“The Kimono” Chapter 3

Know that this chapter has SEX in it.  If offended by the subject….Don’t Read.

MARI WAS CAPTURED within the web of a warrior with two swords under his sash, probably a very violent man, but one who wrote exquisite verse. Lord Tetsu caught her watching his face and abruptly ended his recitation of a poem. Without thinking, she reached out her left hand to his arm, her eyes swimming with tears. She was moved beyond measure with the contradictions of this man. She felt a tenderness she had not been able to feel for a long time. He grabbed her hand and pulled it into the breast of his kimono, staring at her. She, realizing he had mistaken her gesture, tried to pull back her arm, but the deed was done. Lord Tetsu stood up, pulling her to him. She shook her head.

“No, I am married.”

Laughing, he threw back his head. “Yet here you are in my chamber, naked, and you expect me to let you go? Remember you were brought here by magic and for my usage. Did you think the morning would be spent in poetry alone?” He grabbed her hands and the quilt fell off her shoulders. “I can smell your scent. You are aroused by your curiosity. You wonder what it would be like to be taken by a samurai, Woman-called-Mari. You will find out.”

He threw Mari on the futon and dropped his swords, laying them out of her reach. Untying his various kimonos, he discarded the two outer ones and left the white linen undergarment. He wore the trousers of the samurai and, with his eyes on the woman cowered below him, untied the



drawstring and let his pants fall to the ground. Mari’s eyes widened. He was a large man in life and equal to that beneath his kimono. He threw himself over her and in a low voice whispered, “Idu-go, Idu-e.” (“One moment, only once.”) He trapped her face in his large hand, his eyes holding her gaze. “The pain will be only one moment’s worth, you will fill with me and be grateful. Now, Woman-called-Mari, kiss me without struggling, for I like a docile woman in my bed.”

Mari was pinned beneath him and could only claw his shoulders. He raised himself and laughed, trapped both of her hands in his and pulled them above her head, grasping them with one of his hands. He crushed her mouth with a hard kiss. Mari moaned and spat at him, outraged at this treatment. He reached over the side of the futon and picked up a sash. Looping it firmly around her hands, he tied them to a pillar at the top of the futon.

“Stop it, stop it! I am a married woman!”

“Yet you are naked under me and aroused without my touching you.”

It was true. The sensible modern Mari was outraged at this behavior but her body was provoked in spite of her. Something stronger was at play than feminist convictions. She felt her body was abandoning her mind. Surely he knew she was not a peasant woman or a prostitute who would spread her legs for a few coins. With a mixture of tenderness and wildness, Lord Tetsu worked his way down her body, kissing her neck, her breasts and finally, her sex.

Mari’s plea for him to stop had changed to moans, the sounds of a growing desire. Her husband never made love to her this way, in fact, he avoided all such foreplay. Mari could not help but moan louder. Her face was a stretched frenzy, her eyes fluttering back into their sockets. Lord Tetsu then entered her. Mari gasped and bucked but he kept going until he was like a sword sheathed to the hilt. Her passion was now fully inflamed.

“Oh, untie me, untie my arms, please, let me embrace you,”

 

Mari begged. Lord Tetsu untied her arms but held them firmly. He moved in her slowly as she adjusted to him. Mari gasped, the sensations so strong she couldn’t hold back. The power of his thrusts increased as she tipped to the edge. With a yell, she climaxed, her body shaking, her voice something she didn’t recognize as her own. Moments later, Lord Tetsu joined in her delirium and with a groan, released himself. Joined together tightly, they lay panting on the futon. Mari had never experienced such intensity with a man. She curled into his arms and sobbed softly.

“You are a lovely flower. Your husband has riches he cannot count.”

Mari shuddered at the mention of her husband. She had never opened to Steven like she had to this man. It took a stranger for her to experience such arousal. The rest of the morning and into the evening they made love and wrote poetry. Mari composed haiku and recited her verses. He was tolerant of her efforts and threw back his head and laughed at her attempts to best him. At one point, he went to the chest where the black kimono lay and carefully placed it on the stone floor of the room. He brought back a quilted kimono and wrapped Mari with his now gentler hands. She thought it best not to ask whose kimono it was and was just grateful for the warmth. They drank the rest of the broth and warmed a bottle of sake.

Lord Tetsu was working on papers when there was a voice outside the shoji. He called out and two men came in, bowing deeply. They were carrying more scrolls and didn’t seem to notice Mari sitting on the futon. After bowing again respectfully to Lord Tetsu, they backed out of the room. He put the scrolls on the table and started to unroll one of them.

“Lord Tetsu,” said Mari from her comfortable place by the brazier. “It seems we exist in a parallel universe.” This seemed to be the only explanation for the situation in which Mari found herself.

Lord Tetsu grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “I have no confusion. I live now. You also live now. There is no riddle.” He dismissed her words with another grunt and sat down on his stool to read.

Mari thought it prudent not to interrupt him and looked around  the room. It was rather large, obviously a room for an important official. On one side, there was archery equipment, with bows of different lengths. There were lances and other swords and what she believed were maces. If Lord Tetsu was a bureaucrat for his Shōgun, he was also a warrior. Earlier, Lord Tetsu had opened the wooden lattice of one of the windows but the light was feeble. Mari walked over to the window and looked outside at a rolling landscape that appeared medieval. There were men and woman in distant fields, looking like tiny models of humans, working with oxen drawn plows and mattocks and hoes. They were planting some crop but what it was, she couldn’t tell. Obviously, it was not rice, for the fields were not swamped. Perhaps it was barley or millet. There was a small village in the distance where a few plumes of smoke rose sluggishly in the air. Farther distance, there were mountains rising one upon the other, the atmosphere playing tricks with the color of the ridges, fading from a dark color where nearest to a misty gray far away. Outside, well within her line of vision, flew three white cranes, rising in the sky like dull stars. She knew nothing was right or sensible today. She had appeared almost on a magic carpet, far from home and time. She felt a strange calmness, almost as if this was a natural part of her life to be savored, not dissected.

Early that evening, servants brought bowls of food. As they ate, Lord Tetsu talked of archery and the legendary Lord Tokugawa. Mari had noticed red oblong objects on the arrows where the heads should be. Lord Tetsu explained that these were “whistling arrows” used to announce the opening of battles. “If you ever hear one, duck,” he said with a chuckle. “I have seen a man’s head split in two like a ripe melon. We shoot


dogs for practice but first we scare them and they run. More sport in this.” Mari winced at his words but this was his culture, not hers. Lord Tetsu poured heated sake into two cups and offered one to Mari. She liked the taste but two cups later could feel the effects. Lord Tetsu was an old hand at sake drinking, for cup after cup disappeared down his throat. He didn’t seem to get drunk but Mari knew she could not chance doing so. Turning over her cup, she signaled that she would drink no more. As darkness fell, they talked quietly together, sitting on cushions before the table.

Mari knew this interlude had to end and asked a question. “Lord Tetsu, I know now how I came to be here, in this room, but how do I go back?” “I wrap you in the kimono and you go to sleep. You will wake up next to your snoring husband. He will be none the wiser for your adventure. What has been a day in your life with me will only appear to be seconds for him.” Mari looked down to her hands in her lap. Almost in a whisper she asked him, raising her eyes to his, fearful of the answer. “Will I ever see you again?”

Lord Tetsu sat back and looked at her. His eyes searched her face and he replied in a low and gentle voice. “Mari, Woman-who-is-Married, would you chance a change in heart? Would you leave your husband to become the woman of an old samurai? Would you wish such a thing? Think carefully, girl. My world is not yours. You might wither and die here. Would you chance leaving all you know for such a fate? Can a life be built on poetry?”

Mari’s eyes were now swimming with tears. She didn’t know the answers to what he asked but she knew something in her heart had opened. Something new had startled her and brought a glimmer of a different beginning. For the first time in a long while she was feeling alive and there was no way she could explain this to him. She didn’t understand it herself.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018-2020

“The Kimono” Chapter 3….Warning: Sexual content.

Mari was captured within the web of a warrior with two swords under his sash, probably a very violent man, but one who wrote exquisite verse. Lord Tetsu caught her watching his face and abruptly ended his recitation of a poem. Without thinking, she reached out her left hand to his arm, her eyes swimming with tears. She was moved beyond measure with the contradictions of this man. She felt a tenderness she had not been able to feel for a long time.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it into the breast of his kimono, staring at her. She, realizing he had mistaken her gesture, tried to pull back her arm, but the deed was done. Lord Tetsu stood up, pulling her to him. She shook her head. “No, I am married.”

