Chapter 3 – Medicine Man
'Even humble guests
still expect to be welcomed
with due courtesy
Treat them politely, whether
they be princes or peddlers.'
It was not the home of Hiromasa's musician acquaintance, nor of anyone else he knew.
As the servants who answered his knock provided them with the name of their esteemed master, Seimei saw his friend's hopeful face fall, and rightly surmised that it was not the one he had been hoping for.
The place was, in fact, currently masterless. The head of the household was one Sir Kaiyama no Nobuhiro, a lower fifth-ranking Senior Councillor of the Bureau of Regional Inspection. He had been called away to handle matters at his provincial estate, and so was presently absent. The only member of the Kaiyama family currently at home was his only daughter, Lady Hiwako, a youthful maid of only seventeen who, due to her tender age, could not receive strange men while thus alone and unaccompanied.
It was left to the house's head steward, a rather surly fellow named Yunoshin, to grant them audience. Upon hearing their request for temporary lodgings, the servant scowled, huffed out his sallow cheeks, and muttered: "I suppose you can stay here, if you must."
This insolence left Hiromasa momentarily stunned. He had half a mind to march straight back out through the main gate, and was just summoning up an indignant remark with which to do so; but before he could, Seimei replied, in the most correct and courtly manner: "We accept your gracious hospitality with the utmost thanks."
Yunoshin gave him a disdainful look. Hiromasa darted a similar stare at him, wondering incredulously how Seimei could treat this wretch with such extravagant courtesy, yet privately refer to His Benevolent Majesty as 'that man'.
It was doubtful whether these fine manners had any effect on the steward, for he simply gave an undisguised sneer, and said: "I will show you to a room where you will be out of the way."
It was only when the man's back was turned that Seimei flashed an ironic smile; he seemed to be highly amused by this contemptuous manner. Hiromasa, far less amused, reluctantly followed their host, with Seimei close behind him.
The accommodation itself was better than Hiromasa had expected. The room they were shown into was laid out with clean tatami matting and sufficient floor cushions. The atmosphere was pleasant, cooled by fresh air that circulated through the half-drawn blinds. It was flanked by a narrow verandah which overlooked a courtyard, offering them a view of a single, artfully-pruned maple tree.
"I suppose I should get someone to bring you refreshments," Yunoshin muttered. Now that his service had been grudgingly dispensed, he gave a half-hearted bow, then turned away abruptly. As he left them, they heard him mutter under his breath: "Really, such a bother! Do they take us for an inn? As soon as the master's back is turned, we are overrun with 'guests'!" They could hear his sullen footfalls tramping away into the distance, like retreating thunder, as he stomped along the open corridor which led back to the main house. The sound was welcome to Hiromasa, and the silence in his wake even more so.
"What an ill-mannered fellow!" he exclaimed to Seimei, once he was sure that the object of his ire was well out of earshot. "I cannot think why you condescended to accept his 'hospitality', if I should dare call his blatant insolence any such thing! His peevish manner was beyond the bounds of decency!"
"He certainly seemed preoccupied," Seimei admitted, with a wry smile.
Hiromasa scoffed. "Bah! Preoccupation is no excuse for vulgarity. His master is not even here at present; he has fewer duties than usual, yet he treats even such simple courtesy as if it were a chore. The man was rude beyond belief, and this house is rather hateful. It fairly reeks of aloeswood – and the sumontara variety at that!"
Seimei gave no outward sign of agreement, though he fully comprehended Hiromasa's meaning. Aloeswood was a type of incense which had numerous varieties, each with its own distinct characteristics. Sir Yonedano no Johaku, a particular authority on the hearing of scents who had attended court some decades ago, had famously described sumontara thus:
"Sour at the beginning and end. Sometimes mistaken for Kyara, but with something distasteful and ill-bred about it, like a peasant disguised as a noble."
That was Hiromasa's implication; and, in truth, it was possibly an astute one. Though the room that they had been given was, at first glance, well-appointed and comfortably furnished, it showed some oddly contradictory signs of both ostentation and shabbiness. The sheets of tatami laid upon the floor were edged with sumptuous silk; yet in the corners of the room, the boards underfoot were thick with dust. A battered cabinet stood in a small alcove, its black lacquer flaking from it like dead bark from a tree; atop it, an exquisite calligraphy set was laid out, complete with a jade-handled writing brush and an inkstone covered with enough gold leaf to make it look like a lichen-crusted river rock. Even outside, the maple tree's branches were fastidiously manicured, trimmed into a perfect dome that resembled an upturned rice-bowl; yet beneath it, a ragged brown carpet was ranged around its feet where the fallen leaves hadn't been swept away, littering the ground like so much spent ash.
