Dream of a Spring Night (Hollow Reed series) (22 page)

When the maid woke her, Toshiko took a moment to peer into her mirror.
 
The flame of the single candle flickered, but she was satisfied that her make-up was still in place and her hair tidy.
 
Nearby, bedclothes rustled and pale faces materialized in the gloom.
 
Someone whispered a question, but nobody wanted to leave the warm cocoon of bedding.
 
It was bitterly cold this time of night.
 

The maid helped Toshiko with her costume and arranged her long hair, and then Toshiko snatched up her notes and tripped down the long corridor to the emperor’s room.
 
A servant opened the door for her.

Toshiko was still drowsy from sleep.
 
It took her a moment to realize that she had not been called to assist with His Majesty’s song collection.
 
The large room was dim.
 
Only one lamp was lit inside the curtained dais where bedding had been spread.
 
This single light had the effect of making the gauze draperies translucent and giving the raised dais an importance that imbued it with an almost numinous quality.
 
It reminded her of an altar table in a dark temple hall.
 

Confused, she stopped to look for Otomae — or anyone.
 
But the dark room was empty except for the Emperor.
 
Gone were the many lights, the desk,
his
scattered papers.
 
The painted screens had been moved and now partially surrounded the massive curtained dais.
 
She had stepped into another world. Behind her the door closed softly.
 

The emperor was in undress, wearing a loose white silk robe somewhat resembling a shrine priest’s robe.
 
He came toward her, his hands outstretched in welcome.
 

“Come,” he said with a smile.

She felt a moment’s panic — as if there were still time or choice to turn and run, to keep running, out of the palace and away from the capital, all the way home, to her family, her horses, her childhood — but there was no escape from this dream.

“Come here, Princess Moon,” the Emperor said more urgently.
 
“Do not turn down my invitation like that other shining lady.”
 
His voice and eyes caressed her.

She saw and heard only kindness and a fervent plea.
 
Those who are very lonely respond to another’s loneliness with a surge of sympathy.
 
Toshiko gathered her skirts and ran to him.

He took her hand and led her up the steps to the curtained dais.
 
Lifting the curtain and taking the notes from her feeble hand, he put them aside and invited her to sit.
 
Then he poured some wine for her.
 

The curtained dais was like a small, cozy room, its ceiling a silken canopy embroidered with the sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum, emblem of the imperial house, its walls the heavy pale gold draperies that could be raised or lowered with wide brocade bands of a deep purple.
 
The bedding was thick and soft and the color of ripened rice plants.
 
An ornate lantern hung suspended from the canopy and cast its soft light on her crimson trousers.
 
All beyond was in darkness.

The emperor took her hands, telling her that they were cold and that she looked frozen.
 
She realized that she was shivering and tried to suppress the tremor.
 
He pulled a brazier closer,
then
seated himself next to her.
 
His hands reached for hers again and pressed them to his warm face.
 
He kissed her palms,
then
leaned toward her to murmur something that she did not understand because the blood was pounding in her ears.
 
She was afraid to speak in case her teeth would chatter and did not know what to do, so she simply smiled at him.
 
After a moment of looking at her, he knelt and reached for her feet, removing her white silk socks and warming and stroking her naked feet with his hands.
 
She gasped at his touch, not sure if from shame or pleasure.

In a little while, he poured more wine, for both of them.
 
She drank and felt the warmth begin inside, felt her tension melting.
 
He told her that she was as beautiful as that other shining
girl, that
Moon Princess found in a hollow reed.
 
And when she stopped shivering, he removed her jacket and then untied her sash.
 

It is a powerfully symbolic gesture, this untying of a maiden’s sash by a man.
 
It signifies the ultimate invasion of her privacy, and if permitted, a surrender of her will and individuality.
 
But his touch was gentle, and she was grateful for his concern with her comfort.
 
She said so, simply, and then took his hands and bent her face into them in humble surrender to his love.

What followed in due course was well understood by a girl who had been raised in the country and who had received certain instructions from her mother.
 
Nevertheless the act came as a surprise, and not an entirely pleasant one.
 
Discomfort soon penetrated the dreamlike trance in which she had accepted him and had allowed him the most intimate exploration of her body.
 
She felt his mouth and the moistness of his tongue on her tongue, tasting of wine and honey sweetness and herbs once smelled in a mountain meadow, but also of his all too human breath.
 
Her body melted at his touch until he pushed her down and crushed her with his weight, and she felt his heat and sweat, and his body forced the breath out of her until she thought she would surely die.
 
Then pain broke through the last illusions, and she came fully awake.
 

With that awakening arrived the knowledge that she was caught and defeated, and that he was no longer gentle and comforting, but absorbed in his victory, in his own pleasure, and uncaring of her.
 
When he shifted his weight for a more forceful onslaught, she caught her breath and closed her eyes.
 
It had to be borne, and surely there were many worse things to be suffered in life.
 

And then finally, after what seemed an eternity, he gasped, stopped moving, and rolled off her body.
 
