Zoroastrian Fire Foundations: A Portrait of Slaves and Slaveholders

ABSTRACT

Throughout the Sasanian era (224-650/1 CE), Zoroastrian Fire Foundations were some of the most significant landowners in Iran. The sources represented in this study reveal that Fire Foundations were among the most prominent organizations in late antique Iran, actively utilizing slaves and their labour in various social, economic and religious contexts. This article studies the religious, social, legal, and economic aspects of slaves in general, and slaves of Fire Foundations in particular throughout the Sasanian period. Drawing on Middle Persian legal and religious texts, the article examines three interrelated themes: the Fire Foundations characterized as slavers, and the function of priests in mobilizing their immense landed estates, income, and the utilization of slave labour; the relationship between free persons and slaves; and the link between the Fire Foundations and slaves. Analyzing these key questions and the considerable involvement of clerics in all these aspects enables us to discern the structural role of priests in Fire Foundations’ use of slavery and within the broader framework of the Sasanian economy. Through this analysis, the article highlights the close administrative and financial ties binding the priesthood and the monarchy during Sasanian Iran.

KEYWORDS:

• Fire Foundations
• Sasanian empire
• slavery
• Zoroastrian priests

Introduction

Throughout the Sasanian history (224-650/1 CE), slaves were widely utilized for a variety of duties such as working on landed estates, serving in households and other domestic settings, and for specific military or religious purposes. While the existence of slavery in the Sasanian era has been acknowledged by several scholars such as Franz Altheim and Ruth Altheim-Stiehl, Geo Widengren and Nina Pigulevskaja, many aspects related to the use of slavery within the religious foundations and their slave labour remain enigmatic.¹ Most prior scholarship approach the subject of slavery in late antique Iran through the lens of feudalism.² However, such a perspective isolates the question of slavery from its spatial and temporal context, disregarding the picture that emerges from the sources in which the accounts of slavery appear, and forces these accounts to fit with an a priori feudal model. A more productive approach is to view the Sasanian Empire not as an ideal-type feudal state, but rather as a late antique state with distinct structural and economic features. This shift in perspective is evident in the works of Maria Macuch, Janos Jany, Pedram Jam and Tobias Scheunchen.³ Macuch’s invaluable discussion of the legal position and material practice concerning the rights of slaves within the Sasanian empire highlights the complexity of the subject and its relevant sources. These scholars’ contributions represent milestones in exploring slavery in the legal context of the Empire.

Conducting research on Sasanian slavery poses a particular challenge due to the scarcity of sources. The main source of information on slavery and its legal and social status comes from the late Sasanian Law Book known as Hazār Dādestān (‘The Book of a Thousand Judgments’; henceforth referenced as HD, and the second part of the Hazār Dādestān hereafter is referenced as HD.A.), a compilation of law cases collected by Farroxmard ī Wahrāmān in the sixth century CE.⁴ Although slavery is covered in some detail in a dedicated chapter, a range of legal aspects of slavery are discussed in passing throughout the book.⁵ This allows for a partial reconstruction of the main features and important details of slavery during the Sasanian era. Later Pahlavi sources, especially book VIII of the Dēnkard (‘Acts of the Religion’), the Pahlavi Rivāyat accompanying the Dādestān ī Dēnīg (‘Religious Judgments’), and the Hērbedestān, provide additional information, allowing us to make sense of complicated passages on slavery in the Hazār Dādestān.⁶ Furthermore, materials regarding the status of slaves in the Christian and Jewish communities within the Sasanian empire help in comprehending the question of slavery in late antique Iran. For instance, the Law Book of Īšōʿboxt, a legal compilation for Christians in Sasanian Iran, offers insights into the status of slaves within Christian communities that adopted Sasanian legal norms compatible with their own religious views.⁷

This article will begin by investigating the structure of the Sasanian Fire Foundations to better understand the context in which slavery was prevalent. The first section will explore the legal and economic aspects of the Fire Foundations, emphasizing their significant role in the institution of slavery, which has been overlooked in previous studies. The second section will discuss the classification of slaves in the Sasanian empire and the circumstances under which they were engaged. It contends that the late Sasanian jurists discussed ideas such as free (āzādān) and non-free (bandagān/anšahrīgān) persons, individuals with or without rights, and those with restricted rights. Although it is challenging to find a reflection of the state of social classes in Sasanian legal and jurisprudential texts, age, gender, and religious beliefs likely played crucial roles in determining privileges.⁸ Contrasting the legal status of slaves in general with those specifically related to the Fire Foundations sheds some light on the relatively different legal circumstances that exclusively applied to slaves of religious foundations. The article thus attempts to investigate and reconstruct some aspects of the history of a subaltern group in late antique Iran which is consistent with a developing tendency of studying history from below. By way of conclusion, the article considers the structural importance of Fire Foundations within the wider context of Sasanian slavery, along with the critical role of priests and their administrative and financial responsibilities in managing these institutions and their landed estates. However, it is essential to note that this article does not investigate the origins and conditions that led individuals to become slaves during the Sasanian period, nor does it explore whether such factors affected their status before the law. These aspects fall beyond of the scope of this research and deserve a separate examination.

Pious Foundations: The Fire Foundations

Being at the core of the Zoroastrian religious, economic, and legal life, Zoroastrian pious foundations ensured the transmission of wealth across generations throughout the Sasanian period.⁹ In Sasanian Iran, individuals could establish pious foundations to finance philanthropic acts for the benefit of deceased souls and to ensure the performance of religious rites and ceremonies. Each Zoroastrian person, being responsible for the fate of their own soul, would dedicate a portion of their wealth to these purposes.¹⁰ As Macuch observes, this practice became a prominent social phenomenon, serving various socio-economic functions such as the maintenance of families and the provision of charitable services.¹¹

In the Sasanian Law Book (Hazār Dādestān), inherited property was categorized into three types: as pad xwēšīh ‘with (the right of) possession’, pad stūrīh ‘in trusteeship’, and pad ruwān ‘for (the preservation of) the soul’.¹² A significant amount of each individual’s property, primarily landed property, was reserved for the preservation of their soul.¹³ Another institution established by a Zoroastrian before his death was the practice of stūrīh or ‘substitute succession’.¹⁴ Its purpose was to ensure the continuity of lineage by producing offspring for a man who passed away without leaving a son.¹⁵ The stūr, whether male or female, had the responsibility to produce a son on behalf of the deceased.¹⁶ Both the stūr and the heirs held the right of usufruct over the property but not absolute ownership.¹⁷

A fixed-purpose endowment, as defined by Sasanian law, included a capital sum and its derived revenue. The founder of a pious foundation could specify in the endowment deed the intended use of the revenue derived from the capital. In profitable endowments, the income was partially spent on maintaining whatever constituted the principal and partially on taxes. Any surplus remaining after these expenses belonged to the founder and his heirs, often used for further pious purposes.¹⁸ In cases where a foundation was non-profitable, the principal could be divided to cover the maintenance costs, or additional land and or livestock might be conveyed to create the required revenue. The inscription of the Sasanian king Shapur I (r. 241–272 CE) provides an example of this latter sort of endowments, where the king endowed five name-Fires for his family members, as well as the ‘principal’ or ‘income-bearing property’ that is alluded to in various ways as belonging to the fire.¹⁹

The registration of endowments fell under the responsibility of the divān ī kardagān or the department of pious foundations, according to the HD, administered by the mowbed and rad.²⁰ It appears that the complex laws concerning inheritance and property devised by Sasanian jurists provided priests with political and economic authority. The HD reports that the divān ī kardagān was responsible for estimating the income and deficiency of the Fire revenues as well as tax retention and imposition. There is no exact clear distinction between the tasks of a rad and a mowbed in the HD, but these religious leaders clearly had legal authority combined with their roles as financial administrators which entitled them to supervise certain transactions such as sales, exchanges and pricing, as well as being involved in the preparation of official records of these transactions pertaining to the property of Fire.²¹

