Shike, p.85
Shike, page 85
She forced her mind to the business at hand. "We know the Mongols will attack somewhere along the west coast. The Bakufu generals are preparing our defences. You can help them by teaching them whatever you can remember from your years of fighting among the Mongols. You can tell them how to train our men. You yourself can set up a school in which samurai can be taught new tactics. Scattered all over the Sacred Islands there must be surviving samurai who fought under you and Yukio in China and Mongolia. You must find them and make teachers of them."
"There will not be many of them, my lady," said Jebu coldly. "Only about three hundred came back with us from China. Many of those were killed during the War of the Dragons. More died when your noble husband made war on those who remained loyal to Lord Yukio."
"Well, you will tell all who supported Lord Yukio that the past is done with and their nation needs them now," said Taniko, despairing as she saw that Jebu was not going to let the subject of Yukio alone.
"If the rules of your Order permit, I wish you also to train our men in the Zinja martial arts. By this I mean the Zinja philosophy as well as the specific techniques. Erom what you told me of it long ago, I believe the Zinja philosophy could be most valuable to the samurai." She gave Jebu what she hoped was a winning smile, momentarily forgetting the screen between them and then cursing it when she remembered.
"Perhaps you can also help our officers with planning," she went on. "The Mongols could attack anywhere along the coast of Kyushu or Honshu, and that is a terribly long line to defend. Our forces will be spread so thin that a Mongol attack will be like punching through a paper wall."
"Then I suggest you build a wall of stone," said Jebu.
"A stone wall all along the coasts of two islands? Impossible." Jebu shook his head. "It will only be necessary to build it around Hakata Bay. That is where the Mongols will land."
"How can you possibly be sure of that?"
"They need a very large harbour to accommodate a huge fleet. The harbour must be as close to their ports of embarkation as possible, so that their ships, already overloaded with men and horses, won't have to carry provisions for a long voyage. The landing site must also be close enough to the heart of our country that the Mongols will not have to fight their way across the whole island of Kyushu or down through the mountains of Honshu to get at the Home Provinces and Heian Kyo. There is only one harbour that fulfils all those conditions, Hakata Bay."
"If we put all our troops and defences there, the Mongols are sure to learn of it," said Taniko. The conversation was going much better now. The bitterness was gone as they discussed the problem that faced them.
"They will still land there, even if they know we are waiting for them. They will be confident that they can overwhelm us. A shrewd strategist would try to land at an undefended place, but when a man has conquered as vast an empire as Kublai Khan's he expects to win by throwing all his troops against all the enemy's troops in one tremendous encounter. Such a man feeds his overly exalted notion of his own power with adventures like that."
Taniko saw the smiling face of Kublai Khan in her mind. A man before whom nations had trembled from the time he was a small boy. A man who could dream of building his own green mountain with one tree of each kind in the world on it. Jebu was right; such a man would probably land his troops at Hakata because it suited his convenience, even if every warrior in the Sunrise Land was waiting there for him.
"Do you think we can possibly win, jebu?" she asked anxiously.
"You are the only fighting man, of all those around me, who has any idea of the Mongols' real power."
"They have never failed in any war they have undertaken," said Jebu. "Still, Kublai Khan is attempting the most difficult and hazardous of all military operations, an invasion across a wide ocean. His ability to send reinforcements will be limited, especially if his fleet is forced to remain at anchor on our shores. If we can hold his army to the water's edge, they will need their ships as a base to operate from. They won't be able to send the ships back to ferry more troops across. That is why I suggest a wall. As to whether we can win, no one can say. There are too many uncertainties. We Zinja believe in throwing ourselves into the struggle with all our energy, without concerning ourselves about who wins or loses."
"If they win, I do not intend to live," said Taniko.
"I know," said Jebu with a smile. "You will take a bow and arrows in your own hands and die fighting." The moment was almost companionable. Thinking of the wall he had suggested, she remembered the half-ruined Chinese Great Wall, where they had stood together and looked north, into the wind, at the land that bred the Mongols. The lamps in the Lilac Hall burned low, and the lady-in-waiting who was there for respectability's sake seemed to be asleep.
