Zipangu, Year of the Dog 1274: The Second Wave
Sensing that most of the words were lost on him, Akemi Roshi despaired inwardly and indicated to Danno to take him away.
*
Chapter 6
In the middle of the hour of the Tiger, Yasashiku came to take Zen to the Phoenix Hall where Joben was busy preparing the altar for the day. The two novices had agreed beforehand that Zen should shadow them today. Yasashiku motioned him to kneel on a cushion from where he could observe them.
They changed the incense before lighting it, then arranged food and drink in silver and gold bowls before Amida Buddha. Sitting cross-legged on a lotus leaf, the Buddha was resplendent in a black robe, reminding Chen of Akemi Roshi. He gave an involuntary shudder as the jet-black eyes pierced his own.
Thinking that Zen was cold from sitting still, Yasashiku helped him to his feet while Joben rearranged the cushions. Zen expressed his gratitude with a warm smile. Yasashiku beamed with pleasure in response and Joben felt a wave of jealousy which he tried to suppress.
Outside Benjiro, a former samurai, was raking the grey-white gravel into furrows that followed the contours of the path. The three monks gave him a nod of recognition as they crossed over the bridge and followed the path to the shrine.
Like many temples in Zipangu, Shukuoka-ji was built on the site of an original sacred shrine. In this case, the compound hosted both the Shinto shrine and the Buddhist temple instead of the one absorbing the other. An avenue of cherry trees provided a natural tori or gateway into the area at the end of which stood a burnished wooden statue of Amaterasu.
Chen thought that the shoulder-high sculpture of the goddess was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He took it to be a likeness of Kuan Yin, who protects sailors from shipwreck and fell to his knees in spontaneous prayer before her. The novices looked on in surprise as tears streaked down his face.
After a while Yasashiku could not bear to see Zen in distress any longer and tried to persuade him to leave. Joben seethed inwardly. This was the first time his cousin had shown interest in another man. He was on the point of storming off when Akemi Roshi appeared. He too was disturbed to see Zen in such a state before the Shinto statue. While holding the dual role of Shinto priest and abbot of the Buddhist temple, he followed the Buddhist way more than the Shinto beliefs but knew that Danno was more aligned with Shintoism. He suspected the monk of influencing Zen and resolved on the spot to limit the time he spent under Danno’s tutelage.
The novices paused in their routine and prostrated themselves before Akemi Roshi. Their actions alerted Chen to the abbot’s presence. He stumbled to his feet suffering from pins and needles in his right leg. Picking up the gist of Akemi Roshi’s attempt to converse with him about the statue, Chen tried to say ‘Kuan Yin,’ but it came out as ‘Kwn.’
Grasping the syllable, Akemi Roshi translated it into ‘Kwannon’ and realised that Zen had mistaken the statue for the goddess of mercy, the female representation of Amida Buddha. Not having considered this angle before he decided that Zen had been put on his path to teach him new insights. It occurred to Akemi Roshi that Zen should be taught how to speak more clearly so that they could communicate better. He made a snap decision,
‘Kaemon will teach you how to chant.’
Chen lowered his head and made the sound ‘hai’ as he had observed other monks do when given instructions. He soon found out what he had agreed to. That same afternoon, while the monks had free time, Chen began chanting lessons with Kaemon.
The session started well with instruction in the Om sound. However, Kaemon soon discovered that Zen had difficulty getting his tongue around the rest of the mantra to Kwannon, the jewel of the lotus. When they joined the others for the evening chant, Zen’s staccato rhythm disrupted their fluid Om mani padme hum.
Cringing into their eri like a tortoise withdrawing into its shell, the monks were relieved when the time came to sit in silent meditation.
As the weeks passed and Kaemon’s frustration increased with Zen’s inability to recall the chants accurately, Akemi Roshi decided it was time to place him with Hisoka. The monk showed Zen a completed prayer cushion, and then demonstrated how to make one. Delighted with the idea of doing something practical for a change, Chen selected strips of cloth the colour of maple leaves in autumn. They sewed together on the floor of Hisoka and Kaemon’s hut while the rain fell in torrents outside.
