‘Is that all?’
‘Yes.’ The word seemed to come from Tashiko’s spirit or, perhaps, from the Buddha Himself. ‘I forgive you,’ I said, in the voice for errant servants. I put on my helmet to leave.
He manoeuvred an arm behind himself, then brought it to the front. He held a dagger in the way he had once flaunted his whips.
‘I have no need to fight with you, Proprietor Chiba no Tashiyori,’ I said, in formal language. The words came forth with conviction. My hands no longer itched to put a sword into his lying, sadistic flesh. ‘I forgive you. There is no need to protect yourself. I seek no revenge. Your inago in your next life will suffice for me.’
I turned to go. Sensed it first. Heard it next. Spun into a defensive stance. Sword readied. Do not give me a reason. It would provide sad satisfaction to spill your blood here in Lesser House, you wretched old man.
I waited. My chest drummed.
A faint motion of his blade.
The dagger fell to the floor. I heard him wail as I departed from Lesser House for the last time.
Leading my horse, I wandered through the shōen, to the ponds where Tashiko had taken me on my first day. The temple. Here I sprinkled salt around me, said my prayers and entered to light a candle for my beloved. Compared to Phoenix Hall, it was tiny and pitiable, as Chiba was now. I mounted my horse and named him Dragon Cloud, after the omen that had allowed my samurai training. We rode to the practice fields.
Around a circle, our samurai were shooting some animal, which howled, wailed and moaned. Drag marks in the grass attested to a huge dog or boar. I followed the ropes, which kept it within the circle of laughing warriors. Notching an arrow, I rode close. They parted for me, and I saw him. Chiba.
My childhood’s demon transformed into a wretched animal, claiming my pity. I had to bring a quick death to the creature’s suffering. Without another thought, I shot him through the chest.
When all those eyes turned to me, I realised what I had done. I lied, ‘Kannon-sama must have possessed me. Please forgive me. I am sorry to have spoiled your sport.’
Tokikazu rode up and dismissed them. ‘Yes,’ he announced, to the soldiers. ‘I do believe the Goddess of Mercy influenced you, Lady Kozaishō.’
I was so startled by his approval that I said nothing to him for the rest of the day, except the minimum required for politeness.
I had much to think about.
What manner of man was Tokikazu?
II. Portable Shrine
We travelled on the road north of Byōdōin, avoiding the city of Uji, and stopped. Tokikazu acted like the governor, sending spies through the countryside and waiting until they returned. While we waited by Ogura pond, I walked to the water, washed my face, rinsed my mouth and prayed. I called to the son of our Storm God, the Great Evil-doer, to appease him and ensure safety for the remainder of our travel to Heian-kyō.
That night, when we established shelter for the evening, Misuki, Emi and I were excited to be near the capital. We dressed in our costumes, sang and danced. Mokuhasa, the short, broad samurai with much hair on his body and one thick eyebrow on his face, played the biwa. Its sweet sounds filled the darkness, like a soothing breeze. His music was as gentle as his sword was savage. Joining him, I sang.
A memory of the marriage ceremony of my sister Second Daughter came to my mind. All my sisters and I were dressed in fine clothes and new straw shoes my father had made. Second Daughter and Fourth Daughter had taught me songs and dances, and I performed with my sisters. Father and Mother smiled more than I had thought was possible. Fourth Daughter was so content that she did not shout or lose her temper all day. I beamed at my memory and continued to dance.
In my mind I saw bodies falling, blood spouting, swords, arrows and the gaping mouths of men struggling to breathe, their open dead eyes.
The next morning, Tokikazu taught me a new stroke for my sword, Cutting the Sleeve, across the wrist.
The following day, as we rested near the foot of a modest hill, along the Kamo river south-east of the city, we could see the capital: Heian-kyō. The rounded hills surrounding the city looked as if the Gods had folded it in their hands. Smoke from many small fires drifted above the tops of the trees. Beneath it, I saw buildings, houses so endless they were like flecks of dirt in a cave. Multi-coloured tiled and thatched roofs, the tiled roofs of temples and the red pillars of shrines showed through the smoke, like painted rocks exposed in a fog. I saw activity, too distant to be seen – ox-drawn carriages and carts from farms.
