LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 181
Rumors (3)
It was the noise and the shaking bed that pulled up my submerged consciousness.
Startled by the unprecedented commotion in the Liberian Palace, which had been completed for 20 years, King João III of Portugal opened his eyes wide.
The room was dark, as dawn had not yet arrived, and a dull sound tormented his ears like static.
As João held onto the shaking bed and pondered the situation with his sluggish mind, the door to his bedroom burst open.
“Your Majesty! You must escape at once! There’s an earthquake!”
At the mention of an earthquake, João leapt out of bed.
As he stood up in his nightclothes, the cacophony transformed into distinct sounds—decorative items and goods crashing to the floor, the panicked cries of palace staff waking up in a rush, and the ominous sound of stone structures cracking.
João hastened out of the palace, escorted by knights and servants, with the queen and his only daughter, Maria, following closely behind.
“What on earth is happening…?”
In the courtyard in front of the palace, João fell to the ground as a thunderous crash resonated.
It was the sound of stone buildings collapsing under the relentless quake, and a shockwave of dust rolled in from the crumbling structures.
“Are you alright?!”
João’s cousin and queen, Catalina, looked on with concern as he wore a bewildered expression, barely able to respond.
Although there had been two previous quakes not long ago, he could tell this one was of a different scale, as he could hardly see anything in the dark.
As he staggered to his feet, he could hear a shrill scream close by.
“Your Majesty! We must get out of here! We need to move to survive!”
“What do you mean all of a sudden?!”
“The ships, they’re stranded!”
At the knight’s shout, those carrying torches rushed towards the harbor.
The Liberian Palace was built in the Tagus River basin, connected to the North Atlantic, with the surrounding area bustling with ports, shipyards, and maritime trading institutions.
What they saw at the harbor, where they ran, was a shocking sight—water was vanishing, revealing almost bare ground, with ships stranded and toppled.
Whatever had caused this disaster was serious enough that even the dullest among them recognized it as an alarming sign.
“Bring the horses! We must evacuate the king!”
“Get the horses now!”
The knights shoved through the panicked crowd in the square, rushing to the stables and bringing horses back.
Ignoring the people getting tangled up or trampled underfoot, they lifted the reins for the royal family and high nobles.
The scene beyond the square was chaotic.
Fires erupted from the fallen buildings, flames and thick black smoke swirling around Lisbon.
People barely escaping in their nightclothes surged towards the seemingly safer open quay and plaza.
As João moved against the tide of those fleeing to the harbor, he opened his eyes wide.
The massive church had turned into a grotesque sight, and as another tremor began, buildings that could hold no more crumbled with a loud crack.
The horrific sight felt like a knife tearing through his heart.
“We must go to São Jorge Castle!”
“To São Jorge Castle! Let us go to the castle!”
Determining the closest and safest refuge, the riders moved towards São Jorge Castle, the former royal palace of Liberia, built on one of Lisbon’s highest hills.
Arriving at the castle after navigating through the throng of people fleeing to the hill, they found the castle gates already wide open to receive them.
When João finally reached the castle gates, he turned only to be left speechless.
“Oh my God…”
A colossal wave, towering like a hill, was rushing towards Lisbon.
People who had fled to the shore for safety were running madly in the opposite direction, but they couldn’t outpace the oncoming wave.
The last thing João saw was the wave engulfing people and the city, and he tightly shut his eyes.
With a magnitude over 7, one-third of the city’s buildings were destroyed, and over a thousand who could not escape were buried alive.
Following shortly, a tsunami left a total of 30,000 dead.
January 26, 1531
The news of the great disaster that swept through Portugal struck Europe like a thunderbolt.
*
Yusuf watched Michelangelo carving at the bridge named after Nene.
With each delicate touch, chunks of marble fell gracefully below.
A sculpture depicting the beautiful love story of a man who was a slave and a woman who was a maid was engraved beside the bridge, and as Michelangelo caught his breath after intensely focusing, Yusuf spoke with a hint of amusement.
