The Holy Sail Read online

  THE HOLY SAIL

  THE HOLY SAIL

  Abdulaziz Al-Mahmoud

  Translated by Karim Traboulsi

  Contents

  Cast of Characters

  –1– Lisbon, Portugal

  –2– Alexandria, Egypt

  –3– Al-Uqair, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –4– Aden, Yemen

  –5– Alexandria, Egypt

  –6– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –7– The Arabian Gulf

  –8– Cairo, Egypt

  –9– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –10– Alexandria, Egypt

  –11– The Red Sea

  –12– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –13– Tordesillas, Spain

  –14– Aden, Yemen

  –15– The Arabian Gulf

  –16– Lisbon, Portugal

  –17– The Arabian Sea

  –18– Hormuz

  –19– Mozambique

  –20– Calicut, India

  –21– The Arabian Gulf

  –22– Oman

  –23– India

  –24– Bahrain

  –25– Hormuz

  –26– India

  –27– Bahrain

  –28– Hormuz

  –29– Diu, India

  –30– Bahrain

  –31– Yemen

  –32– Bahrain

  –33– Jeddah, Arabian Peninsula

  –34– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –35– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –36– Jeddah, Arabian Peninsula

  –37– Jeddah, Arabian Peninsula

  –38– Bahrain

  –39– Al-Ahsa, Eastern Arabian Peninsula

  –40– Hormuz

  –41– Istanbul, Turkey

  –42– Massawa, East Africa

  Glossary

  Bibliography

  Author’s Note

  Cast of Characters

  Kingdom of Portugal

  Manuel: king’s brother-in-law and confidant

  Mr Rodrigo: king’s private doctor and astronomer

  Moses: renowned cartographer

  Pêro da Covilhã: diplomat and explorer

  Afonso de Paiva: diplomat and explorer

  Afonso de Albuquerque: general

  Miguel Ferreira: Albuquerque’s aide

  António Correia: military commander

  Lourenço de Almeida: military commander

  Francisco Álvares: priest

  Sultanate of Egypt

  Sultan Qaitbay

  Al-Nasser Mohammed: son of Sultan Qaitbay

  Qansouh al-Ghawri: amir

  Hussein al-Kurdi: Mamluk army officer

  Suleiman: Mamluk officer and Hussein’s best friend

  Jaafar: waiter

  Jabrid Sultanate

  Sultan Muqrin bin Zamel al-Jabri

  Nasser: Sultan Muqrin’s cousin

  Ghurair bin Rahhal: vizier

  Jawhar: Nasser’s slave

  Jamal al-Din Tazi: religious scholar

  Kingdom of Hormuz

  Turan Shah: King

  Maqsoud, Shahabuddin, Salghur and Vays: sons of Turan Shah

  Khawaja Attar: vizier

  Halima: Attar’s daughter

  Farah: Halima’s maid

  Yemen

  Sultan Amer al-Taheri

  Murjan al-Zaferi: emir of Aden

  India

  Zamorin of Calicut

  Qasimul Haq: Zamorin’s most senior adviser

  Si al-Tayeb: son-in-law of Qasimul Haq

  Malik Ayaz: king of Diu and environs

  Ottoman Empire

  Sultan Selim

  Persia

  Shah Ismail

  – 1 –

  Lisbon, Portugal

  December 1486 AD

  As night fell, Lisbon’s main road grew crowded with the poor and wretched unable to find shelter from the bitter cold. They piled rubbish on the pavements, set it on fire and gathered around its warmth. From time to time, children emerged from these haphazard congregations to chase after passers-by they spotted from afar, pulling at the people’s garments and begging for money while pointing to their mouths or rubbing their bellies to crudely signal their hunger: the harsh cold, the merciless wind and the relentless rain afforded them little chance to speak.

