Zaide (The Young Adult Novel) Chapter 3: Ruhe Sanft

Currently, I am chewing on La Finta Semplice. I don't know how many times I have to watch it or what-not before I will find the right words. This work is indubitably a character creating milestone of Mozart's personality. I would declare it to be Mozart's first experience of a major failure. (Not saying the work was a 'failure' but its reception).

So, as I chew on this opera for a spell, I will nurture the suckling throngs of fellow troglodytes desperate for their weekly fix of Mozart, offering another bit of opera dabbled on during Mozart's wound-licking period following his biggest failure. Zaide. This may even represent a failed dabblement of my own. But, hey, I wrote it... Just as well share some of it. The third chapter of my Young Adult novelization of Zaide. The Ruhe Sanft chapter.  The chapter devoted to the most beautiful aria in all of opera. If you haven't read the other chapters you can read the on my Zaide page.

3HREE

Ruhe Sanft

Gomatz smashed his pick into the dirt. His palms burned as if the shaft was a smelted rod. The rest of his muscles grew past pain into numb-deadened weakness. Nothing but will was moving them. He tried not to let himself think. Only nasty thoughts slipped into his head when he did. His jaw ached from teeth gnashing when he let his thoughts think.

From pick swing to pick swing, Gomatz looked to the hillside. A drab green dress fluttered with the grass. The woman who had saved him watched over the slaves. He breathed the breaths of a brooding strings section.
His last glance on her, stirred his brain. Why is she watching us? Is this a game to her? Foul creatures everywhere. Enjoy the pain of others. Or could… The brooding string section mood switched to that of a lone, hopeful oboe. Does this girl care? Is she… Darker moods returned. Back and forth, hopeful tones clashed with brooding moans.  It couldn’t be. How could she care? Why should I care? Stuck with criminals. Forced into slavery. Why didn’t I just let grandfather die… No… No.. Stop such laments. But, why? To what end. Why should we both die? His soul’s prepared so is mine. If I remained here longer… I could… But, it is too late. I’ve made my bargain. I may keep up with the work today, and even possibly tomorrow, but surely at this pace, I will die. Ah, but death could only ease my sufferings. Death shall be my salvation. I could have ignored my grandfather’s plight. Only to have swallowed more misery for a longer time. Yes. Gomatz. You have chosen correctly. Freed from guilt today. Freed from a life of slavery tomorrow, or at least soon. Oh. My head. My eyes. They are growing black. I shall die among criminals, as my savior. Faint… Go ahead just faint. It would be a sweet release right now.

Gomatz trembled.  He swooned and began to collapse.

“Time to go everyone,” Osmin yelled.  

Gomatz woke from his nearly fainted state as slavemasters gathered up everyone and chained them neck and neck.  And now I must bear that dreadful tune once again.

Osmin yelled at Gomatz. Gomatz understood it to mean, he had been successful, but the following days would be difficult.

As the shackles went around his neck, Gomatz took one last glance over to the hillside.  The woman was gone.

***

Brothers, Brothers, be now merry

Find your courage, swallow your gripes

The Earth is cursed, we’re all doomed

Everyone, too, is wrought with strife

Let us sing

Let us laugh

 

You can’t make it any different

This world, this pain, doesn’t matter

No one, no where is free of pests.

 

The slaves trudged through the valley like a mud-thickened river. Osmin swung his arms as he marched along side. His face beamed with the pride of a hard days work.

Zaide followed from the hilltops using that song as her guide. The sun’s last crest dipped below the horizon. The valley was dark. The hilltops glowed.  Having still not eaten, Zaide’s legs slugged through the grass. Her stomach gave up its ache, knowing she wasn’t going to feed it. Her head turned to complaining instead. He is going through much worse. I can bear this for a day. Zaide chided her headache.

Let us laugh

Let us sing

 

The music stopped, down deep in the dark valley. Zaide trotted to the top of a hill. Reaching a lone cypress tree, she leaned her chest against it, staring down into the valley. From below, a light shone from the barn, a stone building dug into the hillside. The stones came from the fields, built by the slave that stayed there.  The large opening without door glowed, torches burned on each side. The slaves marched just inside and waited to be unchained.

“Oh poor Gomatz. I have to help. I have to do something. No way will you survive. What can I do to give you strength?”

As slavemasters unlocked the group, Zaide trickled down to the barn. Her lungs found it hard to digest her breaths. Her ears heard every step as thunder. Her throat seemed as if it was eating itself. Zaide reached the outside wall, throwing her back into the rock and mortar. She found a shadowy nook where a pillar blocked the torch light.  Closing her eyes, she listened.

Slavemasters shouted orders, laughing from time to time. Most were ready to be done for the night.

“Finish locking them up,” Osmin said. “Give that one some extra food. I want to keep him alive for one month. I must leave. Allazim will be back tomorrow.”

Zaide held her breath as Osmin walked outside the door and down the dirt road. He didn’t look back. Rubbing the rock grains with her palms, she exhaled, waiting for Osmin to move out of sight.

With small, shifting steps, Zaide shimmied closer to the door. Once to its side, she peered around the support beams. The livestock scents of hay and filth hit her. Cages of rusty iron were spaced far enough apart to make whispering between impossible. Gomatz chewed a dry hunk of bread, as a slavemaster guided him toward his cage. A tear dripped from Zaide’s eye as she studied his haggard head. Extra bread, will do no good.  She had learned to tell when death was stalking a slave.  

The slavemaster didn’t throw Gomatz into his prison. They didn’t need to. As soon as his feet hit the heather, Gomatz collapsed.

Sparse, yet intervaled, metallic clanks echoed throughout the barn as the rest of the slaves settled into their beds. Once everyone was locked up, the bulk of the slavemasters left. One lone guard watched the lot for the night.  He usually tucked himself in the back of the barn and slept. No one was worried about anyone escaping. Even if they managed to get out, slaves had nowhere to go.

