Warrior Queen

"Oh..."

With that single syllable Betsy's face paled and fell. Then she dropped into the deepest, most formal bow I've ever seen her do. It was almost a debasement. Painful Japanese stuttered and stammered out the most formal, deepest apology possible.

She was begging for forgiveness and demeaning herself as the stupidest imbecile ever born. Declaring the slight and disrespect as totally unintended.

"Taji, that I accepted the hospitality and inclusion to your home and did not reciprocate to you my dearest friend is totally inexcusable. This darkens my face and eyes with unforgivable shame."

Here I broke with Japanese customs and culture. I reached in and cupped Betsy's chin and lifted her eyes to mine.

"My dear friend, my life and my house differ from yours. I'm an old man and a bachelor. When I offer hospitality to my home, I have no one else to consider, you do. So to you the Spanish term, 'Mi Casa Es Su Casa' is not yours alone to grant. So I perceived no insult or slight."

"No Taji, my family would be honored with your presence. Of that I am certain, so I say to you, 'Mi Casa Es Su Casa'."

"So Taji you have to say yes and come to our house for International Cuisine Night. It's something that Robert and the children started years ago. We pick a country or region from anywhere in the world.

Then as a family we prepare a meal from there. Then talk about that region; its history, culture and even its cooking. We gather everything together once a month if we can work it out. Sometimes work gets in the way though."

"An even better idea is you attending all cuisine night dinners, not just when Michelle is at home. So Taji you now have a standing invitation to International Cuisine Night at the Williamson's home, and I will let you know when and what the menu is."

"Yes Lady, I would be much honored to dine at your home. It would replace something that's has been missing in my life. This neighborhood used to be full of my friends, but they have all left. We used to exchange dining between homes, and to have street parties of dancing children and couples."

"But now animals roam those streets that once held dancing, and people hide. I don't hide but in turn I have few opportunities to socialize outside of my dojo. So yes lady, I would be much honored to attend your dinners."

"Yes Taji please come, with the children away it's just Robert and I. So sometimes we pass on International Cuisine Night, just because it's too much trouble for just two people. Having a third person as a guest would give us more reason to continue the tradition."

"But if I remember correctly you have classes this afternoon. I'm sure you've already guessed why we've come. Yes, Father brought his Katana for you to look at. I told him of your easy knowledge when you examined mine. So yes, he would very much like you to examine his and tell us what you can learn about it."

"It would be my very great pleasure and honor to examine your father's Katana. The craft, foraging and the history of Katanas are one of my primary interests. I'm excited to take 'any' opportunity to see new Katanas and further my knowledge. So by all means let's see this marvel."

Honored Father removed the Katana and Saya (scabbard) from its shoulder slung, linen carry bag. Then I knew where Betsy had got the idea for her carry bag from. "This sword was given to me by a person who's very important to me. It has caused me a little heart ache and a lot of joy. We were told that it was made in the 1600s. Of course, none of us could read the end cap. So we sent, not the sword, but just an image of the end cap to a professor of Japanese antiquities for him to read and possibly tell us the name of the sword. He said that the closest he could determine was either; Truth or the strike of Truth. Maybe you can give us a better read on that, also maybe a better determination of its age."

While he'd been talking, I'd been holding the sheathed Katana and rolling it over in my hands. Yes, I could tell him a lot about this Katana and a beautiful Katana it was. The craftsmanship of the Tsuka (handle) and Saya was as exquisite as you'd expect, and I could barely control my desire to unsheathe the blade. The character on the end cap was beautifully done and historically significant.

"Shinjitsu ichigeki irumire-shon kakureta omoi."

"All of that's not on the end cap of my sword!"

"No, it's the first line of an ancient Japanese stanza. That's probably only a little older than this Katana is. 'Truth's stroke illuminates the hidden mind', that's the closest translation to the stanza's first line. The first two words of the stanza is the name of the Katana, 'Truth's Stroke'. Your professor just had his syntax incorrect, and a very understandable mistake between stroke and strike, plus the possessive on the word truth."

