YAYOI
At the southern tip of Japan, where it most closely approaches the peninsula of Korea, on the island of Kyushu, about thirty miles south of the modern city of Fukuoka, an ancient site is being excavated. This is Yoshinogari, a settlement once fortified by wooden fences and ditches, enclosed by a moat more than 900 meters long. It may have been the capital of the state of Yamatai, dominant in the Yayoi culture of 300 B.C. to A.D. 300. This is important in Japanese history because it was the time when the practice of growing rice in wet paddy fields developed. Rice was to dominate Asiatic food production for the following millennium and a half.
For three-quarters of a century Yamatai was ruled by kings, and was torn by wars and civil disturbances. Finally the people chose a queen instead: Himiko. She ushered in a period of peace and prosperity. She also practiced international diplomacy by sending an envoy to Korea requesting an audience with the Chinese emperor. The great Han Empire had by then fragmented, but its successor state in the northeast had considerable power. This mission occurred in A.D. 239.
HYU shook his head as he emerged from the paddy. This life was wearing him down, physically and spiritually. He was a musician, not a farmer. But what could he do? He was lucky even to be alive. He wore the tattoos of an elite entertainer, but his loss of status had brought him and his family to the lowest level.
It was dusk, and they had put in another grueling day weeding the rice. Hyu's feet were dirty and swollen in their wooden clogs, and his hands felt raw. He had a backache from the continual leaning over required. Ani and the children were no better off. They had gone from a fairly easy life-style to the most wearing life-style, and it weighed on them all.
Ani emerged from the muck and flashed him a smile. How he loved her in that moment—and always. She never complained about their situation, but simply made the best of it. But he hated to see her filthy and bent over. Her once-lustrous hair was now a dull braided mat. Instead of powder on her face and paint on her body to enhance her beauty, she now wore the caking of mud. She was a dancer, who should be making her exquisitely choreographed motions in a temple. How could such beauty be reduced to such a life?
Ten-year-old Chipo and eight-year-old Mini waded out of the paddy, and stood in their clogs on the land between fields. The paddies were below the normal ground level, divided by earthen embankments which served both as barriers to control the water flow and as paths. Now all the laborers were walking back toward the village, ready to eat and sleep and drag themselves up before dawn for the next long day.
An overseer came on a routine check of the fields. Hyu, Ani, and the children quickly stepped off the path to make way, and kneeled humbly until the man passed, in the prescribed manner for the lowly. The man was one Hyu knew, but he did Hyu the favor of pretending not to recognize him. Loss of status was a shameful thing. Hyu had considered killing himself, but Ani would not allow it; they had after all been blameless, the victims of bad fortune. She believed that in time the spirits would relent, and allow them to recover status.
Not far away were the palisades protecting the moat that surrounded the main village. Tall watchtowers rose inside it, so that the guards could get early news of any enemy's approach. The raised storage silos were in there, and the larger houses of the elite class. Of the men who could afford to have two or three or even more wives. In fact, the most important center of the village was additionally shielded by a water-filled ditch buttressed by two parallel wooden walls. But Hyu's family did not go there. Plebeians lived outside the defenses.
They passed a small grove of mulberry trees whose leaves were reserved for the valuable silk worms. But neither Hyu nor any member of his family wore silk; they could afford no better than long grasses and cotton for their clothing.
Hyu's house was made from thatch which sloped all the way to the ground. Above it was a second roof, whose thatch served to protect the house from the strong daytime sun; this shading had a significant cooling effect, and made the house a relative pleasure to be in. The second roof also helped keep the rain of storms out, so that there was not too much dripping inside.
Inside were four wooden posts. In the center was a clay pit hearth. A raised earthen bench supported by rough cut wood marked off the edge of the living area. This acted as a shelf for storage, as a seat, and as a barrier to water that seeped beneath the thatch. The house they had had before their cruel demotion had had wooden walls, was considerably larger, and had distinct rooms. But this one had to settle for flimsy room dividers.
Ani got to work making a fire and cooking a fish for supper, while Hyu brought out his bamboo flute and played a melancholy tune. The children fetched a basin with water and washed up. When they were clean and fed and in bed, Hyu and Ani would wash and talk a bit before sinking into their own resigned slumber.
“Why is it like this?” Chipo demanded rhetorically, trying to pick a quarrel with his sister as they used their fingers to pick out pieces of fish from their wooden bowls.
But no one could quarrel with Mini against her will. “It doesn't have to be,” she replied.
“Just because we happened to be near when the stupid king died,” Chipo said. “When they knew we didn't do it.”
“Had they not known that, they would have slain us all,” Mini reminded him.
“So they punish us anyway. Where's the sense in that?”
Hyu paused in his playing. “We are tainted by proximity,” he explained. “There is nothing to be done about it.”
“Mini said it doesn't have to be,” Chipo reminded them.
That was true. “Why did you say that, Mini?” Hyu asked.
“I just know.”
