The Seabird of Sanematsu (9 page)

“You use the brush as if it had been born into your hand.” He did not comment on the fact that she was left-handed.

“Almost. I cannot recall when I have not painted. My father gave me pencils and paper when I was a toddler and scrawled all over his invoices one evening. As I said, the amusement kept me out of trouble.”

Lightness had entered her voice, and the tension in her body relaxed. She was at ease with her artwork.

“Perhaps you can show me some of your work.”

“I had a good bit aboard ship. I suppose it is gone.” She cleaned the brush with the cloth and clear water. He suspected she used the action to avoid his eyes.

The waves of her sorrow would stop with time. He could not explain that the things lost were simply possessions that could be replaced, or that she would someday join her family in the great Void. She would have to learn these life lessons on her own.

“Perhaps. You can never be sure of anything in Nihon,” he replied instead. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes, my lord.” She raised her eyes, but not her head.

They passed the afternoon and twilight together. The girl did the most talking, answering his many questions. He, on the other hand, revealed little, though he gave the appearance of answering her inquiries. Never had he known a woman to discuss life in such an objective and open manner--Ko-Tori spoke her own thoughts instead of echoing his own.

They were engrossed in one another when a maid neared the steps. When Sanematsu acknowledged her, she approached and whispered near his ear. With a wave of the hand, he dismissed her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I am reluctant to call an end to our discussion, yet I must,” Sanematsu announced. “I have arranged to dine with my grandfather and members of the Council of Elders. I do not think I wish to introduce them to you just yet. Feel free to visit the garden. I will ask you not to roam the halls without Hamasaki-uji or myself. That would be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Lord Sanematsu.” Ko-Tori bowed to him.

“I will send Sachi so you may return to your room.”

He stood. She also regained her feet, and he was pleased to see her following Sachi’s instructions about never sitting when he stood and vice versa.

“I bid you a good night, Tori.”

“Goodnight, Sanematsu-sama,” she said in a soft voice.

**
*

Sanematsu left the pavilion, and soon, Sachi came for her.

“I hope I will be able to walk after kneeling so long.” Aderyn waited for the blood to return to her feet.

“You will soon become accustomed to it,” Sachi assured her.

They dined and then sat in the inner courtyard of the yashiki. The sun lingered after Sanematsu departed. The castle faced the seaport, and as the day ended, the bright beams spread out toward the isolated courtyard until the great red ball slipped beneath the waters, taking the streams of orange with it.

As evening came, servants lit the lanterns, samurai shut the heavy gates, stablehands secured the horses and the aroma of cooking fires wafted from the houses beneath the stone walls. Maids closed the rice-paper panels of the lower rooms, blocking the occupants off from the world. Nishikata-jyo settled for the night.

“I trust your afternoon was pleasant.” Which was as close as Sachi could come to asking if she had enjoyed being with Lord Sanematsu.

“Most.” She all but sighed.

The evening breeze from the ocean was heavy with the scents of salt and crepe myrtle mixed with wisteria and exotic flowers. More perfumes, subtle but nonetheless intoxicating, filled the air. Cool ocean currents swept at her hair to pull tendrils free.

“My lord has instructed me to inform you of the other inhabitants of Nishikata-jyo,” Sachi stated with formality.

“More teaching?” Aderyn addressed her tutor with a groan. She leaned forward, burying her face in the fold of her dress.

“Not truly.” Sachi smiled. “Our lord’s household is quite small.”

“All right.” She sat up. “Tell me about his wives, concubines and fifty children.”

Her words held a frivolity she did not feel when thinking of Sanematsu having a wife. Why should it matter if he were married or not? She did not wish the position herself! Becoming his concubine was an even worse thought.

“At present, he has no wife. Lady Masa died two moons ago. As for concubines, he has several but prefers to have Tsuta-sama to share his futon. She attended our master this afternoon at tea. Tsuta-sama is from the Floating World, where those women who spend their lives caring for the needs of men dwell. As is their custom, these women call themselves by names of nature.

“‘Tsuta’ means ‘ivy’ and the name suits her. She has the nature of the greenery that entwines itself around and clings to the object it admires. As a Willow World woman, she would not be considered for his wife. She is not samurai. A samurai should marry for reasons of policy, not affection.”

Aderyn nodded to show she remembered. Her nose crinkled as if she smelled something foul. She did not like the beautiful woman very much.