Sadakokai pointed out where each of the major shrines and temples stood. All of the samurai looked to the east, to Rokuhara, where Chancellor Kiyomori had established his city, one big house after another, each surrounded by gardens and numerous huts for its multitude of servants. This was where I was going. I did not journey through Heian-kyō.
Emi shrieked.
I turned to her. From a hill I saw sōhei carrying a portable shrine swathed in a dark grey cloud from its incense and candles. It was draped with deep purple brocade. When they heard Emi, the twenty or so monks moved back up the hill, surrounding the God within in its shrine. Thoughout my travels, religious gates, tori-i, had always marked a shrine, so this one was an oddity. Gauze-swathed men, faces hidden so they were indistinguishable from each other, guarded it, and each bore a heavy wooden staff. The sōhei assumed fighting positions. Taira foot soldiers encircled us. Tokikazu stood in front, closest to the sōhei. Mokuhasa and Sadakokai were behind, to the left and right of him. I stood directly behind Tokikazu and made the fighting square.
We stood far enough away from each other so that our blades would not touch. I unsheathed my sword, and saw that their weapons were already out and in position. Tokikazu’s sinewy body was taut, like an over-tightened string on a koto. Mokuhasa was ahead to my left. His thick body dwarfed his sword. Sadakokai hummed sutras.
With shrill cries, the monks attacked, brandishing their staffs, which made sucking noises in the thick air. Their long white robes did not seem to move as they rushed at us. Suddenly in my mind, I stood on the practice field, but now with a real opponent swaddled in white gauze over black armour, face almost hidden. A lapse could mean death or dishonour.
Our samurai engaged the monks. One sōhei was much taller, which I knew could be an advantage. I kept my eyes focused on his, surrounded by the white gauze. They had black all around them so the whites gleamed like rats’ eyes in stored grain. I gripped my sword tighter. He was strong, perhaps over-confident in dealing with a woman, and young but, from his strikes, seasoned. I was not. I concentrated on this monk and shut out the strikes and grunts coming from around me. I had to trust my fellows.
His eyes flickered; he sliced at me. I deflected and countered with my sword edge, rolled backwards. I had power from his stroke. I righted myself and thrust up. I heard him lose his breath. My sword pierced under his armour. Another stroke. I sliced from neck to belly. He fell backwards.
Holding my sword, I watched him before I turned away. His hand shook, holding something. I charged over and sliced it off, using Cutting the Sleeve, as Mokuhasa had taught me. The monk’s hand concealed a shuriken, similar to other spiked stars I had seen. I watched again, but he was still. Tokikazu’s advice had saved my life. If I had walked away, that would have been my death.
Scanning the scene, I saw the rest of the monks taking the shrine and running away, up the hill. Tokikazu, Mokuhasa and Sadakokai were unharmed. After scrutinising the area, we bowed as if we had finished a training session on the practice field.
I revisited the body of the monk I had killed, and wrested the shuriken from between his fingers. It was different from the ones I had used in practice: more points. I put it with my other weapons as a keepsake. Then we cleaned our swords and purified ourselves, scattered salt, rinsed our mouths and washed our hands.
‘Thank you for your advice at Uji.’ I bowed to Tokikazu.
‘It was my duty. I swore to Governor Michimori to protect you from harm and
deliver you to his home.’
Overwhelmed, I lowered my head. ‘I do not have words,’ I said, holding my emotions low in my throat.
Tokikazu smiled, his small eyebrows raised in delight. ‘Commander Taira no Michimori will be pleased when I tell him of your courage with so large an opponent.’
‘Please, Tokikazu,’ I implored, ‘do not allow knowledge of this incident to reach my lord’s ears.’
III. A Secret
Tokikazu’s eyebrows lowered to his shining eyes. ‘Why do you not want Governor Michimori to know of your bold deeds?’
‘Please tell him of the monks. The information may be vital.’ I bowed again. ‘We are at war, but I am unsure who the enemies are. My life has been simple. Now it is complicated. I do not wish the governor to know of this scuffle because he has sufficient problems. Also, I took the loyalty pledge, so I am honour-bound. My duty is to make his life pleasurable.’ I could not tell Tokikazu that, while grateful to the governor, this was the first time, without assistance, I had executed a real fight all on my own. Such a potent experience: all my muscles and every limb tingled with exhilaration.
