Bloody Sunrise

by Christopher Nicole

  He travelled by ricksha, as it was a fine night, and found the grounds of the Palace a blaze of lights, while an orchestra played in the gardens. It was also crowded with people, and these, he observed, were mainly men. He took his place in the presentation line, and duly reached the Imperial couple. ‘Barrett, how good to see you,’ Mutsuhito said, and glanced to Nicholas’s left.

  ‘My most humble apologies, Your Majesty,’ Nicholas said. ‘But my wife . . .’

  ‘Is unwell?’ Mutsuhito asked with a faint smile. ‘Do not feel ashamed, Barrett. There appears to be an epidemic, sweeping through Tokyo, but affecting only upper-class Japanese ladies. I am sure they will recover.’

  Nicholas cast a hasty glance at the ballroom beyond. There were quite a few ladies there, but most of them were from the European community. He gave the Empress a nervous smile as he kissed her hand. Haruko was certainly wearing a European ballgown, although while her shoulders and neck were bare, her decolletage was disguised by a floral arrangement. Her hair continued to be dressed in the traditional Japanese manner, a huge chignon held in place with ivory pins.

  ‘You must tell your wife how much we miss her, and how we hope she will be able to visit us soon, Captain Barrett,’ the Empress said.

  ‘You are most gracious, Your Majesty,’ he stammered, and hurried off, to find Ito Shunsuke, standing gloomily at a corner of the room, alone. ‘Your wife . . .?’

  ‘No more than yours, Barrett san. Sometimes I wonder if our master does not move a little too fast. This is a fiasco.’

  Nicholas surveyed the room. There were perhaps two men to every one woman, but that was not necessarily a disaster. And in the glittering naval, military, and diplomatic costumes interspersed with the tailcoats of the few civilians present, the scene was one of enormous colour and variety. The women who were present, and especially the Europeans, more than made up for their lack of numbers, at once in the colours of their gowns, the sparkle of their jewellery, and the amount of pink and white flesh being displayed to the gazes of the scandalised Japanese.

  ‘As for this dancing,’ Ito grumbled. ‘Holding another man’s wife in your arms, touching her, it is criminal.’

  The orchestra had struck up, and the Imperial couple had taken the floor. Mutsuhito and Haruko had clearly received lessons in ballroom dancing, and they waltzed splendidly, the Empress holding the hem of her gown aloft in the best style. The throng watched them in a mingle of Japanese amazement and European approbation, but Nicholas observed that Mutsuhito’s gaze was sweeping the assembly as he whirled his wife down the floor. He needed support, and now he picked out Nicholas’s height, and gave a brief nod.

  ‘Duty calls, Ito san,’ Nicholas muttered, and realised he had to make a decision. But he wasn’t sure any of the Japanese ladies would know how to dance, while of the European . . . there was only one possible choice, a strikingly beautiful woman he had never seen before, tall and pale-skinned, wearing a deep-green evening gown which appeared to be held in place entirely by her splendid breasts; her hair was a deep auburn, and if she wore it in the fashionable chignon, one strand had been carefully allowed to droop down on to her left shoulder. He went towards her, and realised that the man standing beside her was wearing the uniform of the Russian navy, and was therefore the new naval attaché, who he knew had only arrived a week earlier, and they had not yet met. Could this gorgeous creature be his wife? At least he had been given the fellow’s name. Although only a commander, and thus technically inferior in rank to Nicholas himself, he was apparently a count. Nicholas gave him a brief bow. ‘Count Rashnikov, will you permit me to dance with your wife?’

  Rashnikov gave a peculiar little toss his head. He was younger than Nicholas too, with heavy features and a matching moustache. Now he bowed in turn. ‘That is my privilege, Captain Barrett.’

  Nicholas allowed himself to look directly at the countess, as he offered her his arm. She rested her gloved hand on his, and then turned to let his other gloved hand slide round her back, where he found himself holding naked flesh; her gown plunged as sharply behind as in front. Now she smiled at him, her breath rushing against his face. Her features were curiously small, in comparison with the rest of her, but exquisitely shaped. ‘I had supposed my first dance would be with a Japanese,’ she remarked, in English.

