Shame of Man (39 page)

Hyu slept on the ship. It was uncomfortable and exposed, but this was his role; if he left it, something might happen to it, and the blame would be his by definition. The others had more comfortable lodging on the shore.

As he lay and looked at the stars, analyzing the constellations, he heard something. He did not move; instead he oriented on the sound, ready to act if he had to, though he did not know what he might do. It seemed to be a person, but not Captain Itti or one of the officials, because they would come boldly with lights. This one was trying to be quiet, and had no light, so
was stumbling a bit as he moved. A slave? What could he want? There was nothing to steal, and everyone knew that Hyu was here.

The steps came up to the ship and paused. Then the figure spoke. “Hyu.”

Hyu was surprised. It was a woman! One of the female slaves. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Do you not know me?” she asked. “I am Lee.”

The name stirred a faint familiarity, but he couldn't place it. “I know you are one of the six beautiful virgin slaves destined for the emperor of China. I don't know any of your names.”

“You played music at my village when I was a child. We have a distant family connection. I fell in love with you, but you had no interest. When my family later fell into misfortune, they had to sell me into slavery. Because I turned beautiful as I matured, I fetched a good price.”

What was this? “You know me from before the taint on my name?”

“Yes. And before the ruin of my own family. I was thrilled when I saw you with this voyage. We have much in common.”

This was mischief. But he did not want to jump to an awkward conclusion. “What is your purpose in coming here to the ship?”

“Just to talk with you. To let you know that I still desire you.”

So he had not misunderstood. “I am the keeper of taboos. I may not touch a woman during this mission.”

“Who would know?”

“The spirits would know! They would destroy the mission.”

“Oh, who believes that nonsense? Nobody cares as long as the forms are followed. Let me come aboard and show you what I have learned beyond dancing.”

The irony was that he did not believe that his role would have any effect on the mission. It would succeed or fail as it was destined to, and his reward or punishment would follow because of no credit or fault of his own. But he had undertaken to fulfill this role, and intended to do so. Since Lee obviously had no such concern, he gave her a different negation. “The emperor would know.”

She laughed. “The emperor will never see any of us. We'll be taken by his lower officers. In any event, none of us are true virgins; it's merely a role we play, as you play yours. We are simply beautiful girls to be enjoyed. Everyone knows that. But seldom do we have opportunity to be enjoyed by one we really like.”

Hyu had not known what she claimed everyone did, and distrusted it. But he was not in a position to refute it. So he gave his real reason. “I am married.”

“I know. And you have no second wife. But you can have me for this journey—a temporary second wife, until we separate.”

She was determined! But he had experienced an affair with some disturbingly similar elements, and been disgusted. He wanted no more of it. “I agree you are beautiful, and that you would surely be a delightful partner. But I took an oath to fulfill my role in this mission, and I shall do it. Please go quietly back to your associates and speak no more of this.” He was being careful not to offend her, because he knew that an angry woman could cause as much mischief as a loving one.

“But there is so little time,” she protested. “Only this night, and tomorrow, and perhaps another. Then we shall never meet again, and I will have lost my only chance to embrace the man I love.”

She sounded so winsome that he was tempted in spite of his resolve. But he knew better than to yield. “I regret causing you distress. But so it must be. Leave me now.”

She began to cry, but he remained firm. Finally she departed. He lay back again and stared at the stars, feeling like a fool. Perhaps it was a construction of his imagination, but he seemed almost to remember an association with her before, with her offering him devotion and sex, and him declining. But it surely hadn't happened in this life! Finally he succeeded in sleeping.

Early in the morning the trip resumed. This time the winds were contrary, but the sailors made the best of it, sailing slantwise, one direction and then another, and managed to reach the next island by nightfall.

Again the others camped on land, while Hyu remained on the boat. Again the slave girl Lee came to beseech his interest. And again he turned her down, politely.

On the third day they made it to the mainland. There was a party there to meet them. They were guided to a town where they were given housing and required to wait while a messenger carried the news of the mission to the governor of the region, Liu Hsia.

