Bill for the Use of a Body (18 page)

The car took them to a narrow side street and pulled up outside what looked like a small private house. A man led them through a very narrow passage, up a flight of stairs and into a low room about fourteen feet square. The walls were painted with landscape scenes in the traditional style and occupying the middle of the room was an eighteen-inch-high table shaped like a flattened horseshoe. Inside it were the cook's requirements, and round its outer edge there was space enough for half a dozen diners.

A youngish but very fat woman, who proved to be the cook, came in, and with her two maids. Both the girls looked to be only just out of their teens. They were dressed in heavy silk kimonos, their jet-black hair was elaborately piled on their small heads with many combs, flowers and ornaments, and their faces were masks of white paint. After the usual deep bows the cook sat down between a large cauldron of boiling oil, that neither smoked nor smelt, and a bowl of thin rice-flour batter; then one of the maids began to supply her with a succession of bits and pieces.

Bill and Julian had, meanwhile, seated themselves on thin cushions, the former with crossed legs, the latter, after finding it awkward to lean forward in that position, sitting sideways on one hip. The cook took up a small
piece of something, dipped it first in the batter then in the oil and laid it on the little dish in front of Julian. Near the dish were several small bowls containing sauces, but he did not risk trying any of them and found no difficulty in using his chopsticks to pop the morsel into his mouth. It was so hot that he could not properly taste it, but he thought it was fish.

Having served Bill with a similar morsel, the cook continued to put other pieces, all of which she had dipped in the batter and oil, on their plates alternately. There seemed no rhyme or reason to the meal. Long peppers, prawns, bits of aubergine, quails' eggs, celery leaves, seaweed and other more mysterious items followed one another and were frequently repeated, although not in the same order.

While they ate, the second maid knelt first beside one then beside the other, filling little shallow cups with warm saki from a small vase-like bottle of eggshell china. The Japanese have poor heads for spirits, and Julian had heard it said that most of them got drunk if they had more than six or eight cups, although each held only a single swallow. He soon decided that he could have drunk half a bucketful without ill effect, but had not the least desire to do so, as the warm, sweet, sticky spirit lacked any definite flavour and cloyed his palate, making him wish for a glass of water. The meal ended with pots of green unsweetened tea, and he was grateful even for that unpleasant beverage. To his great relief, he was at last able to get to his feet, as for the past hour and a half he had suffered agonies shifting from hip to hip. However, being courteous by nature, he thanked his host for the entertainment and said that he had greatly enjoyed it.

Their next visit was to the Tatsumara silk factory, one of the ancient establishments in the western quarter of the city. There, in an almost dark room, several wrinkled old men were weaving with amazing dexterity on wooden hand looms beautifully-patterned brocades, while in
another girls were winding silk thread of many colours on to spindles. From a fine display of goods for sale Julian bought a dozen pairs of silk socks for a tenth of the price he would have had to pay in London, then they went out into the garden.

Like all the other gardens, it was beautifully kept and might well have been that of one of the temples; but its lake held a score or more fish the like of which Julian had never before seen. They were almost two feet long and looked like carp, but were many lovely colours, a number of them being gold or silver, and it was these that Julian found so exceptional. They were not like ordinary goldfish but gilded, just as though their scales were made of gold leaf. Bill told him that if he wanted to buy one it would cost him a hundred pounds.

From the silk factory they went to the most famous of all Zen Buddhist temples, Ryoanji. The outstanding feature of the place was its philosophic sand garden. This was an oblong piece of ground, measuring about seventy-five by thirty feet, covered with very fine gravel. The gravel had been raked with the greatest care into lines and curves, and planted in it were half a dozen rocks of varying sizes. Along the whole length of the temple side of the garden there ran two stout wooden steps on which a crowd of people, most of whom were silent, were standing or sitting looking at this unusual form of landscape gardening.

Bill explained that the idea was to aid contemplation, and that if one stared at the sand and rocks for long enough one could imagine them to be islands in the sea, mountains on the moon, or earth as it was originally created. Julian accepted this theory, but thought such a state of mind would be difficult to attain while, as at present, half a hundred Japanese were taking snapshots of others who were only posing as contemplatives for them.

A little after half past five Bill took Julian to the Kanze Noh Hall to see a Noh play. The seats were all stalls and
comfortable fauteuils such as one would have found in a first-class European theatre. But the stage was entirely different. Instead of facing the auditorium, it was a canopy-covered structure, with one corner jutting out into it. One of its inner sides was occupied by the orchestra and the other by a seated chorus. When they arrived the play was well advanced, so they saw only the last quarter of an hour of it. That was ample for Julian since, although he found the resemblance to Greek drama interesting, Bill could give him only a vague idea of what was going on; and the actors, dressed in most gorgeous robes, remained entirely silent, doing no more than posture with slow gestures to indicate their distress, joy or anger.

