The Holy Sail

by Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  The merchant sat in front of Hussein. He understood immediately that the Mamluk pasha had no patience for flattery, and that he was anxious to hear the news he carried. The man cut straight to the point.

  ‘I think you are aware, Hussein Pasha, of the animosity between Sultan Selim and Sultan al-Ghawri. Ottoman troops apprehended a Safavid emissary from Shah Ismail. When they searched him they found a letter to Sultan al-Ghawri asking him to join a Portuguese–Safavid alliance against the Ottomans . . .’

  Hussein did not want to sit and listen to what he already knew, and to what he suspected was a story fabricated by Sultan Selim to justify an invasion of Egypt. He interrupted the merchant vehemently. ‘Forget these tall tales and tell us about the battle!’

  The man organised his thoughts. ‘The Ottoman sultan marched with around half a million soldiers and 350 cannons. When Sultan al-Ghawri learned of this, he wrote to the Mamluk governor in Syria to rally as many men as he could to his banner and meet him in Marj Dabiq. The governor mobilised a large number of fighters from Syria and Mount Lebanon, bringing the total number of soldiers in the Mamluk army to 450,000, armed with eighty cannons. The two armies then met on the battlefield.

  ‘Shortly after the battle began, the Mamluks flanked the Ottoman army and dealt it a heavy blow that threw it into disarray and forced it to initially retreat. The Mamluk fought valiantly in that battle, Hussein Pasha.’

  Hussein’s thoughts took him back to when he was a boy in the Mamluk barracks with his friend Suleiman. They would cry because of the harsh training and would eat under the bedcovers to avoid being spotted by their warden. Those who had been trained in combat from an early age would no doubt show great courage in battle, he thought.

  Hussein returned to the present, listening to the merchant’s report.

  ‘As the Ottoman army was on the verge of fully retreating, the Mamluk governor in Damascus went over to the enemy along with a large number of fighters, joining Sultan Selim’s forces. Sultan al-Ghawri, who was fighting alongside his men, saw this with his officers and soldiers. As morale in the ranks of the Mamluks collapsed, Ghawri made a great battle cry to rally his fighters, urging them to hold their ground. But his voice was lost in the heat of the battle.’

  The merchant paused before he spoke again. ‘All of a sudden, Ghawri’s voice betrayed him. His eyes protruded and his body became limp. The sultan dropped his sword and clutched at his chest, before he fell off his horse. When the soldiers saw this they knew his heart had stopped beating, and they collapsed before the Ottomans. After that, Sultan Selim was met with little resistance and he eventually entered Cairo.’

  Hussein put his head between his hands and shook it as though trying to wake up from a bad dream. Ghawri’s defeat in Marj Dabiq was even harsher than his own defeat at the hands of the Portuguese in Diu. Egypt had fallen to the Ottomans, the very same people he was raised to despise for many years.

  The Mamluk pasha wondered what the Ottomans were now up to in Egypt. He had nothing but the city wall he had built to protect Jeddah from Ottoman raids. He also knew he was on his own, with no supporters to defend him. It was a catastrophe.

  News of the Mamluk defeat spread like wildfire among the Jeddans. It dawned on them that Hussein Pasha was cut off from Egypt and had no one to rely on for support. He had also lost his legitimacy as the governor of Jeddah. Many in the city started plotting to overthrow him.

  The rebels started attacking the military outposts that were far from the city wall. At night, they burned the storerooms near the gates and dumped huge amounts of sand and salt in the water reservoirs that fed the palace and the barracks. Next, the rebels cut off the road to Mecca.

  Each morning, the commander of the guard brought new reports of casualties among his soldiers, or sabotage of his posts. Hussein’s authority was being weakened by an organised insurgency. The Mamluk governor did not know why people were doing all this. After all, wasn’t he here to protect them from the Portuguese, who could attack the city at any moment and ransack it? Did these people not understand his responsibility and what he was doing for their sake?

