The Song of the Wild Geese

by India Millar

  But getting to Washington was another thing entirely. The journey was long and difficult and dreary. Our carriage jolted and rattled until my poor bones shrieked for relief. When we did stop—for food and to spend the night—the food was dreadful and the beds were not only hard but full of bugs, which seemed to dote on me. I scratched and scratched until my poor skin was raw. They ignored Seemon entirely, and that annoyed me greatly.

  “Will there be bedbugs in Virginia?” I asked, and wondered why he winced.

  “No. I can assure you, you will find no bedbugs in our house.”

  There were no bedbugs in our hotel in Washington either. That pleased me greatly. In fact, the whole of Washington delighted me.

  In Yerba Buena, the thing I had missed above all was the hustle and bustle of the Floating World. Although Washington was nothing like my old home, at least it was busy and noisy and full of people, and I loved it instantly.

  Seemon took me around the city on our first day, and after an hour my mouth ached from the constant smile on my lips. I sensed that the gaijin here were different from the people in Yerba Buena. They were obviously curious about my kimono and geta and stared openly at me, but there was no malice at all in it. I overheard a few of the women whispering as we passed and was delighted when I understand they were saying they found me beautiful, “like a living doll” as one elderly lady murmured to her husband. I had no need to hear his reply to know he agreed with her. I could see it in his expression.

  Only one thing terrified me in Washington.

  We turned a corner, and I stopped dead. My hand flew to my mouth and I gasped in shock.

  “Seemon, stop.” I tugged at his sleeve and tried to back away. “Look, over there.” I was so distressed I forgot my manners and pointed. “It’s an onryo. Can’t you see it? It’s following close behind that man. Please, you must go and warn him he’s in danger!”

  Seemon’s gaze followed my pointing finger. I was outraged when he laughed out loud. If I had dared, I would have dashed across myself and told the poor man about the vengeful spirit that was almost as close as his shadow.

  “Terue-chan.” Seemon took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. But you’ve no need to worry. He’s not a spirit at all. I promise you, he’s flesh and blood.”

  I shook my head, disbelieving. This was really a man then? Or did this strange new world have such powers that they could tame spirits and make them follow at their master’s heels like a faithful dog?

  “But his skin is black,” I pointed out dubiously.

  “There are many black people in America.” Seemon shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. “When we get to Virginia, you’ll find lots of them on my family’s plantation. They work for us.”

  “All black people are servants, then?”

  “In this part of America, yes. Don’t worry your dear head about it. You’ll soon get used to seeing them about the place when we get home.”

  I was deeply suspicious, but as the onryo followed its master peaceably, I decided not to pursue my concerns. Apart from anything else, I had no desire to attract its attention. And I had something else to be anxious about. If Seemon’s family was wealthy enough to have many servants, what would they think about him bringing a penniless geisha home for his bride?

  Seemon was deeply unhappy when he discovered his uncle was not in Washington to greet him.

  “I thought he would be back from England by now. He did get back, but he was sent on to Rome soon after,” he told me glumly. I was unhappy as well. But for a different reason. I had hoped to get some clue from his uncle how I would be received in Virginia.

  I soon found out.

  Twenty-Four

  Moonlight lies on the

  Path to enlightenment. My

  Road is still too dark.

  “You killed him, Simon. Just as surely as if you took a knife and slid it between his ribs. I knew no good would come of you going off to that heathenish country for years, but even I never believed it could be this bad.”

  Seemon’s mother reminded me of Gin. She was as tall and slender as my friend, and her hair was as startlingly white. It was piled up on top of her head in an elaborate style that was very similar to Gin’s. As she was dressed from head to foot in black, her hair appeared almost luminous in contrast. And she actually held a fan clenched in her hand, even though she used it with no grace at all, flailing at the air in front of her face as though she was intent on punishing it for being so fiery. I couldn’t understand that at all. It was hot and humid, but it reminded me very much of summer in Edo and I was very comfortable. For the moment, at least.

  Then I saw Seemon’s rigid expression and understood that his mother’s words—spoken very rapidly and with an accent that made them difficult for me to understand—were upsetting him deeply. Somebody had died, that was clear. I listened to Seemon’s—or as it appeared I must now call him, “Simon”—reply and felt his anguish.

  “Mother. This is not the time to discuss blame for Papa’s death. I’m deeply sorry, but I had no way of knowing he had died. What happened?”

  “His heart,” she snapped. That, at least, I understood. But if his heart had failed him, how could Simon be to blame? I was not left in doubt for long. “The doctor told me he had to put heart failure on the death certificate, but he agreed with me. It was really grieving for the son who might as well have been dead that killed him.” She finished on a note of triumph.

  Simon was rigid, although whether with anger or grief I couldn’t tell. I moved a step toward him and then paused, awkward. His mother glanced at me as if she had seen me for the first time. Odd, as I had seen her casting simmering, sideways glances at me from the second we had walked into the room.

  “Very well. We’ll talk later, when we’re alone. What’s this you’ve brought home with you? Thinking of using her for breeding, are you? Well, I suppose it would make an interesting combination. There’s always a market for something novel in the way of slaves. Although she’s such a scrap of a thing, I doubt she would be much good in that direction.”