In due course the governor's response came: bring the party to the capital. This was some distance away, necessitating several days of travel, but it turned out to be other than onerous, because the governor arranged for transportation. Now they rode in wagons instead of in the ship, with armed horsemen guarding them. Hyu wondered whether this was a show of honor, or a necessary precaution lest brigands attack, and concluded it was both.

There were no more nocturnal visits by the slave girl. Hyu knew why: the girls were now under the protection of the emperor of China, and were given no freedom to wander about by day or night. But he received an incidental additional insight on the matter from Captain Itti: “So you are constant, as I expected.”

“Constant?”

“You are taking your role seriously. You sent the girl away. Twice.”

“You knew of that?” Hyu asked, surprised.

“I should. I sent her to you.”

“But why?”

“We made a bet. The envoys thought you could be corrupted. I said you could not. They said that any man can be corrupted by sufficient temptation and sufficient secrecy. That is, if there is something he desires, and he can have it without others knowing, he will take it, regardless of his oaths. So we put it to the test. I am pleased to say that I won a considerable wager.”

Hyu was not completely pleased with this news. “You took a considerable risk! Suppose I had not been true to my vow? Not only would you have lost your wager, the mission itself would have been in peril.”

Itti shrugged. “I am a believer in the fates. I have not observed the wind to change at the behest of men, though there are those who choose to believe otherwise. Whatever will be, will be. But if you are truly an indication of the auspices for this mission, then its fate has already been set, and the best we can do is confirm it early. That is, if you can be corrupted, then the mission is doomed to fail anyway. If I knew that was the case, I would act to spare myself the consequence of that failure. Since you were true, the mission is presumed to be fated for success, and that is reassuring.”

“You believe that?”

Itti shrugged again. “The rationale will do until the confirmation. Meanwhile the others are reassured, and are proceeding with greater confidence.”

So there had been more riding on the slave girl's proposition than Hyu had guessed. Was it a valid indication? His doubt echoed the captain's doubt, but he had to agree that a reassured envoy was better than one who expected to fail. Meanwhile, neither of them would be speaking of this matter elsewhere, and surely the envoys would beep the secret also.

But what of the girl, Lee? Now he knew that she had been put up to it—but would she have done it if he had agreed? What of his seeming memory of a prior encounter? Her statement that she had heard him play at her village, which he also seemed almost to remember? Were the spirits playing with him by providing a woman who really did like him, and a situation that would enable her to destroy him?

But if he believed that the spirits really were active here, then he had also to believe the certainty of his daughter Mini that the success of the mission was assured. That was more comforting.

By the time they reached the palace of the governor, swift messengers had evidently already carried the news farther, because not only did the
governor welcome the party, he had decided to accompany them to the Imperial capital himself. This meant a much farther journey, but it was also done in better style, for the governor was not one to allow himself to suffer the indignities of the open road. They rode in a caravan of closed coaches, with a small army of horsemen as guards. If there were any brigands in the area, they were careful to stay clear, because any attack on the governor's party would have been suicidal. At regular intervals they stopped for quite good meals, and always parked at night in protected camps.

However, Hyu himself did not have the best of it. The envoys explained his purpose, so he was tolerated, but he was largely confined to an isolated wagon where menial slaves congregated. He did not speak their language, but they took him for one of their kind, and treated him affably. On occasion he brought out his flute and played for them, and then they became quite pleasant; they seldom had entertainment of this level. He began to learn some of their words, so that the problem of communication diminished. When they learned his actual role, they thought it hilarious: he was actually of the elite class, being treated worse than a slave.

The journey north took a full month. Hyu saw the glittering curling roofs of the great city and its temple palaces, and wished he could inspect them closely, but only the envoys and their offerings were allowed to enter the city. In due course—after several days—the envoys returned without their offerings, but with a sealed scroll and some wrapped packages. They seemed pleased, but Hyu was not close enough to speak with them. Thus he remained in some doubt about the success of the mission, and his own fate.

