The Nightingale

by Kara Dalkey

  “No,” breathed the Emperor. “I can scarcely believe it, but it is too late. I have seen.” The Emperor moved slowly away from her. “You are an oni! A demon!”

  “Not quite, my foolish, impetuous Lord.”

  The Emperor watched frozen in horror as the beautiful form of Su K’an melted and collapsed in upon herself. The perfect face shriveled like a pale rotting fruit. Her scarlet robes slowly settled, steaming and charred, to the floor. A grey column rose above the foul remains and resolved into the ancient, wizened form the Emperor had seen in the mirror.

  “I am a distant relative, though not a direct ancestor of yours. My family had been treated most unfairly by the Fujiwara. Had you simply accepted me, my vengeance against them would have been gradual and assured. You might have lived more happy years in ignorance. Your little bride would bear you a son, in whom I would incorporate the soul of my own son. He would have become a great wizard-emperor, who could have vanquished the Fujiwara forever. But now,” she said, pointing a gnarled, spectral hand at the Emperor, “you have ruined any chance you had at being part of our grand design. Our vengeance will continue—that is all that remains to us. But we must see that you can no longer interfere.”

  The ghost rushed at the Emperor and he felt sharp coldness fill his muscles and bones. He tried to crawl to the shoji to call for a guard, but with all his effort he could only fall upon his side.

  “It is useless,” the spirit whispered in his head. “Now you are mine.”

  Frigid pain shot through the Emperor and he cried out in a long, silent scream.

  Snow and Ashes

  Dark, ash-laden smoke rose high in a column from the funeral pyre, mingling with flurries of light falling snow. Buddhist priests surrounding the bier chanted the Nirvana Sutra, while Shinto priests shook their wands of purification.

  Takenoko felt no sorrow as he watched the substance that had been his father burn and ascend the ladder of smoke to Heaven. His only regret was that he remained behind, still tied to this world. The chanting of the priests reminded him of an old poem he had learned as a child for a writing exercise:

  “Springtime blossoms bright

  with life

  Someday scatter on the wind

  Who among us lives beyond

  his time?

  Now that my soul has become a pilgrim

  Dreams no longer trouble me

  And fleeting pleasures cloud my mind

  no more.”

  Fate has taken from me all I have cared for. Uguisu is gone. My father is dead. Why should my heart still be concerned with worldly things?

  As Takenoko continued to stare at the ascending smoke, watching the ashes dancing with the snowflakes, he felt a tightness begin to ease within him. His heart felt light, as if he, too, were a mote dancing on the wind. A rush of exhilaration coursed through him. Have I, at last, set my foot upon the path to Heaven? Hours later, the question still occupied Takenoko’s mind as he came down the path from the burial ground. The path was lined with stone statues of gods and demons, bodhisattvas and other seated figures, wearing hats and epaulets of fresh-fallen snow. Takenoko passed these without a glance. So absorbed was he with his thoughts that he scarcely noticed when one figure stood and spoke to him.

  “Takenoko-san.”

  “What? Oh. Kuma-san. Where did you come from?”

  “I have been waiting for you to finish your services. I have something to ask you.”

  “Very well. But I was not conducting services, I was attending. It was my father’s funeral.”

  “Oh.” Kuma’s shoulders slumped and his face drooped sadly. “I am so very sorry, Takenoko.”

  He did not know my father well. Why does he mourn? “Do not weep for him, Kuma-san. He is now free of the cares of this world, unlike you and I. Our souls deserve more pity and sorrow than his.”

  “Indeed. You are right, Takenoko.”

  “Now what was it you wished to ask?”

  “What? Oh. No, I cannot ask it of you now. Not with your father—never mind.” Kuma turned and began to walk away.

  “Wait, Kuma-san!” Takenoko caught up to Kuma. “Did I not say that I do not mourn him? Ask me whatever you wish.”

  Kuma continued walking. “It was … just a small service Katte and I wished you to perform. It is nothing.”

  “A service? Ah! A wedding? I would be pleased to—”

  “No, not a wedding.”

  “What, then?”

  “No. It would be too sad to ask it of you.”

  “A funeral?”

