Shike, p.4
Shike, page 4
That night they stopped at the country home of one of Lord Bokuden's allies. From her baggage Taniko took the pillow she had slept on ever since she was a little girl. Its paint worn, its corners chipped, the wooden headrest gave Taniko a warm, safe feeling, just as a cherished doll or a favourite sleeping robe might give to another girl. In the pillow was a concealed drawer, its edges made to look like ornamental carving. Taniko opened the drawer and took out a notebook, its carved wood covers bound with decorative red and gold string. Also in the drawer were a brush, an ink stick and an ink stone. Using water she had brought with her to the bedchamber in a soup bowl, Taniko began to rub the stick on the stone to make ink.
From the pillow book of Shima Taniko:
People who cannot think for themselves are in the habit of saying autumn is the most beautiful season of the year. I think it is too sad to be beautiful. I do not, like so many silly young girls, think sad things are beautiful. I see the lines of ducks flying overhead and think to myself that they are deserting us. They fear the coming of the cold that kills. I hear the murmuring of the insects in the woods and think to myself that soon they will all freeze to death.
And for my life, too, the summer is over. I am to become the wife of a man whom I have never seen, but who, I have heard, is old and cruel. Like winter, he will chill me through and through. But this also means I leave the rustic backwater, of Kamakura to live in the city I have always longed to see, the capital, Heian Kyo. To see and walk among the exalted people who rule this Sunrise Land! It has always been my dream to move among the great ones. If I must suffer a misconceived marriage in order to climb above the clouds, I am willing to pay that price.
My father, it seems, is unwilling to pay much to ensure that I travel safely, judging by the strange youth he has hired to protect me. One hears dark tales about this sinister Order of Zinja, that their warriors are aided by evil spirits and that no one is safe from them. One also hears interesting things about the goings-on between the Zinja monks and their temple women. I wonder if this one has ever been a lover. He is so huge and of such an odd colour. I would be afraid to let him near me. But if he were near me I would be afraid to refuse him whatever he wished. There is something pleasurable in the thought of a man who makes one feel helpless. The Zinja monk's presence makes this journey far more interesting.
-Seventh Month, twenty-third day
YEAR OF THE DRAGON
Chapter Four
The white cone seemed to block out half the sky. Every time Jebu looked at it, he gasped again. He had never seen a mountain of this size. No one had warned him that on this journey he would behold such a marvel.
He had seen it from a distance as they rode into the hills above Kamakura, but then it was small and far off. As they crossed the neck of the Izu Peninsula he began to grasp its size. Its simple symmetry astonished him; the way its snowy peak reflected the colours of the day, from rose to white to gold, brought tears to his eyes. But it was only today, approaching Hara, that he had a full sense of the silent volcano's immensity. Yesterday he had spoken to no one of his feelings about the mountain. Today, as it happened, the Lady Taniko was riding beside him. He overcame his hesitancy and addressed her.
"Please, my lady, what is the name of that magnificent mountain?"
She turned to him slowly, her face a mask of exaggerated surprise and contempt. "You mean you've never heard of Fuji-san? Truly, the Zinja are ignorant as well as poor and miserable."
She lowered her head so that the brim of her circular sedge hat hid her eyes. She pulled her horse's head around abruptly and trotted back down the road towards her maids. The sudden movement startled two cranes in the near-by reeds, and they flapped upwards until they were two tiny silhouettes in the sky above Mount Fuji.
The journey down the coast was slow. No one spoke to Jebu. Taniko and her maids apparently considered him beneath their notice, and the porters were afraid of him. The days were punctuated only by frequent rainstorms and the necessity of passing innumerable toll barriers. Every so often the road would disappear altogether, and they would have to pick their way along boulder-strewn beaches or through pathless woods.
The baggage included a small tent, which the ladies used for sleeping outdoors and as a shelter in wet weather. Jebu and the two porters took turns standing watch when the party slept out of doors. When possible they stayed at monasteries or at the homes of Lord Bokuden's friends, several of whom had built castles overlooking the Tokaido.
