Kitabı oku: «The Sky Of Nadira», sayfa 2
«Shall we prepare for something, my Qā'id?»
«I'm just telling you to organize the guard and a prompt signalling fire to sound the alarm to our sentries. »
Under the canopy, outdoors, Jala entertained her illustrious guest with the same treatment as her brother. Sitting on stools they talked about frivolity and banality.
«When's the birth? » asked Maimuna to Ghadda, watching her abdomen.
«In three months ... Inshallah22! »
«And you ... Nadira ... it's really unusual to find you still in your mother's house. Is the smallness of this village the reason why you don't count suitors? »
«To tell you the truth, my Lady, there have been many suitors ... but Umar thought they were not worthy. »
«Of your beauty? Your brother is right. »
« I have nothing more than you. »
Then Maimuna uncovered her wrists by turning the sleeves; scars appeared, just tightened and still full of redness.
« You don't have these that I have ... »
Nadira and the others looked at her perplexed, immediately thought that the Qā'id's sister had cut her veins. But Maimuna explained:
« Don’t think that I am a sinner; it was someone else who made me cut my wrists. »
« Who, my Lady?» asked Nadira with the tears in her eyes, who on that day wore a small palm-shaped painting on her chin, a meticulous work done with henna.23
«My husband, Mohammed ibn al-Thumna, Qā'id of Catania and Syracuse.»
«Why, my Lady? What did you do to him? » Nadira asked again, leaning forward and grabbing her hands.
«Is there anything that justify that a wife being treated like this? »
Nadira then let go, feeling the response almost like a rebuke.
«I belonged to ibn Meklāti, former lord of Catania, with whom I was married, but Mohammed took his life and stole the city and his wife. And as if the infamy of being married to the killer of my first husband was not enough, Mohammed wanted to give me this gift by having my wrists cut in order to bleed me. Besides, you know how my brother became a slave to Qā'id with his hands ... and for this reason Mohammed only reminded me of my plebeian state. »
«Do you still belong to the Qā'id of Catania, my Lady?» Asked Ghadda.
«He asked for forgiveness when he disposed of the hangover of the wine of the night before… because Mohammed is part of those who drink and give themselves to excesses and then they feel sorry and regret the next day. However, I asked to be able to go to my brother and he granted it to me ... but if it were not for the young servant who wanted to save me, I would not be here today to talk with you, dear sisters. »
«Aren't you afraid to go back to him»
«I will not return; I won’t see my children again ... but I will not return! »
«You are brave! » exclaimed Ghadda.
«I'm not brave, I'm just Qasr Yanna's Qāid sister. If I had been one of the women in this village, I would certainly have returned as a good wife. »
«And your brother won't send you back? » Jala therefore intervened, amazed that Maimuna hoped that her brother could support her in that behaviour in her opinion indecent.
«No, Ali sworn it to me. »
There was a moment of silence, as if the air was full of concern for the story of the woman.
«Nadira, my dear, your brother is right not to give yourself to anyone. Have you seen my wrists? Have you seen what happen if you meet the wrong man? And then you deserve much ... much more than what could happen to you staying with Rabaḍ. Ordinary men wouldn't deserve you, daughter. »
«Who could be interested in a girl of the people? »
«Even an illustrious Qā'id! » Maimuna said with unusual rapidity, as if she had been waiting to give that answer since the beginning of the story.
Nadira laughed modestly, then said:
«There are not many important Qāid in Sicily, except your husband, your brother and…»
She had not yet finished speaking and was struck by a strange awareness: Maimuna was there for her and on behalf of her brother. She was seized with anxiety, apprehension and such a tension that she could no longer speak.
«Nadira, dear, what does upset you? » Maimuna asked, stroking her cheek.
Jala, on the contrary, having understood the antiphon even before her daughter, was out of her mind.
«Nadira, Maimuna's compliments seem to bother you. » scolded the mother.
«Why are you here? » asked instead the girl seriously, swallowing.
«To find out if what is said about Nadira of Rabaḍ is true. Do you mind? »
«No!» replied the young woman, making a nervous smile.
It had been agreed between Maimuna and his brother that, if the judgment on the girl had been positive, the latter would have had to serve the men in the other room, and especially the Qā'id directly from her hands.