“Tsuta-sama has not done much to ingratiate herself to those in Sanematsu-sama’s household and has seen to the removal of two of his lesser maids.” Sachi must have noticed her response to Tsuta but continued in spite of it. “Tsuta-sama successfully hides her jealousy and mean-spiritedness from Lord Sanematsu. That was why I included myself at tea this afternoon. I must make certain of your safety.” Sachi stopped all of a sudden. “I should not include you in the petty gossip of our women.”

“She is very lovely,” Aderyn admitted. “I feel ungraceful when she is around, just as I did around my sisters. I have always been grotesque and awkward.”

“Although you are taller than our women, you are not grotesque.”

“I am not much taller than the European women in Macao,” Aderyn countered. “The women here are all small and delicate.”

“That does not make you a monster. It only seems so to you because Tsuta-sama comes to our lord’s mid-chest whereas you come to his shoulder.”

“I could easily fit beneath his chin if I were to bury my face in his chest while held in an embrace,” she spoke her most intimate thoughts.

“I had not thought in that direction.” Sachi dipped her face for a moment then spoke again. “As for children,” she continued, as if to give Aderyn something else to think about. “Aya-hime is his stepdaughter. She is thirteen. Since she has had her
gempuku
, our coming-of-age ceremony, she is called by ‘hime.’ This means ‘princess of a samurai.’ Hatsu-sama is his first daughter and is nine. They have sisters, Miyo-sama, six, and Chiyo-sama, three. He has no heir.

“Lady Haru is our master’s sister. She is widowed, and her son, who governs a small ryo-chi on another island, prefers to allow her to remain to oversee her brother’s house.

“Sanematsu Shigehide is Lord Sanematsu’s grandfather. He is of a venerable age and resides in the south wing. Lame from a battle wound, he must rely on a manservant to help him. He was forced to concede his position of daimyo, as he was unable to lead the Sanematsu army. The decision was a bit more political than because of his wound, but those are matters of men. He does not leave his chamber often, only when the Council meets with Sanematsu-sama.”

“Sanematsu-sama said he was having dinner with them tonight.”

In the distance, an owl hooted.

“The Council of Elders is made up of four lords, major ryo-chi owners who have added their lands to the Sanematsus’. Shigehide-sama settled a truce with them--a defeated lord joins another daimyo’s ryo-chi when defeated in war. They are of the elder lord’s generation and owe their allegiance to him. But that again is a matter for men, not women”

“Lord Sanematsu says I cannot be alone when I walk about the house.”

The owl had swooped on quiet wings to pluck a meal from the ground and now settled in the cedar tree at the edge of the garden.

“Why? Is he afraid I will escape to nowhere?”

“That is not the reason. In this house, there are many people. Lord Sanematsu and his family are at the top, followed by the council lords. Surrounding these are the samurai. In this sphere, there are also many levels. Samurai is an honored status, and with status, comes power. The bushi have power second to none save Lord Sanematsu. A samurai may judge a situation and act on it without asking our master, and he may or may not be questioned about his action. It takes very little to insult them, and their katana are ever sharp. It is from them Lord Sanematsu protects you.”

“They should have called this country Death,” Aderyn muttered.

**
*

Sachi heard, but chose to overlook the comment. Who knew how she would feel if thrown into a new life in a strange land? While shocked and appalled at her charge’s actions and thoughts, Sachi valued something that lay below the surface.

She liked Aderyn--her attitude, her unflappability and her courage. On unfamiliar ground, the foreigner held her footing as if she fought on her own battlefield. She turned each move to her advantage. The men she touched saw her fighting spirit and respected it--and Nihonese men did not respect Nihonese women. For this, she envied the girl.

“Lord Sanematsu asked that you not speak with any other than him or me, Aderyn.”

Every time she spoke that name, it was as if she insulted her because she could not pronounce it properly.

“Sanematsu-sama has decided my name should be Tori, since Aderyn is so difficult for your tongue.”

“It would be better for us.”

Sachi giggled. As usual, Sanematsu exhibited his wisdom. The instant Aderyn said
bird
, Sachi pictured a tiny hen protecting her chicks. She knew Aderyn
was
a bird, an untamed fighting bird!

**
*

A maid approached. Aderyn hated the way everyone walked so quietly--she jumped every time a person appeared out of nowhere. Sachi spoke with the newcomer in whispers. No one ever spoke to Aderyn--she guessed Sanematsu had given them the same rules Sachi had given her.

Sachi excused herself to follow the maid. After they disappeared, Aderyn stood and paced a few steps. She wished she had something to do. The garden was quiet and eerie with the flickering lights.

“Good evening, Barbarian” a harsh voice greeted her as Matsumoto emerged from the shadows behind her. The evil grating of his tone demonstrated he meant there would be nothing good about the evening at all.