One sunny afternoon, eight days after they set out, they were riding single file along a hillside that rose sheer out of the sea, when the porter leading the way suddenly threw up his hands. He fell from his horse, rolled over and over down the hill, arms and legs flailing, and disappeared with a great splash amid the brown rocks and blue-white breakers. Jebu got a glimpse, as the man fell, of the grey and white feathers of an arrow protruding from his chest.
Jebu clenched his fists and ground his teeth with rage. He had failed. Because he had chosen this particular afternoon to bring up the rear, he had let the porter ride to his death. A life that had been in his keeping was lost. He shut his eyes momentarily and reminded himself that a Zinja is aware at all times of his own perfection, regardless of circumstances. Then, shaking his head angrily, he spurred Hollyhock up the path to put himself between the rest of the party and the attacker.
Blocking the road was a big samurai in box-shaped, many-plated leather armour, mounted on a black roan horse. In one hand he held his longbow-a bow that must have required three men to bend it for stringing. Beside him stood three tsuibushi, each holding the foot soldier's favourite weapon, the long-handled naginata.
Jebu estimated that the samurai was not quite as tall as he was. Bare headed, he wore his greasy hair pulled back tightly and tied in the round black knot of hair by which the samurai identified themselves. His beard was raggedly trimmed. He had the pink eyes and permanent flush of the heavy sake drinker. Jebu recognized the type at once: a rustic bully, too in love with fighting and drinking to settle down to farm work. Doubtless the terror of the neighbourhood when young, enjoying his pick of the girls. One who might easily have become an outlaw but who, through some accident of birth or social connection, was made a local official and could legally prey upon the peasants. Growing more cruel, more dangerous, more unpredictable as he got older and the futility and boredom of his life began to eat at him. At bottom, most samurai were like this man, though some were born to greater wealth, were more competent in the arts of fighting, travelled farther and did better for themselves than others. The samurai saw themselves as noble and redoubtable warriors. The Zinja saw them as destructive, dangerous and stupid, like small boys whose parents have foolishly permitted them to play with knives.
Jebu reined up Hollyhock a short distance from the samurai and his men and said, "You have murdered an unarmed man. You will answer for it to the oryoshi of this district. We will demand justice."
The samurai laughed and struck his leather-armoured chest with a gauntleted fist. "Then you must demand it from me. I'm the oryoshi here. I enforce the law in this place."
The words and the man's bearing made it clear: they would have to fight. Jebu began to compose himself in the Zinja manner. Your armour is your mind. A naked man can utterly demolish a man clad in steel. Rely on nothing but the Self. Here it was, his first combat, the moment towards which his life had pointed for the last seventeen years. The bottom of his stomach felt hollow. Yet, for a Zinja, every combat was the first, and the first was like every other. So they said in the monastery.
Now he would see. Now he would have to try to kill a man. He had been trained to do it. He knew ten thousand ways to kill. But could he really do it?
He heard hoofbeats on the stony road behind him. Taniko's metallic voice said, "That man you killed was a servant of Lord Shima no Bokuden of Kamakura. You will answer to Lord Bokuden and his allies, oryoshi."
Jebu kept his eyes on the samurai. "Get back, my lady, back behind everyone else."
"I am responsible for my father's servant."
"And I am responsible for you. Back. Now." He admired her courage. It was what he expected, having seen her confront her father.
The samurai smiled broadly. Several of his front teeth were missing; others were yellow. "Your father's name means nothing here, my lady. This is Muratomo territory, and I am their ally. We are the only true warriors in the land, living and dying by the sword. We're not effem inate courtiers like the Takashi. How typically Takashi for your father to send you this way with no more escort than a monk armed with a sewing needle. Armed monks are fit only to clean fish. I'll kick this monk into the sea where he belongs, and then I'll take charge of you, little lady."
Jebu said, "If you force me to fight, one of us will die. Perhaps both of us. Perhaps others, too."
"Either kill him or be killed yourself," Taniko said. "That's what my father hired you for. Don't sit there and argue."
"I'm obliged by the rule of my Order to warn him."
