by Ben Stevens
…So said my master, as we both rested in the room of an inn some distance away from that accursed teahouse located in the so-called ‘pleasure quarter’ of town.
I lay on a futon, listening in mute disgust and horror as my master continued –
‘And so began a reign of terror throughout the area of Korea where this princess had power. The young servant girl was bled to death in the castle dungeon – and then more girls were sought, their blood being harvested for Princess Uimin to apply to her skin.
‘The blood of young females, she considered, was best, although on occasion she was forced to use the blood of men, arrested and then executed on some trumped-up charge. (The blood of animals, incidentally, she believed had no ‘positive’ effects whatsoever.)
‘She had a few female assistants, some ‘helpers’ who knew full-well of her diabolical ways. Indeed, who were allowed themselves to ‘benefit’ from the application of the blood upon their skin…
‘Princess Uimin even had a large metal vessel constructed, expertly designed to contain all the blood one human body carries. The exterior of this container was shaped like so many snakes, one of which could be pulled away, an extendable pipe leading from the container to the snake’s ‘head’ – and its sharp top teeth which would ‘bite’ into the victim’s jugular vein.
‘Through this method, the murder of the victim became somewhat less ‘messy’ than it had been before – and there was far less wastage of blood. The body bled out and the metal container filled, the contents then being transferred to a couple of wooden barrels stored deep in the castle cellars. And for Princess Uimin’s ‘beauty regime’, approximately one victim a month was necessary.’
I shuddered to hear all of this, again recalling those sharp teeth pressed against my neck. How close they had come to biting into my own jugular vein, and thus ending my life…! My master really had arrived (accompanied by those samurai loaned by the daimyo of this area, after my master had hurriedly explained what he suspected) with scarcely a moment to spare.
‘But Uimin became careless with the ‘disposal’, as it were, of the bodies of her victims. She merely ordered that they be thrown outside the walls of her castle, there to be devoured by wolves and other wildlife…
‘Except several such bodies were found by inhabitants in the outlying villages, the puncture marks noticed on the necks, thus fuelling wild rumor about a ‘vampire’ living in the forest – except that the truth was even more horrifying than this.
‘Finally it was realized what the princess was doing. With the assistance of a powerful lord living in a neighboring territory, the people in the region governed by the princess succeeded in overthrowing her. And there in the cellar of the castle they found her barrels of blood – and the accursed device she’d caused to be made, with the snake designs upon it.
‘Those judged guilty of having assisted Princess Uimin were horribly tortured, before being strangled. Due to her royal birth, however, Uimin escaped being executed herself – although her sentence was a living death.
‘For she was placed in a small area of her castle – just a couple of rooms – and there walled-in alive, with just a small gap remaining for her to be passed food and drink. She ‘lived’ like this – in absolute silence and near pitch-darkness – for four years, never uttering a word of remorse for what she had done, until she at last died, presumably for sheer want of light and fresh air…
‘As for that metal vessel, its exterior covered with that chilling snake-design – it simply ‘disappeared’, presumed destroyed… Except, as we now know, it was not broken into a thousand pieces, or melted down, as it should have been.
‘Instead, over who knows how many years, it found its way to Japan; and ultimately into the hands of the owner of a well-known geisha teahouse, who had lately found herself obsessing about her advancing age, and who was aware of the infamous legend concerning a Korean princess named Uimin…’
‘But how did she obtain that… that vessel with the snakes upon it, master?’ I asked. ‘And how did she persuade those other geisha at her teahouse to become party to… to cold-blooded murder?’
For a moment I saw Omitsu’s face before me, as clear as anything. Shining slightly white in the gloom. And I smelt that faintly metallic ‘tang’ about her – the memory of which now so appalled me – and I heard her sighing in my ear, as we made love there on the futon of that room on the top floor…
I shook my head against such memories… and then realized that my master was watching me, a sad, slight smile on his face which told me that he knew everything…
‘There is a great deal we can only assume,’ said my master then, shaking his head slightly. ‘It is frustrating but now, under sentence of death, Iwasaki and her five geisha still refuse to say anything concerning this matter. They sit in silence in the castle dungeon, awaiting the day when they will be beheaded by several of the daimyo’s samurai.’
A flash of pain shot through me at these final words. The cold steel of a samurai’s sword, biting into the beautifully pale nape of a neck I had so admired…
I forced this feeling away, as my master continued –
‘But we can assume that Iwasaki was a fiendishly-clever woman, considerably skilled in psychology, shall we say, who there in that darkened teahouse set to work persuading her faithful employees of the benefits of bathing their faces and body in blood.
‘In any case, what is a woman more scared of, if not the advancement of age? And those geisha, inhabiting their own ‘floating world’, never permitted to marry but, still, with their main attraction being their graceful, refined beauty… Some implied suggestion of eternal youth…
‘Such women would be most susceptible to Iwasaki’s initial, veiled suggestions, however repellent they seem to us – and everyone, male and female, who now knows the truth of what actually happened – in the cold light of day.’
