The Holy Sail

by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  The sultan picked up a fan and started waving it in front of his face. ‘Write it and show it to me before the king signs it. Keep him at your home and under your watch until I give the order.’

  ‘I have already done that, Your Grace. I have ordered my servants to keep an eye on him because we want him to be with us as soon as we set off to Hormuz.’

  ‘Well done. Have you written to Julfar and Salwa?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. I expect them to answer within a month from now.’

  ‘How long do you need to prepare for this campaign?’

  ‘We will need about one year. We lack the ships we need. We shall import timber from India and shipwrights from Basra for the purpose. The emirs of Salwa and Julfar will send whatever material and men they can spare. We shall have our own fleet within a year from now, God willing.’

  Sultan Muqrin raised his hands to the sky in prayer. ‘With God’s help, it may just be possible.’

  – 10 –

  Alexandria, Egypt

  Nearly a year after Covilhã first left Alexandria, the rabbi heard a knock on the door. It was very late at night. He did not dare open the door without first checking the identity of the person calling at this ungodly hour. He placed his ear on the door and called out, ‘Who is it?’

  A whispering voice came through the cracks in the wooden door. ‘The Holy Sail.’

  The rabbi answered back, clearly irked, ‘Is it still heading east? I thought it had ruptured by now!’

  He opened the door quietly and let Covilhã in, before he shut it tightly behind him.

  The place was dark and Covilhã needed a few seconds to adjust to the light and see the rabbi’s face. The rabbi stood still, scrutinising his unannounced guest. ‘Is it you again, Covilhã? I was expecting you . . . but where is your friend Paiva?’

  ‘We split up in Aden a year ago. He went to look for the kingdom of Prester John and I went to look for the source of spices in India. I thought he would have finished his mission and returned here before I did.’

  ‘Don’t bet on it, my friend. Things have become far more dangerous than they used to be. Let us pray he will make it safely in the end. Please sit down, sit down.’ The rabbi moved some pillows that were thrown randomly on the chairs and pointed at one. ‘Sit here. We have a lot to talk about.’

  The rabbi continued, ‘Do you believe the kingdom of Prester John really exists? It is the biggest lie in history, and only fools believe it. This kingdom and its king never existed. It is a myth that the Catholics are drawn to blindly, like sheep.’

  Covilhã replied, ‘I have also enquired about the kingdom. No one has heard of it. The captain of the ship that took me from Aden to Muscat told me there are Christians who live in the highlands of Abyssinia. But he said they were poor and live as hermits in their churches, isolated from people. From time to time, a priest visits them from Egypt to teach them the faith. What the captain described did not sound like a wealthy kingdom at all. He said their priests live in caves near the mountaintops and rarely mingle with people. They wear the same garments for years until they are completely worn out. Does that sound like wealth to you?’

  The rabbi noticed something under Covilhã’s arm. ‘What are you carrying?’

  Covilhã took out a large dossier from under his arm and laid it out for the rabbi. ‘This is my report on the trip. I have written down in this guide all the information I gathered on the entrepôt, people, trade, wind patterns, ship technology, currencies used and so on. This is the fruit of a year’s worth of perilous adventures. I sincerely hope the king will appreciate all this and treat us like he treats Catholics in his kingdom. This document has been a great burden during my journeys; I had to hide it often. It may save us one day from—’

  The rabbi stood up abruptly, not wanting to hear the rest of it. He said to Covilhã, ‘I will get you something to eat.’ After he walked a few steps, his back still turned to his guest, and added, ‘Don’t be too optimistic, my friend.’

  ‘What do you mean, Rabbi?’

  The rabbi did not answer Covilhã. He disappeared into the dark corridors of his house, and came back carrying food and water.

  ‘Go on, eat. It is delicious. I kept it from yesterday for my dinner tonight. Everything is so expensive now, even food. Can you believe it? No one expected food to become so costly, but this is what happens in times of chaos. Egypt is a right mess. When people want our money, they accuse us of being spies for the Christians, and when they want the Christians’ money, they accuse them of being the corrupt sultans’ money keepers. If they want the Muslim sultans’ money, they accuse them of being apostates and on and on. We are all just sitting and waiting for our turn to become victims of someone or something.’

