The Holy Sail

by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  On the way to Attar’s majlis, Bin Rahhal was hoping Halima would be there, waiting for him. He could no longer bear being apart from her even for a few hours, now that she haunted him constantly. His life had become more joyful ever since she took off her veil that first day. All the bloodshed he had seen and the death he had brushed against since he set foot on Hormuz was now insignificant compared to the striking beauty of her eyes. Sometimes he even wondered whether she was a human or a fairy. Whatever the case, Bin Rahhal doubted he could now live away from the woman who had stolen his heart and enthralled his mind.

  As Bin Rahhal sat at Attar’s majlis, Halima entered bringing date juice and plates of dried fruits. She was not wearing the veil this time. Bin Rahhal took a good look at her to get his fill; this could well be the last time he saw her.

  ‘I want to congratulate you on the return of King Salghur to the throne, Master Vizier. This would not have happened were it not for your careful planning and diligent work to smuggle him out of prison,’ Bin Rahhal began.

  Bin Rahhal was noticeably nervous. He had no idea whether Halima was married or betrothed to another. He was not sure whether Attar would agree for her to marry him. It was a gamble: he could either ask for her hand, or he could try to forget her for the rest of his life, and regret it.

  Bin Rahhal did not listen to Attar, who was thanking him for his courage and leadership. When the Hormuzi vizier paused, Bin Rahhal made his move, unsure whether this was the opportune moment or not.

  ‘Your Excellency, might I have the honour of asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage?’

  Attar had not expected such a request. He was pleased that Bin Rahhal was visiting his home, for this would increase his influence under the new king – influence that he sorely needed, having lost it with the previous monarch. Attar asked Bin Rahhal for some time to consult with Halima.

  After Bin Rahhal left, Attar summoned his daughter. ‘Bin Rahhal has asked for your hand in marriage. What do you think?’

  Halima was shocked by the marriage proposal. She admired Bin Rahhal for his role in bringing things back to normal on the island. But she did not know how she should answer her father; she certainly had never considered Bin Rahhal as a husband. ‘I have not thought about this, Father. I don’t think I could leave you and the island. No, I don’t want to marry him. I don’t know him.’

  Attar put his hand on Halima’s shoulder, trying to calm her. He thought she had answered too hastily and he did not want that. ‘Think about the matter carefully, Halima. Give yourself time to think. Do not rush your decisions.’

  Attar would not have said this had he not known the marriage would help him manage Hormuz better. He knew King Salghur was weak-willed and that it was he who had to govern. Attar’s name had been associated with Hormuz since the time of Salghur’s father. He also needed a military force by his side to protect the kingdom’s possessions across the western shore of the Gulf, and an alliance by marriage with a leader like Bin Rahhal would bolster his status and help consolidate his power in Hormuz and beyond.

  Attar stood, placing his hand on his daughter’s head. ‘Think about it, my child.’

  He then departed, leaving Halima by herself.

  Her maid Farah came, and sat in front of her examining her pale face. ‘I heard what your father told you. Tell me about him, Halima. I know you better than anyone else in the world. Maybe I can help you make a decision.’

  Halima gave a deep sigh. She had an almost glazed look in her eyes. ‘I don’t know, Farah. It would be hard for me to abandon my father, the island I love and the home where I have spent all my life, and leave it all behind to go to another place where I don’t know anyone and where I don’t belong!’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, Halima. Describe Bin Rahhal as you’ve seen him!’

  ‘I’ve seen him with two different looks. Which one do you want?’

  ‘I want the last one. That was the look he wanted you to see.’

  ‘He’s in his mid-thirties. He has a brownish complexion, a thick moustache and a beard that he trimmed recently. This time – thank God – he did not wear any kohl! He’d also unbraided his hair – I didn’t like it when it was braided – and I felt he looked more attractive than the first time I saw him.’

  ‘How did he address you and your father?’