Feeling beaten and bruised, she curled up into as small a shape as she could.

After a moment, he laughed softly and said, “I must thank that doctor -- and you, of course, my dear.”

She was confused.
 
He could not mean her doctor.
 
Perhaps he had been ill.
 
He was no longer very young.
 
Pity returned, and she sat up, pulling her clothes around her to cover her nakedness, her wounded body.
 
She did not look at him — not because she blamed him for what he had done to her, but because it was surely not right to look at an emperor’s nakedness, even when he stared at one’s own.
 
She could feel his eyes on her like probing fingers and blushed hotly.
 

What had happened was meant to happen.
 
It was what her parents wanted and what she had hoped and worked for.
 
Back in the women’s quarters, others were lying awake, wishing they were in her place.
 
This was her triumph, but she felt used and dirty and was filled with shame.

Since last night there is no longer any doubt of it:
 
the Oba girl has succeeded where better women have failed.
 
Alas, there comes a time in a man’s life when he has an excessive fondness for youth and low life, and she combines both.
 
It will not last, of course.
 
Our lives are but bubbles in a flowing stream.
 
I trust that soon she will be gone “like the swift waters of the Asuka river, never to return.”
 

The New Year is drawing close, and since Her Majesty’s visit has brought this quiet place to the attention of the great world, the girl’s good fortune went almost unnoticed.
 
I can see she does not like that.
 
She mopes around and hardly eats anything.
 
If I did not know better, I would think she was pregnant.

This reminds me that Her Majesty needs to be informed of the event before she leaves us for the splendid Sanjo Palace, where she will reside with the little Crown Prince.
 
Ah, I wish I could go with them, but my duty is here.
 
I shall tell her, “May the sun shine on Your Majesty and His Highness from cloudless skies, as I grieve the parting from afar — now that another has found favor with His Majesty.”

Then we shall see.

As I said, the girl keeps much to herself in a tiny room under the eaves where no one ever goes, but I watch her even more closely now.
 
Both Their Majesties will expect to be informed at the first sign of pregnancy . . . or misbehavior.
 

It must be said that shockingly little effort has been made to guard against the latter.
 
She continues to live here with the other ladies in spite of the fact that male visitors are allowed.
 
It must mean that His Majesty does not intend to acknowledge a child by her.
 
Her Majesty made certain of that when she asked him publicly if he intended to move her to different quarters.
 
It was most elegantly done.
 
He was too embarrassed to admit his lapse to his lawful spouse, the mother of the Crown Prince, not to mention to her attendants.
 
But there is always the danger that he may change his mind after Her Majesty leaves us.
 
I must act quickly.

Fortunately, we have attracted the attention of the young bucks, and gossip about the imperial bedchamber travels quickly.
 
It won’t be any time at all before the young men will try their luck with the new favorite.
 
Since she has already shown a very common tendency toward flirtation, it should not be long before she will be caught in an impropriety.
  

With the first warm weather of spring, the shutters will be open, and young men (and old fools, too) will sit on the long veranda to try to catch glimpses of us.
 
It is enough just to show a sleeve or a bit of our train; they dream the rest.
 
One dark night the first brave man will lift the shade and slip inside.
 
Then silks will rustle, voices murmur, warm breaths mingle, and the heated blood will have its way until dawn makes the visitor hurry away.
 
This was always the way of it in the imperial palace, and my ladies know it and are all quite cheerfully looking forward to the New Year.

 
Truly, there is something indescribably romantic about waiting for a lover in the dark, hoping that each soft step and rustling silk will bring him to one’s side.
 
It has an element of mystery, because sometimes he is not the one expected, and sometimes a particularly attractive man may make a mistake and surprise one.
 
A well-mannered gentleman never admits this but treats the lady with the same consideration he would have shown his beloved.
 

How amusing to arrange for such a mistake!
 
(I refer, of course, to my younger years, though I am by no means past such adventures.
 
In the dark, all bodies are soft and yielding, and the scent of cherry blossoms carries even into the farthest corners.)
 

This sort of behavior is, of course, not permitted to someone who attends His Majesty’s bedchamber.
 
How truly shocking, if Lady Toshiko were to have an unexpected visitor!
 
No doubt, she would submit quietly, hoping the visitor would leave unnoticed and “silent as a grebe on a winter marsh.”
 

The thought of it makes me quite warm.

On another note: I have finally decided to do without the plums when I see His Majesty.
 
They interfere with my speech, and the last time he did not seem pleased with my appearance.
 
In fact, the day he paid us that unexpected visit in Her Majesty’s quarters, he saw me without them and seemed more taken with me than ever.
 
He paid me the most flattering attention after I ventured to ask him to explain something in a book he had brought.
 
(A reminder: Men like to be consulted).
 
Perhaps there is no need to improve on what I am.
 
A certain maturity can enhance a woman’s natural beauty.
 
As soon as he can be brought to see what sort of person the girl is, he will surely come to his senses.

Ah, spring!
 
And, “Oh, to lose my way among the falling cherry blossoms!”