Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 380 Obstacle Removal
"Your Excellency Grand Vizier, on behalf of the Ottoman Empire, I lodge a strong protest with you!"

Ottoman Ambassador Ahmed said this to Amir, but the man just looked at him expressionlessly. Then he handed him a glass of water.

"Mr. Ambassador, would you like some water?"

Ahmed was furious. "I'm talking to you about Mecca, and you ask me if I want some water?"
"Your Excellency Grand Vizier, I would like to say that Mecca and Medina have always belonged to the Ottoman Empire. From the time of Selim I, these areas have been under our jurisdiction."

Amir nodded in agreement, but he also said...

"But Your Excellency, as you know, rumors don't arise without reason. If your country were still in the state of Suleiman's time, I don't think anyone would say this. But now..."

Ahmed immediately replied, "Your Excellency, please do not forget that for two hundred years, it has been the Ottomans that have been resisting attacks from Europe. If it weren't for our country, I'm afraid your country would also have been attacked by Austria."

Amir slowly put down his teacup, the porcelain cup touching the silver tray with a crisp sound.

“Your Excellency, you are right, the Ottomans did indeed resist European expansion.” He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “But have you ever considered why even the sheikhs in Mecca are now beginning to question the Sultan’s rule?”

The sound of guards changing shifts echoed outside the window, their footsteps precise and synchronized. Ahmed's forehead beaded with sweat as he noticed the newly hung map on the wall—the Hejaz region marked in a striking green.

“Because times have changed.” Amir stood up and walked to the window. “While your Pashas are getting lost in the Yemeni mountains, our railways have already reached Hufuf; while Constantinople is struggling with its debts, Tehran’s banks are providing interest-free loans to pilgrims.”

He suddenly turned around, a sharp glint in his eyes: "You just mentioned Selim I? It's a pity this isn't 1517, and the Shah's artillery—"

The grandfather clock beside the bookshelf suddenly struck, its chimes drowning out the rest of the sentence. But Ahmed clearly saw the other person's lips move:

"It is already more powerful than your artillery."

"As for Mecca, you might ask the caravans singing Persian folk songs on their pilgrimage, or the hajis in the Grand Mosque paying their zakat with gold dinars minted in Tehran—whose guardian do they now recognize?"

The attendant opened the door at the opportune moment, and the bell for seeing off guests rang crisply at the end of the corridor. Amir then handed the ambassador a document bearing the peacock emblem:
"This is a copy of the Treaty of Guarantee of the Two Holy Lands, personally signed by His Majesty the Shah. If your country has any objections, you may send troops to retrieve it."

Ahmed fell completely silent, because what the other party said was true. The Ottomans... were indeed no longer the Ottomans of Suleiman the Magnificent; but Iran, too, was no longer the same as before.

The events in Mecca and Medina also alarmed the local foreigners. Harrison hadn't expected that Mecca would change so drastically in just a few days. His only consolation was that he hadn't yet relayed the news to the Governor-General of India, meaning everything could still be changed.

“I am the British Consul in Jeddah, and Mr. Sadiq has already scheduled an appointment with me to discuss something.”

After the soldiers went in to verify, Harrison entered the mansion outside Mecca. Since heretics were not allowed to enter the holy city, the meeting place was set up here.

Sadiq also knew that the British were primarily concerned with the security of Aden in the Hejaz region. Therefore, they valued the area. Of course, before the fall of the Ottoman Empire, they supported Ottoman rule there. But now, with the tide turned, Britain needed to negotiate with Iran.

When Consul Harrison entered the reception room, Sadiq was standing by the window, his back to him gazing in the direction of Mecca. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dappled shadows on the carpet, like a Persian miniature painting.

“Consul, welcome.” Sadiq turned around with a polite smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve prepared Ceylon tea—I’ve heard it’s the most popular drink in India.” There was indeed an exquisite silver tea set on the table, along with a dish of candied dates—typical Arabic hospitality, yet with a distinct Persian influence.

Harrison didn't touch his teacup, getting straight to the point:

“Mr. Sadiq, London is very concerned about the changing situation in Hejaz.”

Sadig gently stirred the teaspoon, the sound of the sugar cubes hitting the glass was particularly clear in the quiet room.

"Concern?" He looked up. "It's just God's will. The Ottomans couldn't even guarantee water for the pilgrims, so how could they protect the holy city?"

“Indeed.” Harrison put down his teacup. “However, what our country is more concerned about is the safety of shipping from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea.”

He deliberately glanced at the map hanging on the wall, where the new route from Basra to Jeddah was marked in red.

Harrison's knuckles turned slightly white on the back of the chair. Britain did indeed rely on the Red Sea route to maintain control over India, and the change of government in Mecca could affect the security of the port of Aden.

"Our country has always respected the Ottoman sovereignty over the holy city," the consul chose official language.

"Yes, yes, yes! I know your country has always been like this. Just like your country respects Egypt's autonomy."

Harrison finally picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then suddenly changed the subject:

"I heard the pearl fishing season in the Persian Gulf is approaching? Our businessmen have recently encountered some... licensing issues in Bahrain."

Sadiq nodded knowingly and took a document from the drawer:
“That’s right, this is the Persian Gulf Trade Charter issued by His Majesty the Shah—British companies will receive a 30% share of pearl harvesting, a 5% increase from last year.” He paused. “Of course, this is contingent on London acknowledging the status quo…and properly ‘dissuading’ the Ottomans from military adventures. I think your country can understand this situation, can it?”

A servant silently delivered a confidential letter. Harrison caught a glimpse of the lion emblem on the wax seal—the symbol of the Viceroy of India.

Sadiq pretended not to notice the consul's change in expression and continued, "By the way, our fleet in Muscat recently 'accidentally' rescued a British merchant ship—in an era rife with piracy, international cooperation is crucial, isn't it?"

Harrison's face darkened further, but he still expressed his agreement. The ship was actually transporting arms to the Zanzibar nobility, but had to seek Iranian help due to a storm. Unexpectedly, Iran merely seized the ship without protesting to Britain. So that's what they were waiting for.

"You are right, our country is grateful to Iran for everything it has done to rescue the merchant ship."

As dusk fell, Harrison emerged from his residence, carrying an unstamped draft of the Anglo-Persian Memorandum of Understanding on the Red Sea. The third clause, written in pencil, stated: "Britain retains consular jurisdiction in Jeddah, and Persia must ensure the safety of navigation in the Red Sea."

Not far away, several soldiers were melting down old cannons left by the Ottomans and casting them into other things—the Arabic inscriptions on them were clearly visible: "There is no god but God; Nasser al-Din is the shadow of God."

(End of this chapter)