The Last Concubine Page 6

  She threw herself down next to Sachi and put her arms around her, beaming up at her, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Well,’ Sachi mumbled uncomfortably, ‘I hardly saw him. He looked quite young. He might have been handsome.’

  ‘And you’re to be a middle-rank maid. You must have done something very good in your last life to have such good fortune! You’ve jumped aboard the jewelled palanquin! I knew the gods couldn’t have given you a face like yours for nothing.’

  ‘But what does a concubine have to do?’

  ‘Well, as far as I know the middle-rank maids have three shifts. There’s the morning shift, the afternoon shift and the night shift. There have to be maids ready to serve Her Imperial Highness at any time of night or day.’

  ‘Stop teasing. You know what I mean. What about His Majesty?’

  ‘Well . . . I don’t know exactly. You’ll be his number-two wife, the queen of this whole palace – if you have a baby, that is; but of course you will. Your family will be rich. They’ll never have to worry again. It’s the greatest thing that could ever happen to a girl. You will need maids. Let me be your maid. Please, Sachi, please. Please ask Lady Kin.’

  ‘But . . . I have to go to him tonight.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. You must have seen pillow books and those strange pictures some of the ladies have, those “laughing pictures”. Just shut your eyes and bear it. It probably won’t last long. It might even be fun. I’ve heard people say it’s fun. Come on, don’t hide here. Let’s go and join the ladies.’

  They had barely returned to the main chamber when Haru, Sachi’s teacher, appeared, bowing at the door. Sachi was overjoyed to see her. She ran to greet her, tripping over her skirts in her haste. The ladies-in-waiting and their maids, filling the room like a flock of colourful birds, avoided looking at her. Only one cast a glance in her direction as she dashed by – whether of pity, envy or something else, she couldn’t tell.

  Haru greeted her with a deep bow, pressing her face to the ground. ‘Profound congratulations,’ she said solemnly.

  She sat back on her heels and looked at her, then put her hand over her mouth and smiled hugely.

  ‘The whole palace is abuzz,’ she said, with a giggle of delight. Sachi gave her a wobbly smile in return.

  Haru had a round face that might once have been pretty though she had long since become rather plump. Her cheeks were full and pink and her cat-like eyes nearly disappeared when she smiled, which was often. Sachi called her Big Sister though she was close to her thirtieth year. Usually she was full of laughter and merry stories, but in unguarded moments her face crinkled into sadness. She had lived most of her life in the women’s quarters of Edo Castle, the most opulent palace in the land, she was accustomed to luxury unimaginable to those outside the precincts, yet she still wore the plain kimono of a lower-level maid and twisted her hair into a simple knot. While other women climbed through the ranks, she had remained a teacher. Perhaps because of her many accomplishments, or perhaps because she came from a part of the country not far from Sachi’s area and could make sense of the barbarous dialect the child had spoken when she arrived, Haru had been assigned to turn Sachi into a lady.

  They retired to their usual corner of the great room. For a while they made an effort to work at their lessons but Sachi’s mind was far away. There was so much she needed to learn; and the only person she dared ask was Haru. Eventually she plucked up courage.

  ‘Have you ever known a man?’ she murmured in the softest of whispers.

  Haru leaned forward. When she caught the words, she pressed her hands over her mouth, rocked back on her heels and exploded with laughter. The ladies who crowded the room glanced around, startled.

  ‘Everyone envies you,’ Haru said, smiling rather sadly. ‘It is an experience most of us will never have, certainly not me.’

  Even Sachi knew that very few of the three thousand palace women were ever likely to be chosen as concubines, yet they all had to remain pure throughout their lives.

  ‘That happiness is denied us,’ said Haru. ‘Though I knew one lady once who grabbed at it.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She disappeared. Women are not permitted to make choices like that for themselves, particularly when they belong to the shogun. She was very beautiful. She looked a lot like you.’

  Sachi could think of only one thing.

  ‘What’s going to happen? What do I have to do?’