Laughing, he threw back his head. “Yet here you are in my chamber, naked, and you expect me to let you go? Remember you were brought here by magic and for my usage. Did you think the morning would be spent in poetry alone?” He grabbed her hands and the quilt fell off her shoulders. “I can smell your scent. You are aroused by your curiosity. You wonder what it would be like to be taken by a samurai, Woman-called-Mari. You will find out.”

He threw Mari on the futon and dropped his swords, laying them out of her reach. Untying his various kimonos, he discarded the two outer ones and left the white linen undergarment. He wore the trousers of the samurai and, with his eyes on the woman cowered below him, untied the drawstring and let his pants fall to the ground.

Mari’s eyes widened. He was a large man in life and equal to that beneath his kimono. He threw himself over her and in a low voice whispered, “Idu-go, Idu-e.” (“One moment, only once.”) He trapped her face in his large hand, his eyes holding her gaze. “The pain will be only one moment’s worth, you will fill with me and be grateful. Now, Woman-called-Mari, kiss me without struggling, for I like a docile woman in my bed.”

Mari was pinned beneath him and could only claw his shoulders. He raised himself and laughed, trapped both of her hands in his and pulled them above her head, grasping them with one of his hands. He crushed her mouth with a hard kiss. Mari moaned and spat at him, outraged at this treatment. He reached over the side of the futon and picked up a sash. Looping it firmly around her hands, he tied them to a pillar at the top of the futon.

“Stop it, stop it! I am a married woman!”

“Yet you are naked under me and aroused without my touching you.”

It was true. The sensible modern Mari was outraged at this behavior but her body was provoked in spite of her. Something stronger was at play than feminist convictions. She felt her body was abandoning her mind. Surely he knew she was not a peasant woman or a prostitute who would spread her legs for a few coins.

With a mixture of tenderness and wildness, Lord Tetsu worked his way down her body, kissing her neck, her breasts and finally, her sex. Mari’s plea for him to stop had changed to moans, the sounds of a growing desire. Her husband never made love to her this way, in fact, he avoided all such foreplay. Mari could not help but moan louder. Her face was a stretched frenzy, her eyes fluttering back into their sockets.

Lord Tetsu then entered her. Mari gasped and bucked but he kept going until he was like a sword sheathed to the hilt. Her passion was now fully inflamed.

“Oh, untie me, untie my arms, please, let me embrace you,” Mari begged.

Lord Tetsu untied her arms but held them firmly. He moved in her slowly as she adjusted to his fullness. Mari gasped, the sensations so strong she couldn’t hold back. The power of his thrusts increased as she tipped to the edge. With a yell, she climaxed, her body shaking, her voice something she didn’t recognize as her own. Moments later, Lord Tetsu joined in her delirium and with a groan, released himself inside her. Joined together tightly, they lay panting on the futon. Mari had never experienced such intensity with a man. She curled into his arms and sobbed softly.

“You are a lovely flower. Your husband has riches he cannot count.”

Mari shuddered at the mention of her husband. She had never opened to Steven like she had to this man. It took a stranger for her to experience such arousal.

The rest of the morning and into the evening they made love and wrote poetry. Mari composed haiku and recited her verses. He was tolerant of her efforts and threw back his head and laughed at her attempts to best him. At one point, he went to the chest where the black kimono lay and carefully placed it on the stone floor of the room. He brought back a quilted kimono and wrapped Mari with his own, now gentler hands. She thought it best not to ask whose kimono it was and was just grateful for the warmth. They drank the rest of the broth and warmed a bottle of sake.

Lord Tetsu was working on papers when there was a voice outside the shoji. He called out and two men came in, bowing deeply. They were carrying more scrolls and didn’t seem to notice Mari sitting on the futon. After bowing again respectfully to Lord Tetsu, they backed out of the room. He put the scrolls on the table and started to unroll one of them.

“Lord Tetsu,” said Mari from her comfortable place by the brazier. “It seems we exist in a parallel universe.” This seemed to be the only explanation for the situation in which Mari found herself.

Lord Tetsu grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “I have no confusion. I live now. You also live now. There is no riddle.” He dismissed her words with another grunt and sat down on his stool to read.

Mari thought it prudent not to interrupt him and looked around at the room. It was rather large, obviously a room for an important official. On one side, there was archery equipment, with bows of different lengths. There were lances and other swords and what she believed were maces. If Lord Tetsu was a bureaucrat for his Shōgun, he was also a warrior.

Earlier, Lord Tetsu had opened the wooden lattice of one of the windows but the light was feeble. Mari walked over to the window and looked outside at a rolling landscape that appeared medieval. There were men and woman in distant fields, looking like tiny models of humans, working with oxen-drawn plows and mattocks and hoes. They were planting some crop but what it was, she couldn’t tell. Obviously, it was not rice, for the fields were not swamped. Perhaps it was barley or millet. There was a small village in the distance where a few plumes of smoke rose sluggishly in the air. In the distance, there were mountains rising one upon the other, the atmosphere playing tricks with the color of the ridges, fading from a dark color where nearest to a misty gray far away. Outside, well within her line of vision, flew three white cranes, rising in the sky like dull stars. She knew nothing was right or sensible today. She had appeared almost on a magic carpet, far from home and time. She felt a strange calmness, almost as if this was a natural part of her life to be savored, not dissected.

Early that evening, servants brought bowls of food. As they ate, Lord Tetsu talked of archery and the legendary Lord Tokugawa. Mari had noticed red oblong objects on the arrows where the heads should be. Lord Tetsu explained that these were “whistling arrows” used to announce the opening of battles.

“If you ever hear one, duck,” he said with a chuckle. “I have seen a man’s head split in two like a ripe melon. We shoot dogs for practice but first we scare them and they run. More sport in this.” Mari winced at his words but this was his culture, not hers.

Lord Tetsu poured heated sake into two cups and offered one to Mari. She liked the taste but two cups later could feel the effects. Lord Tetsu was an old hand at sake drinking, for cup after cup disappeared down his throat. He didn’t seem to get drunk but Mari knew she could not chance doing so. Turning over her cup, she signaled that she would drink no more.

As darkness fell, they talked quietly together, sitting on cushions before the table. Mari knew this interlude had to end and asked a question. “Lord Tetsu, I know now how I came to be here, in this room, but how do I go back?”

“I wrap you in the kimono and you go to sleep. You will wake up next to your snoring husband. He will be none the wiser for your adventure. What has been a day in your life with me will only appear to be seconds for him.”

Mari looked down to her hands in her lap. Almost in a whisper she asked him, raising her eyes to his, fearful of the answer. “Will I ever see you again?”

Lord Tetsu sat back and looked at her. His eyes searched her face and he replied in a low and gentle voice. “Mari, Woman-who-is-Married, would you chance a change in heart? Would you leave your husband to become the woman of an old samurai? Would you wish such a thing? Think carefully, girl. My world is not yours. You might wither and die here. Would you chance leaving all you know for such a fate? Can a life be built on poetry?”

Mari’s eyes were now swimming with tears. She didn’t know the answers to what he asked but she knew something in her heart had opened. Something new had startled her and brought a glimmer of a different beginning. For the first time in a long while she was feeling alive and there was no way she could explain this to him. She didn’t understand it herself.

 

 

 

g

 

 

Lord Tetsu was not just a samurai under the authority of the legendary Lord Tokugawa, but a powerful sorcerer, a Yamabushi steeped in the magic and writings of the legendary En no Gyōja, the “Japanese Merlin”. Lord Tetsu had learned potent magic at the hands of masters. The kimono was enchanted by his sorcery and obeyed his commands. However, this was the first time it had snatched a “modern” woman. Lord Tetsu was surprised but pleased at its choice. Usually it was a woman afraid to meet his eyes or one who sobbed in disbelief. There was little sport in tumbling such women. He had been involved in war maps for his Lord and had been too busy with samurai life to use the kimono’s charm of late. Mari’s attempts at haiku and other forms of poetry pleased him, as did her sexual nature. She was more adventurous than the usual Japanese woman but then, of course, she was “modern”. To him, she had a rash openness, an honesty that went beyond the usual behavior of women. Where that would be condemned in a woman and chastised severely, he applauded her courage, at least in this room, for this time. There were not many women who would argue with a samurai. Most had the sense to know that death could easily follow. No, this Mari was interesting enough to bring back. The magic was limited, though, and only a day’s duration was allowed without compounding the magic. He would have to think about this, for it was risky for both.

