Kitabı oku: «The Sky Of Nadira», sayfa 4
Chapter 7
Winter 1060 (year 452 from the Hegira), Rabaḍ di Qasr Yanna
When Idris finished prostrating for the sunset ṣalāt he could realize that Apollonia, in contravention of the ban, embraced his brother. Without the girl noticing anything, he pulled her by the veil, uncovering her hair, and then, taking hold of her loose hair, dragged her backwards on the ground, while she was struggling with her legs. Idris had had enough of that presence that made an already unpleasant task annoying, and therefore, intending to give her a lesson once and for all decisive, he decided that he would have punished her using the rope in the way he had done the day before with Corrado. He started hitting her where she happened, mainly targeting the face. Meanwhile Apollonia tried to cover herself with her arms while screaming.
Near there, Corrado trembled, narrowed his eyes and returned to tighten them tightly in the throes of feverish pain. Suddenly he saw the image of an adult completely, tied to the pole of a flagpole. However, the man did not shout at the blows inflicted by his torturer, but proudly endured with clenched fists.
«Roul, what are they doing to that man? » Corrado asked no one in particular.
The scene that was taking place before his gaze had awakened a childhood trauma. Nonetheless, if Corrado had been fully conscious, he would certainly have attempted to eradicate the pole to which he was tied to make him pay for the one who was raging on his sister.
Coincidentally, Umar thought about making him stop, just when he was about to climb the terrace.
Apollonia, therefore, having been allowed to stay good in a corner, curled up with her back to the wall and shed tears between her knees.
When Umar set the time for the release of the prisoner, Apollonia wept louder, feeling relief for something that seemed to have no end.
Later, Idris took the steeds of the three guests by the reins and led them to the stables adjacent to the house.
«Don't make me regret stopping when Umar asked me a little while ago. » warned the guard, staring at Apollonia.
The girl could not risk violating the prohibition once again, and this not for fear of being beaten again, but fearing that she would be forced to go home.
«Brother, brother! I'm here, I'm not leaving. » Then she came a little closer, dragging himself on the ground with his legs and hands; she was still at least four paces away.
«Corrado, my breath and my life, you just have to hold on a little longer. Brother, answer me, let me understand that there is still a heartbeat in your chest. »
Then she came half a step forward and said: «I know very well that your jealousy for me is that of a brother for a sister ... but the same cannot be said of my devotion to you...»
Although the other's mind was clouded and his understanding of things almost non-existent, Apollonia struggled to say what she had kept in her heart for years, that feeling that had repeatedly shamed her before the icon of the Virgin.
«Don't judge me as a faithful sister, because for Michele maybe I wouldn't have stayed here with so much sacrifice ... Don't judge these actions at all, Corrado, because what you would discover could make you escape from me ... and for me this would be worse than seeing you die. »
When Idris returned to the courtyard, she stopped herself with her confession, because if Idris or someone else have heard her, they would have marginalized her.
Being complete darkness, the muezzin echoed the adhān of the night. Idris then sat on the wall, far enough away not to hear the girl, but close enough to intervene if she had approached as before.
«A couple of hours and I'll take you home.» Apollonia said smiling.
However, she returned serious when she realized she no longer felt her toes and when she imagined an even worse effect that cold could have had on her brother. She began to tremble from the temperature and tried to warm his hands by blowing his fists.
«Girl, go home! Can't you see that you tremble?» Idris encouraged her, seeing her in that state.
«I'm not leaving ... it will all be over soon..» Replied Corrado thinking that Idris was talking to him.
Her brown eyes looked upwards, to her brother's face, while the tears froze just below the eyelids, not having the right inclination to scroll down.
«How much would it benefit you now that you had a little faith in God? » Apollonia asked to herself turning to Corrado, knowing his apathy towards religious matters
«I know, my brother, that you refuse to believe that there is a God capable of allowing all the bad things that has happened to you. I know that Christ and all the saints already disappointed you once, when your prayers were not accepted while you hoped for your father's return.»
«Rabel de Rougeville.» muttered Corrado.
Apollonia suddenly fell silent; his brother was still conscious. That he had heard her declaration of love that she just before said…
«Corrado, brother, well you are alive!»
«Rabel de Rougeville!» he repeated in a higher tone and in one breath, almost crying and almost screaming.
«Remember the saint who protects your father, appeal to him!» Apollonia invited him, to keep him awake and busy.
