The Holy Sail (11 page)

The sheikh started crying bitterly. He wiped his tears with his sleeve again, before he continued. ‘That ship was not their only victim. They have destroyed and burned many ships at the mouth of the Red Sea. They take pleasure in severing limbs and burning people alive. We don't know from which pit of hell those demons have come, but our sultans must set aside their differences and unite to repel this enemy.'

The cleric asked Hussein to help him lean against a column in the mosque; standing for all that time had exhausted him. Hussein felt compassion for the sheikh; he had different concerns than those of the Mamluk amirs and also those of ordinary people, but the sheikh empathised with their worries. Hussein felt that the man spoke for him, and he had listened to him carefully.

Hussein slipped in and out of his memories, recollecting what the sheikh at the mosque had told him. ‘The Portuguese ships reached India. They seized the ports there and barred Muslims from trading. Spice convoys stopped coming, money ran out and poverty spread. I believe this is only the beginning and that the worst is yet to come.'

The sheikh had wiped his eyes with the tail of his turban and said in a weepy voice, ‘Some of the Muslim kings have sent messengers asking Caliph al-Mustamsik to intervene and protect them.' The sheikh bowed his head slightly and added, in a sorrowful voice, ‘I think they're unaware of our actual situation. They don't know the real state of our poor caliph, and how the Mamluk amirs manipulate him. They don't know that his power holds no sway beyond the quarters of his harem.'

The sheikh summoned his strength and took a deep breath. ‘We are in deep trouble, the extent of which only God knows. We no longer know how to make a living. We don't know how we can do our pilgrimage or travel. All roads are dangerous. Even Cairo's alleys have become a haven for killers, thugs and bandits, without our rulers lifting a finger to do anything about it. All they care about is money and keeping Egypt's riches for themselves.'

That night, Hussein had noticed some people trying to leave the mosque, fearing they would be punished for listening to the bold imam. These days, crimes such as banditry and theft were not as serious as daring to speak about public money and the corruption of the sultans and amirs. Many outspoken imams had been found dead or disappeared from their homes after giving audacious sermons. Clearly, the amirs knew how much people hated them, but they did not want them to say it out loud. They insisted on repressing all those sentiments or driving them underground, though it was hard to imagine this would change anything.

Hussein had seen many people clapping and cheering when the sultans' processions marched in front of them, only to spit on the floor in contempt and shout obscenities at them after they passed. Did the sultans know about this? Hussein realised that they probably did, but that they did not care.

He felt as if a lightning bolt had struck him that day, after his encounter with the sheikh at the mosque. ‘Did what he described really happen?' he asked himself. If so, when and how did the Portuguese manage to get behind their backs? Would they enter Cairo via the Nile as he had heard before? Were they the Gog and Magog he had heard so many stories about in the mosques? Were these signs of the Day of Judgement that he was seeing?

A chill went down his spine. He wished Suleiman were there to hear all this. ‘Where is he now?' he wondered. He was in dire need for his friend to dispel his fears in these turbulent times.

At sunset, Hussein got on his horse and set off back to the castle. He reached it at dawn, as the roosters were crowing and the guards were just returning from their night shifts. Hussein went to his room, put on his uniform and walked to the sultan's court, trying to get there before it became crowded. He did not have to wait for long before he was allowed to enter. When the sultan saw him, he smiled at him as usual; Hussein was like a son to the new ruler. Hussein did not waste time on pleasantries; the familiarity between the two men was strong enough for Hussein to get straight to the point.

Hussein spoke. ‘Cairo abounds with rumours that the Portuguese have breached the Dam of Dhul-Qarnayn, and that they are at the gates of Mecca and Medina and could enter Cairo at any time. Have you heard of this, Your Grace?'

‘Yes, I have, my son. I asked our representative in Suez to investigate the matter and send back whatever information he can get as soon as possible.'

A servant entered, announcing that breakfast was now ready. Sultan al-Ghawri patted Hussein on the shoulder and invited him to eat. Hussein was not hungry, but he thought this would be a good opportunity to continue speaking to his master away from the din of the court and its demanding guests.

