Shike, p.77
Shike, page 77
Munetoki stopped speaking and sat there, hands folded in his lap, lost in recollection of the awesome sights he had seen. The boys remained silent, eyes on the floor. On the smooth cheeks Taniko could see the glistening tracks of tears.
Sametono was the first to speak. "Sensei, do you think the Mongols will return?"
"They will certainly return," said Munetoki gravely. "It may be next year, or it may be some years from now, but I believe they will be back in greater numbers than before. We must be ready for them. Thank the gods for our great and wise leader, the Lord Shogun Muratomo no Hideyori, who will mobilize the nation to defend itself."
"I hope that when the Mongols come back I will be old enough to fight them," said Sametono eagerly. Taniko's heart sank, even though she knew that as a samurai mother she should be proud.
Munetoki stood up, towering over the little group of students. He turned suddenly to the instructor.
"They aren't bad, these boys, all things considered. Keep them at it." The instructor's face glowed like a temple mirror. Bowing to Taniko, Munetoki turned and strode out of the dojo.
Chapter Five
From the pillow book of Shima Taniko:
Can it be seventeen years since I last saw Heian Kyo? The capital has suffered so much in those years-civil war, fires, earthquakes, plagues, famines. Over half the buildings have been destroyed and rebuilt. It is not the fairy-tale city I came to so long ago with Jebu. But the girl who saw it that way no longer exists, either.
The Mongols having been driven off, Hideyori decided to make a state visit to the capital. We travelled down the Tokaido with three thousand mounted samurai and twice that many on foot. I would have preferred to travel on horseback myself, as I did so long ago, but Hideyori insisted a screened palanquin is the only proper conveyance for the wife of the Shogun. He himself rode that nervous white stallion, Plum Blossom, though he is as much at ease on a horse as I would be on the back of an elephant. But the people lined the Tokaido to see the Shogun, and Hideyori felt he should show himself, looking like a warrior. Sametono did not come with us. He begged to be left behind, and I did so, knowing too well how he dreads the Rokuhara.
Hideyori's visit has upset the Imperial Court no end. Erom the Regent on down, he has removed members of the Eujiwara and Sasaki families from office, replacing them with men of less ancient lineage whom he considers more trustworthy. He has also moved against the warrior monks, persuading the Great Council of State to pass an edict forbidding the Shinto and Buddhist monks to bear arms and ordering the Zinjas to disband altogether. No wonder he chose to travel with an army.
My lord seems more fearful of ghosts, though, than of living warrior monks. Since we've married, I've spent very few nights in peaceful sleep. Again and again he wakes up screaming and covered with cold sweat. It seems his whole family is pursuing him through his dreams, not just Yukio but his father, Captain Domei, his grandfather, his uncles and various illustrious ancestors. Hideyori believes these are not just dreams, but ghostly apparitions. I find it hard to understand why his family would persecute him when he, of all people, has brought the Muratomo clan more power and glory than they ever had before. After one of these dreams, only the union of our bodies restores his peace of mind. I must add, though I dare confide it only to my pillow book, that all too often he is unable to accomplish his desires with me.
Through my personal network of samurai and servants, I've learned that Shizumi, Yukio's brave mistress, has retired to a convent only half a day's ride from here. I must find out why she left Kamakura so suddenly.
Also, as Horigawa's widow, I've inherited not only most of his possessions, but his private papers as well. His family placed them in the keeping of the Kofukuji monastery in Nara, and I have sent for them. The thought of reading documents written in Horigawa's own hand makes my flesh crawl, but there is doubtless much to be learned in those papers, as well as some fascinating and scandalous stories.
-Third Month, twentieth day
YEAR OF THE PIG
The nunnery of Jakko-in was in the Ohara hills, north of Heian Kyo. For appearances' sake, Taniko allowed herself to be carried there in a sedan chair. The temple itself was an ancient building with a broken tile roof, set beside a pond surrounded by dignified trees. In the hills sheltering the temple, small huts nestled in the shadows of pines and oaks. Taniko felt nervous coming here. Many of the women here who had retired from the world and taken vows were ladies of the Takashi family. Such women might resent someone like herself who had benefited conspicuously from the same turn of the wheel of karma that brought them low.
