The Sky Of Nadira

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Winter 1060 (452 from the Hegira) Rabaḍ di Qasr Yanna

There for that valley where the wheels1 never stop their motion ... there where the mountain of Qasr Yanna rests its roots ... there on that flat land where the Rabaḍ2 is ...

The valley at the foot of ancient Enna was lost towards the east; the Arab intervention in the centuries had made her more fertile than she would otherwise have been. Looking west, QasrbYanna3, in the centre of Sicily, stood high on the mountain. Looking east, down from the plateau, you could get lost with your eyes in dozens of hills, woods, meadows, pastures and streams ... but also in the high water wheels, able to lift the water from the valley ... and in the canals, dug to transport it to the vegetable gardens. The village did not have many houses, perhaps thirty, and only a small mosque, as if to testify to the little importance of the place.

It was just after midday, and two men were dragging another young man of about thirty years in his armpits through the ground destined for the cultivation of pumpkins from flasks. While they were dragging him, he pointed his n***d feet to the ground and he stumbled upon capture, he kicked so much that it seemed that he wanted to make the furrows that the plow generally does. He kept his eyes down, and to those who watched the scene he only showed his head and his short hair. It was winter and now his ankles sank in the cold mud formed with the morning rain.

The young man wore shorts and a torn tunic. Those others wore distinctly different clothes: wide and colourful. One of them had a kind of turban and both wore long beards and hair.

When they arrived with the wretched prisoner through the streets of Rabaḍ, everyone gathered curiously. Everyone knew each other in the village, and everyone knew the inhabitants of the last house at the end of the street before the vegetable gardens, the house of Christians, the only ones in Rabaḍ.

They worked hard throughout the area to make the land always fertile; the whole area was agricultural and families lived in villages all scattered among the hills. There was no nobleman and there was no warrior, but only peasants who worked on their own and on behalf of the collector of the Qā'id4 of Qasr Yanna.

The house of the young man was exactly the opposite of the house of Christians, at the highest point. A large courtyard, partly fenced, opened in front of the large house, and it is here that the three arrived after having walked the labyrinthine streets and courtyards typical of the Arab-based centres. Just at the point where the market was mounted, and in the exact centre of this place, they tied this unfortunate young man. They tied him to his hands and these to a pole. Then they pulled the rope upwards, locking it to a natural bifurcation of the wood of the rod located on the head of the condemned man, so that he could not sit or bend.

Now a man entered the scene in Qā'id, a kind of man too young for the role he held, a man whose name was Umar. He was a handsome man: of Berber origin, he was barely olive-skinned, had a beautiful pair of deep black eyes, and a straight and well-proportioned nose. The beard hid his age and made him look more like his father, Fuad, also a collector of the Qā'id, who has been missing for almost two years.

Coming out of the tax office, located on the side of the house, Umar pulled the prisoner's head by the blond-copper hair and forced him to look him in the eye. For as the latter was livid, those two must have been satisfied to beat him.

They were face to face, and nothing divided those proud black eyes from staring at those even more proud but green eyes of the prisoner.

«Therefore, you thought you could insult me and get away with it ...» said Umar. The other one didn't answer; not because he did not understand Arabic, but because any word would have been a useless word.

«Don’t waste your time with him» said the debt collector «It's not worth it»

Then he nodded to one of the two who had brought him back to him, and then, having torn his tunic completely, lashed him with a wet rope.

The villagers were all there, yet no one had the courage to set foot over the fence of the courtyard. The groans aborted in that man's throat no longer made an impression of the blood redness that was forming on his back.

Each commented with the neighbour that such a thing had never happened to Rabaḍ. His family members hid in the crowd instead, having the common sense and modesty not to speak. The only absentees were those from the house of the debt collector: the mother, the wife and the sister, who preferred not to get involved in the affairs of the head of the family.

Then, when the appointee of that t*****e finished his service and they left the young man to himself tied to the pole, the crowd returned to their duties. They left him there, at the mercy of the cold of the evening and the chill of the night.

Only at about midnight, someone did have enough mercy and the permission to bring him a blanket. Umar's men let him do it, realizing that spending the night in winter in the freezing air of the mountains of Qasr Yanna, would have been too much for anyone.

Many saw that young man tremble and jump to keep moving for most of the night. Then, in the morning, when they mounted the market all around the courtyard, they saw him fall asleep hanging by his wrists; it looked like a saddlebag tied to a tree trunk. Someone even believed him dead, and even wanted to ascertain it by slapping him.

It was again afternoon, the condemned had not eaten and drank for a whole day. A herd of bald goats stood in the courtyard, bleating and biting blades of grass. That song of grazing animals made the man tied to the pillory wake up. He thought that he was about to break his knees and to detach his wrists ... Then, at a certain point, feeling a sort of presence, he opened his eyes; in fact, someone had been watching him for some time. Three steps away a girl was staring at him with wide eyes. She had such beautiful eyes with wonderful cut, that not so many people could have. But the condemned and all the others of Rabaḍ knew those blue eyes of a turquoise so intense as to be lost in them and never find yourself again; a strange colour that faded towards the outside of the iris in a dark blue like the depths of the sea. Eyes capable of causing confusion of minds and damnation of hearts.

The girl wore a beautiful green dress with yellow and blue finishes of a typical shape of the people of North Africa and held a flap of the veil close to her face in order to hide the features of her face. The physical appearance with an exotic character, so different from that of the natives of the island, formed the basis for the immeasurable work of his eyes, which stood out atypically. A rebel curl escaped the constriction of the red veil revealing the brown shade of the hair.

When the prisoner saw her, he returned to lower his gaze, and then, returning to look at her a little later, he recited slowly:

«“Do you know, oh my Lord, sky of Nadira, the boundaries of her eyes?”»

