The Spaniard turned his eyes to the map. He used a ruler to find the areas the new meridian passed through. Once he was finished with his measurements, he turned to the cardinal and said, ‘I do not understand the Portuguese request. The meridian passes through the open sea. I don’t see anything worth discussing here. When the line is extended south, it comes out of the map we have in front of us. Is there something they know that they’re not telling us?’
The cardinal began to feel dismayed. There was a lack of trust between the two sides, and clearly the matter was not going to be resolved as quickly as he had hoped. He said, with a tinge of weariness, ‘Gentlemen, let’s adjourn for an hour. Discuss with your advisers what you need to discuss, but let us settle it before nightfall for God’s sake!’
The representatives dispersed. Each delegation went to a side hall to prepare for the next round. The air was full of anticipation. The treaty being discussed, according to pledges made by both the kings of Spain and Portugal, would be the last between the two sides. No modification or amendment would be possible in the future, and the successive kings would respect the treaty thereafter. The treaty would divide the entire world, with its riches, its people, its seas and resources, between the two great powers.
Everyone felt that the dispute between Spain and Portugal had far-reaching effects. The treaty would determine which power was the strongest, with strength being determined by the size of the wealth that would fall under the control of each side.
The Portuguese delegation entered its own private hall. One of the servants approached the head of the delegation and notified him that Afonso de Albuquerque wanted to meet him.
‘When did he arrive?’
‘A few minutes ago, senhor. He requested permission to enter.’
‘Very well, you may go now.’
The head of the delegation turned to his closest aide and said, ‘We must insist on our position, gentlemen. We shall not budge. We must not trust the cardinal. Though we have given him a lot of money to side with us during the negotiations, he also got money from the Spaniards, which is why he’s trying to remain neutral. We also must not forget that the Pope is Spanish-born. He could side with them or give them information we don’t know about. Who knows what happens behind closed doors? Lord knows how much I hate this sickening cardinal.’
Albuquerque entered the hall carrying a dossier in his hands. He walked to the representative and knelt in front of him in extreme reverence.
The representative extended his hand to shake Albuquerque’s. ‘Albuquerque, my friend, I have been eagerly awaiting you. When the king ordered me to handle negotiations with the Spaniards for this treaty I thought of you, but was told you were in North Africa fighting the Moors.’
Albuquerque bowed his head again. ‘I am always in the service of the king and you, my lord. When I was told you were waiting for me in Tordesillas, I came here as quickly as I could.’
‘Sit down, my friend,’ the representative said, pointing to a chair nearby.
Albuquerque sat and placed the file on his lap but he did not let go of it, treating it like a precious treasure.
The representative spoke enthusiastically. ‘As you know, we will redraw the areas we control in the world under the treaty we are discussing with the Spaniards. They control all the new territories Columbus discovered in the West. But for years now, we have been sending ships south to find a route to India around Africa. We are still spreading rumours that the distance to the far south of Africa is larger that anyone might think, and that it is impossible to reach the southernmost point of Africa. This rumour has circulated widely, and I think people believe it and in turn they have spread it further. The truth, of course, is different. We have succeeded in sending ships to the East secretly.’
Feeling a little warm, the representative took off his cloak. He continued, ‘By acting this way, we want to achieve a number of things. We do not want others to learn that we succeeded in finding a route to India via Africa. We also want to acquire part of the territories Columbus discovered in the West. We also want to avoid war with Spain over the lands we discovered in western and southern Africa.’
Albuquerque was following everything the representative was saying very carefully. He felt that his future was to be part of this project of exploration and discovery. He looked straight into the representative’s eyes – something that he had not dared to do before out of respect. Albuquerque had spent his entire life in the royal palace, but had always had a profound inferiority complex. He believed that he deserved to be treated like royalty; his father was an illegitimate son of a member of the royal family and had never been recognised. Albuquerque desperately wanted to be part of the king’s inner circle, and he would never achieve that except by leading the expeditions personally sponsored by the king.
Albuquerque had a well-established reputation for being lowly, cruel and wicked. Beside his complexes, he had a face that did not inspire trust: he had a sharp nose between two bulgy eyes that were almost joined together, not unlike a somnolent crocodile’s. He wore a heavy cloak over his shoulders to hide his emaciated body and his scrawny legs.
But Albuquerque had proven his loyalty to the palace, for whose sake he committed many atrocities in North Africa. Thanks to his knowledge, navigational experience and cruelty, he was the person chosen to lead the armada to India now that the first exploratory expeditions were completed.
Albuquerque pulled at his beard as he often did when he was nervous. He asked the representative, ‘My lord, what is the purpose of moving the meridian at the Cape Verde islands to the west? I was told you requested this from the cardinal when I was waiting to be let in.’
The representative smiled before he said, ‘There is a land to the south of the territories Columbus discovered. The meridian will cut through this land, which we want for ourselves. It is not reasonable that they take all those territories, and we come out with nothing.’
