The Commander stood over him, his sword raised for the kill. He was grinning. He had barely raised a sweat and Yozo realized he could have finished him off long ago. He’d been playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse, for sport.
Back to the wall, Yozo waited for the blow. But instead of bringing his sword down and finishing him off, the Commander stood poised, like a statue, as if he wanted to draw out his own enjoyment of the moment.
Yozo stared at him, wondering why the Commander didn’t strike. It was almost as if he was giving him a chance – as if he wanted to die.
Suddenly Yozo was blind with rage. If he was going to die he would take this demon with him. As the Commander stood gloating, he yelled, ‘For Kitaro and Hana.’ Gripping his sword in both hands, he turned the point upwards and rammed his blade deep into the layers of silk that covered the Commander’s stomach. He felt it glide smoothly through his spine.
With the last of his strength he pushed until he was sure his sword had pierced the Commander right through, then twisted it and wrenched it out and prepared to strike again.
The Commander’s eyes widened and he staggered suddenly. Yozo expected him to fall but instead he gave a screech of pure hatred that sent a shudder jarring through Yozo’s skull. Perhaps he was not human at all, perhaps it really was impossible to kill him, and, as if in proof, the next moment the Commander’s sword was swinging down. Yozo saw it coming, slanting towards him like a ray of sunlight. He tried to dive out of the way, raising his sword to parry, but he knew it was too late. The Commander had won. They would go to heaven or hell together.
Then there was a clang and the sword flew out of the Commander’s hand, wheeled in the air and thudded harmlessly to the ground a little way away. Dazed, Yozo looked up. A blade had appeared from nowhere and deflected the blow.
The Commander swayed. Blood gushed from his stomach and mouth and he staggered again, then his knees folded and he toppled to the ground, sending leaves whirling around him.
He stared up at Yozo and the faintest of smiles crossed his face. His lips twitched. Yozo leaned forward, trying to catch his words.
‘You fought well. You’ve done me … a favour.’
He gave a sigh. Slowly the light in his eyes faded and his head rolled heavily to one side.
42
With the clash and clang of steel ringing in her ears, Hana had raced into the house and snatched her halberd from its ledge above the lintel. She’d come running out again to see Yozo with his back against the wall and her husband standing over him with his sword raised, his lips curled in a triumphant smile. She’d seen Yozo twist round with sudden ferocity, tilt his sword upwards and drive the blade into her husband’s belly, and the crazed glint in her husband’s eyes as he brought his sword down for the final blow.
Before she had time to think, she’d braced herself, swept her halberd in a great arc and lashed out at the falling sword with all her might. She’d felt the two blades crash together and staggered under the impact, clinging desperately to the haft of her weapon as it was nearly wrenched from her hands. Then with an almighty effort, with more strength than she’d known she possessed, she had turned the lethal blade in its course and thrust it aside.
Now she stared at the tall man sprawled on the ground, blood pumping from his wounds. Dust and leaves spun in the air. She watched, her breath loud in the silence, as a yellow leaf wafted down and settled on his hand.
She had been so sure she was going to die herself, she had already said goodbye to the world. But now that she knew she was going to live, everything looked so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. The walls of the storehouse were dazzlingly white in the sunlight, bamboo swayed and rustled in the breeze and the scent of woodsmoke filled the air.
She stared at this man she had dreaded for so long, almost afraid his eyes would spring open again and he would sit up and stare at her. His face was composed and peaceful, more than it had ever been in life. She had thought she would never see him again – but she had, first alive, now truly dead.
Yozo heaved himself to his feet, resting his hand on the wall to steady himself. He was pale and covered in blood and sweat and dirt and his hair had come loose and hung around his face.
‘Wait,’ he said, raising his hand as Hana ran over to him. He wiped his blade on the corner of his jacket and slid his sword back into its scabbard, never taking his eyes off the dead man. ‘I’m going to make sure you don’t mourn a third time.’
