Spinning Silk

by T. Cook

  I wondered what Shin had meant when he had said an invitation would come. How could he know, I wondered, but I did not doubt he did know.

  The scuffing of feet crushing dry brush startled me out of my thoughts. I went rigid and breathed a sharp gasp when I recognized Master Nobu’s younger brother Ishiro approaching. Surely he had not followed me out here to make his son’s case to me! To do so was beyond improper.

  “Shouldn’t a young lady have an escort so far from the house, and so late at night?”

  I bowed low. “Yes. I am returning to the house now.”

  “It is a nice, quiet evening. And formalities can be so stilting. I understand why you prefer to escape the crowded house. I too, am feeling rather overwhelmed by the numbers.”

  “Yes, but the wedding is early tomorrow,” I said, implying my wish to leave.

  “Yes, it will all be over so soon. We must seize the moments before they flee,” he said, casting me a doleful glance.

  “I must perform the bride’s kitsuke early,” I said, and would have passed by him, but he grasped my wrist and sighed.

  “Weddings are such nostalgic occasions. They always remind me how happy I might have been had I been the first born.”

  “Excuse me,” I tore my hand away, but not without scraping it first between his long fingernails. “I am wanted at the house,” I said, wincing and almost falling forward.

  “You are wanted here,” he said, taking hold of the back edge of my kimono. “Do not run. Stay. Let me tell you how I will help you—what I will give to you.”

  “You need not give me anything, but my freedom.”

  “I will be so generous. An older lover is much better than a younger man because he needs you more. I will be so yielding.” With one hand he pulled my head back by the hair, with the other he covered my mouth.

  “You are hurting me now.” I managed to speak through his hand.

  “Come. If you will not run, I will release you. Promise not to run?”

  “Yes,” I said immediately, and meant it.

  Slowly, he loosened his grip. I turned about and let my hands fly against his face, digging in hard with my fingernails. He thrust me away, but I did not run. My promise not to had nothing to do with it. I could not outdistance him in my heavy robes, but I could stay and fight.

  33

  I awakened sometime after midnight, hands and fingernails stained with blood. The light was too dim to see the extent of the smear upon my kimono, but it was there. I cast my gaze around for any sign of Master Nobu’s brother, and saw a patch of disturbed grass, but no body. I drew a slow breath and hoped. Perhaps he had stalked back to the house alone.

  I remembered having injured his face. The ugly scars would fit together with the scrapes upon my hands. Together they would more than testify of our struggle. The injuries I had inflicted upon him would be difficult badges to wear publically in front of his wife and children. Perhaps, then, he would not return to the house. Either way, I could not fail to, and yet I could not appear stained in blood.

  I made my way toward the riverside and washed my hands and fingernails. I could do nothing for the silk, but must find a way to change and hide my kimono before the sun’s rising.

  I stumbled toward the house as quickly as my heavy robe permitted and watched from a distance. A few lights and revelers remained wakeful on the veranda, playing go or singing folk songs in wine soused voices. I might be able to escape their notice, but I could not escape Madame’s. She stood on the south-facing veranda, staring out into the garden. Vigilant. Very likely watching for me. And this is what taught me to blame her.

  She comprehended everything with the sight of my disheveled hair and disarranged robe, and she ran to me into the garden and guided me toward a quiet corner.

  “What have you done?” It was the first time I had ever heard fear in Madame Sato’s voice.

  “How could you fail to tell me of Master Nobu’s brother’s interest!”

  Her eyes widened, exposing the whites. “Where is he?”

  “Gone! Has he not returned to the house?”

  “No!”

  “Then I do not know where he is.”

  She gripped my shoulders. “What did you do to him?”

  “I remember we struggled, but I lost consciousness, and when I awakened he was gone.”

  She sighed heavily and released me. “Let us hope he survived.”

  “Do you care what he did to me?”

  “I trust you to defend yourself.”

  “You think I could overcome a violent man twice my size?” I asked, incredulous.

  Madame stood silent and finally answered with a chilling, “Yes.”

  And with this confession, I perceived what Madame knew. She knew about me, and the violence I had done and would yet do, and she had brought me out of seclusion notwithstanding. I met her cool gaze. “Then more is the blame to you for not communicating Nobu’s intent.”

  “And where was your judgment? If you had kept to the house, it would not have happened.” I could make no defense to this. Madame wasn’t concerned with justice, nor even with Nobu’s personal welfare. My false identity could not bear the scrutiny of a scandal. My mysterious, often destructive nature could bear it far less. We were both in a precarious situation.

  Madame made an impatient gesture with one hand and shuffled across the veranda into the house. When she returned, the Nagaishi samurai followed. I gasped and instinctively ducked down beneath the veranda.

  Madame spoke to him in a low tone. “Can you do it?”

  He made an affirmative reply, promising three days, and leapt over the veranda, planting his feet at nearly the same spot I crouched hiding. He paused for a moment to observe me warily, then disappeared into the darkness.

