Emir Murjan laughed out loud. He then explained to his guest the characteristics of the drink, how its ingredients were extracted and how it was prepared. ‘You will come to like it, Hussein Pasha. You just have to get used to it.’
In the evening, Hussein left his hosts and returned to his ship. He declined the emir’s invitation to spend the night at his palace, preferring to be with his men. The small boats bringing supplies from the shore to the ships continued to shuttle back and forth throughout the night. The city’s gates were open now, and celebrations in the port continued until the early hours of the morning.
The emir remained in his majlis that night too, celebrating with the people. Delegations of well-wishers came one after the other, until the receptions wound down and the majlis was finally empty. At that moment, one of those present approached the emir and asked to speak to him in private.
‘What’s the matter?’ the emir asked. ‘I noticed you were silent all day like you had something on your mind.’
‘Yes, Your Highness. I have been waiting for everyone to leave to share my thoughts with you.’
After looking around to make sure no one else was listening, he continued, ‘Your Highness, you have allowed the Mamluk fleet to dock at the port of Aden and celebrated its arrival. You have re-supplied it from the sultan’s warehouses, and you will send with the Mamluk ships a guide to show them the route to India. However, allow me to remind you of what Hussein Pasha did in Jeddah. He enslaved its people and forced them to build its wall, and confiscated the possessions of the city’s merchants.’
He paused for a moment to see what effect his revelations had on the emir, and then continued. ‘I’m afraid he may try to control Aden and do the same things here.’
He felt that he now had the emir’s full attention. ‘My opinion, Your Highness, is that we should give their ships enough supplies to reach India but not make any other commitments. We must get rid of them as soon as possible, because if they overpower us, we will become their servants. They could take our money, or, at the very least, they could force us to pay tax to Sultan al-Ghawri!’
The emir recalled what Hussein had done at dinner. ‘Why did you not alert me to this before they got here?’
‘I had heard you give orders to honour them, show them hospitality and celebrate their arrival. I did not want to spoil that for you with my suspicions. But I believe it is not yet too late, and that you can still deal with the matter prudently. We just want them to leave as quickly as possible.’
‘But what about the Portuguese?’ the emir asked. ‘What if they appear on our shores? Who will fight them if not the Mamluks?’
The man grinned, as though he had been anticipating this question. ‘I heard what Hussein Pasha said, Your Highness. He said that he had orders to fight the Portuguese at sea, that he was going to India for this purpose.’ He paused briefly. ‘Let him do that, but not in our waters. Let him fight them there. The battles will weaken both sides, and our port, ships and money would be spared if neither Hussein Pasha occupies our land nor the Portuguese destroy our ships.’
After he uttered this sentence, he set his gaze on the emir, trying to divine what impact his words would have on him.
The emir remained silent. His eyes glistened and he started fiddling with the edge of the carpet. He finally said, ‘I think you are right. Do not open the port for their ships if they return!’
– 15 –
The Arabian Gulf
The wind was still, forcing the sailors to use oars to push their boats out of Salwa Bay and into the open sea, where the wind was more favourable. Once they detected an air stream, they lifted the oars. The ships proceeded north to circumnavigate the Qatar Peninsula en route to Julfar.
The Arabian flotilla did not remain anchored for long in Julfar. There were clear orders given to the men to stay on the ships. The ships were re-supplied quickly. Thirty more ships joined the fleet along with 600 men, and within two days the ships set off to Hormuz.
Salghur stood near the bow of the command ship, holding on to the mast and looking in the direction of the ship’s sailing path. He filled his lungs with fresh sea air, which he had long missed. None of the sailors on the ship knew this man to whom Bin Rahhal showed great respect, why he was the first to be served with food and water, and why his companions made sure all his requests were granted. But the sailors were not the inquisitive type, and did not ask about or care to find out his identity, though they did gossip about him after dark when they knew no one was listening.
