The Scarlet Kimono (Choc Lit) (10 page)

‘Haw-gee-sun?’ She imitated his pronunciation carefully and nodded. ‘I thought Hodgson was an odd name for a Chinaman.’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘No, no, Hodgson not my name, but easier for English people. You say real name very well.’ He laughed again. ‘And I not a Chinaman.
Nihon-jin desu
– I from Japan.’

‘Truly? Oh, please can you tell me about your country? That’s where we’re going, isn’t it. I want to know everything about it.’

‘I will tell you many things, Harry-
san
, but first we cook.’

Hannah did indeed learn a lot during the next few days, as Hoji had promised. Not only about his native country, of which he talked at length, but also about life on board a ship.

After the first week, curiosity among the crew about the new cook’s assistant died down. The men stopped staring at her whenever she ventured up on deck. It didn’t prevent them from having a bit of fun with the newcomer though. On several occasions Hannah found herself inexplicably bumping into people or sprawled on deck as someone’s foot got in her way.

Shouts like, ‘Watch yer step, boy!’ and ‘Look where yer goin’, squirt!’ echoed after her, followed by sniggering or outright laughter. Hannah ground her teeth.

‘Pretend you deaf,’ Hoji advised in a whisper each time. He was constantly at her side. In fact, he seemed to have appointed himself her personal bodyguard. Hannah was immensely grateful for his support. Somehow she felt safe with him and although he was a hard taskmaster in the cook room, she was happy to follow his orders. It was no worse than being harried by her mother after all. She was able to repay him by offering some suggestions regarding the cooking that would make it more palatable to their grumpy captain.

They both slept in the cook room, but Hannah didn’t mind. It meant sleeping on the hard floor, but at least down there she was protected from the elements. She also knew it was much safer for her not to be anywhere near the other men, who mostly slept wherever they could find a space on the crowded main deck unless the weather was bad. Hoji curled up at the bottom of the ladder, so that anyone coming down would have to step over him first.

There was something she did mind though, at least at first. On the second day, Hoji woke her by thumping down a bucket of water next to her. ‘
O-hayo gozaimasu
.’

‘Oh, good morning. What’s this?’

‘You please wash now. I sit outside, no one come in. Change clothes. Have second shirt, yes?’

Hannah frowned and looked at the silk robe she was still wearing. ‘But this isn’t that dirty yet.’

‘Stink,’ Hoji said succinctly.

‘What?’ Hannah sat up and rubbed her eyes, not sure she had heard him right.

‘Can not work with person who stink. In my country, bath every day. Clean is good. You want work with me, wash every day.’

‘Well, really!’ Hannah stared at him in surprise. ‘I’ll have you know, I washed only last week. All over. And then you cleaned me with saltwater.’

Hoji shook his head. ‘Not good enough.’

Hannah stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I’m fine as I am. I don’t want to wash yet.’

‘No wash, no work in cook room.’ Hoji stood his ground, staring her straight in the eyes.

‘This is ridiculous. As long as I perform my duties, you should be happy.’

‘Not enough,’ Hoji reiterated.

‘Well, I refuse. You can’t make me.’

Hoji turned for the stairs. ‘Then captain have to find other work for you. In my room, everything clean. No smell.’

Disgruntled, Hannah weighed up her options, but soon realised she didn’t have any. Working with the other men was out of the question. Obviously there wasn’t any chance that Rydon would let her sit around and do nothing either. Reluctantly she called out, ‘Wait, please.’

The cook looked over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow.

‘Oh, very well,’ Hannah grumbled, ‘but I don’t see why it should be necessary to wash every day. I might catch a chill and die.’

Hoji only snorted in reply and didn’t stay to listen to any more complaints. Once he had seen her pick up the wash cloth he had provided, he climbed the ladder and she heard him sit down beside the hatch.

‘Stupid foreign ideas,’ she muttered, but obeyed all the same, scrubbing herself from head to toe. Even though the water in the bucket was from the sea and made the rest of her body itch too when it dried, she had to admit it was quite nice to put on clean clothes. Still, she didn’t understand why he insisted on such fastidiousness. She was sure of one thing though, she definitely didn’t want to work with the other men. She wouldn’t last a day among them.

Chapter Fourteen

Northern Japan, May 1612

‘My lord, come quickly, please! It’s the Lady Hasuko …’

Taro looked up. He’d been staring down in wonder at his little son Ichiro, whose tiny arms and legs were flailing about while he made incoherent noises. The baby’s eyes were following the dust motes that shimmered in a sunbeam and he seemed entranced. Almost as enthralled as his father was with him, in fact.

‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’ Taro frowned, focussing on the lady who knelt before him, wringing her hands.

‘Your lady wife, she is very ill. Please, you must go to her, my lord.’

‘Hasuko is worse? But I thought she was recovering?’ Yanagihara had told him as much only the week before, but then the old man himself had gone down with a severe cold and Taro hadn’t heard any more. Reiko had taken over the care of Hasuko and he’d been reluctant to see his sister-in-law.

‘I’m sorry.’ The serving woman bent her head. ‘She’s barely able to speak.’

Taro shot to his feet and only remembered his son at the last moment. ‘Look after him,’ he ordered the nursemaids who’d waited patiently in a corner of the room. ‘Keep him safe.’

‘Of course, my lord.’

Taro strode along the corridors of the castle and across a courtyard, as always followed by a posse of guards. He walked so fast they had to half run to keep up with him, but he didn’t notice. His thoughts were all for the woman who had given him the greatest gift of all – a son. He hadn’t wanted it to be at the cost of her own life though and had prayed to all the gods to keep her safe. At first, just after the birth, she seemed to recover. But from then on she started getting worse, growing weaker day by day, until two weeks ago, when Yanagihara had taken over her care.

Now she was suddenly worse again? How could that be?

He entered Hasuko’s quarters without knocking and serving ladies scattered before him as if they were hens flapping around a henhouse. Hurrying through the many rooms, he finally arrived at his wife’s bedside. There he stopped, looking down at the woman he had once wanted so fiercely. She was nothing but a pale husk now, her beauty ethereal, unreal. In that instant, he knew beyond doubt she held no attraction for him any longer, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to die. It was too high a price to pay.

‘Hasuko-
chan
, can you hear me?’ He used the endearment without thinking as he knelt by the side of her
futon
and stared at her with a sense of despair growing inside him. How had it come to this? Why had no one informed him? He raised his eyes and thought he might have found the answer to at least one of those questions.

Reiko was sitting on the other side, holding her sister’s hand, and Taro glared at her. He didn’t feel able to deal with his sister-in-law just then, so he steeled himself and said, ‘I’d like a moment alone with my wife, if you don’t mind?’

Reiko’s eyes flashed, as if Hasuko was her property and he was trespassing, but Taro turned away, ignoring her and soon after he heard her leave. At last, he was alone with Hasuko and for a long time, he just sat and looked at her. Sadness washed over him, but it was regret for what might have been, nothing else. He realised he’d never known the real woman, only the façade, the mask she wore just for him. He had no idea what Hasuko was actually like because he’d only ever been given glimpses of her inner thoughts. She’d kept her true self well hidden.

And now, he never would. She looked as if she was at death’s door.

‘Hasuko-
chan
, please, talk to me.’

Hasuko’s lips moved, but whatever she said was so faint he couldn’t catch it. He bent down, closer to her mouth. ‘What was that?’ he asked. ‘Is there anything you want? Anything I can do?’

‘Forgive … ness.’

The one word was only a faint whisper, but Taro was sure he hadn’t misheard. He frowned at her. ‘You want me to forgive you? For what?’

Although he knew what she was asking, a perverse streak in him wanted her to say it out loud. To acknowledge that she’d been wrong about him. That he’d done everything in his power to make their marriage a success. As he looked at her lips struggling to form the words, however, a wave of pity washed over him and he realised it was too late. She was too weak now and he would have to be content with seeing the remorse so clearly in her eyes.

Besides, what did it matter? If it helped the gods to receive her more kindly, then who was he to deny her that small measure of relief?

He nodded and took her frail hand between both of his, squeezing the fingers. ‘Of course I forgive you,’ he said. ‘There is nothing to forgive anyway. You did your duty and it wasn’t your fault if I wasn’t to your liking.’

A couple of fat tears welled out of her eyes and she shook her head slightly. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’ Taro tried to smile at her, but wasn’t sure he succeeded very well. ‘In that case, please try to get better so you can show me.’

There was a small answering smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she squeezed his hand feebly. This seemed to use up all her remaining strength and soon after she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

She never woke again.

Chapter Fifteen

On board the
Sea Sprite
, 14th July 1611

Away from the stench of the bilge water, Hannah’s sea-sickness disappeared. She was soon able to eat the food she helped to cook, which was more or less the same every day, mostly a sort of stew. It consisted of all the men’s rations of salted meat or fish, ship’s biscuits, butter and dried peas boiled together into a glutinous mess. No one complained though, and she was usually hungry enough to eat anything.