"Oh, Jebu, when you spoke of a wall, I could not help remembering the time you and I saw the Great Wall in China together. We had just been reunited after so many, many years apart, and I have never been happier, before or since. You must remember. This is happening again now. We're together again. We can be happy."
Her voice faltered. There was a long silence as Jebu stared at her. Beneath the granite eyes she sensed volcanic fires. The brown hands resting on his thighs were tense.
At last he spoke. "I am prepared to serve you, my lady, but only in this war. I do not think it accomplishes any purpose to discuss a past that no longer exists."
She cringed back, glad of the screen between them that hid from him her look of dismay. "Why so fierce, shike?" she pleaded. "Erom the moment you entered this hall, I have felt your anger. I do not think I have done anything to deserve such hatred. Whatever the reason, I beg you to forgive me. How else can we work together? Surely you would not have come here if you hate me as much as you seem to."
Jebu's reply smashed her hopes. "There are many reasons why I am here, but the most important is Yukio. He was my life. I am doing what he would want me to do if he were alive. He would be in command of our defences now if he had not been murdered by the man you married-my lady." He spoke through bared teeth.
I do not have to humble myself before anyone, she thought, much less this rude monk. I am the mother of the Shogun. Samurai by the tens of thousands would die to defend me. The Regent turns to me for advice.
"Thank you for explaining yourself to me so clearly, Shike Jebu," she said in a steely voice. "Please leave me now. This audience is ended."
"My lady." He stood up, bowed, and backed out of the room with an elaborate display of courtesy.
She sat with her fists clenched. I will not let that man have anything to do with defending the Sunrise Land, she thought. Let him go back to his monastery. I hate him.
Chapter Twelve
At noon the next day Taniko sat in the moon-viewing chamber, a room on the top floor of the highest tower in the castle, which she often used for meditation. The sun was bright on the lower rooftops near by, their gold dolphins reflecting a blinding radiance. Her feelings were more divided than ever. She had to accept Jebu's help, now that she had asked for it. The good sense of his plan to build a wall around Hakata Bay proved how useful he could be. And in spite of his anger at her, she could not get his face out of her mind.
Then there was the problem of what to do about the sword presentation. Ever since Hideyori's death she had kept the Muratomo heirloom sword, Higekiri. She thought it fitting that it go to Sametono, and was planning to give it to him in a ceremony at sunset today. She had intended Jebu to be a guest and to meet Sametono and Munetoki. His presence at the presentation would symbolize the reconciliation of the Shogunate with the followers of Yukio. But since she and Jebu could not be reconciled, it might be better to hold the ceremony without him. She both wanted, and did not want, him to be there. After so many years, her need to be near him was so great that she wanted to see him despite his hatred. She thought of asking Eisen's advice. He would be invoking the blessing at the ceremony. But Eisen did not know Jebu. Moko did. She quickly wrote a note asking Moko to come to the castle immediately and sent one of her guards off to his house.
Moko came to Taniko's private chamber at the hour of the sheep. He was perspiring under layers of kimonos, each more heavily embroidered than the next. Being old friends, they met without either screens or ladies-in-waiting to protect Taniko's virtue. Taniko's quarters were as austere as they had been when Hideyori was alive. The principal decoration in the room was the calligraphic copy of the verse from the Diamond sutra Sametono had made years ago, which she had mounted on a scroll and hung in her personal altar. Today there was a vase of white roses beside it. As usual, Moko took a moment to admire Sametono's artistry and to read the verse.
"No such thing as goodness," he said. "You know, the old sage Taitaro said something like that just before he died."
"Taitaro dead?" Taniko was shocked. "Jebu didn't say a word to me about it. That wonderful old man. Oh, how sad!" Taitaro's appearance in Shangtu long ago had given her the first ray of hope that she might one day be rescued and return home. Taitaro had seemed like a father to her-a real father, not like Bokuden-during her sojourn with Jebu in China. Tears sprang to her eyes. How could Jebu have failed to tell her that? Did he hate her that much? "Homage to Amida Buddha," she whispered in Taitaro's memory. "How and when did he die, Moko?"
