Taro looked up. He’d been staring down in wonder at his little son Ichiro, whose tiny arms and legs were flailing about while he made incoherent noises. The baby’s eyes were following the dust motes that shimmered in a sunbeam and he seemed entranced. Almost as enthralled as his father was with him, in fact.
‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’ Taro frowned, focussing on the lady who knelt before him, wringing her hands.
‘Your lady wife, she is very ill. Please, you must go to her, my lord.’
‘Hasuko is worse? But I thought she was recovering?’ Yanagihara had told him as much only the week before, but then the old man himself had gone down with a severe cold and Taro hadn’t heard any more. Reiko had taken over the care of Hasuko and he’d been reluctant to see his sister-in-law.
‘I’m sorry.’ The serving woman bent her head. ‘She’s barely able to speak.’
Taro shot to his feet and only remembered his son at the last moment. ‘Look after him,’ he ordered the nursemaids who’d waited patiently in a corner of the room. ‘Keep him safe.’
‘Of course, my lord.’
Taro strode along the corridors of the castle and across a courtyard, as always followed by a posse of guards. He walked so fast they had to half run to keep up with him, but he didn’t notice. His thoughts were all for the woman who had given him the greatest gift of all – a son. He hadn’t wanted it to be at the cost of her own life though and had prayed to all the gods to keep her safe. At first, just after the birth, she seemed to recover. But from then on she started getting worse, growing weaker day by day, until two weeks ago, when Yanagihara had taken over her care.
Now she was suddenly worse again? How could that be?
He entered Hasuko’s quarters without knocking and serving ladies scattered before him as if they were hens flapping around a henhouse. Hurrying through the many rooms, he finally arrived at his wife’s bedside. There he stopped, looking down at the woman he had once wanted so fiercely. She was nothing but a pale husk now, her beauty ethereal, unreal. In that instant, he knew beyond doubt she held no attraction for him any longer, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to die. It was too high a price to pay.
‘Hasuko-chan, can you hear me?’ He used the endearment without thinking as he knelt by the side of her futon and stared at her with a sense of despair growing inside him. How had it come to this? Why had no one informed him? He raised his eyes and thought he might have found the answer to at least one of those questions.
Reiko was sitting on the other side, holding her sister’s hand, and Taro glared at her. He didn’t feel able to deal with his sister-in-law just then, so he steeled himself and said, ‘I’d like a moment alone with my wife, if you don’t mind?’
Reiko’s eyes flashed, as if Hasuko was her property and he was trespassing, but Taro turned away, ignoring her and soon after he heard her leave. At last, he was alone with Hasuko and for a long time, he just sat and looked at her. Sadness washed over him, but it was regret for what might have been, nothing else. He realised he’d never known the real woman, only the façade, the mask she wore just for him. He had no idea what Hasuko was actually like because he’d only ever been given glimpses of her inner thoughts. She’d kept her true self well hidden.
And now, he never would. She looked as if she was at death’s door.
‘Hasuko-chan, please, talk to me.’
Hasuko’s lips moved, but whatever she said was so faint he couldn’t catch it. He bent down, closer to her mouth. ‘What was that?’ he asked. ‘Is there anything you want? Anything I can do?’
‘Forgive … ness.’
The one word was only a faint whisper, but Taro was sure he hadn’t misheard. He frowned at her. ‘You want me to forgive you? For what?’
Although he knew what she was asking, a perverse streak in him wanted her to say it out loud. To acknowledge that she’d been wrong about him. That he’d done everything in his power to make their marriage a success. As he looked at her lips struggling to form the words, however, a wave of pity washed over him and he realised it was too late. She was too weak now and he would have to be content with seeing the remorse so clearly in her eyes.
Besides, what did it matter? If it helped the gods to receive her more kindly, then who was he to deny her that small measure of relief?
He nodded and took her frail hand between both of his, squeezing the fingers. ‘Of course I forgive you,’ he said. ‘There is nothing to forgive anyway. You did your duty and it wasn’t your fault if I wasn’t to your liking.’
