The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai

by Barbara Lazar

  They rode, and I mounted my tree-branch horse to ride too. Once I fell and scraped my leg with the sharp end of a branch. I bit my tongue, covering my mouth with my sleeve as Tashiko had showed me. When I stood up my large samurai was beside me. I bowed, hoping he would speak to me. He did not and returned to his practice.

  I hungered for more contact and continued hiding behind trees or bushes, following the samurai’s actions, ever seeking my samurai. I moved closer, thinking I could not be seen – I must have been: one cold morning I saw my samurai motioning for me to come nearer. I stepped away from the bush and was warmed by his friendly eyes. My lips would not stop smiling. At that moment a white pheasant flew from behind the bush across the practice field.

  He saw the bird and walked over to me. My heart beat as if it were threshing grain before early rain. Would he say something? Standing up, I brushed off my new smock – bright green with black, and embroidered autumn trees – bowed low, waited and hoped. His armour was laced with silk knots, all deep blue and red.

  ‘Hello, little one.’ He bent over, his hands on his knees.

  He was speaking to me.

  ‘Did you see that bird?’ He pointed towards at the pheasant. ‘A lucky omen.’

  I had not known this.

  ‘You have come to observe the great raging spirit of Susanowo, the Storm God?’ He tilted his face down to mine. ‘We follow the Great Impetuous Deity.’ He smiled and held his long sword flat in front of his thick body, with tanned, wide-fingered hands. His dark brown topknot stired in the breeze, bringing smells to me of men’s sweat and grass.

  ‘I will tell you the story I tell my children.’

  ‘Susanowo, the great Storm God saved a couple’s eighth daughter, who was to be sacrificed to an eight-headed dragon the next day. The great Storm God placed a large sake barrel in front of each of the dragon’s sleeping heads. When the dragon awoke, each head drank the sake until the creature was quite drunk.’

  All this he showed me, walking lopsided, wagging his head, crossing his eyes. I covered my mouth with my sleeve to laugh.

  He became serious.

  ‘Susanowo slew the dragon, cutting off each of its eight heads. When Susanowo cut open the dragon, he found the Sacred Sword in its tail.’

  He lifted his beautiful sword for me to see, and grinned.

  For a few moments. I thought about his story. ‘If that is how the sword was discovered, what did the Storm God use to cut off the dragon’s heads?’ I had thought the Sacred Sword the first sword ever.

  The samurai chuckled. Then he barked, his head hung over his body and his chest heaving. With every yelp of laughter I grew smaller, my temper bigger.

  His head was so low I could see only his hair and the sparse brown of his eyebrows, I thought those eyebrows ugly. I wanted to shave them off. I was sorry I’d spoken with him. How could he betray me like this?

  He chortled until the other samurai stopped their practise. I breathed heavily. He was not a brother I could fight. He was not a sister whose hair I could wrench.

  They all listened to him laughing and, when he did not stop, they walked up to us. I looked up at my samurai, hoping he would stop. There had been nothing funny in my question. By the time all the samurai were around him, he was still chuckling, unable to talk. I wanted to run away or hit something. I wanted to hit him, yet I dared not.

  The tallest samurai wore green silk sewn through his armour, which was of white silk decorated with dark and light blue chevrons. He grabbed my samurai’s arm. There was a grinding noise as their shoulders scraped. I jumped. I searched their armour, wondering how it could make that sound.

  ‘Akio, what disturbs your meditative practice?’ the tallest one asked.

  ‘She asked what the Storm God used to kill the dragon, if not a sword.’

  The tall one nodded and grinned, his long black beard, with white threads, bobbing up and down.

  The rest of the samurai were cackling now. It was worse than it had been at home. All these strangers were making fun of me. Akio chortled again. I stood there, helpless, tight fists and lips. I thought about jerking their topknots, pulling out their hair, kicking them in the stomach – after they had taken off their armour. I knew of nothing that could kill a dragon but a sword.

  When the laughter stopped, the tall one patted my head. I wanted to bite his hand. Not a good idea. That would not make Father proud.

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Kozaishō, Master.’ I bowed, rigid and small – resentments had stiffened my entire body.

