The Holy Sail (37 page)

Portuguese cannons shelled Aden for two consecutive days, destroying large parts of the city. Then Albuquerque ordered them to sail away, leaving the defiant city almost razed to the ground.

When the shelling stopped, Emir Murjan began surveying the damage and counting the dead. He found the body of his counsellor who had ordered him not to open Aden's gates to the Egyptian fleet. His head had been hewn by an axe. The emir was told the man had been trying to flee, carrying some of his precious possessions; the emir could not pause and mourn him, as there were too many dead to grieve for them all.

Albuquerque's fleet circled the southwestern tip of   Yemen and headed north, bypassing the city of Hudaydah and anchoring at Kamaran Island. He told his officers to take a census of the troops and count the casualties after the battle at Aden.

It soon emerged that half of the attacking soldiers had perished during the battle. Albuquerque felt the weight and impact of his rout. A defeatist mindset spread among his soldiers and officers, and morale among his forces hit rock bottom. Albuquerque wanted to restore their dignity and infuse in them faith in themselves, and gave them two days to rest and recuperate on this remote island.

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On the day he decided to address his soldiers, Albuquerque made sure copious amounts of food and ale were distributed among them. When evening came and temperatures dropped a little, he ordered his aides-de-camp to set up a platform near a large cross that the fleet's masons were able to fashion out of trees found on the island. Albuquerque wanted his soldiers to forget what had happened to them at the walls of Aden, and he saw no better way to achieve that than with food and wine.

After he let them eat, drink and revel for some time, Albuquerque ascended the platform. He looked at his soldiers for a few moments without saying anything. Then he declaimed, ‘O soldiers of Great King Manuel, we have a sacred mission ahead of us, a mission that will change the course of history. Any sacrifice we offer pales in comparison to our noble goal, to raise the Holy Cross high and purge the Earth of all heretics.' The soldiers roared after each sentence
Albuquerque uttered, especially upon mention of the cross, the heretics and the king – words that brought out the worst kinds of frenzied fervour in them.

‘In the past few months, the sultan of Egypt wrote to the Pope threatening to burn the Church of the Holy Sepulchre if Portugal did not stop sending fleets to spread Christianity in these parts. This heretic sultan does not know that all these lands and the people on them belong to the king of Portugal and his descendants under the Treaty of Tordesillas, which the Pope has blessed until the Day of Resurrection.'

The soldiers clamoured and cheered for the king and Christianity. Priests made passes around them waving their thuribles and crosses to create an atmosphere of divinity during the conquistador's speech. The moment for Albuquerque to divulge his plan had arrived.

‘We have two objectives: declare the Red Sea a Christian lake and then conquer the port of Yanbu, and proceed from there to Medina where the prophet of the Mohammedans is buried. We will open the tomb and exchange its contents for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre that Sultan al-Ghawri controls.

‘We will not allow anyone to threaten our holy realm. We shall bring one million Christians to these parts, to work under Prester John. They will divert the Nile to the sea, bringing famine and drought to Egypt. After we destroy the sultanate and its people, we will restore the Nile to its original course, for the land with all its bounty shall be ours!'

The troops cheered Albuquerque's diabolical plan hysterically. They knelt in front of him when he raised a cross to remind them what they were fighting for. The priests
sprinkled holy water on the soldiers to cleanse them of their sins, turning the secluded island into a giant, outdoor church. The warrior-worshippers then took turns blessing the cross in whose name they had slain scores and destroyed entire cities.

Several days later, the weather began to turn. Dark clouds gathered over the island and a northerly gale tossed everything in its path. The Portuguese armada was paralysed. Sails were ripped and some ships were forced south. The sea became dangerously choppy, and some ships that ran aground crashed against the rocks.

The Portuguese were stranded on the island. Soon, food and water supplies ran low. Some sailors saw this as a sign from God telling them not to move forward with their plan.

Dysentery spread among the sailors. Some of the food had rotted from being stored in bad conditions for too long or because it had been damaged by leaks caused by the rough weather. Albuquerque ordered his few remaining healthy soldiers to erect a large wooden cross on the island and bury whomever died during the storm underneath.

