Kitabı oku: «The Sky Of Nadira», sayfa 7

«Yeah, Arduin counts aren't even good as fertilizer for the field once they're dead. » William answered.

«But for sure Guaimar won't be watching when the news reaches Salerno. I am sure that what will decide for Arduin will also decide for us. And then Maniakes will not have to deal only with Arduin and his few loyalists, but also with the feared Norman contingent ... and God only knows how much we are feared! » explained Drogone.

«And the guard varies? Which side of Emperor Michael’s personal spaulders will they be on? » Geuffroi asked.

«Harald Hardrada and his men are not very different from us and from the reasons that drive us to war. And I don't say it just because we share the same birthplace in the northern wastes, I say it because I heard them talking. God punish me if I'm wrong! If Harald feels his compensation threatened, Maniakes will have to deal with them too. » William said.

«What should we do then? » Geuffroi asked confused.

«Nothing for the moment. Maniakes will already be aware of this improvised assembly of ours - his informants are everywhere among the army, and among ours - and he will certainly be evaluating the worst-case scenario, namely the boycott of this war by all auxiliary contingents. We wait carefully for what happens. Let's wait to see Arduin's reaction. However, we cannot risk being taken aback by that Greek fox ... therefore, brothers, do not take off your armour and always remain united among yourselves. Forget about the wine for this night, and only those who stagger more sober than drunk attack against it. Don't find out about your clothes for going to women. Sleep in shifts and stay up to date with my provisions. » Willhelm expounded his directives, but as he spoke to them it seemed almost a piece of advice given among friends.

Then he went on and said:

«This night will be a long night, but we will not violate the rules of engagement until we are assured of the same respect on the other side. Some of us in Rome have already fought them in the past ... they know what I'm talking about when I say that nothing should be taken for granted, in peace as in war. Everyone to his tent, brothers, but don't sleep deeply! »

The improvised assembly, as defined by Willhelm, broke up after his words. It would have been a long night, one of those that brings decisions, one of those sleepless ones for warriors always ready for everyone. Each grabbed his war weapon and placed it next to his pillow, in addition to the usual dagger hidden in his clothes.

In all this, Conrad seemed to be the most worried, and not because a weapon did not yet possess it, and not even because at his young age everything seems bigger and scarier, rather because he was afraid of having to leave without being able to say goodbye for the last time to his father.

Chapter 13

Winter 1060 (452 from the HHegira), inside the walls of Qasr Yanna

Only a day and night had passed since Mohammed ibn al-Thumna had ravaged Rabaḍ and kidnapped Nadira. Ali ibn al-Ḥawwās' messengers had come down from the mountain to verify the nature of those fires sighted during the dark night, but they had been of no use; nor would the ten Qā'id men who left immediately after the search for Nadira and her kidnappers.

Buried those poor twelve killed by the sword of the cutthroats of the Qā'id of Catania, especially men on lookout and guard, the whole population began to pack their bags in the grip of general psychosis. A long procession of men, women and children, but also of beasts and carts pulled by hand or with mules, went up to the walls of Qasr Yanna, where they could have found the protection that Rabaḍ had lacked. Once they reached beyond the walls, they began to settle where they could best: whoever had a relative asked him for asylum at home, whoever had nobody settled on the edge of the houses, building makeshift shelters. Pure Alfeo followed the mass and preferred to leave the hoe to find refuge in Qasr Yanna.

Corrado, debilitated and not fully recovered, faced the aftermath of fever. Now, persuaded by Apollonia, he had shelved his desire for revenge to prioritize everything there was to do for the new arrangement. Alfeo and his sons, like skilled Bedouins, set up tents next to the vegetable gardens cultivated within the walls and opposite one of the famous gardens of Qasr Yanna. It was here that Corrado received a visit in the afternoon.

Umar came forward all over and over, and when he approached the tent of the Christians of Rabaḍ he demolished part of it to access it without worrying about asking for permission.

«Corrado, come out! » scream.

The other was intent on lighting the fire, while the family surrounded him waiting to finally warm his frozen hands.

Corrado looked up, looked at him and calmly replied:

«I’ll come out when I end to light on the fire. »

«Come out ... now! » Umar again ordered, this time holding his head where he had been hit two days earlier.