Fire Foundations could be established as stūrīh-property or as property ‘for the soul’ (pad ruwān) with different financial mechanisms.²² As the Fire itself was a non-profitable foundation, the founder was required to furnish it with profit-bearing property, usually landed property, the income from which would provide for its maintenance and the payment of its serving priests. This property was considered the ‘property of the Fire’ (xīr ī ātaxš, xwēšīh ī ātaxš) implying that the Fire Foundation was regarded as a ‘juridical person’.²³ The landed properties bequeathed to the Fire would be cultivated for the Fire in order to produce a surplus, which would be spent according to the will of the founder/settlor, as outlined in a written agreement. Consequently, due to this structure, Fire Foundations became some of the most significant landowning entities in Sasanian Iran, holding vast landed estates which were mostly worked by slave labour.²⁴

To understand the legal status of the Fire’s property, it is crucial to grasp the two significant differences introduced in Sasanian law concerning a person’s claim to property.²⁵ These concepts need to be addressed before looking further into the question of sacred slaves as the property of Fire.²⁶

The Concept of Bun (Principal) and bar (Fruit) of a xwāstag (Property)

These crucial concepts in Sasanian property law have been postulated by Maria Macuch.²⁷ Each legal property (xwāstag) is constituted of a principal (bun) and a fruit/increase (bar), also known as income/interest (windišn/waxš/waxt). To illustrate this distinction, consider an apple tree: the principal (bun) encompasses the tree itself, including the roots, stem, branches, twigs, and leaves, while the apples form the fruits/increase (bar). Such a differentiation serves as a fundamental basis for various Sasanian legal principles and foundations. In the context of a slave as legal property, the slave’s body constitutes the principal (bun), while the fruit/increase (bar) includes everything of value that is contingent on the body’s activities such as a slave’s labour and, in certain cases, pregnancies.

The Distinction between the Ownership (xwēšīh) and the Possession (dārišn) of a Property (xwāstag)

Sasanian jurists explicitly emphasized that a trustee or a guardian (sālār) of the property ‘for the soul’ did not possess ownership (xwēšīh) but only held the right of usufruct. This implies that the trustee had no legal title to the property and was solely entitled to its possession (dārišn) and administration. In other words, the ownership (xwēšīh) of the property (xwāstag) or wealth (xīr) put into the trust still belongs to the settlor. The settlor’s ownership was restricted since following the declaration he could not interfere with the business of the trustee, despite being the owner of that property (xwāstag). Furthermore, the trustee did not possess the right of disposal and was merely responsible for administering the property in whatever way necessary to make it profitable. Thus, the property (xwāstag) was excluded from the settlor’s wealth but remained within the settlor’s family, leading to the inheritance of that thing as a distinct property under the management of a trustee. The fact that the right of ownership remained in the settlor’s family explains the sālārīh (guardianship) of the sālār’s son when the identity of the trustee was debated, as well as the inheritance of the property (xwāstag) within the settlor’s family, although as a distinct property.

To summarize, the owner of the principal property (bun) might differ from the owner of the revenue (bar) generated by the exact property. The Fire Foundation, however, had a different legal status from the other forms of trust. If the settlor intended to establish a trust for a Fire, the xwāstag ceased to be a separate portion of the settlor’s property and became an independent entity known as xīr ī ātaxš, ‘the wealth/property of the Fire’. Certain evidence in the HD indicates that the xīr ī ātaxš could function as a means of financial support for the Fire Foundation:

If (the deceased received) a loan (‘debt’) from Fire temples or altars, then a stūr shall not be appointed; since in cases of indebtedness to Fire temples and altars, the remission of the debt cannot be granted/take place, and the estate (of the deceased) must be conveyed (to the temple-creditor) in settlement of the debt.²⁸

According to this passage, a Fire Foundation practically functioned as a bank to provide loans to individuals from the property conveyed to them.²⁹ If the debt was repaid with interest, this would mean that the pious endowment could be increased. The property of the Fire could be utilized directly for financial purposes without harming the foundation’s goal. As previously stated, a rad was responsible for transactions regarding the revenue of the Fire’s property and the management of its treasury.

The economic mechanism of the Fire Foundations, as well as the administrative and financial responsibilities of priests concerning the management of their landed estates, clearly demonstrates that these foundations, apart from their religious significance, played a vital role in transmitting wealth across generations throughout the Sasanian period, and that these foundations were thus directly involved in the economy of the state.³⁰

Sasanian Portrayal of Slavery

In the historical context of the Sasanian empire, all individuals falling under its jurisdiction are referred to in HD as šāhān-šāh bandag (subject of the King of Kings), albeit not having equal rights.³¹ This present section of this article discusses the legal status of slaves as represented in HD. Given the intertwining legal status of slaves in general and those designated as sacred slaves, the following discussion serves as a platform to investigate the latter group: slaves who were in any way attached or connected to the Fire Foundations.

Slaves in general are represented in the HD from two distinct and somewhat contradictory perspectives, reflecting the complexities of the nature of their status simultaneously as subjects or human beings distinguishable from other properties, and as objects or ‘thing’ (xwāstag). Slaves were considered as persons with limited rights, with a legal position equal to that of women and children under the pater familias’ ‘command’ (farmān) and ‘guardianship’ (sālārīh).³²

Slaves as Subjects

Slaves as subjects had limited legal competence and liability as well as restricted monetary authority, and conditional matrimonial rights. According to HD, slaves were unable to assert claims as plaintiffs, and were limited to the role of defendants in legal matters presented in court. They were represented in court by their master or guardian, without whom they were not permitted to attend court. They could not be a party to litigation unless the matter of dispute was the ownership of the slave. In the following case recorded in HD, the claimant was eligible to sue the slave whom he regarded to be his own rather than the master who refused the claim. The slave could win the lawsuit if he could demonstrate that he was in fact in the ownership of another man. Thus, the burden of presenting evidence was on the defendant rather than the claimant:

It is also said, that if a plaintiff (pēšēmāl) litigates (hamēmāl) with a respondent (pasēmāl) [declaring]: ‘You are my slave (anšahrīg),’ whereas the respondent (pasēmāl) says of another particular person: ‘I am his slave (anšahrīg),’ and he (= the slave-respondent) has a witness (gugāy) with him, then no suit about (any) other things should be brought against (the given) respondent.³³

Both slaves and women lacked the authority to act as witnesses in court, and any testimony that they offered was regarded as legitimate only when it was confirmed by a person of legal capacity. For this reason, in the following case, the slave could not testify together with a woman.

Wahrām citing Pusānweh ī Ᾱzādmardān has said that a document was drawn upon the basis of the witnesses’ deposition of two women, in the mowbedīh of … , the mowbed of Staxr, and the (h)andarzebed of the Magi accepted (this document). Zurvāndād, however, has said that according to judicial norms (or ‘in judicial practice’) this was not done. Wahrām has said that (in a case where) a woman and a man are brought in as witnesses, a court record is drawn up, (but) not (in a case involving) a woman and a slave.³⁴

Slaves were under the guardianship of their master due to their limited legal competence. The master was responsible for any physical violence committed by his slave in his presence.³⁵ In the following case the master bears the half of the punishment for the offence, while the slave bears the other half:

If a woman or (‘and’) a slave (anšahrīg) commits an act of physical violence (zaxm ayāb stahm) before the eyes of (his/her) master (xwadāy) or (‘and’) guardian (sālār), (then) the master or guardian (shall pay) half the fine, and the other half (shall be paid) by whoever committed the offence (wināh).³⁶

Attempts against the slave’s life were perhaps sanctioned, but the single judgment linked to this issue is too obscure to conclude anything concretely. According to it, a slave was thrown into the Tigris River, but he survived the incident and began a court suit, which included the establishment of a document relevant to his case.³⁷

A man throws a slave (tan) into the Tigris. This slave having been pulled out (of the river) does not die on this occasion and appears at the court trial, and they (= the judges) have drawn up a record/document (pursišn-nāmag) regarding his being thrown into the river (= the attempt to drown him).³⁸

According to HD 33, 11–13, the slave’s owner was required to pay the cost of feeding and housing the slave as well as the legal fees throughout the investigation of the accusation.

A daughter, and a wife (and) a slave must each be subjected separately to the ordeal procedure in connection with an offence; the expenses for her/his maintenance and those required for the arrangement (of the ordeal procedure) shall be borne by the master (of the slave) or the guardian (of the daughter or wife).³⁹

HD does not specify slaves’ monetary rights, instead leaving this matter to their masters. As a result, the owners had tremendous authority and discretion in making any arrangements with their slaves, which were usually secured via contacts or declarations. These agreements would be established by the parties in accordance with their wishes or by the master alone. They somewhat represented the master’s generosity, since by law all monetary rights belonged to the master. Despite this, the contracts were made as a consequence of the parties’ mutual accord, granting rights and obligations to both parties. The curt texts of the agreements preserved in the HD do not enable us to perceive the masters’ intentions in reaching such agreements. Whatever the reasons, the relatively high number of cases in HD referring to such agreements suggests that such contracts were prevalent during the last century of Sasanian reign. Once such an agreement was established, the law protected it as well as the rights of the slave earned via such a contract. These statements could be used in court to clarify the legal disputes that resulted from them.

