The Peony Lantern (13 page)

‘He should have married someone mature and accomplished,' Aiko suggested. She sounded innocent, but there was a slyness to her tone. She liked to stir up trouble, I sensed.

‘Certainly it would have made more sense for Minoru-san to marry someone with experience,' Rin agreed. ‘Someone who could support him in these difficult times.'

‘If only he had married someone like you, Rin-san. After all, you have been a widow for four years now. Frankly I don't understand why Lord Kinoyoshi allowed this marriage.'

‘My brother-in-law thinks it's a good time to be strengthening ties with other domains. Now more than ever, with the treaties, Minoru-san's role as a liaison is
important. But if you ask me we should be looking to the strength of our own domain. And there's something about this girl. Something not quite right . . .'

My heart almost stopped. Had she guessed?

‘Poor Lord Shimizu,' Aiko crooned. ‘He hasn't been lucky with wives. The tragedy of dear Lady Aimi, and now to make such an unfortunate second marriage.'

Rin lifted a shoulder. ‘You never know, it might not last.'

As the drum sounded to signal the beginning of the next play, I hurried back to my place.

If the previous play had sent me to sleep, this one sent a cold chill down my spine. I couldn't follow the meaning at all as the poetic language went way over my head, but I recognised the mask the leading actor wore, with horns and fangs and gleaming eyes. It was the Hannya mask, representing a woman whose jealousy has caused her to turn into a demon.

If only he had married someone like you . . .

It might not last . . .

As the voices chanted and the drums pounded, it seemed to me that Rin had spoken as if, like Hannya, she possessed extraordinary powers. She could summon the
kamikaze
, the divine wind, to sweep Misaki from her path. She could awaken the great catfish that lived beneath the earth and have Misaki swallowed by the ground. Yet I hadn't sensed any rage in her. Her voice had been cold, almost casual; she didn't have the greed for conflict of Aiko. But her offhandedness was somehow all the more ominous. She had wanted Lord Shimizu for herself, and she did not doubt that she would have him.

Beside me, Misaki shivered a little, as if at a cold breeze. I shifted so that my arm pressed against hers and she leaned against mine gratefully.

Shimizu had been wiser than he knew to choose someone outside the Matsuyama domain for his wife's lady-in-waiting, I thought.

After an eternity it was over, the longest day I had ever passed. Miri had been right, though I suspected she had been only joking: the bento boxes had been the highlight. Carrots and yellow pickled daikon had been cut to look like leaves and scattered over the top of the box as if blown by the wind, along with thin strips of dried kelp that resembled pine needles. Beneath were autumn delicacies such as fried ginkgo nuts and rice mixed with chestnuts.

The multicoloured stream of ladies began moving across the courtyard, chattering and fluttering fans.

Miri excused herself to speak with some friends of hers, and suddenly Rin was beside us, Aiko simpering behind her.

‘Misaki-san, did you enjoy the performance?'

‘Very much, thank you, my lady,' Misaki replied. ‘The
kata
were wonderful: so fluid and expressive.'

Thank goodness for Miri's coaching; Misaki sounded as knowledgeable as if she attended the theatre every other day.

‘Is the weather so fine in Morioka at this time of year?' Rin asked.

Misaki looked surprised by the abrupt change of subject. ‘It — yes, it is usually fine.'

‘I've heard Morioka castle is very beautiful. Three storeys, is it? Or four?'

I wasn't sure what Rin was playing at, but I sensed an undercurrent. As Misaki began to stammer out an answer, I stepped forwards and murmured in her ear.

‘Oh yes, of course. Please excuse me. My palanquin is waiting.'

The questions about Noh and Morioka castle had seemed pointed, as if the ladies suspected something and were trying to trap Misaki into a wrong answer. They know, I thought with a sense of dread: they know but they think that Lord Shimizu doesn't, that her exposure will turn him against her. Little did they realise that Misaki's exposure would mean her husband's too . . .

As I urged Misaki on ahead of me, she said, ‘Why are you in such a rush to leave? The Noh wasn't
that
bad, was it?'

‘Actually it was,' I replied. I could hardly tell her that her husband's people were plotting against her.

‘You're right,' she whispered over her shoulder. ‘But if you tell anyone I said so I'll deny it.'

