The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (11 page)

‘Why not?’

‘Too greedy?’

‘How did you get here?’

‘Prettiest one when the priest visited.’

That priest again. So, he finds girls. ‘Daigoro no Goro?’

Nodding, Tashiko wrapped her arms around herself, although it was near midsummer and hot.

‘Any brothers?’ I asked.

‘Five.’

‘Only four, although since I have been here more than two years there may be another more. I think my mother was with child when I . . . left. She said she did not show until her last month. My married sisters are, were, the same way when I last saw them.’ I moved the brush in my hand. A mistake.

‘Kozaishō, others have learned.’ She sighed, looking at my hand. ‘You do not seem to be able to write. You read well. Let us concentrate on the reading.’

I agreed, only too happy to give up the gruelling work.

From that day, Lesser House had name characters pasted on the table, the floor, the wall, the
futon
, the brazier and everything else. Akio and Master Isamu gave me words on pieces of paper. Tashiko attached them to the object they named, if possible.

Much later, I regretted that she had stopped teaching me.

II. Succession

Lesser House had been my home for more than two years. Proprietor Chiba still beat us, no longer for our performances but when his feet hurt or he had not slept well. The priest, Goro, visited often and followed me throughout the morning or during the Hours of the Sheep or Monkey. His visits brought reminders of my last day with my family. Were they doing well with my gift, the land? When I thought of them, my stomach churned and my voice cracked. The island in the pond supplied me with a shelter from others to mourn.

My riding improved. Even with my bow and the
naginata
, a spear with a curved blade at the end, I sometimes matched the boys in my age group. Uba and I competed in everything. I mastered move-in-towards-an-opponent and slide-out-of-range. I rehearsed the readiness stances with my
bokken
and worked on the introductory movements. Not perfection, but Akio gave me his ‘satisfaction’ grimace. An achievement.

One winter morning I woke up alone. There was no Tashiko, no fire, little water in my jug and no clothes laid out for me. I shivered in my
futon
and waited. She did not come. Looking around Lesser House, I saw her clothes were gone and so were her dolls. Tashiko had discarded me, I thought. I had been abandoned once more. I liked Tashiko so much – she was the nearest to my family I had had since my sale. Loneliness choked me. Tashiko said the Lotus Sutra could remove sadness and darkness. I sang some aloud, but still missed her. Allowing myself the luxury of tears, I hugged my favourite doll and curled into the quilt against the icy air.

Abandoned again

Inner winter icicles

Dripping through my eyes

Wild ducks call among the reeds

Their cry so sad I cannot move

After a time, I put down my doll and folded the
futon
. Saying more of the Lotus Sutra, I dressed myself in my warmest clothes and a quilted jacket. I did my and Tashiko’s tasks, swept Lesser House’s floor and brought in wood for the brazier. I carried buckets to the well.

Proprietor Chiba arrived, wearing his toothy grin. I wrestled with the water, which was difficult since it was frozen on top. ‘Good.’ He slapped the top of my head. ‘You are already doing her tasks. Tashiko has gone.’

‘Why?’ I asked formally, my eyes lowered. ‘She attended to me well. She lit the fire, arranged our clothes and cleaned Lesser House.’

Proprietor Chiba’s eyes were distant. ‘It is my business. I have sent her away. It has nothing to do with you. I order you never to speak of this, or her, again. To anyone.’

With Tashiko gone, my life at Proprietor Chiba’s was transformed into emptiness. I did my utmost to manage. With all her tasks and mine, I hoped I would have less time to miss her. The extra household tasks did not help, but my work with the samurai distracted me a little.

Proprietor Chiba no longer brought me dolls or presents. Only after I had danced and sung for as long as he wanted could I beg for a story. I craved a tale to transport me to a fantasy world.

One evening he said, ‘A new girl is coming. I want you to take care of her, as Tashiko did you.’ She was to share Lesser House with me. I had to wash and groom her, teach her the dances and makeup.

Chills shook my body so hard I almost tumbled on to the floor. Suddenly I knew why Tashiko had had tears on her face as she had dried me at night. At that instant I wanted never to dance for Proprietor Chiba again. He had used Tashiko. He had used me. He was using me.

What had Tashiko done to displease him? Eventually I might be sent away – to wherever girls who offended him were sent. Later, however, on reflection, I realised I might see Tashiko again. That was the only spark in a large heap of damp firewood.

That evening, a bewildered little girl arrived. She was perhaps no more than five or six, younger than I was when I had come. She brought with her my same round face. A lifetime for me had been only a little more than two years.

I knew her fear, loneliness and loss, a budding flower plucked before the sun had warmed and opened it naturally. Yet I taught my replacement everything I had learned.

I did it for my family’s honour. I remained hopeful that I might not be sent away, although Goro visited the
sh
ō
en
more often. His visits put a cold stone into my stomach, especially when he gazed at me dancing. The only word he said was ‘Beautiful. Beautiful.’

A giggling girl, Emi must have been born during a famine because it took her days to learn a simple dance I had mastered in less than one. Songs required even more time, but she had a laugh that spread to others and a silvery singing voice.

I remembered how my skin had reddened in my first days and scrubbed Emi with care in the bathhouse. I wept while I was washing her, remembering Tashiko and her tears. Unlike Tashiko, I was always patient and gentle, as she had been after our truce. Emi relished dressing up and makeup, as I did, and we shared some happy moments.