«Saint Andrew…»
«‘Agìou Andréas38 .» Apollonia repeated in Greek, or in the language of the Christian liturgy in Sicily.
Apollonia talked with her in a sort of vulgar Latin, and she did the same with the Christians of Qasr Yanna and with many indigenous people converted to Islam. When it was time to pray, however, she used the old Greek. On the other hand, in Rabaḍ, being a restricted place inhabited mainly by circumcised persons, Apollonia and her family expressed themselves in Arabic; that of Sicily now peculiar to the language of the Prophet. Sometimes they even used a few Berber words that they had learned by hearing about the women of this race at the well and the men in the fields.
Apollonia closed her eyes and with folded hands began to recite her prayers, invoking the Virgin Mary, mother of God, in favor of Corrado. Obviously, she prayed in a low voice, being forbidden for a non-follower of Islam to make his prayers heard in the ears of a believer ... and Idris was even too close. «Mariám Theotókos, ‘e Parthéno39s» she began.
Corrado could hear the voice of Apollonia just as he heard the voice of his memories, awakened by that image of the Madonna and the saints to which his sister appealed.
Chapter 8
Early summer 1040 (431 from the Hegira), valleys east of Tragina
The flags waved indomitable in the wind; an uncertain wind that day, perhaps not even God knew which way to stand ... just as, in the opinion of unbelieving posterity, God was confused about to whom he should give his support during the battle. On the one hand, to the cry of "Allahu Akbar"40, the Saracens of Sicily and Africa - arrived in support of the first - ready to drive the invader away. On the other side, praising "Christ wins", the men in the pay of Constantinople, for whom the invaders were those others.
Invited by their commander, sheltered between the Jebel41 and the Caronie, Abd-Allah's men prostrated themselves towards Mecca and involuntarily towards the enemy army. The others were also gathered in prayer, however, not in a single harmonious prayer, but some in Latin and some in Greek.
The camp had been set up about twenty miles east of the mountain on which the town of Tragina42 is perched, and here, among the tents, Conrad had observed his father leaving with the whole army just a few hours earlier.
Except for the presence of a modest village of merchants and peasants, it was an area far from inhabited centres, full of woods on one side, on the slopes of the highest mountains, and grassy hills suitable for grazing on the other. A river flowed right at the lowest point of the valley, and a trickle of this persisted despite the summer, ensuring the water supply to the soldiers.
Now Conrad was staring at the point at the end of the street where he had last seen his father. In the morning, he had helped him to wear the heavy chain mail on his long white tunic, which had a red cross on his chest. It was already hot in the first hours after dawn, so he had kept the helmet away from the sun, so that it would be cooler when his father would put it. As a last gesture, before getting on his horse, Rabel had wrinkled his son's hair and in exchange Conrad had passed him the banner and the helmet. Then a look and away to get confused in the human tide of soldiers advancing towards the clearing just off the field; here George Maniakes had harangued his troops. Conrad had therefore climbed onto the stool just vacated by a blessing friar and had tried to identify Rabel among the men gathered there at the back. Then he saw Roul head and shoulders soar above the others and imagined that his father was nearby.
Everyone knew that this was going to be the most important battle in the entire Sicilian countryside, however Rabel had tried to hide his tension for all the hours he had been with his son that day.
«Are there many others? » Conrad had asked.
«The lookouts mostly speak of infantry. We have a horse! »
«I could watch the scene this time ... »
«Conrad, son, I will have repeated it to you a hundred times: you stay here with the women, the servants and the monks ... » said Rabel, who also continued:
«But if things go badly, at the first signs, run to the hills and hide. »
«Is there this possibility? Tancred and Roul say things are going to be the way it has been so far ... We will win and take home generous rewards. »
«And they are right ... there is nothing to worry about. Ours is a difficult profession, it is true, but we know what we are doing. Besides, woe to bring despair among the soldiers! »
So Rabel had heartened his son.
It was already noon and the camp was full of apprehension for that unnerving wait. From time to time someone would come back from the field to come to report the progress of the battle. Some of the girls in the bondage were crying, certainly fond of some soldier with whom a fight had been born. Then a field priest approached Conrad, who was still sitting on the stool under the sun, and said to him:
«Son, your father won't be back early if you stay here staring at the end of the road. »
Conrad looked at him from the bottom up.
«Take a piece of bread! » he always completed that.
