James Clavell - Gai-Jin

by Gai-Jin(Lit)

  Ah Tok had given him half an hour ago.

  "I feel better than I have for days, my darling. A bit wobbly, but fine--how lovely you are." The light from the oil lamp made his gaunt face more handsome than ever, and her more desirable than ever. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself, his head and body feeling strangely light, her skin creamy and warm to his touch. Her eyes were dancing and he looked down, loving her, and kissed her. Gently at first, then, as she responded, glorying further in her taste and welcome. "I love you," he murmured between kisses.

  "I love you," she replied, believing it and weak with pleasure, so happy that he seemed truly better, his lips strong and seeking and hands strong and seeking but within bounds, bounds that suddenly, deliriously, she wanted to cast aside.

  "Je t'aime, ch@eri... je t'aime

  ..."

  For a moment they stood in their embrace and then with a strength he did not know he had, he lifted her and sat again in the big, high-backed chair and cradled her in his lap, lips touching, one arm around her tiny waist, a hand quietly on her breast, the silk seeming to enhance the half-cupped warmth beneath. Wonder filled him. Wonder that here where every part of her was covered and forbidden, in the night, all was open and offered and as young, but now he was more euphoric and stimulated than he had ever been, yet at the same time controlled, no longer frantic with lust.

  "So strange," he murmured and thought, but not so strange, the pain's masked by the medicine. The rest isn't, my love for her.

  "Ch@eri?"

  "Strange that I need you so much yet I can wait. Not long but I can wait."

  "Please not long, please." Again her lips sought his, nothing in her mind but him, heat welding her memory closed and worry closed and never a problem anymore. For both of them. Then the sudden sound of a nearby gunshot from outside.

  Their mood shattered, she sat upright on his lap and before she knew it was hurrying for the half-open window. Below she could see Pallidar and Tyrer--damn, I'd forgotten them, she thought.

  The two men were looking inland, then they turned, their attention directed towards Drunk Town.

  She craned out of the window but saw only a vague group of men at the far end, their bleary shouts wafted on the wind. "It seems to be nothing, just Drunk Town..." she said, guns and fights, even duels, not rare in that part of

  Yokohama. Then, feeling strange and chilled and at the same time flushed, she came back and looked at him. With a little sigh she knelt and took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, her head in his lap, but his gentleness and his fingers caressing her hair and the nape of her neck no longer drove the devils away. "I should go home, my love."

  "Yes." His fingers continued their stroking.

  "I want to stay."

  "I know."

  Struan saw himself, out of himself, the perfect gentleman, calm, quiet, helping her to her feet, waiting while she straightened her bodice and hair and draped her shawl around her. Then, hand in hand, walking slowly with her to the head of the stairs where he allowed himself to be persuaded to stay, permitting a servant to lead her below. At the door she turned once and waved a loving farewell and he waved and then she was gone.

  It seemed to take him no effort to walk back and undress, letting his servant pull off his boots. Then into bed with no help at all, lying back at peace with himself and the world. Head fine, body fine, relaxed.

  "How is my son?" Ah Tok whispered from the doorway.

  "In the Land of the Poppy."

  "Good, good. No pain for my son there."

  The servant blew out the flame and then left him.

  Down the High Street, the French soldier sentry, his uniform as sloppy as his manner, opened the Legation door for her, "Bonsoir,

  Mademoiselle."

  "Bonsoir, Monsieur. Good night

  Phillip, good night Settry." The door closed and she leaned against it a moment to collect herself. The delight of the evening had vanished. In its place, the spectres were crowding for attention.

  Deep in thought she walked across the hall towards her suite, saw a light under Seratard's door. She stopped and, on a sudden impulse that this might be a perfect time to ask for a loan, she knocked and went in. "Oh! Andr`e! Hello, excuse me, I was expecting Monsieur

  Henri."

  "He's still with Sir William. I'm just finishing a dispatch for him." Andr`e was at

  Seratard's desk, many papers spread around. The dispatch dealt with Struan's, their possible arms deal with the Choshu, and the possible help that a possible French wife might render their fledgling arms industry. "Did you have a good time? How's your fianc`e?"

  "He's much better, thank you. The dinner was huge, if you like to eat heavily. Ah to be in Paris, yes?"

  "Yes." My God she's beddable, he thought, and that reminded him of the infectious vileness eating him away.

  "What is it?" she asked, startled by his sudden pallor.

  "Nothing." He cleared his throat and fought to control the horror. "Just out of sorts--nothing grave."

  He seemed so vulnerable, so helpless that abruptly she decided to trust him again and closed the door and sat near him, pouring out her story.

  "What am I going to do, dear Andr`e? I can't get any cash... what can I do?"

  "Dry your tears, Angelique, the answer is so simple. Tomorrow or the next day I will take you shopping," he said, his mind quite clear for mundane matters. "You've asked me to go shopping with you, haven't you, to help find an engagement present for More'sieur Struan.

