But he said none of it, knowing he would only be parroting more of his father's words. Poor Papa, he thought again, concentrating on Poncin as they strolled the High Street, the sun pleasing and the air bracing, with the promise of a fine day tomorrow.
"But here in Nippon, Monsieur Tyrer," the Frenchman continued happily, "there are marvelous rules and regulations, both for clients and the girls. For instance, they're not all on show at one time, except in the very low-class places, and even then you can't just go in and say I want that one."
"You can't?"' "Oh no, she always has the right to refuse you without any loss of face on her part. There are special protocols--I can explain in detail later if you wish--but each House is run by a madam, called mama-san, the san being a suffix meaning mistress, madam or mister, who prides herself on the elegance of her surroundings and her Ladies. They vary, of course, in price and excellence. In the best, the mama-san vets you, that's the right word, she considers if you are worthy to grace her House and all it contains, in substance whether or not you can pay the bill. Here a good customer can have a great deal of credit, Monsieur Tyrer, but woe betide you if you do not pay or are late once the bill is discreetly presented. Every House in all Japan will then refuse you every kind of entrance."
Tyrer had guffawed nervously at the pun.
"How word passes I don't know but it does, from here to Nagasaki. So, Monsieur, in certain ways this is paradise. A man can fornicate for a year on credit, if he so desires." Poncin's voice changed imperceptibly. "But the wise man buys a lady's contract and reserves her for his private pleasure. They are really so, so charming and so inexpensive when you consider the enormous profit we make on the money exchange."
"You, well, that's what you advise?"' "Yes, yes I do."
They had had tea. Then champagne at the Club where Andr`e was clearly a well-known and popular member. Before they parted, Andr`e had said, "The Willow World deserves care and attention.
I would be honored to be one of your guides."
He had thanked him, knowing he would never take advantage of the offer. I mean, what about Angelique? What about, what about catching one of the vile diseases, gonorrhea, or the French disease that the French call the English disease and the doctors call syphilis that George Babcott mentioned pointedly abounds, under any name, in any Asian or Middle Eastern Treaty Ports, "... or any port for that matter, Phillip. I see lots of cases here amongst the Japanese, not all European related. If you're that way inclined, wear a sheath, they're not safe, not much good yet.
Best you don't, if you know what I mean."
Phillip Tyrer shuddered. He had had only one experience. Two years ago he had become boisterously drunk with some fellow students after their finals, in the Star and Garter public house on Pont Street. "Now's the time, Phillip, old boy. It's all fixed, she'll do it for tuppence, won't you, Flossy?"' She was a bar girl, a bawdy of about fourteen, and the tumble had taken place hurriedly, sweatily, in a smelly upstairs cubbyhole--a penny for her and a penny for the publican. For months afterwards he was petrified he was poxed.
"We have more than fifty Teahouses, as they're called, or Inns, to choose from in our Yoshiwara, all licensed and controlled by the authorities, more going up every day. But take care, go nowhere in Drunk Town." This was the unwholesome part of the Settlement, where the low-class bars and rooming houses clustered around the only European brotheclass="underline" "It's for soldiers and sailors and seamen, and for the riffraff, ne'er do wells, remittance men, gamblers and adventurers who congregate there, on sufferance.
Every port acquires them because we have no police yet, no immigration laws. Perhaps Drunk Town's a safety valve but unwise to visit after dark. If you value your pocket book and your privates don't take them out there.
Musuko-san deserves better."
"What?"' "Ah, a very important word. Musuko means son, or my son. Musuko-san literally means Honorable Son, or Mr. My Son, but in the patois, cock or My Honorable Cock, pure and simple. Girls are called musume. Actually the word means daughter, or my daughter, but in the Willow World, vagina. You say to your girl, "Konbanwa, musume-san." Good evening, cherie. But if you say it with the twinkle she knows you mean, How is it? How is your Golden Gully, as Chinese sometimes call man's passage to paradise--they are so wise, the Chinese, because the sides certainly are lined with gold, the whole nourished by gold and only opened with gold, one way or another..."
Tyrer lay back, his notebook forgotten, brain churning. Almost before he realized it, the little book of ukiyo-every that he had hidden in his briefcase was open and he was studying the pictures. Abruptly he replaced it.
No future in looking at dirty pictures, he thought consumed with disgust. The candle was guttering now. He blew out the flame, then lay back, the familiar ache in his loins.
What a lucky man Andr`e is. Obviously he has a mistress. That must be marvelous, if even half of what he says is true.
I wonder if I could get one too? Could I buy a contract? Andr`e said many here do, and rent private little houses in the Yoshiwara that can be secret and discreet if you wish: "It's rumored all the Ministers possess one, Sir William certainly goes there at least once a week--he thinks no one knows but everyone spies him and laughs--but not the Dutchman who's impotent, according to rumor, and the Russian who openly prefers to sample different houses..."
Should I risk it, if I could afford it? After all, Andr`e gave me a very special reason: "To learn Japanese quickly, Monsieur, acquire a sleeping dictionary--it's the only way."
But his last thought before sleep overwhelmed him was: I wonder why Andr`e was so kind to me, so voluble. Rare for a Frenchman to be so open with an Englishman. Very rare. And strange that he never mentioned Angelique once...
It was just before dawn. Ori and Hiraga, again in all-encompassing ninja clothes, came out of their hiding place in the temple grounds overlooking the Legation and ran silently down the hill, across the wooden bridge and into an alley, down it and into another. Hiraga led. A dog saw them, growled, moved into their path and died. The deft short arc of Hiraga's sword was instantaneous and he hurried onwards with the blade unsheathed, hardly missing a step, ever deeper into the city. Ori followed carefully. Today his wound had begun to fester.
In the lee of a hut on a protected corner, Hiraga stopped. "It's safe here, Ori!" he whispered.
Hastily both men slipped out of their ninja clothes and stuffed them into the soft bag Hiraga carried slung on his back, replacing them with nondescript kimonos. With great care Hiraga cleansed his sword using a piece of silk cloth, carried for that purpose by all swordsmen to protect their blades, then sheathed it. "Ready?"
"Yes."
Again he led onwards into the maze, surefooted, staying under cover where he could, hesitating at every open space until he was sure they were safe, seeing no one, meeting no one, then pressed on, heading for their safe house.
They had been watching the Legation since early morning, the bonzes--the Buddhist priests-- pretending not to notice them, once they were sure the two men were not thieves and Hiraga had identified himself and their purpose: to spy on the gai-jin. All bonzes were fanatically xenophobic and anti-gai-jin, to them synonymous with Jesuit, still their most hated and feared enemy.
"Ah, you are shishi, then you are both welcome," the old monk had said. "We have never forgotten Jesuits ruined us, or that the Toranaga Shoguns are our scourge."