The Tokaido Road (1991)(528p) (52 page)

“Anything, my lady.”

“I want you to take a message to my mother.”

The boy’s eager expression faltered. “Back to Edo?”

“Yes. It grieves me to think how worried she must be. But the task is a dangerous one. My enemies will try to intercept you if they find you have word of me. You understand, don’t you?”

Cat told the absolute truth, but her face lied artfully. Her face said the letter would contain a message of far greater moment than reassurances to her mother. She let the boy think it would be the final link in a plot to avenge her father.

“Your wish is my will, my lady.” The boy wasn’t entirely fooled.

THE MUTUAL EMBRACE OF STINKING BONES

“Look at him,” Cat muttered. “Planted like a willow in the road.”

Cat and Kasane stood elbow to elbow with the other travelers crowded under the wide eaves fronting on the TMkaidM, which was also Akasaka’s main street. Rain cascaded in a silvery sheet from the edge of the roof. They would have waited out the icy downpour inside the tea house just behind them, but it was filled beyond capacity. The entryway was heaped with tall rain
geta
and straw and paper raincoats. The mass pilgrimage that Cat had started was still crowding the road to Ise. Akasaka’s famous pleasure district was thriving.

In the middle of the river of mud that was the TMkaidM, Hanshiro sat on the wicker box he had tried to give Cat. He had offered to buy the box and its contents from the abbot in Futagawa to whom Cat had donated it. But the abbot had insisted on giving it to him. Like most people who knew about Lord Asano’s tragic fate, the abbot’s sympathies lay with the lord’s daughter and the man who seemed determined to help her.

In spite of the rain, Hanshiro hadn’t bothered to open his umbrella. His feet were planted firmly in the brown water that flowed past his ankles. He stared ahead stolidly as the rain thrummed on his broad-brimmed bamboo hat and splattered his leggings with mud. The hat and the oiled-paper raincape were keeping him neither dry nor warm.

“He looks cold,” Kasane said. She and Cat had been carrying on their conversation sotto voce.

“He looks smug as a snake that’s swallowed a mosquito.”

Over the roar of the rain on the roof, Cat could hear the speculation going on around her. Everyone was curious about the
rMnin.
Most people had concluded he was mad. In any case, he was drawing unwelcome attention.

“He’ll surely catch cold.” Kasane shivered in the wind that whined around the corner of the building and whipped her rain cloak against her legs.

“He doesn’t have to sit there,” Cat said. “He didn’t have to follow us for the past four
ri.”

“Couldn’t we let him walk with us?”

Cat exhaled loudly in exasperation. “Tell him I request that he get under shelter. Tell him I said his stubbornness is drawing attention to us and putting us in danger. Tell him I’ll hear his plan.”

Cat watched Kasane wrap her cloak about her, pull down her hat brim, and splash out into the rain. After she spoke to Hanshiro, he turned and bowed to Cat. Then he stood, stuck the carrying pole through the loops on the box, and shouldered it.

Instead of coming to where Cat huddled against the cold, however, he made his way through the press in the tea house. Cat frowned. What was the madman up to now?

In a few moments a maid arrived.

“Follow me, please,” she said.

She managed to find space to wash Cat’s and Kasane’s muddy feet in the cluttered entryway. Then she led them through a side corridor that skirted the rear garden. She slid open a door panel and bowed them into a small room. When she left, Cat could hear her calling out orders.

Soon a procession of waitresses and maids arrived. Two of them carried in a brazier filled with coals. Another delivered a tall-handled tray of pipes, tobacco, and smoking accessories. The rest brought in high-rimmed lacquered trays containing heated towels and soft, wadded cotton robes and jackets. They poured hot tea into narrow winter cups that warmed the hands that held them.

As the heavy robe enveloped Cat in warmth and the chills that had racked her faded, Cat felt a pleasant lassitude settle over her. So far on this trip, whenever she was being discussed out of earshot, trouble followed. The relief of having tobacco and hot tea and dry clothes arrive instead of armed attackers was almost overwhelming.

Cat succumbed to the luxury of being taken care of instead of shifting for herself. She knew it was a pernicious weakness, but she indulged it. She had a feeling it would be as brief as it was glorious. It was glorious enough, in fact, to make her feel a bit more tolerant of the surly
rMnin
from Tosa.

As a grand finale, waitresses carried in a wooden frame that stood almost waist high. It contained matching nested picnic boxes lacquered in black with an allover design of golden cartwheels in a golden stream. The boxes were filled with such delicacies as broiled abalone, raw sea bream and garnishes, roasted gingko nuts, and red bean paste soup with freshly picked mushrooms. There were imperial persimmons, Chinese walnuts, and falling-goose candies.

