by Robin Brown
The merchants obviously are rich but the ordinary people quite poor. They are made up of a great mixture of nations and sects: Nestorians, Armenians, Jacobites, Georgians, Persians and the followers of Mahomet, known as Taurisians.
Each of these groups has its own distinctive language.
The city is surrounded by delightful gardens producing the finest of fruits.
I found the Mahometans an unprincipled and treacherous lot who believe their faith allows them to keep the goods stolen or plundered from those of other faiths. Theft in these circumstances is no crime, indeed those of their faith who suffer death or injury at the hands of Christians are considered martyrs. Fortunately they are constrained by the powers of the Grand Khan who now governs them otherwise there would be many more outrages.
You should know that these beliefs are common to all the Saracens. For example, when they are at the point of death their priests attend them and ask whether they believe that Mahomet was the true Apostle of God. If they answer in the affirmative their salvation is assured. As a result of these assurances of absolution the Mahometans have succeeded in converting a lot of the Tartars – who are also very taken with the idea of being relieved of the responsibility for crimes!
We’ll move on now to Persia, a journey of twelve days, but first let me tell you of a monastery near Tauris which takes its name from the Holy Saint, Barsarmo, and is a very religious place. The abbot and the many monks dress like Carmelites. To keep themselves busy they weave woollen girdles which are placed on St Barsarmo’s altar during divine service. Then when they make the rounds soliciting alms they present these girdles to friends and persons of importance. The girdles are much sought after, being reportedly very good against rheumatism.
Persia is a great and noble province but it has largely been destroyed by the Tartars. It is famous for the city of Saba from whence came the three Magi who worshipped the infant Christ in Jerusalem. They are buried in Saba in a lovely sepulchre where their bodies are said to be unchanged right down to their beards and hair. They were called Baldassar, Gaspar and Melchior and I asked extensively about the three when I was in this city but nobody could tell me anything about them other than that they had been buried in very ancient times.
Three days’ journey from here is the castle of Palasata which means ‘the castle of the Fire-Eaters’ and the inhabitants really do worship fire for reasons, I was told, as follows. The castle people believe in a legend that three kings of that country went to adore a certain king who was newly born, taking with them gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. It was believed that the gold would tell them whether he was an earthly king, frankincense would establish his godly status and the myrrh would show if he were mortal or not. When the Magi were presented to Christ, strange things happened. They met him in order of age and when the youngest Magus was presented Christ appeared to be of his own age and stature! The same impression was given to the two older Magi; they saw a man of identical size and age to themselves. They went away and debated this, then came back to devote themselves to Christ who this time appeared as an infant who gave them a sealed box to take away with them.
For several days they carried the box homewards, then they became curious about its contents. It turned out to be just a stone, which they decided was a sign that they should remain as strong as a stone in the Christian faith. When they threw the stone away, however, it burst into flames. They immediately regretted what they had done but, garnering some of the flames, they carried them home and placed them in the church of Palasata. They keep the fire alight and they worship it as a god. Should it be extinguished, they go back to the pit where the original fire (which never goes out) sprang from the stone and they bring new flames home.
The locals actually told this story to me themselves and I also learned that one of the kings was from Saba, the second from the city of Dyava and the third from this very castle of Palasata.
Persia is a large province comprising eight kingdoms, Kasibin and Kurdistan to the south-west, Lor towards the north, Solistan, Spaan, Siras, Soncaria and Timocain. I travelled south to all these places apart from Timocain, which entails a journey to the north near the place called Arbor Secco.
The country is famous for its breed of excellent horses, many of which are taken to be sold in India where they fetch high prices – rarely less than 200 livres tournois (1,500 to 2,000 rupees). The largest and most handsome asses in the world also come from these parts, which beasts fetch more locally than the horses because they are easier to feed, can carry heavier burdens and cover more ground in a day than either horses or mules, which tire more quickly. These asses are much preferred by merchants who have to travel through deserts and tracts of sand where there is no fodder and it is a long way between wells and water holes.
Camels are also used here and they too carry great weights and can be maintained at little cost, but they are not as swift as asses.
The horses are traded at Kisi and Ormus and other places on the coast to the merchants who will take them for sale to India, but being creatures of a temperate climate they do not last long there.
The people in some of these Persian districts are savage and bloodthirsty and think nothing of wounding and murdering each other. Thankfully they live in terror of the Eastern Tartars who are in charge here, otherwise no merchant would be safe from them. A rule has been established that if a merchant requests it, guards and guides have to be supplied to provide safe conduct between districts. They get two or three groats for each beast of burden, depending upon the distance to be covered. All are followers of Mahomet.
In the cities they manufacture a variety of cloths of silk and gold. In the countryside cotton grows abundantly, as does wheat, barley, millet and several other sorts of grain together with grapes and every kind of fruit. And don’t be fooled by the stories of Saracens not drinking wine because of their religion. They quieten their consciences by boiling it until it is reduced to a very sweet liquid. By changing the taste they change its name and no longer call it wine – although it still is, of course!
