‘I’m just glad Rin-san isn’t here to see.’
Lady Aimi? Rin? Who were they talking about?
‘I don’t know about that,’ said the yuzu-voiced woman. ‘I think Rin-san would be very interested to meet Lord Shimizu’s wife.’ Her conversation was heavy on emphasis I noticed, as if her words were weighted with significance.
‘I doubted he would marry again, you know. Never did I imagine this.’
Marry again? So he’d been married before. Did Misaki know? She must. But what had happened to Shimizu’s first wife?
‘How dare they?’
Isamu’s voice was close to my ear.
‘What would those obabas know about it?’ he said furiously. ‘My uncle’s remarriage is a cause for joy. Those old women are just jealous because Misaki is so much more beautiful and charming than they ever were.’
I had just opened my mouth to repeat, ‘Remarriage?’ when a huge bang made me scream and clutch his arm. ‘What’s happening? Is it an earthquake?’
Isamu laughed. ‘It’s only the fireworks. Look at the sky.’
Humiliated, I let go of his arm, but almost grabbed it again at the strange and wonderful sight. The sky was exploding with flowers, raining colours, stars bursting to unleash waterfalls with silken threads of red and gold. The sound was tremendous; like the cracking of branches under the weight of snow — not a single tree but a whole forest of branches.
All around me upturned faces were lit with colour, and initial exclamations gave way to sighs of appreciation.
For a long time I forgot where I was, transfixed by the spectacle in the sky. It was like being transported into a celestial realm.
When at last the noise of the fireworks had died away there was a momentary lull as the crowd adjusted themselves to earthbound existence once more, and then one of the three women whom I had heard gossiping stepped forwards.
‘Lord Shimizu!’ The yuzu-voiced woman was affecting surprise, as if she hadn’t been trailing behind making acid observations.
Shimizu greeted her with a polite bow. ‘Aiko-san, let me introduce you to my wife.’ He made the introductions and Misaki clasped her hands in front of her and bowed deeply.
‘Misaki-san, I’m delighted to meet you.’ Aiko’s voice was mochi-sweet now. ‘We were beginning to think you were hiding your lovely wife from us, Lord Shimizu.’
Aiko was truly two-tongued; I was glad Misaki wasn’t aware of the vinegar behind her words. She was murmuring a polite response when the group was joined by Taro and a slender woman who was several inches taller than him.
‘Misaki-san,’ he interrupted, ‘I have been looking forward to introducing you to my wife, Miri.’
Miri bowed and said with what could only be genuine warmth, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Misaki-san. Taro tells me he has never seen such exquisite ikebana arrangements as yours and he doesn’t say such things lightly.’
Misaki ducked her head to hide her smile and her husband beamed proudly.
‘Is it your first time at the festival? I suppose it must be. When we first came to Edo — over fifteen years ago now — it used to be a competition between two guilds, but then there was a fire.’
As Miri spoke the word ‘fire’, Misaki unconsciously put a hand to her scarred cheek.
‘Fires are such a big problem in Edo,’ Miri continued with a sigh. ‘Despite the watch towers, the fire brigade. I’ve lost count of how many . . .’ She trailed off with a quick look at Shimizu, then finished, ‘Since then, all fireworks have to be let off near the river. Have you met Yada Kunisada and his wife, Tatsumi?’ It was an abrupt change of subject. Did she know something about how Misaki had received her burn?
As servants handed around cold tea, Taro and his wife drew more and more people into the circle.
I nudged Isamu. ‘You should be with them. Honestly I’ll be fine by myself. I’m enjoying watching.’
‘I promised my uncle I’d look after you. Let me try to get my hands on some of that tea. Don’t move.’
By now Lord Shimizu and Misaki were the centre of the gathering as everyone flocked to meet Shimizu’s bride. And though they couldn’t conceal their curiosity, they clearly held Shimizu in high esteem and thus were willing to accept his wife as one of their own. And there was no reason why they shouldn’t. No one, not even Aiko, could possibly fault Misaki’s good manners. And plenty of the younger women were wearing kimonos at least as colourful as Misaki’s; several of them even made admiring comments.