She looked at him lost and asked: «How do you know these words? »

«Ever since Qā'id visited these places, the verses of this poem have spread throughout the village and beyond. »

Staring at her with troubled eyes, he begs at her:

«Untie me, Nadira, my Lady, please! »

But she seemed impassive, lost in that request that she was unable to accept.

«I don't know the boundaries of your eyes, Nadira ... but I can explain the origins if you wish ... Give me at least a bit of water at least...»

At this request, Nadira returned to the house without turning around and without giving weight to him; the tinkling of the anklets echoed throughout the courtyard as she ran towards the entrance, all cold because of the clothing too light and unsuitable to be outside.

The water never reached the condemned man, but as soon as Nadira set foot inside the house and saw her brother Umar, counting money at a table, she asked: «What did the Christian do to deserve this treatment for him?»

Now she didn’t cover no longer her face and it was clear how her full lips and her perfect nose harmoniously surrounded her eyes.

«Who? »

«The man tied to the pole out there. »

«His family refused to pay the jizya5. » replied Umar. Then went back counting the money at his usual table, believing that he had liquidated her with a single sentence.

«It will freeze! He's been tied to that pole for two days! »

«Since when do you care about the fate of the infidels? »

«This morning I saw your children playing around that man. You had to see how the little girl looked at him! »

«I'll untie him, don't worry ... but another night in the cool won't hurt him. »

«Come on, Umar, tonight it will freeze more than yesterday. »

«They'll bring him another blanket. Didn't you see that I didn't stop his sister from helping him? »

« “Umar the magnanimous”! What do you think of this name??» said her sarcastic.

He snorted and with an angry gesture he hit a stack of silver dirhams6 earned between taxes and trade. « But should I be insulted by those people? » he asked, raising his voice slightly.

« You said they refused to pay; what if they couldn't? That family is the poorest in the whole Rabaḍ. I remember how our father often gave up on a tax or tribute in order not to oppress the poor people. »

« The dhimmi’7s had always paid, even with our father. »

« Even better! If the protégés have always paid, what will it be once? »

« That Corrado, that red man, when his father presented himself without having the tax for the protection of the unbelieving believers in God, he came forward and, looking at me defiantly, said to me:

“We have been working for your family for twenty years ... When we will have the jizya, we will give it to you. Otherwise be satisfied with the simple fact that we work for you..”

Then he left for his gardens as if nothing had happened. How was I supposed to treat him? »

« This after that you hit his father on the cheek! » Jala, their mother, intervened, because, having heard the tones from the other room, had worried that the discussion between brother and sister would degenerate.

Nadira looked like Jala, except for her unusual blue eyes and skin of a lighter shade. In addition, Nadira was taller than Jala, who loved to say with pride that her daughter was like a palm, due to her stature and long-limbed physique.

Then Umar got to his feet and, feeling accused, replied:

« You cannot understand these matters, mother! How can you determine if anyone can't or don’t want to pay? The punishment serves to make the liars give up...»

« This has always been a united community, far from intrigues, from jealousies between different races and religions ... and even from wars. The house of Christians at the end of the street, the only one in Rabaḍ, has always been treated with dignity. Your father knew what was right about it. Maybe you will be right ... but not at the Rabad of Qasr Yanna's; here we have always helped each other. People yesterday looked amazed at how you treated that poor boy. Ours is a job that is already hated ... and they should respect you, instead of being afraid of you...»

«The Qā'id will ask his' āmil8 for an account if the crates are empty. Sorry, but hitting an infidel, it is not a crime. We have allowed them to sit in the presence of a brother, we have allowed them to saddle the mule, we have allowed their women to use the bathrooms together our women ... elsewhere this does not happen, and they may even complain for it. »

«But that Christian you slapped grasped the sword when Jirjis Maniakis' soldiers assaulted the village, although the dhimmi are exempt from war and cannot carry weapons. »

«Then, let me say that I believe this reality is wrong and it will be my duty to restore the order of things. They too submit to Islam as many of the Christians who lived in these lands did, if they do not want to be treated differently. »

This time answered Nadira: «Since when do you think these things? Since you became Qā'id's brother-in-law? »

«And you, little girl, when did you learn to answer your walī9, protector and guarantor? Since has the Qā'id set your eyes on you and been betrothed to him? What if I told him that you talked to a Christian tied to a pole? »

«My lord Ali would have had pity for that man. »

«Well, say to him to come and to blame me... as long as he doesn’t detach your tongue because you give such confidences to strangers. »

Nadira then left disappointed and angry, running to take refuge in her room. As the girl passed, the hangman servant thinned quickly. So, throwing himself on his bed, embracing the numerous cushions that covered it, she started to cry.

«Nadira, my girl. » Jala called her. She raised her head, now with the voluminous large curls uncovered, and began to listen

«Nadira, my child, it can be cruel to realize that you will belong to someone you don't know enough; and you're only nineteen ... maybe are enough, but you're inexperienced in everything! »

«Could he really take my tongue off? »

«Don’t mind what does your brother say. But one thing is clear: never and never again do I want to see you talk to that man! »

«I didn't speak to him! It was him who asked me about the water. »

«And what else did he tell you?»

«Nothing!»

«Great, because he is a dangerous man of the worst kind, Nadira. And your brother is right in wanting to punish him. "« A little while ago you said otherwise…»

«I told Umar how his father would have behaved ... Now I’m telling you what I think. Now go and see if your sister-in-law needs help; it is for this reason that you're not yet the wife of the Qā'id ... to assist her in her pregnancy. »

Thus, passed the hours of the second day of that winter of 1060 – the year 452 according to the Hegira10 – in which Corrado the Christian had been tied and humiliated like a stubborn beast.