  ‘He didn’t change the way he spoke to my father, either on the first or second time. He was polite and friendly, making eye contact with the people he was addressing and replying calmly as though he had thought carefully about what he said. He was not in a hurry to talk.’

  ‘Listen to me, Halima. The decision to marry or not to marry Bin Rahhal is yours alone. All your father and I can do is give advice, so hear me well.’ Farah continued, ‘Bin Rahhal brought armed men to the island and restored King Salghur to the throne. He will be the actual ruler on the island as long as he stays here. And yet we never heard once that he was rude to the king or your father. Rather, he came to your house politely and asked for your hand. He could have made threats to get his way, but he didn’t. Think about it, Halima.’

  Farah was of average beauty and slightly taller than Halima. Farah knew no one who was as close to her as Halima. Attar had bought Farah, now in her thirties, from an Indian slaver when she was less than ten years old. He raised her at his home like a daughter. From childhood, she wished to marry a merchant and start a family with him, and to have her own house. Her memories about her birthplace and family were now like a distant dream, slowly fading from her recollection, but she was still able to reach back and retrieve them from complete oblivion from time to time.

  Halima thought about the matter for several days, wavering between accepting and rejecting Bin Rahhal’s marriage proposal. Her temptation to refuse came from her emotions, her love for her father and her concern he would be all alone if she left. And her temptation to accept was driven by her intellect and reason and her father’s judgement.

  Halima eventually made up her mind. She realised that if she continued to think she would be thinking to no end; the competition between her emotions and her reason would only be settled by making a decision.

  She went to her father’s favourite spot on the balcony overlooking the sea. Halima lifted his feet, put them on her lap and massaged them, while giving her father a loving, caring smile. Attar gave her a look of fatherly love that always warmed her heart. ‘It’s nice to see you smile, Halima. I have tried not to disturb you for a few days so that I didn’t influence your decision. What’s making you smile today?’

  Feeling a little embarrassed, she lowered her eyes.

  Attar laughed mischievously and continued. ‘I thought you hated the Jabrids, being rough-cut Bedouins.’

  Halima looked at her father’s feet between her hands, trying to avoid his eyes. ‘I was wrong. I will agree to the marriage if you judge it to be right. I think you will agree that we will not find a better man.’

  Attar knew that it was Halima’s mind, not her heart, which was speaking. He felt that her consent was for political and rational reasons that had more to do with him and Hormuz. Still, Attar had become well acquainted with Bin Rahhal over the past few days and he was certain Halima would learn to love him after she got to know him better.

  He put his hand on her head and caressed her before he said in a sad and quiet tone, ‘So you will abandon me and leave me alone to go with him. There will be a whole sea between us!’

  Halima broke into tears. She pulled her hand off his feet to wipe a tear from her cheek. She said in a quavering voice, ‘I wish Bin Rahhal could live with us in Hormuz, but I think that’s impossible. The distance will still be short between us, Father, won’t it? It must be only a two-day journey. You can come and visit us or we can visit you. And if you want me to stay with you, I will, gladly.’

  Attar held her chin, lifted her face up and saw her tearful eyes. ‘If you are happy then I am happy, Halima. God bless you. I will tell Bin Rahhal that I have agreed to the marr
iage.’

  Halima stood on her feet and hugged her father tightly, in a way that suggested to him that she was happy with the decision. She then ran out of the majlis to where Farah was waiting, and hugged her in turn.

  Farah did not let go of her mistress until she made her promise she would take her wherever she went.

  ‘Would I ever be able to be apart from you, even for a day, Farah? You’re insane if you think I could live without you!’

  Farah took her mistress’s hand and kissed it, tears rolling down from her eyes onto Halima’s hands, before she reluctantly let go.

  The marriage celebrations were held in the royal palace and attended by the dignitaries and merchants of Hormuz. The streets were lit and decorated, and sheep were slaughtered for the guests. The marriage ceremony doubled as the coronation of the new King Salghur, who sat beside Bin Rahhal to receive congratulations and blessings.

