have quartered up to 5,000 cavalrymen.

    There are also some mountain refuges and forts scattered around the mountains to the south of the end of the Tammīšeh Wall (the refuges being clearly intended as a hiding for the civilian population in troubled times), but their chronology is unclear; it is possible that all of them were built during the early Islamic era.
     
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    5.5 SASANIAN CAMPAIGN BASES IN THE GORGĀN PLAIN.
  • 5.5 SASANIAN CAMPAIGN BASES IN THE GORGĀN PLAIN.


    Other than the forts that lodged the permanent garrisons of the Gorgān and Tammīšeh Walls, the other remarkable archaeological feature of the survey was the location and exploration of the so-called “Sasanian campaign bases” scattered around the plain, almost all of them behind the protection of the Walls. Before the GWS, Sasanian campaign bases were already known from surveys and excavations at the Merv Oasis (see my second thread, “The First Golden Era of Sasanian Iran”), and ancient written sources also confirm that Sasanian armies erected field fortifications. Ełišē wrote that a Sasanian general fortified his camp “like a city”, with ditches, ramparts, and a wooden palisade. That building marching camps was an established custom of the Sasanian military is also confirmed by Procopius, Łazar P’arpec’i, Sebeos, George of Pisidia and Vegetius. And this has also been confirmed archaeologically by the siege camps located at Dura Europos and Hatra, dated to the reigns of Šābuhr I and Ardaxšīr I, respectively.

    Gorgan_Wall_01.jpg

    Complete map of the forts and campaign bases located by the Gorgān Wall Survey (GWS), classified by typology and size. Also notice the ancient riverbed of the Gorgān River on its lower course, located considerably more to the north than the current one (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The survey of these bases though turned to be a daunting task. As they are located in the Gorgān Plain south of the river of the same name, which has been a productive agricultural land for centuries, they are much more damaged than the forts along the Wall, and the last decades, with the introduction of heavy agricultural machinery and the rapid expansion of the city of Gonbad-e Kāvūs, have brought wholesale destruction to the sites. Because of this, the members of the GWS made extensive use of the plans and aerial photographs taken by the Iranian archaeologist M. Kiani in his studies decades ago, as well as CORONA satellite images. In his survey, Kiani provided plans of six rectangular (almost square in some cases) compounds located behind the Wall:
    • Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, with a citadel, and surveyed by the GWS (QK in the map above).
    • Qal’eh Gūg A, with a citadel, and surveyed by the GWS (QGa in the map above).
    • Gabrī Qal’eh, with a citadel, and surveyed by the GWS (GQ in the map above).
    • Qal’eh-ye Yasāqī, with a citadel, and surveyed by the GWS (QY in the map above).
    • Qal’eh-ye Daland, without a citadel, and surveyed by the GWS (QD in the map above).
    • Qal’eh-ye Qabrestān, without a citadel, and not surveyed by the GWS (QQ in the map above).
    He also provided plans and measurements for a seventh compound, Qal’eh-ye Masanjīḡ, but the members of the GWS were unable to locate it. All these compounds are much larger than the forts placed along the wall. Kiani provided the following dimensional data (based on aerial photographs, so with a considerable margin for error):

    Qaleh_Kharabeh_01_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh. On the upper part of the image, the Gorgān Wall and Fort 29 (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).
    • Qal’eh Ḵarābeh: 750x750 m (56 ha).
    • Gabrī Qal’eh: 650x650 m (42 ha).
    • Qal’eh-ye Daland: 33 ha or 55 ha.
    • Qal’eh Gūg A: 500x500 m (25 ha).
    • Qal’eh-ye Yasāqī: 500x500 m (25 ha).
    • Qal’eh-ye Qabrestān: 105x100 m
    • Qal’eh-ye Masanjīḡ: 96.95x86.95 m.
    • Qal’eh-ye Ḥājīlar: 220x200 m (located north of the Wall).
    Gabri_Qaleh_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Gabrī Qal’eh, meaning “The Fortress of the Zoroastrians” in Farsi (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Because they did not trust the measurements by Kiani over aerial photographs, the team of the GWA took its own measurements:
    • Qal’eh Ḵarābeh: 640x660 m (ca. 42 ha, measured in situ by the archaeologists of GWS).
    The other qal’ehs were not measured in situ, bit on CORONA satellite images (with an error margin of ±20 m).
    • Gabrī Qal’eh: ca. 585x585 m (ca. 34 ha of interior space, 35 ha with the citadel).
    • Qal’eh-ye Daland: ca. 655x655 m (ca. 43 ha interior space).
    • Qal’eh Gūg A: ca. 665x665 m (ca. 44 ha interior space, ca. 45 ha with the citadel).
    • Qal’eh-ye Yasāqī: ca. 395x395 m (ca. 16 ha interior space, ca. 19 ha with the massive citadel).
    • Qal’eh-ye Ḥājīlar: 230x230 m (ca. 5 ha).
    • Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad (not included in Kiani’s list): ca. 125 ha.
    Qaleh-ye_Daland_02_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh-ye Daland (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    The members of the survey detected in the CORONA images a rectangular enclosure of ca. 60x65 m (excluding the defenses), surrounded by a moat ca. 30 m wide, east of the town of Gonbad-e Kāvūs and now largely destroyed by human activity that is located in the right place for Kiani’s Qal’eh-ye Qabrestān.

    Qaleh-ye_Qabrestan_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh-ye Qabrestān, meaning “The Fortress at the Graveyard” in Farsi (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    According to these measurements, the four largest rectangular compounds exceed the average Gorgān Wall fort by a factor of tenfold, and in some cases even more than tenfold. The sites of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, Gabrī Qal’eh, Qal’eh Gūg A and Qal’eh-ye Daland are remarkably similar in size and plan, although the latter is not provided citadel like the previous three ones. All the compounds are devoid of traces of monumental architecture in their interior or ordinary dwellings. Because of this, from the start the members of the survey suspected that these were campaign bases rather than permanent forts. Qal’eh-ye Ḥājīlar though is similar in size to Fort 4 and is filled with the remains of ruined structures within.

    The members of the survey decided to concentrate their efforts in excavation Qal’eh Ḵarābeh because it is the best preserved of them. This is probably due to the fact that it is located in a relatively arid part of the plain, and thus it had been less damaged by agriculture, and CORONA images showed its layout with remarkable clarity. The fort is almost square in size (see above for measures) and appears to be symmetrically divided in four quadrants by two earth banks that intersect at a 90º angle at the center of the compound and run to the middle of each side. The magnetometer survey showed that the eastern half of the compound seems to have been anciently occupied by regular rows of rectangular enclosures, while the western half appeared to be devoid of any array of particular features.

    The northwestern corner of the compound was occupied by a citadel whose remains still offered commanding views over the Gorgān Plain at the time the survey took place. It had a rectangular plan that measured 104.50 m (E-W axis) x 99.00 m (N-S axis) and at the time of the survey the remains of the citadel still reached a height of 7.40 m. The surveyors wrote that after a millennium of erosion and the recent destruction caused by, motor vehicles and agricultural machinery, the defenses of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh were still “imposing”.

    The compound was surrounded by a 70 meters wide moat (yes, seventy meters wide), and would probably have been filled with water back when it was built. This is by no way uncommon in these compounds at Gorgān: the moat of Gabrī Qal’eh is 80 meters wide and the one at the remains of the Sasanian city of Dašt Qal’eh is 51-60 meters wide. A passage by Polybius describing the city of Sirynx, capital of Hyrcania that was besieged by Antiochus III in 209 CE, suggests that such wide moats were already a feature in this region in Hellenistic times. According to Polybius, the city of Sirynx was surrounded by three concentric moats of 14.50 meters wide each, separated by wooden palisades and located in front of the main defensive wall.

    The soil extracted from the digging of the moat at Qal’eh Ḵarābeh was used to erect a small counterscarp in front of the moat and to make the thousands of mudbricks necessary to build the wall around the compound. It was fed by a canal that took water from the Gorgān River. Although costly, this system would have provided the builders with the huge amounts of waters necessary to produce the mudbricks, and later it would also supply the garrison and its horses and pack animals with water. It is also possible that these large canals and moats also conveyed status to enemies and visitors alike.

    Qal’eh Ḵarābeh had imposing gateways flanked by large projecting towers on its four sides. As for the original height of the walls and towers, the members of the survey found it difficult to establish. At Qal’eh Gabrī near Varāmīn in northern Iran (not to be confused with Gabrī Qal’eh in Gorgān), a compound that is over three times the size of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh and may be dated to the late Arsacid era, the towers are preserved to a height of 15 meters, and the walls to a height of 13 meters. The walls of the much smaller Göbekli fort at Merv (built with 42x42x12 cm bricks, similar to the ones used in Gorgān) survive to a height of ca. 13 meters. At Chilburj (also in Merv), there is a compound also of rectangular shape (200x230-260 m) whose walls survive to a height of 13-15 meters, whilst a reconstruction suggests an original height of ca. 16-17 meters for walls and ca. 19-20 meters for towers. This last compound is also built with mudbricks of similar shape and size to those used at Gorgān and dated also to the V c. CE, and both walls and towers display arrow slits of 1.10-1.15x0.10 m. in size. But in contrast, at the 2.75 ha fort of Köne Kišman at Merv, the walls were only 7 m high, including the merlons.

    Along each of the west and north sides of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh (the best-preserved ones) there were 20 towers, included the ones that flanked the central gates. No projecting towers survived at the citadel, although the excavating team believed that they might have existed, but that they were destroyed by ploughing at the top at the citadel. The walls of the citadel were 4.40 meters thick, but the issue of the original height of the citadel remained unresolved.

    The surveying team also came to the conclusion that the two earth banks that divide the compound into four quadrants might have been raised canals originally and that they were probably fed by water from the moat. The team though was unable to ascertain which through which of the gates did the water entry the compound, and if it flowed (i.e. if there was also another one of the gates through which it left the compound). It is also possible that in any case they only carried water during the construction of the compound, and that they were later blocked.

    The archaeological team excavated the western part of the compound where the magnetometer survey had detected the rows of regular enclosures, and the dig confirmed what they had already guessed, that they were probably arranged plots to pitch tents. Each plot is separated from its neighbors by a low enclosure of mudbrick and a shallow ditch to keep the floor of the tent dry in case of rain (both practices are still customary among Central Asian nomads). During the siege of Antioch in 540 CE, the whole Sasanian army is reported by Procopius to have pitched their tents at intervals before completing their camp, facing the Orontes River. This report is confirmed by George of Pisidia, who also informed about the Sasanian army employing tents when it was in campaign during the VII c. CE.

    Qaleh_Gug_A_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh Gūg A (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Qaleh-ye_Yasaqi_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh-ye Yasāqī (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).


    A particular aspect of this excavation was the complete absence of material findings, no traces of broken objects, ashes, or rubbish. In contrast to this, the archaeologists opened another trench perpendicular to one of the raised canals that cross the compound and found that the canal had been flanked on both sides by low mudbrick buildings on which material remains (broken pottery, animal and fish bones, ashes, etc.) were found. The surveyors concluded that (like Central Asian nomads still do nowadays) the occupiers of the tents might have been careful to keep their tent sites clean, that they carried around no heavy breakable objects (i.e. pottery) and avoided lighting fires in the tents (which were made of flammable material) and that these low buildings by the canal were intended for these functions: to prepare and cook meals, as repair workshops or maybe even as trading shops (like it has been found in some legionary fortresses). This marked scarcity of permanent structures was indeed a powerful argument against Qal’eh Ḵarābeh being a town.

    The surveyors then addressed the issue of how many men could have been camped in the compound. Roman army tents were usually shared by a contubernium of 8 men, and there is tenuous evidence that groups of 7-8 also existed in the organization of Sasanian infantry. The VI c. CE anonymous treaty Dialogue on Political Science refers to a δεκαδάρχης (dekadárkhous, a “commander of ten”) serving in Pērōz’s army and to a unit of probably 1,000 men commanded by a χιλίαρχος (khilíarkhos, “commander of a thousand”). Scholars are unsure though if δεκαδάρχης was a literal translation of the Latin decurio (decurion, “commander of ten”) in the sense of an NCO officer, or if this was really a post that existed in the Sasanian army.

    The postulated tent enclosures at Qal’eh Ḵarābeh measure about 3x4 m, and Roman army tents (which are well-known from archaeological evidence) measured 3x3 m and in them slept 8 soldiers, plus a little room for equipment. So, it is possible (based on the Roman case) that there were 8-10 soldiers in every tent. Given an estimate of 560 tents in the entire compound, that amounts to 4,480-5,560 men.

    But there is the added problem of the “empty” western half of the compound. If we assume that it was indeed intended to be unoccupied, then the amounts above would have been the total size of the garrison. But if the other half of the compound was also expected to be occupied, then the compound would have been designed for 8,960-11,200 men. To the members of the survey, even this estimate seemed a low one, given the known (or guessed) occupation densities in similar compounds in Antiquity and Late Antiquity. Taking what they considered to be Polybius “low numbers” or cautious modern estimates, a camp of 42 ha size (like Qal’eh Ḵarābeh) would have accommodated a least 19,000 men, while other models would have given twice this figure.

    Archaeologists Stefan Hauser and David Tucker assumed, partially based on Roman parallels, that the occupation density in the Sasanian siege camp at Hatra amounted to ca. 5,000 men/ha, with 46,000 men for the whole enclosure of the camp (184 ha). But, as the members of the GWS team noted, in the case of a Sasanian field army they would be dealing with cavalry, so too high an estimate would be probably unrealistic, although they discarded that the horses would have occupied all the western half of the camp; they thought more probable that either the compound was never at full capacity or that for some reason the enclosures on the western half were disturbed and thus not detected by the magnetometer survey (there is also the possibility that for some reason in this part of the camp no enclosures or drainage ditches were made).

    All in all, given the need to include horses within the compound, as well as pack animals (there are traces that they included camels), then the members of the survey though that 10,000 men as the number of men Qal’eh Ḵarābeh was designed to accommodate was quite a reasonable estimate. There are some traces in the literary sources that Iranian and Sasanian cavalry was indeed organized in “corps” of 10,000 men: this is the total number fielded by Surena at Carrhae and it is also the number of men that the Greek sources of the VI c. CE assign to the elite unit of the royal guard (the “Immortals”), also some scholars doubt the veracity of this data, as it seems like yet another antiquary detail borrowed from Herodotus.

    Qal’eh-ye Daland was not excavated, but it was subjected to a magnetometer survey. Measurements were only taken from the CORONA satellite images. Due to this, the survey team could not obtain hard chronological evidence for the date of construction of this compound, but due to its striking similarity to Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, they were quite certain that they were built at the same time or with little time interval between them. The only difference between both compounds is that Qal’eh-ye Daland lacks a corner citadel. Except for this, the defenses are quite similar to those at Qal’eh Ḵarābeh: there are 20 towers on every side of the compound, it is surrounded by a wide moat, the size is very similar (ca. 43 ha) and the shape of the compound is also strikingly similar, even if Qal’eh-ye Daland tends more towards a perfect square. Due to intensive cultivation though, only part of the northern defenses was accessible to the archaeological team. The magnetometer survey found also traces of enclosures for tents, and the satellite image of the compound also displayed a quadripartite division of the site by what looked like raised canals, similar to Qal’eh Ḵarābeh.

    The compound at Qal’eh Gūg A had been almost obliterated at the time of the survey by human intervention, so the members of the GWS had to resort mostly to the study of CORONA images and the pictures and plans provided by M. Kiani’s research. At the time the survey took place, the site had been almost completely engulfed by the urban growth of the suburbs of Gonbad-e Kāvūs. A sector of the eastern part of the site was still relatively undisturbed, so the researchers concentrated their efforts in there. A cursory excavation yielded the only “hard” evidence” found in any of the compounds for an occupation contemporary to that of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, through the finding of shards of pottery datable to Sasanian times, rather than having to resort to similarities in its overall design. The citadel was not accessible because it had been converted into a raised driveway for driver training at the time of the survey, but it was still extant. It is an irregular quadrangle in plant, with all of its four squares at an irregular angle from the main compound and none of its sides neatly abutting any of its walls.

    Qaleh-ye_Hajilar_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh-ye Ḥājīlar (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Qaleh-ye_Pol_Gonbad_MOD.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad, meaning “The Castle at the Bridge of Gonbad” in Farsi (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad (“The Castle at the Bridge of Gonbad”) is located in the southern skirts of Gonbad-e Kāvūs. With its 125 ha it is one of the largest geometric sites in the Gorgān Plain. It covers the same surface as three bases like Qal’eh Ḵarābeh. It has several traits in common with the other Sasanian campaign bases:
    • The plan shape is close to a rectangle, even if none of its corners is a perfect 90º angle.
    • Much of its interior appears to be devoid of any substantial buildings.
    • It is protected by substantial earth ramparts, which were a probably made of decayed mudbrick.
    • The wall was flanked by regularly placed projecting towers back in the day.
    Other characteristics though set it apart from the rest:
    • The interval between the towers projecting from the wall is quite shorter here than in other compounds: ca. 22-23 m.
    • It covers about three times the area of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh or Qal’eh Daland.
    Traces of a ca. 30 meters wide moat surround the site. Based on satellite images, the archaeologists concluded that the moat was fed with water from the nearby Chāī-Chāī River, which flows near to its northern corner. Although there were no traces of raised canals in the inside of the compound, the surveying team concluded that they could have been easily supplied with water from this nearby water current. They also found no evidence that could suggest that this compound was originally divided into halves or quarters. There are also no traces of a citadel on its eastern, southern, or western corners, and the northern corner is too heavily disturbed by human activity to reach any conclusion.

    The survey also detected that the outer wall contained remains of fired bricks. Assuming that the chronology of Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad is Sasanian, then the cluster of bases and forts near Gonbad-e Kāvūs (Qal’eh Gūg A, Qal’eh-ye Qabrestān and Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad) suggested to the researchers that this city may have been an important urban center at that time.

    South of the Gorgān Wall, where the plain has always been cultivated, many of the sites had been disturbed by human activity before the survey, but north of the Wall, where the plain turns into semi-arid steppe, most sites have remained undisturbed until recent times, due to the extension of artificial irrigation.

    Of the sites located north of the Wall, the members of the GWS qualified Tōḵmaq Tappeh as the “most impressive” one. According to satellite images, it has a square shape of 465x465 m, a size that resembles strikingly that of the Sasanian campaign bases south of the Wall like Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, Gabrī Qal’eh, Qal’eh Gūg A and Qal’eh-ye Daland. So, the surveyors though that this may have possibly been a Sasanian campaign base located north of the Wall. The problem with this though was that the members of the GWS did not undertake any excavations there, so this conclusion is supported only in the similarities in its overall shape and dimensions with the compounds south of the Wall.

    As I have already written, the plan of the old town of Tammīšeh is also strikingly similar to a Sasanian campaign base, so the members of the survey thought that it may have originated as a Sasanian campaign base before becoming a civilian settlement.

    Another point that the researchers touched was the issue of the garrison sizes of the Sasanian campaign bases at Gorgān. But first of all, it must be said (I think that the researchers don’t make this point clear enough) that there is no hard evidence that the bases were ever fully occupied all of them, or even that all of them were strictly contemporary. So, the exact term that I would use to address this point is that of “total capacity” of the Sasanian campaign bases at the Gorgān Plain. The researchers reached the conclusion that if the same density of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh were applied to the other four compounds that they were sure were also campaign bases (Qal’eh-ye Daland, Qal’eh Gūg A, Qal’eh Gabrī and Qal’eh-ye Yasāqī), they would have a total capacity combined of 46,000 cavalrymen. So, if the five compounds (counting Qal’eh Ḵarābeh) were occupied at the same time they would have had the capacity of taking in more than 50,000 cavalrymen, which is the usual numbers for the Sasanian field army assumed by modern scholars. If to these numbers we add other sites detected in satellite images but unsurveyed, plus sites north of the Wall like Tōḵmaq Tappeh and the “mega base” of Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad, we might reach total numbers of 100,000 or even 130,000 cavalrymen. In any case, the researchers judged that the capacity of the bases may have been tailored for multiples of 5,000 men, i.e. half a theoretical 10,000-cavalrymen unit, as the written sources seem to hint at.

    Qal’eh Ḵarābeh exceeds by much the size of known Late Roman fortresses, which typically occupy a surface of 5 ha or less. According to the members of the GWS, this bears witness to the capacity of the Sasanian Empire to mobilize troops on a scale unparalleled elsewhere in the Middle East or the Mediterranean at that time. Even more remarkable is the fact (stated in written sources like Vegetius and confirmed by archaeology) that the practice of building temporary camps seems to have fallen into oblivion in the Late Roman Empire. So, to the researchers Qal’eh Ḵarābeh represented somewhat of a Sasanian “innovation” (more about this later), for which there is neither an earlier prototype nor a later imitation further west.
     
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    5.6 COMPARISON WITH OTHER CAMPAIGN BASES IN ĒRĀNŠAHR AND CENTRAL ASIA. THE CITY AT DAŠT QAL’EH.
  • 5.6 COMPARISON WITH OTHER CAMPAIGN BASES IN ĒRĀNŠAHR AND CENTRAL ASIA. THE CITY AT DAŠT QAL’EH.


    The Sasanian campaigns (or campaign) that required the building of such bases must have been of exceptional magnitude for the Late Antique world, and they were neither marching camps, erected hastily en route, nor permanent fortresses. The members of the GWS thought they were better described as “semi-permanent campaign bases”. But compounds of the typology of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh were not unique within the Sasanian Empire. An interesting example is the Viranšar fortress in the upper Ātrak River valley, in the Koppeh Dagh Mountains, located directly to the east of Gorgān. This compound displays remarkably similar characteristics to the campaign bases of the Gorgān Plain:
    • It has an almost square plan.
    • It has a prominent corner citadel.
    • It has projecting towers aligned at regular intervals along its walls and those of the citadel.
    Despite all these similarities though, it displays a remarkable difference to Qal’eh Ḵarābeh: it is significantly smaller: with an area of 10.50 ha, it occupies only one fourth of its surface. It protects the upper Ātrak valley, and it is located at the approaches of a major pass across the mountains that separates the valley from the northern steppe. This site was excavated by Italian archaeologists long before the GWS took place, who declared it to have been a campaign base long before it had been recognized as a category of site in archaeology.

    As I wrote in previous posts, the French archaeologist and historian Frantz Grenet also observed that the foundational plans of Boḵārā and Herāt, which date back to the Sasanian era, are also strikingly similar to this typical plan. He compared them to Sasanian šahrestāns, but the archaeologists of the GWS thought that they resembled strikingly the plan of the campaign bases at the Gorgān Plain, and that these bases could have inspired the original builders of these urban centers or that perhaps they started their life as Sasanian campaign bases (the former more possible in the case of Boḵārā, and the latter more possible in the case of Herāt, in my opinion).

    Herat_Old_02_MOD.jpg

    1842 British map of the old town of Herāt, with the citadel on the northern wall. The resemblance the with campaign bases found at Gorgān is striking.

    Herat_Old_01.jpg

    Aerial photograph of the old town of Herat.

    Another important example (also already touched in a previous post) is that of Ultan Qalası in the Mughān Steppe in northwestern Iran, which has been dated by radiocarbon to 420-548 CE. But the most outstanding example is Qal’eh Gabrī, 4 km northeast of Varāmīn in northern Iran (not to be confused with Gabrī Qal’eh in Gorgān; both mean “Fortress of the Zoroastrians” in Farsi), also known as Qal'eh Iraj, in the region of Rayy. The first excavators dated it to the Arsacid period, but more recent teams have questioned this chronology and assign its construction to the Sasanian era. Although it is larger than Qal’eh Ḵarābeh by several orders of magnitude, it displays remarkably similar traits to the former site in Gorgān:
    • It has an almost square plan.
    • It has projecting towers on all sides, with intervals of 34-35 meters between them (similar to Qal’eh-ye Daland and Qal’eh Ḵarābeh).
    • It has also gates located centrally on its sides (on two sides at least).
    • There are no clear traces of permanent buildings in its interior.
    • The German archaeologist Wolfram Kleiss, who was the first one to excavate the site in the 1960s, already suggested that it may have been originally filled with soldiers’ tents.
    Assuming that Qal’eh Gabrī was built under the Sasanians, then its gigantic size (140 ha, 1150x1214 m, 10% larger than Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad) could have accommodated an entire field army. There are also smaller surrounding forts in the vicinity that could have housed additional troops. I will come back later about Qal’eh Gabrī and its purported function in the Sasanian military system.

    Even most importantly, there are also similar examples in Xwārazm, Dihistān and Ṭoḵārestān, that could perhaps help to explain the appearance and diffusion of the concept of these large bases in Iranian Central Asia, east of the boundaries of the Arsacid and Sasanian empires. One of these examples is the compound at Bazar Kala in Xwārazm, which is almost rectangular in plan and occupies an area of 23.50 ha, little more than half the size of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh.

    There is also the Geoktchik Tepe compound in Dihistān (within the boundaries of the modern Republic of Turkmenistan), which has a rectangular plan, occupies an area of 4.50 ha. and also displays tower mounds along its perimeter, probably the remains of old projecting towers. its excavator, the French archaeologist Olivier Lecomte, classified it as a fortified farm dated to the VIII c. CE, but based only on the architecture of the gate (i.e. no pottery analysis and no radiocarbon dating).

    Qaleh_Gabri.png

    Picture of the remains of Qal’eh Gabrī, 4 km northeast of Varāmīn.

    Another example is the Zar-Tepe compound near the ruins of Old Termeḏ in Uzbekistan, near the northern bank of the Amu Darya on the Afghan border. The compound is once more of almost square shape (400x400 m), displays a square corner citadel of 120x120 m and well-preserved semi-circular projecting towers along its perimeter at 40 m intervals. Soviet archaeologist V. A. Zaryalov dated it to Kušān rule, and the interior if the compound is occupied by buildings that suggest civilian use. The members of the GWS suggested that it could have been originally a military base that later became a civilian settlement (like the town of Tammīšeh). There are further similar fortifications in the Kondūz area that have been also dated to Kušān times.

    Geoktchik Tepe.png

    Map showing the location of Geoktchik Tepe in Dihistān.

    Perhaps the most spectacular pre-Sasanian example of a military base in Central Asia does not appear in the results of the Survey, because it was not reported in as paper until a few years later (A Kushan military camp near Bactra, by Étienne de la Vaissière, Philippe Marquis and Julio Bendezu Sarmiento). This base is located at the northeastern edge of the Balḵ Oasis, north of the village of Zadiyan, where a square citadel of ca. 6 ha, (Kafir Qala or Zadiyan Qala) overlooks a plain irrigated by many small channels. Its northern limit is marked by an impressive 4 km long rectilinear wall, quite well preserved and clearly separating the agricultural land from the desert, running along the edge of the alluvial fan of the Balḵāb River. At its eastern end, this wall turns a perfect right angle to the south, running some additional 1.3 km. However, some features differentiate the wall in Zadiyan from the remaining oasis wall, a fact which raised some doubts on the interpretation of the Zadiyan wall as essentially a section of the oasis wall: the Zadiyan wall is much better preserved than the oasis wall. Some parts are still standing to a height of 7 m, while elsewhere the oasis wall is usually barely visible in the landscape. It seems as if the wall was much more powerful, or more recent, or rebuilt, at Zadiyan. It is also perfectly linear while the oasis wall usually followed the variations of the relief, and its eastern end is angular, a feature not seen elsewhere.

    Zadiyan_View_01.jpg

    View of the citadel of Zadiyan.

    However the most striking feature could only be discovered from detailed aerial pictures: the key point of the interpretation was the fact that this well-preserved linear part of the wall, both in the north and in its eastern extension, was centered on the citadel. The two parts of the wall are parallel to the sides of the square citadel and its western end and its eastern angle were symmetrical on each side of an axis running through the citadel, with 2.04 km between each end and the middle. The distance separating Pit Qala from the citadel is also the same, as is the distance from Pit Qala to the western end of the northern wall, creating a perfect square. Nothing could explain these symmetries except for a single defensive project, i.e. the wall, the citadel and Pit Qala were planned together. This deduction was confirmed by several other symmetries. A look at the aerial photographs showed that the numerous channels, field limits and paths surrounding the citadel form a perfect grid around it. Not all of its subdivisions were preserved but the grid was still clearly visible. The citadel stood at the center of a huge modular plan. Immediately around the citadel a square space was left bare of subdivisions. The module of the grid is a small square of ca. 250 x 250 m, which was also the module of the citadel itself. The capacity of rural landscapes to fossilize ancient land demarcations is well known to archaeologists.

    The grid itself was square. It stopped at the Zadiyan wall, not going beyond it. On the eastern side, it stopped not only at the preserved eastern wall, but, to the south of the surviving 1.3 km of that wall, it stopped also along a limit exactly in line with this segment, as if the wall would in the past have extended further to the south. An irrigation canal still ran all along this vanished wall. To the west too, the grid stopped precisely at clear limits, although nothing in the current landscape explained them. The south was more destroyed, but the grid was still visible at the south-east corner. The only notable feature of these southern and western limits is that they were strikingly symmetrical to the northern and eastern wall with respect to the citadel. The only explanation for this grid, totally different from the usually amorphous networks of canals, field limits and paths elsewhere in the countryside, whether close to Zadiyan or farther away in the oasis, was that it was organized according to the citadel which stood at its center but also according to limits drawing a huge square around the citadel. The northern and eastern walls seemed to be remnants of a complete square wall of ca. 4 x 4 km surrounding the citadel on all sides. Only this can explain the fact that every path or channel comes to a sudden end in such a symmetrical way.

    A third symmetry linked the western and eastern sides of the global square: Pit Qala would stand in the very middle of the supposed western wall, 2.04 km south of the western end of the northern wall. Indeed, there was still, in front of it, a small fragment of wall. This north-south wall fragment stood precisely at the limit of the paths and canals and seemed to be a remnant of the missing north-south western wall.

    Zadiyan_Map_Grid.jpg

    Plan showing the grid upon which the complex of Zadiyan was built.

    Thus a huge quadrangular wall, 16.1 km long, of which 5.3 km were still preserved on the northern and eastern sides, together with a small segment at the middle of the western side, once stood at Zadiyan. The wall surrounded a grid, which surrounded a huge citadel. The micro-relief of the site (i.e. the lack of what would have been remains of urban structures) seemed to suggest this had not been an urban site. Moreover the situation of Zadiyan, at the very fringe of the oasis, did not favor the idea of a 1600 ha town.

    However, fields are not usually surrounded by huge walls and protected by a citadel. The military function of the whole complex was quite clear to the surveyors: the citadel had 12 m high walls, while the northern wall was 7 m high and pierced by arrow slits. The situation, overlooking the desert and, further away, the fords across the Āmu Daryā, was also more military than purely agricultural.

    Zadiyan_Map_General.jpg

    Plan showing the location of Zadiyan at the edge of the Balḵ Oasis, midway between the city of Balḵ and the main crossing over the Āmu Daryā at Kampyrtepe.

    The surveyors noted that there was nothing strange in combining agriculture and military features in Antique and Mediaeval Central Asia. A model is close at hand, the Chinese Tuntian military and agricultural colonies created all along the areas conquered by the Chinese from the end of the II c. BCE onwards. The soldiers were supposed to cultivate the land to provide their livelihood at the same time as defending the region and modifying its ethnic landscape. However, if Zadiyan might be a Western example of the same idea, it did not inherit its shape from a supposed Chinese model, since the Tuntian known from archaeology do not have the same plan. Functionally, however, Zadiyan might be a Bactrian Tuntian, or maybe a gigantic gathering camp of the Bactrian army in case of known danger from the north. It was located directly across the direct way from Balḵ to the old main ford on the Āmu Daryā at Kampyrtepe, 20 km downstream from Old Termeḏ, and which is deemed to have been the main ford on this river from the Greco-Bactrian period to the rule of the great Kušān king Kanishka I (r. 127-150 CE).

    Zadiyan stood exactly halfway along the direct road linking Balḵ to Kampyrtepe in Antiquity, the main road to the north. This strategic location implied that Zadiyan was built during the heyday of Kampyrtepe, before the desertion of the town and the shift of the main road to the east in the middle of the II c. CE, but all the archaeological teams that have excavated this vast site have noted the complete absence of remains of Greek pottery in it. Study of the ceramic findings and radiocarbon dating put Zadiyan in the early Kušān period, from the I c. BCE to the I c. CE. The site was reused during Kušāno-Sasanian rule, as radiocarbon dating showed that the extension of the oasis wall to the east of Zadiyan was undertaken in this period. It is even possible that the walls were restored a last time under the Ghaznavids during the XI c. CE.

    All in all the agro-military camp at Zadiyan appears as the final element of the in-depth defense of Kušān Bactria. The northernmost defense was the Iron Gates, then recently rebuilt. Further south comes the heavily fortified crossing of the Āmu Daryā at Kampyrtepe, and then, just overlooking the desert between the river and the Balḵ Oasis, the camp of Zadiyan. These fortifications suggest a difficult relationship between the nascent Kušān empire and the nomadic Kangju confederation to the north. It’s worth noting the gigantic dimensions of this complex: 16 km2, although the authors of the paper did not advance any theories about the origins and practical use of the 250x250 m grid which acted as the basic planning scheme; they only talked about an “agro-military” site, suggesting that it was used to delimited cultivated plots of land, although quite clearly they could not have been individual camps: in that case, the garrison would have been ridiculously small, and there would have been nowhere inside the complex to assemble the Kušān army, other than inside the citadel.

    Atrak_Basin_02.jpg

    Basin of the Ātrak River. The mountains to the north of the river are the Koppeh Dag Range, and those to its south, the Ālādāgh Range, which merges with the Alborz Range at the southeastern extreme of the Gorgān Plain.

    Still more significant (according to the members of the GWS) is the compound at Kazakl’i-Yatkan in Xwārazm, which at the time when the GWS took place (2006-2009) had been recently excavated. It is also a compound with an almost square plan, with an almost square citadel in one of its corners. It was surrounded by a 39-meters-wide moat, that according to the excavators might have been originally filled with water. It was a compound of substantial dimensions, remarkably similar to Qal’eh Ḵarābeh in overall surface (ca. 41 ha). The citadel was heavily defended but is also much larger (in relative size) than in Sasanian sites, and also includes the remains of what the excavating team described as “monumental buildings”. Most interestingly of all, radiocarbon dating has offered a chronology earlier than Sasanian times: the site was occupied between III c. BCE and the II c. CE, so it had been abandoned for three centuries before Qal’eh Ḵarābeh was built.

    As a final example, the team of the GWS also noted that the pre-Sasanian foundation at Begrām (in the Kābul Basin) also follows a rectangular plan, surrounded by a wide moat, and is reinforced by a substantial citadel in one corner.

    Dašt_Qaleh_2.jpg

    CORONA satellite image of the site of Dašt Qal’eh, meaning “The Fortress of Plain” in Farsi (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Perhaps the most remarkable set of remains from the Sasanian times explored by the Gorgān Wall Survey though were those at the Dašt Qal’eh (“The Fortress of the Plain” in Farsi, a very common toponym) that site, located to the southeast of Gonbad-e Kāvūs and Qal’eh-ye Pol Gonbad. These are not the remains of a military base or encampment, but of a really large city, with a 6.50-kilometer-long wall and a total surface of 3 km2. Before the excavation, the surveyors already suspected it was not a military base because despite being located in a flat area, the site is distinctly nonrectangular; indeed, the walls describe a right triangle, with the hypotenuse oriented towards the northwest.

    The place is so huge that had it been a military base it could have accommodated 80,000 cavalrymen or one and a half to two times that amount of infantry. Because of it, the researchers of the GWS thought that it was designed as a city from the start. Even as a city, it was remarkably large. Its surface covers twice the area of Šābuhr I’s royal foundation at Bīšāpūr in Pārs and is one and a half times larger than Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah, which covers an area of ca. 2.60 km2, and the great royal foundation of Vēh-Ardaxšīr near Ctesiphon on the Tigris was only twice its size. Even the remains of the great Hellenistic metropolis of Seleucia-on-the-Tigris, which according to Classical sources had a population of ca. 600,000 inhabitants in the I c. CE) are only thrice its size. According to these numbers, Seleucia would have had a population density of 200-600 hab./km2., which translated to ancient Alexandria in Egypt would give the latter city a total population of 200,000-600,000 inhabitants (perfectly in line with ancient estimates). The built area of late antique Antioch covered only one and a half times the surface of Dašt Qal’eh. Applying the above density, this would give Antioch a total population of 150,000-200,000 people. Late ancient Constantinople covered a surface of 12 km2 within the Theodosian Walls (four times the extension of Dašt Qal’eh) and reached a maximum population of 500,000 inhabitants by the late V and early VI c. CE.

