Tokyo Bay (18 page)

she
was wearing the cloak of the heavens.’ He hesitated, and again touched the silken kimono lightly at the shoulder. ‘Now, in sight of the real Mount Fuji, you appear suddenly to wake me
-
wearing the very stuff of my dream.’
She gazed into his face in silence, the earlier expression of awe returning to her eyes. Neither moved nor spoke but they continued to look searchingly at each other while, beyond the open grain doors, fine tendrils of mist swirled more thickly about the distant volcano.
‘The girl in the mirror was beautiful,’ continued Eden, his voice failing to an emotional half-whisper. ‘But she was not as beautiful as you.’
Lowering her eyes, Tokiwa moved away and set down the wooden rice bowl on a ledge. Then she returned to stand uncertainly in front of him.
‘Thank you for telling me of your dream,’ she said softly. ‘I too have something I would like to tell you about. It wasn’t a dream, but now it seems like one...’
“1hat was it?’
‘Before I escaped from that samurai guard you fought, I was badly frightened. I could see Fuji-san from my room, so I prayed very hard to the
kami
of our sacred mountain to save me. . .‘ She hesitated, looking up directly into his blue eyes. ‘I promised that if my prayers were answered and the
kami
helped me, I would follow their wishes always in future.’
‘And do you think they have helped you?’
Tokiwa nodded once. ‘Soon after I had prayed, I fell asleep. But I was awakened by a miraculous light in the sky, which shone very brightly into my room. I had never seen anything like it
b
efore. It made me more frightened at first. But all my guards had run out to stare at it
-
and I thought then it might be a sign from the
kami,
their way of helping me. So I decided to escape at once . .
‘I saw that same light in the sky!’ said Eden quickly. ‘It made
me
feel I shouldn’t hesitate any longer. As soon as it disappeared I slipped overboard from my ship to swim ashore.’
Tokiwa’s eyes grew wide as she absorbed what he had said. ‘I think the
kami
helped you too: she said in an awed whisper. ‘And made it possible for you to help
m
e
‘Perhaps,’ said Eden, smiling amusedly. ‘Perhaps
it
was your sacred
kami
who sent my dream. Who can tell?’
She frowned, unsure whether he was laughing at her; then, lifting one hand, she drew her fingers slowly across his bare chest, lingering curiously amongst the fine whorls of curled hair. Taken by surprise, Eden caught his breath arid shivered at the delicacy of her touch.
‘You are very different to the men of Nippon: she said in a voice that trembled slightly. ‘Your eyes are the colour of the sea. . . And you are much taller...
Your shoulders are broader too
-
yet you seem far gentler.’
She fell silent as though reflecting for a final moment on her intended actions; then she untied the tasselled sash of braided cord securing the front of her kimono and laid it aside o
n
the straw. Without any sign of self-consciousness, she opened the silken garment and removed it, holding it in one hand. She wore nothing underneath and, when she looked up at Eden, the expression in her eyes reflected a quiet pride in the natural beauty of her unadorned body.
‘You seemed like a vision when I first saw you under the waterfall,’ said Eden unsteadily, gazing down at her. ‘But now you look even lovelier than before
-
I’ve never seen anybody more beautiful in my life
Tokiwa said nothing, but lifted the kimono with both hands and draped it gently about Eden’s shoulders.
‘Now your dream is complete,’ she whispered, still looking into his eyes. ‘Now you know what it feels like to wear your cloak of stars.’
The kimono was tantalizingly soft against Eden’s shoulders, and he felt his senses stirred by the warmth of her body which he could detect on the silk. Very gently she drew the edges of the garment together and ran her hands lightly over its surface, touching the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders here and there through the silk.
‘I think Fuji
-
san has cast its spell over us she said softly, looking past him towards the moonlit mountain. ‘Only a short while ago I felt very frightened
-
of you and all the other foreign barbarians in the world. But now I no longer feel afraid.’
