The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria (32 page)

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Authors: Laura Joh Rowland

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical, #Laura Joh Rowland

BOOK: The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria
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“Yes,” Midori said, poised between fear and joy.

A gradual frown eclipsed Lord Niu’s face; his right eye veered slowly. “I shall permit you to marry, and I desire that you should make an advantageous match. But I forbid you to wed the Hirata boy.”

Midori’s mouth fell open in stunned disappointment.

“Whatever his high connections, I don’t trust him or his father,” Lord Niu said. “A marriage is no guarantee of their good behavior toward me. They would cut my throat as soon as the wedding was over, and sack my province. You shall marry an ally I can trust. I shall begin seeking prospective husbands at once.”

Midori didn’t want to bear her baby out of wedlock, but neither did she want Hirata’s child born into a marriage between her and a stranger. “Please, Honorable Father, I don’t want to marry anyone but Hirata-
san
.” Frantic, she prostrated herself at Lord Niu’s feet. “He loves me as much as I love him. We must be together!”

“Shut up!” Lord Niu raged. “You’ll do as I say!”

“If I can’t marry Hirata-
san
, I’ll die!” Midori wept now.

“I order you to renounce him.”

“No. Please!”

“Do it, or I’ll kill you.”

Lord Niu grabbed her hair, forced her head back, and held the dagger to her throat. Midori sobbed in terror and panic. She didn’t want to give in, yet as she felt the cold steel against her skin, she knew her father was serious. She would rather let him kill her than give up Hirata, but she must protect her unborn child.

“All right,” she cried. “I renounce Hirata-
san
. Just please don’t hurt me!”

“That’s better.” Lord Niu smiled, released her, and stood. Midori collapsed in a miserable heap. “Now you’ll promise to accept a husband I choose for you, or marry the first man that Okita sees passing my gate.”

“No!” Fresh horror reawakened Midori’s defiance.

Lord Niu cocked his head, listening as footsteps came down the corridor. “Ah. Here he is now.”

Okita entered the room, bringing another man with him. The man had straggly hair and missing teeth, and wore filthy rags. He carried a begging bowl that held a few coins. Okita pushed him face-down in front of Lord Niu.

“Greetings,” Lord Niu said as though the beggar was a visiting dignitary. “Many thanks for coming.”

“It’s a privilege,” the beggar stammered, clearly awed and puzzled at being summoned by the daimyo.

Lord Niu hauled Midori close to the beggar. She gagged on his stench. “This is my daughter,” Lord Niu said. “How would you like to marry her?”

The beggar looked dumbfounded by what must have seemed to him a stroke of unbelievable luck. “I would like it very much, master, if that’s your wish.”

Lord Niu glared at Midori. “Do you promise?”

Hope died in her, as did the will to resist. “I promise,” she whispered.

