The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai Read online

  O Earth and Harvest Gods, please let us not be hungry! Let me never again eat boiled earth.

  I saw an animal on a far path, a huge demon, white eyes wild in its black face, hair flying like kite strings. A brown haze hid its feet, as if the animal trampled angry clouds. Its movement pulsed through the earth to my legs, like a drum, and I trembled. I checked my buckets; no water had splashed out.

  I had heard of horses but never seen one. The black monster came directly for me, trampling the barley, ripping clods from the rows. I grasped the ropes to stop the buckets swaying and trotted fast, shoulders straight, desperate not to lose any precious water. The demon headed straight for me. A fist snatched at my chest. I wished Father was here.

  Closer. The animal spun around me, swifter on four legs than I on two. If the horse wanted the water, he would not have it. My feet ran in another direction.

  Earth Gods! Swallow me, with my buckets still full and my clothes clean.

  Soil scattered around me. It dried my eyes and closed my throat and shortened my breath.

  I blinked and coughed. I could not tell which way to flee in the heavy umber smoke. The yoke bit my shoulders. Mother’s cloth padding as useless as a dried leaf. The buckets were still full, but my trousers were filthy. I saw Mother’s frown. I needed to make my father proud.

  The horse circled around me, nearer and nearer. I turned, feeling its hot snorts, smelling its musky odour. I looked for escape but could find none. I stopped. Whatever happened, I would defend my cargo.

  The horse’s hoofs stilled. Dust settled on the fields, like dark snow. I wiped my eyes, rubbed my palms against my cheeks.

  The massive black animal panted loud and fast, smelling of sweet sweat. A strange man perched on it, dressed in thick brocade. White gauze swathed his head and face. He brushed the garments away from his face with the back of one hand. The other fingered his moustache.

  Breathing hard, I watched the horse’s chest, moving almost like mine. I licked my lips. They tasted of dirt soup, but I swallowed the spit – I did not know the man.

  A deep bow would tip my buckets so I bowed only my head. Trouble? Perhaps I should offer him some water.

  The man slid off the horse. I stepped away, still carefully, so he would not tread on me. He stood, like an egret, tall and lanky, his head almost too big for his body, the brocade, once white and purple, now lightly speckled brown.

  My legs grew heavy. My hands stiffened around the yoke. I wanted to stare, but I forced myself to focus on the barley shoots he had ruined.

  O Goddess of Mercy, let me be on my best behaviour. I must please my father and mother. I cannot fail with the buckets, too.

  Head down, I studied the flowers on my smock, inside out, almost as pretty. I wriggled my toes in my sandals and made tiny puffs of dust escape through their worn straw. I hoped he would hurry. I could not be late to the fields.

  ‘Girl. What is your name?’

  Shrill as a buzzard-hawk, his voice prickled over my skin. I held the yoke firmly, ready to run. ‘Honourable sir, I am Fifth Daughter.’

  ‘You will do. Better than your sister.’

  Better than my sister?

  ‘Walk beside my horse,’ he said. ‘I will take you to your father’s fields.’

  My sister had met the priest. Which sister? Fourth Daughter? Or Second? Why had she not told us? Father might wonder why Fourth Daughter had not brought the water.

  I imagined Father’s praise for bringing a divine person to our field. Had Fourth Daughter already brought him? The priest could bless our crops this dry spring. Would that be better than my sister? Today I would make Father proud. I shifted and balanced the yoke between my fingers and palms, and gazed ahead at the priest’s back.

  What a fortunate day.

  II. The Negotiation

  As we reached our field, men and horses approached from behind a nearby hill, the one with the mulberry grove. Four sweaty men in loincloths held up a palanquin. Horses and samurai surrounded them as they strained to set it on the ground. Only one person in the world had such a transport.

  The richly dressed man who stepped out had to be – could only be – Proprietor Chiba no Tashiyori, the Above-the-Clouds person who owned all the fields and was as rich as anyone in the world. Father said important people, the people Above-the-Clouds, had servants to carry them. They did not walk on the ground like us.

  With care I trudged next to Father. My shoulders burned. My neck throbbed, despite the cloth and Mother’s kiss. My eyes begged him for permission to take the yoke off.

