The Last Concubine (10 page)

The lady of the side chamber! Just the previous day, she would never have aspired even to look on such a grand personage as the shogun. Now it was over, that experience she had dreaded so much. She could hardly believe it had really happened. As the maids fussed around her, she sat in a dream. She tried to picture His Majesty’s – Kiku-
sama
’s – smile, his sparkling eyes, his white skin, his hands. But already the image was fading. The more she tried to hold on to it, the more it slipped away.

All day long the ladies of the castle swept in and out. At midday the seven elders swirled in with a swish of silk and disappeared into the princess’s audience chamber. The heavy scent of their robes lingered, perfuming the air. Puffs of smoke came wafting out from their tiny long-stemmed pipes. The shadows were gathering and the sultry heat had become bearable by the time Lady Tsuguko emerged. The ladies-in-waiting clustered round. She addressed Sachi directly.

‘You will sleep in my chamber now,’ she announced in her grandest tones, ‘not with the maids. Of course, if you have a child you will receive your own room, with a staff of four maids and three dressers. You will be given a monthly salary in rice and gold
ryo
sufficient to feed and pay them. You will also receive a clothing allowance and grants of lamp oil, soy bean paste, salt and firewood for heating the bathwater. If you have a child, your family too will be given honours. Your father will be promoted and will be awarded a good stipend. I will personally make sure that all this comes to pass. His Majesty too will protect you and ensure that your family is suitably honoured.’

After the evening meal, while the maids were clearing away the trays of small dishes, sweeping the rooms and laying out bedding for the night, Sachi sat down and began a letter to her mother and father. Ever since she had arrived at the palace, she had not had time to write to them at all, neither had they written to her. Her father, she knew, prided himself on his writing skills. After all, he was the village headman. And although her mother couldn’t write, she could always call on him or on the village priest, the local scribe, to write for her. Perhaps they thought themselves too humble now that she had become a great lady; or perhaps they were not even sure what had become of her.

Sachi picked up a brush, chose a plain paper of mulberry bark, sat down with a candle at her elbow and began to write as simply as possible, forming the letters carefully in her childish handwriting.

‘Greetings,’ she wrote. ‘I trust you are taking good care of yourselves in this humid weather. Here in the palace gardens the irises are in full bloom. I am well. I have been working hard, pursuing my studies. I try my best not to bring shame on you. Don’t worry about me. They are taking good care of me here. I have recently been promoted. I am now a maid of the middle rank.’

As she thought of the tiled roofs of the village and the sun rising over the mountain, tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her painted cheeks. She could not bring herself to say more. She ended with conventional greetings then gave the letter to Taki. She had already requested that she be her personal maid, the official maid of honour to the new concubine.

Sachi took up her sewing but her thoughts were far away. In her mind she went over and over everything that had happened in the course of the night, trying to recall the shogun’s words, his gestures and his touch. Taki sat next to her in companionable silence, busy with her needle. After a while she turned her small pointed face towards Sachi, looked at her with her big eyes and asked in the tiniest, softest of whispers, ‘Was it terrible? Did it hurt? Was he . . . handsome?’

Sachi glanced around. The ladies-in-waiting were chatting loudly, busy with their sewing. They were doing their best to remain distant and aloof but every now and then one or other of
them shot a glance at her. She knew they too were bristling with curiosity. She thought of the shogun, of his soft white hands running across her body, and for a moment a ripple of those sensations he had awakened quivered in her stomach. She felt a surge of happiness at the memory of the night before and the knowledge that this youth – the greatest man in the realm – cared about her. Then she remembered that he was gone, she didn’t know for how long, and she was overwhelmed with sadness.

She met Taki’s eye and gave her a shaky smile. Taki smiled back. She understood everything Sachi wanted to tell her.

The maids had moved Sachi’s belongings into Lady Tsuguko’s chamber and laid out two sets of bedding on the dais. Compared to the cramped quarters where she had slept before, the room seemed frighteningly huge, full of lurking shadows and dark impenetrable corners. Sachi lay on her futon feeling small and lonely, listening to Lady Tsuguko’s regular breathing and the occasional rustle of Taki and the other maids turning in their sleep.

Then she felt a tug at the corner of her quilt. It was Taki. She crept quietly under the cover and curled up next to her. The two girls fell asleep with their thin white arms wrapped around each other.

