The Holy Sail (45 page)

While he spoke, the sheikh watched the pasha's eye to determine the impact of the events he was describing on the Ottoman governor. He continued, ‘After subduing Bahrain, they will most definitely move on to Al-Ahsa. If they take it, then they will occupy all of East Arabia. As you know, Pasha, the Portuguese have an alliance with the Safavids, who have occupied Iraq and sacked Baghdad, and even turned the shrine of Imam Abu Hanifa into a stable for their horses.'

The sheikh paused when a servant came and brought him water. ‘The situation is very dangerous, Your Excellency. If Sultan Selim, the caliph of the Muslims and protector
of Muslim lands, does not act, then they might mount a surprise attack from the south.'

Suleiman followed everything the sheikh said up until he mentioned the Mamluk fleet and the Battle of Diu. Suleiman stopped listening after that, and remembered his friend Hussein and his eagerness to repel the Portuguese. A stream of memories passed through his head, and the pasha could not conceal his emotions. He said, ‘Hussein Pasha al-Kurdi was my friend. We grew up in the Mamluk barracks together, and for many years were inseparable. But such is God's will!'

The sheikh, remembering Halima, said, ‘I have someone with me who knew him well, Pasha, someone who wants to meet you too.'

‘Who may that be?'

‘Her name is Halima, the daughter of the Hormuzi vizier
Khawaja
Attar and widow of Bin Rahhal, Sultan Muqrin's vizier. She has something she wants to give to you.'

The pasha rose unconsciously. ‘Where is she now?'

‘She is in the small hall, waiting to be let in, Pasha.'

Suleiman went with the sheikh to the place where Halima was sitting, away from the men in the palace. She wore a traditional Hormuzi veil through which only her beautiful eyes were visible. When she saw Suleiman Pasha she stood up in reverence, but did not extend her hand to shake his, and then sat back down.

Suleiman glimpsed a lock of her hair creeping out of her headscarf and touching her eyelashes. Her eyes radiated both charm and sorrow.

She spoke to him about the Portuguese threat in the Gulf and told him how her husband, Bin Rahhal, had gone
to India to assist Hussein Pasha al-Kurdi until their defeat in Diu. Halima told Suleiman about their escape to Bahrain via Hormuz, disguised as merchants, and Hussein's subsequent departure for Jeddah. Suleiman was impressed by Halima's intelligence, logic and soberness.

Suleiman's eyes welled with tears as he listened to Hussein's ordeals, which had stayed with him until his horrific death not far from the palace where they now stood. Halima noticed the tears in the pasha's eyes and asked him why he was tearful.

‘He was once my best friend. We knew each other for many years until time sent us on separate paths. It is also a long story.'

Halima took out the dagger from between the folds of her clothes and removed the silk cloth she had used to cover it, before handing the dagger over to Suleiman. He took it from her and examined it carefully. He immediately realised how valuable and unique an artefact it was. Halima also gave him the ring, but Suleiman was not interested in it, and was still fascinated by the dagger. He then asked her about the story behind it.

‘I will tell you the story as I heard it from my slain husband. A messenger from Vizier Imad al-Din Mahmoud of the Bahmani kingdom in India brought it to Sultan Muqrin, asking him to deliver it to the caliph in Cairo. The dagger was made from gold and jewellery that once belonged to the vizier's mother and wife. The Indian vizier had great confidence in the sultan, who was a fair and just ruler known far and wide. Sheikh Tazi could tell you more about him.

‘Sultan Muqrin gave the dagger to my husband, Vizier Bin Rahhal, for safekeeping as he was leaving Al-Ahsa to put down a tribal rebellion in Najd. The sultan did not want to leave the dagger in his palace during his absence. Before my husband set off to India to fight the Portuguese alongside Hussein Pasha, he asked me to keep an eye on it until his return, and told me that, in the event of his death, I was to deliver it to the caliph by any means in fulfilment of Sultan Muqrin's wishes.

‘Upon his return from India, my husband was killed treacherously. When Sultan Muqrin returned from his campaign, he did not stop in Al-Ahsa and I did not have the chance to meet him. He went straight to Bahrain to fight the Portuguese, who had mobilised their fleets to invade the island. Sultan Muqrin never returned; he was killed in the battle.'

