The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (42 page)

When I related what had happened to Misuki, she said, ‘Be careful. As they say, you are a kite breeding with a hawk.’

VI. Another Road

Practice, drill, sitting behind the screens, being with and talking with Michimori filled my days and nights. Despite these activities, Misuki and I slowly sought out others who could help us find Three Eyes. There were only a few we could trust. Misuki and I tested them with a little game. I shared some inconsequential gossip with a potential contact. During the next few days Misuki spoke with their servants and tried to extract from them the information I had imparted to their master. If she succeeded, we found another possible enemy or, at least, someone unreliable. If not, we tried again until we felt secure. Misuki was excellent at wresting hearsay from others, and we counted a few allies.

We sent out for information, but all led nowhere. Three Eyes, the other priests and the guards who had stood by, had seemingly vanished. No one we asked had any information. Or perhaps they would not tell us.

‘Friends one day, enemies the next,’ Misuki reminded me.

Visions of that priest’s head stuck on a spike lingered in my morning prayers.

Between Akio, who accompanied me almost everywhere, Tokikazu, Sadakokai, Mokuhasa and all our new trusted contacts, we were closing in, not on Goro, unfortunately, but at least on the priests who had betrayed me. We planned when the five or six of us were alone on the practice field. I made sure to check the direction of the wind so that our voices would not carry.

Winter arrived. Most of the other women complained of the cold and our poor surroundings. Listening to them, I thought of my hut at Hitomi’s and pretended sympathy.

In the tenth month, with the cold worsening, we heard that Minamoto no Yoritomo had gathered a force and advanced to the east in Suruga Province. Along the Fujikawa river’s banks, Taira forces attacked and strategically retreated. In Fukuhara, the decision was taken, and within weeks Kiyomori ordered all to return to the capital city.

Because of rampant illness, the return procession proved less elegant than the journey out had been. The sounds of coughing surrounded us, with thoughts of the bad omens it brought. Otherwise we travelled mostly in silence. Perhaps the cold kept people quiet.

One day in my palanquin I heard horses close by. Peeping out through my curtains, I saw Tokikazu, Michimori, Akio, Mokuhasa and Sadakokai riding towards me. They had left the procession, bringing an extra horse. Directed to mount, I did so and followed them – we had agreed I would wear my riding clothes that day. Misuki had also dressed me with my collar and helmet.

We rode swiftly away from the procession. As I galloped over the hills, I saw them. Several of Michimori’s samurai were standing guard in a circle, facing outwards. In the centre there were nine poles. On each one I saw a head.

Michimori said, in his usual understated way, ‘My samurai suggested these fiends might enjoy the countryside. I agreed.’ He motioned to the nine stakes.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ I whispered.

‘One decided to help us with target practice. Please join us.’ Anger spouted from Michimori’s eyes, but the rest of his face was like dull wood.

With a grim expression Sadakokai handed me my bow and quiver, saying, ‘W-We have s-s-started without you, but we thought you m-might . . . wish to p-p-partake.’

I looked to where Sadakokai had gestured. On the other side of another hill, below the circle, the Cleansing priest was tied to a large archery target, his arms and legs spread out. Several arrows stuck out from his body. His top knot was intact, but his eyes were twisted. His face was heavily sprayed with blackened blood, as if someone had lacquered his skin. A cloth was stuffed into his mouth, but he produced muffled screeches. His eyes – as hard in dying as they had been in life – bulged in terror and fury.

I gazed at Michimori and the samurai. We all held our bows. Michimori nodded to tell me I was to go first. I did so, followed by each of the others. We repeated this process until there were few sounds or movements from the target.

Michimori rode over to me. ‘Mokuhasa tells me you are good at learning new sword strokes. You may practise if you wish.’

I curved my fingers around my sword’s hilt. I remembered the Lotus Sutra, in which the Buddha says that anyone who curses the Law near the Buddha will be forgiven. But one who does injury or harm to anyone who espouses the Law will suffer greatly.

I thought of Emi’s smiling face as she recited her prayers with me. I thought of Misuki, such a faithful and steadfast companion, and my beloved Tashiko, lying dead with her neck encircled by that ring of rope-torn flesh. I stared at this priest’s eyes, not wide with pain and anger as they were now, but filled with glee as he filled the bath with salt.

‘Yes,’ I replied, in formal language. ‘Thank you. I will.’ I did. First the Small Priest’s Robe Stroke, cutting deep into one arm. I used the Priest’s Robe Stroke, slicing across his neck and other arm. I said the name of each stroke, breathing carefully, taking my time, performing each stroke meticulously.

Afterwards, Michimori cut the priest’s topknot from his head. ‘Your messengers proved as useful as mine. I need you to make sure that all the filth is here.’ His hand swept across to the poles.

