Any man taking a woman not a slave as a concubine will pay the bride-price to her male relatives that is commensurate with their station in life. Any children of such a union may be legitimized in the first two years of life; if they are not, they may be adopted by the woman's male relatives or enrolled in the service of the Sultan.
Any man taking a bride who is not of his faith may stipulate that the children of such a union are illegitimate in order to preserve the family in the faith of the husband and his father; the brothers of the wife may adopt the children if the husband of the mother is paid an agreed-upon price for the child or children.
Any man marrying a slave must first pay the price of her freedom to the Sultan and have the sale recorded before the union can be considered legitimate. Any man failing to pay such a price may not legitimize any children from the union.
Any man whose religion does not prohibit it may take as many as four wives without paying additional bride-prices to the Sultan, for the Prophet— may he be praised— has said that a man may take four wives. If a man seeks to marry more than four, the bride-price must be paid to the Sultan or any child of the additional unions will be held to be illegitimate and not entitled to any portion of his father's estate or name.
Any man may keep as many concubines as he may support without causing any of his legitimate wives to suffer on this account. Suffering includes starvation, privation, lack of shelter, denial of the rights of legitimate children, and compromise of obligations to the wives' fathers and brothers. The man keeping the concubines may not reduce them to a station less than that occupied by the male relatives of the concubine in question.
Any man whose religion prohibits him from having more than one wife may acquire such concubines as he can afford to keep. The children of such concubines shall be accounted his slaves unless he makes them legitimate before such children are two years of age.
Any man who puts away his wife for religious reasons will pay a bride-price to her male relatives, or to the Sultan if she has none. She will be considered a widow and may be put in the care of a guardian appointed by her husband for as long a term as the husband shall stipulate. The wife of such a man may be permitted to marry again if her husband does not oppose such an arrangement, and if it is not such a reduction in station or caste that would render the union ineligible either to his male relatives or hers. Should her husband wish her to remain unmarried, he will have to provide support for her
commensurate with the support he provided her when he lived with her as her husband. Should he fail to do so, her male relatives would be entitled to demand such a sum from his family and to administer it on her behalf.
Any man who deserts a wife for any reason that is not of her instigation, and not the result of religion or leprosy, will be required to provide her bride-price to her male relatives and to release her unconditionally to marry again, should her male relatives secure another offer for her. If a man deserts one wife but not another for a reason that is not of her instigation and is not the result of religion or leprosy, the male relatives may appeal to the male relatives of the entitled wife for recompense for the deserted wife. If her male relatives do not find her another husband, the family of the deserting husband must make a place for her in one of their households at a rank not below that of concubine.
Any man who takes a wife who has been a widow will have full authority over her, her belongings, and any children from her previous husband who have not been provided for by the male relatives of the deceased husband. It shall be within his power to order the lives of such children as if they were his own offspring. He is not required to make them legitimate as of his blood, but he may do so if the male relatives of the deceased husband offer no objection.
Any man who dies while married to a fertile woman may leave a baby in her womb to comfort her; if that baby is delivered within three years of its father's death, it will be acknowledged as the child of the father and solace of the mother. If the child is born after three years, it is proof of the widow's vice, and may be stoned to death to preserve its father's name, and the widow will be cast out from the city or sold to a brothel to expiate her husband's honor.
Any foreign man, no matter what his customs and laws may be, must abide by Delhi's laws while in the Sultan's lands. Should he fail to abide by the laws, his wives and sisters will become the wards of the Sultan and given the rights and protections of the laws of Delhi.
Any woman without male relatives is to be considered the niece of the Sultan. All negotiations for marriage, all bride-prices, all compensations, are to be paid to the Sultan in lieu of paying her male relatives.
Women married in this way may not be married below the station or caste of their male relative, if they had such, nor are they to be given to husbands not of their male relatives' religion.
Any man is entitled to choose one of his daughters to provide for his care and the care of his wife or wives in old age. This daughter may not be married until her father has been dead for two years, and then she may marry only at the will of her brothers, or by order of the Sultan, if she has no living male relatives. She may occupy her father's house until her brothers find a suitable husband for her, or the brothers may pay her bride-price to the Sultan and let her remain unmarried and in her father's house for as long as the brothers are willing she should remain.
Look that all men of Delhi know the law and abide by it.
Sawan bin Tughluq
Deputy to the Sultan for Marriages and Inheritances
1
Along the backs of the bazaar stalls people gathered in knots to exchange the rumors they had heard during the day's buying and selling; it was late on an overcast, sultry afternoon that had been filled with distant thunder, a sign many took as ominous, since it was known that Timur-i and his army were on the move, although no one knew where they would turn next. The still air was heavy with the odors of the bazaar— spices, food, animals, dung, incense, perfume, sweat, and dust— and the lingering oppression of the weather.
"Timur-i will attack us. The Armenian who brings black wool to market says it is assured," said a seller of brasses. "He will not be satisfied until he has brought us under his control, and leaves Delhi in ruins, as he has so many other cities."
"How does he know this?" asked the spice merchant. "Has he ear of Timur-i, that he is privy to his plans?"
"Hardly that. It is because the Armenians are afraid of what he will do to
them,
so they wish it upon us," scoffed a dealer in muslin. "They would rather he try to fight us than set his sights on them. They don't have an army to match the Sultan's."
"That's very true," said the spice merchant, a bit too eagerly. "The Sultan's army is the envy of the world."
