Gai-Jin (47 page)

Her laughter trilled.

“What?”

“You make me joyous, filled with life, Sire. I shall have to call you Lord Giver of Happiness!”

Warmth pervaded him. “And so to bed?”

“And so to bed.”

Arm in arm, they began to leave the moonlight. “Look there,” he said suddenly.

Far below, one of the palace mansions had caught fire. Flames began gushing upwards, then clouds of smoke. Now, faintly, they could hear fire bells and see ants of people milling around, and soon lines of other ants forming to join the fire to the water tanks:
Fire is our greatest hazard, not woman
, Shōgun Toranaga had written in his Legacy with rare humor.
Against fire we can be prepared, never against woman. All men and all women of marriageable age will be married. All habitations will have tanks of water within easy reach
.

“They will never put it out, will they, Sire?”

“No. I suppose some fool has knocked over a lamp or candle,” Yoshi said, his lips tight.

“Yes, you are right, Sire, the clumsy fool,” she said at once, gentling him, sensing an unexpected anger in him—and not knowing why. “I am so glad you are in charge of fire precautions in the castle so we can sleep safely. Whoever did it should be talked to severely. I wonder whose palace it is.”

“It’s the Tajima residence.”

“Ah, Sire, you continue to amaze me,” Koiko said with touching admiration. “How wonderful to be able to distinguish one palace from another amongst the hundreds so quickly, and from so far away.” She bowed to hide her face, sure it was the Watasa and that now daimyo Utani must be dead and the raid successful. “You are wonderful.”

“No, it is you who are wonderful, Koiko-chan.” He smiled down at her, so sweet and tiny and observant and dangerous.

Three days ago his new spy, Misamoto, ever anxious to prove his worth, had reported the rumors circulating in the barracks about the tryst of Utani and the pretty boy. He had ordered Misamoto to allow the secret to be overheard by Koiko’s maid, who was certain to whisper it to either her mistress or their mama-san or both,
if
other rumors were true: that this same mama-san, Meikin, was an avid supporter of
sonno-joi
, and that clandestinely she allowed her House to be a meeting place and sanctuary for shishi. The news would be passed to shishi who would instantly react at such a marvelous opportunity for a major kill. For almost two years his spies had kept her and her House under surveillance, both for this reason and because of the growing stature of Koiko.

But never once had the merest scrap of evidence appeared to support the theory and condemn them.

Ah, but now, he thought, watching the flames, Utani must be dead if the palace is fired and now I have real evidence: a whisper planted in a maid has borne evil fruit. Utani was—is—a coup for them. As I would be, even more so. A small shudder touched him.

“Fire frightens me,” she said, misinterpreting the shudder, wanting to give him face.

“Yes. Come along, we’ll leave them to their karma.” Arm in arm they walked away, Yoshi finding it hard to conceal his excitement. I wonder what your karma is, Koiko. Did your maid tell you and you told her to tell the mama-san and are part of the chain?

Perhaps, perhaps not. I saw no change in you when I said Tajima instead of Watasa, and I was watching very carefully. I wonder. Of course you are suspect, always were suspect, why else should I choose you, doesn’t this add spice to my bed? It does, and you are everything your reputation promised. Truly I am more than satisfied, so I will wait. But now it is easy to trap you, so sorry, even easier to extract the truth from your maid, from this not-so-clever mama-san and from you, pretty one! Too easy, so sorry, when I close the trap.

Eeee, that will be a hard decision because now, thanks to Utani, I have a secret and direct line to the shishi, to use to uncover them, destroy them or even to use them against my enemies, at my whim. Why not?

Tempting!

Nobusada? Nobusada
and his Princess?
Very tempting! He began to laugh.

“I am so happy you’re so happy tonight, Sire.”

Princess Yazu was in tears. For almost two hours she had used every practice that she had ever read or seen in pillow books to excite him and though she had succeeded in making him strong, before he could achieve the Clouds and the Rain he had failed her. Then, as usual, he had burst into tears, raving in a paroxysm of nervous coughing that it was her fault. As usual the tempest vanished quickly, he begged forgiveness, falling asleep nestled close to kiss her breasts, suckling a breast, curled in her lap.

