Transcription
After a long, troubling period of waiting, the first son of the Emperor and Empress arrived like a miracle. His eyes and hair were black as war. His mouth was solemn, with tightly-pursed lips. He never cried. The Emperor, who had been suffering in his worry over having no heir, became filled with paternal pride, his back straight as a reed.
“See how the new Emperor will be cool and determined,” said the old Emperor. “See how his ruling will be just and right!”
The Empress, who had feared infertility and whose relief far outmatched her husband’s, swaddled the Prince in motherly protection. In the mornings, she would take him to the imperial gardens and lay him beside a pond beneath the wisteria. She hummed to him the folk songs of gentle poets. She summoned musicians to pluck softly on their shamisens. The Prince, helpless on his back, waved his fists about and winced his eyes shut. But the Empress was persistent and commissioned more bards and instrumentalists to trickle their songs into the tiny ears of the Prince.
In time the royal heir gave up on his protests and a small, cherry-pink smile appeared. The Empress was overjoyed. The Prince relaxed into his morning routine and began burbling delightedly. Every day, happy on his back, he stared at the dangling wisteria and heard the sounds of harmony. Every day, he was lightened and sweetened and, by the time he could speak, his eyes had turned a perfect blue. The court was astonished at this, some were suspicious, but his pretty face won them over.
“When you are wise enough to grow a beard,” said the old Emperor to his son, “you will take over my rule.”
The Prince clung to his mother’s robes in the face of such formality, but naturally swore obedience.
Within the safety of the palace, the blue-eyed Prince grew to be a striking young man. His body was balanced and lithe, and his face inspired serenity. All who came into contact with him felt at once calm and bashful. His gaze was simply too lovely.
However, fine as they were, the features of the Prince remained pale and smooth and quite unbearded.
The Emperor became perturbed and voiced his concerns to his wife. “Have we brought him up deficiently? Why does our son show no sign of manhood?”
“Be patient,” said the Empress, “and the wisdom of a well-lived life will surely show on his face. He must first have a wife!”
And so it was agreed. The Prince, ever eager to impress his mother, quickly collected one, a dozen, a hundred wives with his attractive countenance and sweet words. In no time, the Emperor had to forbid any future marriages. The palace was quickly reaching capacity.
All along the passages of the imperial palace, through the chambers and down into the gardens, the Prince was followed by his enamoured wives, each in her own colourful silk robe. From a distance, he looked to be in a cloud of butterflies, but their persistence was more moth-like. They crowded him and called for his undivided attention. They fluttered their lashes and asked for a night in his bed. But the Prince granted no such wishes. Having long been fed on the poetic songs of sad lovers, he was too sensitive to the jealousy that this could cause, and so his marriages were all unconsummated. He grew no beard.
“Send him to battle!” said the Emperor. “Blood and fire will inspire him to manhood.”
The Empress, distressed by the thought of injury to her son but equally bothered by the quarrelling and complaints of his frustrated wives, acquiesced. The Prince, too, felt relief at the thought of leaving the palace, and he set out to lead his men against some uprising.
Being strong and charismatic, the Prince inspired much confidence in the imperial court. He held the undivided attention of his soldiers—too well, it turned out In battle, distracted by the beauty of the Prince, engrossed in thoughts of his poetry on peace and unhappiness, the men fell to their deaths.
The Prince watched in agony as his troops were hacked at, trampled over, pierced through with a thousand thick arrows. He despaired to see their expressions of serenity as they passed on to the next life, for he knew that it could only be his own doing.
Defeated, the Prince returned home to find his family much changed. When news of his military losses reached the palace, his wives, certain of his death, had left for the provinces in search of worthy husbands. And to his surprise, an addition to his family had arrived in the form of a brother. Even as an infant, it had been evident that this new Prince was not destined to be handsome. His face was as red and furious as an oni’s, his body clumsy and stout.
When the blue-eyed Prince met with his brother, he found that his gaze did not leave the toddler cowed. Rather, the smaller Prince greeted him with a kick to the shin and a terrible shriek. This new Prince was immune to charm.
The Empress welcomed her eldest son with the eternal forgiveness of a mother. The old Emperor was less sympathetic, and age and illness had robbed his voice of its richness. “You return alive and alone from a bloody battle,” he coughed. “Look at your face before you come to me!”
So the blue-eyed Prince wandered through the empty passageways, the barren chambers, and into the beautiful garden. He knelt by the pond and found the face reflected back at him to be terribly perfect. With dazzling eyes and not the smallest hint of a beard, his features were marred only by ripples from the feet of dragonflies. He thought of his lovely wives and his lost men. How many happy pairs they might have been! He thought of his youngest brother and the purity of fury that shone from him. The Prince knelt by the water and fell into a deep meditation, contemplating every soul individually. He meditated so deeply for so long that, starved of the necessities of the living, the Prince passed on to the next life. He never grew a beard.