  ‘There is no need for ill temper, Kozaishō,’ he whispered to me. ‘We do not laugh at you. We laugh at our own assumptions.’

  I did not know what that meant, and remained silent. At least he had said that they were not laughing at me. At what were they laughing?

  ‘What do you do here, Kozaishō?’ the tall one asked.

  ‘I live in Lesser House.’ I pointed.

  Akio glanced at the tall one with eyes I did not understand. I bowed, and the wind blew across the field. Large clouds formed in the clear sky, taking the shape of a huge dragon.

  ‘Akio,’ Master Isamu, the tall one, shouted. All the samurai turned. ‘Kozaishō has brought an omen of good fortune.’

  ‘Master Isamu, if I may be permitted to speak?’

  The older man’s eyes turned to Akio.

  ‘When I first spoke to Kozaishō today, a white pheasant came out of those trees and flew on to this field.’

  If they were omens of good fortune, would I be sent home? Would Proprietor Chiba stop hitting me?

  ‘So, Kozaishō brings two different omens of good luck.’ Master Isamu announced again. He raised his voice to the gathered samurai: ‘Kozaishō must be welcomed here at any time.’

  After that, he spoke quietly to me: ‘Come. Akio will take you to a safe place to watch us. I will ask permission for you to join us, but until then, you may observe as your . . . duties allow.’

  ‘You can visit us, little one,’ whispered Akio. I could not help but smile when I bowed to him. ‘You are special, Kozaishō. As special to me as my own girls.’

  Later I learned about the many swords in the world. The Sacred Sword, encrusted with jewels, was special and different from any practice sword. He told me more about Cloud Cluster – the name of the Sacred Sword found in the dragon’s tail. I never understood, though, why they had laughed so much.

  II. The Practice of Omens

  My family had measured time by harvests and seasons. People counted time differently at Proprietor Chiba’s shōen. There, the day was divided into animals’ names. Tashiko told me the story of the hours:

  Once upon a time, the Emperor of Jade declared to all of the animals that he would name only twelve for the names of the years and the hours of each day. The twelve animals who arrived before him first would protect the people for one year. All of the animals wanted to be chosen. Alas, the cat was too excited and forgot what day it was. He asked his friend the rat, but the rat saw a chance to be rid of a rival and gave the wrong day. The day before, the robust ox decided to leave early, knowing he walked slowly. The rat hopped on to the ox to take advantage of the ride. The ox thought he would be first, but before he entered the Heavenly Palace, the rat jumped off his head and arrived first, with the ox behind him. The energetic tiger, king of the animals, reached the Heavenly Palace next. Then the serene hare, the mighty dragon, the wily snake, the forceful horse, the passive sheep, the clever monkey, the orderly cockerel, the trust worthy and loyal dog and, finally the persistent pig. The next morning, the cat came to the Heavenly Palace, delighted to be first. The guard told him to go home, wake up earlier next time and wash his face. Ever since, the cat and the rat have been enemies.

  Next day, I leaped out of bed at the Hour of the Snake before the new summer sun had peeped above the ground.

  ‘Are you in a hurry?’ Tashiko asked, half asleep. We now slept together on the futon.

  ‘Today,’ I hugged her, ‘I am
invited to watch the samurai. I must finish my tasks before I can go.’

  Tashiko laughed, ruffling my thick hair. ‘I shall hurry to dress you and comb this bird’s nest.’

  The samurai were already at the fields. I had never been out so early. I saw some boys, too.

  The samurai and the boys performed a slow dance in pairs. I did my best to follow their slow dance, the complex yet exciting movements, as I watched from a short distance away.

  The next day, there was no visit from Proprietor Chiba.

  Tashiko answered the question in my eyes: ‘Konjin, God of Directions, forced him to stay inside Big House today.’ She smiled. That meant she planned a visit to the temple after she had completed her tasks. Today she would be pleasant. My stomach relaxed.

  ‘Who is Konjin? What is a God of Directions?’ I could ask questions when she was in this mood.

  ‘The nobles, the fancies, study how the Gods of Directions are going to be safe.’

  ‘Safe?’