"But we no longer have Mohammed bin Tughluq as Sultan," the vendor of incense reminded them all: that capable Sultan had died almost fifty years ago and had all but vanished from living memory, leaving a growing legend in place of remembrance.
"That may be, that the Armenians would prefer Timur-i come this way, away from their homeland," said the one-eyed man who made and sold fried pastries. "If it is true that he is bound for Delhi, who is to blame the Armenians for their desires? Wouldn't we prefer that he attack Armenia?"
"They should not spread tales," said the spice merchant, and added with hardly a pause, "I was told that Timur-i is going to turn toward Sind, to seize the ports and raid the ships as they arrive."
"The Jagatai are all crazy," said the pastry-vendor. "All of them, from Jenghiz to Timur-i, they are madmen."
"Timur-i is a part of the Balas clan," said the spice merchant, smug in his knowledge.
"He is a Jagatai, for all that," the pastry-vendor insisted. "The rest of the Jagatai would not hate him so much were he not one of them."
The four men nodded, seeing the sense of this, and turned their talk to less worrisome things.
Not far away, a group of muleteers were standing with their animals, at the opposite end of the bazaar from the camel-drivers. "Well, I tell you," said the one with two fingers gone from his right hand, "I would not want to be in Timur-i's place if he tries to attack the Sultan— Allah favor him! They say he has only horsemen at his command, and not many thousands of them. The Sultan has foot-soldiers, cavalry, and war elephants. Timur-i would be very foolish to try to battle such a mighty army."
"So he might," said the oldest of them— a lean, raw-boned man with a cast in one eye; he was an incredible forty-one years of age— as he spat to show his opinion of Timur-i. "That is not to say he won't do it. If he does, I would want to be far away. For no matter who wins, it will be hard-going for the likes of us."
The others nodded and made gestures to keep away evil.
"Why should he want Delhi in any case? Has he not cities enough at his command? Why must he strive for more? Let him stay in the West, and bedevil the cities there. What need has he of Delhi?" asked a man in the yellow robe of a Buddhist mendicant. "Everyone knows there are other, richer cities nearer to the places he has already conquered. There are the riches of the Inner Sea to plunder, and the cities beyond Aleppo. Why should he not choose one of them rather than cross the mountains to come here?"
"Allah preserve us!" exclaimed the first. "Does he need a reason?"
"Shaitan advises him, and he obeys," said the oldest muleteer with conviction. "He may say he listens to that so-called saint he keeps by him, but if you ask me, Nur Sayyid Barak is nothing more than a sycophant, currying favor with Timur-i by finding passages in the
Qran
that support what Timur-i wishes to believe, and ignoring any word of the Prophet that does not approve Timur-i's actions."
"Or Nur Sayyid Barak may be the servant of Shaitan as well," said the mendicant, who knew of Shaitan from his Muslim traveling companions.
"If he is, he hides it well; he lives a worthy life," said the first, and began to move toward his animals to check them before preparing them to be readied for the short journey outward from the city to the merchants' hostels that housed those not of Delhi.
"Some say that Nur Sayyid Barak is dead, and buried in a tomb fit for Sultans," said the incense-maker.
"Except that he is at Timur-i's side," said the mendicant. "Many have seen him."
"He may well be trying to keep Timur-i from greater excesses," said the oldest muleteer. "He should preach peace if he is a true saint, as they claim."
"Allah preserve us if that is so!" said the muleteer with luxuriant moustaches.
The oldest muleteer did not respond to this interjection. "Tomorrow is the final day of this bazaar," he said to his mules.
"We come again in a month," said the oldest. "We have four other cities to visit between now and then. My master has brasses to pick up, and silk."
"Do you think it will be enough time to cover that distance?" the mendicant inquired. "You said you go as far as Bayana, Samdhar, and Hansi."
"And Bijnor. We have done it many times before," said the old muleteer. "My master and I know the way."
"Well, may Allah watch over you in your travels," said the muleteer who had extravagant moustaches. "And the Buddha."
"And Ganesh," said the man missing two fingers. "It never hurts to burn a little incense to Ganesh when one is involved in trading."
The others nodded at the wisdom of this, and one of the men put his hand on the hilt of his Afghani dagger. "Just as well to have a weapon or two, in case Ganesh and Allah and the Buddha are looking the other way when trouble comes."
There was a burst of laughter; the muleteers continued to saddle and load their animals, making desultory remarks as they did until the call to prayer was heard, when three of the men stopped their labors
and went to the small well to wash, bowed toward the setting sun, then dropped to their knees to pray; the others paused in their activities out of respect and habit.
"We will have to be out of the gates soon," said the oldest muleteer. "The merchants' hostelries outside the city will be full in an hour. Tomorrow they will all be empty by this time."
"That they will," said the muleteer with the lavish moustaches. "And I do not want to spend the night at a campfire unless I have to."
The others agreed and put their attention to loading their animals.
"May your travels be safe, and may you profit from your labors; may your spirit be guided on its path as surely as your caravans find their way across the world," said the mendicant as he turned away, going away from the great red-granite main gate of Delhi. He, too, had a long road ahead of him and wanted to be outside the city tonight. He was bound north and east, to the majestic mountains and Nepal, Tirhut, and Bhutan, so he made his way through the city toward the North Gate, which, while less grand than the Great Gate that faced west, toward Mecca, was less crowded with merchants and had a small Buddhist shrine among the shrines to Ganesh and various Bodhisattvas of the region, just beyond the walls.
