They all laughed as they moved into the garden, where a beautiful old koto and a second slightly larger one lay side by side on a raised platform.
Do you also play? she said, turning to Father Lamer-eaux.
In music, he answered, God has given me the ears of an angel and the hands of an ape. As a child I was so clumsy on the scales the piano had to be moved out to the barn.
Then you play, she said, turning to Adzhar, who gaily held up his stubby fingers in front of his face.
With these? There have been too many nails in my life, too many blows from the hammer. I have a soul but alas, I was born the son of a shoemaker and a shoemaker’s hands can’t make that kind of music.
And so? she said, turning to the General’s brother.
When I was young, he answered, my mother and I used to play every day on these two instruments. You’ll forgive me, but I’ve been told how well you play and I thought that perhaps today, for a minute or two, you would join me. Will you?
She bowed stiffly, color in her face, the first time she had known embarrassment with a man since she was a girl of eight. Rabbi Lotmann showed her to her place and she sat down beside him. She struck a chord, he answered her.
The recital lasted until the shadows of the pine trees beyond the garden reached across the platform. Nor was it merely an afternoon of music wherein the former Baron Kikuchi and the mistress of the present Baron Kikuchi touched the strings of their separate memories, for as the gaunt face of Father Lamereaux swayed gravely with the flowers, the fourth member of the musicale recited a tale, sang an epic poem he had learned somewhere in his travels.
The short old man with the exotic name spoke of wonders and miracles and voyages beneath the sea. He told of the adventures of a boy who was carried on a dolphin’s back to the emerald kingdom, where the boy met a princess who described the enchanted life that would be his if he remained there. But the boy elected to return home; he waved to the princess and rose above the waves again, waved to the dolphin and walked along the beach to find the trees moved, the houses gone, the familiar paths now leading elsewhere because one day on the dolphin’s back in the emerald kingdom was the same as one hundred years on earth.
Or was it a dolphin? ended Adzhar. Have I been bewitched by my own tale and confused my creatures? Let me ponder for a moment and make sure I have it right. Yes, I’m certain of it now. It wasn’t a dolphin at all. Wait.
They waited, the rabbi and Mama playing their music, the Jesuit nodding amid the flowers. Adzhar was staring at the small gold cross that hung from Mama’s neck, studying it as he had been all afternoon while recounting his verses. Now she looked up from her koto and their eyes met. He smiled and she returned it, plucked a string, knew exactly what his next words would be.
A dragon, announced Adzhar. Dolphins exist and dragons don’t. Of course it had to be a dragon.
They played the last chords. She said good-bye to Adzhar and Father Lamereaux in the garden and walked together with Rabbi Lotmann to her car. By the gate he stopped.
Today, he said, you reminded me of the Baroness. When she married my father she was about the same age you were when you met my brother. Did you know he came to me three years ago to talk to me about marrying you? He was very disturbed that day but not about you, it was something else that bothered him. Shall I tell you about it?
If you wish, she said.
Yes, I’d like to. He spent the weekend here. On Sunday afternoon I played the koto for him and then it was time for him to return to Tokyo. It was December and we had snow that year, if you remember. It was snowing that afternoon. Ever since he had returned from his tour of duty in Shanghai I had been aware that he always wore a small gold cross around his neck. Before he gave it to you, as you know, he kept it hidden under his uniform, but when he was staying with me and wearing a kimono he made no effort to hide it. I had never asked him about the cross and he never mentioned it, but when I saw it was gone that weekend I suspected he might have something to tell me. When I finished playing he didn’t move, so I sat at the instrument and waited.
I have to leave, he said.
I nodded.
It was a lovely weekend, he said in a low voice. I always enjoy the few hours I can spend here with you. It’s a good life you’ve made for yourself. Does the translation go well?
Yes.
And your health is the same?
Yes. I take my injections.
Of course, we do what we have to do. That’s what she taught us, after all, by performing the tea ceremony, turning the bowls at sunset. We do what we have to do.
I waited. He hadn’t had a headache all weekend and I could see he was worried he might have one now, before he could say what he wanted to say. But some things can’t be hurried. We’ve always been very close, the two of us, even though we seldom discuss personal matters. It’s the way it was in our family, I suppose. When I wrote to him from Jerusalem that I was converting to Judaism, he never asked me to explain myself although it naturally meant trouble for him in the army. He would have to work twice as hard in order to make up for having a brother who had embraced a Western religion, and not only embraced it but been ordained a teacher. Still he never questioned what I had done. His answer was to congratulate me and wish me happiness.
The tea ceremony, he repeated now. She turned the bowl three times because that’s the way it’s done. Well, brother, there are three of us again.
I’m glad, I said. Who is this woman you love?
She’s from a peasant family in the Tohoku.
They know a hard life.
She’s nearly thirty years younger than I am. She was a prostitute.
No matter.
From childhood and for many years.
No matter.
She’s known ten thousand men.
The number of creatures placed on earth by the Lord. In that case she understands many things and can love you well.
I’ve thought of asking her to marry me.
If you asked her, of course she would because she loves you, but is that best? She would be doing it only for your sake. If anything happens to you in the army the lands in the north would become her responsibility. Is it fair to make her the Baroness who owns the lands of the tenant farmers from whom she came?
I think not.
Rabbi Lotmann paused. He looked in silence at Mama for a moment.
That was as far as we got that afternoon. A headache struck him and he could say no more. I helped him into his car and he left. Do you remember that soon after that, in January 1932, he was away for a few weeks?
Yes, she answered.
Did he tell you where he went?
No.
It was Shanghai. A cousin of ours who lived in Shanghai was killed while he was there. It was an accident that he was killed but not an accident that he was attacked. My brother gave the orders, acting on higher orders. That was what he meant that day in December when he kept referring to doing what had to be done. He was thinking about that special assignment in Shanghai the following month. He wanted to tell me about it but couldn’t because of the headache.
I don’t understand. Surely he could have refused the assignment or even stopped it by saying a cousin of his was involved.
It seems to me he could and that’s what worries me.
Did he tell you about this later?
No. I suppose that after it was over he didn’t want to talk about it. I know about it because of the nature of his work, and because he had gone to Shanghai secretly, and because of the circumstances of what happened there.