The standard means of ensuring some monetary rights for the slave was an official declaration by the master indicating that everything obtained by the slave belonged to the slave his or herself, either partially or totally. It could be a revenue (windišn) or possessions (dārišn) inherited by him/her. The master’s statements could be characterized as general or specific declarations. In the context of a specific declaration, the slave received just the rights pertaining to the statement’s subject matter. However, in the context of a general declaration, the slave obtained ownership of all the things acquired after the statement was established without any specification in every transaction; such a general declaration could remain in effect until the master revoked it for any reason. From that point forward, the slave could not claim anything pertaining to his/her windišn that had been taken by his/her master prior to the proclamation of relinquishment.

In a chapter on debt and warranty, HD indicates that slaves were legally in general regarded as insolvent (an-ādān):

In addition to a woman, a slave, and a minor, others from the same category are also to be considered insolvent unless it is evident that they are solvent. Except for the cases where they are unquestionably insolvent, they should be considered solvent.⁴⁰

In the context of this chapter in the HD, it appears that the legal transactions concluded with slaves could be lawful only in exceptional cases, where the slave’s solvency is clear (i.e. generally known or known by the court). The master’s proclamation appears to have allowed the slave to be deemed a solvent person from the moment the declaration was established. Consequently, until his master revoked his declaration, he could engage in legal transactions unless his master rescinded his statement.⁴¹ In this case the slave, who was insolvent, had to be handed over for labour to pay off his debts.⁴²

The slave’s xwāstag (property/money) was considered to be his/her master’s by law. If the slave was sold, his or her property would be transferred to the new master. If the new master did not agree to accept the slave’s xwāstag, but the former master did, it would remain the property of the former master. However, if neither the former nor the new master claimed the property, it would be the slave’s property.⁴³

Whereas the HD provides some (limited) information about slaves’ monetary rights, we know much less about the practice of slave marriage. It seems that slaves had the legal right to marry, although we do not know whether or not it required the master’s permission. The fact that there are several cases concerning legal issues in which slave marriages are regarded as facts implies that marriage between slaves was a reasonably common practice. It is uncertain, though, whether slaves were only allowed to marry other slaves or if marriage with free people was lawful. A passage in HD 94,6–10 suggests that mixed marriages between slaves and free people were legitimate, with the main issue being disagreement about the legal status of children born in this marriage.⁴⁴ This is addressed in a line towards the beginning of the HD:

It is said that to (the reign) of Wahrām, persons became the owners of a slave born of a father (belonging to them), but not of (such a) mother. For Sōšans stated that the child belongs to the father, but now, it is said (that he belongs) to the mother.⁴⁵

Unfortunately, the text does not identify which Wahrām is the ruler in question. The significance of this text lies in its argument concerning the legal status of children born in mixed marriages between free individuals and slaves. It raises the question of whether these children should be considered free or enslaved under the law. However, considering that slaves were also permitted to marry slaves of different masters, a second interpretation of the text is possible, namely that it is discussing whether the children born to these slave parents belonged to the slave-man’s or slave-woman’s master. Regardless of the exact interpretation of this passage in HD, it is critical for this research to recognize that matrimonies of slaves were factual and lawful in the Sasanian Empire, whether they married another slave or a free person.

Slaves as Objects

A slave as an object could be the joint property of multiple masters, with each master utilizing their share of the slave.⁴⁶ Accordingly, slaves could be the object of a transaction; for instance, in the case of a sale or mortgage, slaves were regarded as accessories, belonging to the real estate, alongside the beast of burden belonging to it.⁴⁷ Slaves could be both chattels of pledge, for the purpose of securing an obligation, and objects of sale or gifts.⁴⁸ In an antichresis contract a debtor could pledge his slave to a creditor and grant him the right to utilize the slave:

If (a creditor) sends a slave whom he holds as a pledge ( =an antichresis) to work in another town, and (the debtor) pays the money (settles the debt), then a sum equal to the value of the slave must be conveyed to the owner of the slave until his return. If the creditor-holder of the pledge has not (returned) but the slave has returned, the wife and son (or children) of the creditor are entitled not to accept the money (the debt returned by the debtor) and not to release the slave from their possession until the return of the creditor.⁴⁹

There are multiple cases in the HD in which slaves were part of a transaction, particularly as sold commodities or pledges. As a guarantee for a transaction, a seller could pledge a slave to the buyer. Accordingly, if the purchased item was not safely preserved, the slave’s ownership would be given to the buyer as compensation for the damaged item.⁵⁰ It is important to note that in all these cases in the HD, the slaves owned by Zoroastrians ought not to be sold or transferred to non-Zoroastrians:⁵¹

A slave may not be sold to a non-Zoroastrian; if, however he is sold, (then) both of them (the buyer and the seller) shall be considered thieves by the Zoroastrian rad on account of the slave (i.e. the action shall be equated with theft) and they shall be branded; as for the money, if subsequently spent in the meantime, it remains with the one who has it.⁵²

This, in fact, indicates that selling slaves to non-Zoroastrians was not only problematic but also illegal. Indeed, in the case in question, both contracting parties, the seller and the non-Zoroastrian buyer, were found guilty of theft. According to the Hērbedestān, if the seller knew that the buyer was not Zoroastrian, the contract was invalid, and the buyer did not get the ownership of the slave.⁵³ However, the compiler is unsure whether the seller should be considered a thief or not. It is crucial to mention that such cases were discussed before the rad’s court. According to Hērbedestān 11.7:

An infidel slave who comes to the Good Religion becomes the subject of the King of Kings, and his value is as a loan for him (i.e. the owner). If a Zoroastrian slave is sold to infidels then the responsibility (for dealing with this) is transferred to the radān, (religious) authorities. And it is not clear to me whether (the seller) becomes a thief through money; now if the other party knows that he has not sold him lawfully, then he should not pay him anything.⁵⁴

It seems that it was legally complex to include the dual aspect of a slave (his status simultaneously as a person and an object) when the slave was addressed as a commodity in a transaction:

When he sells a pregnant female-slave, then the pregnancy is also sold (i.e. the fruit is included in the transaction).⁵⁵

Accordingly, if the pregnancy of a slave-woman is visible when contracting the sale, the child is included in the deal. As a logical consequence, a pregnant slave whose pregnancy is not yet visible is sold without the child. In general, the seller conveys to the contracting party what he intends to sell rather than what the legal object might be.

In several cases, the guardian (sālār) of the family would restrict his heirs from inheriting his slave-woman. A child born to the slave-woman under those conditions would also not be passed to the family. This could happen, for instance, by establishing the slave-woman as the heir of the child born from the slave-woman or by making her the heir of a woman who is the family stūr in such a manner that the slave-woman is part of the property conveyed to the family stūr-woman:⁵⁶

A slave-woman is conveyed to a woman who is the family stūr in such a manner (under these conditions) that she (the slave-woman) should not pass to the family, and after this, a child is born to the slave-woman; inasmuch as it (forms a part) of the remaining (‘other’) thing which was conveyed in this manner (under these conditions), (and) as a result of the fact that the thing – the slave-woman – went to the mistress of the house as a personal possession/property, (this child) shall belong to the mistress of the house and shall not pass to the family.⁵⁷

Sacred Slaves

This article has sought to improve our understanding of the legal circumstances concerning Sasanian slavery. This section examines the sacred slaves who were in some ways connected to the Fire temples. The main legal circumstances of slavery discussed above were also applied to sacred slaves, with certain deviations detailed below.