  ‘But I am Japanese, Countess.’

  ‘Of course, my husband has told me about you, the famous renegade.’ She pulled her head back, eyebrows arched, to look artificially shocked. ‘Or should I not have said that?’

  ‘In the eyes of many people, I am a renegade,’ Nicholas said easily. She danced divinely, as light as a feather, while he felt as if he were wearing lead boots. ‘Because of which, I am afraid it is quite a few years since I have had the pleasure of waltzing.’

  ‘It is not something one forgets, Captain. You at least.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ Other people were taking the floor now, although they were mainly Europeans. ‘Do you like Japan?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘I have not been here long enough to discover. But you have been here some time, I understand.’

  ‘Fourteen years.’

  ‘And you are married, and a father . . .’

  ‘You do know a lot about me, Countess.’

  ‘My dear Captain Barrett, you are all the rage, in the European community.’ She gave one of her dazzling smiles. ‘If I invited you to a supper party, would you come?’

  ‘Why should you do that?’

  ‘Because it would give me an unassailable cachet, Captain. To entertain you to supper is the dream of every hostess, but none of them have yet had the courage to ask you.’

  ‘Then of course I accept.’

  ‘Thank you. I will send your wife an invitation.’

  ‘I’m not sure she will come, Countess.’

  ‘You mean she is not here tonight? She disapproves of this frivolity?’

  ‘I think that sums it up very well.’

  ‘But we will be a serious party, and she may wear the kimono. As may you. I will make a pact with you, Captain, I will wear the kimono too. I think it is the most comfortable garment I have ever worn.’

  The music had stopped, and the couples were clapping politely. ‘Then we have a deal, Countess,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘Thank you for dancing with me. Would you allow me to ask you again, later on this evening?’

  She seemed to consider, then said. ‘I do not think that would be wise, Captain. My husband is an intensely jealous man.’

  ‘Do you suppose he would call me out for dancing twice with his wife?’

  ‘No, Captain, he would not do that.’ Her eyes challenged him instead. ‘He is also a coward. But he would certainly flog me. It has been a pleasure.’

  Nicholas watched her return to her husband’s side, unsure if he had heard aright. For a woman to describe her husband as a coward to a complete stranger was devastating enough, but to imagine so much beauty being flogged! She had to have been joking.

  ‘Captain,’ Mutsuhito said at his elbow. ‘Now you must dance with the other most beautiful woman in the room.’

  Nicholas took the Empress in his arms.

  *

  The next morning, before he left for the Navy Office, he summoned Kisuda. ‘There is a task I have for you,’ he said.

  Kisuda bowed.

  ‘I wish you to select the most trustworthy of my servants, and set him to watching the house of the Russian naval attache, Commander Count Rashnikov.’

  Kisuda waited, while Nicholas wondered what he was doing? He had never been so attracted by a woman in his life before, certainly since he had first laid eyes on Sumiko. In this case the ambience which surrounded the Russian was just as strong as the concept that she might be held in thrall to a monster. But then, what of Sumiko, his wife and the mother of his children? Of course, nearly all Japanese men maintained at least one mistress, and he never had. But over the past five years of growing estrangement he had been tempted more than once. Now the temptation w
as almost irresistible. But there again, Japanese upper-class men took their mistresses from the geisha class, women who would know their places, and never be an embarrassment; was he seriously contemplating committing adultery with a woman of his own class, indeed, a superior class in Western eyes, and possessed of a husband who already ill-treated her?

  But finding out something about such an ill-assorted couple hardly constituted adultery. ‘Your man will treat this as absolutely confidential, Kisuda. He will report to you, and you will report to me. I require, as near as is possible, a complete account of the daily habits of both the Count and the Countess Rashnikov. Do you understand?’

  Kisuda bowed.

