The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (56 page)

‘How can you conclude that?’ asked the Oak.

‘Have you learned so little?’ Michimori’s voice deepened. ‘The emperor does nothing unless it profits him. We know his piety is always convenient.’ He spread his tree-like legs and placed a hand on each hip. ‘Something is imminent. I do not like it.’

‘Do you believe he would plot against us?’ Large Cicada raised his Taira eyebrows into a broad black arch.

‘Fox considers our protection to be captivity. He has plotted against us, and will again. Let us counter by saying the emperor is on a pilgrimage too. Let us maintain our power base with Emperor Antoku.’

Kingfisher glanced at Michimori and announced, ‘More information. Boar is near, in Yamato Province.’

This was the province directly east of Heian-kyō, too close.

‘I have a runner who says Rat is in Ōmi Province, also close to Mount Hiei. I trust no coincidence.’ Michimori’s resonant voice echoed while the lamps seemed to flicker with each word. ‘Ōmi is even closer to the city than Yamata.’ He folded his branch-like arms across his wide chest and stood as if nothing could dislodge him from that spot.

‘Is it possible that Rat and Fox are forming an alliance with Mount Hiei? What action must we take?’ The Oak put questions to the others as if the priests were contemplating a national defilement. The world at war – against us. There was a long quiet, but for the popping of the brazier.

Michimori broke the silence by putting to them the plan he and I had discussed after I had told him of my dream. ‘We are, by our most trusted runners, outnumbered with Hare in Yamato in the south-east and Rat directly east. Now Fox, Mount Hiei and their
s
ō
hei
. We are only days away from our unconditional defeat unless we retreat . . . immediately.’ He lifted his arms to plead his case.

The commanders argued about the brutal strategy Michimori and I had devised. Disputes arose – one point, then another, differences, disparities, new ideas, old ideas. Hands in the air. Fists on hips. Yelling. Gesturing. Pointing. Stomping.

Eventually Oak and Large Cicada assented to Michimori’s and my plan. They convinced the others, but agreement came only in the early morning.

Destruction was the only feasible solution: Rokuhara must be burned and destroyed – the entirety of Rokuhara, all five thousand mansions, with the servants’ homes, and especially with all the supplies and food we could not carry. The entire city must be razed. Nothing must be left for the enemy.

I ordered my servants, and they packed everything they could. Within a day everyone had departed.

‘Misuki.’ I checked her eyes, fringed with red. ‘Have you bundled everything?’

She nodded.

With tears, everyone scuttled – like spring birds searching for nest materials – servants, guards, samurai, ladies, wives, concubines, grooms and serving girls. Several small groups of samurai, ordered to leave last, set torches to each estate and storehouse. They planned to set fires from north to south and from west to east.

Red flames and clouds of black smoke consumed the houses as the large column of people moved methodically towards Hōshōji Temple. The ships travelled the route along the northern shore of the Inland Sea. We were bees absconding from a burning hive.

A horse cantered up to me. Tokikazu. He stopped next to me, lifted his head and shook it. I looked at his face. He wiped off the sweat with the back of his hand then rode on.

The smoke rose into the sky, as if from a mountain of rotten incense. The heat of our lives scorched our hearts. It singed our faces, then our backs as we abandoned Rokuhara, riding through the black and grey air.

Michimori passed me on Thunderbolt. He slowed and grabbed my forearm. Tears poured down his sunburned face and his face guard steamed in the cool air, yet his broad features remained stoic. I placed my other hand on top of his. For a precious moment our horses marched in parallel, and then he went on.

Dwellings of Rokuhara

Burning resplendently

Our homes bedazzle the sky

We depart into dimness

Wherever
inago
leads

VI. Enemies of Enemies

Sailing along the coast, Taira ships loaded with supplies shadowed the troops to provide a quick escape if we were attacked. My husband’s runners, samurai and assistants shuttled to and fro, usually at dusk, night or early morning, and became as commonplace as my storytelling. The commanders joked that they had been weaned on fighting pirates and therefore were happy with our naval strength. Michimori believed it would not be sufficient.

