Dream of a Spring Night (Hollow Reed series)

by I. J. Parker

  She had complained, but her mother had been firm. “You are a woman,” she had said. “It is your karma.” And then she had begun to comb her daughter’s long hair.

  That was the only pleasant part of the daily toilet. Both her mother and sister had combed her long thick hair and rubbed almond oil into it to make it glossy and smooth, and she had done the same for them. To have her hair handled produced an inordinately lovely sensation. It made her whole body feel warm and languid, and delightful little shivers of intense pleasure ran through her. She grew proud of her hair and begged to have it combed.

  But she had still found moments to slip away to the stable to saddle her horse and ride with the wind. That, too, was a deeply physical pleasure, though of a different, more intensely alive kind. She had felt in control then, filled with power. When her hair was being combed, she seemed to turn to liquid.

  Lady Shojo-ben’s maid combed her hair now, but Toshiko could not enjoy it because some of the others came to speak to her. They were curious. They asked about her family and about her skills, but their eyes remained cold and when she had answered they turned away, as if she were of little interest.

  Only Lady Shojo-ben was truly kind. She showed her around her new home. Their quarters were in the Hojuji palace, which was very large, to judge from the building they were in, and from the many roofs and galleries Toshiko could see through the open doors. These were the women’s quarters, but His Majesty’s official wives were elsewhere at the moment, in their own palaces in the city or in nunneries. The retired Emperor had seven sons by several wives, and the succession was assured. The high-born mothers of these sons no longer felt it a duty to be on call, but because the reigning sovereign was a mere infant, some of the other ladies still hoped that His eye would fall on one of them, that they would bear Him another prince, and that this would raise them and their families in the world. That was why Toshiko was here and why the others were wary of her.

  When they reached the long gallery that led to the imperial apartments, Toshiko stopped. She recognized the mirror-bright flooring and the ornate double doors at the end, and shivered with sudden dread.

  Lady Shojo-ben looked at her, blushed a little, then took her hand and said, “Are you afraid?”

  Serving a “son of the gods” was like a religious duty, like praying to the Buddha, or copying the lotus sutra hundreds of times. But Toshiko was only fourteen and had not bargained with the gods for this. Her prayers had always been for her loved ones or for a new horse, or bow, or a sword like her younger brother’s. But it had been her parents’ prayers that were answered when she was called to court.

  Remembering Lady Sanjo’s warning, Toshiko said nothing, and after a moment Lady Shojo-ben said, “You must not worry. He is very kind. Mostly he is devout and very busy with matters of state. And when he does not work or pray, he makes a collection of the songs called imayo.”

  Toshiko’s eyes widened. “Imayo songs?” She recalled his question and felt ashamed and a little frightened. Had she already ruined her parents’ hopes by that small, well-intended fib?

  “Yes. Sometimes he sings them for us. They are quite pretty. Only, you know, imayo is usually performed by certain . . . women. They are called shirabyoshi.” Lady Shojo-ben paused, then leaned closer and whispered, “They say some of these women have visited His Majesty to perform for him.”

  “Really? Here?” Toshiko brightened. She knew all about shirabyoshi. Two of these magical creatures had come to her home. But since Shojo-ben seemed to find them somehow shocking, she did not want to say so.

  In the country, there was little entertainment, and the Obe family was close-knit. When the two female entertainers had stopped on their travels to offer their services, Toshiko’s father had let the whole family as well as the servants watch their performance. It was a holiday for all of them. To Toshiko, the two women had been enchanting. They had worn vaguely masculine outfits in pure white with red sashes and red trousers and had sung and danced like celestial beings. Later, Toshiko had borrowed her younger brother’s riding costume and secretly practiced their songs and dance steps. Her father had caught her at this, been amused, and had one of the performers teach her some of the movements and songs. Many of the songs were folksongs she had already known.

  On the night of the performance, the women of the household had withdrawn early, but the men had stayed. Toshiko found out the next morning that everyone had composed love poems. In fact, the younger shirabyoshi had exchanged more than poetry with Toshiko’s handsome older brother. He had gone about in a dreamlike state for days and had followed them when they departed. Toshiko’s father had brought him back several days later. As a country girl, Toshiko had a fair notion what passed between men and women, but she had been shocked to hear that her own brother had done such things.

  All of that now seemed ages ago and made her sad again. She was here, far from home, and His Majesty had asked if she could sing imayo. Surely, if he invited shirabyoshi to perform for Him, He would find her untrained voice and pitiful dance steps ridiculous. She was glad that she had denied any talents along that line but worried that her parents wished her to please Him.

  Lady Shojo-ben talked a little about the other ladies. There were ten of them here at the moment. The number fluctuated. About forty ladies were in service at the retired Emperor’s court, but his wives had taken the others with them into the city on the other side of the Kamo River. The Taira consort, the retired Emperor’s most recent favorite, liked to be in the capital and closer to the palace. Since the little Emperor was still an infant, the retired Emperor and Chancellor Kiyomori ruled the nation.