“
Ma!”
Kasane stared, wide-eyed, as the waitresses unpacked more varieties of food than she would have seen in a lifetime in her village.

Hanshiro followed the food in and slid the door closed behind the departing waitresses. He had changed into his formal clothes, and Cat caught her breath at the sight of him. He was undeniably handsome, and his eyes were hypnotic in their intensity. That, along with his air of elegant menace and offhand competence with a blade, made her wary.

Enemies might be listening beyond the thin wall panels, so Cat had to lean close to Hanshiro to talk. When she did she could smell the lingering scent of sandalwood and camellia oil and cloves. Her chest felt tight, and heat spread up from her neck. She almost feared to breathe, as if even so slight a movement might break the fragile bonds that kept danger and passion pent up in this man.

“Do you think you can bribe me, Tosa,” she murmured. “Clubs have not caught me, nor will chopsticks.”

“It is I who have been caught, my lady.”

“Tell me, then, this plan of yours.”

“Your companion can dress as our servant, and you will pose as my page. ...”

 “To serve you.” Cat’s voice plainly showed how little she thought of that idea.

“ Unless you have been a retainer, you cannot use a retainer.” There was irony in Hanshiro’s bow as he recited the old proverb. “By obeying we learn to command.”

Cat felt a shy tug at her sleeve. “What is it, Kasane?”

“Remember Benkei-san and Yoshitsune-sama at the barrier?”

Kasane was happy to be in the company of a man who had a strong arm and a sharp sword and who wasn’t trying to kill her. Fear that her mistress’s stubbornness would lose them their champion, their Buddha in hell, made her bold. She struck the pose of the blind minstrel outside of Maisaka. She recited, almost word for word, the part of the story where Benkei struck his lord to prove to the barrier guards that Yoshitsune was only a humble porter.

“Well done!” Cat lit her pipe and drew in a mouthful of warm smoke. It calmed her and slowed her racing heart. “But Benkei had already proved his loyalty.”

Hanshiro threw the die he knew would win the game. “As my disciple you can carry two swords openly.” The rain had stopped drumming on the roof overhead, and he lowered his voice further.

“Or a
naginata?”
Cat whispered.

“Yes.”

Cat lifted the sack of coins Hanshiro had delivered as a gift from Lord Hino’s steward. “I’ll pay for it,” she said. She wanted to keep her debt to the Tosa
rMnin
to a minimum.

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Sword master and pupil are often lovers.” Now that Cat had decided Hanshiro was probably trustworthy, this was the part of his scheme that worried her.

Hanshiro drew from his sleeve a copy of
An Evening Waiting for a Pair of Sleeve,
a treatise on the love of boys. He unwrapped the oiled paper that had protected it from the rain and tucked it in the front of his jacket so the tide could be read by anyone passing by. He had bought it as part of the masquerade, but it had the added effect of placating Cat.

“ ‘A woman adorns her fair skin with powder,’ ” Hanshiro recited. “ ‘Reddens her lips, blackens her eyebrows . . .’ ”

“ ‘Yet carnal pleasure between man and woman is but the mutual embrace of stinking bones.’ “ Cat finished the old Chinese poem.

 “To carry this off we should pretend to be lovers,” Hanshiro said. “But it will be only an act. And you have proven yourself an excellent actor, my lady.”

IT SHOULD SOFTEN RELATIONS BETWEEN MAN AND WOMAN

The Persimmon Inn was as crowded as all the others in Okazaki. There was a constant scrape of wall panels being slid back and forth in their wooden tracks and glimpses of merriment in the rooms behind them. Maids and servants laden with food and
sake
and bedding scurried to and fro. Blind shampooers and masseurs plied their trade. Choruses of the Ise song sounded from all corners of the Persimmon as pilgrims settled in for an evening of revelry.

The room next to the one Hanshiro shared with Cat and Kasane was lit bright as day. Four drapers were throwing a party there, and a
geisha
was dancing to the rhythm of his own hand drum.

The drapers called themselves the Four Heavenly Kings, and they boasted that they were experts at libertinage. To prove it they had hired a covey of women who specialized in entertaining travelers.

Because Cat could hear every word they said, she knew more than she cared to about three of the Kings. The fourth man was already slurring his words too badly for her to understand what he was saying.

Cat and Hanshiro had had their baths and now wore the indigo cotton robes and tie-dyed crepe sashes supplied by the Persimmon. By the light of a single lantern, Hanshiro was teaching Cat to play
go.
As he sat studying the board he seemed oblivious to the racket nearby. When the
geisha
finished her bawdy dance, a
samisen
player struck up “Shallow River.”

