The Holy Sail (24 page)

The few people who survived started emerging from the rubble and the dust. Wailing shrieks were heard throughout the devastated town, echoing over the sound made by the indefatigable waves.

 

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20
 
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Calicut, India

The procession marched towards the Zamorin's palace. Hussein saw how crowded the city was. He was able to make out Arabic amid a mixture of languages being spoken at the market, and lifted the curtain on his palanquin
^*
slightly to be able to talk to Qasimul Haq.

‘Do many people here speak Arabic?'

‘We have many Arab merchants in the city. Some of us speak Arabic fluently, being the lingua franca of trade. You will hear it as long as you are in the market, and you may also hear it in the Zamorin's palace. The king's guards are mostly from Hadramout, from Aden to be precise; we call them the Hadramis. Many speak Arabic at the palace too, so you won't feel too far from home.'

Hussein was amazed by the variety of bright colours in people's clothing, accessories and homes, and by the blends of both familiar and exotic spices on offer in the markets. Everything here was colourful, even people's hair, beards and turbans. He spotted a man spitting a red fluid out of his mouth. A few yards later, he saw a number of men doing the same thing. He wondered whether this was due to some kind of medical condition.

When Hussein pulled the curtain of his palanquin again, Qasimul Haq gave him a big smile. ‘I know what you're going to ask me. I saw what you saw. You want to know why people spit a lot here, isn't that right?'

‘Yes! What's going on?'

Qasimul Haq leaned back, and with the demeanour of someone repeating something he had explained many times before, said, ‘People here like to chew on
tanboul
, which is made from the leaves of betel plants mixed with some flavourings and colouring. Once their mouths are filled with that red liquid from the chewing, they spit it out. In your country, this may be an unacceptable practice, but it's quite normal here. Even brides and grooms do it on their wedding night!'

Hussein was still puzzled by the habit. ‘Why do they chew it if they're going to spit it afterwards? Why not just swallow it?'

But Qasimul Haq was not close enough to hear him. The two palanquins had moved away from each other because of the crowd.

Hussein searched for the Hindu king's adviser. He felt that there were many things he had to learn and become familiar with. He was shocked when he saw a cow eating food from a shop without anyone stopping it, and another lying down on the road blocking traffic without anyone disturbing the animal. He did not want to ask questions again, and just pointed at the cows when he saw that Qasimul Haq's palanquin had drawn closer to him again, with the man now in sight.

Qasimul Haq was smiling as ever. ‘It's a sacred cow. The Hindus revere them, and do not disturb them. Even we Muslims try to show respect for this animal and avoid
offending the Hindus.' Qasimul Haq continued, ‘Many people outside India think Hindus worship cows, but I have never seen them do it. They revere them because they see them as the source of livelihood for the peasants and poor people, and treat the animals like they were members of the family that must be respected. I tried to read some Hindu books, and found that they call on people not to consume meat in order to have happiness in this life, but with time, it became a taboo.'

The Indian adviser looked again at the cows scattered in the market. ‘Whatever cows produce is sacred to the Hindus, from their milk to their urine and dung. In fact, the red paint on the forehead is made from cow dung.' Qasimul Haq pointed at Hussein's forehead, reminding him of the mark that had been painted on it when he came to shore.

Hussein touched the dye on his forehead and then smelled his fingers.

Qasimul Haq watched Hussein while shaking with laughter. ‘We don't use it on the Zamorin's guests. Don't worry!'

The convoy arrived at the palace. A group of soldiers carrying small sharp axes was guarding the outer gate. Some were carrying strange metal batons that Hussein had never seen before.

The convoy reached the stairs leading to the palace entrance. The escorts stopped and the two palanquins were lowered to the ground. Qasimul Haq and Hussein descended. The party then walked in corridors clad in white marble, interspersed with tall columns inscribed with gold-leaf ornaments of Hindu gods. The sunlight coming through the large windows was bouncing off small water
ponds, which in turn reflected the light back to the ceiling, making the entire palace shine with bright white.

