Zipangu Year of the Dog 1274: The Second Wave

Zipangu, Year of the Dog 1274: The Second Wave

 

  Copyright 2012 Judith Lesley Marshall

 

  Dedication

  To my father, Francis Matthew Bowman whose long journey back from a major stroke in November 2001 sowed the seeds for this story.

 

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Encircling Isles

  Thera

 

  Prologue

  In the year of the Monkey 1272 court astrologers in Peking witnessed a shower of falling stars. They declared it an auspicious omen and advised Kublai Khan, the Mongol Emperor of China, accordingly. He sent an armada of 3,500 ships to invade the island chain of Zipangu.

  Meanwhile, court astrologers in Kyoto, the imperial city of Zipangu, informed Emperor Kameyama that the meteors were a foreboding of a great calamity. He petitioned his divine ancestor, the sun-goddess Amaterasu, to protect the island country.

 

  Chapter 1

  At dawn on the seventh moon in the year of the dog 1274, Akemi Roshi performed his morning ritual of taking a sacred walk along Shukuoka beach. Facing the direction of the rising sun, he slowly placed one foot in front of the other so that the grains of white sand could massage the nerve ending in the soles of his feet. This walking meditation released the aches and pains from his body, freeing his mind to flow with the winds of fate. The sense of peace the abbot gained from this hour spent alone, enabled him to maintain an air of serenity throughout the course of the day.

  This morning the stillness in the air was tangible. It felt as if the world was holding its breath after yesterday’s violent storm in the Sea of Chin which surrounded the islands. The winds had raged all night, breaching the bamboo fence and causing damage throughout the temple complex while air and water conspired to repel the Mongol invasion. It was the first from those distant shores but Akemi Roshi intuited that it would not be the last.

  He and the other monks had spent the whole of the previous day praying to Amaterasu to defend these southernmost shores from the armada of ships carrying Chinese and Korean sailors as well as swathes of Mongol archers and their mounts. As on many other occasions she had come to their aid by whipping the elements into a typhoon. The high winds and waves had annihilated the fleet more completely than any army that might have been sent against them.

  Stepping clear of the aftermath of splints of wood, broken masts and general detritus washed in on the tide, Akemi Roshi was about to turn around and make his way back to Shukuoka-ji when a shape on the shoreline distracted him from his thoughts. His gaze fell on the body of a horse and beside it that of a man face down in the sand. The abbot decided to take a closer look.

  He tip-toed around the dead animal and then knelt by the man’s side as if to pray. He checked for signs of life. Taking hold of the man’s wrist, he detected a faint current running through the pulse points. Without thinking he summoned all his energy into pulling the sodden bulk of the man onto his back, brushed the long black hair away from his face and shuddered. The resemblance to his own was undeniable.

  Taking a moment to collect himself, Akemi Roshi ripped the eri from the neckline of his kimono and rolled it up into a cushion for the man’s head. He then scuttled back up the cliffside to enlist help.

  ‘You are the only one I can trust with this,’ he explained to Danno as they hurried to rescue the survivor.

  As they approached the body, the other monk slowed as the enormity of the situation struck him, ‘Are you sure about this, Master,’ he asked with a bow.

  ‘You have never questioned my orders before, Danno,’ the abbot turned to look at the monk square on.

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Danno bowed again, ‘but the penalty for this is death.’

  ‘Are you saying that this man’s life is worth less than ours?’

  ‘No, Master.’

  ‘Then help me roll him onto the mat.’

  The two men scraped sand away from the man’s side and eased his unconscious form onto the tatami mat they had brought with them. Perspiring like orchids in the morning dew, they hastened towards the temple sanctuary.

  *

  Chapter 2

  As was their custom at the hour of the Hare, the monks were sitting in silent meditation in the zendo, the main hall at the heart of the temple complex. A telepathic thought passed between them when Akemi Roshi burst through the wooden doors. They were startled by his lack of composure.