And another (thing) is said, that if a man gives his (slave) as a slave to a Fire temple, then he has no authority (title) over the offspring of (this) slave. And if the slave subsequently has children and grand-children then they shall be slaves of the Fire temple; because they are children and grand-children of a slave, they (each of them) will always (inevitably) be slaves of the Fire temple.⁵⁸

The commodified aspect of a sacred slave is crucial in this passage, particularly the fact that a slave could be donated to a Fire temple as a religious deed by his or her master. The legal implications of a slave given away as a gift were discussed above. We are not given specific information about the status of the slave after the assignment, but we may reasonably infer based on the next statement that he no longer belonged to his former master. According to Sasanian legal norms when a slave was donated to a Fire temple, the Fire temple became his or her new master. As a result, the slave was regarded as the Fire’s property, and was subject to the new obligations of the new master, the Fire. Consequently, the former owner had no authority or right of disposal over the slave, his or her offspring, and descendants. It is noteworthy that this situation was hereditary in the sense that not only the slaves who were enslaved by the Fire temple would inevitably stay slaves forever, but so would their children and grandchildren. This state of affairs implies that a sacred slave who had been donated to the Fire temple could never be completely manumitted.

Together with another (statement) in which it is said: If he declares: ‘I half manumitted (nēm āzād kard) Abzūdxwadāy (proper name of a slave) and gave one-third (of him) to the service (bandagīh) of the Fire Temple,’ then the one-third is not (taken). Of that half it is said: ‘I gave’.⁵⁹

In this case a slave has been half-manumitted and at the same time ‘three parts’ of his personhood have been devoted by his master to the service (bandagīh) of the Fire. Although we are not explicitly told whether the free half or the enslaved half of the slave is meant to be appointed to the service of the Fire, we may assume that the latter is the case, since a master can have no right over the part that he said he set free and can only claim a right to the part that he has authority over.⁶⁰ This partial manumission meant that the enslaved part of the slave still could be utilized, sold, or shared with other parties. A child born after such a partial manumission became free in proportion to his or her parent’s share of liberty; therefore, the child of a slave who was half-free became free in half. Manumission of a slave in part did not alter his or her social status since a slave that was only half-free remained a slave. It is not clear what this division was based on, although it is probable that the slave’s labour was split between parties by days or months. The HD does not mention the importance of being set free in parts, though Īšōʿboxt’s compendium sheds light on the question.⁶¹ Accordingly, such a partially manumitted slave could earn money and obtain a loan for his labour according to his degree of freedom. It is unclear whether a slave could repurchase his portion from the Fire temple or not; it is for this reason that sacred slaves could apparently never be completely manumitted. It should be noted that the unique condition of the slaves being partially free appears to be a common practice in late antique Mesopotamia, and one that was not specific just to the Zoroastrian religious community.⁶²

In the context of Fire temples, the HD highlights the distinctions in the legal usage of two terms that might both mean slave but are interpreted differently regarding the slave labour of a Fire temple: bandag in the expression ātaxš bandag (slave/servant of the Fire), and anšahrīg in the expression anšahrīg ī ātaxš (slave of the Fire). The key to understanding these terms is to discern the link between sacred slaves and the Fire. In legal literature, only the latter term (anšahrīg) has the unequivocal meaning of slave in the sense that it always designates a person who is not free and has very little or no rights, whereas bandag is applied with various meanings which must be deduced according to the context in which the word appears.⁶³ Bandag could refer to both a servant – or, more broadly, a legally free subject – and a slave. In fact, bandag is often used exactly referring to a slave in the Law Book, but this term had other meanings or implications when applied in the specific context of Fire Foundations. For instance, in the following passage in HD the difference between anšahrīg ī ātaxš and the ātaxš bandag is highlighted:

If a Fire temple has two male bandags and two male anšahrīgs and a (certain) man makes (the following) disposition regarding an object: ‘It is given by me to the bandagān of this Fire temple,’ since the anšahrīg may not obtain the bandagīh of a Fire, nothing is given to the anšahrīg of the Fire.⁶⁴

In this case, a person makes a disposition regarding an object in his possession, stating that the object should be given to the bandagān of a specific Fire. The personnel of this Fire consist of two male bandags (bandag mard dō) and two male anšahrīgs (anšahrīg mard dō). The compiler of the HD explains that no part of the donated object goes to the two anšahrīgs, who also work in the same Fire Foundation, because they may not obtain the bandagīh of a Fire. The ambiguity in the word bandagān in the context of the Fire temple is what led this case to be registered in the HD. Both terms refer to the slave personnel of the Fire temple who were working there, but their relationship with the Fire determined whether they profited or not from the object provided to the Fire personnel by someone. In this context, bandagān refers to the Zoroastrian slave personnel of the Fire, whereas the term anšahrīg refers to the non-Zoroastrian ones. The bandagān appear to be slaves who were consecrated to the Fire and obliged to be Zoroastrian. They were active in offering religious services to the Fire. However, the anšahrīgān were most likely non-Zoroastrian slaves who were involved in non-religious activities of the Fire temples, such as working on the landed property of the Fire or any other non-religious services.⁶⁵ Only Zoroastrians could be involved in any kind of religious services to the Fire, and non-Zoroastrian slaves were thus not permitted to be in contact with Fire. Since they were not bandagān of the Fire, they could not benefit from anything devoted to the Fire and its bandagān, even though they were working together in the same Fire temple.

When used to denote an official position, the expression ātaxš bandag takes on a new meaning in the context of Fire Foundations. The following text from HD is a case involving the Sasanian state’s supreme officials, the prime minister, Mihr-Narseh. It shows unequivocally that the so-called bandagīh ī ātaxš position belonged to the highest ranks of the Sasanian society:

Together with the (statement) in which (it is said): when his majesty Wahrām, King of Kings, son of Yazdgird, assigned the prime minister Mihr-Narseh to the bandagīh ī ātaxš (Service of the Fire) of Ardwahišt and the Fire of Abzōn-ardaxšīr, he kept him several years in accordance with the assignment in the (service of those) fires. Afterwards he was transferred back to the royal domain (ōstān) at the order of his majesty Yazdgird, King of Kings, son of Wahrām, because of an offence, and he was kept in the royal domain for several years. Then his majesty Pērōz, King of Kings, appointed him – after consultation with Mardbūd who was the supreme mowbed and other authorities who were present – to the Service of not the same fires, but of the Ohrmazd-Pērōz Fire.⁶⁶

Another significant passage informs us that a person engaged in royal service (as a state official) could be assigned by the sovereign as the Servant of the Fire to serve a so-called ‘name-Fire’ (padnām ādur) founded ‘for the sake of the soul’ (pad ruwān or ruwān rāy) of a certain person:

And the (statement) in which it is said: the Servant of the Fire (ādurān bandag) (which) has been hereditarily given to a (certain) man by the royal house to the service of the Fire. (He) is transferred by the rulers (dahibedān) to the royal domain (ōstān, i.e. land belonging to the crown) for committing an offence and is given from the royal domain to the service of another Fire.⁶⁷

According to this text if the Servant of the Fire was found guilty of an offence (pad wināhgārīh ī xwēš), the rulers transported him to the royal domain, where he most likely served his punishment. He was afterwards sent to another Fire Foundation. Since this general statement is confirmed by the case of Mihr-Narseh, it is apparent that the so-called Fire Servant (ātaxš bandag) could belong to the highest ranks of Sasanian society. It is probable that when referring to the high dignitaries of the empire, the ātaxš bandag denotes an office that administers the services of a Fire Foundation. It seems that the King bestowed on Mihr-Narseh a legally and hereditarily transmissible responsibility related to the administration of the royal Fire Foundations. Therefore, in this context, the function of ātaxš bandag was not necessarily religious.

Although the information on the ‘Servant of the Fire’ in these passages is highly incomplete, by drawing together the evidence on charitable foundations and Fire endowments in the Sasanian era, a better understanding of the institution is possible. The material discussed above demonstrates that the Fire Foundations played a significant role in the economy of the empire due to the vast property attached to them, which produced income and could still be increased by giving loans and receiving interest. Given these facts, it is not surprising that the Servant of the Fire in the relatively large Fire Foundations was a prominent state dignitary. The involvement of state dignitaries like Mihr-Narseh, who was only metaphorically ‘bound’ to the Fire as the Servant of the Fire, indicates the close connection between these institutions and the high dignitaries of the empire.