The only people who didn’t seem delighted by Misaki were the three women I’d overheard earlier. I watched them watching her, surprised by how angry I felt. Despite my secret knowledge of Misaki’s low rank, she was far more ladylike than them.
‘If only it were light and we could see her shadow,’ said Aiko in a low voice.
Her companions tittered. ‘You think she might have a tail?’
‘It’s possible. She has a fox’s face.’
On the one hand this could be taken as a compliment, a reference to Misaki’s narrow, high cheekbones. But I suspected Aiko was suggesting that Misaki might be a shapeshifter, a fox who had assumed the form of a beautiful woman in order to bewitch Shimizu.
One of Aiko’s ladies nudged her and pointed to me. ‘Someone’s servant is listening.’
They all turned to glare. I knew I should lower my head, even bow to show deference before these high-ranked ladies, but I didn’t. I just stared, and eventually they were the ones to turn and move away.
‘Here you are.’ Isamu was back with the tea. ‘Why are you looking so sour?’
I was saved from answering by an explosion of sound and colour. The fireworks had started again.
It was long past the time we were usually in bed when Shimizu and Misaki returned to the palanquins and we started for home. I was content just to plod along beside Isamu without speaking. The night had held so many wonders, and so many mysteries, that I felt I would need a week just to unpack them all. Isamu too was quiet, breaking the silence only once to mutter angrily, ‘Those women who dared to insult Misaki . . .’
I recalled his fierce defence of her earlier, how he had spoken of his uncle being lucky to have such a beautiful and charming wife. Was he himself charmed by her? He had accused the three obabas (though they weren’t that old, really) of being jealous, but perhaps it was he who was jealous of his uncle . . . I tried to ignore how the thought troubled me.
The lamps were still burning in anticipation of our arrival when we passed through the gate into the courtyard of Lord Shimizu’s house. He stepped quickly from the palanquin, bid farewell to Isamu and went to speak to Goro, the night guard.
I was distracted from Isamu’s departure by Misaki, who began talking as soon as she alighted from her palanquin. ‘Weren’t the fireworks beautiful, Kasumi?’ She turned to her husband, who had joined us. ‘And your friends were so kind.’
Her husband smiled down at her. ‘I could tell they were all charmed by my beautiful wife.’ Almost the same words Isamu had used, I noted.
They both seemed elated, as if a test had been passed. And for the most part it had — so why did I feel so apprehensive? Who cared what those three women thought?
I helped Misaki to undress, then went to my own little alcove across the corridor. As I unrolled my futon, I could still hear the faint cracking of fireworks. I would have heard them from the garden, I reflected, but that would have given me no true picture of what they were like. I had Isamu to thank for that. Even though I knew it was Misaki he’d been thinking of when he’d urged his uncle to permit me to join them, I was grateful. And he had been true to his promise to Shimizu: he had looked after me well. Because he was honourable, I reminded myself, not out of any affection for me. He was amused by me: ‘a strange girl’ he had called me.
It was so different from the way he looked at Misaki. I remembered how his eyes had widened when she entered the reception room that evening in her exquisite red kimono with the red comb glowin
g in her hair. Little did he know that she was just a commoner like me. But while he mightn’t know that, he clearly knew more than I did; he knew that Misaki was not Lord Shimizu’s first wife. But where was his first wife now? Perhaps this was the tragedy Taro had mentioned . . .
Despite my fatigue, I was awake for a long time.
Chapter
Nine
A screen sliding shut
Calm night drawn across clear sky —
Then the thunder cracks
I was woken by a loud sound, as if the fireworks had moved closer. It felt like I had barely slept, but as I lay in the dark, listening, the air was still and quiet; the fireworks had ended. I had no idea what time it was or what had woken me.
Then I heard it: a shout.
I sat up. It was a man’s voice, coming from the entrance, hoarse and urgent.
