The Crane Wife
My retelling of a Japanese tale from my book The Bronze Serpent. Art above by Lin Sun on Artstation.
“The moon’s reflection
Falls on a deep pool, glittering.
I shall climb up
The magnificent mountain peak,
To await the arrival of a solitary crane.”
~ Shide
The silver moon sank beneath misty hills and terraced rice fields. Between ribbons of water, a young man named Karoku, wandered, a lantern in hand. Its golden light bobbed and swirled, reflecting in the rice paddies. Glancing down he saw a shadow, and a gleam of white encircle him. Raising his eyes to the dawn he heard a shrill cry and a rushing of wings. Turning quickly, Karoku saw a crane fall out of the sky and down into the water with a great splash. Hurrying to its side, he knelt in the muddy water, and saw that the bird had been shot. Gently, he lifted its white pinions stained with drops of blood, and removed the arrow. The crane dipped its head crested with red, as he looked into its amber coloured eyes. Throwing the arrow away, he tenderly lifted the bird up and remained by it side until it took its first feeble attempts to stand and spread its wings. Karoku watched it ascend, before it circled overhead and flew away towards the distant mountains.
In the was springtime, when plum blossom smelt like honey, and peonies flowered in the temples, Karoku laboured from dusk until dawn sprouting rice seedlings and loosening the soil. It was hard, back breaking work, but it was the only life he had ever known. Karoku also had to support not only himself but his aged, widowed mother. He loved her dearly, and she appreciated his hard work, often drawing him a bath of steaming water and mountain herbs. It was a welcome sight as he climbed the hill and approached the little wooden hut, and he would often sit for a while, soaking his aching muscles beneath whirling stars.
Day after day his life was the same, until one evening, when he ascended the hill to his hut and he heard voices and gentle laughter on the air. The scent of jasmine lingered around him as he lowered his eyes and saw sat beside his mother, a young woman of extraordinary beauty. Her skin was as pale as the winter moon, her cheeks bore the blush of a camelia, and her eyes were of the deepest amber. When she saw Karoku she greeted him warmly, her kimono embroidered with threads of silver and gold.
Karoku removed his straw hat and mopped his brow with his handkerchief as he looked past her to his mother, who smiled at him and said,
“My son, through you are a man, you have as yet no wife,” she paused, “Your virtues have made you well known, and this young woman has asked that you take her for your wife, but I cannot answer her, only you can do that.”
Karoku lowered his eyes to the young woman, and stared down at his bare, mud stained feet, his simple hemp clothing, and his battered straw hat.
“My hut is too poor, I am too poor. How will you bear the poverty to which we are accustomed? Will you be patient? Or shall we suffer to be separated when love and happiness pass us by, and all we are left with is sorrow and gloom?” He replied quietly, but the amber eyed girl replied,
“I do not mind, please, do not refuse me, but take me as your wife.”
Raising his eyes to his hers, he found her presence drove away his fears, and with a smile he offered her his hand.
Beneath trailing lilac wisteria the young couple were married, and the balmy, summer days passed like a dream, until a harsh wind blew in from the north. The first misty days of autumn were plagued with heavy rains and harsh frost. Karoku tried to harvest the rice but there was nothing but husk and shell. It was a total failure. With heavy taxes unpaid and bare cupboards Karoku feared for their survival.
When the first snow of winter tumbled down from the sky, Karoku went outside alone, and slumped down onto the cold earth. Later that night his wife found him, and brought him back to the moonlit hut where she said softly,
“I can help, please, put me in a cabinet and leave me there for three days. Close the door tightly and be sure not to open it and look at me.” Her husband, although bewildered was desperate and did as she instructed.
Four days later she emerged and Karoku rushed to her.
“It must have been very unpleasant in there, I was worried about you. Please, come and have some food.”
“I will, but first…” She replied, turning back to the cabinet from which she withdrew a bolt of beautiful cloth. Silver white and embroidered with red thread, she handed it to Karoku who marvelled at how fine it was.
“Take this to the Lord of the Province, and sell it for two thousand ryo.”
Karoku stared at her in disbelief, before he left.
“This is beautiful material, very finely woven and exquisitely embroidered.” The Lord of the Province said when Karoku handed him the bolt. “I will pay you two maybe even three thousand ryo for it, but tell me, can you bring me another one like it?”
“I will have to ask my wife.” Karoku replied but the lord cut across him,
“Oh, you need not ask her, as long as you agree, I will give you the money for it now.”
Karoku, his heart lighter, returned home with the money, but the smile on his wife’s face faded when he told her about the second bolt.
“I will need time,” she said, lowering her head and returning to the cabinet. “I will need you to leave me shut away in here for the length of a week. During that time you must not open the door and look at me.”
And so Karoku closed the door and she remained alone, however, by the time the week was nearly over he became very concerned about his wife. Approaching the cabinet, he opened the door. Inside he saw a crane, the same crane from the field, from whose body he had pulled the arrow. In the lamplight she was crouched over, naked after having pulled out all of her beautiful, long feathers to make the thread. As fine as silk, Karoku saw that every now and then the crane had pressed the thread against her breast, the blood from her heart staining it a deep red. All around the lustrous fabric lay as pure as fallen snow, but when the crane saw him she gasped and cried out,
“I have finished the cloth, but since you have seen who I really am I cannot stay. I am not a person, but the crane you rescued, and now I must go!” She said, unfurling her wings and flying out of the window.
Karoku rushed out of the hut and saw from the distant pine trees hundreds of cranes rise in to the moonlit sky, and taking her with them, they disappeared beneath silvery clouds.
The following day Karoku sold the second bolt of fine cloth and returned home. When his mother died he laid her to rest, and wandered away to the scattered islands in the south. Although Karoku was now a rich man, and poverty was a distant memory, he missed his wife. Nothing brought him joy as her smile had done, and from that day he walked throughout the land trying to find her. he walked beneath the sickle moon, beside irises and lilies. From the rugged mountains in the north, to the forests of spruce and pine, but still he was alone.
One day however, when many winters had passed, exhausted he sat down on the seashore, and watched the sunlight glitter on the water. Over the white foamed waves, a boat approached and landed on the beach.
“Where did you sail from?” Karoku asked an old man who disembarked.
“I came from an island called The Robe of Crane Feathers.” He replied.
“Would you take me to that island?” Karoku asked hopefully, and the old man nodded with a smile.
The boat skimmed the glittering waves, as golden clouds drifted overhead, and an island appeared, shimmering like a mirage on the horizon. Coming ashore on the soft white sand, Karoku looked around to see that both the boat and the old man had disappeared.
Walking up the beach, Karoku saw a profusion of flowers in shades of lilac and pink. Groves of shady trees, freshwater marshes and a vast, clear lake. Karoku approached and saw on an island in the middle of the lake, his wife, surrounded by many cranes. She came to greet him, and he was welcomed warmly by the others, for she was the queen of the cranes. For a long while they talked and feasted, until the old man and the boat appeared. Although Karoku did not wish to leave, he knew that the time had come. Waves like green glass bore him on to distant shores, where, beneath the silver moon he lay down, and with peace in his heart, faded from the world.