The black kimono fluttered its edges, like a skate or stingray skimming the bottom of an ocean. Its magic energy was building, waiting for the moment when it would wrap about the woman and transport her home next to the sleeping husband. The roadmap would be the indentations the embroidery left on her hips. The kimono would know the way.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“The Kimono” to be published soon.

The days are long,
longer still the nights.
The nightingale sings
to herself.

…

Above is some of the poetry in “The Kimono”. The book has gone to Proof Copy, with 340 words and 60 chapters. Whee.

It took 12 years to write and there are times I didn’t look at it for months. Maybe a year. But those 12 years propelled me into a deep study of Japanese literature and poetry forms and that was enlightening.

There’s a lot of my poetry in there, as I learned tanka and haiku.

Nick Nicholson, a friend and collaborator came in towards the middle of the book. He was reading the book and where I had ended it on Chapter 30, he wanted me to continue the story. I didn’t think I could and this led to a massive fight which isn’t unusual for us. LOL! But he was deeply involved in the storyline and didn’t want it to end. So I kept writing and after 30 more chapters it was finally finished. And Nick was right. It’s much better as a story with the extension.

Nick sent me the final proof yesterday and I have to read (again) those 60 chapters. But knowing that it’s completed is the charm.

We probably will get it out on Amazon.com by October or perhaps a bit earlier. Nick has formatted and produced 4 of my books in the last few years. Without him, this book probably would be still in manuscript form and never have seen the light of day. Nick also designed the cover.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“The Kimono”, Chapter 28, Earthquake!

The painting above by Sesshu is in my opinion a brilliant usage of ink and imagination. It takes years to even approach such a technique and I am firm in my belief that in order to even begin such is worth while of a life time of effort.  There is so much ‘good’ in this painting that it enthralls me.  There is a depth and simplicity in this painting that demands attention.

 

“The Kimono” be published in a matter of months….

–

Plum Blossom Snow

The present snowstorm

of white plum blossoms

blinds me to sorrow.

They cascade over cheeks

like perfumed, satin tears

too warm with the promise

of life to chill flesh.

–

Lady Nyo, circa 2016

—

MARI DREAMED OF SNOW falling on her face but somewhere in her mind she knew it was spring, now too far from winter. She woke up, cold, as Lord Tetsu had turned in the night and taken all the quilts. She sat up, pulling her thin kimonos around her. The dawn’s light barely infused the bay. Only thin tendrils of light skimmed the sky above the distant mountains. Something was wrong. It wasn’t snow, but cherry blossoms. They covered the ground. There was a deep humming beneath the soil.

–

Mari placed her hands on the ground and felt the vibrations. She wondered why Lord Tetsu had not woken. Mari stood to get a better look at the bay but even standing was difficult. She felt drunk, unstable on her feet. Something was definitely wrong. The water in the bay looked as if something was punching from beneath with a million fists, causing it to
roil and churn.
  
–
Lord Tetsu woke with a start and sat up. For the first time, Mari saw fear on his face.

“Do not try to stand. Throw off your geta and run!” he shouted. He grabbed her hand and they ran half-crouching up the hill towards the others, Mari gathering her robes above her knees. The tremors of the earthquake knocked them to the ground several times and each time Lord Tetsu covered her with his body. They heard screams and shouts in the distance. Nothing seemed real. Cherry trees were uprooted and tossed in a jumble against each other. Lord Tetsu saw Lord Nyo scrambling towards him and shouted for him to get back to town and get their horses. They must ride to Gassan or get as high as possible. They were in the lowlands and after the earthquake a feared tsunami could strike.

–

A brazier had turned over and started a small fire on some quilts. Lord Tetsu stamped it out and then looked for survivors. Lady Nyo and her servants were trapped under some branches of a fallen cherry tree. Lord Tetsu and some of the men lifted the tree and pulled them out. Blood mixed with soil streamed down Lady Nyo’s face but other than a flesh wound, she would survive. Others were not so lucky. A few servants from the inn had been killed by fallen trees. Lord Tetsu’s men dragged their bodies out and laid them together on the ground. Someone covered them with the half-burnt quilts. Lady Nyo sat against a fallen tree. Mari scrambled to her and wiped the blood from her face with her kimono sleeve. Why didn’t Lord Nyo free his wife first before he obeyed Lord Tetsu’s orders to fetch their horses? Clearly, such were the rules of this century and culture. “I am fine, don’t worry about me, please,” whispered Lady Nyo. She was in shock, her face pale with trauma. “Is my Lord Nyo alive?” Mari nodded her head and told her that Lord Tetsu had ordered him to bring the horses from the town.


Lady Nyo looked doubtful. “Surely the town has suffered what we have here. The horses might have bolted and he will not find them. We can only hope he does. Lord Tetsu wants us all to ride to Gassan Mountain. He said the higher we are, the safer we will be.”

–

Suddenly, a man appeared over them. Startled, Mari looked up. It was Lord Yoki. “Do not fear, my ladies,” he said, bowing. “Lord Tetsu is right. The higher we get, the better our chances of surviving will be.”

–

Another tremor rumbled beneath them. It lasted only a few seconds but Mari screamed in fear. Lord Yoki laid his hand on her shoulder to steady her. Mari buried her face in his robes. Either he had very hairy legs or she felt feathers through his clothing. In any case, she was glad he was there. Lord Tetsu was off directing the men, gathering what they could that would be useful for their flight to Gassan Mountain. He was not around to comfort a hysterical woman. Mari continued to wipe the blood from Lady Nyo’s face, using the other sleeve of her kimono. Lady Nyo chanted something in a low voice. Mari thought she was praying.

–

Suddenly, Lord Tetsu bent over Mari, pulled her to her feet and led her away from the others. He put his arm around her waist and drew her to him. “You must leave. If you stay, you will die.”

“Yes,” said Mari. “I will die with you.”

Lord Tetsu grimaced and put his hand around her neck, close to her chin, and bent her head back. He increased the pressure on either side of her jaw. The last thing Mari saw was his eyes, two black pools to drown in.



Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2018

“Plum Blossom Snow”

 

Peach blossoms in the back yard. Spring

OLN (Open Link Night) over at dversepoets where you can post one poem of your choosing.  Come read some wonderful poetry there.

Lady Nyo

–

Plum Blossom Snow

The present snowstorm of
White plum blossoms
Blinds me to sorrow.

–
They cascade over cheeks
Like perfumed, satin tears
Too warm with the promise of life
To chill flesh.

 

This week I finally finished “Kimono”, a novel I have been writing for eleven years. This above poem comes from that novel.  “Kimono” will be published in a few months on Amazon.com.

 
Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“The Kimono”, Chapter 27….

 

Warning:  a bit of sex in this chapter. Don’t read if this offends you.

 

I’ve been working on this novel for 10 years.  I  picked it up and put it down over those years but finally, it’s coming to an end.  it will max out around 50 chapters when it is completed.  It better end.

This summer and most of the spring I have been rewriting.  I’m posting this chapter for reader’s interest.  A few have been following this book for years.  It is not easy to come in the middle (or wherever) of a novel and it does cause confusion.  A quick view:  Mari is a 21st century Japanese American.  She is snatched by a kimono and brought to the 16th century in a mountainous region of Japan, Akita.  It is not clear to the characters of the book who is controlling the kimono.   The pix I posted at the top is a Japanese actor, 48, who is a physical representation of what I think this Lord Mori, this rather lax daimyo, looks like.  At least it’s something to look at.

Lady Nyo

The Kimono, Chapter 27

The moon peeked through the distant trees below Mount Gassan in the east.  This low to the horizon its color was a dark coppery-pumpkin as it hovered in the evening sky.  Its rising caused the very drunk men to pause in their good-humored noise as the women behind the screen heard their exclamations. How many times had the full moon risen, yet the beauty of its appearance, the miracle of its closeness always produced awe?

A servant came around the screen and whispered something to Lady Nyo.  She, in turn, came to Mari and in a very low voice said that Lord Mori has requested her company.

Lady Nyo fussed a bit with Mari’s face, patting rice powder over her features, combed out her hair and gathered it half-way down her back with a twist of red paper.  From a small, wooden box she brought out a flask of scent and applied it between Mari’s breasts.  With a nod and a sigh, she was finished and bowed to Mari with a small smile.  Mari followed a serving girl to the lake where she found Lord Mori.  He gave a slight nod in greeting and turned, walking further down to a small stand of cherry trees.  Here there were no lanterns hanging from the branches silhouetting the cherry blossoms. Only the brightness of the rising moon and a small brazier gave light.  Quilts had been placed for them on the ground.