  ‘How on earth should I know?’ said Haru with another burst of laughter. ‘Be sure to shout out in pain so they know you have never been with a man. His Majesty is leaving tomorrow but he will be back soon, and then you can begin your career as his concubine in earnest. I can teach you the theory of what gives a man pleasure. I’ve studied plenty of pillow books. You are very young and you have a good chance of bearing a healthy son. The main thing is to ask no questions and do exactly as you are told. Never forget that you are a noblewoman now. Maintain your dignity at all costs. No matter what happens, never reveal your feelings, not for a moment.’

  ‘But will it hurt?’

  ‘Don’t ever let anyone hear you say such a thing! This is the greatest honour anyone could ever aspire to! You are in your fifteenth year, Little Sister. Most girls your age are married. It’s time you discovered what it means to sleep with a man.

  ‘It is not my place to say such things,’ Haru added, lowering her voice, ‘but you are lucky. His Majesty is gentle and kind-hearted. His predecessors have not all been so. And he’s young.’

  Nervously Sachi ran her fingers along the tines of her comb, hidden in her waistband.

  ‘What do you have there?’ asked Haru.

  ‘Nothing . . .’

  But it seemed wrong to conceal anything from Haru, so Sachi brought out the comb and showed it to her. Haru’s face changed.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ she snapped.

  Ever since Sachi came to the palace the comb had been tucked away in the folds of her garments. Now she looked at it properly. It was beautiful, tortoiseshell embossed with gold, with what looked like the crest of some noble family inlaid in gold on the edge. It caught the light and lit up the dark corner of the room where they sat.

  ‘I brought it with me from the village,’ she said, bewildered. ‘It’s my lucky comb. I’ve had it ever since I was little.’

  ‘Let me see it,’ said Haru. She took it in her hand and turned it this way and that. Sachi peeked at her questioningly. Haru was staring at her as if she was trying to find something in her face. Her usual sunny smile had entirely disappeared. Then she blinked and seemed to come back to the present with a start. Sachi snatched the comb and tucked it into her waistband again.

  ‘It’s a magnificent comb,’ said Haru, shaking her head as if to dislodge some private memory. ‘A very fine piece of work. I didn’t know they had such things in the countryside.’

  IV

  Long before evening Sachi was back behind the screens in the princess’s private section of the room, waiting for Lady Tsuguko to give her her instructions. Still the princess was not there. Sachi had never known her to be absent for so long. She knew she belonged to Princess Kazu and that Her Highness had chosen to give her to His Majesty. If only Sachi could be sure that whatever she did now would lighten the princess’s sadness, not increase it.

  ‘The time is approaching.’

  Sachi followed Lady Tsuguko into the principal dressing room. Oil lamps and tall candles lit up the darkest corners, casting flickering pools of light on the birds, trees and flowers exquisitely painted on the gold screens. Even the humblest items – the round mirrors on their stands, the towel racks, the make-up chests with brushes, combs, tweezers and tubs of cosmetics laid in neat rows on the floor in front of them, the round basins and long-spouted ewers – were lacquered in gold and marked with the imperial crest. Kimonos embroidered with summer flowers hung over kimono stands.

  Sachi knelt. The maid in charge of the dressing room opened the s
mall iron kettle containing the mixture of sumac-leaf gall, sake and iron used to blacken the princess’s teeth. The bitter odour filled the air. Painstakingly the maid began to paint Sachi’s teeth. Sachi watched in the mirror as the white teeth she had known since childhood – as shiny as those of a savage or an animal – disappeared. When she smiled she saw the cavernous mouth of an adult woman, one who has known a man.

  The maid shaved Sachi’s eyebrows, tweezing away every last hair. She massaged wax into her face, then brushed on a layer of white make-up and puffed powder on top. Then she dipped her thumbs into charcoal powder and carefully pressed them precisely a finger’s breadth above the place where Sachi’s eyebrows had been. Two smudged ovals like the tips of a moth’s antennae appeared on her forehead. The maid outlined her eyes in black, rouged her cheeks and painted a tiny petal of red safflower paste on each of her lips, turning her mouth into a small puckered rosebud.

  From the mirror a flawless white mask gazed back at her. Sachi had become a doll, like the dolls that they set on tiers for Girls’ Day.