None of these details provided Seimei with any indications of the house's owner. The encroaching dilapidation could be attributed to the estate's remoteness; an outlying dwelling which received few visitors might naturally begin to relax its standards (as he himself knew from his own experience). Besides, even nobles who resided in the city tended to be plagued by both lazy servants, and their own poor taste.
Hiromasa, however, took all this as signs of the place's deficit, and he wouldn't be convinced otherwise.
"I don't hold that charlatan to his promise of refreshment," he continued in his lament. "I believe we shall be forced to wait an age for it, if it ever comes; and when it does, it shall be naught but filthy dishwater, which I shall hurl at the cretin's head."
"If only this verandah were in my own garden," Seimei opined. "Unsightly though it may seem compared to this one, we would there at least have saké served to us right away. In any case, I have no intention of waiting an age for a beverage of any kind to come." So saying, he crossed the room in measured strides, stepped off the verandah, and began to cross the courtyard beyond.
"W-where are you going?!" Hiromasa asked, scrambling to catch up to him. "Despite what I said, it doesn't seem quite proper to-"
Even if he was far from impressed by the steward's manner, it didn't seem right for them to roam around a stranger's house at their leisure. However, when Seimei showed no sign of hesitation, he somewhat nervously followed after him. "Are you searching for a drink?"
"For drink, yes; or for a maid, since one usually brings the other. Ah, I think I may have already found one of the two."
As they rounded the side of the main house, Hiromasa heard the sound of clamorous twittering, as though of many birds. It was, in fact, the hubbub of several high, feminine voices, all speaking over the top of one another.
Just beside a door which, presumably, served as a back access to the kitchen, half a dozen maids were clustered about, chatting amongst themselves. Absorbed in their own affairs, they didn't notice the two noblemen, who stopped just a few paces shy of them, admiring the lively spectacle that they made. They seemed to be clustered around a central figuring, cooing and chortling over something in their midst.
"Here, Akemi, try this!" one of them insisted, with laughter in her voice and a tiny packet clutched in her hand. "It might make you look less like a hag!"
"Pfah!" Another young woman – Akemi, assumedly – gave a derisive snort, which sounded far from ladylike. "In that case, you should try this one, Hinata, dear! It might shrink your nose down; then people will stop mistaking you for a tengu!"
In response to this, Hinata pouted, prompting Akemi to bat her playfully on the nose.
"How about this one for you, Keiko?" another maid suggested, holding up a tiny vial which appeared to be filled with some sort of fine powder. "It's supposed to smooth out the appearance of skin. I reckon it could make even your legs look less like a chicken's!"
Whilst the others chortled, Keiko merely tossed her head. "Perhaps it would, Miku; but all the powder in the world can't help if you naturally waddle like a duck!"
This drew fresh shrieks of laughter from the others. Hiromasa watched and listened in amazement as they cackled unashamedly, flashing their bare white teeth and emitting squawks that were akin to a flock of crows. Being more accustomed to the reserved behaviour of the elegant ladies who attended court, he was both slightly repulsed, and subtly intrigued, by this display of effusive, unfettered femininity.
From within the gaggle of giggling women, a distinctly deeper voice suddenly emanated. Seimei and Hiromasa realized, for the first time, that one of the bright, kimono-clad figures in front of them was, in fact, male.
"My ladies, no matter the power of my concoctions, there is no ointment, nor salve, that could even hope to improve upon your beauty. Such natural radiance is beyond the need for any kind of refinement."
This caused the women to go into further mirth-filled convulsions, though several of them appeared to flush with pleasure at this well-aimed compliment. Behind his fan, Seimei gave a small smile which contained in it some silent applause; beside him, Hiromasa was secretly committing the phrase to memory, wondering if he might have some opportunity to make good use of it himself.
"Such a smooth talker!" Hinata declared, giving the speaker a coy look; the man's back was to them, so they could clearly see the coquettish gaze that she unabashedly directed at him. "Yet however flattering you mean to be, such remarks won't help you sell your wares!"