  Giving no reason for his late arrival or Danno’s absence, he made a bow of respect to his cushion and took up the position for zazen. Facing the bronze image of Amida Buddha, the Compassionate One, he closed his eyes and found his mind in complete turmoil. Childhood memories surfaced in quick succession.

  It was many moons since he had thought about his arrival in Zipangu with Makato Roshi. The monk from his mother’s temple had been assigned as his tutor when Akemi Roshi, known as Liko at the time, had chosen a prayer book from among the objects placed around him during his first birthday celebration. The choice symbolised his future vocation along the Buddhist path at a time when his family were wealthy tea merchants in the Chinese port of Hangchow.

  Running the business kept his father away from home from sunrise to sunset. Even when he was at home he couldn’t bear the sight of his son. Akemi Roshi recalled the arguments late at night when his father would blame his mother for giving birth to a son with green eyes. As a child he did not understand why his father had a problem with this as other people had green eyes, his tutor for one.

  ‘They were brown when he was born,’ his mother would plead with her husband who wanted to send her back to her family in disgrace as she had borne no more children since ‘the first ones.’ Puzzled by these words as he was an only child, Liko decided that he had misheard his father. Now the words reverberated in Akemi Roshi’s mind breaking his concentration again.

  Next he remembered the morning he set off for the quayside with nanny Lee. His mother had waved them off, telling him he was going to join his father on a business trip. He was looking forward to this great honour and did not consider it an occasion for tears. He skipped alongside nanny Lee without a backward glance for his mother. Whenever he tried to conjure her face in the years after, all he could summon was a silhouette of hair put up in a bun. The rest was hidden behind the latticework of an ivory silk fan.

  The quayside was overwhelming. The sights, sounds and smells assaulted his senses as nanny Lee pushed their way through the stalls selling incense, candles, noodles, vegetables, pork and fish. He hated the smell of fish and was totally confused when nanny Lee pushed him into the arms of his tutor. His stomach churned even now at the memory of the boat laden with rice, salt, coal, bricks, wood and tiles that brought them to Zipanguese temple where Makato Roshi worked his way up to become the abbot.

  Akemi Roshi comprehended as little of his fate at the time as he understood of his actions today. He could not ignore the fact that deep in his soul he knew he was bound somehow to the man he had found on the beach. No doubt all would be revealed in the fullness of time.

  On his deathbed Makato Roshi had confessed that his mother had not known she was carrying twins. His father was rejoicing in the birth of a son when the second wave of contractions started. Na
nny Lee was ordered to dispose of the second child.

  As the birth had happened sooner than expected, there was no bucket of water put ready to drown it so she had abandoned the infant in the back streets. Akemi Roshi had assumed that it must have been a baby girl. This morning he had come face to face with the possibility that he might have a brother.

  As soon as the meditation session was over, Akemi Roshi left the hall like a whirlwind. The monks followed at a more sedentary pace. They processed along the corridor without comment and dispersed to perform their duties.

  Akemi Roshi headed for Danno’s hut, slipped his sandals off at the doorway and slid the screen back to step inside. Danno acknowledged his presence with a bow.

  ‘Tell me how he is,’ Akemi Roshi commanded in a low voice.

  ‘He’s alive, but I don’t know what he’ll be like when he comes round,’ Danno replied as he shuffled back on his knees to let the abbot have a closer look at the sleeping man. ‘I shaved his hair off to tend the wounds on the back of his head.’

  ‘Good.’ Akemi Roshi nodded, ‘That will enable him to blend in among us.’

  ‘If I may make a suggestion, Master,’ Danno faltered.

  ‘Continue.’ Akemi Roshi responded without taking his eyes off the man.

  ‘Should we burn his clothes?’

  ‘No. Give them to me. And the hair. I will take charge of them.’

  Danno bundled the items into a basket and handed it to the abbot.

  ‘Call me when there’s any change,’ Akemi Roshi ordered as he pushed his toes back into his sandals.

