The host blanched a little and said nervously, “No need to explain, brother. Whatever it is you’re doing, I wish you luck! We all have our secrets. Just remember not to offend Miss Plumblossom. She’s been keeping her eyes open since the trouble and will have your balls if you so much as smile at her girls. Her place is behind the Temple of the War God, two streets back from the river. You can’t miss it.”
“What trouble?” Tora asked.
“You haven’t heard? Some bastard’s been cutting up whores. Miss Plumblossom took one of ‘em in. They say she looks worse than a monkey, now her nose is gone and her mouth’s been rearranged. What a woman that Miss Plumblossom is! What a soft heart!” The Bull cast up his eyes and sighed in admiration. Tora thought it more likely that the lady needed a cheap maid.
One of the laborers suddenly found his tongue and cried, “A devil did that! The devils are loose at night. One of ‘em tried to do the same thing to me. I only got away because I have an amulet and called on the Buddha.” He reached into his ragged jacket and pulled out a filthy, odorous bag which was tied around his neck.
Tora suppressed a shudder. “Thanks for the wine, Bull, but I’d better go. Looks like the streets aren’t too safe after dark.”
Outside, the wind caught at his robe, and something moist and soft touched his face. He blinked against the light of a swinging lantern. In its golden aura danced the first snowflakes of the year.
He found Miss Plumblossom’s establishment easily enough, though it did not look much like a brothel. The building was a long, low structure like a warehouse. It had solid plaster walls and a wooden roof held in place with large rocks. He stood for a few minutes deciphering the sign above the door. Even his untutored eye saw that the lettering was elegant. “Training Hall of Celestial Grace. Miss Plumblossom, Proprietess.” What a joke! It certainly sounded like no brothel he had ever visited. Light came from behind the bars of two small windows high up, and he could hear muffled thumps, shouts, and grunts. Perhaps the place offered some novel sexual pleasures, and he was definitely not averse to learning new things.
Tora grinned and applied the wooden clapper vigorously to the brass gong which swung from a hook next to the door. It emitted a pleasant clear sound, and the door was flung open from inside.
He stepped into a dim entry. Through a half-open inner door, he could see a segment of a brightly lit room which had a wooden floor with some thick grass mats on it. Suddenly some female flitted past the opening. She seemed to be naked. Then another girl passed and the first one returned with a bounce. Tora swallowed hard. He was by no means easily impressed by the sexual pleasures normally available in the capital, but now he wondered what services these two might be expected to render and felt warm under the collar.
A cracked voice broke into his erotic imaginings. “How may we serve the gentleman?”
Tora took his eye off the cracked door and looked down. An ancient man was closing the outer door against the snow and peered up at him.
“I was told,” Tora croaked, “that Miss Plumblossom… er… entertains … that is, actors come here from time to time?”
“So they do. And other gentlemen, too. Miss Plumblossom’s name is well-known in the profession. And what might the gentleman’s preference be? Something acrobatic? Perhaps the gentleman prefers to engage in the masculine sport of swordplay? Or halberds?”
Tora glanced toward the lit room. He could imagine the acrobatics of lovemaking, but swords and halberds? Perhaps this research would necessitate certain expenditures. “Would it be all right to have a look before I decide?” he asked the old man.
“Certainly. Please enter!” The old man flung the inner door wide and preceded him. He hobbled to a bench against the wall next to the entrance and sat down, inviting Tora to join him. “I shall be happy to answer the gentleman’s questions,” he offered.
Tora stopped just inside the room, his jaw sagging with surprise. He had expected to walk into a small reception area where the girls displayed themselves to the customers. In fact he was in a huge training hall. And he saw now that the tumbling young women wore loincloths and that they practiced with young men in similar undress. The agile youngsters were working out on the mats, bouncing, rolling, jumping over and under each other, the men tossing the women into the air and catching them. Their movements were so skillful and continuous that there seemed to be nothing but bobbing breasts and twisting buttocks in sight. Tora slowly backed toward the bench and sank down, his fascinated gaze on the acrobats. After a while, he managed to separate the flying bodies into three young men and two young women and realized his mistake. This was no brothel, but a training hall for acrobats and entertainers.
There were others in the room, more conservatively dressed. In one corner, an old man sat cross-legged on the floor, beating a small drum, while two very pretty young women in silk dresses swayed in elegant dance steps. In another corner, two men were engaged in a mock sword fight, accompanying their lunges and feints with hideous shouts. Tora shook his head at such unmilitary behavior, and then looked toward the back of the room. A wrestling bout seemed in progress, though his view of the contestants was blocked by some onlookers. Then he got his next surprise. A large chair, like an abbot’s, had been placed on a raised dais and on it sat the fat woman from the restaurant, all glossy black silk and red ribbons.
Tora gasped, “Who the devil’s that?”
“Miss Plumblossom. Giving some pointers to the wrestlers. Very fond of wrestling, is our Miss Plumblossom. Never misses a contest, though she’s an acrobat herself, of course.”
Tora was trying to digest that piece of information when Miss Plumblossom suddenly leaned forward and cried, “Open your hands, Master Denchichi! No punching! Ah! Very good, Master Genba! Haven’t seen that particular hold for years.”
At first Tora thought he had misheard, but just then the onlookers started applauding and he could see the wrestlers. And there stood Genba, stripped to his loincloth and grinning inanely at Miss Plumblossom, while his opponent picked himself up off the floor.
TWELVE
The Prisoner
Tamako rarely entered her husband’s room while he was at work, and Akitada glanced up in surprise from the family accounts when he heard her voice. She hovered at the door, after saying softly, “Forgive me for interrupting you, but there is a small matter on which I would like your advice.”
Seimei rose from his papers, bowed to both of them, and left the room. Akitada looked after him unhappily. Their relationship had been strained since he had discovered that Seimei had concealed his parentage from him all these years. Seimei was aware of his coolness and bore it with a sad resignation, but Akitada chafed under the bitter resentment bottled up inside himself. He wished he could talk about it with Tamako, but with her fondness for Seimei she would urge him to put the matter from his mind. Easier said than done!
He watched her sit down across from him. She looked very elegant in the dark blue silk robe which showed only the narrowest band of her white silk undergown at the wrists and neck. When she had adjusted her trailing skirts and raised her eyes to his, he gave her a smile of affection. “The gown suits you,” he said softly. “Even better than the one I took off you last night.” He watched the rosy blush rise from her neck to her face, wondering why she did not smile. He caressed her face with his eyes, urging it into joy. Her eyes were clear and steady, like shining jewels set into the translucent skin, but the soft, pink lower lip trembled. He cocked his head. “I think,” he murmured, “you must be growing more beautiful with every year.”