The Holy Sail

by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  ‘It’s Sultan Muqrin’s army, my lady. He has just arrived from Najd and is on his way to Bahrain. The bedlam you see at the port is the vanguard of the army, which will carry rations to Bahrain. I don’t think we will be able to sail today or even tomorrow. The shipmasters are refusing to even talk to us, as they have chartered their boats to carry the army and its gear.’

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘They are saying a fleet of Portuguese and Hormuzi ships have lain siege to Bahrain meaning to occupy it. Sultan Muqrin is going there to defend the island.’

  She descended from her howdah, wearing her Hormuzi burka. She stood by the side of her convoy, waiting for Sultan Muqrin to spot her. Halima kept her eyes fixed on the dust storm approaching. She was not sure what she would tell him. Should she expose Emir Nasser to him in these circumstances, or should she tell him it was she who invited the Portuguese and Hormuzi fleets to Bahrain? She had not wanted Sultan Muqrin to go there to fight. She just wanted Emir Nasser to be slain, but clearly things were now out of her control.

  Sultan Muqrin’s army approached the harbour. The crowd grew into a sea of swarming people. The dust cloud followed the army, bringing sudden darkness to the place. People used their clothes to shield their mouths and noses, a layer of dust covering their faces.

  Halima was not going to give up. She had to meet the sultan. She saw him appear then disappear in the haze. Halima ran to him and approached his horse, but the guards stopped her before she could draw his attention.

  ‘Great Sultan! Your Grace!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  The sultan glanced at her and squinted.

  She shouted again. ‘I am Halima, wife of Bin Rahhal.’

  The sultan stared at her for a few seconds and then turned to a sheikh who was riding behind him. He exchanged a few words with him while pointing at Halima. The sultan then waved at her before he disappeared in the stubborn dust cloud hanging over the harbour.

  The sheikh approached Halima and dismounted from his horse. He was a venerable old man with a long white beard. He wore a turban that was wrapped around a red felt hat with a tassel attached to the top. Halima had not seen anything like it before.

  The man introduced himself. ‘I am Jamal al-Din Tazi. The sultan has asked me to take care of you.’

  Halima gave him a quick look before turning her gaze back to where the sultan had gone, trying to find him again, but he had vanished. Halima turned back to the sheikh with tearful eyes. ‘I have many things to tell the sultan, Sheikh Tazi!’

  ‘Don’t worry, child. You can tell him everything you want after he returns. Now come with me.’

  Tazi took Halima back to her convoy. The haze began to subside, and the rabble of people moved off with the sultan towards the sea. Halima and the sheikh waited for the noise to die down before they could speak. They did not have to wait for long; the ships were now ready to move the army, and as they left, the chaos in the harbour eased.

  The sheikh looked at Halima with dusty but compassionate eyes. He introduced himself again. ‘I am Sheikh Jamal al-Din Tazi from Morocco. I met the sultan during the Hajj and he asked me to come here with him to teach people the Maliki creed. He has now asked me to look after you until he returns from his campaign.’

  The sheikh took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the accumulated dust on his face before continuing. ‘The sultan told me about your husband’s death. He wept when he heard Bin Rahhal had been killed. The sultan was performing the pilgrimage to Mecca. He was determined to find his killer, but when we drew close to Al-Ahsa, news came to him of the Portuguese blockade of Bahrain. Don’t worry; I left my wife who had come with me in Al-Ahsa for the sultan’s send-off. We will return to Al-Ahsa together where you will meet her. She will take good care of you until the sultan returns.’

  Halima returned in her small convoy to Al-Ahsa. She was thinking about what she should do: should she tell Sheikh Tazi what she had done, or should she say nothing about that? All the bloodletting that was about to take place was her fault. Had she made a mistake?

  Halima stayed with the sheikh and his wife, and the three became inseparable. She started learning more about her religion, which she never cared much about during her formative years in Hormuz. She was born Muslim, but Islam for her was a formality, a series of rituals and a part of her identity much like her dialect, clothes and family; she had not given it much thought beyond that.

