A Sword's Poem

by Leah Cutter

  “I’m sure you will,” Chieko said with a kind smile. “If I could pass off the care of Lord Taiga to your most excellent hands, I would. But I must be the one consulting with the priests, advising the well–wishers, as well as directing the cooks to make the special foods Lord Taiga will need to regain his health.”

  “I understand,” Kayoku said, though she didn’t, not really. On the one hand, seeing to Lord Taiga would not be an easy task. He was a proud man. Independent. And not used to being ill, to having to follow additional strictures.

  On the other hand, it was the most important job in the entire estate. Why would Chieko even consider handing it to her?

  “Are you ready?” Chieko asked Kayoku.

  “I am,” Kayoku replied.

  “Then let us begin.” Chieko started to rattle off her duties.

  The list seemed endless.

  Kayoku quickly put aside all her questions and doubts and earnestly applied herself to learning everything she could as quickly as possible.

  Perhaps her luck wasn’t so bad after all.

  Ξ

  After just a single day, Kayoku fell, exhausted, onto her sleeping tatamis. How had Chieko done all of that? And still maintained such a perfect–looking personal household? All her servants were the envy of the rest of the women.

  Kayoku was doubly impressed with the eldest wife now. And even more determined to fill her shoes, no matter how inadequately.

  The next morning, there was still no improvement in Lord Taiga’s condition. If anything, he’d worsened. Kayoku made special arrangement so she could go and visit him herself.

  It shocked Kayoku when she saw Lord Taiga, just a day later, taking him a plate of hanpen—a spicy fish cake that she’d made herself—in order to tempt his appetite.

  Instead of staying on his sleeping mats, as Chieko and the priests had no doubt directed him to, Lord Taiga spent his days in his special garden, sitting as motionless as a rock, staring at nothing.

  Kayoku didn't understand the appeal of the place. It was outside, unprotected from sun and rain. It held flowers, trees, rocks, and a small rock path leading between them. It didn’t grow anything useful, like herbs for healing or cooking.

  Plus, it was too wild to be beautiful, too unordered and unkempt.

  Lord Taiga’s face had turned skeletal, and his body weak. His skin was the same color as the gray skies above them. He wore impeccable bronze outer robes, with pink and red under robes showing just at the edges of his sleeves.

  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness,” Lord Taiga said, putting the dish to one side, not even bothering to taste it.

  Stung, Kayoku still knelt on the rocks beside him. “Anything for you, my lord,” she murmured.

  But Lord Taiga didn’t say anything else. He sat, as still as stone.

  Kayoku stayed for a long while, hoping that he might say something else.

  However, Lord Taiga paid less attention to Kayoku than to the rain that eventually splashed down on them.

  Ξ

  The funeral for Lord Taiga took place the day after he died, instead of the usual four days later. Kayoku had agreed with Chieko that the ceremony needed to be held immediately after the lord’s death. The body had begun to smell badly. They needed to preserve the health of the rest of the estate.

  The ceremony took place in the front courtyard, just as the sun left the shroud of the earth. Kayoku waited next to Chieko, carrying a branch from one of the unohana bushes in Lord Taiga's garden. The tiny white blossoms were just opening and smelled very sweet. She’d chosen it for the pyre so that Lord Taiga would have something of his favorite place to go with him to Heaven that surely awaited him. He'd always taken such good care of the kami in the Mori shrine. The kami were certain to take care of him now.

  In an undulating line, the priests left the estate first, dancing into the courtyard, banging drums and playing discordant flutes and whistles, chasing away any evil spirits that might have gathered. Lord Taiga’s sons marched out next, waving fragrant sakaki tree branches that would be later placed on the funeral pyre.

  Kayoku and Chieko followed next, with the rest of the wives behind them.

  Chieko gave the eulogy, as was appropriate. Though Kayoku was officially the highest ranking wife, Chieko was still the eldest. It was a heavy burden, seeing off such an important man, but Kayoku didn’t envy Chieko. Her poem was particularly clever, or at least that was what the other wives said—Kayoku didn’t have much of a head for poetry.