«Do you think Qasr Yanna's Qā'id comes to Rabaḍ for no reason? Nadira, Ali would be immensely happy if you personally served him some food. »
Not a little reluctant within himself, not because she disagreed with the proposal but because of the seriousness of the gesture, Nadira covered her face, took from the hands of a servant some sweets made of mustard mixed with honey and mustard and brought them to the room where the men they discussed.
The Qā'id stopped the speech as soon as he saw Nadira advancing towards him; was the signal, the girl had passed the exam of Maimuna.
Umar was perplexed; however, he immediately understood the reason inherent in his lord's visit.
When Nadira knelt before the Qā'id and pushed the hand with the food towards his mouth, the other gently blocked her wrist, and she even feared she had done something wrong. Then he fixed her intently in the wide eyes and began to recite:
«Do you know those sources of living, pure and sapphire-coloured water?
Where it is possible to mirror oneself, to see one's soul.
Where herons and maidens quench their thirst, and their hair is uncovered.
Do you know, oh my Great, the boundaries of your kingdom?
Do you know that sea of shocking wonder?
So deep and rich in flaky fin fish.
So turquoise and cyan and blue, where nets gather.
Do you know, oh favourite of the Supreme, the borders of Sicily?
Do you know that sky of incomparable beauty and innocence?
From which rains in the season of early figs and melons.
Thanks to which hibiscus, orange blossom and roses are refreshed.
Do you know, oh my Lord, the sky of Nadira , the boundaries of her eyes? »
Two tears fell quickly over Nadira's face, which went to hide behind the veil of the niqab24. She could not explain how it was possible that the fame of her eyes had crossed the boundary of Rabaḍ and even had reached the ears of the Qā'id.
«Have you ever heard these words, my dear? » Asked Ali, although he already knew that the answer was negative.
«No, my Lord. But the Nadira to whom you dedicated these words must be lucky. »
The Qā'id smiled, being positively impressed by the girl's modesty.
« This summer I granted an audience to a traveling poet who was looking for a court, such a Mus'ab, and he delighted me for two months with his poetic skills. One day he praised me for a flower of such beauty that I ended up begging him to tell me who she was. That flower had a name: Nadira; she lived in Rabaḍ and was the sister of'āmil. The verses I have recited, my dear, I have only learned them by heart ... the prize for genius goes only to the poet Mus'ab, but the prize for the beauty of these words goes to you. However, if I had seen your eyes before hearing these words, perhaps I would have punished Mus’ab for his presumption in wanting to describe the indescribable. Allah has made you unparalleled and inexplicable, my dear! I waited a month, the entire duration of Ramadan25, before I knew "The sky of Nadira, the border of his eyes", although now I realize that that border does not exist.»
Then Ali looked at Umar and said to him:
« Brother, I ask you for Nadira's hand, at whatever price you impose on me.»
Umar didn’t say a word, and Nadira left the room, realizing that the issue had to be addressed by the men.
Umar in his heart immediately agreed, and he would have granted Nadira even without a price, since he would become the Qā'id's brother-in-law, however he hid his emotions and his assent that the other raised the stakes. Ali assured that he wanted to make Nadira one of his wives and that he would not have treat her as a concubine because of his popular origin. Moreover, he also promised gifts and benefits for the whole family. At that moment Umar looked at Rashid, his only eight-year-old son, and couldn't help thinking about how their life would change for the better thanks to his sister's blue eyes.
Meanwhile Nadira had run to take refuge in the place where she went as a child, under the foliage of a large mulberry tree located on the property of the house. She didn’t understand why something so important was happening to her. She was sure that she wasn’t up to it, as she believed she had done nothing to deserve the attention of the Qā'id and a proposal of this magnitude. She was crying and trembling ... then she leaned her back against the trunk and, with her eyes closed, she remembered the cause of those events.