He picked up his gun, still lying on the ground where he had dropped it, knelt and pressed it to the dead man’s head. Hana put her hands over her ears. She too wanted to be sure he didn’t rise from the dead ever again. But Yozo was looking at her husband’s face and put the gun down again without firing it.
‘He deserves respect,’ he said solemnly. ‘He was a great warrior, a warrior of the old school. We’ll give him a proper funeral and take his ashes to Kano and bury them there in the family tomb along with his box.’
Hana knelt beside him and reached out her hand shyly and put it on his thigh.
‘It’s over,’ he said quietly. ‘In the end he won. There was no way I could ever have beaten him. He wanted to die: he let me kill him.’ He seemed almost sad.
‘It’s true. There was no place for him in this world.’
He looked at her and smiled, then winced and put his hand to his face. There was blood trickling from the livid slash along his cheek. ‘You’re a warrior too. You saved my life.’
‘No, you saved mine,’ she said softly. ‘I was sure I was going to die. I never thought you’d come back in time.’
He took her hand and she felt the warmth of his palm on hers.
‘There was never any doubt in my mind that that was what I had to do. When I heard the Commander was alive I couldn’t think of anything else. Only you, and the peril you were in.’
He raised her hand to his lips. She loved the way his smile began in his eyes, then moved to the corners of his mouth till his whole face was smiling.
‘I disgraced myself,’ he added. ‘Or so Heizo and Hiko and Ichimura think. I betrayed my friends.’ He paused, then sighed. ‘Anyway, it was a crazy plan. They may have saved Enomoto and Otori but I doubt it. They’re probably all in Kodenmacho Prison by now.’
‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘We need to wash your wounds and bandage them.’
But Yozo was looking at the Commander’s body again.
‘It’s finished,’ he said, ‘his era, the era of warriors. All that battling and fighting, all the hatred of north for south.’
He stood up slowly and took Hana’s hand. ‘I got to know Masaharu quite well in the Yoshiwara. He’s a good man. There are others like him in the government. I know they were our enemies but they’ve won now, there’s no disputing it, and we’ll have to get used to it. They’re bumpkins, those southerners, they’ve got no culture and no style, but they’re idealistic. They want to look to the world outside Japan, and Masaharu knows there are very few of us who’ve actually been there. It makes sense to use our skills and knowledge, not keep us locked up for ever. We need to look to the future, not back at the past.’
The past. The previous night Hana had been sitting with Saburo, then jogging along in the palanquin through the darkness. It was hard even to think about now, it seemed so long ago. All her adult life she’d known hardship – with her husband, then at the Yoshiwara. But now as she looked at Yozo she knew that the future would be quite different. She didn’t know what they would do or where they would go, but whatever they did she knew they would be together.
‘You told me about your house,’ said Yozo, ‘but I haven’t even seen it yet. Aren’t you going to take me inside?’
As they walked through the early-morning sunshine, through the fallen leaves, across the grounds, it felt as if they were at the beginning of a new life. They turned the corner and there was the house with its tiled roof and wooden rain doors and smoke coiling out from under the eaves. Hana looked at it and
knew she was home and that no one would ever threaten her again. Then she took Yozo’s hand and led him inside.
THE END
Afterword
Hana and Yozo are fictional but the historical events which form the underpinning of The Courtesan and the Samurai are as close to the truth as I could make them, including the story of the fifteen youths who were sent to Europe, Enomoto’s last-ditch attempt to reinstate the shogun and the desperate battles in Ezo. The shipwreck in Batavia and the lunch with Alfred Krupp, as well as the Kaiyo Maru’s long journey back to Japan, are all true. And, of course, the Yoshiwara really existed.
In real life, Enomoto (whose full name was Takeaki Enomoto) escaped execution, not through any plot by his friends but thanks to his own passionate idealism. This is what happened. Before the last battle, when it was obvious that the northerners had lost, he sent the precious volumes of naval tactics he had brought back from Holland to the commander of the southern forces, saying that his country should have them no matter what happened to him. After his surrender, many leading men in the government (which consisted almost entirely of southerners) demanded his execution, but others argued that he should be spared because he had shown such patriotism. As the fictional Masaharu realized, very few Japanese had been to Europe or had any knowledge or understanding of the West and Enomoto was recognized as being particularly brilliant.
