The Scarlet Kimono (Choc Lit) (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Northern Japan, October 1611

Taro liked nothing better than to eat his evening meal alone in his private quarters, away from the constant bustle of the castle and free at last from the hordes of guards and retainers that followed him wherever he went. Here, he could relax and allow his thoughts to roam without interruption. His servants knew that once they had delivered the food to him, he preferred to serve himself and didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone unless it was an emergency. Even the guards outside his doors kept absolutely quiet so as not to annoy him.

He was therefore irritated to hear the floor boards in the corridor creaking, just after he had finished the last morsel of food. The planks had been laid unevenly on purpose and the noise they made warned him of a visitor or an intruder. Taro wanted neither. His ears were attuned to their every squeak and since whoever was approaching didn’t even try to walk softly, he assumed it wasn’t an enemy. He sighed and sat back on his cushion to wait for the knock, his features composed into a pleasant expression that didn’t reveal his true feelings.

‘My lord? May I come in?’

Taro blinked in surprise. He knew the voice and it wasn’t one he had been expecting. ‘Hasuko-
sama
? Of course you can. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

His wife opened the sliding door and came scuttling in, having left her slippers in the corridor. The silk of her gown made a shushing noise as she hauled it behind her on the
tatami
mats and arranged it to her satisfaction when she came to a halt, kneeling in front of her husband, and bowed low before him.

‘
Konbanwa
,’ she said rather too formally for his liking. Taro frowned, but managed to smooth his brow before she raised her head.

‘Good evening, Hasuko. Are you well?’ He glanced at her stomach, which as yet was showing no signs of the pregnancy she had told him about only the week before.

‘As well as can be expected, I thank you.’ She bowed again, obviously waiting for him to give her permission to state her errand. He decided to wait a little longer.

‘Then you have come to keep me company. That is very kind,’ he said, sending a fleeting look, as if without thinking, towards his sleeping chamber. The door to it was hidden behind a particularly opulent wall painting that showed a peacock sitting proudly on the branch of a huge pine tree. Taro knew Hasuko was only too well aware of what lay behind it. He had summoned her often enough.

‘No!’ she said a little too quickly, then averted her gaze, stammering, ‘I mean, of course I would be happy to keep you company, my lord, but now that I am … in a delicate condition, I have been thinking. That is to say, this matter has occupied my thoughts lately to the exclusion of all else.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Taro smiled and was secretly pleased to notice a blush stealing up the pale expanse of her neck.

‘What I mean, my lord, is that I may be unable to … to see to your every need now. But since I am concerned about your welfare, I have taken the liberty of bringing you a companion.’

‘
Nani?
What do you mean?’ Taro’s good humour evaporated in an instant and he glanced towards the door, which was now opening for a second time. For a moment, he was afraid he would see Reiko coming through it and he steeled himself not to swear out loud. Although she hadn’t made any overtures to him lately, he’d been sure she was just biding her time. Now that her sister was pregnant, she’d probably think he would be easier to persuade.

To his huge relief, it wasn’t Reiko who entered however. Instead, a tiny woman, more child than adult, came shuffling in and prostrated herself before him. ‘Who is this?’ he demanded.

‘This is Kimi, my lord,’ Hasuko replied. She smiled at the girl and indicated she should sit up. Taro could see that Kimi was as exquisite as a doll. Although her face had been powdered white and her eyes and mouth painted into perfection, it was clear this wasn’t really needed. She would have been just as beautiful without any paint. He frowned at her and saw alarm in her eyes, although it was quickly masked.

‘Why have you brought me this girl-child, Hasuko?’

‘She’s not a child, she is a woman grown and I have bought her for you so you won’t have to suffer while I am in this condition.’

It was a pretty speech, but it made Taro even more annoyed than he was already. As far as he was aware, pregnant women were not ill. There was no reason why Hasuko shouldn’t continue to fulfill her role as his wife in every sense of the word until perhaps the very last month of her pregnancy. He had been prepared to be gentle with her, especially during this early stage when many women suffered from nausea, but he’d never thought to replace her in his bed with a concubine. At least not so soon after their wedding. It was Hasuko he wanted still, no one else.

He thought he’d made that clear.

He took a deep breath, once again mindful of the words of warning spoken to him by Yanagihara. ‘I’m honoured that you should be so concerned about my welfare, dear wife, but I’m afraid I cannot accept your gift.’

