Preachers in the city’s mosques urged people to be patient and to help fortify and defend the city. A warlike spirit of jihad was kindled quickly among the populace, as the imams and scholars took up arms and were seen sermonising to people while leaning on their swords and spears.
On the following day, as Albuquerque was about to order one of his ships to sail close to the shore to scout the area and test the city’s defences, a Yemeni bunder boat* carrying gifts paddled towards the flagship. One of the men on board requested an audience with Albuquerque.
The deckhands on board the São Gabriel dropped ropes, which the men on the boat used to tie the gifts for the sailors to pull up. They repeated the process several times until everything on the small boat had been transferred to the Portuguese ship. The Yemeni messenger then climbed up and found Albuquerque waiting for him, standing in front of the pile of gifts randomly thrown about on the deck. Albuquerque ignored the messenger’s greeting.
The messenger greeted him again, only to be ignored a second time. Albuquerque’s reptilian eyes were fixated on the messenger, who now felt nervous.
Albuquerque broke his silence. ‘Hear me well, messenger. I want you to take your gifts back where you came from. I will not accept any tributes from your leader until all my demands are met.’
The Yemeni did not move, waiting for Albuquerque to lay out his terms. ‘Your emir must open the city gates, sign the terms of surrender and submit to the king of Portugal. Our forces shall then parade in the city streets and our flag shall fly over the emir’s palace.’ Albuquerque gave him a rare smile before he continued. ‘If he refuses, then we will obliterate the city and extinguish every living soul inside.’
The messenger returned to Emir Murjan with Albuquerque’s demands. The emir realised that war was inevitable, but he wanted to buy himself more time to finish preparing the battlements and fortifications, and to mobilise his men. He asked Albuquerque for more time to consult the city elders and leaders, but the conquistador refused and gave the emir just a few hours to comply.
Albuquerque gave instructions for all sambuks and dhows moored in the harbour to be commandeered and brought close to the armada, meaning to use them to transport soldiers to the coast when needed.
After the ultimatum expired, Albuquerque sent three columns that attacked along three axes, but the small ships he had seized from the port to carry his soldiers were forced to stop short of the coast as the sea had receded. The soldiers had to disembark with their armour, weapons and gear, and swim the distance to the beach, while water leaked into their gunpowder sacks.
The first column made it to the main gate and engaged the defenders there. They could not breach the gate, however, as the Yemenis had built a solid wall behind it. The Portuguese climbed the siege ladders they had brought with them, using their harquebuses to strike anyone in their way. They ascended to the top of the wall and hoisted the Portuguese flag there, and shouted cries of victory to let the other soldiers know they had succeeded in their mission.
The second column led by Albuquerque marched to the right of the main gate. This detachment comprised Albuquerque’s elite soldiers. As they tried to scale the wall together at the same time, the siege ladders broke under the weight of their bodies, armour and weapons. Some soldiers tried to bring more ladders from the first column, but they also broke as the attackers climbed them.
The third column was supposed to use the ladders left behind by the first two once they were successfully over the walls, but there were none left. In the end, they remained at the bottom of the wall, unable to take part in the fighting at the top and on the other side.
The first column began to climb down the other side of the wall, but the Yemeni defenders put up a fierce resistance, forcing the attackers to climb back up. The officer leading the column ordered his retreating soldiers to attack again, raising a cross that was in his hand to encourage them and boost their morale. The soldiers made one battle cry and charged down, pushing the Yemenis back. The Portuguese were able to seize a few homes near the wall, sending terror into the hearts of the Yemenis, some of whom fled away from the wall.
The emir saw the large number of defenders deserting the battle. He wanted to order them to retreat, as he felt the weapons they had were no match for those of the attackers. There were many casualties in the ranks of his army and morale had collapsed, with the city on the verge of falling to Albuquerque. One of the sheikhs by his side urged him to ride his horse and lead the counter-attack, warning him that certain defeat was the only alternative.
