The Sky Of Nadira

Chapter 5

Chapter 5Early 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 m******e. 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 b****y 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 b****y 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 b****y 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 b****y, 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.

«Not yet; they talk about tomorrow morning. But the wine has arrived and everyone is waiting for Brother Rabel to celebrate.»

“Frate Rabel”, that's how the entire Norman company, ever since three hundred had crossed the Strait, called the nobleman de Rougeville. Now the wine had arrived and they were asking for everyone.

Although Arab travelers most devoted to social life boasted Sicilian wine, it was a rare thing to find. In fact, given that the Muslims forbade the cultivation of vines on the territories they control, only modest quantities of grapes were seen on these lands. Already at the arrival of Maniakes, in 1038, the Christians had soon replanted the vines to reactivate mass production, but not enough clusters had arisen and large quantities of drink had to be imported if one wanted to toast to good luck.

« And it also brings Conrad; it's time to have fun like men can! »

Rabel stared at his son and shook his head, indicating his annoyance at the other's invitation.

«Willaume e Dreu?»

«The de Hauteville32 brothers have been sitting at the tavern seat for an hour..»

Willhelm de Hauteville, Willaume in their language, would have been nicknamed Iron Arm, as it is said that he killed a Saracen champion who had made a great m******e of Greeks and Nordics during an earlier phase of the siege of Syracuse, with only one hand and brandishing the spear. But it was obvious, despite the legend was already hovering among the troops, that history was false. However, the name of his house acquired more and more prestige among the men of the Norman contingent already under his command.

«It would be wiser to gather in prayer and contemplation. Above all, the help of the good God will be needed. Abd-Allah has gathered the whole forces of Sicily, and others have come from Africa. He believes he will be able to lift the siege of this city, and will do everything he can to drive us back to where we came from. We must repel the counterattack before the Emir comes to crush us against these walls, but this time I fear that the courage of the bravest will not be enough to drag the whole army.»

«If you drank more and prayed less, you would be more optimistic! »

Aware of not being able to convince his friend, Rabel turned to his son, serious that more could not have been done.

«Have you heard? The departure is tomorrow at dawn. You know what to do.»

Then he followed Roul along the way to the tavern.

Conrad knew exactly what he had to do, and it was what he had been doing for two years now: preparing his father's luggage, arranging his armour, giving the last sharp cut to the sword and preparing the banner with the family crest on it, a Danish axe overhung by a green oak leaf inserted in a shield with a red field ... banner that Conrad himself would have supported all the way to the place of the battle, marching on horseback next to his father.

Those speeches about women and wine made a strange and unprecedented glimpse in Conrad - the mystery of the f*******n always tempts kids - so that, as soon as the two knights left the place of the ruined buildings, he also went to the tavern that was actually a meeting place accommodated for such use by a Christian peasant who hoped to speculate on the needs of the troops.

It was barely the fifth hour, as mentioned, and the sun was still beating hard on Conrad's head. He passed between the tents crowded with soldiers of all sorts, with groups to the right and all missing in conversation in their idiom ... and among the preaching priests, standing and in an elevated position, who made the big voice after decades of prayers said to softly. Blessing every soldier who passed under their stools, they also sanctified the boy when he was close to them.

Then Conrad entered the tavern and it was then that he found himself face to face with the sinister vice that dominates adults. Goblets full of wine, dice players at each table and a handful of prostitutes, those who improvised for money and those forced because now the girls of the people had to give themselves to the conquerors. Conrad ran away, fearing that among those men he would run into his father's sight.