  It was a filthy road, like many of the roads and alleyways of a city hit by extreme financial hardship. Drawn into protracted wars with neighbouring Spain, and embroiled in costly campaigns in North Africa, Portugal had depleted its coffers to the point where a shortage of precious metals left it unable to mint its own currency. Poverty and crime were on the rise, and many people had to abandon their farms and villages in search of safety in cities that they soon overcrowded.

  In such conditions, crimes of all kinds abounded. City dwellers started barricading their homes and concealing their wealth, and avoided many roads and alleys after dark. They no longer that their property, or indeed their lives, were safe, as more and more corpses turned up in the morning outside homes or on the roads, looted of their belongings and stripped bare. This sight became familiar, and soon people found it hard to differentiate between dead bodies and piles of waste: both often had things worth stealing. Even once-honourable people experienced the bitter taste of poverty and joined robbers in scavenging for anything of value. Trust vanished, to be replaced by fear of one another, and many turned into recluses in their attempt to cling to life and stay out of harm’s way.

  Two men appeared from afar, dressed in heavy robes with conical hoods that resembled the mitres worn by Catholic bishops. They passed quickly among the destitute street dwellers who had covered themselves with every torn and ramshackle rag they could find. The urchins noticed the two men and gathered around them, crying and begging for money. The duo ignored the children completely and continued onward against the wind that was now sprinkling ice-cold water in their faces – to which they appeared immune and indifferent. The two men had no time to stop and look at anything around them. If they had examined the faces of the children for even a few seconds, they would have seen their frosty red noses; they would have seen them biting their lips to hold back the pain from their empty stomachs. But who had the time to pay attention to all this? The pair kept their gaze on the road and their expressionless faces did not betray their nervousness. As their pace quickened, their panting produced a fog which rose from both sides of their cheeks. They were trying to get away as quickly as possible. The children had by now given up on trying to attract their attention, and returned to the makeshift fire pits and what little warmth they provided.

  The two men continued along the main street for some time, and then turned right into a dark alleyway. It appeared to be faintly lit, less filthy, and otherwise deserted as if off limits to humans. The pair drew their shoulders together instinctively, reaching out for a sense of security that had been lacking throughout their trip across the city. They started moving quickly again with more forceful strides, urged on by the sound of their footsteps that the walls around them echoed back after a small delay. It felt as though there was an army of ghosts on their trail.

  They inspected their surroundings, unsure of how they should feel in this eerie place. Should the sudden absence of any trace of humans make them feel safe or should it make them feel cautious and afraid? But they did not give the matter much more thought, and continued walking until they reached the cul-de-sac at the end of the alleyway. There was a stone wall there, to the left of which stood a large wooden door, cut through by a small hatch and a ring-shaped knocker hanging above it.

  One of the men, the taller and bigger of the pair, used the ring handle to knock on the door, making
a jarring noise that reverberated throughout the alleyway. The man knocked again, with more urgency, and the noise was even more cacophonous, merging with the echo of the previous knock that the alleyway had only confined and concentrated; not even the loud, brisk wind could mask it. The cold would show them no mercy if they did not go inside soon.

  Finally, two eyes finally peered through the hatch, and a hoarse voice that sounded as if it had come from the depths of hell uttered three words: ‘The Holy Sail.’

  ‘It is heading e-e-east,’ the taller man answered in a melodious voice, his body shaking and his tongue and lips made heavy from the cold.

  The hatch closed and the door opened with a strange squeak. The pair entered quickly and the door was closed again.

  Inside, the guard raised the lantern he was carrying to their faces. The men were now rubbing their hands together to get warm. The guard scrutinised their faces before he said, in the same coarse voice, ‘Follow me.’

  They looked around them and found themselves in the courtyard of a Moorish house. It was painted white, and was clean, well lit and beautifully designed. At the centre of its marvellous garden stood a fountain. The entrances and balconies were decorated with large arches adorned with spectacular engravings. The house resembled many other homes whose Moorish owners had left abruptly, melting one day into the darkness, never to return.