  However, the sheikh and his wife approached faith in a very different way. It was the centre of their lives and not merely a ritual. It was real and tangible, and they found joy in it. They talked about it often and would stay up during the night praying. Halima even saw them crying in worship, and then smiling shortly after, and could not understand why.

  She started learning many things she had not known about before. She asked about things that had never occurred to her. ‘If God created us and God is merciful, then why does so much misfortune befall us? Do we worship Him to avoid His wrath? What’s going to happen to people who were not born Muslim, are they going to hell? Why did God create bad people if He was going to torment them in the afterlife? Why did the sheikh cry when he prayed to God?’

  Halima would ask the sheikh’s wife all these questions, but the old woman did not have answers and told her to save her questions for the sheikh. The sheikh would listen to her queries patiently and oblige her by answering her questions, because he thought she had a right to ask anything she liked. He told his wife, ‘She is at the threshold of the house, and she wants to know what’s inside before she comes in.’

  *

  When Sultan Muqrin arrived in Bahrain, he found preparations were in full swing to repel the Portuguese invasion. Before the sultan arrived, Emir Nasser had built defences from palm fronds and cobs along the coastline surrounding the city, leaving only two openings overlooking the sea.

  The sultan took over command of the soldiers and proceeded to give the defenders their assignments. He divided them into three brigades and put each one under the command of one of his most trusted men. Sultan Muqrin had a formidable force at his disposal, comprising 300 horsemen, 400 archers and a large number of infantrymen, though he had no cannons or muskets.

  On the Portuguese side, António Correia ordered Attar to lead the Hormuzi fleet and remain at sea, to prevent the Jabrid ships from carrying out a pincer movement and flanking them from behind, but told him to prepare to support Portuguese foot soldiers if needed.

  The weather was hot and humid. It was summer, and at this time of the year, temperatures in the region rose dangerously high, especially at midday. The blistering sun, the stifling humidity and the boiling water, sand and air were merciless.

  Correia landed with a force of 170 fighters, followed by one of his commanders with fifty men. Before dawn, they snuck up the coast. A number of Portuguese soldiers were able to climb over the parapet after quickly dispatching the defenders. As the sun began to rise, everyone saw the Portuguese flag flying over one of the towers there. The other Portuguese regiment advanced towards the wall, climbed over it and crossed to the other side after all the Arab defenders had withdrawn.

  The muskets the Portuguese soldiers deployed dominated the battle, and many of the defenders were unfamiliar with them. The shots they fired dropped cavalrymen from a long range, and repelled their counter-attacks very effectively. All the tactics the Arabians knew were useless against this weapon.

  Suddenly and without warning, Sultan Muqrin’s soldiers charged from all directions, trapping the attackers between themselves and the battlements. A large battle followed in which many were slaughtered on both sides. The battle lasted until noon, when temperatures peaked and the fighters started collapsing from dehydration and the unforgiving sun. The two armies retreated back from their positions, pulling with them as many dead and injured from their side as they could.

  The Portuguese soldiers decided to remove their armour. By now, these panoplies were the equivalent of ovens, though tak
ing them off exposed them to the defending archers.

  Attar had an idea to end the battle swiftly. He disembarked from his ship and went to the coast to find Correia, who by now had realised that the real enemy was the heat and that the battle had to be settled now or abandoned.

  Attar’s advice was for the skilled archers to train their arrows on the commanders of Sultan Muqrin’s army. The vizier explained that the Arabian troops were large in number and distributed all along the fortifications, which meant that commanding officers were the only way to keep those forces organised and disciplined. If they were to be taken out, however, the Arabian army would fall into disarray.

  Attar chose 200 of his best archers, and positioned them behind the infantrymen, between the attackers and the sea. Their mission was to pick off the Arabian officers.

  As the sun went down, preparations were also being made on the other side. Oddly, however, the Jabrid commanders did not think much of the men who came down from the ships carrying bows, and thought they were part of the attackers’ formations that had to be dealt with on the battlefield.

  As the fighting resumed, volley after volley of Hormuzi arrows came down on the defenders, killing many of their commanders. Chaos ensued in their ranks, and the Arabian army could not cope without them.