  The ten ladies were the remnants of the Taira Consort’s court, and most were no longer in their first youth or they were married. Lady Sanjo was a principal handmaid and in charge. In the absence of the Consort, she reported to the Emperor. Ladies Chujo and Kosaisho had grown children and husbands serving at court. Lady Dainagon was a widow and Lady Saibara was so plain that she had never had a husband. Of the younger women, Lady Harima was skilled with the zither and lute, and the Ladies Ukon and Kunaikyo composed poetry. Until Toshiko’s arrival, Lady Shojo-ben had been the youngest. As daughters of the first families in the nation, all of them outranked Toshiko Except for Lady Shojo-ben, they behaved with barely hidden disdain toward the newcomer.

  Yet of all of them, only Toshiko had been brought here by special invitation by the Retired Emperor.

  Later that day, she was given an assignment, to be in charge of fans, writing boxes, games, and musical instruments. Lady Sanjo showed her where these were kept and how they must be stored. It seemed a simple enough chore – the sort of job given to someone with no special talent or intelligence.

  Lower-class serving women came to clean and serve meals. Toshiko found the food bland and of mediocre quality. She was used to the varied fare at home where the men regularly hunted and the manor was well supplied with delicious fresh fowl and fish. But she had been warned not to mention this. The taking of life, whether fowl or fish, was strictly forbidden at court. Most of the meals here seemed to consist of rice and vegetables, along with a few fruits and nuts. But Lady Shojo-ben shared some sweet cakes with her. She kept them in a small box that was regularly replenished by one of her family’s servants.

  In the afternoon, she and Shojo-ben played board games, while Lady Harima practiced her zither. The music and the soft sound of the rain soothed Toshiko into tranquility. But the light faded quickly on this overcast day, and as darkness fell, panic returned. Would she be called again into His presence? Should she tell Him the truth this time? What would he do, if she did? Her heart beat fast with fear and excitement, but nothing happened, and she retired to sleep peacefully.

  From Lady Sanjo’s Pillow Book

  A dreadful day!

  Lady Dainagon’s cat returned today. I was on the rear veranda at the time, when the creature, looking half dead and disgustingly dirty, walked up the steps and laid a half-eaten rat at my
feet. The rat was mangled, its pale intestines poking out of the slimy brown belly. The cat looked up at me with the most malevolent expression.

  I screamed.

  That brought the others. They were as horrified as I. Lady Harima fainted and Lady Ukon was sick all over the floor. I pulled myself together and shouted for servants when the new girl pushed past me, picked up the rat by its long tail and flung it over the balustrade into the shrubbery. The cat bounded after it, found it, and proceeded to devour its prey -- head, tail, and pink feet -- before our horrified eyes. With more shrieks, we rushed back inside. Only the new girl, uncouth creature that she is, remained on the veranda, leaning on the balustrade and watching the cat.

  After we had calmed down a little, Lady Dainagon thought she had recognized the cat.

  “Was it my darling Mikan?” she asked. She had named the kitten that because its color used to resemble that of an orange. I had a sneaking suspicion that it might indeed be the nasty creature – come back to haunt me. Of course, in its present condition it looked more like a dirty rag.

  I said firmly, “It is not. There is no resemblance whatsoever. This is a very ugly wild cat with an ear missing. No doubt it is diseased. I had better send for servants and have it destroy—, er, taken out of the palace.” I almost made the mistake of shocking Lady Dainagon into another fit of tears but caught myself in time.

  “Oh,” said Lady Dainagon sadly. “It would have been such a lovely miracle if it had found its way back to me. Imagine, a poor lost kitten, roaming all over the land, facing untold dangers, nearly starving, but persisting until it is reunited with its mistress. Animals are capable of amazing loyalty.”

  Really, the woman is demented when it comes to cats. I pointed out, “This creature came to me, not to you.”

  Lady Dainagon sighed and said, “I am sure you are right, Lady Sanjo. I was only dreaming a little.”

  Just then the new girl came back inside, carrying the nasty animal in her arm. “Poor kitty,” she said to no one in particular. “Just look at it. It has had a rough time lately. It’s covered with wounds and pitifully thin.”

  “Out!” I cried, rising and pointing to the door. “That filthy thing is repulsive.”

  The stubborn girl did not obey me. She looked at the others and pleaded for the cat. “We could clean it up. Once it was a very handsome kitty. It only needs a home and regular meals.”

  “No,” I cried, but in vain. Lady Dainagon got up and ran over.

  “Oh,” she quavered. Then she extended a hand and touched the nasty fur. “Mikan?” she asked with a little sob, and the miserable cat started to purr.

  “Why, it knows you.” The new girl laughed with delight and passed the cat to Lady Dainagon. “How wonderful! Is it yours?”

  Lady Dainagon held the cat and wept with joy and grief over its condition. “Oh, what happened to you, my little love?” she crooned. “Please, someone, fetch a physician.”

  A physician! The scene turned my stomach. The disgusting thing still slavered bloody bits of rat from its mouth, and its orange fur was matted with dirt and dried blood. One eye was closed completely under a crust of yellow pus, but Lady Dainagon and the new girl made it a nest from a pair of silk hakama and called for water to wash its wounds.

