Gai-Jin by James Clavell
“What arrangements does he want made, Lady?”
“I believe he said he wants to leave you and ten men to guide me to Yedo, so sorry to be a problem.”
“It is no problem for me, Lady, so long as he is safe.”
Safe, and out of reach, Sumomo had thought, dismayed by the change in plan. So much could go wrong between now and Yedo.
Eventually she had slept. To dream. Normally she did not dream. Last thing at night and in the morning she would always say a prayer, Namu Amida Butsu, just the name of the Buddha Amida, which was enough if there was a god to pray to. Last night she had forgotten. Now, silently, she said the words, and closed her eyes.
In moments she was again in the shishi hut.
That had been the worst experience of her life, the attack without warning, gunfire through the walls and in the same instant the head of the youth beside her exploded, no time for the lad even to shout but others did, partly in panic, partly in agony as random bullets poured at them, Katsumata paralyzed for a moment, then directing the defense, ordering some to charge out the front, others the back. Both charges driven back, she not knowing where to hide, knowing all was lost, fire beginning and more screams and more blood and this the end, Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu, then hands grabbing her roughly, shoving her down into the hole after the escaping Takeda—who, raving, had dragged another man out of the way, as Katsumata had torn someone else away—as her savior shishi, whose face she never saw, was murdered in his turn and a fight ensued that blocked the escape until it was too late.
Somehow out of that hate-filled darkness into the open air. Fleeing, their panic run going on and on until, chests bursting, Katsumata led them tortuously to his haven of last resort. Iwakura’s back door.
Immediately a council of war with the shishi there. “I suggest we scatter for the time being,” Katsumata had said. “We’ll regroup and meet in the spring, third or fourth month. In the spring we will start a new offensive.”
“Why wait?” someone asked.
“Because we’re betrayed, because there’s a spy in our midst, or amongst our patrons. We are betrayed. We must conserve and scatter.”
And so they had. “Sumomo, you’ll go to Koiko …”
But before that her disorientation had been vast, unaccountable tears, rushing heartbeat, too easily in panic. “It will pass, Sumomo,” Katsumata had said.
Again he had been right. He had given her a draft that had made her sleep, and calmed her. By the time she saw Koiko she was like before, almost but not quite. “When you feel the fear returning, just take a little sip of the medicine,” he had said. “In a week or two you will be perfect again. Always remember, sonno-joi needs you perfect…. ”
She came out of her reverie, sweating again, the fear coming on again. It was still night. Her fingers reached for her bundle beside her head that held the small bottle. But the bundle was not there. She had not brought it with her when she had changed rooms. Never mind, she thought, I do not need it, I can do without it.
She repeated that several times, twisting in her bed, the quilts damp and clammy around her. Then she noticed the guard still watching her.
“Bad dreams, neh?” he whispered, his voice kind.
She nodded silently.
“I could give you good dreams.” He moved his quilt aside, invitingly. She shook her head. He shrugged and turned over and forgot her, considering her stupid to reject such pleasure. Not offended she turned her back too, just a little amused. Her hand moved to her obi knife in its sheath at her waist. Its touch gave her the peace she needed. A last Namu Amida Butsu.
She closed her eyes and slept without dreams.
Koiko was pleasantly awake. It was not quite dawn. Yoshi slept peacefully beside her. It was nice to lie there, drifting, knowing she would not have to endure another day’s discomfort in a palanquin, being bumped from side to side, because of unseemly haste. And also because her night had been tranquil. Yoshi had slept solidly. Occasionally a small snoring snuffle would tweak him but that did not disturb her. “Train your ears, Ladies,” the retired courtesan would cackle toothlessly and endlessly to all maiko in the school, “your working life will be spent with old men. All men snore, but old men really snore, but old men really pay—the young ones take your flowers and snore anyway.”
Of all the men she had slept with, Yoshi was the most serene while asleep. Awake he was the most difficult. To stay ahead of. To satisfy. Not physically. Physically he was strong and practiced and as much as she was trained to be uninvolved within an embrace, he would guide her so she too, most evenings, would gain the sheen of pleasure.