‘But master, the merchant who saw… who saw one of those geisha – who was telling the truth, although he now dwells in the nightmare world of madness… As his words were correct, why did these geisha not wear some disguise, in case they were seen – even a black-cloak, or something of the sort?’ I asked.
‘On the contrary,’ returned my master, ‘they were in disguise – and a most excellent one. For who can really tell two geisha apart, especially when they are seen from some distance away, or in semi-darkness? As such, the identities of those women behind the white face-paint, and with the blackened teeth, were perfectly concealed…
‘Besides, Iwasaki lied when she said business at her teahouse had been affected by the merchant’s chilling story concerning this ‘vampire geisha’. I quickly learnt that the ‘Spring-sea’ teahouse was far too well-established for its faithful clientele to be discouraged by such a tale. Those other teahouse in the area did see their takings drop; something which, of course, could only benefit Iwasaki’s own enterprise.
‘But while those other teahouses now desperately accepted whatever custom came their way, Iwasaki continued to be extremely choosy about who she allowed to enter her premises, all the while charging approximately double the usual fee.
‘So, once I realized this, it was obvious that everything Iwasaki had said about finding ‘the real culprit’, and her desire to act for the good of all the other teahouses in the area, was just so much chaff. Certainly, it hadn’t actually been intended that any of the geisha should be seen, as they stole in and out of their victim’s room. But if they were, the resulting terror would serve only to harm those other geisha teahouses in the town’s pleasure quarter – not Iwasaki’s business.
‘So – I realized that Iwasaki and her geisha were certainly behind the murders; and thus I realized the link to that infamous tale concerning Princess Uimin… It made my blood run cold, especially when I saw the state the merchant had been reduced to, screaming and ranting as he sat tied to that chair…’
For a moment my master was silent; and I remembered how shocked he’d appeared that after
noon he’d returned from visiting that merchant, coming into the room we’d shared together at the top of the teahouse…
‘So,’ my master continued, ‘I then realized that Iwasaki must somehow have obtained possession of that vessel with the snakes upon it. But how to find it? If I was to attempt any search of the premises, I would surely be discovered, and my suspicions would thus be known.
‘Instead, I had to leave each day and visit those places where other victims of this ‘vampire’ had been reported. Yes, they could all be accessed from the street or alley, up low walls and protruding roofs…
‘The geisha worked in pairs, I suspect, first ‘stunning’ or otherwise drugging their victims, so they did not call out for help. (Again, exactly how they did this is something which only they can answer – yet they will say nothing, and I have insisted that they not be tortured for information, no matter how foul their crimes.)
‘Then, the vessel full of blood – with only a little left around the neck area of the victim – they left the room and climbed back down into the darkness, unseen. They walked back to the teahouse carrying this vessel between them, which for all anyone knew who saw them carrying it merely contained food, or alcohol, for that evening’s entertainment. You’ll recall that it is unusual not to see a geisha or maiko with some sort of instrument, case or other luggage on them, out in the street.’
I nodded, for this was true. There would have been nothing strange about seeing two geisha carrying that metal vessel between them, even with its somewhat striking design.
‘Well, that is nearly everything, I think,’ said my master. ‘So yesterday afternoon I ‘regretfully’ informed Iwasaki that it did not seem as though I could solve this case, and then said that you and I would thus be leaving first thing tomorrow morning.
‘Immediately, I realized that we were to become her next victims. Blood is blood, after all, although, just like Princess Uimin, Iwasaki preferred the ‘life fluid’ of young women, believing it to possess more potent ‘anti-aging’ qualities.
‘But we have no family, no close relations or even friends… It would not be realized that we were ‘missing’ for some time; and, if questioned later about the matter, Iwasaki would merely state that we had left early one morning – a statement her geisha would certainly confirm. In any case, it would please her to dispose of me, and thus you, in such a way – her complete defeat of the ‘famous’ Ennin, as it were.
‘But still, Iwasaki would be wary about trying to tackle us both – at the same time, I mean. So I left, claiming that I had some errant to run, knowing that Iwasaki and her geisha would thus seize the opportunity to try to bleed you. With this thought in mind, I hurried to the daimyo’s castle, and explained the situation as best as I could in a very short space of time, also requesting that some samurai return to the teahouse with me.
‘We crept inside, and were able to hear Iwasaki talking to you – and when I was certain that that evil vessel had been produced (and the daimyo has assured me that it certainly will this time be destroyed), we rather ‘forcefully’ entered the room…’
I nodded, and stared down at the floor.
‘I’m sorry, Kukai,’ said my master then, his voice somewhat quieter than before.
‘Master?’
There was no reply, my master just looking at me. He knew, of course, just as he had all along. There was no hiding anything from him; and either I accepted that, or else I left his employ. Never again must I feel that resentment – that hostility – towards him that I had before.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said then, and my voice was harsh as I spoke almost to myself. ‘For what Omitsu did, she must surely die, just like those five other geisha from hell…’
And I blinked, for my vision had suddenly become slightly blurred.