The servant disappeared, fading silently into the shadows surrounding the grove of cherries.  Dragonflies dipped and swooped along the shoreline.  The sound of the water lapping at the beach was amplified by the silence around them. They were far enough away they could not hear the others.  The sky darkened and rose- bottomed clouds appeared over the water.

Lord Mori sipped his sake and said nothing.  Mari didn’t want to break the beauty of the young night with conversation.  It was enough to enjoy the silence and the moon reflecting in the water.

Suddenly Lord Mori made a soft exclamation and pointed to some rocks at a distance, farther down the beach.

“There- do you see kitsune?  She has come for her own hanami.”

Night was replacing dusk and the shoreline was dissolving into shadows.  Mari could hardly make out the small form of a fox. She darted back and forth, from rock to rock, rolling over those at the water’s edge and pouncing on something, probably a crayfish.

Suddenly the moon rose high enough, beaming across the water and Mari could see the russet coat of the fox.  She had a tail that looked tipped in gold, illuminated by the moonlight.

 

“Kitsune

Has a long and gilded tail

She comes at night

Down to the glistening lake—

The moon rises to light her way.”

 

Lord Mori’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.  Mari was caught, spellbound by his words.  How exact, how clever his this tanka within a breath’s notice of the fox!  Mari knew she would have struggled with her thoughts, casting aside her impressions and losing the immediacy of the moment.  With Lord Mori, it was as natural as breathing.

She turned her head to look at him as the moon went dark with a flock of passing clouds.  Lord Mori’s features were silhouetted against the shadows of the grove behind them.  How serene he appeared.  Mari touched the silk of his sleeve.  He looked down at her small, white hand and smiled as the moon reappeared in its soft brilliance.  The water was like a black mirror for the moon, so still and calm.

Lord Mori drew Mari close, she aware of the scent of sandalwood from his gown and the scent of sake.  He stroked her hair and Mari put her hand inside his kimono, on his breast.  She felt the soft beating of his heart.  With all the strangeness of her present world, with all that was unknown before her, this, this—the warmth of his skin, the scent of him at least was real, had no unsettling magic.  She had enough of magic and whatever superstitions that plagued this century and this place.

Mari shivered.  Lord Mori chuckled and drew her closer.

 

“The moon is clear

I escort a lovely girl

Frightened by a fox.”

 

Mari knew the verse to be Basho’s, a very famous poem at that. She also knew Lord Mori had changed the word ‘boy’ to ‘girl’.

Lord Mori loosened the string of his hakama and pulled aside his robes.  He pulled Mari over him, straddling his hips.  Without a word he loosened her carefully arranged kimonos up over her hips and off her shoulders.  He held her breasts, now exposed to the moonlight in his large hands and pulled her to him.  Only her obi kept her robes around her.  She felt his hand at her crotch.  It had been so long since they had mated, right before her miscarriage months ago.  She groaned as desire flooded her, stiffening her nipples, making her aroused.

Lord Mori wasted little time, his own desire evident.  Pulling her arms around his neck, he lifted her onto him and with his own groan, held her to him like a vise, pushing his hips up and back, Mari’s head rocking with his motion.  Seeking her mouth, he finally kissed her as their coupling ended.

Later Lord Mori wrapped them together in quilts and Mari slept, her head pillowed on his shoulder, the warmth of his body a further comfort.  It was still spring, not near summer at all, and the nights were cold this near to Gassan Mountain.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

“Kimono”, Chapter 13

A Tengu. Mythological (???) creatures that are shape shifters. They love to trip up arrogant Buddhist priests.  They are attached to the Yamabushi clan.

 

Koku: is a measure of rice…like a bushel. Wages to samurai and others were paid in koku.

At the Hour of the Dragon, Lords Mori and Ekei were drinking the first of many cups of cha.

The morning dawned with peach colored clouds over the lake and raucous honking by resident geese. It was cool this morning, though late spring, and the brazier did little to boil the water for the cha as Lord Mori poked more charcoal beneath the small fire. The brass kettle sweated with cold water filled from a jug.

“Lord Tokugawa will expect a report by the new moon.”

Lord Ekei’s voice was a sleepy whisper. Except for the distant sound of waterfowl, there was little noise outside the castle except for the nightsoil men making their rounds. The buckets clanged against the old stones as they dropped their poles to shovel in the manure left from beasts and oxen the day before.

“I know. He is expecting much detail.” Lord Mori sipped his cha, his face scowling into his cup.

“Our lord is expecting troops and provisions.” Lord Ekei blinked his eyes, trying to wake up. It was still very early and the room cold.

“He asks much to put down a peasant rebellion. It will just rise up again when the rains wash the blood from next spring’s soil.”

Lord Mori grunted into his cup, his face maintaining a scowl.

“The problem” said Lord Ekei, pushing his point, “isn’t about what the peasants do, it’s about what the daimyos don’t do.”

“And what is that, my friend?”

“The corruption from the tax collectors breeds these rebellions. Too much koku is taken from the fields and not enough left to live upon. Under heaven, there is nothing else to do but riot. Starving bellies are invitations to rebellion.”

Lord Mori grunted. “That is a big part of the problem. This is another one. Living in Edo for six months every two years. The cost of this impoverishes every region.”

Lord Mori filled both cups with more hot water, added a small amount of powdered tea to the cups and stirred with a bamboo whisk.

“Yes, yes, that is a large consideration, but until Heaven moves its bowels, nothing can be done about that.”

“A good strategy on the Emperor’s part would help. Or rather the Shogun. The Emperor has no power anymore. He and his court are like painted gourds. The effort to mobilize each daimyo in obedience to the court’s demands keeps us from each other’s throats.”

“I think we better do—“

Suddenly a large bird appeared at the window, and startled both lords. It was big like a vulture and had a long red nose and dark iridescent feathers. It was a tengu.

Shaking its feathers violently, a dust storm obscured it for a few seconds. Then both lords saw a skinny priest, dressed in a filthy kimono appear. Both lords bowed respectfully from their cushions.

“Man, those air currents! They would tear a bird’s feathers from his body. Got a cup of sake around? Travel dehydrates me.”

This tengu was a priest from the Yamabushi clan. He hopped down from the window, scratching the side of his face where a scrawny gray beard covered it.

“Lice,” he announced with a grin.

Lord Mori spooned powdered tea in a cup, poured some hot water over it, carefully stirred and handed the cup to the scratching man. He took it with a sour, disdainful glance at both lords, and drank it without ceremony, smacking his lips loudly and wiping his hand across his thin lips.

“Lord Yoki, we are honored you have come to advise us”, said Lord Ekei with another bow.

“Well, beats hanging around Haight-Ashbury. Had to appear as a pigeon to fit in, and all there was to do during the day was beg for breadcrumbs. Did look up skirts at muffs, though.” He laughed, a coarse, wheezing sound.

Lord Ekei suppressed a smile, and Lord Mori didn’t a grimace. They had dealt with Lord Yoki before. His antics were well known.

Lord Yoki lowered himself to a cushion and rubbed his hands over the brazier. “You got any sake? Spring is a bad time for travel.”

Lord Mori clapped his hands twice and within several minutes a servant appeared with three cups and a brown bottle of warmed sake, placing them on the low table between the lords. Lord Mori poured three cups and offered the first to the Lord Yoki. He drank it fast and held out his cup for a refill.

It would be a long morning with Lord Yoki and it best be spent drunk.

“My Lord Yoki, our Lord Tokugawa in Kyoto has called upon the daimyos of the western borders to send troops and supplies to put down a rebellion of peasants in Mikawa providence.”

“Yeah? Well, being a vassal is tough. The nature of the beast. Too many kits and not enough teats.” Lord Yoki burped.

“You want my advice? You got bigger problems closer to home. I hear from some other birds Lord Kiyami is looking at your southern border with a covetous eye. That’s a dicey mountain range there, and if he controls those trade passes, he can hem you in. Adding a kunu to his territory would be a feather in his cap.”

He punctuated his statement with a belch.

“If this is true, my lord Mori” said Lord Ekei with a slight bow, “then you will have to organize two campaigns at once. That would be very costly, neh?”

Lord Mori eyes narrowed and he grunted. “I am sure Lord Yoki’s information is impeccable,” he said with his own bow to the disheveled priest.

“You bet your nuts it is”, said the priest sharply.

“Is this information you have read in history books, Lord Yoki,” asked Lord Ekei?