  “A deathwatch. Perhaps, by now, a funeral. But I shall find another priest.”

  “I will perform this service for you, Kuma. Helping others to be free of this world may help me on my own Path to Heaven. Now tell me what sort of person I will be attending, so I may choose an appropriate sutra. Is he a nobleman?”

  “She was once a noble …”

  “A woman, then.” Suddenly Takenoko’s stomach went cold. “Do I know this woman?”

  “She is … a friend of Katte’s.”

  “But do I know her?” Takenoko demanded. “Is it Uguisu?”

  “I … she … yes.”

  “Then let’s not waste a moment longer!”

  All remnants of his former euphoria vanished as Takenoko and Kuma ran through the snowy streets of Heian Kyo. When they came to the dilapidated house, Kuma rushed up onto the veranda and pounded on the shutters.

  “Katte! I have brought the priest! Open up!”

  Presently, Katte’s laughing voice could be heard, and she opened up the shutters smiling. “You have brought a priest? How wonderful! He can give thanks to Kwannon for us.”

  “Thanks?” Kuma said, confused.

  “Where is she?” said Takenoko, rushing past Katte into the house.

  “An impetuous priest!” Katte laughed.

  “Katte, this is no time for jokes. Do you not recognize Takenoko-san? He wishes to see Uguisu right away.”

  “Oh, of course! She is this way.” Still smiling, Katte led the two men into the central room. “You may thank whatever kami watch over us for the miracle that has happened. For there she is, and she is well!”

  Seated by the hearth was Uguisu, looking pale and thin but still lovely, stroking a golden-haired cat.

  Takenoko kneeled across the hearth from her, unable to speak. His heart seemed to pound like wedding drums just to be seeing her again. He had the very un-priestly desire to throw his arms around her and hold her close.

  After a moment, Uguisu laughed behind her hand. “Takenoko? Is that you? You look so strange without your hair.”

  Her remark filled Takenoko with a sudden, keen disappointment. Is that all she can think of to say when we have been so long apart? Then he chided himself. What did I expect? Why should a gardener’s son mean much to her now, when she has been the consort of the Emperor himself! He managed an awkward smile and looked at the floor. “Uguisu. I am glad to see you well. For once I am pleased to feel useless.”

  “Useless? Ah, because you will not chant my soul away. Has it been only a year, Takenoko-chan? It seems a lifetime has passed since I last saw you beneath the autumn leaves and told you my father’s wishes.”

  “Indeed,” said Takenoko. “It is because both our lives have changed so.

  I wander lost and seek a Path to Heaven,

  But my thoughts’ wanderings led me near to you.”

  More than you know, Takenoko added to himself.

  Uguisu sighed and responded,

  “Though my path took me to the clouds of Heaven,

  Now it is I who wander lost and aimless.

  But you are not useless, Takenoko. Now that you are a priest, you can teach me the sutras.”

  “Teach you?”

  “I have no family now, Takenoko-chan. I have been disowned. There is no life for me now, it seems, except to become a nun.”

  Takenoko imagined what Uguisu would look like with hair chopped short and dressed in the drab kimonos o
f a nun and he felt sad. “Please reconsider, Uguisu-chan. The Path to Heaven is not smooth, and you are so young. It is considered ill-advised for a young girl to take vows so early. There are too many chances for temptation in life, and the likelihood is great that she may shame herself.”

  “But what other choice have I, Takenoko-chan? No one, not even Hidoi, would marry me as I am. Perhaps I should have followed my father’s wishes and married Hidoi after all … it would have prevented so much trouble. And I am too shy to enter the willow world. What can I do?”

  Takenoko caught his breath, trying to control his feelings. I would ask to wed you, were I not a monk. For a moment, the dizzying possibility of renouncing his vows to wed Uguisu tantalized him. Then he felt shame for even considering it. Takenoko remembered the lightness he had felt at the funeral and wondered, Am I so easily tempted to turn away from my Path, even now that I have placed one foot upon it? And how can I be so callous to Uguisu’s wish to trod that same Path? “Very well, Uguisu-chan, I shall teach you some sutras. But do not be hasty to don a nun’s robes. We shall wait and see if they suit you first.”

