The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (31 page)

Misuki’s eyes questioned me.

‘Do not fret.’ I squeezed her shoulder briefly. ‘Hitomi will assuredly come to inspect what we are taking out of her . . . realm. If she finds even one item amiss, she will ransack all of it. No lumps in any hem! Be excessively scrupulous!’

I thought again of the story from the Lotus Sutra about the man who had sewn a jewel into his friend’s garment. I wondered, after all my years at Madam Hitomi’s, what the real jewels from the Buddha would be.

Misuki arranged for those women we could trust or bribe successfully to do this work immediately.

Next I gave orders for my immediate needs: rice balls, a change of clothing, my swords, my dagger. After checking my quiver, which Akio – my beloved Akio – had given me, I placed my arrows in it and prepared my bow. I was leaving Akio. Would I be allowed to say farewell to him and his family?

With the usual assistance from Misuki, I dressed as a warrior, with all the armour I had and my gifts – the collar and helmet. Emi arranged my hair: she parted a circle around my head and pulled some through the hole at the top of the helmet. The rest she wound beneath it and set in knots.

After a hug and a slight moistening of our eyes, she sighed. ‘I will miss you so much, dear lady.’ She thought we were parting for ever, having forgotten, again, what she had been told just a short time ago. Too overwhelmed to speak, I looked at Misuki, asking her silently to explain to Emi. Suddenly I realised that I had been at Hitomi’s longer than I had lived with my own family. With no time for melancholy, I stroked Emi’s hand and went to mount my new horse, another gift.

Beyond a hill outside the Village of Outcasts, I joined Governor Michimori. His captains surrounded him, observing the ground while he marked lines with a stick. I waited, since it was clearly some type of strategy meeting, walking my new bark-brown horse up to the posted guards. How strange and serious this was. Another world.

Armour protected my horse from head to hocks. Its metal chamfron gave its head the silhouette of a dragon. Small padded pieces of lacquered leather covered its body, and flanchards hung from the saddle on both sides, made of the same fabric as body armour for its protection. This horse would not easily die under me in battle. Battle? What was I thinking?

After a while, Michimori dismissed his captains with a wave. He smiled at me – with his eyes – and gestured to a guard, allowing me to approach. I did so. His eyes scanned me slowly from shin guards to helmet, spending extra time on the
tachi
and dagger sheaths.

‘My information about you is accurate.’ He inspected me. ‘You are more than adequately prepared for our journey. Let us go.’ With that, he tapped the back of my hand once before he mounted his horse, Thunderbolt, of which I had heard tales of intelligence and courage. He turned his head briefly and ordered me to follow Tokikazu, the third division from the left. Then the Echizen Governor strode ahead, leaving me with strangers on a strange horse.

II. Messengers

With more than a hundred of us, it was more than a day’s travel to Heian-kyō. Captain Tokikazu introduced the samurai who would accompany us. One was so large, he dwarfed his horse. However, none of us spoke while riding, so I surveyed the area, mostly watching the governor.

Michimori rode his horse as if he had never owned legs. Five or six captains rode up and spoke with him during the day. After a glance to see who was within earshot of the conversation, the governor shook his head, barked orders, or spoke softly into their ears. He was the steady hub of his army.

At night we stopped only for brief rest and nourishment because it was summer. Each shred of daylight propelled us to the target, which I thought was Heian-kyō, the magical capital city of the emperor. Instead of sleeping, Michimori talked to a captain in his tent.

At Captain Tokikazu’s request before retiring, I told a short tale to him, Mokuhasa and Sadakokai, the two other samurai assigned to me. They especially liked the story of Kihachi. When I told of how Mikoto could not catch Kihachi because he passed gas and the odour was too strong, everyone laughed. When I told how Kihachi’s body was cut into hundreds of pieces and his head flew into the sky, everyone cried.

That night, I prepared for the governor to send for me, but he did not.

In the morning, we trekked around the hills until we reached Seta at mid-morning. There, Michimori halted the soldiers without explanation. Many sentries scanned the hills, the captains too, appearing stiff and serious, more so than the soldiers. The atmosphere was quiet and still, like the moments before a thunderstorm.

The silence was broken with the sound of galloping hoofs. Horse and rider stopped near a captain, one of the Echizen governor’s personal samurai. The weary messenger almost fell off his horse and stumbled on the ground, but bowed to this captain, who offered him some water. He drank it eagerly, spilling some, which trickled over his dusty armour.

The samurai and the messenger talked and pointed. Eventually, the samurai walked over and bowed to another. Tokikazu explained, ‘No one approaches the commander without first seeking one of his personal samurai.’ The governor agreed to receive the message and motioned for the samurai to approach.

While checking their weapons, Mokuhasa, Sadakokai and I spoke of this messenger.

Mokuhasa began, ‘We have known Prince Mochihito has been gathering forces against we Taira.’

Raising his face from rearranging his daggers, Sadakokai stuttered, ‘Is th-there not an Imperial D-Decree b-b-banishing the Prince?’

‘Yes.’ Tokikazu turned to me. ‘Banished, a cloistered monk, our Taira ally tried to forestall the Minamoto attack on Rokuhara. The leaders of the Minamoto tracked him to his cloister and razed it. They injured and killed the innocent monks and disciples. It was then that the Imperial Decree was issued.’

Mokuhasa added, with sadness in his voice, ‘Lady Kozaishō, this monk returned to Rokuhara, told his story and informed the Taira Clan leaders that Prince Mochihito was on his way to Uji, not even waiting for his reinforcements.’