Hasuko’s eyes widened in shock before she managed to regain control of herself. ‘You … you don’t like Kimi? Would you prefer someone else? Someone a bit older, perhaps? I can easily find another girl. I only chose her because you seemed to admire beauty in a woman and she is so very –’

Taro held up his hand to stop the flow of words. ‘Kimi is too young, yes, but had she been older my answer would still be the same. The problem is not just her age, but the fact that she is not you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘There is only one woman I want at present and that is you, Hasuko. I understand you may be feeling a little unwell just now and I’m prepared to be patient. It will pass, or so the midwives tell me.’

He’d made enquiries about the process of pregnancy and childbirth and knew as much as she did herself. She couldn’t fool him. Hasuko’s eyes narrowed, but with a smile he made it clear. ‘Once I had set eyes on you, my lovely wife, no other woman could compare. I simply don’t desire anyone else. Doesn’t that please you?’

‘I … yes, yes, of course. I’m honoured by your sentiments.’ Hasuko’s expression was purposely blank, but he had the distinct feeling she was far from pleased. Taro sighed inwardly. Would he ever manage to make his wife desire or even respect him, he wondered. Was it at all possible?

He was beginning to doubt it.

Concern for young Kimi’s welfare, in light of his refusal, made him add, ‘However, there may come a time when I feel differently. So Kimi may stay for now. I’m sure she can learn much from watching you and your sister.’

Hasuko’s expression brightened at his words. ‘Thank you, my lord. I will train her well and if you should ever find yourself wishing for her company, you have only to say.’

‘You may be sure I will.’

Hasuko left as quickly as her unwieldy robe permitted, with a bewildered Kimi in tow. The girl looked grateful for the reprieve and Taro had to hide a smile at this sight. The poor girl had probably been forced into this by impecunious parents and wanted no part of the bargain. Now she would live in a castle without having to do anything she wasn’t ready for. It was probably much more than she had ever expected.

Taro sighed. He sensed that his wife’s anger was only banished temporarily, and he hoped the girl wouldn’t suffer as a result of it. Now that he knew of Kimi’s existence, Hasuko couldn’t dismiss her, but he knew women could be extremely unkind to each other in other ways. He had heard his own mother tell horror stories about her mother-in-law. But Kimi couldn’t be held responsible for the lord’s strange ideas. He would make it his business to find out in the morning and to make sure the girl was treated well. Perhaps he would also give her parents a sum of money in compensation. They had likely hoped for further favours when their daughter was made official concubine. Taro was determined this wouldn’t happen.

He stood up and went over to slide open a door on the other side of the room which led to his private garden. The guards posted outside scuttled into the shadows in order to stay unobtrusive, even though he hardly noticed them any more. He sat down cross-legged and stared into the twilight, seeking answers he knew would not be easy to find.

There had to be a way.

Chapter Eleven

Plymouth, Devon, 30th June 1611

They left before dawn. Hannah heard the bell ring for the morning watch, which she knew was at half past four, and soon after that, the motion of the ship changed. Where before she’d felt only a gentle rise and fall of the hull, now the movement increased and she guessed they were heading out of the harbour.
The earlier, the better
, she thought. If they were far out to sea by the time Kate discovered she’d been sleeping next to a bundle of blankets, it would be too late for her to raise the alarm.

Hannah had occasionally sailed around the bay in a small boat with Edward and his friends, and had enjoyed this without any ill effects. She was therefore hardly able to credit tales of people who spent entire journeys in retching agony. She soon found out, however, that it was one thing to travel in the fresh air on the deck of a tiny boat, and quite another to be confined in a dark space below the waterline.

Down there, in the ship’s bowels, the vessel’s every movement was exaggerated by the fact that none of Hannah’s other senses were being used. There was only motion and soon she was aware of nothing else. Gut-roiling, head-spinning, relentless motion that made her want to scream for it to stop, if only for a few moments. Her stomach rebelled and she became dizzy and disorientated to the point that she spent most of her time lying down. She tried to sleep as much as possible, since it was the only time her body had any respite from the never-ending
mal de mer
. But even in her dreams the nausea clawed at her and tore her into wakefulness.

As far as food was concerned, Hannah decided she could have saved herself the trouble of bringing any. After a few attempts she gave up trying to eat altogether, since it was impossible to keep anything down. She had to be content with just sipping the ale from time to time in order to alleviate the thirst that plagued her and caused her lips to crack. She blessed the forethought which had made her steal the bucket.