«Wait for me at the gardens. »

Umar therefore left furiously.

«What does he want from us now? » Caterina asked all in anxiety.

«That's when I told you that with your gesture you destroyed our serenity. » said Alfeo.

«Evidently the fact that Michele saved his life was not enough for such a beast! » Corrado answered.

«Moderate your voice and show yourself submissive! » Alfeo said.

However, Corrado grabbed the knife with which his mother was peeling a bitter orange from the lower valleys, slipped it into the belt of his trousers and came out, freeing himself from Apollonia, who worriedly held him by the arm.

«Stay here! » he ordered the whole family before going out.

Umar was waiting for her standing near an almond tree, while behind, about ten paces away, the rest of her family stood.

«Wasn't it enough that my brother saved your life? What else do you want from me?»

«Michele has paid for your past wrongs, but his gesture cannot repay your today. »

«And what did those two days of letting me die hanging on a pole pay off? »

«That only served to make you understand where unfaithful pigs like you should be!»

Corrado had the instinct to put his hand on his belt, but as soon as he felt the handle under his fingers he gave up.

«Tell me why you looked for me. »

«Some Salim's men took my sister away. »

«Everyone knows it, Umar. Think ... just you who are so jealous of Nadira, you made her blow from under your nose ... just you who allowed him to let only his eyes see ... That jumped into your mind when you welcomed that criminal into the house? Did you think you were going to show Nadira with a stranger without having consequences? Even I would hide my sister from the eyes of a stranger. Put the prey in front of the wolf's mouth and then you complain that this if you take away? Umar ... Umar ... big and stupid Umar! »

Umar pulled out the scimitar he was hanging on his belt and was there to respond to the provocation.

«Do it, Umar ... do it! And then you will ask the foxes who wandered around Rabaḍ the other night what that man said to me. Because I'm sure that's why you're looking for me today. »

Umar sheathed his weapon and replied:

«Since you already know, why didn't you come and tell me yesterday? »

«I thought your Qā'id had already told you what you want to know. Or I must believe that he didn't even receive you ... »

«I have spoken to the Qā'id and will do everything to bring Nadira home. He will pay the ransom and then chase the men who dared to face him! »

«Did he say that to you? Did he talk to you about ransom? » Corrado asked puzzled.

«What I discussed with the Qā'id is none of your business. Just tell me what that damned Salim told you. »

«I don't owe anything to you ... you know. »

«You owe me your life, since if you still breathe it is thanks to my pity. »

«To tell you what I know I want something in return. »

Umar, impatient, put his hand back to the scimitar, however Corrado grabbed the handle together with the first, preventing him from intervening. Umar then brought his other hand to Corrado's throat and tried to throttle him, except to let go when he noticed the knife pressing on his abdomen.

«I'd kill you, Umar ... but I don't want to bring ruin to my father's house. »

Jala, who had watched the whole scene, ran forward.

«No, Umar, not like that!"

Corrado hid the knife again and Umar took two steps back, aware that we had missed very little.

«Let me speak to the Christian alone. » Jala asked.

«Are you crazy? »

«Please, Umar. Corrado will not refuse to listen to a mother's word. »

«He's armed! »

But Corrado intervened:

«And do you think it can hurt your mother? Had I been called Umar, or by the name of one of your henchmen, perhaps I could even have hit a woman; Apollonia still bears bruises! »

«Umar, please go near your wife. »

Then the debt collector of the Qā'id left and, albeit with disappointment, left his mother alone.

«Boy, I'm sorry for your sister ... I know very well that a coward thought it well to beat her up. Umar has nothing to do with it though ... it wasn't him. And then, you can still see your sister's bruises ... we had had a girl beaten to take care of! »

«I'm sorry for your daughter. »

«People are beginning to say that the dead people here in Rabad are the consequence of Nadira's eyes, and that the oddity of those unusual eyes bore fruit the other night; that Sheitan⁵⁸ has tied to the eyes of Nadira the craving that leads to hell! Now they all look at us with distrust. »

«What are you worried about? We have always lived in the mistrust of people. »

«Corrado, please! I saw you with my own eyes as that stranger spoke to you before disappearing into the night. »

Corrado would not have refused that truth to a desperate mother, however, aware that his family had always been socially penalized, he thought it well to ask for something in return.

