Sano Ichiro 7 The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria (2002)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  When Reiko nodded, Lady Yanagisawa said, “Yesterday this came for my husband.”

  She untied the bundle, revealing a flat, rectangular package wrapped in rough brown paper and bound with coarse string. Reiko saw the words, “For the Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Personal and Confidential,” written on it in simple black characters.

  “My husband wasn’t home,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “I overheard his secretaries saying they didn’t know who sent the package and discussing whether to open it. Finally they decided not to, and left the package on my husband’s desk. My curiosity was aroused. I went into the office, slipped the package into my sleeve, and took it to my room.”

  Reiko sat speechless with amazement that anyone would dare steal from the chamberlain.

  Lady Yanagisawa sighed. “If my husband finds out what I’ve done, he’ll be very angry with me. But when I looked inside the package… I knew I must risk his displeasure.”

  Her intense, yearning gaze flitted over Reiko. “You’ve been so kind to me, and I shall now repay you. This package represents a terrible threat to your husband. I brought it to you so that he will understand the danger… so that he can protect himself, and you.”

  “What danger?” Reiko asked in alarmed confusion.

  Kikuko emitted a loud keening sound, made faces, and rocked back and forth. Lady Yanagisawa put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, quieting her. “Perhaps it’s better that you see for yourself than that I should tell you. Please accept this with my sincere wishes for your good fortune, and allow me to bid you farewell until we meet again.”

  Extending the package on her palms, she bowed to Reiko.

  “Many thanks,” Reiko said, accepting the gift.

  As soon as her guests had gone, she took the package into her chamber and closed the door. Eager yet fearful, she untied the string and unwrapped the paper. Inside was a book covered in lavender silk, bound by a green ribbon threaded through holes near the spine. A thrill of recognition and disbelief shot through Reiko. She opened the book.

  The first of some twenty pages of thin white rice paper bore an inscription: The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria.

  The daimyo maintained great fortified estates in the district east and south of Edo Castle. Here the provincial lords resided during the four months they spent in the capital each year. Here Tokugawa law required them to leave their families as hostages when they returned to their provinces, to prevent them from staging a revolt. Here Midori rode in a palanquin down a wide avenue crowded with mounted samurai.

  Lines of barracks, their white plaster walls decorated with black tiles arranged in geometric patterns, surrounded each estate and housed thousands of retainers who served the daimyo. Elaborate gates boasted multiple portals, tiered roofs, and guardhouses occupied by sentries. As Midori’s palanquin halted outside the gate that bore the Niu dragonfly crest, her chin quivered with apprehension.

  This had once been her home; but the place harbored bad memories, and she never came back unless it was absolutely necessary. If not for her father’s summons and the hope of salvaging her chance of marrying Hirata, she would have avoided the estate forever.

  Inside the estate, multitudes of samurai patrolled a large courtyard or sat in guardrooms. Barracks for the officers formed an inner wall around the daimyo’s mansion, a vast complex of half-timbered buildings joined by covered corridors and intersecting tile roofs and elevated on granite foundations. At the door to Lord Niu’s private room, Midori met Okita, her father’s chief retainer.

  “He’s waiting for you,” Okita said.

  His dour face and neutral tone gave no hint of what Midori should expect. “How is he?” she said.

  “Slightly better.” That meant Lord Niu had calmed down. “I advise you not to upset him.”

  “Why does he want to see me?” Midori asked.

  In answer, Okita opened the door. Reluctantly Midori entered the room. Okita followed, closing the door behind them.

  The room could have belonged to any noble, but for features known only to those familiar with Lord Niu. Cabinets, chests, and secret compartments in the walls and under the floor contained hidden weapons, as Midori was aware. A mural bore dents and stains from objects hurled by her father during fits of rage. The two guards stationed inside the door were there to protect Lord Niu from himself, and everyone else from his bad spells. The room had a peculiar sweet smell, as if tainted by poison in his blood.

  Lord Niu knelt on the dais, sharpening a dagger. The motion of his blade against the grindstone produced metallic rasps. He didn’t immediately acknowledge Midori’s presence. As she knelt before the dais, she thought how ordinary he appeared today, like any other noble who spent his leisure time tending his weapons. Then Lord Niu raised his skewed face to her.

