‘Thank you. How soon do you think I’ll be able to join the army?’
‘Not for a while yet. Remember, most soldiers train for years before they are allowed anywhere near the enemy.’ Midori didn’t want to discourage him, but he needed to be realistic. ‘Let’s say at least a few months.’
‘Months! I may not have that long, so I suppose I’d better learn fast.’ Daniel concentrated even harder on Midori’s instructions after that.
Towards the end of their first session he shook his head and smiled at her. ‘I have to admit, I didn’t really believe you, but you’ve proved me wrong.’
‘About what?’
‘That you actually knew how to wield a sword.’ Daniel looked slightly sheepish. ‘You have to acknowledge, it’s not something girls are usually taught.’
‘Most samurai girls are.’ Midori shrugged. ‘I’m grateful to my father for allowing me to learn, although he may have had his reasons.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think he realised a girl of mixed parentage might have need of fighting skills. He had friends in high places, so perhaps he saw trouble brewing and wanted me to be prepared for every eventuality.’
‘I see. A wise man, your father.’
Midori nodded and thought back to the happy times she had spent training in one of the castle’s many courtyards. Her father had been so patient with her, encouraging her at every turn, although never allowing her to show weakness. She was extremely grateful to him and wished that he could be here with her now. Quickly she changed the subject before she was swamped with longing for her father’s company. ‘How are you with a bow and arrow, Daniel?’
‘Uhm, not brilliant, but I might be able to hit a barn door at twenty paces.’
Midori began to laugh. ‘And if the barn door is an enemy archer coming towards you at a run?’
Daniel cleared his throat. ‘I may need a bit of assistance with that. But hardly anyone uses them any more. There are pikes and muskets mostly.’
‘Nevertheless, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to practise a bit. You never know when it will come in useful.’
January 1643
Dear Ichiro,
Although I doubt my previous letter has reached you yet, I thought to keep you informed of what is occurring here and reassure you of my continued well-being as England is in the midst of a civil war.
The town of Plymouth is under siege as of November and although I find it hard to understand how the flimsy defences we have constructed out of earth will keep the enemy out, I have been assured that they will. I cannot but compare them unfavourably to the sturdy stone walls and moat of Castle Shiroi, but warfare is obviously conducted differently here. For the moment, however, we are safe.
You will be surprised to learn that my cousin Daniel, who is eighteen, possessed no fighting skills whatsoever. I have therefore been teaching him and hope this hasty training will be enough. He is eager to fight for his clan, but I am trying to dissuade him until he has learned more as I do not consider him ready yet. Fortunately, he trusts my judgement and so far has listened to me. When the time is right, we will fight together, although my uncle does not believe it will be necessary. I think he is wrong, but we will see.
The beginning of the New Year was not celebrated here as is the custom in Japan. Instead, the birth of the Christian god’s son a few weeks before merited a feast of sorts, although it was a rather poor one to my mind. We merely listened to extra sermons and ate some very indifferent food, since there was not much to be had because of the siege. I did not mind unduly, though. I am used to it now. However, I do miss Castle Shiroi in the snow and the lovely baths in the hot spring. Remember, my mother always said the spring was her favourite place on earth? I can see why now.
On that subject, I do not believe I mentioned previously the curious lack of cleanliness here in general. You will scarcely credit that most people go without a proper bath for months or even years on end! They consider it enough to change their ‘linen’, or undergarments, and believe staying dirty keeps infections from entering the body. I, on the other hand, am trying my best to keep myself clean according to our customs, you will be happy to hear.
Akemashite omedeto gozaimasu, brother, I hope it is a good year for you and clan Kumashiro.
Your obedient sister, Midori
But would it be a good year for her? Somehow, Midori doubted it. Ever since Nico had left, her life had seemed empty and dull and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she should have accepted his offer after all. But would life with him have been any better? She simply didn’t know.
‘You’ve done well yet again, Noordholt. That’s three profitable journeys to the Baltic in a row now. Excellent!’
Nico had returned each time from the north with a better cargo than he’d dared hope for and the Heeren XVII were pleased. Normally he would have been delighted to have impressed these important gentlemen, but somehow he could barely summon up a smile today, although he tried his best. He felt bone weary, and despondency hung like a heavy, dark mantle on his shoulders.
‘I’m happy to have been of service,’ he murmured.
‘With such a success rate, we believe you may be just the man we need to captain another ship to the Japans,’ the director continued. ‘Are you interested?’
Nico drew in a steadying breath. This was what he’d hoped for, the goal he’d been working towards for years. Yet now he had it within his grasp, he found he had no enthusiasm for such a long journey. None at all.
He weighed his answer carefully. ‘I’m very honoured to be asked, but I’m afraid I shall have to decline this time. I’ve just received news that my mother is dying and I must hurry to her side. I’m sure you’ll understand. She lives in England and with things the way they are over there at the moment, I couldn’t guarantee to be back here in time.’