“Can’t read, never learned” said the priest in a raspy voice. “Some things don’t make the history books. Sometimes pillow talk is more….ah…reliable.”

Both lords considered his words. It was not beyond the pale. Men talked to women, and men talked in their sleep. Either way, information was obtainable.

This news of Lord Kiyami’s interest in his territory disturbed Lord Mori. It would be a very bad position to be hemmed in at that mountain range.

“Perhaps there is a need to change plans,” suggested Lord Ekei to Lord Mori.

Lord Mori looked at both of the men sipping their sake.

“Do I dare go against the desires of Heaven to thwart the schemes of Lord Kiyami?”

Scratching his scrawny beard absentmindedly, the Yamabushi priest coughed.

“You might be looking at a new portion of Hell if you ignore him.”

“If he hems you in, Higato, you will not be able to serve the needs of Lord Tokugawa in any case,” said Lord Ekei.

“Let me suggest, my lord,” said the priest with a little bow, “that you think about a spy or two in the household of Lord Kiyami. This could glean you some important and timely information.”

“Yes, Higato, this is excellent advice. We need to know his future plans, even if he is to seize your southern territory soon. How many forces he would deploy for this. He also would be called upon by our Lord Tokugawa for his support. He will have some of the same considerations we have.”

“Good. I agree. A couple of well placed servants should do the job.”

“I would further suggest, my lord, that you place a spy in his guard. A samurai that can be trusted with such a task. Perhaps an unknown captain of your own guard.”

“Again, I agree.” Higato Mori nodded to both men.

“Now we must consider the problem of what daimyos to call upon for support. Surely we have allies, Lord Ekei?”

“Higato, without a doubt that our Lord Kiyami will be also looking with the same eyes. Perhaps a visit to one or two would set things better for us.”

“If I may be so bold,” said the priest scratching at his skin inside his kimono, “I agree a visit be made soon. One never knows the plans of another man, especially at a distance.”

Lord Mori picked up his cup and glanced at his advisor, Ekei, sitting across from him, and fell into deep thought.

This priest has much sense for an old crow. Perhaps he should be the spy in Kiyami’s household? Could he dare presume upon the favors of such a man? Well, we are all Yamabushi, so there should be something of favor there. Perhaps this has possibilities. Perhaps Lord Yoki will be able to answer to this.

—

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

I started this novel in 2008 and it is finished, except for the editing, rewriting.  This novel is a time warp novel, where it goes from 21st century Japan to the 16th century, and back again.  Some of the characters are fiction, but many are historic, like Tokugawa, a dynasty that spanned centuries.  I aim to publish this novel Spring, 2017.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Kimono” a chapter from a new novel.

 

If you are reading this from JP at Olive Garden, please don’t.  Jingle is nothing but a common thief and an Intellectual Terrorist.  Support legitimate poetry sites, blogs and poets.  Don’t support thieves and posturers.  Help run them  off the internet so decent sites can thrive.

Lady Nyo

–

I’ve been writing this novel since 2008 only last month finishing it.  It is set in modern day Kyoto, but it’s also a time warp story.  It will be published Spring, 2017.  This chapter points up the demise of Mari’s marriage and her determination not to have an abortion.  Mari has an escape valve, though.  She bought a black tomesode (kimono for married women) that proves to have its own powers.  It has transported her back to the 16th century where she always lands on her face in front of Lord daimyo Mori.  He hasn’t killed her yet, but there is always time.

Lady Nyo

–

Chapter 11 

=

Steven drove Mari to the doctor for the abortion. She was emotionally exhausted, and couldn’t fight him anymore.

A nurse, bowing respectfully, met them in the lobby. They sat in hard chairs, Stevensaying nothing and Mari too nervous to talk.

What am I doing? Why would I kill this baby, my first and perhaps my only? What options do I have? Steven demands this and if I refuse? Can I chance a refusal?

A nurse called her name and Mari stood, not feeling herself rise. Steven placed his hand at her waist, prodding her to move. She turned and looked at him, tears in her eyes. Unthinking, like one of those Japanese robots, she moved across the room and out the door. It had been raining since they entered the doctor’s office.

“Mari! What are you doing? Come back here.” Steven’s harsh voice followed her out of the doctor’s office. She did not turn her head. She kept walking, tears falling down her face, startling a few passersby.

Mari walked through Kyoto, her hair wet with rain, her shoulders slumped and huddled in her coat. It was early spring and the rain was to be expected. Mari did not notice her surroundings, not caring where she went, what she saw, lost in her own misery.

What are my options? If I keep this baby, what can I do? Go back to the States and live with my mother? I married Steven to get away from her. He will leave me, divorce me, abandon me if I keep this child.

I am friendless here, thought Mari, biting her bottom lip. I am basically alone in this world. I have to decide for myself what to do. 

She walked on aimlessly, thinking of her marriage. Flipping back and forth between guilt and resentment, she was torn in two. She knew she was not happy, hadn’t been happy with Steven for a long time. A baby would probably make it worse.

She finally returned home after tramping the streets with her hands shoved in her pockets of her coat, her shoes and hair wet, her body sodden with rain. Steven wasn’t home yet.

That night she made a decision, though in the light of reason it had none. She placed her wedding ring on the nightstand, pulled the kimono around her tightly and secured it with the red silk rope. She lay down in her bed under a full moon, awaiting the magic and dropped off to sleep.

 

****

“What? Do I hear more mice? I must remember to set traps before I am overwhelmed with invasion. Or perhaps a hungry cat? What do you think, Lord Ekei?”

Lord Mori was standing over his table, looking down at maps. Across from him was his counselor, Lord Ekei. He was looking down at Mari who had materialized on the floor by the window, trussed with her arms behind her back.

“Ho! Said Lord Ekei in surprise. “It looks more like a large, black rat to me. Perhaps a couple of very hungry cats or maybe even a dog. What should we do with such a large rodent? Ah! It is trying to speak.”

Mari struggled in her rope, rocking from side to side, her kimono splayed out from her body, her flesh on the tatami mat.

“Lord Mori, please! I am very uncomfortable. Please let me up.”

“Ah, this is quite interesting, Lord Ekei. The rat speaks clearly, implores me to untie it. Yet it comes and goes with little regard and less manners. Now, what would be the proper course to take with an ill-mannered large rat?”

Bowing to Lord Mori, Lord Ekei started to draw his long sword.

“With your permission, my lord, I would cut off its head.”

“No!” yelled Mari from the floor. “Lord Mori, please, I beg of you, untie me and let me stand up.”

“Ah! Did I hear the word beg? Perhaps this rat is learning something of manners. Perhaps I will indulge her. She squeaks like a female rat.”

Walking over to where Mari lay on the floor, he grinned down at her.

“So, girl, you make your way back to me. Is it because you missed my company or you missed writing your verse? Perhaps you can write more and entertain Lord Ekei this morning?”

Mari turned her head as far as she could and looked up at him. Tears were gathering in her eyes and her lip trembled.

Lord Mori drew his shoto and cut her bindings. Mari lay before him quietly, exhausted

Lord Mori crouched down beside her, and spoke in a whisper.

“What am I to do with you, girl? Will you stay this time and become useful?”

Mari struggled to sit up, pulling the kimono around her and rubbing her wrists

“Lord Mori, I will stay if you allow me. I have left my husband.”

Lord Mori stood up slowly from the floor.

“Ah. And how did you explain this state of affairs?”

“I didn’t.   I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I just put on the kimono and it worked its magic.”

“Did you not think he would believe you? He would think that the moon had robbed you of your senses.

Mari looked up at him, shivering with emotion and cold. “How could I explain anything to him? What reason would I be able to give?”

“Come, Mari”, said Lord Mori, lifting her to her feet and leading her to the brazier. He went to a chest, took out the quilted kimono and standing in front of her, stripped the black one from her body.

“There, you will be warmer now.”

Lord Ekei was standing across the brazier solemnly watching Mari. She stared at him for a few seconds and then gave a polite bow, her hands on her thighs as she had seen Miyo bow. Lord Ekei inclined his head to her, not speaking a word.

“Mari, sit and have some tea. You look worse than usual.” Lord Mori’s eyes searched her face as he gave her the tea.

Mari’s hands shook as she accepted the cup, holding it to her and warming her hands around the bowl.

Both lords knelt on their cushions and watched her quietly while they sipped their own tea.

Mari was lost for words but the warmth of the tea stopped her from shivering.

