The Scarlet Kimono (Choc Lit) (9 page)

Chapter Twelve

Northern Japan, November 1611

‘Women are impossible to understand. I have done everything in my power to make Hasuko feel at home here, Yanagihara-
san
, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference. Costly
kimonos
, servants aplenty, jewels, hair ornaments, beautiful pieces of art – what more could she possibly want? And I have made it clear I prefer her above all others. Don’t you think that ought to please a woman?’

Having reached the end of his patience in his dealings with his wife, Taro had sought out his old teacher and mentor in the hope of a few words of wisdom, but the old man only smiled and shook his head.

‘I can’t say. It is not for us men to understand them, simply to learn to live with them in harmony.’

‘But that’s exactly what I’m trying to do!’ Taro paced the length of the old man’s verandah and back again. ‘I don’t think I’ve made any unreasonable demands of her. In fact, I have often allowed her to decide whether she wants to spend time with me or not, but I am her husband. She is duty bound to respect me, honour me.’

Yanagihara said nothing. He had been busy with some exquisite calligraphy when Taro arrived and he continued this task with slow, deliberate movements and great concentration. Taro knew there was no point in pushing the old man, so he drew in a calming breath and settled down to wait on a cushion just inside the sliding doors. Yanagihara would give his answers in his own good time.

To contain his impatience he looked around the tiny room in which Yanagihara passed his days. It was plain in the extreme, with only a single
kakemono
, or scroll painting mounted on silk fabric, adorning a small alcove. He mentally compared it to his own suite of rooms, which had hangings and painted screens on every wall, and wondered if perhaps he should have some removed. There was something restful about the simple approach of his old teacher.

‘You have lived for so long,
Sensei
, there must be some advice you can give me?’ he prodded at last, when it seemed as though Yanagihara had forgotten the subject under discussion and lost himself in his calligraphy.

Yanagihara pointed to the character he had just formed on the paper in front of him. ‘What does that say?’ he asked.

Taro frowned and stared at the
kanji
for a moment, wondering yet again if the old man’s mind had gone soft. He was how old now? Taro wasn’t sure, but he did know Yanagihara was at least seventy. It took him a while to summon up the meaning of this particular character as it wasn’t one he used often. ‘The mysterious? The unknowable?’ he guessed.

‘Indeed, my lord.’ Yanagihara nodded. ‘And do you notice that it is made up of two parts?’

Taro looked again and then smiled as understanding dawned. ‘Ah, I see what you mean. Separately one part means young and the other one woman. Very clever.’

‘There is your explanation. Even the Chinese, who made up these characters so long ago, equated women with mystery. There is something about them we men will never grasp, not in a million years.’

Taro sighed. ‘So what you are saying is that I can’t change Hasuko, I have to accept her as she is?’

‘Well, it is of course your prerogative to demand things of her, but I think you’ll find she will never do anything out of liking for you, or even respect. In my visions I believe I have seen her true self and nothing you can do will change the way she sees you. It’s sad, but since you chose to marry her, it is your Fate.’

‘You know I couldn’t have backed out at the last moment. That would have been unthinkable. And surely she must realise this is her fate too, so why can’t she accept it with good grace? Most other women would. It’s not as if I ill-treat her, quite the opposite. Maybe I’m being too lenient?’

‘It’s not in her character. It’s possible she was indulged too much by her father. She’s the most beautiful of his daughters and the youngest child, a dangerous combination.’

‘And what of this concubine business? Hasuko parades little Kimi before me at every opportunity, no doubt hoping she will entice me. I’m insulted my wife abhors my touch that much, although she tried to tell me she was doing it out of consideration for me. Hah! She’s only thinking of herself. Any other woman would have given up after I refused the girl, but not Hasuko.’

‘It is for you to decide. Do you really want an unwilling woman in your bed? Where is the pleasure in that? She is doing her duty and has quickened with child. If I were you, I would leave her alone until such time as she is ready to bear another. Should the child be a girl, then I am sure Hasuko-
sama
will be prepared to try again. She knows it’s her duty.’

‘You think I should accept a concubine of her choosing then?’

‘Perhaps. You have shown her now that you are the master by refusing initially. You can afford to be magnanimous. If you wish, you could veil your acceptance in protestations of care for Hasuko-
sama
, who is now presumably rather large with child?’

‘Hmm. Very well, I’ll think about it. I can’t say I am happy with this situation, but as always, your wisdom is greater than mine.’

Yanagihara bowed and then presented the finished page of calligraphy to his lord with a twinkle lurking in his eyes. ‘Take this, my lord, to remind you you’re not alone. All men have these problems and they always will.’

Chapter Thirteen

On board the
Sea Sprite
, 4th July 1611

Hannah sat slumped against the wall for what seemed like ages. She couldn’t believe what had happened and found it hard to reconcile the Captain Rydon she knew with the hard man who was coming to flog her soon. Her thoughts spun round and round, trying to understand. It just didn’t make sense. He had always been so charming, so polite. Why wouldn’t he even listen to her now?