CHAPTER NINE

Startled, Aderyn’s fear grew as she got a good look at the warrior. After Sachi’s warning about samurai, his appearance and manner were terrifying. When she focused on the two swords in his girdle, his obscene chuckle made her realize he thought her eyes were on what lay beneath the swords! She averted her gaze.

“I said ‘good evening.’ In our land, it is considered polite to respond,” he growled.

Aderyn did not take her eyes from Matsumoto’s face. Nor did she speak. To prevent any indication she understood the words from showing, she schooled her face into an expression of puzzlement. She must obey Sanematsu Yoshihide’s edict.

“Qué? What is it?” she asked in her native Portuguese.

“My Lord Matsumoto.” Sachi’s voice preceded her out of the shadows. She bowed, and Aderyn copied her. “So sorry, but the yabanjin seems to be slow in learning even the basics of the tongue of the gods. Please, accept my apologies. I should not have left her alone with the possibility of insulting such a great warrior as yourself.”

Aderyn wanted to vomit with all the bowing and scraping Sachi was doing. Fear and intimidation were on the Nihonese woman’s face, yet when she addressed him, the tone of her voice was confident.

“It would be preferable if she never spoke Nihonese. Her foreign tongue would destroy its harmony. Good evening, Sachi-sama.”

Matsumoto departed, the crisp silk of his hakama snapping with the force of his angry strides.

When Aderyn started to speak, Sachi held up a quieting hand, watching Matsumoto’s back. She did not drop the hand until he had vanished.

“Thank you, Sachi-sama. I did not say anything to him except in Portuguese.”

“That was wise. Matsumoto, excuse me for saying, is not an honorable man.” Sachi’s voice registered her disgust.

“If you mean he is evil, I will agree. Why do you not call him by Matsumoto-sama?”

“It is a bad habit we women have developed.” Sachi’s face flushed red. “We tend to not call those samurai we do not like by the honorific when they cannot hear. I am sorry we are so rude.”

“It is not that terrible. You should be able to express your feelings,” Aderyn protested. “What do you have?”

“Lord Sanematsu has sent you a gift.” Sachi lifted a cloth-wrapped parcel. “It is a great honor to receive a gift from our liege lord.”

Aderyn sank to her knees to unfold the cloth. She gasped at the artist’s treasures of rice paper scrolls, ink stone, brushes and charcoal sticks she found inside. In her trunk aboard ship, she kept a supply of materials, but none as fine as these. He had given her one of the two things that would make her new life bearable.

“It is more than I could ever wish for.” She looked up at Sachi with tears in her eyes. “How can I thank him?”

“By using his gift to please him.” Sachi knelt also. “Artists hold a special place in our country. A very honored place.”

“I am not good enough to be honored in any country.”

Aderyn had never considered her talent worthy of the numerous compliments she received for her artistic endeavors. She unrolled a scroll and laid it flat. Then she picked up a charcoal stick and began, drawing a simple sketch of the courtyard well lit by the numerous lanterns.

“Your work is very nice.” Sachi watched with fascination. “True, it is not the style of our artists’ work, but you show equal skill.”

“Thank you. You are too kind.” Just as adroitly, Aderyn dashed off a sketch of Sachi. Then she made another portrait.

“That is most interesting, Tori.” Sachi leaned closer to the sketch Aderyn had composed of Lord Sanematsu from memory. “Few people ever see him with a smile.”

“Have you?” She gave her teacher a questioning look. Sachi continued to omit the honorific from her name, but it did not matter.

“Well, yes.” Sachi assumed her custom of studying the hands in her lap. “Lord Sanematsu and I have known one another since we were children. Very young children.”

“Oh.” Aderyn returned to her work, thoughts she could not voice springing to mind. Were they childhood sweethearts? Lovers even now?

Darkness covered Kyushu when Aderyn grew tired and went to her bed.

**
*

In the foulest of moods, Matsumoto made his way through the yashiki. His disposition had not been at its best when he encountered the female, because he had not been invited to dine with Sanematsu and the Council. His stomach, of course, was not his concern. Power provided his sustenance, not food. Being left out of the decision-making process diminished his strength and fueled his discontentment.

His frustration had mounted since leaving Nishikata-jyo and the barbarian. A pawn in the power struggle, she had vexed him! Determination to use her as his tool to power and his instrument of pleasure grew.