    Based on all these estimates the archaeologists of the GWS assumed a density of 300 hab./ha and so estimated that Dašt Qal’eh had been intended for a population of ca. 100,000 inhabitants, although it is impossible to say if it ever reached that number, as that would need extensive excavation works in the site. CORONA images suggest that the walled compound was densely filled with major and minor structures and that it certainly was a major city even by global standards. Given all this, it is remarkable how little is known about it. We do not even know how it was called. M. Kiani proposed that this was the site of Polybius’ Sirynx, which according to the Greek author was the capital of Hyrcania in Hellenistic times, and due to this he thought it to be an early Arsacid foundation. Kiani excavated the site of the citadel and found that it had remained in use until the Il-Khanid period (XIII-XIV c.). Based on his own chronology for the pottery finds within the city compound, he established that the city was a pre-Achaemenid foundation that remained inhabited until the Arsacid era, while the citadel remained in use until the Middle Age.

    The archaeologists of the GWS did not share Kiani’s chronology, due to stylistic reasons of the structures found in the excavations and radiocarbon dating of organic findings under the foundations of some of said structures. The most remarkable finding is a monumental colonnaded street, in which the pillars that flanked the street were built of fired brick and supported a vaulted ceiling; which suggested to the archaeologists that this street was a sort of precursor to the bazaars of the Islamic era, while also displaying a clear Greco-Roman influence (colonnaded streets became ubiquitous in the cities of the Roman East after the II c. CE, and recently examples have been found also in western Roman cities like Rome, Milan and Autun in France). Given that remains of older structures of mudbrick have been found under the level of this street, archaeologists think that the street was built as a reform after the city’s foundation.

    The site of the city was obviously well chosen; as still today there is plenty of water available, and the water table might have been even higher in Sasanian times. Contrary to Kiani’s opinion, the archaeologists of the GWS found that the pottery remains at Dašt Qal’eh suggest that the site was intensively occupied during the Sasanian era. The final conclusion of the survey was that Dašt Qal’eh was a Sasanian foundation built on the site of an abandoned settlement that dated back to the Bronze Age and had remained abandoned for a whole millennium.

    Textual evidence is scant or nonexistent, but some scholars think that this ancient city might have been founded by one of the Sasanian kings. Its sheer scale and the premeditated nature of its perimeter hints strongly at a royal foundation. The German historian Dietrich Huff suggested that this city corresponds to the ancient Sasanian city of Gorgān, and that its foundation may correspond to the attested start of the activity of its mint in the 410s CE, under Yazdegerd I. According to Ṭabarī, this king died in Gorgān, and some of his successors made repeated sojourns in the region, which would have provided plenty of opportunity to these kings to engage in city founding activities as was customary among Sasanian kings.

    The founding of such a large city must have been related in some way to the building of the Great Wall of Gorgān; although the members of the GWS did not reach a conclusion about the way in which each influenced the other. The likeliest possibility is that the construction of the Wall encouraged the growth of population and trade in the area and provided the necessary security for such an important investment to be made. The other possibility (less likely in my opinion) is that the city was founded first and then it was decided to build (at least in part, see below for a further discussion about the reasons for building this line of defense) the Wall to provide its hinterland with a degree of security against nomadic raid, as the food security of the city would have depended on agrarian production of the fertile Gorgān Plain. The team of the GWS think that as the wall and the forts and campaign bases don’t show any signs of having been built or planned in a hurry, that the fortification project was undertaken at a time when the Sasanian army was in full control of the situation in the area (i.e. it was militarily secure) which according to them would rule out any dates between Pērōz’s first defeat against the Hephthalites in 474 CE and the consolidation of Kawād I on the Sasanian throne (with Hephthalite help) in 498/499 CE. Thus, according to the members of the Survey, the most probable time frame for the building of the Wall and the attached forts is 400-475 CE.

    As for the city of Dašt Qal’eh, the pottery shards found at the level of the ancient ground in the colonnaded street were dated by radiocarbon to the 444-639 CE time frame, with a 95.4 % rate of probability. A goat bone found in the foundation layer for the pillars that lined the street was dated by radiocarbon to a 421-543 CE time frame, with a probability rate of 95.4%. So, the members of the Survey were inclined to consider 409 CE (the year before the Gorgān mint began issuing coins) as the terminus post quem for the construction of the pillars along this street.
     
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    5.7 THE GORGĀN WALL AND THE NATURE OF THE SASANIAN STATE AND ARMY. CONCLUSIONS.
  • 5.7 THE GORGĀN WALL AND THE NATURE OF THE SASANIAN STATE AND ARMY. CONCLUSIONS.


    If we review the literary sources, the authors Ibn Isfandīyār (XIII c. CE) and Mostawfī (XIV c. CE) attributed the construction of the Wall to Pērōz. Ṭabarī wrote that a “Gate of Ṣūl” (perhaps in the Gorgān Wall?) existed already during the reign of Pērōz. Łazar P’arpec’i referred to Pērōz threatening the Hephthalites that he would make half of his vast army fill up the sea and the ditches, which divided the Persians and the Hephthalites, with earth. The members of the Survey though that this could be a reference to the vast moat in front of the Gorgān Wall, and they also suggested that maybe the “kernel of truth” in the legendary story of Pērōz’s final defeat (the tale of the ditch dug by Ḵošnavāz) may have been inspired by the moat of the Gorgān Wall. Ibn Rusta attributed the building of the Tammīšeh wall to Xusrō I, but that seems quite improbable, as the archaeological evidence points towards the two walls having been part of the same building project.

    Łazar tells explicitly that Pērōz gathered his troops at Vrkan for the fatidic campaign of 484 CE. Also, Ṭabarī’s testimony for the existence of the Gate of Ṣūl may be confirmed by the Syriac Chronicle of Karkā ḏe Bēṯ Selōḵ (finished in 569 CE), which implies the existence of gates under Sasanian control against the Huns under Pērōz and which remained still under Sasanian control in 504 CE, although as the members of the Survey admit, this could also be a reference to the Caucasian defenses.

    Map_Nat_defenses_Iran.png

    Map showing the natural and artificial defenses of the Iranian Plateau under the Sasanians.

    Warahrān V (r. 420-438 CE) had already advanced through Gorgān, Nisa and Marv in his campaign against the Kidarites, so he could also be a candidate for the decision to build the fortified line. His successor Yazdegerd II (r. 438-457 CE) spent seven years in the northeast (the members of the Survey took for granted that he sojourned in Gorgān, which is far from attested) and passed again through Gorgān and Nēv-Šābuhr in 453-454 CE (as attested by Ełišē). According to the Acts of the Persian Martyrs, the foundation of the city of Šahrestān-e Yazdegerd by Yazdegerd II had also been preceded by a campaign against Tšōl, which most scholars identify with the Ṣūl of Ṭabarī, and which may have been located in Dihistān. So, this Sasanian king would be a firm candidate for the decision to build the Wall.

    The members of the Survey also thought quite possible that at the time of its construction the Wall did not mark the effective limit of Sasanian political control, and that it probably it extended well beyond the Wall into Dihistān, but that the Wall (which was obviously a huge investment) was built in the place which was best for defensive reasons (the place where the Ālādāgh Mountains come closer to the Caspian shore), where the Gorgān River provided also water for the construction process and the garrison, and where there was something really valuable to protect immediately behind it (i.e. the fertile Gorgān Plain). Thus, rather than a border defense, it should be considered a “hinterland wall” of the sort that existed also in the Roman Empire (like the Claustra Alpium Iulianum in Italy or the Transisthmian Wall in Greece) and also in other parts of the Sasanian Empire like in Pārs.

    Drahm_Gorgan_Yazdegerd_I.jpg

    Silver drahm of Yazdegerd I minted in Gorgān.

    Drahm_Gorgan_Yazdegerd_II.jpg

    Silver drahm of Yazdegerd II minted in Gorgān.

    Pērōz is another obvious candidate as the king who ordered the construction of the Wall. Ṭabarī attests that this Šāhān Šāh built fortifications in the region of Ṣūl which may refer Gorgān Wall and its associated forts. The same author also credits Pērōz with the building of a town between Gorgān and the Gate of Ṣūl. And impressions on Sasanian bullae attest two further sites in the province of Gorgān, named after this king: Xusrō-Šād-Pērōz and Hunāg-Pērōz. The members of the Survey even suggested that the Alborz Mountains could have been the site of Pērōz’s first defeat against the Hephthalites, as they fit admirably Procopius’ descriptions: they are very steep mountains, and by far the most densely wooded range between Kashmir and the Caucasus. But I have my doubts in this respect, because this would mean that the Hephthalites would have invaded the Sasanian Empire (while Procopius says it happened the other way around) and would have broken through all the defenses of the Gorgān Plain (if they were in existence by then, which seems quite possible). The members of the Survey added that not too much could be read into Procopius’ “semi-legendary” account of the defeat of 484 CE, other than there was a major “Rubicon” to cross, and that this “Rubicon” might have been the Gorgān Wall. The German historian Henning Börm pointed out that Procopius’ attitude towards the Sasanians tends to be negative and that his statement that they were solely responsible for the wars against the Hephthalites is most probably not reliable in matters of details. The VI c. CE Syriac Chronicle of Karkā ḏe Bēṯ Selōḵ blames the Hephthalites for starting the war.

    The Gorgān mint started issuing coins during the reign of Yazdegerd I in the 410s, and its percentual output compared to the total coin minting in Ērānšahr rose steadily and reached a peak under Yazdegerd II. During the reign of Pērōz, its percentual output dropped significantly, although it should be added that the total output of coins under Pērōz seems to have been higher than during his father’s reign. From 484 to 496 CE, the relative output of the Gorgān mint seems to have increased again, only to drop once more during the early VI c. CE.

    Another speculation by the members of the Survey is that perhaps the victory of 468 CE against the Kidarites may have made the Sasanians overconfident and lead to an abandonment of a defensive strategy based on fortifications and the adoption of a riskier offensive strategy.

    Another interesting point raised by the members of the Survey in their conclusions is that the construction of the Wall may have led to an increase of trade and prosperity in Gorgān, of which they quote some (admittedly, quite tenuous) “circumstantial” evidence. An important amount of Sasanian coins (as well as some examples of silverware) have been found in central Russia, and some scholars (like R. N. Frye) have proposed that they could have reached this geographical area via the Volga River and through the Caspian Sea. According to the Arab geographer Dimashqī (1256-1327 CE), the Sasanian king Kawād I established a trade port at Ābeskūn, on the Caspian Sea shore at Gorgān, that was thought by the members of the Survey to correspond to the modern site of Gomiš Tappeh. Some scholars have identified it also with the port of Socanda, which is mentioned by Ptolemy and Ammianus Marcellinus. The X c. CE geographer Eṣṭaḵrī wrote that Ābeskūn was located on the shore of the Caspian Sea in the vicinity of Astarābād (ancient name of the modern city of Gorgān, Iran). In the XIII c, Muḥammad ibn Najīb Bakrān attested that the water terminal of the Gorgān Wall was located at Ābeskūn. The city was important enough to be looted by the Rus in their expedition of 909-913 CE (it was the easternmost point they reached). The appearance of these coins and silver objects coincides in time with the building of the Gorgān Wall and the alleged building of the port of Ābeskūn, so it is possible that the province did indeed experience an economic boom due to the increased security brought by the Wall and the huge investment made in irrigation canals made by the Sasanian kings in the area.

    Graphic_Sasanian_coins_Russia_MOD.jpg

    Graphic showing the findings of Sasanian coins in three cemeteries of the Kama-Ural region in modern Russia. The peak moment in coin export seems to coincide with the period when the Gorgān Wall was occupied (image taken from “Persia’s imperial power in Late Antiquity. The Great Wall of Gorgān and frontier landscapes of Sasanian Iran”, edited by Eberhard W. Sauer, Hamid Omrani Rekavandi, Tony J. Wilkinson and Jebrael Nokandeh).

    Going back to the issue of the possible examples that may have inspired the construction of the Gorgān Wall, the closest examples may be found at the oases of Merv, Samarkand, Boḵārā and Balḵ, which were all of them surrounded by long walls, which were in part (at least) pre-Sasanian. The wall that surrounded the oasis of Merv, thought to be ca. 200 km long, was built or rammed earth and interestingly contains courses of bricks of very similar shape and size (40x40x11 cm) to the ones employed in the Gorgān Wall (42x42x12 cm). Remains have also been found of a 120 km long fortified barrier north of Samarkand which is thought to be pre-Islamic. There is no conclusive evidence to this respect, but there is also the possibility that this barrier might have reached further to the west and south and linked up with the walls that surrounded the Boḵārā Oasis, which would give it a length over 200 km (not counting the 250 km long wall around the oasis of Boḵārā itself, which is also thought to be of pre-Islamic origin). There is also a 1.5 km long wall closing the “Iron Gates” mountain pass in the route from Balk to Samarkand (and which very confusingly is also known as “Derbent Pass”), in the limits between Sogdiana and Ṭoḵārestān, north of the Āmu Daryā. This wall was originally built under the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom (III-II c. BCE) and was repaired by the Kušāns and also during the V-VIII c. CE. The last repairs to this wall are dated to the reign of Timur (XIV-XV c. CE).

    After the conclusion of the Gorgān Wall Survey, the sheer scale of the Wall and the attached forts and campaign bases forced a reexamination of many assumptions that had been hold by modern scholars about the Sasanian state and its military since the late XIX c. The British scholar Geoffrey Greatrex wrote that little can be said about the Sasanian army: its structure or even its status (standing army vs. a levy army) are still debated. And the German historian Henning Börm stated that although according to Procopius the Eastern Roman and Sasanian armies were matched in field encounters, there is no doubt that the Sasanians were numerically weaker than their Eastern Roman foes (the members of the GWS do not specify in this quote if Börm was referring to the overall numbers or was questioning Procopius’ reliability). The usual assumption in modern historians is that the Sasanian field army amounted to a 50,000 men, perhaps up to 70,000 or 80,000 men in some instances. The members of the Survey though argue (correctly, in my opinion) that is the same as assessing the size of the Roman field army based solely on the numbers of men it arrayed in some specific battles. But that is just what has been usually assumed in the Sasanian case.

    Another point even more controversial and closely related to the former one is that of the very nature of the Sasanian army. The British historian Michael Whitby wrote that “Persian kings did not maintain a large standing army until at least the sixth century”, a posture also echoed by H. Börm. The Austrian scholar Gabriele Puschnigg went even further by arguing that until the late V c. CE or the beginning of the VI c. CE “the Persian king did not maintain a standing army” at all. It is often assumed that a standing army was only created under Xusrō I (r. 531-579 CE) and that previously the Sasanian army had relied solely on drafts and feudal levies, a view that was particularly defended by the Israeli scholar Zeev Rubin. He even painted a picture of an “ineffective” standing army for the period after Xusrō I’s reforms.

    But in view of the evidence provided by the Gorgān Wall Survey, as well as the cases of other massive bases and permanent field fortifications garrisoned permanently by the Sasanian army in the V c. CE (Darband, the Ghilghilchay Wall, Šābuhr’s ditch, etc.) has made this view unsustainable. It would have been physically impossible even for a standing army of 50,000 men to garrison all these barriers simultaneously, and it is quite hard to imagine that a feudal levy would be able to occupy bases like Qal’eh Ḵarābeh with the degree of order, discipline and cleanliness that the archaeological evidence suggests. If we admit that the field army amounted to just 50,000 men, then the standing army needed to garrison the borders (just the ones about which there is archaeological evidence, and leaving aside the garrisons at the fortified cities of Mesopotamia, Merv, Marw-Rūd, Herāt, Sistān, etc.) would have needed to be way larger than it.

    This rethinking of the nature of the Sasanian army leads in turn inevitably to the question of the very nature of the Sasanian state. The fact is that the examples of Sasanian military architecture in northern Mesopotamia, the Caucasus, Azerbaijan, Gorgān, and Merv display a larger degree of homogeneity than similar examples dated to the Achaemenid and Arsacid periods. So, the members of the Survey thought that this can only be explained by the existence of a strong central authority behind it, and one that in the V c. CE decided to invest in such massive defensive infrastructure (as well as irrigation and city-building projects like in the Mughān Steppe) with the deliberate aim of enlarging the fiscal basis of the Sasanian stated, and making Sasanian rule more attractive to populations of hitherto marginal lands in the periphery of the empire, which would reinforce the internal cohesion of the empire. The targeted investment in border defenses and irrigation canals (like the kings of the III-IV c. CE had done in the core provinces of Āsūrestān, Xūzestān or Pārs) might have led in these areas to an unprecedented expansion of cultivated land and a settlement density never seen before or after, until the building of modern irrigation systems in the XX c. Successful defense of the border led to inner stability which in turn underpinned the empire’s economic growth and success.

    Because of this, the members of the GWS thought that nothing could be more mistaken than to assume that the Sasanian Empire was a “loose confederacy” without a strong central power, which allowed them to rule with success for more than four centuries over an area of more than 3.5 million km2. According to the medieval geographer Ibn Ḥawqal, Gorgān was still a prosperous area in the X c. CE:

    This district is very well-watered and cultivated: after you pass Iraq, no spot is more abundant than Gurkān.

    In the Achaemenid and early Islamic periods, this region seems to have yielded major tax revenues. This is in stark contrast with reports from travelers of the XIX c. Although they were aware of the land’s natural potential, they never failed to state how insecure they felt. In the XIX and early XX c. Gorgān was constantly raided by Turkmen tribesmen from what is today’s Republic of Turkmenistan. In their raids, they reached as far south as Kāšān in central Iran. These raids had a disastrous effect in the economy of Gorgān and many parts of northeastern Iran which were left depopulated by them. The Turkmen were also slave traders, and Shia Iranians were deemed to be “infidels” who could be enslaved, usually in order to demand a ransom for them. When the Russian army conquered Khiva in 1873, they found barely any Russian prisoners in there, against several thousands of captive Iranians who had been brought there by Turkmen raiders. And this same dynamics existed before the building of the Gorgān Wall. According to Flavius Josephus, it was also through Hyrcania that the Alans invaded Media.

    So, the building of a fortified line at the Gorgān Plain was not merely a question of protecting a valuable territory with a lot of agricultural potential, but also of protecting the northern and central Iranian Plateau from nomadic raids, same as with similar barriers in the Caucasus. This was a constant geopolitical reality for any polities controlling the Iranian Plateau until the XX c., excluding those that (like the Umayyads, early Abbasids, Khwārazmšāhs or the Ilkhanids) controlled also the Karakum steppe/desert and Khwārazm.

    Another point raised by the members of the GWS is the issue of the relative state of military technology and practices in Sasanian Iran compared to the Late Roman Empire. As stated before, according to the written evidence and archaeology, the late Roman army had completely abandoned the practice of building marching camps. The late V c. CE Roman author Vegetius says so:

    Knowledge of this practice (i.e. fortifying camps) has been completely lost; has in fact for a long time built a camp, with ditches around it and a wall of stakes behind.

    So, according to both written and archaeological evidence, the initiative in tactics and military practices had passed to the Sasanians in this respect. Even facilities for training in the late Roman army seem to no longer have been constructed. Vegetius states that the Sasanians had copied the art of building camps from the Romans, and that they used sacks of sand piled behind ditches. According to the members of the Survey, it is a struggle to find purely military compounds much larger than one eight of the area of Qal’eh Ḵarābeh anywhere in the Western or Eastern Roman Empires for the IV-V c. CE. The members of the Survey also point pout a detail about animal bones found in the fortresses and campaign bases at Gorgān: the bones of animals sacrificed to be eaten belonged mostly to old goats and cattle, i.e. the soldiers respected the property rights of the farmers and abstained from eating younger animals who still may have had economic value. Together with the overall order and cleanliness and the lack of rubbish found in the areas that were filled with tents in Qal’eh Ḵarābeh, they are telltale signs of a well-disciplined army. In the Dialogue on Political Science, a (positive) anecdote is quoted about the Sasanian king Pērōz: a farmer complains to him that a soldier have stolen an animal from him, and the king orders the execution of the soldier and also of the commander of his unit for failing to impose discipline (an interesting fact in light of the fact that Procopius, who was a contemporary to the anonymous author of the Dialogue, sheds such a negative light upon Pērōz and the Sasanian monarchy in general).

    Qaleh_Gabri_02.png

    Map showing the central position of Qal’eh Gabrī near Varāmīn in relation to the border areas of Gorgān, the Caucasus and Armenia.

    A few years after the publishing of the book about the Gorgān Wall Survey, three of its editors published a paper (Innovation and Stagnation: Military Infrastructure and the Shifting Balance of Power Between Rome and Persia, by Eberhard W. Sauer, Jebrael Nokandeh, Konstantin Pitskhelauri and Hamid Omrani Rekavandi) expanding their conclusions about the state of the Sasanian military in the V-VI c. CE, and specifically in comparison with the Eastern Roman Empire. The authors mostly reasserted their conclusions for the GWS but this time they dealt with the issue of the defense of the Sasanian Empire on a strategic scale, not just at Gorgān. This sustained effort seems to have begun in the late IV c. CE, as excavations at the Darial Fort in Georgia have dated the remains to the 390s CE or the early V c. CE. And at Gorgān, new digs and radiocarbon dating reveled that Gabrī Qal’eh was built before the Wall (with 422 CE as terminus ante quem). Also, they pointed out how the central position of Qal’eh Gabrī near Varāmīn in the Rayy region in northern Iran suggests how this vast base (with 170 ha, by far the largest campaign base ever found in the territories of the Sasanian Empire) could have acted as a gathering point for the Sasanian field army that could then have been dispatched either to the Caucasus and Armenia (west and northwest) or to Gorgān and Khorasan in the opposite direction. This underlines even more the centralized and planned nature of all this construction effort directed at protecting the northern borders of Ērānšahr.

    The authors of this papers underline once more that the archaeological evidence (supported by some ancient sources) point towards an inversion of roles between Rome and Ērānšahr, in which the center of military dynamism and innovation definitely moved east, with the Sasanian army displaying greater discipline, and an array of tactics (that had been once mastered by the Romans themselves) that allowed them to control border spaces in the face of formidable enemies (the ever more dangerous Inner Asian peoples) and to project their military strength across their borders, while the late Roman army became progressively a purely defensive army.
     
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    5.8 THE SUCCESION OF PĒRŌZ.
  • 5.8 THE SUCCESION OF PĒRŌZ.


    The reign of Kawād I (488-531 CE; first reign 488-496 CE; second reign 499-531 CE), with an interruption of some three years, is a turning point in Sasanian history. When the king rose to the throne, the power and prestige of the House of Sāsān had reached its nadir; when Kawād I died 43 years later, he was able to pass on to his son Xusrō I (r. 531-579 CE) a stable and powerful monarchy which could match the military resources of the Eastern Roman Empire and finally recover most of the lost territory in the East (with considerable help from the Türk newcomers, though). He initiated major administrative changes, that were continued by his son and heir. Taking into account the several challenges and problems he mastered during his very troubled reign, the king undoubtedly was one of the most forceful and successful personalities on the Sasanian dynasty, even if his memory has remained tarnished in the “National History” of Iran and the Pahlavi Books by his association with Mazdak, who after Mani became the embodiment of the “heresiarch” in the annals of Zoroastrianism.

    As is usual in Sasanian history, his reign must be reconstructed from a wide scattering of sources. As the design of his crown was basically the same as for his successors Xusrō I and Hormazd IV, gems and silver objects are more difficult to identify than in the case of previous Sasanian rulers. As for the Perso-Arabic tradition (represented especially by Ṭabarī) we can observe, on the one hand, a focus on the Mazdakite movement and, on the other hand, a rather negative portrait of Kawād I as a weak ruler whom his son easily outshines. This is most probably to an element of propaganda employed by Xusrō I after his rise to the throne. In the Greco-Roman tradition, the most important and substantial author is Procopius of Caesarea; he is generally friendly towards Kawād I, at the expense of Xusrō I (which is surprising, given that both kings were equally aggressive towards the Eastern Roman Empire). Another important contemporary is the Syriac Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite, whose perception of Kawād I is quite negative. Many scattered notes can be found in various other authors, which sometimes add important pieces of information but also are marked by much confusion. It has to be emphasized also that, for example, in Ṭabarī and Procopius, contradictions can be observed even within their own respective narratives, so a full and undisputed reconstruction of Kawād I’s reign is an almost impossible task.

    Walaxs_drahm.jpg

    Silver drahm of Walāxš. Mint of Ohrmazd-Ardaxšir (AH).

    Let us start with the Greco-Roman sources for the events immediately after Pērōz’s death. It seems certain (although not all sources agree) that Kawād I was Pērōz’s son. According to Procopius of Caesarea (followed by Theophanes the Confessor and George Cedrenus), the survivors of the military disaster of 484 CE elected Kawād as king, as he was the only son of Pērōz who was still alive.

    Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, Book I (The Persian War), IV:
    Thus Perozes (i.e. Pērōz) was destroyed and the whole Persian army with him. For the few who by chance did not fall into the ditch found themselves at the mercy of the enemy. As a result of this experience a law was established among the Persians that, while marching in hostile territory, they should never engage in any pursuit, even if it should happen that the enemy had been driven back by force. Thereupon those who had not marched with Perozes and had remained in their own land chose as their king Cabades (i.e. Kawād), the youngest son of Perozes, who was then the only one surviving. At that time, then, the Persians became subject and tributary to the Hephthalites, until Cabades had established his power most securely and no longer deemed it necessary to pay the annual tribute to them. And the time these barbarians ruled over the Persians was two years.

    Theophanes and Cedrenus just resume Procopius’ passage, even quoting it word by word in parts. This straightforward version of the events though is certainly wrong. The Perso-Arabic tradition offers a vastly different version of the events, as we can see mostly in Ṭabarī:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    The Hephthalites conquered the whole of Khurāsān, until there rose up against them a man of Fārs, from the people of Shīrāz, among whom he was a chief, called Sūkhrā. Sūkhrā went forth with a band of followers, like a volunteer fighter and one seeking a heavenly reward for his action, until he encountered the ruler of the Hephthalites and expelled him from the land of Khurāsān. The two sides now disengaged and made peace: all those members of Fayrūz’s army who had not by then perished and had been made captive-men, women and children-were repatriated. Fayrūz had reigned for seven years.

    This is actually the first version in Ṭabarī of the events that took place immediately after Pērōz’s débacle; he offers two more versions. Here we encounter for the first time the controversial figure of Suḵrā (or Soḵrā), a nobleman of the Kārēn clan who allegedly led a Sasanian counterattack against the Hephthalites and managed to recover the loot and prisoners taken by Aḵšonvār. There also two more versions to be found in Ṭabarī:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    There was in Sijistān a man of the Persians, from the people of the district of Ardashīr Khurrah, who had insight, strength in battle, and bravery, and who was called Sūkhrā. He had with him a detachment of cavalrymen. When he received the news about Fayrūz, he rode off that same night, traveling as far as he could, till he came up with Akhshunwār. He sent a messenger, announcing to him his intention of making war and threatening him with destruction and ruin. Akhshunwār dispatched a mighty army against Sūkhrā. When the two sides met, Sūkhrā rode out against them, and found them eager for battle. It is said that he shot an arrow at a man who had ridden out to attack him; the arrow struck the latter's horse between the eyes and became almost totally sunk in its head. The horse fell down dead, and Sūkhrā was able to capture its rider. Sūkhrā spared his life and instructed him to go back to his master and inform him about what he had seen. The (Hephthalite) troops went back to Akhshunwār bearing with them the horse's corpse. When Akhshunwār saw the effects of the arrow shot, he was amazed, and sent a message to Sūkhrā, saying, "Ask whatever you want!" Sūkhrā told him, "I want you to return to me the government exchequer (al-dīwān) and to release the captives: The king did that. When Sūkhrā had taken possession of the exchequer and had secured the release of the captives, he extracted from the exchequer records a certified statement of the monies that Fayrūz had had with him, and then wrote to Akhshunwār that he was not going to leave without this money. When Sūkhrā's determination became apparent to Akhshunwār, he purchased his freedom (i.e., from the threatenings of Sūkhrā, by handing over the missing money.
    Sūkhrā was able thus to return to the Persian land after rescuing the captives and after getting hold of the exchequer, with the money and all the contents of the treasuries that had been with Fayrūz, now given back. When he arrived back to the Persians, they received him with great honor, extolled his feats, and raised him to a lofty status such as none but kings were able to attain after him. He was Sūkhrā, son of Wīsābūr, son of Z.hān, son of Narsī, son of Wīsābūr, son of Qārin, son of K.wān, son of 'b.y.d, son of 'w.b.y.d, son of Tīrūyah, son of K.r.d.n.k, son of Nāw.r, son of Ṭūs, son of Nawdhar, son of M.n.shū, son of Nawdar, son of Manūshihr.

    Here Ṭabarī offers an impressive genealogy for Suḵrā: Ṭūs is the son of Nawdharin according to the first book in Tabari’s History (appears in a slightly different form in the Bundahišn and the Šāh-nāma, Nawdhar being in Iranian legendary history the son and successor of king Manučehr, killed by Afrāsīāb. The Naōtara/Nawdhar were, in fact, one of the great princely houses of legendary history, figuring in the Avestā. From the time of Wištasp onward (apparently through Wištasp’s marriage connection with Hutaosā, of the Naōtara) the Naōtara were reckoned as the royal house, now prominent in the national epic. This is a good example of how the great noble houses of Iran (the wāspuhragān and wuzurgān) also coopted themselves into the Iranian national History, and thus took a place in the Xwadāy-Nāmag (probably the ultimate source of Ṭabarī’s genealogy). And the third version by Ṭabarī:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    Another authority knowledgeable about the historical narratives of the Persians has mentioned the story of Fayrūz and Akhshunwār in similar terms to what I have just recounted, except that he has stated that when Fayrūz set out and headed toward Akhshunwār, he appointed as his deputy over the cities of Ctesiphon and Bahurasūr (i.e. Vēh-Ardaxšīr) -the two royal residences- this person Sūkhrā. He related: The latter was called, on account of his rank, Qārin, and used to be governor of Sijistān as well as of the two cities.
    (…)
    When the news of Fayrūz’s death reached the Persian lands, the people were thrown into perturbation and terror. However, when Sūkhrā became convinced of the exact truth of Fayrūz’s fate, he got ready and advanced with the greater part of the troops at his disposal against the Hephthalite lands. When Sūkhrā reached Jurjān, Akhshunwār received news of his expedition to attack him, so he prepared for war and moved toward engaging Sūkhrā in battle, and at the same time he sent to Sūkhrā asking him about his intentions and enquiring what his name and his official position were. Sūkhrā sent back the message that he was a man with the personal name of Sūkhrā and the official rank of Qārin, and that his intention in marching against Akhshunwār was to take vengeance on him for Fayrūz’s death. Akhshunwār returned a message to him: "Your way of proceeding in this affair you have undertaken is exactly like Fayrūz’s was, since despite the numerousness of his troops, the sole consequence of his attacking me was his own destruction and perdition." But Akhshunwār words did not deter Sūkhrā, and he paid no heed to them. He gave orders to his troops, and they got ready for battle and girded on their weapons. He moved forward against Akhshunwār, advancing with firm determination and a keen mind. Akhshunwār sought a truce and a peace agreement with Sūkhrā, but the latter refused to contemplate any peace agreement with him unless he could recover everything Akhshunwār had appropriated from Fayrūz’s encampment. So Akhshunwār returned to him everything he had seized from Fayrūz’s camp, including his treasuries, the contents of his stables, and his womenfolk, including Fayrūzdukht, and he handed back to him the Chief Mōbadh and every single one of the great men of the Persians in his possession. Sūkhrā then went back to the land of the Persians with all that.

    As is usual in all non-Sasanian sources, Ṭabarī mistakes Suḵrā’s surname (Kārēn) for his rank, which we do not know which would have been. The character of Suḵrā appears also in the Šāh-nāma, but under a slightly different name (warning: this is a really long passage):

    Ferdowsī: Šāh-nāma:
    What time Pírúz was going to the war
    He sought a paladin - a man of counsel
    And weight - to watch o'er crown and throne, and be
    A friend to young Balásh. Now Súfarai
    A man of great estate and good withal
    Was fitted for that task, experienced.
    A native of Shíráz, a general,
    A man exalted both in heart and head,
    And likewise marchlord in Zabulistán,
    Kábulistán. Ghaznín, and Bust. When tidings
    About Pírúz, uncounselled and unguided,
    Came his eye-lashes drenched his cheeks with tears,
    He rent his raiment of a paladin,
    The warriors doffed their helmets and sat mourning
    Through sorrow for the Sháh, while Súfarai
    Exclaimed: "How shall Bálash, youth that he is,
    Seek vengeance for Pírúz?” for well he knew
    That that would naught avail and that the throne
    Of kingship was in evil case. He gathered
    His scattered soldiers, beat the kettledrums,
    And dust rose from the plain. There came to him
    A hundred thousand warlike, vengeful swordsmen.
    He paid, equipped the host, and joyed the hearts
    Of all that sought for vengeance. Then he called
    A sweet-tongued envoy watchful, wise, and shrewd.
    And, seared and sorry, wan and weeping, wrote
    A Ietter of wise counsels, instancing
    Jamshíd and Kai Khusrau and Kai Kubád,
    Dispatched it to Bálash, and said: "O Sháh!
    Be not aggrieved at death; it is a grief
    That all must taste; choose patience and choose fame.
    What came from wind returneth with the breath
    Some call it justice and some tyranny.
    Now with the approbation of the king
    Will I make ready for revenge and strife
    Because the sun and moon cry out in heaven
    For vengeance for the blood of Sháh Pírúz."
    With that the envoy went upon his way,
    And Súfarai, all wreakful, for his part
    Arrayed his army like a pheasant's plumes,
    And from Zábulistán advanced toward Marv.
    He chose him out a wary messenger,
    Who by his words could mollify the heart,
    And spake on this wise to a scribe: "Arise,
    Because thy pen hath stirring work to do,
    Indite to Khúshnawáz and say: 'O fool,
    And knavish doer of the work of dívs!
    Thou art in God's sight guilty, and thy shirt
    Shall wail for thee. Whoe'er did deed like thine,
    Thou faithless one? Thou shalt behold anon
    The sword of tribulation. Thou hast slain
    A man without offence - the king of kings,
    The grandson of the world-lord Sháh Bahrám -
    And hast set up a new feud in the world,
    A feud to be forgotten nevermore.
    Why, when the din of tymbals rose, didst thou
    Not come and fawn upon him like a dog?
    Thy grandsire was a poor man of thy tribe,
    Thy sire was like a slave before Bahrám.
    Lo! I have come to Marv to seek revenge,
    And I will waste the Haitálians utterly.
    The captives and whatever booty came
    Within thy grasp upon that battlefield,
    I will exact all with the sword of vengeance,
    And bear to Marv Túrán's dust, suffer not
    The world to be thy son's, burn all thy kith
    And kin, cut off thy head by God's command,
    and make thy kingdom like a sea of blood.
    But this is not revenge; why talk I long?
    When Khúshnawáz, in that he slew Pírúz,
    Shall rot in darksome dust his soul shall plead
    His cause from Hell.'”

    The envoy with the letter
    Of Súfarai went like a mighty lion,
    Came in an angry mood to Khúshnawáz
    Appeared before his throne, did reverence,
    And gave the letter, while the captains present
    Withdrew. The monarch gave it to a scribe,
    And said: "Read out to me in confidence
    Both good and ill."

    The scribe thus answered him:
    "This letter is all arrow, mace, and sword,"
    And sorely grieved was valiant Khúshnawáz
    At that long letter writ by Súfarai,
    Then set himself without delay to answer
    The good and ill there written and began: -
    "I live in fear of God and fortune's changes.
    A worshipper of His would not have broken
    The compact of the Sháhs. I sent Pírúz
    A letter of advice besides the treaty
    Of that great king, but he despised my words,
    And spurned the old king's pact. When he assailed me,
    I put me to a shift. and when the hosts
    Met face to face, the stars raged at Pírúz,
    And by no will of ours thy Sháh was slain.
    Or e'er he broke the pact of righteous Sháhs
    His youth had not another day of joy;
    He found no favour in the Maker's eyes;
    Thou wouldst have said: 'Earth took him by the
    heel.’
    The man that breaketh his forefather's treaty,
    And flingeth underfoot the head of right,
    Is like Pírúz upon the battlefield,
    Pashed in a dusty ditch. So shalt thou be
    If thou shalt come; my wealth and warriors fail not."