Eden reached out and gently touched her hair. As she looked up into his face he let his hand slowly follow the fall of the long dark tresses, caressing in turn her shoulders, her upper arms and the gentle swell of her naked breasts. She closed her eyes as an involuntary shudder of pleasure rail through her, and Eden leaned down to brush his lips against each of her closed eyelids in turn. She remained motionless, her eyes shut and her head raised towards him, and after gazing at her for a moment longer, Eden removed the silken kimono from his shoulders. Bending quickly he spread
it
across the pile of rice straw at their feet.
‘Lie down with me,’ he whispered, taking her by the hand. ‘Here
-
where we can see the mountain.’
He removed his wet cotton trousers and his pistol belt and, when he was naked too, he knelt and took her gently into his arms on the silk-covered straw. Looking towards the mountain, they moved closer, their breath quickening as their limbs touched and entwined.
‘There’s something else I want to tell you,’ said Eden suddenly, his voice taking on a haunted note. ‘Some years ago I had a wife.. . She was only sixteen. I loved her. . . One night during a storm there was a tragic accident in a forest just like this one. and she died in my arms.’
His voice faded away and he stared out into the night in a tortured silence. Tokiwa waited, saying nothing. Suddenly Eden tightened his arms around her, his embrace fierce and tender in the same moment.
‘Since that night I have never been with any other woman. I’ve never wanted to. But now...’ He pulled away and looked hotly into her eyes, touching her hair again. With his fingertips he slowly traced the curve of her cheek; then he drew a quick breath, preparing to speak further.
‘Don’t say anything more.’ Tokiwa whispered her admonition firmly, and placed the fingers of one hand against his lips. She felt herself tremble inwardly as she stared into his face, marvelling once more at his extraordinary blue eyes and his reddish brown hair. The closeness of his strong, muscular body was spreading a strange melting sensation through her limbs, and she was seized suddenly by a faint feeling of dizziness.
‘Are you frightened?’ asked Eden softly. ‘You’re shivering again
‘Yes, a little . .
‘What are you frightened of?’
She touched his chest lightly with both hands then her eyes strayed downward. ‘You are so strong and so big... I’m so very small...’
‘You needn’t be afraid.’
Moved to great tenderness by her fears, Eden bore her very gently backwards into the pile of straw and bent to kiss her on the mouth. In turn he pressed his lips against her cheeks, her slender neck, the dark tips of her breasts, her belly, her thighs, all the time murmuring quiet sounds of reassurance. When he took her in his arms again, her eyes were open very wide and she gazed unwaveringly at him as he shifted his body above her.
Beyond the open grain-doors the mists around the peak of Mount Fuji had evaporated almost as quickly as they had arisen. The snow on the peak gleamed bright again in the moonlight, and the stars were etched with a triumphant sharpness on the deep blue of the night sky. Eden’s eyes were fixed on the mountain at the moment they cried aloud together with the pleasure of entering and receiving one another. The hush cloaking the forest beyond the abandoned barn swallowed up their muffled cries in an instant, but Eden moaned more loudly as his desire quickened and his starved senses exploded joyously into life.
Her glowing, almond-shaped eyes, still wide open in wonder and never leaving his face, seemed to swim before him, merging into the flaring whiteness of Fuji’s distant summit whenever be raised his head. Her long black hair spreading across the rice straw beneath them also spun itself like dark silk around the shining cone of the volcano, drawing it into the voluptuousness of their lovemaking. Fired by the beauty of both these images, Eden s passion became swiftly incandescent: desire, dormant for so long, surged like boiling lava through his veins.
In these instants another subliminal image flashed bri
ll
iantly in his mind’s eye, and he saw with a terrible clarity the lovely face of his wife Mary; lit by light- fling in the tragic forest storm. Once, twice, three times he saw her gazing trustingly up at him, love and pain simultaneously visible in her eyes. As Tokiwa clutched him more fiercely, he felt Mary reaching out again for him with desperate arms; hearing Tokiwa’s breath moaning in her throat, he felt he could hear Mary’s voice too, murmuring to him one last time in a dying ecstasy.