Hoji didn’t eat what they cooked, however. Instead he spent at least an hour each day fishing in order to keep himself adequately fed. To Hannah’s surprise, he sometimes ate the fish raw, dipped in vinegar, but mostly he grilled it lightly over the brazier. He cooked and ate his food with a pair of sticks he called
o-hashi
, shunning the usual knife and spoon. She watched in fascination as he deftly handled these simple implements. Not once did he drop a piece of food and his plate was always cleared down to the last crumb. Hannah also noticed he had his own little store of fresh and pickled vegetables, from which he supplemented his diet. After several days of the monotonous ship’s fare she grew curious.

‘Can I taste that, please?’

‘Fish?’

‘Er, no, the vegetables.’

‘Harry-
san
have to eat both, only good together.’

‘But …’

‘Please, try. Fish is good.’ Hannah looked at the raw morsel he held out and wondered how to refuse without offending him. The smell of it made her recoil.

‘Actually, uhm, I prefer mine cooked, although I’m sure your way is very good. If you like that sort of thing I mean.’

‘Please, try. Very good for you.’

Hannah was in a quandary, but as she desperately wanted some of his vegetables, she nodded. ‘Oh, very well. Thank you.’

He gave her a generous helping and showed her how to use the
hashi
. It took her a while before she managed to make the sticks behave vaguely in the way she wanted them to. But at last she succeeded in picking up a piece of raw fish, dipped it in vinegar and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and prepared to shudder. It would surely be slimy and disgustingly fishy.

It wasn’t quite that bad, but it was bad enough and she had to make an effort in order to swallow it. She opened her eyes and stared at Hoji. ‘Hmm, it’s not as horrid as I thought it would be. In fact,’ she chewed a bit more, ‘I’ve had worse. Still, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick to the vegetables.’

Hoji grinned and he nodded as if to say I told you so. ‘Now you eat with Hoji-
san
, much better. I buy more vegetables in next port, enough for Harry-
san
too. But please, promise try fish every day. Get used to.’

‘Well, perhaps I will, but …’ Hannah didn’t think she’d ever get used to raw fish, but then she remembered the alternative. Soggy stew for everyone except Captain Rydon, whose meals were specially prepared. Suddenly fish seemed infinitely preferable, whether it was cooked or not. And perhaps after a while, she’d stop noticing the smell. ‘You’re very kind. I think I would like that.’

Some days later, Hannah stood next to Hoji by the railing, watching him do his daily fishing. He insisted on silence, even though Hannah was positive that no fish could possibly hear the two of them talking. Indeed, the noise made by the breeze-filled sails and the spray caused by the waves caressing the ship’s hull was much louder than any sound she could produce.

Staring out at the never-ending ocean she felt insignificant. ‘We are so incredibly small, aren’t we. It would be so easy for a huge wave to engulf us and then we’d be gone, just like that.’

‘Is fate,’ Hoji said. ‘If you going to die, you going to die. Here, on land, no matter. Have to accept fate.’

‘I suppose you’re right, but still …’ Hannah couldn’t help wondering if she’d risked so much only to end her life prematurely out here. She shuddered, but with determination she tried to steer her thoughts in a different direction. If it was God’s will that she should live, then she would. She could only pray for help.

She leaned on the railing again, content to watch Hoji who waited patiently for the next fish to bite. She was curious about the enigmatic little man who was fast becoming a father-figure to her. He had spoken at length about his country, but he never mentioned much about himself. She dared to question him a little. ‘Why do you always eat fish, Hoji-
san
?’

‘I am
samurai
.
Samurai
do not eat meat usually.’

‘What is
samurai
?’

‘Important people, warriors, sometimes own land.’

‘Oh, you mean like our nobles? Lords and ladies?’

‘Yes. Like that. We call lord
daimyo
.
Daimyo
is very powerful man, head of a … how you say?’

‘Family? Clan?’

‘
Soh neh
. That’s right. All people in
daimyo
family
samurai
, upper class.
Daimyo
own lots of land. All
samurai
very tough warriors, train hard to feel no cold, hunger or pain. Live simple life. Fight with swords or bow and arrows. Strength, honour and military … brave?’

‘Valour you mean?’

‘Yes. These most important to
samurai
.’

‘But why? Are there many wars in your country?’

‘Sometimes. Often fights between clans. Even daughters of
samurai
trained to fight’.

Hannah frowned. ‘But Hoji-
san
, if you are a nobleman, then why on earth are you working here as Captain Rydon’s cook?’