‘Oh, dear God, please help me,’ she prayed, but the good Lord didn’t seem to be listening. Either that or he didn’t agree with what she had done and was now punishing her in a suitable way.

Her days rapidly turned into a waking nightmare. At times she wasn’t even sure whether she was actually awake or dreaming since she was surrounded by darkness. She could hear all the noises of the ship: footsteps on the planks of the decks above her; shouting, swearing, singing and laughter from the men working overhead; the flapping of the huge sails, like the cracking of a whip as they unfurled. The sounds were all muffled, however, and seemed to come from far away. It gave them a dreamlike quality, which made Hannah unsure whether she was still alive. She felt as if she was in a world of her own, floating aimlessly.

The fresh smell of the ocean didn’t penetrate into the hold. The salty moisture did though and it soon stained her clothes and skin, making her feel clammy all over. Instead she breathed in the increasingly fetid odour of the bilge water below. Combined with the smells produced by her illness, it became an ever-increasing agony. Even worse were the rats. Whenever the ship’s cat left her side, the vermin soon ventured out. She shuddered each time and kicked out with a muffled scream as they scurried across her legs.

‘Get away! Aaargh …’ She had never been afraid of rats before, but then she had never encountered them in such great numbers either. In desperation she threw some of her food as far away from herself as she could, in order to keep the vermin at bay. It was only a temporary solution, but it gave her some respite. She recoiled at the sound of tiny feet scrabbling for a foothold and squeaks of outrage as the rats fought over her cheese and pie slices.

Bone weary, she wrapped herself in her blanket and curled into a tight ball of misery with the rest of the food tucked in next to her body. How was she to endure this? She wanted to run screaming out of there that instant, but she knew if she did, everything she’d been through so far would have been for nothing. Mustering what little determination she had left, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Hannah lost count of the number of bells that had been rung and had no idea how long she had been in the hold. When she grew so weak she thought she would surely die if she stayed hidden any longer, she decided the moment to confess had come. She could only hope her brother would be lenient. She felt she had already suffered more than enough and almost regretted her foolhardiness. Almost, but not quite.

She managed to crawl up the ladder and onto the next level of the ship, which was the gun deck. There she collapsed for a while, intending to rest, but before she had time to go any further, a group of sailors found her.

‘Well, well, what have we here?’ one exclaimed and pulled her upright with rough hands. He shook her like a dog shakes a rat, and Hannah thought her head might actually snap off. ‘A stowaway, is it? Thought you’d come along for bit of adventure eh, young’un?’

His mates laughed and one punched her on the arm playfully and gave her a shove towards one of the other sailors. She sucked in her breath at the pain, but was too grateful they still thought her a boy to protest at the rough treatment. Instinctively, she folded her arms across her chest when she was passed to the next sailor in the same way.

‘We’ll show you adventure, won’t we, men?’ Another push and Hannah’s arms were gripped by rough hands that held her weakened muscles like a manacle. She bit her lip to stop from crying out.

‘Please, ta-take me to the captain,’ she begged.

‘The captain, eh? Oh, aye, he’ll be bound to want to hear of this, but we’re not through with ye yet.’

This was greeted with more guffaws and a hearty slap on the back which sent Hannah reeling into an upright beam. Her shoulder jarred painfully and she cried out, closing her eyes as dizziness and nausea assailed her once more. When she opened them again it was to the horrifying sight of four sailors closing in on her, leering grins on their faces. She felt panic squeezing her insides and black dots began to dance before her eyes.

‘Puny little worm, ain’t he?’ More laughter. Hannah was pulled up onto her toes by someone tugging on her ear.

‘Stand up straight when we talk to ye.’

She grabbed the arm that was doing the pulling and tried to lever it downwards, but it was hard as steel. It didn’t give an inch even when she practically hung on it.

‘Now, then, what’ll we –’

‘What’s going on here?’ A new voice cut in and instant silence ensued. Hannah’s ear was released and she opened her eyes to see the sailors shuffling their feet and looking away, as if they had nothing to do with her. A large man with straggly, sandy-coloured whiskers was glaring at the group, his hands on his hips. ‘Well?’ he barked.

‘We found a stowaway, Mr Jones, sir.’ One of the sailors pointed at Hannah, who swallowed and tried not to flinch under Mr Jones’s hard gaze. She gathered he must be the boatswain or some other higher ranking member of the crew.