    Departing with the letter and apace
    The envoy in a week reached Súfarai,
    Who read and loosed his tongue in malisons.
    Then from the plain the people heard the blare
    Of trumpets and the clash of brazen cymbals,
    And Súfarai led forth to Kashmíhan
    A host so great that Sol was lost in heaven.
    'Twas thus they crossed the stream - an armament
    That made itself at home where'er it went.

    When tidings came to Khúshnawáz he marched
    Out to the desert and prepared for war.
    He reached Baigand and chose a battlefield
    That hid the wilderness from circling heaven
    With troops.

    On his side vengeful Súfarai
    Came onward like a blast. When it was night
    That leader of the army occupied
    All the approaches with fresh elephants.
    The outposts went their rounds in both the hosts,
    The world resounded with the warriors' shouts,
    The challenge of the sentries and the clang
    Of bells rose from both armies, front and rear,
    Till Sol rose o'er the peaks and made the dales
    And deserts like white crystal. Both arrays
    Prepared for strife; each raised the flag of greatness.

    Then dragons' livers sundered at the shouting
    Of valiant warriors while feathered shafts
    Made air all vultures' plumes, and earth became
    A bath of chieftains' blood. Where'er one gazed
    Lay heaps of warriors slain. Then Súfarai
    Charged from the centre with his troops amain.
    While Khúshnawáz on his side with his sword
    Of vengeance spurred down from his vantage-ground;
    But when he saw that fortune proved unkind
    He turned his rein and showed his back, pursued
    By Súfarai as 'twere a raging blast,
    Who followed with a head-transfixing spear.
    He captured many nobles; many more
    Were slain by arrow and by scimitar.
    He sped till he reached Kuhandizh and saw
    No lack of slain and wounded on the way.
    Then from the ramparts Khúshnawáz beheld
    His troops spread o'er the desert's hills and dales;
    The way was strewn with dead and things of price
    So that the plain was decked out like a garden.

    The soldiers carried off to Súfarai
    The harness, lances, coronets of state,
    The battle-gear, the girdles, steeds, and slaves,
    And made a heap as high as Mount Alburz.
    He paid no heed to all that Turkman spoil,
    But gave the whole in largess to his troops,
    Aid thus harangued the host: "To-day's affair
    Hath prospered for us to our hearts' content
    Through fortune's favour, but what time the sun
    Shall lift its hand in heaven we must not bide
    Inactive on the plain hut march like lions
    Upon yon hold to avenge the king of kings."

    His troops agreed and each man spake his mind.
    Thus fared it with them till in arching heaven
    The sun's resplendent diadem appeared,
    Whereat the tymbals sounded in the camp,
    And Súfarai bestrode his steed. An envoy
    Reached that proud chief from Khúshnawáz to say:
    "From battle, strife, and bloodshed naught resulteth
    But travail and contention. Shall we then,
    Who are two men of wisdom, young, and brave,
    Send both our souls to Hell? If thou wilt seek
    Again the way of wisdom thou shalt learn
    That all that happened was the work of God.
    It was not through the blast that Sháh Pírúz
    Was slain but rather that the stars foreclosed
    For him his years and months. He was to blame
    For breach of pact, for choosing colocynth,
    And spurning honey. Now what was to be
    Hath come upon our heads. Blest is the man
    That walketh not the round of violence.
    The captives and whatever spoil there was,
    The gold, the silver, and the uncut gems,
    The steeds, the weapons, and the crowns and thrones,
    Left by Pírúz when fortune quitted him,
    Both his own treasures and his troops' as well,
    Will I send to the general of the Sháh
    That thou mayst go victorious to Írán,
    Mayst go back to the monarch of the brave.
    I will not trespass on Írán; do you,
    For your part, keep the treaty of Bahrám.
    The king of kings apportioned earth aright:
    Túrán and Chin are ours, Írán is thine."

    When Súfarai had heard the embassage
    He called the soldiers to his tent-enclosure,
    And in their presence bade the messenger:
    "Repeat before the host the foeman's words."
    He came and gave them, keeping nothing back.
    Then Súfarai addressed his army thus:
    "What in your view should be our policy
    Herein?"

    The troops replied: "'Tis thine to bid,
    And thine to stipulate the terms of peace.
    knoweth better in Írán than thou:
    Thou art our king, our leader, and our lord."
    Thus to his noble chiefs spake Súfarai:
    “The only policy for us to-day
    Is this to seek no more to fight with them.
    I will lead bark the army to Írán
    With speed, because Kubád, son of Pírúz.
    of the royal race, is in their hands
    With the high priest Ardshír and army-leaders,
    Both young and old. If we fight Khúshnawáz
    The matter will be long and profitless,
    And they will slaughter their Iranian captives,
    Kubád, the world's heir, and Ardshír. Howbeit,
    Unless Kubád had been in jeopardy,
    Ne'er had my heart and brain recalled to mind
    The high priest; but if evil from the Turkmans
    Befall Kubád tan will be all outcry,
    And this shame current with our warriors
    Until the Resurrection. We will give
    A courteous answer to the messenger,
    And take fair counsels in the cause of peace.
    We then perchance may see Kubád again,
    (God grant that no one else be king of kings!)
    Ardshír the high priest and the other captives,
    Both young and old."

    His soldiers blessed him, saying:
    “That is the treaty, precedent, and Faith
    For us."

    The paladin then called the envoy,
    and addressed him with a dulcet tongue:
    "It was the act of God enough! This world
    Designeth evil and appriseth none.
    The great men of Írán that have been taken
    Art these Kubád and the high priest Ardshír.
    These with the rest that have their feet in fetters
    Dispatch to me in honourable fashion.
    Moreover all the booty in your hands -
    Dínárs and crowns and wealth of every kind -
    Dispatch in full to me, and let it come
    In presence of the chieftains of this host.
    We will not stretch our hands to spoil and slay
    Because we have no need and worship God.
    Within ten days we will recross Jíhún,
    And take no warlike step thenceforth. Give ear
    To that which I have said and tell it all,
    On thy return, to Khúshnawáz."

    The envoy
    Returned forthwith to Khúshnawáz in triumph,
    And gave the message. Khúshnawáz rejoiced,
    And instantly released Kubád from bonds
    With the high priest Ardshír and all the other
    Íránian prisoners, collected all
    The booty found upon the day of battle,
    Besides the throne and crown of Sháh Pírúz,
    And what was scattered 'mongst his troops, and sent
    All by a trusty man to Súfarai.


    So, according to Ferdowsī, Suḵrā (who in this version of the tale is also a native from Pārs, but from Širāz, not Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah) was a “marchlord” (i.e. a marzbān) in the eastern part of the Empire (Kābolestān, Zābolestān, Ghazni and Bust). This is the first historically inaccurate point: Kābolestān and Zābolestān had been in Hunnic hands since the reign of Šābuhr III in the last decade of the IV c. CE, and there is absolutely no evidence of a Sasanian reconquest of these territories before the reign of Xusrō I (r. 531-579 CE). According to this version of the events, when Pērōz launched his ill-fated campaign, he left his youngest son Walāxš as regent in the capital, with Suḵrā as is tutor, while his elder son Kawād accompanied him and was captured by the Hephthalites. As we have already seen, this is also incorrect: Walāxš was Pērōz’s brother, and it is quite dubious that Kawād, who was 14-16 years old by then, would have taken part in the campaign. But as we will see, this version shares an even larger mistake with the ones by Procopius and Ṭabarī, because Kawād did not succeed his father directly.

    Nevertheless, Ferdowsī’s account has some interesting details. First, he states that Suḵrā’s counteroffensive was launched from Marv across the Āmu Daryā, while Ḵošnavāz gathered the Hephthalite army at Paykand, which is perfectly plausible and makes sense from a military point of view, and the alleged battle took place between Paykand and the Āmu Daryā (which is indeed a plain, part of the Kyzyl-Kum Desert), and also states that the chief mowbed (a certain Ardaxšīr) was among the prisoners captured in the disaster.

    Sukhra defeating Kushnavaz from the Shahnama of Shah Tahmasp, 1527, Tabriz.jpg

    Suḵrā defeating Ḵošnavāz. Miniature from the Šāh-nāma of Šāh Ṭahmāsp.

    Bal’amī follows Tabarī’s second version, but with some important differences. Suḵrā marches out against Ḵošnavāz to avenge Pērōz’s death and rescue the chief mowbed and Pērōz’s daughter, but he leaves both Walāxš and Kawād behind. He does not leave anybody in charge of the country, but nobody substitutes him. Ḵošnavāz, despite being aware that he cannot oppose Suḵrā’s huge army, meets him in battle, where Bal’amī repeats the same episode of the arrowshot that appears in Ṭabarī’s account. Fearful of the Iranians’ mastery with the bow, Ḵošnavāz seeks peace, and Suḵrā demands (on top of the prisoners’ return) that Pērōz’s body be returned to him, as well as all the loot captured by the Hephthalites. Ḵošnavāz agrees and Suḵrā returns victorious to Iran, where he declines the crown and Walāxš is elected instead as king. The Mojmal al-Tawāriḵ repeats Bal’amī’s version of the events.

    Yet another version can be found in Dīnawarī. According to this version, the part of the Sasanian army that managed to extricate itself from the disaster informs Suḵrā (Šūḥar in Dinawari’s account) about the defeat. The latter then leads a counteroffensive that manages to penetrate deeply inside the country of the “Turks”. Aḵšonvār, unable to defeat Suḵrā’s onslaught, asks for peace and returns the chief mowbed, Pērōz’s daughter and all the remaining prisoners, and also all of Pērōz’s treasuries and belongings and his war machines; Suḵrā then returns victorious to Iran. This version can also be found in the Nihāyat al-arab.

    Then we have also the version offered by Tha’ālibī, Eutychius of Alexandria and Ibn Isfandīyār. Suḵrā is called Sūḥurrā by Tha’ālibī and Ibn Isfandīyār, and Sūḥrān by Eutychius; according to Tha’ālibī he was marzbān of Sakastān, and according to Eutychius he was marzbān of Sakastān and Zābolestān. He marches against Aḵšonvār and sends him a message instating him to act with moderation in victory and to return the prisoners and loots, or he would attack the Hephthalites; and Aḵšonvār accepts. Balāš, son of Fayrūz, appoints him as al-iṣbahbaḏ (perhaps a corruption of spāhbed?) of Iraq and Fārs, and Sūkhrā enjoys Balāš’ favor for the remainder of his life (according to Ibn Isfandīyār, it’s the mowbeds who appoint Suḵrā as al-iṣbahbaḏ).

    And lastly, Mīr-Khvānd wrote that Šūḥar (he uses the same name as Dīnawarī), who governed Iran in Pērōz’s absence, marched against the Hephthalites, but he signed a peace agreement with Ḵošnavāz, in which he demanded from the Hephthalite king the return of all the prisoners and booty. Once back in Iran, Šūḥar installed on the throne Balāš, son of Fīrūz, who invested him with great honors.

    So, what have modern scholars made of all this mess? Pērōz was succeeded by Walāxš (New Persian Balāš), who was his brother, not his son. This succession is confirmed by numismatics, and so it is undisputed. It has been speculated that the presence of the bishops of Marv (a certain Farrōmīz) and Herāt and the Synod of Acacius in 485 CE may imply a certain degree of Sasanian control of this cities. But N. Schindel and R. Gyselen warned that this only implies that the roads were open to travel, and nothing else.

    Historians Daniel T. Potts and Touraj Daryaee agree that the Sasanians lost all of Ṭoḵārestān and Khurāsān and became tributaries of the Hephthalites, even though only Procopius (and later Byzantine historians who followed him) mentions this fact. The extent of Hephthalite control is also unclear; N. Schindel mentions that Marv and Herat stopped minting Sasanian coinage, but I’ve found no mention to Nēv-Šābuhr in his articles, while other scholars (like Khodadad Rezakhani) assume that this city was also captured by the Hephthalites. The minting of gold coins in the name of Sasanian kings in Sindh also stopped, and at this time Hunnic coinage (similar to the one that had been minted for a century in Gandhāra and Uḍḍiyāna) starts to appear in this region. According to Procopius, the Sasanians paid tribute for two years. The duration of this tribute has originated many controversies among modern scholars. N. Schindel suggested that the tribute was paid during all of Walāxš’ short reign and during the first two years of Kawād I’s first reign. A. Luther accepted Procopius’ data and defended that the tribute stopped in 486 CE. E. de la Vaissière was of the opinion that the tribute lasted in time until well into the reign of Xusrō I (from 484 to 545 CE). More information is offered by a source contemporary to the facts, Joshua the Stylite, who wrote about Walāxš’ financial difficulties that led him to ask the Eastern Roman Emperor Zeno for monetary help, a demand that was rejected by the augustus:

    Syriac Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite, XVIII:
    After the sudden disappearance of Pêrôz, which I have mentioned above, his brother Balâsh reigned over the Persians in his place. This was a humble man and fond of peace. He found nothing in the Persian treasury, and his land was laid waste and depopulated by the Huns, (for thou in thy wisdom dost not forget what expense and outlay kings incur in wars, even when they are victorious, and how much more when they are defeated,) and from the Greeks he had no help of any kind such as his brother had. For he sent ambassadors to Zênôn, asking him to send him money; but because he was occupied with the war against lllus and Leontius, and because he also remembered the money that had been sent by them at the commencement of their rebellion, which still remained there in Persia, he did not choose to send him anything, save this verbal message: “The taxes of Nisibis which thou receivest are enough for thee, which for many years past have been due to the Greeks.”

    This latest option has been discredited by numismatic evidence, as N. Schindel showed that sometime in the middle of Kawād I’s second reign (499-531 CE) the mints of Khurāsān started issuing again Sasanian coinage, which implies that at this time the Sasanians had managed to regain control of this region, which implies campaigns and military victories about which no written accounts have reached us. On the other side the Gorgān mint (mint mark: GW) is the third most productive one in Ērānšahr during Walāxš’ reign, which according to N. Schindel may have implied that Gorgān now stood right on the boundary with the Hephthalites (and so, that Nēv-Šābuhr, located east of Gorgān, had indeed fallen into Hephthalite hands) and most of its monetary production might have been devoted to paying the tribute to the Hephthalites and/or to pay the Sasanian troops garrisoned on the border.

    Map_Iranian_Huns.jpg

    It is particularly difficult to find good maps of the extent of the Hephthalite Empire. The map above shows the probable furthest western expansion of Hephthalite rule after Pērōz’s disaster, including all of Khurāsān, including Nēv-Šābuhr. But for some reason that escapes me, this map does not include the Hephthalite conquests in the Tarim Basin and Dzungaria that are expressly accounted for in Chinese chronicles.

    The next problem in this convoluted succession is the figure of Suḵrā. Although he does not appear in Procopius’ account, he appears in all the Perso-Arabic sources. This is a figure that has raised again quite some controversy among modern historians, some of whom have even put in doubt his very existence. The most recent historiographic trends see him as a real figure, but whose historical role has been grossly distorted. B. A. Litvinsky and A. Luther were of the opinion that the tale of Suḵrā fighting Ḵošnavāz and rescuing the prisoners and booty is essentially true, but they were in the minority. All the other historians (beginning already with Theodor Nöldeke in 1879) think that although Suḵrā might have played an important role in the power politics in Iran during the succession crisis and immediately later, the tale about a Hephthalite defeat or even an advantageous pact with them is just Sasanian propaganda (which became part of the Xwadāy-Nāmag and thus of the later Perso-Arabic tradition). This is supported by a western source that seems to be better informed about these events in the East than Procopius and that unlike the latter did indeed write when these events were happening: Joshua the Stylite. His Syriac Chronicle states clearly that Pērōz’s daughter had a daughter with the Hephthalite king that later married his uncle Kawād I. And if Pērōz’s daughter remained in Hephthalite captivity, it is most probable that the same happened to all the other prisoners (and to the captured booty, which if we are to believe Ferdowsī’s account included even the Sasanian royal throne). With the exception of Ferdowsī’s detailed account, the geographic details offered by the other sources are also really vague: In Ṭabarī’s first version, Khurāsān is mentioned, while in his third version he mentions Gorgān. Dīnawarī is even vaguer and only talks about a “country of the Turks”.

    The figure of Suḵrā is also shrouded in confusion in the Perso-Arabic tradition (Greek, Armenian and Syriac sources do not mention him). We have already seen that some of these Perso-Arabic sources mistake his family name (Kārēn) for a title or an office. In Ferdowsi’s account (the most detailed one) he displays an impressive array of titles: marzbān of Zābolestān, Kābolestān, Bost and Ġaznī, all locations in modern Afghanistan, to which Ṭabarī’s second version adds the governorship of the twin cities of Ctesiphon and Vēh-Ardaxšīr. Other sources are less detailed, but some also attribute to him the governorship of Sakastān (Tha’ālibī) or Sakastān and Kābolestān (Eutychius). Ṭabarī’s second version also locates him “in Sijistān” at the time of Pērōz’s death, but without implying that he was a governor of the region. As I have already written above, the attribution of so many titles is factually incorrect: Kābolestān and Zābolestān (on which the city of Ġaznī is actually included) had been lost to the Huns since the reign of Šābuhr III (r. 383-388 CE), so only the city of Bost (which corresponds to the modern Afghan city of Laškargāh, capital of Helmand province, near the confluence of the Helmand and Arḡandāb rivers, west of Qandahār) may have remained part of the Sasanian Empire, perhaps as one of the easternmost outposts of Sakastān, which would align with all the sources that either locate him “in Sakastān” or make him governor of this region.

    Hephthalites_01_AD500_full.jpg

    Compared to the previous map, this one includes the eastern conquests of the Hephthalites, although it gets probably wrong the extension of their conquests in Khurāsān and makes up a weird mix of “Hephthalite-Huna-Alchon” south of the Hindu Kush and does not even mention the Nēzak Huns.

    It is also a bit suspicious that both Ṭabarī and Ferdowsī make him a native of Fārs (Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah in the first case, Šīrāz in the second). In the early Islamic era, it was thought that same as the Arabians from Ḥijāz had the most illustrious lineage and were naturally endowed with the best qualities, the same was certain for the men of Fārs in the case of the ‘Ajam, and so there is a certain tendency to make all great historical Iranian figures to be natives of Fārs. The main seat of the House of Kārēn was actually Nehāvand, in northwestern Iran, although this does not preclude that a secondary line may have taken up residence in Pārs.

    It seems clear from the account of Tabari that Suḵrā became a really important figure during the reign of Walāxš and during the first reign of Kawād I, probably with the titles of Hazārbed or Wuzurg Framādār, but beyond here, the agreement between historians ends, and many unresolved questions appear. As we have seen, he belonged to one of the great families of the Iranian nobility and Ṭabarī provides us with the impressive genealogy which he displayed. Ṭabarī also wrote about a son of his called Zarmihr who also became important during Kawād I’s first reign; many scholars think that Suḵrā and Zarmihr may have been the same person, or maybe that they shared the same name. And to add further confusion, this character has been identified tentatively with the Zarmihr Hazarawuxt mentioned by Łazar P’arpec’i.
     
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    5.9 THE REIGN OF WALĀXŠ AND THE ASCENT OF KAWĀD I TO THE THRONE.
  • 5.9 THE REIGN OF WALĀXŠ AND THE ASCENT OF KAWĀD I TO THE THRONE.


    Walāxš (Parthian Walagaš, New Persian Balāš, Latin Vologaeses) reigned only four years (484-488 CE) before being dethroned (and probably killed) by his nephew Kawād I. The reasons for his enthronement in the first place are unclear, but there are two options:
    • Kawād was a teenager (14-16 years old, tops) in the moment of his accession, so in 484 CE he could have been as young as 9-10 years old, and the Iranian nobility considered that in such a crisis the Empire could not be ruled by a child.
    • Kawād was actually with his father’s army and fell prisoner of the Hephthalites, as Ferdowsī and Ṭabarī wrote.
    The second option would explain better why Walāxš rose to the throne unopposed at first, but it still seems strange that he would rescue his nephew afterwards, who would then launch promptly a civil war with Hephthalite help to oust his uncle from the throne. His image is split between the sources: for Łazar P’arpec’i he was a good king, Ṭabarī describes him a peaceful and considerate ruler, while Joshua the Stylite is quite negative:

    Syriac Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite, XIX:
    Balâsh then, because he had no money to maintain his troops, was despised in their eyes. The priesthood too hated him, because he was trying to abolish their laws, and wishing to build baths in the cities for bathing; and when they saw that he was not counted aught in the eyes of his troops, they took him and blinded him, and set up in his stead Kawâd, the son of his brother Pêrôz, whose name we have mentioned above, who was left as a hostage among the Huns (…).

    Joshua’s passage includes some important information: Walāxš was in a dire financial situation, most probably caused by the massive losses suffered in the East and the Hephthalite demands for tribute, and emperor Zeno’s refusal to help him with “subsidies” sealed his fate, in this respect, as he became unable to pay the army, which according to him resulted in a mutiny (as we will see, the Perso-Arabic sources offer a different account of his downfall). But Joshua also adds that he also displeased the Zoroastrian priesthood “because he wished to change his laws” and adds an even more mysterious passage about him wanting to “build baths” (imitating the Roman practice) which would have also offended the priesthood (probably because water was one of the sacred elements of Zoroastrianism). This short passage is intriguing, because his successor Kawād I would unleash a true religious “revolution” that would do much more than just offend the sensibilities of the priesthood. Łazar’s portrait of this king is much fonder because Walāxš signed a compact with the Armenian rebels led by Vahan Mamikonian that settled down Armenian affairs for more than half a century:

    Łazar P’arpec’i, History of the Armenians, Book III (87):
    When Hazarawuxt, who was in the land of Iberia, heard about the slaying of Peroz and the inestimable destruction of the Iranian multitude, he was horrified and wracked with doubts, and immediately left for the country of Iran. When he reached the court, the remnants of the Aryan nobility gathered around him—the son of one, the brother of another—whoever had managed to survive at the time. They consulted among themselves as to whom they could make worthy of the kingship. They thought this over for many days and unitedly fixed on Vagharsh, king Peroz' brother, a benevolent and mild man. When everyone had assembled near Vagharsh, Hazarawuxt began to speak and reveal to him what all of them were thinking, reminding him of the self-indulgence and capriciousness of king Peroz, saying: "Whatever he wanted to do, he did through force alone—as he wished, with no regard for anyone and without consulting anyone, accomplishing everything through his tyrannical will. The result of his unquestioned thinking brought destruction and fragmentation not only to himself but to the Aryan world generally. Now all of us have enthusiastically chosen you as an agreeable, world-building man, so that through you the throne of the kingdom of the Aryan world would be made firm and so that the remaining portion of the Aryan world and the other lands subject to this kingdom be made to flourish. [We want you] to achieve reconciliation with the peoples who resist and rebel by using [your] mildness and affection; to recognize each of the Aryans and the non-Aryans according to merit; to know how to select the useful from the useless [people]; to consult with the wise; to love those who love their comrades, and to hate and destroy the envious and the slanderers; to observe everyone, recognizing the doers of good, and rewarding the meritorious with recompense suiting their labors." Having said all of this and other similar counsel to him, and after giving testimony, they seated him on the throne of the kingdom of Iran.

    This Zarmihr Harawuxt is the Iranian general that had gone to Armenia with a large army at the end of Pērōz’s reign to crush the rebellion, and that some modern historians have speculated could be the same as the Zarmihr, son of Suḵrā (or Zarmihr Kārēn). The reason for all this speculation (other than the name coincidence) is the character’s title: Hazarawuxt is probably a corruption of Middle Persian Hazāruft (equivalent to Hazārbed). But this is also the reason for an even larger leap of faith, because there could only be one Hazāruft/Hazārbed in the Empire, so it’s quite possible that this Zarmihr Hazarawuxt is the Suḵrā of the Perso-Arabic tradition; notice also how Łazar (who, I repeat, was a strict contemporary of the events and lived within Ērānšahr) states clearly that it was him who put Walāxš on the throne, exactly what the Perso-Arabic tradition claims of Walāxš. It would also have made sense for Pērōz to leave his Hazārbed in the West in charge of the volatile situation in the Caucasus to suppress the Georgian and Armenian insurrections; clearly his son Kawād was still too young and apparently he did not trust his brother Walāxš enough for this task. According to Łazar, Walāxš decided on a reconciliatory approach to the Armenian rebels:

    Łazar P’arpec’i, History of the Armenians, Book III (88):
    On the second day of Vagharsh's reign, Hazarawuxt and the nobility held counsel. In king Vagharsh's presence [Hazarawuxt] said: "As you yourself know, your violent, self-indulgent and obstinate brother, king of kings Peroz' contemptuous depravity caused many people to flee from the Aryan realm. In a major, not minor way they have damaged the land of the Aryans. A primary example is the great land of the Armenians who today stand outside your service. The man who holds such a land aloof from you is a good man whose worth and essence went unrecognized by Peroz who drove him away from serving the Aryans. Everyone knows the injuries and blows occasioned by this man against the Aryan world. I think that you have heard and are informed about all of this. But Shapuh-Mihran whom you appointed [marzpan] knows about [Vahan's] bravery and wisdom even better through experience. If you wish to interrogate him and listen, he himself will tell you."

    Then king Vagharsh asked Shapuh-Mihran about Armenian affairs: "What were you able to accomplish in the land of Armenia, what are Vahan's thoughts and strength, and how has he been able to resist the Aryans for so many years?" Mihran replied: "Brave of the Aryans, it seems that Vahan was triumphant in the battle which Hazarawuxt and we fought, even though Vahan was there with all of his forces. Despite the fact that we were the victors, I know that they killed a countless multitude of our men. They dealt with your rule in such a way that half of the Armenian brigade engaged select warriors elsewhere. Hazarawuxt himself and other Iranian folk who were the seniors there know, nonetheless, what great damage [Vahan] inflicted with only a few men. After Hazarawuxt went to Iberia and left me there [in Armenia] as military commander, the way Vahan fatigued us with very few men (sometimes only hundreds, I am not exaggerating; and the noble folk of our brigade who were there and now are here testify) it is very difficult to say, and the words are unbelievable. For how could he fearlessly resist in battle with so few men, and come against the encampment all day, inflicting very great harm? But I who was there recall the events of one day in particular, and again consider the affair beyond human capabilities, though who upon hearing can believe it? For [Vahan] with thirty men fearlessly attacked 3,000 [of us] and wrought such a deed that all who observed it recall it today and probably fear of it will not depart. Such new deeds resemble nothing so much as diligent mshaks with good sharp sickles and scythes chopping grass, putting it in many heaps close to each other, and then joyously returning to their homes without a care. In just this way did they attack Mihran with so many men and completely split the entire brigade, killing many good folk including that awesome man, Gdihon, lord of Siwnik'. I had thought that only Gdihon with ten men of his brigade could encounter so many men and alone [be able to] do that. And [the Vahaneans] put to the sword such a man, and other distinguished and brave Iranian men. Nor did they then ride off on their horses and elude us. Rather, unconcernedly, they followed alongside for many hours. No one in our brigade dared to look at them. For it seemed to all of us that they were gods, not men. Although my words may seem audacious before you, I dare to express these views because of the appropriateness of the time. For you yourself well know the greatness and benefit of the land of the Armenians. I feel that if Vahan and the other folk with him were today peacefully in your service, a great deal of good and important consolation would ease our sorrow. For when the Armenians with such folk, are ours, the Iberians and Aghbanians/Aghuans would never dare to deviate or think anything contrary."

    When king Vagharsh heard such statements in order from Mihran, Hazarawuxt, and all the other Iranian nobility, they all praised what Mihran had said as true indeed. They immediately dispatched to Armenia Nixor Vshnaspdat, a mild, intelligent, and constructive person, with many select men. He was instructed by the king himself and even more so through the superintendence of Hazarawuxt and the other court nobility: "Go to Armenia and do whatever is necessary with all mildness and affection, according to the wishes of Vahan and his comrades, to bring these folk into Aryan service. But be careful to first assemble with you the cavalrymen of Atrpatakan who are near Armenia and the cavalry of Her and Zarawant district. For perhaps when you send to Vahan he will give you friendly pretexts but then trick and somehow harm you. The man is brave and shrewd. For to the present he and those with him have not accomplished such feats merely through bravery. Be well prepared. But it seems that Vahan would not think of such a thing, since the work which he and those with him made bold to do resulted from Peroz' lack of knowledge of human nature (in accordance with his proud and willful personality) and the inability of Vahan and those men who allied with him, to bear the ridicule. Willing to face death, they were forced to do such things." When the lord of the Aryans, Vagharsh, and all the nobility had said these things to Nixor Vshnaspdat, they bid him farewell and dispatched him to Armenia.

    Łazar’s view of the affairs of Ērānšahr was obviously entirely centered on Armenia, but looking at what we know at the situation of the Sasanian Empire at the death of Pērōz, we can see easily why the new king decided on a change of policy: the Empire had suffered an unprecedented defeat, and now the state of the finances was such that it was of the essence to stop any ongoing wars (the state of the army cannot have been great, either).

    The Armenians met to discuss the peace offer advanced by the Sasanian court, and according to Łazar, Vahan Mamikonian gave this response to the Sasanian envoys:

    Łazar P’arpec’i, History of the Armenians, Book III (89):
    The following day all the Armenian folk assembled by Vahan Mamikonean and first discussed among themselves the long-standing needs and problems of the matters. Nixor's emissaries came to the atean and the Mamikonid started replying to Nixor's words: "There are many important words regarding affairs of our rebellion - such a significant and potentially fatal act to which we have dedicated our lives - that it is impossible to deal with them in writing or by message; but only by speaking face-to-face with the one who is lord of the Aryans, and with you [a member] of the court nobility. But I will tell you three things which, if responded to in a manner desired by me and everyone here, if these three points are conceded to us in writing with the king's seal, then we will do all that is fitting and appropriate, and will heed your words as our ancestors did. For the words which I presently speak with you are not my own, but those of all the people who are now before you, seniors, and junior folk. Nor did we just today decide upon these words; rather, that was done on the day we dedicated ourselves to death. Everyone had previously resolved upon these three [demands]. If the Iranians consent to grant us these three [demands] we will serve them as natural and loyal servants. But if they do not agree to it, and become [more] severe, we shall arise through the land, be ruined, and gladly die, but we shall not worship an Iranian”.

    "First and foremost among the three demands is this important and useful point: let us keep our patrimonial and natural laws/faith, let no Armenian become a mage; do not give station and honor because of [acceptance of] magianism; remove the fire-temples from the land of Armenia, and hereafter let us not see those loathsome and useless men who are enemies of the Church. Permit Christians and priests the order and worship of Christianity boldly and fearlessly. This is good, and it is our first demand”.

    "The second demand is that you do not recognize a man on the basis of princeship but rather that you correctly learn the good and bad, and select the useful, not the useless; know the noble and ignoble, respect and honor the brave and useful, and scorn and regard as nothing the bad and useless. Love those who labor and loathe those who are not meritorious; keep wise people around you and consult them; do not permit the foolish to approach, but even chase them from the assembly. When all of this has been implemented, all the affairs of the Aryan world will be successful and correct. But if you like it otherwise, as is the case now, then events and affairs will go in a contrary way, as indeed happened and as you saw”.

    "Our third demand is that we want the one who is the lord of the Aryans and king of the land to see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears, know and speak with his own mouth, and not with the eyes and ears of another. Let him not always recognize a man as good or bad on another's say-so or talk about what is necessary with another's mouth. Otherwise, there will not be correct observations, or fair audience. For many words are false, many orders futile, and all wisdom is different. When all these [evils] operate, all the meritorious and their servants are destroyed, and neither the land nor its inhabitants can remain stable and unmoved. But the king who sees with his own healthy eyes and hears with unbiased hearing and speaks fairly with his servants, will vivify his servants and they will not be satisfied with their labor but will increase their efforts, trying to increase the good, day by day. In this way the land is cultivated, and the lord is always resplendent in luxury”.

    "Now if you can promise this and can give us these promises in a written and sealed form, call us and we will willingly come and hear your words and accept whatever the king orders. But if you cannot give us these three demands, and know that it is impossible, then just as we gave our lives before, so we now are ready to die, but we cannot serve the lord of the Aryans. Should I come [to Iran] there are other words which I will personally speak with him; otherwise, should I not come, the words and matters will remain [as problems]".

    Lengthy negotiations ensued, and finally Vahan “with all the Armenian cavalry” went to meet king Walāxš (Łazar does not say if the meeting took place at Ctesiphon or anywhere else), in which Walāxš granted all of the Armenians’ demands. It is also interesting that apparently before this trip another Armenian force had been sent in advance, which joined the royal army in defeating a certain “Zareh” (unattested in any other source) who is presented as “one of Pērōz’s sons” and a rebel to the king. So, possibly another reason to make peace as quickly as possible with the Armenians was that Walāxš needed troops, and the Armenian cavalry was usually much appreciated in Sasanian armies. I will return later to the figure of “Zareh”.

    The first marzbān of Armenian after this peace agreement was a certain Andekan (probably a member of the family of the lords of Andēgān in Abaršahr, already mentioned in the ŠKZ), and he was then succeeded (still during Walāxš’ reign) by Vahan Mamikonian himself, which signaled the victory of this powerful aristocratic house in their long struggle to defend their interests and those of their allied aristocratic lineages. Now Armenia was ruled by what was the most powerful aristocrat in the country, just as it happened in other parts of the Empire. Notice that if we identify Zarmihr Hazarawuxt with Suḵrā Kārēn, then in Łazar’s story and in his (obviously “Armenian-centric”) accounts of the debates in the Sasanian court, there is another important raising figure, Šābuhr Mihrān, who belonged to another of the great clans of the wāspuhragān (the upper crust of the Iranian nobility, even above of the wuzurgān). Time and again in Iranian history, this was a potentially dangerous situation in unstable times, as both nobiliary parties would be ready to take parts into opposed factions in case of any conflict.

    Ṭabarī, Bal’amī and Maqdīsī tell essentially the same story about Walāxš’ reign:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    Then there succeeded to the royal power after Fayrūz, son of Yazdajird, his son Balāsh.
    (He was) the son of Fayrūz, son of Yazdajird, son of Bahrām Jūr. His brother Qubādh had disputed the succession with him, but Balāsh had emerged victorious and Qubādh had fled to Khāqān, king of the Turks, seeking his help and military aid. When the crown was placed on Balāsh's head, the great men of state and the nobles gathered round him, hailed him with congratulations, and invoked divine blessings on him. They requested him to re ward Sūkhrā for what he had done, so Balāsh marked him out as one of his special favorites, honored him and gave him rich presents. Balāsh invariably behaved in a praiseworthy manner and had an intense care for the prosperity of the land. His laudable concern for this reached the extent that, whenever he heard of the ruin of a house and the flight of its inhabitants, he would punish the owner of the village because of his lack of lively concern for them and lack of relief for their need, so that they would not have been compelled to abandon their homes. He built in the Sawād a city he called Balāshāwādh, which is Sābāt near al-Madā'in. His reign lasted four years.

    The detail about Walāxš building a city in Iraq is a mistake by Ṭabarī. He is referring here to the city of Vologesocerta on the Tigris, located near Ctesiphon, and built not by Walāxš, but by the Arsacid king Walagaš I (r. 51-76/80 CE); the similar name probably caused the confusion. As you can see, Ṭabarī’s description of Walāxš is quite positive. And about his dethronement by Kawād I:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    Then there succeeded to the royal power Qubādh, son of Fayrūz, son of Yazdajird, son of Bahrām Jūr. Before Qubādh attained the throne, he had fled to Khāqān, seeking help from him against his brother Balāsh. On his way there, he passed through the vicinity of Naysābūr, accompanied by a small band of companions fleeing with him in disguise. Among these was Zarmihr, son of Sūkhrā.
    (…)
    Qubādh traveled on to Khāqān, and when he reached him, he told him that he was the son of the king of Persia and that his brother had contested the throne with him and had gained the upper hand. Hence he was now coming to Khāqān seeking help. The latter gave him fine promises, but Qubādh remained at Khāqān's court for four years, during which Khāqān kept putting off his promise to Qubādh. Qubādh became tired of waiting and sent a message to Khāqān's wife requesting her to adopt him as her own child and requesting her to speak with her husband regarding him and ask him to fulfill his promise. She did this and kept on at length pressing Khāqān until he dispatched an army with Qubādh.
    (…)
    When Qubādh reached al-Madā'in and had gathered together firmly in his hands all the reins of royal power, he sought out Sūkhrā for special honor, delegated to him all his executive powers, and gave him thanks for the service rendered to him by his son (i.e. by Zarmihr).