Just as she was entering the palanquin she stopped. ‘Oh, I forgot my fan.'

‘You go ahead. I'll get the fan and catch up with you.'

Rin and Aiko were standing in the same spot as I passed. I wasn't at all surprised to discover that they were still talking about Misaki.

‘Do you know what I think? I think she isn't from Morioka at all . . . She's from one of the domains that oppose the Shogun.'

‘No!
'

‘Consider it. A beautiful woman charms a grieving widower . . . And there you have a spy at the heart of our domain.'

‘She's a spy?' Aiko sounded more excited than alarmed.

‘It's possible. Remember the attack on Tanabata? Someone must have told our enemies where the meeting was to take place.'

I almost laughed aloud. I'd thought they'd suspected the truth, but instead they were off on the wrong track altogether.

I must have been staring at them with a smug expression because Rin, catching my eye, asked Aiko: ‘Who
is
that girl?' Her voice was clearly meant to carry to me.

‘She came with Misaki. She's the
churo
, apparently.'

‘She has an annoying habit of creeping up on one.' Her eyes were narrowed. Did she think Misaki and I were spies together?

‘I saw her at the fireworks festival and thought by her clothes she must be a serving maid,' Aiko offered.

Still looking me in the eye, making sure I knew the message was intended to be heard, Rin said, ‘As I thought: she is nobody. She can be dealt with.' And she flicked her fingers as if disposing of a tiny troublesome insect.

Again that cold, casual tone. My triumph vanished. I hurried back to where we had been sitting, snatched up the fan and fled.

Sixteen gold petals

Blazing in the autumn air

Noble rays of sun

In the days following the Noh performance, I couldn't shake Rin's words from my head. I tried to tell myself that her insinuations didn't matter, that she was nothing but a fox borrowing the power of a lion, but I couldn't make myself believe it. She seemed sure that Misaki was a spy, that I might be her accomplice, and there was no doubt she had the connections to make her suspicions heard.

Every day I feared some attempt to expose us — and even though her suspicions were all wrong, it was true that we were hiding something, and any focus on Misaki's background would surely bring it all to light. I agonised over whether to tell Lord Shimizu, but he had said I should report anything causing Misaki
unhappiness and, far from being unhappy, Misaki was blooming. She had now attended two events with people from her husband's domain and, as she thought, had been welcomed. And her obvious happiness was bringing pleasure to her husband. Though he was seldom at home, I observed how the lines of tension on his face would ease when he gazed on his beautiful, joyful wife.

I didn't want to be the one who spoiled their pleasure. So I kept my knowledge to myself, and the only one who seemed to notice my preoccupation was Daiki, the painting master, who murmured to me one day as I painted a lotus on a pond, ‘So much tightness in such a languorous flower. I hope nothing is troubling you, Kasumi . . .'

But as days and then weeks passed with nothing to disturb the calm waters of our lives, I began to relax. It seemed Rin had decided not to act on her suspicions — and perhaps they hadn't been real in the first place; perhaps she had merely been having a bit of sport with the impressionable Aiko. Our secret was safe.

In the first days of the ninth month we celebrated the season of the chrysanthemum in our
ikebana
lesson with the bright yellow blooms that reminded us of the sun, Amaterasu, the ancestor of the Emperor, and on a rare occasion when Shimizu was home for dinner he suggested that we spend Chrysanthemum Day, the ninth day of the month, in chrysanthemum-viewing. ‘We can go to Somei, where the nurserymen have their displays. In fact, let's make a proper excursion of it and visit some shrines and temples too. We'll invite Isamu to come with us.'

On the morning of the ninth day, we rose early. The Chrysanthemum Festival marked a change in season; the light kimonos of summer were changed for heavier lined kimonos, and cool watery patterns gave way to autumnal colours and designs. I helped Misaki choose a kimono scattered with chrysanthemums in yellow, orange and white and a contrasting black obi.

As we waited for Isamu to arrive, Lord Shimizu observed, ‘You never wear the comb from Yabuhara anymore, Misaki.' I was astonished that he'd noticed.

‘I've lost it,' she confessed. ‘We've looked everywhere, haven't we, Kasumi?'

‘What have you lost?' Isamu asked, entering the room. As ever he seemed to bring with him the air of outside, crisp and alive with possibility.

