The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (29 page)

She beamed, grunted and left, mumbling to herself . . . sounding a bit like Tashiko. Remembering my dream that morning and the spiders, I sent a silent prayer to Kannon-sama, the magnificent Goddess of Mercy, for what I hoped would be a benevolent day. I bowed again deeply. Wet and naked in the late morning, I shivered in the bathhouse steam, although there was no chill.

III. Preparations

As Madam Hitomi left the bathhouse, my head swirled with ideas. Emi gave up trying to scrub me. I tried to picture the perfect tale for the governor – the third rank Taira Clan commander – about whose wondrous deeds we had heard. Misuki squeaked and squealed, pinching herself to make sure we were not under the spell of a demon spirit seeking to harm us with good news.

Allowing a few moments for cheer and elation, I regained my composure and demanded attention. ‘Let us prepare for his arrival.’ I attempted to be stern with the girls. Sitting down on the scrubbing stool, I motioned to Emi to continue cleansing me. After practise, especially with a sword, I required several washings before I was clean enough to soak.

While she scrubbed, I considered the situation. Misuki remembered the stories, but Emi required frequent reminding. She needed to display the proper respect for this great lord or she might forfeit her life.

I turned to Misuki. ‘Let us tell Emi about the Echizen Governor Taira no Michimori so she can honour him.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Misuki moved closer to us and sat on another stool. Our eyes touched, and I knew she understood.

I began, ‘Taira no Michimori’s uncle, Kiyomori, is now chancellor, junior first rank – the highest rank any subject can achieve, all because of Kiyomori’s bravery in the Hōgan and Heiji rebellions.’

Misuki said, her forehead and cheeks high in colour from either the hear or the importance of our new customer, ‘The Taira Clan built the seaport city near here, Fukuhara, and the glorious city of Rokuhara. Michimori’s family is the most powerful in the empire.’

‘Thank you, Misuki,’ I said, and checked Emi’s eyes to see if she had understood this. In my fervour. I was impatient: we had much to do. I added, ‘Michimori’s uncle is a great leader who saved the emperor’s life many years ago.’

‘How?’ Brow creased, Misuki had asked the right question.

I simplified the famous story of Michimori’s uncle and his uncle’s ascendancy in government. When I had finished, Misuki asked Emi, ‘Do you understand?’

Emi nodded and said, ‘When did this happen?’

‘Many years ago. Kiyomori was once a plain person, of low rank, but now his grandson is the emperor, Emperor Antoku. An uncle of the emperor is coming here.’ Misuki spoke slowly, emphasising each word.

‘Michimori is the nephew of Kiyomori,’ I repeated, this time drawing the Taira Clan genealogy on the floor with my finger, showing how close Michimori was to the emperor. This was finally sufficient for Emi. At least, for the moment. She rocked her head at the odd angle she always did when she understood. I hugged her to make up for my brusqueness.

‘We must make sure everything is perfect. He is the most important customer we have ever entertained – a relative of the emperor.’ By now I had finished soaking and stood up. I hugged Emi again and smiled. The poor girl was trembling.

‘Do not be afraid, my Emi. This is what we will do.’ I climbed out of the bath, wrapping myself in a drying cloth Misuki held out. ‘The governor has always the best, the finest of everything. Today we will do a story that is the opposite.’

I took a long breath and began to explain my plan. ‘We will use only plain fabrics with no decoration. Strip the room bare, except for the
futon
and the table. Cover the floor lightly with clean straw. I want one instrument, playing a single melody, no harmony, and place the musician far outside. Lay my makeup on the table. I will put some on as an element of the story, so Michimori can be part of it.

‘First, rags under my formal greeting robe. My hair tied loosely, like a peasant’s. Emi, you will help me with my hair and flowers, but only plain flowers.’ I smiled at Emi’s bewildered face and explained, ‘Make a wild flower for the first part.’

Elaborate directions followed for costume changes and the music. Misuki wrote everything down. Emi began to scurry out, but I called her back to explain how she should greet the great lord.

As I was teaching Emi, I felt my father’s sweet presence because he had taught me the proper bow: ‘The five parts: two knees, two elbows and head.’ Now I taught Misuki and particularly Emi. We practised bowing with our knees, elbows and head on the ground. After such a bow, I taught the girls to walk backwards while bowing. To make mistakes with this was to lose a head.

We practised until I was sure Emi could do it perfectly and repeatedly. ‘You will bow to the ground before the Echizen Governor Taira no Michimori each and every time you see him,’ I instructed. ‘When he dismisses you, leave backwards. Do you understand?’ Misuki’s face wore the little smile that said, ‘Very well,’ so I ordered Emi, ‘Go outside to pick the flowers,’ and she left.

‘Fortunately, my lady,’ Misuki confided, ‘the story is familiar. No need for practise.’

‘The client has always aided me with makeup. We do not wish to ask the Echizen governor to help me.’

Misuki grinned at the ridiculous thought of the great governor applying a woman’s makeup. ‘Perhaps when the needy hero returns, he can send a servant to prepare the one he loves. That will be myself. I can dress you. Help with the makeup.’

‘Ask for other girls to help with the sewing. Next, send our serving girls to my house to help groom me. After you have overseen the others, come back. We will review and choreograph the timeline.’

While a serving girl oiled and combed my hair, another scented my clothes. As they fussed, I evaluated each detail of the story. I changed each element to fit the aspects of the military genius of the commander Michimori and his famous family. From what I had heard and read, I created what would please and surprise him.

