The Song of the Wild Geese

by India Millar

  Mr. Niaish climbed to his feet. Instead of holding out his hand to be shaken, he bowed. I responded with pleasure. Suzanna goggled at the pair of us.

  “Please clear things away, Suzanna,” I said firmly. “I will show Mr. Niaish out myself.”

  We stood on the veranda. I was unsure whether to hold my hand out to be shaken or to bow again. Oscar rescued me from awkwardness.

  “Hello, boy.”

  Mr. Niaish bent and patted the dog’s head. I watched in surprise as the labrador fawned around him, pushing against his legs and whimpering with pleasure. Oscar was a guard dog, and a very good one. In spite of the fact that he was infinitely gentle with me, Simon had whipped him once when he had shown his teeth and gone for a neighbor who had knocked on the door and entered before Suzanna could let him in.

  At least the moment of awkwardness had passed.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow morning, Terue-san. If you could tell Mr. Beaumont to expect me, I would be grateful.”

  “Of course.”

  I smiled and went back into the house. But I couldn’t resist peeping through the curtain until horse and rider had vanished around the turn in the drive.

  Thirty

  The bamboo that bends

  Before the wind is stronger

  Than the tree that breaks

  Simon came back from town much later than I expected, and in a terrible temper. I was surprised. Simon rarely showed his anger. He barely spoke at dinner and announced he would go to bed early. Even Mama Simone appeared anxious and I was so chilled by the atmosphere I put thoughts about my visitor aside. For the moment, at least.

  Mama Simone sat silently, plying her embroidery needle with the cloth held close to her eyes in the gaslight. I would have liked to have followed Simon to bed immediately, if nothing more than to shower him with questions about his day. But Mama Simone would have gloated, I knew, thinking that I had run to her son to comfort his bad mood. So instead, I sat quietly, saying nothing until she finally gave in and snapped that she was going to bed herself. She added pointedly that she hoped I would turn off the gas mantle before I went upstairs. She knew I would. It was just something to be angry about.

  A minor triumph, but it made me smile to myself.

  There was no light except the half-moon peeking through the gap in the bedroom drapes. But my eyes were accustomed to the darkness and I could see Simon’s shape, humped in the bed like an animal curled in its den. I understood from his breathing that he was still awake, and I expected him to speak as I undressed and hung my clothes in the wardrobe. When he stayed silent, I knew something was very wrong.

  I was irritated. No matter how badly Simon’s meeting had gone, he had no right to sulk like a child. To exclude me as if it was none of my business. Besides, I wanted to give him my news, to discuss Callum Niaish’s intriguing visit. The thought brought a vivid memory of blue eyes and a deep voice speaking beautiful Japanese and suddenly I was deeply excited. Of course I was. Niaish had been fascinating. I just knew that Simon would be as deeply interested as I was.

  “Simon. Wake up.”

  I shook his shoulder when he ignored me.

  He was wearing his nightgown. How I hated that ridiculous garment! But nothing I could say could persuade Simon to wear a light sleeping robe, so I supposed I had to put up with it. I kneeled up, almost rolling against him as the deep, feather mattress gave way beneath me. I giggled, fully expecting him to share my amusement, but he did not. I dug my elbow into his ribs and finally got a response.

  “Terue, go to sleep. I’ve had a long day.”

  He shrugged the sheets around his ears. My mouth dropped open in disbelief. I lay still for a few seconds, running my hands over my belly and flanks. My skin tingled beneath my fingers and excitement built under my own touch. I slid my hand over Simon’s hips and found his tree. I smiled to myself when I found he was already half erect. Tired? I doubted it! Sulking, more likely.

  I slid my hand beneath the buttons on his nightgown and stroked slowly down to his tree. Finding it, I took it in my hand and stroked and rubbed tenderly. His erection strengthened a little, but it was still disappointing. Simon neither hindered nor helped. He simply lay still. I blinked with surprise. Had we been in Edo, I would have immediately concluded that he had been with a yujo, a woman of pleasure, and that she had exhausted him. But here? He had spent the day with Mama Simone, talking to the family’s attorney. The idea was laughable.