Moko told her of Taitaro's almost miraculous departure from this world.
"The Tokaido," said Taniko, wiping her eyes with the pale green sleeve of her outer kimono. "So much that is important to us has happened along the Tokaido. Do you remember how you swore you would always be the messenger between us, Moko-san?"
"I do, my lady," Moko's eyes were large and liquid with sadness.
"Moko-san, you saw how he spoke to me at the audience last night. I feel that I should never have sent for him. What do you think?"
"My lady, I am sure Master Jebu still loves you. His rages prove it. He is a man who has been learning all his life to accept calmly everything that happens to him. Yet, towards you he is an earthquake, a tidal wave, a tai-phun. Even a fool like me can see that he loves you."
Encouraged, Taniko stopped crying. "What about the sword ceremony, Moko? Shall I invite him?" Amazing, she thought. The leaders of the nation turn to me for advice, and I turn to a cross-eyed carpenter.
"Let me take your invitation to the shike, my lady. I will persuade him not to behave like a bear in springtime."
"Oh, Moko, how can I thank you enough?"
"I have another reason for doing this, my lady. Since your son was gracious enough to raise my family to samurai class, my eldest son must now carry our new family name, Hayama, into battle. I want him to be trained by the shike. I can think of no better way to ensure that he comes out alive."
The Great Audience Hall of the Shogun's castle was hung with the banners of the great families that supported the Bakufu. On the top level of the dais, wearing a jewelled head-dress and almost buried in crackling, gold-embroidered robes, was the ten-year-old Shogun, Muratomo no Sametono. Behind him hung a huge silk cloth bearing the embroidered Muratomo White Dragon. At his side was the hilt of a gold-mounted sword which many in the hall recognized, some with reverence, some with indignation. Kogarasu. It was the first time Sametono had openly worn the Takashi sword. At Sametono's left sat the Regent, Shima Munetoki. The lower levels were occupied by the principal officers of the Bakufu, by the great clan chieftains and, behind a tall folding screen, Taniko. Even though she had arranged and planned the ceremony down to the last detail, Taniko was expected to remain behind the screen throughout.
She could see Jebu and Moko on the floor of the hall, near the dais. She had broken protocol to seat Jebu there, where she could look at him. Eisen stood up now and recited a blessing. Munetoki spoke from his seated position beside Sametono, telling the history of Higekiri and the tragic way it came into the possession of the Shogun's widow.
"She who next to the Empress herself is the most highly honoured lady in our realm now chooses to present this treasure to her exalted son, our Lord Shogun, Muratomo no Sametono."
Munetoki rose and went over to Taniko's screen and received from her the sword box, a work of art in itself with mother-of-pearl birds in flight inlaid on gold lacquer. Reverently, Munetoki carried the sword box across to Sametono, kneeling and bowing as he held it out to him. Sametono took the box and opened it. He took out the sword and held it up so that people could admire the black-lacquered scabbard wrapped with bands of silver and the hilt with its silver dragon. He drew the ancient straight blade one third of the way out of its scabbard as was customary for sword viewing, studying the perfectly polished steel and its wavering, shadowy temper line.
"I have written a poem for this occasion," Sametono said, putting the sword back in its box. His ten-year-old voice, as he recited, was boyish, but firm and strong. Taniko's heart soared with love and pride.
Two souls at war,
Duelling in a single breast
To capture the heart.
But one mind will persuade both To turn against the true foe.
There were polite cries of appreciation from the guests. Everyone understood that the "souls" were the two swords, Kogarasu and Higekiri, the sword being traditionally the soul of the samurai. These two "souls" contended for the heart of Sametono, whose heritage combined Takashi and Muratomo. "Mind," with which Sametono would put an end to the conflict, was the awakened mind, the Buddha nature, which Sametono, like many young samurai, was cultivating in his Zen studies. Through the search for enlightenment the country could put past feuds behind it and unite itself against the invaders. Eor a ten-year-old, thought Taniko, it is a brilliant poem. She looked at
Jebu and saw that he was sitting with his spine rigid, weeping unashamedly. If only he and I could have had such a son, she thought. In a way, this is our son. Jebu rescued him from death and gave him to me.