Based on these considerations, it is not surprising that these vast religious foundations required great numbers of slaves, both Zoroastrians and non-Zoroastrians, locals and outsiders. The financial obligations of priests in activities such as sales, exchanges, and pricing, all of which are associated with the trading activities performed in conjunction with the administration of the property of the Fire, underline the function of Fire Foundations as the economic centres of the Empire. This was in addition to their role in stabilizing the empire’s significant inter-connected cores. These core networks were all linked together by priests. These clergymen also had extensive knowledge of administering the slave labour force at their disposal. Given these observations, it appears that slave labour had a vital part in driving the economic wheel of the Fire Foundations in the Sasanian Empire.

Concluding Remarks

This study has attempted to analyze the practice of slavery in Sasanian Fire Foundations. The methodological toolbox used in this article is equipped with the terms of supply and demand, institutions, and estate management. The economic mechanism of the Fire Foundations, as well as the priests’ involvement in the administrative and financial responsibilities for the management of their landed estates, demonstrated that, in addition to being religious, Fire Foundations were directly involved in the economy of the state. This means that they required a large number of slaves, both Zoroastrian and non-Zoroastrian, locals and outsiders. The clerical personnel of these Fire Foundations had extensive knowledge of administering the labour force of slaves at their disposal. By mobilizing large landed estates, their labour, natural resources and income, these religious-economic foundations effectively transformed ownership from individuals to the Fire itself, which was conceived and functioned as a legal entity. The sweeping force of religious commercialization affected institutions, locations, and local factor endowments. This article has shown that the broader economic apparatus of the Empire relied heavily on the close administrative and financial ties between the priesthood and the king.⁶⁸

Within these religious-economic institutions, the transitional status of slaves as entities somewhere between humans and commodities was undeniable. The management and manipulation of human property necessitated the recognition of the property’s human character. According to Sasanian legal norm, slaves were regarded as the Fire’s property and were subject to the obligations imposed upon them by their master, namely the Fire. This state of bondage was hereditary in the sense that not only those enslaved by the Fire would inevitably stay slaves forever but also their children and grandchildren for generations to come. The property of the Fire could be utilized directly for financial purposes without harming the foundation’s goal. Given these facts, it becomes apparent why the office of the Servant of the Fire, particularly in relatively large Fire Foundations, was held as a prominent position by a state dignitary. The present article has shown that the King bestowed on Mihr-Narseh a legally and hereditarily transmissible responsibility related to the administration of the royal Fire Foundations. Therefore, a diverse range of individuals, including Zoroastrian and non-Zoroastrian and local and foreign slaves, priests and high state dignitaries, constituted the personnel of these vast Fire Foundations, which pursued both religious and economic purposes.

In the Sasanian world, commercialization of Fire Foundations and the institution of slavery were inter-connected in a sense that this human-commodity property was a road to wealth. Therefore, these rich religious foundations were not feudal, but rather were institutions of commerce and estate management. These rich Fire Foundations were slave-owners. In the future, conducting a more detailed examination of the constructive roles played by slaves, both in agricultural production and in trading commodities within the Sasanian Fire Foundations, would enhance our understanding of the history of this subaltern group in late antique Iran.

Acknowledgements

This research is part of a PhD research project on the Zoroastrian priesthood during the Sasanian empire. It is part of the project ‘Keepers of the Flame: the Reconfiguration of the Zoroastrian Priesthood in Sasanian and Early Islamic Times’, funded by NWO Social Sciences and Humanities (SSH). Gratitude is owed to my supervisor, Professor Albert De Jong, whose invaluable insights and comments have profoundly enriched this research. Additionally, I express my appreciation to Dr. Pedram Jam, Dr. János Jany, Dr. Nima Jamali and Tobias Scheunchen, for their gracious sharing of their valuable works, which have significantly contributed to the foundations of this research. I extend my heartfelt thanks to Dr. Arash Zeini, Dr. Muhammat Yücel, Said Reza Husseini and Aleksander Engeskaug for their valuable suggestions and comments, which have diligently been incorporated into this article. Acknowledgments are also to Yazdan Safaee for providing some publications that I have not had access to, to Dr. Arjan Dijke, Dr. Saeedeh Shahnahpour and Daniella van der Helm for their proofreading of this article, ensuring its clarity and precision. Lastly, my profound gratitude to the anonymous reviewers of this manuscript for their constructive criticism and to the invaluable efforts of the two editors of this volume. Needless to say, all mistakes remain my own.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Correction Statement

This article has been corrected with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Nazanin Tamari

Nazanin Tamari is a PhD researcher on Zoroastrianism at the Leiden University Centre for Religious Studies.

Notes

1 Franz Altheim and Ruth Altheim-Stiehl, Ein asiatischer Staat: Feudalismus unter den Sasaniden und ihren Nachbarn, vol. 1 (Wiesbaden: Limes-Verlag 1954); Geo Widengren, Der Feudalismus im alten Iran: Männerbund, Gefolgswesen, Feudalismus in der iranischen Gesellschaft im Hinblick auf die indogermanischen Verhältnisse (Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag 1969); Nina Pigulevskaja, Byzanz auf den Wegen nach Indien: Aus der Geschichte des byzantinischen Handels mit dem Orient vom 4. bis 6. Jahrhundert (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag 1969).

2 For a review of the literature on Sasanian feudalism see Anke Joisten-Pruschke, ‘Feudalismus im Sasanidenreich?’, in Faszination Iran: Beiträge zur Religion, Geschichte und Kunst des Alten Iran, eds. Shervin Farridnejad, Rika Gyselen and Anke Joisten-Pruschke (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2015), 129–35. The perceived feudal character of the Sasanians has also found expression in studies that deal with the Jewish community of Babylonia. See G. Herman, A Prince without a Kingdom: The Exilarch in the Sasanian Era (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck 2012), 35.

3 Maria Macuch, ‘Barda and Bardadārī: ii. Sasanian Period’, in Encyclopædia Iranica, vol. 8 (Costa Mesa, CA, 1988), 763–66; Janos Jany, ‘The Legal Status of Slaves in Sasanian and Talmudic Law’, in With Wisdom as a Robe: Qumran and other Jewish studies in Honour of Ida Fröhlich, ed. Károly Dániel Dobos and Miklós Kőszeghy (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008), 471–85; Pedram Jam, ‘Barrasi-ye tatbiqi-ye hoquq-e madani-ye shāhanshāhi-ye Sāsāni va emperātouri-ye Rom dar qarn-e sheshom va haftom-e milādi’ [A Comparative Study of Civil Law of Sasanian and Roman Empires in Sixth and Seventh Centuries A.D.] (PhD diss., University of Tehran, 2008); Tobias Scheunchen, Cosmology, law, and elites in late antiquity: Marriage and slavery in Zoroastrianism, Eastern Christianisty, and Islam (Baden-Baden: Ergon Verlag, 2019).

4 For the German translation of the text, see Maria Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch: Mātakdān i Hazār Dādistān (Teil II) (Wiesbaden: Frantz Steiner Verlag, 1981); ibid, Rechtskasuistik und Gerichtspraxis zu Beginn des siebenten Jahrhunderts in Iran: Die Rechtssammlung des Farrohmard i Wahrāmān (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1993). For an English translation, see Anahit Perikhanian, The Book of A Thousand Judgments: A Sasanian Law Book, trans. Nina G. Garsoïan (Costa Mesa, CA: Mazda Publishers, 1997). In this article, I mainly used A. Perikhanian’s translation of HD. If I did not specify the translator in certain cases, those are my own and I take full responsibility for them.

5 For the chapter dedicated to the subject see HD 1.1–17; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 22–23. For her comments on the text, see ibid, 26–39. Also see Perikhanian, The Book of A Thousand Judgments, 26–28.

6 E.W. West, The Pahlavi Texts: Contents of the Nasks, vol. 4 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1892); A.V. Williams, The Pahlavi Rivāyat Accompanying the Dādestān ī Dēnīg, 2 vols. (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1990). For the Persian translation of the Dādestān ī Dēnīg, see Mahshid Mirfakhrayi, Dādestān ī Dēnīg (Tehran: Pazouheshgāh-e O’loum-e Ensāni va Motālea’t-e Farhangi [Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies], 2016); F.M.P. Kotwal and J.W. Boyd, Ērbadīstān ud Nirangistān: facsimile Edition of the Manuscript TD (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980).