  He glanced down and the ends of his mouth lifted. His big crooked tooth laughed outside his lower lip. With one fingertip he tapped the end of my nose. Father gestured to my brothers. First Son came over and escorted me to the far corner of our plot. There, he relieved me of my heavy burden. We watched. No one spoke.

  The priest left his black horse and strolled over to my father. His small eyes glistened in the near midday sun. When he opened his mouth, his black teeth made his face look like a skull. I trembled. First Son stepped closer to me, placed his big hand on top of my head, drumming his fingers in the gentle, playful way he always did.

  Rubbing my stinging neck, I watched. This priest spoke to Father, but I could not hear their words. Proprietor Chiba motioned to the priest and next placed his forearms across his belly. The priest nodded, then laid his open hand on my father’s back, pushing him towards the proprietor. When Father reached the proprietor, he bowed until his knees, hands and forehead touched the ground.

  When he rose, he stood with his hands at his sides. Proprietor Chiba pointed to our fields and to each of my brothers. Father’s shoulders slumped, and he stared at the ground. He and Proprietor Chiba spoke back and forth. I was still too far away to hear the words. This priest, his thin lips moulded into an odd smile, spoke to my father.

  My father turned and waved for me to come. I did so and bowed. ‘Stand. The honourable proprietor wishes to see you.’

  Looking down, I rubbed the dirt off my smock and trousers and wiped my face.

  I bowed like my father. Proprietor Chiba told me to rise. One of his fingers pressed under my chin, pushing my face up. With two fingers of his other hand he rubbed my cheek.

  ‘Yes, Goro. Very good.’ Proprietor Chiba nodded and spoke to the priest. ‘In fact, perfect.’ He released my face. ‘Now, Fifth Daughter, off to your brothers.’

  The priest and Proprietor Chiba thought I was perfect. I left, imagining what kind of reward my family would receive because of my good work.

  My father, the priest and Proprietor Chiba continued to talk. The exchange took longer than the finishing touches to a meal when I was hungry. What were they doing? Perhaps they were going to reward me for carrying the buckets.

  Father motioned to me again, and I hurried over.

  I studied him, noticing his colourless face, his lowered eyes. There would be no reward.

  ‘I can hardly believe I must say this to you, my child.’ He gulped. ‘Proprietor Chiba has offered me . . . us . . . our family . . . the extra land we have talked about so often. In good harvest years, we would not need to sell sewing for our winter food or charcoal.’

  I heard such longing in his voice.

  Father’s throat bobbed. His fingers caressed my sore shoulders, and tears pooled in his eyes. ‘But, Fifth Daughter, Proprietor Chiba wants you in exchange for the land.’

  ‘The proprietor wants me? To do what?’

  ‘I do not know, but in exchange for the land he wishes you to live with him on his shōen.’

  ‘For how long?’

  My father stood silent. He hung his head.

  ‘Days? How many days?’ My ears buzzed like a swarm of summer mosquitoes.

  ‘A lifetime.’

  A fist smashed deep into my core. He was talking about selling me. I would go away for ever. Never to return. Disgrace strangled me, like a rope around my neck.

  No! Not me! Carrying the pails was Fourth Daughter�
�s task. I could do other work, not the sewing but other things . . .

  ‘No, Father! Not see you again?’ The world spun. I seized his thigh to steady myself. Sweat dampened my pink smock.

  ‘My little Fifth Daughter.’

  ‘Not me!’

  He placed both hands on my back.

  ‘Do we really need the land?’ Fourth Daughter should have been here. Why was this happening to me?

  ‘You are my baby, my beloved daughter. How can I sell you?’ he mumbled, as if he were speaking to someone far away, combing my hair with his fingers.

  I gazed into his eyes. He had always resolved my troubles. ‘Since it is spring, could I stay at the shōen until after the harvest, then come home? Would that pay for the new field?’

  ‘There is no other way. For the family, I must sell you.’ His voice embraced a final sorrow.

  Tears hit my head. I touched them with my fingers. Father choked a little and placed a large hand on his throat. We stood in our field holding each other. A bush warbler flew over us, singing its beautiful ‘ho-hoh hokekkyō’.