23

The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

As I sit writing by my window, I look down at the street filled with merrymakers. The potted cherry trees are pink with blossoms whose petals fall like snow. How fleeting is their beauty! And how fleeting was the happiness that I hoped would last forever.
Four years ago I stood beside Sano-
san
in the parlor of the brothel. He said to the proprietor, “I redeem Lady Wisteria from her servitude to you.”
His attendants paid a chest of gold coins in exchange for my freedom. I was so overwhelmed by love for Sano-
san
that tears poured from my eyes. His eyes shone with desire for me. We were eager to flee Yoshiwara together, but the departure rituals had to be performed, and such a momentous occasion as the end of my suffering deserved proper celebration.
The next day I dressed in fine new robes that Sano-
san
had bought me, then I distributed the farewell gifts he’d provided. My attendants and I promenaded through Yoshiwara, visiting all my friends and giving them packages of boiled rice and red beans. I gave smoked bonito to the teahouses and
ageya
where I’d entertained clients. All the entertainers and servants received tips from me. Everyone wished me a long, prosperous life. Then Sano-
san
and I hosted a lavish banquet. I was drunk on wine and joy. Ah, to have the powerful, wealthy
sōsakan-sama
as my lover! I would be safe and want for nothing.
At last we were escorted to the gate. Sano-
san
helped me into a palanquin. He and his entourage escorted me all the way to Edo. I laughed, sang, and never looked back at the wicked pleasure quarter.
I thought Sano-
san
would take me to Edo Castle, but we stopped in a neighborhood in Nihonbashi. His attendants carried my belongings into a house.
“I rented this place for you,” Sano-
san
told me.
Though I was disappointed, I supposed that a man of his rank couldn’t marry a courtesan straight out of Yoshiwara; some time must pass before I gained enough respectability to be his wife. And the house would suit me fine until we could live together. It was small, but clean and prettily furnished, and Sano-
san
had hired servants to wait on me.
I said, “A thousand thanks for your generosity. Will you stay awhile?”
His ardent gaze moved over me. “Oh, yes.”
He drew me close. His hands slipped inside my robes. They fell away. I sighed with delight as he caressed me. I loosened his sash and parted his garments and unwound his loincloth. His organ sprang erect. Dropping to my knees, I worshipped him with my mouth. I licked and sucked and stroked him. He threw back his head, moaning, growing larger and harder.
He raised me and led me to the bed. He sat propped against the cushions, and I straddled him. I rode him slowly and gently, then faster and harder. We breathed and moaned together. As he grabbed my hips and thrust into me with mounting urgency, I leaned toward him and pressed my mouth to his.
I had taught Sano-
san
and many other men this lewd, exotic technique. The warm, wet joining of our lips, tongue, and spit drove him wild. He bucked, shouting as he released inside me. His rapture brought on mine. I floated on waves of ecstasy. We were one, our bodies and spirits inseparable.

Reiko sat holding the book, her lips parted and eyes glazed with shock at what she’d read.

The story couldn’t be true!

Sano had never said he even knew Lady Wisteria; he couldn’t have been the lover who’d freed her from Yoshiwara. And there couldn’t be two pillow books. This one was surely a forgery.

Yet even as Reiko tallied the reasons to disbelieve the story, a cold, sick feeling gathered in her stomach. This second pillow book matched the description of Lady Wisteria’s, while the first was just a handful of papers. Worse, the passage in which Sano coupled with Wisteria had struck an ominous chord in Reiko.

Sano liked to make love to her in the position described in the book. He also liked pressing their mouths together during sex. Reiko had never questioned how Sano had developed this practice she’d never heard of; she’d assumed it was something all men did in secret. Had Wisteria really taught it to him?

Despite her fear of finding proof that Sano had withheld information from her, or more descriptions of his past amorous adventures, irresistible curiosity compelled Reiko to turn the page.

Spring warmed into summer before I began to suspect that I was merely Sano-
san
’s mistress, not his betrothed. He visited me every other night or so, and we coupled as passionately as ever, but he never mentioned marriage. He seemed content, while I grew bored with sitting alone in my little house and waiting for him. Anxious about my future, I began dropping hints.
“It’s so lonely when you’re gone,” I would say.
“Partings are necessary,” he would say with a mischievous smile. “Without them there would be no joyous reunions.”
“How I’d like to see Edo Castle,” I would say.
“Someday you shall,” he would say.
Autumn came, then winter. The passing seasons made me too desperate to be subtle any longer. One night, as we lay together, I blurted, “When are we going to marry?”
Sano-
san
looked surprised. “Marry? You and me?” He laughed and shook his head. “We’re not.”
I was shocked. “I thought you loved me,” I said. “I thought you freed me so we could be together.”
“I do love you,” Sano-
san
said, “and I’m sorry you got the wrong idea. But a man of my class can’t marry a woman of yours. I thought you understood.”
He meant I would always be a whore, good enough for bed, but not for matrimony. I was crushed!
“Besides, I’m engaged,” Sano-
san
said with a sheepish grin.
“Engaged?” I gasped. “You never told me.”

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