The lie tripped off his tongue easily and he marvelled at himself. He’d never lied to anyone before. Except Midori, a little voice inside him whispered. I didn’t lie to her; I just didn’t tell her the truth. He pushed his conscience into a dark corner of his mind and concentrated on the here and now. ‘But I would be very grateful if you would consider me for such a position at a future date.’
The Heeren XVII looked disappointed to a man, but all nodded assent. ‘Very well, these things can’t be helped,’ the first director said. ‘Do please let us know as soon as you are available again.’
‘You may be sure I will, and thank you.’ Nico bowed and took his leave.
Once outside, however, he cursed under his breath. I’ve just turned down the best offer I’ve ever had, and for what? A woman he couldn’t erase from his mind. He gave a snort of impatience. This is ridiculous, the world is full of them! But although he’d tried his best, he hadn’t been able to forget about Midori and the problem was, he wanted only her.
‘Are there any letters for me, Johan?’ he asked his servant as soon as he was back at his house.
‘No, Mijnheer, not today.’
Damnation! Nico had hoped to find at least a message from Midori waiting for him at his house upon his return from the Baltic, but so far there hadn’t been anything. Not even the shortest of missives, and no word from Harding, either. Not that he’d expected there to be, as the man was only to contact Nico in case of an emergency, but still …
‘Surely she must have tired of living in a Puritan household by now?’ he muttered. Any fool could see she wasn’t suited to such a life. Perhaps she had tried to send a message, but it hadn’t got through? As he’d mentioned to the Heeren XVII, the news that filtered through from England wasn’t good. Nico couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to Midori and the others, caught up in a civil war. Did they have enough to eat; were they suffering hardship? He’d heard some of the ports were blockaded, so it was a possib
ility.
‘I must find a way to help them and get her out of there,’ he muttered. And a way to make her trust me again and marry me. Because he knew now he wanted her enough to tie himself down for life. He’d never felt this way about a woman before, but he’d thought long and hard about it. Women had come and gone in his life; none had been important. But Midori was special.
He sighed and left his home again. He would put his affairs in order, perhaps make some investments with the help of Mijnheer Schuyler and rent out the house here in Amsterdam, then buy provisions, charter a ship and sail to Plymouth.
And then, somehow, he had to persuade Midori to leave England, because he wasn’t coming back without her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The year had started well for Plymouth.
Hopton had made several attempts on the town, but was rebuffed. When the Earl of Stamford was reported to be marching towards Exeter to relieve that town and those beyond, Hopton wisely decided to move on. He and his Cornishmen left on New Year’s Day.
‘Excellent! Now we can come and go as we please again,’ Uncle Marston was heard to comment.
For Midori the year’s beginning had not been as auspicious, however. She was called to her uncle’s study one gloomy January afternoon, wondering why, as she’d already had her daily session with him.
‘You wanted to see me, Uncle?’
‘Indeed. Tell me, what is this?’
Midori was surprised to see her uncle holding up the fan she’d given Temperance all those months ago. He looked for all the world as if he was grasping a viper, the way he held it between two fingers and at a distance from himself. ‘Why, it’s an old fan,’ she replied cautiously, wondering how it had come into his possession.
‘I found Temperance with this and she tells me you gave it to her.’
‘Yes, I did. As you can see it’s not really serviceable any longer, so I saw no harm in letting her have it.’
‘You saw no harm?’ Uncle Marston looked incredulous. ‘After all these months of careful teaching on my part, have you learned nothing? This, this … object is a gaudy, unsuitable item for a young girl to have. You must have known that, and yet you try to corrupt my daughter by “letting her have it”?’
‘I didn’t mean—’
Her uncle cut her off, his disappointment and anger almost palpable. ‘I thought better of you, Midori. I thought by now you’d come to value the teachings of Christ the way we do, or at least respect the fact that this is how we live, but I see now I was wrong. I wash my hands of you, really I do.’
Midori wanted to rail at the unfairness of his words. She had worked so hard to gain acceptance here. She desperately wanted to belong to a family and have friendship and security, and still her uncle wasn’t satisfied. However, she knew if she protested now, she might lose everything. Much as it went against the grain, she had to acknowledge he had the right to chastise her in this way for what she considered a minor transgression. In short, she had to swallow her pride.
‘No, please, Uncle Marston, tell me what I might do to make amends. I swear I’ve been listening to you and I had forgotten all about that fan. I gave it to Temperance at the very beginning, before I understood your teachings properly. It won’t happen again. Indeed, I see clearly now that it’s a vain item.’
Her uncle drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, his high colour fading. ‘Very well, as you seem to be truly repentant, I’ll tell you what I propose. I realise I have no authority over your belongings as such, but it would show Temperance at least the error of her ways if you were to burn this. I will tell her to pray to God while you’re doing so. She must pray for strength to fight temptation, pray for guidance before acting on impulses like the one that made her accept it in the first place. She ought to have known better. Will you do this for me, please?’
‘Yes, Uncle, if that is your wish. I’m very sorry, please forgive me.’
‘Of course. Perhaps I was a little hasty in my condemnation. I sometimes forget how far you have come and that you don’t see things quite the same way.’ He came around the desk and awkwardly patted her on the head. ‘Let us put this behind us and move forward.’
