The Nightingale

by Kara Dalkey

  But Korimizu did not move. “Father, I …”

  “There is something else?”

  “Yes, father. I must tell you something.”

  “Something concerning what I have said?”

  Korimizu nodded, but did not meet his eyes.

  “Speak, then.”

  In a hoarse whisper, Korimizu said, “Very early this morning, Kazenatsu came to me with a request. He wanted me to select a trustworty guard to bear a secret message and package.”

  “To a lover, I suppose? He really ought to be more discreet.”

  “No, father! He asked that the guard be brave of heart … willing to carry a message to the warrior priests of Mount Hiei.”

  “Mount Hiei?”

  “Yes. I told him I would arrange it. But then I grew curious. After he departed, I read the letter.”

  “And?”

  “I think you should see it.” His small hands trembling, Korimizu drew from the sleeve of his voluminous green robe a folded piece of paper which he handed to Daimigi.

  The Chancellor opened it and felt his stomach grow cold with shock. The message read:

  Greetings in the name of the Fujiwara to the most holy Tendai masters of Mount Hiei. We have knowledge of a certain Minamoto who has spoken contemptuously of the Almighty Buddha and the magnificent temples of your holy mountain. In five days, that person will be passing on the road below Hieizan. He will be en route to the capital to take a position of great influence in the government. We understand this pass can often be dangerous, haunted by thieves and violent men. His safe arrival is hoped for, of course, but who knows what one’s karma shall lead to? May Buddha smile on your endeavors.

  It was not signed, but bore the seal of the Ministry of the Right, and the crest of the Fujiwara.

  “The package with it,” Korimizu said softly, “contained ten bars of gold.”

  Daimigi tried to hold back a tsunami of anger. He tried to convince himself that Kazenatsu might only have been an unwitting messenger for the true conspirators. But the letter was in Kazenatsu’s handwriting. And the seal could not have been used without the knowledge of the First Minister of the Right.

  “Do you know, Korimizu, if anyone might have coerced Kazenatsu into writing this letter?”

  “No, father. But, then, he and I speak little these days. When I am not at my duties, I am at my studies. His work and mine do not overlap, and he is often at … social gatherings.”

  “Yes, yes, well, can you think of anyone who might know, one we could trust to be discreet?”

  “No, father. For the reasons I have said.”

  Daimigi sighed. He did not wish to take action without proof. “The fool. Whoever conceived this is a great fool! What if the Oe or Taira had discovered this message? What if this little plot succeeded and our family was blamed for the nephew’s death? It is completely thoughtless!”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Where is your brother now?”

  “He is at the Kamo Shrine, offering prayers for a bountiful rice harvest.”

  Conveniently distant. But who could tell me more of his thoughts and involvement? Someone who would not expect to betray him by speaking of him. “Where is the Lady Kitsune?”

  “I presume in mother’s quarters.”

  “Find her. Send her to me, but do not reveal the reason. Make it seem like a casual request. I do not want her alarmed.”

  “As you wish, father.” Korimizu stood to leave.

  “And I’m sure you need not be told that none of what we have spoken is to be repeated.”

  “Of course, father.” The boy hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “What will you do to Kazenatsu?”

  “We will see.”

  “And His Majesty?”

  “Leave concern for the Emperor to me, Korimizu. Rest assured I shall do whatever must be done. Go now.”

  Korimizu lingered a moment longer, a sad expression on his young face. Then he bowed and left silently.

  Daimigi watched his young son hurry through the snowy garden, his green robe billowing behind him. He is a spring leaf blown about by gusts of winter. Another leaf on the Fujiwara tree. And I am but the topmost leaf, equally vulnerable to autumn breezes. Or summer winds.

  Daimigi ordered a servant to bring in a kicho, and he waited.

  It was not long before the Chancellor saw Kitsune coming through the garden. She walked briskly, now and then carelessly allowing her pretty face to show above the large fan she carried. Such inelegant behavior! How can she expect to become part of our family and act so? He heard her enter through the shoji behind the kicho and settle herself. The screen is hardly necessary with what she has allowed me to see already.

