Day 23, Month of Karthikai (October-November), 969 BC, Ancient sea-port of Muziris (near present-day Kodungallur) Kerala.
Jedidiah hauled a heavy bag into the canoe. It wobbled dangerously in the shallow waters. The pungent scent of spices wafted through the sack. “By heavens, what an aroma!” He stared out of the prow of the canoe and at the verdant greenery that met his sight. “And such a beautiful land too …”
“Stow the talk, boy, and finish loading the canoe!” barked Acrab, a tall, frowning man with arms that bulged with muscles.
Jedidiah pulled a face and went on with his job, although he made sure to breathe in the fragrance of cinnamons and cloves. Not to mention stealing looks at the busy harbour just beyond, the little canoes and small craft; the men scurrying on the shores, busy with trade. He remembered the one quick stroll he had managed the evening before, exploring Muziris before his ship left for the West.
“All those busy streets and covered fishing boats, where they sell fish, and the piled-up rice,” Jedidiah went on. “And the shifting crowd on the river banks, and the heaped piles of pepper, and the Chera chief — ah, the jewels. Such a regal air, too …”
“Yes, wonderful — but you must not speak of this country or port, once you reach home,” Ahmose, a short, squat man warned.
“What? Why not?”
“Acrab’s orders.” That was Tattannu, from Babylon.
Jedidiah stared at them, puzzled. At a signal from Acrab, Tattannu and Ahmose began to row hard towards the Phoenician ship that lay in deeper waters.
“Why mustn’t I speak about Kerala back home?” Jedidiah asked again. “We are trading with them, after all.”
The other men rolled their eyes. Acrab’s face wore a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You are an idiot, my little innocent,” he drawled. “But I’ll indulge you, anyway. Why do you think we’re transporting cinnamon and cloves and pepper all the way to Egypt, Israel, Assyria and Babylon?”
“The Egyptians use cinnamon to embalm their dead,” Jedidiah said slowly. “They would pay anything to get a steady supply. Other kingdoms have their needs, and they pay handsomely, because spices are rare.” He paused. “But what does this have to do with not mentioning Kerala?”
“What will happen if we share every detail of our trips overseas?”
“Why, everyone will know …” Jedidiah began, and stopped.
“Exactly, little innocent,” Acrab smirked. “We, the men of the seas, must guard our secrets.”
“Or everyone will choose to trade directly, thus cutting off your handsome profits,” Jedidiah nodded. “But — how do you explain when people wish to know the source of these spices?”
Rich haul
“In the wild, rocky fastnesses of Arabia and Ethiopia are mighty, dangerous birds that build their nests with these sticks of cinnamon. We are brave, selfless warriors, who kill these massive creatures and bring back spices, at great risk to our noble selves. Only a few select traders know the location of these nests. That’s the story we tell everyone. The Greeks and Romans certainly believe it. No reason why others shouldn’t.” Acrab grinned. The men laughed. By now, they had reached the large Phoenician vessel, with its impressive rounded hull, and horse-shaped prow.
“You cheat the countries you trade with, then,” Jedidiah’s voice throbbed with anger. “You use their ignorance to make your riches.”
“If people are dim-witted, that is their own fault. I simply make use of their stupidity,” Acrab hissed. “I and my men have a monopoly on herbs and spices, and we control the sea trade routes. My word is law. It will take the wisest of the wise to see through my ruse.” He grinned again. “Now, shut up — or you’ll lose your head.”
For the next few months, Jedidiah obeyed Acrab, as the ship hugged the shores of the magnificent Kerala coast, up north, and then west, towards the Persian Gulf, and then along the Arabian coast. Finally, Acrab’s ship, docked at Ezion-Geber, near Aqaba, and the closest port-city to the Kingdom of Israel. Acrab, standing at the prow, stared down at the huge crowd that stood on land, waving flags and chanting.
“Well, this certainly is a welcome fit for a king,” Acrab remarked. “Wonderful.” His eyes gleamed, as he looked over his men, especially Jedidiah. “Time to unload our cargo. And this time, I’m tripling the prices.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Jedidiah stepped forward. “I arrest you, Acrab, and all your men, for swindling my people, not to mention other kingdoms, regarding the acquisition of spices.”
There was a collective gasp. Acrab’s face flamed with fury.
“How dare you?” He screeched. “You…you’re just a crewman…you have no authority…”
“I do,” Jedidiah said calmly, as soldiers began to rush along the lowered gang-plank, and into the ship. “Many were the stories of your wrongdoings, and I came aboard your ship to unearth the truth. You said, once, that only the wisest of the wise could see through your ruse.”
There was an awed silence. The chants of the people on the shore rose higher.
“I have another name, you see.” Jedidiah said almost apologetically. “I am Solomon, ruler of these lands.” He paused, and smiled. “Some people call me wise.”
Historical Note: Kerala had already established itself as a leader in the spice trade more than 3000 years ago. It is a historically acknowledged fact that circa 1000 BC, western traders who controlled the spice routes to India made up outrageous stories about cinnamon being found in birds’ nests. It was only much later, in 45 AD, that the Greeks and Romans discovered the Trade Winds and thus, forged their own path to India. Although there is no evidence that King Solomon visited India, historians state that he sent a fleet of ships, manned by Phoenicians, to Kerala, and imported spices and other valuable commodities.
