The flame had died long since, the decision so simple, so correct: She must send her son back to his father's parents. Her son must go alone--she must pretend she and her husband had committed jinsai, joint ritual suicide, in apology to his parents for the hurt they had done them. To be accepted the child must have at least a year of money, preferably more. He must be clothed well and travel well with a trusted nurse, more money. Only in this way could he gain his heritage, samurai. Last, there was no point obeying an oath to the dead when the future of their living child was at stake.
In the morning she left her son with a neighbor andwiththe last of her money bought the best kimono and parasol she could find in the thieves market, then, penniless, went to the best hairdresser near the gates of Yedo's Yoshiwara. There she bartered a month's future earnings for the best up-to-date hairstyle and massage and facial and manicure and pedicure and other intimacies-- and information.
Information cost a second month.
That afternoon she sallied through the gates and went straight to the House of Wisteria. The mama-san was a pattern of everyone she had ever known, always degrees of perfection in their dress and coiffure, always a measure too heavy, with makeup that veered on being masklike, eyes so gentle to customers that could become granite hard in an instant, eyes that could make her girls quiver with fear, and always scented richly with best perfume she could afford that still could never quite disguise the pervading smell of sak`e. This mama-san was spare, her name Meikin.
"So sorry, I don't take ladies without papers or history," the mama-san said. "We are very law-abiding here."
"I'm honored to hear it, Madam, but I have a history, and with your help we can invent another that will satisfy the most inquisitive Bakufu officials while satisfying the nosey toad's probe massively, when I can find it."
Meikin laughed. Her eyes did not. "What training have you had and where? And what is your name?"
"My name is Hinodeh. The where is unimportant, the what?" Gekko told her about the geisha teachers and failure to realize their expectations. Then her practical training, the sorts of clients she had and their numbers.
"Interesting. But so sorry, I have no opening here, Hinodeh," the woman said, overkindly.
"Come back tomorrow. I will make enquiries, perhaps a friend could take you."
"So sorry, please may I ask you to reconsider," sure that tomorrow she would not be admitted on some excuse or other. "You are the best, and the most trustworthy." She gritted her teeth and, praying the information was correct, added delicately, "Even shishi know that."
The color left the mama-san's face though her expression did not change. "You and your lover ran away and now he has abandoned you?" she asked calmly.
"No, Madam."
"Then he is dead."
"Yes, Madam."
"You have a child or children, which?"
"A son."
The older woman sighed. "A son. He is with you?"
"He is with his father's family."
"How old is he?" "A year and three months."
Meikin had sent for tea and they drank in silence, Gekko trembling inside, afraid that the threat had gone too far, sure that the other woman was wondering where the information came from, and how she, a stranger--dangerous enough in itself--came by the knowledge. Or if she was a Shogunate spy. If a spy, Gekko reasoned, surely I would not have said that, not on the first interview.
At length the other woman said, "You may not stay here, Hinodeh, but I have a sister who has a fine house in the next street. There's a price for the introduction."
"In advance may I humbly thank you for helping me."
"First, you will swear to excise bad thoughts from your head. Forever."
"On my life."
"On your son's life is better."
"On my son's life."
"Second, you will be a model Lady of our World, calm, obedient and worthy of trust."
"On my life, and my son's life."
"Third... the third can wait until we see if my sister agrees to succor the person I see before me."
The third was a matter of money, the split between the two mama-sans. It was settled satisfactorily. She had made a financial arrangement with her neighbor to care for her son, visiting him secretly every two weeks in the morning of her day off, the lie she had told Meikin not really a lie as he was already committed to his father's parents.
Soon, once again, she was popular but not popular enough. The payment to the hairdresser became continuous, to the masseuse, to the costumer.
There was never quite enough left over to save. By this time her son was an open secret with both mama-sans who, of course, had her watched, and followed.
They never mentioned the son to her but understood with compassion. Then, one day her mama-san had sent for her and told her about the gai-jin who would pay enough, in advance, to send the child to his future, with money for two years of food, at least two, and enough left over to guarantee his safe delivery wherever he was to be sent.
She had accepted with alacrity.
After the first hideous night she had wanted to end her life, the man was so bestial. As much as she had wept and begged, Raiko had refused, implacably, for she had warned her in advance that this could not be done for at least a month.
Fortunately there were days to recover and to plan a new defense between them. The defense had conquered the Beast, as she thought of him, and had changed him, temporarily. Now he was docile, and cried a lot, and required passion in all its aberrations, but underneath his meek and pleasant manner she could feel the violence still bubbling, ready to explode.
In the quiet and lovely surroundings Hinodeh waited, her nerves tangled. The moment he knocked on the street gate, her maiko would come running to alert her. She still had time, so she folded herself into the Lotus Seat position for meditation and sent her mind to Zen. Soon she was prepared.
Joining with the Beast was bearable. Curious how different he is, she thought, built differently than a civilized person, a little longer and larger but without any of a civilized person's firmness and strength.
So different from Shin who was smooth and sweet and so strong. Curiously, there had been no sign in her husband of his gai-jin ancestor, Anjin-san, who, two and a half centuries before, took the name Komoda for this second family in Nagasaki--his first family living in Izu where he built ships for his liege lord, Shogun Toranaga.
Thank all gods for him. Because of him, eventually my Shin was born, and born samurai, and so is our son.
She smiled so happily. Her son was almost three weeks on his journey, the two servants trustworthy. In their safekeeping was a money instrument drawn on the Gyokoyama in the name of Shin's mother for almost three years of food and lodging money for her son, and for his grandparents.
Everything taken care of, she thought proudly.
I've done my duty to our son, Shin-sama.
I have protected your honor. Everything was in order. Even Raiko's final question before we agreed the final clause of the final contract with the Beast: "Last, Hinodeh, what am I to do with your body?"' "Throw it on a dung heap for all I care, Raiko-san, it's already defiled. Leave it to the dogs."
BOOK FOUR
YOKOHAMA Tuesday, 9th December
BOOK FOUR YOKOHAMA Tuesday, 9th December: In the predawn light, the Struan cutter sped away from the frigate Pearl and hurried for their wharf. Her bow waves were clean, she was at maximum speed and her plum of smoke jaunty.
Wind was fair and offshore, with an overcast that promised to break up by noon.
The Bosun's binoculars were trained on Struan's windows. A light was on but he could not tell if Struan was there or not. Then the engine coughed, stopped, his balls seemed to hit him under the chin and all breathing on the boat ceased. After a couple of seconds the engine picked up but coughed again and picked up again but now it sounded off kilter.