  The sultan was on his horse fighting alongside his men. When he saw the mayhem spreading in the flanks of his army, he rode quickly to investigate. The sultan was suddenly hit with a bullet, which ripped through the upper part of his thigh. Muqrin fell from his horse bleeding profusely. Soldiers took him to a nearby mosque which had been converted into a makeshift hospital. As the sultan disappeared from the battle along with the slain officers, signs of defeat of the Arabian army began to emerge.

  Emir Nasser, learning of Sultan Muqrin’s injury, raised the white flag and asked for a parley with the Portuguese.

  The remaining commanders decided to move Sultan Muqrin across the sea to Al-Uqair, fearing he would fall into the hands of the attackers. They had not expected Emir Nasser to raise the flag of surrender so quickly. The wounded sultan was placed on a stretcher and rushed to a boat not far from the battlefield, which the sultan had left behind for contingencies.

  Emir Nasser initiated negotiations with the Portuguese. The Portuguese demands were for the Arabians to surrender the island, accept raising the cross atop its fort, and accept the governor that the Portuguese would appoint. Emir Nasser wanted to be the governor they appointed.

  The sultan’s men felt Emir Nasser had decided to surrender without having a mandate to do so and that he was now looking after his own interests and no one else’s. Muqrin’s loyal men opted to escape the island fearing retribution from the Portuguese, given their notorious reputation for tormenting and mutilating their enemies.

  Small boats began to carry off soldiers and families from Bahrain and to Al-Uqair. When Attar learned about this, he ordered his flotilla to circle Bahrain from the south and head off the fugitives.

  Attar was enraged and held a deep grudge. He wanted to avenge his daughter’s husband and her maid. When he saw a boat trying to escape, he ordered his ships to pursue it and apprehend everyone on board.

  The Hormuzi ships circled the Bahraini vessel. It was none other than the boat carrying the wounded sultan. Clashes ensued between the two sides, in which all of the sultan’s defenders were killed. Only the boat’s three crewmen survived.

  Attar stood over the injured sultan. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Sultan Muqrin bin Zamel of the House of Jabrid.’

  Attar frowned in surprise. ‘The sultan of the Jabrids? I did not expect to see you in captivity.’

  The sultan was groaning in pain. He was pressing on his thigh, which was bleeding heavily.

  Attar looked at the wound. ‘Where is Emir Nasser then?’

  ‘Aaahh . . . I don’t know—’

  ‘I have a vendetta against him, Sultan Muqrin. He tried to tarnish my daughter’s honour!’

  The sultan was writhing and moaning after each sentence he uttered. ‘Who is your daughter?’

  ‘Halima, wife of your vizier, Bin Rahhal. I am Khawaja Attar, vizier of the kingdom of Hormuz.’

  The sultan recalled Bin Rahhal’s victorious return from his mission in Hormuz, and the banter they had exchanged about marrying the vizier’s daughter. He was awoken from his memories by a sharp pain that shot down his thigh. The sultan screeched. When the pain abated, he whimpered, ‘Yes, Bin Rahhal was deeply in love with your daughter.’

  In a different life, Attar and the sultan could have been good friends. But circumstances put them now in a position where they were enemies. Attar also had something against the sultan, whom he saw as a cause of his daughter’s plight.

  ‘Yes, Sultan Muqrin. He loved her immensely but the horrid man you appointed as emir of Bahrain and as your viceroy murdered him.’

  The sultan was not aware of what had happened in Bahrain during his absence. ‘Emir Nasser killed Bin Rahhal?’

  ‘Correct. My daughter told me.’

  The sultan now understood why Halima had tried to talk to him at the port in Al-Uqair, and why she had been so desperate to meet him.

  ‘This man you appointed has initiated negotiations for his surrender in return for being appointed the governor of Bahrain. He betrayed you in your absence, and has betrayed you again while you lie covered in your own blood.’ Attar began to scream in anger, as though he blamed the sultan for all the tragedies that had befallen Halima, Bin Rahhal and Farah. ‘You did not choose your deputy well. You cared only that he was loyal, even if he was a murderer like Emir Nasser. You ignored his insolence and wickedness because all you wanted was someone to protect your throne. You monarchs are all the same. You do not think of your subjects, but only of your interests and your interests alone. Because of you, my daughter lost Farah, and you lost Bin Rahhal, your throne and your kingdom!’