  Gold cuff links with pearls, and pearl earrings for yourself." His voice saddened. "But oh so terrible, somewhere en route back from the jewelers you lose one pair--we look everywhere but no avail. Terrible!" His pale brown eyes held hers. "Meanwhile the mama-san has her secret payment, I will make sure the pair you

  "lose" more than covers the medicine, and all costs."

  "You're wonderful!" she burst out and hugged him. "Wonderful, what would I do without you?" She embraced him again, thanked him again and virtually danced out of the room.

  He looked at the closed door a long time.

  Yes it will cover the medicine, and my twenty louis, and other expenses if I decide, he thought, curiously unsettled. Poor little cabbage, so easy to manipulate you. You embroil yourself in deeper and deeper whirlpools.

  Don't you realize that now you become a thief and worse, you're a criminal planning a willful fraud.

  And you, Andr`e, you are an accessory to the conspiracy.

  He laughed outright, a bad twisted laugh.

  Prove it! Will she tell a court about an abortion, will the mama-san be witness against me?

  Will the court believe the story of the daughter and niece of criminals against mine?

  No, but God will know and soon you will be before

  HIM.

  Yes, and HE will know I've done much worse. And intend to do even more evil.

  Tears began to stream down his face.

  "Ayeeyah, Miss'ee," Ah Soh, said, trying to help Angelique undress, who would not be still, again in a merry mood, her immediate problem solved. "Miss'ee!"

  "Oh very well but do hurry." Angelique stood by her bed but continued to hum her cheery polka, the room more feminine and friendly in the oil light than during the day, the glass windows slightly ajar with the slatted shutters barred.

  "Miss'ee gud time heya?" Nimbly Ah

  Soh began to untie the waist straps of the crinoline.

  "Good, thank you," Angelique said politely, not liking her particularly. Ah

  Soh was a big-hipped, middle-aged woman, a servant and not a real amah. "But she's so old, Malcolm, can't you find me someone young and pretty who laughs!"

  "Gordon Chen, our compradore, chose her,

  Angel. He guarantees she's completely trustworthy, she can brush your hair, bath you, can look after your European clothes, and she's my gift to you while she's with you in Japan...."

  The straps loosened and the crinoline fell away, then Ah Soh did the same
with the petticoat and last the vast framework of hoops of bone and metal that gave the crinoline body.

  Long pantaloons, silk stockings, short slip and the boned cinch and corset that made her twenty-inch waist eighteen inches and swelled her breasts fashionably. As the maid unlaced the cinch-corset Angelique let out a deep sigh of contentment, stepped out of the sea of material and flopped on the bed and, as a child would, allowed herself to be undressed completely. Obediently she raised her arms to permit the flowery nightdress to be eased around her.

  "Sit, Miss'ee."

  "No, not tonight, Ah Soh, my hair can wait."

  "Ayeeyah, t'morro no gud!" Ah Soh brandished the brush.

  "Oh all right." Angelique sighed and scrambled off the bed and sat by the dressing table and allowed her to take out the pins and begin to brush. It felt very good. Oh how clever Andr`e is! He makes everything so simple--now I can get all the money I need, oh how clever he is.

  From time to time a benign sea breeze creaked the shutters. A hundred yards away, across the promenade, waves ran up the pebbled shore and departed and came again with a good sound that promised another gentle night that all in the Settlement had welcomed. The fleet had left with the light.

  Everyone not drunk or bedridden had watched the ships sail off with varying degrees of anxiety.

  All wished them God speed and a quick return.

  Except the Japanese. Ori was one of them and he had his eyes pressed to a crack in one of her shutters, well hidden and camouflaged by the tall camellia bushes that grew here abundantly and

  Seratard, a keen gardener, had had planted.

  Long before midnight Ori was in this ambush, waiting for her, time passing slowly, thinking and rethinking schemes, exhausting himself, nervously checking and rechecking that his short sword was loose in its scabbard and the derringer safe in the sleeve of his fisherman's kimono. But when he had seen her approaching the Legation in the company of the two gai-jin, all his tiredness had vanished.

  For a moment he had contemplated rushing out and killing them but discarded that foolishness knowing it was unlikely he could kill the three of them, and the sentry, before being killed himself. And anyway, he thought grimly, that would end my plan to have her once more before I die, and then to burn the Settlement.

  Without me to goad Hiraga he will never do it.

  He's too weak now--he's gai-jin infected.

  If Hiraga the Strong can succumb so quickly, what about others? The Emperor is right to hate gai-jin and want them expelled!

  So he curbed his anger and slunk deeper into hiding, biding his time, planning for any eventuality. No way through the windows unless she unbarred them. The back door was unguarded and possible--and plenty of footholds to the next floor if it would not open. He had watched the undressing in every detail, barely two paces away, beyond the wall. Now she was being tucked into bed, the maid fussing about her mistress. His impatience became almost unbearable.

  Earlier one of the mixed naval and army patrols that roamed the Settlement nightly to keep order had suddenly challenged him in a lane behind High Street. He had stopped without fear, there was no curfew nor was any part of the Settlement forbidden Japanese though, wisely, they kept mostly to their own quarter and chose not to tempt gai-jin temper.