When at last the door opened, it was to admit Mr Jones, who came to light two lanterns. Hannah had barely noticed that it was growing dark and looked at the man in a daze.

‘Now, now, young’un, it ain’t as bad as all that.’ The deep voice of Mr Jones was soothing and she saw that he wasn’t glaring at her any longer. Instead, there was a look of concern in his deep-set eyes. ‘The captain don’t usually do this,’ he muttered, ‘but you did catch him in a foul mood, more’s the pity. He’ll be along in a moment. Pull yerself together now, boy. It’ll be over soon.’

Hannah made an effort to stand up and managed it just as the captain returned to his cabin. The two lanterns cast an eerie glow over his features as he sat down and she noticed he wasn’t quite such a dapper creature on board ship as he had been in port. Not only was his blond hair unkempt, but his shirt was dirty and stained and his beard looked scruffy. The scowl didn’t do much for his looks either.

She caught sight of her own reflection in the glass of one of the lanterns and almost gasped out loud. It was understandable that he hadn’t recognised her – she barely knew herself. She really did look like a filthy youth. There was nothing even remotely feminine about her as far as she could see. So how could she persuade the captain while still preserving her modesty? Was it even worth her while trying? Perhaps it would be better for her to keep on pretending to be a boy. She didn’t like this new Rydon and if she’d been so wrong about him, how could she be sure he’d protect her even if he found out she was a woman?

Obviously unaware of the conflict raging within Hannah, Rydon rested his long legs nonchalantly on a table covered with charts and measuring instruments. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and looked at her out of hard, grey eyes. Hannah realised she had made a terrible mistake in boarding Captain Rydon’s ship, not her brother’s.

‘God’s wounds,’ she murmured, wanting to kick herself for not making sure of her facts before setting off on the adventure. What a double ass she had been. And what on earth was she to do? There was still the possibility she could convince the captain of her identity somehow, and he would transfer her to her brother’s ship. But what use would that be?

It’s too late. Jacob will be furious.
He wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a sister who had acted so foolishly. And what’s more, he might insist on taking her back to Plymouth, thus delaying the venture.
No, I am not going back.
Hannah made up her mind. Far better to accept her punishment here and sail on. She would rather take her chances on the high seas than marry Ezekiel Hesketh. If only she could persuade the captain that she could be of some use to him during the journey, otherwise it would be a very short trip indeed.

‘Leave us, Jones,’ Rydon ordered.

‘Aye, sir. Of course, sir.’ Jones bowed himself out and the door slammed shut after him, leaving only uncomfortable silence.

‘What’s your name, boy?’

‘Er, Harry. Harry Johnson, sir,’ Hannah lied, choosing the first name that came into her head and adopting a gruff tone of voice in order to sound more like a boy.

‘So, Harry, what have you got to say for yourself? What made you think you could stow away on board my ship?
Stand up straight when I’m talking to you!
’ The last sentence was shouted in a voice so loud it hurt her ears. Hannah straightened her back, stunned into instant obedience.

‘I had no choice, sir.’ She stared at the floor, blinking furiously to stop herself from crying.

‘Is that so? Well,
I
have no choice but to punish you now.’

‘I understand, Captain, but please don’t throw me overboard. I … I can cook. Or do anything else you want,’ she pleaded quickly, hoping to prevent him from doing something hasty. ‘I swear I’ll do whatever you say.’

‘You can cook?’ He had busied himself with shifting some of the charts on the table to one side, but looked up abruptly at her words. ‘Hmm. Well, some proper food around here would make a nice change.’ He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘I’ll think about it. For now, turn towards the wall and take your waistcoat off.’

Hannah ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips, and swallowed down the panic that was rising inside her. ‘M-my waistcoat?’

‘Since you obviously have absolutely no sense whatsoever in that small brain of yours, I have only one option, and that is to try and beat some into you,’ Rydon explained as he got to his feet and started to take his belt off. ‘
Now do as I say!
’

Hannah did, then wondered if he would also ask her to remove her shirt. If so, she’d be exposed as a girl immediately. Before she had time to think about it further, she heard Rydon come up behind her. He pulled her shirt out of her breeches, took hold of the bottom and ripped it up the middle with one sharp tug. She heard the material tear and clutched the front to her chest.

‘You can sew that up later,’ he muttered, ‘as part of your punishment.’

Hannah closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Mending the shirt would be the easy part.

‘Harry-
san
. Harry-
san
!’

Hannah swam up through the darkness and into the light, where an explosion of pain in her back almost sank her once more. She was lying face down on a hard floor and her fuzzy brain registered cooking smells. Although they nauseated her right now, they told her that she was still alive. She relaxed slightly. She seemed to be safe for the moment and her ordeal was over.

‘Harry-
san
, please, wake up now. Back is clean, need new shirt on. Fast before someone come.’

‘What? Oh!’ Hannah realised she was naked to the waist, apart from a small gold cross on a chain which she always wore around her neck. She heard it clinking slightly against the floor as she turned her head to see who was speaking. She blinked in surprise, then quickly gathered her arms to her sides for protection. At first she thought she was seeing things, but she soon realised the man beside her was real.

