The Seabird of Sanematsu Read Online Free PDF

pulled their great lord father along by the wide sleeves of his hitatare. His outer garment hung open over his inner shirt, which was closed with the girdle holding his swords. Sanematsu began to laugh as he considered the sight the three must make as he allowed the girls to drag him to the women’s quarters.

    His girls, the delight of his life, used their power to persuade their father to do anything they wished. Their time in his household would be short, and their position was always in peril should any of their father’s consorts give birth to a brother. A son would be given all the power the girls now held.

    “Good evening, Chiyo and Miyo.” Sanematsu found his younger daughters in the chamber with their nurses and the musicians. He folded his long legs beneath him and sat on one of the cushions a nurse provided. The little girls crawled into their father’s lap and cuddled next to him as their sisters began to dance.

    Accompanied by a female samisen player, they moved with practiced grace, their uchiki making a colorful kaleidoscope. The performance was brief, as their study had been short.

    “So, Father?” Aya asked. “What do you think?”

    “Yes, is not Aya the most talented dancer you have seen?” Hatsu added.

    Eager for his attention, the older girls huddled around him, the younger ones still in his lap.

    “You are both accomplished dancers. I have never seen such delicate movements. You have worked hard to learn so much in so little time. I am sure your future performances will be even more delightful. Now, I must beg to be released to bathe.”

    “Oh, Father,” Hatsu pouted, “We thought you would show us some of the dance moves a warrior learns.”

    “Maybe later.” He handed six-year-old Miyo, who had fallen asleep in the comfort of his arms, to her nurse. “I am too tired tonight.” He hugged Chiyo, an energetic three-year-old, and gave her away, also. This freed him to stand. “Goodnight, ladies.”

    He embraced the older girls to each of his sides. They encircled his waist to hug him in return.

    “Goodnight, Father.”

    Sanematsu entered the public chamber, a spacious room, quiet and peaceful, walled with sturdy wooden panels on all but one side. Carved half-panels decorated the back wall, the remainder a mural showing a panorama of the coast of Kyushu painted on the screen above. Heavy dark-wood beams held up the ceiling. In the twilight before the moon rose, candles glowed on the chest and the low tables near the cushions. Paper lanterns with short candles rested on tall poles placed at equal distances around the perimeter of the room.

    The furnishings were more elaborate. Two chests stood against opposite walls and a table sat beside an armrest. All were black-lacquered with gilt inlay of a simple design. A sword rack stood inside the door, and several large cushions and another armrest sat in the corner. The zabuton had quilted covers of linen and silk, filled with barley husks.

    Near the entry was a niche with an unadorned vase fitted with two cuttings. Tatami covered the floor from wall to wall, giving off a fresh green scent that blended with the incense rising from an altar atop the shorter of the chests. The second chest was tall, with long panels that opened to reveal numerous drawers.

    The unadorned shoji were moveable, allowing the rice-paper-paneled walls to be opened for fresh air. One stood open when he entered.

    The instant he slid the door closed behind him, his mistress was at his side. He waved Tsuta away. He was not hungry, being full of the afternoon’s tea. He loosened the girdle holding his swords, and then removed them. He placed the short sword in a rack and carried the long one with him to the corner, where he sat cross-legged on a zabuton. The sword in its scabbard rested on the floor at his right.

    Sanematsu sat, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. His back was straight, his head held high, his body and mind weary. Meditating, he waited