Chapter 2: Lullabies and Envious Eyes
The years drag on. Nadia is a fussy, difficult baby who soon grows into a wiry, active child. Her arms and legs are too long for her skinny little body. Her coarse brown hair is bleached auburn by the burning desert sun. Her eyes are sharp and dark, framed by bushy eyebrows. Her prominent nose seems out of place on her soft, childlike face. She never settles down, running wild in the streets, splashing in the mud pits while her mother toils away, making pottery. She is loud and defiant, spirited if you will. She gets many a paddling from both her father and the overseer, who is greatly annoyed by her rowdy antics.
When Nadia is three, Pella has another baby, a girl. This baby is an accident, as Bin and Pella swore they would never have another child. There is barely enough food to go around as it is, and they still live in fear of the family being torn apart once again. But they love this little creature, whom they name Erith. Unlike Nadia, Erith is a sound sleeper, a good eater. She is quiet and affectionate, and has wide, sparkling green eyes. As Erith's hair starts to come in, Pella is delighted to see that it is jet black and curly, just like her own. Even at a very young age, Erith is strikingly beautiful.
Nadia becomes fiercely attached to Erith. She can't quite pronounce "Erith", so she calls her "Iffy". She carries the baby around, showing her off to anyone who will stop and look. Nadia doesn't play much with the other children, instead she focuses on her precious baby sister. The two become inseparable.
Hard work takes its toll on the young slave family. While still beautiful, Pella begins to develop wrinkles across her cheeks. There are always dark circles under her eyes, and her hands are warped from her fingers being broken many times. Bin's wiry hair grows gray, and his once muscular frame is reduced to that of a frail older man. He comes home every night overworked and exhausted, but still manages a hug for his daughters and a kiss for Pella.
In the evenings, Bin sings and Pella twirls around the room with Erith on her hip. Nadia stomps up and down and claps her hands, giggling. They eat a humble meal of fish and dates, then it's time for the little ones to be put to bed.
Pella kneels over her daughters and tucks them in. Erith coos and reaches for her mother. Nadia tugs on Pella's sleeve. "Can you sing us the song?"
The young mother smiles. "Alright my little butterflies." she says softly as she pulls the toddlers onto her lap, rocking them back and worth.
Remember the days of harmony,
Lay your head down, upon me now.
Hold my hand,
Dream again,
Believe again.
We'll sail away,
To a long forgotten place.
You'll always be safe,
In my arms.
Let go of your fears,
Dry away your tears,
I'll always be here.
And every day, I'll think of you,
My dear, and pray.
Hold on now, this moment's ours.
Hold on to me tonight...
Nadia looks up at her mother with a look of utter adoration and smiles. Erith buries her head in her mother's breast. "Time for bed girls." Pella whispers. She tucks the children back in and gives them each a tender kiss on the cheek.
While their parents toil away during the day, the two young children play together, sometimes wandering over to the courtyard of the master's mansion. Rabiah sits in the shade, attended to by her handmaidens. With sharp dark eyes she watches the two girls play. At first she notices the older child, a scrawny, rather homely girl of about 5. But her eyes wander to the giggling toddler. A beautiful little girl, ebony curls and big emerald eyes. A perfect baby.
She places a hand on her own sunken abdomen. For years she and Kek have tried to have a child, with no success. Rabiah was barren, her womb permanently uninhabited. This was a cause of bitter conflict between the couple. Kek needed an heir, which Rabiah could never provide. The fact that the two hated each other didn't help the situation. However, leaving Rabiah would mean leaving the riches bestowed upon them by her family. So they stayed together, silently sulking in their unspoken misery.
As she watches the little girl, Rabiah feels a pang of jealousy. Why did her slaves, her lowly, ignorant, inbred, heathen slaves, manage to produce healthy, beautiful children? She was far superior to them, yet they had something she could never have: a family.
Her thin lips curl into a sneer of disgust. The envy within her morphs into resentment. 'If I can't have it, then I can only hate it.' she thinks to herself. She holds up her mirror, admiring her makeup-caked features and elaborate jewelry. "She will never compare." she says out loud.
"Mistress Rabiah?" asks one of her handmaidens, confused.
"Nothing." mutters Rabiah, annoyed at herself. She motions to her guard. "Send those children away, they're being disruptive."
And with that, the girls are sent back home and out of Rabiah's conscience.