  “You wished to speak to me, My Lord?”

  “Ah, Kitsune-san! Why I was only just saying to Korimizu how it had been such a long time since I last spoke to you, and what a pleasure it would be to talk with you again. Now here you are. It is kind of you to indulge an aging man’s whims so quickly.”

  “Oh, but I am honored to do so, My Lord. I, too, have missed our conversations. So much seems to have changed in the past few weeks.”

  Daimigi noted a trace of melancholy in her voice. “And how are things with you these days? Are your accommodations to your liking? Do you have everything you need? If you require anything, you know you need only ask.”

  “Oh, no. Everything is quite lovely.”

  “And how is Kazenatsu? I fear I have not seen him much of late.”

  “Truly? I thought he had seen you the other night.”

  “Eh? Well, yes, but that was family business. We have not had a chance to be social. Tell me, is he treating you well?”

  There was a slight pause before she replied. “Oh, yes. Quite well.”

  “Are you certain? I would hate to think that my son would be mistreating you in any way. You know you are considered one of our family. You are quite important to us. Please feel free to confide in me as though I were your own father.”

  “Well, Kazenatsu has seemed … a bit preoccupied lately.”

  “Preoccupied? What could possibly be so distracting that he could ignore such a lovely one as you?”

  Kitsune giggled. “My Lord, you are too kind.”

  Indeed, thought Daimigi. “I realize, of course, that his position causes him to be busy with affairs of state. Korimizu tells me Kazenatsu had to travel to the Kamo Shrine today to give offerings, for example.”

  “Kamo Shrine? Korimizu must have been mistaken, my lord, Kazenatsu has gone to the Iwashimazu Shrine of Hachiman.”

  “Hachiman?” Daimigi endeavored to keep his voice even. “What would Kazenatsu wish to ask of the God of War, and patron of the Minamoto clan?”

  “It is part of his … preoccupation, My Lord. Several nights ago he told me he had a vivid dream. Hachiman appeared to him in the form of a warrior prince with intense eyes and a rope around his neck. Kazenatsu said Hachiman told him of a way to solidify the power of the Fujiwara.”

  “Has he told you what this way is?”

  “No, My Lord. But it required some sort of propitiation to Hachiman in exchange.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “I do not know, my lord. Kazenatsu has been most attentive to his pious duties. He just made a sizeable donation to the Tendai monastery on Mt. Hiei.”

  “Did he?” said the Chancellor in a low, dangerous voice.

  “I hope you do not think him a spendthrift, My Lord. He said it was to further his dream. Surely that is in your interest also, is it not? My Lord?”

  But Daimigi was too angry to speak. My own son.

  “Please, you musn’t think—He intends no harm by it! Oh, pay no attention to my foolish words! They are meaningless!”

  “They mean, I fear, a great deal.”

  “No! You must not take it that way, My Lord! You would not punish Kazenatsu for the looseness of my tongue, would you? There could be no other reason for you—”

  “Silen
ce, woman! You have said enough! Leave me.”

  “Please …”

  “Go!” Daimigi heard her sob and the rustle of her robes as she opened and closed the shoji. Looking out at the garden, he saw her run across the snow, weeping. As she ran, her scarlet mantle fell from her shoulders onto the path, bright red upon pure white. Like blood in the snow. Soon it may be—Fujiwara blood. With a sigh, Daimigi took paper and brush, and began to write the order for the immediate arrest of Fujiwara no Kazenatsu.

  Frozen River

  Lying still on silk cushions on his dais, the Emperor watched as the old Shinto priest entered. So. Is it the Hour of the Snake again? thought the Emperor.

  It is, said the spirit’s voice within him.

  How many days has it been that he has come in at this time?

  Many, replied the voice.

  The priest, in white vestments and hat, bowed slowly and respectfully towards the dais. Then he brought forward bowls of rice and vegetables, as he had done every day since the Emperor had become possessed.

  The Emperor felt the spirit take command of his arms and take the food bowls from the aged priest. Desperately, the Emperor tried to move his mouth, trying to speak to the priest. But the spirit held back his tongue, and his jaw waggled uselessly, The priest looked sadly at the Emperor and turned away, shaking his head.