A couple of fat tears welled out of her eyes and she shook her head slightly. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’ Taro tried to smile at her, but wasn’t sure he succeeded very well. ‘In that case, please try to get better so you can show me.’
There was a small answering smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she squeezed his hand feebly. This seemed to use up all her remaining strength and soon after she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
She never woke again.
Chapter Fifteen
On board the Sea Sprite, 14th July 1611
Away from the stench of the bilge water, Hannah’s sea-sickness disappeared. She was soon able to eat the food she helped to cook, which was more or less the same every day, mostly a sort of stew. It consisted of all the men’s rations of salted meat or fish, ship’s biscuits, butter and dried peas boiled together into a glutinous mess. No one complained though, and she was usually hungry enough to eat anything.
Hoji didn’t eat what they cooked, however. Instead he spent at least an hour each day fishing in order to keep himself adequately fed. To Hannah’s surprise, he sometimes ate the fish raw, dipped in vinegar, but mostly he grilled it lightly over the brazier. He cooked and ate his food with a pair of sticks he called o-hashi, shunning the usual knife and spoon. She watched in fascination as he deftly handled these simple implements. Not once did he drop a piece of food and his plate was always cleared down to the last crumb. Hannah also noticed he had his own little store of fresh and pickled vegetables, from which he supplemented his diet. After several days of the monotonous ship’s fare she grew curious.
‘Can I taste that, please?’
‘Fish?’
‘Er, no, the vegetables.’
‘Harry-san have to eat both, only good together.’
‘But …’
‘Please, try. Fish is good.’ Hannah looked at the raw morsel he held out and wondered how to refuse without offending him. The smell of it made her recoil.
‘Actually, uhm, I prefer mine cooked, although I’m sure your way is very good. If you like that sort of thing I mean.’
‘Please, try. Very good for you.’
Hannah was in a quandary, but as she desperately wanted some of his vegetables, she nodded. ‘Oh, very well. Thank you.’
He gave her a generous helping and showed her how to use the hashi. It took her a while before she managed to make the sticks behave vaguely in the way she wanted them to. But at last she succeeded in picking up a piece of raw fish, dipped it in vinegar and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and prepared to shudder. It would surely be slimy and disgustingly fishy.
It wasn’t quite that bad, but it was bad enough and she had to make an effort in order to swallow it. She opened her eyes and stared at Hoji. ‘Hmm, it’s not as horrid as I thought it would be. In fact,’ she chewed a bit more, ‘I’ve had worse. Still, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick to the vegetables.’
Hoji grinned and he nodded as if to say I told you so. ‘Now you eat with Hoji-san, much better. I buy more vegetables in next port, enough for Harry-san too. But please, promise try fish every day. Get used to.’
‘Well, perhaps I will, but …’ Hannah didn’t think she’d ever get used to raw fish, but then she remembered the alternative. Soggy stew for everyone except Captain Rydon, whose meals were specially prepared. Suddenly fish seemed infinitely preferable, whether it was cooked or not. And perhaps after a while, she’d stop noti
cing the smell. ‘You’re very kind. I think I would like that.’
Some days later, Hannah stood next to Hoji by the railing, watching him do his daily fishing. He insisted on silence, even though Hannah was positive that no fish could possibly hear the two of them talking. Indeed, the noise made by the breeze-filled sails and the spray caused by the waves caressing the ship’s hull was much louder than any sound she could produce.
Staring out at the never-ending ocean she felt insignificant. ‘We are so incredibly small, aren’t we. It would be so easy for a huge wave to engulf us and then we’d be gone, just like that.’
‘Is fate,’ Hoji said. ‘If you going to die, you going to die. Here, on land, no matter. Have to accept fate.’
‘I suppose you’re right, but still …’ Hannah couldn’t help wondering if she’d risked so much only to end her life prematurely out here. She shuddered, but with determination she tried to steer her thoughts in a different direction. If it was God’s will that she should live, then she would. She could only pray for help.