IV. A Beginning

The hem for my first simple kimono was not sewn at all, and a few seams were not sewn twice. We did not have time – even though so many worked – my own serving girls and several borrowed from other Women-for-Play. Perhaps because of these omissions the effect of poverty startled me.

The next day I had to rap the third sewing girl’s fingers gently with a stick, but I gave her an extra ration of food from the feast. It was always necessary to enforce discipline.

Before his arrival, Taira no Michimori had eaten elsewhere. Especially while waiting, I was nervous and shaking a little from the excitement, which went undetected by those serving me. Perhaps Misuki knew, but she did not betray my agitation. Besides, I argued with myself, I was a good judge of men, especially empowered, wealthy and self-assured men. He was, after all, merely another man.

Peeping out from my work hut, I saw his honourable lordship walking towards me with Madam Hitomi, who was as puffed up as a mating bird, bobbing her head. Governor Michimori had little of the ornamentation some of his officers wore. The two entered my work hut.

His honorable lordship lived up to his reputation. His thick glossy hair was in the topknot for samurai. It was clear from the deference his aides and servants showed him that he was in charge, the governor, Taira no Michimori. He dismissed all with a gesture, including Madam Hitomi, who was bowing backwards, mumbling spurious exaltations.

With an impressive brow, the stocky, muscular man strode forward, like a god on the earth. (I had once seen a play about such a god at Chiba’s
sh
ō
en
.) When he saw the straw-covered
futon
and floor, he cried out in delight, like a small child with a new toy. Fists at his sides, he roared, his dark eyes spouting laughter that ricocheted against the little walls of my work hut until the entire Village of Outcasts reverberated.

The time passed in an eye blink and lasted my lifetime. His honourable lordship asked about my life and I answered him, albeit briefly. I was not there for my enjoyment, although it seemed to please him to learn about me. He shared some of his own story with me. After his next foray into battle, he would return to Rokuhara. I stifled a gasp when he mentioned the magical, mystical city, built by his uncle.

My lord Michimori conversed between my songs and dances, which reflected a natural quality I thought he would enjoy. Several were old ones I had learned from my family. After I had finished the story, songs, music and dances, we were together as rusticated peasants in an ox shelter. Laughing again, he managed to say, ‘I travelled all this way to lie down in straw!’

At first Michimori allowed me to lead, but I knew with this man that there would be no teaching. I stroked his chest and back, softly brushed the powerful legs, as they lay relaxed, perhaps for the first time since he had been travelling. I rubbed his thick shoulders and neck. He allowed himself the luxury of a little humming. The incense he wore, combined with the scents of his body, earth and horse, was as delicious as that first meal with Chiba.

I found scars on his chest, back, legs and arms. I asked about each one. For some, like the scarred knuckles on one hand, he just shrugged and moved my fingertips to where he wanted. Others he explained. A short curved scar came from when he and his cousins, as boys, had practised swordplay. As a prank during childhood practise, the cousins had cut the shin guards from his calves. Later, unaware, and on horseback, another cousin had hurt him, practising with a
naginata
. The scythe-like blade had carved a thin curved scar on his left leg. The deep ones on his chest were from arrows that had worked their way through his breastplate. I traced and caressed each one, honouring the foolishness of his boyhood and the strength of his courage. He allowed me to touch all of his body.

For all his strength, when he took charge of our coupling, his nimbleness surprised me. He pinpointed the little places Tashiko and I had explored together: earlobes, neck and nape, inside the elbow, back of the knees, toes. He concentrated on each, until he had assured himself I was satisfied.

He played a sweet tune on my Lute Strings, claiming they were flower petals to bees. As each part palpated, his reassuring voice spoke praises. By this time I no longer feigned.

His voice softened. His words shortened. His touches heightened. Finally, he drank from me. Deeply. Eagerly, as a hungry baby suckles. He persisted.

He poised himself above me, outlined my mouth with a thick finger. Until then I had been oblivious to my sounds. I opened my eyes and saw the complexion of his Stalk, golden as a spring dawn. Astonishing myself, I ached for him. He entered me.

We held each other. We gazed into each other’s faces and lay silent for a long time without words. This was the first time I had enjoyed myself with a man. Tashiko had said it was possible, but I had not believed her.

We coupled again that night. I must have slept because I stirred, feeling his hands on me. They were soft yet relentless. First stroking my back, then my shoulders. Next, firmly and gently, my breasts and neck.

Keeping his hands on me, he folded one leg against me and straightened the other. He moved his hands around and under me, lifting me slightly until I was sitting on his legs. He sat up, and pulled me closer to him. Leaning over, he sang soft notes and caressed.

I was drenched. He was ready for me. His Jade Stalk had been tapping an ardent rhythm on my stomach. He entered me, lying down on the
futon
, taking me with him. My knees bent, my hands above his shoulders, I crouched over him. His hands remained around me.

With the strength for which he was known, he lifted me up and down, thrusting me on to him. I began to move in rhythm with him. He took one hand and moved my face to gaze at his. His eyes filled. He manoeuvred my body to intensify my delight. My eyes wept, and we completed at the same moment.

I crumpled on to his breast, and we contemplated each other, content. I stirred to sit up, but he held me. At last, we slept.

When I awoke, his honourable lordship rubbed my face with the back of his fingers and whispered, ‘Besides the need for Divergent Directions, my reason for coming here was to thank you.’