The samurai laughed, threw out his chest and squared his shoulders, his armour creaking and rattling. "Warn me? Warn me? I am Nakane Ikeno, son of Nakane Ikenori, who put down the Abe in the land of Oshu and slew Abe Sadato, their champion. I am the grandson of Nakane Ikezane, who fought against Takashi Masakado, captured him and sent his rebellious head back to Heian Kyo. I am the great-grandson of-"
Jebu, sitting easily in his saddle with his reins loose and his fists on his hips, interrupted. "You are an ape and the son of an ape and the grandson of an ape. As for me, I am nothing. I have no family name. My father was an unknown in the Sunrise Land. I have done nothing. I come from nowhere and I go nowhere." Jebu touched the Zinja emblem on his chest. Ikeno's eyes flickered to the blue and white circle of silk and widened slightly. Jebu went on, "I want nothing and I fear nothing. If you kill me you will have accomplished nothing, and no one will care. Let us pass."
"Am I supposed to be terrified because you're a Zinja, boy? The Zinja are cowards who kill by stealth. And you're a coward, or you'd challenge me like a man. Why should I give way before someone who calls himself nothing?"
"Air is nothing. Yet a windstorm can destroy a city. Stand aside, ape." Even as he spoke, Jebu repeated to himself the sayings that quieted his mind and filled his body with the power of the Self. Rely on nothing under heaven. You will not do the fighting. The Self will do the fighting.
Ikeno bellowed, "You dare call me an ape and insult my ancestors? I'll see you die a shameful death. You will not be burned or buried. Your body will lie above ground to be eaten by dogs, and your bones will be bleached in the rain and the sun."
"The lickspittles of the Muratomo can kill only unarmed porters." Now Jebu was deliberately goading Ikeno.
Ikeno's long, heavy sword flashed out of its scabbard with a hiss, and he spurred his horse. Jebu remained where he was until Ikeno was upon him. Then, as Ikeno's sword came around, he threw himself flat on Hollyhock's back, hugging the horse's neck, and the samurai sword whistled through the air above him. Jebu heard the screams as Ikeno's horse hurtled on towards the remaining porter and the three women, who all turned their horses and fled from him. Ikeno was far down the narrow path, still waving his sword over his head, before he could stop his horse, turn around and come back for a second try at Jebu.
Jebu glanced at Ikeno's three tsuibushi. They stood open-mouthed and staring, showing no interest in joining the fight.
With a rattle of hooves Ikeno was on him again. Jebu jerked his horse to one side and Ikeno thundered harmlessly past, the sword slashing through empty air. I told you I was nothing, thought Jebu.
Cursing, Ikeno jumped down from his horse and threw the reins to one of the tsuibushi. He ran at Jebu, reaching with leather-gloved hand to pull him down from the saddle. Without any prompting from Jebu, Hollyhock reared back on his hind legs, and Ikeno had to halt his rush and jump back to avoid the flailing front hooves. Jebu felt waves of pleasure rising within him and radiating out to Hollyhock, to Ikeno, to the mountain, to the ocean. They were all part of one stately dance, and time seemed to slow so that he was able to turn his head and look for Taniko. As he expected she was looking at him at the same instant, just as Hollyhock had known exactly when to rear up and check Ike-no's attack. Taniko's eyes, wide with awe and fascination, looked straight into Jebu's, and he saw what Taitaro meant when he said that the eyes are more beautiful than any jewel. And he knew that the Self was looking at the Self. They both turned away at the same moment and he found himself looking into Ikeno's bloodshot eyes, full of anger and befuddlement. Jebu felt compassion for Ikeno. You do not know who you are, he thought.
He drew the short Zinja sword, which Ikeno had called a sewing needle. It was small indeed, compared to Ikeno's sword. He swung his leg over the saddle and dropped lightly to the ground. Ikeno gripped his sword with both hands, holding it before him in the samurai attack stance, and took a step towards Jebu.
"I'll slice that smile off your face and your head from your body, monk."
Ikeno lifted his great sword over his head to bring it down on Jebu. At that same moment, taking three quick steps towards Ikeno, Jebu drew his own blade back, one-handed, then whipped it around in an arc completed so quickly the sword seemed at one moment to be poised over Jebu's right shoulder and at the very next to be beside the left. Jebu relaxed, dropping his hands to his sides. He knew he had killed Ikeno.