  The Emperor closed his eyes and fell back against the pillows, sighing.

  Have you not yet learned that you cannot defy me? said the spirit.

  Why do you torment me thus? thought the Emperor. Why not kill me and be done with it?

  That would not suit my purpose. While you remain in this uncertain state, the strife between and within the powerful clans can fester and grow. You must remain thus until the turning of the year, when all will be frantic concerning the promotions. Then I shall do with you whatever will cause the most chaos among the Fujiwara. Rest assured, your wish shall be answered soon enough. When it comes time for me to leave your body, I shall gladly guide your soul to the gates of Hell.

  The Emperor heard someone else enter and speak to the priest. Opening his eyes, the Emperor saw it was Daimigi’s young son, the General of the Guards. So, Korimizu. Your father has no doubt sent you to check on my condition. He is running things smoothly for me while I am “indisposed,” I take it?

  The Chancellor’s regency is not as smooth as you think, said the spirit within. I have seen to that.

  The old priest left the room and Korimizu approached the dais with an expression of sorrow and worry.

  Need a better look, do you? the Emperor thought bitterly. Well, I am as I ever was. Powerless as usual, only now physically as well as politically. I hope you haven’t come to gloat. It would be unbecoming in a scholar like you.

  But, to the Emperor’s surprise, Korimizu’s eyes reddened with tears. From somewhere he produced a brush and paper and wrote what appeared to be a poem. Setting the paper respectfully beside the dais, Korimizu bowed deeply. Then he rose and hastily departed.

  May I read the poem? the Emperor asked the spirit.

  Why not? It may prove to be amusing.

  The Emperor reached over the edge of the dais and picked up the paper. He read:

  To see the Heavens so obscured by clouds,

  If only tears could melt this frozen river.

  Well, well, said the spirit, it would appear one Fujiwara has a loyal heart.

  The Emperor felt a sudden surge of gratitude and affection for Korimizu. Then sorrow, knowing he could never tell him. Spirit, may I weep?

  No.

  General Confession

  Korimizu clumped along the veranda of the Household Minister’s quarters, ignoring the soft touch of snowflakes on his cheek. Since the misfortunes of his two brothers, he had been given more family responsibilities. His father relied on him more than ever, and this disturbed him. How can I follow his wishes, run his errands, when I feel what he is doing is wrong? Korimizu wished he could go back to his books.

  The young general stopped beside an elegantly carved set of shutters and rapped lightly. In a few moments he heard the rustling of silk as a waiting maid inside approached.

  The lower half of the shutters opened a bit and the maid slid a cushion out to him, saying, “Who is it who is so kind as to visit the home of the Minister of the Imperial Household?”

  Korimizu’s spirits rose a little as he recognized the voice of the poet Shonasaki. He had admired her from a distance, and mostly by reputation. It pleased him to have the chance to speak with her. He knelt on the cushion and said, “It is I, Fujiwara no Korimizu. I bring a request from my father, the Chancellor, for Lord Echizen no Netsubo.” Korimizu feared that he sounded too pompous, but he felt a need to impress Shonaski.

  “I am most sorry, Korimizu-san, but the Lord Minister is unable to receive messages at this time. He is observing abstinence in preparation for the Day of Confession. But you may tell me His Excellency’s request and I will see that it is passed on.”

  Korimizu sighed. It was a lie, of course. Netsubo was not known for great expressions of piety. No doubt he is trying to avoid sticky questions from the Guard about Su K’an. Korimizu wondered if the lie on Shonasaki’s tongue tasted as bitter to her as the ones he would have to tell.

  “Please inform the Lord Minister that my father would like the painted screens and the statue of Kwannon set up in the Fujiwara Palace for the General Confession. His Majesty is … not feeling himself lately, and would prefer that such a demanding ceremony be handled by the Chancellor and high ministers. He felt it would be inauspicious to have screens depicting the horrors of Hell in the Seriyō Den when the wedding is so near. It might upset the young bride.” There. I’ve said it. Just as my father wanted. Korimizu hated himself.