  A tremor of dread passed through Midori. Hastily lowering her gaze, she bowed.

  “Little whore. Little traitor.” Lord Niu spoke the insults in a pleasant, ordinary tone of voice that made them all the more chilling to Midori. His hand continued swiping the dagger across the grindstone. “How could you betray your own father to consort with the son of the enemy?”

  Too frightened to answer, Midori pressed her lips together to still their trembling. Her hope that he’d changed his mind about the marriage seemed ludicrous now.

  “I ought to kill you for your treason,” Lord Niu said.

  The rasp of his blade quickened, as did Midori’s heartbeat. Glancing at Okita and the guards, she saw them move closer to the dais. Lord Niu had never yet killed a family member, but this was no guarantee that he wouldn’t.

  “But you’re my flesh and blood, no matter what you’ve done,” Lord Niu said. “I’ll give you a chance to atone for your evil.” His left eye twinkled at Midori. The right eye dreamed. “Tell me everything you know about the Hirata clan’s strategy for destroying me.”

  Midori wished she could run away, but her father’s will held her captive, and she must defend Hirata. “But I don’t—they’re not—I can’t—”

  “Don’t pretend to be ignorant.” The rasping ceased as Lord Niu stopped sharpening the dagger. His hands were black with grit; his expression scorned Midori. “You and that boy are lovers. What secrets does he whisper to you when you lie together?”

  Midori hoped her father didn’t really know the things she and Hirata-san had done, or suspect she was pregnant.

  “Speak!” Lord Niu ordered.

  Desperation loosened Midori’s tongue. “There’s nothing to tell. Hirata-san and his father aren’t making war on you.”

  Lord Niu snorted in disgust. “They’re trying to lull me into believing I’m safe. And they’re using my own daughter as a messenger for carrying their lies to me.”

  “I’m telling the truth!” Midori cried. “They’re good, honorable men who came to you in peace.”

  The grindstone suddenly flew out of Lord Niu’s hand and crashed against the wall. Midori shrieked. Okita and the guards started.

  “Do you take me for a moron?” Lord Niu shouted. “My enemy wants to sneak his son into our clan, to cause discord among us and weaken us so we’ll be vulnerable. I should cut off your head and send it to him as proof that I’m onto his scheme!”

  Midori whimpered as he brandished the dagger. He crawled to the edge of the dais, tilted his head, and scrutinized her. She recoiled in terror from his fierce, distorted gaze. Then the left side of his mouth curved upward in a pitying smile.

  “Ah. I see,” he said. “You really don’t know anything. You’re too innocent to recognize my enemies for what they are.”

  Rage suffused his features. “That boy has tricked you into thinking he loves you, all the while he’s used you for his evil purposes. That dirty, vicious scoundrel!”

  Lord Niu jumped up and stalked around the dais; he slashed the dagger at the air. “Son of a snake! Demon from hell! I’ll see him destroyed before long!”

  Cowering, Midori put her hands over her ears to block out her father’s voice, but Lord N
iu shouted more curses against Hirata. Wild, reckless terror overcame her.

  “Stop!” she screamed.

  Lord Niu abruptly fell quiet. He stood still, weapon dangling, as he and his men regarded her in surprise that she dared command him. Midori quailed at her own boldness; yet her love for Hirata and need to marry him inspired courage. She said what Reiko had suggested might bend Lord Niu to her wishes: “Do you want to be safe from your enemies?”

  Caught off guard and startled out of his rage, Lord Niu said, “... Yes?”

  “Do you want to make sure that the Hirata clan will never attack ours?” Midori’s voice quavered; she pressed her thighs together, fighting an urge to urinate.

  Lord Niu looked wary, but nodded.

  “Then the best thing to do is unite our two clans in a marriage between Hirata-san and me,” Midori said in a rush. “The wedding would mean a truce. We’ll be allies, not enemies.”

  A thoughtful look came over Lord Niu’s face. Its two halves seemed almost to align.