The next day was the official naming ceremony. Afterwards Lady Tsuguko smiled at Sachi and said, ‘Come. We must conduct the ceremonial visits.’

Sachi bowed in silence. She had been thinking of nothing but that night with the shogun. But now she realized her new life as the lady of the side chamber was just beginning.

‘First we will pay our respects to the Retired One,’ Lady Tsuguko told her. ‘Remember that yesterday was yesterday and today is today. There is no need to be apprehensive.’

This time Sachi was at the front of the group that swished with slow deliberate steps along the shadowy corridors, escorted by a bevy of maids. Rain clattered on the tiled roof of the walkway as they crossed to a section of the palace she had never seen before. The oppressive heat had lifted a little and it was possible to breathe again. More corridors led to the Retired One’s
apartments, where maids scuttled before them, sliding open one set of doors after another. In each room a crowd of ladies-in-waiting knelt, bowing gracefully, manicured hands pressed to the rice-straw tatami. Sachi’s plain robes in the imperial style seemed sadly impoverished compared to their gorgeously dyed and embroidered garments.

As for the rooms, she had never before seen such opulence. The Retired One’s chambers made Princess Kazu’s seem quite threadbare. Even the tatami mats with their gold bindings were finer and softer than those in the princess’s apartments. Cabinets and shelves laden with writing boxes, tea ceremony utensils, mirror stands and cosmetic sets of the finest lacquerware were crammed along the walls. Embroidered kimonos, among them the magnificent one Fuyu had worn the previous day, hung over kimono racks. The folding screens that partitioned the rooms were painted with landscapes and designs of birds and flowers on a background of lustrous gold leaf and the alcoves were furnished with elegant flower arrangements, paintings and calligraphy. Even the handles and sheaths of the guards’ halberds were adorned with gold or mother-of-pearl.

Everything was almost too luxurious, too splendid. Even the incense which suffused the air was a little too heavy.

The Retired One was awaiting them in the innermost room, surrounded by attendants. Fuyu was among them, kneeling close beside the great lady. Beneath her cowl the Retired One was wearing a pale silk kimono with a design of wisteria, quite unbecoming for one who had taken holy orders. Her perfectly proportioned face was carefully arranged into the blandest, most innocent of smiles, as if there was nothing she could dream of that could give her greater pleasure than to see Sachi. Sachi bowed to the ground. She was trembling with nervousness.

‘So this is the new concubine,’ said the Retired One in her deep, vibrant tones, inclining her head graciously. ‘Welcome, my dear. The gods have smiled on you. You have found favour with my son. We all pray that you will bear him an heir.’

Sachi had thought the all-powerful Retired One would ignore her and address her remarks to Lady Tsuguko or at the very least communicate through her chief lady-in-waiting. She had certainly
not expected her to speak to her directly. She prostrated in silence. The Retired One’s smile was even more terrifying than her scowl and there was a distinct hint of malice in those unfathomable black eyes.

‘But I am afraid, Lady Tsuguko, that your protégée may not be comfortable here,’ the great lady went on smoothly. ‘Our life is rather poor. She is used to the far greater luxury of Her Imperial Highness’s quarters. I am sorry that I will have to deprive her of the comforts she enjoys there.’

With a shock Sachi realized what she meant. As the shogun’s concubine, she was now officially the Retired One’s daughter-inlaw. It was a harsh enough fate to be the daughter-in-law of a peasant, let alone the daughter-in-law of such a woman. Not only that, she was a daughter-in-law of far lower status than the shogun’s wife, Princess Kazu. Would she really be required to live in the Retired One’s quarters and obey her every whim? She quailed. The attendants tittered sycophantically. Amongst the laughter she could pick out Fuyu’s mocking tones. The Retired One was playing with her, like a cat plays with a mouse.

‘This unworthy creature is very sensible of your kindness in recognizing her new status,’ said Lady Tsuguko dryly, ‘but she is, as you know, the property of Her Imperial Highness. I will not impose upon your generosity by forcing her upon you. We are unendingly grateful for your condescension.’

Sachi did not relax until they had backed out of the last of the Retired One’s chambers, bowing profusely with every step.

