The Holy Sail

by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  Hussein approached Sultan al-Ghawri to explain to him the details of the ship-launching ceremony, which he had personally overseen to ensure it would dazzle the audience. The sultan smiled; he was already impressed by what he saw. Hussein was encouraged and took this as a sign the sultan believed his mission had been a success, at least in the first phase.

  The sultan raised his hand to allow for the ceremony to begin. The cavalrymen marched in front of the tent in perfect sync, followed by the Sultani Mamluk brigade, then the musketeers brigade consisting of Turkic and African soldiers, and then the Awlad al-Nas brigade, which was made up of the sons of notables volunteering to defend Muslim holy sites. Behind them marched the naval force comprising soldiers and sailors, who were mostly Andalusian Moors led by the commander known as the Pasha* of the Moroccans. At the end of the procession, a unit of engineers, builders and carpenters marched in front of the sultan’s tent.

  Some 1,500 people had marched past the tent by the end of the parade. The audience now turned their eyes to the sea. A flotilla of new ships started moving in formations of galleys, fire ships and frigates, which were decorated with colourful flags including the yellow double-crescent ensign of the Mamluks.

  For many, what they were seeing was nothing short of a miracle. The construction of this fleet was officially declaring that the Mamluk navy had returned to the seas after a long period of neglect and decline. The idea that these ships were going to deploy to India had galvanised Muslims, and cemented Ghawri’s status as a protector and defender of Islam. The sultan needed to sell himself as such, as people had started talking about the trail of dead Mamluk amirs that led back to their opponent, the sultan. Ghawri had demonstrated that he was an impeccable master strategist; a year into his reign, he had eliminated all serious threats to his throne. The oath he made them take no longer had any value; in fact, it was his opponents who needed him to make that oath now.

  The shore was filled with onlookers enthusiastically watching the flotilla; they had never seen an Egyptian or Muslim fleet before. The crowd ululated, cheered and launched cries of ‘God is Great!’ Some even danced. Behind them, a small market began to coalesce, redolent with the smell of pastries and sweets. For a short period of time, people forgot their worries.

  The sultan was pleased with the preparations to fight the Portuguese. After the ceremony, he stood and shook hands with Hussein warmly. Those present felt a sense of – temporary – cohesion against an existential enemy. Hussein noticed the paternal look Ghawri gave him, the same look he had given him since he was young, and knew that his master still saw him as a son and that he was proud of what Hussein had accomplished.

  ‘When will you set off, Hussein?’

  ‘When you give us the order, Your Grace.’

  ‘The information I have received indicates that the Portuguese have bombed some cities in East Africa, which they then tried to take. They have established an outpost on an island called Kamaran at the mouth of the Red Sea. But it is a barren island and they will not be able to stay there for long. They are trying to gain a foothold at the entrance of the Red Sea to control it.’

  Ghawri turned his gaze back to the ships, which were now further away. ‘The Portuguese have reached India, Hussein. If they manage to control it, they will disrupt the entire spice trade that we rely on. The Venetians want us to stop them by any means, and have even asked us to send delegations to the sultans of India warning them against dealing with the Portuguese. But the Portuguese pay many times more than what our merchants pay for their spices, and have coaxed the sultans of India into dealing with them directly. We are fighting a fierce, merciless enemy, Hussein. You must be merciless too, so do whatever it takes to prevent them from destroying our trade.’

  ‘Your wish is my command, Your Grace. We have supplied our ships and we will sail to Jeddah tomorrow. Everyone is ready.’

  The sultan raised his hand and pointed it at Hussein’s chest, and said, ‘The situation in Jeddah worries me. Most of the amirs who were sent there were corrupt, and ended up corrupting the merchants there. You will need to remedy this and put an end to the corruption. Start with those at the top because they are the source of the scourge. When you reach Jeddah, send back your predecessor. Do not let him remain for a single day after you arrive.’

  Ghawri paused for a moment and then said, ‘You will carry a letter from me appointing you the amir of Jeddah. You are my sword in the sea now.’