  *

  Kisuda produced a preliminary report only two days later; his man had found little difficulty in engaging one of the Rashnikov domestics in conversation. The woman, overawed at being approached by a servant of the famous Captain Barrett, the Emperor’s protegé, had been happy to gossip about her European employers. Both count and countess appeared to be creatures of habit. They took breakfast together, then the count left for the Russian Embassy, where he remained for the rest of the day, returning home in the late afternoon; he took his dinner in the Embassy. Meanwhile the countess busied herself with her son . . . ‘She has a son?’ Nicholas was aghast.

  Kisuda bowed. ‘A young boy, my lord. She spends about an hour with him every morning, then she goes for a ride in the park close by her house. She returns for lunch, and after the meal retires to her room. She is bathed in the afternoon, and dressed to receive her husband. In the evenings, the count and countess either entertain, or attend other entertainments. On the evenings when there is no entertainment, the count goes out with his fellow officers from the Embassy. They dine together, and usually attend a geisha house afterwards. They get very drunk.’

  ‘The count never spends a domestic evening with his wife?’

  ‘It does not seem so, my lord. It is suggested by the honin that there is ill-feeling between them.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She indicates that the count often beats his wife, for no apparent reason. The servants can hear her screaming and cursing at him. He sometimes beats the boy as well. But Matsura, your servant, has ascertained that all the Russian gentlemen beat their wives as a matter of course, so possibly the honin woman is mistaken about the ill-feeling.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Nicholas said. ‘Thank you, Kisuda, you have done well. Reward Matsura, and have him maintain the surveillance.’

  *

  So, then, he again wondered, what kind of a quagmire was he intending to enter? Elizabeth Rashnikov was not only married, but a mother. He was considering a very grave crime, one for which poor Tom Ebury had been forced to commit seppuku. He doubted anything so drastic would apply to adultery between barbarians, although he might have to fight a duel. He would enjoy that, to rid the world of a wife-beating scoundrel like Rashnikov, even if the count was apparently doing nothing more than acting the normal Russian husband. Yet it was still a crazy concept, based on his domestic discontent and sheer lust for a voluptuously beautiful European woman after fourteen years of knowing nothing but diminutive Japanese.

  But the thought of teaching a woman like Elizabeth Rashnikov the delights of Japanese sexual habits was enough to drive a man crazy!

  Still, it had to be resisted. Unfortunately, only three days later the promised invitation arrive. ‘I think we should accept,’ Nicholas told Sumiko. ‘This man is the Russian naval attaché. That means he has been sent to Russia to spy upon our naval programme. It may be important to find out just what he has learned.’

  ‘Why should Russia be interested in our navy?’ Sumiko asked.

  ‘Because it is well known that Russia is expanding to their east with every year. Do you realise that they are actually planning to build a railway, from Moscow to the end of their dominions? And that end is going to be somewhere on the Pacific coast, you may be certain. Should they do that, then the threat to Japan is implicit.’

  Sumiko gave a little shiver. ‘Russia is the greatest country in the world.’

  ‘I suspect my compatriots might have something to say about that,’ Nicholas said. ‘But should they keep on expanding, they will be very interested to learn all of our strengths as well as our weaknesses, and obviously the fact that we are creating a navy must concern them. We shall go.’ He tapped the invitation. ‘It says, kimonos may be worn.’

  ‘Ha,’ she commented. ‘They give us permission to wear our own clothes. Will they speak Japanese?’

  ‘I am sure of it. If not, I will interpret.’

  *

  She was not entirely mollified, but they went. The Rashnikovs’ house was one of the new, European-style buildings which were appearing in downtown Tokyo, with two upper storeys, and splendid views out over Tokyo Wan. And if the count obviously employed Japanese servants, the meal was served by male Russian orderlies, who wore knee boots, white shirts, and red sashes round the waist of their black breeches.

  The other guests, ten in all, were European with the exception of Count Ito and his wife. This was a relief to Sumiko, as the Europeans had only a few words of Japanese. Nicholas spent most of the evening interpreting, for Ito and his wife as well as Sumiko. Rashnikov was in a boisterous good humour, and they were given vodka to drink before their dinner wine, so that everyone got quite drunk very rapidly, even the Japanese ladies.