Ghawri sat on a cotton cushion opposite a copper plate containing a variety of foods, and ordered Hussein
to sit across from him. It was a simple meal. Hussein was tempted by a dish of fava beans soaked in olive oil. He was hoping Ghawri had a plan to confront the Portuguese, but the sultan was quiet as usual, and was preoccupied with his food as though Hussein were not there.

Hussein said, as he looked at the mini-banquet, ‘Your Grace. A few days ago I was at the grand mosque near the castle. I saw with my own eyes how angry and frustrated the people were. I fear these could be the signs of an imminent revolution. People can no longer cope with all the calamities thrust upon them from every direction. But the Portuguese incursion has become their primary concern. We must do something about it. As the custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, you are required to defend them, and the people look to you for leadership in these turbulent times.'

Ghawri continued to chew his food quietly, then drank from a jar that was sitting to his right. The sultan ordered the servants to clear the table and bring the wash pots.

A servant brought a long ewer that had a neck resembling that of an ostrich and a spherical metallic saucer, which he placed under Ghawri's hands. He poured water from the ewer then gave the sultan a cotton towel to wipe his hands.

Ghawri signalled to Hussein to follow him, and walked back to the court. He sat silently.

Hussein was a little annoyed. Although he was accustomed to Ghawri's way of thinking and talking, he felt that the situation was too urgent for this. Something quick had to be done to halt whatever the Portuguese were plotting.

Suddenly, Ghawri spoke. ‘Can we defeat them, Hussein?'

Hussein did not expect such a question. His eyes met his master's, as though querying him about how serious the question was. He gulped and his colour changed, before he replied, ‘As you know, Your Grace, we do not have a large fleet that can sail on the high seas. We have neglected shipbuilding for too long, and no longer have skilled shipwrights. It is hard to bring back this craft. I don't think we have what it takes to do anything!'

Hussein continued tensely. ‘When you neglect something important that you didn't need at one time, you lose it completely and do not have it when you desperately need it.'

Ghawri sighed deeply. Hussein knew he had struck a painful chord in his master. Ghawri enunciated his words calmly, carefully weighing every word. ‘Ever since I heard those rumours, Hussein, I have been thinking along those lines. I have reached out to the Ottoman sultan asking him to send material to help us build ships, and he promised he would. I also contacted Venice for the same purpose. If the Portuguese succeed in their plans, the Venetians stand to lose, and vice versa. I think we should take advantage of their concerns about the future of their trade.'

Ghawri spoke like a seasoned politician who knew what he wanted, unlike Hussein, who was clouded by his youthful enthusiasm.

The sultan shook off the breadcrumbs that had stuck to his clothes then said, ‘We have allowed our relationship with the Ottomans to strain for too long. We are going to need their help now to build a fleet. This is always our problem. We fight among ourselves, then when a common threat emerges we close ranks; when the threat is over, we
go back to infighting. I hope this doesn't happen with the Ottomans.'

Ghawri's tone suddenly changed. ‘Go to Suez now. I will send you all the help I can get. You must begin building ships, and then lead the fleet to fight the Portuguese. I appoint you the admiral of our fleet, effective immediately.'

Ghawri waved his hand in a mechanical way, as though pushing the air away. ‘Go now. You have a difficult mission to accomplish in a short space of time.'

Hussein travelled to Suez to personally oversee preparations and construction of the fleet. He felt he had a huge responsibility that he must now fulfil in the best way possible.

His mission consumed his time and energy. Every day, he would go to the shipyard before sunrise and not leave until sunset. Hussein succeeded in inspiring the workers; he told them they were facing a great challenge and a sacred mission that must not fail. In a few months, Suez became a hive of unrelenting activity. This was a boon to businesses in the city, which expanded with the influx of craftsmen from Cairo and other regions of Egypt.

Everyone worked tirelessly. Sultan al-Ghawri fulfilled his promises and sent them all the tools and guidance he received from the Ottomans and the Venetians. Convoy after convoy came carrying timber, iron, copper, gunpowder, tar, ropes and all other supplies needed for shipbuilding. In less than a year, Suez was turned into a naval powerhouse. Ships were then launched one after the other, amid cheers from the sailors and shipwrights.

