The Song of the Wild Geese

by India Millar

  “Good evening, Seemon-san,” I said in Japanese, very politely.

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And good evening to you, Terue-chan. Why so formal all at once?” he replied in Japanese. Suddenly, he was the old Simon again, the man I loved. For a moment, I was tempted to back away. Then he was turning casually aside from me, loosening his tie, and I made my mind up. I had to know for sure.

  “You saw Mr. Sydney today,” I said. He paused with his jacket half off and frowned at me. “I wonder what you spoke about? Did you perhaps tell him how exotic we oriental women are? Did you discuss the details of what we do together?”

  An image rose in my mind of Papa Sydney leaning forward to catch Simon’s words. His eyes wide and sweat beading his forehead as Simon murmured about how Japanese women were skilled in the arts of love. How to them, things that would make an American woman faint were perfectly normal. I watched Simon’s face intently, and I was certain he flinched, although when he spoke he simply sounded confused.

  “What on earth are you talking about, Terue? I did see Sydney today, but it was only to discuss tobacco prices.” His jacket finally removed, he sat on the bed at my side and smiled at me fondly. “Now, what nonsense have you got in your head all at once?”

  “Do you think of me as one of your slaves, Simon?” I stared at his face as I spoke. “Is that why we haven’t married?”

  As soon as my words were out, I knew I was right. Fury contorted his face and made it ugly. There for a moment, and then gone. He laughed shortly.

  “Terue. What is all this rubbish? Don’t be so silly. Has Johanna been rattling some nonsense to you? She’s so spoiled, I swear it’s turned her brain. Take no notice of her. I love you. You know I do.”

  He sounded so sincere, I almost believed him.

  “Do you really love me? All the other planters are happy enough to keep a pretty slave for their pleasure. Why should you be any different? Don’t touch me!” I almost shouted the words as Simon reached out to me. He jerked back as if he had been stung. “When we left Japan, we were going to be married as soon as we came here. But that didn’t happen.”

  “That was before I found out Papa had died.” He drew back, frowning angrily. “I explained it all to you, Terue. How we couldn’t be married until the mourning period was over. I thought you understood.”

  “Oh, yes. And how long is mourning going to last for, Simon? Another six months? Another year?”

  He stared sulkily at the bedclothes. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “Things have to be done properly.”

  I was so angry, I was shaking. Simon seemed not to have noticed.

  “Oh, forget it. We’ll talk about it later, dear.” He threw the bedclothes back. “A lot later.”

  My fury erupted. Before I knew I was going to do it, my hand lashed out and struck Simon a ringing blow across his face. I am small, and my hands are tiny, but I put the full force of my anger and disgust in the slap. His head rocked back and he stared at me in amazement.

  “Oh, now I see what all the nonsense is about.” A smile stretched his lips. “You’re playing a new game tonight, are you? Well, I guess two of us can play at that.”

  He lunged forward, his teeth meeting in my neck. Had I been aroused, the pain would have been exquisite. As it was, it was simply painful. I would have pushed him away, but Simon had both my hands imprisoned in his grip. I struggled furiously, wriggling and shoving with my shoulders, but the more I tried to get away the more excited Simon became. I could feel the heat of his body and his tree digging into my thigh. I wondered cynically how much of the passion was genuine and how much was designed to distract me. Suddenly, I knew how to stop him.

  I stopped fighting. Went as limp as a dead animal. Allowed him to bite at my breasts and push his knee between my thighs without so much as moving. It took a few moments, but finally he raised his head and stared at me in confusion.

  “What? Terue, what is it?” I detached myself from his grip and leaned away. “You don’t really believe I don’t love you, do you? Would you be here if I didn’t?”

  He sounded deeply hurt. I ignored it and spoke carefully.