Halima started to weep. Suleiman saw her tears drop on her veil below her eyes. He looked away to avoid seeing her in her moment of weakness and sorrow. He only turned back to her when she spoke again.

‘I didn't know how and to whom I was to deliver the dagger. That is, until God sent me Sheikh Jamal al-Din Tazi, who did not mind me joining his caravan to Hejaz. After we arrived here, we learned that the Abbasid caliph had abdicated in favour of Sultan Selim. As Sheikh Tazi told me, the dagger now had to be delivered to Sultan Selim. There is no one else I can trust to do this but you, so I ask you to deliver it to the caliph to fulfil the wishes of the late Sultan Muqrin and my husband as well.'

Suleiman looked at the dagger again. Silence reigned over them, until Suleiman spoke. ‘I shall deliver it, God willing.'

He then glanced at her furtively and said, ‘Tell me about you, madam. I detect a strange accent in your speech.'

She looked away from Suleiman and set her eyes on the floor of the
diwan
, as though trying to hold a painful memory at bay. ‘I am Halima, daughter of
Khawaja
Attar, the famed vizier of Hormuz. I met Bin Rahhal when he came to our island to help restore King Salghur to the throne, which had been usurped by his brother. He asked for my hand in marriage a few days after the battle.'

Halima's look changed again. Now she was smiling, recalling good memories. Suleiman saw this, and felt she was remembering a happy chapter in her life. He felt pity combined with admiration for this woman. She was the daughter of an important citizen of Hormuz who went on to live in a strange land. She had lost loved ones and yet she was here all the way in Hejaz, delivering a valuable artefact that had been entrusted not to her, but to her husband, though she could have lived a decent life if she had sold it.

‘Do you intend to return to Hormuz after the Hajj?' Suleiman asked.

‘No, Your Excellency, not yet. I intend to remain in Medina for a while. I don't know what God will decide for me. The Portuguese have occupied Hormuz where my father is, and Bahrain where my husband is buried. They might have taken Al-Ahsa by now too. I don't want to return to any land occupied by those criminals!'

Sheikh Tazi suddenly spoke and asked for a drink. The guard brought him a glass of water, which the sheikh held up to his eyes and asked, ‘Is this holy water from Mecca?'

‘Yes, Sheikh. We only drink
zamzam
water in this palace. It is brought here each day straight from Mecca,' the guard replied, and then turned back and left.

The sheikh drank and then poured some of the water over his hand and wiped it on his face. He said, ‘Have you heard of the
hadith
“If you drink
zamzam
water then let your faces have a share of it”?'

Suleiman said perplexedly, ‘I have never heard of this
hadith
, Sheikh Tazi.'

Halima was also confused. ‘I was with you in Mecca for several days and heard you speak about the virtues of
zamzam
water when we drank it, but you never mentioned it, uncle!'

The sheikh removed his turban and used the cloth to wipe his face. ‘I forgot to tell you about it, Halima. But it is a
hadith
and we must respect it. Give me your hands.'

Suleiman extended his hands, which he had joined together to allow the sheikh to sprinkle them with
zamzam
water, and then wiped his face as the sheikh had done. Tazi waited for Suleiman to dry his face and then asked Halima to follow suit.

Halima hesitated for a moment. She did not know what she was supposed to do with her veil and whether she should reveal her face to the pasha.

The sheikh seemed to have read her mind. ‘Uncover your face, Halima. The
zamzam
water takes precedence and we must follow the
hadith
!'

Halima obeyed, revealing her face and her breathtaking beauty. Suleiman was riveted by her. He did not want to take his eyes off her, as though he knew this opportunity might not be repeated.

The sheikh poured water on the palms of her hands, which she then lifted to wipe her face quickly, before putting the veil back on.

Suleiman needed a few moments to move his eyes away from Halima. He said, ‘You will be my guests until the dagger reaches Sultan Selim. I will not let you travel until then. The sultan may enquire about you after he receives it, and if you leave, what would I tell him then?'

The sheikh began to pray for Suleiman. He said, ‘I am here with my wife. We intend to go back home with the convoy that will return to Morocco soon. We must leave, Pasha, but if you find a suitable accommodation for Halima in the city, I would be very grateful. She was the one who brought the sultan's dagger and she is the one who wants to stay in the Holy Land. She is like a daughter to me and I want to make sure she has been taken care of before I depart.'