  There was a pause and then Shonasaki replied, “I understand. I will give the request to a senior clerk who will see it done.” Then she added, “We rather expected it.”

  Korimizu noted her sardonic tone and sympathized. Yet I still must play the loyal son. He wanted to stay in her company awhile longer, but needed desperately to change the subject. Korimizu asked, “Could I please hear one of your poems, Shonasaki-san? I have not heard your work since the uta-awase, and I would like to hear more.”

  Shonasaki paused again before replying. “I am very sorry, Korimizu-san. I have written nothing of quality since the contest. Things have been so sad here that I cannot bear to put my feelings on paper.” Another pause, and then, “Please, Korimizu-san, you must know something. What is wrong with the Emperor? Why can we not see him? Is he ill? Or worse?”

  Korimizu bowed his head and watched tiny snowflakes melting as they fell on the back of his pale hands. He tried to speak but could not. I can’t tell any more lies. Not to her.

  After long moments of silence, Shonasaki sighed and said, “I see. Is that the way of it, then? In that case, perhaps it is just as well that I am leaving the Court.”

  “What?” Korimizu snapped his head up and stared at the shutters as if his gaze could bore a hole through. “Leaving the Court?”

  “Yes, Korimizu-san. Tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.” Korimizu felt regret well up within him and suddenly the air seemed colder. He shivered and sighed. “You are going home?”

  “Not exactly. I have received word that there is a priest who knows the whereabouts of a … a dear friend of mine. I must seek him out so that I may find and join her.”

  “I see.” Yes, you are lucky, Shonasaki. You can leave this sadness to seek a friend. I am stuck here to tell lies to soothe my father’s fears while the Emperor lies dying. You even get to see a priest. If I could talk to an outside priest, I’d … An idea began to form in his mind.

  “I am so sorry I have kept you sitting out in that inclement weather listening to my troubles,” said Shonasaki. “I will go now to complete my packing, so that you may continue with your duties. I’m sure you are very busy these days.”

  Korimizu heard her silk kimonos rustle as she ros
e to go. “Wait!” he cried. “There is one more thing.”

  “Yes, Korimizu-san?”

  The boy took a deep breath before he began. “Shonasaki-san, I have one last request of you. If I share with you the secret of what has befallen His Majesty, will you please take a message to your priest for me?”

  Sunrise

  Shonasaki hurried through the icy, dawn-lit streets of Heian Kyo. She was amazed at how busy they were, even at this early hour. Merchants, shop owners, innkeepers and artisans were opening for business, their breath steaming in the cold air. The fancy carriages of nobles and bureaucrats rumbled past, heading to offices or returning from lover’s trysts. Some of those carriage passengers at this moment are writing next-morning poems for the ladies they have just left. Sighing, Shonasaki lifted the box of her belongings on her back and rushed on.

  She wished she could have somehow borrowed one of Lord Netsubo’s carriages. Perhaps if I had been politer when I announced my resignation. Ah, well. Though Shonasaki had put on drab clothing and hidden her hair and face beneath a large conical hat, she still felt uncomfortably exposed. The sooner she found the house she sought, the better. But what will I tell the priest when I find him? There was that strange, disturbing message the young Fujiwara had asked her to pass on. What had he possibly thought she could do? But she had promised to try.

  After some searching, and awkward questioning of local residents, Shonasaki came to a small, run-down house. Cautiously she stood by the shutters and called out “Hello? Is anyone in?”

  “Someone is in,” replied a gruff voice. “Why does anyone care?”

  “Please, I am searching for a priest.”

  “Does this look like a temple, woman? What makes you think there is a priest here?”

  “If you please, I was told a priest named Takenoko was staying here. He knows the whereabouts of a lady I used to serve at the Palace.”

  “There is no one here anyone from the Palace should be concerned about.”

  Then a female voice came faintly from further in the house. “Shonasaki? Is that you?”

  “Lady Uguisu! You are here too?!” Her heart leapt with joy, and Shonasaki had to restrain herself from pulling open the shutters.