The Nightingale

by Kara Dalkey

  “Ah, I am right, I see! Well, you are in luck, Ronin-san. I am a fortune-teller. The best fortune teller in Heian Kyo. The Imperial Bureau of Divinators would have hired me, but I did not wish to work with such pompous bureaucrats. Shall I look into your future and tell you if you will become a bodyguard?”

  Kuma wanted to kick the little man to send him away. But looking at the beggar’s face, he saw hunger there—many hungers more than the few Kuma had suffered recently. To his surprise, Kuma felt something between sympathy and pity.

  “Why do you stare at me so, Ronin-san?”

  “Because I see my future in your face,” Kuma said with a wry smile.

  “Do you now?” The beggar grinned and struck a ridiculous pose. “A very interesting talent, that. My grandmother once claimed she could read the future in oxen droppings, and I’ve been told my face and they look somewhat the same. Myself, I read fortunes in gold coins.” He held out an eloquent hand.

  Kuma snorted. “If I had gold coins, would I be standing around here?” He made a show of searching his sleeves. Then he felt a small object in the bottom of his left sleeve. Kuma pulled out a Go-stone of the palest jade. He remembered finding it on the palace grounds. Separate from its set, it was useless. As am I. Kuma tossed the Go stone to the beggar. “Here, see what you can make of this.”

  The beggar caught the Go-stone and gaped at it. “Domo arigato, Ronin-san! This already speaks of better fortune, for me at least.” Placing the Go-stone against his forehead, the beggar closed his eyes and began to sway from side to side.

  Kuma sighed and leaned back against the pillar again, ignoring the beggar’s theatrics.

  Suddenly the beggar cried out. Kuma looked, and the thin man was staring at the Go-stone in horror. “What is the matter?” said Kuma.

  “Oh, terrible!” moaned the beggar. “Terrible, terrible!” He spun around and held his head. “I see the floors of the Palace covered in blood! Many bodies! And the Emperor—Oh, horrible, horrible!”

  Caught up in the beggar’s words, Kuma crouched beside him and grabbed his tattered sleeve. “What do you mean, ‘bodies’? Men dead? Women too? What about my Katte?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t want to see any more!” The beggar flung down the jade Go-stone and wriggled out of Kuma’s grasp. “Keep your evil talisman! I want no part of it!” Without another word, the beggar ran out of the gate, down the south road.

  Kuma stood, staring after him, wondering if he should follow. Then he heard the snickers and chuckles around him.

  “Well, the demons of hunger have finally taken that one’s mind,” said one of the thieves. “Myself, I have no prejudice against evil talismans.” He quickly snatched up the jade Go-stone. Kuma grunted and waved at the thief as if to say ‘go ahead, take it,’ and continued staring down the road.

  Through the dusty, rippling air Kuma could make out two figures approaching. They turned their heads and stared as the beggar ran by them, then continued their approach. After a minute, Kuma could see that they were priests, dressed in brown-grey robes. Kuma found this somehow reassuring after the beggar’s outburst—a good omen to follow a bad one.

  The thieves noticed the priests also, and huddled behind one of the pillars, conferring. As the priests came within a few yards of the Rasho Gate, the thieves trotted out to meet them.

  One of the priests was an old man, the other was young. As Kuma watched, the thieves teased the elder, then began to playfully shove him. Angry that they should be harassing his good omen, Kuma ran out to them.

  “Konnichi-wa, Holy Ones. Do you need a trustworthy guide into the city?” Kuma looked sidelong at the thieves and pulled his long tachi sword a hair’s breadth out of its sheath.

  “You shouldn’t bother with these,” said one of the thieves, backing off. “The old one claims they have no money, so they could not pay you.”

  “Then I offer my services in exchange for their prayers, which I’m sure they have in abundance.”

  The thieves shrugged and shuffled off, feigning nonchalance. Kuma turned to the priests, and suddenly recognized the younger one. “Takenoko!”

  The young priest looked away, embarrassed.

  “Takenoko, it is me—Kuma! Your old friend! What is wrong? Have you been sick? Don’t you recognize me?”