What was going on?
I rose from my bed and hastily belted my kimono around me. I stood concealed behind the screen that separated my alcove from the next room, listening for a sign of wakefulness from the room across the corridor.
The shout came again. ‘Lord Shimizu!’
I took a step forwards, then hesitated. Should I wake him?
A nearby groan told me I wouldn’t have to.
‘Who is it?’ Shimizu called.
‘It’s me, Goro. Sir, there’s a messenger from the daimyo’s mansion.’
‘I’ll be right there.’ Shimizu sounded alert now.
A lantern was lit in the bedroom, and I could see a shadow moving on the rice-paper screen as Shimizu rose from his futon and began to dress. I quickly looked away towards the faint glow coming from the entryway: the night guard’s lantern, I assumed, as Goro waited to escort his master to where the messenger waited. What could be wrong at the mansion that required a messenger to be sent in the middle of the night?
Perhaps it was Isamu, I thought in alarm. Was he ill? Or injured, perhaps — attacked as he walked home alone to the domain mansion.
Hurry! I urged Shimizu silently.
Within minutes I saw his tall dark shape walk quickly through the room on the other side of my screen.
Wide awake now, and alarmed, I tiptoed through the reception room, through the dining room, just in time to see the bobbing light of the lantern pass through the small entryway. I peered around the corner. The wooden shutter had been pulled back and Shimizu stood at the open doorway looking out.
There was the crunch of quick footsteps on gravel as the messenger approached then bowed. ‘My lord, your presence is required at the upper mansion.’ He was breathing hard, as if he had been running. Then, as if conscious of the hour, he added, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but at once.’
Shimizu didn’t question the order or the hour. He merely said, ‘Of course. Give me a moment to dress.’ He called to the night guard, ‘Goro, wake Haru — tell him we’re going out.’
I dashed back to my alcove. I felt as breathless as the messenger had sounded. He hadn’t said why Shimizu was needed. Why hadn’t Shimizu asked?
As her husband returned to the room across the corridor, I heard Misaki ask sleepily, ‘What is it?’
‘I’m needed at the mansion.’
‘Now? But it’s the middle of the night.’
‘I know.’ Shimizu’s voice was calm but grave. ‘It must be something serious.’
‘Be careful.’ Misaki sounded frightened.
‘Always. But there’s nothing to fear, my dear. You go back to sleep.’
I heard the whisper of footsteps on tatami, pausing in the entrance — I imagined Shimizu slipping his two swords through the girdle on his left-hand side, where they would be ready should he need to draw them with his right hand — then the murmur of voices outside and the creaking of the gate being dragged open.
I stood still behind the screen. The quiet of the house seemed almost menacing after the flurry of activity. How long would I have to wait before there was news?
I untied my belt and let my kimono fall to the ground, then slipped back into bed. There I lay, my eyes open, trying to think of other reasons why Lord Shimizu might have been summoned — reasons that had nothing to do with his nephew.
‘Kasumi?’ Misaki’s soft voice reached me from across the corridor. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Yes,’ I called back.
There was a rustling and then, to my astonishment, she came to sit on the edge of my futon.
‘What do you think it could be?’
I swallowed. ‘Maybe . . . do you think Isamu has fallen ill?’
‘Isamu? Oh no. We saw him just this evening and he was fine.’
I tried to imagine other possible emergencies. ‘What if foreigners have invaded?’
Misaki seemed to consider this. ‘But then there’d be noise, wouldn’t there?’ She hugged her legs to her body and put her chin on her knees. ‘Perhaps,’ she said quietly, ‘there’s a fire in the compound. Someone might have let off fireworks.’ She must have been thinking of what Taro’s wife Miri had told us. I saw her hand move to her face and was sure she was touching her scar. ‘It was such a wonderful evening,’ she said. ‘And now this.’ She sounded sad and frightened.