She paid her respects to the large wooden statue of Amida, the Buddha of Boundless Light, in the temple. Then she presented herself to the abbess, inquired after Shizumi, and was directed up a flight of stone steps spiralling to a grassy slope. Before long Shizumi, a basket of mountain azaleas on her arm, appeared.
Taniko followed Shizumi to her hut. It was a single room on bamboo stilts. Pinned to the shoji were coloured papers bearing verses from the sutras which Shizumi had copied out in a calligraphic hand that reflected her dancer's spirit. Shizumi herself had aged. Her face was gaunt, her hair lank-she had not yet shaved her head-and the edges of her patched robes were threadbare. The one valuable object in her hut was a samisen hanging on the wall.
"Do you play often?" asked Taniko.
"The dampness has ruined it, I'm afraid," said Shizumi with a rueful smile. "But I keep it because of the love and art that went into making it."
"Why did you leave Kamakura without a word to me?" Taniko asked. "You could have stayed with me." Through the mist of time Taniko saw again the fragile, beautiful young woman who had danced in white robes before Hideyori.
"I would have brought ruin to anyone who tried to protect me. I was carrying Yukio's son." Eear gripped Taniko's heart as she asked a question she did not want answered.
"What happened to your baby?"
"I don't want to talk about it, my lady. Please forgive me." Taniko seized both the young woman's hands in a crushing grip. "You must tell me. You must."
"My baby was nothing to you, my lady. Please don't concern yourself."
"Shizumi, my firstborn child, my daughter, was torn from my arms and drowned. I care about what happens to children."
Shizumi's thin shoulders shook with sobs. "I ran away from the Shogun's castle when I knew my time was coming. I fled to a cave along the beach. I was alone and it was horribly painful, but my son was born alive. A group of samurai came riding up to the cave entrance. They must have heard the baby cry. One came and took the baby from me." Her weeping choked her for a moment. "He held him by his ankles and swung his head against the cave wall."
"Oh no, oh no." Taniko took Shizumi in her arms and cried along with her. "Do you know who did this?"
"I'm sorry, my lady, I don't want to tell you."
"I insist that you tell me, Shizumi-san. Whoever he is, I'll see to it that he is punished. I'm not helpless, Shizumi. I am the wife of the Shogun."
Shizumi looked at her with haunted eyes. "Eorgive me for telling you, my lady. I am under obligation to you, and you have insisted. It was your husband. The Shogun."
Taniko felt as if she had been struck in the heart with a hammer. "Not Hideyori," she said weakly. "He doesn't kill children."
Shizumi squeezed Taniko's hand. "Eorget what I told you, my lady. It won't do you any good to brood about it. It would be much better if you didn't believe me at all."
Taniko shook her head. In the midst of her shock and pain, she felt fully convinced that Shizumi was telling her the truth. Sogamori had let Hideyori and Yukio live because they were so young, and the two boys had grown up to destroy the Takashi family. Hideyori would not make the same mistake. Taniko wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
"You have been very helpful to me, Shizumi-san. It is never an injury to tell someone the truth."
She sat talking with the pale young woman until the tolling bell of the Jakko-in signalled sunset. Then she said goodbye to the dancer. She called her attendants and had them carry her back to the capital. Back in her quarters at the Rokuhara she ordered ten robes from her own wardrobe to be sent to the nunnery for Shizumi. Then she turned to the chests containing Horigawa's documents.
Horigawa's papers had been brought to Taniko by a priest of the Kofukuji, a temple that had been heavily endowed over the centuries by the Sasaki family. She had not yet told Hideyori that the papers had come into her hands. Having heard Shizumi's story, she now decided she would tell him nothing. Tonight he was meeting with the military commanders of the Home Provinces to discuss the defence of the capital against another Mongol attack. The meeting would probably last till nearly morning, and it was unlikely that he would send for her. She lit her lamp and told her maid she did not want to be disturbed.