Once he finished his routine checks on the garrison, assured of the security of the castle, he left for the samurai estates located outside the walls in the surrounding forests. The houses reflected their owners’ status in the army hierarchy. Whereas Sanematsu dwelt in a massive fortress, his general’s residence was more palatial. Limited to one story because of the constant threat of earthquakes, it contained many rooms and was surrounded by an
engawa
--an open verandah--on all four sides.

He arrived at his home within a short time. His wife Nami, old and drawn before her time, met him at the steps and removed his sandals. He brushed her aside, passing into the well-lit house. Matsumoto’s mother and third eldest son sat at the hibachi in the main room were the rice pot steamed and tea water boiled.

With the politest manner, Nami asked if her husband would like to bathe before he ate. He growled and demanded sake. He drank several full flasks then rose and departed.

Outside, he called for his horse. As he waited, he heard his mother’s razor tongue start its nightly tirade on Nami’s shortcomings as wife, mother and human being in general. When the brilliant white stallion arrived from his private stable, he mounted and galloped toward Nishikata’s Pleasure Quarter.

His dark mood began to lift with the thought of what awaited him. At the door of his favorite teahouse, a pre-adolescent girl greeted him, ushering him in with proper ceremony. Word of Lord Matsumoto’s arrival passed through the house with the speed of a fire in the paper-and-wood structure.

Sena, the foster mother who oversaw the girls, met Matsumoto in the main room and welcomed him to her unworthy establishment. He accepted sake while he endured the formalities. Although they never spoke of the business at hand, the woman gauged his desires from his responses and attitude. She took her leave and began the preparations.

A meal was served, during which an apprentice of the third rank played her samisen. Another girl entertained him with a dance after he had eaten; he continued to drink. All this artistic entertainment was as brief as decorum would allow. Matsumoto was not interested in dance and song.

Sena returned and suggested a soaking bath and massage for her master, after which she would have all in readiness to attend his needs. He agreed.

Lounging in the steaming water, Matsumoto fantasized about the sexual play he was about to engage in. He had pillowed with charges of this house before. Sena’s house, not one in which the inhabitants were proud to be, was the last step on the descent into prostitution for the members of the Willow World.

His thoughts of his last visit, the moans and weeping, the body and the instruments, deepened into a passionate vision to awaken the fleshy appendage between his legs. Halfway through the fantasy he realized it was Sanematsu’s yabanjin he envisioned. He barked for the attendant and left the tub.

The masseuse had difficulty kneading warmed oil into the samurai’s taut muscles. His impatience and hostility would not allow him to remain until she could succeed in easing the tense fibers.

Edgy and eager, he entered the Pleasure Room assigned to him. The aroma of spicy incense invested the air and candles flickered, obscuring the soft yet threadbare futon. Cushions littered the floor, and a closed wooden box sat at hand. A teenage boy lay in a corner, clad in a woman’s gauzy kosode, a drugged glaze to his eyes. Sena had recently acquired him for Matsumoto’s use. His long, straight hair was cut with bangs over his eyes like a girl child’s. His soft features had just the faint beginnings of masculinity. The kosode, loose at the top, revealed a smooth chest without musculature.

Fuku, a minor maid, entered with a tray of sake and settled Matsumoto on the futon; he was treated to slight flashes of breast as she moved. Her hair was dressed above her collar to allow her nape, the area a Nihonese man found more sensual than breast or genitals, to be seen.

The impoverished house insured Matsumoto was the only visitor who received first-rate sake, plentiful and at the proper temperature. His bill, which Nami would receive and pay without question, would be of such an amount as to allow Sena to replace what he drank plus some.

Events moved forward with Fuku performing the favorite sexual pleasure Matsumoto enjoyed. Even though she attended him with perfect technique, he found some infraction for which to punish her. His closed fist struck her cheek, and his blood surged.

Eager to enjoy further passion, he waved the boy to his side. When he was near, with one hand Matsumoto ripped the kosode from his body. The boy stood abjectly. This was how he liked his boys--and his girls, for that matter. How he wished it were the barbarian’s fruit he held in his hand.

In his frustration, his grip caused the boy to cry out. Warmed by the sake, Matsumoto reclined and indicated for his attendants to continue.

The woman stood, her bruised face ignored, and dropped her kosode with feigned bashfulness. She undid her hair, and it fell in waves around her. The boy came to assist her as she knelt and opened Matsumoto’s kosode. He was pleased as hot tongues and curious hands handled him. Fuku’s lengthy hair provided purchase for him to pull her up until she lay over his chest.

He always started with the woman. The boy would finish the satisfaction of his lust…and they would begin again.

He laughed. These would feel his power, as one day the barbarian would!