«Where did you settle down? »

«The Qā'id allowed us to settle in a small furnished house. Why do you ask me that?»

«For what I will tell you: I want my family to find accommodation in a house like yours. The night will be cold, and we don't have enough wood and blankets to warm us up. »

«What you ask me is impossible. What does belong to us within these walls that let us to give someone such a thing? »

«For sure where the Qā'id has welcomed you, you will have enough space. »

«The law of the Prophet forbids sharing the same roof with the dhimmi for more than three days. »

«Let’s do it for three days then ... then you will ask al Qā'id, your future son-in-law, to find another place to stay. »

«Would the stables fit? » Jala asked, however intending whether such an arrangement would be appropriate for Christians.

«If your law says nothing about sharing the same roof with mules, stables are fine too. »

Jala was speechless and became aware that Corrado's arrogance had no limits.

«Do you want to humiliate us? Why? Isn't what you did to me enough? »

The woman now had tears in her eyes.

Corrado was struck by a strange shame in seeing those tears and hearing those words. He turned, staring away, away from Jala's face.

«I didn't do anything to you. » he answered, still looking away, towards a group of children intent on playing chasing a hen.

«I know that you were there ... and you also know that I saw you. We crossed our eyes; don't lie to me about this! Ever since I saw you at Rabaḍ, a year after that first time, I yearned for you to die. If I had told what had happened, I am sure that my wishes would have been fulfilled; but what would become of Nadira and her serenity? And then you were Umar's age and thinking of evil about a ten-year-old boy made me feel ashamed before Allah more than the shame of meeting your face on the street. I hated you with all my soul, Corrado! And I can't help but hate you today ... You represent my shame!»

«It is Nadira's eyes that you are referring to, and I am sure that suspicion about that strange color has come to everyone at Rabaḍ. »

«But your blood represents the nature of that shame ... I never cared about suspicions»

Now Corrado found the courage to look at her face, realizing that she was crying and trembling.

«Jala, my Lady, listen to me! Your shame is as if I had brought it in these long years. Maybe being separated from my people, getting lost in these mountains, is the penalty I pay for this evil. »

«Tell me what I want to know, son, and let's not talk about it anymore ... But don't ask me about blackmail and absurd requests, since I just have to ask you on my knees and I'm sure Umar wouldn't like it. I will do what I can to help your family, but don't ask me as a ransom for the words you hold prisoner. »

«Right now, I see before my eyes the good part of Nadira, the pure and innocent part of every evil. Well, I tell you everything, but I ask you to trust me, because what I'm about to tell you may seem absurd. »

«You certainly know what happened to my daughter! » she exclaimed, grabbing Corrado's arm on impulse.

«The Qā'id lied to you: no one will ask for ransom for Nadira. »

«Why would they kidnap her then? They know it is the promise of Ali ibn al-Ḥawwās and they think they are well earning it. »

«He knows very well who and why he kidnapped her ... and he also knows how to free her. »

«And why would he lie to us? »

«Because it will never satisfy the other's request; he can't because it would mean betraying his own blood. »

Jala began to sob and shook Corrado by the shoulders.

«Please; what did they tell you? »

«Whoever kidnapped her, who you insist on calling Salim, is none other than Mohammed ibn al-Thumna, Qā'id of Catania and Syracuse, and will release Nadira only if ibn al-Ḥawwās will give him back his wife. I was left alive to bring back the word to the Qā'id, yet he knows everything well, and he knows it because ibn al-Thumna came down from Qasr Yanna that evening, where his brother-in-law had disregarded his requests regarding making him his wife. »

Jala knew the matter very well, Maimuna herself had told him about it. By witnessing the woman's determination not to return to her husband, even with the risk of never seeing her children again, Jala raised a high cry of despair.

Corrado had exhausted the purpose of that conversation, so he went back to his tent. Meanwhile, the typical fog that often envelops the mountain of Qasr Yanna was falling, hiding the tears of the present and the unspeakable memories of the past.