The pair of shoulders in front of them, clad in bright blue, gave a nonchalant shrug. A large eye had been embroidered on the back of the robe in brilliant red and gold thread; with the gesture, the cloth wrinkled, making it appear to wink at them. "That is unfortunate. No matter; perhaps you have aging mothers, or less-fortunate sisters, who might benefit from such a purchase." He paused, allowing for the fresh chortles that this statement had elicited. "Or perhaps... these gentlemen would like to buy something, as a gift for a lady friend… or even for themselves?"
Having uttered these sardonic words – and seemingly spied them with the eye upon his back – the man turned to face them. Seimei and Hiromasa suddenly found themselves confronted by the amused gaze of two similarly red-rimmed eyes.
For a moment, Hiromasa irrationally believed that they had come face to face with a demon. However, he swiftly realized that the stranger's forehead appeared to be flat; if this was an oni, its horns must be concealed beneath the purple bandanna, though this seemed hardly likely. It became apparent to him that the crimson markings on the face, which had so shocked him at first glance, were merely flamboyant streaks of red pigment, artfully applied for cosmetic purposes. A series of lines wreathed his eyes like a set of exaggerated lashes, enlarging them to startling effect; another red line streaked his nose from brow to tip. The entire countenance was pale enough to make him wonder if it had been powdered. The lips had an unnatural blue tint to them, curving up steeply at the corners in a perpetual smile.
Around the strange man, there was a collective intake of breathe. The women had abruptly fallen silent, as they noticed the presence of the two noblemen for the first time.
As one, they gazed in a mortified stupor at Seimei and Hiromasa. Each face had turned a burning shade of scarlet, making them look like a string of red lanterns, bobbing about the blue-clad figure in unified humiliation.
Then there was a flurry of respectful bows and demur salutations. Backing away in rapid, bobbing footsteps, they continued with their shame-faced curtsies, even as they beat a hasty retreat toward the safety of the kitchen door. Within moments, they had scattered like a flock of startled birds, fleeing in a state of rustling, jostling panic. As the trailing wing-like sleeves of the last one slipped from view, they could hear indignant squawks of embarrassment emanating from somewhere beyond the threshold. Then, even this faded; the three men were left with only the distant clamour of crickets in the hills, and the gentle whoosh of the wind in the maple's branches, to softly serenade them.
There was a long pause, during which they merely gazed at each other. Each party appeared to be trying to figure the other out.
It was Hiromasa who spoke first.
"Forgive us for interrupting," he said, in sheepish tones. "We didn't mean to break up your gathering."
"That is quite alright." The stranger favoured him with smile which extended beyond the vaulting curvature of his lips. "In truth, I was finding the company a little too… exuberant. By contrast, this peaceful atmosphere is quite… refreshing."
His gaze lifted to veer over their heads, taking in the vibrant branches of the maple tree, which, in the darkening pall of twilight, appeared to have faded from crimson to burgundy.
"The maples this year… are… nice," he said, with slow deliberation.
As he said it, he gave an ambiguous quirk of those exceedingly pale, purple-tinged lips. The gesture seemed to imply that he was more than simply pleased with the stated fact; his words surged with an unlikely sense of significance, which he alone was privy to. His voice was low and mysterious; as Hiromasa listened to it, he felt as though the autumn breeze were wafting against his ear, having just rattled through the half-bare branches. The sensation made him shiver, though he couldn't explain why. Despite this, he was pleased by the stranger's observation.
"It is astute of you to notice such a thing," he said, in friendly manner. "I was remarking upon their beauty to myself as we made our way here. Are you an artist, sir? Or a poet?"
The man's smile broadened a little, exposing the tip of a canine tooth. It made him look strangely vulpine; however, beside the rest of his attire, it could hardly make him look any more peculiar than he already did. "No, I cannot claim either of those distinctions," he said, in a soft tone which Hiromasa took for modesty. "I am simply… an observer."
"Ah," said Hiromasa, with mild disappointment. He turned to Seimei. "One of your lot."
Seimei simply smiled and shrugged dismissively, at what could have been taken as a passive insult. The stranger's eyes also shifted to him; he looked at the white-robed young man with a gaze which was strangely penetrating.