“So, Mari-who-was-married”, said Lord Mori, with a slight smile, “you have come a long way to escape a bad marriage, neh? Perhaps you will inform us why it is so?”

Mari put down her cup and stared from one face to the other.

“Do not fear Lord Ekei, Mari. He is a very old friend with much patience in his belly.”

Mari looked down at her hands, now gripped tightly in her lap

“Lord Mori, all I can say is that there is little love between us now, and hasn’t been for a while. I left because I could not bear conditions between us.

Lord Mori stared at her, not uttering a word. Lord Ekei snorted, folded his hands over his prominent belly and closed his eyes like a cat.

Mari looked at Lord Mori and tears flooded her eyes. “I wanted to have a child, and Steven did not.

Lord Mori looked at her sharply. “What husband does not want his woman’s belly to grow large with many sons?”

Mari’s hands shook as she held the teacup. “Steven has always said a child would interfere with his career.

Lord Ekei snorted again and opened one eye. This was most interesting.

“I will send you to Lady Nyo for your comfort, Mari. We will speak later,” said Lord Mori.

He clapped his hands once, and his chamberlain, the husband of Lady Nyo, slid back the shoji screen and entered, kneeling inside and bowing low.

“Take Lady Mari to your wife and tell Lady Nyo that she is to be the advisor and companion of Lady Mari for now. I trust your lady wife is in good health?”

“Hai, my lord. She will be honored to do as you command.” Lord Nyo bowed again.

Mari followed Lord Mori’s chamberlain out with only one backward glance at both of the men. She tried to make her face a mask, but her ability was impaired by her emotional turmoil. She knew her present secret would become known in a matter of days.

“So, what of her story did my lord believe?” The words of Lord Ekei were delivered with a chuckle.

Lord Mori walked to the window where he watched the early morning unfold. The Sandhill cranes were back. He watched them dip their heads into the water, feeding on his goldfish in the big pond. The cherry blossoms were just buds, too early for their magnificent display  in weeks to come. Lord Mori started to hum an off key tune.   He finally turned to answer Lord Ekei.

“Most of it. I am still troubled by her story about her husband.”

“Well, my lord, perhaps he was short-shafted and dull in pillowing. You know well women have little sense. They run away with the first man who rolls his eyes, waves his cucumber of love and pledges his everlasting devotion. Perhaps she is kurage? A changer of saddles?

“No, I don’t think she is a run-away. It is something else, something unknown for now.

She reminds me of the poem:

“So lonely am I

My soul is a floating weed

Severed at the roots.”

“Ah, my lord, the great Basho! Yes, I could see how you would sense that in her. She is rather rootless. Without a strong husband or male member in a woman’s life, she is drifting through life.”

Lord Mori started humming again. Then he turned and spoke softly, more to himself.

“There is something important the Lady Mari is leaving out. I could see it in her eyes.”

“And that is?”

“She fears being a stone-woman. She feared never having a child.”

Lord Mori looked steadily at Lord Ekei

“Perhaps she is with child already. Perhaps it is mine.”
—

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008-2016.  All copyright laws apply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Kimono”, Part One of Chapter Six.

Rider in the sport of Yabusame

Where the daimyo Lord Mori mentions criminals and the amount of rope and knots, he is talking about a judicial practice in Medieval Japan.  How much rope and how tight and how many knots depended upon the social/class position of the ‘criminal’.  If it was a man from the gentry, or someone with connections, he wouldn’t suffer tying. If it was a common criminal or a peasant, he would be tied and with many knots if he was considered dangerous.  Even today in Tokyo, police carry a short piece of rope inside their sleeve.  It is now just a bow towards tradition.

 

 

Chapter 6:

 

Mari woke to the smell of coffee. Steven brought her a cup and smiled when she sat up, blinking her eyes and yawning.

“Sleepyhead is finally awake. You must have been tired last night. I tried to wake you earlier this morning, but you were sleeping like the dead.” Steven smiled down at her, the coffee’s steam floating like a ghost above in front of her.

Mari yawned again, as Steven set the mug on the nightstand. She was naked under the sheet. Glancing over the side of the bed, she saw the kimono rumpled on the floor.

Sipping her coffee she wondered if there was any evidence of the lovemaking by Lord Mori on her body. Perhaps some bruising, or some mark that could be noticed. She knew now these weren’t dreams, they were something far beyond. They were of magic but a peculiar kind of magic.

“I think the change in season is making me sleep soundly, Steven.” Mari buried her head in her mug and swallowed her coffee, her black hair hiding her face. Her excuse sounded a lie even to her ears.

Steven’s voice floated back to her from the bathroom. “Mari, you still taking your pills?”

Mari grimaced and said, “You referring to birth control? Yes, Steven, still taking them.”

“Good, just checking. We don’t want a mistake to happen.”

She remembered Lord Mori’s words as she drank her coffee. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she would feel more bonded to Steven with a child.

“Steven, what if I got pregnant? Pills aren’t 100%. What if I conceived a child?” Mari could hear him turning the water on and off as he shaved. There was silence from the bathroom and Mari watched him from her bed.

He spoke with the tapping of his razor against the sink as he finished his shaving.

“Mari, you know how I feel. A child would not fit in the plans for my career. I have to remain mobile. The company demands that we fly where they want me. You knew this when we married, and nothing has changed since.”

No, nothing has changed since, thought Mari. Our marriage limps along and we have no future except your work, Steven.

Steven’s voice continued from the bathroom. “If you’re bored, Mari, then for Christ’s sake, go take some courses at a local college. Find something to occupy yourself if being married isn’t enough.”

Mari sank back into the covers. She didn’t have the energy to fight him this morning. Besides, she was rarely aggressive. Steven won at most arguments because he knew this. She wouldn’t fight openly with him. It wasn’t of her nature. It was something she had learned from her mother, when faced with her overbearing father.

“Steven”, she said as he came in the room, adjusting his tie and cuffs. “It’s not that I’m bored, it’s that I want something more.”

Steven stood at the end of the bed and looked at her with a mixture of confusion.

“Mari, what is this ‘more’? You have money, right? You can buy anything you want within reason. You can spend the entire day shopping and sightseeing. We have a maid every place we go so you have no housework. You knew the nature of my career when you married me, so what’s the beef now? What has changed? Look, someday we can talk about children, but right now is not the time. You knew this when we married.”

Steven came to the side of the bed and kissed her quickly on the forehead. He was annoyed again, this Mari could tell. He left their little company-rented house, closing the front door quietly. To Mari it was the same old argument. The sameness of sentiment between them was wearing on her and wearing her down.

That night she knew she wanted ‘more’ and the more was clearly defined. She knew she could escape, even if it risked all she had. She was dying slowly and though it would be fantastical in the telling, she made a choice for this ‘more’.

The moon was again full, streamng into their bedroom. Steven insisted on heavy drapes, but when he was asleep, Mari opened them and knelt on the bed, the moonlight illuminating her naked skin. Her breasts felt full, like the moon, and her nipples were hardened like two cherry pits. She went and retrieved the black kimono from the closet and draped it around her, tying it loosely with a small piece of silk rope. It was not an elegant obi sash but just a piece of faded red rope. For some reason, it seemed to be right for the kimono.

Though the room was dark the moonlight was strong enough to illuminate the black kimono. Mari looked down at where it was folded across her breasts, the soft mounds of them disappearing into the darkness below, caressed by the heavy crepe of the kimono. She looked up at the moon, stark in the black, velvety night, and even the lights of Kyoto could not diminish its power. She wondered if the kimono flew her past the moon, washing her in white beams of light as it flew. What was the process and what happened to her body, her atoms, her molecules enfolded in the crepe of the gown.

She pulled it tight around her hips, already feeling the knots of the embroidery cut into her skin. She secured it with the red rope around her waist. Quickly braiding her hair behind her head, she lay down next to Stephen, pulled the quilt up over her shoulders and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

—— 

Mari lay on the stone floor, her arms tied behind her back by the silk rope formerly around her waist. The kimono was now open, her naked body hugging the cold stone floor of Lord Mori’s chamber. She looked up, startled, only able to raise her body just so far. Lord Mori was standing at the open window, the wooden shutter thrown back against the wall. His back was to her and she managed a throttled cry to get his attention.

“Lord Mori!   Lord Mori!” She called out. He didn’t seem in too much a hurry to notice her.

“Did I hear a mouse call my name? What kami has allowed a small rodent such a gift?” He turned and saw her.

“Ah! It is Lady Mari, come to visit me so early in my chamber. Does your husband know you are trussed up lying on my floor, Lady Mari?”