‘Hodgson?’ she whispered.

He grinned in acknowledgement. ‘
Hai
. Yes, you in cook room. Captain ask me look after you.’

Hannah smiled back feebly, immensely cheered by meeting the strange little foreigner again. Perhaps things weren’t so bad after all. She liked the Chinaman and she could definitely cook, thanks to her mother’s strict teaching. Then she remembered she was half naked. ‘My clothes … the captain, did he …?’

Hodgson interrupted her, shaking his head. ‘No, I take off shirt. Lots of blood, clean with salt water. Need new one.’ He leaned forward and whispered. ‘Will keep secret.’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘Secret?’

‘Girl,’ he said and nodded.

Hannah felt her face flaming. She didn’t think she’d ever been as embarrassed in her entire life. A complete stranger had undressed her and seen half her body.
Dear Lord in heaven!

Hodgson patted her on the head as if she was a small child, however. ‘No worry. Safe with me. Now dress, please.’

‘Safe from the captain?’ Hannah dared to look at him again. He didn’t seem at all fazed by her state of undress and was holding out a garment.

‘From everyone.’ He added sternly, ‘Stay with me always. Never,
never
go alone on ship. Understand? Much danger. If sailors find girl on board …’ He left the sentence unfinished, but Hannah hadn’t grown up in a port for nothing. She knew what he meant and was touched by his concern for her.

She nodded. ‘I swear I’ll do as you say.’

‘Good. Up now.’ Hodgson pulled on her shoulders from behind until she was in a kneeling position and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She drew in a hissing breath to try and alleviate the pain that was streaking across her back like scalding water. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

‘I … is it bad?’

‘No, not bad.’

The Chinaman wouldn’t look her in the eye, but busied himself with something behind her, so she didn’t believe him. It felt as if her entire back was on fire, but Hannah had fainted after the tenth stroke and had no idea how long Rydon had continued flogging her with his belt. She didn’t really blame him. He was entirely within his rights and she deserved to be punished for what she’d done. It was obviously what happened to stowaways. However, that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. She swallowed a sob. At least he had punished her in private, not in front of the entire crew. And she hadn’t cried, which was something she supposed.

‘Did, er, the captain see that I was a girl?’ she dared to ask.

‘Don’t think so. Still wearing shirt. Only torn at back up to collar. I carry you here.’

‘God be praised.’ Hannah was relieved. Besides, if Rydon had noticed that she was a girl, presumably he wouldn’t have left her here with the Chinaman.

Hodgson draped something over her back and she flinched even at that small contact. She managed to put her arms into the garment and realised it was one of his silk tunics. ‘Why …?’ she began, but he cut her off.

‘Silk softer. Also dark colour. Your shirt white, not good right now, will show stains. I wash, then you sew.’

‘Oh, I see. Thank you.’ He had thought of everything and the silk did feel comfortable, sliding along her skin like soft spring water.

‘Here. Drink soup, then sleep. Feel better later.’

He offered her a bowl and she drank the fish soup slowly. When she had finished, he helped her to lie face down once more and put her only spare shirt under her face as a pillow. He told her he’d found her hiding place on the lower deck and had brought her little bundle safely to the cook room.

‘Thank you again, Hodgson. You’re very kind and I’m not sure what I’d have done without you.’

‘Is nothing. Sleep now.’

When Hannah woke for the second time, she took in her surroundings more clearly. The cook room was a cramped cabin with a brick floor, just below the main deck. It was full of utensils, food sacks and barrels, all arranged in orderly rows. In the middle of it all stood Hodgson, still wearing his strange garments. He was busy stirring the contents of a huge cauldron. She got to her feet and standing next to him, she noticed he was no taller than she was herself, although considerably broader. In the sunlight coming through the hatch above their heads his black hair gleamed, but it was streaked with quite a few grey strands so she guessed he was older than she’d first thought. Perhaps as much as forty-five, although it was hard to tell. He looked up and his dark eyes reminded her of a cat. When he caught sight of her they opened wide and his face was lit up by a welcoming smile.

‘Good morning. Feel better?’

‘Uhm, a little, thank you.’ The truth was that her back still hurt beyond belief, but it was a different kind of pain now. More a dull ache, which was bearable if she moved slowly. ‘My back itches.’ She knew that was because Hodgson had cleaned it with salt water. Her mother had often done the same whenever anyone was hurt. The salt would help the healing process, but it also dried the skin out and every time she moved, the scabs pulled at the sides of her wounds.

Hannah inspected the cabin more closely. Everything was tidy and in its place and every surface scrubbed clean. The pots were shining, as were the knives and other utensils. Hodgson was evidently a neat individual.

‘Harry-
san
help me? Or want rest more?’

‘No, I’ll try to help.’ Hannah thought his pronunciation of her new name rather quaint and it made her wonder about his own name. ‘What are you really called? I remember the captain saying your name wasn’t Hodgson?’ she said, thinking out loud.

‘No. My name Hoji. In my country we say
san
after, mean mister, or
sama
if noble person. So Hoji-
san
.’ He bowed to her formally.