‘I love you!’ he gasped in English, with an explosive suddenness which racked his whole body. ‘I love you. I love you, Mary! I love you!’
Then, through his half-closed eyes, he was looking only at the exotic, living face of Tokiwa and in that instant their pent-up passions burst with shuddering force. A half-stifled yell of physical rapture broke first from Eden; then Tokiwa cried out in her turn. Arching her body f
u
riously against him, she clung more fiercely than ever to his tender strength, giving herself up fully to the pleasures of all her senses for the first time in her young life. As he felt her body melt into his own, Eden groaned in ecstasy once more.
Outside the barn, the dense forest again absorbed their cries within moments. After a long interval a night bird shrieked thrillingly nearby as though in belated response. In the distance, Mount Fuji continued to loom silently above the night-time landscape, its timeless beauty enhanced by the deep darkness that cloaked all the hill
s
around its feet.

SENTARO PADDED
softly up the last of several
flights
of narrow stone steps hewn out of the rocky hillside and paused beneath a red-painted wooden
to
ri
i.
Beyond this sacred gateway, a short avenue of tall pines formed a succession of natural arches that led to the simple hilltop shrine. In the moonlight the temple’s curved roof of grey tiles shone like silver and Sentaro, overawed suddenly by the realization that he was about to enter a house of his country’s ancient Shinto gods for the first time in years, removed his hat reverently with both hands.
Above the entrance porch of the temple a single feeble lantern was burning, and in the gloom of its interior he could see an aged, white-robed priest moving slowly as he set out offerings on a small altar. Clutching his hat against his chest, Sentaro hurried eagerly forward past rows of stone lanterns and snarling lions which flanked the short avenue. At the foot of a flight of worn wooden steps that led into the temple, he stopped and removed his straw sandals. Dipping his hands in a stone urn of fresh water, he rinsed his fingers and his mouth as tradition required before prayer, and without looking back mounted the steps.
Beneath the red
to
ri
i
two other shadowy figures, who were also recovering their breath after the steep climb, watched Sentaro enter the temple. Both were wearing samurai helmets and armour, and one of them already clasped a drawn sword in his right hand. As Sentaro disappeared in
s
ide the shrine, the swordsman made as if to rush f
o
rward but his companion restrained him, laying a firm hand on his arm.
‘Wait, Gotaro,’ commanded Prince Tanaka in a whisper. ‘We will approach quietly to make absolutely sure.’
The air inside the shrine was heavy with incense when Sentaro entered, but its dark walls of ancient wood were devoid of all decoration. Its central altar bore only prayer wands and some of the small ceremonial dishes of fish, fruit and rice which the priest was still setting out. The floor of the shrine was covered in soft tatami mats, and Sentaro’s bare feet made no sound as he entered.
‘Have you come to this shrine to pray for any special purpose?’
The priest posed the casual question in a sibilant voice without turning his head or interrupting his activities and the castaway stared at his white
-
robed back in surprise; he had not expected to find a priest in the temple at that hour, and had assumed his entrance had gone unnoticed. Falling quickly to his knees before the altar, he bowed his head and joined his palms reverently before his chest.
‘I came. . .‘ began Sentaro hesitantly, ‘to thank the
kami
for protecting me during a long period of danger.’
‘Is that all you wished to say in prayer?’
enquired
the priest softly, still without looking round.
‘No, I wish to. . thank the
kami
also. . . for something else,’ mumbled Sentaro, keeping his head bowed.
‘And what is that?’ asked the priest in the same sibilant tone.
‘For guiding me safely back to my homeland again . .
‘Hold out your hands,’ murmured the priest, lifting a small bamboo ladle with a long handle from his tray. ‘We will pray togethe
r
.’