She leaned on the railing again, content to watch Hoji who waited patiently for the next fish to bite. She was curious about the enigmatic little man who was fast becoming a father-figure to her. He had spoken at length about his country, but he never mentioned much about himself. She dared to question him a little. ‘Why do you always eat fish, Hoji-san?’
‘I am samurai. Samurai do not eat meat usually.’
‘What is samurai?’
‘Important people, warriors, sometimes own land.’
‘Oh, you mean like our nobles? Lords and ladies?’
‘Yes. Like that. We call lord daimyo. Daimyo is very powerful man, head of a … how you say?’
‘Family? Clan?’
‘Soh neh. That’s right. All people in daimyo family samurai, upper class. Daimyo own lots of land. All samurai very tough warriors, train hard to feel no cold, hunger or pain. Live simple life. Fight with swords or bow and arrows. Strength, honour and military … brave?’
‘Valour you mean?’
‘Yes. These most important to samurai.’
‘But why? Are there many wars in your country?’
‘Sometimes. Often fights between clans. Even daughters of samurai trained to fight’.
Hannah frowned. ‘But Hoji-san, if you are a nobleman, then why on earth are you working here as Captain Rydon’s cook?’
‘Because now I am ronin.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘If samurai loses master by dishonour or because master defeated in battle, they become ronin. My master die in battle, most of his men too. Ronin have to wander, try to find other master to give service to, but very difficult. Strangers not trusted. Many ronin now robbers or pirates instead.’
‘Is that what you were when the captain found you?’
‘No, I work for Portuguese man. Fight to defend ship from pirates. He sail all over – China, India – many places. I was in port when I met captain.’
‘I see. And is there no chance you will ever find a Japanese lord to serve again?’ Hannah felt for him. It must be very difficult to become an outcast through no fault of your own, she thought.
‘Perhaps. Is fate. We will see, neh?’
He turned away and Hannah understood that the subject was closed and didn’t press him further.
Hannah had always been inquisitive by nature, wanting to learn everything she could.
‘Please will you ask the pilot, Hoji-san? I’d like to know what route we’re were taking.’
The pilot, Mr Walker, was a garrulous fellow and she didn’t think he’d mind being questioned. As the official navigator, she knew he’d keep a chart of their progress and he would have something called a ‘rutter’ with instructions from people who had sailed the same way before them. Hannah had heard her father and brother discussing those. Hoji also told her Mr Walker used various instruments to try and establish their precise position, although as far as Hannah understood, this still wasn’t entirely accurate. She was curious to know how long the journey would last and what countries they were passing.
‘We sailing towards Barbary Coast of north-west Africa,’ Hoji reported back. ‘Pass close to Portugal along the way.’
Hannah had already learned that they were aiming for a group of islands called the Canary Islands, where they would restock with food and fresh water. The usual time taken to reach these was three to four weeks.
The weather became decidedly warmer as they progressed on their journey south. Down in the cook room the heat was nearly unbearable whenever the fire was lit for cooking. Hoji didn’t seem to be suffering in the slightest though, and Hannah almost resented this. She wondered if it was because of his rigid warrior training, or whether it was simply the fact that he was of a different race. Did Japanese people not feel heat? Or cold? She didn’t want to ask in case she offended him in some way, so instead she said, ‘Didn’t you come this way when you went to England? Don’t you remember these places?’
‘No, I only cook, stay down here. No good at sailing. Pilot said we pass Cape St Vincent soon.’ Hoji stopped what he was doing and regarded her with his head to one side. ‘Why you want to know, Harry-san? Work too hard for you?’ Then he added, ‘Why you come on ship?’
Hannah had been wondering what to tell him if he ever asked this question, but now that he had, she realised she wanted him to know the truth. So she told him about Ezekiel Hesketh and her parents’ refusal to listen to her.