  Midori took heart because in spite of his peculiarities, Lord Niu wasn’t entirely impervious to logic. She remembered what else Reiko had told her to say, when they’d met earlier that morning: “The union will also protect you from the Tokugawa. They won’t attack a lord whose daughter is married to the chief retainer of the shogun’s sōsakan-sama.”

  Lord Niu pondered; something awakened in his dreaming eye. He wasn’t completely out of touch with the world, either, Midori knew. Even if he didn’t realize that the Tokugawa wouldn’t start a war and disrupt the peace they’d maintained for almost a century, he understood the benefit of marrying a daughter to someone with a Tokugawa connection. And he had a clever instinct for seizing chances to serve himself. A short eternity passed. Midori held her breath. Then Lord Niu hopped off the dais and crouched in front of her.

  “Do you want so badly to marry?” he said.

  He appeared so concerned about her that Midori’s heart leapt. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Well, I suppose that can be arranged.” Rising, Lord Niu beckoned to his chief retainer, who came to him. Lord Niu whispered in Okita’s ear; Okita listened, nodded, then left the room. Midori wondered what was going on. She prayed that her father would change his mind about Hirata.

  “Are you in love with this boy?” Lord Niu said.

  Midori thought she felt her father relenting. Could this possibly mean he’d sent Okita to apologize to Hirata’s father and ask for another miai so the marriage negotiations could start fresh?

  “Yes,” Midori said, poised between fear and joy.

  A gradual frown eclipsed Lord Niu’s face; his right eye veered slowly. “I shall permit you to marry, and I desire that you should make an advantageous match. But I forbid you to wed the Hirata boy.”

  Midori’s mouth fell open in stunned disappointment.

  “Whatever his high connections, I don’t trust him or his father,” Lord Niu said. “A marriage is no guarantee of their good behavior toward me. They would cut my throat as soon as the wedding was over, and sack my province. You shall marry an ally I can trust. I shall begin seeking prospective husbands at once.”

  Midori didn’t want to bear her baby out of wedlock, but neither did she want Hirata’s child born into a marriage between her and a stranger. “Please, Honorable Father, I don’t want to marry anyone but Hirata-san.” Frantic, she prostrated herself at Lord Niu’s feet. “He loves me as much as I love him. We must be together!”

  “Shut up!” Lord Niu raged. “You’ll do as I say!”

  “If I can’t marry Hirata-san, I’ll die!” Midori wept now.

  “I order you to renounce him.”

  “No. Please!”

  “Do it, or I’ll kill you.”

  Lord Niu grabbed her hair, forced her head back, and held the dagger to her throat. Midori sobbed in terror and panic. She didn’t want to give in, yet as she felt the cold steel against her skin, she knew her father was serious. She would rather let him kill her than give up Hirata, but she must protect her unborn child.

  “All right,” she cried. “I renounce Hirata-san. Just please don’t hurt me!”

  “That’s better.” Lord Niu smiled, released her, and stood. Midori collapsed in a miserable heap. “Now you’ll promise to accept a husband I choose for you, or marry the first man that Okita sees passing my gate.”

  “No!” Fresh horror reawakened Midori’s defiance.

  Lord Niu cocked his head, listening as footsteps came down the corridor. “Ah. Here he is now.”

  Okita entered the room, bringing another man with him. The man had straggly hair and missing teeth, and wore filthy rags. He carried a begging bowl that held a few coins. Okita pushed him face-down in front of Lord Niu.

  “Greetings,” Lord Niu said as though the beggar was a visiting dignitary. “Many thanks for coming.”

  “It’s a privilege,” the beggar stammered, clearly awed and puzzled at being summoned by the daimyo.

  Lord Niu hauled Midori close to the beggar. She gagged on his stench. “This is my daughter,” Lord Niu said. “How would you like to marry her?”

  The beggar looked dumbfounded by what must have seemed to him a stroke of unbelievable luck. “I would like it very much, master, if that’s your wish.”

  Lord Niu glared at Midori. “Do you promise?”

  Hope died in her, as did the will to resist. “I promise,” she whispered.

