by John Allyn
Hoshino arrived on schedule, fat and panting and leaving a trail of steam. Strangely, he was alone, although he usually traveled with a retinue of servants or a footman at the very least. He laboriously climbed down out of the palanquin and entered the house.
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"Ah, Okaru!" he called out in admiration and longing when he saw her. He had forgotten just how lovely she was and regretted more than ever that he had sold her away. She bowed low in greeting and then they went on into the house.
Kataoka arrived back at Yamashina before anyone else that evening. He had made another trip to Osaka to try to reason with Hara but it had been as fruitless as ever. He was surprised to see the palanquin waiting in front of the house and was about to check on its ownership when he saw someone coming out of the house and paused in the shadow of the wall.
He was perturbed at the sight of the fat Hoshino and tried to imagine some reason for such a visit. He drew a blank, however, and this troubled him. By moving in with Oishi, Okaru had cut herself free from the Flying Crane and it was presumptuous of Hoshino to try to re-establish their relationship. Kataoka was more than a little annoyed, besides being puzzled, and decided to follow the palanquin to see where it would go next. A little spying of his own might be profitable, he thought, and he took care to keep out of sight of the komuso across from the house.
Hoshino's path led straight back to the geisha house and Kataoka was about to return to Yamashina in disappointment when he saw that two men were waiting in an outer garden for the fat proprietor's return. They went up to him immediately and Kataoka could see that their discussion, whatever it was, was not on the most friendly terms. The two men kept their backs to the entrance, but Kataoka could see that Hoshino was bowing and begging for some-
Chapter Fourteen
thing, probably money. One of the two men roughly handed him a few coins and they abruptly withdrew, leaving him to wipe his face with an already damp rag. Now the two men came closer to Kataoka and he stood quietly beside an ornamental wall outside the garden until they passed. When he could see their faces, he drew in his breath in sudden shock. One of the men was tall, thin, and deep voiced; it was none other than Fujii, the chief of the spies who had been following them for so many months! When they had gone by without noticing him, he quickly left the garden and hurried back to Yamashina.
"You slut!" he screamed, and hit her again in the mouth.
Okaru's hand went to her face as she fell heavily back against the wall, but she uttered not a sound.
Kataoka grabbed her by the collar of her kimono and pulled her to him. Again he struck her and again she fell in silence. Blood was running from a corner of her mouth as she faced him with a pleading look in her eyes, but he paid no attention.
"How could you do such a thing—and to the man you say you love!"
He pulled her forward and was about to strike her with his clenched fist full in the face when the door behind him crashed opened and Oishi, his eyes blazing, took one long step into the room and seized Kataoka's arm.
"What are you doing to her? Have you gone mad?"
Kataoka tearfully sank to his knees.
"I wish I had gone mad. I wish I had not seen what I saw."
"What did you see?" Oishi demanded, still holding
Kataoka's arm and staring in bewilderment at the disheveled Okaru.
"I would rather die than to have to tell you this— but she's a spy!"
Oishi dropped Kataoka's arm and took a step backward as though he was the one who had been struck. Okaru began to sob but if she was trying to say something, Oishi could not hear her.
He moved slowly toward the door, pausing only to mutter indistinctly. "Get out. Take your things and go.''
Then he was gone and Kataoka continued to kneel, staring sightlessly at the floor. Okaru sobbed against the wall until her knees gave way and she sank to the floor with a half-crazed expression in her wide eyes.
It was Chikara who found her, late that night. He was awakened by a scream and dashed into the women's wing of the house. It was the little maiko who had screamed but all she could do was point inside Okaru's room when Chikara appeared.
Okaru was hanging by her own scarf from a ceiling beam and Chikara, his eyes wide with dread, sprang forward to support her and to untie the knot. He lowered her to the floor and was listening for her heartbeat when she groaned faintly and he knew she was alive.
"Quickly," he told the Httle girl in the hallway. "Get my father."
"But I saw him," Kataoka was repeating. "He was the spy we've all been avoiding for all these months—Fujii. He was paying fat old Hoshino for
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his services directly after he had come from seeing Okaru. What else was I to think?"
*'Be quiet," Oishi growled as he knelt beside the motionless form of his mistress, and tried to force some tea into her mouth. "I believe everything you say. But I should have listened to her side of it, too. Does this look like the act of a spy?" And he indicated the still form of the girl, the mark of the scarf still on her throat.
Kataoka was silent and they both watched Okaru anxiously. Chikara and the little maiko sat farther back in the room, careful to keep silent lest somebody notice them and send them to bed.
Okaru stirred and murmured something, then slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at them all, and then her eyes stopped on Oishi's face.
"I'm sorry," she said, in a formal tone of apology, and then the tears came to her eyes. "But I could not bear it when I saw your love for me die."
Oishi murmured something soothingly in her ear and a little smile came to her hps. Then he turned to the others.
"You can all go to bed now. Okaru is going to be all right."
Silently they all rose to go and Oishi and Okaru were left alone.
"He wanted me to spy—but I told him I could not do such a thing," she said painfully.