‘Lady Tensho-in’s apartments are magnificent, are they not?’ said Lady Tsuguko with a curl of her aristocratic lip, once they were safely in the corridors again. ‘Almost excessively so, one might say. When Her Imperial Highness came as His Majesty’s bride, Lady Tensho-in refused to move to the widows’ quarters in the west citadel. She insisted on remaining in the apartments designated for His Majesty’s consort. Thanks to her machinations Her Highness was allocated servants’ quarters in which to live. Servants’ quarters! The shame of it! Can you imagine? That is why our rooms are so humiliatingly crowded and dark. Her Highness has two hundred and eighty ladies-in-waiting and each of us has staff and we are all expected to fit into one small wing.
Now perhaps you begin to understand the bad blood between Lady Tensho-in and Her Highness.’

Sachi had never heard her speak so fiercely before. They padded along in silence for a while.

‘If you have a child you will find the Retired One shows quite a different face,’ said Lady Tsuguko after some time. ‘But now we will visit the Dowager Lady Honju-in. She will wish to be your friend.’

Lady Honju-in’s apartments were deep inside the palace where only the occasional ray of sunlight ever penetrated. When Sachi’s eyes became used to the gloom, she saw that they were passing through a labyrinth of rooms even more sumptuous than the Retired One’s. An army of aged ladies-in-waiting knelt in greeting. Finally they reached the innermost room where, in the midst of heaps of treasures, a tiny imperious figure knelt very upright on a dais with her elbow on an armrest. Her small white face peered out of the shadowy folds of her cowl, illuminated by the flicker of the lantern which burned beside her. Sachi had never seen anyone so old.

‘What a pretty face!’ Lady Honju-in wheezed, stretching out a small finger to brush Sachi’s cheek. Her skin was as fragile as a moth’s wing, like a membrane stretched across the bone. ‘Such a relief for us all that my grandson has taken a fancy to you. Such a difficult boy. We all hope and pray you will bear him a son.’

At the mention of the shogun Sachi felt her face blazing as hot as if Lady Honju-in had discovered some terrible secret she had been keeping hidden. Horrified, she kept her head bowed. Why were these great ladies speaking to her directly and even deigning to touch her? If only all the politeness and ceremonial could be over. The old woman chuckled.

‘When I came to this palace I was a young girl, as young as you, my dear,’ she went on. Her voice crackled like autumn leaves crunching underfoot. ‘Do you know what I used to do? I used to help out in the altar room and the kitchens. I was pretty then. At that time Lord Ieyoshi – Toshi-
sama
, I used to call him – was the heir to the throne. His father, Lord Ienari, was shogun still – now that was a man! He knew how to make children. Fifty-three he
had. Let me see now. There was Princess Toshi – that was long before my time; then a daughter – she lived three days . . .’

She listed all fifty-three, one by one, counting them off on her fingers.

‘Then there was Princess Yasu. She was the last one. That was when the old man was nearly sixty. What a man! Women, men – even dogs, I heard. He bestowed his seed far and wide.

‘Anyway, one day Lord Ieyoshi saw me. The old man had his eye on me too, but he let Lord Ieyoshi have me. And that was it. The next thing I knew, I was a concubine. In those days there were plenty of us. Some had babies, some didn’t. But mostly the babies died. I was young and vigorous, like you. They tell me you’re a peasant, so you must be more vigorous even than I was!’

She gave a wheezing cackle like ancient bellows opening and closing. Then she peered at Sachi, her black eyes glittering. Sachi started as the old woman clamped a withered hand on her arm.

‘It’s very hard to be a concubine, my dear,’ she said. ‘Look at you, so young, so glowing, those pretty eyes shining. Try and remember that you are only one of many – if not now, then soon enough. You are only a womb for hire. Never forget that. That is woman’s lot.’

Sachi felt a shiver run down her spine.

‘You will never be a samurai but you can at least try to live like one. You must learn to hide your feelings, your happiness as well as your sadness – even from yourself. Learn to be strong. Few people in the great interior will ever have any idea how you feel. But I do. Come and see me when you feel sad.

‘The gods favoured me,’ she went on dreamily. ‘My boy, my first son, Masanosuké, lived. I was in my fifteenth year. My other sons died, everyone else’s sons died – but he lived. He was a darling boy, like a child his whole life. Everyone died and died, so many people died. Then Lord Ieyoshi died and Masa became shogun. Just think! My boy, my little son, became Lord Iesada, the thirteenth shogun! Then even darling Masa died. How I wept! It’s a terrible thing to attend the funeral of your own child.