The Ghost of Ginseng

                                              word count 1942 (including glossary)




                                       Ghost of Ginseng


Naochi stumbled over a root in the gloom, and cursed as he banged his knee.  He had broken camp at dawn, and knew it was still morning.  On this path, however, the trees and overgrowth was so thick that it might as well be night.

He dropped his rucksack and leaned against the primeval trunk covered in moss, so he could rub his bruise.  With a sigh, he plopped down beside it, and rested his brow against his knees.  The coarse fabric of the kukuri-bakama pants he wore had become worn and thin.

“I wish there was an easier route,” he muttered, and laughed cynically.  The sounds were hollow and muted in this strange woodland.  While I’m wishing, I might as well wish for a horse, fine clothes, plenty of food, and some money.  Someplace to go to would be nice, too.  The spasm in his stomach reminded him how short he was in the rations reserve.

He was one of the many that had been required to serve under his village’s Daimyo in battle:  when he finally came home, his village was gone.  Unable to find anyone he knew, and not knowing what else to do, he began just walking.  He didn’t know how many days he had walked, but the ache in his heart was a longing for a new start.

After a few moments, he stood again.  Off to his left, it appeared to be a little brighter.  Maybe that’s the way out, he thought, and headed off.  It was very silent in this place, and he found himself straining for some sort of sound, any sound.  It’s almost as if the whole forest is haunted.  He shook himself.  Just focus on getting out of here, he reminded himself.  That’s all that matters.

As he walked, it became lighter.  Relieved, he began to stride a little quicker.  Suddenly he stopped.  Off in the distance, he could hear a girl singing.  As far away as she seemed to be, he could understand every word.

It was an old song, similar to one his old granny used to sing; about a lost love.  This version though, seemed pure and original.  It wrenched his spirit, and tears came unbidden.  It was as if she drew the words straight from her own heart.  When the song ended, he found himself on his knees, sobbing as if his own essence was shattered.  He streaked away the uncomfortable tears with his grimy hands, wondering at himself.  The song and the feelings faded into his memory as suddenly as the tears had started, confusing him even more.  He stood up, and was relieved when his movement startled a nearby bird that flew off, squawking.  The forest was normal and alive, completely different from only moments before. 

More spooked than before, he hurried toward break in the gloom.  I want out of this place, he thought, panicked.  At this point, he didn’t care how many toes he stubbed.

He burst from the tree line into a wide meadow.  Lush and green, it spread out in front of him like a pristine garden.  Throwing himself to the ground, he gazed up in relief at the blue sky, glad to be away from those enveloping trees.

Finally, Naochi sat up, and examined the plants around him.  Hey!  This might just take care of what I need, he thought.  He hoped he could sell them somewhere.

He began to dig away at the roots of a large clump.  Now, if this is what I think it is.  Pulling the cluster free, dirt and all, he was relieved to see one large root that he recognized.  It is ginseng! Just like what the army healer used.  This is valuable. Supper here we come!

A sudden yell from across the field startled him.  He glanced up to see a huge warrior in armor charging, katana in hand.  Naochi hastily stuffed his handful into his rucksack and fled across the meadow, the Samurai behind him still screaming battle cries.

Naochi didn’t stop when he reached the forest on the far side of the meadow.  His fear had reached a breaking point, and that Samurai had been one thing too many.  Nothing was going to stop his flight at this point.

When at last he found himself clear of the forest on the other side, and on a real road, his relief was so strong that it shook him.  He staggered a few more feet, and fell, clutching the knapsack with its precious cargo close to him.

It was there the old farmer found him a few hours later.  The old man couldn’t convince Naochi to regain consciousness, so he pushed and pulled, until he finally had Naochi, still clinging to that knapsack, nestled among the daikon in his handcart.  Then he trotted off to the village, Naochi‘s legs dangling.  Once there, outside the dumpling shop, the other villagers came to see what was going on.

“Who’s that, Santo San?”

The farmer shook his head.  “I found him in the road before the crossroads.”

It was clear from everyone’s face that they caught the implication, but it was predictable that Hiroko San who actually said it.  “You mean,” he quavered, “that he was coming to the village from the other side of the crossroads?”

Santo San nodded.  Several of the women gasped.  The men stared at the young man.  This was a problem none of them knew how to handle.

“Do you think he came from there?”  Hiroko San reached over and touched Naochi’s knee as if to confirm that he really existed.  Naochi groaned and Hiroko San jerked back.

“Are you all right?” asked Iwao San, the village elder.  “What happened to you?”