When Sentaro complied, the priest turned from the altar and, moving nearer, splashed a few drops of blessed water over each hand and on the castaway’s upturned face. As he replaced the la
d
le on the tray, the priest’s attention was drawn towards the open door of the temple by a sudden movement. Staring out into the darkness, he saw a samurai with a drawn sword dart forward and conceal himself in the shadows beside the door. A moment later a more richly dressed samurai approached soundlessly, and pressed himself into the shadows too.
‘I want to pray also for further protection in the face of present perils added Sentaro in a low, urgent tone. ‘A close companion and myself are in grave danger. I beg the
kami
to hear our prayers. .
A flicker of fear appeared in the old priest’s eyes as he noticed Gotaro move silently into view in the open doorway. Blood that had soaked through the armour of his right shoulder was clearly visible, and
it
was obvious that he had overheard every word of the exchange. With a threatening flourish of the sword, Gotaro indicated wordlessly that nothing should be said to betray his presence, and the frightened priest, relieved that his own life did not appear to be threatened, inclined his head a fraction to indicate his compliance.
Keeping his face impassive, the priest glanced down at Sentaro’s bowed head. The castaway had become very still, and was waiting in silence with his palms pressed together and his eyes closed.
‘You are a stranger to this region, and it is a very late hour,’ said the priest, his tone indicating clearly to the watching samurai that he wished to distance himself from his supplicant and anything he might stand for. ‘Is your visit to this shrine connected in any way with the present crisis in Yedo Bay?’
Sentaro hesitated for a long moment, obviously torn between the desire to be tr
u
thful and the need to protect himself. ‘Yes he said at last in a loud whisper. ‘There is a connection
-
but I would rather not speak further of these things
n
ow.’
‘Then remain silent. I will pray
The priest joined his hands together but his eyes remained focused watchfully on the open door as he began to intone a low, inaudible prayer. Before him, Sentaro bowed lower and remained in a kneeling position with his back to the door. The peacefulness of the simple, hilltop shrine surrounded by its ancient, gnarled pines had already filled the castaway with a profound sense of awe, and the murmur of the priest’s voice in the deep silence intensified this feeling. As the supplication continued, he rocked himself gently back and forth on his knees
-
but he screamed loudly in fear when a hand grabbed his hair and jerked his head sharply backward. The next instant, a cold, razor
-
sharp steel was pressed tight against his throat and the scream died quickly to nothing.
‘You are the accomplice of the hideous alien!’ yelled Gotaro furiously, bending over him. ‘You were with him at the waterfall. Answer yes or no at once!’
He tugged brutally at Sentaro’s hair, lifting him bodily from the tatami. At the same time he twisted the blade of the sword until it drew a small ooze of blood from the side of the castaway’s neck. The priest watched impassively, neither protesting nor showing any inclination to intervene, and he did not pause in his steady recitation of the prayer.
‘Answer me!’ yelled the samurai again, his voice ringing round the temple’s wooden rafters. ‘Answer me
-
or you’ll die now!’
‘Yes, you are right gasped Sentaro at last. ‘I have been trave
ll
ing with the hideous alien’
‘Where is he now?’
Sentaro looked up at the priest with desperate, appealing eyes, but the old man’s thin face remained blank and unresponsive. He continued to peer over Sentaro’s head towards the temple door, his lips moving indifferently in prayer, his eyes empty of all feeling.
‘The hideous alien is sheltering.., nearby,’ said Sentaro in a haunted tone. ‘Only a few minutes away.’
‘Where exactly?’ The samurai twisted the castaway’s head and manoeuvred his blade expertly to release another fine trickle of blood. ‘You will tell us where
-
or you will bleed to death here, before the altar to the
kami.’
‘He’s hiding in a ruined barn,’ said Sentaro in a fearful whisper. ‘It’s halfway down the hillside.’