Normally, the sound of rain dripping off the cedar shingles onto the gravel path soothed Hisoka’s mind but today he could not concentrate. Zen’s needlework was as irritating to his eyes as sand whipped up from the beach by a gust of wind. When Zen gave a cry of glee as he finished a seam, Hisoka jumped and pricked his finger. He almost swore and prayed for the end of the month. It could not come soon enough.
*
Chapter 7
When Zen came into the main hall carrying his cushion, a wry smile curled around the room. Although opportunities for conversation were limited, many of the monks had been together for years and knew each other’s ways and foibles well. One look at Hisoka’s face said it all. By now they were aware that Zen upset the equilibrium of each monk he spent time with but Kado was looking forward to having an extra pair of hands to help with some of the maintenance jobs he’d been putting off. He hoped that requesting to take Zen under his wing would enable Akemi Roshi to forgive his indiscretion with Lady Tetsu three summers ago.
That night was the first time the monks learned that their abbot was as capable of extreme action as a warlord. Akemi Roshi interrupted the assignation and ordered the Lady to leave. As the gates closed on her entourage the temple became a closed community and ceased to accept paying guests. Fortunately, what could have been a death knell had the unexpected consequence of making their services more sought after. Donations and requests for distant prayers and healing poured in. The temple became renowned for their orchid essences. Despite the increase in wealth, Akemi Roshi still treated Kado with diffidence.
The previous evening he had warned him, ‘Keep an eye on Zen. Make sure he does not go beyond the boundaries.’
Perplexed by the abbot’s remarks, Kado made his obeisance and wondered why anyone would want to leave the security of Shukuoka-ji. Life was hard in the rice fields and the fishing villages. Everyone knew that. The countryside was swarming with brigands. Even those who were not here of their own accord knew that life was easier here than outside. Kado did not mind that Zen could not talk much and did not think showing him what to do would be an insurmountable challenge.
The weeks passed without incident. Kado and Zen got along in companionable silence. Zen brought a willing heart to each task, grew stronger with the physical work and began to walk without the aid of the bamboo cane.
Kado helped him to orientate himself around the compound and explained the octagonal layout of the huts to him. He showed him how the whole complex was protected by natural features; sea and cliffs to the North and West, mountains and forest to the South and East. The only entrance cum exit was the giant gate flanked by two rings of bamboo. The outer one made of poles cut to a point like Tiger’s teeth, the inner one a curtain of living bamboo which rustled in the breeze to soften the effect.
One day, while they were cutting shingles for roof repairs, Kado was considering seeking an audience with Akemi Roshi to discuss the prospect of Zen working with him permanently when he noticed Benjiro coming towards them. The monks exchanged bows in greeting and Benjiro opened the conversation,
‘We need more white sand for the garden. I was wondering if you and Zen could spare the time to help me fetch some. If we share the load, I can finish the job today.’
‘We’ll be glad to help you,’ Kado responded with a bow. Chen mirrored his actions.
The three of them exited the gates a short while later, each with a bamboo pole across his shoulders with a woven basket on either end. They walked in single file along the path to the village before taking the right fork down to the beach. En route, Akemi Roshi’s words echoed in Kado’s mind,
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‘Make sure he does not go beyond the boundaries.’
Looking at Zen who was striding ahead of him, Kado put the words aside after a moment’s consideration. The beach formed part of the temple’s natural defences and was only out of bounds during the times allotted to the villagers so Kado could not foresee any problem with taking Zen there.
As they collected sand, a change came over Chen. His initial delight at the sight of the sea faded as the beating of the waves on the shore stirred memories of oars hitting the water. The square-shaped image of a ship surfaced in Chen’s mind. He was back on board, the oars were at rest, and the men asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of the waves. He was surrounded by weary, grimy, blood-stained men who were recovering from the daylong battle for the Sea Wall. The taste of brine as he rolled his tongue across his mouth in thought reminded Chen of the salt spray smacking the sides of the boat and of Gan complaining of cracked lips when he nudged him awake. It all came flooding back to him.