Then, the boy grabbed it and bit it.
«If you need something to keep your mind and stomach busy, come with me. »
He took him to a hill bare of vegetation and with golden hues as it burned by the sun. The top was uncovered, there was no ground there, so that a large rock of grey slate emerged jagged. The frond of an olive tree, the only present, rooted on the side of the rock formation, was occupied by a small flock of goats and by an old shepherd who showed in his face that he had more wrinkles than years. The priest turned around and slipped through an opening in the rock. Conrad was amazed to see that the interior of the cavern was spacious enough to allow the presence of at least twenty men and was completely painted in bright colours, with images of biblical stories and lives of saints being displayed all around the walls; the style was typically that of the sacred paintings of the East. A small kneeler at the bottom and a cross on the wall indicated the place where he prostrated himself.
«Holy Father, you are a stranger, who left with the army; how do you know this place? »
«The friars of the Greek rite have gathered there to pray for centuries. They told me that in person. However, now pray to the Lord and Our Lady, for your father to return safely. » concluded the religious before leaving him alone.
So it was, and Conrad found himself alone, kneeling, with his eyes closed, clutching the crucifix to his chest, praying for God to bring his father back.
When he returned to the camp it was already evening. He ran as soon as he noticed that some men on horseback had returned from the battle. Then he accelerated when he realized that one of them was the big Roul; the blood on his Danish axe and chain mail was still fresh.
«Conrad, where were you? » the warrior asked as soon as Conrad was upon them.
«A priest led me to the cliffs.» the other explained, trying to hide the true reason that lead him away for the fear that his intimacy would be mocked.
He noticed that it was all strange ... if his father had returned safely, he would have been in the front row among those men. Suddenly Roul's face looked sad to him, as if his fury had been mortified by a nefarious event. Only now did he rationalize what was hidden behind that human blanket of soldiers from the north of which Roul was the front row.
«Where's my father?» he asked, although he was already imagining the answer.
«We won, son.» Tancred said, another of Rabel's closest friend. He came forward, perhaps in an attempt to counterbalance the boy's displeasure; he still wielded his long pike and wore a red cloak.
«Yes, those who remained have put them on the run.» another intervened.
«It was a great victory!» someone in the group exclaimed.
«Even the wind has been favourable to us today ... but the most lethal wind has brought us once again from the Norman company.» added Tancred.
However, Conrad, just as the latter spoke, broke a gap between men.
Rabel was lying on the ground. His throat was marked by a large blood stain, presumably there where the fatal blow had been struck; a blow that must have been carried out with incredible power since it had passed through the chain mail. The blonde hair was uncovered, as apparently someone had freed him of his helmet and hood.
Conrad stood staring at him, without having the courage to come closer. His mind never conceived that all this could really happen.
At this point Roul put a hand on his shoulder and said:
«The army pursued ... others of us lie fallen on the field and wait for us to go and collect them ... but we ... we, my dear Conrad, could not give up on the looting or start thinking about the other dead when the son of one of us looks forward to his father. »
«You wouldn't have brought it to me with this urgency if his breath had already been absent on the battlefield.» Conrad said, while the first two tears streaked his cheekbones.
Roul then bent down and tried to cheer him up.
«No, Conrad, your father really fell in battle! »
He lied not to blame him, but Conrad wasn't stupid enough to believe it. Rabel had exhaled his final breath there at the camp in the hope of seeing his boyfriend's face for the last time; the blood-soaked patch on his neck indicated that they had tried to prolong his agony while waiting for Conrad to return.
«It's up to you to close his eyes. » Roul pushed him away.
Face to face with those blue eyes, Conrad could not hold back his despair. Meanwhile the women, the friars, the reserve that defended the camp and the servants had formed a circle around the scene. Conrad felt like a sort of disappointment in his father's eyes, but obviously it was only the voice of his head that suggested it, his guilt for not having been there.
«Oh Father! » he screamed before throwing himself to his chest.
«There is nothing to look at! » Roul shouted louder still, addressing the crowd.
«Damn the Greeks!" he then ruled in a low voice.
With this sentence Roul highlighted all his contempt for the locals, obviously the Christians, considered "Greek" because of the Eastern rite religion. However, that exclamation of intolerance also included George Maniakes and the regular troops following him, given the general's bad relations with the men of the auxiliary contingents.