The other Portuguese columns had breached parts of the wall and slipped in, and were now supporting the first column. It seemed that the battle was going in their favour until Emir Murjan appeared in the ranks of the defenders on the back of a grey horse. The emir raised his sword, pressing his soldiers to follow his lead to defend their city and their honour.
A fierce battle ensued between the two sides, in which all sorts of weapons were used. The attackers and the defenders fought tooth and nail at close quarters, until the Portuguese were pushed back to the wall, trapped between the Yemenis and the battlement. Some of them were able to climb and jump off, but many Portuguese soldiers died that way or fractured their limbs. The Yemenis climbed the wall behind them, carrying bundles of firewood that they set on fire and threw on the Portuguese, many of whom were immolated.
When Albuquerque saw that his forces were routed and were too exhausted to attack again, he ordered them to retreat. The survivors who could walk used the dhows in the port to return to the armada, but many wounded Portuguese soldiers were left behind to die.
Portuguese cannons shelled Aden for two consecutive days, destroying large parts of the city. Then Albuquerque ordered them to sail away, leaving the defiant city almost razed to the ground.
When the shelling stopped, Emir Murjan began surveying the damage and counting the dead. He found the body of his counsellor who had ordered him not to open Aden’s gates to the Egyptian fleet. His head had been hewn by an axe. The emir was told the man had been trying to flee, carrying some of his precious possessions; the emir could not pause and mourn him, as there were too many dead to grieve for them all.
Albuquerque’s fleet circled the southwestern tip of Yemen and headed north, bypassing the city of Hudaydah and anchoring at Kamaran Island. He told his officers to take a census of the troops and count the casualties after the battle at Aden.
It soon emerged that half of the attacking soldiers had perished during the battle. Albuquerque felt the weight and impact of his rout. A defeatist mindset spread among his soldiers and officers, and morale among his forces hit rock bottom. Albuquerque wanted to restore their dignity and infuse in them faith in themselves, and gave them two days to rest and recuperate on this remote island.
*
On the day he decided to address his soldiers, Albuquerque made sure copious amounts of food and ale were distributed among them. When evening came and temperatures dropped a little, he ordered his aides-de-camp to set up a platform near a large cross that the fleet’s masons were able to fashion out of trees found on the island. Albuquerque wanted his soldiers to forget what had happened to them at the walls of Aden, and he saw no better way to achieve that than with food and wine.
After he let them eat, drink and revel for some time, Albuquerque ascended the platform. He looked at his soldiers for a few moments without saying anything. Then he declaimed, ‘O soldiers of Great King Manuel, we have a sacred mission ahead of us, a mission that will change the course of history. Any sacrifice we offer pales in comparison to our noble goal, to raise the Holy Cross high and purge the Earth of all heretics.’ The soldiers roared after each sentence Albuquerque uttered, especially upon mention of the cross, the heretics and the king – words that brought out the worst kinds of frenzied fervour in them.
‘In the past few months, the sultan of Egypt wrote to the Pope threatening to burn the Church of the Holy Sepulchre if Portugal did not stop sending fleets
to spread Christianity in these parts. This heretic sultan does not know that all these lands and the people on them belong to the king of Portugal and his descendants under the Treaty of Tordesillas, which the Pope has blessed until the Day of Resurrection.’
The soldiers clamoured and cheered for the king and Christianity. Priests made passes around them waving their thuribles and crosses to create an atmosphere of divinity during the conquistador’s speech. The moment for Albuquerque to divulge his plan had arrived.
‘We have two objectives: declare the Red Sea a Christian lake and then conquer the port of Yanbu, and proceed from there to Medina where the prophet of the Mohammedans is buried. We will open the tomb and exchange its contents for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre that Sultan al-Ghawri controls.
‘We will not allow anyone to threaten our holy realm. We shall bring one million Christians to these parts, to work under Prester John. They will divert the Nile to the sea, bringing famine and drought to Egypt. After we destroy the sultanate and its people, we will restore the Nile to its original course, for the land with all its bounty shall be ours!’