‘Leave us alone, will ye, Chen,’ Gan shrugged him off. ‘I’m tryin’ to get some shut-eye. You should too. We’ll need it for tomorrow.’
Gan rolled onto his other side but Chen was uneasy and shook him again,
‘I’m worried. We should never have set fire to that shrine.’
Knowing there would be no peace until he had heard Chen out, Gan sat up, ‘The smoke helped us get away, didn’t it?’
‘What if we’ve angered their gods.’
Gan rolled his eyes, ‘Their gods, our gods, it’s all the same to me. You worry too much.’
‘It’s too quiet and the wind’s dropped,’ Chen continued as he shifted position away from a knot of wood that was digging into his right hip.
‘Good. Then maybe we’ll all get a good night’s kip,’ was the last thing Gan said as he snuggled down to sleep again.
The next thing Chen remembered was waking to a world in chaos. Howling winds, thunder and lightning muffled screams from both soldiers and crew. He was staggering across the deck to where the horses were straining at their tethers when the ship lurched from side to side. There was a loud crack as the mast split in two, casting a shadow over him as it fell like one of the thousands of trees sacrificed to build the armada. The last thing he heard was Gan shouting, ‘Get out of the way.’
The two monks watched dumbstruck as Zen started gesticulating at the sea. Realising that they had no idea what he was trying to tell them, Chen marched off in search of Danno. If anyone could understand him, he would. Leaving the poles and baskets behind, the two monks hurried after him.
Back at the compound, Akemi Roshi vented his anger, unnerving the monks as much as the time when Mount Asosi erupted.
That night Chen’s memory returned in fragments which he pieced together,
‘Chen. I am Chen, son of Li the archer and Jun the fortune-teller,’ he explained to Danno who picked out snippets.
His mother’s prophesy resonated through his mind, ‘Your destiny is bound to that of your brother overseas.’ That was what she told him when she cast the sticks at his coming of age. He reacted to the story of being found in an alleyway by running away to the streets. He had fallen into bad company, spent his days and nights drinking and whoring while he tried to work out who he was. That led to fighting and another downward spiral. Each victim was one in the eye for his parents. By the time he’d worked through his anger, it was too late to return to the place he had called home. After years of living hand to mouth he threw his lot in with the Mongols who respected his skill with the bow, the only thing he was still any good at. He saw the armada as a chance to make a better name for himself.
‘Zen. I am Zen,’ he pointed to himself and started laughing as it dawned on him that he had a new name and a way to make amends for the past.
‘Zen,’ Danno repeated.
The two men embraced each other with hugs of both tears and laughter.
*
Chapter 8
The next morning Danno and Zen reported to Akemi Roshi’s hut. They left their straw sandals on the porch and entered on their knees. Akemi Roshi rolled back a tatami mat to reveal a trap door in one corner of the room. Danno urged Zen forward, motioning for him to follow Akemi Roshi down the wooden ladder to a secret path cut into the cliff. Zen was to accompany him on his morning walk. As the steps were only wide enough for one person at a time, they descended in single file.
Once on the beach, Akemi Roshi continued to walk ahead of Zen as he contemplated how best to communicate with him. Zen solved the conundrum by picking up a piece of driftwood and drawing the outline of a boat in the sand. He pointed to the sketch, then out to sea.
Seizing upon the idea, Akemi Roshi brushed sand off a large shell and used it to inscribe the kanji for China in the sand. Zen recognised the character and copied it. The two men beamed at each other, then Akemi Roshi drew further images. Zen was unable to recognise any of them, much to Akemi Roshi’s exasperation. After a few more attempts, he discarded the shell and headed back to the temple. Zen followed with an air of dejection.
At breakfast Akemi Roshi ordered Akira to instruct Zen in the kanji. They were to do this before morning meditation each day until Zen had mastered the alphabet.
A few weeks later Akira made his progress report. The smile on Akemi Roshi’s face faded when he heard the truth,
‘Read. He cannot read,’ he exclaimed as he paced the floor.
Akira and Zen remained on their knees while Akira explained, ‘He can copy, Master, with great accuracy. But he doesn’t understand the meaning of the characters.’