  Other maids kneeling around her divided her hair into strands, tugging and easing it until it lay spread on the floor like a fan. They oiled and combed each section, then swept it up and back, away from her face. It flowed down her back in a ponytail, as black and shiny as lacquer, bound with ribbons. Sachi stood motionless as the maids wrapped her in a ceremonial kimono of white silk like a wedding kimono – or a shroud.

  The corridor outside was full of shadows and dark corners. It was the first time Sachi had ever left the princess’s apartments after nightfall. The women lining the corridor stared at her curiously and whispered as she passed. The tapers that the attendants carried gave off a flickering light and the lanterns which burned along the passageways crackled. The smoke prickled her nostrils. Shadows danced along the wooden walls. The polished floorboards creaked under the light tread of many soft-shod feet.

  When they reached the Upper Bell Corridor, Lady Tsuguko knelt outside the door to the shogun’s apartments. She bowed her forehead to the ground and announced, ‘I bring the lowly lady of the side room. I beg your favour.

  ‘Do your best, child,’ she whispered.

  Inside her robe, Sachi felt a bead of sweat trickle from her armpit and run down her side. Silently she prayed that the crisp silk gauze was not stained or crumpled. She felt terribly alone. It was difficult to believe all this was not a punishment for some dreadful crime she had committed.

  She found herself in an antechamber lit by lanterns and huge smoking candles set in tall gold candlesticks. The chief of the seven elders, Lady Nakaoka, tiny and elegant under her gleaming black wig, was there on her knees. Her attendants hovered respectfully around her.

  ‘Come here, child,’ she said, not unkindly. In the dim light her yellow flesh and sunken cheeks gave her the unearthly look of a demon mask.

  In a dream Sachi stood stock still while the attendants removed her clothes.

  ‘Legs apart,’ said Lady Nakaoka briskly, gesturing at the futon spread in front of her. Sachi lay down, feeling small and vulnerable. The old woman leaned forward, tugging and probing. The examination seemed to go on for ever. Finally she pushed a knobbly finger deep inside her. Sachi stared at the ceiling, studying the intricate weave of the bamboo.

  Haru’s words echoed in her ears. Somehow she must retain her dignity. She must never show what she was feeling, no matter how great the pain and humiliation. Sachi fixed her mind on a happier memory, as her old life came flooding back to her. She thought of the big wooden house with the tiled roof, the shrilling of the cicadas and the cool waters of the River Kiso. She tried to recall the little girl who had lived in the village, deep in the mountains, but there was only a breath of a memory left. Life had been so carefree then. Now she was utterly changed. She could never go back.

  Lady Nakaoka nodded. ‘Good,’ she said.

  Sachi knelt and the women untied her hair. Lady Nakaoka riffled through it strand by strand as if searching for something hidden.

  ‘Good,’ she said again.

  Naked, Sachi was escorted into a dressing room. Maids bustled around her, tying her hair back loosely, securing it with a comb and helping her into a loose sleeping robe of fine white damask. Lady Nakaoka ordered her to kneel opposite her.

  ‘This is your first time, child, so I will explain your duties. Pay full attention. Lady Chiyo and one of the lady priests will be keeping watch nearby. I myself and Lady Tsuguko will be in an adjoining room. We will all be alert and wakeful all night. It is our responsibility to listen to every word that passes between His Majesty and yourself. In the morning you will report your conversation to me. Remember it with care. Lady Chiyo and the lady priest will also report. All three accounts must tally. Beware of asking any favours from His Majesty. And remember – make sure you sleep facing His Majesty.’

  V

  As four drumbeats marked the hour, the bells in the Upper Bell Corridor sounded with a tinny jangle. Footsteps came sauntering along the corridor, accompanied by a peal of boyish laughter. The door slid open and the room was suffused with a musky scent. The ladies prostrated themselves.

  Time seemed to stand still. Sachi kept her face pressed to the floor. Perfumed garments brushed past her. She heard the tinkle of sake being poured, the dull click of wooden cups, the sound of voices and laughter. The sweet smell of tobacco smoke mingled with the scent of perfume and the sound of small pipes being lit, puffed and tapped out.

  ‘Come, my lady.’