In the end he spent two and a half years in Kodenmacho Prison, until January 1872, when Emperor Meiji issued a pardon for those who had fought on the shogun’s side. Enomoto was immediately given a government posting in Ezo, by then renamed Hokkaido. He went on to become a vice admiral in the fledgling Japanese Imperial Navy, then special envoy to St Petersburg, and was finally awarded the rank of viscount, one of only two northerners to be so honoured. He died in 1908 at the age of seventy-two.
A real-life Yozo would undoubtedly have had a career as brilliant as that of many of the fifteen young travellers, though those who had joined Enomoto in his rebellion against the new regime had to wait until they were pardoned, in 1872. One went on to become deputy director of the naval academy, some were given leading positions in government ministries, one became the empress’s physician and another became surgeon general.
After his two and a half years in prison, Otori (whose full name was Keisuké Otori) became president of the Gakushuin peers’ school (akin to Eton), and later ambassador to China, then Korea. He created an archive to preserve the memoirs and accounts of those who had fought in Ezo on the shogun’s side and had a monument built in Hakodate to the many northern soldiers who perished there. It can be seen to this day.
Hakodate is as cold and snowy as ever. I was there one December to research this book and experienced for myself the dramatic scenery and savage cold and the unpredictable winter weather, with snow storms blustering up in minutes out of what had been a clear blue sky. Of the Star Fort only the five-pointed battlements and the moat remain, along with the graves of some of the leaders and a museum housing relics and uniforms.
I also took a three-hour train ride across the peninsula to see the Kaiyo Maru – for, after more than a hundred years underwater, she was discovered on the sea floor in 1975 and salvaged and reconstructed in 1990. She now stands proudly on the waterfront at Esashi, a beautiful sight with her three masts and huge funnel. Inside, her Krupp cannons are lined up at the gun ports and there are display cases containing all the items that have been retrieved – western and Japanese swords, pistols, Dutch knives and forks, straw sandals, combs, fans, lunch boxes, coins and hundreds of cannonballs. The weather is so atrocious it’s not surprising that she went down. Trying to take a photograph of her with frozen fingers I was driven by the gales right across the dock.
The Commander’s Kyoto militia is modelled on the Shinsengumi, the shogun’s notoriously ruthless police force which patrolled Kyoto and went on to fight alongside the last of the shogun’s troops in Ezo. Commander Yamaguchi is inspired by the great hero and leader of the Shinsengumi, Toshizo Hijikata. The Commander’s death poem is his. The real Hijikata was not from Kano and there’s no record that he ever married, though he was famously popular among the women of the Yoshiwara. He was killed in the last battle in Hakodate at the age of thirty-four and his grave is there.
The French officers who were evacuated from Hakodate were sent back to France. The Japanese government called for them to be court-martialled and executed but the French populace and government were so impressed with their gallantry in sticking by their men that they were not even put on trial. Captain Jules Brunet ended up a general and chief of staff of the French army and in 1881 and again in 1885 was awarded medals by Emperor Meiji, probably at the instigation of Enomoto who by then was Navy Minister.
Sergeant Jean Marlin really did stay behind when his fellow officers went back to France – though what he did and why he stayed are my invention. He died in 1872 at the age of thirty-nine and is buried in Yokohama International Cemetery.
Like Hana and Otsuné, many young women of families loyal to the shogun, particularly those from the lower ranks of the samurai class, found themselves on the streets with no one to support them when civil war broke out, and ended up going into prostitution. The inhabitants of the Yoshiwara in The Courtesan and the Samurai are fictional but the names of the streets and brothels (including the Corner Tamaya) are real and the gatekeeper was always called Shirobei.