‘He understood the one I drew for him,’ Akemi Roshi whispered through gritted teeth as he drew himself up in front of the monk.
‘I agree, some may look familiar, Master,’ Akira bowed low, ‘But…’
Unable to remain passive any longer Zen stood up and shouted in Akemi Roshi’s face. The abbot was enraged.
‘Get him out of my sight,’ he ordered Akira while glaring at Zen.
Akira jumped up, got hold of Zen’s arm and tried to force him to kowtow as they backed out of the room. Zen whipped his arm away and stormed off.
When news of the altercation reached Danno’s ears he presaged that there would be a price to pay but did not have time to dwell on the matter as he had just received a message that the Emperor Go-Uda would arrive at the end of the week.
He was in the garden taking silk wraps off the orchids when Akemi Roshi came to speak to him about preparations for the visit.
‘He is your responsibility. See to it that he does not put a foot wrong,’ Akemi Roshi instructed as he bent to inhale the scent from a rock orchid that Danno was cultivating from cuttings. ‘Wild ones would make a suitable gift for the Emperor, don’t you think?’
The sun disappeared behind gathering clouds as Danno replied that he would collect some from the cliff tops in the morning if the weather was fine.
‘Don’t leave it until too late,’ Akemi Roshi warned as he billowed away.
Danno returned to the shelter of his hut as the rain started to fall. Zen passed him a bowl of his favourite tea. They sipped in silence as they watched the water bouncing off the ground, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
Danno was sure that Zen understood a lot of what was said and that he would one day produce the words himself. Whenever possible he talked Zen through what they were doing so that he might learn language as a child does from its mother. He had already taught him how to collect dew from the orchids and distill it into the healing essences for which the temple had become famous. In many ways he was preparing him to take on his mantle.
Zen was worried about Danno. He sensed that the monk was failing. Although not as old as some of the other monks, he had lost his balance once or twice recently and did not always seem to hear everything. Just yesterday Zen had saved the hut from damage when Danno had not noticed the water boiling over. That was one of the reasons why he’d been keen to prepare the tea today. He also wondered about the deterio
ration in the monk’s relationship with Danno and suspected he was the cause of tensions between them.
Jun’s prophecy echoed through his mind again, He shrugged the words away. If Akemi Roshi was indeed his brother, then the bond that was broken at birth seemed to be irreparable. Even if they could speak the same language, it was clear to Zen that they would never understand each other. Danno had shown him that there were other ways to communicate. Perhaps he had put too much store by Jun’s words. His friendship with Danno was as close as he would ever get to family again.
*
Chapter 9
Danno set off for the cliffs at first light. He had spent much of the previous day assembling the items he would need to harvest the rock orchids and harnessing his energy for the long climb. He had slipped extra herbs into Zen’s last bowl of tea to make sure he would sleep soundly. He did not want to take him with him this time as he would need to be able to focus his whole attention on the path. It would be tricky in places due to yesterday’s rains.
As Danno reached the waterfall where the orchids grew, thunder reverberated round the mountains like a roll of taiko drums. The noise accentuated the ringing in Danno’s ears. He shook his head to clear the pressure in them and turned his attention to finding the perfect rock orchid to present to the Emperor.
As he searched he recalled the one time he had brought Zen here to take cuttings for his experiments with transplantation. They had watched the rainbow lizards darting about in the spray and marvelled at the colours reflected by their moist scales. Today they were conspicuous by their absence. Indeed Danno had neither seen nor heard any animal or bird on the way up. The roar of the swollen waterfall blocked out every other sound.
Danno spotted a desirable specimen and knelt down to pay his respects to the kami. He placed a wooden spatula before the plant and touched his head to the ground in front of it. He asked the spirit’s permission to remove the orchid from its bed. Already loosened by the recent rain, it came away with minimum effort. Danno interpreted this as a good omen. He settled it in the centre of the rice straw basket, arranged moss around it and tucked the spatula into his belt. He retraced his steps along the eroded path and prayed that the transplanted rock orchids would flourish within the temple grounds. He did not wish to pass this way again.