6. Lady Sanmi and the ex-emperor talk about how stories function in the real world.
妲己、女狐と名指しされる阿野廉子は二条派の歌人であるが、京極派の光厳院とも共通の趣味―和歌―でつながっています。賀名生の山中で和歌の会を組織する彼女は、次の歌集編纂のため、光厳院にレビューを依頼していました。
話題に出てくる「プリンス・シナノ」は後醍醐の皇子宗良親王。彼が勅撰歌集「風雅」入りを強く望んでいたのは史実です。改めて考えるとWhy, Japanese. Why?だな。なんなんだこの人たち戦争中に敵味方でポエムアンソロジー作るとか作らないとか。
宗良は短命に終わる者が多かった後醍醐の皇子の中では珍しく70代まで生きます。やはり同人誌作りは健康によい。
法皇三位殿、かかるうつし世に作り物語の跋扈せる所以を議したまふ事
“Your Majesty, why did you remember my favorite flower?” a lady with fine gray hair said with delight. She gave the guests the seat of honor. The Southern palace had a wooden roof rather than a thatched one to avoid fire, more rooms and annexes, and a wider opening by the wall. They could see the sunlight on the veranda through the bamboo blinds in the late morning.
An old pot that might once have been filled with miso[1] was sitting by her as a vase. The roses were put into it. Although there were no gorgeous ornaments besides that on the floor, it gave the guests the feeling that the hostess’s sense of beauty was frugal but chic.
“I had seen wild dog roses with many small flowers blooming in the ruinous garden on Oki Island from a humble house smaller than this one. Their scent comforted us so much.” Her voice was full of joy without any resentment. Lady Sanmi sat in double red and green robes and wore a purple silken gown woven with butterfly textile. The dress looked like it was in the azalea bushes. The empress dowager of the Southern Court looked much younger than her fifties, and her shiny gray hair was sleek. Compared with her notorious reputation, she was small in stature, like a teenager. Her skin was radiant, her voice pitch was high, and her lips resembled Chinese rose petals on a fine autumn day.
“You really like the beauty of roses in late spring. I think it’s an early variety, and dog roses will flower soon. Next, I’ll bring citrus blossoms that are blooming around our house. They pleased our eyes last summer,” Kazuhito said.
“All of them have thorns, but I love them for their fragrances.” The lady smiled. “How about these single white rose blooms? I think it is a variety of Chinese roses. People usually prefer double roses, while I like single ones. At least I’d like you to be comfortable in this small village. I made my men plant the flowering barbed trees around the hedge.”
“Thank you for your tenderness, madam.” Yutahito bowed to her.
She attended to the opposite side of her guests without screens, although high-class royal women usually were not seen by men directly. The lady hosted them as if they were her masters. Maybe she thought it was natural because she had worked as a court lady in the royal palace. Her affable attitude made people comfortable and relaxed.
Yutahito and Naohito stared at her youthful face with amazement, and she hid her mouth with her folding fan. “I’m embarrassed by my hair, which has already turned white because I caught a heavy cold after the poem party this new year,” she said. “No one has eternal youth. I began to give my books and dresses to young friends. How I loved those items in the good old days!”
“You might be a lady who knows the most luxurious wardrobe in Japan,” Kazuhito said.
“Of course I knew, but almost all of it I had left in the palace in Kyoto many years ago because I had to run away as soon as possible with my emperor. In truth, I was not worthy of such gifts. My emperor gave me tons of Chinese coats and gowns woven with gold and silver fibers, but they were too heavy for me to move. I love Japanese simple fine silk and linen with chic embroidery work...”
“Embroidery of seasonal flowers?” Kazuhito asked her.
“Yes! Such crafts are true luxuries in ordinary women’s lives.” The queen of the mountain guerrillas shook her sleeves like an innocent girl. “I especially love cherry blossoms because I prefer mountain life!”
People believed that the god of Yoshino Mountain loved cherry blossoms so much. It had been forbidden to cut cherry trees in Yoshino for hundreds of years.
“Unfortunately, the time of cherry blossoms is very short. I don’t wear clothes with the motif in other seasons because I’m fussy. A sense of the season is important,” she said. The sleeves of the gown were embroidered with geometric motifs, not flowers.