Hyu would have dismissed that, but for his daughter's uncanny certainty about things for which there was no natural explanation. But she couldn't answer questions that were not properly couched. “Is there something we can do to restore our social standing?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
He couldn't ask what, because that would leave her blank. But he might narrow it down. “Is there someone to whom we might apply for reprieve?”
“Yes.”
And he couldn't ask who; that was too direct. But he was beginning to hope that there was something there. “An important person?”
“Yes.” Mini answered immediately, without thought. That was the way it had to be, because doubt was a human quality, and what they sought was an answer from the spirits.
“A man?”
“No.”
Now he was close enough to gamble. There was only one really important woman. “Queen Himiko?”
“Yes.”
“But she won't talk to any man,” Chipo protested. “She has a thousand maidservants, but only one man, and all he does is carry messages in and out of her quarters.” He did not say what others did: that Queen Himiko was of mature years and unmarried; she evinced no personal interest in any man, and probably kept that one man mainly as a way to communicate messages to other leaders who were disdainful of women. Her whole effort seemed to be to avoid quarrels, even about the place of women.
Mini shrugged, not debating it.
“Maybe if your mother went to plead our case—”
“No.”
Suddenly it came to him. “The queen is adept in shamanistic knowledge! She understands the spirits. And we have one here who—”
“Yes,” Mini said, smiling. She had not understood it herself until he led her to it, but she recognized its truth.
“I wonder,” Ani said thoughtfully as she brought a bowl offish to Hyu. “If she gained an audience with the queen, and begged for some way to erase the cloud on our name—”
“Is there any harm in trying?” Hyu asked.
“No,” Mini said. “She will agree.”
There was no further discussion, but the matter was not forgotten. Mini's insights usually were correct in essence if not in detail. She had feared disaster for the family before it happened, without being able to define its nat
ure, and it had come; now she anticipated relief.
When the children were in bed, Hyu removed his soiled headband and dropped his loincloth, and Ani slipped her dirty dress off over her head. She stood naked for a moment, glancing at him in a tacit query, but he looked away, not requiring sex this night. She was as lovely as ever, but they were both simply too tired. They washed their bodies, and then Ani rinsed their clothing and hung it up near the dying fire to dry during the night.
Hyu took her hand as she joined him in bed. “I would do anything to deliver you from this,” he murmured.
“There is no need, as long as I am with you,” she replied.
His love swelled and seemed to overflow the house itself. “If you are not the best wife a man could have, I can not imagine a better one.”
She kissed him. “With you, I feel like the best.”
Nevertheless, he hoped that Mini was right about their obtaining deliverance from the queen.
So it was that a few days later Ani took Mini to the royal house and begged an audience for the child. Hyu knew that if Mini managed to navigate the bureaucratic curtains and actually talk to the queen, she would make an impression. For in this respect Mini was unique: she really did relate well to the spirits. Hyu suspected that had Mini not been with them when the king died, their whole family would have been slain out of hand. But one deep look in the child's face was enough to give any person pause—particularly anyone who had more than incidental rapport with the spirit realm.
The queen had deeper rapport than anyone. She would be amazed when she met Mini. Hyu wished he could be there to watch, but of course that was impossible.
In due course Mini emerged from the house, and Ani brought her home. “What did she say!” Chipo demanded.
“Nothing,” Mini said complacently.
“But—”
“But she listened.”
It was not long before they learned how well the queen had listened. A lesser male official came to their house and spoke gruffly to Hyo. “The queen needs a man with mourning cloth for an extremely important mission. Are you that man?”
Hyu felt a chill. But there was only one feasible answer. “I am.”
“Follow me.”
And with that, without time even for preparation or parting from his beloved family, Hyu left his home to report for a mission from which he might never return.
The ship was not intended for the open sea, but was the best that the queendom of Yamatai had. It carried as its cargo two ranking officials as envoys, four male slaves, six female slaves, and two rolls of fine cloth. And as protection from the spirits, one keeper of taboos: Hyu. He was forbidden to wash himself, comb his hair, rid himself of fleas, eat meat, or have contact with the opposite sex. He ate alone, and from the scraps left by others. He did no physical work, and seldom spoke to anyone else. His only task was to give the spirits his utmost devotion, so as to win their approval of the mission. If he failed, and things went wrong, he would be assumed to have been remiss. But if things went right, his reward would be great: the complete restoration of his status. The tainted reputation of his family would be forgotten, expunged from the records and from all human speech as a vile temporary error.
Mini believed he would be successful. But Mini was still a child, albeit an exceptional one already verging on beauty. She might have misunderstood the spirits. Still, the auspices were good; the bones of an ox had been baked, and Queen Himiko herself had read the pattern of the cracks the fire made in the bones. The presence of Hyu was the last incentive for success; he had excellent reason to desire it, and would influence the spirits on the venture's behalf if he possibly could. So the queen believed, and he hoped she was as correct about his influence as about his motivation.
The wind was fair and firm. It bore the ship northwest toward the enormous mainland of China. This was a good initial sign, for the spirits controlled the winds. But the spirits could be fickle, teasing mortals with favorable indications, then dashing their hopes. There was far more than mere traveling involved; if the emperor of China rejected the overture, they could all be doomed. The mission would not be done until they returned successfully.