When the storm abated, the ships were able to sail again, heading south this time. The sailors kept their eyes fixed on the large cross they left behind on the island, towering above many of their fallen comrades. Albuquerque thought about trying to conquer Aden again, but his troops resisted. They had lost hope, and saw the raging storm that had hit them as a divine warning, a sign of the wrath of the god of the Mohammedans. The battered armada sailed past Aden on its way back to Hormuz. The city was in ruins, but it was ready to defend itself once again if needed.

 

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32
 
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Bahrain

Over the next few days, Halima visited Farah's tomb often. The grave was dug under the shade of a sidra tree on the left side of her home. It was a simple grave, marked by two small tombstones, one of which Halima wrapped with a green cover. Halima laid palm fronds over the tomb that she replaced whenever they dried and faded.

She would leave the house each morning and sit on a rock by the grave. She often cried until her tears no longer came, and then returned home.

Halima spoke to no one, and isolated herself from people. She learned from her servants that people were gossiping about her, saying she had sold her honour to Emir Nasser. Halima felt that she hated everyone and everything, and she no longer trusted anyone. Her life became bleak. She had become a prisoner in her claustrophobic home, and she could no longer feel alive. Oddly, Farah's grave became more welcoming than anywhere else, and it was the only place she could air some of her emotions, grief and fears.

Halima could no longer distinguish friend from foe, and felt everyone was against her. She was being slandered behind her back, and everyone seemed to her to enjoy gnawing her flesh, without anyone bothering to hear her side. Had people become used to believing all the lies and
banality they heard? What had happened to people to make them enjoy smearing her reputation?

It had occurred to her to tell people the truth about what had happened. She thought she should let them keep talking until they got bored, but then they never seemed to get bored. It showed in their eyes and their demeanour when people saw her, exchanging whispers, winks and sinister smiles.

Emir Nasser had succeeded in ruining her reputation and destroying her honour. He caused the death of the person closest to her. Halima often wished for death, and entreated Farah in her grave to come take her to the underworld. Halima felt she would now welcome death with open arms.

A ship from Hormuz arrived in Bahrain. Bin Rahhal and Hussein, still disguised as merchants, disembarked; no one in the port recognised them. The two men chartered horses and rode at speed to Bin Rahhal's farmstead. The guard stopped them at the gate. When Bin Rahhal identified himself, the man tried to run to the house to give Halima the good news in the hope that he would be rewarded, but Bin Rahhal stopped him.

Halima was on her bed when she heard the hoof beats outside, coming in the direction of the house. The sound suddenly stopped, and she heard the main door open. She darted out of her bed and locked her bedroom door; she was afraid Emir Nasser had decided to visit her unannounced.

Bin Rahhal knocked on the door. ‘Halima, are you there?'

Halima recognised her beloved husband's voice immediately and raced to the door to unlock it. Her heart fluttered
in excitement, and her trembling hands could barely hold the key to open the door. Her body was resisting her: her hands, feet and lungs. She wanted to embrace him, to smell him and to throw her emaciated body over his.

Halima opened the door and saw him, before she fainted without saying a single word.

Bin Rahhal scanned her face. She was gaunt and pale. Her eyes bulged as though protesting the state of neglect they were in. This was not the Halima he had left when he went to India.

A few minutes later, Halima opened her eyes. She found Bin Rahhal sitting in front of her. He had laid a damp cloth on her forehead. Halima stretched out her arms and hugged him tightly. He felt the warmth of her body and its frailness and brittleness. He embraced her back, trying to comfort her.

Bin Rahhal gave her a cup of water. She took a sip and gave him a look that suggested she was not yet sure whether he was really there. She had suppressed much suffering in her heart, but this had obviously taken its toll on her body. When it could no longer bear it, it rebelled in the form of illness.

‘Sleep now, my love. You must be very ill. You have a fever!'

‘No, I'm not ill. I'm just very happy to see you back. You have brought me back to life, Bin Rahhal. I couldn't even stand eating without you. I've been through so much. You must know what happened!'