The smiling monk looked at her sleeves. “Did you have any gowns or robes embroidered with green maples?” he asked her very mildly.
“Wow. Green maples in late spring are adorable as well as cherry blossom blooms. Listen to me. My mother liked embroidery, and she told me one day, ‘Don’t draw them all green. Use some yellow and orange threads in the leaves of green maples. So, you can wear the robes for longer seasons. The sprouts of maples show a reddish color in spring, and summer maple leaves are tanned by the sun...’ She crafted her embroidery with such seasonless motifs because my family was not wealthy enough.” She laughed and again showed her left sleeve, embroidered with the geometric motif. “After the great journey of fashion in my life, I’m in her wardrobe these days.”
Kazuhito opened his folding fan and laughed with her.
“I gave some gowns and robes with cherry blossoms to the princesses over there,” she said, pointing to the next room with her fan. “I had no green maple ones, but if you like, shall I let them make new summer clothes for your ladies?”
“No, but thank you for your kindness. My wife[2] in Kyoto brought us enough clothes to wear in the mountains,” he said politely.
At that moment, a large bumblebee buzzed into the room from outside through the open corridor. “Oh, she found the roses in such a high place,” Yutahito said.
A court lady appeared through the screen to drive it off with her fan. She wore a pale green gown over a simple white robe and a red skirt.
“Don’t make her afraid. Let it be.” Because her madam ordered, she bowed and returned to the screen. Colorful ladies’ robes and skirts ran over from beneath the screens and curtains in the room, but it didn’t mean many women were always waiting behind them. The Northern family could not find other court ladies in the room at the meeting. These colourful clothes might be empty ornaments for welcoming high-class guests.
Lady Sanmi said to her guests, looking at the bumblebee that took bright yellow pollen from the roses, “Our people enjoyed the full moon with wonderful flute sounds last night. Who played that?”
“It’s me, but he is a better player than I,” Yutahito said and tapped Naohito’s shoulder. The lad blushed.
“Oh. Your Highness, I know Honorary Empress Senkō-mon-in[3] is good at the biwa.” The elderly beauty smiled. “I know the mysterious Genjō[4] allowed her to play itself. My stepfather said she was one of the gifted players in this age by Myō-on-ten.”[5]
“Thank you, but I don’t know whether she was worth the big name,” the young prince murmured.
“I’m afraid you would feel annoyed, but my princesses also like to play music. If you allow it, Your Highnesses, could you play the flutes together with their harps?”
“Of course, madam,” Yutahito said, softly hitting his nephew’s shoulder.
The woman in the pale green gown had reappeared, carrying a rectangular mat of woven grasses. She placed the mat in the next room and guided Yutahito and Naohito. Delightful voices of young ladies sounded through the screen. Naohito looked at his father as if asking for help, and Kazuhito just nodded.
After they moved to the next room, Lady Sanmi had the woman bring a desk and two armrests for the guest and herself. “Sorry for my loose style, but age has weakened me. If you’d like, please also use the armrest to relax,” she said.
“Thank you.” He took and leaned on it, too.
She saluted the scroll brought by Kazuhito, raising it to her head, and bowed. She opened it on top of the desk. The poet woman stared at the words on the scroll intently. Sometimes, she asked him to explain the review, and he questioned the names of poets. They seemed to talk about poetry with friendship.
The bumblebee flew away outside, and Kazuhito looked at the sky through the blind. Butterflies were floating in the garden. Seasonal flowers were planted there, and red azalea buds were waiting for the next several days.
Lady Sanmi breathed with admiration. “Your Majesty, you are a true, reliable reviewer of poems. Your advice and comments on our work were keen and informative. I’ve been waiting for your review for a long time. Thank you for helping me polish our next anthology.”
“You have many good poets in the mountains, madam,” the monk said.
“In actuality, Prince Shinano[6] and I are fans of your poetry. Your works have much naturalism, which is something new in this genre. Have you stopped creating poems these days?”
Prince Shinano was one of the princes of Go-Daigo. Kadoko wasn’t his birth mother, but they were tied with friendship by their poet circle.
“Thank you so much for admiring my small works, but I was just a follower of my grandparents and uncle,” he said.
“He was very sad because his works weren’t selected in the last national poetry anthology, Fuga,”[7] Kadoko complained with tenderness.
