Sanematsu entered the public chamber, a spacious room, quiet and peaceful, walled with sturdy wooden panels on all but one side. Carved half-panels decorated the back wall, the remainder a mural showing a panorama of the coast of Kyushu painted on the screen above. Heavy dark-wood beams held up the ceiling. In the twilight before the moon rose, candles glowed on the chest and the low tables near the cushions. Paper lanterns with short candles rested on tall poles placed at equal distances around the perimeter of the room.
The furnishings were more elaborate. Two chests stood against opposite walls and a table sat beside an armrest. All were black-lacquered with gilt inlay of a simple design. A sword rack stood inside the door, and several large cushions and another armrest sat in the corner. The zabuton had quilted covers of linen and silk, filled with barley husks.
Near the entry was a niche with an unadorned vase fitted with two cuttings. Tatami covered the floor from wall to wall, giving off a fresh green scent that blended with the incense rising from an altar atop the shorter of the chests. The second chest was tall, with long panels that opened to reveal numerous drawers.
The unadorned shoji were moveable, allowing the rice-paper-paneled walls to be opened for fresh air. One stood open when he entered.
The instant he slid the door closed behind him, his mistress was at his side. He waved Tsuta away. He was not hungry, being full of the afternoon’s tea. He loosened the girdle holding his swords, and then removed them. He placed the short sword in a rack and carried the long one with him to the corner, where he sat cross-legged on a zabuton. The sword in its scabbard rested on the floor at his right.
Sanematsu sat, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. His back was straight, his head held high, his body and mind weary. Meditating, he waited for the energy to bathe. His head fell forward, and then he jerked awake.
Hamasaki and a girl stepped into the room, admitted by Sanematsu’s private guard, who stood vigilant in the outer hall.
“My lord.” Hamasaki dropped to his knees. A hand clasped on the woman’s wrist forced her down with him. She bowed forward in like manner.
“Greetings, Hamasaki-uji.” He bowed, and then all three straightened. “You may depart.”
Hamasaki fled, and the personal guard fell back and closed the shoji. The panel slid without resistance on its thin wooden frame with a faint hiss followed by a definitive snap.
Sanematsu berated his carelessness. Dozing off could have cost him his life. Since childhood, he had been drilled never to show a sign of weakness or appear less than perfect. It angered him to have to be so rigid in every facet of his life. He wanted to be at ease in his household, but nothing about his life promised relaxation.
He shook the cobwebs from his brain while he tried to recall who this was. When he remembered her--the prisoner from the ship--he was amazed. She looked so different from the filthy, gore-covered girl she had been. With half a heart, he motioned for her to come forward.
**
*
Aderyn stood and walked to a zabuton a few feet in front of Sanematsu. She knelt on the floor cushion and sat on her heels, watching her captor. Confusion clouded his dark eyes. He did not remember her!
He signaled for a maid and requested tea. The servant returned minutes later and, after he moved the sword to his left, knelt at his right. Aderyn watched her prepare the tea. Her black hair, straight and long, framed a face with delicate features powdered pale, and red paint adorned her mouth. Her hands, too, were delicate and tiny, and lacquer glistened on the nails of her long, slender fingers.
The man did not look at the maid often, but when he did, Aderyn could read lust in his eyes--she had not spent so many years with lecherous, woman-starved sailors without noticing the leers. Though she had been aware of her elder sisters’ keeping company with sailors in the darkest areas of the ship, the men terrified her and she avoided them.
Well, if he looks so at her, he will have no need of me!
No longer afraid, she grew curious. She had received fair treatment since the moment Hamasaki had awakened her with a tray of food in the afternoon. She was so hungry she did not care or remember what she had eaten. The Evil One then came and ordered Hamasaki to take her to Sanematsu’s quarters after the daimyo had dined. A short while later, a woman arrived and spoke in muted tones to the young guard and he had brought her here.
As she came out of the prison, she noticed a deep glow in the western sky, changing shape. A stream of smoke billowed; cinders flew. Imagining her father’s ship disappearing beneath the water in flames brought anguish to her heart. No hope of escape, no familiar language or customs. No family to join her in her exile except in her memory. She was alone without ally.
Or was she? The man who saved her life could be such. Wiping a tear off her cheek, she had continued after Hamasaki.
The maid’s gesture for her to move closer interrupted Aderyn’s reverie. This brought her within inches of the table in front of Sanematsu, her knees under its edge. The maid poured the tea and presented the first bowl to her master. With a nod of his head, he took it, his eyes resting on her. She repeated the process and offered the small bowl to his prisoner. Concentrating on preventing her hands from trembling, Aderyn reached to take the delicate cup, but it slipped through her fingers, damp with nervous sweat.
Hot tea rushed across the tabletop toward Sanematsu. Jumping to help, Aderyn upset the table. The teapot tipped backwards and emptied onto his leg. The maid began to mop his clothing with her wide sleeve. The simple, light garment soaked up the liquid effectively.
“I am sorry!” Aderyn reached forward. “Please let me help.”
“My lord, let me help you.”
Both fussed over him and spoke at the same time. Sanematsu’s concentration was on the hot liquid soaking through the final layer of his trousers, not on who was talking. The chaos abated when it was blotted up.
“I hope you will forgive me. It was all my fault,” Aderyn repeated.
“Do not concern yourself, Tsuta-sama.” Sanematsu straightened his clothing, not looking at either female.
At Tsuta’s quick intake of breath, he looked up to see her staring between him and the foreigner, a hand held over her mouth in astonishment.