The delegation was now at a large golden door. Guards wearing armour and carrying swords stood outside. When they spotted Qasimul Haq, they opened the gate while greeting him in unison. ‘Peace and God's mercy and blessings be upon you.'

The king's counsellor returned the greeting. He spoke in Arabic to one of the guards before he addressed Hussein. ‘This officer is Hadrami. He is the commander of the Zamorin's guard. He also likes to chew betel leaves!'

The Hadrami laughed and opened his mouth, which was filled with the red paste, to show the counsellor, before he let the two men in.

The Zamorin sat on a gilded and silk-padded divan. He leaned on his right side, with his legs resting on the bed. The Hindu king wore a golden serpent-shaped bracelet that wrapped around his forearm. The serpent had a large green gemstone in its mouth. The Zamorin wore similar bracelets around his ankles and a bejewelled diadem around his head that was equally if not more spectacular.

He wore a white gilded silk
izar
from the waist down, and was bare-chested save for a white pearl necklace. The Zamorin was also chewing betel leaves. A tall, muscular guard carrying a broadsword and a gilded shield stood behind the king, looking alert and ready to carry out any order his master gave him at a moment's notice.

Hussein was awed by this strange sight. He decided to watch Qasimul Haq and then imitate what he did, telling himself that since Qasimul Haq was Muslim, he would not do anything that would anger God.

The counsellor drew close to the Zamorin, bowed in front of him, and then sat quietly on his knees. Hussein followed suit. The Zamorin gave them a cordial smile, then turned and spat a red paste into a pot decorated with emeralds and rubies that a servant was holding.

‘Greetings, my friends from Egypt.'

Qasimul Haq translated the pasha's response. ‘The honour is all ours, Your Majesty. You have received us well and showed us great hospitality. The sultan of Egypt wishes to extend a hand of friendship to you and offers his assistance to fight the Portuguese, who have started seizing parts of your territory.'

The Zamorin spat again in the pot. ‘They have not seized any territories of ours, not yet at least. Several of their ships came here. The Portuguese made deals with some Indian kings to establish trading posts in their ports. They came as traders. Although their ships carried cannons, they did not use them against the Indians.'

The Hindu king paused, before he said, ‘I have heard about the
Maryam
, and how they sank it with the pilgrims on board. However, I believe this was an isolated incident that will not happen again. Some Indian kings told me that the ship refused to stop for inspection, and that its passengers took up arms to fight.'

Hussein realised that focusing on the
Maryam
was not going to lead anywhere. The Zamorin was setting Hussein's word against that of the Portuguese, who now had common interests with some kings in India. The Mamluk admiral decided it would be more worthwhile to address the Portuguese threat in broader terms.

‘Your Majesty, I have been sent by Sultan al-Ghawri, the sultan of Egypt and Syria, to fight the Portuguese. They have disrupted navigation between India and Arab lands. Our merchants can no longer buy spices from your ports. If things continue as they are, we all stand to lose.'

The Zamorin replied, ‘We welcome all those who come to our country to buy spices. The Portuguese have forged alliances with some Indian kings along this coast. I cannot interfere in the decisions of other kings. If they find that their alliance with the Portuguese is in their interests, then there is nothing I can do. The Portuguese purchase spices in large quantities and ship them back to their country. So it seems to me the only party that loses because of this is you.'

Hussein noticed that the Zamorin was speaking more like a merchant than a king and statesman, and decided to emphasise the extent of the threat to everyone.

‘Your Majesty, we have been acquainted with the Portuguese's thinking and their methods for a long time. They first come as merchants, to gather information about a nation and its weaknesses. They establish outposts that they claim are for trading, but soon send ships full of soldiers and armaments to occupy and hold those places.'

The Zamorin spat again, and everyone heard the spittle land in the pot. ‘You are describing your own experience with them but not ours. We welcome all those who come to our lands to trade. We cannot see into the future.'