  “Madame?” I whispered, my eyes fixed on where I had last seen him. “Can we—”

  “Yes, “ she said, and silenced me with a dangerous look. “I have long had dealings with the Nagaishi—the Spider People. We can trust them.”

  * * *

  Madame and I were not natural suspects for a violent crime against a strong man. Our prospects seemed safest if we stood by until the wedding’s end. Twenty-four hours would be enough.

  But we didn’t know then how much more complicated matters could become within so little a space of time.

  34

  “What have you done to your hands?” Kiyo asked, affecting concern, though I knew her interest was in a scandal.

  “I chased a child’s toy into a bramble bush.”

  “Oh? I did not know there were brambles on our property.”

  “Oh yes, near the river.”

  “A child went so far as the river?”

  “The child did not, but the ball did.”

  “My! It looks terrible. A toy is hardly worth the trouble.”

  “I thought it very worthwhile.”

  Kiyo narrowed her eyes, but it was not time for her to cross-examine me.

  On the contrary, it was time for me to examine her.

  I needed to take in Kiyo’s every angle to manage the finest kitsuke possible, and inspected her body intimately.

  A proper kitsuke can be made to disguise a thousand flaws, and this was never truer than in Kiyo’s case. She had always appeared a graceful figure to me, but by the early morning light, I saw a rather different picture.

  The most obvious problem was the size of her breasts. They were fuller than was fashionable and an obstacle for what could be called a flawless kitsuke. I pressed my palm against them to try to flatten them, but the tissue was stubborn and she winced in pain, “Gentle!”

  “I have never seen a bride so full breasted. You will require a very tight wrapping.”

  I turned her around and ran a hand briskly around her neck and back, feeling her shoulder blades and examining their contouring. Her neck and back were graceful enough, but not long, and might benefit from additional cosmetic. A more dramatic result would take time and skill to achieve.

  I b
rought my hands around to her ribs and brushed them straight over her navel, where they should have fallen swiftly down, but instead, there was a fullness I had not expected, I returned to her middle, then started. My eyes sought hers for confirmation. I found it, smug and laughing. Though she ought to be terrified. She was in a very complicated situation. Though the world might care very little how many different men’s children I should bear, they cared very much about a woman of Kiyo’s noble rank. How she could laugh, I could not guess. It must be a mask. An illusion. She should be terrified and for a moment, my heart ached. “What can you be thinking—?”

  Kiyo cut me short. “It is nothing. I know how it looks to you, but believe me, I haven’t your gift for indiscretion. It is a condition I have hidden for years, even from my parents, but I am ready to put it to good use.”

  I stiffened. “That’s none of my business.”

  “Oh, but it is business, and very much yours, so hear me out.”

  I never could prevent Kiyo from speaking.

  “Do you know how much your mother has demanded for the price of my trousseau?”

  “I don’t see the connection. And no. I have no idea.”

  “I said hear me out.” Kiyo’s cheeks flushed with anger. “It is an extortive, impoverishing sum. It is utterly ridiculous and we will not pay it!”

  It occurred to me then that perhaps they could not pay it. The Nobu domain seemed so prosperous, but like many of the warrior class whose domains relied upon agriculture, perhaps they were suffering. “I cannot help what my mother has asked.”

  Kiyo folded her arms across her naked breasts. “I know you do not care for money, but you care for something and I know what it is.”

  My jaw slackened, as I perceived her circling around my weakness. “What does that—?”

  “I will give him to you for the price.”

  “You cannot cast another person around like a bag of coins!”

  “Yes, I can.”

  I remembered what Shin had claimed. He was but biding his time and would leave whenever he wanted and took courage. “I will not accept, nor can I. You must know my mother would not accept him.”

  Kiyo frowned. “I think you had better think about it some more.”

  “Kiyo, if you love him, then you should prove it. He could take care of you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then you have made your choice. It seems I can do nothing for you, though I wish I could.”

  “That’s a shame, because it will be his second offense. And my father will hate to kill him on account of this.” Kiyo swept her open palm across her bare navel.

  “It’s a lie!”

  “My word and my governess’s testimony is strong evidence. And my father is daimyo, after all.”

  A single bead of sweat fell across my brow and mingled with the tears now burning in my eye. I cinched a cotton binding around Kiyo’s swollen breasts with a sturdy tug. “I will speak to my mother.”

  “Ow! I thought you would reconsider.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, walking away. “I need additional tools.”

  It was several minutes before I could again compose myself to face her.

  I didn’t know whether Kiyo would make an accusation against Shin so close to her wedding date. Perhaps she would not have to. But her father was daimyo, after all. And he may have executed servants quietly on less evidence than Kiyo might forge. Her threats were credible. And though Shin claimed he could leave at any time, I couldn’t risk his life and a probable scandal.

  With trembling fingers, and eyes glazed with tears, I robed Kiyo, and tied the heavy silk obi around her kimono. Somehow, my trembling fingers managed to finish the task, and I stood back and observed the results of my labor without pleasure.