  Covilhã repeated his question, as though he had heard none of the rabbi’s rant. ‘What do you mean, I shouldn’t be too optimistic?’

  The rabbi bit his lip and sighed loudly. ‘During your absence, some Jews arrived in Alexandria after fleeing from Spain. They brought unpleasant news. When the Inquisition started persecuting Jews and Muslims in Andalusia, some of them escaped to Portugal thinking they would be beyond its reach. But the Portuguese handed them over to the Inquisition in Spain, which burned many of them alive. You wouldn’t want to hear what they saw and suffered there.’

  The rabbi shook his head in sorrow, before he continued, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. ‘Many of those who survived the auto-da-fés boarded ships heading anywhere. One survivor told me a French captain threw his Muslim and Jewish passengers overboard after he found out they had no money to pay him. But we made arrangements after that, and gave every fleeing Jew enough money to reach the shores of North Africa. Many of those who recently arrived in Alexandria told us this. The ports of Tunisia, Morocco and Algeria are now teeming with Muslim and Jewish refugees who have fled over the past several years. Every one of them has a story to tell. It is a great tragedy.’

  The rabbi spoke with frustration, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He drank from the water jug, and then continued, ‘King John II died and was succeeded by his son Afonso. But Afonso died shortly after when he fell from his horse. The king’s brother-in-law Manuel the Fortunate now sits on the throne. He is the same person who sent you to India, my friend.’

  Covilhã’s heart pounded. He remembered their first meeting that cold night in Lisbon. Manuel was arrogant and vain even though he was not yet king. Covilhã could only imagine how much worse those traits would have become now that he wore a crown on his head.

  ‘Did Manuel really become king?’

  ‘Yes, yes. So don’t expect the vindictive bigot to do anything benevolent towards us Jews.’

  Covilhã pulled himself together. ‘Couldn’t it be good for us, though? He sent Paiva and myself here, so perhaps he will reward us if we bring him back all the information he asked for.’

  The rabbi avoided encouraging Covilhã’s optimism. He had seen and heard enough tragedies to rid him of any such hopes. He slapped his thigh in an attempt to rouse Covilhã from his ignorance. ‘Hear me well, Covilhã. Before he became king, Prince Manuel promised you he would protect your family and Paiva’s.’ The rabbi paused, reluctant to say more. But then he made up his mind and said, ‘Well, he hasn’t kept his promise. Paiva’s father was burned alive for heresy less than a year after you both left. Moses helped us smuggle out your family to Italy, and sent with them a box containing some of our scriptures including the Haggadah*!’

  Covilhã’s face turned red. He clenched his teeth until the muscles of his jaw could be seen clearly. ‘Why? Do they not have a royal letter protecting them from the Inquisition?’

  ‘Yes, but clearly the king felt that you had spent too much time on your mission, so he decided those letters had expired. He authorised the Inquisition to seize any person regardless of their trade, post or relation to the palace, save for a few of his cronies. Moses and the king’s private physician, Dr Rodrigo, are the only Jews who have survived so f
ar. By virtue of their professions, they can do a lot to smuggle people and preserve our scriptures.’

  The rabbi was waiting for Covilhã to reach for the food and eat, but the succession of bad news had killed his appetite.

  Covilhã lifted the dossier with both hands and said, ‘What should I do with this now? Burn it?’

  The rabbi reached for the file and took it quickly, fearing Covilhã would carry out his reckless threat. ‘No, of course not. If you do, you would be putting Moses and Dr Rodrigo in grave danger. They were the ones who chose you for this mission. The dossier must reach the king, and who knows, this could help keep Moses and Rodrigo in their posts for some time. Remember, they would be presenting it to the king as a Jewish achievement.’

  ‘And is my family all right?’ Covilhã asked. ‘Do you know whether they made it to Italy alive?’

  ‘Your family is safe in Italy. They are the guests of the Grand Rabbi in Naples. But don’t even think about going there right now. Conflict is raging between the Ottomans and pirates in Rhodes and we would not want you to be captured by either side.’