On the promised day that the fleet was set to sail to defend the shores of Islamdom, Hussein sat near Sultan al-Ghawri, who was attending the ceremony in person and was keen to portray himself as defender of the lands of the Muslims. Ghawri had the ability to emotionally manipulate people. On the one hand, he sent his soldiers to kill his opponents, and on the other hand, he cultivated his appearance as a religious man intent on preserving the lives and livelihoods of Muslims.

His presence today would firmly root this image in the minds of his people. Present with him were also the high-ranking Mamluk amirs,
atabegs
, and Amirs of One Thousand, wearing their best uniforms and accessories. It was a memorable day that everyone made sure they attended, especially the four chief judges, the caliph and the ambassadors of the other kingdoms.

The officials sat under a large tent erected by the seaside near the port. Beautiful lanterns hung from the tent, and around it, the
khasikis
belonging to the sultan and the amirs present stood guard. Cavalrymen wearing distinctive uniforms were lined up next to the tent.

Hussein approached Sultan al-Ghawri to explain to him the details of the ship-launching ceremony, which he had personally overseen to ensure it would dazzle the audience. The sultan smiled; he was already impressed by what he saw. Hussein was encouraged and took this as a sign the sultan believed his mission had been a success, at least in the first phase.

The sultan raised his hand to allow for the ceremony to begin. The cavalrymen marched in front of the tent in perfect sync, followed by the Sultani Mamluk brigade,
then the musketeers brigade consisting of Turkic and African soldiers, and then the
Awlad al-Nas
brigade, which was made up of the sons of notables volunteering to defend Muslim holy sites. Behind them marched the naval force comprising soldiers and sailors, who were mostly Andalusian Moors led by the commander known as the Pasha
^*
of the Moroccans. At the end of the procession, a unit of engineers, builders and carpenters marched in front of the sultan's tent.

Some 1,500 people had marched past the tent by the end of the parade. The audience now turned their eyes to the sea. A flotilla of new ships started moving in formations of galleys, fire ships and frigates, which were decorated with colourful flags including the yellow double-crescent ensign of the Mamluks.

For many, what they were seeing was nothing short of a miracle. The construction of this fleet was officially declaring that the Mamluk navy had returned to the seas after a long period of neglect and decline. The idea that these ships were going to deploy to India had galvanised Muslims, and cemented Ghawri's status as a protector and defender of Islam. The sultan needed to sell himself as such, as people had started talking about the trail of dead Mamluk amirs that led back to their opponent, the sultan. Ghawri had demonstrated that he was an impeccable master strategist; a year into his reign, he had eliminated all serious threats to his throne. The oath he made them take no longer had any value; in fact, it was his opponents who needed him to make that oath now.

The shore was filled with onlookers enthusiastically watching the flotilla; they had never seen an Egyptian
or Muslim fleet before. The crowd ululated, cheered and launched cries of ‘God is Great!' Some even danced. Behind them, a small market began to coalesce, redolent with the smell of pastries and sweets. For a short period of time, people forgot their worries.

The sultan was pleased with the preparations to fight the Portuguese. After the ceremony, he stood and shook hands with Hussein warmly. Those present felt a sense of – temporary – cohesion against an existential enemy. Hussein noticed the paternal look Ghawri gave him, the same look he had given him since he was young, and knew that his master still saw him as a son and that he was proud of what Hussein had accomplished.

‘When will you set off, Hussein?'

‘When you give us the order, Your Grace.'

‘The information I have received indicates that the Portuguese have bombed some cities in East Africa, which they then tried to take. They have established an outpost on an island called Kamaran at the mouth of the Red Sea. But it is a barren island and they will not be able to stay there for long. They are trying to gain a foothold at the entrance of the Red Sea to control it.'

Ghawri turned his gaze back to the ships, which were now further away. ‘The Portuguese have reached India, Hussein. If they manage to control it, they will disrupt the entire spice trade that we rely on. The Venetians want us to stop them by any means, and have even asked us to send delegations to the sultans of India warning them against dealing with the Portuguese. But the Portuguese pay many times more than what our merchants pay for their spices, and have coaxed the sultans of India into dealing with
them directly. We are fighting a fierce, merciless enemy, Hussein. You must be merciless too, so do whatever it takes to prevent them from destroying our trade.'