  Simon’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth. His hands were balled into fists, his body rigid. His mother had spoken casually, but I knew instinctively that her words were intended to wound him. And me.

  “Terue is my fiancée, mother,” he said evenly. “We are to be married as soon as it is proper. Although with Papa’s death, I suppose that will be delayed until after a correct period of mourning.”

  She stared at Simon for as long as it took to draw a deep breath and then crumpled to the floor silently.

  Simon rushed across and kneeled at her side, patting her hands and face gently. When she did not move, he placed his head on her breasts, listening for a heartbeat. His face was ashen, his lips moving soundlessly.

  “Terue. I think she’s dead,” he called urgently. “The shock of me arriving home after so long away and just telling her we were to be married has been too much for her. Oh, God. It’s all my fault. I’ve killed her as well as Papa.”

  He lifted one of her hands to her lips and kissed it repeatedly, moaning softly all the time. I hid a smile behind my hand. This was so like a kabuki performance, I was tempted to laugh out loud. Surely Simon could see his mother was play acting? But it appeared not.

  He rocked back on his heels and shouted. “William. Quick, get in here. collapsed.”

  I wondered if the man had been listening outside the door. He had frightened me when we had first arrived at the house. He skin wasn’t as black as the man I had seen in Washington, but he was much darker than anybody I had ever seen in Edo, and his tufty hair was a peculiar, rusty color that puzzled me. Simon had introduced me to him as soon as we got out of our carriage and he had smiled widely, bobbing his head in a gesture that was almost a bow. Simon had taken his hand and pumped it enthusiastically, which worried me. What if Simon was wrong and this really was a vengeful spirit out to steal our essential beings? But I supposed as Simon was st
ill living and breathing, this strange creature must just be yet another sort of American.

  Now, he pushed Simon aside gently.

  “I think she just fainted, Master Simon.” He walked briskly over to a gilded side table. I had thought when we entered the room that the huge amount of furniture in it was far too opulent for either comfort or taste, but remembering Simon’s cluttered house in the Floating World, I had held my words in my mouth. William poured a large quantity of amber liquid into a very beautiful glass and came back quickly. “Your papa’s death was a great shock to her. And I daresay you coming home so soon after was just too much for her. Could you lift her up for me, master?”

  Simon put his arms beneath his mother’s body clumsily. She tipped to one side like an overfilled sack. I caught William’s glance and walked over quickly, taking the glass from his hand so he could help Simon lift his mother without causing her injury.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” William nodded his approval. “Could you just hold it to her mouth?”

  I wasn’t in the least surprised when she parted her lips at once. Whatever was in the glass smelled very pungent, but most of it went down her throat anyway. I wiped the dribble that ran down her chin carefully with my thumb, and I was certain that it was my touch rather than the contents of the glass that roused her to speech.

  “Oh, what happened to me? I feel terrible. Simon, is that really you? Have you come home to me at long last?”

  She stared around, her eyes rolling wildly. Simon sighed deeply with relief and spoke gently.

  “Mama. Thank God you’re all right. Of course it’s me. You fainted, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

  I saw the flash of anger that shot across her expression at Simon’s last words. She was play acting again, and very badly. I sat back on my heels and regarded her with amusement. How Simon would laugh about it with me later, when we were alone.

  “I fainted? You’re sure that’s all it was?” She placed her hand on her ribs. “My poor heart is racing. I shall go to bed at once. William, tell Suzanna to bring me up my cordial. And send a messenger for Dr. Andrew to come and see me tomorrow. That is, if you don’t mind the upset, Simon?”

  Her voice changed as she spoke to her son. It was soft, almost—and the thought made my skin crawl—girlish.

  “Mama, of course not. All that matters is that you’re well. Can you manage the stairs? Will you be all right?”

  For a woman who appeared sure she was on the verge of death, she got to her feet surprisingly briskly.

  “I must do my best. I’m so sorry, I can’t think what came over me.” She smiled pitifully. “Of course, you don’t want me around, causing problems. Not when you’ve just got back. I daresay you and your…your fiancée have so much to talk about. I’ll leave you to it, Simon, darling. I just know you’ll want to sleep in your papa’s room. It’s just as he left it. After all, you’re the master of High Grove now. William, see to it that her things are put in Simon’s old bedroom. Goodnight, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I watched her totter out with immense respect. Even Auntie could never have turned things to her own advantage with greater skill.

  “She gonna to be fine, Master Simon,” William said gently. “With all that brandy and a glass of her cordial as well, she’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “Is she really ill, William?” Simon asked anxiously.

  “She’s just a bit over-excited.” William scratched the side of his nose and pulled a face. “She knew you was coming home sometime soon. Got your letter from Washington right enough. Maybe she just got a bit worked up, thinking about things.”