Six red-lacquered cedar chests, decorated with sprays of sagittaria leaves painted in gold, lay in a row before her. She decided to start with the box on the far right. To pick up one of Horigawa's scrolls felt like touching poisoned food, but the fragrance of cedar helped her overcome her revulsion. She quickly became absorbed in details of Horigawa's life and work stretching over the past seventy years. Most of the papers were written in Chinese, the literary language of the old nobility. Taniko found memoranda to other government officials, copies of poems, reports from spies, genealogical tables, lists of flowers and roots to be judged in Court contests, trading contracts and inventories of Horigawa's lands, possessions and wardrobes. There were threatening letters phrased with the utmost courtesy from other nobles to whom Horigawa owed vast quantities of rice and many bales of silk. It became apparent that Horigawa had been deeply in debt before his marriage to Taniko. Crops had failed on lands he owned far from the capital, and the lavish entertaining he had done to advance himself had required heavy borrowing. Shima Bokuden, as she had always suspected, had rescued the prince from debt, receiving in turn the friendship of the Sasaki and the Takashi and a titled husband for his third daughter. Her father's letters to Horigawa were disgustingly obsequious.
Some of the papers Taniko found would have caused a scandal if their contents had become known. A series of letters revealed that Horigawa and Chia Ssu-tao, the chancellor of the Sung Emperor of China, had been dealing secretly with the Mongols, each betraying his country for his own reasons. The letters showed that when Horigawa had visited Kublai Khan's camp and abandoned her there, he had been acting as a go-between for the Chinese chancellor, who wanted to surrender the Sung empire to the Mongols. One letter told Chia Ssutao that among the gifts Horigawa was presenting to the Mongol leaders there would be "an accomplished and experienced courtesan from our capital, a beautiful young woman. She is also faithless and bad-tempered, but the Mongol officers enjoy taming wild creatures, I am told." Taniko clenched her fists and restrained herself from tearing the scroll to bits.
It was long after midnight that she struck real treasure. On a scroll dated "Year of the Dragon" she read:
Eighth Month, twenty-fifth day.
The gods have delivered the Muratomo into my hands. After all the heads have fallen, only Domei will be left. Sogamori will be my weapon against Domei.
She unrolled the scroll eagerly, her eyes racing up and down the columns of characters in Horigawa's precise, rather cramped hand. The diary, a pillow book like her own, but terser in style, was written in the language of the Sunrise Land, in which, no doubt, Horigawa found it easier to express his private thoughts.
She dug through the scrolls, foraging for the ones that looked most recent. At last she came upon what must have been the last scroll Horigawa had written. It began over five years ago, with the prince gloating over Yukio's impolitic involvement with the Court, his acceptance of the ancient office of Lieutenant of the Palace Guards, and Hideyori's rage when Horigawa reported it to him. Sadly Taniko traced the downfall of Yukio and the success of Horigawa's efforts to intensify the enmity between the brothers. Horigawa recounted Yukio's flight from the capital, his shipwreck and disappearance, and his subsequent emergence in Oshu. Then came an entry for the Year of the Rooster that made Taniko gasp:
Eleventh Month, fourteenth day:
Attended upon the Shogun in his castle. He ordered me to go to the land of Oshu and persuade Fujiwara no Yerubutsu to permit the Mongol general Arghun to cross his borders and kill Yukio and his remaining followers. "Tell Arghun that Yukio and all with him are to be killed on the spot and their heads sent here for identification," he said. I asked him, "Would it not be easier to arrest Yukio and bring him here to Kamakura for trial so that all might know the justice of your case against him?" He rejected my argument. "There are many who sympathize with Yukio and whose feelings would be aroused against me by a public beheading. Let him die obscurely in a far-off part of the country and he will soon be forgotten." So will end the one general who might be able to stop the Mongols.