  Unfortunately the Sergeant had rudely shoved a lantern in his face making him jerk back, startled. The concealed short sword clattered to the ground. "'ere, you little bastard, you knows daggers'n the like is forbidden, kinjiru."

  Though Ori did not understand the words, the rule and penalty were common knowledge. At once he grabbed up his knife and fled, the Sergeant fired at him but the bullet haranggged off a tile harmlessly and he leapt over a low wall to lose himself in the maze of lanes and dwellings. The patrol did not bother to give chase, just shouted a few curses after him, carrying a knife was a small misdemeanor, worth only an immediate beating and the weapon confiscated.

  Again he had waited in hiding until he could join a group of fishermen to go down to the shore, then doubled back, scaled the Legation fence and quickly found a safe place. Once there he had slumped down and began to wait.

  This morning, he had pretended he was ready to leave the Yoshiwara for Ky@oto as Hiraga had demanded. "As soon as I've contacted

  Katsumata there, I'll send you a message," he had said, deliberately tight-lipped. "Make sure the girl does not escape!"

  "She's the tai-pan's woman so her every step is measured and she'll be easy to find,"

  Hiraga had told him, as coldly. "Watch yourself, the Tokaid@o will be dangerous--Enforcer patrol and barrier guards will be very alert."

  "Better we honor sonno-joi, better you allow me to stay, better we burn

  Yokohama, Akimoto arrives today, we could do it easily."

  "We will, when you return. If you stay now you will make a mistake, the woman has turned your head and made you dangerous, to yourself, your friends and sonno-joi."

  "What about you, Hiraga? The gai-jin have turned you and twisted your judgment."

  "No. I tell you a last time."

  Careless of provoking Hiraga even more, he flared, "You saw what scum gai-jin are, drunk and revolting, fighting like beasts, carousing in the filth of Drunk Town--are these the men you want to know more of, to be like?"'

  "Go!"

  As angrily he had collected his short sword and derringer. At Raiko's suggestion he joined the daily procession of servants leaving for

  Kanagawa market where the best sak`e and foods were purchased. With them he had passed through the

  Yoshiwara and Settlement barriers, the Enforcer patrol still lurking amongst the guards, making them as nervous as the villagers. Halfway to Kanagawa, the road traffic heavy, he had slipped away to the shore. There he had bribed a fisherman to row him to the far end of the Settlement, near Drunk Town, to hide him till dusk.

  I am doing the correct thing, he thought with absolute conviction, the small sea wind scattering the night insects. The woman is the perfect target for sonno-joi. Whatever

  Hiraga says I may never have another chance to cast away her spell. Yes, I am in her spell. She must be a kami, a spirit, a wolf woman reborn gai-jin, no other woman could be virgin and drugged yet still be as welcoming, no other could make a man explode like I exploded, or keep me deranged with desire.

  Tonight I will lay her for the second time. Then I will kill her. If I escape, karma. If I do not escape, karma. But she will die by my hand.

  The sweat was running down his face and back.

  Once more he concentrated, watching her through the crack, so very close that, but for the wall he could almost reach out and touch her. She climbed into bed, nightdress revealing. Now the maid turned down the oil flame to leave a warm glow of light.

  "'nite, Miss'ee."

  "'nite, Ah Soh."

  Happy to be alone, Angelique snuggled down in the bedclothes, watching the flame shadows dance with the drafts, her head resting comfortably on her arm. Before Kanagawa the dark had never bothered her and she would go quickly into dreamtime to awake refreshed. Since Kanagawa her pattern had changed. Now she insisted on a night light. Sleep did not come easily.

  Soon her mind took her into paths of wild surmise. Her hands would stray to her breasts.

  Are they a little fuller than yesterday, my nipples more sensitive? Yes, yes they are, no it is just imagination. And my stomach?

  Is it rounder? No, there's no difference and yet

  ...

  And yet there is a vast difference, like B.c. and A.d. and at least once a day I wonder, would it be a boy or girl? Or devil, taking after the rapist father. No, no child of mine could be devil!

  Devil. That reminds me today's Friday and in two days I have to go to church and confess again. The words get no easier. How I hate confession now and loathe Father Leo, such a fat, uncouth, tobacco-smelling and lecherous old man. He reminds me of Aunt Emma's confessor in

  Paris--the ancient Scot, smelling of whisky, whose French was as vile
as his cassock. Lucky for me that neither she nor Uncle Michel were fanatic, just ordinary Sunday Catholics. I wonder how she is, and poor Uncle Michel.

  Tomorrow I will speak to Malcolm...

  Dear dear Malcolm, he was so nice tonight, so strong and wise and oh how I wanted him. So glad I can talk to him, so lucky for me that

  Aunt Emma refused to learn French so I had to learn English. How could she possibly survive in Paris all those years speaking only

  English, and what possessed Uncle Michel to marry her and endure such hardship? Though I love her and him, she so dowdy, he so ordinary.