‘Is that right? And why was it not reported to me immediately?’ Mr Jones turned to glare at the group of men and Hannah shuddered with relief. It wasn’t her he was angry with.

‘Er, we was just …’

‘We were on our way, sir. Just havin’ a bit o’ fun.’

‘Yes, I could see that.’ The men cringed and hunched their shoulders, waiting for the inevitable outburst. Mr Jones didn’t disappoint them. He drew in a deep breath and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Well, what are you standing around here for? Get back to work, you swag-bellied, good-for-nothing scum!’

The men dispersed like cockroaches fleeing a sudden beam of light and Hannah was left alone with the formidable Mr Jones. He turned his scowl on her.

‘You. Come with me.’ Her arm was once again gripped with a violence that made her gasp, and she was dragged along willy-nilly towards the ladder and up onto the deck. Blinding sunlight hit her eyes with unexpected force and she blinked several times before she was able to focus. She breathed deeply of the wholesome, salty air, grateful to be out in the open at last. In the next instant, the rough hand began to drag her in the direction of the back of the ship.

‘Go and ask the captain to come immediately,’ Mr Jones barked at the nearest sailor, who set off at a run. ‘As for you, young man, you’re comin’ with me. And you’d best pray the captain’s in a good mood, which he weren’t last time I looked.’

He opened the door to a spacious cabin underneath the poop deck, which Hannah knew must be the captain’s own quarters. She was shoved between the shoulder blades and landed on the floor on all fours, the air knocked out of her lungs temporarily. Before she had time to get up another voice rang out.

‘A stowaway you say? What the devil …?’

Hannah lifted her head to stare with surprise at Captain Rydon. She frowned in confusion as she tried to work out what he was doing on her brother’s ship. Then she realised he must be visiting in order for them to confer about something. Their route perhaps? Her heart began to thump with joy. She hadn’t thought to see him until they reached the first port on the journey. This was an unexpected bonus.

She opened her mouth to greet him, but the words died in her throat as she saw that an angry scowl marred the captain’s usually sunny features.

‘What is the meaning of this, boy?’ he barked, his face darkening with angry colour.

‘I, I …’ Hannah stammered, even more confused by his reaction. Boy? Surely he must recognise her? It was true they hadn’t met since the betrothal feast, but that wasn’t very long ago. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten her so soon? She opened her mouth once more to ask for Jacob, but he cut her off before she had time to say anything.

‘Do you know what the punishment is for stowing away on my ship, young man?’

Hannah gasped. Young man? Was he blind? ‘But, Captain, I’m not –’ she began, but was interrupted yet again.

‘A flogging and then you’ll be thrown overboard.’ Hannah felt the blood drain from her face. ‘I can’t abide stowaways,’ she heard him mutter, before he turned back to the other man. ‘Damned nuisance, this.’

‘Yes, sir, but seein’ as he’s so young, perhaps a little leniency …?’ Jones stared from the captain to Hannah and back again.

‘Don’t be daft, man. Leave us.’ The captain’s mouth tightened into a thin line of disapproval as the door shut behind Jones. Hannah crawled forward slightly and gazed up at Rydon. The cabin seemed much smaller with his towering presence filling in the space. She hurried to get to her feet. As she self-consciously dusted off her clothes, she noticed just how filthy she was. She probably stank to high heaven as well. She ran a hand across her cheek and felt grime encrusted on her skin. It was no wonder the captain didn’t recognise her.

‘I, I would like to speak to the other captain, if – if you please,’ she stuttered. She needed Jacob. He’d know her anywhere, of that she was sure, grime or no grime.

Rydon drew himself up and looked down his nose at her. ‘What other captain? This is
my
ship and as I said before, stowaways are not tolerated.’

Hannah goggled at him. His ship? She’d boarded the wrong one? Dear Lord, that meant she’d been alone with strange men for days, without her brother as nominal chaperon. Her lungs constricted and she suddenly felt breathless as the enormity of her situation dawned on her.

‘You will wait here until I have the time to administer the flogging personally,’ he continued. ‘Then you’ll be thrown into the sea. I hope you can swim.’

Rydon marched to the door and put his hand on the latch, ignoring her cry of protest. ‘But, captain –’

‘Silence!’ The door slammed shut behind him and Hannah sank to the floor.

What had she done?