  The guard crossed the courtyard to the other side, passing by the fountain. The two men exchanged quick apprehensive glances, before turning their gaze to the man leading the way. They had no idea why they had been summoned here. The soft purling sound of the water brought them a bit of reassurance. The man stopped in front of another door; he knocked before he entered, followed by his two guests, who began removing their hoods in a mechanical manner.

  Candles in the corners lit the room. In the middle stood a rectangular table where three people sat, and it seemed from their garments that they were noblemen as far removed from the destitution outside the house as one could imagine. The appearance of these noblemen did nothing to assuage the two men’s fear. Moses, the host, stood and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture. As he moved, a large silver cross hanging from his neck flickered.

  ‘Welcome, dear guests! We’ve been waiting for you. Forgive us for summoning you on a cold night like this. Permit me to introduce you to these gentlemen.’

  He pointed to the first, a nobleman dressed in expensive velvet garments; a hat of a matching material and colour, with a long feather affixed to its top, sat on the table in front of him. ‘This is the noble Manuel, the king’s brother-in-law and confidant.’

  The two men bowed in a gesture of respect. Moses then continued, ‘This man sitting next to me is Mr Rodrigo, the king’s private doctor and a renowned astronomer.’

  Retaining the same smile he had received his guests with, Moses said, ‘I asked you to come to this house in disguise so that no one may recognise you. This house is the secret location for our meetings, and I hope that it will remain that – a secret.’

  He looked the two men in the eyes, as though waiting for them to respond and reassure him that they had understood his intent.

  The taller of the two men said, ‘The location of the house will remain secret, sir. We promise it.’

  Moses looked somewhat reassured, and he invited them to sit down. They sat quietly, and waited for him to explain why he had summoned them.

  Moses did not delay; addressing the men sitting at the table, he said, ‘Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my two dear friends.’

  He turned to the two guests. ‘Master Pêro da Covilhã,’ he announced, pointing at the larger man, ‘and Master Afonso de Paiva. I trust these men completely. They have been chosen for this mission because they speak Arabic fluently, and it is impossible to tell them apart from Arabs by their dialect and appearance. They know me as I know them, and I believe you have heard of Master Covilhã before, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I know Master Covilhã, but then who doesn’t? I have met him several times at the king’s palace, where he is a well-known figure,’ said the nobleman Manuel, talking to Moses as though Covilhã were not standing right in front of him. ‘But let us get started. We don’t want to leave this place at midnight. It’s very cold tonight.’ There was more than a touch of impatience in his voice.

  Moses ignored him with a broad smile. ‘Sir, let me offer you and the guests some of my fine wine. They are still rubbing their hands. The cold seems to have penetrated all the way to their bones. A glass of strong wine will do well to make them feel a little warmer.’

  Manuel nodded. Moses stood and brought wine for Covilhã and Paiva, who sat silently and awkwardly, conscious that they were being scrutinised by the other men round the table. Moses sat back down and started sipping the drink from his own cup quietly. He then set his gaze on Manuel, and waited for him to begin.

  Manuel ignored his glass of wine and reached for a parchment in front of him showing the most up-to-date map of the known world. He looked in the eyes of the other guests sharply for several seconds, before saying, ‘Gentlemen, everything said here is to be taken in confidence. Leaking information outside these walls could cost us all our lives, so I once again stress the secrecy of our conversation and the information we shall disclose to you.’

  Manuel glanced again at the map and continued. Europe had been cut off from the rest of the world after the Ottomans seized Constantinople in 1453, making it impossible to learn what was going on in the East, he reminded the guests. After Constantinople was conquered, the Ottomans changed its name to Istanbul. The Venetians had concluded agreements with the Ottomans, allowing them to control trade from the Muslim ports to Europe; they could now transport shipments of spice from the ports of Tripoli, Beirut and Alexandria to Europe, and sell them at high prices, depriving others of this lucrative trade. ‘If we don’t break this monopoly, we will die a slow death. Our coffers have been depleted and our people live in destitution. If we do nothing, we will find ourselves begging the kings of Europe for money,’ Manuel said. ‘And here we are still using the currency of our enemies, the Moors. It’s unbelievable.’