The troops cheered Albuquerque’s diabolical plan hysterically. They knelt in front of him when he raised a cross to remind them what they were fighting for. The priests sprinkled holy water on the soldiers to cleanse them of their sins, turning the secluded island into a giant, outdoor church. The warrior-worshippers then took turns blessing the cross in whose name they had slain scores and destroyed entire cities.
Several days later, the weather began to turn. Dark clouds gathered over the island and a northerly gale tossed everything in its path. The Portuguese armada was paralysed. Sails were ripped and some ships were forced south. The sea became dangerously choppy, and some ships that ran aground crashed against the rocks.
The Portuguese were stranded on the island. Soon, food and water supplies ran low. Some sailors saw this as a sign from God telling them not to move forward with their plan.
Dysentery spread among the sailors. Some of the food had rotted from being stored in bad conditions for too long or because it had been damaged by leaks caused by the rough weather. Albuquerque ordered his few remaining healthy soldiers to erect a large wooden cross on the island and bury whomever died during the storm underneath.
When the storm abated, the ships were able to sail again, heading south this time. The sailors kept their eyes fixed on the large cross they left behind on the island, towering above many of their fallen comrades. Albuquerque thought about trying to conquer Aden again, but his troops resisted. They had lost hope, and saw the raging storm that had hit them as a divine warning, a sign of the wrath of the god of the Mohammedans. The battered armada sailed past Aden on its way back to Hormuz. The city was in ruins, but it was ready to defend itself once again if needed.
– 32 –
Bahrain
Over the next few days, Halima visited Farah’s tomb often. The grave was dug under the shade of a sidra tree on the left side of her home. It was a simple grave, marked by two small tombstones, one of which Halima wrapped with a green cover. Halima laid palm fronds over the tomb that she replaced whenever they dried and faded.
She would leave the house each morning and sit on a rock by the grave. She often cried until her tears no longer came, and then returned home.
Halima spoke to no one, and isolated herself from people. She learned from her servants that people were gossiping about her, saying she had sold her honour to Emir Nasser. Halima felt that she hated everyone and everything, and she no longer trusted anyone. Her life became bleak. She had become a prisoner in her claustrophobic home, and she could no longer feel alive. Oddly, Farah’s grave became more welcoming than anywhere else, and it was the only place she could air some of her emotions, grief and fears.
Halima could no longer distinguish friend from foe, and felt everyone was against her. She was being slandered behind her back, and everyone seemed to her to enjoy gnawing her flesh, without anyone bothering to hear her side. Had people become used to believing all the lies and banality they heard? What had happened to people to make them enjoy smearing her reputation?
It had occurred to her to tell people the truth about what had happened. She thought she should let them keep talking until they got bored, but then they never seemed to get bored. It showed in their eyes and their demeanour when people saw her, exchanging whispers, winks and sinister smiles.
Emir Nasser had succeeded in ruining her reputation and destroying her honour. He caused the death of the person closest to her. Halima often wished for death, and entreated Farah in her grave to come take her to the underworld. Halima felt she would now welcome death with open arms.
A ship from Hormuz arrived in Bahrain. Bin Rahhal and Hussein, still disguised as merchants, disembarked; no one in the port recognised them. The two men chartered horses and rode at speed to Bin Rahhal’s farmstead. The guard stopped them at the gate. When Bin Rahhal identified himself, the man tried to run to the house to give Halima the good news in the hope that he would be rewarded, but Bin Rahhal stopped him.
Halima was on her bed when she heard the hoof beats outside, coming in the direction of the house. The sound suddenly stopped, and she heard the main door open. She darted out of her bed and locked her bedroom door; she was afraid Emir Nasser had decided to visit her unannounced.
Bin Rahhal knocked on the door. ‘Halima, are you there?’
Halima recognised her beloved husband’s voice immediately and raced to the door to unlock it. Her heart fluttered in excitement, and her trembling hands could barely hold the key to open the door. Her body was resisting her: her hands, feet and lungs. She wanted to embrace him, to smell him and to throw her emaciated body over his.
