– XIX –

In which a gift is given

Three days later, the Duke, Shiro, Doña Inmaculada, and Guada, along with an impressive complement of guards, cooks, and servants, set out for Sevilla. Rosario, without the slightest regret, stayed behind. Unbeknownst to all, she had conceived a child in Baelo Claudia. Now that their relationship was out in the open, the Duke was distraught to leave her, but he was eager as well to greet the Japanese Delegation and to see a dear friend. Shiro was not averse to rejoining his fellow Samurais. Inmaculada and her daughter were perhaps the most desirous to return to their respective homes, though their eagerness was strongly tempered by the prospect of confronting their husbands.

A certain degree of peace had been regained. Inmaculada and Guada had comforted each other, prayed together, and grown closer. They found a common bond in the shared pain of betrayal. It had been one thing for Doña Inmaculada to know that Rodrigo had dalliances with other women, but quite something else to have a particular woman singled out and identified who was not a common prostitute, but a known member of her own society. Guada was bereft and furious with herself for having maintained the naive illusion that once Julian was able to enter her bed, he would forget the wiles of his vile aunt. Inmaculada had even mustered enough tact to approach Rosario and apologize for her and her daughter’s behavior, blaming entrenched and perhaps outdated social mores as the culprit.

But she was unable to convince her daughter to do the same. In all the time Guada and Rosario had spent together, the latter had never taken the former into her confidence, and it was clear to Guada that she had been used as a conduit through which her handmaiden had been able to sin without raising suspicion. And the betrayal went deeper. Guada’s exposure to the attentions of Shiro at the beach combined with the flagrant licentiousness going on within the neighboring tent at night had deeply unsettled her.

But by the time the group left for Sevilla, most of everyone’s jagged nerves had calmed considerably. On the second day of the journey, Doña Inmaculada mounted sidesaddle and joined the Duke at the head of the column. Shiro took advantage and tied his horse to the carriage where Guada rode and successfully got himself invited to sit within.

‘I’ve been meaning to explain myself to you,’ he said, ‘for the discomfort I caused you by confirming the Duke’s assertion the other night.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ she said, not quite looking at him.

He sat facing her. The space was confined, the road uneven. Jostled to and fro, their knees grazed against each other with every rut and stone. The awareness of their physical proximity made it difficult to concentrate. She wore brown boots and a brown silk dress with white cuffs and collar that accentuated her blond hair and green eyes. About her neck hung a simple locket he admired, and he noticed a chipped nail on her left index finger. He kept his hands hidden whenever possible, ashamed in such close quarters by his extra digit. The lean strength he emanated, the simplicity of his robe, the directness of his open and, what she could not deny was a comely, gaze, combined with the memory of how he had responded to her silent plea days before, all contributed to an acceleration of her heart despite her effort to control it.

‘Nevertheless,’ he said.

She grabbed a leather strap affixed by the window and stared out at the forests of oak and eucalyptus and at newly plowed fields of dark soil that graced the outskirts of a village called Espera.

‘The greatest “discomfort,” as you call it, I felt that night and which I cannot shake free of, was the pain of humiliation—with myself.’ These last two words she uttered looking directly at him before looking away again. ‘I should have been more cynical and realistic. I’ve behaved like a child.’

The mixture of her strength and delicacy, her coloring, the reality of her body being so close disturbed him.

‘You are in love,’ he said.

‘I was,’ she answered, trying not to cry again, fixing her gaze upon a colorful pair of bee-eater birds alighting on a nearby tree.

He was stunned to hear it and provoked by it, but he attempted to diminish it.

‘It’s too soon to know that,’ he said.

She looked at him. ‘What is it with men?’

‘I do not understand,’ he said.

‘Your need to pounce upon women, the feverish pursuit, the unsightly slobbering.’

Though unable to take his eyes off of her, he felt unjustly accused.

‘Not all men are alike,’ he said.

She stared at her hands and began to pick at the damaged nail. She ignored his comment and went on. ‘I mean in the case of my father I find it more understandable. My mother refuses him and has for a long time. This other woman is of his class and is his junior and, or so I have heard, is caught within a bad marriage. But Julian …’

Shiro would do nothing to aid the cause of the young noble who had insulted him back in Sanlúcar, and he remained silent.