  Kiyo was an extraordinary bride. She shone more lovely than any I had ever seen or heard report of, results belying the truth hidden beneath the folds of silk and layers of cosmetic powder. Though it should have been the most triumphant achievement of my career, it was my greatest shame. Neither I, nor Madame Sato, could take any pleasure in Kiyo’s glory. We sat close together at the feast, watching the progress of the sun falling on the horizon, bearing with pain every profusion over the bride’s gown…the flawless kitsuke, and staring with feigned astonishment at every comment on the strange disappearance of the host’s younger brother.

  The mysterious Nagaishi samurai never returned to the Nobu castle. As promised, the younger brother was not found until three days following the feast. And then, not until late in the day. There was such a calamity immediately following the wedding and the Minister required much attention from the family. It was not until days later that enough hands could be had to look for the brother.

  You might imagine the shock in the village, that such a brilliant wedding need be followed so closely with a funeral. And both of the dead from the great Nobu family!

  35

  Some might think I should have foreseen events, but Kiyo was the first bride among my dead and her abrupt passing surprised me. Perhaps there was some willfulness in my ignorance. I didn’t intend her death, but I couldn’t feel grief for it, and this upset me.

  I grieved, however, for the investigation that would follow. An investigation would certainly follow. When had there ever been two mortal poisonings within a great family while people celebrated on every side? Everyone had eaten the same food, been exposed to the same environment. Everyone wondered how it could be an accident. All whispered about the probability of a family enemy planning a double murder. Madame Sato and myself could not be overlooked. Lord Nobu must know we had motive on account of his unpaid debt, though I had persuaded Madame to frankly forgive it shortly before the wedding occurred. When she saw my vulnerability, she had little choice but to concede.

  Such was the look of it. No one talked of anything else. All wondered. All but myself, and Madame Sato, and— I couldn’t think of it without wincing—Shin. He couldn’t fail to see his own fear of me validated by another healthy man’s violent demise. Would he come for me as promised now?

  Madame knew I was responsible, and she paced with me around the rooms at the inn, wringing her hands and casting vaguely accusing glances at me, but never asking, never directly confronting me. What could she say? She knew lives might be in danger and had wished me to come with her notwithstanding. And yet she astonished me when she finally spoke.

  “There will be questions, but I do not think your reputation will be much tainted by association with two deaths by poisoning.”

  “My reputation, you think, will survive the carnage?”

  “Let’s not use that word. And yes, I think your reputation will survive for now.”

  “Madame!”

  “You will not be implicated. My goodness. How could they put it upon you? It would take many more instances of dead society before investigators can connect the mortalities back to you. And it isn’t consistent. Yoshi’s wife lived and gave birth to the fattest little baby twins you’ve ever seen or heard of! So what is their theory to be?”

  “How many brides am I to my silk upon, Madame?”

  “No more. We will return to the farmhouse this very day. You can weave if you want to. If you do not wish it, I will not sell a fiber.”

  Madame and I were both of the same mind, but it wasn’t to be. And the risks of my craft continued to climb.

  36

  It wasn’t just any letter. It was a letter with an imperial seal, and as good as a death summons for me, though very politely worded.

  The note invited me to the imperial palace at the Eastern Capital, the seat of the figurehead emperor under the Ruling House and site of his court. The word upon the invitation was to “invite,” but there could be no question of declining the Emperor, figurehead though he be. I had to go, as much because I had promised Shin I would accept the invitation as because of the Emperor. I didn’t know how he had known it would come, but I didn’t doubt he had foreseen its coming.

  “But s
uppose the Emperor’s own daughter should be poisoned and die? You cannot go!”

  “I suppose they will execute me, but I will answer the summons. Do you really think I should run from it? That doesn’t sound like you, Madame.”

  “There is living fearlessly, and then there is dallying with sedition. I think it a fair distinction.”

  “I was invited, Madame—not you. You needn’t go and risk your life.”

  “You intend to go alone?”

  “I do.”

  She sighed heavily. “I will miss you when you die.”

  I never could spar with Madame and gave up before beginning.

  I had expected her to say that I was not prepared for the palace’s formalities. That I had successfully impersonated a samurai’s daughter to gentrified country people, but would never pass to the aristocracy at court. The Imperial Princess would see through me. All these facts passed unuttered. Perhaps she knew they were plain to me. And yet Madame bit back every word it. She packed up the hummingbird obi in her best chest and bid me what, for Madame, was almost an emotional goodbye.

  “Do not forget me.”

  I bowed deeply and bid her goodbye at what might have been our final parting. In fact, it would be a long time before I saw Madame again, and would never see her again in health, but I would be an ungrateful and a liar if I failed to acknowledge here that she had saved me.

  Before all was over, she would do it again.

  37

  I had witnessed Nature’s beauty, and daily strove to mimic it in my craft. I had studied it, almost worshipped it. But even this part of me was not quite prepared for human royalty: the trumpeting ceremony, the high-flown opulence—which Nature never needs, but which mimicry adores—that greeted me at the imperial palace at Eastern Capital.