Chapter 14

Late summer 1040 (431 from the Hegira), lands of central Sicily

A flock cannot be kept together if the shepherd beats his sheep ... what is hit ends up being dispersed. And so, while Willhelm de Hauteville summoned the leaders of his men to discuss what to do, George Maniakes took part in outrages beyond the acceptable against his subordinates. His military genius was undisputed, but his human side left something to be desired. And on the other hand, man always comes out, even when myth and fame tend to cover reality with their aura of heroism and legend. Maniakes was acclaimed by the Christian people because he was waiting for him as a liberator and by the soldier because he feared him, but the truth is that he was a little good. And so, after having incarnated Arduino the Lombard, Maniakes had taken the longest step of the leg and had attacked Stephan the Calafato, also accusing him of treason. However, Maniakes could do little against the incompetent admiral, brother-in-law of the Emperor and apparently supported by Empress Zoe, the one who really commanded the Eastern Empire.

Arduino had been wise in his choices, peacefully releasing himself from his obligations towards Maniakes, albeit with the aim of making him pay later; Normans and Varangians, as we could imagine, had followed him.

Stephan, on the other hand, strong in his important support, had denounced the fact and accused Maniakes of wanting to take the whole of Sicily for himself. The Strategos had been arrested and translated to Constantinople, but not before having stolen the relics of Sant'Agata and having sent them as booty to the city he served, in an attempt to prove that Stephan's accusations were false and that no wealth could be gained. take the place of his loyalty to the emperor. A joke that the people of Catania would never have forgiven in Constantinople.

From that moment the land operations had passed right into Stephan's hands and from this it can be understood why the campaign against the Moors of Sicily had started to fail irreparably. First and foremost, Stephan had decided to wage battle against the traitor contingents of the auxiliary troops, since he presumptuously believed he succeeded in what Maniakes had also avoided ... and in the clash he had found death there.

With the regular army of the Roman provinces of southern Italy still in Sicily, disoriented and defeated, Longobards and Normans had then decided to counterattack the Empire in Calabria and Puglia, taking the new enemy in counter-time.

It was in those days, before finally crossing the Strait, that William's men, to steal as much as possible to make personal loot, wanted to prey far and wide the villages of Sicily. They split into bands of twenty and thirty, so each went to where he believed he could conquer treasures with relative ease, making no distinction between Muslims and Christians when the bite was worth it.

Tancred proposed attacking the barren Saracen villages located just east of Qasr Yanna. With Abd-Allah's army decimated, with the surprise effect and with the intent to strike lightning and then flee east, so much so that they lacked the heavy armor, Roul, Tancred, Geuffroi, the young Conrad and another thirty warriors headed for the navel of Sicily.

Conrad had never stopped urging Roul to teach war, obtaining from them the hard training that only a skilled Norman warrior could give. But what Roul had struck most was the boy's heart, inflaming him with hatred for the enemy. Conrad now wanted more than ever to avenge his father and was willing to do it with whoever was in front of him. In the previous weeks, he had applied for a license from his teacher every time he found himself facing a Saracen, however Roul had continually repeated that anger should be preserved only for the battle and that it was stupid not to know how to keep the discipline in civilian clothes.

Now they were lying on the ridge of an earthy hill peering over. It was afternoon and the low sun was beginning to annoy the eyes. A village was located right on the slopes of the Qasr Yanna mountain. A stream descended to the side of the plateau on which it was built, and some water wheels hoisted the water to bring it to the channels of the upper lands. Dozens of vegetable plots surrounded the village in every direction. The land reserved for wheat began to move away, thousands of hectares that were lost on the horizon. The soldiers of the Norman company now had the cereal fields behind them and the vegetable gardens in front.

«With the sun straight in our faces, they'll take a moment to notice us as soon as we get off the hill.» Tancred pointed out.

«Look up there!» Roul invited, pointing to Qasr Yanna on top of the mountain.

«It won't take long for the sun to disappear behind the mountain ridge. We attack when the view becomes difficult for their sentries. » business suit.

«I doubt that handful of peasants have sentries.» said his Geuffroi.

«Because they have nothing to defend ...» added another.

«No, friend, because they feel safe. They will keep gold in their church ... in that mosque down there. » explained Roul.

«At sunset the men from the countryside will return ... we must hit them first!» proposed Tancred.

«You won't be afraid of pitchforks ...» Roul joked.