“It’s not fair,” she whimpered, exhausted and unable to sleep. I must have a son or he is as good as dead and so am I, at the very least so shamed that I will have to shave my head and become a Buddhist nun
… oh ko, oh ko
…

Even her ladies had not been able to help. “You’re all experienced, most of you married, there must be some way to make my Lord a man,” she had shouted at them after weeks of trying, both she and they aghast that she had lost her temper. “Find out! It is your duty to find out.”

Over the months her court had consulted herbalists, acupuncturists, doctors, even soothsayers to no avail. This morning she had sent for her chief Matron. “There has to be a way! What do you advise?”

“You are only sixteen, Honored Princess,” the Matron had said on her knees, “and your Lord sixteen an—”

“But everyone conceives by that time, far earlier, almost everyone. What’s the matter with him, or with me?”

“Nothing with thee, Princess, we have told you many times, the doctors assure us that nothing with thee is wr—”

“What about this gai-jin doctor, the giant I’ve heard about? One of my maids told me it’s rumored he does miracle cures of all kinds of ailments, perhaps he could cure my Lord.”

“Oh, so sorry, Highness,” the woman had burst out, appalled, “it’s unthinkable that he or you would consult a gai-jin! Please have patience, please. Cheng-sin, the marvelous soothsayer, told us patience will surely—”

“It could be done secretly, fool! Patience? I’ve waited months!” she had shrieked. “Months of patience and still my Lord hasn’t yet the glimmerings of an heir!” Before she could stop herself she had slapped the woman’s face. “Ten months of patience and ill advice is too much, you miserable person, go away! Go! go away forever!”

All day she had planned for tonight. Special dishes that he liked were prepared, well seasoned with ginseng. Special saké laced with ginseng and powdered rhinoceros horn. Special perfumes, heavily aphrodisiac. Special prayers to the Buddha. Special supplications to Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, grandmother of the god Niniji who came down from Heaven to rule Nippon who was great-grandfather of the first mortal Emperor, Jinmu-Tenno, founder of their Imperial Dynasty, twenty-five centuries ago—and therefore her direct ancestress.

But all had failed.

Now it was in the black time of the night and she wept silently, lying on her set of futons, her husband asleep on his beside her, not happy in sleep, a cough now and then, his limbs jerking, his sleeping face not un-pleasing to her. Poor silly boy, she thought, anguished, is it your karma to die heirless like so many of your line?
Oh ko, oh ko, oh ko!
Why did I allow myself to be talked into this disaster, out of the arms of my beloved prince?

Four years ago when she was twelve, and with the delighted approval of her mother, last and most favorite consort of her father, Emperor Ninko, who had died the year she was born, and with the equally delighted and necessary acquiescence of the Emperor Komei, her much older stepbrother who had succeeded him, she was happily affianced to a childhood playmate, Prince Sugawara.

That was the year the Bakufu formally signed the Treaties that opened Yokohama and Nagasaki, against Emperor Komei’s wishes, the majority of the Court, and the outspoken advice of most daimyos. That was the year
sonno-joi
became a battle cry. And the same year the then
tairō
, Ii, proposed to the Prince Advisor that the Princess Yazu marry the Shōgun Nobusada.

“So sorry,” the Advisor said. “Impossible.”

“Very possible and highly necessary to bond the Shōgunate to the Imperial Dynasty and bring further peace and tranquility to the land,” Ii
had said. “There are many historical precedents when Toranagas have agreed to marry Imperials.”

“So sorry.” The Advisor was effete, elaborately dressed and coiffured, his teeth blackened. “As you well know Her Imperial Highness is already engaged to be married as soon as she reaches puberty. As you well know, too, the Shōgun Nobusada is also engaged to the daughter of a Kyōto noble.”

“So sorry, engagements of such illustrious persons are a matter of state policy, in Shōgunate control and always have been,” Ii said. He was small, portly and inflexible. “Shōgun Nobusada’s engagement, at his own request, has ceased.”

“Ah, so sorry, how sad. I heard it was a good match.”

“Shōgun Nobusada and Princess Yazu are the same age, twelve. Please advise the Emperor, the
tairō
wishes to inform him the Shōgun will be honored to accept her as wife. They can marry when she is fourteen or fifteen.”

“I will consult the Emperor but, so sorry, I am afraid your request will not be possible.”

“I certainly hope the Son of Heaven will be guided by Heaven on such an important decision. The gai-jin are at our gates, the Shōgunate and Dynasty must be strengthened.”