Two days later, Bin Rahhal felt they were about to reach the eastern coast of Jesm island. It was night time, and he decided to meet with Salghur. He lit a lamp and laid out a map of the Gulf containing the locations of the islands there and an approximate layout of the port of Hormuz.
Bin Rahhal laughed and said, ‘Soon I won’t be the only one to address you as “Your Majesty”, because in a few hours, you will officially be king again.’
Salghur replied with a smile. ‘I am very eager to hear that title again. I would have forgotten it had you not reminded me from time to time.’ His face assumed a more serious expression, as he glanced at the map in front of him. ‘Let me brief you on some things you need to know before we get to Hormuz. The port is guarded by about 2,000 guards, including 500 Persian archers. Their job is to protect the two ports day and night. Around forty oared galleys are stationed in the eastern port and can move even when the wind is calm. The western port is for smaller ships that sail within the Gulf or to Hormuz’s possessions in Oman.’
Salghur lifted his gaze and looked in Bin Rahhal’s eyes before continuing. ‘There is a lighthouse at the northernmost point of the island. Soldiers light a fire at the top of the structure after sundown. The fire is not put out until sunrise the following morning. It illuminates a large area around the two ports and guides ships into harbour. We must be very careful not to be spotted by its light at night.
‘There are around 3,000 fighters stationed around the island, some guarding the water reservoirs in the south, some guarding the king’s palace, and others deployed along the coast opposite the Persian mainland near the lighthouse. These men are loyal to the king no matter who the king is. They will keep fighting until they feel the king is defeated, and then they will serve the new king. The element of surprise is our best weapon. We are greatly outnumbered, but they are far from the king’s palace, which could give us an advantage.’
Salghur’s face gleamed in the torchlight. There was tension in his voice and sweat glistened on his forehead. For him, these were crucial moments that could either put him back on the throne or sentence him to death after his eyes had been gouged out – the favourite punishment exacted by the kings of Hormuz against their rivals.
Bin Rahhal read it all in Salghur’s face and tone. He summoned his commanders from the other ships, and moments later the ships converged and the commanders jumped into Bin Rahhal’s boat. He was waiting for them while sipping the date juice he so loved.
They all gathered around the map laid on the deck floor. Bin Rahhal looked them in the eyes one by one to make sure he had their full attention before he spoke. ‘Listen to my every word. The hours ahead will be decisive. We will make our landing at dawn tomorrow. Until then, I want our ships to stick together as closely as possible so we can make a quick, combined and synchronised landing. I don’t want to see any fires lit after sunset tomorrow.
‘The crescent will appear tomorrow night. When the moon is midway in the sky, we will go to the beach and break up into two parties. The ships that came from Salwa will go to the eastern port. Those that came from Julfar will go to the western port. As soon as the ships reach their targets, we will disembark and seize the ports. I will choose one hundred fighters whose mission it will be to storm the palace. We expect resistance from the palace guards, so this group will hold them off until reinforcements arrive from the ports.’
He looked at the faces of his commanders again to make sure they were listen
ing, and then resumed, ‘The group that will take the eastern port must put out the lighthouse beacon to prevent any other ships from docking, until we are fully in control of the island.’ Bin Rahhal grabbed his sword to drive his point home. ‘Kill anyone who resists you. You must be quick. We won’t have much time. The element of surprise will be our only weapon, but without haste there will be no surprise.’
On the following day, ghostly shapes appeared on the horizon far from the island, approaching ominously. No one saw the ships, and no one was expecting them. Before dawn, they moved stealthily towards their targets until they reached the harbour.
One guard finally spotted them, appearing to him like beasts that had just surfaced from the depths of the sea. ‘It’s a raid! It’s a raid! To arms!’
The ships rammed the wharf with great force. The soldiers jumped off shouting battle cries but resistance was not as fierce as they had expected. Everyone, including the guards, had been asleep. Those who did try to resist were soon silenced by piercing spears thrust at them from the darkness.