  But my own need was growing as I felt the heat of his body. I determined at once that I would bring him back to life. The ridiculous nightgown parted beneath my fingers as I tugged and pulled at the many buttons, finally pushing the garment completely away. Simon was trying to pretend to be asleep. If I hadn’t been so annoyed with him, I would have laughed out loud at his antics. Instead, I trailed my tongue down his chest, pausing to tease his navel and finally taking his black moss between my teeth. I tugged gently, and then more fiercely.

  “Terue.”

  Just my name, nothing more. But he had finally stopped ignoring me and I felt his tree bob against my cheek and I knew he had been unable to resist me. He thrust at me, and I took his flesh in my lips hungrily. He swelled and hardened at once and soon filled my mouth.

  His hand found my breast, his fingers cupping it as if it were a ripe apple. His touch was exciting and I melted into arousal with the anticipation of delights to come. I was about to slide his tree from my lips when to my utter shock he burst his fruit in my mouth without warning.

  Simon lay back into the mattress as soon as my mouth left him. I barely had time to lick my lips before I understood he was dozing already. Not fair. Not fair at all! My private places clenched on themselves in disappointment. I ran my hands over my body, trying to smooth away the longing and sighed as I found I was making matters worse for myself.

  I was seething with frustration. I breathed in and out through my nose, taking deep breaths until I knew I was in control of my emotions, if not my body. I slid my hand over his belly and found his tree—although wilting—still had some life left in it. I moved quickly, throwing my leg over his hips and hauling myself on top of him, sliding my private parts up and down on his tree.

  “Terue. Tomorrow, I promise. Please, let me sleep!”

  “You’re tired, husband, but I’m not.”

  I felt him snatch a breath, and knew I had won. His tree began to rise for me once again and I slowed my rhythm at once, determined to keep him waiting, just as he had tried to make me wait.

  He put his hands on my hips, trying to lift me. I knew it was his intention to lift me bodily on to his tree, but I was having none of it. I fell forward on him, my lips finding his mouth. Could he taste his own seed on my lips? I found the idea intensely arousing and opened my mouth to allow my tongue to caress his teeth.

  “Ah!” His breath was soft in my mouth.

  “Are you still tired? Shall I stop?” I laughed, knowing I had neither intention nor will to stop. Simon laughed with me.

  “Witch,” he said softly. “Nobody could be tired when you don’t want them to be.”

  His fingers slid down my belly and found my sex, sliding into me by feel. He caressed me slowly, tenderly, and in response, I rubbed against him fiercely. I pushed hard until he understood what I wanted, and finally slid his fingers inside me, pushing until I moaned with pleasure. I could wait no longer; I raised myself and slid onto his tree, riding him at my pleasure until I felt my yonaki building, building, building until it overwhelmed my world and I screamed with pleasure.

  Simon’s breathing was finally beginning to fall into the rhythm of true sleep when I remembered Callum Niaish. I shook him urgently.

  “What? Not again, Terue-chan. I really am tired. Let me sleep.”

  “Simon, wake up. We had a visitor while you were gone.”

  I told him quickly about Niaish and was surprised to find he was suddenly very alert.

  “I don’t know him, but I’ve heard about him. Calls himself a slave
trader, but he offers such low amounts for good breeding stock only the most desperate planters have sold him anything.” He laughed abruptly. “Mind you, if he raises his prices a bit, I might be willing to sell him a few warm bodies.”

  This was not at all what I had expected and I was shocked. Simon took pride in never selling what he called “prime stock.” He had explained to me earnestly that slaves were wealth. The more slaves a man had, then the richer he was and the higher his prestige. Slaves were only to be sold when they were past their best and could no longer be made to pick tobacco speedily or even process it well. That was the way it was here, and I wasn’t to worry about it.

  But I did.

  Now, I understood with a feeling of dread that something was very wrong. I was wide awake and picked my words carefully.

  “Did your meeting today go well?”

  “Did it hell as like.”