"I know—I know. Go to sleep now and tomorrow we'll have forgotten all about it.
He lay down beside her and, after a while, both of them slept.
rrrrrrrrrrvrvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrvrvrrrrrr
9 XV ®
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
It was now the time of the midsummer Ura Bon festival and Oishi decided it would do no harm to go all out in celebrating it. They had missed many hoHdays in the past year and now was the time to make up for them.
The house was decorated with paper lanterns, with braided paper birds that would whirl, rise, and fall when ignited, and with vegetable decorations of welcome to the departed spirits. A special shrine was built just inside the entrance hall to O-Shoryo-sama, who represented the combined spirit of all their ancestors. The names of the departed were written on a long scroll and put inside the shrine, and incense was kept burning before it. Each of the living said their own prayers in their own way to the spirit, true to the tradition that one's own Buddha is the best to worship.
On the last morning of the Ura Bon the decorative food was loaded onto pampas-grass canoes and taken to the river. In the early dawn, candles were lit on the little boats which were then gently placed on the water and headed downstream. As they floated away, the
Chapter Fifteen
watchers on the shore called their farewells to O-Shoryo-sama until the following year. Chikara and the little maiko were in charge of the boat launching and it was obvious that they were both enjoying themselves immensely. When the others had left, they stayed by the bank of the river and watched until the little lights disappeared down the river, and they began to feel the warmth of the rising sun.
"Where will we be when O-Shoryo-sama comes again, 1 wonder?" the little girl asked pensively as she lifted her head to the boy beside her.
"Who knows?" he answered lightly. "In this world, one step ahead is darkness."
"But wouldn't you like to know?" she asked. "Do you think we'll still be living here like we are now?"
"What's the difference? One place is like another, is
n't it?"
"Oh, no," she said decisively. "No other place is as nice as this."
Chikara looked at her uncomfortably. He had no intention of giving away secrets but he felt he owed it to her not to give her any false hopes.
"What about the geisha house? Didn't you like it there?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. It was fun—part of the time. It was hard work, too, not that I minded that, but it was never . . . peaceful, the way it is here."
"I think it's too quiet here," said Chikara, somewhat belligerently. "When you're trained as a samurai, you've got to have a certain amount of action or you grow stale."
'*! do miss some of the parties," she admitted, "but too many of those can get tiresome. If only I could work there part of the time and come here when I wanted to—then everything would be perfect."
"What do you do at the parties," he asked curiously. He had never been inside a geisha house in his life and knew he was not likely to enter one in the future either.
"Oh, you serve tea and sake, and smile. Mostly you try to learn from the first-class geisha like Okaru-san what pleases men the most. Then we have dancing and singing lessons and practice daily on the samisen so that when we come of age we'll be ready to be first-class geisha, too."
"And when will that be?"
"For me in two more years—I'll be sixteen then. That's the time I'm really looking forward to. Will you come and see me when I'm a geisha? Will you come to Gion? I'll be pleased to dance for you."
Chikara hesitated, then lied like a gentleman as he assured her that he would. Neither of them noticed that Oishi and Okaru had come back looking for them and now stood quietly on the bank above, smiling at their conversation.
"I'll be so glad to finish the training," the little girl went on. "Not that I'm not doing well," she added hastily. "Okaru says I'm very good for my age, but I get so cold in the winter sometimes when we have to sit still for long periods in a cold room."
"Do you have to do that, too?" asked Chikara. "I thought only samurai had to have that kind of training."
"Maybe being a samurai and being a geisha are not too different after all, do you think, Chikara-san?" she said with an air of great discovery.
"Oh, they're lots diff'erent," he protested. "Samurai have to learn to ride and to fight with swords and bows and arrows, and learn calligraphy and . . , lots of things that geisha don't."
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"But we have to train our bodies and our minds strictly, too," she said. "I think they're something alike anyway"
"Well, maybe," he reluctantly agreed. "But don't tell anybody I said so."
On the bank Oishi smiled at Okaru and they moved quietly away. When they were back on the path that led to the house he spoke to her.
"And did you go through all that rigorous training, too? Even sitting in the cold room for hours without moving?"
She laughed. "I was spared much of that. I entered the profession late."
"I know," he said, and she looked at him in surprise.
"What do you know about me?" she asked.
"Everything—everything a curious monkey named Kataoka could find out."
She was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.
"So you know what I meant when I said that I could sympathize with someone who had suffered a loss of position."
"But you've more than regained your position. A famous geisha is certainly of higher social rank than a merchant's daughter. And you did it all on your own and against great odds."
"As you will," she told him, suddenly deeply serious. "As you will."
Oishi knew now he had no secrets from this woman who thought so much as he did and he did not try to pretend with her any longer.
"You know that in the end you'll have to go back to the geisha house?" he said gently.
Okaru lifted her eyebrows. Evidently Oishi was
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unaware that such a move was not easy to arrange. And in her case it might prove to be impossible.
"Tomorrow blows tomorrow's wind," she said in a Hghter tone. "Fll worry about that when the time comes."
"I hope you won't mind too much when the time does come."