  – 9 –

  Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  As Bin Rahhal left the sultan’s majlis, his mind was preoccupied with what needed to be done to ensure the success of the campaign. If it failed, the Jabrid rule could collapse. It was not an easy task, and the sultan’s confidence in him meant there was no room for error.

  He rode his horse out of the main gate. People recognised him and started crying out his name to get his attention. Some wanted money and others wanted to sell him their products. Bin Rahhal was used to all this and usually reacted with a large smile; he ignored them completely only when something was troubling him.

  When he reached home, he started writing the letters Sultan Muqrin had asked him to send. First, he wrote a letter to Emir Zamel, the ruler of Salwa, asking him to prepare ships and men for an important mission, noting that men with experience in seafaring and fighting at sea were preferable, and so were any large ships that could transport horses. He wrote another letter to the emir of Julfar, containing the same requests. Bin Rahhal did not specify an exact time and date, or a specific number of soldiers, and left it to the two rulers to decide, each according to his ability, though he asked them to give him their answer as soon as possible.

  After he finished writing the letters and sealed them, Bin Rahhal handed them to couriers to deliver them. He undressed and dipped himself in a small pond shaded by grapevines outside his house. He scooped up some water and splashed it over his head. He drew some water with his hands from where the stream flowed into the pond and drank it. He could have stayed there for hours, but he had to get some sleep before sunset.

  Bin Rahhal was still a bachelor. After his father died, he lived with his mother for many years, looking after her. He was her only child. He had not thought about marriage and felt that he had to devote himself completely to her. Although many servants worked in the house, he would not let anyone care for her other than him. His mother had died nearly a year earlier, but Bin Rahhal kept her room, clothes, bed, jewellery and even her walking stick, and asked the servants to clean the room as though his mother were still there. He would visit the room from time to time, to catch a whiff of her scent and remember her. She was the world to him and he was determined to keep her memory with him for as long as he lived.

  He wrapped the lower part of his body with a cloth and kept his chest bare; it was still very hot. He went to his deceased mother’s room and opened the door, examining the belongings she had left behind. Bin Rahhal remembered the dagger the sultan had given him for safekeeping. He put it in a box that had belonged to his mother, and placed the ring the sultan had bought from the Banyan in the same box. They were both gifts meant for the caliph in Cairo – the blade from the Bahmani vizier and the ring from Sultan Muqrin. This was the safest place he could think of. He prayed God have mercy on his mother’s soul, as he always did, closed the door and went to his room to rest.

  Bin Rahhal could not fall asleep. He could not stop thinking about the campaign. He got out of bed and asked his servant to invite the Hormuzi messenger to his house for dinner. Perhaps he could obtain some information from him which would help him better plan the Jabrid expedition.

  In the evening, the Hormuzi messenger arrived along with three other men. Bin Rahhal noticed that the messenger was particularly deferential toward one of the men, walking behind and giving way to him. The messenger even refused to eat the sweet grapes Bin Rahhal offered him before the other man ate first. The messenger waited for Bin Rahhal to finish welcoming and greeting his guests before
he spoke.

  ‘Master Bin Rahhal, allow me to introduce you to Shah Salghur.’

  The messenger pointed to the man with great respect. Bin Rahhal’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Salghur spoke calmly, trying to move past the awkward moment. ‘Yes, I am Salghur, king of Hormuz until my brother turned against me. I was able to escape in disguise and travel to your country. You might wonder why I came to Al-Ahsa and did not go to my father-in-law in Oman. Well, he let me down when I asked for his help, and I found nowhere else to go but here. I have kept my identity hidden to spare the sultan of the Jabrids any retribution from my treasonous brother who usurped the throne.’

  Bin Rahhal was blindsided by the presence of the former king in his house. He could not let him go anywhere else, and would have to take him in as his guest until Sultan Muqrin made up his mind.