Once the guard trickled to his place, Zaide snuck in. All the torches but one had been snuffed. It cast dancing shadows between the cages. Zaide tiptoed toward Gomatz’s prison. Half-snore breathings calmed her, letting her know everyone was likely sleeping.
At Gomatz’s cage, Zaide dropped to her knees. His face rest on the bars. Belly down, he breathed heavy into the heather. A patch of fuzz fluttered beneath his nose. Zaide reached a hand through, stroking his soft, oily hair. Leaning her forehead into the bars, she began weeping, tears falling on Gomatz. They struck him both sharp and soft, like a violin string plucked with the meaty portion of a finger.
“How can anyone be so good? So pure? So noble? I will never deserve someone like this. I have my reward in Soliman. But, if only… Oh Gomatz. Why should you die, because of your pure heart? Can I do anything to give you strength?” Her whispers seemed to flow in harmony with his breathing. Zaide placed her hand on her aching chest, grabbing her dress, clenching tight the cloth. The pocket underneath stirred a hint of hope.

Reaching in, Zaide pulled out her pocket. Crafted from the finest lace, it held her most priced possession. She pulled out her picture, staring a briny stare, examining her ideal self. “This is the kind of girl you should have.” Zaide folded the paper and tucked it into Gomatz’s hand.

“Sleep, my dear. Sleep like you have never slept before. Sleep until your strength has returned. I give you my portrait. Let it penetrate your dreams. See my smile. My tender smile. A smile I have never smiled, but want to. Let that smile fill you with the sweetest dreams. If your spirit is renewed by the photo, then I too will be renewed.”

She let a few more tears fall on Gomatz and left.

***

Patterned mosaics covered the seraglio walls. A bath of several hues of blue tucked itself beneath window well. The stained-glass slept for the night. Torches flickered, their lights catching the glossy strips of tile.  Zaide dropped her veil. Jasmine floated in the air, but it couldn’t quite kill the humid stale smell. Wives and odalisques giggled, their echo cackled against the arched ceilings.  

Zaide walked through the gaggle of gossiping woman. “Hail. The Sultan’s favorite. Enters as late as she pleases.” The oldest wife said. She was just over thirty.

Zaide closed her eyes, rolling them in their sockets. I can’t deal with these women. “Quiet, or I’ll tell Soliman you beat me.”

The woman scowled. “The day you run out of favor…”

“The haggard buzzard seeks prey. The ugliest of birds can’t kill on its own, so it has to wait for something to die.”

Wiggling her finger at Zaide, the woman’s mouth dangled open. Her raging lips trembled toward shut and then back open as if they were trying to say something, yet couldn’t find the right words. After a sneering shake of her head, she whipped around and left. The rest of the women gawked at Zaide as if their throats were stuck shut, mid gulp. They parted, letting the young girl through.

Untying her sandals, Zaide sat at the bath’s edge, lowering her dirty cracked feet into the water. Oh. Zaide. You have to be more careful. You can get in trouble letting your feet spoil.  Digging the corner of the soap in the her feet, Zaide massage each sore spot. The cracks were small, barely breaking the skin. Once she dried off, she rubbed her feet with oil. The jasmine scented oil wafted into her breathes. She relaxed and closed her eyes. The raw area lost their burn as she massaged for a few minutes.

Feminine chatter softened, as doors opened and closed. Zaide stood and stretched her legs. They ached a dull and deep, with viscous weakness.

Huhhh. Ffft. Huhhh.

Sniffling sobbed from the other side of a pillar. Zaide walk to the pillar of blue and gold. She caught the edge of sandy hair dangling over the knees of the fetal sitting girl. Her arms pulled her legs tight against her chest.

“That’s the new girl.” A fellow odalisque said, lounging on the nearby couch. “She was given to her new husband.”

“Hmmm.” Zaide stepped to the side of the pillar and leaned against it. She stared straight ahead, not daring to look at the girl. Forcing her tone callous, she said, “She’s going to have to get used to it.” Then she switched to English. “It doesn’t get any easier, you just get harder.”

Even from her peripherals, Zaide recognized the girl. She looked up, her makeup smeared black and blue. Her crimson dress with gold trim was a far leap from her previous drab black and dingy white outfit. “He didn’t touch me.” She sniffled.

Zaide’s brows dropped as she looked a hint more toward the girl. “Why are you crying then?”

“They touched me all over when they washed me and forced me to wear these dreadful clothes and makeup. For what purpose?”

“You belong to someone. You must please your master. Who were you given to?”

The girl shuddered. “I… Um.  He was older. Alli… Alla.. Some name of that sort.”

“Allazim?”

“Yes. Yes. That is it.”

Ah, that is why he was not in the fields. “Blessed are you among us.”

“How am I blessed?”

“You could not have been given to a better man.”

“But, I am still owned.”

“Isn’t everyone? Better to belong to someone good.”

“Could anyone good, own another?”

Zaide shrugged. “So what did Allazim do?”

“When he saw me in bed crying, he patted me on the back, said something I couldn’t understand, and left. A few hours later, they brought me back here.”

Zaide stared forward, quiet.

Although Zaide had been no comfort, the girl inhaled and wiped her eyes as if she felt better. She let her legs drop forward. And stared forward in the same way as Zaide.

“What is your name?” Zaide sighed.

“Abigail. Yours?”

“Zaide.”

Abigail over to Zaide. “Do you know how my family is doing?”

“I have seen your brother.”

“How is he?”

“He is brave.”

Abigail smiled. “I know.”

“It will probably get him killed.”

Abigail dropped her grin. “I know.”