"I've never regretted becoming a geisha," she told him. "Even now it has its advantages. When the autumn wind begins to blow in your heart and I become as useless as a paper fan, I will be able to make my own way as I would not if my station in Hfe were different."
Oishi nodded. Okaru knew what she was doing and he respected her for her practicality. There was no point in denying that he would tire of her—she knew as well as he that that is not what would separate them.
They continued to walk slowly back to the house as the day became warmer and the cicadas began to hum. Oishi was reminded of the last meeting with his wife when he had given her the letter of divorce and he recalled her promise to pray for him. He hoped the faiths of both the women in his life would be justified. So much sacrifice had to be compensated for in the end.
When they reached the front of the house, Oishi, out of habit, checked to see if the spy was still across the way. There was a so-called komuso on duty as always and Oishi's forehead wrinkled as he muttered an oath under his breath.
Okaru's heart went out to him in sympathy. She knew what a strain he was under and especially how concerned he was about Hara, who continued to refuse to answer his messages. She tried to think of
Chapter Fifteen
some way to help. What could be done to throw his enemies off her lover's trail once and for all? If she thought it would serve any purpose, she would pretend to be a spy and send out false messages. But if she were found out, suspicions would be aroused to such an extent that Oishi's position would be more difficult. So that was not a good plan.
She knew the spy force had been reduced since she had come to live at Yamashina, but merely reducing it was not enough. Although the steady drip of raindrops will pierce even stone, perhaps more water from another source was needed. Anyway, it was worth discussing with Oishi. Sometimes two minds were better than one.
It was early one morning in late summer when Fujii, the spy, arrived outside the house at Yamashina to take up his post.
He was yawning when he stopped before his basket-headed subordinate and asked for a report on the night's activities.
"Nothing," came the muffled answer. "No one in or out all night long."
Fujii frowned. This had been the pattern for several weeks now. And there had been very little movement discernible during the daytime. Was Oishi sick? Could he be worn out from all the partying in Kyoto? The lack of activity made Fujii suspicious and apprehensive. His reports to Chisaka nowadays sounded like Oishi had retired completely. But was this really the case? Or was it a trick, as he suspected the taking in of Okaru was a trick?
Thoughtfully, he dismissed his man and took up the guard post himself. It was hot inside the straw
basket on his head and he knew it was going to get hotter before the day was over. If only something would happen to relieve the monotony.
Everything inside the house was apparently harmonious. On several occasions he had seen Oishi and Okaru come out for short walks in the garden and they had always seemed attentive to each other. Oishi's young son also seemed to have found a fitting companion in the little maiko and showed no signs of restlessness either. It was altogether too quiet from all standpoints. Something had to happen.
What did happen that morning was something he would never have been able to imagine. At a very early hour, Oishi came out of the house alone, carrying some unfamiliar implement. Fujii looked closer and saw that it was a hoe! And he was not only carrying it but looked like he was going to use it! Fujii tipped back the basket on his head for a better look. Oishi was actually starting to prepare the soil in a little plot in front of the house. He was getting it ready for fall planting, of all things! Fujii was just getting used to this notion when Okaru came out the front entrance to watch. She had a few suggestions for Oishi as to j
ust how to manage the hoe and what area to cover, and Fujii had to blink hard to make sure he was not dreaming. Was this the great warrior, the samurai he had been hired to follow to prevent a bloody uprising? He could never have imagined such a scene of domestic tranquilhty in connection with the ex-chief retainer of the house of Asano.
As the day grew warmer, Oishi, stripped off his outer garment and went on working in his underclothes like any poor farmer. The heat affected Okaru, too, and she became more shrill in her comments and suggestions.
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"That's not the way—you have to dig deeper than that!"
Oishi made no discernible reply, but kept on digging.
A little later, she spoke out again.
"Do you think that's a large enough area? We've got a lot of things to plant if we want our own fresh vegetables every day."
Oishi grunted and tried to keep digging but the perspiration was running into his eyes and he stopped to wipe it away with his hand.
"Don't stop now," she said loudly. "Let's finish up before it gets any hotter."
"I'd get through a lot sooner if you'd go in the house and shut your mouth," he shouted back at her.
She stood aghast for a moment at the way he had talked to her and then turned with a sob and ran into the house. Oishi cursed loudly to himself and set to work with a vengeance. And Fujii watched it all in amazement.
When he was reheved from his post, he quickly dashed off a letter to Chisaka informing him of these unexpected developments and because of it he was shortly thereafter summoned to Edo.
Chisaka stopped his pacing in front of Fujii as he caught the spy in a furtive yawn.
"Am I boring you?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, no," Fujii boomed out hastily. "It's just that we've been short handed and I haven't gotten much rest lately."
"If what you tell me is true," and here the oily little man stopped as he saw the tall samurai's hand fall lightly onto his sword. "What I mean is, if it is
true that Oishi has indeed retired for good from active life, then you'll have plenty of chance to rest."
Fujii took a deep breath.
"I know the evidence points to his retirement as final, but I still have a feeling that all is not what it