  “Yes, I mean, no, Kuma-san. Good afternoon to you,” Takenoko said, staring at the ground.

  The old priest chuckled. “Forgive him, Kuma-san. To find the holy path means leaving the world of friends and loved ones behind. Takenoko has found it hard for his feet to walk this path. He means no insult.”

  “Hmm.” Kuma rubbed his chin, uncertain what to say.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t join the palace guard,” Takenoko said, “but I was so hurt by events in this world that my only thought was to leave it.”

  “It may be, the way things have gone, that you have made the best choice,” said Kuma.

  “Are things not well at the palace? Uguisu—is she all right?”

  Kuma stared down the road where the beggar had gone. “I … I suppose.” As the young priest’s eyes widened, Kuma added, “The beggar you saw … I asked a fortune of him, and he claimed to see horrible things happening at the Palace.”

  The old priest chuckled. “Beggars often make dramatic pronouncements, in hope of encouraging greater charity. But since our final destination is the Imperial Palace itself, we may see for ourselves if his visions are true.”

  “You are going to the Palace?” said Kuma.

  “Yes. We have been invited for the Washing of the Buddha and to help with preparations for the Kamo Festival. We will not need a guide, Kuma-san. But if you will see us through this gate, then you will certainly have earned our prayers.”

  “Then it is my honor to do so,” said Kuma, bowing.

  Together the three of them walked silently through the gate, feeling the eyes of its wretched denizens upon them. A few yards on the other side, standing in the Suzaku Oji, Kuma asked, “Are you sure you will not need a guide further?”

  The old priest said, “Since our final destination is straight down this avenue, I think not.”

  Kuma shifted uneasily. “In that case … Takenoko, will you take a message there for me?”

  “Certainly, Kuma, if I can.”

  “See if the Myobu Katte-san is all right, will you? And if you see her, tell her … tell her I am well. That is all. And give her some orange blossoms from the garden.”

  “I will try, Kuma-san. But Katte is a Myobu now?”

  “Much has changed since you left, Takenoko. You will see.” But I hope you see nothing like whatever the beggar saw.

  “Thank you for your guidance, Kuma-san,” said the old priest. “We shall remember you in our prayers, as we agreed.”

  As the priests walked away down the avenue, Kuma said softly, “Yes, pray for me, Takenoko. Pray for us all.”

  The Chancellor’s Gift

  The Myobu Katte sat alone by the blinds in a large room. She felt as though she would melt into the tatami mat beneath her, the heat was so oppressive. Though the blinds beside her had been raised halfway, no cooling breezes came in from the garden outside. The dainty fan she held was scarcely any help. Her kimonos, though unlined and of the sheerest silk gossamer, clung damp and heavy against her skin. It seemed all she could do to sit motionless and breathe the hot, humid air.

  The Palace around her was eerily silent, except for the high-pitched twitter of cicadas and occasional distant footsteps. Nearly everyone had gone to the Kamo Festival at the Upper Kamo Shrine. Usually the most impressive ceremony of the year, this year it would be greater still. The Emperor’s eldest daughter was being installed as the High Priestess of the Shrine, and everyone of quality felt obligated to make an appearance.

  Katte’s ladies had all insisted upon going, of course. But they had made dark hints that the kami of the shrine, as well as some attendees, might take offense if one of lowly birth were to “play at being noble” and attend. Katte
had allowed them to believe it was their words that had cowed her into staying behind. In fact, she had her own reasons.

  At midday the palace guards had begun their procession to the Lower Kamo Shrine, escorting the carriages of the nobility. Katte remembered how she used to peek out from the kitchens when the guards assembled in the courtyard, and how thrilled she would be at finding Kuma’s proud face in the company. But today, though she could have ridden in a grand carriage in the very midst of the procession, Kuma’s face would not be there to look for. And so, it seemed to her, there was no point in going.

  Katte sighed and fanned herself a little more. Her family had told her to forget Kuma, but she could not. And then the monk with Kuma’s message had arrived. Though she had been pleased that he had not been banished for some unspeakable crime, as some had rumored it, the message had fueled her dissatisfaction.