«I will cover your shoulders.» Conrad began speaking to the ear of the largest and largest.

Roul laughed and everyone else did the same.

«Brat, you stay here watching the beasts!»

Conrad stared back at the horses at the foot of the hill.

«I've been asking you for permission to avenge my father for weeks.»

«When your chance comes, there will be no need for my assent. Maybe someone will try to steal the horses and you will have to defend them.»

«All alone?»

Roul laughed with more impetus than before.

«Do you do it to stay here and watch the horses and would you like to prey on a village?»

Conrad came out bitter with himself and humiliated by the laughter of his foster.

«Brothers, the sun eclipses; to arms!»

They began to go down the slope that overlooked the village, silently and quickly. Conrad soon found himself alone, in the silence of the moments that anticipate the sunset. Unpredictably, after a few minutes, the song of the muezzin rose high across the valley. Roul and his companions stopped instantly, hiding near a rock formation; they left immediately afterwards with the intention of hitting those people during prayer, when the inhabitants would bow their heads and the men returning from the countryside would stop along the way back. They therefore resumed their journey when the muezzin was not yet finished.

Conrad followed Roul's shoulders with his gaze, the one who was most visible, and he was eating his nails convulsively, taken by the impatience due to that unnerving wait.

A howl echoed through the hills to the east; a wolf sang to the moon which slowly appeared in the sky. Conrad did not think twice, threw himself at breakneck speed for the descent, towards the valley and the plateau in front. He kept his sword drawn with his hands raised in front of him, since if he had kept it in the sheath, the point would have touched the ground.

Even before reaching the village entrance, he heard the first screams of women; he knew he would find his father's friends by following their provenance. Once in the narrow streets of that village, the general escape of dozens of terrified women who sought refuge inside the house plunged into the escape. He saw Geuffroi kick through a door and pull out a toothless old man. He started running aimlessly again, confident that he would meet Roul. He came across some corpses of men, certainly peasants who stood between the attackers and their women. Conrad was there to support that battle, but despite meeting several fleeing Saracens, he did not have the courage to face them. He was convinced that he would do it only after finding Roul.

From a window the screams of a girl hung over everything else; he was terrified by those screams. Near the mosque he saw some tearful girls, with their hair uncovered and bared elsewhere. Tancred next door had earrings, bracelets, anklets and necklaces delivered. Conrad had already seen women in that state, loaded like beasts on wagons heading for the markets, and so, when he realized that they tied their wrists, he imagined that Tancred and his cronies were going to take them away prisoners. Meanwhile, smoke began to rise from the roof of the mosque, while a man inside the courtyard was cold-throated and thrown prone in the source of the ablutions.

Finally, the narrow streets opened into a large open space, delimited by a small wall at the entrance and by a large house that occupied the scenery at the bottom. The house had been plundered and a soldier came out carrying a sort of bundle on his shoulder, which rang with metallic stuff at every step. Another carried a large amount of modest fabrics and clothes on his arms. Each then threw his contribution into a cart that stopped at the entrance.

Finally, Conrad saw Roul walk around the back of the house.

«Roul! » he called aloud.

However Hard Punch had already disappeared from his view.

When he turned the corner, Conrad realized that the stable door was ajar, so, not seeing Roul, he imagined that he had entered.

«I knew you got in here! » Roul said to someone, but Conrad still hadn't seen him.

Silently he approached some boards set aside in a corner and, curled up between the legs of a mule, he began to observe, curious to see how Roul waged war.

A young woman huddled in the opposite corner of the room trembling.

«Where's the gold? » Roul asked.

But she only knew how to hold on to the stones of the drywall of the stable as she was terrified, besides the fact that she did not understand the language of the attackers. Meanwhile, Conrad's eyes got used to the increasing darkness of the sunset, enhancing the light that penetrated the attic.

«Where do you keep the money? » Roul reiterated his request, this time hitting her with a slap of such magnitude that he made her flew on a haystack nearby.

«Do you understand what I'm saying? »

Backing up on that pile of hay, the woman stammered something incomprehensible, certainly words in her language.