Moving on to Yasdi, this is a substantial city on the eastern borders of Persia where much trade goes on. A kind of fine gold and silk cloth known by the name of yasdi is sold here and all over the world. Again the people are all Mahometans.
The journey on from Yasdi involves crossing a plain where there are only three places you can find accommodation. The road lies through extensive groves of date palms in which there is an abundance of game animals as well as partridge and quail. If you like hunting there is fine sport to be found here.
You meet a lot of very handsome wild asses on this road and at the end of it lies the Kingdom of Kierman. Formerly ruled by its own monarchs, Kierman today is under the control of governors appointed arbitrarily by the Tartars.
In the mountains turquoise is mined as are rich veins of steel and antimony. The production of fine weapons of war such as saddles, bridles, spurs, swords, bows, quivers and other weapons is a speciality of the region.
Women and young people produce fine embroidery in silk and gold in a variety of patterns especially depicting birds and beasts. They are destined for the curtains, coverlets and cushions of the bedrooms of the rich. The work is so beautifully executed everyone admires it.
In these mountains you find the best falcons that anywhere take wing. Smaller than a peregrine, they are reddish under the breast, belly and tail and so swift no bird can escape them.
It’s a pleasant seven-day journey along a plain road that also offers an abundance of partridge and other game. You pass a few villages and frequent towns and castles until you reach a mountain and there is a steep ascent that will take a further two days, but you then find yourself in an area of abundant fruit trees. There were people living here once but now there are only herdsmen grazing cattle. In these high valleys the cold can be so severe you will need lots of garments and a good padded jacket.
Coming out of the mountains you are confronted by a great plain
which will take you five days to cross. Here, around the town of Katmandu, where the climate is very warm, they grow wheat, rice and other cereals. It was laid waste by the Tartars and was once a much larger and influential place. On the hillsides, dates, pomegranates, quinces and a variety of other exotic fruit grow, including one called ‘Adam’s Apple’ which is not found in cooler climes. The area is alive with turtle doves who gorge themselves on the fruit and are not hunted by the Mahometans who won’t eat them on religious grounds. Also many pheasant and francolin with black and white markings and red legs and beaks, seemingly unique to this area.
They also have a unique species of ox here. Large and white with a short, smooth coat suited to the hot climate, with squat thick horns, it has a distinctive hump about 9 inches wide between the shoulders [first description of Brahmin cattle]. These beautiful animals are strong enough to carry heavy burdens and kneel down like camels for the loading.
And there are sheep the size of asses! Weighing 30lb and upwards they are fat and make excellent eating.
The province is called Reobarle after the river in the valley and has many towns protected by thick, lofty walls of earth. These are defences against raids by people called the Karuanas who rob and pillage all over the area.
The history of these people is intriguing and revolves around the ambitions of a Prince Nagador, a distant relative of the Grand Khan, in fact the nephew of Zagatui, the Grand Khan’s brother. Nagador heard that in faraway India there was a province called Lahore, governed at the time by Azzeddin Sultan, which had yet to fall to the Tartars. Nagador recruited about ten thousand men (the most desperate brigands he could find) and taking his leave of his uncle, without a word set off through Badakhshan, through the kingdom of Kashmir where many men and cattle were lost to the terrible roads, and finally to Lahore in the Punjab.
He took Azzeddin completely by surprise, overran the city of Delhi and a number of others in the area and there began his reign. His Tartar followers (men of light complexion) mixed with the dark Indian women and produced the race known as the Karuanas. The word means ‘mixed breed’ in the local language and these are the people who terrorise the inhabitants of Reobarle and elsewhere. Moreover, in India they acquired a knowledge of magical and diabolical arts. Chief among these is the ability to produce total darkness in daytime so that they are rendered almost invisible!
They put this skill to work in their raids and are consequently never spotted until it is too late. Reobarle is a favourite target for them because in winter the merchants assemble their trade caravans in Hormuz and await those in passage from India. Horses and mules, out of condition after that long journey, are let out to graze on the rich pastures of Reobarle to fatten them up – only to fall foul of the Karuanas. Those prisoners they take who cannot afford to pay a ransom, are enslaved.
I speak with some authority of this because I was myself caught in one such raid! I escaped to the castle of Konsalmi but many of my people were not so fortunate and were either sold or put to death.
Five days’ travel south across this plain you descend for about 20 miles by a road that is extremely dangerous. Travellers are continually assaulted and plundered by a multitude of robbers. Having once descended, however, you come to another plain, the plain of Hormuz which is exceptionally beautiful. It takes two days to cross it, fording a number of streams, through thickets of date palms rich in francolin, patridges, birds of the parrot kind and a variety of other birds not found in colder climes.
At length you arrive at the Persian Gulf where, upon an island no great distance from the shore, stands the city of Hormuz. This is a port used by traders from all parts of the world who bring in spices and medications, precious stones, gold tissue, pearls, elephant ivory and various other items of merchandise. It is a town of middlemen who dispense these goods around the world and the many towns and castles are supported by this commerce. I would say that Hormuz is the most affluent place in Kîrman.
