CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

IT SHOULD SOFTEN RELATIONS BETWEEN MAN AND WOMAN

The Persimmon inn was as crowded as all the others in Okazaki. There was a constant scrape of wall panels being slid back and forth in their wooden tracks and glimpses of merriment in the rooms behind them. Maids and servants laden with food and sake and bedding scurried to and fro. Blind shampooers and masseurs plied their trade. Choruses of the Ise song sounded from all corners of the Persimmon as pilgrims settled in for an evening of revelry.

The room next to the one Hanshiro shared with Cat and Kasane was lit bright as day. Four drapers were throwing a party there, and a geisha was dancing to the rhythm of his own hand drum.

The drapers called themselves the Four Heavenly Kings, and they boasted that they were experts at libertinage. To prove it they had hired a covey of women who specialized in entertaining travelers.

Because Cat could hear every word they said, she knew more than she cared to about three of the Kings. The forth man was already slurring his words too badly for her to understand what he was saying.

Cat and Hanshiro had had their baths and now wore the indigo cotton robes and tie-dyed crepe sashes supplied by the Persimmon. By the light of a single lantern, Hanshiro was teaching Cat to play go. As he sat studying the board he seemed oblivious to the racket nearby. When the geisha finished her bawdy dance, a samisen player struck up “Shallow River.”

Cat had heard the song many times in the Perfumed Lotus, and she began humming along absentmindedly. When she realized what she was doing, she fell silent and stared down at the board. She was appalled that her embarrassment must be evident on her face.

The song was about wading into shallow, then deeper and deeper water. Cat knew that as the women danced they lifted their robes to expose more of themselves. She could tell from the giggles and shouts that they were complying with the last verse and that the water had risen quite high.

Cat glanced toward the door.

“She’ll be safe.” Hanshiro didn’t look up from the go board. Normally he wouldn’t have spoken at all until the game was over; but he was teaching, not competing, and he was trying to put Cat at ease.

“She’s a simple country woman.” Cat had misgivings about allowing Kasane to go out by herself, especially at night.

“She seems able to take care of herself. I’d venture to say you’ve taught her a great deal in the time you’ve spent together.”

Cat didn’t trust herself to answer. Hanshiro made her feel as awkward as a child, until even her silence seemed foolish to her. She was flattered, though. The rnin didn’t seem the type to scatter compliments about with a winnowing fan. And what he said about Kasane was true enough. She looked dashing in the stiff new livery.

Cat had gathered Kasane’s hair into a boy’s whisk on top of her head and tied a headband jauntily above her left ear. Kasane had carried the travel box effortlessly the four ri from Akasaka to Okazaki. She was strong anyway, and Hanshiro had transferred the heavier items to the furoshiki slung across his own back. Kasane had sung to herself as she marched along behind Cat and Hanshiro.

Now she was at the temple looking for another letter from her suitor. She carried Cat’s spear disguised as a staff, but Cat was worried about her. She feared that if Kasane got into a situation where she needed the spear, she’d only hurt herself with it.

Cat heard a polite cough and a shuffling of feet at the door.

“Come in.” She called out the invitation before she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be in charge here.

When the panel slid open a cloud dweller, a member of the nobility, entered. He was thin and stooped. He had the face of a crane, and he wore the outmoded fashions of the emperor’s court. His wrists and hands extended like talons from the wide, layered sleeves of his robes. He had stained his teeth black in the old-fashioned way and had powdered and rouged his face.

“Good evening, sirs. Forgive the intrusion.” His smile was brittle. Conspiratorial. His painted face was a grotesque caricature of beauty and refinement. “My name is Nakajo, chamberlain of the fifth rank. Retired.” His bleary eyes restlessly searched the corners of the room, as though he expected an enemy, or at least a rat, to be lurking there. He made Cat nervous.

“It is no intrusion.” Hanshiro bowed. “My companion is merely learning the game.”

“I was told that two supreme examples of manly beauty were gracing this worthy establishment, men with souls as fearless as the god of war.” The old man turned aside. He hawked and spat into an embossed paper he took from his wallet. “But the stories fall far short of the truth.” He folded the paper into the figure of an iris and tucked it into his sleeve. “Your young companion has a countenance like the moon, serene in the autumn sky.” The chamberlain nodded toward Cat, who bowed low in return.

“How can we help you?” Hanshiro tried to hurry the old man along in his pitch. The emperor himself received an annual stipend less than that of the lowest-ranking daimy. His courtiers had little except time; but they had plenty of that.

“It is I who desire to help you, kind sir.” The chamberlain lowered his voice and leaned forward, although the Four Kings and their guests were making so much noise, no one could have heard him. “It is said that ‘dallying with youths is like consorting with wolves beneath scattering cherry blossoms.’”