  All morning, they kept the servants running back and forth. They consulted a physician about its condition, and a soothsayer cast the miserable animal’s future. There was so much commotion that the story came to His Majesty’s ears and he arrived Himself, unannounced, in our midst to ask what had happened.

  Ah, what were my feelings to see Him, who had “grown distant as a cloud in the sky.” I was all aflutter, having had no time to arrange my costume or comb my hair or put the plums in my cheeks. No doubt He was shocked at my appearance. Of course, I went immediately to kneel and explain the incident, but He hardly glanced at me and brushed past as if I were no more than a servant. Instead He went to where Lady Dainagon and the new girl were still fussing with the miserable cat.

  “And is this the faithful cat who returned after amazing adventures?” He asked with a smile.

  Lady Dainagon quite properly bowed to the floor, but the new girl picked up the horrible creature and held it out to His Majesty as if He were just anybody. Showing Him the cat’s wounds, she said quite brazenly, “Indeed, sire. Just see how many battles he must have fought. A most heroic cat.”

  “He?” He asked, smiling more broadly at the silly girl.

  To my horror, the girl raised the cat’s hind leg and said without a blush, “Oh, yes. As you can see: A veritable tiger of a he-cat.”

  I could tell His Majesty was shocked by such country manners, because He turned to Lady Dainagon to ask, “And is he truly your lost cat?”

  Lady Dainagon said softly, “Yes, sire.”

  The new girl, not about to be prevented from making a complete fool of herself, said, “He purred as loud as thunder when Lady Dainagon came up to him. But before that happened, when he first arrived, he approached Lady Sanjo and presented her with a gift.”

  I gasped. His Majesty turned to look at me. Surely she would not go on.

  She did.

  “He brought Lady Sanjo the largest rat you may imagine, sire, no doubt to buy himself back into her good graces,” she announced in ringing tones, finishing up with an unmannerly peal of laughter.

  For a moment we all held our breaths in horror. Then His Majesty, always kind and gracious, deigned to join in the laughter. He said to me, “Why, Lady Sanjo, what have you done to the poor cat to make him pay such a heavy fee to be readmitted to your presence?”

  I did not know what to say. His question came so unpleasantly close to the truth that I thought the groundskeeper must have talked and His Majesty had somehow found out that I had paid the man to drown the cat.

  His Majesty left after saying a few pleasant words to the other ladies, and I slipped into my corner to calm my beating heart. Oh, “to find shelter in some mountain village where I can sink from sight,” I thought.

  The girl must go! She is a demon, sent to torment me, yet I cannot get rid of her as long as His Majesty approves of her. I must think what to do. It will take time. Patience, patience!

  I spent the rest of the night “wringing my tear-drenched sleeves.” I stared into the darkness, thinking of ways by which I might make His Majesty feel such disgust toward her that he would send her away. Considering her crudeness of speaking openly about her visit to His Majesty’s apartment with the other ladies, she could be made to overstep the boundaries of decency quite easily and irretrievably. But He has made me responsible for her. If she offends, I too will be punished.

  Oh, I must be cursed.

  The Physician

  Yamada Sadahira was raised in the South, the only son of a provincial lord who owed allegiance to the Taira clan. During the Hogen rebellion, he became an unlikely hero at fifteen and broke with his family.

  The abdicated Emperor Sutoku had taken up arms against the new emperor, and young Sadahira answered Taira Kiyomori’s call to arms because his father was too ill to come.

  The war tragically pitted brother against brother and father against son, as the four most powerful families in the nation, the imperial family, the Fujiwara court nobles, and the Taira and Minamoto warrior clans chose sides.

  At fifteen, Sadahira thought of battle as an adventure. He donned his armor and rode off to the capital at the head of a contingent of Yamada soldiers.

  Filled with a wild joy at the idea of winning fame, his excitement was fed by much older and more experienced warriors who treated him with respect because he commanded a hundred mounted fighters and another hundred foot soldiers. Never mind that he was a mere boy who had never fought, never killed a man, never handled a sword with any kind of expertise. It did not matter. He was a Yamada and represented his house.

  Sadahira’s moment of glory came unexpectedly and with unexpected results.

  The abdicated emperor and his supporters were holed up in t
he Shirakawa palace across the Kamo River from the imperial palace. During a night of frantic meetings, the reigning emperor and his Taira and Minamoto generals decided that they must attack quickly and force a decision. In the pre-dawn hours, Sadahira set out with the rest of their army. He wore his father’s fine armor, carried his best bow (he was quite a good archer), and rode his father’s big black stallion.

  When they were within shouting distance of the west gate of the Shirakawa Palace, they delivered a series of challenges to the enemy. Each of the commanders rode up, stopped a small distance from the gate, and called out his offer to fight any man who thought himself good enough. For a while these challenges went unanswered. The enemy refused to engage. Eventually, Sadahira took his turn. He spurred the great black horse and charged toward the gate. Reining in in a cloud of dust, his heart pounding with pride, he announced his name and descent and delivered his challenge.