“Sorry to Prince Shinano, but we couldn’t pick up the poems made by our adversary.”
“He hoped just one poem would be included in the anthology, even if it was anonymous.” She continued her claim to him. Kazuhito narrowed his eyes.
“You know, he is a gifted poet. Even if we had his name made unknown, everyone would notice who wrote the poem. Please tell him if he’d like to put his name on the list, why hadn’t he embraced the ceasefire plan on the war then?” The ex-emperor, held hostage, said firmly. “Of course, we recognized the official Japanese poem anthology shouldn’t have a bias toward political issues, so we chose works of ex-Emperor Go-Daigo into Fuga. That was our best effort.”
“I see. I know a lovely one of them.” The elderly lady smiled and chanted a poem.
My love has been dyed the same color,
I’ve had a hair tie since I was young.
The color was violet,
Deeper and deeper unconsciously.
“He really loved his deceased first empress, and I also respected her, although I didn’t know whether she thought about me,” she said. “The ex-emperor once said to me, ‘You are my Lady Akashi,[8] and my empress is my Young Murasaki!’”[9] She laughed gracefully behind her folding fan. “What do you think of that? He thought that he was Shining Genji in the story! How happy and arrogant a prince he was!”
Kazuhito didn’t laugh with her but just smiled with embarrassment. Go-Daigo kidnapped Yoshiko of Saionji from her father’s minister before she became an adult. People knew it wasn’t only because of a romantic crime in the young prince’s heart. Without enough backing, the crown prince needed a strong supporter like the Saionji family, so the prince forced Minister Saionji to build up his status by stealing his daughter.
“I agree that he was very handsome,” Kazuhito said.
“Her Majesty was surely a stolen bride, but she had been loved so much. She was happy during her entire life as she was the princess in the story, even if it was short. Anyway, which lady do you like in the story of Genji? I love Hana-chiru-sato.[10] I read a fanfiction written by someone in the mountains. In the story, she is reminded of the deceased Genji, especially when she hears the crying of the little cuckoo on a midsummer night... It was well-written.”
“Our ladies would welcome it. Please lend it to me sometime if you like... I love Empress Fujitsubo. I’m sorry for her short life.”
Lady Sanmi sighed a sigh that was flavored with romantic memories. “Almost all of his empresses and consorts had died after short lives. I’m a survivor from him...”
The Northern head of the family closed his eyes. He remembered his sister Tamako, who had become the next empress of Go-Daigo after Yoshiko. Then she was also in the underworld. Her father, Go-Fushimi, had regretted in his later years that he had made her marry the handsome rascal.
“He told us an amazing story. He was a pretty typhoon or a miracle storm. We dreamed of his ideal world. I believed in a new world in which the imperial government would be made great again by our young power. There, everyone is evaluated by talent, not by a family or clan name...” She sighed again, closing her eyes.
“Are you in such a dream still now?” he asked her, but she didn’t answer.
A sudden wind blew into the room, and the blinds sounded loudly. The music continued from the next room, and a yellow swallowtail was forced to enter the room. The butterfly floated up and down and landed on the rose petals.
“A second guest arrived here other than us today,” Kazuhito said, gently swinging his fan toward the flower vase. The bug left the petals after it sensed the faint breeze from him.
Lady Sanmi smiled and said, “Why do you annoy her and not let her suckle the flower dew? It might be someone’s ghost, might it not?”
“Do you believe in ghosts, madam?” he asked.
“My father named me Kadoko[11] because I was the smartest girl among my siblings. I’ve never seen a ghost, although I’d like to be able to see,” she said, staring at the fluttering swallowtail in the room. Kado means smart or clever in old Japanese. She was working as a key person of cohesion in the Southern Court after their guru’s death.
“He told me, ‘Study hard and free your mind. You don’t have to believe in old customs to serve with loyalty to the emperor. He would recreate Japan as it should be...’”
She talked about dreams and ghosts in the conversation. Did that happen by chance? The ghost had told him a woman would kill her. What did she mean by that? Kadoko should know something about the poem that the ghost lady had whispered. He was sure that was true without knowing why.
The lady leaned her body on the armrest. “My women sometimes come to me to tell ghost stories they saw or heard. For example, one of our court ladies said a dead samurai appeared in front of her one summer night in the garden. She told me that he needed to perform a good memorial service for his soul.” After those words, Kadoko yawned behind her sleeve.