  “I believe that you thought you loved me in Japan. But I also believe that here things are different. That you made a mistake in thinking you wanted me as your wife. You would be happy to keep me as your concubine, and then you could marry an American girl. A white girl of your own class. I think you were happy to leave our daughter behind so you didn’t have to own her as your child. And if that is the case, there is no future for us. I will go.”

  “You can’t believe all that nonsense!” He was sitting bolt upright, staring at me and frowning. “Of course I love you. I would have given anything to be able to bring Kazhua with us, you must know that. How can you even think about leaving me? Anyway, where would you go? What would you do?”

  I could tell from the indulgent tone of his voice that he thought I simply wanted to be reassured and then all would be well again.

  He was wrong. I had spent the whole of the day thinking about my own future and I had a ready answer for him.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve noticed that the newspaper always carries advertisements for the big hotels. They always seem to want staff. I’ll go to Richmond to one of the hotels there and get a job as a chambermaid. They all offer room and board, and a little bit of money besides. It might not be ideal, but at least I’ll be able to support myself until something better comes along.”

  “Terue, no.” Simon looked horrified. “You can’t do that. The wages they pay is little better than slave labor. It would be degrading for you.”

  I almost laughed at his choice of words. “Really? Well, I suppose you ought to know about that, Simon.” Suddenly, I was weary of this game. “You’re right about one thing. Johanna did tell me what people thought about me. She heard her papa discussing me. It seems that most of the men around here are waiting for you to get tired of me so they can step in and take your place. Have you any idea at all how that makes me feel? I might just as well have stayed in the Floating World and accepted Lord Dai. At least he would have been overjoyed to make me his wife!”

  “I love you.” He repeated the words softly. I turned to face him and saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Please, Terue. Don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live a day without you. And you’re wrong. I’m not ashamed of you. I love you just as much now as the day we left Japan. I always intended that we should be married. It’s just that, when we got here, things were so difficult.”

  His voice tailed off and he stared into space miserably. I waited for him to finish silently. In spite of my brave words, I knew in my heart that I wanted him to convince me that I was wrong.

  “It wasn’t just father’s death,” he said eventually. “Although that was a terrible shock to me. It’s Mama, as well. She relies on me. I’m all she’s got left. And I soon found out that Papa let things slip badly on the plantation. I had no idea what was involved in running things. I had to learn all that. And quickly. I’ve felt as if I am being torn into pieces, as if there isn’t enough of me to go around.” He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, as if he had come to a decision. “You’re right about one thing. All of the men round here think I’m the luckiest son of a gun on earth. I never talk about you—about us—ever. So they make it up. If I ever was stupid enough to let you slip away from me, they would fall over themselves to get you.”

  Simon reached out and took my hands, holding them gently in his fingers.

  “Can you forgive me, dear one? I’ve caused you terrible hurt. I’m sorry.” He paused, watching my face. “Terue-chan, will you let me make it up to you now? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? As soon as I can make the arrangements? Please?”

  I thought about it and shook my head. Simon stared at me with his mouth ajar.

  “No,” I said simply. “I can’t. I know you believe what you say at this moment. But how long would it be before yo
u began to listen to the people around you? Before you began to realize you had made a terrible mistake? I can’t live with that hanging over me. I’m leaving, Simon. As soon as I can.”

  I fixed my eyes on the floor rather than look at him. For a moment, he was quiet and very still. I risked a glance at him and drew a sharp breath as I saw the tears streaming down his face. He groped blindly for my hand and held it tightly.

  “You’re wrong. So very wrong. What can I say to convince you, Terue? If you leave me, I’ll die.”

  I was about to shake my head, to tell him he was being silly when he spoke again.

  “There’s no point in me living without you. If you go, I’ll kill myself.”

  His words were so flat, I believed him. I rubbed my thumb over his face, wiping away the tears.

  “Don’t leave me. Please,” he whispered. I closed my eyes and he leaned against me and put his arms around me. His embrace was very tender, and after a while, I found I was crying with him.