  The well-wishers queued in a long line that started from the palace’s outer gates and ended at the court. People wore their best garments, and erupted into dance in the space between the city and the port. Bin Rahhal’s soldiers celebrated by performing a sword dance traditional in Najd, and crowds gathered around them trying to see what the men who had toppled their previous king looked like. Near them, others performed a traditional Hormuzi dance.

  With nightfall, the music died down and the crowds moved to the beach to sit in small circles, enjoying the breeze. Later in the night, an owl landed on the palace wall, and hooted several times before it flew off. Halima and Bin Rahhal were experiencing the sweetest moments of their lives, forgetting that the world never tired of coming up with new evils with each sunrise.

  – 19 –

  Mozambique

  Albuquerque’s journey was not easy. His armada had to weather fierce storms and violent currents as he circled the southern tip of Africa. There were mutinies on some of the ships by sailors who were petrified by the prospect of being so far from home. They were not used to sailing this deep into the mysterious, terrifying sea. They had heard stories about monsters that emerged from the ocean to claim sailors and take them to unfathomable depths, never to return, and creatures that had tentacles with which they squeezed the life out of their unsuspecting victims. The uncharted sea, the distance from Portugal, and the uncertain future made the sailors edgy and prone to rebellion.

  Nothing suggested Albuquerque would be dissuaded from pressing ahead, however. His life now depended on the success of this mission. He repressed the mutineers harshly. Albuquerque ordered the ringleaders to be beheaded, and bound the rest with iron chains on the ship’s deck for days under the sun, until hunger and thirst got the better of them. Albuquerque instructed his men not to assist them, and even to spit on them and insult them whenever they passed near the mutineers. He did not allow them to be unchained until one of them succumbed and died, and the rest were on the cusp of dying. This was the only way Albuquerque could prevent future rebellions.

  Albuquerque completed the turn around the southern tip of Africa. His armada was now sailing parallel to the east coast of the continent. The sea was calm and jungles started appearing again, and green mountains behind them. Albuquerque’s crew expected to find ports nearby, but all they saw were long stretches of uninhabited beaches with no signs of life. Their eyes remained fixed on the spots where the greenery met the water, but for days on end the shores they passed had no traces of humans or animals.

  A week later, they spotted a small dreamy settlement on an island close to the mainland. Wooden dhows* of various sizes and shapes were floating opposite the island. The sandy beach was quiet and serene. Fishermen were busy cleaning their fishing nets and drying their catch. Behind them was a market selling fruits and vegetables, just in front of the town’s stone buildings. The town appeared neat and well organised; each house had a small garden planted with flowers and some fruit trees, all overlooking interconnected streets that sprawled onto the beach.

  Albuquerque ordered his men to douse the ships’ immense sails to reduce their speed. As soon as the ships came directly in front of the town, he shouted to the seamen to drop anchor, and asked his deputy Miguel to search for the settlement’s name in Covilhã’s guide.

  The villagers began to gather on the beach to take a look at the huge Portuguese ships. Suddenly, everyone broke into dancing and singing, waving tree branches. Albuquerque and his crew did not understand what was happening. He ordered his men to prepare to fight and prime the cannons, and asked Miguel whether he had found out any information about the island yet.

  ‘Nothing, sir. There’s no mention of this town in the dreaded dossier!’

  ‘Fine. Make a mark of its location on the map. We will enquire about its name later.’

  Behind the crowds, a canvas umbrella appeared to be moving, surrounded by a group of guards. They made their way to the shore and then boarded a small boat. The party rowed in the direction of Albuquerque’s flagship. Everyone followed the boat with their eyes until it reached the ship. Albuquerque’s men then dropped a rope ladder, and minutes later, the sultan of the island and his entourage were face to face with the Portuguese.

  Albuquerque summoned Miguel, who was fluent in Arabic, to interpret and mediate with the sultan.

  The sultan wore a friendly smile and welcomed his guests. ‘Peace, mercy and the blessings of God be upon you. Welcome to our country, the country of Musa bin Bek. I am one of his descendants and the sultan of this land.’