Yashima, a port city along the Inland Sea, afforded a modicum of comfort. Spy-prostitutes brought information about the Minamoto with little danger. I considered my life at Hitomi’s, how different my existence had been there.

Michimori and other commanders needed to learn not only of Rat but also of his cousins, the three pugnacious siblings: Horse, Sheep and Tiger. There was trouble in the Minamoto family, and this might be to our advantage.

One evening Sadakokai brought me Michimori’s order to dine with him. It had been such a long time since my husband had chosen to do that. Fortunately I was like my mother, who barely showed a pregnancy until the last month or so. Also, under my armour and layered robes, my growing belly had not been evident, and he had not seen beneath as we had not pleasured each other since returning to Rokuhara. He had spurned all my overtures.

‘I like the Inland Sea. Here at Yashima, I can always hear the water,’ I said to Michimori, inside the tent, as he applied incense to his helmet and armour, hoping he would talk to me about something other than tactics, strategies and the enemy, hoping we could return to the intimacy I had enjoyed with him, hoping he would forgive or forget what had estranged him from me.

‘Yes, I, too, find the sound of the ocean pleasant.’

My face warmed at his words. ‘My honourable lord, I am glad it pleases you.’

‘I ordered a meal for tonight that may please both of us.’

Would he at last tell me what had caused him to be remote all this time? Why had he refused my offers to couple? Had I not convinced him before of my honourable behaviour?

He called for servants, who brought food and a small brazier already red with coals. They arranged dishes of rice, turnips and fish, then removed themselves. The light was strong for this time of day, down here in the south, the Hour of the Cock.

‘The dragonflies, I understand, were abundant, earlier in the year. I regret we missed them.’

He spoke to me of dragonflies! ‘I have seen a few blue and purple morning glories, and my servants have found some of the last chestnuts and berries.’ I relaxed with the neutral topic. I allowed my eyes to smile at him. He returned an amicable look, but some of him held back. Large flocks of dunlins sang their ‘
jew-lit, jew-lit
’ refrain against the green sandpipers and their ‘
chooy-lee, chooy-lee
’.

‘With all those birds, the fishing must be good, Michimori.’

‘I can trust the birds.’

I chuckled, but the bitterness and desolation radiating from his eyes made me stop. I stepped back and managed to say, ‘Michimori, you can trust more than the birds.’

His posture straightened. ‘The most important aspect of this life is honour and that means trust, loyalty and obedience.’

‘I agree.’ About whom was he speaking?

‘You agree? You?’

His sarcasm penetrated like an arrow into my throat. He was talking about me. Had he believed Large Cicada? How could he after I gave him my word? The world pounded inside my body like a hammer. I struggled to concentrate and speak. After long moments, I was able to say. ‘I do not comprehend your meaning.’

‘I will explain.’ He sat and motioned for me to do so as well.

The hand that gestured was stiff with tension.

He called for servants, who brought a bottle of
sake
and two cups.

His sandalwood incense mixed with the odd odour of the warming
sake
. Usually pleasant, they triggered my stomach to clench and push bitterness to my mouth. Lowering my head, away from the odours, I gulped not to retch. I was too advanced to be queasy. The steam from the
sake
evoked spring and wisteria, poison and death.

‘Do you converse with others about honour?’ Michimori said.

‘My lord, this is a topic I often discuss with Akio, Sadakokai and Mokuhasa.’

‘Not Tokikazu?’ my husband asked, while pouring a cup of
sake
, his voice like the point of a dagger. He brushed his sword as he handed me the cup.

‘Tokikazu and I have completed our discourse about honour.’ I studied his hand, with my stomach like a ship’s knot. Would he take my head? How could he still not trust me?