Katsumata was more of a magician. He caressed her imagination and thoughts, stimulating her beyond anything she could have imagined. He was delighted when she mastered a new skill—like training her ears to hear underspoken words: “That is where the golden knowledge is, the important parts, signs of danger, of safety, of what is within the secret heart within the secret heart. Remember, all of us here, men and women, have three hearts, one for all the world to see, one for their family, and one for themselves alone. Certain men have six hearts. Yoshi is one of these. He is your goal, the one for whom you must be the foil.”
She chuckled to herself, remembering how she had said that Lord Yoshi was completely beyond reach and Katsumata had smiled that smile of his and told her to be patient, “You have time enough. You are eighteen, there is not much more I can teach you. You must begin to expand yourself. Like every serious student, follow the most important law for all students: repay your teacher by making it your duty to surpass him! Be patient, Koiko, at the correct time your mama-san and I will ensure the Lord Yoshi becomes aware of you …”
And they had. Within the year. The first invitation to the castle six months and five days ago. Racing heart and fearful she would fail, but not really. She was prepared and had done her duty to her teacher.
But am I guide enough for Yoshi? I know he enjoys me and my company and my mind. Where should I guide him? Katsumata never said, just told me that that will become clear. “Sonno-joi sums it up. Bind Lord Yoshi to you. Help him change. Gradually you will help him move even more to our side. Never forget, he is not enemy, on the contrary, he is vital to us, he will head the new Bakufu of loyal samurai, as tairō—there will no longer be any need for a Shōgun or Shōgunate—with our new and permanent Council of Samurai helping him …”
I wonder what it will be like in the new era, if I will live to see it, she thought, lying there comfortably. Now, what about Sumomo?
It had been completely unnecessary to send her to another room—as if it mattered that she was next door, she would not be listening to their cries or thrashing about. That was not the reason. When Yoshi told Koiko quietly she would not be going on with him, she thought she had heard movements in the outer room, as though Sumomo had shifted closer and was actually trying to overhear what they were saying—an astonishing invasion of privacy, and bad manners.
Only a nasty busybody would do such a thing, she had thought. Or a spy. Ah! Is Katsumata dispassionately playing one of his intricate games within games, using me to wheedle a spy in to watch my Tora-chan and me? I will deal with her tomorrow, meanwhile she can sleep elsewhere.
When this had been arranged, telling Sumomo only that Lord Yoshi preferred to be alone, she came back and quickly searched Sumomo’s bundle, not knowing why, for she was not certain the girl had actually tried to spy on them.
There was nothing unusual in there. A few clothes, a bottle of some kind of medicine, nothing else. The neatly folded day kimono was ordinary and merited only a cursory glance. Relieved, she had retied the bundle. As to the bottle … surely it could not be some kind of poison?
Before rejoining Yoshi she had resolved to make sure that it wasn’t. Sumomo would take some. Never wrong to provide against a potential danger. Yoshi had said, “That’s what killed Utani. He did not post proper sentries.”
So sorry, what killed Utani was the news of t
Yoshi snuffled in his sleep but did not awaken. Her hand touched him lightly, encompassed by his warmth. Sleep, my dear one, you please me more than I dare tell myself, she thought, then continued thinking about the past.
Curious that I remember only two faces amongst all the others: just Katsumata and Hiraga. Curious that I was groomed to be Lord Toranaga Yoshi’s Lady—for a time. How fortunate I am. A year, perhaps two, no more than three and then I will marry. Tora-chan will choose him for me. Whoever he is he will be samurai. Eeee, how many sons shall I have? The old woman soothsayer said three sons and two daughters, the Chinese monk two sons and two daughters.
She smiled to herself. Oh, I shall be so wise ruling my husband’s household and so good to my sons and so strict with my daughters, but, never mind, they will marry well.