Albuquerque thought he had heard enough. He raised the document he was carrying and placed it in front of the representative, and said, ‘My lord, this file contains very valuable information on the route to India. Our government sent spies to study the navigational routes and the regions our ships would have to pass through on the way there. One of our spies, whose name is Covilhã, was able to put it together after travelling across those areas for nearly a year. He delivered it to us through the rabbi of Alexandria. I believe we should set aside the dispute with Spain over the new lands and head east. It is richer than we thought. We have stumbled upon the source of spices. This is a treasure waiting for us to put our hands on!’
The delegate grabbed the guide and turned its pages one by one. He scanned the maps inside it and his face melted into an expression of glee.
– 14 –
Aden, Yemen
From above the city wall, a soldier shouted at the top of his lungs, ‘The Mamluk fleet is here! The Mamluk fleet is here!’
One of the people gathered behind the closed gate of the city shouted back, ‘Are you certain? What flag are the ships flying?’
‘I cannot make it out, sir. They are definitely not Frankish, there are no crosses on their sails!’
A person near the emir below put his hands to his mouth and shouted to the crowd, ‘The emir orders you to wait. It may be a trick by the Portuguese. We will not open the gate until we verify the identity of the ships.’
The crowd waited for a long time behind the gate. Soon they grew restless and began to talk to one another loudly and grumble in a cacophonous whine. From time to time, they peeked at the front, where the emir was standing with his entourage. This made their wait a little more tolerable; the emir was also waiting, and though there was an umbrella over his head shielding him from the blazing sun, he was there with his people.
Emir Murjan al-Zaferi was mounted on a grizzled horse, surrounded by his viziers and advisers. Behind them stood a group of guards armed with pikes, swords and shields and with them, a group of unkempt
soldiers of East African origin. They were bare-chested and barefoot, held short swords and wooden shields, and had hand-catapults wrapped around their heads. Behind them all stood the people of the city. Everyone was waiting for the soldier at the top of the wall to declare the identity of the ship so that the ceremony could begin.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the remainder of the morning fog cleared. The soldier suddenly cried as loud as he could, ‘They are Mamluk ships! I can see their flags. They are yellow and have crescents.’
The soldier had barely finished his sentence when people started cheering and shouting ‘God is great!’ The gate opened with a loud squeak. People hadn’t seen it closed for many years, but they were wary of the Portuguese ships that had started to appear in these waters recently.
People surged out of the gate like water gushing from a small nozzle. They spread out across the port, carrying decorative palm fronds, flags and daggers, and waving coloured banners. They pranced as they walked in the direction of the city, which was now possessed by a rare festive atmosphere.
A boat was dropped from one of the ships, carrying a group of sailors. They rowed towards the shore where the emir was standing. The boat approached the wharf. One of the emir’s bodyguards came and enquired about the commander of the fleet. Hussein identified himself and received an effusive welcome from the soldier, who then took him to Emir Murjan. The two men shook hands as if they were brothers who had been separated for years and were now finally reunited.
The people felt indescribably happy. The Mamluk fleet had come to support them and protect them from the Portuguese ships, which had started harassing these seas of late. People knew many horror stories about how the Portuguese tormented the unfortunate ships in their way and the souls travelling on them.
The situation with the Portuguese was still a mystery. Some saw Portuguese ships as ordinary commercial boats that paid handsomely for spices; others perceived them as aggressive entities that killed and maimed, and blocked trade routes. Those who believed the stories decided to barricade themselves behind city walls, including the people in Aden; other less-concerned cities welcomed the Portuguese as merchants. This continued for a long time even after the incident with the pilgrim ship Maryam, as more and more deadly encounters took place, affecting trade in the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea.
The air was filled with joy and happiness, and hopes that life would soon return to normal. The Mamluk ships were clearly carrying cannons and they almost matched the Portuguese ships in number. This would be enough to cast terror into the hearts of the Christian invaders and force them to depart from these waters, the people thought.
The convoy travelled in the direction of the emir’s castle behind the wall. A group of men herding camels and sheep was waiting for them. As soon as the party dismounted in front of the castle, the men began to slaughter the animals at the guests’ feet in a gesture of hospitality reserved for guests of high stature. The emir smiled when he saw the slaughtered animals’ blood trickling through the sand. The soil beneath them, which otherwise swallowed everything in its path, seemed impervious to the blood that continued to flow in all directions, seeking out the path of least resistance, between the people’s feet. When the sand refused to absorb it, it coagulated into a pool and changed colour, as though the blood had given up.
The emir ordered his vizier to distribute meat from the animals among poor and needy people, and then walked into his castle with his guests. Inside, they all sat on the floor, which was covered with rugs and pillows for their comfort. The windows of the hall were left open to let in the cool, fresh air from the sea. The servants brought fruits and refreshments. The commotion and excitement having now subsided, the emir struck up a conversation with Hussein.
‘Our soldiers on the west coast alerted us of your arrival after you stopped in Mocha to re-supply. We have been waiting for you. Your presence is welcome news. The situation here has not been very good since the Portuguese appeared near our shores. Our trade has declined and we have become prisoners within the walls of Aden, behind a gate that we had almost never closed before.’