  “Thank you, Takenoko-chan.” Uguisu bowed solemnly. “And perhaps when we have both left this world, we will sit on separate petals of the same lotus blossom and enjoy Heavenly peace together.” She smiled.

  Despite his inner turmoil, Takenoko could not help but smile in return.

  Mist and Moonlight

  Hidoi awoke to the incongruous scent of cherry blossoms. It was still the deep of night and all was dark around him, except for one shaft of moonlight that came through a chink in the blinds. Standing radiant in the moonlight was the most beautiful woman Hidoi had ever seen. She wore robes of purest, diaphanous white. Her skin was pale and translucent as mist. Her hair was a river of blue-black iridescence that flowed all the way to the floor.

  “Well, what’ have we here?” Hidoi said breathlessly. “Come to see how a Fujiwara sleeps? I’ll let you have a closer look.”

  The woman said nothing, but hid the lower half of her face coyly behind her sleeve.

  Hidoi sat up and tried to catch hold of her kimono. The woman moved back, just out of reach. Yet something in her eyes indicated she was not unwilling to be caught.

  Hidoi moved toward her on his knees. “Please, don’t feel you have to keep up appearances here. No one is watching. I assure you, I will be most discreet.”

  The woman stepped gracefully back again. Then, lowering her sleeve a little, she smiled. Hidoi thought her the most charming creature on earth. He knew at once he must have her. “Do not be so aloof,” he said. “It was no doubt some powerful force that brought you to me—perhaps we were once close in a previous life. You cannot ignore such karma, surely.”

  The woman opened her mouth in silent laughter. She moved to the blinds and pulled them aside. Looking at Hidoi, she pointed out to the veranda and the garden beyond.

  Dismayed, Hidoi said, “It’s rather too cold a night to sit outside, don’t you think?”

  The woman’s eyes flashed playfully and she slipped out through the blinds.

  “Wait! Don’t go!” Hidoi awkwardly put on a robe and stumbled through the blinds after her. Outside, Hidoi saw her standing among the snowdrifts in the garden. Feeling chilled and slightly foolish, Hidoi hoisted himself over the veranda to join her. But as before, just as she was within reach, the woman would glide away. Hidoi soon found himself chasing her across the Palace compound. From the way she danced and floated across the snowdrifts, Hidoi realized the woman could be no creature of this world.

  He had heard ancient tales of spirits who were attracted to mortal men. It was often said their charms far surpassed those of ordinary women, and, if pleased, they would often reward their earthly lovers with great wealth or happiness. Hidoi was determined not to let her get away.

  But now she began to dance away faster, and Hidoi had to run as fast as he could just to keep up. He scarcely noticed when he passed through the Eastern Gate, ignoring the perplexed waves and shouts of the guards. Ever eastward, the woman led him, her movements enticing, entrancing. Through snow-blanketed alleys they ran, past dark, shuttered houses and ghostly street lanterns.

  At last, as Hidoi felt his lungs about to burst from exertion, she slowed. His vision blurred by the mist of his breath, Hidoi dimly saw the woman down a slope from him, surrounded by a nimbus of reflected moonlight. From somewhere nearby came the sound of running water. Wheezing, Hidoi stumbled down the hillside. This time, as he drew near, the woman did not move away. Instead, her arms grasped his. She stepped back, drawing him with her. Her touch was cool, but Hidoi did not mind. His ardor kept him warm enough. Her face filled his vision and his only thought was her beauty.

  Coldness surrounded his feet and gradually crept up his legs. Hidoi ignored this, pulling the pale woman closer to him. By the time she was completely in his arms, the coldness had spread up to his chest. But his excitement at holding her banished all fear.

  The woman sighed and smiled, laying her head against his shoulder. Hidoi bent down to whisper a love poem to her. But as he opened his mouth, his nose and throat filled with ice cold water, and he felt heavy pressure on his back. How odd, Hidoi thought, annoyed. Why can’t I breathe?

  Scarlet Mantle

  A maid had opened the blinds that separated the veranda and the main room, allowing Daimigi to look out onto the glistening snow in the garden. But the bright winter scene did not cheer Daimigi. He felt the weight of his responsibilities lying heavily upon him.