‘And yet I must inform him.’
‘Tell him about the sōhei, but do not add to his burdens with these . . . trifling details.’ I looked past Tokikazu’s high forehead. I extended my hand towards the field in which we stood. ‘Compared to the battle at Uji, this was but a single flower in a meadow, was it not?’
Tokikazu growled in agreement, although scepticism and something else wrinkled his eyes and mouth.
‘Perhaps if I tell you a story which demonstrates that if one focuses on essential details one can vanquish foes.’
‘Only if you allow the others to hear it as well.’
I nodded and waited while he signalled to the others, who gathered as they finished cleaning their weapons and garments. When all was ready, I began ‘The Monkey and the Baby’.
‘A mother placed her baby near a tree while she worked in the field. Suddenly, a monkey picked it up and carried it high into the tree. The frantic mother yelled in terror and prayed to the Buddha. An eagle flew down to attack. Still in the tree, the monkey made a bow out of the swaying branches and shot the eagle. It fell dead to the ground. Seeing the violence, the mother continued to pray loudly to the Buddha. She was deeply afraid the monkey would harm her child, but the monkey delivered its precious armful to the frantic mother. The mother had looked only at the monkey’s actions, not its motives.
‘The mother’s suffering could have been avoided. Attention to vital details is as important as deeds.’ I studied the warriors’ expressions to see what impact the story had made.
‘Yes,’ Tokikazu admitted. ‘I direct all of us.’ He looked at each samurai, ‘Speak only of the sōhei as if we had seen them but not fought with them.’ After the samurai separated from us, he moved closer to me. ‘Well done. I understand why Commander Michimori entrusted us with your care. You are a worthy companion.’
‘It is only my role. Who are these sōhei?’
‘Warrior monks who come from Mount Hiei.’ He pointed to the mountains north-east of the city. His voice dropped to a low growl. ‘They come to plunder and ravage the capital.’
‘I see.’ His distress was clear.
‘By decree, coins are forbidden in the capital. The monks come to acquire coinage. These sōhei have done this before, bringing their portable shrine to the city where no one dares to remove it.’
‘Because otherwise the shrine’s God will inflict vengeance?’
‘So the shrine stays in the streets until the emperor pays their ransom.’ His eyes showed the contempt of a hawk. ‘Then they come back, take the shrine and their ransom and leave – until the next time.’
‘Perhaps it is also payment for Chancellor Kiyomori’s arrow long ago.’ Sadakokai said.
I asked for the story.
Sadakokai narrated, stuttering less as he spoke:
‘L-l-long ago, when Ch-Ch-Chancellor Kiyomori was a young man, he and his companions attended the G-G-Gion Festival in the city at G-G-Gion Sh-Sh-Shrine. One of his comrades had a little clash with one of the Gion priests.
‘Not s-s-such a s-s-small one,’ he snarled.
‘Chancellor Kiyomori felt his name had been d-d-dishonoured. He took his men, rode out and attacked the priests of Gion. Now, they carried a portable shrine at the time, not like the one we saw but a bigger one, with a bell in f-f-f-front. The capital always has the f-f-finest of everything.’
Here he spread his arms and hands wide.
‘Chancellor Kiyomori shot an arrow straight into the bell, which rang loudly. The Enryakuji sōhei.’ He stared at my confused expression. ‘That is the name of the temple on Mount Hiei. The Enryakuji sōhei considered this an insult. Seven thousand of them rushed into the capital demanding justice. Because of his high rank, Chancellor Kiyomori’s punishment was a small fine.’
‘The monks seem always to be going into the city with more demands. I wonder what it is this time,’ Mokuhasa commented.
‘The city is no longer the Peace and Tranquillity Capital,’ Tokikazu whispered in my ear, as if not to invoke some angry ghost.
The journey to my new home continued in uncomfortable silence.
IV. Temporary Home
We stopped at the gate of a vast village of estates and mansions, its walls three times as high as those that surrounded Chiba’s shōen. The many guards scrutinised everything from our horses to our helmets. After we had passed through the gate, Sadakokai spread an arm wide. ‘There are more than f-f-five thousand f-f-families and homes here.’