Hussein knew in detail what Yemen was going through. He knew about its crises, which had been made worse by the Portuguese arrival. Yemen was ruled by Sultan Amer al-Taheri, who was dealing with a rebellion led by Imam Sharaf al-Din Yahya. Recently, Sultan Amer was able to defeat his foe after he laid siege to Sana’a, and exiled the imam to Taiz where he placed him under house arrest.
The relentless civil war had drained Yemen’s energy, claimed countless lives and created a rift in the sultanate. And the movement led by Imam Yahya advocating the doctrine of Zaidism* found many followers in northern Yemen, creating an undeclared dividing line between north and south.
Because of all these circumstances, Hussein did not expect much from Emir Murjan, the prince of Aden who owed his allegiance to Sultan Amer. But it was enough for the Mamluk fleet to feel it had a safe base at the mouth of the Red Sea to re-supply and repair its ships when needed.
Hussein replied to the emir’s comment with a faint, diplomatic smile, and said, ‘The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness. The trip from Jeddah was tiring. The entrance to the Red Sea as you must know is very dangerous. We had to re-supply in Mocha, and rested for a few days before we sailed south to Aden. Your generosity and hospitality have left us at a loss for words.’
Hussein was careful and did not want to divulge his precise plans. But the emir’s questions forced him to disclose some information. Ultimately, Emir Murjan was a good ally and could be trusted and relied upon at this stage.
‘What are your plans now, Hussein Pasha?’
Hussein reached for the glass of water in front of him and took a sip. The water was fragrant and sweet. Hussein did not know what had been added to it but he did not ask.
The emir noticed that the pasha liked the taste of the rose-water-flavoured drink, and ordered another to be brought for him. The pasha was pleased. ‘Sultan al-Ghawri ordered me to fight and destroy the Portuguese fleet at sea. We’re on our way to India. The sultans there have asked for our help to repel the Portuguese invasion of their country. We shall stay with you for a few days to rest and re-supply and then we will resume our journey.’
The pasha took another sip of water then continued. ‘Your Highness, I want you to provide me with a guide who is familiar with the route to India. This is the first time our ships will be sailing to those parts. We are not very familiar with the route and its dangers.’
The emir raised both hands. ‘Most certainly, Hussein Pasha. You are among your people now. We will give you everything you need to ensure your mission will be a success. As you can see, your presence here has brought joy and relief, rare sentiments these days. Consider all your wishes granted. You need only to ask.’
The emir, in an attempt to reassure Hussein further, added, ‘Our ships travel often to India and China. We have skilled sailors and seasoned merchants who have settled in Java and the city of Zaitoun in China and other eastern cities. We have lost contact with them as the maritime routes have been cut off by the Portuguese. We live on trade in this city, Hussein Pasha, and if trade collapses, we collapse.’
Hussein Pasha did not understand what the emir meant. ‘Where are those cities? Are they close to India?’
‘No, they are very far east. You would need six months to get there. Zaitoun is almost at the far end of the world, and there is nothing beyond it except the magical land of Waq-Waq. What is strange is that Zaitoun, the city of olives, has no olives, and its people do not even know what olives are.’
‘Then why is it called Zaitoun?’ Hussein asked in astonishment.
‘I think the Arab merchants gave it that name and it just stuck. The Chinese call it by another name, Guangzhou.’
The conversation between the two men went on for some time, branching into other matters, until food was served. Trays carrying meat and bread were distributed among the guests. The smell of barbecued food wafted through t
he hall. People gathered outside the castle and food was distributed among them too. No belly was left empty that day.
Suddenly, without warning, a Mamluk sailor cried, ‘Long live Sultan al-Ghawri! May God grant him victory over his enemies!’
Anger flared among the Yemenis, who could not understand how the Mamluk sailor had the gall to pray for the Mamluk sultan when he was eating food provided by the sultan of Yemen. Some Yemeni soldiers tried to silence him, while others cried back, ‘Long live the sultan of Yemen! It is he whom we must thank!’
Angry voices rose on both sides. It seemed that a crisis was about to break out, but Emir Murjan was able to contain it. He did not lose his smile throughout, though he could not hide his annoyance completely. Suddenly, Hussein Pasha cried vociferously in support of Sultan al-Ghawri, praying for victory for him against his enemies as well. Emir Murjan was taken aback by Hussein’s behaviour. To him, it was not acceptable for anyone to eat his sultan’s food and yet pray for another. Murjan wondered silently why Hussein had acted in this manner, and whether it was all a message meant for the emir.
Murjan decided not to speak his mind. He did not understand what had happened but seemed ready to accept any explanation that might be given to him.
After the food was cleared, a servant came carrying a large pot that gave off a strange, pleasant smell. He poured from the pot a black liquid in cups that he offered to all the guests present. The guests raised the cups to their noses and took a whiff of the drink, trying to identify it. For their part, the Yemenis sipped the drink slowly, enjoying its taste and smell, as they chatted with one another.
Hussein asked his host about the drink. Murjan replied, ‘We call it coffee. Have you not tasted it before? Go on, try it.’
Hussein brought his cup close to his mouth and took a small nip. His face changed, his lips contracted and he frowned as though he had tasted something foul.
The Holy Sail Page 13