7 Eduard Sachau, Syrische Rechtsbücher, vol. 3 (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1914); For an examination of the status of slaves among the Christian communities in the Sasanian Empire based on this text, see Nima Jamali, ‘A study of the Interactions among Zoroastrian, Jewish and Roman Legal System during the 7th and 8th Centuries CE based on a Critical Edition of Īšōʿ-boḵt’s Corpus Juris with Commentary and an English Translation’ (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 2021), 252–54, 394–96.

8 For more on Sasanian social structure and organisation, see A. Perikhanian, ‘Iranian Society and Law’, in The Cambridge History of Iran: The Seleucid, Parthian and Sasanian Periods, vol. 3.2, ed. Ehsan Yarshater (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1983), 627–80; for an analysis of the factors that contribute to determining an individual’s legal status and legal capacity within the Sasanian legal framework, see Maria Macuch, ‘Legal Constructions of Identity in the Sasanian Period’, in Iranian Identity in the Course of History. Proceedings of the Conference Held in Rome, 21–24 September 2005, ed. Carlo G. Cereti (Rome: Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente, 2010), 193–212.

9 J.P. de Menasce, Feux et foundations pieuses dans le droit sassanide (Paris: Librairie C. Klincksieck, 1964), 43 uses the term fondations pieuses; M. Boyce, ‘The Pious Foundations of the Zoroastrians’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 31 (1968): 270–89, uses the term pious foundations; M. Macuch, ‘Charitable Foundations: In the Sasanian Period’, in Encyclopædia Iranica, vol. 5 (Costa Mesa, CA, 1991), 380–82; ibid, Rechtskasuistik; ibid, ‘Eine sasanidische Stiftung “für die Seele” – Vorbild für den islamischen waqf?’, in Iranian and Indo-European Studies: Memorial Volume of Otakar Klíma, ed. Petr Vavroušek (Prague: Enigma Corporation 1994), 163–80; ibid, ‘Die sasanidische fromme Stiftung und der islamische waqf: Eine Gegenüberstellung’, in Islamische Stiftungen zwischen juristischer Norm und sozialer Praxis, eds. Astrid Meier, Johannes Pahlitzsch, Lucian Reinfandt (Berlin: Aakademie Verlag, 2009), 19–38, uses the term Stiftung; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, uses the terms foundation, endowment and trust. For the legal aspect of these foundations see M. Macuch, ‘Pious Foundations in Byzantine and Sasanian Law’, in La Persia e Bisanzio: Atti dei Convgni Lincei 201 (Rome: Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, 2004), 190.

10 This idea that all pious actions performed by men are actually done for the sake of one’s own soul is very common in the Zoroastrian writings of the Sasanian and post-Sasanian period to highlight that a certain action is done out of piety and not for material gain. See Sh. Shaked, ‘For the Sake of the Soul: A Zoroastrian Idea in Transmission into Islam’, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 13 (1990), 17.

11 Macuch, ‘Charitable Foundations’, 380.

12 Ibid.

13 Ibid.

14 M. Macuch, ‘Judicial and Legal Systems: The Sasanian Legal System’, in Encyclopædia Iranica, vol. 15 (New York: Encyclopædia Iranica Foundation, 2009), 186–87.

15 Perikhanian, The Book of A Thousand Judgments, 387–88; Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 192–94.

16 Richard E. Payne explores the concept of stūrīh as an essential aspect of the aristocratic politics within the Sasanian Empire. He views this institution as a fundamental strategy employed by the Sasanian elite to maintain their social status and influence in Iranian society by reproduction of the elite class. He argues that during the Sasanian period Zoroastrian religious experts carefully examined Avestan passages and principles to establish legal institutions that emphasised fertility and guaranteed the continuity of patrilineages. These practices held significant importance for the adherents of the Good Religion. For members of aristocratic houses, whose wealth tied to their patrimonies and whose lineage earned them positions of power, stūrīh played a crucial role in validating their names as political assets for future generations. See R. Payne, A State of Mixture: Christians, Zoroastrians, and Iranian Political Culture in Late Antiquity (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2015), 105 and 111.

17 The literal rendering of stūr is ‘proxy’, see Mary Boyce, The Letter of Tansar (Rome: Istituto Italiano Per Il Medio Ed Estremo Oriente, 1968), 46. It is worth noting that Dādestān ī Dēnīg (Q&A 57) differentiates between three categories of stūr: (a) būtak (natural) stūr, (b) kardag (instituted) stūr, and (c) gumārdag (appointed) stūr. For the interpretation of these categories and the cases regarding these distinctions in the Sasanian Law Book, see Perikhanian, The Book of A Thousand Judgments, 387–88; Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 194–95; for the financial authority of a stūr see Nezhat Safa-Isfahani, Rivāyat-i Hēmīt-i Ašawahištān (Tehran: Nashr-e Markaz, 1376/1998), 119–31; also see Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 331–33.

18 Sarah Stewart, ‘The Politics of Zoroastrian Philanthropy and the Case of Qasr-e Firuzeh’, Iranian Studies 45, no. 1 (2012): 62.

19 One of the results of the alliance between high priests and the monarch was the accumulation of great wealth in the form of pious foundations and properties owned by Fire temples.

20 HD.A 27, 2; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 295.

21 Ibid; also see O. Ramble, ‘Kerdīr’s bun-xānag and Funding Foundations in Sasanian Iran', forthcoming.'

22 The institution of stūrīh for a Fire is different from that of a family. In this case the stūr would be the manager responsible for overseeing the allocated funds designated for the maintenance of the Fire. It is noteworthy that the ownership of the property which the founder has set aside for maintaining the stūrīh would not eventually be transferred to a rightful heir. Instead, it is given to the fire itself. The task of the stūr of a fire would be an administrative one. For more information see de Menasce, Feux et foundations pieuses dans le droit sassanide, 56–59; also B. Hjerrild, ‘Some Aspects of the Institution of Stūrīh’, in Religious Texts in Iranian Languages: Symposium held in Copenhagen May 2002, eds. Fereydun Vahman and Claus V. Pedersen (Copenhagen: Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Selskab, 2007), 171–72; and Macuch Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 375–76. According to Macuch, ‘Fire Foundations could be established in two manners, both of which gave the beneficiaries only access to the revenue of the property, but not to its substance: (1) as stūrīh-property or as (2) as property “for the soul” (pad ruwān)’; Macuch, Sasanian Law in its Social Context, forthcoming. (This information comes from personal correspondence dated July 18, 2023). For the financial mechanism of a stūrī-Fire, see Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 332–33, also see N. Tamari, ‘From Ashes to Authority: Zoroastrian Priests and the Juridical Framework of the Sasanian Fire Foundations’, forthcoming.

23 Macuch, ‘Pious foundations in Byzantine and Sasanian Law’, 193–94; ibid, ‘Die sasanidische fromme Stiftung’, 20–21. For a discussion concerning the ownership of a sacred fire see Macuch, Sasanian Law in its Social Context, forthcoming; also Tamari, ‘From Ashes to Authority’.

24 Two main points are worth noting: firstly, HD did not establish a definitive separation between public and family endowments. Instead, these two distinct categories were merged within the same chapter (HD § 34.1: dar yazišn ud nihādag abar xīr ī ātaxš ud xwāstag ī ruwān rāy nihād ud paydāg kard). However, Macuch states: ‘Not all Fire Foundations were considered as individual legal entities, capable of owning property. In other instances, even a large Wahrām fire could be owned by “co-partners of the income” to judge by the terminology used in this context (hambaragān xwēš). Sasanian law appears to have been flexible in the question of ownership of a consecrated fire and the matter of ownership could be resolved differently: (1) by bestowing ownership on the fire itself (and placing the fire in the founder’s stūrīh); (2) by determining the founders or beneficiaries as owners, albeit only as “co-partners of the income” (ham-bar), not as owners of the substance (bun-xwēš)’. Macuch, Sasanian Law in its Social Context, forthcoming. Examining the issue of ownership concerning Fires and Fire Foundations lies beyond the scope of this article. A comprehensive analysis of this topic has been extensively covered elsewhere, see Tamari, ‘From Ashes to Authority’. Second, it is essential to discern various sub-types under the category of Fire Foundations, each carrying unique characteristics and implications. The great ‘Cathedral Fires’ (ātaxš Wahrām), name-Fires and smaller family Fires (ātaxš, ādurōg) stand as prominent examples of these sub-types. Notably, the endowments associated with these Fires had considerable variations which necessitated the mobilisation of personnel on vastly different scales. See M. Macuch, ‘The Talmudic Expression “Servant of the Fire” in the Light of Pahlavi Legal Sources’, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 26 (2002): 124–25.