Cat had heard the song many times in the Perfumed Lotus, and she began humming along absentmindedly. When she realized what she was doing, she fell silent and stared down at the board. She was appalled that her embarrassment must be evident on her face.

The song was about wading into shallow, then deeper and deeper water. Cat knew that as the women danced they lifted their robes to expose more of themselves. She could tell from the giggles and shouts that they were complying with the last verse and that the water had risen quite high.

Cat glanced toward the door.

“She’ll be safe.” Hanshiro didn’t look up from the
go
board. Normally he wouldn’t have spoken at all until the game was over; but he was teaching, not competing, and he was trying to put Cat at ease.

“She’s a simple country woman.” Cat had misgivings about allowing Kasane to go out by herself, especially at night.

“She seems able to take care of herself. I’d venture to say you’ve taught her a great deal in the time you’ve spent together.”

Cat didn’t trust herself to answer. Hanshiro made her feel as awkward as a child, until even her silence seemed foolish to her. She was flattered, though. The
rMnin
didn’t seem the type to scatter compliments about with a winnowing fan. And what he said about Kasane was true enough. She looked dashing in the stiff new livery.

Cat had gathered Kasane’s hair into a boy’s whisk on top of her head and tied a headband jauntily above her left ear. Kasane had carried the travel box effortlessly the four ri from Akasaka to Okazaki. She was strong anyway, and Hanshiro had transferred the heavier items to the
furoshiki
slung across his own back. Kasane had sung to herself as she marched along behind Cat and Hanshiro.

Now she was at the temple looking for another letter from her suitor. She carried Cat’s spear disguised as a staff, but Cat was worried about her. She feared that if Kasane got into a situation where she needed the spear, she’d only hurt herself with it.

Cat heard a polite cough and a shuffling of feet at the door.

“Come in.” She called out the invitation before she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be in charge here.

When the panel slid open a cloud dweller, a member of the nobility, entered. He was thin and stooped. He had the face of a crane, and he wore the outmoded fashions of the emperor’s court. His wrists and hands extended like talons from the wide, layered sleeves of his robes. He had stained his teeth black in the old-fashioned way and had powdered and rouged his face.

 “Good evening, sirs. Forgive the intrusion.” His smile was brittle. Conspiratorial. His painted face was a grotesque caricature of beauty and refinement. “My name is Nakajo, chamberlain of the fifth rank. Retired.” His bleary eyes restlessly searched the corners of the room, as though he expected an enemy, or at least a rat, to be lurking there. He made Cat nervous.

“It is no intrusion.” Hanshiro bowed. “My companion is merely learning the game.”

“I was told that two supreme examples of manly beauty were gracing this worthy establishment, men with souls as fearless as the god of war.” The old man turned aside. He hawked and spat into an embossed paper he took from his wallet. “But the stories fall far short of the truth.” He folded the paper into the figure of an iris and tucked it into his sleeve. “Your young companion has a countenance like the moon, serene in the autumn sky.” The chamberlain nodded toward Cat, who bowed low in return.

“How can we help you?” Hanshiro tried to hurry the old man along in his pitch. The emperor himself received an annual stipend less than that of the lowest-ranking
daimyM.
His courtiers had little except time; but they had plenty of that.

“It is I who desire to help you, kind sir.” The chamberlain lowered his voice and leaned forward, although the Four Kings and their guests were making so much noise, no one could have heard him. “It is said that ‘dallying with youths is like consorting with wolves beneath scattering cherry blossoms.’ ”

“ ‘Whereas pillowing with prostitutes is like groping in the dark without a lantern beneath a new moon.’ “ Hanshiro finished the quote, but he was surprised the old aristocrat knew the works of Saikaku, the commoner and townsman.

“Coupling with wolves requires energy.” From the depths of his many robes the chamberlain produced a small, stoppered earthenware jar and held it up. “I have here the elixir that will ensure that each night of love lasts as long as autumn itself. One need only mix a drop of it with water and bathe in it.”

“What does this miraculous potion consist of?” Hanshiro offered a pipe, which the old nobleman accepted with an alacrity that bordered on the indecorous. Cat lit it for him and tended it while he went on with his story.

“Do you remember the elephant delivered to the dog
shMgun
as a present from the most august emperor of China?”

 “The huge, gray, wing-eared beast that was all the talk ten years ago.” Hanshiro remembered it well.