‘I would think the topic of honour should always be of interest to you.’ He poured himself a cup.

‘I believe honour is made up of loyalty, truthfulness, obedience and trustworthiness.’

‘You include obedience with honour?’ Michimori said.

I took my cup, stifling another gag. ‘Obedience is essential to honour.’

‘Kozaishō, if you assert all four constituents –
all
are indispensable to honour . . .’ He leaned over, as he had before he married me, when he had first asked what was in my heart. ‘If this baby is mine then I command you to drink your
sake
.’

His words slashed like a
naginata
. I took a long glance at the dark brown eyes I cherished. I had failed in my wifely duties. Wretchedness passed through me. He did not know how much I cared for him – he did not know how far he could trust me. ‘My honourable lord and husband, I
do
proclaim that all four elements of honour live within me. This baby is yours – as it could only be – and I drink to honour it.’

I raised the cup to my mouth, inhaled its toxic odour, and then, as my heart pounded the drumroll of death, tilted the cup to my lips.

Michimori batted it away with the back of his hand.
Sake
splashed over me, and shards littered the floor. As he swiped at his eyes, I saw that his hand was speckled with blood.

I awaited his instruction.

His torso and hands trembled. ‘I believe you.’

I pointed to the
sake
he had poured for himself.
Sake
from the same bottle as mine. ‘Why?’ The question scratched from my throat.

‘If you had refused to obey me or not convinced me of your honour, I would have drunk the
sake
.’

I diluted the spilt
sake
with my tears.

‘Kozaishō, I could not live in a world with your disloyalty, and I would have ended my life. First by drinking the same poison, and then . . .’ With one finger he tapped his sword.

The bottle of
sake
made its way to the ground outside the tent.

My husband directed the guards not to disturb us. We removed our swords and other impediments.

The rest of the night was as if we had met for the first time, united again. Our melding demonstrated the clean actions from Pure Spirits, of which Obāsan had spoken when I had first met her. At some time in the night, he awakened me with his insistent hands. When we completed, he said, ‘I know.’ He laid his hand on my swelling stomach and stroked it and the baby stirred on its own.

That morning he lifted me and swung me around, laughing. ‘I am thirty years old. This is my first child!’ He patted my stomach and looked at me with shiny brown eyes.

Much later, our army fought at Mizushima, but Taira troops did not walk through much enemy blood because Rat’s troops soon surrendered.

A surprised Oak asked the Council, ‘Why would they do that?’

Michimori concealed his frustration and irritation, and in the telling only straightened his fingers on his leg. ‘I anticipated Rat might gather his remaining troops and retreat to Heian-kyō. He will not risk control of the capital.’

The commanders received this in silence while they lowered their heads, their eyes hollow with the grasp of their thorough and final homelessness. Silent but for, as the
kuge
said, ‘the weeping on silk sleeves’. I thought of our homes:

Red sky behind us

Rokuhara is burning

Blazing on our eyes

Our home’s annihilation

Smouldering crimson sunsets

In the next days Taira spies in Rat’s camp found the sought-after information. Rat had captured the retired emperor, setting fire to one of the palaces. However, his kinsmen banded together and attacked him near Uji Bridge. Subsequently, scouts suspected that Tiger approached the capital to strike, rather than aid, his cousin Rat. Tiger moved towards the capital, and we defeated an enemy cousin, Boar, who turned against Rat. Rat and his brother-in-law died at Uji, where I had fought my first battle.

My sorrow and Misuki’s tears flowed when we heard about the misery of Lady Tomoe, consort to Rat, after losing both husband and brother in a single battle.

‘I lack her fortitude,’ I whispered into Misuki’s neck, as we held each other.

‘She made her way to Echigo and became a nun to say prayers for her husband and brother.’

I pulled away. ‘Again Lady Tomoe’s courage shames me. I could not bear to be parted from Michimori. The impermanence of the world would vanquish my desire to be alive without my honourable lord.’