25 See Tamari ‘From Ashes to Authority’.

26 In this article the term sacred slaves is used to distinguish between the Fire-slaves and slaves in the other settings of the Sasanian empire, such as household, army and land. See Macuch, ‘Judicial and Legal Systems’, 184.

27 M. Macuch, ‘Substance and Fruit in the Sasanian Law of Property and the Babylonian Talmud’, in The Archaeology and Material Culture of the Babylonian Talmud, ed. M. J. Geller (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2015), 245–59.

28 ka apām hač āturān ut ātaxšān stūr nē gumārišn <ut> čē pat apām ī āutrān ut ātaxšān hilišn dāt būt nē šāyēt ut xvāstak (pat ān) apām bē apaspārišn. HD 50, 3–4; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 133.

29 A document in the Tabarestān archive is worth mentioning here; I am very grateful to Olivia Ramble for sharing her unpublished work where I noticed this document; O. Ramble, ‘Kerdīr’s bun-xānag and Funding Foundations in Sasanian Iran’ (forthcoming), footnote 132. This important document (Tab.12) is published by D. Weber, ‘Two documents from Tabarestān reconsidered (Tab. 12 and 26)’, in Words and Symbols: Sasanian Objects and the Tabaristān Archive (Res Orientales 24), ed. R. Gyselen (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2016), 186–87. It describes that villagers could borrow from a sort of communal fund, in times of need, Ramble, ‘Kerdīr’s bun-xānag’, footnote 132.

30 For a detailed study of these foundations and the close administrative and financial ties between the Zoroastrian priesthood and the Sasanian kings see Ramble, ‘Kerdīr’s bun-xānag’.

31 The term bandag has two meanings: (a) slave (b) subject or servant. M. Macuch, ‘Barda and Bardadārī’, 764, suggests that this term in the phrase šāhān šāh bandag is used for every subject of the sovereign, regardless of his social rank. However, in HD whenever used alone it refers to slave, whereas in other cases it must be defined based on the context. In general, it seems that in non-legal Pahlavi texts, and in the inscriptions the term bandag often means subject or servant, while in legal texts it clearly refers to slave. See Jam, Comparative Study, 90. For a detailed discussion of this term within the context of the concept of superiority and inferiority in the ancient Near East, see the work of Hossein Sheikh, ‘Servant or Slave: The Old Persian Words Bandaka, Marika and Daha and their Cognates in Middle Iranian Languages’, in Naming, Defining, Phrasing Strong Asymmetrical Dependencies: A Textual Approach, eds. Jeannine Bischoff, Stephan Conermann and Marion Gymnich (Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter 2023), 55–61; and for a discussion on the legal identity of people in the Sasanian empire see Macuch, ‘Legal Constructions of Identity’.

32 See Jany, ‘The Legal Status of Slaves’, 471–84; Jam, Comparative Study, 86–109.

33 ud ān ī guft kū ka pēšēmāl pasēmāl hamēmāl kū-m anšahrīg hēh ud pasēmāl anī mard pad nāmčišt rāy gōwēd kū-š anšahrīg hom, u-š gugāy abāg, pad ān ī xīr abāg pasēmāl dādestān nē rāyēnišn. HD 107,9-12; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 240. Compare HD 11.16–12,4; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 50; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 641: gwk’y (gugāy); Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 238: vikāy. For the translation of the text see Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 241.

34 Wahrām az Pusānweh (ī) Āzādmardān be guft kū nibištag-ē az gugāyīh ī zan dō ud pad mowbedīh ī … ī Staxr ī mowbed kard ēstād ud moγān handarzbed frāz padīirift bē Zurwān-dād guft kū ān pad kardag nē kard. Wahrām guft kū gugāy ēk zan ud ēk mard, ēg-išān pursišn nāmag ōh kard, zan ud anšahrīg nē. HD 98,1–5; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 222; for her translation see Thousand Judgments, 223.

35 This law apparently was applied only when the slave had committed a crime in the presence of the master. Perhaps the slave was fully responsible for the crimes he committed in the absence of his master. See Jam, Comparative Study, 87. In Macuch’s translation of the text, the act of physical violence is not carried out by the slave in the master’s presence. Rather, it refers to a scenario wherein a slave (or a woman) faces physical violation from a third party while the master is present. This situation appears to invoke a legal safeguard for the slave by constraining the master’s right over their subordinate (Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 24, for her comments on the text see 31–33).

36 zan ud anšahrīg hamē pad dīd ud wēnišn ī xwadāy ud sālār, zaxm ayāb stahm kunēnd, tāwān dō ēk xwadāy ayāb sālār, ēk ōy kē wināh kard. HD 1, 4–6; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 26; for her translation of the text see Thousand Judgments, 27.

37 The literal rendering of the term tan is ‘body/person’. Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 269 suggests that it refers to a slave; Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 15 and ibid, ‘Barda and Bardadārī’, 764 suggests that in the context of credit law the term tan refers to ‘a person who is given for a certain time as security for a debt to the creditor and kept by him in bondage for the arranged period of time. The person given as security could be a relative of the debtor … or a warrantor (pāyēnān/pāyandān), who assumed personal, lit. “physical” liability (pad tan “with his body”) for the debt and could be enslaved by the creditor if the debtor failed to discharge the loan’. One cannot determine with certainty whether the term refers to people in general or slaves in particular. The only option here is to look for a contextual indicator. The word used for ‘document’ in this text is pursišn-nāmag, a significant legal term indicating a protocol written only in criminal cases (protocols produced in private legal issue were termed saxwan-nāmag). Although the Pursišn-nāmag contained the essential facts of the inquiry and the parties’ testimony, it was also a bill of indictment and the record of the decision (HD.A 34.8-9). Pursišn-nāmag was therefore a comprehensive document covering all important details from the cases at hand, including the final verdict. Pursišn-nāmag was documented in every criminal case involving margarzān; such records could be written in other cases as well, though this was not obligatory (HD.A 34.6). Since our text merely mentions that a pursišn-nāmag was documented, we do not know whether or not the aggressor was sentenced to any punishment or whether just a document of testimony was created with no legal implications. See Jany, ‘The Legal Status of Slaves’, 474–75.

38 mard-ē(v) tan-ē(v) andar ō Diglīt apakanēd ān tan apāz kard az ān bār nē mīrēd ud pad kardak mad ēstēd u-šān pad andar apakandān pursišn-nāmag pad-iš kard. HD.A 13, 11–13; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 268; for her translation see Thousand Judgments, 269.

39 duxt ud zan (ud) anšahrīg ī mard <mard ud> pad wināh warōmand kard ēstēd, uzēnag ī-š pad xwārišn ud dārišn ud ēd čē-š pad passāxtan andar abāyēd xwadāy ud sālār dahišn. HD. 33, 11–13; For the translation of the text see Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 95.

40 ǰud az zan ud anšahrīg ud aburnāyag ud abārīg-iz ān ī az ān šōn čiyōn bē ka paydāg ādān hēnd enyā pad an-ādān dārišn bē ka paydāg kū an-ādān hēnd enyā pad ādān dārišn. HD, 58, 16–59, 1; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 150; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 390; for the translation of the text see Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 151; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 395.

41 According to the text only solvent men could enter into legal transactions, not women. Therefore, if we consider that a slave could legally be solvent after receiving the official permission (master’s declaration) from his master, then only slave-men could enter into legal transaction.

42 HD.A 32,4; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 304; Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 348, 364–65.

43 HD 106, 1–4; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 236 and 237; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 648.

44 HD 94,6–10; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 216 and 217; Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 597.

45 gōwēnd kū tā xwadāyīh (ī) Wahrām mardōmān anšahrīg ān xwēš būd ī az pidar zāyēd nē ān ī az mād ēd rāy čē Sōšans guft kū waččag pid xwēš ud nūn gōwēnd kū mād. HD 1, 2–4; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 26 and 27. For a different interpretation see Macuch, Rechtskasuistik, 27–31.

46 HD 1, 6–7; HD 48, 13–16; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 26, 128.

47 HD 18, 9–10; HD.A 36, 16–37.1; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 62, 314. Slaves were considered accessories to the land (dastgīrd) where they laboured. These slaves were recorded as land possessions and registered with the property in the land ownership registration. If the ownership of the land changed, they were transferred together with it.