At the time of my story the Yoshiwara had been in decline, but when the southerners took power they patronized it and for a while its fortunes rose. New licensed districts were created and the government even built a Yoshiwara for westerners and named it the New Shimabara after the Kyoto equivalent of the Yoshiwara. Seventeen hundred courtesans and two hundred geishas moved there from the Yoshiwara but westerners didn’t patronize it; it seemed they preferred to keeep their pleasures surreptitious and it soon closed down.
In 1871 fire destroyed much of the Yoshiwara. It was rebuilt with western-style buildings, some as tall as five storeys high, and the streets were widened to prevent fire spreading so easily. The Yoshiwara shown in old photographs dates from after this and looks quite different from the way it must have when Hana was there.
Japan was rapidly becoming part of the wider world and this had a devastating effect on the old ways of life, including the Yoshiwara. Foreigners condemned the buying and selling of girls as a form of slavery and in 1872 the government, concerned with how Japan appeared in the eyes of the world, passed the Prostitute and Geisha Emancipation Act, freeing the young women and cancelling their debts. Many, however, had no other way of making a living and the Yoshiwara brothel owners simply renamed the houses ‘rental parlours’ and continued to operate. Prostitution was made illegal in Japan after the Second World War and it went underground.
The Five Streets are still there, clearly marked on the map of Tokyo, though they are now lined with what are euphemistically called ‘soaplands’, with ferocious-looking bouncers outside. The marshland is gone and the Japan Dyke has been levelled and become a road, but there is still a rather bedraggled Looking Back Willow where the zigzag road begins that leads into the Yoshiwara, and until recently there were courtesan shows, where actresses dressed as courtesans served sake to nervous-looking men. When I was there I visited the local graveyard at Jokanji Temple and saw the vault stacked with shelf upon shelf of small urns, holding the ashes of thousands of unfortunate girls who were buried there, most in their early twenties.
Some ten years ago I spent several months living among the geishas of Kyoto and Tokyo to research my book Geisha: The Secret History of a Vanishing World. This experience was of enormous help in enabling me to imagine what life in the Yoshiwara must have been like. While the geographical Yoshiwara is a pale shadow of its past glory, its legend continues. It still exists in stories of the period, woodblock prints and photographs, through which we can imagine ourselves back in the ukiyo – the floating world.
Lesly Downer
February 2010
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Bibliography
History is written by the winners, and never more so than in the case of the revolution that came to be known as the Meiji Restoration. Hana, Yozo and their friends were on the losing side and, as a result, the stories of the fifteen young adventurers who went to Europe and of the last desperate battles in Ezo are far less widely known than the exploits of their southern contemporaries. Nevertheless, the story as I tell it is largely based on research and historical fact.
My primary resource for the story of Enomoto and the Ezo Republic was the accounts in newspapers of the time – The Japan Times Overland Mail, The Hiogo News and The Hiogo and Osaka Herald, all of which started publishing around 1860 and provide detailed accounts of the battle for Ezo. They tell a totally different story from the version as reconstructed after the fact by the winners. These newspapers use the terms ‘northerners’ and ‘southerners’ for the opposing forces and make it clear that western observers were unsure for some time which side was likely to prevail or provide the more stable government. There are also accounts in The Illustrated London News with illustrations by the artist Charles Wirgman and by an officer of HMS Pearl who was present as an observer in Hakodate at the time of the battle.
Another important source, telling the story from the point of view of the ‘Kyoto militia’, is Romulus Hillsborough’s Shinsengumi, listed below.
For those who want to read more about this fascinating period, here is a short bibliography.
The Yoshiwara
de Becker, J. E., The Nightless City or the History of the Yoshiwara Yukwaku (ICG Muse Inc., New York, Tokyo, Osaka & London, first published 1899)
Segawa Seigle, Cecilia, Yoshiwara: The Glittering World of the Japanese Courtesan (University of Hawaii Press, 1993)
Segawa Seigle, Cecilia, et al, A Courtesan’s Day, Hour by Hour (Hotei Publishing, Amsterdam, 2004)
The Courtesan and the Samurai Page 31