Midori was very happy to do so, but as she and Temperance watched the fan burn later, she felt as if she were burning a part of herself. Bit by bit, the old Midori was being eradicated, but there seemed no other way of surviving in England. She must banish all thoughts of her past and embrace her new way of life without reservations, whether she wanted to or not. Even if she wasn’t a Christian, she had to live according to their rules if she wanted to stay here. It was a sobering thought. But what choice do I have?
Soon after, her uncle had more important things to worry about than whether his niece was behaving or not. Midori and Daniel returned from one of their secret outings to find the house in an uproar. Aunt Hesketh immediately rounded on Midori.
‘Where have you been? This is all your fault!’
‘What is, Aunt?’ Midori looked around to see what household calamity she could possibly have caused now, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Yes, what’s amiss?’ Daniel added, anxiously.
‘Your mother is ill. A putrid throat and persistent cough, enough to shake the rafters. And it’s all because of her.’ Again Aunt Hesketh looked accusingly at Midori, who frowned as she tried to figure out the connection.
‘Midori isn’t ill,’ Daniel protested. ‘She couldn’t possibly have passed anything on to my mother.’
‘I know that.’ Aunt Hesketh cast him a withering glance. ‘But if she’d been here to do her share of the chores this week, instead of gallivanting about the Lord only knows where every morning …’ Daniel flushed bright red, since Midori had been out training him, but his aunt seemed not to notice. ‘Then Emma wouldn’t have insisted on going down to the harbour by herself yesterday to choose the fish needed for pickling and salting. In this inclement weather, it was too much for her.’
‘I thought she seemed a bit tired last night.’ Daniel looked contrite, then took a deep breath. ‘Why didn’t you accompany her then? Or send the maid with her?’
‘We were busy, no one could be spared. I told her it could wait for another day, but she would insist.’
Daniel and Midori went to see his mother together and were not cheered by what they found. Aunt Marston was lying in the canopied tester bed looking flushed and exhausted. The hangings on either side were drawn to keep out any draughts, and a roaring fire warmed the room, the heat almost stifling. It was clear from the beads of perspiration on her face that Aunt Marston was suffering from a very high temperature. Despite this, she was racked by chills so severe her teeth chattered in between the coughing bouts. Her thin body struggled visibly each time these spasms shook her and Midori and Daniel exchanged a worried glance.
The physician, when he arrived at last, pronounced Aunt Marston to be suffering from congestion of the lungs.
‘She needs hot poultices,’ he declared and charged an outrageous fee for this advice. He also recommended various other potions, which they obtained from the apothecary, but these didn’t seem to have any effect. During the night the sick woman’s condition worsened and everyone was kept awake listening to the incessant hacking cough. Midori finally dressed herself in her warmest clothes and went to see if she could be of assistance in the sickroom. Aunt Hesketh was there, as well as Uncle Marston, and they both turned grave faces in Midori’s direction.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she whispered. ‘I have some skill with healing herbs.’
‘No. She’s already had a syrup of hyssop and it didn’t help. It’s in God’s hands now,’ Aunt Hesketh replied.
‘But I helped the surgeon on board the ship, so I learned a thing or two. Surely, it would be worth a try?’
‘You’ve done more than enough already, now go t
o bed,’ her aunt hissed.
Midori looked to her uncle, but he seemed lost in a world of his own. ‘Uncle Marston?’
‘What?’ He blinked at her, a confused look in his eyes. ‘Have you come bearing more soup?’
‘Well, no, but I can fetch some if you like.’
‘Won’t do any good,’ Aunt Hesketh cut in. ‘She’d only cough it back up.’
Midori stared at the figure in the bed and her heart sank. The scene reminded her so much of her mother’s deathbed – the wan face with blue-tinged lips, the frail body and the thin hands on the coverlet. And that cough. Midori could almost feel the pain it must be causing her aunt. If only they’d let Midori help, she might be able to ease the suffering, but without permission she couldn’t do anything.
‘The flowers … want them here … so pretty …’
‘What’s she saying?’ Her uncle frowned and leaned closer, trying to catch his wife’s words.
‘It’s nothing, she’s delirious,’ Aunt Hesketh said curtly.
Midori could see her uncle was, for once, unsure what to do. There was great affection between him and his wife, as was clear to anyone who saw them together. Now he was having trouble grasping the fact that his wife was likely dying. Midori put a hand on his arm to gain his attention. ‘Would you like me to bring you something, Uncle? Some mulled wine, perhaps? You must have been sitting here for ages. And you can’t expect to pray for Aunt Marston’s recovery if you take a chill yourself.’
He turned to look at her as if he hadn’t really seen her before. His eyes focused slowly on her face and he managed a small smile. ‘Yes, thank you, Midori. That would be kind.’ He slowly slid down on to his knees by his wife’s bedside. ‘And of course I must pray. It’s the only thing to be done now. You are so right.’
She slipped out of the room and padded down to the kitchen with a heavy heart. She didn’t think any god could save her aunt now.
The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) Page 24