‘A comb,' said Misaki.

‘You remember,' I said. ‘We bought it from a comb-maker in Yabuhara before we climbed the Torii pass. It's red.'

Isamu shrugged. ‘Sorry, I mustn't have been paying attention.'

To him it had meant nothing, but I could recall every word of our conversation; he had joked about buying a comb like that for me. It was always jokes between us; he would never take me seriously. And why should he? I told myself fiercely. Just because I had felt a bond between us from the moment I saw him at the shrine in Tsumago, it didn't mean he'd felt it too. It was all in my head . . .

Shimizu had ordered the palanquins he kept for himself and Misaki to be brought round to the entrance, and suggested that he could hire conveyances for Isamu and me.

But Isamu declined. ‘I'm sure Kasumi-san prefers to walk,' he said.

Why was he so sure? I grumbled to myself. Because I was a common girl from the mountains and not a fine lady?

I didn't contradict him, but when the bearers had raised the palanquins of my master and mistress into the air and led the way through the gate, I said, ‘Perhaps now after nearly four months in Edo I am more ladylike.'

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

‘Haven't you noticed a difference?' I persisted, uncomfortably aware that I was letting my tongue travel on ahead of my mind. So perhaps, despite my protestations, I hadn't really changed at all.

‘I haven't looked for one,' he said.

Was this his way of telling me that my behaviour, ladylike or otherwise, was of no concern to him?

‘I suppose there are many fine ladies in the domain mansion,' I observed, trying to keep the bitterness from my tone.

‘I suppose.'

‘You'll have to marry one of them one day.'

‘I suppose.'

I wished I possessed his indifference. Why was I pushing him like this? No wonder he was avoiding responding. It would take more than a few accomplishments to make me a lady. Anyway, I reminded
myself, no matter how long I spent in Edo, no matter how ladylike I became, I would never be the daughter of a samurai. He and I could never be together.

The problem was . . . the problem was Isamu. A few months earlier I would have accepted without question the husband my father chose for me, yam-headed though he might be. But now I would detest a yam-headed husband and yearn for someone who was clever and curious and cultured. The defects in my character were becoming more pronounced, not less, I concluded sadly. Coming to Edo had taught me to yearn for more than I could ever have.

It was a relief when we reached the wooded hill on which stood the Ana Hachiman shrine. Lord Shimizu and Misaki alighted from their palanquins to join us, and Shimizu described the winter solstice festival held at the shrine, and the crowds that would gather to buy a charm that promised prosperity for the coming year.

Isamu and I rinsed our hands and mouths as Shimizu and Misaki stepped forwards together to pray at the altar.

‘Shall we?' asked Isamu as they moved away.

As we walked towards the altar, as we bowed and clapped, I was reminded of the first time I had seen him, praying at the shrine above my village. Now we were praying together. I tried to pray for my family but I was aware of Isamu beside me and though I knew it was hopeless it was him I was praying for. Him and me.

After a brief stop at a teahouse for lunch, we continued on to Somei.

‘Oh, the palanquin is so uncomfortable,' Misaki groaned in a whisper that only I could hear as she and I
walked together towards the crowded pavilion where the chrysanthemums were displayed. ‘You're so lucky to be allowed to walk.'

Maybe Isamu had done me a favour? This optimistic thought gave my heart a lift that was magnified as the first of the displays came into view.

‘Look!' I clutched Misaki's arm as through the crush of people I glimpsed a huge shower of cascading flowers in pink and yellow.

‘Over here, Kasumi.' Misaki positively dragged me towards a stall at which dolls costumed in robes of chrysanthemums were arranged in different scenes from classic tales.

As we moved along the line of stalls, I saw stems that were higher than my head with flowers the size of pumpkins. There were flowers with petals that were gold on the outside but red on the inside, like a rich merchant's wife whose cotton kimono was secretly lined with red silk. One nurseryman had created a great dome of flowers, more than two hundred of them, all growing from the same stalk. Others had shaped birds and animals out of flowers.

Coming from the mountains, I had never seen such marvels before, and as we began the journey home I could not stop talking about them. ‘The intricacy of the petals is astonishing,' I exclaimed to Isamu. ‘I've never studied a chrysanthemum properly before, but now — I can't wait to paint them. And the way they burst like sunshine . . . They would make such wonderful images for woodblock prints, wouldn't they? Their colours are so vivid.'