    Here the Hephthalites become once again “Turks” and their king is once more Khāqān (i.e. the Khagan, an anachronism). The detail about Kawād’s adoption by the Hephthalite king is strange, but as Clifford E. Bosworth noticed, this may be related to a passage by Joshua the Stylite, in which Kawād, then a refugee at the Hephthalite court, married the daughter of the Hephthalite king, who was his own cousin, as her mother was Pērōz’s daughter who had been taken prisoner by the Hephthalite king. The only problem is the chronology, because according to Joshua this happened when Kawād fled to the Hephthalite court when he was dethroned after is first reign.

    Coin_Kawad_I_first_reign_OB.jpg
    Coin_Kawad_I_first_reign_RV.jpg

    Drahm of Kawād I minted during his first reign. Pahlavi legend on the obverse: “Kay Kawād”. Mint of Ērān-Xwarrah-Šābuhr in Xūzestān.

    Eutychius of Alexandria offers a different version of the events. According to this author, Walāxš and Kawād fought for the throne and the latter sought refuge in Khurāsān in the court of Khāqān, king of the Turks, accompanied by Zarmihr. He spends four years in there, and then he is given by Khāqān a great army with which he invades the Sasanian Empire, crossing Abaršahr. When he reaches Ctesiphon, he learns that his uncle Walāxš has died and he becomes king.

    A somewhat different version is offered by the Arabic Chronicle of Se’ert. According to it, after the death of Fīrūz, the Iranians elect as king Mīlās, his son. Qubādh, the other son, flees to the land of the Hephthalites and lives with them for three years. In the fourth years, the king of the Hephthalites gives an army to Qubādh with which he returns to Iran. But when he reaches al-Madā’in, Mīlās has died already and Qubādh is elected as king, and he sends the Hephthalite troops back with many presents.

    According to Ibn Isfandīyār, Pīrūz left three sons: Balāš, who was elected king, Gāmāšp, who was appointed as the king’s councilor, and Qubādh, who fled to Khurāsān and asked Khāqān for help to dethrone his brother. Khāqān gave him an army and Qubādh marched against his brothers, but once he reached Rayy, Balāš died and Sūḥrā offered the crown to Qubādh, ordering him (sic) to send back the Turk troops that were quartered in Rayy.

    Yet another variation is told by Mīr-Khvānd. According to this one, Sūḥar installed Qubādh’s brother Balāš as king, and so Qubādh fled with Azarmihr in search of protection from the “king of Turkestān”; he goes to the capital of Khaqan by way of Nīšāpūr. Qubadh spends four years there, until Khāqān appoints a companion to him and they go back to Iran; when he reaches Nīšāpūr Qubādh learns about his brother’s death and he is chosen as king.

    The version by Ferdowsī is also different. According to him, “the people” admired Suḵrā and only took orders from him, ignoring Walāxš completely, until Suḵrā dethroned him; Ferdowsī does not state it explicitly, but it seems assumed in the text that it was Suḵrā who appointed Kawād to succeed him. Also, according to Ferdowsī’s version, Kawād was crowned in Staķr (or Staxr) in Pārs, the cradle of the House of Sāsān.

    Staxr.jpg

    Practically nothing remains over ground level of the ancient city of Staxr, and the remains have been never excavated.

    As you may have realized, all the sources (except for the Chronicle of Se’ert) anachronically refer to Kawād’s allies as “Türks”. Some historians have seen this alleged flight by Kawād to the Hephthalite court as an historical fact (B. Litvinsky, E. De la Vaissière, R. N. Frye) or like a confusion in which Kawād I’s flight to the Hephthalites after his dethronement in 496 CE is mistakenly told twice (a theory already defended by T. Nöldeke in the XIX c. and supported by J. Marquart, A. Luther, P. Pourshariati and N. Schindel), which seems to be the prevailing opinion nowadays. Among other things, this belief is based on one detail present in most accounts: that Kawād spent some time in Nīšāpūr before reaching the Hephthalites, or when returning to Iran, while N. Schindel and M. Boyce defended in respective papers in 2004 and 2011 that there were reasons to believe that among the catastrophes suffered by the Sasanians after Pērōz’s final defeat was the capture of the holy fire of Ādur Burzēn Mihr, located near this city. This would place Nēv-Šābuhr in Hephthalite hands at the moment and thus invalidate an important part of Ṭabarī’s account.

    All in all, the information provided by Joshua the Stylite, who does not follow the Perso-Arabic tradition and was a contemporary of the facts, seems more reliable. Walāxš was penniless and unable to pay the army at a time when there was danger not only in the East but probably also in the Caucasus, as the first thing that Kawād had to do after seizing the throne was to stop raids from that border and repair the Caucasian fortresses.

    It is interesting to notice too how in many of the accounts from the Perso-Arabic tradition it is Suḵrā who appoints Kawād as king, although only Ferdowsī states specifically that it is him who deposed Walāxš “gently”. This is hard to believe, and I find the account by Joshua the Stylite far more believable: that Walāxš was blinded after being dethroned; and most probably Suḵrā might have been the author of this coup. In other words, Suḵrā had played the role of kingmaker in 484 CE and in 488 CE he repeated the performance; the reason for this change of opinion, as is pointed out by N. Schindel in his entry about Kawād I in the Encyclopædia Iranica, is that in 484 CE Kawād had been far too young to rule, and that by 488 CE Walāxš had proved himself ineffective as a king. The amount of power wielded by Suḵrā during the reign of Walāxš seems to have been enormous, as even Ferdowsī (who is extremely partial towards this figure) states clearly that “the people” preferred to deal with Suḵrā rather than with the king, who was held in contempt and ignored by everybody.

    Suḵrā probably expected that things would continue the same under the young Kawād, who by 488 CE might have been 14-16 years old according to Procopius, 15 according to Dīnawarī and 16 according to Ferdowsī. They were also related, as according to the X-XI c. CE author Miskawayh, Suḵrā was Kawād’s maternal uncle. Eventually, Kawād would engineer the downfall of Suḵrā with the help of his enemies in the aristocratic class, although the chronology of the events is most unclear.

    Qasr e abu nasr.jpg

    The modern city of Šīrāz was founded during the Islamic period. The location in the photograph is Qaṣr-i Abu Naṣr, an ancient settlement dated to Arsacid and Sasanian settlements that could have been the site of the Sasanian Šīrāz (located near the modern city). Archaeological excavations in this site have revealed numerous administrative Sasanian bullae than reinforce the possibility that this was the seat of the Sasanian administration for the province of Šīrāz.

    The first reign of Kawād I lasted only eight years (488-496 CE) but they were really eventful ones. They were marked by the murder of Suḵrā (at Kawād’s instigation) and, according to the reconstruction of events by the British historian Patricia Crone, by the support offered by Kawād I to the heretical leader Mazdak who unleashed a real social and religious “revolution” in the Sasanian Empire. The history of the Mazdakite movement has caused rivers of ink to be spilled since Marxist historians decided to label it as a “proto-communist” movement in Late Antiquity, based on the very flimsy evidence that has remained, which comes almost exclusively from sources that were extremely hostile to Mazdak and his teachings. Also, as Crone showed in her analysis, it is exceedingly difficult to consider Mazdak’s movement in isolation without linking it to Kawād I’s difficulties with the higher nobility, with are exemplified by the murder of Suḵrā and his dethronement by the grandees and the Zoroastrian priesthood. In other words, Crone (in which most modern scholars agree) employed Mazdak and his followers as a battering ram against the privileged status of the Iranian nobility, although it is unclear if he shared Mazdak’s goals (i.e. a radical remaking of the society of Ērānšahr) or if he just wanted to erode the power of the great families to stop them from meddling into political and dynastic affairs.

    Analyzing all this will take more than one post, and I will divide the matter covered into three main blocks:
    • The murder of Suḵrā and the dethronement of Kawād I by the grandees.
    • The legal and social status of the late Sasanian nobility and priesthood.
    • The Mazdakite movement, according to Crone.
    I will cover the first block of material in this post, and then I will devote one post to each of the other blocks. Let us begin with our main source, Ṭabarī:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    When Qubādh reached al-Madā'in and had gathered together firmly in his hands all the reins of royal power, he sought out Sūkhrā for special honor, delegated to him all his executive powers, and gave him thanks for the service rendered to him by his son (sc., by Zarmihr). He then sent out troops to the distant frontiers, which inflicted hurt on his enemies and brought back numerous captive women and children. Between al-Ahwāz and Fārs he built the town of Arrajān, and likewise he built the town of Ḥulwān, and, in the administrative district (kūrah) of Ardashīr Khurrah, in the neighborhood of Kārazīn, a town called Qubādh Khurrah. All this was in addition to [other] towns and villages he founded and to [other] canals he had dug and bridges he had constructed.
    Now when the greater part of Qubādh's days had gone by, with Sūkhrā in charge of the government of the kingdom and the management of affairs, the people came to Sūkhrā and undertook all their dealings with him, treating Qubādh as a person of no importance and regarding his commands with contempt. At last, Qubādh became desirous of resuming power and was no longer able to endure that state of affairs or remain content with it. He wrote to Sābūr of al-Rayy, [a man] from the house called Mihrān, who was Supreme Commander of the Land (iṣbahbadh al-bilād), to come to him with the troops under his command. Sābūr came to him with these, and Qubādh sketched out for him the position regarding Sūkhrā and gave him the necessary orders concerning this last. The next morning, Sābūr went into Qubādh's presence and found Sūkhrā seated there with the king. He walked toward Qubādh, passing before Sūkhrā, and paying no attention to him. Sūkhrā [for his part] gave no heed to this part of Sābūr’s cunning plan, until Sābūr threw round his neck a noose he had with him and then dragged him off. He was taken away, loaded with fetters, and consigned to gaol. People commented at that time, "Sūkhrā's wind has died away, and a wind belonging to Mihrān has now started to blow", and this became proverbial. After that, Qubādh ordered Sūkhrā to be executed, and this was done.

    This passage contains a considerable amount of information and is worth a detailed commentary. Firstly, Ṭabarī refers to Kawād I’s activities as a city builder (as befitted a Sasanian king), both in Xūzestān (Arabic al-Ahwāz) and the neighboring region of Pārs. In the next thread, I will address in detail the issue of Sasanian administrative geography, and I will then discuss in more detail Kawād I’s activities as a city builder in this part of Ērānšahr. There is an obvious mistake in Ṭabarī’s text regarding the chronology of events: according to this fragment, Kawād I moved against Suḵrā “when the greater part of Qubādh's days had gone by” and this is incorrect; the next passage by Ṭabarī even specifies that this had happened during Kawād I’s first reign. In this sense, maybe it should be read that it happened “towards the end of Kawād I’s first reign”.

    A different Islamic author, Balādhurī, informs us that at the start of his reign Kawād I sent one of his commanders into the region of Arrān (i.e. Caucasian Albania) to secure the Caucasus passes against the “Khazars” (an anachronism, as the steppe peoples to the north of the Caucasus were probably Huns and Oghurs).

    It is clear that after Kawād’s rise to power, Suḵrā continued to rule the Empire has he had done under Walāxš, taking advantage of Kawād’s youth, but as the latter grew up, he became more and more dissatisfied with the situation. This is confirmed by Ya’qūbī and Dīnawarī, who both state that Kawād was fifteen years old when he rose to the throne and that he got rid of Suḵrā after having spent five years under his tutelage (i.e. in 493 CE). Thus, he launched an intrigue to get ride of Suḵrā, regardless of the fact that it was him who had put him in power (this Machiavellian personality trait of Kawād I will reappear time and again during his reign). The nobleman that he resorted to in order to do the dirty work is considered by all scholars to be the same Šābuhr Mihrān that appears in the account of Łazar P’arpec’i; Ṭabarī also states that he was a Mihranid, and that he was from Rayy (the seat of the main branch of the Mihrān clan). The title conferred upon him by Ṭabarī of “Supreme Commander of the Land” (iṣbahbadh al-bilād in Arabic) is interpreted by most modern historians as meaning Ērān-spāhbed, i.e. supreme commander of the army. In other words, Kawād I resorted to one of the main clans of the nobility to get rid of the head of a rival family, taking advantage of the rivalry between noble houses to reinforce royal power.

    Ferdowsī offers quite a more dramatic version of Suḵrā’s end:

    Ferdowsi, Šāh-nāma:
    (…)
    The nobles all called blessings down on him,
    And showered emeralds upon his crown.
    He was a youth of sixteen years, and bore
    As yet but little part in government,
    While Súfarai took order for the world.
    Kubád ruled in the palace; all affairs
    Were managed wholly by the paladin.
    He suffered no one to approach the Sháh,
    Who had no archmage and gave no command
    Or counsel. Súfarai ruled all the land.

    Thus in the cup the wine was tulip-like
    Until Kubád was twenty-one years old;
    Then Súfarai came in before the king
    For licence to go home and thereupon
    He gat him ready with his retinue,
    Struck up the drums, and started for Shíráz,
    Returning to his country, full of joy,
    As one that had obtained his whole desire.
    All Párs was as it were a slave before him,
    And, save the throne of empire, all was his.
    His thoughts were these: "I have set up the Sháh,
    And done him homage as my sovereign,
    So now if any man shall slander me
    He will rebuke that man and banish him."
    He levied tribute on the provinces,
    On all the men of name and all the chiefs.
    When tidings of his just and unjust deeds
    Came from Shíráz to glorious Kubád,
    The people said: "The Sháh hath but the crown.
    And not the troops and treasure in Iran,
    Hath no authority, is not consulted;
    The world is all the slave of Súfarai."

    All those that shared the secrets of Kubád
    Repeated to him what the people said,
    And added: "Why, exalted king! art thou
    Contented merely to be king in name?
    His treasury is better filled than thine:
    Thou shouldst release the world from his oppression.
    All Párs hath grown as 'twere a slave to him,
    The great men have become his thralls."

    These words
    Seduced Kubád's heart, which became forgetful
    Of all the services of Súfarai;.
    He said: "If I shall send an army forth
    He will revolt and seek to be avenged,
    I shall but use my wealth to make a foe,
    While he will cause much trouble and much toil.
    The people all are talking of his deeds,
    Unwitting of his secret purposes.
    I know not any warrior of Irán
    To march against him with a host to battle."

    A wise man answered thus: "Think not that he
    E'er will be recognised as king. Thou hast
    Both lieges and a leader of the host
    That can lay hand upon the circling sky;
    So when Shápúr of Rai is on the march
    The heart of wicked Súfarai will rive."

    The Sháh took courage when he heard these words,
    Forgot the merit and presumed the guilt;
    Then bade a veteran mount as swift as wind,
    And, on the plea of faring forth to hawk.
    Go to Shápúr of Rai, cause him to mount
    Forthwith upon his steed, and summon him
    From Rai to court. The messenger, who took
    A spare steed, went swift as an autumn-blast
    To Rai as he was bidden by the king.
    The chamberlain there saw and questioned him,
    Took the king's letter, went before Shápúr,
    Gave it, and introduced that noble horseman.
    Shápúr, who was descended from Mihrak,
    Smiled when he read the letter of Kubád,
    For Súfarai had not a foe like him
    In public and in private. Thus apprised
    Shápúr convoked his lieges and led forth
    His army in all haste to Taisafún.
    When he had brought his army to the Sháh
    They gave him audience instantly. The world-lord,
    On seeing him, received him graciously,
    Caused him to sit upon the turquoise throne,
    And said: "I have no portion in this crown,
    Am noted 'mongst the foolish in the world.
    All power is with Súfarai; I see
    But sovereignty in name. Late in the day
    My body shrinketh from the weights that press
    With justice or injustice on my neck.
    E'en were my brother master of Irán
    'Twere better than this unjust Súfarai."

    Shápúr replied: "O king! be not aggrieved
    At heart on this account. Thou shouldest write
    A letter in harsh terms to him, for thou
    Hast Grace and fame, high lineage and support.
    Say: ‘Of the crown of king of kings my share
    Is travail and an empty treasure-house.
    Thou takest tribute, and I bear the blame.
    I will not have thee call me Sháh henceforth.
    Lo! I have sent to thee a paladin
    In that thy conduct causeth me to wail.'
    When he shall get a letter thus conceived,
    And I am there with troops prepared for fight,
    I will not leave him time to wink an eye,
    Or speak a word to him unless in wrath."

    They called to them a scribe and seated him
    Before Shápúr, who said again the words
    As spoken in the presence of the Sháh:
    The writer wrote them, grieving secretly.
    Shápúr, whenas the Sháh had sealed the letter,
    Led forth his host, then added famous chiefs,
    Disbanded from the armies of the king,
    And with those nobles eager for the fray
    face toward the city of Shíráz.
    When Súfarai had tidings of the matter
    He marched at once, and with a mighty host -
    Picked cavaliers in mail - went out to meet
    Shápúr. They met, and those two haughty chiefs
    Alighted from their steeds. Now when Shápúr
    Sat down with Súfarai they talked at large
    Of projects good and ill. Shápúr then gave
    The letter of the king, and matters reached
    A cruel, shameful pass; the paladin,
    When he had read the letter, changed his favour,
    Was stunned and dark of soul. Then said Shápúr,
    The letter being read: "I must be plain:
    The world-lord ordered that thou shouldst be

    bound,
    Complaining much of thee before the nobles,
    And thou wilt gather, having read his letter.
    That he is resolute."

    The paladin
    Replied: "The monarch of the world is ware
    What toil and hardship I have borne for him,
    That marching from Zábulistán with troops
    I set him free from bondage by my valour,
    And suffered no calamity to come
    Upon him. I had influence with the Sháh,
    And with the chieftains of the Íránian host,
    But since bonds are to be my recompense,
    And my resistance will be troublesome
    To thee, I ask no respite. Bind my feet:
    The fetters of Kubád will profit me.
    Doth he not shame before God and the host,
    For I shed freely my warm blood for him?
    What time the Sháh was in captivity
    I swore by God a mighty oath, and said: -
    ‘My hand shall look but on my falchion's hilt,
    And I will cloud the sun in fight, till I
    Shall give my head or bring down from the throne
    The head of Khúshnawáz between the shears.'
    And now he biddeth me be bound! Is't right?
    Receive I but derogatory words?
    Still turn not aught from his commands, for know
    That bonds but ornament a hero's feet."

    Shápúr, on hearing this, made fast the fetters,
    Then bade the trumpet sound and gat to horse.
    From Párs he carried Súfarai before
    Kubád, who thought not of past services,
    But bade men bear him to the prison-house,
    Near where the madmen were, and gave command
    To carry from Shíráz to Taisafún
    What wealth soever he possessed - his folk,
    His treasures, and the produce of his fields -
    By those appointed to the treasurer.
    Now when a week had passed Kubád consulted
    The archmages how to deal with Súfarai,
    And thus a counsellor addressed the Sháh:
    "The whole of Taisafún is on his side
    Troops, courtiers, thanes, and populace alike.
    If he abideth in Írán unscathed
    Thou mayest wash thy hands of sovereignty.
    The foeman of the Sháh is best when killed,
    His hater's fortune best when overturned."

    Now when the Shah had heard the archmage's
    counsel
    He took a new course and despised the old,
    Gave his command that Súfarai be slain,
    The hearts of all his kindred wrung with pain.

    Ferdowsī’s account shares many points in common with Ṭabarī’s; the main difference is that Suḵrā retires to Pārs (to his native Šīrāz) and from there he continues to exert great influence over the affairs of the Empire. If we are to believe Ferdowsī’s account, Suḵrā practically set up a “state within a state” in Pārs, collecting taxes and maintaining a private army. It is worth noting that Ferdowsī specifically notes that Kawād had no army to speak of, and that he refused to send an armed force against Suḵrā for fear that the latter might rebel. Therefore, he resorted to Šābuhr Mihrān, who as Ērān-spāhbed was the supreme commander of the army, and a personal enemy of Suḵrā, and thus able to pose a real change against the latter. This does not paint a very flattering image of the Sasanian court during these first years of Kawād I, as he basically depended on the wispuhrān and wuzurgān to wage war for him.

    The Armenian sources are silent about this development, and same about Procopius and later Byzantine sources that followed him. Joshua the Stylite does not mention this episode either, so other than the respective accounts by Ṭabarī and Ferdowsī we have no other sources to compare to these two authors.
     
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    5.10 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (I).
  • 5.10 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (I).

    INTRODUCTION AND SOURCES.

    This post and the two that follow it are intended as an introduction to the next one (or ones) in which I will address the issue of the Mazdakite movement, which probably will make little sense if I do not explain before (albeit briefly) the social and legal structures of Sasanian Iran, which were quite peculiar to this ancient empire and quite different from the Roman Law or the later Islamic Law, which are both quite more familiar to modern readers. In this post I will follow closely the excellent paper by the Soviet Armenian scholar Anahit Perikhanian titled Iranian Society and Law which was published in 1983 as Chapter 18 of Vol. III of the Cambridge History of Iran, with some amendments by Mansour Shaki in his article about “Citizenship in the Sasanian period” in the Encyclopædia Iranica. Perikhanian is still today the modern author of reference on the subject of Sasanian law.

    First, there is the problem of the sources. There is no evidence that law was codified at the level of the whole Empire in a comprehensive way comparable to what Justinian I achieved with Roman Law in the VI c. CE with the Corpus Iuris Civilis. The main source for the study of Sasanian law is the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān (the Book of a Thousand Judgements), which was written down during the reign of Xusrō II (early VII c. CE) by a certain Farraxvmard ī Vahrāmān who lived in Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah in Pārs. This is not a compendium of written law, but rather a compendium of jurisprudence, i.e. of rulings by Sasanian judges in cases that were especially difficult, to shed light on how Sasanian Law should be applied in the “real” world. It deals exclusively with civilian rulings (i.e. there are no abstract theological arguments or disputes, as would become common in the IX c. once Zoroastrian Law lost ground in front of Islamic Law in civilian matters) at a time shortly before the Muslim invasion, when Zoroastrian Law was still supreme in Ērānšahr.

    Other than this compendium, another important source is the Dēnkard (more about this below), together with the usual array of references that can be gathered from indirect sources: the ŠKZ, the inscription of Narsē at Paikuli, the MP inscriptions of Kirdēr and Mihr-Narsē, Armenian, Syriac, Jewish and Perso-Arabic Islamic sources. Syriac sources are particularly important because they were produced by a Christian population who had to live in a Zoroastrian empire (and which in consequence was subjected to Zoroastrian Law) but who were allowed to follow their own laws in their internal affairs (same case as with the Jews). Over time, the Christian leaders (usually bishops) tried to make Christian Law as compatible as possible with the provisions of Zoroastrian Law whenever possible (without compromising core Christian beliefs) in order to diminish the degree of potential sectarian conflict between both communities. Of these, the most important is the Law Book of Yišō’boxt (an East Syrian bishop who wrote this juridical compendium in Fārs in 775-779 CE).

    Videvdad-Avestan_ms_4_f265v-266r.jpg

    One of the oldest manuscripts with the text of the Vidēvdād in Avestan script. The Vidēvdād is the only complete book (nask) of the Sasanian Avestā that has survived. It is primarily concerned with ritual purity, containing rules for how to remove impurities from Ahura Mazda’s creation, and how to atone for and punish acts causing pollution. It also includes several important myths: the creation story, the rule of Yima the first king, and Zarathustra’s temptation and defeat of the evil spirit Angra Manyu. Used in combination with the Visperad and the Yasna, but without any translation or commentary, it forms the basis of the Vidēvdād sādah, a separate ritual from the daily Yasna ceremony.

    Before entering into detail, it is important to state that Sasanian Law attained a great degree of sophistication, certainly higher than contemporary Indian Law (with which it shared common roots), fully comparable to Roman Law in its latest stages of evolution under Justinian, and it was a much more evolved legal system that the primitive version of Islamic law that was imposed on Iran by the Arab Muslim conquerors in the VII c. CE. This inevitably translated into Sasanian Law exerting a great degree of influence on almost all of its neighbors: Armenia and the other Caucasian kingdoms, Sogdiana and Ṭoḵārestān, and also on the evolution of most schools of Islamic Law from the VIII c. onwards (as we will see in more detail later). Although Christians and Jews within Ērānšahr were allowed to have their own laws and courts of justice for internal disputes within their communities, Zoroastrian Law was supreme, and Christians and Jews could resort to Zoroastrian courts (whose rulings always overruled those of non-Zoroastrian courts). In fact, the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān presupposes systematically the presence of agdēn (unbelievers) in Zoroastrian courts, and states clearly that Zoroastrian laws are also appliable to them, with one sole exception: agdēn could not resort to the practice of stūrīh (substitute successorship, more details on this point later). A VII c. CE treatise by a certain Simeon, bishop of Rev-Ardaxšīr (on the coast of Pārs, near the limit with Xūzestān) implies clearly that the Christian communities of Pārs considered Sasanian Law their own (hence the need for legal works like the Law Book of Yišō’boxt, which was written precisely in Pārs in that century).

    As most ancient law systems, ancient Iranian law was sanctified by a religious ethic and was in itself a part of this ethic. Thus, the canon of the Avestā included a number of legal nasks which have not survived but are mentioned in the Dēnkard. Book VIII of this work includes epitomes of these nasks in the form of indexes or subject-lists. The legal nasks of the Avestā were used in legal proceedings, but not directly. The language barrier was not the only reason for this (the language of the Avestan nasks was Old or Young Avestan, not Middle Persian). The law contained in the Avestan nasks (let us remember that the Avestā is dated roughly to the 1500 – 500 BCE period) must have been certainly primitive in relation to the level of political, social, and economic development attained in Iran during the Sasanian period. It is because of this that, long before the Sasanian era, the first oral commentaries on the Avestan legal nasks appeared. By the way, the interpretation of these nasks, as they were part of the Avestā, was done by Zoroastrian priests; by the Sasanian era this task had become the domain of mowbeds (the highest rank of Zoroastrian priests), who also staffed the Sasanian courts of justice in quality of judges (dādwar). Eventually, these oral commentaries became written ones. It is unclear when this happened, but it seems clear that written commentaries on the Avestan nasks were the basis for legal proceedings as early as the middle Sasanian period. These commentaries were called čāštag (“precepts or “teachings”) and references to them, with mention of their authors, the commentators of the Avestā, together with actual quotations from them, are fairly frequent in the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān. Some of the commentators on the non-legal nasks of the Avestā, such as Sōšyāns, Martak, Mēṯōkmah and Aparak, also wrote legal commentaries, but a number of authors’ names appear nowhere else but in the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān. These legal commentaries are written at different times along Sasanian history; the earliest ones are probably dated to the late III and early IV c. CE. There were also “law schools” composed of followers (Aparakīgān, Mēṯōkmahīgān) of one or other of the commentators, the dastabars (the same phenomenon that would happen later in Islamic Law). Comparison of the articles quoting or expounding the commentaries in the Book VIII of the Dēnkard show that these IX c. CE epitomes were written from the MP commentaries and not directly from the Avestan nasks.

    Besides these commentaries, the compiler of the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān also refers to and quotes from “collections of judicial decisions”, evidently put together for the specific purpose of helping judges; of which one (now lost) compilation is quoted repeatedly, the Dādistān-nāmag (the Book of Judgements).

    The Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān includes also direct indications of the activities of the high priests of the Empire (mowbedān mowbed) in the field of legislation and judicial organization. Thus, in four articles in this work mention is made of the “memorandum” (abrātkār) of the mowbedān mowbed Vēh-Šābuhr, the same Vēh-Šābuhr that under Xusrō I heeded the commission on the canon of the Avestā. Vēh-Šābuhr’s “memorandum” deals with procedural questions and, in particular, the drawing-up of records of interrogation during the investigation of capital offenses. This document was written down from Vēh-Šābuhr’s dictation and reproduced in copies that were then made to circulate in the provinces of Ērānšahr.

    Other sources (which have not survived) used by the compiler of the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān were the Xvēškārīh-nāmag ī mowbedān (“Book about the duties of mowbeds”) and the Xvēškārīh-nāmag ī kār-franāmān (“Book about the duties of officials”). The latter contained, notably, the instruction of the rad (spiritual master) Mahrspand (evidently, the father of Ādurbād ī Mahrspandān, the famous mowbedān mowbed during Šābuhr II’s reign)concerning the confiscation for the king’s treasury of the property of Manichaeans and those who spread their doctrine. In the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān also appears mentioned a special work or instruction on procedures for appeals called Mustabar-nāmag.

    The Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān also quotes decrees issued by certain Sasanian kings, with interesting details. For example, decrees by three kings (Warahrān V, Yazdegerd II and Pērōz) about the punishment of the wuzurg framadār Mihr-Narsē, and the orders issued by Kawād I and Xusrō I about seals. Perhaps the most interesting amongst them is the decree by Xusrō I on judicial reform and a general review of judicial procedures and sentences.

    ETKhYbcWkAEoj89.jpg

    No images of Zoroastrian priests or ceremonies have survived from within the Sasanian Empire, but several have survived in Sogdian art. This baked clay ossuary was found at Mulla Kurgan (near Samarkand), in Uzbekistan, and is dated to the VII c. CE. This detail shows two Zoroastrian priests performing the Āfrīnagān ceremony, with their mouths covered by the padām (face mask) to avoid polluting the fire.

    Farraxvmard ī Vahrāmān also made use of more unconventional sources: he was granted access to the official archives for the province and capital city of Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah, and so in his work he quotes from entries in court records, from the minutes of interrogations and from decisions of the officials of Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah. He also quotes the wills of the mowbedān mowbed Vēh-Šābuhr and Dād-Gušnasp, a member of the noble family of Šahr-Zapalagān (both of which were contemporaries of Xusrō I) and other legal documents.

    Other than the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān and the other works already mentioned, Perikhanian also resorted to other later MP sources, like the Dādistān ī Dēnīg (Religious Judgements, written in the IX c. CE) and the Rivāyat ī Ēmēt ī Ašavahistān (X c. CE), as well as some other minor sources.


    SOCIAL ORGANISATION.

    Besides the members of the king’s family, the vassal rulers, courtiers and high officials of state, all of whom were people of considerable wealth, there were a middle and petty nobility (who received in payment for their services, from the treasury from the reign of Xusrō I onwards, both rations and allotments of land in hereditary, conditional possession), a priesthood, urban middle strata made up of merchants and craftsmen, a mass of country people living in village communities, and also slaves. Finally, there was also quite a numerous nomadic population, who still retained gentile-tribal forms of organization and a primitive patriarchal economy.

    Accordingly, Perikhanian proposed that ancient Iranian society may be studied according to a number of different aspects, of which she centered on four in her study:
    • The division into social estates.
    • Citizenship and lack of it.
    • Class and legal status (non-slaves and slaves).
    • Organizational structures (i.e. social units).
    I will follow her scheme here.

    Social estates.

    The MP term for subject or citizen was šāhān šāh bandag (lit. “slave of the king of kings”), an expression traceable to Achaemenid times and employed in reference to all free male residents of the realm without distinction of rank or class. It is also to be understood in expressions like dehgān ī šāhān šāh “landowner (subject) of the king of kings”. In MP legal texts the common term for a citizen of the lower ranks was mard/zan ī šahr “male/female citizen”. Iranian citizens were called Ērān or Ērān šahrīgān, as opposed to “non-Iranian subjects,” anērān šahrīgān.

    There is no mention in sources from the Achaemenid and Arsacid periods of the ancient division of society into estates that is described in the Avestā, and there is no evidence either that such a division existed in the first half of the Sasanian period. That such a division existed in the following period (from the V c. CE onwards) is attested by MP, Eastern Roman and Perso-Arabic sources.

    It is also difficult to discern if the lack of evidence in the earlier sources (mainly Greek ones) is merely accidental or if the well attested division into estates of the later period was an entirely artificial creation of said period, with no real roots in its immediate past. Perikhanian thought that it was evident that with the appearance of a state in Iran from the Achaemenid era onwards and the emergence into the foreground of other forms of social organization, the role of the ancient Avestan division into estates might have declined markedly.

    On the other hand, there can have been no special social-estate administration, nor did it exist in the society reflected in the Avestā. The terms related to the estates employed in the Avestā left no trace in the living languages of later times (Old Persian, Parthian, Middle Persian). The ancient estate of “priests” (Av. āθravan-) was apparently substituted at a very early age by the term “magian” (Old Ir. magu-, mow-) and the ancient estate of “warriors” or “charioteers” (Av. raθaēštar-) was replaced by the new noble estate of the āzādān (in Greek documents from Iran representatives of this estate were called ՙελεύθεροι [eleútheroi, literally “the free ones”] by association with the homonym Iranian term āzād, meaning “free”). This estate might also have included (from the reign of Xusrō I onwards) the “horsemen” (savārān or asbārān) of non-noble origins who served in the regular cavalry and received from the Treasury allotments of land in conditional possession. The development of urban life over the centuries, especially under Sasanian rule, and the appearance of a bureaucracy must have led to still greater changes affecting the third estate (ram, meaning “flock”) who corresponded to the ancient “cultivators” (Av. vāstryo.fšuyant-).

    Meanwhile, as early as the end of the III c. CE the process had begun of transforming the Zoroastrian priesthood into an organization parallel to the Sasanian state (a sort of “state church” in Perikhanian’s words) which from the reign of Šābuhr II onwards began to play an ever greater role in the internal affairs of Ērānšahr. The strengthening of its economic power and internal organization, which proceeded in clear alliance with the monarchy, was accompanied by a considerable growth in its ideological influence. The prestige of the Avestā became especially great. For this reason, according to Perikhanian, a new division into estates was introduced, not later than the beginning of the V c. CE, although according to the Soviet scholar, this reform might have been originally a purely bureaucratic one. On the one hand, the real social situation was taken into account, and on the other the nomenclature of the Avestā was revived (in a MP “learned” version).

    The reform introduced four main estates (pēšag). First, as before, came the priests (āsrōnān, MP version of Av. āθravan-), with whom the judges (MP dādwarān, Av. dataβarān) were also associated. In the second place stood the estate of the warriors (MP artēštārān, transcription of Av. raθaēštar-). The third place was assigned to a new estate, the “scribes” (MP dibīrān) which comprised the numerous members of the bureaucracy. The “cultivators” (MP wāstaryōšān, transcription of Av. vāstryo.fšuyant-) formed the fourth estate, along with the “craftsmen” (MP hutuxšān, literally “diligent”, zealous”, an artificial term, perhaps an adaptation of the phonetically similar Av. hūiti-).

    Subdivisions were also introduced within the estates. The fourth estate included “cultivators”, “craftsmen” and “merchants” while the first estate was apparently divided into the magi (MP mowbedān), minor priests (MP hērbedān, derived from Av. aēθrapati-) and “judges” (MP dādwarān). Membership of a particular estate was hereditary and social movement from one estate to another was extremely difficult. Each estate was also given a bureaucratic administration covering the whole Empire, and the person appointed to be head of an estate did not need to belong to that particular estate: the clearest example is that of the three sons of the wuzurg framadār Mihr-Narsē during the V c. CE.

    Civic status.

    Only a member of a civic community (of whatever estate) was a legal person in the full sense. The position of a freeborn man who was outside a community was similar to that of a pariah; the advantages enjoyed by a member of a civic community were closed to him. Every member of a community could not only inherit within his community but also acquire real property and make use of whatever belonged to the community as a whole. A system of mutual responsibility and solidarity also operated within the community; membership of a community conferred the right to take part in social life and religious worship, guaranteed security of succession and ensured the protection of widows and orphaned minors. In other words, the status of a citizen enabled as man to take full and active part in economic, social, and religious life and offered him and his family definite safeguards.

    As will be shown later in the section about “agnatic groups” the road to citizenship was opened by entry into one of the structures which made up the community. It should also be noted that the scope of a person’s legal capacity and competence varied with sex and age: women and minors had a limited (passive) legal capacity. Greater or lesser loss of rights, even complete loss, could result from conviction for crime.