 

–
 
40
 
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Hormuz

Attar collapsed in his favourite chair on the balcony overlooking the sea. He had grown used to being alone since Halima left. But he wished she were with him now, massaging his tired feet while he touched her head in affection like they used to do years ago.

Attar now had no life to speak of. His daughter and only child had gone to perform the Hajj and he had no idea when or if she would return. He had tried his best to convince her to come and live with him, having now lost almost everything. His house was ramshackle and it felt lonely, and the whole of Hormuz was no longer the same as it had been. The house was covered in dust, as the servants no longer did their jobs properly; everything around him was filthy, even his chair. His meals tasted off, and his appearance was a shadow of its former elegance and refinement, with no one to look after him and no one to look after. Attar felt he would die a lonely, broken man.

He rose from his chair and walked over to the parapet, near which he liked to stand when the weather was nice. He felt Halima's spectre by his side. Attar turned towards where she used to stand, hoping to see her face, but all he got was emptiness. She was not there and this was something he had to accept, he told himself.

Attar looked at the horizon beyond the sea. He saw a few small ships cruising the calm water and others anchored in
the harbour. This was not the Hormuz he once knew. He spotted three Portuguese ships moored nearby. Their gun ports were open, as though ready at a moment's notice to level the city if Albuquerque ordered it. Attar felt intense hatred for the Portuguese who had destroyed everything beautiful on his island.

He suddenly heard shouting coming from the street outside his home. The king often passed through there, causing a great nuisance to the residents. The street had become filthy, just like his chair and his home, and everything else around him.

The yelling was now louder. Street vendors outside his home were brawling.

Hormuz never had this many poor and homeless people and beggars before. It used to be a wealthy city, legendary for its affluence throughout the world. The street outside Attar's home saw many executions of people he did not know – thieves, mutineers and merchants. Some were burned alive, some were killed by cannon, and others were killed in ways he did not want to remember. The crowds that witnessed those executions were also damaged psychologically. Anyone who saw the horrific deaths soon understood that the Portuguese did not know or understand justice, but were nothing more than sadistic killers who enjoyed torturing their victims. Many people, having witnessed those killings, returned home to pack their belongings and leave the island forever. A country where people were often detained without charge and killed without justification was no place to live.

Attar returned to his chair. What had happened to his city? The Portuguese had attacked and destroyed it, and then hijacked its trade. Corruption and bribery followed shortly thereafter.

This was new to the Hormuzis. Previously, the law exacted harsh punishment on the corrupt, but the venal Portuguese officers brought it with them. Now, everyone had to bribe everyone for the smallest matter, and bribery became the oil that made life possible in Hormuz. People sold their ships, their homes and their valuables to bribe an official here or an official there to be allowed to trade or even leave. Life in Hormuz had become hell, and even escape from it came with a price.

Was this really his Hormuz? Was this the city that was once the pearl of the world, where guests enjoyed everything without paying a dirham, because everyone was generously provided for?

Attar was agitated and could no longer remain seated. He rose and walked back to the balcony, looking for a breath of fresh air that the Portuguese had not yet managed to spoil. He could not bear it any more, and was now determined to do something, anything, to change this insufferable reality.

‘Where are you now, Halima? I miss you immensely. I hope that I won't die without seeing you again. What could you be doing now, all alone in Hejaz?' Attar muttered to himself.

Attar returned to his chair briefly, then stood up and went to a shelf where he kept a stack of papers and inkwells beside them. He pulled out a few papers and set out to write some letters, and did not finish until well into the night.

The letters were addressed to the rulers of Al-Ahsa, Khor Fakkan, Sohar, Kuryat and Muscat. Attar resolved to lead a rebellion against the Portuguese in the Gulf. He set a date for an uprising that would take place in many cities at the same time. Everyone had to take up arms on the fateful day and kill all the Portuguese on their lands. The occupiers, Attar reckoned, would not be able to deploy to all those spots at once, and their efforts would be scattered. The rebellion would also burn down their ships, trading posts and forts. If successful, the rebellion would restore things back to the way they were, but people had to sacrifice blood and treasure to regain their freedom, and purge the Portuguese flag from their shores and their holy sails from their seas.