He had found the towns along the TMkaidM in an uproar because of the elephant and its entourage. Local officials were recruiting farmers to clean the highway even more thoroughly than usual. They had drafted all available laborers to build earthen bridges over the rivers. The
shMgun
banned all cattle and horses from the vicinity of the road so they wouldn’t frighten the huge beast. Citizens had been ordered to keep silent so they wouldn’t disturb its sleep.

Yes, Hanshiro remembered the elephant. It was still living on the grounds of Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s palace in Edo.

“A most uncommon animal. . . .” As the cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the chamberlain, Cat thought he looked as close to contented as he ever had or ever would. In a way she could empathize with him. She had learned that deprivation raised the simplest pleasures to the extraordinary.

“The beast’s urine is collected and saved.” The chamberlain shared the confidence as though it were a state secret.

When Cat glanced at Hanshiro she detected a glimmer of amusement in his stoic expression. It was as surprising as a wasp’s sting getting a reaction from a stone JizM. Hanshiro too must have been imagining the unfortunate underling who had the job of holding the tub each time the elephant emptied its bladder.

“The elephant’s proper-thing is as big as a fishing boat’s mast,” the chamberlain said. “So it is no surprise that its urine has a potency unparalleled in this fleeting world.”

“Are we to assume that you have some of that marvelous liquid?”

“As you can imagine, it is in great demand. Those of the highest rank covet it. But because you are such a rare and refined pair of individuals, I am going to part with the very last vial in my possession.”

“Your generosity far exceeds our slight merit.”

The chamberlain made a deprecating gesture with his sleeve. He jumped when someone fell in the next room and rattled the wall panels in their tracks. A bathtub must have been delivered mere because the sound of splashing joined the gales of laughter and loud music.

“The four jovial townsmen next door would be most disappointed to miss the opportunity you so generously offer,” Hanshiro said. “The god of wealth has smiled on them. They would be able to express their gratitude far more suitably than a pair of humble and poverty-stricken wanderers.”

“I’m grateful to you for the suggestion.” The chamberlain understood that Hanshiro had just refused him, but he stayed through the hour of the Dog anyway. He realized that Hanshiro was the only truly educated person in the inn. He discussed the classics with him as though that were the sole purpose of his visit.

Cat didn’t mind. She preferred having the chamberlain there to spending the time alone with the
rMnin.
She would have gone with Kasane to explore Okazaki, but that would have started speculation among those who assumed she and Hanshiro were lovers.

When the old man finally left, Cat couldn’t help looking impishly over her sleeve. She was astonished to see a smile flicker across Hanshiro’s face in
return. For a moment, in the shadowy room, across the dimly lit
go
board, Nakajo’s foolishness made them comrades.

“The bag of cupidity has no bottom,” Hanshiro murmured as he made one more move toward the inevitable downfall of Cat’s
go
pieces, although the most satisfying conclusion to a game of
go
was always a draw. He snapped the stone down with a satisfying click that was amplified by the hollow sounding-box under the board.

“Tenjo bito,”
Cat whispered. The words meant “cloud dweller,” but they could also mean “ceiling person,” a euphemism for rat.

Kasane slid the door open, bowed, and entered.

“I was worried about you.” Anxiety put an edge to Cat’s voice.

“I’m very sorry, young master.” Kasane glanced toward the far wall, beyond which the Four Kings’ party was reaching a crescendo of splashes and squeals. “I went looking for paper at a night market.”

Cat started to remind her that the Persimmon’s management had provided writing materials. Then she realized that Kasane probably wanted paper of a higher quality. Next she would insist on fresh spring water to mix with her ink. She was developing sensibilities beyond her station. Cat should have disapproved, but she couldn’t manage it. She knew Kasane couldn’t help herself. For lovesickness there was no cure.

“Did you find a letter from Traveler?”

Kasane looked at Hanshiro and blushed a bright scarlet.

 “Yes,” she murmured. “He’s been hurrying. He’s not far
behind us.”

“No wonder you’re radiating joy from the tip of your nose.” Cat nodded toward the writing stand and the box with ink stone, brush, and water pot. “Use the writing things if you wish.”

“Thank you.” Kasane carried the stand and a floor lantern behind the four-panel folding screen set up in the corner. Against the painted paper surface of the screen, Cat could see her shadow bent over the desk. Like Hanshiro, she seemed oblivious to the uproar next door. She was absorbed with the task of composing a poem in reply to her suitor’s.

“ ‘Poetry should move heaven and earth. . . .’ “ Hanshiro glanced at the screen as he quoted from the preface to the
Kokinshu.
It was an anthology of thousands of ancient poems that every educated person knew by heart. He paused to let Cat continue.