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Danno bowed to his departing heels.

  Akemi Roshi sequestered the basket in a dark corner of his hut and waited until the monks had retired for the evening before taking it out to the privacy of his veranda which overlooked the sea. By the light of the half-moon he laid the contents out in a row and examined them one by one.

  Stiff and smelling of salt, the tunic brought a bilious taste to his mouth. He laid it to one side and took up the queue of black hair which Danno had woven into a plait. Curious to learn more about the man whose head it had been cut from, he assumed the lotus position, held the braid in the palms of his hands and closed his eyes to gain a deeper insight.

  At the hour of the Ox, Danno came to say that the man had tried to sit up.

  ‘Let me know when he speaks,’ was Akemi Roshi’s only response as he was running through his sequence of morning stretches.

  *

  Chapter 3

  The beating of the taiko drum in the courtyard interrupted the chanting. Akemi Roshi sent Kado to find out the cause. The monk returned to the hall to announce that a Samurai search party requested that they all assemble in the dry garden.

  Akemi Roshi did not like the idea of being summoned in his own grounds but thought it better to conceal his annoyance on this occasion. He adopted an air of serenity and led the monks out to where the warriors were waiting to question them.

  ‘How can we be of service?’ he asked their leader with a slight inclination.

  ‘We are looking for Mongol survivors. We have orders from Shogun Tokimune to make a thorough search of the complex, both the grounds and the buildings. We require your complete cooperation in this matter,’ the leader replied while proffering a scroll.

  Akemi Roshi unfolded the document, verified the contents and rolled it back up, ‘Of course,’ he made a quick bow to the leader, ‘I will show you the way myself.’

  The leader bowed in turn and ordered that the monks remain under guard with two of his men while the rest of the Samurai conducted the search. Sunlight glinted off their swords while the monks stood as still as the wooden pillars of the temple.

  ‘I understand,’ Akemi Roshi complied and proceeded to direct the warriors into the main building.

  The search was expedient as the rooms and corridors were sparsely furnished. The main decoration being the hoo paintings on the walls and ceilings, which matched the reverse images of two Chinese Phoenixes carved into the cedar doors of the main hall. Low tables and bamboo screens afforded nowhere to hide.

  Akemi Roshi was careful to maintain his composure while each cedar trunk was opened. The real treasure, the sacred scrolls were hidden in the false bottoms, but the Samurai were focussed on finding bodies and did not disturb the contents. He resisted the urge to move on when they came to the one where he had concealed the hair when he could not bring himself to bury it with the tunic.

  The real test came when they entered Danno’s hut. Akemi Roshi gave silent thanks to Buddha that the man was still unconscious.

  ‘What’s wrong with this monk?’ the leader asked Danno.

  Akemi Roshi held his nerve and nodded to Danno to reply.

  ‘He slipped and hit his head while collecting wild orchids that grow on the cliff face.’ Danno offered, ‘He’s been like this for some time now.’

  ‘We collect them for medicinal purposes,’ Akemi Roshi added by way of further explanation.

  The leader inspected the man’s injuries and pronounced himself satisfied. He then turned on his heels, apologised for the inconvenience and ordered his men to make for the beach.

  Akemi Roshi watched them diminish into the distance before releasing a sigh of relief.

  *

  Chapter 4

  Chen opened his eyes. He was in a strange room where paper partitions masqueraded as walls. Shafts of sunlight entered through the slits, making him squint. He took a deep breath and caught a whiff of smoke from herbs burning somewhere in the room. Coughing made his head pound like the time he experienced his first hangover. He felt like he was going to be sick.

  He turned his head to retch into a bowl that someone was holding out for him and registered the smiling face of a monk before losing consciousness again.

  Sometime later he woke to find a different monk kneeling by his side. This one’s face seemed to be a mirror image of his own. Chen thought he must be dreaming but whoever he was he had an authoritative tone of voice. Chen could not make out a word he was saying. The sounds were a garbled mixture of ‘s, st, and ch’ that swirled like water in his ears. Sea serpents swam through his mind as he drifted off again.

