A Sword's Poem

by Leah Cutter

  Speculation had run high as to whether or not Iwao would introduce the new wife to the gathered household. Kayoku found she was disappointed when he didn’t. Instead, he dismissed most of the gathered crowd, sent his fellow travelers on their way, then beckoned for the new wife’s carriage to approach.

  The first wave of dread crashed down on Kayoku. The carriage was finely made, beautifully painted white and gold with green bamboo crests. It cost more than what the estate would spend on food and drink for half a year, possibly more.

  Kayoku turned her attention away from the waiting carriage, though, and went to greet her husband.

  “You look well,” Iwao said, giving Kayoku a formal bow. “Running the household seems to be agreeing with you.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Kayoku said, humbled that he’d noticed. “You look well yourself.”

  “I was relieved of my worries about the estate, once I knew it was in your capable hands,” Iwao said sincerely. “You are more reliable than my eldest general, more sturdy than the mountain herself.”

  Where was all this poetry coming from? Iwao usually spoke much more plainly.

  Was he in love with this new wife?

  Kayoku contained her shudders.

  “I live to serve,” Kayoku replied simply.

  “So do we all, even if there’s sometimes battle among the taskmistresses,” Iwao said, still with that twinkle in his eye.

  What was he talking about? The duty he must split between his wives? The duty of the mountain and the estate?

  Iwao gave one last caress to Seiji before turning toward the new wife’s carriage. “Welcome to the Yakimata estate,” he called out.

  The woman who exited was far beyond Kayoku’s expectations.

  She’d been expecting someone pretty, possibly even beautiful.

  She hadn’t expected a woman who could compete with the kami for beauty.

  Her skin was porcelain prefect, pale and smooth. Despite the many hours on the road that day, she looked freshly made up. Her robes were unwrinkled, as if she’d just stepped into them. They were the color of a newly washed sky, soft and gray. Even her scent was still sweet, as if she’d just wakened.

  Kayoku swallowed hard against her jealousy. It would never do to show Iwao, this wife—anyone—her true feelings.

  No wonder Iwao had chosen this woman. There wasn’t a man who could resist her.

  But why had she chosen Iwao?

  Iwao gave all of Kayoku’s formal titles, including her grandfather as well as her father, as part of her introduction. Kayoku was impressed that he remembered them all. It made her feel slightly better.

  Then the woman gave all of her credentials. She came from a high–placed family—very high. She ended with her first husband’s ties, ties that she obviously had chosen to maintain.

  They showed that her family had come down, slightly, in the world.

  Were there debts on her original estate that needed paying? Was she actually not as rich as she seemed?

  But Kayoku finally had a name to go along with the beautiful, disturbing presence in front of her.

  Hikaru.

  “I greet you, Hikaru, and welcome you to our humble estate,” Kayoku said, using her most formal tones and greetings.

  “Thank you,” Hikaru said, graciously enough. “I look forward to learning about the mountain, the estate, the kami and all that goes on in your lives here.”

  Her voice was like a song as well. How could anyone be so perfect?

  There had to be something wrong with her, hidden deep in her soul. No one could be this perfect.

  “I am tired now, and would like to retire,” Hikaru said delicately.

  “Right away,” Kayoku found herself saying. She turned and started ordering servants to finish preparing Hikaru’s rooms.

  Wait—why had the guest not politely yawned? Letting the host declare it was time to depart? And why was Kayoku so determined to make everything right for this other wife, as if she were a mere servant, and not the first wife?

  It was too late that night for such complications, Kayoku decided as she hurried away.

  In the morning she would be more fresh. More able to decide things for herself.

  Better able to judge the luck of this new wife.

  Ξ

  Kayoku was determined not to attribute all that went wrong the next day to the new wife. However, nothing good had come out of her arrival, either.

  Masato had sent another declaration, wanting another large battle. Iwao had agreed, of course. There was no possibility of compromise. Kayoku wished she had better insight into what she could do to help end the war quickly.