  Bin Rahhal, while trying to hide his surprise, said, ‘Your Majesty. Your presence here is a great honour to us. I believe your messenger has kept you abreast of what was said at the court of Sultan Muqrin. The sultan takes the matter very seriously. But I must ask you to be my guest until I inform the sultan of your presence here. Consider this humble abode as your home.’ He turned to his servant. ‘Make sure the king has everything he needs. Do whatever he asks, he is my dear guest. Now prepare dinner.’

  Later, the servants brought a roasted sheep garnished with raisins and nuts, and laid on flatbreads. Everyone started eating. The ice broke between them and soon the conversations moved beyond small talk. The former king narrated the whole story of what had happened with his brothers.

  ‘My brother Shah Vays seized the throne with the help of a group of Persian mercenaries he had hired, under the pretext of strengthening our navy. I never imagined he harboured ill-will for me and my rule. I instructed my vizier, Khawaja Attar, to specify his powers in writing, but one night, a number of his mercenaries raided my castle and took me to the dungeons. I was kept there for several months until Attar was able to bribe some guards and help me escape.’

  The king paused before he said, as though talking to himself, ‘When a king must flee his kingdom, the world shrinks and becomes smaller than the eye of a needle!’ Salghur continued in the same tone. ‘Attar staged my escape with some of his confidants. We now live on a farm in Al-Ahsa not far from here. I hope Sultan Muqrin will agree to help me return to my throne and my people.’

  The former king took a deep breath and then said sombrely, ‘Exile for kings is a slow death sentence.’

  Bin Rahhal asked the king about the fate of Attar should the current king find out what he had done.

  ‘Do not fear for the vizier. He takes care of every detail. When he sets his mind on something, know that he would have studied it from all angles. He was my father’s vizier, and after the king passed away, I retained him in the same post and so did my brothers, despite the hostility between us. Khawaja Attar remains my brother’s vizier.’

  He stopped as if he did not want to finish his sentence, then said with the same reluctant tone, ‘I don’t know whether I should call Vays my brother or my enemy! Anyway, Attar is his vizier now, although Vays withdrew many of his powers recently. Any king who sits on the throne of Hormuz has no choice but to appoint Attar as vizier; he is irreplaceable.’

  Bin Rahhal took a bite of his food and started chewing it as he looked at the deposed shah and asked, ‘Would you like to come with us on our campaign when the sultan orders it? Your presence could be necessary to reassure the people that their king had returned.’

  The king was about to drink water but moved the glass away from his mouth when he heard Bin Rahhal. His hopes of returning home were boosted. ‘Yes of course. I will be with you. We will then reorganise relations between our two kingdoms . . .’

  Bin Rahhal interrupted the former king. He found this to be a good opportunity to get Salghur to agree to some concessions. ‘What would we get for helping you, Your Majesty? You know how dangerous this whole affair is. Many of our soldiers could die. What’s worse, the mission could fail and your brother might bar us from trading with India and Africa.’

  The deposed king felt that negotiations for the mission had now begun in earnest. He asked to wash his hands and the servants brought ewers and pots, and poured water over his hands. His companions followed suit and washed their hands, then returned to their seats.

  The king and his men spoke among themselves in quiet voices while Bin Rahhal was busy washing his hands. Sultan Muqrin’s vizier knew the king was consulting them about the terms, and took his time washing his hands to give them the chance to talk.

  When the king returned to his seat, he addressed Bin Rahhal. ‘Vizier Bin Rahhal, you have honoured us greatly with your hospitality tonight. I hope to be able to return your hospitality in Hormuz. I know that the decision Sultan Muqrin will make will be momentous and could bring harm to the sultanate, and for this I will make you an excellent offer.’

  He looked at his companions as though trying to get their approval for what he was going to say. ‘The sultanate of the Jabrids pays annual tax to the kingdom of Hormuz. I will waive this tax if you help me return to the throne. I will also cede to you all royal possessions in Bahrain, except for the farmstead I inherited from my father there, if the sultan allows it.’

  Bin Rahhal reclined into cushions piled on top of one another. He took a deep breath before he spoke. ‘Your Majesty, as you know, it is not up to me to decide on such matters. But I will convey all your requests and wishes to the sultan, who will then decide. I shall meet him tomorrow and will report back to you. Now I will let you turn in and rest. You are my guests now and you should stay with me at my home. I will ask my servants to bring your luggage here.’