  I flinched. Simon never cursed in front of me. Even worse, he appeared not to have even noticed his words. Truly, the appointment he had described as “just a bit of business” must have turned out to have been very bad indeed. “Seems Papa took out a loan on the plantation while I was in Japan. Or so Abe Olders says.”

  Abe Olders. I knew him, but not well. He wasn’t a close neighbor. He owned a plantation on the other side of town. I had seen him at events, though. A big, beefy, red-faced man who shouted rather than spoke. I didn’t care for him.

  “What’s it to do with him?”

  “The attorney says that Papa was turned down for a loan from the bank. That year was a terrible crop for tobacco and cotton alike, and half the plantation owners in Virginia were asking the banks for money. Papa left it too late to apply for a mortgage at reasonable terms, so when Abe Olders let it be known he might be able to advance him some money, he had to crawl to him and pay his terms. The attorney says the interest on the loan has never been paid back, so the original debt is much more than what Papa borrowed. Mr. Olders is now after his money.”

  “Did Mama Simone know about it?”

  Simon laughed without humor. “She knew about the original loan, but she doesn’t take any interest in that sort of thing. Far as she’s concerned, Papa looked after the money when he was alive, and now that he’s gone it’s down to me.”

  “Are we poor, then?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all. Don’t worry about it. The attorney’s going to sort things out.” Simon put his arm around me and I thought he was going to sleep. I jumped when he spoke again. “You said Niaish is coming tomorrow morning?”

  I knew then that we were in trouble.

  Thirty-One

  The tongue is but three

  Inches long, yet it can fell

  A man two yards high

  “Good to meet you, Mr. Niaish.”

  Simon spoke pleasantly enough, but I knew at once he didn’t like our visitor. I joined the conversation eagerly, and then wished I had not.

  “Simon, Mr. Niaish speaks Japanese! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Simon turned and looked at me as if I had made a joke in bad taste. I had spoken in Japanese, and he promptly replied with great formality, in my own language.

  “Terue-chan, you must be in error. I hardly think an English gentleman will speak Japanese.”

  “I’m Scottish by birth, Mr. Beaumont, not English if you please.” Niaish started in English and then switched calmly to Japanese. Simon’s face reddened, although with anger or embarrassment I had no idea. “But I do speak Japanese, although my Chinese is much better. As I explained to Terue-san yesterday, my parents are missionaries in Shanghai and my amah was from Edo. It’s thanks to her that I speak a little Japanese.”

  “I see. Well, if we are to do business together, perhaps you would do me the courtesy of speaking American, Mr. Niaish? Terue-chan, I think you can leave us now.”

  I rose stiffly and bowed to Mr. Niaish, furious with Simon for dismissing me so rudely. I would have had words with Simon about it, but when our visitor left he was in such a temper even Mama Simone kept her eyes down and said little.

  “If that man ever comes back when I’m not here, don’t let him into the house, either of you!” Simon paced the carpet between us, finally throwing himself into an armchair and flinging his leg carelessly over the side.

  “Your business with him didn’t go well?” I asked cautiously.

  Simon glared at me. “I wouldn’t have believed that word could have got round so quickly that the plantation owed money, but it must have.” His fingers tapped an irate tattoo on the chair arm. “Niaish wanted to buy slaves off me. Nothing but the best, he said. Prime stock, with plenty of years of labor left in them.”

  “We could have spared him a few, Simon,” Mama Simone said hesitatingly. “Tom says the crop isn’t anything special this year. A dozen or so hands wouldn’t be missed and the money would be welcome.”

  I glanced at her strained face and thought about Simon insisting she had no idea about finance. If Mama Simone was worried, I figured I should be concerned as well.

  “Money?” Simon stared at her incredulously. “The amount he offered was an insult. And he even knew which slaves he wanted to take off me. Nothing but the best for Mr. Niaish. He’d done his homework all right. I sent him off with a flea in his ear. I doubt he’ll dare to show his face around here again.”