  She knew better than to believe it could be avoided, unlike some of the women in the compound.

  Emiko was now sick. It was probably nothing. The move and the excitement and everything. She’d always been a delicate girl.

  This summer cold worried Kayoku, though, who insisted on cooking a special healing soup, with chicken and wild mushrooms, and bringing it to Emiko herself.

  While Emiko ate in her greeting rooms, Kayoku busied herself in her sleeping room, lifting up every tatami. There were characters there, under the mats, but they were done in chalk, not blood or tar, and were drawn to bring peace to those walking and sleeping over them.

  It wasn’t until the end of the day that Kayoku realized the other problem: Iwao hadn’t sent for her yet. He’d been gone for almost a month. It wasn’t that she needed to fulfill his physical needs. But they needed to make sure they were aligned in terms of running the estate.

  Kayoku spent part of the evening composing a letter to her husband, inviting him to come and visit her in her rooms the following night. She made certain her words were very matter–of–fact, and made clear her intention of merely talking.

  She sent the missive off, then waited in her rooms for a reply.

  None came.

  The night settled around the estate. Kayoku was glad her windows all faced inward, that she didn’t have to see the darkness pressing in from the outside. The air had been calm, almost sticky, all day. Now, the winds had picked up, still carrying those strange moans and ill scents.

  They all came from Masato and his army, she was certain of it. Yet another way to demoralize Iwao’s men. Though she wasn’t certain exactly how Masato was doing it...she still didn’t necessarily believe in magic.

  Just luck.

  When still no word came back from Iwao, Kayoku asked a servant to inquire if the lord was ill.

  The servant hesitated. “Are you certain?” she eventually asked.

  “Why wouldn’t he respond?” Kayoku asked plainly.

  “Perhaps he has company,” the servant replied dryly.

  Horrified, Kayoku stammered, “Of course. You may be right. I should—I should not be so impatient about these things. Thank you.”

  She fled back into her rooms, her cheeks burning.

  Of course Iwao might already have a visitor, might be busy with his second wife, which was why he hadn’t replied to her note.

  How was she ever going to get used to this?

  Ξ

  Kayoku met Hikaru in the formal greeting hall of the woman’s quarters for their first official meeting. She couldn’t think of anywhere else to do it. She didn’t want to bring the other wife into her own rooms—that was too intimate, and she barely knew this woman.

  Plus, she wanted to impress this Hikaru, if that was possible. She’d heard from her own servants how this new wife had insisted on new tatamis being laid down, had removed the flowers, even asked that all the windows could be opened to remove the stench of the sweet candles.

  Before Kayoku was fully ready, Hikaru arrived. She floated into the room as if she walked on a cloud. Kayoku had never seen anyone so graceful. Her tan robes with red and gold trim could have been worn before the Emperor. That sweet scent of hers flowed in with her, as if Hikaru had just walked into a grove of jasmine.

  Even her servants were better dressed and m
ore elegant than Kayoku. She felt very plain in her palest green robes, and held herself stiffly while waiting to be addressed.

  Then she shook herself. She was the head wife here. She was the one in charge.

  “I greet you, Yamamoto no Hikaru,” Kayoku said formally, bowing in greeting from her seat.

  “And I greet you, Shimizu no Kayoku,” Hikaru said, just as formally.

  Did she bow as deeply? It was difficult for Kayoku to tell from her seated position.

  Hikaru sank onto the pillows as gracefully as flower petals dropped from cherry trees.

  Kayoku shook herself again. She had never been given to flights of poetry. Something must be truly wrong with her.

  Maybe Emiko’s fever was spreading?

  “Have you settled in?” Kayoku asked after the servants had served them both tea and withdrawn.

  “Perfectly fine,” Hikaru said with a slight smile.

  Even Kayoku could tell that was a lie. Hikaru wasn’t settling in at all.

