The Holy Sail Read Online Free PDF

learned not to look too impressed – even when he was – to ensure he always secured the best price. When he liked a certain item, he would pick it up, inspect it thoroughly between his hands and then pass it on to his vizier, Ghurair bin Rahhal. When the sultan wanted to go ahead and buy an item, he left it to Bin Rahhal to bargain with the merchants. He paid either in cash or in pearls, a commodity the sultan monopolised in the area stretching between Bahrain, eastern Qatar and the Omani coast.
    On occasions such as these, the sultan’s guests took great pleasure in getting a peek at the precious goods on display. People who sat close to him were envied for being able to listen in on the conversations and examine the coveted items first-hand. These articles were not easy to move between ports and required many provisions to be transported. Only the Indian Banyan merchants could manage such a feat, with their intricate network of relations with local rulers, harbourmasters and even the pirates infesting the seas.
    There was now a hoard of sundry artefacts in front of Bin Rahhal. He reached out and took hold of a ring studded with precious stones, and held it up to the merchant. ‘How much for this ring, Banyan?’
    The Banyan merchant, by virtue of his experience, sensed a deal was in the offing. However, he had to be very delicate about naming his price, because he did not want to appear greedy, but at the same time he wanted to maximise his profit. ‘Consider it a gift to the sultan from his humble servant, the poor merchant standing before him.’
    Everyone laughed at this expression, which they had heard many times in varying versions from Indian merchants.
    Ghurair bin Rahhal was not a gullible man, easily fooled by such flattery. He had come to Al-Ahsa with his father from Najd when he was fifteen years old. His father found work in the palace, teaching the Quran and Arabic to the children of Sultan Ajwad, Sultan Muqrin’s brother. Bin Rahhal was nimble and tactful, and after his father’s death, he was raised in the palace as one of the sultan’s children. Over time, he became a close companion and counsellor to Sultan Muqrin, despite their twenty-year age difference.
    Bin Rahhal was a handsome man. He had a piercing look that could almost see through people. He applied kohl to his eyes every day, which made his gaze that much more mysterious and intense. He was tall and had long plaited hair. He worked in trade, shuttling around the ports of eastern Arabia and travelling to India on many occasions.
    Bin Rahhal gave the man a knowing smile. ‘Come on then, tell me, how much for the ring?’ he asked.
    â€˜One thousand dinars, sir.’
    As was his custom in matters such as this, Bin Rahhal made a dramatic frown, squinting at the man opposite him. ‘What? A thousand dinars? Too much!’
    The Banyan started sweating. He pressed his palms together and brought them close to his face. ‘I swear by all that is sacred to me, this is the right price, sir. I am willing to dip my fingers into boiling oil to prove it.’
    The sultan was listening to the discussion, although he appeared preoccupied with something else. ‘Boiling oil? Can you enlighten me, Bin Rahhal?’
    Bin Rahhal loved to tell strange stories to the sultan, and the sultan enjoyed listening to them. ‘They have an odd custom in India, Your Grace,’ the vizier said. He told the sultan of one of his visits to Calicut, when he had seen authorities bring forward a man accused of committing a crime. He had been placed in front of a pot of boiling oil and ordered to plunge his forefinger and middle finger in the oil for a few seconds. The fingers were then wrapped in a cloth, which was sealed with wax. They imprisoned the man for three days. ‘I didn’t stay long enough to know the outcome of the ordeal,’ Bin Rahhal said. ‘But usually after three days have passed, the