  Manuel paused for a few seconds, fiddling with the feather attached to the hat in front of him, trying to calm himself. ‘We do not even have enough to mint our own currency!’ He said this angrily as if those he was addressing were responsible.

  Manuel continued, ‘We know that there are sea routes between India, the source of all spices, and Arab lands. They alone control those routes, and monopolise their secrets and ports. We have obtained some information from our informants, who were able to penetrate deep into Persia and India. But this information remains muddled and unclear.’

  Manuel adjusted himself in his seat, took a deep breath, and then said, ‘Regardless, it would be difficult to do anything about the current situation. The Ottoman presence in Constantinople may prevent us from obtaining the information we want, and keep us from moving toward those spots. We know little about what is going on behind that solid Muslim wall.’

  Manuel raised his finger to Covilhã and Paiva’s faces, after pausing for a moment, and said, ‘But we believe there is another route that could take us to India. We are not sure but we have a good hunch. Your mission is to verify the information we have.

  ‘The password that Moses gave you before the meeting, which you used to get the guard to open the door when you arrived, is the password you shall use to identify all our agents in the Muslim countries. Remember it but never, ever write it down. Yes, the Holy Sail is heading east. In recent years we have been working in utmost secrecy to gather as much information as possible about the spice trade between India and Arab lands, and from there to Europe. We believe there could be a sea route that circumvents this, around Africa.’

  The nobleman then tapped with his finger on the African continent on the map. The expression on his face changed. ‘Our ships have secretly reached West Africa. We believe there is a route that circumvents that continent all the
way to India, but we cannot send our sailors and our ships to uncharted parts of the world. We need to know the ports, where they can re-supply, the wind patterns, the sea levels and the currents. And we are suffering mutinies on the ships, because the sailors are not accustomed to such long distances for long periods of time. We must find a foothold along the coasts of Africa.’

  He spoke quickly, expecting his audience to immediately grasp what he was saying. ‘We have asked our captains to put up a large cross in each place they stop, so that our sailors will sense that God is with them wherever they may go. They have planted these crosses throughout the western coast of Africa, but distances soon grew too long, and the sailors have become more and more restless. We don’t know when our ships will be able to head east.’

  Manuel sank back into his chair, blinking rapidly, and began to tell the story of a Catholic friar from Venice named Mauro, who several years earlier had made a large map of the world that was almost four cubits wide. Fra Mauro put into the map all the information he had obtained from Italian merchants who travelled to those lands, including descriptions from a Venetian who had settled in India where he married and had children. When the merchant decided to return home, he stopped in Cairo along the way. There, his wife and two children died from a plague, after which the man worked for several years as an interpreter for the sultan, before he could raise enough money to pay for his journey back. When he finally returned, he went to the Pope with all the information he had. The Pope then asked Fra Mauro to add this information to the map he was already working on.

  ‘All that has been collected over the years was put into making that map – let’s call it the Venerable Mauro map – which we paid a lot of gold to acquire. What interests us most are the ports that it describes in East Africa and southern Arabia, since it is from those ports in particular that ships sail to India, and come back loaded with all kinds of goods. Getting to these ports and learning more about them would make it easier for us to send ships to India via Africa.’

  Manuel then slammed his hand on the table to draw everyone’s attention. ‘Your aim, gentlemen, is to reach India and learn about the types of spices, their prices and the trade routes they travel through, not to mention the patterns of winds and ocean currents, the religions of the peoples that inhabit those lands, and the ports that the Arab merchants use. We must become acquainted with those ports, because they will become our bases too. It is important for you to fully succeed in this mission and return with the most accurate information possible. If successful, the king promises you many rewards and titles, and you will have done your kingdom a great service.’