Ismau was smiling at my enthusiasm. ‘I've seen some prints published to celebrate the festival,' he said.

‘Will you show me?'

He glanced at the palanquin bearing his uncle before saying, ‘If I have an opportunity.' I had the feeling he regretted raising the topic.

It was dusk by the time we passed through the guard post at the corner of our street.

‘Thank you for walking with me, Kasumi-san,' Isamu said as the palanquins were lowered to the ground. ‘I've enjoyed your company today.' For once there was no teasing in his tone.

I felt a strange fluttering inside. Was it possible that he had declined his uncle's offer of a palanquin because he had wanted to walk with me? Immediately I dismissed the thought; I was reading too much into a polite comment.

‘Will you be having dinner at home?' Misaki asked her husband as I stooped to rearrange the folds of her kimono, which was slightly creased after her confinement in the cramped box.

‘Not tonight,' Shimizu replied. ‘I'm going to introduce Isamu to my poetry circle.'

‘And to chrysanthemum sake,' his nephew added.

Misaki smiled demurely. ‘Kasumi and I will stick to chrysanthemum tea.'

When the men had left we bathed and Misaki changed into a cotton kimono, then Ishi served us soup with seaweed — another dish I was learning to love in Edo.

After dinner we pulled out the box of shells and tried to find scenes with chrysanthemums.

Misaki was trying to persuade me that some rather indistinct dots on a kimono were in fact chrysanthemums when we heard voices. They were just a murmur at first,
and I thought they must belong to some men walking down the road, but as they grew louder it was clear they were nearing our gate.

We exchanged looks. Could this be one of the bands of
rōnin
Shimizu had mentioned? But how would they have got past the guards posted at the end of the street?

Without discussion, we quickly started to gather up the shells that were spread across the floor.

‘It's okay,' Misaki said, and I had the feeling it was as much for her own reassurance as mine. ‘Even if they make it past the guard post, Goro is at the gate.'

This was far from comforting, as we all knew Goro usually slept through the night watch. Still, I told myself as the rabble of voices grew louder, surely not even Goro could sleep through this.

And then it seemed the
rōnin
were flooding through our gate, a confusion of shouts.

‘We have to hide,' said Misaki urgently.

I snuffed out the lamp. ‘Behind the screen.' I pointed towards my sleeping alcove, and we rushed to conceal ourselves in the dark space.

‘Maybe they'll go straight to the storehouse,' I whispered, ‘and leave the house alone.'

‘I hope they don't take my husband's sword from the front reception room; it's his most precious possession.'

The shouts grew louder, then resolved themselves into discernible speech.

‘We will hunt them down!'

I stifled a scream with my hand. Who were they looking for? Us? Or were they after Lord Shimizu? What would they do when they found he wasn't home?

‘Whoever did this will pay!'

A roar of approval followed.

This didn't sound like thieves.

‘Calm yourselves, it's not serious; just a flesh wound.' It was Shimizu's voice . . . or was it? It had none of his usual quiet force.

Misaki looked at me, and in the dim light I saw that her eyes were wide. ‘That was my husband.'

We crept through the reception room to the darkened entryway then, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen in the light flooding in from the lanterns outside, surveyed the scene.

Half a dozen men were milling about the raked gravel courtyard. The heaviness of their tread, the shouts, suggested some sake had been consumed. Surely Shimizu had not brought a bunch of drunken companions home!

Then my master himself staggered into view. By the light burning at the entrance I saw that Isamu was holding him up. His kimono gaped open at the sleeve and he clutched his arm. Blood was seeping through his fingers.

Misaki let out a wordless cry. He wasn't drunk but injured!

Isamu's voice rose above the others. ‘Riku, go to the mansion for the doctor.'

Shimizu gasped, ‘Not . . . necessary.'

Isamu ignored him. ‘Please, Uncle; we have to get you inside.'

They had moved away from the group now, Isamu guiding his uncle towards the entrance to our private quarters.

Misaki took a small step forwards, clearly desperate to go to her husband, but reluctant to insert herself into the group of men.

Isamu spoke again, and though he was younger than the rest, his tone carried an air of command. ‘Return to the mansion, all of you. We'll meet there in the morning.'