“I see, and I know the same patterns. The dead man’s family requests a servant of the court to tell his or her master to do the needed service. He or she makes a ghost story to let the master notice that people were complaining indirectly,” Kazuhito said.
“You’re spot-on. I just nod to messengers and call monks to chant for the service. These families request us to respect their sacrifice, and they hate to lose their hurts to oblivion.”
The butterfly approached her and came to rest on her gown with butterfly patterns. She didn’t drive it away and was looking at its fluttering.
“Only once in the old palace in Yoshino, a large black butterfly with blue metallic reflections entered our room. We had never seen such a beautiful one, but I felt fear because it was so large…”
The duet of flutes with harps sounded, and the butterfly on her gown rested there yet.
“My emperor was blowing the flute, and I was listening to him. He disliked bugs in the mountain and always used to have women drive them away, but that time, he stopped playing and gently fanned it away with his folding fan. The blue-black swallowtail flew around him and me softly for a long time. He told me it might want to talk with us about something...” Her voice always stayed elegant.
“After it flew away to the sky again, the messenger came and told us that Prince Tsuneyoshi[12] was dead in Kyoto,” she whispered and hid her face in the fan.
She had three sons and two daughters with Emperor Go-Daigo; two princes had died in Kyoto under house arrest. Rumors said the Ashikaga brothers poisoned them.
In the first year of imprisonment in Anou, Kazuhito was afraid of her revenge on his sons, but she seemed to be hosting his family as well as possible. Although he couldn’t see her inside her heart, her self-discipline was to be respected.
“I have never had dreams at night, because I’m a true daydreamer. Still now.” She tilted slightly and looked at Kazuhito with her eyes like two crescent moons. “We made many errors, but His Majesty’s idea still should be admirable.”
“Even great dreams could be turned into dreadful nightmares for the innocent people of the nation. I’ve seen many heads and bodies, including women and children, on the fields and roads during the war,” Kazuhito said. “I’m a realist.”
“I’m just a woman who cannot have any say in what men do. Your Majesty, please don’t scare a weak old woman so much,” she said.
“Are you going to make the next generation share the same dream?” he asked her gently.
“I just hope my last son won’t be killed or hurt by anyone,” she said. “Today, I leaked to you several names of good poets in the Southern Court. They might be contact persons to talk with. Please let your friends and my stepfather in the capital to know them through your messengers.”
“I know Minister Tōin likes you still now,” he said.
“It sounds like good support for an old mother. Kyoto is a horrible place. I don’t want to let my last son go there in truth, but he and Minister Kitabatake would want to win there.”
The butterfly flew up to her head, and she slowly swung her fan to shoo it off. “Huh, are you a messenger from Kyoto, too?” A smile came back on her cheeks. “Leave this dried one. Fresh ones are blooming there.” She pointed the butterfly to the roses with her fan, but it was out to the sky again.
“Oh, that’s good. She got free,” she breathed. “Your prince is an excellent flute player. I’d love to listen to him eternally if I could.”
She looked down at the scroll on the desk again and asked Kazuhito. “Have you been writing poems recently? I’m awaiting your new works as a poet.”
“I’ve lost my motivation to write poems, but I enjoyed the works of many poets you have. Thank you for allowing us to listen to nice harps,” he said.
“Your polite admiration for us embarrasses me, but I thank you very much,” she said. She didn’t look to have any schemes involving the nightmare from the previous night. Anyway, Kazuhito decided to ask about his unsolved question.
“Madam, I have another poem, and it’s not mine. Could you tell me the author if you know who wrote it?” He picked up a carefully folded piece of paper from his futokoro and passed it to her.
She bowed and received it with her eyes alight. “Oh, Your Majesty. Do you test my knowledge and memories? There are too many poems in Japan for my small head.”
“It’s not a test. I had hesitated to show you it, but I couldn’t hold back my curiosity,” he said, resting his chin in his hand.
Kadoko opened and read it.
Kotono ha no,
moyuru Yoshino ni ou kudzu no,
kakaru koromo wo tare ni kisemashi.
Kadoko’s hands shook for a moment, and she took a deep breath. After a notable time, she just whispered, “No.”
...