The Water Barrel
It was raining heavily that day. My master and I sat inside the room of a small inn, taking the chance to rest after a succession of cases that had left both of us feeling physically and mentally exhausted.
My master looked closely at me, as I gave a sudden slight smile of reminiscence.
‘You have some – memory, Kukai?’ he asked.
‘To be honest, master, I was recalling the case I entitled Buddha’s Hammer. I just remember what a... well, remarkable ending it had, master; which, of course, you had already managed to guess.’
‘The several years I spent in China as a young man naturally helped,’ returned my master, with a slight shrug. ‘It was there I heard such stories as The Water Barrel, which is rather famous, and which relates in a certain way to Buddha’s Hammer.’
‘Indeed, master?’ I said, my interest at once stirred. ‘Might I be permitted to hear this story?’
‘Of course,’ said my master readily. ‘It will help pass the time, anyway; for I fear this weather will keep us prisoner inside this room for at least the remainder of the day...’
And then clearing his throat with a slight cough, my master began...
There is a legend still told in China.
The Shaolin (‘Young-forest’) Temple is perhaps the most famous Buddhist temple in the world. It is located in the Songshan mountain range, Henan Province, in eastern central China, founded in 495 AD by Batuo, a wandering Indian monk.
The temple was originally little more than a shrine – established with financial assistance from the Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei – where Batuo and his monks worked together to interpret the sacred scriptures from Indian into Chinese.
Some thirty years after the temple was constructed, following Batuo’s death, it is told how another Indian monk named Bodhidharma visited to find the monks sick and weak, too absorbed in their studies to take adequate care of their physical health.
Bodhidharma was an expert in kalaripayattu, a South Indian fighting art that teaches fluid, animal-like movements, and enables the body and mind to work together in perfect harmony.
Bodhidharma decided, however, that kalaripayattu was not suitable for the monks to learn. Instead Bodhidharma vowed to teach the monks a series of exercises he’d developed himself, which promoted physical health while at the same time teaching self-defense skills.
This latter point was particularly important for the monks, realized Bodhidharma. The Chinese countryside was at that time rife with bandits and other assorted ne’er-do-wells, who would not hesitate – should such an opportunity present itself – to ransack the temple and murder the gentle monks.
The exercises taught by Bodhidharma formed the basis of wushu (the martial arts) and led to the previously sickly and flabby monks developing bodies of steel, thus able to defend themselves perfectly against any possible attacker.
It is not known exactly when Chi Zhu En himself was resident at the Shaolin Temple, although it was certainly several hundred years after Bodhidharma’s time. So continuing a long tradition, the fifteen year old monk trained from dawn till dusk in wushu and Buddhism, arising at four am to run, meditate and practice gong fu (kung fu).
At seven am the monks ate breakfast, which like lunch and dinner usually consisted of nothing more than vegetables served with rice. Further wushu training followed, each monk gradually learning the seventy-two Shaolin Arts, which prepared the body and mind for the rigors of martial combat.
Through archery they learned to kill at a distance, and they gained considerable expertise in the use of the staff, the sword and the spear. But they also learned tongzigong, a series of exercises promoting flexibility, which were closely allied with qigong or breathing exercises.
This formed the basis for such unarmed wushu techniques as gang jin juan ‘the diamond fist’ and tie gan tui ‘leg like an iron pole’. Through such techniques Chi Zhu En and the other young monks learned to kill a man with just one blow, should in defense of their temple or their country such a thing ever – regrettably – prove necessary.
The monks were also taught the healing arts; how to treat fractures and set bones. And through meditation, sat cross-legged with t
heir hands placed one on top of the other in their laps, they concentrated on overcoming human desire.
The monks had dedicated their lives to cultivating qi or ki – the mysterious life-force that exists in everything from the smallest bug to the very universe itself. Buddhist meditation permitted a martial monk to store qi, while wushu allowed him to release it – explosively, if need be.
Chi Zhi En’s name would not be known to us, many years after his death, had he not one day been given a strange task by the temple Abbot himself.
While the other monks practiced their kicking techniques on a tree, the Abbot led Chi to a small, dimly-lit room that was behind the temple’s main hall.
Inside this room, placed upon the cracked stone floor, was a waist-high wooden barrel filled with water. A bamboo pipe emerged from one wall, water from a mountain spring splattering onto the floor. (The floor was slightly angled, so that the water flowed into a drain situated in one corner).
A wooden bucket stood by the pipe, so that the water could be collected if necessary.
The Abbot motioned at the large wooden barrel.
‘Hit the water with the palm of your hand,’ he instructed Chi.
The monk advanced forwards, and did as told. The cold water splashed onto his orange robes.
‘And again, with the other hand,’ said the Abbot.
Chi obeyed, although he’d no idea why he was being asked to do such a thing. One never questioned a command given by the Abbot, however.
‘Continue to hit the water until the level is too low for such a thing to be possible,’ said the Abbot. ‘When that occurs, fill that bucket with water and refill the barrel. Then hit the water with your hands again.’
‘When shall I stop, master?’ asked Chi.