Chapter 3
Summer 1060 (year 452 from Hegira) Rabaḍ by Qasr Yanna
It was Friday, and in the sun of the afternoon, Nadira was going to the well in the south of Rabaḍ with the intention of drawing a bucket of water with Fatima, the granddaughter, with her. The latter, dressed in red, wore a choker decorated with colourful geometric patterns and many ornaments hanging on the forehead and attached to the headdress, just as the Berbers use to decorate the maidens. There were also other women who went to the well, and they laughed and joked carelessly despite the heat of the hottest hour.
At the end of their works, the other women all grabbed their bucket and set off on the journey home. Only Nadira and Fatima remained there.
«I've heard that this well is miraculous. » a male voice began.
Nadira, startled, let go of the rope, dropping the bucket into the bottom of the well.
That guy, a young man who wore a strange yellow kefiah26 rolled up on his head, came forward waving his hands and begging her to forgive him to have scared her.
«I didn't see you, sir.» answered Nadira, covering her face and pulling little Fatima towards her.
«I was saying that this well is miraculous… and now that I'm closer to you I am even more convinced. »
And smiling he continued:
«Because if you're not an angel, explain me what kind of creature of Heaven I have in front of me.»
«Only the sister of the village chief, a man very close to the Qā'id. » Nadira explained his references to dissuade him from any bad intentions.
«You don't have to fear anything from me. »
Therefore, nodding a bow with his hands gathered behind his back, he presented himself:
«Mus'ab, poet and doctor. »
«Let me talk to my brother and I will give you the hospitality you deserve, Mus'ab. »
«You are kind, but all I need I think I have already found it. »
«Do you need water? My brother won't disagree with giving you a bucket. » Nadira asked innocently, imagining that she was referring to the well.
However, the other one smiled and explained:
«I have travelled a lot despite my young age: from Baghdad to Grenada. I have seen many times turquoise eyes and emerald eyes, worthy of the seventy-two virgins promised by Allah to the martyrs. In Andalus I found girls of visual agitation with eyes similar to yours ... and in the mountains of Kabilia I came across women with almost identical characteristics. However, never ... never ... I found such an intense blue embedded in a face like yours. Your aspect betrays the mixture to which you belong, for sure Berber, as I evoke from the clothes of the little girl ... And also, among the Sicilian natives Maybe your father is an indigenous? Or maybe your mother? From whom did you inherit this fortune? »
«You are wrong ... for sure you have been too long away from this earth and you easily fall into deception. There are no Berbers, indigenous or Arabs in these parts, but only Sicilians observing the word of the Prophet. Yeah, among my grandparents and among their mothers there were indigenous women converted to the dictates of the Koran, as happened in any other family of believers on this island. But this is normal considering that most men passed through Sicily in the early days, and only later did families who escaped the persecutions of the caliphs and emirs of Ifrīqiya pass there. Nevertheless, talking about my eyes, why would anyone investigate an inscrutable gift of Allah? »
At that moment the muezzin27 called the faithful to the noon prayer. Nadira turned to the Rabaḍ and its minaret, then hurried to re-enter.
«My mother is waiting for this water for too long. »
«Just tell me your name. »
«Nadira.»
«Nadira, I will write about your eyes! » exclaimed the stranger.
Nadira returned to her home pulling Fatima by the hand, and gained the certainty that Mus'ab would present himself in the presence of Umar to ask for his hand. However, the days passed by and that certainty disappeared, until at the beginning of October the much more important effect that that meeting had caused in the development of his destiny was clear.
Chapter 4
Winter 1060 (452 from the Hegira), Rabaḍ by Qasr Yanna
Corrado's face lit up with the colour of the sunset, getting red like the shades of his hair. Nadira had been back in the house for hours, refusing the help he had asked for; from that moment no one had shown up.
Then, just at sunset, Corrado started to shout deliriously:
« Umar, come out! Come out and face me! »
But a voice behind him, coming from the courtyard entrance, begged him:
« Please stop it! »
He replied:
« Nadira, coward ... is this your pity?»
That voice behind him then identified himself approaching the pole. A man from the debt collector in charge of the guard also approached him, but he made him threatening and intent on making him pay the insult to his mistress.
« No Please! He is feverish ... he doesn't know what he says. He even believes that I am the future bride of the Qā'id. »
Despite Apollonia's pleadings, the guard threatened:
« Another word and I'm taking his head off!»