    A Zoroastrian who adopted another religion was deprived of his position in his former family and community and, consequently, of all the rights linked to that position, but he kept his rights in regard to contracted obligations and his personal property. When he entered another, non-Zoroastrian, community he did not cease thereby to be a civic person.

    To refer to a person’s membership to a civic community in MP documents, in addition to the terms āzād and hamnāf (lit. “agnate”) also the expressions ādēhīg (lit. “fellow countryman”; Mansour Shaki opined that this word was used just to refer to citizens of a same province) and mart ī šahr (“citizen”) were used.

    The legal status of freeborn women and minors was even more restricted. Whereas women of noble birth could rise even to the highest office of the state (e.g., Dēnag, wife of Yazdegerd II and mother of Hormazd III, and Bōrān and Āzarmīgduxt, daughters of Xusrō II, all of whom reigned as queen of queens), lower-caste women were traditionally regarded in law as a kind of property (xvāstag), with an average price set at 500 stērs. This amount was supposed to be offered as marriage portion. Instruction in religious precepts was not binding on women, and a woman’s refusal to marry rendered her “worthy of death”, a fate that did not befall a man in the same position. The social status of women must have been gradually improving, however, for there is evidence of controversy among the jurists on certain issues relating to it. For example, Pusānweh ī Āzādmardān decreed that testimony was admissible if presented by two women, in contravention of the orthodox law (kardag) that “women, minors, and slaves are ineligible to stand witness in a court of law”. According to another opinion, a woman who was her own guardian could give evidence and even sit in judgment; she was also entitled to the absolute ownership of property that had come to her by marriage. A wife could be given by her husband to another coreligionist in marriage or stūrīh (see below), even against her will, but a maiden could not be married without her consent. Jurists also disagreed about the validity of a marriage contracted without the sanction of the woman’s father or guardian. Orthodox law did not concede the propriety of such a marriage, but more liberal-minded jurists approved it. In traditional law such a marriage would have resulted in the loss of the husband’s paternal legitimacy and right to filial duty from the issue but not of the civil rights of any of the parties; nor would the father’s duty to care and provide for his children have been abrogated. Marriage, whether pādixšāyīhā (i.e. authorized) or stūrīh, had to be contracted between parties in the same social class and even subclass. A nobleman who concluded a morganatic marriage forfeited his claim to his inheritance and thus his privileged civic status.

    EdT0YFJXYAAIVUs.jpg

    Modern Farsi priests in a religious ceremony.

    All children, whether born in lawful wedlock or not, were entitled to support from their fathers during their minority. In some respects the legal status of minor children was remarkably similar to that of slaves, however, for under adverse circumstances the father could sell them into slavery or put them up for adoption.

    Non-citizens. Slaves.

    The citizens of Ērānšahr who were without civic rights included other groups besides the slaves. These were people who, although formally free, were not members of civic communities, “aliens”, casual settlers, or people who had been expelled from a community, and their descendants (MP uzdēn, uzdēnīg). This category also included illegitimate children of full-right members of the community, and apparently also their descendants, who lived in the family as semi-dependent people with restricted rights. As a rule, freed slaves were also included in this category unless they entered some civic community (see below).

    Throughout the Sasanian period there were various heretical sects, groups of nonconformists, refractory elements, freethinkers, and atheists whose civil status must be surmised from censorious statements in texts, in the absence of more satisfactory documentation. There were injunctions to oppose and even to fight with heretics, who were to be beaten and killed like wolves (Dēnkard). Nevertheless, numerous surviving accounts of disputations between orthodox mowbeds and heretics recounted in the beginning chapters of Dēnkard cast some doubt on the effectiveness of such rigorous injunctions. Only when the so-called “arch heretics,” the Mazdakites (properly drīst-dēns), after several centuries of toleration, threatened to subvert the foundation of Sasanian aristocracy were they outlawed and relentlessly persecuted. As for the Manicheans (zandīgs), it is explicitly stated that their property should be confiscated and transferred to the royal treasury under the “royal decree concerning instructions for (the management of) the state”. Instances of blasphemy (yazdān dušmenīh), disloyalty to the sovereign (xwadāy dušmenīh), and atheism (anhast-gōwišnīh) were tried, recorded, and punished, apparently by death. Yet, according to some contemporary evidence, in the time of Xusrō I (r. 531-579 CE) the Sasanian Empire was rife with various materialist and nonconformist views.

    Though the number of freemen who were not members of any community was great, the differences in social and legal status between slaves and all non-slaves was so sharp that it is these two categories that predominate in Sasanian private law. As slaves were a form of wealth (and a productive one), rich men became owners of large numbers of slaves. The wuzurg framadār Mihr-Narsē was nicknamed hazārbandag, i.e. “owner of a thousand slaves”. Temples were also slaveowners; this is definitely attested for Zoroastrian temples in the Sasanian period. Despite the extensive use of slave labor in the Sasanian Empire, the economy was mainly maintained by the work of the free population. But it was still an important institution in the economic and social life of Ērānšahr.

    MP documents contain a whole series of expressions to designate slaves: bandag (lit. “bound”), anšahrīg (lit. “outlander”), rahig (lit. “bound”), tan (lit. “body”), and vēšag (lit. “belonging to a vis”, i.e. a “gens”). The most commonly employed terms were bandag and anšahrīg.

    The chief and more characteristic feature of a slave in Sasanian Law was that a slave was considered first and foremost as a “thing” (xvāstag); a sellable article, and had no intrinsical legal rights, not even the right of ownership. A slave could only own property or earn money if this right were specifically bestowed upon them by their master, who could take it away whenever they wanted to. And if the slave managed to retain ownership of something until their death, then their master, not their child, would inherit it. On the other side, Sasanian law also recognized a “secondary nature” in slaves, that was human (but always subordinated to the first nature) and so it acknowledged some limited rights to slaves (actually, this approach was quite similar to the one employed in Roman law).

    Personal-seal-of-a-Sasanian-magu-carnelian-After-Gyselen-2006-207-cat-157.png

    The use of seals was widespread in Sasanian Iran. Originally, there were only personal seals, but Kawād I decreed that no legal documents would be valid without seals, and from his reign onwards official seals also began to appear in which the owners displayed their official rank and status within the state administration. This is the personal seal of a mowbed, cut in a carnelian.

    Thus, Sasanian law recognized a limited legal capacity to slaves, specifically in some types of litigation. a slave could sue his master for cruel treatment, like the case of one who sued his master for having thrown him into the Tigris. Another slaveowner was sentenced to compensate his slave for a mutilation inflicted on him (both cases are mentioned in the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān). Slaves were unable to bear witness (unless they testified in the company of a person possessed of full rights, just like happened with women or minors) or swear oaths. Slaves were not recognized by law as having a family. But a Zoroastrian slave was officially recognized as having the right to practice his religion, and in order to ensure this right, in the late Sasanian period it was forbidden to sell a Zoroastrian slave to an agdēn. A slave who embraced Zoroastrianism could leave an agdēn master and become the slave of a new, Zoroastrian master; his previous master had no right, when this happened, to demand the return of the slave to him. He could only claim compensation for the value of the slave to the latter’s new owner (notice the similarities between this treatment of Zoroastrian slaves and the treatment of Muslim slaves in Islamic law).

    Escape from the condition of slavery was effected through manumission, a legal act whereby a slave acquired his freedom from his master. This took place at the will of the master, with only one exception: a Zoroastrian slave of an agdēn master was allowed by law to buy his freedom. The freedman was given a certificate of manumission (āzād-nāmag). Manumission was absolute (with some caveats, see below); the slave became a free man, under the protection of the law, a subject of the Šāhān Šāh, and (according to the jurist Syāwaxš) he could never be returned to slavery.

    The caveat about manumissions to which I referred above is that Sasanian Law allowed for two forms of manumission:
    • Full manumission, as described above.
    • Manumission involving partial liberation, in which the slave was given an “ideal part” (theoretical fraction) of his freedom (one half, one third, one fourth, one tenth, etc.). Partial manumissions were unknown to Greek and Roman law but were found in the local law of Hellenistic and Roman Egypt and were also practiced among the Jewish and Christian communities of Ērānšahr.
    Perikhanian thought that there were no signs that in the Sasanian Empire the manumitting master exercised patronage over his freedman. But Shaki noted that in some parts of Pārs, however, an enfranchised slave remained the client of his former owner, who had a right to inherit his property, a circumstance that continued in the early Islamic period (as stated in the Law Book of Yišō’boxt).There were grounds, too, for supposing that a freedman who was Zoroastrian entered the system of agnatic kinship of his manumittor: at all events, if a freedman died without offspring born after his liberation, the agnatic group of his former master was obliged to establish a stūrīh for him; the order of relationship was reckoned from the manumittor and one of the latter’s successors was designated as the freedman’s stūr.

    Zoroastrian temples owned slaves whose labor was used on the temple estates. There were, however, also “slaves of the temple” (ātaxš bandag, ādurān bandag) who are distinguished in the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān from the slaves who worked in the temple estates. These “slaves of the temple” “belonged” to the temple in that they were dedicated to it, but they did not constitute a special social category, and were not slaves in any real sense. Their connection to the temple was religious.

    Both men and women could become “slaves of the temple” as a result of honorary dedication. In the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān, sacred slavery is defined as a condition of complete civic freedom, “freedom before men” but “slavery before the Fire”, i.e. the fire-temple. Among these sacred slaves there were people of the highest nobiliary stratum, like for example the wuzurg framadār Mihr-Narsē. Warahrān V handed him over “as a slave” to the fire-temple of Ardahišt and that of Afzōn-Ardaxšīr (the royal fire-temple) and for several years he was a sacred slave of these temples. Later, as a result of some offense committed by Mihr-Narsē, the nature of which is unspecified, Yazdegerd II ordered that he be transferred to the royal estates (ōstān) to work there as a punishment, a sentence which he served for several years. Then, a third king, Pērōz, with the agreement of the mowbedān mowbed Mardbūd and others who “were there” (presumably, in the king’s council), he was again transferred to “temple slavery”, but not, however, to the temples where he had “served” before but to another one, the fire-temple of Ohrmazd-Pērōz (also one of the royal temples). Both in the temples and in the ōstān Mihr-Narsē was accompanied by his wife (presumably, his chief wife) and a slave. In the temples, Mihr-Narsē was an ādurvaxš, a minister of the cult, whose task it was to ensure that the fire did not go out, while his wife was a “sacred slave” and his slave waited on them. It may be supposed that sacred slaves of noble origin performed some sort of liturgy for the temple, as well as taking part in worship, but Perikhanian states that there is no clear evidence for this.

    The temples gave protection to their “sacred slaves”. For instance, the great fire-temple of Ādur Farnbāg (located in Pārs, one of the Three Great Fires of Ērānšahr) ransomed “from the enemy” out of its own funds some of its “sacred slaves” who had apparently been taken prisoner while on active military duty.

    Organizational structures. Agnatic groups.

    Form early times, well before the Arsacid and Sasanian periods, the primary unit of Iranian society was the family, both the small family and the extended one (the patriarchal family of undivided brothers). Both were designated respectively by the term dūtag (lit. “smoke”) and kadag (“house”); the latter term appears in the compounds kadag-xwadāy (head of the family, paterfamilias) and kadag-bānūg (mistress of the house, materfamilias). The Iranian family consisted of a group of agnates limited to three or four generations, counting in descendancy order from the head of the family, who were bound together by a strict system of bounds and obligations besides the bound of kinship. The members of the family were linked together by shared worship (in particular by the domestic alter and the cult to the souls of the ancestors on the father’s side) and religious rights, joint family property (in a large family, the undivided brothers had only theoretical “shares” – i.e. ideal parts – and were from the legal standpoints partners, brāt-bambāg) and by common activity in production and consumption. The members of the family possessed unequal degrees of legal capacity and were linked together by relations of authority and subordination (on the one hand, personae sui iuris, i.e. the head of the family and his grown-up sons and grandsons, and on the other the subordinate persons, the women and minors).

    Besides the family there was a wider community of kinsmen, the agnatic group, to which the family belonged as one of its constituent units. The agnatic group, being the typical form of organization in ancient society, was the most important structure within the civic community, replacing the earlier clan and tribal system. The same form of organization is seen in the Greek γένος (génos), πάτρα συγγένεια (pátrā syngéneia), Latin gens, familia (in the broad sense of the term, which in its narrow sense meant the family), and it also underlay Sanskrit gotra. In Arsacid and Sasanian Iran the agnatic group appears under the names of nāf, tōxm (equivalent to Armenian tohm), gōhr.

    In its simplest form, the agnatic group included several dozen patriarchal families who all originated from one common ancestor on the father’s side, three or more generations back from the living heads of these families. The members of such a community of agnates were connected by kinship, the order of which was established quite precisely since every surviving head of a family could have known as a child and a young man not only his own father, grandfather and great-grandfather but also their brothers and consequently all the lines of descent from them. Memory of kinship in the line of ascent might, of course, embrace an ever-larger number of generations.

    Besides kinship, the members of the agnatic group were united by their common cult of the spirits of their dead ancestors (in the male line) and the “founder” of the group, and also by common religious ceremonies and festivals. Information on this subject is to be found in the Avestā, but evidence from the Sasanian period is no less eloquent. For example, Šābuhr I set up a special fund for the “souls and names” of his three ancestors (Ardaxšīr I, Pābag and Sāsān) and other kinsmen, so that services might be held, with offering of sacrifices and invocation of names, as we read in the ŠKZ.

    These were also important features of the agnatic group:
    • Community of economic life.
    • Solidarity in obligations.
    • Community of political life.
    • Territorial community.
    Originally, real property, cattle, tools of production and economic implements in general were collectively owned by the agnatic group, and the families constituting this group were merely co-possessors of these goods. This situation underwent a sharp change with the growth in importance of the family as a social unit. But although the possessions apportioned to a family eventually became that family’s property, the agnatic group continued to retain latent rights over the possessions of all the families forming part of the group. The larger group also retained collective ownership of the common pastures, mills, irrigation works, farm buildings and so on, to which every family had access on the basis of co-partnership or common easement and by right of its membership in the agnatic group. Alienation of real property was allowed only within the group (i.e. to one agnate), the agreement of the agnates being required for its alienation outside the group. Community of economic life and community of worship were very tightly bound up with solidarity in obligations. A man’s agnatic status (his relative position in the kinship scale of his agnatic group) determined his degree of responsibility for the fulfillment of obligations undertaken by members of the group; it also determined the order of his responsibility of assuming guardianship over women and orphans and subsidiary or substitute successorship (stūrīh) to an agnate who died without leaving an heir within the family. As will be seen later, membership of the group and order of kinship might oblige a man (i.e. if it was his turn) to enter into levirate marriage or marriage with an epikleros (in ancient Greece, the daughter of a man who had no male heirs), and the same factor also affected adoption.

    By tradition, to which the Avestā already bears witness, males became adult at the age of fifteen. At this age, a youth was dedicated to the cult, and this event was accompanied by his investiture with sacred girdle and shirt. This solemn ceremony took place in the presence of all the agnates and marked the beginning of a new period in his life. He was regarded as having been “born again” and this was indeed his “civic birth” which made him a person of full legal capacity (duvānig) with the right to participate in the civic and religious life of the community. Weddings and juridical acts were performed before an assembly of the adult members of the agnatic group, which also regulated disputes and decided questions of common interest. The heads of families formed the council of the group, which also had its own head (Old Ir. nāfapati-, Arm. nahapat). The usual way in which persons from outside the group were received into is was by adrogation (i.e. a form of adoption) in front of the council. According to Perikhanian, every agnatic group might have also constituted a territorial unit, although in Old and Middle Iranian documents there is no direct evidence for her view, it is strongly supported by comparison with other regions of the ancient world, as well as by modern ethnographic material from Iran itself.

    The limits of the agnatic circle which formed a social unit might vary. The nucleus of the agnatic community, its basic structure, consisted of the families whose heads at least one common ancestor on the father’s side, normally, a dead father, grandfather, or great-grandfather. The members of families related in this way were agnates to each other, and the circle corresponded to the Indian sapiṇḍa circle, the Greek αγχωτεία (agkhouteía) and the Latin agnatio or propinquitas; the persons who belonged to it in Iran were called hamnāfan, xvēšāvandān or āzādan (Av. xvaētav-, nabānazdišta-). Though in India the sapiṇḍa circle was exogamous, over a considerable area of ancient Iran it was endogamous. The principle of endogamy within the group (it was known by the Avestan word xvaetvedaθa, lit. “marriage between agnates”) found its extreme expression in incestuous marriages, which were given the highest religious sanction. Classical Greek and Latin writers tell us of the widespread practice of this custom in Achaemenid times and later (Chinese travelers and pilgrims also recorded it). This practice is especially well documented in texts of the Sasanian period, particularly in the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān, where it appears as a standard custom.

    Moraspand.jpg

    Agate personal seal of a Sasanian aristocrat named “Moraspand”.

    The wider agnatic group embraced several nuclei or segments with similar structure, and a constant process of segmentation led to the formation of new groups. Organization by agnatic groups was characteristic of all the civic estates. Membership of a community (urban or rural) was determined by one’s membership in one of the agnatic groups which formed it, and a man’s entry into a group, his status as agnate, signified his possession of legal capacity as a citizen. For this reason, in MP legal terminology the word āzād, which corresponds directly to the Latin agnatus, acquired the meaning of “a person of full legal capacity”. But the nobility held a special position among the estates in Iran: together with civic legal capacity they also had privileges in the field of public (administrative) law. A man’s entry into one of the agnatic groups of the noble estate meant, ipso facto, that he belonged to this privileged estate. In documents related to the sphere of administrative-public law the word āzād was therefore used in the sense of “a member of an agnatic group of the nobility”, “representative of the noble estate”, “nobleman”. According to Perikhanian, this use of the word was widespread.

    It was the status of an agnate in one of the noble groups that alone gave access to appointment to any state or court office of importance. Certain offices even became, with the passing of time, hereditary in a particular group, and that branch of the clan which had acquired preferential right to hold a given office could take the title of that office as the basis of its gentilitial name. Perikhanian point out as an example the ŠKZ, which mentions such gentilitial names as Bidaxšagān, Dizbadagān or Spāhbad, derived respectively from the offices of bidaxš, dizbad and spāhbed. To which we could add later examples like the Kanārangiyān of Tūs (who became the hereditary holders of the post of kanārang, the military commanders of Abaršahr and the north-east of the Empire against the Huns and Türks, or the House of Ispahbudhan or House of Aspahbadh, whose name could be derived from spāhbed or the old Arsacid title aspbed (“commander of the cavalry”), and who may be the same family listed in the ŠKZ under the name Spāhbad (Ehsan Yarshater thought so in his article in the Encyclopædia Iranica about the two maternal uncles of Xusrō II). I general, the agnatic groups of the nobility played a large part in the life of the monarchical state and had their independent representation in the court protocol. The latter was embodied in the special charter of rank (Gah-nāmag) which was examined afresh and confirmed by each newcomer to the throne. The statute of ranks was based on two principles: first, that of “officiality” (kārdārīh), that is, the status of each office, and second, that of status of “nobility” in accordance with the ordinal position held by each agnatic group. Thus the position occupied by any person in the court, his rank there, was determined by the relative position indicated in the charter of rank either for his office (if he were an official) or for his agnatic group, his clan. The lists of officials and nobles given in the ŠKZ, for whom “souls are commemorated” and the king directed that services be held, were drawn up on the basis of official charters of rank of this kind, for Šābuhr I’s own court and for those of his predecessor Ardaxšīr I, and of Pābag, and reflect these principles.

    All the agnatic groups of the nobility were represented in the charter of ranks and so, presumably, at the king’s court. As a rule these groups were represented at the court by their heads, who were called wuzurgān (lit. “the great ones”) in contrast to the ordinary members of these groups, who were called āzādān.

    The Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān distinguishes strictly between the rights and obligations governed by membership of a family, that is, resulting from direct line of descent or from being a brother-partner (in a family of undivided brothers) and those which were founded on membership of a particular agnatic group and kinship-order within this organization. In the first case, when the basis of accession is (agnatic) kinship by direct or collateral (brother-partner) line, that is, membership of a family, this basis is rendered by the technical term būdag (lit. “real”, “natural”), būdagīh. In the second case, when the basis of accession is membership of an agnatic group and relative position within this group, it is said to be settled by place in the agnatic line, via agnatic kinship (nabānazdištīh). The differences between these two consisted not only in their relative order (the second line of calling came into action only when the first line was lacking) and their form but also, to a certain extent in this effect: the first or “natural” accession applied ipso iure, whereas accession by agnatic line took place by appointing the nearest agnate in the legal order and consequently entailed formal procedures of request, acceptance, etc. The procedure of appointment was carried out in a gathering of all the adult members (then of full legal capacity) of the group.
     
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    5.11 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (II).
  • 5.11 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (II).

    FAMILY LAW.

    Marriage.


    Before the arrival of Islam, Iranian society knew several types of lawful marriage, a diversity that was intricately connected to the succession system. The fundamental type of marriage which was most “complete” legally and socially, was the pādixšāyīh marriage. It assumed entry by the wife into the husband’s agnatic group and her passing under the guardianship of her husband (and also, if he was alive, of her father-in-law), with the loss of her position in her previous family and complete release from the authority of her father or guardian; that is, it was a type of marriage cum manu mariti (in Roman law, a type of marriage in which the wife was placed under the legal control of the husband). Children born of a marriage of this kind were regarded as legitimate, in possession of full rights, and as the successors of their father (i.e. their mother’s husband) in all lines of succession: name (nāmburtārīh), worship, inheritance of property, inheritance of obligations and also social position (in the agnatic group, the community and the social estate). In the Sasanian period, at least, the recording of marriage contracts of this kind was a widespread practice. An example of a template for this sort of contract was found in a parchment among the documents excavated in the Sogdian fortress at Mount Moḡ, that fell to the Muslim Arabs in 722 CE. In this template it was found that the husband usually also endeavored to pay his wife a guaranteed sum (3,000 silver drahms in this example) in case of divorcing her, called kāpēn.

    S12-1-Mugh-Landscape-1-1600x1200.jpg

    Mount Moḡ in Sogdiana, 60 km to the west of Panjikant, where its last king Dēwāštič made his last stand against the Umayyad army in 722 CE.

    The marriage was concluded at a meeting of agnates. A man could only when he had come of age (at fifteen) and undergone the ceremony of religious confirmation; possession of full legal capacity was a necessary condition for concluding a marriage contract. A woman could marry when still a minor, but the law forbade giving her in marriage against her will. It was possible for a man to enter into pādixšāyīh marriage with several women at the same time.

    While the marriage lasted the wife was under the patriarchal (tutorial) and conjugal authority of her husband and was obliged to obey him. Any infringement of this status by the wife was considered an offence, which entitled the husband to invoke a number of rights, including dissolution of the marriage, regardless of whether she agreed to it or not. The limits of a woman’s legal capacity, as a person in wardship, depended on her husband’s will. He had a general right to all property acquired by his wife during their marriage, unless, of course, the wife possessed special rights arising from contractual agreements binding on her husband, such as, for example, contracts of partnership, transfer, etc. For this reason, when, for instance, a third party wanted to convey something to a woman, a declaration from her husband was needed (“I do not want this”) renouncing his rights to take the thing in question for himself, or else, what had the same significance, a declaration by him that he agreed to his wife acquiring that article. If the husband pronounced the formula “I want it”, then the thing conveyed to her wife became his and not hers. For the same reason, all transfers by the husband to his wife and all contracts related to real rights conducted between them became annulled in the event of divorce (or offence by the wife) and the property was returned to the husband.

    However, the law protected the property rights of a woman from arbitrary encroachment upon them by her husband, provided that these rights had been set down in legal form. The offence of “disobedience” on grounds of which a wife’s property rights might be infringed, had to be formally proved and confirmed (the court issued a “certificate of disobedience”, dip ī pad adaršāgāyīh) and the wife had the right to approach the court independently in order to prove her innocence. The share of her father’s property that a bride had received (her “daughter’s share”) and which she had brought as her dowry to her husband’s home belonged to her as long as she lived, her husband being merely the usufructuary, and if she died childless, the dowry went back to her father’s family.

    Dissolution of such a marriage could take place at the instigation of either party, but ordinarily both had to agree to it; the wife’s agreement was not required if she were childless or guilty of misdemeanor. Dissolution might even be compulsory if the woman was called to succeed to a third party (see below): one of her relatives (father, brother, grandfather, cousin, etc.); in that case it was also possible to transform the pādixšāyīh marriage into a different sort of marriage. Like the marriage ceremony itself, the dissolution of a marriage was made public and official by the issue of a certificate of divorce (hilišn-nāmag), one of the main points in which was the transfer in guardianship over the woman. Usually when divorce occurred, the woman took away with her, besides her dowry, her personal possessions and her kāpēn, After a husband’s death, his widow by pādixšāyīh marriage had a right to a share (equivalent to a “son’s share”, i.e. a full share) of his estate. Guardianship over her and other subordinate members of the family passed to an adult son (usually the eldest) or when there was no adult son, to the nearest agnate of the deceased husband.

    If a man died childless, his widow (if she was capable of bearing children) had to enter levirate marriage with his (i.e. her late husband’s) nearest agnate. This type of marriage (of the sine manu mariti sort in Roman law, i.e. the wife remained under the legal control of her father) was called by the Iranians čakar, čakarīh (related to Old Indian niyoga). A widow who entered into this form of marriage continued to be the “wife with full rights” of her late husband and inherited a share of his property, while any children given to her by his čakar husband were regarded as the legitimate children and successors (and heirs) of her late husband, and not of their natural father.

    When a man died without leaving a male successor or a widow capable of child-bearing, but left daughters (or sisters), it was necessary to call one of his daughters (usually the eldest, or an unmarried one) to be his successor; if there were no daughters, one unmarried sister was called. The daughter or sister thus called had no right to enter into pādixšāyīh marriage: she was obliged to enter marriage sine manu mariti (like the čakarīh marriage described above) with an agnate of her father, and her position in the family and the agnatic group remained unaltered. This institution is fully comparable to the Greek epiclerate and the Old Indian putrikā, and children born of such a marriage to the epikleros-daughter were regarded as the legitimate children and successors of their maternal grandfather. If a daughter had already entered into full marriage when the situation arose that led to her being called to succeed her father, her pādixšāyīh marriage was dissolved and replaced by another, sine manu, under which her husband was usually an agnate (preferably, a close one) of her father, and he took on the role of her guardian until the maturity of any son born of this marriage, after which she passed onto the guardianship of this son. The son of an epikleros who had become his mother’s guardian could then give her in marriage cum manu mariti to his own (natural) father. The čakarīh (levirate) marriage and the marriage of an epikleros-daughter were variants of the Iranian stūr marriage described later on in connection to the Iranian system of succession.

    Finger-ring-of-a-Sasanian-queen-sardonyx-After-Gyselen-2006-207-cat-156.png

    Despite the writings of the mowbeds, some women possessed seals of the sort that were used for sealing legally binding documents, like this seal by a Sasanian queen.

    The Iranians also knew other forms of marriage, there was the marriage concluded by the bride’s own choice and without formal transfer of her by her kinsfolk which corresponded to the Old Indian marriage known as svayaṃvara. Perikhanian considered also of particular interest for its archaic character the marriage “for a definite period”. The authority possessed by the head of a family and a husband gave him the right to hand over his wife (by a formal procedure and in response to a formal request) to another man belonging to his community, as a temporary wife for a definite period which was stipulated in a declaration. During her temporary marriage, the woman took away her personal possessions and income, which her temporary husband could use. When the agreed time period came to its end she went back to her “permanent” husband (Perikhanian does not explain what happened if there were children born from the “temporary marriage”). A father had a similar right to bestow his epikleros-daughter in temporary marriage. Sasanian jurists regarded this form of marriage as an act of solidarity with a member of one’s community which was sanctified as a religious duty.

    Guardianship.

    Within a family, guardianship of the women and minors was the responsibility of the head of the family, the husband and father, while a widow and her children came under the guardianship of her grown-up son or of a brother-partner of her late husband. Should, however, the family be left without adult male members, the barriers of the family were lowered, and an agnate was called in to take the task of guardian.

    Originally, in Iranian society there were two procedures for such callings. the first (within the family) was called būdag, būdagīh (“natural”) and took place automatically without formal request and appointment. The second procedure, under which the basis for accession was the person’s membership to the same agnatic group and his kinship position in it, was invoked only if the first line had been exhausted. Entry into rights and duties on the basis of agnatic calling was attended by formal acts of request and appointment. This process took place in a meeting of all the adult members of the agnatic group within which and by decision of which the person called was being “appointed”. For this reason, a person called by the agnatic procedure was referred to as gamārtag (lit. “appointed”). In later times, with the extension of the rights of individuals (and especially of heads of families), a third process for such callings was developed, that of formal institution or disposition. The head of a family could before his death nominate, in his will or in a formal declaration, the person who should become guardian of the family when he died. In making his choice, he could ignore kinship order and appoint a distant relation or even a fellow citizen not related to him at all. A person called in this way (i.e. by formal disposition) was spoken of as kardag (lit. “instituted”). In order to enter into his rights, he had to make a declaration agreeing to accept the disposition. If he declined it, the way was open for agnatic calling. Thus, functions entrusted to someone by agnatic calling could not be passed on to the successor of the person called, unlike functions received through būdag calling. The “appointed” person had no right to transfer his functions to anyone else. The “instituted” one (kardag) could not transmit his duties but he could transfer them by way of a formal disposition. “Appointed” and “instituted” persons received a regular remuneration (tōšag, “allowance”) from the resources of the family on whose behalf they assumed their duties.

    The agnates supervised the guardian’s actions. If his behavior proved unsatisfactory, inflicting losses on the family in wardship, a guardian of the second or third variety could be removed, and then the agnatic group appointed a fresh person. A guardian of any kind was obliged to make good within a twelve-month period any damage he had caused. One of the basic duties of a guardian was to administer the property of bis wards, as far as possible without encroaching on the principal (bun). wards could not take part in legal acts and procedures except jointly with their guardian; the latter could also act in their interests on his own, by natural right as their representative.

    Succession.

    Men of ancient societies were greatly concerned to safeguard their line of succession and to ensure maintenance by later generations of the domestic altar and the cult of the dead. It was regarded as extremely important that property accumulated by a family in the course of several generations, and providing the material basis both for carrying on religious ceremonies and services for the dead and for the activity of subsequent generations should pass into the hands of people who were connected by name, blood and cult with the previous possessors. In this matter, religious consciousness was interwoven with social consciousness. It was not only the citizen of a Greek polis who was who was concerned “that his home should not be left without a name” (by the IV c. BCE Athenian orator Isaeus, from his speech On the estate of Menecles) i.e. without a successor, since the absence of a successor would lead to “the extinction of the house” (Isaeus, On the estate of Menecles), i.e. of the family; the magistrate-archon was also responsible for seeing to it that no house became extinct (Demosthenes, Against Macartatus; Isaeus, On the estate of Apollodorus). Hence the important place accorded to succession in the law of every people in ancient times. But Perikhanian points out that ancient Iranians went further on this issue than any other ancient people with their highly elaborate and strict, though complex, system of succession.

    Iranian jurists drew a distinction between “succession” and “inheritance”. A person’s successor might simultaneously be his heir (xvāstagdār), but it was also possible to be his successor without being heir to the property. Nor was every heir to the property of a given person simultaneously his successor.: an heir might receive part of the dead man’s estate through testamentary disposition, that is, through transfer and not through transmission (could be compared to a heres ex re certa in Roman law).

    The succession to a person (the head of a family or an adult man) became open only at his death, whereas a man might become his father’s heir (xvāstagdār) while his father was still alive. the Iranian system of succession (aparmānd) was divided into two categories. The first of them, called aparmānd ī pad xvēšīh, corresponded to necessary succession and inheritance (the heredes sui et necessarii of Roman law). It descended within the family, the first to be called being the children of the deceased born in full (pādixšāyīh) marriage, then the grandsons and great-grandsons. A person’s successor, unlike his mere heir, inherited his personality (his name, his cult, his place in the agnatic group, the community, and the social estate) and all his rights and duties. He began, so to speak, to represent the dead man, and this situation corresponded fully to the universal succession (successio per universitatem) of Roman law. Consequently, the successor was responsible for the dead man’s debts with all his property, not merely with that which he had inherited from the dead man, as was the case with simple inheritance. In Iran, each of the children born of one father in a pādixšāyīh marriage became his universal successor, and primogeniture played no part in the matter. This affected sons mainly, since daughters, when they married, ceased to be their father’s successors, though they inherited a share of his property. Another characteristic feature was the observance of the rule of representation by generations: a grandson became successor to his father, and not to his grandfather, even if his father died when the latter was still alive and consequently had not taken up his succession. The successors of a dead man were also lawful heir of his estate, acquiring it in individual shares (bahr ī pad xvēšīh) with the right and duty of transmitting it to their own successors.

    The second category of succession (aparmānd ī pad stūrīh) came into play when the dead man had no male successors. This category, labeled stūr-successorship or stūrīh, differed substantially from the previous one. The stūr-successor (he could be also defined as the subsidiary or substitute successor) incurred the duty of creating a succession to the dead man. A person, whether man or woman, who became a certain man’s stūr had to produce a son (stūrīg pus) who would be regarded as the legitimate son and heir of that man, his universal successor. For this reason, only people who were capable, or thought to be capable, of producing offspring were called to stūrīh. The stūr himself/herself, though regarded as the (substitute) successor of the deceased, could not be his heir. The entire estate of the dead man “rested” to speak, until the moment the son given to him by the stūr attained maturity and entered into his rights. In the Sasanian period, at least, the estate had to be of a minimum value of 60 stērs (i.e. 240 drahms) for grounds to exist to set up a stūrīh for the deceased.

    Hajjiabad_01.jpg

    Stucco bust of an unnamed Sasanian aristocrat found in the remains of a manor house at Hājjiābad in Fārs, dated to the IV c. CE

    Depending on the basis for calling him/her, a stūr, like a guardian, could be of one of three kinds: “natural”, “instituted” or “appointed”. If the deceased left behind him a fairly young widow or a daughter, then this widow or daughter (the eldest among his daughters, if there were several) had to take up her late husband’s (or father’s) succession and become his “natural” stūr. A widow, as her husband’s čakar, entered into levirate marriage with an agnate of his, while a daughter who was called to her father’s epiclerate entered into marriage sine manu with one of his agnates.

    The čakar widow and epikleros-daughter were variants of stūr-successorship, and the son of the widow (pus ī čakar) or epikleros (duxtdād, cf. Greek θῠγατρῐδοῦςthygatridoûs, “a daughter’s son, grandson” – Sanskrit putrikāpura) were variants of the stūrīg pus created for the deceased by a substitute successor of the first category.

    When a “natural” stūr had no male offspring, the duty of creating a succession for the deceased, his stūr-ship passed to the stūr’s daughter, and so on: within the limits of the “natural” line the duty of succession was subject to transmission, and there were actual cases when the grandson of a dead man’s widow or the great-grandson of his daughter became his son and direct successor and heir. Within the framework of stūr-successorship, the law of representation was transformed, and the order of representation by sequence of generations, which was characteristic of first category successorship, had no application at all here. The son and successor provided by the stūr might be separated by several generations from the man who was this “son’s” legal father and whose heir he was, by a whole series of epikleros-daughters (in practice there would be the legal father’s daughter, grand-daughter, great-grand-daughter, etc.). This situation under ancient Iranian law finds its reflection in the Fāridūn Cycle of the Šāh-nāma; in the legend that Ferdowsī worked up, Fāridūn is separated from his successor Manučehr by a chain of seven epikleros-daughters.

    If, however, the deceased left neither widows nor daughters, nor an “instituted” stūr, his agnatic group was obliged to set up a stūr-ship for him, registering all the dead man’s estate and appointing a stūr from among his agnates; usually the one most closely related to him. Such an “appointed” stūr might be either a woman or a man, but a woman was preferred. The woman called to stūr-ship (the dead man’s sister or a remoter relation) must enter his family as his stūr-successor, and come under the guardianship of an agnate of his; her marriage with the agnate must be sine manu mariti, and the children regarded as the dead man’s children. If a man was called to the stūr-ship of the deceased, then any son subsequently born to him was regarded as the son of the deceased. Because the question of guardianship did not arise in the case of a man, and his assumption of stūr-ship did not entail any change of place in the family or agnatic group, a man, unlike a woman, could be stūr to several persons at the same time, with the duty of providing a son-successor to each of them. Stūr-ship “by appointment” was not capable of transmission in the family of the “appointed” stūr, nor could the latter transfer his stūr-ship to anyone else, and if he proved unable to give the deceased a son, then a fresh appointment was made (the next closest agnate to the deceased being chosen).