She awoke a few seconds before Yoshi. He was up instantly, one moment asleep, the next completely ready for the day. She held his padded yukata for him, then clasping her kimono tightly around her, she opened the shoji door, then the other one, knelt and helped him into straw slippers. The guard began to bow, caught himself in time and watched all around again as Yoshi padded off to the outhouse area.
Sumomo was kneeling near the door, waiting patiently, a maid beside her with a brazier and hot tea and breakfast trays. “Good morning, Mistress. It’s cold this morning, may I make you tea?”
“Yes, yes, please, Sumomo, quick as a wink. Close the door, it is chilly.” Koiko hurried back to her inner rooms, calling out, “We will leave mid-morning, Sumomo. We can change into travelling clothes then.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Sumomo was still standing at the outer doorway trying to contain her shock. She had seen at once that her bundle had been moved, the knot tying the square of silk holding it together not exactly as she did it. Her day kimono was still folded nearby but it too had been moved.
Hardly breathing, she waited until the maid left, then unfolded the kimono. When her fingers felt the hidden shuriken in the secret sleeve pocket her heart started again.
But wait, she thought, blood rushing into her face, just because they’re still there does not mean that someone hasn’t discovered them. Do not panic! Think! Who would search my bundle here and why? A thief? Never! Abeh? A guard? Koiko? Yoshi? If one of them, logically I would already be dead or at least roped and answering questions and …
“Sumomo, is the tea ready yet?”
“Yes, I’m coming, Mistress…. ”
Quickly, and because of the cold, she put the kimono on over her sleeping yukata—she had already done her early first wash and brushed her teeth and her hair that was still in a conventional braid—tied her obi and replaced her sheathed knife, all the time her mind working at full speed: Was it one of them? Perhaps the searcher wasn’t careful. He could have missed them, easy if not expecting them. Perhaps the searcher wasn’t practiced? Koiko? Why should she search my possessions now? Of course that had been done by the other maids when she had first arrived in Koiko’s quarters—the shuriken had been on her person.
As her mind raced she set the rice gruel to keep warm, made the tea and took a cup into the bathroom where Koiko had finished bathing herself from the buckets of hot water made fragrant with extract of flowers. The water was delivered at dawn through a small trapdoor so that none would be spilled on the tatamis, and the guests not disturbed. Night containers were removed in the same way.
“I’ll wear my brown kimono with the carp,” Koiko said, sipping gratefully, the cold crinkling her skin however much she willed herself to pretend the cold did not exist. “And the golden-colored obi.”
Sumomo hurried to obey, heart still grinding, and fetched the garments, helping her to dress.
When the obi was tied to her satisfaction, Koiko knelt on one of the futons. Sumomo knelt behind her to brush her lustrous, waist-long hair. “That’s good, Sumomo, you’re learning, but please make the strokes longer and smoother.”
Outside, the tempo of the awakening Inn was increasing. Maids and soldiers and people calling to one another, Abeh’s voice and then Yoshi’s. The two women listened but could not distinguish what was being said. The voices moved away.
“Twenty more strokes and then I will eat and have another cup of tea. Are you hungry?”
“No, Mistress, thank you, I have already eaten.”
“You did not sleep well?” Koiko said, noticing a nervousness about her.
“No, Lady Koiko. So sorry to tell you my problem, but sometimes I have difficulty sleeping, then when I do sleep I have bad dreams,” Sumomo said ingenuously, still distracted. “The doctor gave me some medicine to calm me. I forgot to take it with me last night when I changed rooms.”
“Ah, is that so?” Koiko hid her relief. “Perhaps you should take some now.”
“Oh, but that can wait an—”
“Please, I insist. It’s important you should be calm.”
Obediently, and gratefully, Sumomo found the bottle. It had not been tampered with. She took a sip and recorked it. The inner warmth began almost at once. “Thank you, Mistress,” she said, then continued brushing.