  Salghur replied, embarrassed, ‘We do not want to impose. We will remain on our farm and will visit you every evening.’

  But Bin Rahhal insisted. ‘I will not accept that. You are my guests now and you will not leave my home.’

  The following morning Bin Rahhal went to the sultan’s majlis. He obviously had not slept much. The sultan, teasing his vizier, as he liked to do, said, ‘What kept you up all night, Bin Rahhal? I know you don’t have a wife!’

  ‘I wish it had been a wife, Your Grace. What has kept me up is much worse!’ Bin Rahhal continued, ‘After I left your majlis yesterday and went home, I tried to find out more about the situation in Hormuz. I invited the messenger to my house for dinner, but to my surprise, he brought with him three other men.’ Bin Rahhal looked in the sultan’s eyes, trying to prepare him for what was coming next. ‘One of the men was none other than King Salghur. He is in my house right now.’

  ‘What? The king is here in Al-Ahsa, and in your home?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. He was with the messenger when their ship arrived in the port of Al-Uqair. To avoid an awkward situation, he sent you his messenger first to find out whether you are willing to help him retake the throne.’ Bin Rahhal changed his tone slightly. ‘He wants to make us an offer in return for our assistance.’

  ‘What is this offer?’

  ‘He offered to waive the annual taxes we pay to Hormuz and to cede all of Hormuz’s possessions on the island of Bahrain, except for a farm he had inherited from his father.’

  The servants walked in carrying plates of dates and fruits, which they placed in front of the sultan. Sultan Muqrin signalled to Bin Rahhal to eat before he said, ‘We pay them around 10,000 dinars a year, which is a lot of money. Hormuz has many possessions in Bahrain but we also want a part of the ports in Oman. Having a port there would help our men in the Omani hinterland.’

  Bin Rahhal chose a piece of fruit from the plate and toyed with it for a bit before he said, ‘Clearly, he has no real control over the Omani coast. These ports pay taxes to Hormuz, but independent emirs rule them. He told us that he had asked his relative Suleiman al-Nabahani for help but that Nabahani ignored him. This suggests Hormuz is not in control in the way we think. In my opinion, Your Grace, we should accept having the tax abol
ished and the Hormuzi possessions in Bahrain, because we do not want the king to promise us something he cannot deliver.’

  The sultan chased the flies away from the fruit plate. ‘You may be right, Bin Rahhal. The kingdom has crumbled and I don’t know yet whether this is in our interest or not. A strong Hormuz makes the entire Gulf safer and more stable even if we have to pay them a lot of taxes. Their absence could make controlling the sea a more difficult task. When kingdoms decline, people start fighting over power, and do not care how much they lose for its sake. May God protect us and preserve our country.’

  Sultan Muqrin often spoke like a preacher. He was very devout, and almost fanatical about his Maliki doctrine, which his grandfather had embraced. The region had been rife with sectarian conflicts fuelled by political rivalries, but as soon as the Jabrids took Al-Ahsa and expanded their power to other regions, the strife subsided and people took up the doctrine of the ruling class.

  Sultan Muqrin had used this as an opportunity to promote education and open religious schools to reduce the influence of the Shia sect rooted in some areas of his kingdom. The Jabrids did not take power easily. It cost them much blood and treasure as they fought against the remnants of the Qarmatian state in Hajr and the Bedouin tribes that had always coveted Al-Ahsa as a rich oasis in a sea of sands. Sultan Muqrin was therefore extremely sensitive about conflicts and tensions around him, and tended to put them down quickly before they festered and got out of control.

  Bin Rahhal noticed that the sultan was not enjoying the food and their conversation as he usually did. He was preoccupied with the predicament that the Hormuzi messenger had carried with him. He tried to convince the sultan to make a decision. ‘If you agree, Your Grace, let us write up a treaty for him to sign. We want to prepare for the campaign you have ordered as soon as possible.’