    An “instituted” stūr was named by the deceased before his death, either in his will or by special disposition. “Instituted” stūr-ship not only made it possible to avoid the procedure of agnatic calling but even also the “natural” line (widow, daughter). The head of a family who already had a son, or even several sons, born of a pādixšāyīh marriage, had the right to set up his stūr-successorship himself, apportioning for this purpose a sum (no less than the established minimum of 60 stērs) out of his personally accumulated or acquired property (property which he had inherited passed entirely by the line of necessary inheritance). He could designate as his stūr any person from outside his family (though, as a rule, from the same community), but also his daughter (even if she had brothers) and even his son (one of his son’s sons became then son and heir of his grandfather and not of his father) and the stūr fund of property he established was acquired by his heir (stūrīg pus) as his personal share of the estate. An “instituted” stūr-ship was not passed on by inheritance to the successors of a stūr who could not cope with his task, but the stūr personally, during his life, could transfer his stūr-ship to another to another man; otherwise agnatic calling came into force.

    PRIVATE LAW.

    Out of this category of Sasanian law I will only address the part dealing with private endowments, which by the end of the Sasanian period may have amounted to a sizeable part of the real property in Iran and prefigured the later Islamic institution of waqf.

    Private endowments for fixed purposes could be pad ruvān (“for the soul”) or pad abravdād (“for pious purposes”) foundations were an institution highly characteristic of ancient Iran. They were “funds” established by individuals (through a formal appointment by means of a declaration in documentary form) from the property belonging to these persons. The specific purposes of the fund (usually of a pious nature) were determined by the founder himself and set forth in the foundation document deed. The fund or contribution thus set apart by the founder constituted a dedicated “principal”, which could not be either encroached upon or alienated.

    The income or profit arising from this “principal” (there were also “profitless” foundations) was assigned in the following manner: part of it went for the upkeep of the “principal” (uzēnag ī pad bun) as expenditure for cultivation and depreciation charges (including payment to the trustees); part went for the payment of taxes, if the property was subject to tax; and the rest went for the pious purpose indicated by the founder (such as, for example, the holding of services, distribution of alms, provision of meals for festivals, etc.), in strict accordance to his instructions. Anything that remained after meeting these necessary expenses, the entire “surplus” in fact, was fully at the disposal of the founder, while he lived, or of his heirs. These foundations took on a variety of forms. They could be either immovable property which produced fruits or profit, in which case the “fruits” were also regarded as “dedicated”, or immovable property which produced no income. The income from a plot of land assigned to a foundation was used for the purposes laid down by the founder, together with the profit (if it existed in the form of a payment for its use) from works of social utility such as canals, bridges or aqueducts, built at the expense of the founder. However, the building of such works as bridges or aqueducts was in itself an act of “social beneficence” and was imputed to the “piety” of the founder. An example of such a work, the ruins of which still exist, is the bridge built in the V c. CE by the wuzurg framadār Mihr-Narsē near Ardaxšīr-Xwarrah. The inscription still surviving by this bridge proclaims:

    This bridge was built by order of Mihr-Narsē, wuzurg framadār, for his soul’s sake (ruvān ī xvēš rad) and at his own expense. Whoever has come on this road let him give a blessing to Mihr-Narsē and his sons for that he thus bridged this crossing.

    The purpose of an endowment might be the building of a fire-altar or a temple “for the salvation of the soul” of the founder himself or some other person designated by him. We learn from Ṭabarī that this same Mihr-Narsē founded four fire-temples, one of them, Mihr Narsēyān, built for his own soul, and the other three “for the souls” of his three sons. The seals of the priests of two of those temples have survived, and the temples themselves were discovered near Fīrūzābād and identified by E. Herzfeld and A. Godard.

    An earlier example of the endowment of altars and temples “for the soul” is found in the ŠKZ. After mentioning the foundation of five fire-temples by Šābuhr I “for the souls and commemoration” of members of the royal family. Arsacid-era potsherds from Old Nisā (ancient Mithradātkert, today in Turkmenistan) testify to the existence of this institutions already under the rule of the early Arsacid kings. A considerable proportion of the vineyards and other holdings located around the city were endowments for a fixed purpose, dedicated to the upkeep of services for the repose of the souls of the early Arsacid kings.

    Besides endowments “for the soul” there were also money investments (nihādag) for the performance of rites and services. This was likewise a donation for a purpose, with obligatory effect, but of a different type.

    The endowment might be entirely separated from the property of the founder’s family. Thus, a fire-altar as an endowment-holding might be transferred to a great temple, while a bridge or a road might be transferred to a public or government department. Equally typical, however, was the retention of the endowment as the property of the founder’s family, though as a completely distinct part of it, with the use of it strictly governed by the purpose of its dedication, in accordance with the regime set down for it, and without any right to alienate it or to alter its legal status. Trusteeship of the endowment was usually kept within the family of the founder (even when it was separated from the family’s property) but the founder had the right to transfer the trusteeship to any other person outside his family, or to the priests of the temple. In particular, the inscriptions of the priest Kirdēr (III c. CE) tell us that trusteeship of all the fixed-purpose endowments made by Šābuhr I were assigned by this king to him (with the right to transmit this trusteeship to his personal successors).

    aqueducte de Mehrgard a Teheran.jpg

    The transfer of real estate to religious foundations became commonplace among Zoroastrians in Iran after the Arab conquest in order to protect them from Muslim encroachment. For example, a considerable amount of infrastructure like qanats, bridges, etc. in Yazd have such an origin. The Mehrgard qanat in Tehran that reaches Golestān palace from the north of the city was also probably a Zoroastrian endowment originally.

    In late Sasanian Iran, general supervision of these institutions was undertaken by a special department or secretariat, the divān ī kardagān (lit. “office for religious institutions”) which not only registered the endowments and took charge of the documents relating to each of them, but might also act as trustee. According to the Mādiyān ī hazār dādistān, supervision of endowments “for the soul” was part of the prerogative of the mogān andarzbad. In the list of Sasanian dignitaries offered by the IX c. CE Muslim author Khwārizmī, mention is made of the ruvānagān dībīr, apparently an official with authority throughout the Empire.

    The pad ruvān institution was taken over, in a modified form, by the Manichaeans, who also called it ruvānagān, but this time-honored Iranian institution was even more extensively adopted by the Arabs and Islam. Today, there is no doubt about the Iranian origin of the Muslim waqf. The resemblance in legal regime between Iranian endowments for a fixed purpose and waqf properties is striking. There is the same non-consumable “principal”, the income of which is dedicated to pious or beneficent purposes; the same way of distributing the income; the same retention of the obligation to pay the taxes imposed on the property before the act of institution. The conditions and forms of the foundation are the same, including the irrevocability of the act of institution. Similar too is the way of administering waqf properties through trustees (nāzir, mutawallī) nominated (or at least in the case of the first trustee) by the founder (wāqif) himself. Finally, there are the same two forms we have seen in the pad ruvān institution, namely, waqf khairī, that is, private foundations of a public character (mosques, schools, bridges, and the like) and waqf ahlī, that is, endowments not separated from the family property. Such a coincidence in both real and formal aspects can hardly be accidental. Ḥanafī tradition assigns the appearance of the waqf and its spread amongst the Arabs to the end of the first century after the Prophet’s death, i.e. to the very aftermath of the Arab conquest of Iran. It is not surprising, therefore, that Khwarizmi translates the Sasanian title ruvānagān into Arabic as kitābat al-awqāf.
     
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    5.12 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (III).
  • 5.12 THE SOCIAL AND LEGAL STRUCTURES OF SASANIAN IRAN (III).

    COMMENTS. THE CASE OF THE CATHOLICOS MAR ABA.

    The purpose of this long detour has been to offer a view of the structure of Sasanian society and its legal system, in order to address the historical religious/social movement that took place during Kawād I’s reign and is usually labelled as “Mazdakism”, although that name is most probably wrong. Latter Muslim historians attributed some “unorthodox” religious views to the Mazdakites (especially in terms of cosmology) with respect to the “established” version of Zoroastrianism that was historically endorsed by the House of Sāsān, but the two main charges levelled against them in most sources are of a social nature: that they wanted to “collectivize” access to women (i.e. the harems of the aristocracy) and to property (again, meaning the vast holdings of the nobility). In order to address these “charges” in a later post, I deemed necessary to first review the legal institutions that defined property, succession/inheritance, and marriage in Ērānšahr (the “collectivization” of women sounds especially weird, unless you become aware of institutions like the “temporary marriage” that were accepted as normal practices by the official religious/judicial establishment).

    Socially and legally, a wide gap separated the Iranian aristocracy from the lower social ranks and the freeborn from the slaves. As has been said before, what is known of the Sasanian code of law is generally related to juridical decisions involving the latter two categories.

    The pēšag system created an insuperable barrier between the privileged classes, on one hand, and the peasantry, artisans, merchants, physicians, and the like, on the other. The nobility, with their lineage claims, vast properties, and harems and multiple wives, were generally free of all taxation, whereas the clergy, military leaders, scribes, and others in the immediate service of the king constituted a second level of the social hierarchy, which was exempt from the poll tax. The majority of the population consisted of free men on whom both land and poll taxes were levied. They were restricted to one or, in rare instances, two wives each and to ownership only of small plots of land. Their social status is revealed in the numerous precepts enjoining them to save no more than 300 stērs, allegedly enough for a comfortable life; anyone who possessed more than that sum was forbidden to hunt for food. A passage in the Dēnkard cautions against excessive wealth or too much nourishment, and the people are repeatedly enjoined to defer to the nobles and admonished not to curse their rulers, who keep watch over them and mete out goodness.

    The peculiar structure of Iranian society, and especially the closed and endogamous nature of their social groups (i.e. families and agnatic groups) only served to reinforce the social position of the nobility, and their near-monopoly over official posts (i.e. as with official posts becoming inheritable within a given family/clan) and landed estates, as their marriage practices and the succession system were expressly designed to enhance the concentration and maintenance of property in the hands of the same aristocratic groups. It is probably such institutions that explain the extraordinary longevity of noble houses like the Sūrēn, attested continuously since the battle of Carrhae to the Tang court in China in the VIII c. CE (where the last known member of the House of Sūrēn died in exile). They also reinforced a vicious (or “virtuous” cycle, depending on one’s own views on the issue): the oldest a family’s or agnatic group genealogy was, the more prestigious it became, and so the easier it became to perpetuate their social position and possessions, thus increasing their endurance over time and gaining even more prestige.

    EdT0YFCX0AAYIb7.jpg

    Terracotta statuette found in China and dated to the Tang dynasty depicting probably a Sogdian Zoroastrian priest.

    Another important point as we have seen is the key part played by the Zoroastrian priesthood in this social system: not only were they the ideological glue that held it together, but they were tasked with its effective implementation, as the courts of justice were staffed by mowbeds and hērbeds. The interlinking was even greater if we think that “religious” private endowments must have acted as considerable transfer of wealth (if not property, at least its profits) to the clergy, that thus became even more interesting in keeping the social status quo as it was. They probably also acted as a way to turn family property into legally inalienable entities, while at the same time (in the case of those endowments whose property was retained in the family of the founder) allowing the noble family to keep enjoying rents out of them.

    An interesting additional view of these legal structures is offered by the American historian Richard E. Payne in his 2015 book A State of Mixture: Christians, Zoroastrians, and Iranian Political Culture in Late Antiquity, in which he addresses the issue of the integration of the East Syriac Christian minority of the Empire into these legal and social structures. he points out how in 540 CE Xusrō I appointed an ascetic scholar from the School of Nisibis called Mar Aba as catholicos of Seleucia-Ctesiphon, with rather unsatisfactory results for the Sasanian court. The purpose of appointing such a personality (which was a deviation from the normal practice, since before him no ascetics had been appointed to such an important post) was to end the internecine rivalries and infighting within the Church of the East, that by this date had led to many bishoprics appointing their own bishops in parallel to those appointed by the catholicos.

    Mar Aba managed to put an end to the infighting (as the Sasanian court wanted) but then he did something that was not expected of him, and began to criticize and punish the involvement of wealthy lay Christians and also of important clerics in consanguine marriages and their consumption of meat sacrificed by Zoroastrian priests for Mazdean festivals. This led to Mar Aba being detained and interrogated at court one year later (541 CE) by a special commission that also included Christian members of the aristocracy, and his eventual internal exile to Azerbaijan (he would later return to his diocese and would die there still as catholicos in 552 CE). But even from his exile, Mar Abbas persevered in his efforts and wrote a voluminous body of canons that included one called Regulations on Marriage that directly endeared to keep Christian believers from following Iranian marriage practices that Mar Aba deemed incompatible with the Christian doctrine. It is interesting that in all his voluminous correspondence and legal writings (which have arrived practically complete to our days) Mar Aba took pains to make clear that he respected Zoroastrian courts and judges (i.e. effectively Zoroastrian priests) in all matters that did not clash directly with Christian doctrine, an attitude also shared by the Jewish communities of the Empire. “The law of the kingdom is the law,” declares one passage of the Babylonian Talmud, which enjoins Jews to adhere to the law of the Sasanian Empire. Unknown to the Sasanian court when they appointed him, Mar Aba was a Zoroastrian convert to Christianity who had studied in a hērbedestān (but had not been a priest) and was knowledgeable about Zoroastrianism, and since his conversion to Christianity he’d travelled across the Eastern Roman Empire (Edessa, Antioch, Constantinople, Athens and Alexandria) where he’d acquired an education not only in Christian doctrine but also in the practice of Roman law; when he returned to Ērānšahr and settled in Nisibis he perfected his knowledge of both and adopted an ascetic and celibate way of life that yielded him a certain prestige as a priest in contrast to common practices in the Sasanian Empire (all the ranks of the Church of the East were allowed to marry, even bishops and the catholicos himself). This combination of solid doctrinal and legal knowledge, personal exemplary conduct, and his practical ability in the practice of law served him well in his goals after he rose to the episcopal seat of Seleucia-Ctesiphon.

    A Christian man could not marry the wife of his father or uncle, his aunt, his sister, his daughter, or his granddaughter, “like the Magians”. Nor could a believer marry the wife of his brother, “like the Jews” (i.e. levirate marriage). The union of a Christian man and an unbelieving woman was also proscribed. Although the Synod of Beit Lapat that bishop Barṣaumâ of Nisibis convened in 484 CE had condemned Christians who “imitated the Magians through impure marriage”, Mar Aba was the first canonically to specify which unions were forbidden to Christians. He drew the greatest attention to the incestuous union known as xwēdōdah, which Zoroastrian texts advocate as cosmologically beneficial. Xwēdōdah refers to the marriage of brother and sister, of father and daughter, or of other equally proximate kin, an exceptional practice in ancient Eurasian societies, which were generally observant of the incest taboo that modern anthropologists have made the basis for their analyses of kinship. But the catholicos equated an entirely customary practice with incest: marrying the wives of one’s patrilineal relatives. And this entered in direct conflict with Iranian custom and posed a considerable problem for aristocratic Christian houses that sought to integrate themselves into the upper echelons of Sasanian society.

    The Regulations on Marriage is an interpretation of the Book of Leviticus’s categories of “deviant” sexuality, which the catholicos compared to and contrasted with practices in the Iranian world of his time. The anonymous authors of the earlier Martyrdom of Simeon and the History of Simeon had already deployed Israelite history as a model for a Christian “people of God,” with bishops as its Levites. Building on such foundations, Mar Aba composed “distinguishing laws” on marriage that set Christians apart from their neighbors and subordinated them to their priestly leaders, much as the Israelites had cohered around the laws of the Levites. It was their role as lawgivers that separated the priestly Levites from the remainder of the Israelites and authorized the former to command the latter. In polemicizing against incestuous Zoroastrians, Mar Aba joined a chorus from across Eurasia, ranging from Buddhist monks and Chinese envoys to Roman historians, that condemned Iranian sexual deviance. But Mar Aba’s treatise is distinct both for its scriptural sources and for its familiarity with the Zoroastrian doctrine of xwēdōdah. The Book of Leviticus treats incest as one form of “unnatural” sex among others, including homosexuality and bestiality. The catholicos’ treatise thus describes regulations against homosexual and bestial relations as well as the incest already condemned in the earlier Synod of Beit Lapat, an equating of varieties of sex that Iranian society understood as vastly different from one another. Mar Aba presented men who married their brother’s wife, married their daughter, had sexual relations with another man, or violated an animal as practitioners of equally unnatural forms of deviance. If the canons of the Synod of Beit Lapat permitted a bishop or a priest to rebuke a Christian for incest, this treatise equipped ecclesiastical leaders with a more colorful palette of rhetorical options for persuading the uncooperative to recognize their Levite-like authority. As a polemic against Zoroastrianism, his Levitical account allowed Mar Aba the convert to draw on his knowledge of the Good Religion to present its tenets as perversions of its own cosmological order. The catholicos also rightly recognized that the purpose of xwēdōdah was to maximize human social and political goods.

    A-Syriac-martyrdom-text-Add_MS_14654-f014r-13v.jpg

    Manuscript of an East Syriac martyrology.

    In Zoroastrian thought, close-kin marriage served to re-create the world in the pristine state of Ohrmazd’s primordial creation. Although the prevalence of incestuous marriages in late antique Iran is unclear, belief in the cosmological benefits of the practice (in particular its capacity to increase knowledge, as the patriarch suggested) was unambiguous. Mar Aba, however, equated incest with sodomy, its diametrical opposite in Zoroastrian cosmology. If Ohrmazd brought creation into being through xwēdōdah, Ahreman created deceit through homosexual sex, kūnmarz. But sex that imitates Ohrmazd’s act and sex that imitates Ahreman’s are identically unnatural in the Book of Leviticus.

    These are not, however, the underlying concern of the Regulations on Marriage. Amid examples of “deviance” that few Christians would have countenanced, the treatise discusses forms of marriage that East Syrian Christians typically accepted: marrying the wife of a deceased paternal uncle and marrying the wife of a deceased brother (levirate marriage), practices of substitute successorship in general, if not stūrīh in particular, that were indispensable for the reproduction of patrilineages in Iranian political culture. Framed as a polemic against close-kin, homosexual, and bestial sex, the treatise thus targets a fundamental social institution of the Sasanian Empire.

    The catholicos’ treaty clashed (probably in a deliberate way) with some of the core tenets of Zoroastrianism that were behind the complex social/structures of the Empire. Once elevated to authoritative positions in the early Sasanian period, Zoroastrian religious specialists elaborated on Avestan passages and principles to create legal institutions that maximized fertility and ensured the continuity of patrilineages, fundamental obligations for practitioners of the Good Religion. Close-kin marriage was an extreme manifestation of a more general emphasis on human reproduction as the most cosmologically beneficial of acts. A man was to seek as many opportunities as possible to reproduce himself without doing harm to a social order that acts of adultery or abandonment could undercut. The potentially contradictory requirements to reproduce oneself and one’s patrilineage were harmonized through institutions of marriage that aimed to enable elite men to make full use of their capacities, while safeguarding the status of women and guaranteeing the unambiguous transmission of lineages. In a society where social status derived from the blood of one’s father and one’s father’s father, sonlessness was the most acute problem that a man (often along with his agnates) could face. As studies of ancient demography have shown, delayed marriage and premature male death combined to make the production of a male heir within a man’s lifetime the exception rather than the rule. In Zoroastrian cosmological thought, moreover, sonlessness was the greatest of evils. If the prospect of the return of his patrimony (theoretically -and often in practice - first collectively inherited from the father) to agnates and the loss of his name and fame were not sufficient motivation, the Good Religion denied men who failed to produce a male heir access to Chinwad Bridge, the path to paradise. But Zoroastrian jurists tried to guarantee that such a calamity would never befall an elite male, hence the complex and elaborate legal system.

    For those who wished to acquire and retain wealth and social status in Ērānšahr, securing the intergenerational transfer of patrilineages and patrimonies, which took time to build, was a paramount concern. If discussions of Sasanian society tend to depict an aristocratic social order with stable hierarchies, the realities of male death introduced a high degree of instability into the lives of elite men who could not call upon the services of Zoroastrian judges. Even a man with sons could leave his fatherless heirs subject to the predations of outsiders, including agnates, eager to appropriate their lands. The situation was all the more precarious for men who left no males to succeed them. Women without husbands were equally vulnerable. Those with patrilineages and patrimonies to protect and perpetuate stood to benefit from the services of judges who provided guardians and, when necessary, established substitute successors.

    Some Zoroastrian judges refused to institute a stūr for agdēn. As we have seen, the Mādiyān ī Hazār Dādistān singles out stūrīh as a service available exclusively to Zoroastrians, an unsurprising restriction given its cosmological context. That a jurist needed to compose a judgment on this question nevertheless suggests that at least some Christians, Jews, or others appealed to Zoroastrian judges to establish stūr. Some likely complied. But those who considered the Hebrew Bible a source of law did not require stūrīh to arrange for substitute successors. The Book of Deuteronomy 25:5–6 enjoins a man to marry the wife of his brother if the latter dies without an heir, the institution of levirate marriage. A son born from such a union would carry the name of the deceased brother. The practice had fallen into desuetude in the Late Roman Palestine of the Palestinian Talmud, but the rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud customarily continued to require the brothers of men who died sonless to contract levirate marriages in IV-VI c. CE Sasanian Mesopotamia. Although Christians were familiar with the practice from their sacred texts and possibly their Jewish neighbors, there was no corresponding religious obligation for them to produce an heir. The need to transmit land and lineage across generations in order to participate in Iranian aristocratic politics, however, was sufficient motivation to develop cognate practices.

    The analysis of the interactions between Mar Aba, the Sasanian establishment and the Christian elites of the Empire shed more light onto the issue of the social and legal structures of Ērānšahr and the key importance that they played to support the aristocratic social order onto which the political structure of the Sasanian Empire was built.

    N3-23-Shi-Jun-PH-East-Wall-with-Drawing-1600x751.jpg

    East wall of the sarcophagus of the Sogdian trader Shi Jun (Wirkak) and his wife Wiyusi: “Shi Jun and His Wife Cross the Chinvat Bridge To Be Received into Paradise”. Excavated in Xi’an, Shaanxi Province, China; dated to 579-580 CE.
     
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    5.13 THE FIRST REIGN OF KAWĀD I. THE ZARĀDUŠTI HERESY.
  • 5.13 THE FIRST REIGN OF KAWĀD I. THE ZARĀDUŠTI HERESY.


    The first reign of Kawād I stretched from 488 CE, after the deposition (and possible blinding or murder) of his uncle Walāxš and his dethronement by the nobility in 496 CE. As we have seen in previous posts, in 488 CE Kawād I was probably fifteen years old, and so he came of age according to ancient Iranian custom, but he spent the first part of this first reign, probably until 493 CE, under the de facto guardianship of Suḵrā (a situation deeply humiliating for the young king, as it equated him to a minor or a woman to the eyes of his subjects), whom he managed to displace and execute in said year by means of the latter’s enemy Šābuhr Mihrān of Rayy. The experience seems to have made a deep impression on the young king, for he then embarked in what was possibly the more radical social and religious experiment in the history of the House of Sāsān, his support for the so-called Mazdakites. It is possible that his youth (he must have been around twenty years old in 493 CE) was the very reason that led him to take such a drastic decision for when he recovered the throne in 498/499 CE, he did not repeat the experiment, although “Mazdakism” remained as a latent force during all his reign (as we will see in the next thread).

    Few events in Sasanian history have caused more ink to be spilt by modern authors than the figure of Mazdak and the so-called “Mazdakite heresy” that ancient sources attribute to him. For an overview of what “Mazdakism” was like I will follow the paper Kavād’s heresy and Mazdak’s revolt, by the British historian Patricia Crone, who devoted many years of study to Late Antique and Early Islamic religious history. Her views are not shared by many scholars, but I personally think that her analysis is the one that makes more sense of the tangled web left to us by the ancient sources. I will also borrow some material from her last published book, The Nativist Prophets of Early Islamic Iran: Rural Revolt and Local Zoroastrianism, where she studied the influence of Sasanian “Mazdakism” on the Early Islamic “heretic” movements in Iran collectively labelled as Khurramīs (followers of the Khurramīyya, “the Joyous Religion”) by Islamic authors and which appear in the sources until the XII c. CE.

    Drahm_Kawad_I_Staxr.jpg

    Silver drahm of Kawād I, issued during his first reign. Mint of Staxr (mint mark “ST”).

    The common view is that the heresiarch Mazdak would have been a “communist” (sorry about the anachronism, but this expression is often used as XX c. Soviet and Marxist historians decided to turn him into a sort of proto-communist) active in the time of Kawād I (r. 488- 496, 498- 531 CE), who was killed along with many of his followers by Xusrō I (r. 531-579 CE), Kawād I's son and successor, after this king’s attempt to implement his “communist” ideas had unleashed a popular revolt which plunged the Sasanian Empire into chaos.

    This is the common view, but due to the very confused state of the ancient sources, dissenting voices also abound: in the 1980s, German historian Heinz Gaube posited that Mazdak may never have existed, and that even if he did, he played no role in Kawād I's politics, nor did such doctrines as he may have espoused stir up social unrest: it would have been Kawād I who mobilized the masses against the nobility in the name of “communist” ideas, while Mazdak would have been probably invented or misrepresented to take the blame for the king's “unorthodox” behavior. Gaube’s view is an extreme one but is a good example of the dissent that this subject has caused amongst scholars.

    The problems with Gaube’s theory are evident: as Crone noted, though friction between kings and nobles has been commonplace in history, it’s not often heard that kings stir up peasant revolts against their noble rivals, for the obvious reason that the latter were the pillars of the established order: if the peasants destroyed the nobility, how would the king have restored order among the peasants? Thus, whatever its merits may have been, Gaube's argument certainly made Kawād I's behavior even more problematic than it already is. Gaube’s hypothesis rests on the two facts that no contemporary V-VI c. CE source mentions Mazdak (though several refer to Kawād I's “communist phase”) and that the later Perso-Arabic sources are full of contradictions. Both facts do indeed suggest that something is wrong with the standard account, but Crone thought there was a less radical way of explaining them than Gaube’s radical thesis.

    As I have already stated, Kawād I reigned twice. He was elevated to the throne in 488 CE and expelled in 496 CE, and afterwards he spent two years in exile among the Hephthalites: he regained his throne with Hephthalite help in 498 CE and ruled without interruption from then onwards until his death in 531 CE. All the VI c. CE sources date his “communist” phase to his first reign. The sources in question are, first, the Syriac chronicle attributed to Joshua the Stylite which was compiled ca. 507 CE, well before Kawād I's second reign was over; secondly, Procopius of Caesarea’s account based on information gathered during the Roman-Sasanian war of 527-531 CE, in which he took part as secretary to the Roman general Belisarius; and thirdly, Agathias of Myrina, who died about 582 CE and who had access, not just to Procopius’ work, but also to notes taken by a Christian interpreter from the “Royal Annals” of the Sasanians.

    Given the unanimity of the contemporary sources, Kawād I's “communist phase” must be considered as securely dated. The late Arabic Christian Chronicle of Se’ert also places it in his first reign, and so do numerous Muslim authors: Ibn Qutaybah, Dīnawarī, Ṭabarī, Mas’ūdī, Maqdīsī and others. All these sources, both Christian and Muslim, state that his unorthodox views were the very reason for his overthrown. However, neither the VI c. CE sources nor the Chronicle of Se’ert mention Mazdak, whereas practically all the Muslim sources claim that he was the moving force behind Kawād I. This is the problem that led Gaube to formulate his theory.

    The Czechoslovak historian Otakar Klíma, who was the first to discuss this VI c. CE “silence”, initially argued that these Roman Christian sources were simply ill-informed. But Mazdak's absence from the contemporary sources is in stark contrast with his towering presence in later accounts: if he were really so prominent, how could contemporaries have overlooked him? Joshua the Stylite was remarkably close indeed to the events in terms of time and place alike, while Procopius' account is full of circumstantial and local detail which he must have picked up in conversation with Iranians. For example, he knew the story of how Kawād I’s wife and/or sister helped the latter escape from jail; so why did no story about Mazdak come to his attention?

    When Klíma returned to the problem years later, he argued that Xusrō I might have deleted Mazdak from the official records in order to save his father's reputation. But as Crone’s pointed out, this hypothesis is even less satisfactory than Klíma’s first one. Xusrō I may well have revised the official records after his accession, but he cannot thereby have affected information transmitted before it: Mazdak's absence from the accounts by Joshua the Stylite and Procopius thus remains problematic. Xusrō I's revisions ought however to have affected the Perso-Arabic tradition, given that much of it goes back to the Xwadāy-Nāmag, based on the very records from which Mazdak was supposedly deleted, so Mazdak's presence in the Muslim sources becomes problematic too. Due to this, Klíma felt compelled to argue that Ibn al-Muqaffa’, the first translator of the Xwadāy-Nāmag into Arabic (which was the version on which later Muslim authors based their accounts), inserted an account of Mazdak where he found it missing, a quite forced explanation that Crone found lacking.

    Jordan1622.jpg

    Although it’s unclear if a “Joshua de Stylite” was indeed the author of the so-called “Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite”, stylite monks were widespread in the Late Roman provinces in the Levant. This tower at Umm ar-Rasas in Jordan (the ancient Late Roman settlement of “Mephaas” or “Kastron Mefa’a”) has been tentatively labelled as a stylite’s pillar.

    Gaube’s hypothesis was actually the mirror opposite of Klíma’s: Xusrō I would not have deleted Mazdak from the official records, but on the contrary he would have written him into them; Mazdak would not be absent from the contemporary sources because he played no role in the events which they report, but present in the later sources because Xusrō I invented or redesigned him as a scapegoat for Kawād I’ “misbehavior”. This does at least have the merit of offering a coherent solution, and there is no objection to it on the Greek or Syriac side, though. It would have been to Gaube's advantage if Mazdak had figured in Agathias' account: his sudden appearance in a Roman author who used Sasanian official records some forty years after Xusrō I’s accession would have reinforced the suspicion that the records had been doctored. But Crone thought that Agathias' silence is not important, as she deemed Gaube's hypothesis hard to square with the Perso-Arabic tradition. To Crone, Mazdak did not sound in the least like an apologetic invention in its accounts, and she thought highly unlikely that Xusrō I’s court could have concocted such a believable figure out of thin air, to the point that Mazdak captured even popular imagination.

    Crone also pointed out that there is an obvious chronological problem though. If Mazdak was the man behind Kawād I, then he must have been active in the 490s CE; yet the sources agree that he was suppressed by Xusrō I, in the 530s CE. Kawād I was dethroned for heresy thirty-five years before Xusrō I’s accession, at a time when the latter had not even been born; and there is no suggestion that he resumed his heretical activities after his restoration: both Joshua the Stylite and Procopius of Caesarea provide detailed accounts of his second reign (up to 506 CE and his death respectively) without issuing a word about “communist” activities on his part, or for that matter on the part of anyone else; some later Muslim sources explicitly say that his heretical phase came to an end on his fall; and as Theodor Nöldeke already pointed out in the XIX c., he would hardly have been capable of conducting major wars against the Eastern Roman Empire if he had continued to alienate his clergy and nobility. Yet Mazdak is associated with both Kawād I and Xusrō I, or with Xusrō I on his own, both in Zoroastrian and Muslim sources: Mazdak, they say, seduced the former and was killed by the latter. Thus, Crone wondered what was he doing in the thirty-five years in between? To her, the simplest solution is that two different incidents may have been conflated: the sources contemporary with Kawād I's heretical phase fail to mention Mazdak for the simple reason that Mazdak only made his appearance after this phase, in the reign of Xusrō I.

    As Crone pointed out, this hypothesis accords well with the fact that the sources associate Kawād I and Mazdak with different doctrines and incompatible events. As regards the doctrines, the VI c. CE sources unanimously describe Kawād I as a “communist” in respect of women alone. According to Joshua the Stylite, “he reestablished (sic, a point we will address later in more depth) the abominable heresy which teaches that women should be in common and that everyone should have intercourse with whomever he liked". According to Procopius of Caesarea, he legislated "that Persians should have communal intercourse with their women" which is also what Agathias of Myrina and John Diakrinomenos tell us: "it is said that he actually made a law according to which women were to be available to men in common", as Agathias puts it, adding that "these sins were committed frequently and with full legality". But of common ownership in respect of property there is not a word. The Chronicle of Se’ert provides details of the facilities provided for the sins in question: Kawād I built “shrines and inns” where people could meet and “engage in incontinence”. And the Jewish Seder Olam Zutta refers vaguely to “sexual immorality” at the courts of Sasanian princes. But there is no reference to “communism” in respect of property in these sources either. Communal sex was of course a particularly scandalous idea, but the abolition of private property struck Muslim authors as almost equally abhorrent, and it would be incongruent to suppose that contemporaries to the events would have remained silent if Kawād I had launched an attack on aristocratic and priestly possessions. Yet silent they were. By contrast, practically all the later sources associate Mazdak, and thus Kawād I too, with heretical views in respect of women and property alike. Attempts by modern scholars at solving or harmonizing these disagreements in the sources have been unsatisfactory. So, crone proposed that we may take it that Kawād I 's heresy was only about women, whereas Mazdak's involved “communal sharing” of women and property alike.

    As for the events, VI c. CE sources are unanimous that Kawād I 's measures were unpopular:

    Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite:
    The nobles ... of his kingdom hated him because he had allowed their wives to commit adultery ..... The Persian grandees plotted in secret to slay Kawād, on account of his impure morals and perverse laws.

    Kawād I’s law "by no means pleased the common people", who rose against him according to Procopius. Many later sources also state that his heresy led to his dethronement. So, Crone concludes that under Kawād I the Iranians thus rebelled against a heresy. But under Mazdak they rebelled in the name of one; and whereas Kawād I’s heresy had been imposed from above, Mazdak's heresy was sponsored by the masses. Mazdak's adherents were “the poor, base, weak and ignoble plebs”, as numerous Arabic sources tell us; and there is general agreement that the crowds ran riot: they began by breaking into the royal granaries according to Tha’ālibī and Ferdowsī (whose accounts are however largely fictional according to Crone); "they would break in to a man's home and take his dwelling, his wives, and his property without him being able to prevent them", according to Ibn Qutaybah, Ṭabarī and others; they "killed those who did not follow them” in the words of Maqdīsī. Countless people followed Mazdak, and immense numbers were duly slaughtered by Xusrō I: no less than 80,000, 100,000 or even 150,000 were killed in one day in just one area, as several sources allege (Mas’ūdī, Maqdīsī, Tha’ālibī and Ibn Balḵī). Crone points out that it is because of this that it is hard to agree with Gaube that Muslim accounts of Mazdak's revolt are a cover up for an original account of royal manipulation of the masses. For one thing, Muslim sources patently describe a phenomenon directed against the authorities; and for another thing, there is no mention of an alliance between king and masses in the contemporary accounts of Kawād I 's “communist phase”; on the contrary, even the common people disliked his innovations according to Procopius. So, Crone concluded that Kawād I was a heretic who tried to impose his views on a reluctant populace (reluctant nobles above all), while Mazdak was a rebel who stirred up a peasant revolt: they simply did not act a t the same time, let alone in alliance.