  * * *

  23

  The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

  As I sit writing by my window, I look down at the street filled with merrymakers. The potted cherry trees are pink with blossoms whose petals fall like snow. How fleeting is their beauty! And how fleeting was the happiness that I hoped would last forever.

  Four years ago I stood beside Sano-san in the parlor of the brothel. He said to the proprietor, “I redeem Lady Wisteria from her servitude to you.”

  His attendants paid a chest of gold coins in exchange for my freedom. I was so overwhelmed by love for Sano-san that tears poured from my eyes. His eyes shone with desire for me. We were eager to flee Yoshiwara together, but the departure rituals had to be performed, and such a momentous occasion as the end of my suffering deserved proper celebration.

  The next day I dressed in fine new robes that Sano-san had bought me, then I distributed the farewell gifts he’d provided. My attendants and I promenaded through Yoshiwara, visiting all my friends and giving them packages of boiled rice and red beans. I gave smoked bonito to the teahouses and ageya where I’d entertained clients. All the entertainers and servants received tips from me. Everyone wished me a long, prosperous life. Then Sano-san and I hosted a lavish banquet. I was drunk on wine and joy. Ah, to have the powerful, wealthy sōsakan-sama as my lover! I would be safe and want for nothing.

  At last we were escorted to the gate. Sano-san helped me into a palanquin. He and his entourage escorted me all the way to Edo. I laughed, sang, and never looked back at the wicked pleasure quarter.

  I thought Sano-san would take me to Edo Castle, but we stopped in a neighborhood in Nihonbashi. His attendants carried my belongings into a house.

  “I rented this place for you,” Sano-san told me.

  Though I was disappointed, I supposed that a man of his rank couldn’t marry a courtesan straight out of Yoshiwara; some time must pass before I gained enough respectability to be his wife. And the house would suit me fine until we could live together. It was small, but clean and prettily furnished, and Sano-san had hired servants to wait on me.

  I said, “A thousand thanks for your generosity. Will you stay awhile?”

  His ardent gaze moved over me. “Oh, yes.”

  He drew me close. His hands slipped inside my robes. They fell away. I sighed with delight as he caressed me. I loosened his sash and parted his garments and unwound his loincloth. His organ sprang erect. Dropping to my knees, I worshipped him with my mouth. I licked and sucked and stroked him. He threw back his head, moaning, growing larger and harder.


  He raised me and led me to the bed. He sat propped against the cushions, and I straddled him. I rode him slowly and gently, then faster and harder. We breathed and moaned together. As he grabbed my hips and thrust into me with mounting urgency, I leaned toward him and pressed my mouth to his.

  I had taught Sano-san and many other men this lewd, exotic technique. The warm, wet joining of our lips, tongue, and spit drove him wild. He bucked, shouting as he released inside me. His rapture brought on mine. I floated on waves of ecstasy. We were one, our bodies and spirits inseparable.

  Reiko sat holding the book, her lips parted and eyes glazed with shock at what she’d read.

  The story couldn’t be true!

  Sano had never said he even knew Lady Wisteria; he couldn’t have been the lover who’d freed her from Yoshiwara. And there couldn’t be two pillow books. This one was surely a forgery.

  Yet even as Reiko tallied the reasons to disbelieve the story, a cold, sick feeling gathered in her stomach. This second pillow book matched the description of Lady Wisteria’s, while the first was just a handful of papers. Worse, the passage in which Sano coupled with Wisteria had struck an ominous chord in Reiko.

  Sano liked to make love to her in the position described in the book. He also liked pressing their mouths together during sex. Reiko had never questioned how Sano had developed this practice she’d never heard of; she’d assumed it was something all men did in secret. Had Wisteria really taught it to him?

  Despite her fear of finding proof that Sano had withheld information from her, or more descriptions of his past amorous adventures, irresistible curiosity compelled Reiko to turn the page.

  Spring warmed into summer before I began to suspect that I was merely Sano-san’s mistress, not his betrothed. He visited me every other night or so, and we coupled as passionately as ever, but he never mentioned marriage. He seemed content, while I grew bored with sitting alone in my little house and waiting for him. Anxious about my future, I began dropping hints.