"Sir, this gentleman defines us as two of a kind," he said, with a hint of humour in his voice, "but it seems that you also have some ability which I, regrettably, am lacking. Do you, perhaps… practice onmyodo?"
"Hah, you can tell!" Hiromasa exclaimed, answering before his friend could. "This person is Abe no Seimei, the famed Master Onmyoji of His Imperial Majesty's court. I myself am Minamoto no Hiromasa, a humble servant of Her Majesty the Empress' house, and a gagaku musician of little note."
"Ah," said the stranger, giving Hiromasa another of his piercing glances. "A musician. That explains why you are so appreciative of the change in the season."
"But you are as well, for other reasons?" Seimei asked.
Hiromasa darted him a sidelong glance. Though his manner was outwardly polite, there had been a hint of interrogation in his voice; a subtle insistence that the stranger divulge something of himself. Hiromasa admitted that there was something elusive about the strange man that puzzled him, but such directness was somewhat uncharacteristic of his friend, who usually refrained from taking an interest in anything – or anyone – on a mere whim.
The other man smiled, seemingly oblivious of Seimei's implied demand, though he did oblige by giving them the barest of facts about himself.
"I notice such things, as a matter of profession; I must remain aware of the ailments which arise during such transitions, if I am to be successful at plying my trade. Otherwise, I view the seasons with little romanticism; nor can I read the hidden signs in the pattern of the falling leaves, as you probably can." He gave a respectful nod in Seimei's direction, smiling broadly as he did so. "I am merely… a simple… medicine seller."
"Is that so?" Seimei replied, with more than a hint of sceptism in his voice, which Hiromasa privately agreed with. If this man was indeed a 'simple' medicine seller, his costume was certainly elaborate. Even at court, he would have appeared to be overdressed; his painted face and colourful kimono would better suit an actor on a kyogen*stage.
As if he divined their inner incredulousness, the medicine man favoured them with a knowing smile. "As a peddler of certain supplies, I was told that I might do business with the young lady of the house, who may be interested in purchasing some of my wares. I was told to wait in an out-of-the-way room, which I have since strayed from. I should return to it before I am missed. Please, excuse me." He gave a slight bow, formally taking his leave.
Hiromasa also bowed in return. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Medicine Seller."
He whom he addressed paused halfway through the act of withdrawing, eying them in silence.
Was it the same enigmatic grin that he now wore, or a different one? It was impossible to tell; the upward quirk of the overly-pallid, possibly painted-on lips seemed to be a constant conceit. All the same, the significance behind his steady gaze seemed to have subtly shifted. He answered Hiromasa's courtesy, though it was Seimei whom he looked at, his expression inscrutable.
"Likewise," he said.
Somehow, he managed to draw the single word out with an unlikely sense of profundity. After making another polite half-bow, he turned and strode, with unhurried grace, towards the kitchen door, which had so recently afforded the embarrassed maids their means of escape. The eye on the back of his robe solemnly watched the pair of noblemen throughout his departure; then it, and he, likewise winked out of sight.
"Hey, Seimei," Hiromasa said, with a nervous urgency that he reserved for matters of etiquette. "We should be getting back, too, before that cretin finds another reason to criticize us. I will not stand for any more of it, and I wish to remain beyond reproach. Come, let's return."
So saying, he began to make his way back across the courtyard.
"As you wish." There was a slight pause before Seimei answered; then he seemed to rouse himself, following a few paces behind Hiromasa.
Anxious though he was to retake possession of the room they had grudgingly been granted, Hiromasa could not help but notice that his friend seemed preoccupied. Though he made his way in acquiescent silence, Seimei glanced over his shoulder numerous times as he walked, his keen gaze returning again and again to the empty space before the kitchen door, where the mysterious blue-clad figure had last been seen.
Author's notes:
'kyogen' is a form of traditional Japanese theatre which pre-dates both Noh and Kabuki; neither of these existed during the Heian era, which is kind of ironic, since it was supposed to have been a golden age for the arts.
I read about the aloeswood incense on the LiveJournal Onmyoji community page, which was extremely useful, but is now sadly defunct. I would very much like a translation of the Onmyoji manga, final chapter of volume 3, it wasn't posted yet when the forum disbanded!
I don't know how long I'm going to be able to come up with chapter titles that start with double initials. What started as a coincidence seems to have turned into a convention. Let's see if it happens again for the next chapter!