  I was disappointed that I would not see Callum Niaish again. I had enjoyed speaking Japanese with him, and even more had I enjoyed his company. Such a great pity he was a slaver. That, I could never forgive.

  In Japan, we would say “misfortunes never come singly.” For myself, I prefer the poetry of the English version: “When it rains it pours.” For certainly, it seemed that misfortune had chosen to pay great attention to High Grove Plantation, and that the storm clouds had gathered above us with a vengeance.

  Barely a week after Simon refused Callum Niaish’s offer, Shula disappeared. And this time, there was no trace of her to be found.

  Simon was beside himself with fury when the overseer came to break the news to him.

  “What do you mean she’s gone? What do I pay you for exactly, Tom?” The overseer stood like a cowed child, staring at his shoes. “When did she go?”

  “I don’t rightly know, Master Simon. Her back had healed, but she still kept on that it hurt real bad and she wasn’t fit to work in the fields yet. Given the way things were, I thought maybe another few weeks wouldn’t hurt for her to lay up.” He turned his hat in his hands and glanced up at Simon miserably. “That being so, I didn’t trouble myself when I didn’t see her at muster for a few days. I went to see if she was fit this morning, and her cabin was empty. I asked the others where she was, but they said they didn’t know. Said Shula had always thought herself above them and they didn’t visit with her greatly.”

  Simon stood and prodded him in the chest with his finger.

  “Anything at all left in the cabin?” he demanded.

  Tom shook his head. “Picked clean, Master Simon. Not a shred of anything to give a scent.”

  “You whipped anybody since Shula?” Tom shook his head. “Then we do have something. Give the hounds the scent of the whip and let them loose. Wherever she’s hiding, they’ll find her. Bring her back, and then we’ll see how uppity she is. Wait, I’ll come with you.”

  I sat for a long time, staring at nothing. I was deeply sorry for the absent Shula and prayed silently that she might somehow escape. But my own grief was greater. How, I asked myself, had my gentle, caring husband changed so very much?

  Consumed with pain both for myself and Shula, I wandered through the deserted, silent rooms of the big house. Mama Simone had taken to her bed, demanding Suzanna bring her tonic to her and then telling me firmly that she had a headache and was to be left alone. Why, I wondered, did she think I would have sought her company?

  The wind had risen abruptly and sighed under the door to flirt around me like dead spirits. I shivered and walked outside, blink
ing against the dust that eddied up.

  “Ma’am, it’s going to rain.”

  I had gotten no further than the drive, yet still William sounded anxious. I was grateful for his concern.

  “You should go back into the house before you go getting wet.”

  “Will you come in and sit with me, William?” I coaxed. “Master Simon’s gone after Shula and Mama Simone’s taken to her bed. I’ve nobody to talk to at all.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t do that, ma’am. Wouldn’t do.” But his face brightened as he added craftily, “Mind you, if there ain’t nobody about, I daresay it would be all right if you came and sat down in the kitchen for a while.”

  I agreed happily. Oscar came with us and put his head on my knee with a sigh of pleasure.

  “Do you think they’ll catch Shula?” I asked.

  William pursed his lips and made a “maybe” gesture, waggling his hand from side to side. “Bad thing for her if they do. Won’t be no mercy this time, no matter what’s gone by.”

  “Why should she get special treatment, William?” I asked curiously.

  William patted his fingers on his lips, as if he was trying to force his words back in his mouth. I was intrigued immediately.

  “William? Why is Shula different from the rest of the slaves? Why should she get special treatment?” I persisted.

  William cleared his throat. Stared at Oscar. Shuffled his feet. “Ain’t my place to talk about it, ma’am,” he said finally.

  “Very well. I’ll ask Master Simon when he gets back.”

  His face was horrified. I pretended to stand up and he put his hand out at once, the fingers spread in a gesture that said “Stay!” as clearly as if he had spoken.

  “You ask Master Simon and he’s gonna want to know who been talking to you about Shula,” he said unhappily. Picking up on the fear in his voice, Oscar whined softly. “Guess I ain’t got no choice. But if I tell you, you gotta promise never to let on that you know.”