  Hussein was like a cat pushed into a corner. He knew the people of Jeddah hated him and did not want him here. But he also knew that no one would take him in should he flee. He had nowhere to go. All he could do was to hole up inside the area of the city where he could still impose his authority, including the palace and its immediate vicinity.

  In the following months, Hussein barely removed his shoes, clothes and weapons, which he often slept embracing. Each day, he felt death coming closer and closer, especially when he heard Bedouin battle cries just outside the wall, or learned of an attack close to the palace.

  One morning when he was inspecting the guards on the side of the wall overlooking the sea, he heard a soldier shouting. The soldier was pointing at black shapes ominously approaching from the northwest over the sea.

  The identity of the ships was not clear. Anxious speculation over the owners of the floating fortresses ensued in the ranks of the soldiers – some saying they were Portuguese and others insisting they were Mamluk vessels.

  When they got closer, one of the veteran guards was able to make out the emblem on their banners. They were red with green spots in the middle. ‘They are Ottoman ships, my lord!’

  Hussein ordered his men to shut the gates, fortify them and prepare for battle. Sultan Selim’s army had reached the gates of Jeddah, as he had feared.

  The fully armed guards climbed up to the top of the wall at the orders of their commanding officers. They opened the gun ports and began to load the cannons. Behind each cannon stood a soldier carrying a linstock, awaiting orders to light the cannon.

  An eerie silence descended. All eyes were focused on the five ships creeping towards them. The ships came as close as they could without running aground, then dropped their anchors. Their gun ports were not open, and the ships did not look like they were primed for battle. They were close enough that Hussein Pasha could have ordered them destroyed if he wanted to. The Ottomans were behaving oddly, he thought.

  The ships remained immobile for several hours. Then they dropped a small boat carrying a Janissary officer and a group of sailors, who paddled until the boat reached the Jeddan coast.

  Hussein came down from the top of the wall and went to the gate, ordering his men to open it. It took the Mamluk guards a while to get the gate open, as they had barricaded it with large wooden panels. After a few strong soldiers moved the heavy panels away, the gate was opened and Hussein found himself face to face with the Ottoman officer waiting on the other side.

  ‘Are you Hussein al-Kurdi?’ the Janissary asked.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘This is for you, my lord,’ the Ottoman said, handing him over a long tube. Hussein opened one side and pulled out a folded letter. He unfurled it and began to read.

  To my brother, Hussein al-Kurdi,

  It has been many years since we parted ways. Our last meeting was under a fig tree, when we shared a meal at the inn where our friend Jaafar worked. Do you remember?

  Let me tell you what has happened to me in these intervening years. I set off with the amir to fight pirates in Rhodes. I was captured after suffering a grave injury. I remained for several years on the island with a group of Ottoman prisoners of war. They were very difficult years. They forced us to work building fortifications around the city, until Sultan Selim secured our release, setting free a number of Frankish prisoners his navy had captured in return for our freedom.

  I am now an officer in the Ottoman navy. I am the commander of the ships you see in front of you. I have not changed much, and I hope you haven’t either.

  Know, Pasha, that with the victory God has graced upon Sultan Selim the Grim, he has been declared the new caliph. The last Abbasid caliph, Al-Mutawakkil III, abdicated in his favour. In this capacity, loyalty and obedience must be to him.

  You are alone now, with no one to support you in Muslim lands, which have all accep
ted Sultan Selim as their caliph. The sultan of Yemen has recently pledged his allegiance to Sultan Selim. All Muslim ports and realms will close their doors to you. Your only option is to surrender.

  Accordingly, I call on you to open the gates of Jeddah and hand over its keys. Under the orders of Sultan Selim, I will be the new governor.

  Peace,

  Suleiman Pasha the Ottoman

  Hussein began to tremble and his limbs became numb. His best friend was now on the side of his enemies, and was even asking him to surrender. Had Suleiman forgotten their laughter, their crying, their sweat and their conversations? How could the cheerful man who never worried about anything have become a senior commander leading five ships? Could people really change that much?