Taniko stared at the scroll in the flickering lamplight. Hideyori had said his order to Arghun was to arrest Yukio. But there was no reason for Horigawa to lie in a diary intended for his eyes alone. The next entry had been made here in Heian Kyo and bore a date in the Second Month, after Yukio and Jebu were already dead. Taniko began to cry as she read the details of Horigawa's final encounter with Yukio and Jebu on the mountainside in Oshu:
. . . Truly, though Arghun has spent years in our country he does not understand how the samurai feel about their Emperor. As soon as Arghun suggested that Yukio might supplant the Em- peror, he lost him, for which I am thankful. It was the greatest delight of my life to see the frustrated rage on the face of the monk Jebu, as he tried to come at me barehanded and was stopped by Arghun and Torluk. If there was anyone in the world whose death I desired more than I want life for myself, it is that obnoxious Zinja. On my way to the capital a messenger brought me news of his death. He fell, pierced by innumerable Mongol arrows, into the gorge below Yukio's fort. The men of Oshu collected his head, as they did that of Yukio, and sent them to Kamakura. Good riddance at last.
Taniko sat back, eyes shut, trembling, as she was swept by waves of rage and grief. She had thought she hated Hideyori for killing Shizumi's baby. This was far worse. She saw now that she had deceived herself about what Hideyori was. Out of her yearning for safety for Sametono and power for herself, she had blindly bound herself to Hideyori and believed what he told her. She was furious with herself now. She sobbed and felt to the floor, pounding it with her fists. A maid, heavy-eyed and confused, jolted out of her sleep by Taniko's cries, peered into the chamber. Taniko screamed at her to go away. Lying there in her agony, she saw with clarity that there was only one way to extricate herself from the trap in which she had caught herself. She must face Hideyori and tell him everything she knew. It would be unbearable to try to maintain a pretence of ignorance to preserve their marriage.
Surprised at her sudden resolve, she asked herself, how could I know so easily what to do? Even though I have not achieved enlightenment, those years of meditation have changed me. The knowledge of what to do comes from the face I had before I was born. Eor a moment she thought she had solved her kung-an, but when she groped in her mind for the insight, she could not recapture it or put it into words.
"What you told me about the way my son died-I suppose that was a lie, too."
"It happened as I said. I did leave out one detail. After Jebu captured Atsue, the boy stabbed him with a dagger when Jebu wasn't looking. Yukio killed Atsue to save Jebu, and he didn't know he was your son until after he was dead."
That was the crossroads, Taniko thought, desolate. That was when I broke in my heart with Jebu. That was what drove me to Hideyori. And it was all a lie. Hideyori's voice was calm, careless, as if he were reporting an anecdote of no importance. Taniko covered her face with her hands. She stood on a stone path in the middle of a Rokuhara garden, her back turned to Hideyori. They had chosen this open spot to avoid being overheard. Hideyori put his hand on her shoulder and she wrenched free.
"You used my son's death to turn me against Yukio and Jebu. You lied about not wanting the Takashi children killed. You killed Shizumi's baby with your own hands. You lied about ordering Yukio and Jebu killed. Why have you done all this to me?" She whirled to face Hideyori, letting him see her ravaged, tear-streaked face. His black eyes were opaque.
"You would not have married me if you had known it all." "Did you think I would never find out?"
The cold, bottomless eyes reflected her image back at her. "You are my wife now. My destiny is your destiny. My well-being is your duty. I have done nothing that was not necessary. I expect you to see these things as I see them."
She was stunned. "You thought that my obligation to you as your wife would stop me from hating you?" Her voice rose to a shriek on the last words.
His tone remained calm. "I thought that by being married to me you would learn to understand me. You told me to kill Horigawa, and you did not condemn me for having it done. Yet I killed him for the same reason I killed all the others whose deaths upset you so. He was my enemy, and so were they."
"Horigawa actually betrayed you. What harm did Yukio do you, or any of those children?"
Hideyori took her shoulders in his hands and stared into her eyes. It was like looking into a night sky that had lost all its stars.
"Their mere existence threatened the security of the realm," he said. "That made them my enemies." He was mad, Taniko decided. Or, at least, in this belief, which had already driven him to kill hundreds of innocents, there lay the seeds of madness.
"Anyone at all might become a threat to the realm," she said.
He laughed. "Don't be absurd. Millions of people make up the nation, but those who threaten it are like a handful of rice out of a whole year's harvest. Taniko-san, think how many people, from the lowliest peasants to the nobles of the highest rank, lost their lives in the War of the Dragons. If killing a few people will prevent another war like that from breaking out, is not the sacrifice justified?"