Bin Rahhal’s men ran in all directions. They put out the fire at the lighthouse, plunging the two ports into pitch darkness. As the fighting moved into the main gate of the king’s palace, people started to wake up as if from a dream; all Hormuzis felt something strange was afoot. Some came out into the streets in their sleeping clothes trying to find out what was going on. They heard sporadic screams from different directions in the city. When they noticed there was no fire lit at the lighthouse, they decided the problem must have something to do with the port; they lost interest and many returned to bed.
The fighting between the attackers and the defenders in front of the palace gate grew fiercer. Reinforcements came quickly for both sides as the battle intensified. People heard the fighting and saw the fires the attackers had started at the main gate of the palace. Rumours spread like wildfire: some thought the Safavids were invading the city, some thought the king’s brothers were staging a coup against him. Many people decided on account of these rumours to barricade themselves and their families into their homes, take their swords out and sit waiting for the dust to settle.
By sunrise, everything was clear. The palace gate had been burned down and there was now a big gap in its place. Corpses sprawled in the front yard. The port was deserted, as merchants kept their distance from the shore fearing their ships would be burned or seized. As people started taking stock of what had happened in the latter hours of the night, life began to gradually return to the city. If the king was gone a new one would soon replace him; the Hormuzis did not care much for such events, which they were used to by now.
Inside the palace, Bin Rahhal sat in the grand majlis. He had a superficial knife wound on one of his arms and a physician was treating him with herbs and ointments; the two men were surrounded by a group of Bin Rahhal’s soldiers and aides.
An exuberant Salghur was sitting on the throne which had been his father’s throne before him, in the middle of the majlis. At the top of its headrest a beautifully inscribed Quranic verse read: Authority belongs to none but God. Each armrest of the throne was decorated with the face of a lion, with large agate stones placed in its open jaws. All of the late king’s sons had sat on this throne, and now it was Salghur’s turn to sit on it again.
While the king sat on the throne, Bin Rahhal began running the kingdom from where he was sitting, on the floor. Bin Rahhal did not stop issuing orders. The physician finished bandaging him, and lowered his arm slowly. He looked at the dressing and then asked Salghur, ‘Where is Vays now?’
‘I think he’s hiding somewhere in the palace,’ Salghur replied with feigned nonchalance. ‘He has nowhere else to go. If he is not here then he could be with the Persian brigade he hired to protect him. Have you heard anything? He could cause us some trouble if we don’t take care of him.’
Bin Rahhal was still examining his bandages. ‘Our soldiers had the Persians surrounded. They surrendered and asked to be returned to the Persian mainland. They have been taken care of, but your brother was definitely not with them.’ Bin Rahhal cried out to the guards, ‘Look for Vays now, quickly. I think he is in the palace. I don’t want him to escape.’
The vizier took his sword and joined the search.
The soldiers fanned out across the palace, moving furniture and looking for secret hiding places. They would put a few men to guard the entrance of a room or a hall, and proceed to search it, before they moved to the next place, each time tapping the floors and the walls with their swords, looking for a secret door.
They reached a staircase leading to an upper room that the king used as his majlis in the summer. They found Vays hiding there, behind a pile of discarded chairs, trembling in fear.
A few minutes later, Vays was brought before Bin Rahhal. Salghur watched from his throne, a vengeful smile crossing his face. Bin Rahhal did not want the charade to last too long, and, addressing Vays, said, ‘We will not carry out the sentence usually given to treasonous Hormuzi kings. We will not gouge out your eyes and throw you in a dungeon until you rot and die. We shall exile you to India where you may take some of your servants. King Salghur will send you a monthly salary so you can live in dignity, providing that you pledge never to return here.’
The guards pulled Shah Vays by his arm to carry out the sentence. Bin Rahhal turned to Salghur, and in an attempt to pre-empt any protest by the restored king, said, ‘I think you should have a grand ceremony for your coronation. Let people near and far know you have returned. You must take pledges of allegiance from those around you.’ Bin Rahhal gave Salghur a smile that the new king understood very well. ‘Though I think oaths of allegiance are now meaningless formalities.’