‘Hmm. Child have to obey parents, even if bad marriage,’ was Hoji’s verdict. Hannah scowled at him. For some reason she’d thought he would be on her side. She considered him her friend and mentor now and felt hurt by his words. He noticed her expression, however, and hastened to add. ‘I know, different in your country, neh? Parents usually ask?’
Hannah relaxed a little. ‘Well, sometimes.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps I acted hastily, but really, that man …’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t explain it, Hoji-san, but the thought of him touching me – well, I’d rather die, to be honest.’
‘You would do seppuku?’ Hoji sounded surprised, although his face remained inscrutable.
‘What?’
‘In Japan, when honour is gone, person will kill himself. Lady too. Seppuku.’ Hoji made a slashing motion across his abdomen and Hannah frowned.
‘You cut yourself in the stomach?’
‘Yes. Special sword.’
‘Ugh, sounds horrible. Surely there must be a better way of going about it if you must take your own life?’
Hoji looked offended. ‘Seppuku only way, only honourable way. You have second person behind to cut off head if sword not go deep enough.’
Hannah shuddered, but decided to keep her views on this subject to herself. It was obviously something about which Hoji felt strongly. ‘I see,’ was all she said. ‘And is this only for samurai or for everyone?’
‘Only samurai usually. Need permission from master.’
‘Well, I didn’t really mean that I’d be committing suicide. Besides, killing oneself is a sin.’
‘Ah, so desu neh? Truly?’
They were both silent for a while. The only sounds to be heard was the rhythmic clacking made by their knives against the chopping boards and the hissing noise from the fire as the water in the huge pot splashed over the edge whenever Hannah threw in a piece of salted meat.
‘Well, not a problem any longer.’ Hoji’s voice broke the silence and almost startled Hannah into chopping off her finger. He smiled at her. ‘You here now, everything fine.’
Hannah smiled back. ‘Yes, you’re right. No point even thinking about it. Mr Hesketh wouldn’t want me now even if I did go back.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Thank goodness for that.’
More contrary winds and two storms later, the English ships arrived in the Canary Islands at last. They were a week behind schedule, which put Rydon in a fouler mood than usual, but at least the four ships had managed to arrive more or less all at the same time. That was a minor m
iracle in itself.
‘A curse on you! Move yourselves. We haven’t got all day you lazy, good for nothing, scum of the earth.’
His voice could be heard all over the ship, shouting commands and imprecations, and Hannah kept well out of his way, as always. Having overheard her father’s remarks about speed being essential for this journey, she could understand Rydon’s frustration. Still, she didn’t think it fair of him to take it out on the crew. They weren’t responsible for the weather after all.
In fact, the weeks she had spent on board his ship had opened Hannah’s eyes in more ways than one. She had quickly come to realise that the man she’d been attracted to didn’t exist. He was just a role Rydon played for the benefit of people he wanted to impress. The actual man, the one she was seeing now, wasn’t anything like the one in her silly daydreams.
The real man was unbearable.
I really was a gudgeon, like Kate said, she thought to herself. She had been so naive to take the captain at face value, although in her defence she probably wasn’t the only one. Even so, she couldn’t help but be grateful that she’d seen his true colours. Her infatuation with him was well and truly at an end and it was a relief.
The town of Las Palmas on Gran Canaria, the middle island in this group, was a bustling port. ‘The great Christopher Columbus hisself stopped ‘ere on ‘is way to the Americas,’ Hannah heard someone say. She would have given her right arm to have been allowed ashore to explore, especially after she had spotted the most wonderful sandy beaches along the coastline. Not to mention numerous market stalls and shops. But she didn’t dare leave the ship, in case she ran into Jacob, and she had no money. When the other crew members were paid, she received nothing and she didn’t dare ask. She assumed it was part of her punishment for stowing away.
She did debate whether to seek out Jacob, but she was afraid he might put her on a ship back to England all alone. Or even worse, feel obliged to go with her, thereby ruining the venture for the Marston family. Neither possibility appealed in the slightest, and she finally opted to stay hidden away.
The Scarlet Kimono (Choc Lit) Page 10