"This is a very famous Katana, well not this specific Katana, but the group is and they're said to be cursed." As I unsheathed the Katana, I found what I expected to find, the small maker's mark. AND it was the name that I had expected.

"This is the small maker's mark, and it's the mark I thought I would find. Muramasa Sengo is probably one of the two best and most famous of all Japanese Katana smiths. To reveal the true maker's mark the Katana would have to be stripped of its Tsuka (handle) to reveal the bare tang. There more information would be revealed, possibly even the name of its true maker... if it is other than Muramasa Sengo."

"People that have been studying Katanas and Katana smiths have concluded that there is possibly ten Muramasau smiths. Muramasa Sengo was the first and most famous; they called him the mad smith.

They said that he was almost completely insane. But one form of his insanity was in his perfectionism, along with his violence, hallucinations and insane religious fervor. Nowadays he would probably be diagnosed as a major manic-depressive with a severe case of OCD... Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

"Legend has it that he prayed over his Katanas in the night impugning them with spirits. So the spirits of the Katana would fill their wielders with bloodlust and powers like the berserkers of Viking fame. It is said in legend that a Muramasau blade must drink blood or taste flesh before it can be re-sheathed. Or it will force its holder to cut or kill himself. The legend has become so prevalent that even video game designers have included the 'Devil Blade' in some of their games."

"Another legend is about the amazing quality of a Muramasau blade. It was said that you could plant a Muramasau blade upright in the bed of a gentle stream. Then throw leaves into the stream and those that flowed onto the blade were cut in half without disturbing or slowing their path through the water."

"This Katana was definitely made during the Muromachi period. 1392-1573 is generally the accepted time frame for that period. The curvature of the blade, pattern of the temper line and its grinding scroll pattering are consistent with that time period. Those three criteria are what everyone uses to date Katanas."

"The generally accepted time frame for Muramasa Sengo's working lifetime is from 1380 to 1450. A lot of those old smiths lived into their 90s and 100s with possibly an 80+ year working lifespan. Although in their later years most of the heavy work was done by apprentices."

"So if Muramasa Sengo actually made this Katana it would be between 550/600+ years old. But the possibility exists that whoever sold this blade was able to look at the markings on the tang, thus determining that this blade was made by a later Muramasau smith. Myself I find that doubtful, the windings, braiding and the shark skin wrap of the grip look to be authentic and undisturbed. If you received any paperwork or certification with the Katana, it should have told you that, but you obviously did not. Old man that I am means I am not familiar with any of the technologies that could image the metal underneath the windings. Although I know there are some. Another possibility is whoever sold this Katana did not understand what they had. They had a Katana they could sell for a lot of money. If they didn't get a lot of money for it, they're baka. (fool)

"But the short of all our wonderings here is... if this is an actual Muramasa Sengo blade it's much older than you thought. But it is also a very valuable blade. A lot of museums would break their yearly budget to have this blade. There are some unscrupulous collectors who would commit murder to gain this blade for their collection. Just on the possibility that it might be an actual Muramasa Sengo blade. In short it's worth a lot of money, along with a lot of more intangible values."

"Well, it's not for sale or donation, whether it's an authentic Muramasa Sengo blade or not. Because it isn't for sale what I would like from you Taji, is your silence. I have no wish to be inundated with offers to buy it. Let alone have people trying to break into my house and steal it, or to kill me. Or kidnap members of my family with it as ransom. I almost wish that I'd never even brought it to you."

"This was given to me as a gift from someone I love very much. At that time I thought it was a last gift. So it immediately became very precious to me. Not necessarily for what it is, but both for what it is and who gave it to me. When she was 12, I gave her a child's toy plastic ring for a little game we played. She still has it, and it's one of her most prized possessions. I will not sell her gift to me for all the money in the world."