Apollonia cried, while a few steps stared at him worried.
« I am your sister. Look at me, Corrado, look at me! »
Ma lui ruotava la testa convulsamente e continuava a mugugnare un suono indefinito.
Apollonia dunque gli si gettò addosso in un un abbraccio compassionevole. Corrado era l’uomo più alto del Rabaḍ e lei una delle ragazze più minute, perciò la testa della sorella si perdeva nel suo petto, lasciato scoperto dalla tunica strappata e dalla coperta sulle spalle.
«Come on… come on! It won’t last long»
«Sister…» he answered in a very low voice
« You finally recognize me!»
« How long have you been here?»
«I've been here for a long time. I stayed here all the time, my brother. I would have stayed even after I brought you this blanket last night, but our mother forced me to come back. »
« And where are they? »
« Our parents are afraid of the Qā'id man, and they also prevent Michele from coming here. »
« And you, sister?»
« I am nothing, the consistency of a drop of dew ... who cares about me?»
Corrado closed his eyes and had a sort of spasm in his face, then said to her:
« Go home. Don't you feel how strong the sun is at this hour?»
Meanwhile, the guard had approached again to prevent the girl from helping him.
« Stay away from him!»
Apollonia broke away from that embrace and replied:
« But don't you see he's delirious? Wasn't the lesson enough?»
« Go and talk to Umar ... if it were up to me I would have already freed him and I would have gone back to my house to stay warm..»
Apollonia then ran to the entrance of the owners' house. So when Umar was warned and came to the door, she threw himself at his feet and pleaded:
« Please, My Lord, I will do anything ... but let my brother free!!»
« I promised him three days, I can't withdraw the word.»
« He won't survive this night; he already has high fever! Please, my Lord, tie me to that stake, but let him go or he will die.»
« He will die if it has been written that he will die, otherwise he will live if it has been written so ... Throw another blanket on him if you want. And don't humiliate yourself this way for those who don't deserve it. »
So he commanded someone nearby to deliver food to the prostrate girl at his feet and then send her away. Apollonia got to her feet and answered angry, so much so that she made herself heard for the whole house:
« I don't want your food, I already have someone who feeds me! »
So the door was slammed in her face without being given the opportunity to challenge that decision. Now her legs gave way and she slipped on the door, crying louder than before.
When the muezzin then called the faithful for the sunset ṣalāt28, she, observing that the guard was preparing to bow to Mecca and facing the condemned man, took advantage of it to violate the prohibition that he could not approach.
« Corrado, my breath and life ... Corrado! »
However, he emanated a kind of bellow, softly and with closed eyes.
Apollonia then took her face in her hands and said to him:
« Remember who you are, Corrado, remember who your father is.»
«Alfeo… from Rabaḍ.» he replied in a weak voice.
« Corrado, brother, remember who your father is..» Apollonia repeated desperately, dissatisfied with the answer.
«Alfeo… our father.» he reiterated, always keeping his eyes closed.
« I do not mean who loved you like a son, instead remember who generated you. Those stories that you told me in the evening in front of the fire, those that your father handed down to you ... your real father. Remember when you told me about the moors of the north, made of ice and snow, and how the people of your race are used to the most extreme cold. Remember that, Corrado, and maybe your northern man's blood will warm you up to make you survive. »
« The Norman company …»
« Exactly, Corrado, the Norman company ... keep remembering!»
« My father, Rabel ... Rabel de Rougeville.»
« Yes, Corrado, it was during the summer of twenty years ago the last time you saw him; you told me a lot of times..»
« I saw the walls of Syracuse …» he finally muttered, before losing consciousness in a deep feverish sleep.
Chapter 5
Early summer 1040 (431 from Hegira), in front of the walls of Syracuse
Sicily was the "gateway to the east", the city that had been the most glorious of all the central Mediterranean before the advent of Rome, the home of tyrants and the great Archimedes, a pearl pulled out of the seabed by divine dolphins: this was Syracuse! In fact, the city of Arezzo was too prestigious a target to be ignored, a stage that the general of the Eastern Empire, George Maniakes, could not overlook in his mission.