“Who told you about it?” Kadoko said very calmly, and her eyes stared at the poem on the paper.
“Last night, a lady arrived and gave me her words. I just wrote them down,” Kazuhito said to her.
“It must not be true,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.
“It was real, and I swear that was true to Buddha and the gods of my ancestors,” he said.
“No one came to you because...” She hesitated to say something and moaned. “Because no one knows this poem but me, so you met someone who was not alive.”
Kazuhito didn’t look to be surprised. He just told her a woman appeared in his dream and said the poem to him. He still doubted Kadoko had attempted something to affect and scare his mind.
“Why tell me a ghost story, even you?”
She completely leaned her upper body on the armrest. Kazuhito noticed many wrinkles around her eyes, and she looked smaller than earlier in the meeting. “So, could you let me know how you evaluate it?” she asked him while keeping her eyes on the paper.
“I think she blamed me for the last war in Yoshino. I’m afraid to say what the deceased lady should have done, but I prefer complaints to be more direct about what she’d like to say. Too many metaphors sometimes blur the main message of each poem,” he answered.
“I agree with your review. I couldn’t see what she wanted to say. Thus, I haven’t told anyone about the poem since then.” She showed a bitter smile, straightened her body, and said, “Thank you, Your Majesties and Your Highness. I enjoyed the harmony, but I’ve become tired because of my age.” She clapped her palms and called a woman. “Call Iga to attend to the guests for a lunch picnic.”
Kazuhito was sitting with unsuitable feelings because she seemed shocked and injured by this news. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hope to surprise you. Could I hear the lady’s story, if you don’t mind?”
The music was stopped. Yutahito and Naohito looked back at Kazuhito with some worry. “Madam? Are you OK?” Yutahito said.
Kadoko crawled to the roses in the pot and smelled their aroma deeply. She seemed tranquil for the time being. The woman came up to her to support their queen mother.
“I shouldn’t have lent her the books,” she said to herself.
“The books?” Kazuhito asked her, but she didn’t explain. She raised her face and said, “I don’t believe in ghosts so much, and I doubt you and someone who listened in on her last talk with me attempted to scare me. There are no advantages for you to do that.”
Kazuhito nodded to agree with her. She returned the poem to him and touched the snow-white petals of the rose. One of the petals dropped onto her palm, and she gripped it.
“If you’d like to perform a ritual cleansing, I’ll send a priest and monks for you tomorrow. Today, my woman, Iga, may tell the story of Otogi in detail.”
“Otogi? Do you mean fairy tales?”[13]
“Her name was Otogi. Thank you for talking with a lonely old widow, and I’d like to see you all again after our next poem party.”
-----
1. Fermented salty soybean paste. Popular condiment in Japan.
2. His Honorary Empress, Kian-mon-in. She was the daughter of Hanazono and Saneko.
3. Saneko’s honorific title as an honorary empress.
4. A biwa’s name that was believed to be derived from the Tang Dynasty. In order to give authority to the imperial family, these ancient instruments were deified. Legends said Genjō had its own will and could not let bad players play.
5. The goddess of music in Buddhism was derived from Sarasvatī, the ancient Indian goddess. She is also called Benzaiten.
6. (1311–?) Prince Muneyoshi, the son of Go-Daigo.
7. The seventeenth imperial-commissioned poem anthology, which was compiled by Kazuhito and supervised by Hanazono.
8. A character in The Tale of Genji, she was a lower-class noblewoman. Her daughter with Genji became the empress.
9. A character in The Tale of Genji, Genji’s best lover, the niece of Empress Fujitsubo.
(1303−1333) The aunt of Kazuhito.
10. A character in The Tale of Genji. Her nickname means a lady of the house with fallen citrus blossoms; she was an ordinary woman compared with other beautiful consorts of Genji, but he loved her kindness and made her his son’s stepmother.
11. At that time, people were officially given names upon reaching adulthood.
12. (1324–1338) The prince between Go-Daigo and Kadoko.
13. Otogi means to be a companion with conversation for noble people to relieve their boredom. Many stories were told to the people for otogi, and otogi-banashi means fairy tales in Japanese.
Continued in Chapter 7, "The ex-emperor talks about the goddess of music to Prince Naohito."
第七章 法皇、妙音天の奇瑞を東宮へ語り給ふ事 に続く