  Poor Kuma. In that horrid place, the Rasho-Mon. If only I could go to him, I would leave this place in a moment! It was a foolish, selfish fantasy, she knew. Her once poor family now depended on her income of rice and gold. Her ailing mother was finally showing signs of improving health. For Katte to leave her position would doom her family to poverty once more, and her mother to certain death. But she paid little interest in their efforts to find her a noble husband. That was a fate she preferred not to think about.

  Katte’s thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the loud thudding of approaching feet—a man’s stride—along the veranda just outside her blinds. As Katte held her breath, the man stopped as he came up beside her.

  “Lady Katte? Someone told me you were still here, but I was not sure I should believe them. May I speak with you a moment?”

  The Chancellor! Why would he wish to speak to me? Katte could imagine how her ladies would have dashed about, frantically trying to set things properly, were they here. Katte found herself adjusting her robes and smoothing her hair self-consciously, even though Daimigi could not see her. “Of course, Your Excellency,” she said. She slid a cushion beneath the blinds to him and started to roll the blinds fully down.

  The Chancellor’s hand caught her sleeve. “There is no need to hide yourself further, my lady. I am hardly likely to come crawling into your room in this weather. But tell me, why are you not at the Festival?”

  “I … I was feeling ill this morning, Your Excellency. I felt it would be unwise to attend.”

  “I see. Yes, I had heard you have not been feeling well. But I am most interested in hearing how you are faring in your new position.”

  Katte wondered what rumors had reached him. Her ladies would often receive messages for her, then insist upon writing the replies themselves. Katte could barely write, so that was reasonable. But often they would not even show her what they had written. For all Katte knew, terrible things might be attributed to her. Considering the snobbishness of her ladies, in fact, Katte thought it quite likely. “Things are … things are well, Your Excellency.”

  “Indeed? I had heard that life is not as easy for you as it should be. Please feel free to tell me if anything troubles your heart. I am responsible for the good operation of the Palace and Administration. Is there anything I may do for you?”

  His kind words touched Katte and threatened to bring tears she thought were well buried. “I … well, some things have been … difficult.”

  “Ah. Yes, life at Court can be trying, even for those of us who are born to position here. I have heard stories of women from common background who are treated terribly when they come to Court. It is most shameful. I hope you are given due respect and dignity.”

  Katte started to reply, but found no words for her feelings. Part of her wanted to blurt out her true situation. Yet she felt it would not be seemly to whine and complain to this noble lord.

  “Is it so bad then?” said the Chancellor, apparently understanding her silence. “Dear me, I had hoped the rumors were false. Is there some way I can be of assistance? There is little men can do in women’s affairs, I know, but please suggest whatever might help you. Shall I have your ladies-in-waiting assigned to another household?”

  Only to have them hate me further? And to give me a new set of aloof maidservants? “I am sorry, Your Excellency, I do not think that would be helpful.”

  “No? I understand. Unbiased ladies would be terribly difficult to find. I can see your difficulty. Your family relies upon your work here, do they not? So you are unable to leave then if conditions become unbearable. Most unfortunate. But I wish to demonstrate that at least one soul at Court is concerned for you. Please accept this gift from me. It is a small token of kindness, I know, but I feel I should do something for you. It is your own choice what to do with it, but I know you will choose wisely.”

  Katte watched, bewildered, as Daimigi pushed a beautiful box of carved Shen wood under the blinds. “Oh, no, Your Excellency, I could not possibly—”

  “Please, it is but a humble gift. All I ask is that you do not tell anyone at Court that it was I who gave it to you. There is no need to give anyone another excuse for spreading malicious gossip.”

  “Of course, Your Excellency. Thank you so very much.”

  “You are quite welcome. And now I must attend to other important business before I return to the Kamo Shrine. Sayonara, Myobu Katte.”

  “Good day to you, Your Excellency.” As she heard him rise and stride away, Katte pulled the box closer and lifted its lid. Within it lay a bundle of blue silk. Katte pulled aside the corners of the silk wrapping and gasped at what was revealed. In the box lay twelve bars of gold … more than she would earn in years of service. Katte closed the box and wept in gratitude.