  The sultan’s eyes froze and he stopped breathing. ‘He is dead, my lord,’ a soldier said.

  Attar glared at the Hormuzi soldier, then returned his gaze to the sultan, now a lifeless corpse. The deck of the boat was covered in the blood that had gushed from the sultan’s wound.

  Attar ordered his men to return to Bahrain. The Hormuzi ships approached the coast tugging a small boat behind them. Correia knew that Attar had caught something valuable, and went into the water trying to see who was on the boat. He managed to glimpse a body lying on the deck and spotted Attar.

  ‘It’s Sultan Muqrin, Officer Correia. He was trying to flee to Al-Ahsa,’ Attar said.

  The Portuguese commander ordered his men to decapitate the body and send the head to Hormuz to be shown to Albuquerque.

  The Hormuzi and Portuguese fleets loitered near the Bahraini coast. There was systematic looting on the island, and the soldiers and sailors wreaked havoc in Bahrain.

  Days later, a ship from Hormuz came bringing a letter to Correia. It was from Albuquerque, congratulating him on his victory and asking him to change his name to António Correia Da Bahrain, so that his triumph would forever be associated with his family. Albuquerque even suggested that Correia devise a new coat of arms for his family, showing an arm carrying the head of Sultan Muqrin.

  Attar knew that it was Emir Nasser who was the cause of Farah’s death, and knew it was he who had murdered Bin Rahhal too. There was not much he could do about it, however, as the man was under Correia’s protection now.

  Attar decided to visit his daughter’s home and collect any belongings she may have left behind. He also wanted to visit Farah’s grave. He chose a group of bodyguards and rode to the farmstead. He knew exactly where it was; it belonged to the father of King Salghur, who had excluded it from the agreement with the Jabrids.

  Attar found the gate to the estate had been pried open, and the place abandoned. Everyone had fled when the invaders overran the island. He dismounted his horse and walked inside, leading the animal behind him by its reins.

  The Hormuzi vizier walked b
etween two rows of palm trees towards the house. He gave his horse to one of his men and walked to the grave. Attar read a verse from the Quran over the tomb. He then cleaned it and replaced the wreaths Halima had placed over it before she left for Al-Ahsa.

  Attar remembered Farah when she was a little girl. When he bought her from the slaver and brought her home, Halima was overjoyed. The two girls played together and grew up together like sisters. He could not imagine Halima without her. They were like twins, and Attar treated them with almost equal love and affection, though he kept a bit of distance from Farah. After all, she was not of his flesh and blood.

  Attar felt a warm tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it gently and then placed the same hand on the grave, as though trying to convey his grief to Farah.

  Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from inside the house.

  – 36 –

  Jeddah, Arabian Peninsula

  Carrier pigeons were of little use for conveying detailed information. Hussein learned of the Mamluk defeat in the Battle of Marj Dabiq, but did not know exactly what had happened. And he had no idea what would happen when the Ottoman Sultan Selim entered Cairo.

  A torrent of thoughts rushed into Hussein’s head. The conflict he felt brought back his insomnia and affected his judgement and behaviour. Everything in his life had become muddled and unclear.

  One morning, the dawadar entered his quarters to inform him that a merchant who had returned recently from Egypt bore news for him.

  ‘Let him in without delay.’

  The Battle of Marj Dabiq was a historic turning point in the region. Sultan Selim was at the head of the young Ottoman Empire, which was perpetually pushing its borders in an attempt to expand its territory as far as possible. Many were of the view that the Ottoman sultanate was the only Sunni Muslim force able to stand up to the Safavid Empire, which in turn was constantly trying to expand. The flurry of reports about Safavid massacres in Iraq prompted people to look for a new power that could protect them from the Safavids. This meant that the Ottoman victory in Marj Dabiq came as good news for many, even in Egypt. The decisive battle closed the book on the long reign of the Mamluks that many would not miss. People rarely recalled what was good and right at the beginning of the Mamluk power, but remembered very well the misdeeds of the Mamluks near the end of their reign.