They made it to the first interim island on the first day, and docked in a comfortable harbor for the night. The men made a bonfire on the shore, and the girl slaves entertained them with an appealing and suggestive dance. But that was as far as it went; these women were virgins, and would remain so until presented to the emperor.
Hyu, being a musician, was allowed to play for the dance. That was a pleasure, for him and for the others, because he was good at it, and had not played at any ceremony for some time. He hoped this was a signal of continuing success.
The scraps he was left were unusually generous this time. Protocol required that he dine on nothing better, but protocol could be bent if the leaders of the party allowed it. The envoys turned their backs, officially not noticing.
Hyu slept on the ship. It was uncomfortable and exposed, but this was his role; if he left it, something might happen to it, and the blame would be his by definition. The others had more comfortable lodging on the shore.
As he lay and looked at the stars, analyzing the constellations, he heard something. He did not move; instead he oriented on the sound, ready to act if he had to, though he did not know what he might do. It seemed to be a person, but not Captain Itti or one of the officials, because they would come boldly with lights. This one was trying to be quiet, and had no light, so was stumbling a bit as he moved. A slave? What could he want? There was nothing to steal, and everyone knew that Hyu was here.
The steps came up to the ship and paused. Then the figure spoke. “Hyu.”
Hyu was surprised. It was a woman! One of the female slaves. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Do you not know me?” she asked. “I am Lee.”
The name stirred a faint familiarity, but he couldn't place it. “I know you are one of the six beautiful virgin slaves destined for the emperor of China. I don't know any of your names.”
“You played music at my village when I was a child. We have a distant family connection. I fell in love with you, but you had no interest. When my family later fell into misfortune, they had to sell me into slavery. Because I turned beautiful as I matured, I fetched a good price.”
What was this? “You know me from before the taint on my name?”
“Yes. And before the ruin of my own family. I was thrilled when I saw you with this voyage. We have much in common.”
This was mischief. But he did not want to jump to an awkward conclusion. “What is your purpose in coming here to the ship?”
“Just to talk with you. To let you know that I still desire you.”
So he had not misunderstood. “I am the keeper of taboos. I may not touch a woman during this mission.”
“Who would know?”
“The spirits would know! They would destroy the mission.”
“Oh, who believes that nonsense? Nobody cares as long as the forms are followed. Let me come aboard and show you what I have learned beyond dancing.”
The irony was that he did not believe that his role would have any effect on the mission. It would succeed or fail as it was destined to, and his reward or punishment would follow because of no credit or fault of his own. But he had undertaken to fulfill this role, and intended to do so. Since Lee obviously had no such concern, he gave her a different negation. “The emperor would know.”
She laughed. “The emperor will never see any of us. We'll be taken by his lower officers. In any event, none of us are true virgins; it's merely a role we play, as you play yours. We are simply beautiful girls to be enjoyed. Everyone knows that. But seldom do we have opportunity to be enjoyed by one we really like.”
Hyu had not known what she claimed everyone did, and distrusted it. But he was not in a position to refute it. So he gave his real reason. “I am married.”
“I know. And you have no second wife. But you can have me
for this journey—a temporary second wife, until we separate.”
She was determined! But he had experienced an affair with some disturbingly similar elements, and been disgusted. He wanted no more of it. “I agree you are beautiful, and that you would surely be a delightful partner. But I took an oath to fulfill my role in this mission, and I shall do it. Please go quietly back to your associates and speak no more of this.” He was being careful not to offend her, because he knew that an angry woman could cause as much mischief as a loving one.
“But there is so little time,” she protested. “Only this night, and tomorrow, and perhaps another. Then we shall never meet again, and I will have lost my only chance to embrace the man I love.”
She sounded so winsome that he was tempted in spite of his resolve. But he knew better than to yield. “I regret causing you distress. But so it must be. Leave me now.”
She began to cry, but he remained firm. Finally she departed. He lay back again and stared at the stars, feeling like a fool. Perhaps it was a construction of his imagination, but he seemed almost to remember an association with her before, with her offering him devotion and sex, and him declining. But it surely hadn't happened in this life! Finally he succeeded in sleeping.
Early in the morning the trip resumed. This time the winds were contrary, but the sailors made the best of it, sailing slantwise, one direction and then another, and managed to reach the next island by nightfall.
Again the others camped on land, while Hyu remained on the boat. Again the slave girl Lee came to beseech his interest. And again he turned her down, politely.
On the third day they made it to the mainland. There was a party there to meet them. They were guided to a town where they were given housing and required to wait while a messenger carried the news of the mission to the governor of the region, Liu Hsia.
In due course the governor's response came: bring the party to the capital. This was some distance away, necessitating several days of travel, but it turned out to be other than onerous, because the governor arranged for transportation. Now they rode in wagons instead of in the ship, with armed horsemen guarding them. Hyu wondered whether this was a show of honor, or a necessary precaution lest brigands attack, and concluded it was both.