But the ruler, Rukmedin Achomen, who governs with absolute authority while acknowledging the King of Kîrman has a harsh law for unfortunate foreign merchants. If you should die here Achomen will order the confiscation of your property and deposit the return from their sale in his treasury!
It is excessively hot in the city in summer and the citizens of Hormuz retire to their gardens along the shore or the banks of the river where they construct pavilions of reed out over the water. Thus they shelter throughout the morning from a wind off the land so intensely hot as to make it difficult to breathe. People have been suffocated by this wind – known as the Harmatan – and it is certain death if you are caught by it out on the plain. The locals actually immerse themselves up to their chins when they feel the wind blow and stay submerged until it abates!
I was actually in these parts when the following event took place.
The ruler of Hormuz had neglected to pay his tribute to the King of Kîrman, so the King decided to collect his due at the height of the hot season when most of the inhabitants were out of town. A force of one thousand six hundred horsemen and five hundred infantrymen advanced through Reobarle hoping to take the defenders of Hormuz by surprise. Their guides misled them, however, and they failed to reach the town, camping instead in a grove not far from Hormuz.
In the morning that deadly wind found them. They all suffocated. Not one survived to carry the news back to the King! And when the people of Hormuz heard of the disaster they came out intending to bury the carcasses, but found them so baked by the intense heat, limbs separated from trunks, that graves had to be dug right alongside the bodies.
Great traders the citizens of Hormuz may be, but boatbuilders they are not! The vessels built here are the worst I’ve ever seen and so hard to navigate you use them at your peril. This is because they don’t use nails. The local wood is so hard nails would split and crack it as if it were earthenware. Instead, holes are augured at the edges of planks and wooden pins – treenails – driven into them. They are then sewn together with a cord woven from the husks of Indian nuts [coconuts] which are large and covered with fibrous stuff like horsehair.
The fibres are prepared for rope-making by soaking them in water until the softer parts rot away leaving the clean threads used for sewing up the planks. The cords last a suprisingly long time in water. And they don’t use pitch for preserving the bottom of boats. Instead, an oil made from fish fat is smeared on and the planks traditionally caulked with oakum.
These vessels have one mast, one deck and a rudder. After loading, the cargo is covered with hides to protect the horses which are carried to India. They have also yet to come up with iron anchors and, as the seas can be very tempestuous around here, vessels are frequently driven ashore and lost.
The inhabitants of Hormuz are again all Mahometans and on the dark side. They sow wheat, rice and other cereals in November and harvest in May. From the fruits gathered (with the exception of dates which come in May) they make a very good wine. People not used to the beverage get very drunk on it, but the more common reaction is just to get fat.
Fresh meat and wheat bread are not popular. They live chiefly on dates and salted fish such as thunnas and cepola which they know to be nourishing. The extreme heat prevents the growth of grass other than in marshy places.
A peculiar custom is attached to the death of men of rank. Their wives bewail them at least once a day for a month and there are professional wailers who can be paid to do the job even though they are in no way related to the deceased.
For the moment I plan to leave the subject of India to a later section of my account, turning now to a journey I made to the north which took me into the kingdom of Kîrman. Outside Hormuz on a different route to the one described previously you come upon the most beautiful valley imaginable producing every kind of food and birds galore, especially partridge, all of which are delicious. Apart from the bread! Made from local wheat it is so bitter no one who isn’t used to it can stomach it. The bitter taste is due to the water which is drawn fro
m innumerable salty springs which, admittedly, are otherwise very good for skin conditions and other maladies. Thankfully dates and other fruits exist aplenty.
Three days’ north of Kîrman you strike another desert which will take you seven days to cross. For the first three days there is virtually no water and what there is is green as grass, salty and will make you nauseous. Cattle also get sick if they drink this stuff. Travellers must carry their own water as for three days you will not see a sign of habitation. Thankfully on the fourth day you reach a river of fresh water. Most of its channel is underground but the force of the current brings it to the surface in places and there you can get all the water you need. Weary travellers and any cattle that have been brought along stop to refresh themselves after a very tough journey. Then it’s back into the desert again until you reach Kobium three days thence.
Kobium is entirely populated by Mahometans and is rich in iron, antimony and zinc from which they make handsome, highly polished metal mirrors. The materials for this work are prepared by taking raw ores and heating them in a furnace. Over the furnace they place an iron grating formed of three small bars set close together. The vapour rising from the burning ore sticks to the bars, hardening as it cools. This is known as ‘tutty’. The heavy slag left in the furnace is called ‘spodium’.
Leaving Kîrman involves another virtually waterless journey through a desert where not a tree is to be seen for eight days. The little water there is is again very bitter, but if you take cattle they are obliged to drink it. Their owners attempt to make it a little more palatable by mixing it with flour. At the end of a hard week you reach the province of Damaghan on the northern borders of Persia where there are many towns and fortified villages.