  “I know that it’s very different than your life back on your own estate,” Kayoku said. “We are just a small holding.”

  “This is very true,” Hikaru said. “It is very rustic. And rural. Provincial.”

  Kayoku felt her back stiffen further. Hikaru should never have said something like that. She should have found a way to compliment Kayoku and the estate instead.

  “Perhaps you’ll be able to visit the court again soon,” Kayoku said. Even if this Hikaru left in the morning, it couldn’t be soon enough for Kayoku.

  “Perhaps,” Hikaru said. “The mountain is very beautiful. Very special. Full of spirits and kami.”

  How had this woman even noticed? Kayoku shook her head. She wouldn’t have thought Hikaru could see beyond the hem of her own robes.

  “It is very beautiful,” Kayoku agreed, though she rarely saw the mountain itself. Still, when the spring was in full bloom, the breezes blowing down from the top of the hills were very sweet. The sunsets, too, particularly during the fall, were spectacular. The two or three that she’d seen.

  Kayoku, like most of the women on the estate, spent all her time indoors, not allowed outside. The sun could never darken their skin, and the wind wouldn’t be allowed to roughen their hands.

  “What else interests you?” Kayoku asked eventually, as Hikaru seemed content to just sit and sway in the still morning air.

  “Poetry,” Hikaru said immediately. “That was how we met, Iwao and I. He wrote me the most beautiful poem.”

  “Iwao?” Kayoku said, giggling. “Surely not. One of his advisors probably wrote it for him.”

  “Ah. I see,” Hikaru said, nodding. “Thank you. That explains a lot.” The room chilled considerably from her disapproval.

  “It isn’t that Iwao couldn’t write poetry,” Kayoku said hastily. “It’s just that he doesn’t.” He hadn’t ever written her a poem, had he? Not even during his awkward teenage years.

  “I’m sure he’s perfectly capable,” Hikaru agreed, the lie laying easily between them.

  “Is there anything else you like?” Kayoku asked. “There are many different duties you could pick up around the estate.”

  Hikaru’s giggles floated through the room, brightening up the very air. “Why would I do that? When I have you to do such things?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” Kayoku asked. Had she just heard Hikaru correctly?

  “Don’t worry about handing off any of your duties to me,” Hikaru said. “I don’t need them.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Kayoku found herself agreeing instantly. Hikaru didn’t need to work around the estate, to pick up any of the chores. Kayoku could do those herself. Hadn’t she been doing them alone for some time now?

  They talked only a little more before Hikaru excused herself, claiming she was still tired from her long journey from the court.

  Kayoku excused her rudeness (again!) and let the second wife leave without assigning her any tasks.

  On her way back to her own rooms, Kayoku wondered what had just gone on. Why hadn’t she insisted on Hikaru helping more? She was running herself ragged every day. It wasn’t appropriate that Chieko helped as much as she did, not when there was now a second wife to take some of the burden.

  There was just something not right about Hikaru. Kayoku didn’t know what it was. But she was too perfect.

  Nothing good ever came from being too perfect.

  Ξ

  Masato issued his next big challenge. Kayoku did what she could to prepare for the coming battle, to lay in supplies for the men: bandages, healing herbs, tea, and soups.

  Kayoku sometimes found herself stopping in the middle of whatever task she had at hand and wondering where Hikaru was.

  Why wasn’t she helping? But every time Kayoku went to talk with the second wife she found herself believing (again!) that Hikaru didn’t actually need to help with anything. Even when Kayoku sent her a note, Hikaru’s excuses seemed perfectly fine.

  Bad luck continued to plague the household. Some of the horses had come down with a cold—they were coughing dreadfully. Was it Emiko’s summer cold that had affected them? Or had she caught some sort of horse disease?

  It just wasn’t healthy, to have all those animals living so close to where people lived. But there wasn’t anything Kayoku could do about it, to get the horses moved off the estate. They had to be protected. They were more valuable than men, more vulnerable as well.