  The next time he regained consciousness, the pounding had subsided to a throb. Chen made to rub his head where it hurt and discovered that his hair was missing. In shock he tried to sit up but his right side was numb, both light and heavy at the same time. One of the monks caught him as he collapsed back onto the mat. His body felt stiff all over.

  He attempted to get up again and winced as pain seared through his left shoulder blade. The two monks helped to position his legs for standing and supported his weight between them, Akemi Roshi on the right and Danno on the left. They encouraged Chen to take a step but nothing happened.

  Chen panicked at the thought that he had forgotten how to walk and willed his brain to send signals to his feet to move. He frowned with concentration as he shuffled across the wooden floor. Turning round made him feel dizzy. He leant on Danno for support as the two monks lowered him back down onto the rush mat.

  While he was resting, his attention was roused by the sound of his name. Danno was relating the noises he made in his sleep.

  ‘Tschnn,’ Chen slurred, ‘ Tschnn, Tschnn, Tschnn.’he repeated, frustrated at not being able to make the monks understand him.

  Suddenly, Akemi Roshi’s face lit up as he recognised the word, ‘Zen. He’s trying to tell us he’s called Zen.’

  Danno was not certain that the abbot’s interpretation of the sound was correct but refrained from making alternative suggestions as to how the man’s name should be pronounced. Instead he poured some herbal tea into a bowl and helped the injured man to drink it.

  Chen grimaced at the taste but understood from Danno’s expression and tone of voice that it was meant to do him good. He found it difficult to swallow but the liquid soothed his cracked lips. Soon its soporific effect took hold and Chen found himself dozing off to the
rhythm of a sutra. Somewhere in his subconscious he heard the echo of chanting from beyond the hut and had the vague impression that there were other monks in the vicinity. He still had no idea where he was or how he got here. Everything was blurred by the fog in his mind.

  *

  Chapter 5

  It took two months for Chen to learn to walk with the help of a bamboo cane. Danno was his mentor and companion throughout this time. On the eve of the first full moon of the New Year, Akemi Roshi visited their hut to announce that it was an auspicious time for Zen to take his place in the community.

  Danno presented him with a new robe to replace the threadbare garment he wore around the hut. He helped him down the wooden step and stood by his side while Chen filled his lungs with deep breaths of fresh air. It took ten times longer than normal to cross the uneven surface of the dry garden as Chen wanted to do it by himself. Akemi Roshi lost patience halfway across and rushed off to join the other monks in the main hall where they were gathered in a semi-circle before the statue of Amida Buddha.

  Danno and Chen waited outside the entrance to the hall until the end of prayers. Chen was shaking with the effort from the exercise. When Akemi Roshi began to address the monks, Danno indicated that it was time for them to make their entrance.

  The air tensed as glances passed between the monks. They waited for Akemi Roshi to introduce the stranger who they sensed had been in their midst for some time now.

  ‘This is Zen,’ Akemi Roshi motioned him forward. ‘As you may well have heard he had an accident en route to us and has been in Danno’s care ever since. He is now ready to take his place among us.’

  Nothing was said about his resemblance Akemi Roshi. The monks were left to draw their own conclusions as to his origins. They nodded in silence.

  ‘He cannot speak,’ Akemi Roshi continued as he scanned the room, ‘so we will need to find other ways to communicate with him.’

  A bow of consent rippled around the circle.

  ‘He will spend a moon working with each one of you while we test his skills and strength. You may greet him as you go to your tasks.’

  The monks stood as one, then waited in turn to file past Chen as Akemi Roshi pronounced their names, ‘Naoko, Takeo, Akira, Hisoka, Benjiro, Kane, Kado, Kaemon and finally our novices, Joben and Yasashiku. You commence chores with them tomorrow morning,’ he added as he glanced in Chen’s direction.