‘Because now I am
ronin
.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘If
samurai
loses master by dishonour or because master defeated in battle, they become
ronin
. My master die in battle, most of his men too.
Ronin
have to wander, try to find other master to give service to, but very difficult. Strangers not trusted. Many
ronin
now robbers or pirates instead.’

‘Is that what you were when the captain found you?’

‘No, I work for Portuguese man. Fight to defend ship from pirates. He sail all over – China, India – many places. I was in port when I met captain.’

‘I see. And is there no chance you will ever find a Japanese lord to serve again?’ Hannah felt for him. It must be very difficult to become an outcast through no fault of your own, she thought.

‘Perhaps. Is fate. We will see,
neh
?’

He turned away and Hannah understood that the subject was closed and didn’t press him further.

Hannah had always been inquisitive by nature, wanting to learn everything she could.

‘Please will you ask the pilot, Hoji-
san
? I’d like to know what route we’re were taking.’

The pilot, Mr Walker, was a garrulous fellow and she didn’t think he’d mind being questioned. As the official navigator, she knew he’d keep a chart of their progress and he would have something called a ‘rutter’ with instructions from people who had sailed the same way before them. Hannah had heard her father and brother discussing those. Hoji also told her Mr Walker used various instruments to try and establish their precise position, although as far as Hannah understood, this still wasn’t entirely accurate. She was curious to know how long the journey would last and what countries they were passing.

‘We sailing towards Barbary Coast of north-west Africa,’ Hoji reported back. ‘Pass close to Portugal along the way.’

Hannah had already learned that they were aiming for a group of islands called the Canary Islands, where they would restock with food and fresh water. The usual time taken to reach these was three to four weeks.

The weather became decidedly warmer as they progressed on their journey south. Down in the cook room the heat was nearly unbearable whenever the fire was lit for cooking. Hoji didn’t seem to be suffering in the slightest though, and Hannah almost resented this. She wondered if it was because of his rigid warrior training, or whether it was simply the fact that he was of a different race. Did Japanese people not feel heat? Or cold? She didn’t want to ask in case she offended him in some way, so instead she said, ‘Didn’t you come this way when you went to England? Don’t you remember these places?’

‘No, I only cook, stay down here. No good at sailing. Pilot said we pass Cape St Vincent soon.’ Hoji stopped what he was doing and regarded her with his head to one side. ‘Why you want to know, Harry-
san
? Work too hard for you?’ Then he added, ‘Why you come on ship?’

Hannah had been wondering what to tell him if he ever asked this question, but now that he had, she realised she wanted him to know the truth. So she told him about Ezekiel Hesketh and her parents’ refusal to listen to her.

‘Hmm. Child have to obey parents, even if bad marriage,’ was Hoji’s verdict. Hannah scowled at him. For some reason she’d thought he would be on her side. She considered him her friend and mentor now and felt hurt by his words. He noticed her expression, however, and hastened to add. ‘I know, different in your country,
neh
? Parents usually ask?’

Hannah relaxed a little. ‘Well, sometimes.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps I acted hastily, but really, that man …’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t explain it, Hoji-
san
, but the thought of him touching me – well, I’d rather die, to be honest.’

‘You would do
seppuku
?’ Hoji sounded surprised, although his face remained inscrutable.

‘What?’

‘In Japan, when honour is gone, person will kill himself. Lady too.
Seppuku
.’ Hoji made a slashing motion across his abdomen and Hannah frowned.

‘You cut yourself in the stomach?’

‘Yes. Special sword.’

‘Ugh, sounds horrible. Surely there must be a better way of going about it if you must take your own life?’

Hoji looked offended. ‘
Seppuku
only way, only honourable way. You have second person behind to cut off head if sword not go deep enough.’

Hannah shuddered, but decided to keep her views on this subject to herself. It was obviously something about which Hoji felt strongly. ‘I see,’ was all she said. ‘And is this only for
samurai
or for everyone?’

‘Only
samurai
usually. Need permission from master.’

‘Well, I didn’t really mean that I’d be committing suicide. Besides, killing oneself is a sin.’

‘Ah,
so desu neh
? Truly?’

They were both silent for a while. The only sounds to be heard was the rhythmic clacking made by their knives against the chopping boards and the hissing noise from the fire as the water in the huge pot splashed over the edge whenever Hannah threw in a piece of salted meat.

‘Well, not a problem any longer.’ Hoji’s voice broke the silence and almost startled Hannah into chopping off her finger. He smiled at her. ‘You here now, everything fine.’

Hannah smiled back. ‘Yes, you’re right. No point even thinking about it. Mr Hesketh wouldn’t want me now even if I did go back.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Thank goodness for that.’