Most of the houses looked more magnificent than Big House at Chiba’s – imposing. Less land, surrounded them, but each had more complicated buildings: the roofs over the watadono were substantial and ornate with carvings and statuary similar to those at Byōdōin. Hordes of servants scurried from the huts surrounding each mansion, back and forth, and herds of hooded priests pushed along the roads. I was reminded of Uji, and wondered which one could be Goro. I shivered, recalling his eyes.
Mokuhasa rode close to me. ‘We live differently here. When we Taira in Rokuhara marry, the wife lives with the husband’s family.’
‘Where does a man’s other wives live?’
Mokuhasa chuckled.
Sadakokai had pulled up on the other side of me. ‘Oh, w-we just b-b-build another wing on to the house. For those with many w-wives, it can be – interesting, but that is why there is extra l-l-land with every estate.’ He laughed. ‘P-p-probably why I have n-no w-w-wives.’
‘Nor does Michimori, but he still has a large estate.’ Mokuhasa slapped his thigh and snorted.
‘T-T-Tokikazu has enough w-w-wings on his house, I am surprised it does not f-f-fly!’ Sadakokai laughed even more.
Mokuhasa chuckled. ‘At Tokikazu’s rate of additions, he may have to find yet another house outside Rokuhara.’
I did not find this amusing, but smiled, regardless. I pondered how many wives Tokikazu might have and what shape his home could take.
Tokikazu made a gestural bow. ‘Lady Kozaishō, we have arrived at Taira quarters, Rokuhara. My lady, inside Main Gate you will see the home of the governer’s father. We call it “Gateside”, because it sits directly by Main Gate. The governor wishes me to escort you and your servants to your quarters.’
I studied the magnificent structure, the mansion of Michimori’s father. I returned to my horse next to the ox cart where Misuki and Emi sat. Before I mounted to enter Main Gate, I bowed to Tokikazu. ‘You greatly honour me with the governor’s consideration.’ I hoped to see more of Tokikazu, an odd but interesting man.
I had only a little understanding of Governor Michimori, but I thought he had shown a true face to me. He might wish to remove this vulnerability, me, from his sight. Yet there was the poem he had sent me. Misuki and I had read it. Could I believe what Tokikazu had told me? ‘Commander Michimori ordered me and others to protect you in battle. He has never done this before.’ I
recalled that Tokikazu placed his open hand over his chest as he said this. I could hardly think of that possibility. Perhaps I was for the Echizen governor’s samurai, or some courtiers, or perhaps to teach songs and dances to his wives and concubines. What if he wanted me for himself?
I had no answers to these questions, only excitement and fear. I was excited because this situation would be different from the old one. I was afraid: political leaders exerted their power over life and death as often as they feigned smiles.
‘You may gather your belongings,’ Tokikazu said, his face brightening. I longed to ask permission to arrange them so that I could check on my secret papers, but I knew that would bring suspicion.
‘Thank you, honourable Captain Tokikazu.’ Surreptitiously, I scrutinised my bundles, my multi-coloured furoshiki. Secret paper scraps (all logs of my customers, their habits and businesses) were sewn into the middle parts of my kimonos, hidden inside.
Tokikazu said, ‘I will assign several men to carry them to your residence.’
My head felt like the inside of a temple bell. My residence! My entire wardrobe, makeup, livelihood and secrets, lay in front of the palanquin, like silk-wrapped gifts for giants. The caravan of our furoshiki marched by: red with peacocks, grey, blue, brown ships fighting dark blue waves, blue and green birds squawking on brocade, gold and brown tigers, and one small black dog playing among green bushes.
Misuki, Emi and I stood in front of Tokikazu. I informed him we were ready to go to our new quarters. At his request, we followed him, others carrying our bundles in a procession. I was careful not to smile, but the thought of the serious foot soldiers officially carrying our rainbow furoshiki was amusing.
To maintain my composure, I drank in each tiny detail of our new surroundings. Abruptly I saw my life as a tiny island – so remote – an implicit imprisonment. I noticed everything: samurai guarding the passageways, bemused expressions in their eyes, their shoes, the soldiers’ uniforms with the governor’s crest – the closed-wing butterfly. I had seen it on his sword earlier.
The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai Page 23