‘You must think us all mad,’ she said, feeling self-conscious about her nail and pulling on the pair of yellow kid gloves folded upon her lap. ‘You’ve only recently arrived, and here you are thrust into the midst of so much soiled linen.’

This expression, a colloquialism she often used with friends and family, spoken to a man from so distant a culture, suddenly revealed its literal meaning to her, and once again she felt herself reddening, this time with embarrassment.

‘Soiled linen is not unique to your country,’ he said, smiling at her.

She prayed to God he was either familiar with or had grasped the metaphor.

‘I suspect it is so common,’ he added, ‘regardless of whether you might consider it sinful or not, that I would hesitate to introduce the word “soiled.” It seems to simply be part of human nature.’

The statement was promising, but still, she could not be sure. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked.

‘The Lord I serve where I come from is like a King. His blood flows through my veins, and he has told me that I am a Prince because of it. But my mother, his only sister, after losing her husband in battle, conceived me with another man, another Prince of sorts, who was already married and who had other sons. I might thus be considered an article of soiled linen.’

‘I had no idea,’ she said.

‘And yet, despite some rough treatment from cousins and half siblings, I have been well cared for. Though not ideal, my condition is not so uncommon, and the honor of my bloodlines are known to all. I would even go as far as to say my upbringing, my status as an outsider among the rest, has been more advantageous to my character than otherwise. It has given me more freedom with which to make my own life, untethered to the stricter rules and responsibilities that weigh upon my ‘cleaner relations.’

Rather than offending or alienating her, the admission of his condition as a bastard only increased his attractiveness, a sensation she felt then and there without dissimulation. And yet she could not explain it.

‘What you confess to …’ she said, ‘I am grateful for it. Is the Duke appraised of your tale?’

‘He has been appraised of it since the first day we met.’

They sat in silence listening to the creaking wheels of the carriage.

‘I would like to give you something,’ he said.

‘There is no need for that.’

‘It would please me to do so. It is a small thing.’

From the folds of his robe he took out the small envelope his mother had given him back in Sendai. He opened it and poured some of the Biwa seeds into his hand to keep for himself. Then he handed the envelope to Guada.

‘These are seeds for a fruit tree I have yet to see here. My mother gave them to me. It would give me great pleasure if you might plant them. In Japanese, the fruit is called a Biwa. It grows to be the size of a lemon but looks like a peach and is pleasant to the taste and has medicinal properties and a beautiful blossom.’

She took the envelope. He enjoyed seeing it in her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Their encounter was interrupted by the return of Doña Inmaculada to the carriage. Giving in to maternal instinct upon seeing the two youths together unchaperoned, she felt an urge to intervene. Shiro bid Guada adieu with a curt bow and left to make room for her mother. Rapidly freeing and remounting his horse, he caught up once again to the Duke, who, even on dry ground, looked every bit the Admiral of the High Seas.

‘How fares the stubborn little Princess?’ the Duke asked.

‘Well,’ Shiro replied. ‘Better.’

‘Her mother has been endeavoring to soften my attitude, but until the girl apologizes for her rudeness, I shall pay her little heed no matter how much it pains me.’

‘In my heart I am sure she shall see the error of her ways,’ Shiro said.

‘I suspect the provenance of your certainty derives from another part of your anatomy. But tell me,’ he added, not averse to changing the topic, ‘what will become of you once you rejoin your people in Sevilla?’

‘I shall do my best to blend in, to keep my eyes on Hasekura Tsunenaga from afar, and to see more of your country. We will travel soon to Madrid, where Hasekura Tsunenaga plans to meet with your King and finally take the Christian sacrament of Baptism in his presence.’

‘But are his beliefs more genuine than yours?’

‘In truth I do not know, but I would not rule it out. He is close to the Spanish priest Father Sotelo and it was Hasekura Tsunenaga who insisted we Samurai make our conversion upon landing in New Spain.’

‘I’ve no desire to interfere with your responsibilities, but I would like to keep you close to me, first in Sevilla where your skill at translation will be crucial to me, but in Madrid, as well, at court, where I shall be able to make your stay more comfortable and amusing. It will please me to do so.’

And so, as the afternoon began to cede its place to evening, as the high cliffs of Arcos de la Frontera loomed in the distance, the white village, its trees soon to be pruned, the fields they rode between plowed or covered with new grass, they conversed in their saddles, a couple as odd and unlikely as the one described by Cervantes in his still unfinished work.