“‘Whereas pillowing with prostitutes is like groping in the dark without a lantern beneath a new moon.’” Hanshiro finished the quote, but he was surprised the old aristocrat knew the works of Saikaku, the commoner and townsman.

“Coupling with wolves requires energy.” From the depths of his many robes the chamberlain produced a small, stoppered earthenware jar and held it up. “I have here the elixir that will ensure that each night of love lasts as long as autumn itself. One need only mix a drop of it with water and bathe in it.”

“What does this miraculous potion consist of?” Hanshiro offered a pipe, which the old nobleman accepted with an alacrity that bordered on the indecorous. Cat lit it for him and tended it while he went on with his story.

“Do you remember the elephant delivered to the dog shgun as a present from the most august emperor of China?”

“The huge, gray, wing-eared beast that was all the talk ten years ago.” Hanshiro remembered it well.

He had found the towns along the Tkaid in an uproar because of the elephant and its entourage. Local officials were recruiting farmers to clean the highway even more thoroughly than usual. They had drafted all available laborers to build earthen bridges over the rivers. The shgun banned all cattle and horses from the vicinity of the road so they wouldn’t frighten the huge beast. Citizens had been ordered to keep silent so they wouldn’t disturb its sleep.

Yes, Hanshiro remembered the elephant. It was still living on the grounds of Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s palace in Edo.

“A most uncommon animal … .” As the cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the chamberlain, Cat thought he looked as close to contented as he ever had or ever would. In a way she could empathize with him. She had learned that deprivation raised the simplest pleasures to the extraordinary.

“The beast’s urine is collected and saved.” The chamberlain shared the confidence as though it were a state secret.

When Cat glanced at Hanshiro she detected a glimmer of amusement in his stoic expression. It was as surprising as a wasp’s sting getting a reaction from a stone Jiz. Hanshiro too must have been imagining the unfortunate underling who had the job of holding the tub each time the elephant emptied its bladder.

“The elephant’s proper-thing is as big as a fishing boat’s mast,” the chamberlain said. “So it is no surprise that its urine has a potency unparalleled in this fleeting world.”

“Are we to assume that you have some of that marvelous liquid?”

“As you can imagine, it is in great demand. Those of the highest rank covet it. But because you are such a rare and refined pair of individuals, I am going to part with the very last vial in my possession.”

“Your generosity far exceeds our slight merit.”

The chamberlain made a deprecating gesture with his sleeve. He jumped when someone fell in the next room and rattled the wall panels in their tracks. A bathtub must have been delivered there because the sound of splashing joined the gales of laughter and loud music.

“The four jovial townsmen next door would be most disappointed to miss the opportunity you so generously offer,” Hanshiro said. “The god of wealth has smiled on them. They would be able to express their gratitude far more suitably than a pair of humble and poverty-stricken wanderers.”

“I’m grateful to you for the suggestion.” The chamberlain understood that Hanshiro had just refused him, but he stayed through the hour of the Dog anyway. He realized that Hanshiro was the only truly educated person in the inn. He discussed the classics with him as though that were the sole purpose of his visit.

Cat didn’t mind. She preferred having the chamberlain there to spending the time alone with the rnin. She would have gone with Kasane to explore Okazaki, but that would have started speculation among those who assumed she and Hanshiro were lovers.

When the old man finally left, Cat couldn’t help looking impishly over her sleeve. She was astonished to see a smile flicker across Hanshiro’s face in return. For a moment, in the shadowy room, across the dimly lit go board, Nakajo’s foolishness made them comrades.

“The bag of cupidity has no bottom,” Hanshiro murmured as he made one more move toward the inevitable downfall of Cat’s go pieces, although the most satisfying conclusion to a game of go was always a draw. He snapped the stone down with a satisfying click that was amplified by the hollow sounding-box under the board.

“Tenjo bito,” Cat whispered. The words meant “cloud dweller,” but they could also mean “ceiling person,” a euphemism for rat.

Kasane slid the door open, bowed, and entered.

“I was worried about you.” Anxiety put an edge to Cat’s voice.

“I’m very sorry, young master.” Kasane glanced toward the far wall, beyond which the Four Kings’ party was reaching a crescendo of splashes and squeals. “I went looking for paper at a night market.”

Cat started to remind her that the Persimmon’s management had provided writing materials. Then she realized that Kasane probably wanted paper of a higher quality. Next she would insist on fresh spring water to mix with her ink. She was developing sensibilities beyond her station. Cat should have disapproved, but she couldn’t manage it. She knew Kasane couldn’t help herself. For lovesickness there was no cure.

“Did you find a letter from Traveler?”

Kasane looked at Hanshiro and blushed a bright scarlet. “Yes,” she murmured. “He’s been hurrying. He’s not far behind us.”

“No wonder you’re radiating joy from the tip of your nose.” Cat nodded toward the writing stand and the box with ink stone, brush, and water pot. “Use the writing things if you wish.”