  Tashiko sighed. ‘Twenty-four gods, twenty-four directions. When a direction will be harmful, a fancy cannot go that way. Once Proprietor Chiba had to travel to another shōen. He stayed there for a month.’

  She scowled, then looked down and her eyes filled. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she shook it off, wiped her eyes and went to the temple.

  Proprietor Chiba away for a whole month – that should make her happy, I thought. It would make me happy.

  I helped Tashiko with her tasks whenever Proprietor Chiba did not want us to sing or dance, which was seldom. Because I helped, she had time to teach me games. We played Go. It was simple, though there were a great many black and white stones. She always won, but I liked the game and did not mind.

  On most days Tashiko let me soak as long as I wanted after she had scrubbed me. She wiped her tears when she dried me. I thought she was tired or overworked. She had to look after all our new clothes.

  In the evening Proprietor Chiba often ordered Tashiko to paint our faces white and dress us in elaborate kimonos. I loved her soft touches on my face. She taught me more dances, which I found easier to learn than sewing.

  We learned more dances with masks. I liked the Lion Dance. I wore a bright purple robe and white slippers made of thick, knitted silk. They had deerskin soles, good for dancing. The masks were attached under our chins and behind our heads with strings. Tashiko used swords with the dance, and I liked to dance with the weapons. Proprietor Chiba encouraged me and told me I had talent and called me beautiful.

  Proprietor Chiba recited the story of the Chinese General Ryōō. Because beauty distracted his soldiers, he wore a mask. ‘You are such a lovely girl, Kozaishō.’ Proprietor Chiba stroked my hair and face. ‘I am happy to be distracted by your beauty.’

  Tashiko received no such loving words, which troubled me.

  Several days after my first welcome to the samurai fields, Master Isamu and Akio approached me. I bowed as they had taught me. Both men’s eyes crinkled in return.

  ‘We are called to Big House.’ Master Isamu lowered his face to me. ‘Kozaishō, you are also called to Big House. Follow us now.’

  I had to walk fast to keep up with them. Perhaps they were sending me home. No. Tashiko had made clear that no one went home. What had I done? Was I dishonoured? What would happen to my family? To my family’s land? They needed that land – which I had given them. My thoughts turned dark.

  Proprietor Chiba stood at the edge of Big House’s watadono. His jaw muscles jumped out and in. His thin lips disappeared into each other. The priest with the black horse sat next to him. Master Isamu and Akio greeted them and went up the stairs to sit behind Proprietor Chiba, one on each side.

  I walked up to the steps and did the full five-point bow. Face to the ground, I waited. Was Proprietor Chiba going to beat me in front of them? Tell the samurai to use me as a target? Was I about to die?

  ‘Kozaishō, it seems . . .’ Proprietor Chiba’s voice trailed off.

  Master Isamu gave a little cough.

  ‘It – it seems,’ Proprietor Chiba blustered, ‘those two omens together, the white pheasant and the dragon cloud, are . . . too powerful to be ignored.’

  Master Isamu cleared his throat.

  ‘I have agreed that you will . . . train with the boys.’

  My mouth smiled; my whole body squealed. My dream had come true. I took a deep breath, but remembered not to move.

  Akio cleared his throat.

  ‘Eh . . . Akio shall be your tutor in these matters only,’ Proprietor Chiba said, sounding strained.

  I heard armour creak. I did not know who had made the noise. I dared not lift my head.

  ‘And . . . and, ah, they shall be obeyed as I am obeyed. On the field. When you train. But only then.’ He folded his arms across his belly. ‘Only then.’

  ‘Kozaishō, it is good to see you again,’ I heard the priest say. ‘I love to see beautiful, talented girls.’

  His voice rasped like an icicle on my bare skin. He stepped towards me and touched the hair at my nape. I shivered, but forced my attention to Proprietor Chiba’s words.

  ‘You must still practise your dancing. That is your first, your most important, duty.’ Proprietor Chiba’s words sounded loud, like thunder.

  I took two breaths before speaking. ‘May I please have permission to speak, honourable Proprietor Chiba no Tashiyori?’ I used my politest voice, my nose in the dirt.

  ‘Naturally, Kozaishō,’ he said, his voice tight, like an out-of-tune biwa string.