A wonderful evening, yes — though she hadn’t heard what I had: the cruel whispers of Aiko and her friends. Could those awful women have somehow discerned the truth? What if that was the reason for Lord Shimizu’s urgent summons to the mansion — that the secret of his marriage had been exposed? What would happen? I remembered his words to Taro: Lord Kinoyoshi would be within his rights to demand my death.
Was that what Misaki was thinking too? What would happen to her if their secret was found out? For she too was part of the deception . . .
Without thinking, I reached over to grasp her wrist. ‘It will be all right,’ I said. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’ Already I was making plans in my head. We would flee Edo. I would take Misaki back to the valley with me and —
‘To me? Why would anything happen to me?’
Of course, I berated myself. She didn’t know that I knew.
‘I just meant — if the foreigners invaded,’ I invented. ‘I would help you to return to Morioka. Or you could come with me back to the valley . . .’
‘Oh, Kasumi, that’s so sweet of you — but whatever happens, I couldn’t leave Edo.’
We were still awake when Lord Shimizu returned.
When we heard the creak of the gate, and the gruff mutter of Goro greeting his master, Misaki jumped up and ran to the entry. ‘Are you all right, Minoru?’ Her voice was high and tense. ‘What was it? Was there a fire at the mansion?’
Stepping out from behind the screen I saw the glow of a lantern as Haru preceded his master into the reception room. ‘A fire? No.’ Shimizu looked weary.
‘But it must be something serious for you to be called out like this. Is someone ill?’
‘Really, it’s nothing for you to worry about. There was . . . an incident tonight, and two government officials were killed.’
Misaki looked horrified. ‘That’s terrible. Where did it happen?’
‘In Yoshiwara, on the outskirts of the city.’ It was clear from Shimizu’s expression that he wasn’t keen to discuss it, but Misaki didn’t seem to notice.
‘At a place called the Golden Plum,’ Haru added importantly. I had the impression he was relishing being part of the drama.
His master gave him a look. ‘Light the lamp for us, Haru, then you can go back to your own quarters. Kasumi, would you make some tea?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Haru lit a standing lamp in the corner of the reception room, then accompanied me into the dark kitchen and lit a lamp for me there.
As I stoked the fire to boil the water, I heard Misaki continue to press for details.
‘But what does the death of government officials have to do with you? Why were you called? Did you know these men?’
‘Only very slightly. Some men from our domain were present at the Golden Plum. None was injured, but s
ince it involves our domain and others, Shunsho-san has asked me to investigate the circumstances to see if the daimyo needs to be informed.’
‘Will it be dangerous?’ Misaki asked in a small voice.
‘I don’t think it’s as serious as it sounds. On the night of a festival spirits are often a little high. Most likely I’ll discover there’s some rivalry between the men involved. Like I said, it’s nothing that need concern you.’
I knew it was wrong to feel relieved when two men had been killed, but as I poured the water into the iron pot and waited for the tea to steep all I could think was how happy I was that it was them and not someone else — someone I cared about more than I wanted to admit . . .
Chapter
Ten
Reeds by the river
Moving in a summer breeze
Ink flows on paper
A few days after the fireworks festival, Lord Shimizu announced at breakfast that he would be leaving Edo on business.
‘I’ll be away at least two weeks.’
‘Please travel safely, Minoru.’ I was sure that, like me, Misaki must be wondering if his sudden departure had anything to do with his investigation of the attack on the government officials, but he had not referred to the incident again.
Whether out of a desire to distract us or improve us, he informed Misaki and me that we would be having a visitor in his absence; in addition to our weekly ikebana lessons we were to have painting lessons. The painting master had been recommended by Isamu’s own master; Daiki was a local man with a good reputation who occasionally took on a few private students.
‘I met him once at a friend’s exhibition,’ Isamu told us a few days later. ‘I think you’ll like him.’
As he had the last time Shimizu went away, Isamu made a point of dropping by regularly. On this afternoon, he had come to us carrying a scroll of paper, and some tools for painting that his uncle had asked him to purchase for us.
The Peony Lantern Page 9