  There came a light rapping on the shoji behind him, and Daimigi turned his head. “Yes?”

  “It is me, father.”

  “Ah. Korimizu. Enter.”

  As the boy entered, bowed and kneeled, Daimigi marveled at how Korimizu seemed to have grown even more self-assured and composed. One would even be tempted to wonder if behind that calm face you mourn the death of your brother. The months you have spent as General of the Palace Guards seem to have served you well. “Tell me, Korimizu, have any of your men found that foreign woman yet?”

  “No, father. There is no sign of Su K’an.”

  “Hmm. You have not let on why we seek her?”

  “No, father. But …”

  “But?”

  “There are rumors, father.”

  “Rumors are unavoidable, Korimizu. You must see that they are discouraged whenever possible.”

  “I will try, father. But people have been disturbed by Hidoi’s strange drowning. And they wonder why they have not seen His Majesty in days.”

  “We must continue to tell them the Emperor is resting, or observing abstinence,” Daimigi said softly. “His servants have been given leave and replaced by those of our household. And the palace priests have been sent back to their temples to make preparations for his somewhat postponed wedding. Our family priest watches his Majesty now, and will divulge his condition to no one but me.”

  “But why must we keep his illness a secret?”

  Daimigi sighed. It was, he decided, time that his son knew more of the world. “You are aware, of course, that many of the great families envy our position at court, and would like to undermine us in any way they could. But they are not the only danger. Our own family is not quite the unified pillar it seems to be. The Fujiwara are more like a great tree, with many branches. And although our line may now be the highest branch, with only a little trimming another branch could just as easily come out on top, so to speak. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Yes, father.”

  “There have been suggestions that I consider resigning in favor of another who might better deal with His Majesty’s … eccentricity. The marriage would have quelled such talk. Curse that foreign whore, her timing was perfect! Almost as if she intended to—Forgive me, Korimizu. You should not hear such things.”

  Daimigi saw his son shift uncomfortably, frowning with concern. Softly Korimizu said, “Some people think she might have poisoned him. Since Hidoi’s death, some people are
saying there are evil spirits in the Palace, and that the Emperor has been possessed.”

  “Some people think all illness is caused by evil spirits.”

  “But if they are right, shouldn’t His Majesty have an exorcism?”

  Daimigi scowled. “Think, Korimizu! Have you no idea how people would react to the news that their beloved Emperor, living symbol of the Empire and descendant of the Great Kami, has been possessed by a spirit? It would tear the Court apart! And where do you think the blame would fall? I would be stripped of my office for allowing this to happen to His Majesty. Our entire clan would be shamed! No, Korimizu, there can be no exorcism. Our priest will treat His Majesty with herbs and quiet rest. And we must dissemble until he recovers.”

  “But … but if His Majesty does not recover—”

  “Then we must hope he lingers long enough for us to re-establish our position another way. As I told Kazenatsu the other night, I have secretly sent for the Emperor’s Minamoto nephew. If the lad is agreeable enough, we might arrange for him to marry your sister. In this way we can retain our position in court.”

  Daimigi then noticed Korimizu’s eyes had narrowed and pinched in an expresssion the Chancellor had never seen on his son’s face before. “I have been taught that to serve the Emperor is our greatest honor and responsibility.”

  “Yes, but it is time you learned which lessons will serve you in reality. You also owe duty to your family. Remember the Sutra of Filial Piety.” He must grow up so quickly, now. “This will be a difficult time for all of us, my son. The yearly promotions draw near. With the Emperor in mysterious circumstances, all the intrigue that hides beneath surface courtesies will rise like koi carp hungry for feeding. If the Emperor dies with the succession undecided, the strife may become destructive, even deadly. Enemies might come from anywhere, not only rival clans but our own. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, father.” Korimizu was staring at the mat just before him, his hands twisting in his lap.

  Have I so frightened the cool Korimizu? “I am sorry, my son. Perhaps things will not go so poorly. Why don’t you go practice your music or poetry? Let beauty drive away your cares for now.”