Salghur was not pleased with the quick sentence Bin Rahhal had handed to his brother. In his view, it was too lenient and not commensurate with his brother’s betrayal. But he felt that Bin Rahhal was not going to let him dispute his decision.
Bin Rahhal removed his turban and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He then ordered his commanders to quickly fetch Khawaja Attar. Attar was going to be the actual ruler of the island, and he had to know what had happened and to whom the credit should go for restoring Salghur to his throne.
The servants in Attar’s house heard knocking on the door. When they opened it they saw a group of palace guards accompanied by masked Arab soldiers. The servant who opened the door was uncertain of what had happened in the king’s palace, but the news that came from the streets was that there had been a coup against Vays staged by one of his brothers, and that there was fierce fighting in the palace with the outcome not yet known.
The shaken servant went to Attar. His daughter, Halima, was sitting next to him. ‘My lord, there are soldiers outside, from the king’s guard I think. They have with them a group of foreign Arab soldiers that I have never seen before.’
The servant paused and gulped, reluctant to continue. ‘They are asking for you, my lord.’
– 16 –
Lisbon, Portugal
The weather in Lisbon was misty and overcast. Rain droplets were suspended in the air, seemingly unsure of whether to fall or remain afloat, though sooner or later they made their way onto people’s faces and bodies. Everything was damp: clothes, shoes and hats, and even the decorative flags were wet and heavy and flapped with great effort. Making matters worse, a north wind blew from time to time, carrying more drizzle and dankness. There were no dry spots; the wind carried the droplets everywhere, under the tents and between the clothes, as though deliberately chasing those trying to shelter themselves from the wetness.
A crowd gathered to bid farewell to Albuquerque’s fleet, which was scheduled to set sail that day. Clammy malodorous bodies rubbed against one another as they tried to see the king, who was expected to come to the port for the send-off of his large armada bound for India.
It was the largest armada the king had ever sent to the East. The wealthiest people in Europe had helped build it, convinced the return on investment wo
uld be many times more than the capital they had pledged, when Portugal finally seized the source of spices and secured a monopoly over this precious commodity. The fleet’s mission was to raise the king’s banner on all territories made his possession under the Treaty of Tordesillas. The financing and the costly construction of the armada were done in secrecy, but that phase was now completed, and everyone was eager to get their share of the coveted treasures of the orient.
There were sixteen caravels* moored in the port. Their sides were bumping against the wharf, making a jarring noise. The caravels were like beasts in captivity waiting to be unleashed on their prey, but the thick mooring ropes kept them restrained for now. The seagulls hovering above could not tell the ships apart from the fishing boats. They screeched from the top of the masts and flew in circles around them, expecting food that would never come. Unlike the waves moving nervously underneath the ships, rocking them in a brisk and ungraceful fashion, the wind was mostly idle at that moment, blowing only in random gusts.
The caravels had proven their reliability and strength in the open sea. They had deeper hulls and structures that could accommodate a larger crew and more cargo and guns. Numerous modifications had been made to the new models, based on feedback from previous expeditions. The new caravels were nearly perfect, needing no additions or modifications. They were the pride of the Portuguese nation that made them, as Portuguese sailors boasted. The caravels were built from only the best timber. Their guns were mounted over wheeled frames to absorb recoil when firing. The new ships also had more room for water, gunpowder and cannonballs, making their size, strength and firepower second to none.
On the wharf, a special throne was brought for the king, and alongside it chairs for the princes, noblemen and commanders. Torches were lit around them, and the guards lined up in a ceremonial formation. Conjurers entertained the crowd before the king and his entourage arrived, but the heavy stench of dampness made worse by the wet climate continued to weigh on everybody’s mood, and the incense burners failed to mask it.
The Holy Sail Page 14