‘You will tell me everything, my dear. But you must sleep now. We can talk later.'

In the days that followed, Halima's grief turned to joy. Her vitality and her legendary beauty returned. She told
Bin Rahhal the whole story about what had happened from when the dagger disappeared from their room until it fell into the hands of Emir Nasser. Then she told him how Farah had tried to redress her mistake by inviting the emir to their house and tricking him into thinking he had slept with Halima.

Halima trembled again as she finished telling her husband about the ordeal, especially as she told him how Farah had cut her wrists with the same dagger, how she had apologised on her deathbed, and how Farah's departure had brought death to everything beautiful in the place.

Halima told her husband that the hardest part of the experience was not knowing whether Bin Rahhal was alive or dead. Letters from him had stopped coming after his fleet was defeated in Diu. At the same time, she had not wanted to leave her house and try to reach her father's home in Hormuz, fearing this would lend credence to the rumours that she had betrayed her husband and fled. Nor had she wanted her father to be in a position where he had to defend his daughter's honour.

Life returned to the couple, and once again Halima was able to enjoy things around her. Even the sunrise had a different meaning, the birdsong had a sweeter melody, and the sounds the insects made at night seemed softer and more relaxing.

Hussein was introduced to Halima, who showed him great hospitality and made him feel like he was at home and among his family. He and her husband were close friends and kindred spirits. Hussein told them stories from Jeddah, Cairo, Alexandria and India. Hussein opened her
eyes to the many worlds that existed outside Hormuz and Bahrain.

But Hussein could not stay for too long far from Sultan al-Ghawri. Attar's revelations about secret communications between Shah Ismail and Sultan al-Ghawri were worrisome, and the sultan had to be warned about the intrigue. After two weeks in the hospitality of Bin Rahhal and his wife, he decided to travel to Al-Ahsa, and then from there to Jeddah. He left without alerting anyone to his identity. He departed as he had come: silently.

Not far from Bin Rahhal's farmstead, Jawhar entered Emir Nasser's
majlis
. He was early, as was his habit whenever he wanted to speak to his master in private. Jawhar sat near Nasser.

Jawhar still had high hopes that his master would grant him his freedom. He was sick of being a slave, sick of being merely an instrument in the hands of another and sick of Emir Nasser's unfulfilled promises. He had seen freedom within his reach after he satisfied his master's desire to get Halima. What was stopping Nasser from making him a free man?

Emir Nasser, in turn, was trying to find an excuse to delay giving Jawhar what he wanted. He was never short of excuses, but he had become annoyed by his slave's incessant nagging. Before Jawhar had the chance to speak and repeat his request, the emir tried to control the conversation. ‘I think you are aware Bin Rahhal is here in Bahrain, Jawhar. He's like a demon who can't be killed!'

Jawhar fingered the dagger adorning his waist. ‘If you want him dead, my lord, my dagger can slay even demons. You just have to say the word.'

Emir Nasser stretched out his legs, then grabbed a cushion that he put behind his back. ‘Not yet, Jawhar. Not yet.' With a malicious smile on his face, he added, ‘Anyway, I thought you were going to retire from the killing business after your sweetheart Farah died!'

‘She was a beautiful girl, my lord, but it was perhaps best for her to die along with my promises.'

Emir Nasser's smile remained on his face. ‘You didn't tell me how she died.'

‘The guard at the farm told me she had slit her wrists and bled to death. Her mistress buried her near the house. I think she killed herself out of guilt after stealing the dagger and then finding out it was used to blackmail her mistress. The guard told me she did it to atone for her sin, but I still don't know why Halima has not killed herself too! She was the one who sold you her honour in return for the dagger!' Jawhar rolled his eyes, as though trying to think of an answer. ‘It seems your plan has become more complicated with Bin Rahhal's return, my lord. The man has not left his house for days. The couple seems clearly happier. The guard at the farmstead has not even opened the gates since Bin Rahhal entered. So what's happening? Does the man not know what his wife did with you in his absence?'