The Holy Sail Read Online Free PDF Page A

asked me just now to go and find the rabbi. They want him to plead with the harbourmaster to return their belongings. I must hurry. He’s paying me a lot of money these days, unusual for him.’
    After a moment of silence, he turned towards them, and said loudly, ‘It would be unusual for you too.’
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3
 
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    Al-Uqair, Eastern Arabian Peninsula
    The bright, fully formed disk in the sky gave the water a silvery lustre. It was a gorgeously moonlit night, its quiet interrupted only by the subdued voices of the sailors. They spoke almost in murmurs, trying not to disturb their sleeping colleagues. The fires they had lit on board their ships were starting to die down. It was nearly midnight, and the gently rocking sea would not allow them to resist sleep for much longer.
    One of the sailors lifted his head, alerted to the sound of a ship approaching from afar, propelled by eight oars hitting the water in impressive harmony. But the sailor quickly lost interest, put his head back on his makeshift pillow and slept.
    The boat glided quietly between the anchored ships until it reached the port. A whistle blew and the oars were lifted and then quickly drawn inside. A man jumped from the deck onto the pier and tied the boat to a post. Minutes later, a group of men disembarked from the ship. They spoke to one another briefly before they disappeared up a path leading to a palm forest nearby.
    On the dawn of the third day after the ship’s arrival, the
majlis
* of Sultan Muqrin bin Zamel al-Jabri was buzzing with visitors. The
majlis
sat in the middle of a large farmstead in Al-Ahsa. Caravans carrying all sorts of goods from India, China, Iraq, Persia and Yemen were parked outside.Throngs of people filled the entrance to the sultan’s estate, chatting away in a multitude of languages. The place had become a bazaar of sorts, frequented on a daily basis by those wishing to see the exotic wonders it had to offer.
    In front of the farm’s gates a group of slaves, all wearing the same uniform, stood in two lines facing one another. Tightly gripping their long swords – the tips of which were touching the ground – they watched the people entering and leaving. Their demeanour was unwelcoming, as their eyes scoured the premises, meaning to prevent any undesirable folk from slipping in. Because of these cruel eyes, perhaps, many poor folk gathered outside the door, not daring to enter yet hoping someone charitable would come out and give them money.
    Under the branches of fruit trees that had gracefully come together to create shade, carpets and cushions were laid for the sultan and his guests. A stream flowed along to the right of the
majlis
, originating from a nearby spring. Fish were swimming in the cool and sweet water, trying very hard to overcome the current. No one was allowed to get too close to the sultan’s favourite place, where he came to swim on hot days.
    Sultan Muqrin sat in the centre of the
majlis
, as usual, his legs stretched out. The fifty-year-old man had a light brown complexion and long braided hair that reached his shoulders. The sultan wore an embroidered
ghutra
* wrapped with a circlet of plaited cloth, making it appear like a large turban. He had a thick, fist-long, salt-and-pepper beard, and was dressed in a long cotton shirt with wide sleeves that almost touched the ground when he stood up.
    An Indian merchant sat opposite the sultan. He wore the turban typical of Banyan * merchants. The turban had a tail that hung down to his lower back and it spread outwards from the top in a fan-like fashion. The merchant seemed tense as he showcased his wares to the sultan, arranged neatly in front of him: jewels made from onyxes, diamonds and rubies; marvellously engraved rings; gilded Indian swords; daggers inlaid with diamonds; and curled-toed shoes interlaced with golden threads.
    The sultan had become used to being presented with such merchandise and had