  Later that afternoon, Kayoku and Chieko held a second ceremony with the rest of the wives and women on the estate. They served cold tea and dried fish, each spoke in turn about the kindness and goodness of Lord Taiga, then they burned the white cotton robes that they’d worn over their black mourning silks. The men held their own, separate ceremony.

  So many things were forbidden that first week of mourning: no colorful robes, no rich foods, no contests or games of any sort, no meetings between men and women.

  Kayoku knew the enforced stillness would drive her mad. After her mother’s funeral she’d received special dispensation from the priests to clean her rooms.

  Permission was easy to get from the priests of the Mori temple. All Kayoku had to do was write a brief letter, explaining what she wanted. The answer returned within the hour, astonishing her.

  Kayoku wasn’t used to such a position of power, but she vowed to use it to do good, useful things for the estate.

  She marshaled half a dozen of her servants and went to the men’s quarters, the approval held tightly in her hand in case someone asked. But no one challenged her. They didn’t even run into anyone once they got to the southernmost wing, where Lord Taiga’s rooms were.

  There wasn’t really much difference between the halls of the men’s quarters and the women’s, but Kayoku always checked the small things that marked these as the men’s place. The walls didn’t have the poetry that the women’s quarters did, and what was hanging was always written in the more formal kanji script, instead of the katakana that women used. In the women’s quarters, most of the windows faced inward, on halls and other rooms. In the men’s quarters, more windows were on the outer walls and opened to the outdoors, which meant it generally smelled better. And the walls sometimes showed more signs of wear, particularly when the men were careless about their armor or their swords, banging into the walls.

  Though all the windows for Lord Taiga’s rooms had been left open, the awful stench of his illness still lingered in the hallway outside his rooms. Red banners still hung on either side of the shoji, poems for luck and healing, though they hadn’t done much good.

  Kayoku slid open the doors carefully and looked inside. The rooms were as stark as she had thought they would be. Lord Taiga hadn’t been an extravagant man. A plain writing desk sat in one corner, and a cupboard for his robes stood against the far wall. Two budding maples—probably brought from his garden—guarded the inner doorway.

  “Sweet candles,” Kayoku ordered as she took a step inside and the stench hit her. How had Chieko tended to Lord Taiga in that foul stench? Two of her servants quickly hurried away to do her bidding.

  At least Kayoku had planned ahead and had the rest of her servants already carrying buckets of water.

  “We will be cleaning from top to bottom,” Kayoku announced as her servants gathered behind her, curiously looking beyond her to the lord’s former rooms.

  That brought some good–natured groans. Her servants had been with her long enough to know she meant literally that—they’d clean everything from the rafters to the floorboards. However, she also knew they weren’t upset by her proclamation—they, too, had been looking for more to do.

  “We’ll start in here, in the outer rooms,” Kayoku told everyone. When the other servants came back with the sweet candles, she’d start them burning in the inner rooms. That way, maybe the smell wouldn’t be too bad by the time they were ready to clean the inner sleeping room.

  Kayoku suspected, thou
gh, that the candles wouldn’t be enough and that they’d all be covering their noses with damp cloths to filter the stench.

  “Remove the tatamis from just inside the door, first,” Kayoku directed the servants.

  Gasps filled the room when the first mat was lifted up and out of the way.

  Strange symbols, long and wavy like some kind of sea creature, had been drawn in black pitch on the wooden floor.

  “Attend me, all of you,” Kayoku said immediately.

  All of her servants looked up to her.

  “None of you will breathe a word of this to anyone,” Kayoku said harshly. “Or I will sell you to the sorcerer who made these marks.” She looked at each of the four servants there, one at a time, making sure she had each one’s assent. Rumors of this could not get out. It would be disastrous for the entire estate.

  “Now, Sachi, go and fetch Priestess Ayumi. Hurry, and tell no one what you’ve seen,” Kayoku warned again.