Sametono made a little speech thanking his mother for the gift of Higekiri and expressing his hope that he would be worthy of the long line of ancestors who had worn it. "But the time will soon come for both the honoured Higekiri and the noble Kogarasu to be retired among our national treasures. The holy monk Eisen, with us today, is collecting subscriptions for the rebuilding of the Todaiji, the great Buddhist temple at Nara which was tragically burnt to the ground during the War of the Dragons."
Sametono did not mention that it was his great-grandfather, Takashi no Sogamori, who had caused the burning of the temple. Listening to Sametono but unable to take her eyes off Jebu, Taniko noticed that he was now looking at the boy with an ironic smile. She wondered what special meaning the Todaiji had for Jebu.
Sametono continued, "I propose, after we have been victorious in this war, to donate both swords to Eisen Roshi, to be kept among the most precious objects in the Todaiji. I take this occasion to humbly ask that the monks of the Todaiji, as well as all other people of high and low rank, pray unceasingly to the Buddha, the saints and all the gods and goddesses for victory."
Again there were loud cries of approval from the warriors and officials gathered in the hall. Taniko looked at Jebu and saw that he was weeping again. He did not bother to wipe his eyes with his sleeves, as most people did, but let his tears flow openly down his hard brown cheeks and into his white beard. If he cares that much for Sametono, she thought, can he not find a place in his heart for Sametono's grandmother?
Now the guests rose and formed a line to present themselves to the Regent and the Shogun. Taniko could have left the hall, but she stayed behind the screen, watching Jebu, who towered over all others in the room, patiently waiting his turn.
Finally Jebu knelt and prostrated himself to Munetoki, identifying himself. "Welcome," Munetoki rumbled. "I have heard much about you, shike, from my honoured cousin, the Ama-Shogun." Taniko watched Jebu eagerly for a reaction to Munetoki's mentioning her. The white-bearded face remained mask-like.
"Shike Jebu!" Sametono exclaimed before Jebu could kneel to him. The boy Shogun stood up and, in spite of .his eight layers of robes bounded down the steps to throw his arms around Jebu's waist. There were gasps of astonishment from all over the hall at this unseemly behaviour. Taniko noticed that Eisen, who stood near by, beamed approvingly.
Munetoki, as Regent, stood in place of father to Sametono. "You must return to your place at once, Your Highness," he said in a reproachful voice.
"I am Supreme Commander of the samurai," said Sametono. "I do as seems best to me, not as ceremony dictates. Cousin Munetoki, this good Zinja monk saved me from being murdered years ago. I told him I would never forget it, and I won't. Come up, Shike Jebu, sit on the dais near me." There was wonder and a little anger among the other guests at a Zinja monk's receiving this unusual honour. There was even more murmuring when Sametono added, "You, too, Uncle Moko." Only a few people knew that Moko was a close friend of Taniko and that Sametono had known him very well for years. Jebu and Moko seated themselves a little uncomfortably on the dais below Sametono. The boy now conducted a disjointed conversation with them while greeting other guests. This Zen spontaneity that Eisen encourages in his students could go too far, Taniko thought, but she recalled how Kublai Khan did whatever he wanted, without fear of censure. If a leader couldn't make his own rules, how could he truly lead?
"Not only do I owe you my life, shike," said Sametono, "I owe both these swords to you."
A cloud passed over Jebu's face. "I should ask your forgiveness, Your Highness, considering how I came by the swords."
"My honoured mother told me about the death of Takashi no Atsue, Master Jebu. I know very well that war makes enemies of people who should be friends."
"Your mother is most kind," said Jebu, glancing over to the screen where Taniko sat, sending her heart whirling upwards like an autumn leaf caught in the wind.
Sametono said, "It's true that the blood of three great Takashi gentlemen flows in my veins, but in my own humble person I represent the union of the contending clans, wouldn't you agree?"