  The sultan gave Albuquerque a long colourful string of prayer beads. ‘This is my own misbahah. I give it as a gift to you. May it help you praise God after every prayer.’

  Albuquerque took the misbahah and asked the sultan about the name of the town again. ‘It is Musa bin Bek, commander. Musa bin Bek.’ He enunciated the name slowly for Albuquerque to understand it.

  Miguel said enthusiastically, ‘I have written it down, my lord. M-u-s-a, b-i-n, B-e-k.’

  The sultan gestured to a member of his entourage, who came forward carrying gifts of fruits, vegetables, china and jewellery, along with small prayer mats, fabrics and an assortment of spices. He offered the gifts to Albuquerque.

  Albuquerque opened the bags containing spices. He sniffed them, then dipped his finger to taste them. ‘Where do you get these?’

  The sultan answered him with a smile that bordered on outright laughter. ‘From India of course! It is the only source of spices that we know of!’

  ‘Do you sail from here directly to India to import them?’

  The sultan pointed at the ships anchored off the island-town and said, ‘These ships cannot sail there directly, of course. They sail from here to Zanzibar, and from there, to Mogadishu, and then Aden. When they arrive in Aden, they have practically arrived in India, given how close it is.’

  The sultan of Musa bin Bek noticed how curious Albuquerque was about the spices, and thought this was because he was fond of them. ‘We have many of these spices, commander; I can give you as many spices as you want. Ships arrive from time to time loaded with them. We sell them to tribes in the African hinterland. They love the taste spices bring to their food, and give us gold, furs, herbs and precious stones in return for them. Sometimes they sell us prisoners they have captured from other tribes as slaves. I will gift you some of them as well if you like. You are our brothers and we shall help you as best as we can.’

  Albuquerque realised there had been a mix-up. The sultan had mistaken them for Muslims, especially since they had furled the large sails displaying the Order of Christ Cross before they dropped anchor. Albuquerque decided to play along with the sultan. The confusion could prove to be advantageous, he thought, and they might just be able to exploit it to re-supply and repair the ships that had sustained damage from the storms and currents they had to sail through in the south. Albuquerque asked Miguel to only translate what he was saying without volunteering to elaborate anything to the sultan.

  One of Albuquerque’s officers brought gifts they had carried with them
from Portugal, and the sultan was pleased. At Miguel’s orders, the seamen lined up in two rows, in their full armour and weapons that they had polished and prepared for such occasions. The sultan, fascinated, inspected the men, especially the muskets they were carrying, which he was wholly unfamiliar with. To demonstrate how they worked, Albuquerque ordered one of his men to load his musket and fire it.

  The sailor turned over the muzzle of his long musket and loaded it with a gunpowder charge. He rolled in a round ball of lead, and followed it with a cotton wad, and then using a ramrod, he rammed the wadding, bullet and powder down the barrel. The sailor aimed the musket at the sea. There was a bird perched on a boat nearby. He fired and a deafening boom followed, almost causing the sultan to fall to the ground. To the sultan’s astonishment, the bird disappeared, leaving behind a few feathers floating about.

  The sultan adjusted his green, gilded turban. He brushed his white robe and rearranged his embroidered waistcoat before he put his hands on his ears, which were now ringing.

  A sardonic smile appeared on Albuquerque’s face. He knew his message had been understood, but he wanted to continue the charade to the end with the poor sultan. ‘We want to supply our ships with food and water for our journey to India. We want you to send sailors with us to show us the way. We are not familiar with these seas.’

  The sultan started regaining his balance, though the ringing in his ears did not stop. He stuck his finger in one and wiggled it around. ‘Certainly. You will get everything you need. You are invited to stay at my palace as my guests. Tomorrow we shall perform the Friday prayer at the grand mosque, and then you can set off to your destination with Godspeed. But how did you come from that direction? I thought the caliph’s soldiers came from the east, navigating parallel to the Nile down from Cairo.’