  Then a small fire broke out in the servant’s quarters. Only a single room was burned—people leapt to put it out very, very quickly. The threat of the entire estate burning was too high for anyone to take even a small fire lightly. Servants were reprimanded, lights were doused, the women’s rooms were all much darker.

  To top it all off, the priests from the Mori temple came and complained that all the oil they needed for their latest ceremony had spoiled.

  It was the same oil as was used in the kitchens. However, something had spoiled it. Instead of being fresh, it stank as if it were ancient. It was no longer clear, either—black ashes floated across the top of it.

  Who could have done such a thing? When the priests claimed it was magic, Kayoku refused to listen to them. A human had done this—added something to oil to make it rot. Thrown ash and dirt into the pot. A spell wouldn’t have been so directed. It would have burst the jars, or spoiled all the supplies in the temple.

  And besides, if a spell could ruin something in their most holy of holy places, what chance did the rest of them have, then?

  Ξ

  The day before the next large battle with Masato dawned hot and sticky. Kayoku didn’t believe in the Hell the Buddhists tried to escape, but it wasn’t a good omen.

  Iwao looked tired that morning. Kayoku shared a quiet cup of tea with him before he left for the army camp. He’d spend the night there, and join in battle the following day.

  “My lord, you know, I’ve been running the estate,” Kayoku started, not sure how to bring up Hikaru’s lack of participation.

  “You’ve been doing an excellent job at it,” Iwao said, smiling at her. “You are my best general.” He looked over his shoulder, as if someone had just called his name.

  Kayoku didn’t see anyone there. Seiji lay on pillows in the corner.

  “Just don’t tell the other generals I said so,” Iwao said, laughing gently. “Or they’ll be jealous.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Kayoku said. It was good that Iwao could joke with her, even just a little, at a time like this.

  “You look tired this morning,” Iwao said.

  “I’m fine,” Kayoku assured him immediately. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “But you could use some help,” Iwao guessed.

  “It is my pleasure as well as my duty to fulfill,” Kayoku said stiffly.

  “I will see that you get some more help,” Iwao said firmly. “When I return.” He paused, looked away, then looked back at Kayoku. His eyes seemed to brim with emotion that he never, ever releas
ed or inflicted on anyone. “And maybe we can work harder at getting another heir as well.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Kayoku said, suddenly relieved. He hadn’t called her to his bed once since he’d brought Hikaru back to the estate. What if he never called her again? She’d refused to give into her fears.

  Though it was improper, Iwao bowed his head toward Kayoku, low, placing his forehead all the way down onto the tatamis. “It is I who should be thanking you,” he said.

  He pushed his cup out of the way. The back of his hand casually brushed against the silk of her robe.

  It was the slightest touch.

  And more intimate than a caress.

  “When I return,” Iwao promised.

  “It will be my pleasure,” Kayoku replied, her throat suddenly dry.

  She would wait for him forever if she had to.

  Because though she understood and respected her husband, there was a small part of her that loved him as well.

  Nine

  Finally the Night Had Come

  Hikaru

  Finally, the night had come, when I would enact my revenge.

  Masato had issued his next big challenge. Iwao and his troops were doomed. I think they knew it. There was a bitter taste of tears in the air of the camp, the sweat of desperation. Men sharpened their swords incessantly, the sound of whetstones against blades a constant whining in the background.

  The battle would be the next day. I had listened as carefully as a human woman could to rumors about the war when I’d been at the estate. I had listened magically as well, invisible to the human eye, listening to the generals when they drank, or to the soldiers when they ate.

  The war hadn’t been going well. Masato had recently had several successful skirmishes against Iwao’s troops. He was forcing them to pull back. The area of the mountain that Iwao controlled was diminishing.

  Both sides were losing patience with the slow pace of the war. They each needed a decisive victory, to bolster their men, and their own egos.