With no possibility of her learning the Lotus Sutra, I taught Emi to say, ‘
Namu Amida Butsu
, honour to the Amida Buddha.’ She would need it for her salvation. Eventually she would be alone and have to do everything for herself. She had a good heart, always tried her best and was aware of her slowness.

How sad.

III. The Gods of Directions’ Directive

In my third autumn at the
sh
ō
en
, the Gods of Directions ordered Proprietor Chiba to stay away for two days. He left orders for me to teach Emi another dance for the Chrysanthemum Festival. Memories of Tashiko pressed on me, especially in Lesser House at night, and I often played the
biwa
out on our
watadono
.

In her free time Emi always bounded into the gardens, especially at harvest time when she could nibble all she wanted. I made a timetable for myself of our household tasks, dance rehearsals, the practice field – and then a visit to the lake. The geese, cranes and shrikes arrived with the dragonflies and charmed me.

After midday on the second day I heard steps behind me at the lake. The flowering bush clover’s fragrance was so strong that it reminded me of Tashiko’s scent. I almost thought it was she.

I turned, and found Goro, brushing at his garments. He was still dressed in the monastery robes and still as spare as ever. His black eyes contrasted with his pale skin and the colours of the clouded sky.

‘Ah, I have found you.’

I bowed, my stomach clamped.

‘How long has it been? Two years? Three?’

‘Honourable Daigoro no Goro, it has been less than one month since we had the honour of your visit.’ He stared at me on each of his visits, rubbing his fingertips, playing with that thin moustache, whether I was dancing or not. If he did not come for a hundred years, it would be another thousand before I wanted to see him.

‘Little flower, I meant how long have you been here with Proprietor Chiba?’

He waved his hand, as Proprietor Chiba always did. I shuddered, as though a sharp winter wind had struck my face.

‘I have had the privilege of being with Proprietor Chiba for more than three years.’

‘Come closer, little flower. Let me see how you have bloomed.’

He chuckled at his wit. I moved only one step nearer.

‘Ah, you have grown more beautiful.’ He opened his arms wide, palms up. ‘Since the day I first saw you, I have protected you. I have kept Chiba from you. He has not damaged you, has he?’ Goro leaned forward, forcing his sour breath on me.

This was an opportunity, and I retreated a step. What was he talking about? I shook my head. ‘Thank you, honourable Daigoro no Goro.’ Another step back. ‘Thank you for your kindness in asking.’ One more step.

‘Oh, no, little flower.’ His fingers caught my chin. He held it and stroked my cheek with his other hand. His touch caused my skin to itch, as if ants were crawling over me. He brought his hand down my neck to my shoulder, where it stayed. ‘It is my pleasure to see you, always.’

Agitation made it difficult for me to remain calm, but I did as I had learned. I tried to step back. ‘Please excuse me. I have tasks to do.’

‘Oh? What tasks? Dancing? With fans?’ He pinched my shoulder, then loosened his grip and petted it, as if I were a cat.

I did not think it was the dances he wanted to see. My tongue said the first thing that came to it: ‘I am required to clean Lesser House. It was Tashiko’s task.’

The priest smirked and pulled aside, allowing me to pass. ‘I shall accompany you.’

He had never praised me while Chiba was watching. I was alarmed. Looking at Lesser House, I kept my pace slow, praying to the Goddess of Mercy, hoping to see the musician or one of the samurai, especially Akio.

I parted the
sh
ō
ji
of Lesser House. ‘Thank you for accompanying me. How kind of you.’

With one hand he opened the rest of the
sh
ō
ji
, and with the other he shoved me inside. I remained on my feet, frightened by the push.

He stood, his hands on his hips, feet apart. ‘I am the priest for this
sh
ō
en
. Help me with one of my tasks.’

What could it be? How had I irritated him? From his tone, I seemed to be in serious trouble.

He rubbed his fingertips together and stroked his moustache faster. His eyes glinted as he licked his lips. ‘The one with which Tashiko helped me, when the proprietor withdrew from the
sh
ō
en
. I want you to dance for me. With fans. With
two
fans.’ He stared with that hungry look.

‘Tashiko never told me she did tasks for you. Or dance.’ His look made my tongue heavy in my mouth. I strode back from him to the
futon
. Akio spoke of the Eightfold Noble Path, but this did not feel like a Right Action. I wondered, though, if I was supposed to obey Daigoro no Goro.

‘This task is more of a duty.’ He pulled a whip from his belt. ‘A duty, a privilege, that is now yours.’

‘Honourable Daigoro no Goro, I must first finish my task here.’ I worked to slow my breathing. Being beaten with that whip would be worse than the switch. Much.

I wished the
shoji
screens were all around so he could be seen. The priest closed the one screen and hung his kimono on the hanging tree where I placed my precious clothes. I was trapped. Could I tear open the silk window? No. I had no sword. Behind the priest’s head was the calligraphy of the word ‘love’ and that was what he said to me but I didn’t believe him. We were alone and no one could see us. Too far away for a scream to carry. A place of wealth and luxury would see my death – or worse, I thought, catching his wintry stare. No sword? But my
bokken
was behind the
futon
.

He laughed at me. I hated his laugh and I hated him. I paced backwards into the
futon
. Fixing my eyes on his, I reached behind me. My fingertips touched my
bokken
.

‘Are your fans behind the
futon
?’ He thrust himself towards me, fingers splayed. ‘I have waited for this.’