  ‘I love you, Fifth Daughter, but he . . . he is the proprietor.’ He pulled away and ruffled my hair. ‘The priest says this . . . change . . . will be easier for you because you are younger.’ He laid one hand on mine and rested the other on my head. He swallowed. ‘We have often talked about our family honour. You know how important it is.’

  I tried to listen to what he said above the noise in my ears.

  ‘This you must do so that we keep our honour.’ He squatted. We were face to face, and he narrowed his eyes. ‘You know that our souls belong to our family’s spirit. That is our honour. You must go with Proprietor Chiba. Mantain the family honour.’

  I nodded. My lips were too stiff to make words.

  My father enclosed me in his arms, put his head against my middle and sobbed with no sounds. I held him. He smelt of dry soil and sweat. When he was calm, he placed a hand on each of my shoulders. ‘Always remember,’ his voice cracked, ‘each day of my life I will love you. Your family loves you. Do your duty by going with Proprietor Chiba and following his orders.’ His large hands encircled my face. ‘I am sad to send you away, but I do so with great honour.’

  I wrote his words into my spirit.

  Father did not want me to go. I did not want to go. Yet I, Fifth Daughter, would provide my family with a complete new piece of land. I, Fifth Daughter, not Fourth Daughter, would permit my family to have food and charcoal – even in bad-harvest winters. They would never eat soil, as we did two winters ago.

  ‘Father, I will do my duty. Please tell Mother and my sisters I will bring honour.’ I, Fifth Daughter, had granted my family a gift none of the other daughters could: land. Precious land.

  My eyes watered. With clenched hands, I turned and made a low bow to Father and smaller bows to each brother, even to Third Son. Looking up, I saw tears tumbling down Father’s face.

  He placed one hand on top of my head and the other on my back. Then he turned and led me to Proprietor Chiba.

  I had never heard of a child, once sold, returning to their family. Perhaps I could. If I worked hard at Proprietor Chiba’s, he would have to let me go because I had done my duty so well. I hoped to go home soon. With honour. My family’s honour.

  The proprietor grabbed my sore neck and twisted me in the direction of the palanquin, the samurai, the horses, his shōen and a new life.

  A large samurai dismounted and strode to Proprietor Chiba and bowed low. ‘Permission to speak? Permission to oversee this one on the walk, my lord?’ He spoke with a quiet growl.

  Proprietor Chiba replied in a voice as dark as a winter thundercloud: ‘If you must, Akio. Yes, yes, as usual.’

  Proprietor Chiba had spoken differently before. He had changed into another person. The samurai Akio boosted the grunting proprietor into his palanquin and mounted his own chestnut horse.

  I surveyed the land to say goodbye and to remember. On my right was a small hill. A large mulberry thicket with little leaf buds grew on its west side. The priest had disappeared and a chill surged up my spine.

  Later, I wrote this poem:

  Suddenly cold as

  The spring’s Solstice Holy Day

  My family gone

  No one to scatter soybeans

  To cast out all my demons

  III. New World

  Ahead – an endless wall. The shōen. My new home. Without my family.

  A man shouted, and five men pushed open the gate, bigger than my house. Was everything going to be so huge?

  Inside the gate, the sweating men with sly grimaces and muffled grunts set down the palanquin. The priest dismounted and waited for Proprietor Chiba to stand.

  After a small bow, the priest said, ‘If she is satisfactory, I hope you will send word of my accomplishments to the Taira City or, dare I say it, to Governor Taira no Michimori, or his annoying emissaries.’

  ‘Understood. Word of our actual arrangement to the commander would harm both of us. He would not favour either of us rising any higher.’

  ‘Chiba, this one is so much more beautiful than the older sister.’ The priest raised one eyebrow and smiled, showing his blackened teeth. ‘The local temple here is, as I have said, becoming quite boring, except for our . . . business.’

  More beautiful? Older sister? Fourth Daughter and me?

  ‘Yes.’ Proprietor Chiba smiled a toothy smile.

  ‘Proprietor, this is the sixth girl I have directed to you.’

  ‘Goro . . .’ Proprietor Chiba lifted his palm to the priest.

  ‘All the girls have been satisfactory. For both of us.’

  ‘Yes – yes, Tashiko dances well.’ Proprietor Chiba nodded, and his chins jiggled.