‘Our leaders tried to find help, but neither the
s
ō
hei
at Mount Hiei nor the city of Nara sent any succour,’ Tokikazu added, with an unripe persimmon expression.

Sadakokai’s large hand motioned to Mokuhasa. ‘B-b-but now the Miidera
s
ō
hei
monks are agitated and en route to Uji.’

‘There is going to be fighting, is there not?’ I said, knowing it was not even a question, although I was unfamiliar with these recent machinations. Mokuhasa and Sadakokai answered with their silence.

The governor and his men drew maps in the soil. Then we moved out at a rapid pace and across to the Seta bridge. Following the Uji river, I heard a faint commotion coming from around a curve.

Michimori prodded his horse and his captains to the front of the divisions. I followed Tokikazu as I had been told, trying not to attract notice. The distinct sounds of yelling and shrieks, people and horses, stung my ears. My belly shackled itself around my throat. I heard the Hell of Incessant Misery, where swords constantly gnaw and slash people’s bodies. I bit my lip to make sure I was alive. To what hell was I going?

With a swift hand gesture and the semaphore flags, Michimori slowed our entire horde to a quiet walk, so different from our previous unrelenting dash.

Another messenger came through the morning fog, covered with mud, his horse glazed a dull brown. The governor and his captains murmured in low tones to each other. The governor revolved them into what I thought of as his circle of power. With the heads of each division and himself, they planned strategies with their backs to all. We could see only the special guards, who stood facing out from the circle. If they had been petals, instead of soldiers, they would have created a wonderful flower, open to the sun, dark armour gleaming with glints of coloured silk laced through the black metal.

The circle of power closed. No one spoke to me, but I followed as closely as Tokikazu allowed. Next, all walked cautiously until we rounded the bend in the Uji river. Just beyond the white-crested and dangerous water, I noticed the famed Byōdōin and its Hō-ō-dō – Phoenix Hall, more imposing than I had heard, with wings and ornaments. It looked like a huge bird recently descended to earth.

The governor stood up in his saddle and gave a cry such as I had heard only in my worst nightmares. Singing-gourd arrows squealed across the sky: the voices of hell-demons. Pandemonium surged – I felt as if buckets of ice water had suddenly drenched me. The men urged their horses faster; mine followed.

I galloped into the morass of men. Most of the Taira forces were on the other side of the river. In its deep, strong flow so many bodies wore Taira colours – as if they were doing laundry with their clothes on . . . in red-tinged water. The horror of the bodies, the dead men, seared into my thoughts.

I can see all now. The governor stays back briefly behind his captains and soldiers. I can almost hear his mind drawing strategy lines in the mud as he surveys the panorama. Cries, grunts, howls surround me. I pull out my arrows and place my horse well behind the governor’s men, looking . . . eyeing . . . watching . . . aware. Arrows hiss by with a sound that makes my blood pause. The Taira foot soldiers encourage the others to ford the river. More men stagger over bleeding bodies and arrow-struck corpses to go to the river’s south side. The snarled orders of the governor and his captains overshadow the shrieks of battle. I move with the men. My arrows are gone; I drop my bow while searching, seeking an enemy target, ignoring the stridency that is swirling, squeezing my head. With my left thumb I push on my
tsuba
and release my sword.

III. Battle

The men are so close – our own and the Minamoto. For a time I am so hedged in I have to check before I tug my horse in any direction. I see a clearing to the Minamoto. I trot through our foot soldiers. With one hand I assure myself of my
tachi
. Soldiers yell. My mouth opens and I scream into the throng. My horse moves swiftly. A soldier on the ground – I cut into his upper chest, where his torso meets his shoulder guards. My blade crunches through either armour or bone. Not daring to look back, I urge my horse forward.

Another soldier and horse with the Minamoto colour white. I meet his eye. He comes to me. We exchange names. I strike my
tachi
before his sword can touch me. It slices across his neck. His sword drops. Eyes glare up, but his mouth is full of blood. He tumbles from his horse. Again, I do not look back.

Seeing an open space, I move to the temple front, the great Hō-ō-dō, Phoenix Hall, the large red bird with wings, hovering over the river.

The Minamoto huddle, surrounding someone, who staggers and clings to a stone lantern in front of Phoenix Hall, then falls. A broken arrow pierces his shoulder, which bleeds, spilling scarlet. He removes his armour and places it behind him. He opens his robes to expose his naked belly. Without a sound he holds his dagger in two hands and slits himself open.

Men around him stop fighting to watch. His bloody intestines seep over his lap and on to the ground. The gold from the temple roof reflects the sun. He crumples, his face in his own shining viscera.

I return to fighting, but now it is easier. The Minamoto are stunned and quickly killed. One man barely raises his sword before I split his neck. He collapses and falls close to his horse, blood spraying like a waterfall. Another warrior spies me, perhaps not expecting a woman. I slash him across the chest, deep under his torso sheath. He drops into the mud. I do not look back.

After what seems like months and a moment, the fighting slows. I see only Taira, no Minamoto, except those who are fleeing. Not knowing what to do now, I hunt for the captains or the governor. A captain is beside me. It is Tokikazu, and he motions. I follow him to a place near the Phoenix Hall of Byōdōin. His eyes are grim, but content. He and I are covered with blood.

The governor gathers the captains who have survived with another of his small gestures, and they obediently crouch around him. He motions and allows me into the circle.