Qasimul Haq decided this was his chance to weigh in on the matter and warn the Zamorin. ‘My son-in-law,
Si
al-Tayeb, lived with the Portuguese for many years and
speaks their language. I implore Your Majesty to listen to what he has to say.'

Si
al-Tayeb was sitting on his knees further behind. ‘Your Majesty, I lived in their lands when I was a child. My father is an Arab Muslim and my mother is Spanish. Initially, we had agreements with them letting us practise our faith and traditions, and protecting our properties, when we still had our weapons. When we laid down our arms, everything changed; they prohibited us from praying in our mosques, confiscated our lands and prevented us from defending ourselves. After that, they took children from their parents to raise them as Catholics, and eventually drove us from our country to the north of Africa.'

Si
al-Tayeb lowered his head, trying to cope with a flash of bitter memories. He continued, ‘As you know, Your Majesty, the
Maryam
and its passengers were set alight, after they took young girls and boys. The Portuguese were drinking ale as they watched the people and the ship burn. People who do such things when they come claiming to be merchants will do even worse things in war. They will do the same to the rest of the kingdoms of India, one by one, until they take everything.'

Qasimul Haq and Hussein felt that they had managed to have an impact on the Zamorin. The Hindu king was silent in thought, save for spitting chewed betel leaves. After hesitating for a while, he said, ‘Very well. You shall be my guests and you may re-supply your ships and purchase whatever quantities of spices you desire. After that, you will leave, like all other merchants. I don't want you to bring your wars to my kingdom.'

Hussein knew then that he would not be able to use Calicut as his base. Clearly, the Zamorin did not want to be a party to the conflict with the Portuguese.

After they left the royal hall, Qasimul Haq grabbed Hussein's hand. ‘Listen, Pasha. You must leave for the city of Diu as soon as possible, after you re-supply your ships of course. You will find the assistance you seek there. King Malik Ayaz is an eager warrior who can be easily provoked and convinced of the Portuguese threat.' This time, a serious expression replaced Qasimul Haq's usual smile. ‘He is the king of Diu and its environs. I will send my son-in-law with you to make the introduction. We go a long way back.'

Several days later, Hussein's fleet headed north.

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21
 
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The Arabian Gulf

On the day the bride and groom were set to leave, the port of Hormuz was draped in spectacular festive decorations. Colourful flags fluttered in the wind as music from different parts of the island fused together. Water and sweets were distributed to the revellers, and conjurers performed their best tricks in front of the public. People almost forgot the casualties of the battle that had taken place a month earlier; it did not matter any more who had fallen and why, but only who the new king was.

In the distance, the booming sound of drums was heard slowly approaching. The steady rhythm was so strong that people felt their hearts jumping with each beat, and they realised the king's procession had arrived: a long convoy of camels festooned with gilded saddles and blankets, preceded by spear-carrying cavaliers in stunning formations.

The crowds parted into two lines, fashioning a road between their bodies to allow the procession through. The people craned to see Bin Rahhal and his new wife, Halima; Bin Rahhal was mounted on a decorated horse alongside Attar, both men riding a few metres behind the king. The crowds could not see Halima, who was with a group of women at the end of the column, hidden behind the curtains of a gorgeous
howdah
, a beautiful carriage on the back of a camel.

The procession arrived at the port. The camels were made to kneel while the king and Bin Rahhal dismounted from their horses. In the back, Halima and Farah emerged out of the
howdah
. The farewell ceremony began; women wailed in the back, and people who were parting embraced one another. There were so many tears shed that the crowds could not tell who was leaving and who was staying.

The ships sailed away from the port of Hormuz. Halima looked back for one last time at her island. As she focused on the crowds of people waving at her, she spotted her father. His gaze said a lot, though she could not interpret all the emotions it carried; she knew he was in pain from parting with her just as she was in pain from parting with him. She embraced Farah and started crying.

Halima's feelings were a strange combination of sadness and happiness. The tears flowing down her face came from both her sorrow for having to part with her home, and from her hopeful joy for the new life she was embarking on. She almost laughed and cried at the same time as she hugged her maid.