“Isn’t that a bit of idealization?”
Aside from his mother Fatima, Yusuf knew more about Hassan and Nene’s romantic affairs than anyone else.
It suited their relationship more to be described as cruel rather than sweet, and it was Hassan who had, countless times, gazed at Allah’s feet because of Nene.
Having heard this directly from Hassan, Michelangelo sighed.
“If only I hadn’t heard that story, my inspiration would have soared even higher. Why did I have to hear such things?”
“Isn’t life a short comedy amidst a long tragedy?”
Even the love won after a tough courtship wouldn’t last long.
At least, that brief happiness is what allows people to keep living now.
As he took a moment to reflect on Hassan struggling to build a bridge over the Bosphorus, as if it were the last task of his life, Yusuf turned away.
Watching the crowds passing through the bridge made him understand why powerful figures wished to create buildings that would last for ages.
“Your Majesty!”
As Yusuf was about to cross the bridge towards the Topkapi Palace, he noticed Hassan urgently beckoning him.
“It seems this is not a conversation for here. Let’s move inside.”
If Hassan had rushed over, it usually meant something serious, yet Yusuf walked calmly as if he already knew.
Following Yusuf without a hint of curiosity, Hassan entered the audience chamber and knelt down as Yusuf took his seat in the high position.
“Speak.”
“A great earthquake has struck Portugal. Judging by the damage, it is estimated to be of a similar scale to the earthquake that occurred in Constantinople last time.”
Only 22 years had passed since the earthquake in Constantinople in 1509.
People living in that period still clearly remembered it, and Yusuf had personally seen the damages and helped with recovery, so he had a sense of the extent of the destruction.
“That’s unfortunate. Many poor lives must have been lost.”
A magnitude 7 earthquake could cause well-constructed wooden buildings to collapse partially, and the strongest stone structures without rebar would most certainly be destroyed.
In the Ottoman Empire, where he was involved, they were barely considering including rebar in bridge construction; therefore, extreme damage was inevitable in Lisbon.
Although he was aware of this catastrophe, it was damage that he could not have prevented.
‘Even if I warned them there would be an earthquake, they likely wouldn’t have prepared.’
If their own king acted as if he had a prophecy, people would deem him insane; likewise, the Portuguese wouldn’t take measures to address the forecasts of the foreign Ottoman Padishah.
Even if there were foreshocks prior to the major earthquake, they wouldn’t have deemed it serious enough to prepare due to loss of pride.
Additionally, it could be problematic even if they received a warning to prepare.
It would only benefit Portugal, who was practically an enemy, and his reliance on modern knowledge wouldn’t allow him to predict every earthquake.
‘Just considering that this Lisbon earthquake, which would be forgotten until the 20th century, it wouldn’t be strange for me not to know about a significant earthquake.’
How such a major calamity that dealt heavy damage to the capital of Portugal could be forgotten was beyond him, but had it not been for the manuscript left by someone who witnessed the disaster in 1909, it might have been completely forgotten.
Pretending to be a true prophet yet failing to foresee the next disaster could lead to resentment and mockery, so it was risky to intervene actively.
Having already known about the damages, Yusuf responded rather dryly and asked Hassan.
“What are the reactions of Portugal and other countries to this disaster?”
“It’s still too early since the situation has just unfolded, and only the upper echelons of each country are aware. We need to monitor it a bit longer.”
“While it’s important to heed the reactions of religions and subjects within the empire as planned, keep a keen ear on the Western response as well.”
To be honest, his remark was spoken casually, believing the news of the earthquake would soon reach the West, but rumors spread much faster than anticipated.
At the very least, he hadn’t expected the news to reach Portugal before the earthquake occurred.
Normally, the West should have dismissed it as the infidel emperor self-deifying when the earthquake in Constantinople was predicted, but things had gone awry.