  When I lifted my head, Proprietor Chiba had twisted his fingers into pale fat worms. ‘Thank you, honourable Proprietor Chiba, for the great honour you have bestowed upon me.’

  ‘Tell Tashiko she is to see you are ready and on the training field at the Hour of the Snake,’ Proprietor Chiba snapped. ‘You may leave us.’

  I raced to Lesser House, my hands over my mouth – otherwise my yelps of delight might have ruined the good luck. Later, safely alone, Tashiko and I held each other, hopping up and down, singing our songs.

  Besides befriending Tashiko, I hold that moment as one of the happiest in my years at Proprietor Chiba’s shōen.

  III. First Weapons

  My stomach swirled, like a stream after heavy rains. I could not fail. Not at this. I would be sent home. My family would lose their land – the land for which they had sold me. They would not have enough food. I would bind myself to samurai work with all my strength.

  Akio stood before me. I thanked the Goddess of Mercy. He was truly here. This was not a dream. His eyebrows danced like dragonflies above his eyes.

  ‘Today, little one, I demonstrate. You must not talk. Tomorrow you will shoot the arrows and show me what you have learned.’

  No talking? I could do that. Perhaps. Yes. I could.

  Uba, one of the boys in my group, a thin boy with wilful hair, prodded me with his elbow. I grabbed his hair and heaved. I did not speak. He stopped, for a time. I had wanted to punch him, as I had Fourth Daughter, but the punishments here hurt much more than they had at home. Home. I remembered the shōen was now my home. No talking. No crying, either.

  Uba and the younger boys tied quivers made of lacquered plant fibres around their chests. The older boys strapped on wooden or woven bamboo quivers. Tomorrow would be my day.

  To be close to arrows flying through the air! The wind from them cooled my face. I held my breath until the heaven-splitting sound pierced me each time an arrow struck a target. The targets looked like men: painted faces and bodies on leather packed with straw. The older boys’ arrows struck the targets more often than my group’s. Their teacher scolded them more often than Akio did us younger children. I thought that rather odd.

  Akio came to me. ‘Hold these for me. Only hold them.’ A bow, a tsuru, a bowstring, and an arrow, with the feathers of the fierce wild hawk, lay in my hands.

  My hands shook from the force pouring out of them. Such power held in my small hands.

  Rattan bindings rei
nforced the bow. I touched the loose bowstring. Hemp, coated with wax to make a hard, smooth surface.

  Akio had told me to hold them. Perhaps I could string his bow for him. Surprise him with my strength. I had seen many people string bows. First I placed the bottom loop, bound with white silk ribbon, on the bow. I already knew the top loop from the bottom one: red on top, white at the bottom. Like Master Isamu, I stuck the top loop’s silk flap between my teeth, then grabbed for the other end of the bow with both hands. I would not have to wait until tomorrow to show Akio my learning.

  I reached – high – on my toes – stretched – jumped. Again.

  My hands did not reach halfway to the other end. I could not string Akio’s bow. I hated being short.

  ‘Kozaishō, I did not say anything about placing the tsuru on my bow.’ A shadow darkened my sky. Akio.

  ‘I humbly beg your forgiveness.’ I did not bow low because my hands were full.

  ‘If you disobey again there will be consequences.’ He grew closer, like spring thunder. ‘If anyone disobeys a second time, they are no longer allowed to work with us.’

  He took his weapons from me.

  ‘Yes, Master Akio.’ I made a five-point bow.

  ‘No, no, little one. Master Isamu is Master Isamu, and Proprietor Chiba is Proprietor Chiba. I am merely Akio, your tutor.’

  ‘Yes . . . honourable Akio.’

  For all that, I promised myself that some day my arrows, with hawk feathers, would stand in my shining lacquered quiver next to my fully strung bow.

  Remembering Akio’s directions, I returned to study the boys’ archery. Closer, each movement, the little mysteries I had watched from far away, resolved themselves. They did not just grab the arrow or the string. They positioned the arrow to the right of the bow. They hooked their thumbs under the arrows, placing the first two fingers on the thumb, which I copied, pressing my lips together. Left arm straight, right hand near the right ear. They relaxed the two fingers and at the same time turned the bow until the string went outside the arm.