People thinned out in fear of Roul's reaction. Conrad instead ran away, intent on finding the priest who had dissuaded him from his faithful expectation.
Roul followed the boy, while he sought the religious among the tents as a damned.
«Son, stop! Tell me who are you looking for? »
«That priest who convinced me to climb the cliffs. »
«Who is it? »
«He spoke our language. »
Then he thought of looking for him directly in the rock church, then ran to climb the hill. At the top of the mountain he heard the bleating of the goats but did not see the shepherd ... then he went inside. Since the twilight was about to disappear, the bright colours that had struck him at noon had vanished and a sort of penumbra was barely perceptible inside the cave. Roul, however, followed him with a torch and when he set foot in the cave everything came to light. Conrad at that moment stood throwing punches of earth against the painting of Christ and against that of the Madonna, having nothing else to offend with those stone walls. He was crying and now the anger against the priest's well-meaning gesture had given way to anger towards God and those unheard prayers.
Roul was a brute man, certainly profane in manners, but when he saw Conrad's sacrilege, either out of real fear, out of superstition, he stopped him from behind by lifting him with one arm.
«No, Conrad, they have nothing to do with it. »
«They didn't listen to me!" the boy shouted with all his breath, but the closed environment broke his voice deafly.
«Did you thought that they could do miracles? »
«That priest told me! »
At that point, he let him down and forced him to look him in the eye.
«Listen to me, son ... your father made me swear that I would take care of you, and my honour forbids me to miss the promise made to a dying friend. Until I bring you to Rougeville with your relatives ... so he made me swear. »
«I don't know my relatives. » Conrad replied, sobbing and crying, now with his eyes closed as the light from the torch burned them and blushed them.
«I don't care, I won't miss this oath in which my honour and your father's blood are involved just because you have something to say.»
«What else did he tell you?»
«That you had to be strong, son. So now go down to the camp and have the courage to face him. The men of our lineage are used to being indomitable warriors scornful of death. And if you're angry it's a good thing ... you'll have more fervour in battle. But don't blame the saints ... blame the living! »
«That's why I was looking for that priest. »
«Leave the priest alone ... It's those who killed your father that you must hate, it is to those beasts that you must find your revenge. »
«Who? »
«We have been in this land for two years and you ask me “who are they”? Have you not seen the eyes of those people of Africa? Have you not seen how their gaze mediates wickedness towards you? Even the people of Akḥal, who are our allies, look at us with hatred. They killed, raped the women of the people who were before them, and forced them to bow to their God. They soiled the blood of these people making it despicable when they impregnated these girls. They, those Mohammedan barbarians, they killed your father! »
«You said you were only fighting for compensation, and that you are not interested in the reasons for this war. »
«Son, if you don't hate your enemy you can't survive in battle. »
«Does that mean my father didn't hate them enough?»
«Your father had the soul of a king ... it would have been right for him to command and not go down to battle. But you, young Conrad,
you will need this hatred; you will need to think about his sacrifice. You will become an excellent warrior, I am sure. However, for tonight don't think about revenge, just think of honouring your father. Will you come to the camp to close his eyes? »
Conrad wiped his face with one hand and replied:
«I'll come. »
So Roul, looking around, commented:
«We will bury your father in here, under the watchful eyes of the Lord and all these saints. I don't see better places around here. »
«The friars of the Greek rite come here to pray. »
«It means that they will be happy to watch over this martyr of Christianity. »
They went down to the camp, and then, once they closed the eyes of poor Rabel and prepared the body, they went up in solemn procession to the cave church. They laid the body under the cross of the kneeler, then the religious, women and noble soldiers prayed huddling around the boy all night.
The next day at dawn the priest Conrad had hated, who discovered his name was Jacob, officiated the funeral, then buried Rabel in a pit dug inside the cave and in the middle of a fence made of slate slabs. They covered the corpse with the shield that belonged to it, the long one ending with a tip down typical of the Norman people, and threw earth as a final seal.
Conrad stayed there for a whole day, even after the funeral. He slept curled up at the kneeler, ate nothing and cried several times. Outside that cave, life awaited him, a life without his father, and he was sure that he would never be able to do it alone. On the other hand, Rabel was there, buried under his feet, and he would have faithfully awaited him; this time without being distracted by anyone. He couldn’t breathe every time he thought his father had died without saying him one last word to his son. He stared at the saints on the rock face and, contrary to what Roul had told him, he couldn't help hating them too.