  Tashiko? Another girl?

  ‘She is a pretty child, is she not?’ The priest tilted his face down to Proprietor Chiba’s.

  ‘Not as handsome as this one.’ Proprietor Chiba pointed a pudgy finger at me.

  I was handsome? Was I beautiful, too?

  ‘It is an honour to perform at your temple here on your shōen, but as one is pulled up the ladder . . . so will another. And I must be invited to the Third Day Third Month Doll Festival.’

  ‘Or what? I have the girl now.’ Proprietor Chiba stuffed his fists on top of his hips.

  Did he mean me? I looked about for other girls, yet saw none.

  ‘Or what? There are so many possibilities, Chiba no Tashiyori. Revoke your tax-exempt status. Remove your samurai or . . .’ The priest counted, one finger, two fingers, three. ‘You may run this shōen but I control some Taira temples. I have influence over the commander, and he owns you. All I desire is a coloured hat.’

  ‘I know. You shall have what you want, your tedious rank and a hat,’ Proprietor Chiba growled, like a trapped animal.

  ‘And do not damage the girls – do not injure them in any way.’ The priest’s body changed from egret to hawk, and he dropped his face closer to Proprietor Chiba’s.

  ‘Have I ever?’ Chiba raised his shoulders and stepped away. ‘But I must discipline them.’

  Discipline? Damage? Hard words. Frightening words.

  ‘You know what I mean. Otherwise—’ The priest leaned towards the proprietor again.

  ‘Goro, there is no need for threats. No need at all.’

  ‘An invitation this year and every year, until we both move up. I believe we are truly destined to help this clan in a higher capacity. Do you not agree?’

  ‘Naturally you shall be invited to the Third Day Third Month Doll Festival.’

  ‘I believe now we will be going in the same direction . . .’

  Proprietor Chiba walked away.

  ‘. . . soon,’ the priest finished, to Proprietor Chiba’s back. The priest turned to me. ‘You will see, Fifth Daughter. I was sold to a monastery when I was younger than you. What do you see now?’ He opened his arms wide and pivoted from side to side.

  He sounded pleased with himself. I had no idea what he m
eant. I merely bowed.

  ‘Fine clothes, a horse, a house and enough to eat.’ He fondled a lengthy piece of leather that hung at his waist. ‘Authority and power. More importantly, soon, Fifth Daughter, soon I will wear a hat of colour, as well as these priest’s robes.’ He peered down at me. ‘Then no one will dominate or control me.’ He straightened in the saddle. ‘I will visit you again, beautiful girl.’ He mounted his black beast and rode away.

  Proprietor Chiba glided towards me, tapped my head with his fleshy fingers and motioned me to follow. Standing straight, hands at my sides, I marched behind him. We crossed a wooden bridge to a large building I had seen from outside.

  Thinking about what the priest said and resolving to follow Proprietor Chiba, I studied the wobbling expanse of his robes and fell. My head hit the small stones covering the hard earthen path. Hundreds of stone needles struck my face. I heard my mother shout, ‘You have spoiled your festival smock.’ In my shame and pain I lay still. I wanted to hide.

  Strong hands, my samurai’s, hoisted me. He rescued me. He came for me. ‘Are you hurt?’ He held me upright with both hands and looked me in the face.

  My legs flexed like wet straw. ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘Can you stand by yourself?’

  I said yes, but my legs dipped when he let go. He caught me. His eyebrows puckered like Second Daughter’s did when I fell out of a tree or cut myself.

  With several long breaths, my legs steadied. My eyes refocused.

  Ahead, Proprietor Chiba motioned again to me with his chubby fingers. Standing straight, hands at my side, I caught up with him and marched behind him, as was correct.

  Proprietor Chiba stopped, hands on hips. ‘Let the servants of Big House assemble.’ His voice resonated – needing to be obeyed.

  ‘Bring Tashiko,’ he barked. ‘Ready Lesser House. We will need a kimono. This size.’ He swivelled and pointed a fat finger at me. ‘For my new acquisition, Fifth Daughter, whom I bought on my prescribed walk.’

  I was an acquisition? If this had not reflected on my family’s honour, the next time he pointed at me I would have bitten his fingers. I hated being pointed or laughed at.