Caught up in a complicated situation due to religious issues and the added prophecy matter, future developments were uncertain.
“Understood, Your Majesty. I will remain vigilant and report any significant matters immediately.”
“Very well. That shall be sufficient.”
As Hassan took his leave after exchanging formalities, Yusuf drummed his fingers on the armrest.
“No matter how much I think, I can’t make calculations.”
If it were something happening within the Ottoman Empire, he’d somehow manipulate public opinion or suppress information to sway it in a favorable direction, but he had no control over the reactions of Western nations.
After pondering for a moment, Yusuf shelved his complicated thoughts.
“We have no choice but to observe the upcoming situation and respond accordingly.”
There was no harm in maintaining a sense of calm.
Even if the worst happened and war broke out, the current Ottoman Empire would manage just fine.
What Yusuf meant was the will of the empire; the Ottomans silently observed the situations unfolding around them.
*
When rumors surfaced that the Ottoman Padishah had foreseen the disaster in Portugal, they were initially seen as mere amusing gossip.
It wasn’t an official announcement, and the source lacked credibility, making it odd for the average person to take it seriously.
Not only the nobility but even those interested in external news knew about it; however, they thought it was likely to be debunked as unfounded rumor.
Only until reality caught up to them.
“Heard there was an earthquake in Portugal? If he wasn’t a real prophet, that’s impossible.”
As news spread of the catastrophic damages in Portugal due to the earthquake, reactions quickly escalated.
The first to respond vehemently were the clergy in the West.
“An infidel as a prophet? Nonsense! It’s merely a coincidence!”
“One can shoot a hundred arrows, but if one hits the target, it doesn’t make one a sharpshooter. This chaos may be exactly what he desires!”
“We must all regain our wits! If we fall for their vile rhetoric, the Lord shall be angered!”
Amidst the turmoil of the Reformation, the sack of Rome, and the rebuilding of Rome with infidel Ottoman aid, the church was already facing a crisis of authority.
In this context, the rumor of the infidel emperor as a prophet posed a serious threat to the clergy.
As the clergy moved with the intent to conduct inquisitions for spreading such baseless rumors, few in other Western nations dared to speak of the recent events openly.
However, the situation was different for Portugal, which had directly suffered the effects of the disaster.
Following the earthquake, several strong aftershocks caused the Portuguese to tremble in fear, as they pitched tents and makeshift homes in plazas and fields.
The Tagus River running in front of Lisbon saw bodies floating by daily, drifted by the tsunami.
Lisbon was in such dire straits it was hard to maintain sanity, and it was in this circumstances that the monks acted.
“The Lord has spoken! All these calamities are punishment for human sin!”
Addressing the gathered crowd in the plaza, the monk proclaimed fiercely.
“Are we to blame for this terrible disaster? We who offer pious worship every week for the Lord? No! Then, who is responsible?!”
“It is the Jews’ fault!”
“Yes! This disaster comes from the Jews and the new Christians!”
The newly converted Jews were referred to as Cristiano Nuevo, having switched faiths to avoid persecution during the Reconquista, and for long had been the target of suspicion and slander.
Deep despair and accumulated rage were redirected toward a deep-seated hatred, and the monk continued.
“Moreover, it is not just them! The infidel emperor who knew of this disaster beforehand! How could he have known unless he had caused this calamity?!”
“That’s right!”
“The infidel emperor is the antichrist! A foe we must expel!”
Not only had the Portuguese fleet suffered terribly due to the Ottomans, but they had also lost the hard-fought trade routes, leading to extreme resentment toward the Ottomans within Portugal.
Such frenzied claims rapidly spread within Portugal, and this rumor traveled over to the Ottomans.
It provoked the ire of the Ottoman subjects.
“To insult the Padishah, the protector of Islam and Christianity, is absolutely intolerable!”
“We cannot let this go! Let us punish those who insult the Padishah!”
The previously repressed madness within the Ottomans erupted.