Ikeno stood silent and motionless, the long, gleaming blade raised to shoulder height, still tightly gripped in his gloved hands. The anger in the samurai's face faded, became horror, then agony. The mouth fell open. The eyelids fluttered. The sword fell from the hands with a clang, and the hands dropped limply. The whole body began to lean forward, falling from the feet. A thin ring of bright red appeared around the dirty brown neck.
Then, suddenly, the head separated from the shoulders and fell to the dirt and stones of the path. Blood fountained up, hissing, from the stump of the neck. The body stood like a pillar for a moment longer, then collapsed with a crash of steel and leather on top of the severed head.
The three tsuibushi dropped their naginatas, screamed and ran. Unhurriedly, Jebu strode back to Hollyhock, took his small bow from its saddle mount, nocked an arrow with a willow leaf head and fired. One of Ikeno's men fell with the arrow between his shoulder blades. Jebu dropped a second man with another willow-leaf arrow. The third man turned at the edge of the pine forest, fell to his knees and raised his hands in supplication.
Jebu took a coil of hempen rope from his saddlebag and strode up the hill to where the trembling man knelt.
"Please don't kill me, shike," the man quavered. He was cross-eyed, and Jebu couldn't hold either eye with his own. What would Taitaro say about these jewels?
"Come over here." Jebu motioned towards a big maple. When he stood under the tree, he cut off a length of rope with his sword and tied the man's hands behind him.
Taniko rode over to them, her horse's hooves thudding softly on the mossy hillside. "What are you going to do to him?"
"Cut his head off."
The man screamed and fell to his knees again. "Oh, no, shike, don't kill poor Moko. I have five children. I meant you no harm. Ikeno made me come with him. Moko's no soldier. He's just a poor carpenter."
"A cross-eyed carpenter?" said Taniko. "I'd like to see what sort of houses you put up."
Moko tried to grin. His two upper front teeth were missing. There was a rare beauty in his ugliness, Jebu thought. In the space of a minute he had gone from thinking of this man as just another enemy tsuibushi to seeing him as a likeable person. I'd really rather not have to kill him at all, Jebu thought.
"I'd surprise you, my lady," Moko said. "I'm a good carpenter. Please ask this great shike to have mercy on me. Compassionate lady, you wouldn't want my six children to starve."
"Do spare him, Jebu. He's harmless."
"Harmless? He'll be back tonight with a gang of cut-throats." Good, she's on Moko's side, too, he thought. I'll let her talk me out of it.
"No, I won't, shike. Lord Nakane Ikeno was the only real fighter around here. That's why he was the oryoshi. He forced the rest of us to follow him. None of us men would go out to fight if he hadn't threatened to kill us. I promise you, nobody will come to avenge Lord Ikeno, may his soul inhabit a nightsoil jar-begging your pardon, compassionate lady."
"Jebu, I'm going to be married. I don't want the memories of my wedding marred by an act of cruelty."
"I thought you considered your marriage to the prince a cruelty in itself," Jebi said dryly.
"You are impertinent, monk. I do not want this man's ghost haunting me."
"Why should he haunt you? You will not do him any harm."
"You are my escort. Therefore I am responsible for what you do."
"I am impressed by your sensitivity, my lady. To spare you any pain, I shall spare this man's life." He turned to the kneeling carpenter. "All right. You may live. But you must transport Lady Taniko's baggage to Heian Kyo, replacing the porter that samurai murdered. If you run away, I'll track you down and kill you."
His hands still bound, Moko threw himself flat on his face at Jebu's feet. "Thank you, shike, thank you. I'll go anywhere you say. To China, if need be."
Taniko said, "What about your five children? Or is it six? Surely they would starve if you went to China."
Moko raised his head and gave Taniko a gap-toothed, cross-eyed grin. "No children, my lady. I'm so ugly no woman would have me. So, no children. A man like me, a mere carpenter of no honour, will say anything to save his life."
Jebu kept his face severe as he cut Moko's hands free with his sword. This man was going to be a blessing from the kami. A man who could be amusing in the face of death was bound to be a better travelling companion than any of the members of the Shima party had so far proved to be.