  “Please?” he said again. Even as I let him kiss me, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Then Simon whispered again that I was his life. That if I left him, it would be the death of him. He pleaded with me to stay, to become his wife. Somehow, my foolish heart got the better of my senses and I gave in and returned his kisses. I returned them with far less enthusiasm than he had shown, but he seemed not to notice.

  I had assumed that our wedding would be a very quiet affair. I was entirely wrong. It seemed that most of Virginia wanted to see us become man and wife before Simon’s god. Even Mama Simone was almost gracious in defeat and told Johanna to shut up when she said she would never have believed it.

  Twenty-Nine

  The blossom plucked too

  Soon has no perfume. Nor can

  The tree bear its fruit.

  “Ma’am?” Suzanna greeted me as soon as I walked through the door. She was wringing her hands in her apron and spoke so rapidly I could barely follow her words. “You been gone so long, I was worried! And there’s a visitor for Master Simon, but he say he gonna sit and wait until somebody come back. I told him the master ain’t gonna be back until tonight and he should come back tomorrow, but he won’t go. Says he’ll speak to you if the master’s not here.”

  I raised my hands to calm the anxious gabble. “Is he somebody we know, Suzanna? A neighbor?”

  “No, ma’am. He ain’t. I don’t know him at all. And he talks so funny, I can barely make out a word. But he’s a gentleman, for sure. I done put him in the drawing room and given him coffee. Did I do right?”

  “Quite right. Don’t worry. I’ll go see him and explain he has to come back. Could you bring some fresh coffee for me, please?”

  I had long gotten over trying to enjoy American tea. No matter how I tried to explain to the kitchen girls how I wanted it, my tea always came in a huge cup, dark brown, and stewed. At least coffee tasted as if it should be made strong and I could drink it without grimacing in pain.

  My strange visitor stood as I entered the room. He was so tall, he blocked the little light that managed to filter through the black drapes. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes from the fierce sunshine outside.

  “Good morning, ma’am. I’m sorry to intrude, but I’ve come quite a long way and didn’t want to have a wasted journey. I had hoped to speak to Mr. Beaumont, but the girl says he isn’t here.”

  I understood what Suzanna meant at once. He spoke slowly, but his accent was the strangest I had heard in this country. He rolled his words as if tasting them before they left his lips. I found his deep voice and strange accent very attractive.

  “I’m sorry, my husband has gone into town on business. He’s unlikely to be back until late this evening. The overseer is here. Could he help you, perhaps?” Suzanna came in with my coffee and I took the cup from her. “Would you like some more coffee?”

  I was vaguely alarmed when he said yes. Should I have turned him away? Told him to come back tomorrow? For once, I wished Mama Simone was here, that she had not gone with Simon. She would have known how to deal with this stranger’s business so much better than I did.

  Then I looked my visitor full in the face and I felt a deep ripple of pleasure. His eyes were the blue of ice on a shallow, frozen river that shines unblemished in the sunlight. I had never seen eyes that color before and they intrigued me. His hair was almost as black as mine. It should have seemed odd. He should have had brown eyes to match his hair, but he did not. He smiled and everything about him seemed right. I was absurdly disappointed when he spoke again.

  “I think I need to speak to Mr. Beaumont. I heard he might have some useful slaves for sale, and I’m in the market to acquire some good men.”

  He was a slaver, then. Ah, but I was sorry about that.

  “Yes. You must speak to my husband. I can’t help you,” I spoke coldly.

  I had long ago learned to expect a flicker of amazed disbelief—occasionally disgust—in new acquaintances’ eyes when Simon introduced me as his wife. I watched this man’s face for any surprise, but saw none. I was pleased about that, at least.

  “You must be Terue-san.” He smiled and looked abashed. “What a silly thing to say. Of course you are. As if I would expect to find any other Japanese ladies here in Virginia. But I’m forgetting my manners, forgive me. I’m Callum Niaish. You don’t know me, but I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  He stood and bowed, very deeply. And correctly. I managed to conceal my astonishment by the time he straightened up.