The complete Reconquista of Sicily in favour of Constantinople was not an easy thing, and therefore, if you wanted to succeed, you had to take Syracuse to the Saracens, so that this became a solid bridgehead for the arrival of reinforcements from the east. The city on the other hand was well-stocked, fed by internal water sources and defended by tenacious soldiers, who had retreated beyond the walls after the initial clashes. The call of the muezzins on the minarets reminded the besiegers that conquering it would be a long and exhausting undertaking.
George Maniakes was a rude and despotic man, and especially with his troops and officers under his command he often proved violent ... a perfect warrior to be honest. Even his appearance testified to his brute character: He couldn’t see from one eye, he was taller than average, and his features were rough, unpleasant. Everything about him inspired fear, both among his own and among the unfortunate Saracen militias that had clashed against each other. Its value was undisputed even before the Emperor of the East entrusted him with the mission of snatching Sicily from the Arabs, but now that from Messina to the gates of Syracuse the crosses reappeared, his fame became absolute. On the other hand, you needed a strong character and an indisputable authority if you wanted to succeed in a bigger undertaking of the same war against Islam, that is to be able to control the varied army he commanded. There were many bloodlines gathered in the pay of George Maniakes: men from Constantinople and his possessions, Apulian, Calabrian, Armenian, Macedonian, Paulian29 ... but also mercenaries, the counted30 who brandished the spear in the wake of the Lombard Arduino ... the guard varies, Nordic who had crossed the Slavic steppes to serve the Emperor of the East and led by Harald Hardrada ... and the Normans of the lower Seine River, among the most skilled warriors.
One of this latter - not yet a soldier - stood watching the sea around the fifth hour of the afternoon, looking beyond the ruins of the ancient city on the mainland. In fact, the city had once been much larger, also extending over a considerable part of the coast overlooking the island of Ortigia, where the nucleus of the famous Syracuse stands. For two hundred years, however, after the devastating Saracen assault, it consisted of only the island part and a small part of the peninsula, which had already ended up under the control of Maniakes. To what remained of Syracuse the men turned their thoughts and weapons to succeed in that siege that had lasted for months, beyond that narrow and small canal that divided the city.
Conrad was nine years old, and, unfortunately, he knew the war soon, so that he would temper himself to the fate that would accompany him throughout his life; by nature, in fact, every Norman male could not be anything other than a warrior. But Conrad was also a dreamer ... Perhaps because his father thought it right to save him again at the baptism of arms, he knew how to dream without having to deal with the atrocities of men, and without having to deal with the massacre. Conrad’s green eyes, were pure, so much so that you could reflect yourself in them and see the reflection of hope, or that idea of home and family that had been half denied him with the untimely death of his mother, a noblewoman of free descent.
Rabel de Rougeville had brought his son, and the nurse of these, on his descent to Italy when the boy was only one year old. Attracted to Salerno by the lavish fees that were paid to the Norman noble cadets and enticed by the news of his compatriots who had preceded him, Rabel then decided to join his comrades in arms and to serve the best bidder. There was no shortage of wars in those lands… lands bloody from the endless conflicts between Constantinople and the last Lombard principalities. Not to mention the continuous raids of Arab marauders on the Calabrian coast. And so, when George Maniakes had set up the army for the invasion of Sicily, Rabel and his comrades had responded to the appeal. Messina had fallen immediately, but the subsequent battles had been bloody and devastating, both for the population and for both armies, with large losses within the Norman contingent. In two years of war, the Maniakes had managed to go only to the walls of Syracuse, barely controlling the Ionian coast. The people of Demona's iqlīm, the north-eastern tip of the island with a Christian majority, had supported the invasion, however the rest of Sicily was in all respects a Saracen fiefdom and conquering it would have been a long and difficult work.