  Nicholas drank sparingly, and so, he observed, did Elizabeth Rashnikov. She greeted him as formally as everyone else, but he was seated on her right at dinner, Sumiko being given a similar honour next to Rashnikov at the other end of the table.

  Unfortunately, Ito and his wife were similarly honoured, and Elizabeth found it necessary to engage the count in conversation quite as much as Nicholas, Nicholas again having to do most of the translating. She was even more beautiful on this second meeting than on their first, although her splendid figure was concealed beneath the deep blue kimono. Nicholas bided his time until the meal was well advanced, and Ito was definitely tipsy. ‘I trust your son is well,’ he remarked. She raised her eyebrows. ‘It is my business to know these things,’ he explained. ‘Besides, I am interested.’

  ‘In my son, Captain Barrett?’

  ‘In you, Countess. Everything about you.’

  She drank some wine. ‘Are all Japanese men as bold, Captain?’

  ‘Forthright, Countess.’

  ‘You have a beautiful and charming wife.’

  ‘And two children. We have been married for twelve years.’

  ‘I have been married for five. But I suspect your twelve have been happier than my five.’

  ‘If what I have learned is true, you are probably right. Or do you enjoy being ill-treated?’

  ‘Have you been spying on me, Captain?’

  ‘I am actually repeating what you told me at the Imperial ball. But yes, I have been spying on you, Countess.’

  Her eyebrows did their familiar and most attractive arch, seeming to double the size of her already huge eyes. ‘Is that an honourable way to behave?’

  ‘In Japan, personal espionage is a way of life. But I would have spied on you even had we lived in England or Russia. I have never met a woman I desired more.’

  ‘You are singularly bold, Captain Barrett. And singularly arrogant.’

  ‘I am a samurai, Countess Rashnikov.’

  ‘And that, I imagine explains everything. You simply must stop looking at me so hungrily, or my husband will notice.’

  ‘And flog you.’

  She had looked away. Now her head turned back. ‘No matter how much you may desire me, Captain, it would be incredibly foolish for you to consider interfering in my domestic life.’

  ‘That remains to be seen, Countess. But in the first instance, I was considering alleviating it. Will you ride in the park tomorrow, as usual?’

  She gave a peculiar little toss to her head. ‘That is something you will have to wait and find out, Captain.’

 
*

  Nicholas was aware of an overwhelming excitement. Fortunately he did not have to do much concealing of his feelings, for next morning Sumiko was neither very observant nor in a good mood; she was not used to a hangover. Nicholas said goodbye to the children and walked to the office as usual, but once there he ordered a horse to be made ready for eleven o’clock. Ito did not come in this morning; like Sumiko, although he could drink sake with anyone, the vodka and French brandy had been more than he was used to. Nicholas dealt with the various matters waiting for them, and then handed the office over to the senior lieutenant on duty; no one questioned his decision to leave in mid-morning.

  He walked his horse into the park, stood beneath a fringe of trees, and waited. It was not very long, before Elizabeth Rashnikov appeared, alone as Kisuda had promised. She wore a dark blue habit with a matching silk hat, and her hair was loose and fluttering on her back, although it was secured by a blue scarf on the nape of her neck. She rode side-saddle, of course, and quite apart from her striking ensemble and looks, attracted the attention of Japanese passersby, who were unused to seeing a woman mounted at all.

  Nicholas left the trees and trotted along the bridle-path, saluting as he came beside her. ‘Why, Countess Rashnikov. What a pleasant surprise. It gives me the opportunity to thank you for last night’s entertainment.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Captain Barrett.’

  ‘It was exquisite.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You are exquisite.’

  She reined her horse. ‘Are you sure you know what you are doing, Captain?’

  ‘I am sure of what I wish to do.’

  ‘And in your arrogance, you are sure that I will wish it too.’

  ‘I’m an optimist, Countess.’

  ‘And the risk?’

  ‘There need be none. My wife will invite you to take tea with her.’