“Lord Mori, please, for the love of God, untie me. I can barely breathe on this cold floor.”

Lord Mori walked slowly, obviously in no hurry, to her side and stood looking down at her with a grin on his face.

“It seems the kimono has used some complex knots this time, Lady Mari. I will have to study the pattern before I can release you. Ah! It seems that you are a dangerous criminal, for there are many knots in your binding!”

“Please, Lord Mori, I am cold here, my kimono is open and my body flat on the floor.”

“Yes, I see, Lady Mari, a good place and position for such a criminal. Perhaps it is best that you remain where you are for a while? Perhaps you are too dangerous to be allowed your freedom.”

He stood above her and she could hear him laugh softly.

“Please!” I am cold. And I have to pee!”

“What? Again? Very well then, I don’t want my floor to be washed by your water.”

Lord Mori pulled Mari up to her feet, his eyes boldly looking at her body, now exposed by the open kimono, her nipples erect from the contact with the cold stone. He then quickly untied the silk rope that kept her arms tightly bound behind her back. Mari rubbed them, now free and closed her kimono, aware of his eyes upon her.

“Thank you, Lord Mori”, she said, humbly.

“Well, come near the brazier, Lady Mari, and warm yourself. The morning is cold yet, but it seems we are to have a fair day. Already the clouds are disapearing and the morning birds are singing. Lord Tokugawa is still here and you have come at an auspicious time. We are to have a ceremony in honor of my Lord this morning. Perhaps you are familiar with the Yabusame ritual?”

Mari shook her head, standing over the brazier, her hands out to its paltry warmth.

“I thought not. Well, we keep the gods entertained and all the other demi-gods, like our Lord Tokugawa.   We ride our horses past targets and shoot our bows from horseback. Today, we have a surplus of prisoners to be targets. They are mostly common criminals, thieves, robbers and a few more dangerous.”

Lord Mori tilted his head to the side, watching for her reaction. It was not slow in coming.

Mari gasped, her eyes widening. “Lord Mori, that is uncivilized! Surely you are not serious.”

“Oh, Mari, I am very serious. How do you dispatch criminals in your world?”

Mari thought of her society’s methods of execution: hanging, the electric chair, poisonous injections. In her world there was little to recommend  that was not as barbarous.

“Well, we don’t string them up and shoot arrows at them,” she said in disgust.

“But your methods are more humane? Then tell me what they are and perhaps I should adopt them.”

Mari did and Lord Mori’s eyes became mere slits as he listened to her.

“I believe we have the many-fold advantage over your methods, girl. We attempt to dispatch the criminals quickly with an arrow to the heart, we develop our skill with our bows and we exercise our horses at the same time. Clearly, we have a superior method of execution than yours. Of course, we have many more methods, but the morning grows late.”

Lord Mori removed the haunted kimono, folding it carefully and placed it on a wooden chest with reverence. He then held out an opened kimono for Mari to wear. Mari turned her back to him and felt the quilted kimono slip over her arms and settle on her back. At the same time, Lord Mori pulled her firmly to him with one arm, the other freeing her long, black hair from beneath the kimono. Mari could feel his breath on the back of her head. Lord Mori slipped a hand into her kimono, cupping a breast.

Suddenly breaking off, he said, “I will send you to Lady Igo to be dressed. You certainly can not sit in the stands with the other women naked.”

Mari was sent to Lady Igo who received her with thinly disguised distaste.

Once again she supervised the bath and dressing of the Lady Mari. The cosmetics were applied and the false eyebrows were applied high on Mari’s forehead. She was handed a small mirror and she barely suppressed a giggle at her surprise. She did look fully Japanese with the makeup and robed in layers of thin silk kimonos.

Lady Nyo was again in attendance and together the two women sat and talked softly until Lady Igo clapped her hands together and summoned all the women. These were the wives and daughters, and some of the older women of the castle. All would be expected to attend the ceremonies planned to honor the visit of Lord Tokugawa. With the swishing sound of silken cloth and a fluid gliding of many slippered feet, the women walked two abreast behind the Lady Igo out of the castle to the park where they were to sit beside the raised platform for the Lords Tokugawa and Mori.

Kneeling on low, hard cushions with the other women, Mari followed Lady Nyo’s example of spreading her layers of different colored kimono so the hems radiated out in pleasing colors. Lady Nyo tittered and whispered into Mari’s ear until a look from Lady Igo made her go silent.

Mari saw Lord Tokugawa sitting on the platform, dressed in clothes of ceremony, plus caplets, swords shoved through his sashes and a rather silly headpiece. She looked for Lord Mori, but did not see him next to Lord Tokugawa. There were other men around Tokugawa, all dressed in splendor and with colorful robes of state.

A large crowd gathered to view the parade of samurai and horses. Mari thought it surprising so many people were assembled this early in the morning. But of course the presence of Lord Tokugawa would have drawn all the officials from around the countryside and their appearance before the lord would have been necessary for future favor with the great Lord.

Suddenly a low toned horn blew in the distance, and all the women craned their necks to see where the sound  came from. Soon the horn’s plaintive notes sounded nearer. A long horn came into view, carried on the shoulders of two men with a third blowing fiercely, his cheeks puffed out like apples with each tone he made. Behind him, numerous drummers. As they came up the long winding street in front of the platform, they were followed by many men walking two abreast, dressed in ceremonial robes. Then followed the mounted samurai. At the head of these samurai was Lord Mori. He was astride a white horse, this beast decorated with red ropes and tassels. Lord Mori did not wear his robes of state, but  a white shawl was thrown over the left shoulder. He carried a long bow in his left hand, and a quiver of long arrows was fixed to the back of his saddle on the right side. Lord Mori led at least twenty mounted samurai, all  garbed in colorful robes and all with broad brimmed hats. More men walked behind the mounted horses and then came the column of  prisoners.

Mari’s heart beat hard in her breast and her stomach clenched in knots. He was serious! She had hoped he was just hounding her with a particular brand of cruelty, but he was serious. Mari’s face must have betrayed her horror, for Lady Nyo looked at her with a quizzical expression and tapped her on the hand with her closed fan.

“Lady Mari, you look like you have seen a ghost! What is wrong, why are you so distressed? Are you ill?”

Mari could barely focus on the words of Lady Nyo.

“Those are prisoners, those men in the parade?”

“Oh yes, Lady Mari, those are prisoners. They are greatly honored to be executed before the Lord Tokugama. I have heard they are very dangerous men. Some were taken in battle, but some have done great offenses, and they deserve to be killed. May the Gods show their families mercy.”

Mari stared at her friend, disbelief overcoming her like a huge wave. Was she to be an observer of the suffering of these men? And, at the hands of Lord Mori? What kind of beasts and monsters were these people around her?

The horn blew again and the drummers started their ponderous rhythm. An official on the platform was reading a proclamation. Mari could only understand a few of his words, but it seemed to be a greeting from the Lord Tokugama to the people in attendance. She looked for Lord Mori, and saw him still mounted on his horse, with men in attendance surrounding him.

Three prisoners were led by two men each to an erect stake. Mari saw them tied with their hands behind the stake, their bodies further bound with rope. They were also bound by the throat. They were about 70 feet apart, enough to draw an arrow, fit it to the bow and swiftly release it at a gallop. Mari tried to read their expressions, the ones she could see, but the men kept their eyes to the ground.

END of PART 1 of  Chapter Six.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008-2016

“Devil’s Revenge” Chapter 28, The Goddess Aine

 

 

 

I was standing at the bedroom window, watching the circling hawks and falcons fly in the woods beyond the house. There are four birds now, big birds with wings that barely move. They stay suspended above the wood. It is still winter, and I would imagine the thermals they ride are gone. Yet they glide and glisten in the air, weaving an invisible net over the trees. The birds come and go but there is one that stays. He was there from the first, soaring over the woods and on occasion, across the windows of the house. I feel him a specter or shade of Obadiah. The black bird out there is the reason I can not leave this house.

I needed something to divert me. This dream of the Morrigan was haunting. At first, I could only remember the cool taste of cider from her cup and the ointment she used on my body. With a shiver I remembered her last words: I was to give a girl child to her. She would assure me fertility, but she would take my daughter to be her own. What need did she have for my child? She tricked me by stilling my tongue and I could not fight or deny her.