Naochi opened his eyes, yelled, and sat up suddenly, nearly upsetting the handcart.  A couple of the men steadied it, everyone else backed off warily.  Naochi was a bit bewildered at first.  “Where am I?”

“Our village by the wandering stream.”

“Is that crazy samurai here?”

“Samurai?” stuttered Hiroko San.  He and the other villagers exchanged glances, but the village elder answered calmly enough.

“We have no samurai here.  We are just a simple village.”

“Where did that crazy samurai come from then?” demanded Naochi.  “I didn’t do anything that should have made him want to kill me!!”

The villagers stood uneasily.  Naochi looked at them, and then realized that he was sitting among daikon, so crawled out of the handcart to stand.  No one offered any help. 

He looked directly at the elder.  “Well?”

“What did he look like?”

Naochi hesitated a moment.  He had after all spent most of his time running from the samurai, not looking at him.  “His armor wasn’t right.  I know what armor looks like and his was funny.  The shoulder armor was a flap instead of curving to fit.  Moreover, his helmet was old looking.  Once I saw a samurai with some armor that was said to have been handed down in his family and it was very old.  This armor looked more like that old armor than it did modern armor.” 

“Is that all you saw?”  One of the women spoke up timidly.

“Well, I heard someone singing before I got out into that meadow.  Oh, I found some ginseng there.”

The collective gasps caused him to pause as he reached for his sack.  “No, I really did.  Is there a doctor here who might want to buy it?”  He pulled the bunch of roots from his bag and laid them on the bench.  As he did, a golden coin dropped from the roots.

“He really was there!”

“He heard the lady and escaped!”

Naochi ignored the whispers and carefully separated the roots and checked his rucksack.  In the end, he had six gold coins, more money than any of them had ever seen as well as about four good-sized ginseng root and several smaller ones.  “So I stole from the man?” Naochi asked in a dazed voice.

The elder shook his head.  “This goes back farther than any of us can remember.  This tale was passed down to me by my grandfather from his grandfather, and I do not know how long before that.

“Once there was a castle here.  It was so long ago that there are no longer even any ruins; nor were there in my grandfather’s grandfather’s time.  The lord there was involved in a war, and knew that he was soon to be attacked. He was very rich and besides that had returned from the continent with seed of the precious ginseng.  His enemies were determined to have that treasure.  He sent his daughter, about to married, away with all the treasure of the castle, protected by a single samurai to safety in the forest, while he and his men, including the groom, stayed to defend the castle.  The groom alone knew where the samurai was hiding with the lady.

“The battle was terrible and in the end, no one in the castle survived.  No one knows what happened to the lady and her samurai defender, but there is a tale of a meadow that no one can find on purpose.  Only a few, like you, have seen it.  They come back with a tale of a terrible warrior who attacks, so no one from here will even go into the forest now.”

Naochi suddenly understood why the song he had heard was so poignant. He shivered.  “I think I was very lucky,” he said at last.  “Is there a doctor here who would buy the ginseng?”

The elder shook his head.  “We have no one here who doctors at all.  We do the best we can.”

“My grandfather was teaching me to be an herbalist before the Daimyo forced us to go to the army.  I helped many of my comrades while I was there.  Would one of these gold coins be enough for me to make my home here?”

“We would welcome an herbalist.  I must ask, however.  Do you intend to seek the meadow again?”

Naochi shivered again.  “I think my destiny will be here, if you welcome me.  To seek a fate with a Goryō would be foolish.” 

His encounter with yūrei left Naochi a much wiser man, and he did well by his new village.  With the resources he received from the yūrei and his own hard work, the village began to grow.  There were those who heard his story and attempted to seek the meadow, but Naochi never did.  When he had to go out to seek herbs for his work, he often brought back the whole plant and with the old farmer’s help, created an herb garden of his own, although he was never able to find any more ginseng or find a way to grow it.  Eventually, he married the old farmer’s granddaughter and lived peacefully for the rest of his days.

Daimyo were the lords over areas of Japan.  After Japan was unified, they continued to rule over their district, but reported to the Emperor.

Goryō (御霊 ?) are vengeful Japanese ghosts, from the aristocratic classes, especially those who have been martyred

Kukuri-bakama pants are narrower than the pants worn by the noble class and tie at the knee.  They are worn with a short man's style coat similar to a kimono tucked into the pants that are then tied at the waist.

Yūrei are a type of Japanese ghost, usually female (though males are said to exist).

Ginseng  From 15th century on ginseng was imported to Japan in succession from Korea, but in reality it was not cultivated until 1733