So Roul asked nothing more, and as soon as she turned to flee, he grabbed her by the arm and then by the hips. Conrad instinctively closed his eyes when he saw Roul let his strength prevail over that poor woman, whose stature barely reached the stomach of her attacker. He put a hand in front of his face at the sight of the woman's bare thighs and hips. He opened his mouth wide to hear those screams of such a strange nature. And he was happy not to hear her anymore when Roul violently thrust a handful of hay into her mouth to silence her, holding it tightly with his hand so as she couldn’t spit it out.

Once, Conrad, at the age of six, on a meadow near Benevento, had seen a poor crippled mare suffer the mounting of a stallion in heat. He had been troubled by that poor mare unable to counter the harassment of the fittest. Now she felt pain and upset for that woman, from whose grumbling look like the one of strange beast during the torture of the slaughterhouse.

After a few minutes the woman seemed to resign herself to the arrogance of her attacker, then leaned her head on one side, towards Conrad. It was then that the boy saw her face. The woman was beautiful, with arabesque features and beautiful eyes. He saw her sharpen the view from this side; between the mule's legs it seemed to stare at him. He was sure of it, had noticed him. That glance travelled the space that separated her from Conrad ... that glance intersected two destinies between them, two lives in a fatal way.

Meanwhile, Roul finished the matter and put himself back on its feet. Conrad, who previously sought Roul, now feared to be seen, full of shame for having violated with his presence the privacy of such a nefarious act. In addition, the woman was panting in her direction, one more reason to induce him to hide from her sight. And so, while Roul was leaving, Conrad slipped behind some wooden planks leaning against the wall.

«The terraces of Qasr Yanna attack us! » someone yelled out there; it sounded like Tancred's voice.

A great racket enveloped the entire village, voices mixing in an indistinguishable sound. The woman then had to understand something of those voices, since she got up and, running out, shouted:

«Fuad! »

Conrad curled up in a shaky corner. This time the battle out there was real: scrap metal noise, screams and a great beat of running men. Now the voices that came from the other side of the barn walls spoke Arabic, exclusively Arabic.

Imagining that Roul was about to leave, Conrad came out of his refuge, went to the door and peered out. There were many of them, and they were dressed in the wide oriental clothes of the Muslims. Many, weapons in hand, continued towards the valley, certainly in pursuit of the attackers; others remained in the courtyard in front of the large house.

Conrad returned to take refuge in the boards in the hope that the darkness that was advancing would hide him. He feared that woman, since she had seen him, but he was sure that Roul, realizing his absence, would come back to look for him later. However, he did not understand that the intervention of those who had crushed the Norman people from the village made any rescue operation impossible. Besides, Roul should have known where to look for him first. Conrad was a kid, and kids often believe that adults can solve everything ... Conrad would become an adult in one night, having slammed a reality made of limits and disappointments in his face.

More than an hour later, someone entered the stable holding a torch. Conrad heard a conversation; there had to be at least two. He heard one approach, while the other was hanging around in the next compartment. It was clear that they were looking for someone, so the boy pointed his sword towards the opening of his lair, fearing that the woman had spoken. The torch fire was getting closer; Conrad seemed to feel the heat. The face of a man appeared between the boards ... therefore the eyes of the two met for the first time. A few seconds remained motionless, one with an outstretched sword, the other bent over his knees. Conrad was convinced that he would end up killed, or he would be captured to become someone's slave.

Finally, that man put away his scimitar and left. Conrad heaved a sigh of relief; but was it possible that he hadn't seen it?

Now he would try to escape in the middle of the night, when he would no longer hear voices. He then waited several hours in the dark and with only the mule's braying company. Then, when he decided to set foot outside, a force more important than his pushed him back inside. The sword fell from his hands, while the man who had first met his eyes closed his mouth and pushed him against the wall. Conrad wiggled like a madman, bit his hand and scratched him in the face, before the other immobilized him by pulling two well-placed uprights. The guy was a little taller than he was, but he was relying on his physical strength as an adult. So, while Conrad was on the ground, landed by the last punch, the other one threw a burnus at him and indicated that he should wear it including his hood. It was then that Conrad saw in that face the compassion of a man who had become aware of a situation that had become greater than his young enemy. Conrad put on his cloak and, after that put a hand on his shoulder, he came out of the stable. They walked through the streets of the village with their faces down, moving in the darkest corners and without being recognized.