"As a solemn vow on my word of honor, no one will hear of this from my lips."

"Good enough Taji."

Time home can be peace.

(Taji:)

It was four months before we got everything arranged for an International Cuisine Night. It was Indian night, as in India. Curries, rice then other traditional foods. A Vindaloo, different Masalas and a Biryani... I liked the Biryani. Layers of rice, meat and vegetables with some layers seasoned very differently from others. But all assembled in one pot.

Their house is really unusual, at first I almost laughed but that would have been terribly impolite. The house was like her, a dichotomy within opposites. It wasn't a large house, but again that dichotomy, for just the two of them it was much too big. Betsy said that it had been designed by an architect and he had played with the concept of small spaces set within large spaces.

The theory, Betsy told me, was that sometimes humans like to be in a small enclosed space. It can make them feel safe and protected. The bed and covers that the child hides inside of to keep the night monsters out.

We're looking into what she called a reading nook. It was a large exterior bay window enclosed by three interior walls and a low ceiling. The nook can be entered only by a large circular opening.

Inside was a small daybed that just fit the interior, wall to wall, and an end to end bed, with the opening near its foot. It had sheets and blankets, a heavy quilt and pillows of numerous sizes and textures. The window seat of the bay window extended like a prow almost 2 feet outside the exterior wall and was part of the mattress of the daybed.

Then some soft indirect lighting that would be perfect for night reading, or the light coming in the window for during the day. At night that indirect lighting was down casting and lit the room with soft reflected light.

But again with the dichotomy, the ceiling was left shadowed and painted a deep indigo blue. Clusters of tiny LED lights simulated stars in the nighttime sky. So the nook became a miniature room that held the night sky and a field of stars, inside and out.

There're other concept spaces made in the home. One was a kitchen table room made right in the kitchen itself. It was only big enough for a tiny table for three, no cabinets, no side table. Nothing more than 3 chairs and table, and an entrance and exit opening that had no doors on them.

As Betsy had said the architect was playing with the concept of small spaces inside large spaces. That was true because the rest of the house was almost all open floor plan. The front room, formal dining table, kitchen and two small tucked in alcoves were all one open space.

Those alcoves were outset on each side of the great room. One was a small TV/Media room that might sit 3 to 4 people, four if they're very friendly. The other was a semi-private conversation room, with a small loveseat combination.

Those alcoves had an 8-foot ceiling. Your first step back out into the great room put you under a ceiling that started at 12 foot high and peaked much higher at its center, almost 30 feet high. Three of four bedrooms were part of that concept too. The two bedrooms that the children had used had a sleeping nook arrangements much like the reading nook that we'd looked at. The guest bedroom was set up in a very traditional style. The master bedroom showed as the tie-in conjoining the concept of small within large.

They built the king-size bed in the middle of the large room and it was actually part of the buildings structure. Four large timbers were the vertical corners of the bed and went into the ceiling structure and tied into the beams up there. But with horizontal curtain rails between the posts and a fabric top made it a canopy bed, with the addition of heavy velveteen curtains that could completely close it off.

Plus each bedroom had its own en-suite that was quite unusual. The master bedroom en-suite's shower was literally a river rock enclosure. It reminded me of pictures I had seen of a densely packed climbing wall in a modern gym along with its 12 foot ceiling. That shower room was large enough for several people, with multiple types of shower heads both in walls and ceiling.

Betsy laughed saying she would show me the most expensive room, and they weren't using it. The house had been built with a panic room and a state-of-the-art security system, now a storage closet. The door of the panic room was boxed honeycomb steel at least 8 inches thick.

When the sliding door was closed, it was almost impossible to distinguish from the end wall of the hallway it was built as. The only thing unusual was a keypad and intercom in its center. Betsy said the walls, floor and ceiling of the panic room had the same steel arrangement as the door.