‘Lead us there now’
The samurai hauled Sentaro roughly to his feet and dragged him outside. The wizened priest watched the
m
go without protest, and did not offer any comment or judge
m
ent; even after they had left the temple he continued to stand unmoving beside the altar in his snow
-
white robe, still apparently intoning his unintelligible prayer. Outside in the paved courtyard Prince Tanaka was waiting; he had heard all that was said and, as they approached, he motioned for Gotaro to relax his painful grip.
‘Make sure you show the proper respect for Prince Tanaka of Kumatore rasped Gotaro, reluctantly untangling his fingers from the castaway’s hair. ‘If you don’t, you will answer to my sword!’
Sentaro’s face had taken on a dutiful expression as soon as he noticed that Tanaka was richly
attired,
but on hearing his name spoken and recognizing that the insignia on his
jimbaori
denoted a high nobleman of the Kago clan, he fell quickly to his knees. In silence he lowered his head until his forehead touched the ground, and he remained in this abject posture until Gotaro stirred him with his foot and grunted for him to rise.
‘Who are you?’ asked Tanaka quietly when the castaway was standing upright once more. ‘I co
m
mand you to identify yourself’
‘I am Sentaro... nothing more than a humble fisherman,
O
Kami-san.’
‘Why has a simple fisherman of Nippon a
ll
ied himself with a hideous barbarian? Explain yourself fully.’
‘I was shipwrecked at sea four years ago,
O
Kami
-
san,’ said Sentaro fearfully, again bowing low from the waist as he spoke. ‘Fortunately I was rescued from drowning by a whaling ship sailing home to America. I was taken to the first port of call on the western coast of that country I had no choice. I had to stay until they offered to bring me home with them on their black ships.’
‘So you have lived four years among the foreign barbarians said Tanaka reflectively, speaking half to himself. ‘In that case you must know something of their ways:
‘Yes,
O
Kami-san. . . but only. . . through misfortune.’ Sentaro had begun to stammer in his anxiety, and as he spoke he searched Tanaka’s face frantically for some sign of his likely fate. ‘I didn’t wish it. It was not my intention to break the laws of my country and leave our shores.’
‘Did the foreign barbarians intend to hand you back to our authorities?’
Sentaro nodded respectfully. ‘Yes, of course,
O
Kami-san... But as we sailed into the Bay of Yedo I became very afraid. I was sure, when I saw the preparations for war, that I would be executed for def
y
ing the ancient laws which forbid all citizens to leave Nippon. So I pleaded with the foreign barbarians not to hand me back yet... to wait until things became clearer.’
Tanaka had been watching the castaway closely as he spoke and his expression became thoughtful. ‘We will speak more of this later,’ he said slowly. ‘Now you must lead us to the hiding place of the foreign barbarian.’
The samurai guard seized Sentaro by the arm and began to drag him roughly towards the steps leading down from the hilltop. Halfway along the avenue he stopped and glowered at the prisoner again.
‘Is Matsumura Tokiwa with the foreign barbarian?’ he demanded, lifting his sword
t
o
encourage a truthful answer.
‘Yes . . . she is with us,’ whispered Sentaro after a moment’s indecision. ‘She’s in the barn too.’
Gotaro darted a quick glance at Tanaka, but the prince’s face remained expressionless and he offered no comment.
‘Then take us to them: he grunted, again pressing the blade of his sword against Sentaro’s neck. ‘And move very quietly! If you try to shout any warning as we approach, I promise you I will sever your head from your shoulders.’
Sentaro swallowed hard and moved off silently along the moonlit avenue of pines, followed closely by the guard and Tanaka. At the top of the steps he hesitated for a moment, reluctant, despite everything, to betray the American officer who had shown him so much kindness and friendship. But the guard immediately struck him between the shoulder blades with the pommel of his sword, and Sentaro stumbled forward again, to begin the descent towards the abandoned barn, realizing he no longer had any choice but to obey.