48 For slaves as pledge see HD 38, 13–17; HD 39, 2–9; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 106. Masters could give their slaves together with the land they were working on as a pledge (presumably as an antichresis security). For slaves as gifts see HD 40, 17; HD 101, 7–11; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 110, 228.

49 ka anšahrīg pad grawgān pad kār ō anī šahr frēstēd ud drahm wizārēd tā abāz abespārišn ī anšahrīg gōhrīg anšahrīg ō ōy <ī> abespārišn kē anšahrīg xwēš ka grawgāndār nē anšahrīg mad ēstēd zan ud frazand ī grawgāndār pādixšāy ka tā grawgāndār abāz āyēd drahm nē padīrēnd anšahrīg az dārišn nē hilēnd - HD 39, 5–9; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 106, 107.

50 HD 64,9–15: Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 162,163.5

51 A similar saying is attested in the Dādestān ī Dēnīg question and answer n.30.

52 anšahrīg ō ag-dēnān frōxt nē pādixšāy ka frōxt pad anšahrīg har dō andar rad ī hu-dēn duz bawēnd <ī> u-šān drōš be kunišn, drahm pas agar pad rāh ī pwld’k ī zamān pad ōy kē dārēd be mānēd - HD1, 13–15. I borrowed the translation of the term pwld’k as ‘spent’ from Aleksander Engeskaug’s PhD dissertation. For a detailed discussion of the term and its translation see Aleksander Engeskaug, ‘The Economy of Zoroastrian Priests and Fire Temples in Sasanian Iran’ (PhD diss., London: SOAS, University of London, 2023).

53 F. M. P. Kotwal and J.W. Boyd, Ērbadīstān 11.7.

54 bandag-ē ī agdēn ka be ō wehdēnīh āyēd šāhān-šāh bandag ā-š wahāg abāmīhā pad-iš bandag ī hudēn ka bē (ō) agdēnān frōxt ā-š bunīgīh ō radān appār ēn kū pad drahm duz ayāb nē ā-m nē rōšnag hād agar ān dānēd ā-š nē dastwarīhā frōxt u-š be ēc nē abāyēd dād. F. M. P. Kotwal and Ph. Kreyenbroek, The Hērbedestān and Nērangestān (Paris: Association pour l’Avancement des Études Iraniennes, 1992), 1:61–63.

55 ka anšahrīg ī ābustan be frōšēd ka ābustanīh āšnā, ābustanīh-iz [frō]xt bawēd - HD 40,17–85, 2; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 110, 111.

56 For the slave-woman being the heir of her child see HD 94,6–10; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 216 and 217. Since the child born to this slave-woman was recognised as having the right to inherit, the infant should have inherited his/her legal status from his/her father, who was a free person. The reason for the restriction of the children's right to inherit the slave-woman and her child seems to be that the father made the slave-woman the inheritance of the child born to her to prevent the slave-woman from becoming the common property of several heirs. By observing the inheritance rights, the father effectively provided the slave-woman's potential for freedom through her child. See Jam, Comparative Study, 93. For the slave-woman being the heir of a stūr-woman see HD 94, 10–14; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 216, 217.

57 zan ī anšahrīg ī ō zan ī pad dūdag stūr ōwōn dād kū ō dūdag nē rasēd ud pas az ān zan ī anšahrīg frazand zāyēd frazand ī pad ān ēwēnag az anšahrīg zāyēd agar <ī> az abārīg xwāstag ī pad ān ēwēnag be dād bawēd, az ān čiyōn anšahrīg xwāstag pad xwēšīh be ō kadag-bānūg mad ud andar xwēšīh ī kadag-bānūg hamē bawēd ō dūdag nē rasēd - HD 94, 10–14; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 216, 217.

58 ud ān ī guft kū ka xwadāy bandag pad bandagīh ō ādurān dahēd agar ōh-iz kū-š pad frazand ī bandag pādixšāyīh nēst pas-iz frazand ud āwādag ī bandag bawēd ādurān bandag bawēd čē-šān frazandīh ud āwādagīh ī bandag ādurān bandagīh rāy hamē bawēd - HD 101, 8–11; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 228, 229.

59 abāg ān ī guft ka gōwēd kū-m Abzūdxwadāy nēm āzād kard ud pad 3 bahr (ēw bahr) pad bandagīh ō ātaxš dād ēg-iš pad 3 bahr ē(w) bahr nē az ān nēm guft bawēd kū-m dād - HD 103, 4–6; For another translation see Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 230, 231; for Macuch’s translation see Rechtskasuistik, 624–25, and her comments on 637; also ibid, ‘The Talmudic Expression’, 115.

60 Macuch, ‘The Talmudic Expression’, 115.

61 Eduard Sachau, Syrische Rechtsbücher, vol. 3: Corpus juris des persischen Erzbischofs Jesubocht: Erbrecht oder Canones des persischen Erzbischofs Simeon, Eherecht des Patriarchen Mār Abhā (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1914), book V, chapter XIII.

62 Jany, ‘The Legal Status of Slaves’, 483.

63 Anšahrīg originally denotes a person ‘from another land’, ‘foreigner’, pointing to war captivity as one of the earliest sources of slavery. See Macuch, ‘Barda and Bardadārī’, 764; ibid, ‘Judicial and Legal Systems’, 184. This term is in contrast to mard i šahr ‘man of the land’ or ādehīg ‘person of the land’ both of which designate an Iranian citizen. In the HD, anšahrīg is exclusively used with the technical meaning of ‘slave’, whereas ‘foreigner’ is expressed either by bēšahrīg or uzdehīg. For references see Macuch, ‘The Talmudic Expression’, 114, no. 21.

64 ka ātaxš-ē bandag mard dō ud anšahrīg mard dō ast ud mard xwāstag-ē rāy kard kū-m ō bandagān ī ān ātaxš dād az ān čiyōn anšahrīg bandagīh ī ātaxš nē bawēd ō anšahrīg (ī) ātaxš ciš-iz nē dahēd - HD, 1.7–10; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 26 and 27.

65 There is evidence that also non-Zoroastrians – for instance, Jews – could be employed as fire-slaves, see Macuch, ‘The Talmudic Expression’, 126–27. For a detailed examination of the presence of the Christian and Jewish people of the Sasanian Empire in the Zoroastrian Fire temples, see Yousef Moradi and Almut Hintze, ‘Interactions between Christian and Jewish Minorities and the Zoroastrian Fire Temple of Ādur Gušnasp in the Light of New Sigillographic Evidence from Taḵt-e Solaymān’, in Reflets d’époques Sassanide et post-Sassanide (224-760 A.D.), Res Orientales XXX, ed. Rika Gyselen (Bures-sur-Yvette: Groupe pour l’Étude de la Civilisation du Moyen-Orient 2023), 153–70.

66 abāg ān ī ka ōy bay Wahrām šāhān šāh Yazdgirdān Mihr-narseh ī wuzurg framādār pad bandagīh ātaxš ī Ardwahišt ud ātaxš ī Abzōn-ardaxšīr dād čand sāl pad ān dād pad ādurān dāšt ud pas pad framān ī ōy bay Yazdgird šāhān šāh ī Wahrāmān ud nām ī wināhgārīh abāz ō ōstān kard čand sāl pad ōstān dāšt ud pas ōy bay Pērōz šāhān šāh pad ham-pursagīh ī Mard-būd mowbedān mowbed būd ud abārīg dastwarān ī mad ēstād hēnd pad bandagīh nē ō ham ātaxš <ī> bē ō ātaxš ī Ohrmazd-pērōz dād – HD.A39, 11–17.

67 ud ān ī guft kū ādurān bandag (ī) āzādīh ī pad mard rāy pad ādurān bandagīh ī az šāhīgān be dād pad wināhgārīh ī xwēš, dahibedān ō ōstān ō(h) kard ud az ōstān ō ǰud ātaxš ō(h) dād - HD.A39, 8–11. Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 120; reads ābādīh instead of āzādīh. For different translations of the text see Macuch, Das Sasanidische Rechtsbuch, 361; ibid, ‘The Talmudic Expression’, 117; Perikhanian, Thousand Judgments, 319.

68 For similar conclusion see Ramble, ‘Kerdīr’s bun-xānag.