  “I speak a very little Japanese.” He spoke in Japanese! His words were slow and careful, but it barely mattered. As soon as I had learned sufficient English, Simon had stopped speaking to me in Japanese. To hear my own beautiful language spoken again, and so unexpectedly, almost brought tears of pleasure to my eyes.

  “I am honored to hear your words,” I managed to say. “But how do you come to speak Japanese? Nobody at all here speaks it. Except my husband, of course.”

  He replied courteously. “I must apologize. I’m afraid my Japanese is very bad. My Chinese is better, but I’ll do my best.”

  I realized with mounting delight that his Japanese accent was pure Edo. How was this possible? I had no idea, but I was going to find out!

  “Your Japanese is excellent, I assure you. But please, how do you come to speak my language?”

  “My parents are missionaries in China. In Shanghai. Although it’s a long way from Japan, my amah was Japanese. In fact, she was born in Edo and moved to Shanghai with her parents when she was a young girl.” He gained in confidence as he spoke. I noticed there was no trace of the puzzling accent I had heard when he spoke English and I was intrigued.

  “But you are not American,” I said firmly. “Nor do you look Chinese! How do you come to be here?”

  “It’s rather a long story.”

  He sipped his coffee and I was aware he was watching me intently over the rim of the cup. I met his gaze firmly. He smiled at me and I bit my lip, trying not to smile widely in return. Where were my manners when I needed them? This man above all would appreciate genuine courtesy, and here I was, questioning him and staring at him boldly. Oh, well. If one has eaten poisoned food, one might as well eat the plate, as the saying went.

  “Am I to get an answer then, Mr. Niaish?”

  An American would immediately have told me to call him by his given name. Mr. Niaish’s manners—unlike mine!—were much better. He did not.

  “I’m Scottish, Terue-san,” he said. “If that means anything to you.”

  I remembered Simon’s globe of the world with a rush of gratitude. Remembered him spinning it for me and pointing at England, telling me how the tiny island was so amazingly important.

  “Your country adjoins England,” I said quickly. “And like England, you are ruled by the young Queen Victoria. But that is many miles from America, and even further from China. How come you to be in either place?”

  “Indeed!” He was laughing at me with those strange blue eyes. Ho
w, I wondered, had I ever thought of them as cold? “As you say, our neighbor is England, and we are ruled by the same queen. I congratulate you. But I told you, my parents are missionaries, and the church sends them anywhere there are savage heathens who need to be converted.” He was laughing at me again. Two could play at that game!

  “Does that include America? Is that why you are here?”

  He almost choked on his coffee as he glanced at my innocent expression.

  “Indeed, no. I’m no missionary, Terue-san. I make my own way in this world.” He leaned forward slightly, emphasizing his words. “My father had little to say in his own future. My grandfather was a traditional sort of gentleman. The first-born son inherited the title and the estates.” Ah, my visitor was of noble birth then. Of course, any daimyo or samurai family would order itself that way. I nodded approvingly. “The second son was expected to go into the army and serve his country. That was what my uncle did. And very successfully. He’s a high-ranking officer. That left my father. He had little choice in the matter, he was doomed for the church. Papa is nothing if not whole-hearted. Not for him an easy living as a country parson, or even the trappings of a bishop should he be so fortunate as to find preferment. Instead, he married when he was a very young man and determined his life was to be that of a missionary. I was born in Scotland but my parents whisked me off to China when I was very young, when the church sent Papa there.” He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. I knew instinctively he was thinking of his childhood home.

  I spoke without thinking. “I wake in the mornings sometimes, and if there’s a cool mist, I sometimes think it’s autumn and I’m back in Edo again.”

  We were both silent for a long time. It was a companionable sort of quiet, and I was very sorry when Suzanna—obviously thinking my visitor had gone—came back to clear away the cups and then stood awkwardly, folding her hands in her apron.