  Hussein had no answers any more. The Janissary stood in front of him waiting for his reply, but Hussein felt unfocused and unsteady. He did not want the Ottoman to see him like this and learn his weaknesses, so he told him he would send back his reply soon and dismissed him.

  He returned to his palace feeling defeated and as if he had lost a major part of his life. Hussein’s entourage wondered what the letter he read contained, and whether it was a threat to destroy Jeddah or kill the pasha.

  Hussein isolated himself in his palace as rumours about the Ottoman letter spread among the populace, who took to speculating about its contents. Whatever message it carried, they all agreed that the Ottoman arrival meant Hussein was finished, his grip over the city irreversibly loosened. Jeddans felt they had to do something to take advantage of the situation and the presence of the Ottoman ships anchored just outside the harbour. If they failed to act and the ships left for any reason, they thought, Hussein Pasha could return to his old ways, dealing with them heavy-handedly and confiscating their money.

  Mobs of people gathered in several quarters of Jeddah. They agreed to instigate a rebellion against Hussein. There was a favourable opportunity to topple him as long as the Ottoman ships were there.

  Hussein spent the night thinking about how he should reply to Suleiman. Should he resist handing over the city? What would happen if he agreed to his terms? Did he have enough men to resist the ships and their cannons that could come out of their ports at any moment?

  Many conflicting ideas were raging in Hussein’s head. Suleiman was not by his side to give him counsel and reassure him; it was Suleiman himself who was the source of the problem this time. Hussein cursed the way events had played out.

  On the following day, the dawadar folded Hussein’s reply into a metal tube, closed it, and gave it to the chief guard to deliver to Suleiman Pasha.

  – 37 –

  Jeddah, Arabian Peninsula

  On the deck of the Ottoman flagship, Suleiman Pasha opened the letter from Hussein. Before he read it, he looked toward Jeddah. He could not see it very well. The sun that was now behind it was too bright. The city appeared tranquil and surrendered to the morning sun, and had he not been here with the letter in his hand, it would have been just like any other morning.

  He read:

  My dear friend Suleiman Pasha,

  I had not expected to see you in the sea off Jeddah of all places. I have waited many years to see you again. For so long I shared my worries with you, and you were a good listener despite my many complaints. But here we are now, standing on two opposing sides, each serving a different sultan, though yours has ended the life of mine.

  I never wanted to meet in circumstances like these. When we met we were boys in the Mamluk barracks, and now, we – hair greying – meet at sea. This is God’s will, and I know not what God has ordained for us. I do not know how this story will end. I do not think I want to know.

  Sultan al-Ghawri, God have mercy on him, appointed me governor of Jeddah. I see no reason to hand the city over to you without defending it until the last drop of my blood has drained from me. But let us agree on one thing if we both get out of this alive: we will share a meal under the fig tree at Jaafar’s inn. Agreed?

  I do not know if I should wish you luck or wish it upon myself, and I see little difference either way.

  Admiral Hussein Pasha al-Kurdi

  Amir of Jeddah

  Suleiman tried to control his emotions and held back a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. Hussein’s words struck him like a whip but Suleiman would not forget their long history of friendship, loyalty, sadness and joy.

  He sat thinking about his next step. If he decided to bombard the city using cannons, he could obliterate it but would certainly lose Hussein forever. Many civilians could lose their lives. If he did nothing, the siege could last a very long time. The best way was for Jeddah to fall from within, with its people rebelling against Hussein and then handing him over to Suleiman.

  Suleiman’s ships did not make any move in the days that followed. The guards watching them from the top of the city wall did not notice any suspicious movement on them either. People were now used to the ships and returned to their normal lives, unaware of the history between the two commanders.