    In Crone’s opinion, her hypothesis would also explain the proliferation of variations and contradictions in later sources. According to her, it would be obvious that once Mazdak had come to be seen as the moving force behind Kawād I even though he was only suppressed by Xusrō I, then the interval between Kawād I's “heretical phase” and the accession of Xusrō I had somehow or other to be eliminated. So, Crone thought that it was for this reason that we are told, now explicitly and now implicitly, that Kawād I adopted “communist” ideas after his restoration (Mojmal al-Tawāriḵ wa’l-Qeṣaṣ, Tha’ālibī, Ḥamza Eṣfahāni, Bīrūnī and Niẓām al-Mulk) or that he was deposed for his heresy by Xusrō I (Niẓām al-Mulk, Ibn Isfandīyār), or that his heresy caused him to abdicate in favor of the latter (Ibn al-Balḵī), or that he made the latter his co-regent (Bundahišn, Mojmal al-Tawāriḵ wa’l-Qeṣaṣ) or that the heretics survived his deposition or came back towards the encl of his reign (Dīnawarī, Ibn Qutaybah, Ṭabarī, Ibn al-Balḵī) or even that Mazdak's revolt lasted all the time from his first reign to Xusrō I’s accession (Eutychius of Alexandria). In Crone’s view, what all these variant versions are trying to say is that a heretical Kawād I gave way directly to an orthodox Xusrō I, without a thirty-five-year gap in between. But an explanation also had to be found for the problem that Kawād I was supposed to have been in league with the very heretics who rebelled against the crown. Hence we read that Kawād I was forced to join the rebels, the latter having grown exceedingly strong (Ṭabarī, Bīrūnī) or that he had to pretend to be on their side lest he lose his throne (Nihāyat al-arab), or that he was deceived into supporting people who were really against him (Bīrūnī, Ibn Qutaybah, Niẓām al-Mulk, Tha’ālibī, Ibn al-Balḵī) some sources even think that it was the rebels who deposed him (Ṭabarī, Miskawayh) or at least kept him in isolation while the grandees of the realm enthroned his brother (Eutychius of Alexandria); Kawād I escaped from them to become king again, which is why the Mazdakites had to be suppressed prior to his restoration (Ṭabarī, Maqdīsī, Eutychius of Alexandria, Ibn al-Athīr), Mazdak himself being killed at that time (Ibn Qutaybah). But the problem then is obvious: how did Mazdak and his followers come to be around at the time of Xusrō I’s accession? Since all this wriggling and writhing is accompanied by efforts to fit in Kawād I’s flight to the Hephthalites, his fathering of Xusrō I, and his relations with his regent Sūkhrā and the latter's alleged son Zarmihr, it is hardly surprising that the outcome is a confusing mass of similar, yet never quite identical accounts.

    So, Crone’s hypothesis states that Kawād I tried to enforce communal access to women in the 490s CE, only to be deposed by his nobles in 496 CE, while Mazdak was a later heretic who tried to enforce communal access to women and property by raising a peasant revolt, only to be executed along with his followers by Xusrō I in the 530s. According to the British historian, the reason why the two episodes have been conflated might be that they were closely spaced events in the history of the same religious sect, of which we will now address its nature.

    Fasa_orange_grove.jpg

    Orange grove in Fasā, province of Fārs, Iran.

    Not much can be learnt about the king’s religious “deviation” in the Greek sources, all of whom describe Kawād I's innovations in terms of secular legislation; but according to Joshua the Stylite, Kawād I’s “communism” was derived from "the abominable Magian heresy known as the Zaradushtaqan", which he “reestablished”. This heresy is also referred to in the Syriac Chronicle of Karkā ḏe Bēṯ Selōḵ, a VI c. CE account written in what is today modern Kirkuk in Iraq which credits a certain Zarādušt, described as a contemporary of Mani, with a heresy that existed now openly and now secretly until the time of Xusrō I. The heresiarch in question was Zarādušt-ē Xrōsagān of Fasā (name of a city and province in Pārs) according to the Dēnkard, which identifies him as the original advocate of the doctrine that women and property should be held in common; and that he was the source of Kawād I’s ideas is confirmed by the Chronicle of Se’ert (in which the author has some trouble distinguishing the III c. CE heresiarch from the original Zoroaster). He was the source of Mazdak’s ideas, too. According to Tabarī, Zarādusht b. Khurrakān of Fasā had introduced innovations into Zoroastrianism and many people had followed him: Mazdak was one of those who made propaganda for his views. Ibn Miskawayh says much the same. Ya’qūbī and others wrongly make him a contemporary of Mazdak rather than a III c. CE figure, while Ibn al-Nadīm quaintly refers to him as "the older Mazdak", but the sole fact that these authors know him is important. The Slovenian scholar Marijan Molé proposed taking the name of Zarādušt as a title, noting that this would make Zarādušt of Fasā identifiable with Mazdak himself: i.e. Mazdak was “Zarādušt” in the sense of “mowbed”. According to Otakar Klíma, on the other hand, it is Mazdak's name that could be taken as a title: Zarādušt would have thus been the “older Mazdak” in the sense of first leader of the sect. But whether one or the other name was a title or not, Syriac and Muslim evidence leaves no doubt that Zarādušt of Fasā was a person separate from, and indeed much earlier than, Mazdak. Besides, Crone pointed out that both characters had different patronymics, Zarādušt being a son of Xrōsag/Khurrak while Mazdak was the son of Bāmdād; and they are also said to have come from different places, Zarādušt being a native of Fasā, whereas Mazdak is said to have come from Nasā, Ištakhr, Tabrīz, Nīšāpūr or MDRYH, identified as Mādharāyā in Iraq by Arthur Christensen or as the Murghāb in eastern Iran by Franz Altheim and R. Stiehl. So, Crone accepted that Zarādušt-ē Xrōsagān was the original source of doctrines taken up by Kawād I and Mazdak in succession.

    The fundamental idea behind Zaradušt’s heresy was that women and property engender envy, anger, hatred, greed and needs which would not arise if both were held in common (according to Crone, that’s what she could conclude from Ferdowsī’s account): women and wealth are the ultimate causes of practically all dissension among mankind. But God had created all men alike (according to al-Shahrastānī) and placed the means of sustenance, including the means of procreation, on earth "so that mankind may divide them equally among themselves" (according to al-Malaṭī and Niẓām al-Mulk). Women and property should be held in partnership like water, fire, and pasture; nobody was allowed to have more than others (according to al-Shahrastānī); sharing was a religious duty (Ibn Qutaybah, Maqdīsī, Eutychius of Alexandria, Tha’ālibī, Ferdowsī, al-Malaṭī).

    The sources are not clear exactly how the sharing is to be envisaged. Most accounts suggest collective ownership, and this is also what many other authors took to be the objective: Mazdak abolished marriage and private property according to Bal'amī; he told his followers that "your wives are like your other possessions, they too should be regarded as common property", according to Niẓām al-Mulk; he preached communal control of children as well, according to the Bundahišn and Ibn al-Balḵī. Theodor Nöldeke also believed Mazdak to have abolished private property and marriage, on the grounds that equality in respect of possessions cannot be maintained for long unless collective ownership is instituted and hereditary transmission of property eliminated. But though this may well have been what Zarādušt had in mind, it is not how it worked out in practice. Kawād I is said to have ruled that children born of extra-marital unions were to be affiliated to the husband (according to Syriac sources); his “communist views” on women notwithstanding, marriage thus persisted along with parental control of children and hereditary transmission of property. A widely cited tradition has it that Mazdak and his followers did not institute collective ownership as much as engage in redistribution: they claimed that "they were taking from the rich and giving to the poor, and that whoever had a surplus in respect of landed property, women or goods had no better right to it than anyone else" (Ṭabarī, Ibn Qutaybah, Maqdīsī, Ibn Miskawayh, Tha’ālibī). Mazdak "ordered that people should be equal in respect of property and women", as al-Ya’qūbī put it. Mazdak "made people equal", according to Ibn al-Athīr, he "would take the wife of the one and hand her over to another, and likewise possessions, slaves, slave girls and other things, such as landed property and real estate” (Ibn al-Athīr) These statements clearly imply that private property and marriage alike were left intact, only inequalities being removed. Mazdak's view seems to have been that the rich should divest themselves of their surplus by giving freely, and that the poor were allowed to help themselves to the possessions of those who had more than the rest: "when Adam died, God let his sons inherit [the world] equally; nobody has a right to more property or wives than others, so that he who is able to take people's possessions or obtain their wives by stealth, deceit, trickery or blandishment is allowed and free to do so; the property which some people possess in excess of others is forbidden to them until it is distributed equally among mankind", as al-Malaṭī quotes the Mazdakites as saying (in terms obviously borrowed from Islam and with an emphasis on non-violent methods which suggests that the statement refers to later conditions rather than Mazdak's revolt). This goes well with the claim that Mazdak sanctioned guest prostitution (Niẓām al-Mulk, Ibn al-Athīr) and other forms of wife-lending, a measure for which he may have found inspiration in Zoroastrian law (see the three previous posts in this thread). The later Khurramīs also endorsed ibāḥat al-nisā' (as the Muslims were to call communal access to women) without abolishing marriage thereby. Kawād I and Mazdak seem to have argued that nobody had exclusive rights to women or (in Mazdak's case) to anything at all: everything in a man's possession was available to others, ownership being common in the last resort, and anything he possessed in excess of others could be freely taken, the correct distribution being equal. But actual pooling of property, women or children was apparently not attempted.

    Even so, Crone agreed with Nöldeke that ibāḥat al-nisā' was meant in a drastically egalitarian vein. What the Zaraduštis demanded was not simply that women hoarded in princely harems should be redistributed or that women should be allowed to marry outside their own class, that it should be cheaper to marry, that the rules of levirate should be relaxed, or the like; but nor was it against hereditary transmission of property that their views on women were directed. What ibāḥat al-nisā' achieved was to obstruct the growth of social distance and (crucially in Kawād I's case) to undermine the power of those who had a vested interest in its preservation (i.e. the aristocracy). Communal access to women prevented the formation of noble lineages sealed off from the rest of the community by endogamous or indeed incestuous unions; communal access to the wives of aristocrats destroyed the mystique of noble blood produced by generations of such unions, placing a question mark over the political entitlements with which such blood was associated. The horror of ibāḥat al-nisā' to non-Zaraduštis lay precisely in the fact that it obliterated hereditary ranking. It worked by "obscuring the descent of every individual", as the Dēnkard complains. "Genealogies were mixed" (Maqdīsī) "base people of all sorts mixed with people of noble blood" (Ṭabarī, Ibn Miskawayh) as we are told with reference to Mazdak’s revolt. "If people have women and property in common, how can they know their children and establish their genealogies?", as Zoroastrian priests asked Mazdak, who was supposedly dumbfounded, never having thought that far himself (Tha’ālibī, Niẓām al-Mulk, a similar objection to that stated by the Dēnkard above).

    If Kawād I and Mazdak modified Zaradušt’s vision on women and property in the course of their attempt to implement it, the later Mazdakites, or some of them, seem to have changed it almost beyond recognition. The Dēnkard accuses them of tracing descent through the mother and of holding the property of sons and brothers in common, thus creating a society similar to that of the Nayar of Malabar in India (or Strabo's Yemenis), among whom ownership of land and livestock was vested in the matrilineal lineage, agricultural work being done by brothers while their sisters produced children by non-resident and temporary husbands. So, according to Crone, in western Iran, to which the information in the Dēnkard is most likely to refer, Mazdakism would thus appear to have come to validate a local and, by Zoroastrian standards, highly unorthodox form of kinship organization to which there is perhaps an allusion in Herodotus' account of Achaemenid Iran as well (according to him, the Massagetae of the Caucasus used wives promiscuously; if a man visited a woman, he would hang his quiver in front of her wagon. Presumably, they too were matrilineally organized, though Herodotus does not say so), and Naršakhī seems to imply that Mazdakism came to perform the same function in Transoxiana. But there were also Khurramīs who used the creed to sanction monogamy. The Mazdakite association with “deviant” systems is lines up with the fact that it was among isolated mountaineers (many of them Kurds) that Mazdakism survived, but it is unlikely to throw light on the origins and nature of the heresy itself. For Crone, Zaraduštism was undoubtedly a priestly response to mainstream Zoroastrian problems which only came to be adapted to local institutions after Mazdak's death.

    Yasna.jpg

    Manuscript containing the Yasna dated to ca. 1630 from Yazd, Iran. Sasanian Zoroastrianism was a religion centered around ceremonies and the enactment of Zoroastrian Law in the daily behavior of its believers, so if the Zaraduštis were indeed antinomian, this might have set them apart as heretics to the eyes of the official priests that until then had been supported by the Sasanian dynasty.

    Zaradušt’s creed was not just egalitarian, but also pacifist. Kawād I is said in the sources (Ṭabarī, Sebeos and Ibn Qutaybah) to have disliked war and bloodshed in his “heretical phase; he was a mild man who tried to deal leniently with his subjects and enemies alike, a fact which some construed as weakness (Ṭabarī, Ibn Qutaybah) and he was a vegetarian too: "the king eats no meat and holds bloodshed to be forbidden because he is a zindiq (heretic)", as the ruler of the Yemen was informed (Ṭabarī). The king proved warlike enough on his restoration. Mazdak similarly wanted to eliminate war, hatred, and dispute, (Shahrastānī) and he too was a vegetarian: according to Ibn al-Athīr, he held that "plants and animal products such as eggs, milk, butter and cheese suffice as human food". According to Bīrūnī, he told Kawād I to abstain from the slaughter of cattle "before the natural term of their life has come", which is more ambivalent: it could be taken to mean that carrion was legitimate food, which Crone (following Nöldeke) deemed unlikely, or that cattle could be both slaughtered and eaten provided that it was old, which is a view attested in Zoroastrian literature (Dēnkard and the Pahlavi Rivāyāt), or that cattle could only be slaughtered (but not eaten, as opposed to cut up for its hides, horns, etc.) after it had died. Crones considers possible that Bīrūnī mixed up Zoroastrian and Mazdakite doctrine here and that possibly it was the third interpretation he had in mind; either way, the evidence for Zarādušti vegetarianism is strong. The Khurramīs of the early Muslim world likewise disapproved of bloodshed, except in times of revolt; no living being should be killed in their view (Maqdīsī, Ibn al-Nadīm) and they too were vegetarians: after his capture, the famous IX c. CE Khurramī rebel leader Bābak complained that the hands and breath of his Muslim prison-guard stank of meat (Ṭabarī). One twelfth century Khurramīs sect even forbid injury to humans, animals, and plants alike.

    Possibly, Zaradušt was also an antinomian (i.e. that he rejected laws or legalism and argued against moral, religious or social norms), but it is only of Mazdak's followers that we have any information on this point. According to the Dēnkard, they did not perform the external acts of worship. They continued to ignore them after they had become Muslims (of sorts) as well: the Khurramīs did not perform the ritual prayer, observe the fast or otherwise adhere to Islamic law, as several sources inform us.

    Crone also considered necessary to drive home three further points about the Zarādušti heresy. First, neither Zaradušt’s heresy nor its Mazdakite version was a species of Manichaeism. The idea that Mazdak was a Manichaean dissident was first raised by Arthur Christensen and it can still be found in secondary literature even though it has been refuted repeatedly. Christensen based his argument on a passage in Malalas according to which a III c. CE Manichaean named Bundos proposed a new doctrine to the effect that the good god had defeated the evil god and that the victor should be honored; this Bundos was active in Rome under Diocletian (r. 285-305 CE), but he subsequently went to the Sasanian Empire where his religion was called the doctrine of tōn daristhenōn, explained by Malalas as " the adherents of the good [god] " (probably from d'rist-dēn, MP for “professing the true religion"). Due to the fact that Malalas also calls Kawād I ho darasthenos, Christensen identifies Bundos and Zarādušt of Fasā, construing Bundos as a Greek rendition of MP bundag or the like, meaning "venerable". Crone conceded that there is an odd coincidence here, and all the more so in that the Dēnkard could be taken to say that Zarādušt of Fasā was called d'rist-dēn (a disputed lecture of the Pahlavi writing, though), that various garbled epithets of Kawād I in Muslim sources (Ḥamza al-Iṣfahānī, Tha’ālibī) could likewise be read as d'rist-dēn ( though this reading is not compelling), and that the appellation al-‘adliyya and madhhab-i ‘adl attested in Muslim sources for the Mazdakite sect could be taken as a translation of the same term (a supposition that Crone also considers far from obvious). Also, the Islamic scholar al-lskāfī wrote that Mazdak came from Syria. But even so, Crone found Christensen's theory hard to accept. She thought that Iskāfī’s testimony is best discounted, partly because adab (a genre of Islamic literature dealing with matters of etiquette and good behavior) works are unreliable sources of historical information and partly because it is Bundos/Zarādušt rather than Mazdak who ought to have come from (or via) Syria. Crone continued by observing that if "Mazdak" was a title, as Klíma argued, one could of course take Iskāfī’s statement as a confused reflection of the fact that the older Mazdak came from Syria and seek support for this view in the fact that Iskāfī has his Mazdak go to Fārs, the province with which Zarādušt is associated. But to Crone, conjectures based on confusion did not make good evidence. She even though that Malalas' testimony should probably be discounted too. It is not highly likely that a native of a provincial town of Fārs should have travelled all the way to Rome and made it as a preacher there before going back to found a religious sect in Iran; conversely, if Bundos was a Roman (or other non-Iranian resident of the Roman Empire), how did the people of Pārs come to accept him as a religious authority? A Syriac speaking citizen of the Roman empire might well have made it as a preacher in Iraq, but surely not in Fasā; that Zarādušt came from Fasā is however a point on which Zoroastrian and Muslim sources agree. No “communist views” are reported for Bundos, and no assertion regarding the victory of the good god is attested for Zarādušt, or for any of his followers, so that all they have in common is the appellation d'rist-dēn. So, Crone concluded that if there is any significance to this, all one can say is that Malalas' story is too garbled for us to retrieve it.

    Crone further added that if one accepts that Bundos and Zarādušt are somehow related, it does not in any way follow that Zaradušt’s creed was a variant of Manichaeism, for according to her, Malalas plainly uses that word in the vague and nonspecific sense of "dualist heresy". Obviously, Zarādušt was a dualist. Zoroastrian, Christian and Muslim sources however agree that his dualism was Zoroastrian rather than Manichaean.

    Thus the Dēnkard refers to him as a heretic who came up with the wrong answer to a Zoroastrian problem, while the Chronicle of Karkā ḏe Bēṯ Selōḵ credits him and Mani with different heresies. Ṭabarī described his sect as a development within Zoroastrianism and it is similarly described by Ya’qūbī and Ibn al-Nadīm. As for Kawād I, the “abominable Zarādušti heresy” that he took up was described as Zoroastrian by Joshua the Stylite, and his religion is likewise described as Zoroastrianism (majūsiyya) in the Chronicle of Se’ert; the description is correct for he tried to impose fire-worship on the Armenians in his heretical phase according to Joshua the Stylite. Mazdak, too, is classified as a Zoroastrian by Ibn al-Nadīm; and Mazdak was also a Zoroastrian according to the Pahlavi books, which depict him as a heretic, not as a Manichaean (Mani being seen as the founder of a new religion); Mazdak “modified Zoroaster’s religion” according to Bīrūnī, Abū ‘l-Ma'ālī and Ibn al-Athīr, all of whom clearly mean the original prophet, not Zarādušt of Fasā; he proposed a new interpretation of "the book of Zoroaster known as the Avestā", according to Mas’ūdī, Bīrūnī and Khwārizmī, and it was for this reason that be was known as a zindīq. He claimed to be a prophet sent to restore the religion of Zoroaster according to Niẓām al-Mulk. He aspired to the spiritual leadership of the religion of Ohrmazd according to the Dēnkard (in a passage in which he is not however explicitly named). What is more, he is said to have been a mowbed or even chief mowbed (Bīrūnī, Khwārizmī, Niẓām al-Mulk) that is to say, a member of the Zoroastrian priesthood; and though he is more likely to have been a minor priest than a leader of the clerical hierarchy (a position ascribed to him on the basis of his supposed association with Kawād I), his allegiance to that hierarchy is not in doubt, for he (or a follower of his) compares two divine powers to the chief mowbed and chief hērbed in the fragment in cosmology preserved by al-Shahrastānī. He worshipped fire, too, for he had his own views on the number and distribution of fire temples (Hamadhānī, Qummī); and he allegedly proved the truth of his religion by making a fire speak (Niẓām al-Mulk), a miracle which is moreover borrowed from the life of Zoroaster. He also appears as a Zoroastrian in the Dābistān-i Mazāhib, the author of which relied on Mazdakite informants and an alleged book of Mazdak's entitled the Dīsnād; and his speeches in Niẓām al-Mulk, Ferdowsī and other sources are wholly Zoroastrian too.

    Manichaean-Electae.jpg

    Manichaean religion accepted female priests. Painting dated to the X c. CE depicting Manichaean Electae found in Gaochang/Qočo (Xinjiang, China).

    But Crone elaborates things further: the fact that Mazdakism originated within Zoroastrianism does not of course rule out the possibility that Zarādušt and/or Mazdak were influenced by Manichaeism; but where is the influence supposed to be? In terms of ethos, the two heresies were diametrically opposed. Manichaeism was a world renouncing religion which taught liberation from matter through abstention from procreation, bloodshed, and material possessions. Zarādušt and his followers by contrast taught equal access to all the good things of life, including women and material possessions. Christensen understood Mazdak's vegetarianism as an attempt to avoid entanglement in matter, and others followed suit by crediting the Mazdakites with abstention from sex and material goods as well in their supposed effort to kill desire. But as Crone points out, the followers of Zarādušt, unlike the Manichaeans, were vegetarians because life was good, not because bloodshed would entangle them in matter. Their general idea (as reported with particular clarity for later Khurramīs) was that everyone should be nice to everyone else, and that all pleasurable things should be allowed as long as they did not harm the interests of others, animals included (Maqdīsī, Ibn al-Nadīm). According to Crone, there is in fact no reason at all to assume that the Mazdakites practiced asceticism, though Mīr-Khvānd (a late source) claimed that Mazdak "wore woolen clothing and engaged in constant devotion", all early sources give us to understand that Mazdak preached elimination of desire through fulfilment; of one Mazdakite sect we are explicitly told that they rejected the asceticism of' the Marcionites; with whom they otherwise had much in common. But what then does Abū 'Īsā al-Warrāq’s statement that Mazdak authorized killing mean? Since he knew that Mazdak was a pacifist, he can hardly have credited the latter with a recommendation of ritual murder; but Crone speculated that he may well have meant that Mazdak permitted killing, normally prohibited, under conditions of revolt, which is what the later Mazdakites took to be the case; and he may further have stated that Mazdak rationalized this dispensation on the grounds that opponents (so overcome by evil as to force the believers into revolt) should be killed because there was no other way of releasing their souls. But this is not a Manichaean view. Crone stated that Mazdak's heresy undoubtedly resembled Manichaeism, as Abū 'Īsā al-Warrāq said with reference to Mazdak's belief in two principles, but then what dualism did not? To Crone, the fact that Abū 'Īsā al-Warrāq compared it with Manichaeism rather than Zoroastrianism merely illustrates the fact that Manichaeism was the most important form of dualism to early Muslims, being infinitely more intelligible, enticing and dangerous than Zoroastrianism; it does not necessarily mean that Manichaeism and Mazdakism were especially closely related. Like all the Iranian dualists, Mazdak had views on the nature of light and darkness, but his views were Zoroastrian, not Manichaean. If Abū ‘Īsā al-Warrāq (or an anonymous informant) is to be trusted, Mazdak had certainly been exposed to Gnostic influence in respect of his cosmology (as reflected in Shahrastānī, who is unclear in this precise case if his source is Abū ‘Īsā al-Warrāq or an anonymous informant) but there is nothing specifically Manichaean about this influence; according to Crone some even conjecture it to have been neo- Platonic; the American scholar Wilferd Madelung suggested that it was Kanthaean (an obscure a Gnostic-Baptist sect in Sasanian Babylonia, possibly related to the Mandaeans). The later Khurramīs likewise subscribed to a number of beliefs commonly associated with Gnosticism, notably reincarnation of the soul and periodic incarnation of the deity (or, less radically, of messengers) on earth, and they shared with the Manichaeans the concept of the moon as a soul-carrying vessel which waxes and wanes in accordance with its freight (Maqdīsī, Ibn al-Nadīm). But Crone judged that they did not need to have borrowed any of these ideas from the Manichaeans, and they were in any case quite unlike the Manichaeans in their ethos, a fact well captured by the fact that they came to be known as Khurramīs or Khurram-dīnīs "adherents of the joyous religion". Zarāduštism was not a religion of cosmic alienation in either its original or its later versions; it did not preach that man is a stranger in this world, a fallen soul or spark of light trapped in matter by mistake, nor did it teach asceticism as a means of escape. It did say that the world has arisen through a deplorable mixture of light and darkness to which man should respond by trying to vanquish darkness and its evil creations (notably by avoiding discord and bloodshed), but then so did Zoroastrianism. Clearly Zoroastrianism was the common source of Gnostic dualism and the Zarādušti/Mazdakite/Khurramī religion; the latter sprang directly from it, not from a Gnostic offshoot, and it continued to be a Zoroastrian heresy rather than a Gnostic creed as it remained life-affirming: hatred of matter is not attested.

    The second point that Crone stressed is that Zarādušt’s “communism” owed its existence to Zoroastrian thought, not to classical antecedents. The practice of looking for Greek antecedents is a time-honored one as already Agathias of Myrina was the first to do so: he rejected the theory, not because of its historical implausibility, but rather because the Iranians could not in his view be credited with motives higher than concupiscence. In the XX c, Franz Altheim and Ruth Stiel argued that they had located the origins of Mazdakite thought in Neoplatonism supposedly transmitted by Bud, a VI c. CE Syrian whom the authors briskly dated back to the III c. CE and identify with Bundos, who supposedly would have picked up Neo-Platonist ideas in Rome before moving on to the Murghāb in eastern Iran, where his ideas would have lay dormant for two centuries until they were picked up by Mazdak. Klíma, on the other hand, tried to find the roots of Zarādušti communism in Carpocratianism (a Gnostic sect founded in the first half of the II c. CE by Carpocrates of Alexandria), and though he more or less renounced this view later in time, it was subsequently revived by other scholars, according to whom Zarādušt may have picked up Carpocratian ideas during his sojourn as Bundos in the Roman Empire. Crone judged these suggestions strained in the extreme. For one thing, the idea of joint property and/or women is so simple that it is unlikely only to have been dreamed up once, all other occurrences being the outcome of diffusion. For another thing, Zarādušti “communism” was intimately linked with Zoroastrian speculation on Āz, concupiscence, which is the principal force through which Ahreman gains power over mankind and which represents both excess and deprivation, fulfilment in the right measure being the remedy against it. Communal goods and wives were meant to diminish the power of Āz, as a heretic affirms in the Dēnkard; and the only objection his orthodox adversary could mobilize against it was that “communism” turned the socio-political order upside down: so it seems that the communist argument was unimpeachable. That the Zoroastrians should have had to visit the Roman Empire in order to develop such ideas is implausible in the extreme.

    And the third and final point that Crone wanted to drive home is that the modern tendency to dismiss accounts of Zarādušti “communism”, or more precisely that in respect of women, as exaggerated by hostile reporters, twisted by malicious slander and so forth, is mistaken. Obviously, there are embellishments in the sources, such as Kawād I becoming a Mazdakite because he fancied an otherwise unavailable woman or Mazdak provoking his own fall by asking Kawād I for Xusrō I's mother (Bīrūnī, Ibn Qutaybah, Niẓām al-Mulk, Tha’ālibī, Ibn al-Balḵī), this is as might be expected. But there is nothing embellished about the simple claim that communal access to women was part of the Zarādušti creed. On this there is agreement in Greek, Syriac, Zoroastrian, and Muslim sources; and we may take the sources on their word, for the Zarāduštis are the only sectarians of the Middle East to whom a “communist” vision of· production and reproduction are imputed.

    It is true, of course, that numerous Gnostic sects both before and after the appearance of Kawād I and Mazdak were accused of promiscuity and that the Ismā’īlīs of X c. CE Iraq and XI c. CE Baḥrayn are said to have been “communists”, the former in that they pooled both their women and their property on the eve of their ritual departure from non-lsmā'īlī society and the latter in that they organized themselves along “communist” (or “semi-communist”) lines on a permanent basis. But neither the Ismā’īlīs nor their Gnostic predecessors, with the exception of the Carpocratians, are described as adherents of “communist” creeds. The Gnostics rejected the law as an instrument of salvation and frequently preached and/or engaged in the most outrageous behavior they could think of by way of proving its irrelevance , with the result that they were routinely accused of promiscuity; and believers in messianic visions were prone to engage in the same kind of behavior, partly because they shared the Gnostic view of the law and more particularly because ritual violation of deeply internalized rules is an effective way of burning bridges, or in other words of ensuring that the sectarians will have to stick together even though life on the margins may prove difficult and the messiah may fail to arrive. But the antinomian behavior rarely amounted to “communism” in either case, and there was no “communism” in the creeds themselves. The Ismā'īlī leader in Iraq who persuaded his followers to pool their women and property under his control accomplished the bridge burning and united his followers in abject dependence on himself by one and the same measure: his “communism” was instrumental. We do not know what sort of permanent order emerged from his innovations, but in lsma’īlī Baḥrayn, where the first (and apparently “noncommunist”) attempt at transition to millenarian conditions was a failure (Bīrūnī), a new order eventually emerged which had “communist” features too. Here the “communism” was not instrumental, or not anymore, but it was still a local vision of messianic society which the founders of the official creed had not envisaged. One can deny that the Ismā’īlīs engaged in any “communist” activities whatever, be it in Iraq or Baḥrayn (and many scholars are suspicious of the reports) without greatly affecting our understanding of the Ismā’īlī belief system.

    But in the case of Zarāduštis, “communism” is presented as an integral part of the belief system itself, and one cannot reject it as mere slander without thereby causing the very creed to vanish: take away the “communist” vision of production and reproduction and what is left? Either we must accept that the Zarāduštis advocated joint control of women and property, as the sources say (since one can hardly reject the claim in respect of women and accept it in respect of land), or else we must admit that all we know about their beliefs is that they included pacifism and vegetarianism, everything else being misrepresentation. But misrepresentations of what? If we take the sources to be indulging in stereotypes, the only stereotypes available are those associated with Gnostic and millenarian sects, but these have the merit of being instantly recognizable and they do not fit: whether a particular group did or did not go in for orgiastic nights, incestuous couplings, obligatory pederasty/wine-drinking/murder, or the like is usually impossible to determine, but the nature of the charge is unmistakable; and it is not the charge we encounter in connection with the Zarāduštis. Mazdak preached qatl al-anfus, but the reference is not to ritual murder. Both he and Zarādušt may have rejected Zoroastrian law, given the Gnostic tendencies of their sect, but the sources say nothing about it. The Zarāduštis believed in communal access to women and property, but their views are described as utopian, not antinomian. It was only among the later Khurramīs that ibāḥat al-nisā' assumed an antinomian coloring (ibāḥat al-māl, or communal access to land, having been largely or wholly forgotten in the meantime), just as it was only among them that millenarianism made its appearance. It is precisely because the Zarāduštis were utopian rather than antinomian “communists” that some modern scholars were fascinated by the Carpocratians, who likewise incorporated “communism” in their very creed: the parallel is real even though the “genetic” relationship between them is fictitious. It is for the same reason that the Zarāduštis cannot be presented as victims of a stereotype; on the contrary they engendered one: all “communist” tendencies in the Muslim world were automatically branded as Mazdakite borrowings. And it is not of course problematic that the Zarāduštis were less communist in practice than they were in principle, whereas it is the other way round with the Ismā’īlīs. Neither Kawād I nor Mazdak could hope to transform Sasanian Iran into a “communist” society in the sense of one in which resources were pooled under state control: the empire was too large and too complex for this to be possible, and too opposed to the attempt; however the vision was to be enacted, public ownership was not an option, and it does not in fact seem to have suggested itself to them. But petty communities opting out of mainstream society in the name of a heretical creed were well placed to obtain a consensus on “communist” ways, even if these ways were not part of the heresy itself, and they were small and homogeneous enough for public control of land and other resources to be viable. (There was no pooling of women once the transitional phase was over).

    Kawād I's “communism” was interpreted by Crone and many other historians as an anti-noble measure. Joint access to women, promoted in the name of the Zoroastrian faith to which practically all Iranian nobles were committed, offered a beguilingly simple way of curtailing the power of the nobility for a ruler who had no army with which to defeat or despoil it, his only troops being those furnished by the nobles themselves (as we have seen in previous posts, this statement by Crone -dated to the 1980s- has been rightly put in doubt since the 2000s with the excavation of the Wall of Gorgān and other massive complexes that suggest that the Sasanian state in the V c. CE was far more centralized that had been thought before, and that the Šāhān Šāh had at his disposal substantial military forces on a permanent basis). In practice, of course, the attempt was a failure, and Kawād I would scarcely have made it if he had not been a really young man at the time (see above) meaning that he was only in his early twenties when the Iranian nobility put an end to his experiment. I disagree with Crone in her analysis of the reasons that led Kawād I to indulge in such extreme measures; Crone sees in it an attempt at modernizing the Sasanian state, but as I’ve said before, recent evidence seems to show that the Sasanian state was already considerably centralized in the V c. CE and that the kings of this century were able to mobilize massive forces to build and garrison enormous military barriers and fortresses in their northern borders; permanent garrisons that by their very nature cannot have come from seasonal feudal levies. Instead, I would suggest that what irked young Kawād I was the fact that under all the V c. CE kings powerful nobles from the great families had managed to reach positions of great power and influence and to become almost equals to the king (Mihr-Narsē Sūrēn, Ṙaham Mihrān, Sūkhrā Kārēn, Šābuhr Mihrān, etc.), and that especially his humiliating position vis-à-vis Sūkhrā during five years had decided him to take decisive action to end this situation once and for all, and since (as I’ve shown in the previous posts about Sasanian law) the very legal structures of Ērānšahr that underpinned the status of these families were supported by the Zoroastrian priesthood and their interpretation of the Avestā, he tried to subvert it in order to subvert the whole structure of the social order of the Sasanian Empire. An overly ambitious (and very risky) enterprise that ended with his dethronement and his narrow escape from death. In his second reign he refrained himself from such adventures, although the Zarāduštis remained a latent force in the Empire that would explode at is death in the form of a massive peasant rebellion led by Mazdak.
     
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    5.14 THE DETHRONEMENT OF KAWĀD I AND THE REIGN OF ZĀMĀSP.
  • 5.14 THE DETHRONEMENT OF KAWĀD I AND THE REIGN OF ZĀMĀSP.


    Kawād I’s support of the Zarādušti heretics led to his dethronement and imprisonment. Plenty of sources cover this episode, although only Perso-Arabic authors link correctly Kawād I’s fall from power to his religious “experiment”. Let us begin by reviewing the western sources. The most important western source is Procopius of Caesarea, who is followed by Agathias of Myrina, Theodorus Lector, Theophylact Simocatta, Theophanes the Confessor, George Cedrenus and Nicephorus Callistus.

    Procopius of Caesarea, History of the wars. The Persian War, V-VI:
    But as time went on Cabades (i.e. Kawād I) became more high-handed in the administration of the government, and introduced innovations into the constitution, among which was a law which he promulgated providing that Persians should have communal intercourse with their women, a measure which by no means pleased the common people. Accordingly they rose against him, removed him from the throne, and kept him in prison in chains. They then chose Blases (i.e. Walāxš), the brother of Perozes, to be their king, since, as has been said, no male offspring of Perozes was left, and it is not lawful among the Persians for any man by birth a common citizen to be set upon the throne, except in case the royal family be totally extinct. Blases, upon receiving the royal power, gathered together the nobles of the Persians and held a conference concerning Cabades; for it was not the wish of the majority to put the man to death. After the expression of many opinions on both sides there came forward a certain man of repute among the Persians, whose name was Gousanastades, and whose office that of “chanaranges” (which would be the Persian term for general); his official province lay on the very frontier of the Persian territory in a district which adjoins the land of the Hephthalites. Holding up his knife, the kind with which the Persians were accustomed to trim their nails, of about the length of a man’s finger, but not one-third as wide as a finger, he said: “You see this knife, how extremely small it is; nevertheless it is able at the present time to accomplish a deed, which, be assured, my dear Persians, a little later two myriads of mail-clad men could not bring to pass”. This he said hinting that, if they did not put Cabades to death, he would straightway make trouble for the Persians. But they were altogether unwilling to put to death a man of the royal blood and decided to confine him in a castle which it is their habit to call the “Prison of Oblivion”. For if anyone is cast into it, the law permits no mention of him to be made thereafter, but death is the penalty for the man who speaks his name; for this reason it has received this title among the Persians (…)

    While Cabades was in the prison he was cared for by his wife, who went in to him constantly and carried him supplies of food. Now the keeper of the prison began to make advances to her, for she was exceedingly beautiful to look upon. And when Cabades learned this from his wife, he bade her give herself over to the man to treat as he wished. In this way the keeper of the prison came to be familiar with the woman, and he conceived for her an extraordinary love, and as a result permitted her to go in to her husband just as she wished, and to depart from there again without interference from anyone. Now there was a Persian notable, Seoses by name, a devoted friend of Cabades, who was constantly in the neighborhood of this prison, watching his opportunity, in the hope that he might in some way be able to effect his deliverance. And he sent word to Cabades through his wife that he was keeping horses and men in readiness not far from the prison, and he indicated to him a certain spot. Then one day as night drew near Cabades persuaded his wife to give him her own garment, and, dressing herself in his clothes, to sit instead of him in the prison where he usually sat. In this way, therefore, Cabades made his escape from the prison. For although the guards who were on duty saw him, they supposed that it was the woman, and therefore decided not to hinder or otherwise annoy him. At daybreak they saw in the cell the woman in her husband’s clothes and were so completely deceived as to think that Cabades was there, and this belief prevailed during several days, until Cabades had advanced well on his way. As to the fate which befell the woman after the stratagem had come to light, and the manner in which they punished her, I am unable to speak with accuracy. For the Persian accounts do not agree with each other, and for this reason I omit the narration of them.