“Why do you look so strange, Tsu-sama?” He picked up his sword to inspect it for tea stains.
“I did not speak, my lord.
She
did.”
Tsuta looked at Aderyn, who had once more settled back on her heels on the zabuton.
“You spoke?” Sanematsu waved a hand at Tsuta. She arranged the room so no evidence of the mishap remained, and then disappeared with the used teapot and table.
“Yes. I am sure I do not speak your language well, but I do have knowledge of it.”
Hana had warned her that Japanese was a language in which it was easy to insult others without meaning to. She did not want to insult this man with the long sword on his lap and her life in his hands.
The uproarious laughter her sentence triggered startled her. The tension evaporated as Sanematsu laughed with deep, warm guffaws. He wiped at the tears in his eyes from the fit of hilarity.
Aderyn sighed. Now she was sure she was in Japan.
Marco Polo’s great book about Cathay had mentioned Zipagu, and it had fascinated her. Because of that and Hana, she would be able to communicate without the use of interpreters, an advantage she had over Polo. Where to begin? A million questions sprang to mind.
“Your speech will pass.” Sanematsu composed himself. His tone showed neither gladness nor disapproval. “A few words need to be improved. I am sure we can work on that.”
Calm fell over the chamber, and they exchanged comfortable looks. Aderyn drew her first easy breath. Any man who could laugh so gaily could not be as depraved as she suspected. Unlike the Evil One, whose laugh curdled her blood, this man’s warmed her soul.
Sanematsu called to the guard outside. The man entered, knelt to bow then approached in response to Sanematsu’s beckoning hand.
“Yes, my lord” was all Aderyn heard. The samurai bowed once more and turned to her.
“I will find time to speak with you later.” Sanematsu dismissed her. “You will be escorted to more comfortable quarters.” He stood, sword in hand, and departed.
The guard did not move until Sanematsu had vanished. Then he turned and grunted to Aderyn. She interpreted this to mean “move.”
She followed the warrior through a maze of corridors and up several flights of stairs to a place he informed her in the fewest words possible was the women’s quarters. The room, in an isolated corner of the fortress, was stark except for a low table and a paneled screen. Fresh, clean-smelling tatami covered the floor, a candle shielded by four paper panels burned on a table.
The unhindered view of the ocean though the shoji separating the room from the veranda enthralled her. As the guard closed the panel behind her, she turned from watching the water move through a wide beam of moonlight falling across the waves. Moments later, a maid appeared to help her prepare for the night. She did not speak as she went to the left side of the room and knelt to pull a panel aside. This revealed a three-drawer chest inside a small alcove.
“This is
tansu
.” The girl put her hand against the chest to indicate what the word referred to, and then removed a garment from the top drawer. She moved to Aderyn and handed her the garment. “You wear this for sleeping. It is called
kosode
, which means ‘small-sleeved.’ It is worn beneath the
osode
, which is what you are now wearing and which means ‘large-sleeved.’”
Aderyn accepted the garment and fumbled with the belt of her osode. Seeing her difficulty, the maid came and soon pushed the soft cotton off her shoulders. Aderyn drew the unlined kosode on and wrapped it around, tying it by the two small strings inside. Unlike the first garment, it was soft and smooth, the material caressing her skin.
“I will open your futon. It is where you sleep.”
The maid moved to the tansu again, pulled open the doors at the bottom and removed a folded pad and a wooden block. She spread the bedding out and laid a cover over it. The wooden block sat at one end.
“This is your pillow. Sleep well.”
Aderyn nodded as the girl slipped through the shoji. She crawled beneath the soft quilting atop the thick cotton padding. When she blew out the candle in the rice-paper lamp, darkness enveloped the room, and she settled down to sleep.
The night’s sounds crept in, becoming louder as the household retired for the night. Night birds called to one another; insects chirped. Dogs barked and horses neighed. A brief but raucous catfight occurred. An occasional voice floated to her ears. They were calming sounds, soft and gentle. Aderyn burrowed deeper into the cozy nest. She felt content, comfortable. Now, instead of fear, she was excited about exploring this man’s world.
Her peace was short-lived as visions of the ship battle resurfaced and she noticed the shadowy backs of two guards silhouetted on the opaque shoji.
**
*
In his sleeping quarters, a new wave of exhaustion washed through Sanematsu as his servant helped him undress. He removed the
katiginu
and
hitatare
, which left him wearing an undergarment comprised of a length of white silk wound around his slender hips. The scant
fundoshi
did little to cover his buttocks and came up just above his pubis to leave his flat abdomen bare.
He washed his face and hands in a basin of clear water and with a small cloth sponged the reddened area of his left thigh where the scalding tea had been spilt. There was no real damage to the skin. He thought about the comical episode and smiled.
He lay down on the bedding Yaemon had spread out; the boy-servant tucked the mosquito netting around the futon and left his master to sleep. The panel had not had time to click shut before Tsuta entered and joined her master in his bed.
“I did not summon you,” Sanematsu said as she snuggled next to his bare body.
“Your samurai sent for me.” Her fingertips played over the skin on his chest. “Do you wish for me to depart?” she purred.
Sanematsu took her hand in his to still its aggravating movements.
“Yes.”
As she sat up, Tsuta’s sleeping garment gaped open and her lips formed into a childish pout. She moved his hand to her breast.
“Are you certain, sire?”
“Leave me!” Sanematsu jerked his hand away and turned his back to her. Hearing her leave, he relaxed, happy to be alone in his bed.