Historical Fiction Smackdown

Round 3: The Daimyo and his Samurai

Picture 2, 3, 5

Chosen tanka will appear in bold

The tea ceremony continued in its sedate pace even as the wooden floor shook fitfully beneath their feet. The serene looking yujo calmly used her haisaji to shape the unsettled ash back into its rightful place as her only reaction to the earth’s rumbling movement. Her equally porcelain skinned companions plucked at the shamisen’s strings with no expression indicting any fear or despair. Daimyo Tanegashima Tokitaka noticed the fineness of the silk strings and use of the cat skin on the musical instruments.

Silver haired Shōmyō Kamatari might be odious to behold with no redeeming qualities but the man spared no expense while entertaining guests. Today even his choice of courtesans was worth complimenting. It was a shame the man found the flowers in other gardens redder than the ones in his own. Why else would a man producing only five hundred Koku of rice would aspire to become Daimyo of Tanegashima when his rival could produce more than ten thousand? Avarice obviously had blinded the fool into thinking he could be an adversary to the Tanegashima clan after whom their island was named.

"Ōnamazu is particularly unsettled today,” Kamatari, a former Samurai, commented on the giant, earth trembling catfish that lived deep within the mudflats, “The Gods must be too distracted to keep its movements under check.”

Tokitaka nodded politely while sipping on the rice wine another yujo had poured into his lacquered, red cup, deftly. He was glad his reputation as a taciturn man preceded him and no offense was to be found in the guest tea room because of his silence. Any other awkward moments could be filled in by Samurai Yukimura whom he trusted with his life. Trust and loyalty he did need in the tea room of the man who was rumoured to be plotting his death.

Samurai Yukimura currently seemed to be enchanted by the conversation of a bare shouldered courtesan but a quick look at his vassal revealed his mind was not as preoccupied as it seemed.

“I have heard rumours of a Ming vessel landing on your shores, Daimyo-san,” Kamatari beady eyes narrowed even further.

“That is hardly news worthy, Kamatari-dono” The Samurai answered in his Master’s stead “The Ming seek us out often enough for trade.”

“Ah, but they do not bring Nanbans from faraway lands. Are they as barbaric as I am told?” Kamatari continued to address the Daimyo even though he had uttered nothing of substance as yet. Predictably his Samurai responded with his usual verbosity.

“These strange looking Nanbans are simple creatures. They lack even rudimentary knowledge of any writing. Neither have they evolved any method of eating with instruments rather than their bare hands.”

“How disgraceful,” The Lord replied though it was clear he thirsted for more knowledge as his voice lowered further, “And they say they brought more than just trade.”

“You are correct, Kamatari-dono,” The Damiyo uttered before his Samurai could enthral them with a vivid account of his meeting with the Nanbans.

“This topic holds your interest, Damiyo-san,” Kamatari noted carefully, “I did not think I had any conversations in my repertoire that could induce you into a conversation.”

“Silence, I know, is finer by far than words,” Tokitaka quoted with a serene smile, “Its sister, dumbness, at times is rather painful.”

“Of course,” Kamatari bowed in response, “You display wisdom beyond your years and yet I wonder why you arrive at a rival’s gate unarmed. I am surely not the only one who hears rumours.”