  Also unbeknownst to the people was that, at night, secret contacts were taking place between the rebel leaders and the commanders of the Ottoman ships. When it was dark, rebels would take a small boat and paddle to the Ottoman ship or, vice versa, Ottoman spies would go to shore to meet with them. The two sides had agreed to carry out a coordinated, well-choreographed uprising against Hussein with Ottoman help – which Suleiman conditioned upon the rebel leaders handing Hussein over to Suleiman alive after they stormed the palace.

  One night, a mob of Jeddans armed with swords and daggers attacked a guard post at the edge of the wall. A few hours later, another mob attacked a guard post on the other side of the wall, killing many soldiers that Hussein was counting on to control the outskirts of the city. At the same time, there was a fire in the market, and people rushed to put it out.

  Suddenly, the gate overlooking the desert was opened by a large number of armed Bedouin warriors. Pandemonium ensued throughout the city. People locked themselves in. Many families took refuge under the same roof in search of safety. People were heard screaming in the streets, and no one knew what was going on in their neighbourhoods.

  Many enthusiastic youths joined the rebellion to rid themselves of Hussein Pasha al-Kurdi, who had taken their money and humiliated them. Opportunistic thieves also came out that night to loot shops and homes, taking advantage of the mayhem.

  Jeddah’s defence collapsed as soldiers fled from their positions. Even the granaries were looted. Some people exploited the unrest to carry out vendettas against their foes. As bodies piled up in the streets, vigilante groups formed to protect their homes and neighbourhoods, armed with canes and whatever melee weapons they could find. A toxic atmosphere permeated the city, which seemed to have caught fire that night.

  Suleiman was watching the bedlam unfold from the deck of his ship. He prayed to God to protect Hussein from the uncontrollable chaos. Revolutions, he believed, were like bushfires: hard to predict and hard to contain.

  The Mamluk guards loyal to Hussein decided to assemble at the palace to protect their pasha. The Mamluk cohort knew they would not be able to survive if they remained scattered, and formed a single line standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the main gate. The Mamluk guards decided to try to hold their position until morning, after which they would be able to find out what was happening. They were edgy and alert, as death might come from any direction and any angle.

  Hussein was in the palace the whole time. He ultimately resolved to take up arms and join his men. The soldiers felt a sense of reassurance when they saw their pasha carrying his sword behind them. There was only this palace left to protect.

  Hussein thought of Suleiman. He wished he could peer through the distance separating them and see what his friend was doing as Jeddah burned. Many questions troubled Hussein. Why did people change? Did the soul itself mutate or become tainted? Or was it self-interest that remoulded people and their worldviews, in which case their souls had no
choice but to follow suit?

  His grip on his sword slackened as he became distracted by his thoughts. A sudden commotion broke out in an alleyway to his right, followed by another to his left a few seconds later. Hussein and his guards closed rank, unsheathed their swords and stood waiting.

  Mobs armed with swords, knives, sticks and makeshift weapons appeared, with more angry rabble joining them from the alleyways that terminated in front of the palace.

  The mobs hesitated when they saw the Mamluk guards with their swords drawn, and exchanged a few stares, the spectre of death hanging heavy over the hall. But the mob’s thirst for revenge was unquenchable. Their eyes became bloodshot, their hearts pumped bile and they decided to charge.

  The two sides merged into a brawling mass of monsters digging their teeth into their victims. Blood spattered and heads flew, and the injured were trampled and asphyxiated by the stampeding hordes. The fighting continued until the Mamluks’ resistance faltered. As the wounded groaned and the disarmed survivors begged for their lives, a voice cried among the raging crowd, ‘Take no prisoners! Kill them all!’

  All kinds of weapons were used in striking the necks of the captives and wounded. The entrance to the governor’s palace turned into a bloodbath, but Hussein and a small number of his guards were able to escape further inside the palace, and barricaded themselves in a hall. They were panting and shaking in terror.

  The gate that separated the angry mob from Hussein and his group began to give way, quickly breaking wide open under the weight of the crowd of attackers. It was a terrifying sight: the weapons and bodies of the attackers were covered in blood. Some carried decapitated heads dripping blood.