“Thank you.” Kasane carried the stand and a floor lantern behind the four-panel folding screen set up in the corner. Against the painted paper surface of the screen, Cat could see her shadow bent over the desk. Like Hanshiro, she seemed oblivious to the uproar next door. She was absorbed with the task of composing a poem in reply to her suitor’s.

“‘Poetry should move heaven and earth … .’” Hanshiro glanced at the screen as he quoted from the preface to the Kokinshu. It was an anthology of thousands of ancient poems that every educated person knew by heart. He paused to let Cat continue.

“‘It should soften relations between man and woman, and soothe the heart of the fierce warrior.’”

The inn’s maids arrived, hidden behind towering stacks of folded bedding. They laid out Kasane’s thin pallet behind the screen. Then they sneaked flirtatious glances at Cat as they made up a pile of three thick mattresses.

Cat realized, to her horror, that the bed was for her and Hanshiro to share. When the maids left she could hear their whispers and muted laughter diminishing down the corridor. She knew they were discussing her and the rnin. She felt her face grow hot again.

“I’ll sleep with Kasane,” she said.

“As you wish, my lady.” Hanshiro didn’t take his eyes from the go board. “But people will notice.”

Privacy was not possible. The maids and servants might bustle in at any moment to trim lamps, deliver tea, or replenish the tobacco supply. A masseur might drop by to offer his services or a priest to request donations to his temple.

“Shiri sumo! Buttocks wrestling!” A woman next door shouted it, and the others took up the cry.

Hanshiro made such a droll face that Cat laughed out loud in spite of herself.

Everyone at the party had reached the stage of inebriation where nothing would do but that the Kings pair off and engage in the contest of buttocks wrestling. Each pair stood back to back on two large, flat, square cushions. They bent over and grabbed their own ankles. The women threw the skirts of the inn’s blue robes up over their heads, exposing their bare rear ends. Then each combatant tried to knock his opponent off his cushion using the most prominent part of his anatomy.

It wasn’t hard to do. They had been drinking a long time, and they were having difficulty just remaining upright. Even before they were hit they would stumble off the small, lumpy field of battle or fall sprawling.

The women helped them up. The men got back into position. The women raised their robes over their heads and slapped their bare cheeks by way of encouragement. They supported the men as they swayed and urged them on.

Hanshiro was just getting ready to clear the stones off the go board when the inevitable happened. One of the Kings crashed headfirst through the flimsy wall. Cat and Hanshiro leaped clear, but the black and white go stones scattered to the four corners of the room. The tipsy partygoers crowded around the opening and stared in at them.

“It must be the New Year,” one of the women shouted. “They’re throwing beans to cast out demons.”

Everyone laughed uproariously. Two of the women, still laughing, stepped over the shattered frame to rescue the draper, who was tangled up in his blue robe with the Persimmon’s crest on it.

Hanshiro put up a hand, and the women stopped. He bent down, took the fallen man by the arm, and helped him gently but firmly to his feet.

“The hour is late.” Hanshiro’s quiet voice silenced the giddy intruders. “We must be on the road early tomorrow.” He guided the draper through the opening and into his room. “We are most grateful for your consideration.”

Chastened, they retreated. A pair of servants brought a new wall panel. In a few moments they had installed it in the tracks and cleared away the debris. They apologized profusely before leaving Cat and Hanshiro to work out their sleeping arrangements.

The drapers and their one-night wives whispered and giggled for a while. The lights dimmed. Eventually the only sounds were the usual rustling and murmurs of couples pillowing.

Kasane picked up the go stones and replaced them in their box. Then she retreated discreetly behind her screen.

Cat tightened the sash of her sleeping robe. She lay down facing outward on the far side of the bed and moved as close to the edge as she could. Hanshiro sat reading by the dim light of the night lamp.

Cat knew he was sparing her the embarrassment of having a stranger lie down beside her. She knew that he would probably slip under the quilt when he thought she was asleep. She was sure she could trust him not to try to make a fool of her, as Kasane would have put it. Yet still her heart pounded.

Cat closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply. She drew in long, even breaths until air seemed to fill her down to her toes. Then she exhaled until she felt completely empty. But sleep wouldn’t come.

She heard Hanshiro turning the pages of his book until he closed it and put it away. She heard the grinding of an ink stone and the clink of a bamboo brush handle against the side of a porcelain water pot and knew he must be writing something.

Finally, halfway through the hour of the Rat, the quilt stirred and a draft briefly chilled Cat’s back. The mattress shifted as Hanshiro lay down. Cat continued taking the steady breaths of someone deep in sleep, but she listened, tense and intent. Judging from Hanshiro’s breathing, he seemed to fall asleep with maddening ease.

Brute! she thought.

The two of them lay, back to back and wide awake, until the first crowing of the cock.