Tokyo Bay

by Anthony Grey

  In these instants another subliminal image flashed brilliantly 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 furiously 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 hills around its feet.

  19

  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 torii. 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 torii 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 inside the shrine, the swordsman made as if to rush forward 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 together.’

  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 ladle 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 truthful 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 now.’

  ‘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 travelling with the hideous alien’

  ‘Where is he now?’

&
nbsp; 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 them go without protest, and did not offer any comment or judgement; 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 command you to identify yourself’

  ‘I am Sentaro... nothing more than a humble fisherman, O Kami-san.’

  ‘Why has a simple fisherman of Nippon allied 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 defying 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 to 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.

  20

  ‘WILL YOU TELL ME now why you were being held a prisoner - and why you put on the disguise of a peasant to escape?’

  Robert Eden rose to pull on his own shabby cotton trousers and went to stand beside the open grain-doors. As he waited for the Japanese girl to answer his question, he held his breath and listened carefully for the muffled sounds of approaching footsteps, or the drum of hoofbeats among the trees. But no unnatural noises reached his ears and he stood for a moment gazing abstractedly at the shining image of Mount Fuji, marvelling once more at its extraordinary vividness and clarity.

  ‘My story may be difficult for you to understand.’

  ‘I’d like to try,’ said Eden, turning his head to look at her again. ‘Perhaps if you use only plain words...’

  Tokiwa was still sprawled on the straw, with her eyes closed and one arm thrown back across her face. In the faint light shed by the lantern, her body seemed to glow like polished amber against the blue silk on which she was lying. As he gazed down at her, Eden felt himself moved anew by the slenderness and delicacy of her naked beauty.

  ‘You speak the language of Nippon well: murmured Tokiwa.

  ‘Sentaro joined my ship long before we left America. I made him teach me the language of Nippon for many months - and every day on the long voyage here. .

  Eden walked back across the loft and, kneeling down, took her tenderly into his arms once more. For several moments she lay still, drawing an invisible pattern across his bare chest with the tip of her forefinger. When she raised her dark eyes to look at him, the expression in them was soft and languorous, and her voice was still half drowsy with desire.

  ‘It all happened so suddenly. I had no time to think.’ Tokiwa flattened the palm of one small hand against his chest, and continued to caress him with a distant expression in her eyes. ‘Panic broke out in the streets of Yedo when we heard that the black ships were on their way. People came running from their houses in fear. . . Many hid their precious possessions. . . Many others fled from the capital-’ She broke off and a faint look of alarm appeared on her face. ‘What is going to happen? Is there going to be war?’

  Eden drew her close, exploring the curve of her naked hip thoughtfully with one hand. ‘America wishes only to trade peacefully with Nippon. I know this must seem like a lie to you, but we don’t want war.’

  ‘I’ve heard that the black ships have come with many terrifying guns: persisted Tokiwa. ‘Why are they necessary if you don’t want to fight?’

  Eden shrugged. ‘We came in armed men-of-war because we didn’t wish to be driven away like other “foreign barbarian” ships before us. For two long centuries Nippon has cut itself off completely from all other nations. The leaders of my country, for their own selfish reasons, decided to drag your country back into the world again . .

  ‘Why didn’t they just leave us alone?’ asked Tokiwa in a small voice. ‘Why did they have to come here?’

  ‘Because they believe that what they’re doing is right - though I disagree. I believe we shouldn’t threaten and bully other peaceful countries. Fighting could begin by accident. .

  ‘Will your warrior
s from the black ships invade Nippon and make us slaves?’ asked Tokiwa, searching his face anxiously.

  Eden stroked her long hair for a moment. ‘I swam ashore secretly, without permission. I wanted to see if I could do something to prevent war. But it may not be possible . .

  Tokiwa pressed her face against his shoulder, and he tightened his arms around her. Not far away, up the hillside, another large night bird screeched loudly, then flapped off through the tree-tops as though disturbed suddenly from its roost. Eden raised his head and followed the progress of its clumsy flight, his ears straining without success to pick up any accompanying sounds of movement from the ground. He continued to listen until deep silence had settled over the forest again; only then did he lift her chin gently with one hand so that she was forced to meet his gaze.

  ‘Will you tell me now why you were running away in disguise?’

  Tokiwa sat up and arranged the silken kimono loosely about her shoulders. ‘A young nobleman of high birth, whom I have entertained often in Yedo, came to me soon after the commotion began in the streets. His name is Prince Tanaka of Kumatore. He said there were great disputes about the arrival of the barbarian black ships. Some daimyo wanted to attack the ships at once, although it might cost many lives. Others felt certain that course would be disastrous for Nippon and wanted to wait.’

  Eden frowned. ‘But how did all that affect you?’

  ‘Prince Tanaka said he was deeply involved and his enemies might kidnap or kill me in order to harm him. So, for my own safety, he said I had to leave Yedo with his guards.’

  ‘Where did they take you?’

  ‘To an inn ten miles north of here. They held me there like a prisoner. I was afraid, I had seen so many people fleeing. I thought a war had already begun, and I might never see my family again.