‘I will, my honourable lord.’ At Michimori’s signal, the samurai gave way for me, and I rode down the hill to the circle. Tokikazu rode beside me, although there was no need. I directed my horse around each head, examining each face against the list I had made during my Abstention. Some were difficult to identify, distorted in death. The missing right ear lobe and the little goatee were easy to spot. I used my dagger to lift lips, checking for large front teeth, lost teeth, and to open closed eyes to find the clouded one. Each was a match, and my list complete. But for one.

‘They are all there, my honourable lord. Except one. Daigoro no Goro.’

Michimori’s eyes darkened. Nevertheless he spoke softly. ‘There is much you do not know. It is more dangerous than I realised. This priest who arranged for your – your . . . I deeply regret your suffering. My intention was and is to shield you from danger.’

‘I know, my lord. Please do not blame Captain Tokikazu. He has been attentive and cautious. He has taught me much, on and off the fields. Three Eyes is ambitious and cunning.’

‘You represent a new threat to Three Eyes. It concerns the sects of priests, the Minamoto, and our emperors, especially Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa. You are unaware of most of these matters.’

I nodded.

‘There will be tutors for you once we return to Rokuhara. There, you will not be as exposed, for my own guard watches are strict and will be stricter.’

Michimori answered the unasked question: ‘There will be no punishment, but more guards will be kept closer to your quarters.’

‘Thank you, honourable Michimori.’

‘Let us return to the procession, Northern Wife.’

We completed our journey to Rokuhara, where more lessons awaited me.

BOOK 13

I. New Work

The beginning of another month, and I had just finished the usual monthly defilement, which now happened for Misuki, Emi and me at the same time. The heavy rain, like herds of running horses on a roof, made it difficult to read, but my apartment offered comforts. Misuki and I played
go
, while Emi sewed.

Obāsan glided in. ‘Captain Tokikazu slipped me a note from Governor Michimori. He wants you in Grand Room again,’ she announced, handing me the sea-green paper with his special folds. The handwriting was his own. The courtly elegance of his brush shone on the textured paper like black stones arranged on white sand.

Michimori rarely sent for me at that time of day, but Obāsan usually knew in enough time to bathe, dress and prepare me without rushing. I went over to her. ‘Thank you, Grandmother.’ Our foreheads touched briefly, as insects drinking from flowers.

There was little time for bathing, but Misuki and Emi had taught the serving girls the rhythm of preparations. Emi would comb and dress my hair, which was no small task, with its flowing length and bulk. Number One Serving Girl readied my kimonos, while Number Two matched my shoes. Misuki prepared makeup and would write an answering note, if one was required, Emi was left to do my flowers. All had begun their tasks when Obāsan made her announcement.

‘What do you know about this meeting?’ I probed Obāsan.

‘Nothing,’ Obāsan said. ‘Even the captain did not know more.’

I went as prepared as I could with my
biwa
, a ruse.

When Tokikazu came, he explained the orders. He did not stare as if he were a starving man and I the first course at a banquet. Whatever was to take place was unusual and important, despite what Obāsan had said or did not say.

As my forehead touched the floor in the Grand Room, Michimori commanded me to approach. He motioned to his guards, who retreated to the perimeter where they could see, but not hear. The only ones who remained near were Akio and Tokikazu, as usual.

Michimori moved towards me. There was no smile in his eyes, and the lines around his eyes and on his cheeks were deep. ‘I need your opinion of someone and their actions. I consulted with advisers, but I would like your view.’

‘My lord.’

In a lower tone he added, ‘Nitta no Shibasaki from Shinanō Province has come to pay his taxes but gives little. I expected far more, for that is a well-cultivated area.’

Nitta no Shibasaki’s name sounded like an almost-forgotten verse of an old childhood song. ‘May I ask questions, my lord?’

He motioned with a finger.

‘First, how well are neighbouring areas faring?’ I asked. ‘Is there a reason why some people prosper while others do not? Perhaps certain types of weather, pestilence, infestation or other conditions.’

His finger indicated that I should continue.

‘Next, what does he look like? How large a man is he? What clothes does he wear, to the tiniest detail? What clothes did he wear to travel? Check the type and number of his servants, his conveyances and the provisions he brought for the journey. Their quality and quantity will yield more reliable information about his wealth than anyone else can provide. If they are lacking, I could trust small payments, regardless of climatic conditions, but if his provisions are luxurious, or his servants are fat, I would suspect deviousness.’

‘Take two discreet men,’ he ordered Tokikazu and Akio. ‘He is a relative of Go-Shirakawa.’

Tokikazu and I bowed and listened as Michimori described our mission.