  The rabbi started leafing through the pages of Covilhã’s book. He then closed it and asked, ‘What will you do about your friend Paiva now?’

  ‘I will search for him. I cannot just leave him.’

  ‘Where will you begin the search?’

  ‘I think I will go from here to Zeila. From there I will travel inland. That was Paiva’s itinerary. I will try to look for him there.’ Covilhã added, ‘I will write a letter that I hope you can deliver to my family in Naples. I will depart for Suez soon.’

  The rabbi was dusting off the book. He said, ‘For my part I will send this file to Moses so he can give it to the king. You have gone through a great deal to gather all this information.’

  Covilhã finally showed some interest in the food in front of him, which made the rabbi feel a little reassured. After Covilhã put the first morsel in his mouth, he tried to change the subject. He felt it was not appropriate to talk about massacres and burnings at the stake while eating.

  ‘Allow me to share with you some of my observations, Rabbi. I have seen many things in those countries, and even met with the Grand Rabbi in Aden. What caught my attention the most was how much tolerance they enjoyed, unlike in Portugal and Spain. The merchants there prefer to have partners from other faiths. The ports allow adherents of different religions to build their own places of worship. I also noticed that everyone had similar customs and traditions. Jewish women in Yemen wear the veil and Hindu women in the streets of Calicut wear headscarves just like Muslim women do. They resemble one another in almost everything. They trade in all known currencies and do not give a monopoly to a particular one. When they speak, they speak freely and without the fear we feel in Portugal. They are free, Rabbi. They don’t have an Inquisition!’

  He repeated the last phrase emphatically.

  Covilhã continued, ‘A Jewish boy pointed us in the direction of the synagogue in Aden. The rabbi there spoke freely as though the city was his own. Religion is hardly mentioned there except in the event of marriage or death. Otherwise, people are free to worship any way they want. When people are free they are naturally devout, and address God directly. They behave with the knowledge that He has created them and is looking after them, and they talk to Him about everything. When they sail on board a ship they raise their hands and whisper their prayers directly to God without an intermediary. Isn’t that wonderful, Rabbi?

  ‘I have met many Muslims. I have entered their homes and shared their food, and they never asked me about my religion. I felt they saw it as something strictly between me and God.’

  Covilhã paused and looked at the floor with hollow eyes before he added, ‘Sometimes, I wonder whether what I did was right. They showed me respect and gave me food and water, and yet I spied on them, knowing that King Manuel would send his ships to attack them!’ The tone of his voice changed slightly. ‘We are going to take their freedom away, Rabbi.’

  The rabbi repeated Covilhã’s last words in a sarcastic tone. ‘Take their freedom away, huh?’ He raised his voice; the word freedom had him all riled up. ‘But this freedom is not something guaranteed. You have it and enjoy it until a sultan takes it away or the situation deteriorates. Then you will find your freedom hostage to a foolish rabble, as is happening now here in Egypt.’

  The rabbi paused, before he added, ‘Yes, there are two rival factions yet they both threaten freedom – the sultan and the rabble. Isn’t it odd?’

  Covilhã did not have anything else to discuss with the rabbi, who was clearly frustrated and disillusioned with everything. He decided to ask him the usual question any traveller asked a host. ‘Tell me about life these days, Rabbi.’

  ‘It’s not so good. The unrest in Egypt makes us vulnerable to attacks by the mobs from time to time. We have to be very careful.’ The rabbi lifted the jug of water and drank. ‘Sultan al-Ghawri has launched his ships into the Red Sea. He had help from the Ottomans and Venetians. Travellers, meanwhile, have been bringing a lot of news about the Portuguese. Trade with India has been disrupted and goods no longer come from there. Merchants have lost their livelihoods, and if this continues, everyone will be in danger, everyone without exception.’

  Covilhã, recalling what Attar had told him, interrupted the rabbi. ‘How did they get to India? I thought they were waiting for our report. That’s what they told us in Lisbon.’

  The rabbi almost spat in outrage, but he pulled himself together. ‘Do you believe that they were relying on your report to get to India? They sent others and told them the same thing. They are a bunch of self-serving killers.’ He adjusted his seating position then added, ‘They sent countless ships throughout the past years on scouting missions, to learn the strengths and weaknesses of their enemy. This time, however, the ships disobeyed orders and burned down the pilgrim ship Maryam, which people have been talking about for over a year.’