Rabel de Rougeville had brought his son and his nurse on his descent to Italy. The boy was only one year old. Attracted to Salerno by the lavish fees that were paid to the Norman noble cadets and enticed by the news of his compatriots who had preceded him, Rabel then decided to join his comrades in arms and to serve the best bidder. There was no shortage of wars in those lands… lands bloody from the endless conflicts between Constantinople and the last Lombard principalities. Not to mention the continuous raids of Arab marauders on the Calabrian coast. And so, when George Maniakes had set up the army for the invasion of Sicily, Rabel and his comrades had responded to the appeal. Messina had fallen immediately, but the subsequent battles had been bloody, devastating, both for the population and for both armies, with large losses within the Norman contingent. In two years of war, Maniakes had managed to go only to the walls of Syracuse, barely controlling the Ionian coast. The people of Demona's iqlīm, the north-eastern tip of the island with a Christian majority, had supported the invasion, however, the rest of Sicily was a Saracen manor and conquering it would have been a long and difficult work.
Losing his gaze beyond the small port and the city, Conrad spread his arms trying to do the impossible: embracing the sea and the horizon. His father had been looking over his shoulder for minutes now, and when, approaching him, he rubbed his long blond-auburn hair, Conrad turned with a start, almost frightened that his father could reproach him for the banal gesture he was making.
«Do you want to grab the sea, son?» Rabel asked, dressed in a simple white but armed tunic.
«It's the most beautiful thing in the world!»
«I'm afraid your pockets are too tight to hold it all …»
«God can contain it though!»
«Maybe that's just what the Earth is ... His pockets ... and we're all in them»
«Roul says God chose us out of all the people because our blood is the best.»
Rabel smiled and also looked at the sea.
«Every nation, as well as every people, believes they are better than another. Look at this land ... the Mohammedans believe they have the favour of God, the Emperor of Constantinople believes to be His vicar and the same believes the Pope ... and tries to go through the Giudecca of one of these cities and ask from whom let God be. Conrad, my son, try to become a better person yourself, regardless of your blood.
I have seen Mohammedans fight with more honour than ours ... I am sure that God respects their glory regardless of the master they serve. Ever since we landed on this earth I have opened my eyes to many things..»
«What about Roul? »
«Roul is my best friend, but we fight for different worth. »
«You say you don't fight for compensation? »
«I was born a soldier and my father raised me to become one. Since our lineage left the cold lands of Jylland31 we have never wielded anything other than a sword. This is our job, and the pay for the battle is our wages. However, my dear Conrad, compensation can fill your pockets and can fill your heart; it's up to you to decide where to put it. »
«You say compensation can be dangerous? »
«Everything can be dangerous if it leads us to a vice and a selfish purpose. Power, money and women ... beware of all this! »
«But you loved my mother…» said Conrad confused and doubtful.
«There is nothing wrong with power when your subordinates become your children; nothing wrong with money when it feeds your mouth and those of those you command; and for nothing in the world nothing wrong with the warmth of the woman you love. But I, my son, have loved only one woman and no one else has been able to take her place. You look a lot like her ... your eyes, your hair, your complexion ... and your name, Conrad, inherited from her lineage ... They introduced me to a pretty girl already two weeks after her death, yet I didn't want anyone to take her place and that you were led one day to call someone else "mother"; I would not have endured it. If you needed a fake mother, there was a wet nurse already..»
«What should I fear then? »
«The desire that drives to cruelty. When the desire to have something surpasses honour and every rule of human piety..»
«And what about the women? Should I fear them?» Conrad asked puzzled, because of the curiosity typical of his age interested in that mysterious being that is the woman, hitherto known only in the bosom of the nurse.
«Women ... nothing prevents you from loving them, but look at yourself from the eyes of a woman who doesn't belong to you!!»
«Rabel!» someone called from the ruins just outside the camp called.
«Roul, is it already time?»
Roul Hard Punch was the comrade in arms from which Rabel had never separated. They had left together for Italy and had always protected themselves in battle. Roul was an energumen of almost two meters, with a powerful voice and not very refined manners. A thicker than normal beard marked his face and his hair was darker than average, with a long braid going down the right side of his head. His abnormal almost Mediterranean colour betrayed his blue eyes, Nordic features and extraordinary stature. He was not a good man, everyone knew it, but he was also an excellent soldier, one of the best in the use of the fighting axe. He was totally different from Rabel, and he has nothing to do with his noble soul, but perhaps it was the merciful character of Rabel that was the glue of that friendship. Rabel tolerated Roul's excesses because they had grown up together and because Roul knew how to cover his shoulders well in battle.