Then something unexpected occurred. The chief envoy approached him. “The emperor has feted us in a manner beyond our expectation,” he said. “We find ourselves embarrassed to be unable to respond in kind. But you are a fine musician; we know your reputation, and we have heard you play.”

“I can not go near the emperor!” Hyu protested. “I must neither clean myself nor accept any benefit.”

“But it is in your interest to forward the success of our mission. We do not ask you to accept any reward, merely to give, so that we may leave the emperor without the shame of inadequacy.”

This made sense. “What do you wish me to give?”

“Your music. You must play your flute for the emperor.”

“But—”

“We will put you behind a curtain, so that his eyes need never be soiled by the sight of your squalor, and we will surround you with perfumes to cover your odor. You will not speak. You will only play. One melody.”

They had thought it through. “As you wish.”

They bundled Hyu in a voluminous cape, completely hiding him from the view of others, put him in a wagon that carried him to the palace, then guided him through the labyrinth of the royal demesnes to a chamber
formed of standing white panels. There they unwrapped him. The odor of perfume was so strong as to make him catch his breath. “On my signal,” the envoy said, standing at the angled entrance of the chamber.

Hyu stood with his flute. He glanced up, and saw the enormous vault of the palace ceiling, more elaborate and majestic than anything he had seen in Japan. Awed, he studied its intricate painted ridges and angles, becoming lost in the intricacies of the pattern.

“Hssst!”

Hyu was jolted out of his reverie. The envoy was making the signal. So he lifted his flute and began to play. But his eyes returned to the marvelous ceiling, whose wonders seemed endless.

The melody floated out, filling the small chamber, reaching up to caress the lovely ceiling. Hyu felt the echoes of that surface, and adjusted his style and beat to accommodate it. It became a collaboration, and the ceiling enhanced his quality of tone, making the melody more than it could ever have been alone. The faint reverberations surrounded him, and guided him, and he played as never before. He seemed to be floating amidst the music, breathing it, loving it.

Then it was done, and he had to stop. The melody was complete, and could not be extended; it established its own boundary. But it had been an experience he would never forget.

He waited for them to come with the cloak to take him away, but there was a pause. Then a panel lifted, silently, making a gap in the temporary wall the size of a door. Hyu looked through the hole that appeared, all but his eyes remaining still.

There sat a man who could be only the emperor, surrounded by his courtiers. He wore a bright yellow robe with a dark dragon embroidered on the chest. His head was covered by a simple cap that covered his hair. His eyes gazed straight at Hyu.

Hyu did not know what to do. Had someone made a mistake, and opened the wrong panel? He in his filth was not supposed to be revealed to the emperor! Yet here he was abruptly exposed. And no one was giving any indication of his proper response; it was as if the entire city were frozen.

Caught completely unprepared, Hyu could think of only one thing to do: pretend that all was in order. Slowly he bowed his head to the emperor, making a token obeisance to the lord of China, hoping that this act was not insulting in its presumption.

There was absolute silence. Then the emperor, expressionless, bowed his head in return.

The panel came down, separating them. Hyu was suitably isolated again, and free to move. He turned to look at the envoy—and caught him standing open-mouthed.

The trip back south took another month, and then several more days to the shore where their ship waited. They set off with a light cargo. Only then did Hyu get to speak again with Captain Itti. “The news is good. But we still must cross the sea. If a storm takes us out, all is lost.”

The news was good. Hyu felt substantial relief. But exactly how good was it? That, too, made a difference.

The captain did not leave him in doubt. “The emperor—you never saw such finery!—met the envoys personally. I was allowed only to the adjacent room, but I got a peek at him. He seemed quite touched by their message and gifts. He strikes me as a vain man, and such a compliment to his authority encouraged him to a generous response. He met with them, then retired for two days while they were treated sumptuously, then met with them again and gave them the scroll. And unless it says to behead them upon their return, it means the success of the mission. We should all benefit handsomely.”