  “Of course, mistress,” Sachi responded, leaping to her feet and racing out of the room.

  Sachi had been with Kayoku since she’d been a little girl. She’d do as she was told.

  “Come,” Kayoku said, pointing to two other servants. “We need to see what other markings are here.”

  They discovered more symbols on both sides of the door to Lord Taiga’s sleeping rooms, as well as under his sleeping mats. The other servants returned with the sweet candles, and Kayoku quickly set them burning around the edges of the room.

  Sachi and Priestess Ayumi returned just as the last candle had been set. Kayoku wasn’t certain that Sachi had told the priestess, but it had gotten her to move quickly.

  The priestess wore the typical dark green robes of the Mori temple, undecorated or embroidered, with plain straw sandals tied to her feet. She didn’t wear any makeup—not that she needed any. Though her skin was a golden brown from being out too much in the sunshine, her features were arranged most pleasantly, with a round–moon face, a broad forehead indicating her great intelligence, wide–spaced eyes that always looked on the world with curiosity, and a tiny nose and mouth. Her rich black hair was tied back in a serviceable bun instead of some of the more exotic styles that the other women at the estate wore.

  Kayoku would have estimated that the priestess was about her age, though it was impossible to tell for certain. Sometimes Kayoku wondered if Priestess Ayumi was much older, given her great wisdom. Then the priestess would say something silly and giggle like a young girl, making Kayoku wonder even more.

  When Priestess Ayumi arrived at Lord Taiga’s rooms she didn’t say a word but examined each set of symbols carefully. Kayoku gestured silently for her servants to all wait against the wall as the priestess went from one set to the next, then walked around them, studying them from all angles.

  The sickly scent from Lord Taiga’s illness seemed to swell. Kayoku found it difficult to swallow. Even the birds outside the windows fell silent, waiting for the verdict.

  Finally Priestess Ayumi approached Kayoku. “Thank you for bringing these to my attention.” She continued in a loud voice, so that all the servants could hear as well. “These are protective markings, meant to ward someone from evil spirits. Nothing more. You will come to no harm removing them.”

  The first waft of sweet candles finally managed to cut through the stench.

  “How would we best clean them?” Kayoku asked the priestess.

  “You should gather the leaves of the jigoku no kama no futa flowers and place them in your water buckets,” Priestess Ayumi replied seriously. “This will help purify the floor, and make sure that no evil will enter here.”

  Kayoku tried to keep her expression neutral. “Go. Do what Priestess Ayumi has said,” she told her servants. “And remember what I said. I will sell you to the first evil sorcerer I find if you tell anyone what you’re doing.”

  Her servants nodded and quickly set about their tasks. Once they were busily washing the outer room floors, as well as the backs of the tatamis, Kayoku and Priestess Ayumi slipped into Lord Taiga’s sleeping room and shut the door behind them.

  Kayoku walked to the far side of the room, where the window looked out over the garden and they were less likely to be overheard. “Are those symbols really harmless?” she asked.

  Priestess Ayumi replied quietly, almost whispering. “The ones out there are.”

  Kayoku didn’t believe her. “They why did you instruct the women to use the demon–pot flower?”

  Priestess Ayumi gave Kayoku a quick smile. “It will make them feel important, like they’re doing some kind of magical thing, protecting the rest of the estate from harm. But,” she said, turning and frowning, “there are some symbols in here…” The priestess shuddered, then pointed to the area of the floor just beneath the head block Lord Taiga had slept on.

  The symbol was the length of a man’s arm and unsymmetrical, a series of twisted lines and characters, like a folded book torn apart by the wind, then the pages caught in a spider’s web. Kayoku looked more closely. She’d thought it had been painted with the same black tar, but now saw the color was more reddish.

  Bile filed her mouth at the thought of Lord Taiga, lying—dying—on top of dried blood.

  “This one—I don’t know all the characters,” Priestess Ayumi continued. “But I recognize the general design. It’s used to catch a soul after the body is dead, to hold it until it can be collected.”