After the hot rice gruel and pickles, some cold roasted eel with a sweet and sour sauce, and rice cakes, Koiko said, “Please sit down, Sumomo, and pour yourself some tea.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“Lord Yoshi has decided I am not to accompany him anymore but to follow, by palanquin, at a more moderate pace.”
“Some of the guards mentioned that while I was waiting for you. Everything will be ready whenever you wish to start.”
“Good.” Now that Koiko had discovered the truth about the bottle she was much more at ease but it had not changed her decision to be prudent—her duty to Katsumata already done. “You are safely out of Kyōto now,” she said softly, and Sumomo’s stomach twisted. But for the elixir she would have panicked. “It is time to part, Sumomo. Today. Do you have money?”
“No, Mistress.” Sumomo wanted to sound matter of fact. “But would it be poss—”
“No need for you to worry, I can give you some.” Koiko smiled, misunderstanding the fluster, and continued firmly, “Your papers, are they in order?”
“Yes, but may I st—”
“It is best for both of us. I have considered every possibility. It is best if I travel on alone. You may stay here or return to your home in Satsuma—I would advise that—or make your own way to Yedo.”
“But please, may I stay with you?”
“It is wise if you go your own way now—of course you realize it was an extreme favor to your guardian that I accepted you. Now you are safe,” she said kindly.
“But … but what will you do? You have no maid. I want to serve you an—”
“Yes, and you have been very good, but I can easily hire someone. Please do not worry about that. Now, will you go back to Kyōto?” When Sumomo did not answer, just stared numbly, she said gently, “What did your guardian say you were to do, when you left me?”
“He—he did not say.”
Koiko frowned. “But surely you must have a plan.”
“Oh, yes, Mistress,” Sumomo said, rattled—even more flustered—her mouth running away with her, “he told me I was to stay with you until Yedo. Then—then if it was your pleasure, I was to leave.”
“To go where?”
“To—to go to Oda-sama.”
“Yes, of course, but where in Yedo?”
“I am not sure. May I pour you s—”
“You are not sure, Sumomo?” Koiko’s frown deepened. “Do you have another family to go to if he isn’t there?”
“Well, yes, there’s an Inn, they will know where he is or there will be a message for me, but I swear I will not be a burden during the journey, not
The more Koiko listened as the girl rushed on—foolishly, she thought, for obviously she’d made up her mind—the less she liked what she was hearing, or Sumomo’s agitation, the way she spoke and dropped her eyes.
She closed her ears to the reasons and used the time to gather her own thoughts. They became more ominous. “Your guardian, will he be in Yedo too?”
“I do not know, so sorry. Please, let me pour you some—”
“This Oda-sama is Satsuma—is he part of the Satsuma garrison?”
“No.” Sumomo cursed herself. She should have said, I don’t know. “The Sats—”
“Then what is he doing in Yedo?”
“I do not know, Lady,” Sumomo said lamely, her mind not fast enough, more dismayed every moment. “I have not seen him for almost a year, that is … I was told he would be at Yedo.”
Koiko’s eyes bored into her. Her voice became edged. “Your guardian said this Oda-sama was shishi, so he …” Her voice trailed off as, saying the word aloud, the enormity of what she had done, and risked, by agreeing to have this girl with her, inundated her. “Shishi believe Lord Yoshi is their prime enemy.” She moaned. “If he’s enemy, th—”
“No, Lady, he is not, not him, only the Shōgunate, the Bakufu are enemy, he is above all that, he is not enemy,” Sumomo said vehemently, the lie coming easily, then added before she could stop herself, “Katsum—my guardian—impressed that on all of us.”
“All of you?” Koiko’s face went chalky. “Namu Amida Butsu! You’re one of his acolytes!” Katsumata had told her that a few select young women were being trained by him to be members of his warrior band. “He—he trained you too?”
“I am just a humble loyalist, Lady,” Sumono said, fighting for control, and to keep her face guileless.
Koiko looked around in disbelief. Her mind almost stopped, the blissful world she had been inhabiting fallen apart. “You are one of them, you are!”