The panic room had its own ventilation systems, both heating and cooling. It also had an isolated water system complete with a toilet and waste system. It included a separate phone line with an Internet connection. It had two CCTV monitors switchable to multiple cameras.

Betsy said most of the interior cameras died or were even gone, but some outside ones were still working. The panic room even had an underground escape route, but it was tight. Practically just a tube... a cement tube that was a crawl tunnel with a flat floor. That escape tunnel exited behind a small outbuilding some 250 feet away.

But the large spaces were what made the house dramatic and expressive. It was a timber frame house, constructed of large timbers and posts. It reminded me of some Shinto Temples of my homeland, they too were constructed of massive timbers with carpentry fitted joints secured by large wooden pegs.

Robert took over showing me the house and how it was constructed while Betsy went to the kitchen to keep preparing her part the meal. It was the first time I got to interact with Robert one on one.

Like everything else with Betsy, Robert is that dichotomy within opposites with her. At first blush you would think they were very similar, with Betsy's downcast eyes and mild manner. Robert is mild, soft-spoken, highly creative, and intelligent with soft brown eyes and light brown hair. I don't think it would take much effort for Robert to just disappear into a crowd if he wanted too, and not a large crowd either. Even though his height is slightly more than Betsy's.

Even at her most retiring and demure appearance Betsy couldn't disappear in a crowd of any size. If you got to know Betsy at all you'd come to realize that her demure affectation was a mask that she'd worn for far too many years.

Recently I've come to think of Betsy as having a 'Big Man' phobia. That being someone like her father in size and strength. Who feels it's necessary to be excessively gentle to compensate for the danger of him hurting others.

I think at a very early point in her life Betsy realized what she was capable of. Not as a big man would in fear of his strength and size hurting others. But of things inside herself such as; aggression, power, and yes even violence. I saw that danger that possible violence in her the first time I looked at her. I see it every day, even more now that I've become familiar with her training and movements over the years.

Betsy can show a nontraditional sword dance routine exhibiting beauty and grace possible only in a few. These routines the children love to watch. Yet when she does a training Kata, it's done with power, speed, and a barely restrained violence that's scary... even to me. During a training Kata, the speed of her bare blade shearing the air... I'm amazed that it doesn't whistle. But you 'can' hear its passage through the wind of its own making.

Her worst enemy is facing the kata's violence and she's obliterating them. She's replaced numerous of our striking dummies and bokkens because they couldn't withstand her. Even though their design is advertised to last for years.

Small animals and young children have an instinctive fear of violence. Young children won't watch her Katas for very long, but they love to watch her sword dances.

The children of the neighborhood come early to watch her dance. Then laughingly play with Lady and her sword. Sometimes I think that's one of the few times she's truly happy.

With that instinctive fear of violence young children have. I believe a very young Betsy made a decision... subconsciously. In that dichotomy that is Betsy I think she realized that if she ever retaliated she might not stop until those children were seriously hurt. Hurt a great deal more than they could ever hurt her, and that was her decision. To not retaliate... and allow the hurt to herself rather than risk doing a great deal of damage to them. Then she donned that demure affectation that is her mask still.

I sometimes think that in her early childhood she might have retaliated once. Seriously hurting that child, and in doing that Betsy scared herself. Then she blocked out all of her memories of that incident. She's done it so long now I don't think she could even remember it if she wanted to... if it even happened.

The reason that demure mask still works for Betsy is her unbelievable apparent age. The first time that I met Betsy she told me she was a married mother of two and thirty-six years old. I thought she was in her mid-20s, a student, and worked out a lot. She's trained with me seven years now and her appearance has hardly changed.

To most women the mid and later 30s are hard years on their appearance. Few women in their late-30s can look like a college girl. Maybe one in 1000 women in their early 40s can still somewhat resemble a college girl. Betsy is that one in 10,000 that can walk into a college classroom, sit down and never raise an eyelash because of age. Although that demure mask would never be believable on a forty-year-old woman, it still works on Betsy.