  Kayoku drew in a sharp breath. Lord Taiga’s soul hadn’t gone directly to Heaven? That couldn’t be. “Wouldn’t the priests have noticed? When he died?” Surely someone would have done something.

  “How could they?” The priestess shuddered again.

  Kayoku floundered for a moment. What could she do about Lord Taiga’s soul? Then she straightened up again. All Kayoku could do was to offer prayers at the appropriate times. It was up to the priests to see to Lord Taiga’s soul.

  All Kayoku could do were the practical things, namely, to make Lord Taiga’s rooms fit and safe for regular people again.

  “How do we clean it?” Kayoku asked, determined to do her part.

  Priestess Ayumi gave a grateful smile. “I need to gather some special herbs and bless some water. Which of your women do you trust to help me when I return?”

  Kayoku didn’t understand what the priestess meant. Which of her servants? Why would she entrust this to a servant?

  After the silence stretched uncomfortably, Kayoku realized she had to say something. “I will help you, of course.”

  “But, my lady, you don’t need to dirty your own hands—”

  “I do, though,” Kayoku said firmly. “I am responsible for this estate, for the souls here. It is my duty to ensure the health of everyone under these roofs.”

  With a brief bow, Priestess Ayumi acquiesced, then turned and hurried out of the room.

  Kayoku knew the priestess would be returning even more quickly.

  She went and knelt down at the far side of the room, close to the open window, hoping she’d be able to breathe more freely there. Then she waited, calmly, for Priestess Ayumi to return.

  Her mother would be proud of her, she knew.

  On the one hand, Kayoku still wasn’t used to her change of status. Different things were expected of her.

  But she also truly felt responsible for everyone. She was certain Iwao felt the same way. That was how she’d been raised.

  She resolved to send him a letter as soon as the mourning strictures of the first week were eased.

  They had to meet, to talk about how to rule the people together.

  Because while Kayoku could do much on her own now, it was just practical to have the support of her husband as well.

  Six

  Fine White Skin

  Iwao

  Fine white skin, smoother

  than glass, yet, unbreakable—

  Warm, pure mountain snow.

  Iwao watched the beauty of Kayoku sleeping for a long while before he slipped from their shared bed and
went to his outer rooms. She’d been unguarded in her passion earlier, as lovely and as free as the wild songbird who’d joined him on his veranda that morning. He’d caressed her face as she’d lost herself, drowning in their shared joy, astonished at the spirit that she’d allowed to move through her.

  Though still in his sleeping robes, Iwao composed himself behind his writing desk, staring out the dark window from his room, into the night. Shaded lamps in the corners gave him light, soft and golden. The spring air still held traces of their earlier passion.

  He couldn’t allow himself to get lost in remembering that night, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

  Kayoku had asked what had changed, for Iwao, since they’d last seen each other. She specifically hadn’t mentioned Lord Taiga, or his new position, treating them like jealous ghosts, as if paying attention to them would give them too much power.

  He’d joked with her, telling her that the generals had changed as much as Mount Shirayama ever did, which was, not at all. Despite being placed at the head of the army, and it being the generals’ duty to obey Iwao, they still looked to each other for approval and direction.

  That would change over time. Iwao felt confident in his abilities, his learning.

  But did he have that time?

  He stared down at his writing desk, at the bundle of letters there. At the blank paper holding the reply he would have to send in the morning.

  What Iwao hadn’t shared with anyone, at least, not yet, was that the warlord Masato had sent a formal challenge of war. As part of the declaration, he’d also included the terms of what he wanted.

  What Masato had wanted surprised Iwao. The warlord had only asked for a portion of the eastern slope of Mount Shirayama, that he was willing to take by force. He hadn’t asked for the entire mountain.

  Not yet.

  Iwao already knew his response, what the generals would say. They weren’t giving Masato any part of the mountain on which to build his foreign temples.

  It wasn’t that Iwao was particularly against this Sakyamuni, or Buddha. He’d read some of the Buddha’s teachings, and they’d seemed very instructive.