I was powerless.   Of course! I was fighting a myth called the ‘Great Goddess’! What else would I feel? I am mortal and she is bursting with powers. She was the source of life and death, of fertility for all that grows. She commands the ravens and crows. She transforms herself into these birds and wheels above the battlefields. She lands on the bodies of the dead, and eats them. She and the crows clean the earth of the carnage. Morrigan is not death, but a keeper of death. And she would take the only daughter I would birth.

But even knowing this, I do not know her. I do not know the truth about Garrett. I knew he was uneasy with me, suspecting something, but her potion or charm was working, and he did not ask questions. I would notice him watching me, with a curious expression.   I glance at him, and this was enough to shatter the moment. His face became a mask.

I went to the kitchen for something to do. I was sick of reading and too nervous to sleep. The kitchen was cold, the fire low, and more kindling was needed. From that I was able to stoke the iron stove. At least I could bake bread, and think. I checked on my sourdough sponge. By putting out the right ingredients, yeast comes from the air, and like magic, the starters for bread. My yeast sponge was in a bowl, set back in the fireplace, where it would remain warm. I poured out flour from a crock and added some warm water and honey, and made the beginnings of bread.

Over a cup of tea, I thought about Cuchulainn. What I knew didn’t amount to much, so I retrieved a book from my bedroom. As I passed the library, I noticed Garrett gone, and went back to the kitchen. It was warming nicely. Celtic mythology was confusing at best, but I read for the rest of the afternoon in the comfort of the stove.

This Cuchulainn was quite the character. At seven he was swinging a sword and hurling rocks from a sling. He was beautiful to behold, and other warriors saw his effect upon their wives and daughters. They looked around for a suitable marriage, but found nothing he liked. Finally he saw a king’s daughter, Emer, telling her   “In that sweet country, I’ll rest my weapon.” He is cock- sure of his abilities and is set to terrible tasks to obtain her. He has many consorts, or wives, and probably many children. He is known for his ‘war-spasms’ where his hair stands on top of this head, shooting fire, and his face contorts into a monster and his body whirls around misplacing his anatomy. He is the hero of the Great Cattle Raid, and slews thousands. He was trained by the woman warrior, Scatlech.   I know already of Scatlech of Skye, from the dream of Morrigan, and I remember my own trip to the Isle of Skye. It was a fog and rain swept isle, with the seas pounding upon its cliffs. I think magic would be common enough here, for strange symbols were carved on the rocks and the people looked haunted. I remember feeling haunted myself in that cold and disturbing terrain. I had taken a lock of my dead father’s hair, to release it in the wind from a high hill. The wind howled and though it was only late October, the weather became much colder. Since it was a squall forming the ferry didn’t come.   It was a strange night in that little hotel on the top of Skye.

In reading the stories of Celtic mythology, there were too many characters and too many names to follow any certain path. I wasn’t even sure that my dreams would prove fruitful. But so much had happened, in both of the dreams that spoke to something well hidden. I had little to cling to. But I knew, somehow, the first dream pointed in a direction, and the second seemed to confirm it.

I looked into my now-cold cup of tea. The tea leaves spiraled in a circle, slowly moving in the cup, though I had no spoon to stir it. I watched the winding of the leaves, and it seemed to move in ever narrowing circles. I was tired and lay my head down upon my arms. The room grew warmer. I could hear the patter of rain on the windows and it was lulling, like a low chant. The yeasty smell of the rising dough comforted me like a narcotic.

Something disturbed me and I slowly looked up, half asleep, my eyes blurry. Across from the table, sat a woman. She was dressed in a rough, green woolen gown, with a gold torque around her neck. She had large, unrestrained breasts beneath her gown, and red hair. She gazed at me with deep gray eyes commanding my attention. No words came from her lips, but I knew she was Aine. She was a goddess of fertility and childbirth. The Goddess of wet dreams, nocturnal emissions, also.

I could not lower my eyes. I could not move from my seat. Without sound, her voice poured into my brain.

I am the Goddess of Fertility.

I stand over the soil and spill Lug’s seed into the earth.

It is not for him to plow the earth with his cock alone,

And spit his abundant seed to the earth,

It must come from my womb, travel down my white thighs

And into the soil.  

My womb ferments the seasons,

My piss waters the earth,

My dung feeds the crops and the harvest.

Nothing grows and prospers but I command it.

 

I am the lusting eye, the blush on the maiden’s cheek,

The hardening cock that seeks out the maidenhead,

I am the Goddess that makes a woman a vessel,

A man the water of Life.

 

In the fullness of time, I am the midwife

Pulling out bawling babes from bloody wombs

And doing the same with cattle and sheep.

All that bring forth are under my hand

In the fullness of time, you will bring forth two children,

Twins,

One male, one female.

I will stand between your thighs

I will touch the crown of your babes as they push down your passage.

I will catch your children as they are born,

I will mark the female for my own.

Remember your vow. Remember your promise.

Remember it is I who opens your womb.

 

She made a circling motion in the air with her hands, and disappeared. I was left in a trance, not knowing whether I was dreaming or awake. But one thing was clear, when I regained my senses. If I had thought I would escape any agreements made in that last dream with Morrigan, I was badly mistaken. This was a warning and it was further evidence I was not in control of my life.

When my head cleared, I went upstairs to the bedroom.   I moved to the window, and watched for the hawks, but they were gone. Perhaps roosting in trees, for darkness was falling fast. I wondered were Garrett had gone, and when he would return. I decided to read some more, this latest vision was part of the three, a trinity. I shook my head. Now I seemed to be caught up in the Celtic beliefs. Things coming in threes.

I opened the book before me to the pages of Morrigan, and had I read further, I would have realized the importance of spirals. According to this ancient writer, (a monk? A scribe sitting in a cold cell cobbling words?) …spirals were interdimensional symbols capable of parting time and space. It was something I was familiar with in my ‘real’ world, for churches and public parks to put out labyrinths for walking and meditation. No intention of parting time and space. They were used as defined paths for ritual dances, and this I watched at festivals. The tea leaves spiraling in my cup, unstirred by me, and Aine’s motion with her hands had effected me like a labyrinth. Either I had fallen into a trace, or magic was afoot.

Finally, just before dark, I heard Garrett on the stairs. He was singing a song, his voice off-key, and his steps heavy on the hall floor outside my door. He entered the room, and stood heavily against the door frame, a bleary smile on his face. He was drunk, no doubt at all. Just what I needed today: a drunk demigod on top of all else. I could not hide my anger at his state, for I had not expected this.

“So! You finally appear with a snout full of ale. I see you enjoyed your afternoon.” I stood with my hands on my hips, glaring at him from the middle of the room

“Ah! Already a nag, and not even wed!” He grinned, stumbling into the room. He was in worse shape than first imagined. He lurched towards a chair, and sat down heavily. He waved his hand around in the air vaguely.

“Madame Gormosy and I found a tavern down the road. The White Horse Tavern. We had a few tankards, just a few, at the White Horse.”

I started to laugh. The thought of “Madame” Gormosy entering a tavern on his arm was hysterical. The locals would have had an eyeful. Although drunk, he read my mind.

“Ah! Madame transformed herself into Monsieur. Her original form, you know. Good company, he.” Garrett belched and the smell of ale and onions filled the room. He grimaced and mumbled a curse.

“We hoisted a few tankards at the White Horse, and went across the road to the Black Horse. The ale was the same.” He grinned a drunkard’s grin. “Madame Gormosy mixes ale and raw whiskey. It would take a devil to stand after his toasts.” He belched and giggled. Patting his knee, he tried to reach for me.

“Come here, sweet Bess, lemme taste your red lips. Lemme rest my weapon in your sweeeeet country”.

I froze at his words. These were the same used by Cuchulainn in his courting Emer. Either magic was near, or his words prophetic.

I could see he was in no condition for anything except sleep, and knelt down to pull off his boots. That done, he reached for me and placed me on his knee. He fumbled with the front of his breeches and a scowl crossed his silly face.

“John Thomas was ready and willing climbing the stairs.   Ah! Fickle friend he is! Seems all he wants to do now is sleep. He does not hold his liquor well, the little man there. Had me running outside all afternoon.”

I could not help smiling, as angry as I was. All men are the same: man, demi-god or devil. Most of them could not hold their liquor.

I finally put him and his close friend to bed, where they fell asleep fast.   He snored with great loud bellows of sound, and I moved to the other room. Even from there, I could hear him all night. In the morning, he looked none the worse for his drinking. I found him sitting at the fire, smoking his pipe. He said not a word in his defense, but I noticed a tray of tea and toast and some bacon for me…… and a small tankard of ale for himself.

Ah! The proverbial hair of the dog!

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyright, 2016