Halima opened the door and saw him, before she fainted without saying a single word.
Bin Rahhal scanned her face. She was gaunt and pale. Her eyes bulged as though protesting the state of neglect they were in. This was not the Halima he had left when he went to India.
A few minutes later, Halima opened her eyes. She found Bin Rahhal sitting in front of her. He had laid a damp cloth on her forehead. Halima stretched out her arms and hugged him tightly. He felt the warmth of her body and its frailness and brittleness. He embraced her back, trying to comfort her.
Bin Rahhal gave her a cup of water. She took a sip and gave him a look that suggested she was not yet sure whether he was really there. She had suppressed much suffering in her heart, but this had obviously taken its toll on her body. When it could no longer bear it, it rebelled in the form of illness.
‘Sleep now, my love. You must be very ill. You have a fever!’
‘No, I’m not ill. I’m just very happy to see you back. You have brought me back to life, Bin Rahhal. I couldn’t even stand eating without you. I’ve been through so much. You must know what happened!’
‘You will tell me everything, my dear. But you must sleep now. We can talk later.’
In the days that followed, Halima’s grief turned to joy. Her vitality and her legendary beauty returned. She told Bin Rahhal the whole story about what had happened from when the dagger disappeared from their room until it fell into the hands of Emir Nasser. Then she told him how Farah had tried to redress her mistake by inviting the emir to their house and tricking him into thinking he had slept with Halima.
Halima trembled again as she finished telling her husband about the ordeal, especially as she told him how Farah had cut her wrists with the same dagger, how she had apologised on her deathbed, and how Farah’s departure had brought death to everything beautiful in the place.
Halima told her husband that the hardest part of the experience was not knowing whether Bin Rahhal was alive or dead. Letters from him had stopped coming after his fleet was defeated in Diu. At the same time, she had not wanted to leave her house and try to reach her father’s home in Hormuz, fearing this would lend credence to the rumours that she had betrayed her husband and fled. Nor had she wanted her father to be in a position
where he had to defend his daughter’s honour.
Life returned to the couple, and once again Halima was able to enjoy things around her. Even the sunrise had a different meaning, the birdsong had a sweeter melody, and the sounds the insects made at night seemed softer and more relaxing.
Hussein was introduced to Halima, who showed him great hospitality and made him feel like he was at home and among his family. He and her husband were close friends and kindred spirits. Hussein told them stories from Jeddah, Cairo, Alexandria and India. Hussein opened her eyes to the many worlds that existed outside Hormuz and Bahrain.
But Hussein could not stay for too long far from Sultan al-Ghawri. Attar’s revelations about secret communications between Shah Ismail and Sultan al-Ghawri were worrisome, and the sultan had to be warned about the intrigue. After two weeks in the hospitality of Bin Rahhal and his wife, he decided to travel to Al-Ahsa, and then from there to Jeddah. He left without alerting anyone to his identity. He departed as he had come: silently.
Not far from Bin Rahhal’s farmstead, Jawhar entered Emir Nasser’s majlis. He was early, as was his habit whenever he wanted to speak to his master in private. Jawhar sat near Nasser.
Jawhar still had high hopes that his master would grant him his freedom. He was sick of being a slave, sick of being merely an instrument in the hands of another and sick of Emir Nasser’s unfulfilled promises. He had seen freedom within his reach after he satisfied his master’s desire to get Halima. What was stopping Nasser from making him a free man?
Emir Nasser, in turn, was trying to find an excuse to delay giving Jawhar what he wanted. He was never short of excuses, but he had become annoyed by his slave’s incessant nagging. Before Jawhar had the chance to speak and repeat his request, the emir tried to control the conversation. ‘I think you are aware Bin Rahhal is here in Bahrain, Jawhar. He’s like a demon who can’t be killed!’
Jawhar fingered the dagger adorning his waist. ‘If you want him dead, my lord, my dagger can slay even demons. You just have to say the word.’
The Holy Sail Page 28