    Cabades, in company with Seoses, completely escaped detection, and reached the Hephthalite Huns; there the king gave him his daughter in marriage, and then, since Cabades was now his son-in-law, he put under his command a very formidable army for a campaign against the Persians. This army the Persians were quite unwilling to encounter, and they made haste to flee in every direction. And when Cabades reached the territory where Gousanastades exercised his authority, he stated to some of his friends that he would appoint as chanaranges the first man of the Persians who should on that day come into his presence and offer his services. But even as he said this, he repented his speech, for there came to his mind a law of the Persians which ordains that offices among the Persians shall not be conferred upon others than those to whom each particular honor belongs by right of birth. For he feared lest someone should come to him first who was not a kinsman of the present chanaranges, and that he would be compelled to set aside the law in order to keep his word. Even as he was considering this matter, chance brought it about that, without dishonoring the law, he could still keep his word. For the first man who came to him happened to be Adergoudounbades, a young man who was a relative of Gousanastades and an especially capable warrior. He addressed Cabades as “Lord,” and was the first to do obeisance to him as king and besought him to use him as a slave for any service whatever. So Cabades made his way into the royal palace without any trouble, and, taking Blases destitute of defenders, he put out his eyes, using the method of blinding commonly employed by the Persians against malefactors, that is, either by heating olive oil and pouring it, while boiling fiercely, into the wide-open eyes, or by heating in the fire an iron needle, and with this pricking the eyeballs. Thereafter Blases was kept in confinement, having ruled over the Persians two years. Gousanastades was put to death and Adergoudounbades was established in his place in the office of chanaranges, while Seoses was immediately proclaimed “adrastadaran salanes”; title designating the one set in authority over all magistrates and over the whole army. Seoses was the first and only man who held this office in Persia; for it was conferred on no one before or after that time. And the kingdom was strengthened by Cabades and guarded securely; for in shrewdness and activity he was surpassed by none.

    Procopius’ account is quite long, and for a Roman historian, it is surprisingly precise and filled with authentic bits of detail, and overall it fits closely with the accounts in the Syriac and Perso-Arabic sources, although it includes some mistakes, including a particularly blatant one. This mistake is the name of Kawād’s successor: he was not succeeded by his uncle Walāxš (as we have seen, it was him who had succeeded Walāxš) but by his younger brother Zāmāsp. Clearly Procopius messed up the succession order here because he omitted Walāxš as Kawād’s predecessor, and completely ignored the existence of Zāmāsp. Procopius affirms that Kawād was deposed by the nobility, in coincidence with the remaining sources, and also mentions by name one of the nobles that took part in it: *Gušnaspdād (Procopius’ “Gousanastades”), who held the title of Kanārang (“chanaranges”). The Kanārang was the military governor of the northeastern border of the Empire (the most dangerous of its borders during this period of time) and was hereditary within a noble family that took its name from the office that its members held: the Kanārangiyān. It is remarkable that Procopius managed to get hold of this detail, since the domains of the kanārang were far removed from the Roman border, although as it is usual in Roman (and later Muslim) historians he misunderstood the title, for Kanārang, although it was a military rank, does not mean “general” in Middle Persian (the equivalent to our rank of “general” would be spāhbed). Notice how, when Kawād manages to retake the throne, he has Gušnaspdād executed, but bestows the office of Kanārang on his relative *Ādurgušnaspbad (or *Ādurgundbād, Procopius’ “Adergoudounbades”), thus keeping the office within the Kanārangiyān family. Procopius’ “Seoses” corresponds probably to MP Siyāvaš, and Procopius states how upon recovering his throne Kawād appointed him artēštārān sālār, i.e. head of the estate of the warriors/noblemen/āzād, although he is wrong in that he was the only individual to held the title (as we saw in a previous post, according to Ṭabarī, it was also held by one of the sons of Mihr-Narsē). The “Castle of Oblivion” was located in Xūzestān (we have already met this place in the previous thread, as this was the place where Šābuhr II had imprisoned one of the Arsacid kings of Armenia); Armenian sources refer to it with the same name as Procopius, but despite quite intensive debates among scholars, its exact location is still unknown. Overall, Procopius’ account is the longest and most detailed of all the accounts that have survived, but it is far from being the only one.

    Drahm_Zamasp_01.jpg

    Silver drahm of Zāmāsp. Mint of Gorgān (GW), regnal year three.

    Agathias of Myrina follows closely Procopius’ account, and agrees with him that Kawād was able to retake the throne without bloodshed as Zāmāsp surrendered (Agathias gets his name right), and so he was allowed to keep his live (Agathias says nothing about him being blinded). The account by Joshua the Stylite is also remarkably similar:

    Syriac Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite, XXIV:
    The Persian grandees plotted in secret to slay Kawâd, on account of his impure morals and perverse laws; and when this became known to him, he abandoned his kingdom, and fled to the territory of the Huns, to the king at whose court he had been brought up when he was a hostage.

    His brother Zâmâshp reigned in his stead over the Persians. Kawâd himself took to wife among the Huns his sisters’ daughter. His sister had been led captive thither in the war in which his father was slain; and because she was a king’s daughter, she became the wife of the king of the Huns, and he had a daughter by her. When Kawâd fled thither, she gave him this daughter to wife. Being emboldened by having become the king’s son-in-law, he used to weep before him every day, imploring him to give him the aid of an army, that he might go and kill the grandees and establish himself on his throne. His father-in-law gave him a by no means small army, according to his request. When he reached the land of the Persians, his brother heard of it, and fled before him, and he accomplished his wish and slew the grandees.

    Joshua furnishes us with the important detail that Pērōz’s daughter (i.e. Kawād’s sister) had been captured by the Hephthalite king and had become his wife or concubine, and that she had a daughter with him that the Hephthalite king married to Kawād, who thus became son-in-law to the Hephthalite king, a useful alliance for an exiled king that, according to Joshua, he exploited to convince the Hephthalite king to help him recover his throne. This is yet another example of the cunning and resourcefulness (of a near-Machiavellian nature) that this king would deploy during his reign. He had already manipulated the nobles of his empire against each other (using Šābuhr Mihrān to get rid of Suḵrā), and then turned against the nobility through of the Zoroastrian religion (again in a sibylline way, for he resorted to an already existing “heresy” instead of manipulating it himself and making it too obvious) and now he did not hesitate to ally himself with the Hephthalites who had killed his own father and conquered important parts of the eastern regions of his domains, even going as far as to enter into a marriage with his niece (who, as daughter of his captive sister, was another living memory of Pērōz’s defeat and the humiliation of the House of Sāsān). This had a political cost, because it formalized in a more visible way the situation of dependence of the Sasanians towards the Hephthalites: not only were (or had been) their tributaries, but now Kawād had become the “son” of the Hephthalite king, and hence he was symbolically subordinated to him according to the family custom accepted throughout the ancient world. But as we will see in the next thread, once Kawād I was once more secure on his throne, he would turn against his erstwhile Hephthalite allies. Procopius clearly admired him for his character (“for in shrewdness and activity he was surpassed by none”), something he did never write about his son Xusrō I, who is generally extolled in the Perso-Arabic tradition as the greatest among the Sasanian kings. As usual, Ṭabarī is the main source for the Perso-Arabic tradition:

    Ṭabarī, History of the Prophets and Kings; The Kings of the Persians and the Kings of al-Ḥīra:
    When ten years had elapsed of Qubādh’s reign, the Chief Mōbadh and the great men of state agreed together on deposing Qubādh from his throne, so they did this and imprisoned him. This was because he had become a follower of a man named Mazdak and his partisans, who proclaimed, "God has established daily sustenance in the earth for His servants to divide out among themselves with equal shares, but men have oppressed each other regarding it." They further asserted that they were going to take from the rich for the poor and give to those possessing little out of the share of those possessing much; moreover, [they asserted that] those who had an excessive amount of wealth, womenfolk, and goods had no more right to them than anyone else. The lower ranks of society took advantage of this and seized the opportunity; they rallied to Mazdak and his partisans and banded together with them. The people (“al-nās”, i.e., the higher levels of society) suffered from the activities of the Mazdakites, and these last grew strong until they would burst in on a man in his own house and appropriate his dwelling, his womenfolk, and his possessions without the owner being able to stop them. They contrived to make all these doctrines attractive to Qubādh, but also threatened him with deposition (if he did not cooperate with them). Very soon it came to pass that a man among them (i.e., the Mazdakites?) no longer knew his own son, nor a child his father, nor did a man any longer possess anything with which he could enjoy ampleness of life.

    They now consigned Qubādh to a place to which only they had access and set up in his place a brother of his called Jāmāsb. They told Qubādh, "You have incurred sin by what you have done in the past, and the only thing that can purify you from it is handing over your womenfolk." They even wanted him to make over himself to them as a sacrifice, so that they could kill him and make him an offering to the fire. When Zarmihr, son of Sūkhrā, perceived this, he went forth with an accompanying group of the nobles, ready to expend his own life, and then killed a great number of the Mazdakites, restored Qubādh to his royal power and drove out his brother Jāmāsb. After this, however, the Mazdakites kept on inciting Qubādh against Zarmihr to the point that Qubādh killed him. Qubādh was always one of the best of the Persian kings until Mazdak seduced him into reprehensible ways. As a result, the bonds linking the outlying parts of the realm became loosened and the defense of the frontiers fell into neglect.

    A certain person knowledgeable about the history of the Persians has [on the other hand] mentioned that it was the great men of state of the Persians who imprisoned Qubādh when he became a partisan of Mazdak and one of the followers of his doctrines, and who raised to the royal power in his stead his brother Jāmāsb, son of Fayrūz. Now a sister of Qubādh’s went to the prison where he was incarcerated and tried to gain entry, but the official responsible for guarding the prison and its inmates prevented her from entering. This man became roused by the desire to ravish her at that opportunity, and told her how much he desired her; she informed him that she would not resist him in anything he might desire of her, so he let her in. She entered the prison and spent a day with Qubādh. Then at her bidding, Qubādh was rolled up in one of the carpets in the gaol, and this was borne by one of his male attendants, a strong and hardy youth, and brought out of the prison. When the lad went past the prison commander, the latter asked him what he was carrying. He was unable to answer, but Qubādh’s sister came up behind the lad and told the prison commander that it was a bed roll she had slept on during her menstrual periods and that she was only going forth to purify herself and would then return. The man believed her and did not touch the carpet or go near it, fearing lest he become polluted by it, and he allowed the lad who was bearing Qubādh to pass freely out. So he went along with Qubādh, the sister following after him.

    Qubādh now took to flight until he reached the land of the Hephthalites, in order to ask their king to help him and to provide him with an army, so that he might make war on those who had rebelled against him and deposed him. It has been further related that, on his outward journey to the Hephthalites, he halted at Abarshahr at the house of one of its leading citizens, who had a daughter of marriageable age, and it was on the occasion of this journey that he had sexual relations with the mother of Kisrā Anūsharwān (i.e. the future Xusrō I Anōšīrvān). It has been also related that Qubādh returned from that journey with his son Anūsharwān and the latter's mother.

    He defeated his brother Jāmāsb in the contest for royal power after the latter had reigned for six years.

    Bal’amī follows Ṭabarī’s account with few differences, and Mīr-Khvānd also follows Ṭabarī until Kawād’s escape from prison; from that moment on, he follows Dīnawarī’s account instead. Notice that in broad terms the story coincides with Procopius’ accounts, although Ṭabarī includes (in a garbled way) the role of the “Mazdakites” in Kawād I’s fall and also fits in the strange story about Kawād’s detention by the heretics, his release by Zarmihr Kārēn (son of Suḵrā) and his execution by royal command. And the woman who helps Kawād to flee in this version is his sister, not his wife; while the male companion is not a nobleman like in Procopius’ account, but a servant. It is Dīnawarī who offers the longest and most detailed version among the Perso-Arabic sources (his version is also closely followed by the XIV c. source Nihāyat al-arab). In Dinawari’s version, Qubāḏ is dethroned by the nobility because of his support for Mazdak and Ğāmāsf is made Šahān Šāh in his stead. Qubāḏ’s sister keeps him hidden for some and finally Qubāḏ, with five friends (amongst them Zarmihr, son of Suḵrā) flees to the Hephthalite court. Dīnawarī describes the route followed by Qubāḏ: he took first the road to Ahwāz, made a stop at Urmšīr and then he went to a village on the border between Ahwāz and Iṣfahān. He obtains shelter there at the house of a local dehgān and has a short idyll with his daughter; and after three days he retakes his journey to the Hephthalite court, by way of Herāt, Pušang and Gelān. Qubāḏ asks the Hephthalite king for an army, and the king gives him 30,000 men in exchange for Čaḡānīān. On his return to Persia, Qubāḏ stops at the same village he stopped on his journey eastwards and discovers that he has now a son, Kisrā Anušarwān. Finally, Ğāmāsf and all the other people involved in the plot to oust Qubāḏ from the throne ask for his pardon at al-Madā’in, and Qubāḏ accepts; thus the conflict ends and Qubāḏ sends the Hephthalite troops back home. Another version of the events is offered by Ferdowsī, according to whom the reason for Kawād I’s dethronement was the execution of Suḵrā:

    Arg-e_Tus.jpg

    Remnants of the Citadel of Tūs (Arg-ē Tūs), in Khurāsān province, Iran.

    Ferdowsī, Šāh-nāma:
    Now when these tidings reached the Iranians:
    "He of the elephantine form (i.e. Suḵrā) is dead",
    A cry of anguish went up from Írán,
    Men, women, children, all alike bewailed;
    The tongue of every one was steeped in curses,
    And secret thoughts found public utterance.
    Írán was all convulsed, the dust went up,
    While all folk made them ready for the fight,
    And thus they said: "Since Súfarai is gone
    Let not Kubád’s throne be within Írán".
    The soldiers and the citizens agreed,
    They would not bear the mention of Kubád,
    But marched upon the palace of the Sháh,
    Vexed at his ill advisers, for redress.
    These men -all malice and intent on evil-
    They took, dragged from the palace, and then sought
    With diligence for traces of Jámásp,
    His younger brother and a noble youth.
    One whom Kubád had cherished tenderly.
    They chose him, seated him upon the throne,
    And called down blessings on him as their Sháh;
    But made Kubád’s feet fast in iron fetters,
    Unheedful of his Grace and noble birth.
    Now Súfarai had one son well beloved,
    A wise man, holy and illustrious,
    A youth without offence, Rizmihr by name,
    Whose fame had made his father well content.
    To him the people gave Kubád in bonds,
    As unto some malicious enemy,
    And thought: "Through grief the loving son will take
    Revenge upon the king for Súfarai."

    The good Rizmihr, the worshipper of God,
    Laid not his hand for ill upon the world-lord,
    But did obeisance to Kubád and spake
    No words to him about his evil deeds,
    Whereat the world-lord marvelled much, began
    To bless Rizmihr, and thus excused himself:
    "My foes have troubled much my star and moon,
    But, if I find deliverance from bond,
    I will reward thee for all ills endured,
    For I will banish anguish from thy heart,
    And cause the eyes that look on thee to shine."
    Rizmihr made answer to him thus: "O king!
    Let not thy soul be grieved on this account,
    For when a father acted not aright
    His son should bear the sorrow of his death.
    As touching mine own self, I am thy slave;
    I stand before thee as a servitor,
    And at thy bidding I will swear that never
    Will I break off my fealty to thee”.
    So spake Rizmihr and as the monarch heard
    His heart began to throb for very joy,
    His soul regained its confidence and grew
    Right joyful at the words of that wise man.
    He made Rizmihr his confidant and said:
    "I will not hide my thoughts from thee. Five men
    Are sharers in my secrets. None besides
    Hath listened to my voice. Now we will summon
    These five and ope to them our secret plan
    If it appears that we have need of them,
    While if from fetters thou shalt set me free
    Know this my policy shall profit thee”.
    The good Rizmihr, on hearing this, anon
    Released Kubád from fetters. From the city
    They fared forth to the plain by night, unseen
    By foes, and made toward the Haitálians (i.e. the Hephthalites),
    Wrung with anxiety and hurrying.
    On this wise spad the seven like flying dust
    Until with dizzy heads they reached Ahwáz,
    And entered on their steeds that wealthy town
    A town wherein a famous chieftain dwelt.
    mounting at the dwelling of the thane
    They tarried there and breathed themselves awhile.
    He had a daughter moonlike, crowned with musk,
    And, when Kubád beheld her face, all wisdom
    Fled from his youthful brain. He wont forthwith.
    And told Rizmihr: "I have a privy word
    For thee. Haste to the thane. Tell him from me:
    'This moon-faced - damsel could she be my wife?

    Rizmihr went instantly, informed the thane,
    And said: "If thy fair daughter is unmated
    I will provide her with a noble spouse,
    thou shalt be the master of Ahwáz”.
    The illustrious thane made answer to Rizmihr:
    "My pretty daughter hath no husband yet,
    And, if she please thee, she is thine to give:
    Give her to him that longeth after her".
    The wise Rizmihr came to Kubád and said:
    "May this Moon bring good fortune to the Sháh.
    Thou sawest her unawares and didst approve,
    Thou didst approve of her just as she was".
    Kubád then called to him that fairy-faced;
    The gallant warrior set her on his knee,
    And having with him one, and but one, ring
    A signet-ring whose worth was known to none
    He gave it to her, saying: "Keep this signet;
    The day will come when I shall ask for it".

    He stayed a se'nnight for that fair Moon's sake,
    And parted on the eighth day with the daw,
    Went to the king of the Haitálians,
    Told what had chanced, the Íránians' deeds, and how
    They all had girded up their loins for ill.
    The king replied: "The wrongs of Khúshnawáz
    Have surely brought thee to this strait to-day.
    On these conditions will I give thee troops,
    Who are crown-wearers, every one of them,
    That if thou shalt recover crown and treasure,
    Chaghán, its wealth and state, its march and rule,
    Shall be all mine, and thou shalt keep my terms
    And stipulations”.

    Said Kubád while smiling
    At him who thus dictated terms: "I never
    Will give that land a thought and, when thou wishest,
    Will send thee troops in numbers numberless.
    What is Chaghán that I should look that way?"
    When they had made their pact the Haitálian king
    Unloked his treasury and gave Kubád
    Dinars and arms, and two score thousand swordsmen,
    All famed as warriors and cavaliers.
    Thus to Ahwáz from the Haitálians went
    Kubád; the whole world rang with that event.

    Kubád approached the thane's abode and saw
    In every street a scattered populace,
    Who all apprised him of the joyful news:
    "Thy spouse brought forth a son to thee last night
    But little less resplendent than the moon,
    And may he bring good fortune to the Sháh".
    Kubád, on hearing, went within the house
    In great content. They named the boy Kisrá.
    Now afterwards Kubád asked of the thane:
    "From whom art thou descended, noble sir?"
    He said: "From valiant Farídún who took
    The kingship from the kindred of Zahhák:
    Thus said my father and my mother too:
    ‘We give our reverence to Farídún'.”
    Kubád was pleasured yet more at the words,
    And instantly resumed the royal crown.
    He had a litter brought and, when his spouse
    Was seated there, departed on his march;
    He led the army on to Taisafún
    In high displeasure with the Íránians.

    Now in Írán the while the ancient chiefs
    Sat with the sages and the notables.
    They said: "Between these two - both Sháhs and
    proud –

    The matter will prove wearisome for us.
    Hosts are upon their way from Rúm and Chín,
    And they will cause much bloodshed in the land".
    Then one of that assembly said: "Ye chiefs,
    Exalted and heroic warriors!
    ‘Tis needful that we go out to Kubád,
    Who, it may be, will not recall the past,
    And bring to him Jámásp, the ten years' child,
    To turn the hailstones of his wrath to pearls;
    So haply we may swerve aside and 'scape
    From pillaging, from bloodshed, and from war".

    All went to meet Kubád and said to him:
    "O Sháh of royal race! if thou hast hurt
    Men's hearts, and they have washed their hearts and

    eyes
    In petulance, now act as pleaseth thee
    Because the world-lord ruleth o'er the world".
    They all drew near to him in haste, afoot,
    Dust-covered, and with gloomy souls. The Sháh
    Forgave the evil doings of his lords,
    Accepting their excuse in lieu of bloodshed;
    He pardoned too Jámásp: the nobles blessed him.
    He came and sat upon the royal throne:
    Jámásp became his liege. Kubád bestowed
    The conduct of the realm upon Rizmihr,
    And gave him great advancement. By his means
    The kingship was well ordered, and the world
    Fulfilled with justice and prosperity.

    Ferdowsī’s version is followed closely by Tha’ālibī and the Mojmal al-Tawāriḵ, but with some differences. In Ferdowsī’s account, Kawād is followed in his journey to the Hephthalite court by a Rizmihr, son of Suḵrā, while this character is called Burzmihr by Tha’ālibī and Zarmihr in the Mojmal al-Tawāriḵ (like in Ṭabarī’s account). Another difference is the reception given by the Hephthalite king to Kawād. According to Ferdowsī, the Hephthalite king states that with what has happened to Kawād, the “crime” committed against him has received its punishment, but he agrees to help Kawād in exchange for Čaḡānīān, and so he furnishes him with an army of 30,000 men. In Tha’ālibī account, the Hephthalite king receives Kawād and his companions with full hospitality and offers the exiled king his full help. Kawād assures him that as long as he lives and reigns, he will present the Hephthalite king with tribute and honors, and the latter provides Kawād with 20,000 men. The rest of Tha’ālibī’s account is remarkably close to Ṭabarī’s, except that Tha’ālibī adds that after recovering his throne Kawād sent the Hephthalite army back to its king loaded with tribute and taxes as well as presents and honors.

    The Chronicle of Se’ert offers a slightly different version. According to it, it is “the magi” who dethrone and imprison Qabād and appoint Dāmāsf as king. After asking for Dāmāsf’s permission, Qabād’s sister visits him in prison and arranges his escape; Qabād then flees to the court of the king of the “Turks”, with whom he had a good personal rapport because of his previous captivity. After two years, and with the help of the king of the Turks, Qabād recovers his throne, getting rid of Dāmāsf and killing and imprisoning many magi. During his flight, Qabād has one son, Kisrā, who is born in the kingdom of the Turks.

    There are still other authors, like Elijah of Nisibis or Bar Hebraeus who mention Kawād I’s deposition and the rise of Zāmāsp to the throne, but they say nothing about Kawād’s flight to Hephthalite territory and the help he received from the Hephthalite king. I have already written about Procopius’ mistake identifying Kawād’s successor, and that only Agathias, among the authors who followed him, corrected this mistake. But on the other side, both Procopius and Elijah of Nisibis correctly give the length of Zāmāsp’s reign (two years) while Agathias gives four years and Ṭabarī gives six years; both authors were wrong. Kawād I was deposed in 496 CE and recovered the throne in late 498 or early 499 CE, while numismatic research has revealed that Zāmāsp reigned three years (for 496, 497 and 498 CE) while Kawād I, upon his restoration, kept in his coin the dating since his coronation, so that the first coins issued during his second reign are dated to his eleventh regnal year; so the existing evidence confirms the information given by Procopius and Elijah of Nisibis.

    All these sources offer two different reasons for Kawād I’s deposition: the execution of Suḵrā or his support for the “Mazdakite” (Zarādušti) heresy. The first reason seems implausible, because as we have already seen Suḵrā’s death should be probably dated to 492/493 CE, four or three years before his dethronement, so his support for the Zarādušti heresy seems a much more probable explanation. All the sources (except for Joshua the Stylite) state that Kawād was imprisoned after being dethroned, and some of them, as I have commented above, offer the name of the prison: the “Castle of Oblivion” in Xūzestān; it is named in the Armenian sources (writing about events dated back to the reign of Šābuhr II) as Berd Anuš/Anyuš, which could be a corruption of MP *anōš bard, meaning “immortal fortress”. Many of the sources also include a more or less novelesque description of Kawād’s flight from prison with the help of a woman, who in some sources is his wife and in others his sister. The sources also agree that Kawād did not flee on his own, but that he had companions, but the sources don’t agree about their identity: Seoses/*Siyāvaš (Procopius of Caesarea), Zarmihr (Dīnawarī), Razmihr (Ferdowsī) or Burzmihr (Tha’ālibī), the last three of which are said to be Suḵrā’s son.

    Hephthalites_chieftain_late_5th_century.jpg

    Obverse of an Hephthalite silver coin dated to the late V c. CE, depicting a chieftain or a king holding a goblet.

    Perso-Arabic sources also report that Kawād’s heir (the future Xusrō I) was engendered during his flight, although the sources differ considerably in respect to the place. Ṭabarī and Tha’ālibī locate it in Abaršahr/Nēw-Šābuhr, i.e. already in Khurāsān, although there is an obvious problem with this version: numismatic research has shown that the mints of Abaršahr, Marv and Herāt interrupted their minting after Pērōz’s death and they did not resume their activity until the 520s, implying that these territories were not under Sasanian control at the time. Dīnawarī and Ferdowsī on the other side locate it “between Ahwāz and Iṣfahān”, that is, in limit between the Sasanian regions of Spahān and Xūzestān, which would agree with his escape from the Castle of Oblivion, located in the latter region. Only the Nihāyat al-arab offers a more detailed description of Kawād’s path towards the Hephthalite court, that according to it ran through Herāt, Pušang and Gelān. This Gelān cannot have been the modern region of the same name located on the southern shore of the Caspian Sea in northern Iran for obvious geographical reasons: it is located much further to the west of Herāt and Pušang, and thus it would have led Kawād further away from Hephthalite territory (this hitherto unknown territory of Gelān in Central Asia, and east of Herāt/Pušang must surely be related to the Gelani of Ammianus Marcellinus).

    In all accounts, Kawād reaches safely the Hephthalite court. Let us remember that he had probably spent already at least one period of captivity in Hephthalite hands years before, and so he might have kept a close relationship with the king and/or the royal family and high officials of the court. So, although he had fled to what to Iranians’ eyes was the mortal enemy of Ērānšahr, he had good reasons to do so. Not only was he probably in good terms with the court, but as the Sasanian Empire was now practically a Hephthalite vassal, the Hephthalite king could hardly accept the deposition of Kawād I, since had not been consulted in that respect and had not agreed to it. So, he was in a “feudal” sense, compelled to at least offer asylum to Kawād, and possibly also to reinstall him on his throne. Numismatics seem to support the view that the new regime in Ctesiphon led by Zāmāsp stopped the payment of tribute to the Hephthalites, as during Zāmāsp’s reign the mint of Gorgān suddenly loses its importance and the minting of new coinage is concentrated in the core areas of the Empire (Āsūrestān, Xūzestān and Pārs). Some of the Perso-Arabic accounts point out explicitly that Kawād resumed the payment of tribute to the Hephthalites, and that he probably camouflaged it as payment for the military help that the Hephthalite king had rendered to him.

    None of the accounts mention the name of the Hephthalite king, and so it may have been still Ḵošnavāz/Aḵšonvār. Scholars know from other sources that at this very moment the Hephthalites were still pursuing an aggressive expansionist policy on several fronts, and that they probably had enough military capacity to cower the Sasanian Empire into submission (most of the Perso-Arabic sources state that Kawād had little need to fight actual battles and that Zāmāsp and the rebel nobles just surrendered to him, so the Hephthalite backing was enough to dissuade his opponents from opposing any resistance. An undated Bactrian Document that according to N. Sims-Williams might be dated to around this time mentions a “famous and prosperous Hephthalite Yabghu” in whose name Kilman, king of Kadagstān, rules this kingdom. Notice that the formula “famous and prosperous” is the same one employed in another Bactrian Document two decades before when referring to Pērōz; this indicates a transfer of sovereignty in tis area from the Sasanians to the Hephthalites. Yabghu was an office of Kušān origin that meant “governor” or “viceroy”, and this means that at least eastern Ṭoḵārestān (where Kadagstān is located) was under the administration of one of these officials. In another Bactrian Document without date, but which has also been tentatively ascribed to this time frame, appears the name of an Hephthalite Yabghu, probably the same one referred to in the previous example. Interestingly, this Hephthalite official bears an Iranian patronymic:

    Sart Xwadewbandān, the glorious Yabghu of the Hephtal, the lord of Rōb, the scribe of the Hephthalite lords, judge of Ṭoḵārestān and Ġarğestān.

    So, this person is described as a Hephthalite official, and with jurisdiction over Ṭoḵārestān and Ġarğestān, that is, an area adjacent to the Morġāb River and the Herāt Basin, just on what used to be the border of Sasanian-controlled Khurāsān.

    tarim.jpg

    Map of the Tarim Basin. Yumenguan (the “Gate of Jade”) marked the border of China since Han times, and Dunhuang was the first Chinese city, but since the time of the Han, substantial populations of Chinese colonists settled there by the Chinese emperors remained in the oasis of Eastern Turkestan. Here you can see the cities named in the text. Gaochang/Qočo was located 45 km to the southwest of Turfan.

    We also know from Chinese accounts that at this time the Hephthalites were busy extending their power over the Tarim Basin and even further north, imposing their control over all the land trade routes that led from China to the West. The events can be reconstructed from several Chinese dynastic chronicles. According to the Weishu, in the ninth year of the Taihe reign (i.e. 485 CE) the Khan of the Rouran Yucheng died and was succeeded by Doulun, who took the regnal name Fugudun Khagan. In the eleventh year of the Taihe reign (i.e. 487 CE), Doulun attacked the Wei, and he suffered a defeat that caused the Gaoju (or Gaoche) tribes, led by Afuzhiluo of the Fufuluo (until then one of Doulun’s generals) and his cousin Qiongqi, rebelled against the Rouran. According to the Weishu, the Gaoju tribes added up to 100,000 people (although it does not specify it these were only soldiers of if it also included non-combatants) and lived on the western parts of Rouran territory. Afuzhiluo ruled over the northern half of the people, and Qiongqi over the southern part.

    The Weishu though offers also a different account: in 492 CE Emperor Gaozu of Wei launched a massive attack against the Rouran with an army totaling 70,000 men, and it would have been this attack that would have caused the defection of the Gaoju under the command of Afuzhiluo and Qiongqi. The Rouran Khagan Doulun, with his uncle Nagai would then have marched against them from separate directions commanding separate armies. The Gaoju defeated Doulun repeatedly, while Nagai won his encounters against the rebels. The Rouran troops then killed Doulun and hailed Nagai as their new Khagan. Shortly after these events, the Yeda (i.e. the name given to the Hephthalites in the northern Chinese historical tradition) attacked the Gaoju and killed their southern ruler Qiongqi. The Hephthalites also captured his son and heir Mi’etu, while Qiongqi’s defeated troops dispersed; some fled to Wei territory while others rejoined the Rouran. The Hephthalites had been steadily encroaching their way into the Tarim Basin; in 498 CE they took and destroyed the city-oasis of Yanqi (Karašahr) in the northeastern confines of the Tarim Basin, near Turfan, and which according to the Weishu had been subjected to the Gaoju. According to this same source, the king of Gaochang (Qočo) Qu Jia sent his own brother to Yanqi to act as the new king of Yanqi. Meanwhile, ruler Afuzhiluo of the Gaoju was killed by his own subjects, who replaced him with his clansman Baliyan. And then the Hephthalites intervened again:

    Weishu, 103:
    In a bit over a year the Yeda attacked the Gaoju and freed Mi’etu, and the people of the state (of the Gaoju) killed Baliyan, inviting Mi’etu to their throne.

    The Japanese scholar Hisao Matsuda dated in 1956 Qiongqi’s death to around 490-497 CE since he thought that Qiongqi was still alive when the Gaoju paid tribute to the Northern Wei in 490 CE. In his theory, Qiongqi’s death was the result of a Hephthalite invasion of the Tarim Basin just before Qu Jia’s succession as king of Gaochang (Qočo) in the northeastern Tarim Basin around 497 CE. More recent scholarship has revised this date to 501 CE. Matsuda dated Mi’etu's accession to the throne to the spring of 508 CE or the preceding year, since the Gaoju paid tribute to the Northern Wei thrice in 508 CE (according to the Weishu). Henceforth, he assumed that the Hephthalites attacked the Gaoju in 507 or 508 CE in order to support Mi’etu’s succession. This event turned the Gaoju into a Hephthalite protectorate and marked the maximum northern extent of the Hephthalite Empire, as the Gaoju dwelled in what is now Dzungaria (the region of Urumqi) in northern Xinjiang, bordering directly the Rouran and the Northern Wei to the East. The Liangshu describes their expansion:

    Liangshu, 54:
    Growing more and more powerful in the course of time, [the Hua, i.e. the name given to the Hephthalites in southern Chinese texts] succeeded in conquering the neighboring countries such as Bosi [the Sasanian Empire], Panpan [Warwaliz, or maybe Taškurgan], Jibin [Kashmir], Yanqi [Karašahr], Qiuci [Kucha], Shule [Kāšḡar], Gumo [Aksu], Yutian [Khotan] and Goupan [Khargalik], and expanded their territory by a thousand li [this unit of measure varied in this period between 415.8 m in Han times and 323 m in Tang times].

    It is possible that this involvement of the Hephthalites in the East was one reasons (or even the main reason) for the time they took in helping Kawād recover his throne, and it also gives an idea of the great power wielded by the Hephthalites at this precise moment in history, when their empire had extended in less than thirty years from the gates of Gorgān to the Gate of Jade near Dunhuang, when originally they had been a small clan/tribe confined to the eastern high valleys of Ṭoḵārestān. Given this fact, it is easy to understand why Kawād married the daughter of the Hephthalite king (despite all the arguments against it) in order to enlist the king’s support for his restoration on the Sasanian throne.

    EuT_CentralAsian_Helmet.jpg

    Reconstruction of a Central Asian helmet according to archaeological and artistic evidence by the British reenactment group Eran ud Turan

    What is quite puzzling though is the assertion in the accounts by Dīnawarī and Ferdowsī than in exchange for his help the Hephthalite king asked for territorial concessions in lands that bordered the Āmu Daryā: Čaḡānīān according to Ferdowsī, and Tālaqān according to Dīnawarī. And this is strange because by this date both the written sources and numismatic evidence confirm that all of Khurāsān was in Hephthalite hands, and Čaḡānīān and Tālaqān are both located quite to the east of the Morġāb River, in Ṭoḵārestān. On top of this, the Schøyen Scroll states that in 492-493 CE Tālaqān (if we accept Khodadad Rezakhani’s opinion that it refers to Tālaqān in Ṭoḵārestān, and not a town with a similar name in northern Punjāb) was under control of the Alkhan king Mehama, and so it would not be Kawād’s to give. So it seems quite improbable that the Hephthalites could have demanded these lands in exchange for their help, as they controlled them already (either them or the Alkhans, their close associates/vassals).

    The recovery of the throne by Kawād I seems to have been a relatively bloodless affair. Most sources state that Zāmāsp surrendered without a fight and that he was pardoned by his brother; the account by Procopius of Caesarea (and his followers) about him being blinded is clearly a confusion with the fate of his uncle Walāxš, while Joshua the Stylite and Ṭabarī wrote that Zāmāsp fled. The Chronicle of Se’ert implies that there was a mass purge of the clergy, and does not specify Zāmāsp’s fate, while only Procopius tells about the death of a nobleman, the Kanārang Gušnaspdād.
     
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