  The maids led her into the shogun’s bedchamber. She was faintly aware of the splendid furnishings, the luxurious layers of bedding, the glimmer of red and gold and the sheen of the white silk coverlet. An arm’s length away, to the right of the dais where the shogun’s bedding was laid out, was a smaller, thinner futon with a lacquered pillow, cosmetics boxes and a day kimono beside it. That was where she would sleep once her duties were over. A little distance away were two more futons, one on each side. The futon next to the shogun’s was for Lady Chiyo, the one next to her own for the lady priest.

  Sachi knelt, eyes cast down. The maids were fussing around the shogun. She heard the muffled clinks as with great care they laid his swords in the sword rest at the head of the bed and the rustle of silk as they removed his clothes and helped him into a sleeping robe.

  Finally he lay down. There was a padded wooden pillow covered in red-tasselled silk for his head. Still not daring to look at him, Sachi pulled her robe tightly around her and took her place beside him. The futon was so soft and downy she felt as if she were floating. The maids snuffed out the lamps, leaving just one glowing. She heard the rustle of Lady Chiyo and the lady priest taking up their positions on each side of them.

  In the gloom she lay with her eyes squeezed shut, hardly daring to breathe. She could feel the heat of the shogun’s body like a burning ember right next to her. The smell of his sweat mingled with his scent was so strong she thought she would suffocate. Then a hand reached over and pulled her sleeping robe open.

  ‘Beautiful,’ murmured a boyish voice. For a while there was silence. She could feel his eyes roaming across her. Then a hand, soft as a woman’s, brushed her stomach. She shivered at his touch. Light as a feather, the hand stroked her chest and circled her breast, cupping it for a moment.

  ‘Beautiful,’ whispered the voice again.

  Gently he brushed her nipple with his fingers then ran his hand between her breasts to her belly button, very slowly as if exploring. Then he pushed her legs apart. She felt the heat of his hand as he stroked the inside of one thigh, then the other. Her body was prickling with strange sensations. But she was too afraid to pay much attention – afraid of what might happen next. Whatever he did, she knew she would have to endure it.

  There was a gentle but firm shove. Dutifully she allowed herself to be pushed over on to her stomach. Fear swept over her, obliterating all thoughts from her mind. The hand pushed her legs wider apart. The moment had come: a heavy body was on top of h
er. Crushed beneath him, slippery with his sweat, she felt as if she was being ripped apart.

  In shock and pain she shouted out. The heaving and panting seemed to go on for ever. Her face pressed against the pillow, she wondered how much longer she could endure it. But then something strange happened. An unknown sensation began to suffuse her body. First it tingled in her belly, then it crept up her spine. Her limbs seemed to have turned to water. The feeling rose to her throat. It was not at all unpleasant. In fact, it was quite delicious.

  Then everything disappeared. She forgot her fear and pain. Drowning in the sensation, lost in his scent, a groan slipped from her lips. The shogun too grunted and lay heavily on top of her.

  For a while they lay in silence. Coming to herself, Sachi felt a great wave of relief. It was over, she had survived. But she had done nothing, she had not known what to do. Supposing he was disgusted with her, suppose he no longer wished her to be his concubine?

  He reached out. A bell rang.

  ‘Oi!’ he shouted. A maid scooted in on her knees. She lit a long-stemmed pipe, gave it to him and slipped out again.

  Sachi turned and peeped at him. In the flickering lamplight his smooth chest seemed to glow with the pallor of someone who has never worked in the fields or even walked in the sun, who has lived his life entirely protected from the elements.

  As her eyes crept up she made out an unassertive chin, then a delicate mouth shaped like a bow, curving at the ends. Then came a nose, slightly turned up, set in an oval face, then a pair of narrow brown eyes under fine eyebrows. The whiteness of his skin continued to the top of his head, which was shaved in the samurai manner. His neat topknot had become tousled and strands of his oiled hair hung loose around his face.

  He was unlike any man she had ever seen. Indeed, he was not a man but virtually a god. This was the shogun, the ruler of the whole great land of the rising sun. This was also the first man she had gazed on since she had entered the women’s palace. To her dazzled eyes he seemed to embody every noble quality she could ever imagine. And here he was, lying right next to her, his silken robe flung carelessly open.