“So sorry, the Imperial Dynasty needs no strengthening. As to the Bakufu, obedience to the wishes of the Emperor would surely improve the peace.”

Ii said harshly, “The Treaties had to be signed. The barbarian fleets and weapons can humble us whatever we say publicly! We-are-defenseless! We were forced to sign!”

“So sorry, that is the problem and fault of the Bakufu and Shōgunate—Emperor Komei did not approve the Treaties and did not wish them signed.”

“Foreign policy, any temporal policy, such as the marriage I so humbly suggest, is the absolute province of the Shōgunate. The Emperor”—Ii chose his words carefully—“is preeminent in all other matters.”

“Other matters’? A few centuries ago, the Emperor ruled as was custom for millennia.”

“So sorry, we do not live a few centuries ago.”

When Ii’s proposal, considered by all those opposed to the Bakufu as an insult to the Dynasty, became known there was a general outcry. Within a few weeks shishi had assassinated him for his arrogance and the matter lapsed.

Until two years later when she was fourteen.

Though not yet a woman Imperial Princess Yazu was already an accomplished poetess, could read and write classical Chinese, knew all the court
rituals necessary to her future, and was still enamored of her prince and he of her.

Anjo, needing to enhance the prestige of the Shōgunate, increasingly under threat, again approached the Prince Advisor who repeated what he had already said. Anjo repeated what Ii had already said but added, to the astonishment of his adversary, “Thank you for your opinion but, so sorry, Imperial Chancellor Wakura does not agree.”

Wakura was in his forties, a man of high court rank though not of the nobility who, from the beginning, had assumed leadership of the xenophobic movement amongst middle-ranking nobles opposed to the Treaties. As Chancellor, he was one of the few who had Imperial access.

Within days Wakura sought an interview with the Princess. “I am pleased to tell you that the Son of Heaven requests you agree to annul your engagement to Prince Sugawara and marry Shōgun Nobusada instead.”

Princess Yazu almost fainted. Within the Court an Imperial request was a command. “There must be some mistake! The Son of Heaven opposed this arrogant suggestion two years ago for obvious reasons. You are opposed, so is everyone—I cannot believe the Godhead would ask such a hideous thing.”

“So sorry, but it is not hideous and it is asked.”

“Even so, I refuse—I refuse!”

“You cannot, so sorry. May I explain th—”

“No, you may not! I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!”

The next day another interview was requested and refused, then another and another. She was equally inflexible. “No.”

“So sorry, Highness,” her Chief Matron said, very flustered. “The Imperial Chancellor again requests a moment to explain why this is asked of you.”

“I will not see him. Tell him I wish to see
my brother!”

“Oh, so sorry, Highness,” the Chief Matron said, appalled, “please excuse me but it is my duty to remind you the Son of Heaven has no kith or kin once he has ascended.”

“I … of course, please excuse me, I know. I’m—I’m overwrought, please excuse me.” Even within the Court only the Emperor’s wife, consorts, mother, children, his brothers and sisters, and two or three Councillors, were allowed to look him in the face without permission. Outside of these few intimates it was forbidden. he was divine.

Like all Emperors before him, from the very moment Komei had completed the rituals that mystically joined his spirit to that of the recently deceased Emperor, his father, as his father had joined with his, and he had with his in unbroken line back to Jinmu-Tenno, he had ceased to be mortal and became a Deity, the Keeper of the Sacred Symbols—the Orb and Sword and Mirror—the Son of Heaven.

“Please excuse me,” Yazu said humbly, appalled at her sacrilege. “I’m
sorry I … Please ask the Lord Chancellor to petition the Son of Heaven to grant me a moment of his time.”

Now, through her tears, Yazu was remembering how, many days later she was on her knees before the Emperor and his ever present multitude of courtiers, heads bowed, she hardly recognizing him in his formal swirling robes—the first time she had seen him for months. She had begged and pleaded in a litany of weeping, using the necessary Court language hardly understood by outsiders, until she was spent. “Imperial Highness, I do not want to leave home, I do not want to go to this foul place Yedo, the other side of the world, I beg leave to say we are the same blood, we are not Yedo upstart warlords …” And had wanted to screech, We are not descended from peasants who do not speak properly, dress properly, eat properly, act properly, cannot read or write properly and stink of
daikon—
but she dared not. Instead she said, “I beg you, leave me be.”