  Iris Festival

  It was the nightmare again, Uguisu knew. There was the same, dull golden light, darkening toward the edges as if she were looking through an ancient bronze mirror. Within this light she saw the same face—an infant with eyes intelligent far beyond his age, leering up at her as he suckled at her breast. The light rippled as if it were a reflection in troubled water, and there came a new scene. A boy child, barely able to stand, stood watching something moving on the floor while he laughed. Uguisu was unable to keep herself from looking at the floor, though she knew what she would see. There the Emperor lay, moaning and writhing in the throes of poisoned death. And the little prince laughed, playing with the cup from which the Emperor had just drunk.

  Hands gripped her arms, and Uguisu opened her eyes. She found herself sitting up on her sleeping mat, and her mouth was open. Uguisu knew, because it had happened before, that she had been screaming.

  “My Lady!” wailed Nikao, “Are you all right? What is the matter?”

  “It was bad dreams again, neh?” said Shonasaki. “What demons torment you so?”

  “Do not speak like that!” Nikao said. “This is a day of evil aspect, when angry spirits may roam the earth! Do not attract them with such talk!”

  And this is the day I am to receive my Emperor, thought Uguisu bitterly.

  “I know well what day it is, Nikao. My lady, there are still priests at the Palace who have remained from the Kamo Festival. One of them is said to be skilled at exorcism. Would you like to speak to him?”

  “No, thank you,” said Uguisu. “I do not need an exorcist.” Not yet. She rose and the ladies helped her dress.

  The morning passed ever so slowly, as the ladies adorned the eaves and doorways of their quarters with garlands of iris leaves and sprigs of sage branches, taking down the hare sticks that had been hung on New Year’s Day. They placed iris flowers in their hair, and adorned their Chinese jackets with azalea and orange blossoms. They gave pillows stuffed with iris and sage to friends and servants.

  Palace guardsmen could be heard passing by, carrying leaves and branches wherever needed. Women from the Bureau of the Imperial Wardrobe delivered herbal balls decorated with braided multi-colored string. These were hung on the pillars at each corner of each room. By midday, the entire palace grounds looked like an enormous hanging garden, and all the people i
n it like strange, wandering flower bushes.

  Kitsune and Nikao laughed gaily, and Shonasaki wrote one poem after another. Uguisu felt numb inside. But she was not upset that the hours seemed so long. She wished there could be an eternity between that morning and the evening to come.

  The afternoon was filled with archery contests and horse races and other manly competitions that the ladies watched from behind bamboo curtains. It was said that such displays of virile strength helped keep the evil spirits at bay. Uguisu imagined her guardian spirit laughing heartily at that.

  The Emperor himself presided over the contests, offering wine in which iris leaves had been steeped to the winners and to the noble lords. Uguisu hoped his duties might cause him to forget her, but at the Hour of the Monkey she received a poem from him:

  “Today Heaven is a garden blossoming with hope,

  Today, even the ancient pine tree wears lavender.”

  “Lavender,” Shonasaki explained, “is the color of romantic liaisons. And of course, the ‘ancient pine’ is himself, who has been waiting a long time. And Heaven could mean both the Imperial Palace and himself.”

  So he has certainly not forgotten, thought Uguisu.

  From behind the blinds, she watched the Emperor as he gave the awards to the winning guards. How kind and generous he seemed, how sensitive and noble. How can an ancient need for revenge claim the life of such as he? It does not seem just. How can I do what is asked of me? But another part of her mind answered, It is for the honor of your family that you do this. For the mother who taught you and gave her life for you. For your grandmother and all of the mothers before her whose efforts led to you and this moment. Seven generations of debt do you owe. Uguisu felt the weight of those generations press upon her heart like stones. She remembered something her mother once said; “The important thing in life is not a whim of the heart. The important thing is duty. It is the duty of the men of a clan to defend its honor. It is the duty of its women to bear its children.” Even, thought Uguisu, when the child born is unnatural, a creature possessed?