  The rabbi put Covilhã’s report in his lap. He struck it with his fist. ‘Your report will bring their warships. You will have paved the way for invasion with all this information. They will come not with holy sails, but with sails stained with blood.’

  – 11 –

  The Red Sea

  The Mamluk fleet set off from the port of Suez. Its thirteen ships, comprising galleys, fire ships and frigates, were carrying 1,500 soldiers to Jeddah, led by Hussein al-Kurdi, now an admiral. Hussein stood on the deck of the flagship, contemplating the endless, deep blue sea. He heard the wind hitting the sails and the waves striking the sides of the ship. It was music to his ears, music that he had waited so long to hear. He had managed to build the fleet he was now commanding, and felt that he had the power to bring about the changes he so desired.

  He looked at the back of the ship and saw Suez’s dancing trees and palms bidding him farewell. He loved the city, which he had single-handedly turned into a shipbuilding hub. Hussein turned his head forward and breathed the sea air as though for the first time. He cast aside all thoughts of intrigue and conspiracy; he called all the shots in this fleet, and was his own master.

  Hussein was leaving Sultan al-Ghawri alone to face many adversaries. Ghawri could have appointed someone else admiral, yet he had chosen Hussein for the mission because he was his closest and most loyal ally. At least, this was what Hussein told himself, trying to gather the strength to move forward with his mission.

  He watched his soldiers and sailors. They were different in everything, in their clothes, their dialects and their aspirations. Hussein did not want his men to be idle during the long days ahead at sea, and had devised a strict daily routine for all of them: just after the dawn prayers, they had to climb and begin combat training, starting with melee weapons and then swords. After that, the men had to clean the ships. In the afternoon, the men were told to polish and sharpen their weapons, and to clean the cannons and cannonballs. Everything had to be shiny, from the heavy guns to the swords and daggers, and everyone had to w
ork without interruption. Hussein was tense; he wanted the seamen, soldiers and peasants to become a disciplined fighting force, which required work, patience and training.

  Days later, the fleet moored in Jeddah. The port was teeming with the city’s residents, who came to take a look at this massive flotilla arriving to protect their city and the holy places from Portuguese attack. They had not forgotten how the Portuguese massacred pilgrims and disrupted trade with India. Dignitaries from the city in large turbans, including the sharif of Mecca, were among those standing on the wharf to welcome the fleet. The supervisors of Hajj convoys, wearing the traditional garments of their respective kingdoms, also attended the ceremony. They had the same rank as ambassadors and were treated accordingly. Everyone was waiting for the new ruler of Jeddah appointed by Sultan al-Ghawri.

  Amir Hussein descended from the flagship into a small boat sent by the Sharif of Mecca to take him to port. The boat was festooned with decorations to welcome the new ruler. Even the oarsmen wore special brightly coloured costumes that reminded Hussein of the Prophet’s birthday celebrations, when the noise of revelling mixed with the recitations and calls to prayers emanating from the mosques in Cairo’s narrow alleyways. The oarsmen’s costumes were not unlike the joyful garments worn by the Sufis in those celebrations.

  Hussein loathed such extravagance, which he saw as a reflection of both fear and sycophancy, though he decided to keep these sentiments to himself for the time being.

  He came down from the boat and shook hands with the dignitaries, and had to stand and listen to their poems of tribute and flattery. He then walked to the governor’s palace overlooking the sea, away from the tent that had been erected in the port for the ceremony, to the annoyance of all those who had been quarrelling all day to get seats underneath it.

  Hussein could not help but notice the extent of affluence in Jeddah. Pilgrims spent a lot of money here on their way to Mecca. The port collected hefty taxes from the merchants travelling from the four corners of the earth; it was a major port in the Red Sea, and all trade from India and China had to pass through en route to Egypt, the Mediterranean and Europe beyond it. The port had grown even more significant when the Gulf was closed off following the Safavid occupation of Baghdad, severing the trade route from Basra to Aleppo.