  Simon nodded and I felt him relax. I only wished that I could. My muscles were so tense I could feel my right leg jumping as it tried to go into a cramp. Everything was so very strange, so different from anything I had imagined. Out of all of it, the one thing I understood only too well was that my mother-in-law hated me on sight. That, I had expected. Had I married Lord Dai—or any other Japanese man for that matter—it would have been just the same. My mother-in-law would have spent her entire life until I arrived being bullied by her men-folk. First her father would have made it clear that as a female, she had no status in the family. Her brothers would have expected her to be at their command. And her husband would simply treat her as a servant, if she was lucky. Until her own sons married and brought their wives home to live in the family house, there would be no one of lower status than she was. Under the circumstances, of course, she would bully and demean her daughter-in-law. I had expected it, but that made me feel no better at all.

  “I guess you’re right. We’ll all feel better in the morning. Are the bedrooms made up, William?”

  “Sure are. Soon as she got your letter, the mistress gave orders to get the rooms put in order.”

  “Good. Come, dear. A good night’s sleep is what we both need.”

  I slumped with relief. I was too wound up to even think about sleep, but the thought of lying next to Simon—and much more!—was enticing. I smiled at William and he bowed his head politely in return. I guessed that Simon liked him greatly, and I was pleased that he seemed to like me.

  Simon helped me upstairs. Stairs still worried me a little. I had never even seen stairs inside a house in Edo, and my geta-clad feet still found them difficult to judge. This staircase was the grandest I had ever seen outside a temple. It was so wide we could both walk side by side up it, and it even had carpet running down the middle. My earlier worries about Simon being even richer than Lord Dai came back in a rush. Would I have to be adopted into a good family before Simon and I could marry correctly? I hoped not. I had no desire at all to wait for such lengthy formalities.

  He paused outside a painted and gilded door and threw it open.

  “There you are, Terue-chan. This is the bedroom I had as a boy. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable. You’ll find the chamber pot under the bed, so no need to worry about finding your way about in the night. I’ll show you over the house tomorrow, and if you feel up to it, we could go about the plantation a little so you can get the feel for things. I don’t suppose we’ll have any callers just yet.”

  He stood aside to let me enter. I turned, my arms half raised to welcome him to me. To my astonishment, he dropped a kiss on my forehead and walked away from me.

  “Sleep well, dear one,” he called. I poked my head out of the room and watched as he went through an identical door at least thirty steps down the corridor.

  I was bewildered. Where was the pleasure I had anticipated? The delicious love-making that would go on until we were both exhausted? I tried to take comfort from the knowledge that this had been Simon’s room for many years, but there was no trace of him that I could see. There was too much furniture. Well-polished solid pieces, each one crammed with vases—lacking flowers—and pieces of porcelain that seemed to me to have no purpose at all. There were prints on the wall, reproductions of scenery that was foreign to me and ships under full sail. The latter made me shudder. I had had enough of ships, thank you! My combs and brushes had been laid out on one of the few empty surfaces, and the doors of one of the tall pieces of furniture had been left open. I saw my kimonos and under things had been hung, ready for my use. But of Simon, there was nothing at all.

  I made my mind up instantly. This room was not home to me. Without Simon, it could not hope to be. I slipped my geta off and walked softly down the carpeted corridor, counting my steps carefully until I was sure I was at the right door. I lifted my hand to knock politely and then laughed at myself. I was not a servant bringing tea! My lover was concealed behind this door. I had no need to ask to be allowed into his presence.

  “Terue? Is that you?”

  “Were you expecting somebody else?” I asked.

  Simon was sitting up in the middle of an enormous bed. It was wider even than the one we had slept in in Washington. I blinked at it in surprise and then had to fight the urge to laugh.

  “What are you wearing?” I asked, w
alking over to him. I took a fold of the material in my fingers and rubbed it with interest. Not a sleeping robe, more like a sack that enveloped Simon from his shoulders down to where he disappeared beneath the bedclothes.

  “It’s a nightshirt,” he said defensively. “Terue-chan, what are you doing here? Didn’t you like your bedroom?”

  I threw off my own sleeping robe and climbed in beside him. Fascinated, I discovered that his garment appeared to reach all the way to his ankles. No matter, that would soon be disposed of.

  “My place is with you,” I said simply and held my face up to be kissed. I sensed his reluctance and took matters into my own hands. Literally. I took his face in my fingers and held him tightly as I slid my lips over his mouth. I forced my tongue between his lips and knew whatever demon was haunting him had been vanquished as I felt him sigh and he kissed me back.

  The terrible nightshirt entangled me dreadfully, but we were both laughing by the time I managed to drag it off his body. Simon slid his arms around my waist and lay against me, rubbing his face against my breasts like an affectionate cat. He needed to shave, and his infant beard tickled.

  I had no time for preliminaries. Had we been in Japan, I would have subdued my desire somehow. I would have forced myself to wait through increasingly arousing caresses until I was sure we were both ready. But tonight—my first night in my new home—everything was different. I ran my hand down his belly and found his erect tree. I fingered it with immense pleasure, pulling his hood back and forth, sliding the silky skin between my fingertips until I heard him groan with pleasure. Still holding onto his tree tenderly, I guided his seeking fingers between my black moss, groaning in my turn as he reached into me, stroking and nipping my tender places.