To Julian's relief, Bill had made no arrangements for dinner, so dined again as his guest at the Miyako. Before eating he gratefully put down two large whiskies-and-sodas, regardless of the consideration which would have caused most tourists to make do with one; for in Japan, even in a shop, Scotch whisky cost ten pounds a bottle.

During the day, by tacit consent, neither of them had mentioned Merri, although Julian had frequently thought of her. But it had been a very tiring day; so he went early to bed, and again slept soundly.

Next morning Bill called for him and took him to Nijo Castle, the residence used by the Shoguns in the old days when they came to Kyoto to consult with the Emperors. It in no way resembled a European fortress, but was a large rectangular park enclosed by high walls that sloped inward and were made of big blocks of stone. Inside these there was a smaller area surrounded by a broad moat and similar walls, protecting an inner garden and the Palace.

The building was of the conventional type, made of dark brown, heavily-carved wood. It had a tiled roof that turned up at the corners, supported by short stout plinths and sliding doors the upper part of which consisted of oiled paper; but it was the largest that Julian had yet seen.
The interior also differed from those of the shrines and temples. Inside the outer wooden shell a ten-foot-wide corridor enclosed all the interior rooms. In the felt slippers he had been obliged to exchange for his leather shoes at the entrance of the Palace he began to walk down this long corridor; he noticed at once that, although the floor was even and brilliantly polished, with every step he took it gave a loud squeak.

With a grin, Bill told him the reason. ‘Those old Shogun fellers were scared that they might be bumped off by some of the Emperor's boys while they were in his city; so they had these floors constructed round their dwelling quarters. ‘Nightingale' floors, they're called. They're laid on thousands of little metal rings that squeak when trodden on. The idea was that their squeaking in the night would give their guards the tip-off that someone was out here gunning for them.'

Having admired the subtle paintings on silk by ancient masters that covered the inner walls, the beautifully decorated ceilings and, in one room, a score of magnificently robed life-sized figures representing a Shogun receiving the homage of his courtiers, Julian asked, ‘Can we go now and see the Imperial Palace?'

Bill shook his crewcut head. ‘No. The Emperor still comes here at times; so I'd have to get us a permit. Later in the week maybe. Anyway, I could fix it for us to take a stroll round the grounds, and there's acres and acres of them behind that tall wall I indicated to you yesterday. But we'll run out to the Katsura Palace. That's the Crown Prince's place and not all that different, though quite a bit smaller.'

Katsura turned out to be only another large garden, in which the trunks of many of the more precious trees had not yet had removed their winter protective casing of finely plaited straw. In it there were several lakes with a few medium-sized wooden buildings set round them.

It had been drizzling all the morning, but Bill was
anxious to take Julian to see the famous moss garden at the Temple of Saiho-ji. In the woods round it there were said to grow over a hundred different varieties of moss, but Julian found he could hardly distinguish one from another; although he admired the beautiful groves of bamboos, forty-foot high and with glossy trunks as thick round as a man's thigh. They had been there only a quarter of an hour when rain began to come down in torrents; so they beat a hasty retreat to the car.

On the way back into the city Bill said, ‘Seeing you enjoyed Japanese eats yesterday, I'm taking you along to a little place called Hyotie's. It's old as the hills. I'd say it was going strong long before those early Yanks threw your chests of tea into Boston harbour. I hope you'll like it.'

With a sinking heart Julian replied nobly, ‘I'm sure I shall.'

He had already seen that Kyoto was a city of extraordinary contrasts. Shrines and temples that had flourished for eight hundred years and more were still served by devoted priests who sat before candle-lit altars rhythmically clapping their hands, while in nearby streets bars with blaring juke-box jazz and neon-lit pin-table saloons stood cheek by jowl with shops selling only kimonos or figures of the ancient gods; that a gaudy cinema stood within a hundred yards of the Noh Play Hall, and that, while some of Kyoto's million inhabitants drove about in shiny limousines, others, shod in straw sandals, stood on the pavements clutching staffs and beggars' bowls. In consequence, he was not surprised when, no great distance from the city centre, the car entered a narrow turning that had the appearance of a pretty country lane, and pulled up outside an old-fashioned bungalow.

On entering it and taking off their shoes, they were bowed into a room not more than eight feet square. No cook appeared this time, but a ‘Madame' who superintended the meal, and two maids. Julian gave silent heartfelt thanks as he took in the fact that here,
although he was to sit on a cushion on the floor, he would at least be able to support his back against a wall.

The meal was served on two low square tables by the two maids, each set in front of one of the guests. It followed the same patternless course, and consisted of much the same tit-bits as that on the previous day; so, although Julian was able to eat it in somewhat greater comfort, he was glad when it was over.

‘Now,' said Bill when they had finished, ‘I'll take you to see the Daigoji Temple. It's some way out, but has a five-storey pagoda and is one of the high spots of these parts. Then we'll do the Museum.'

‘No,' replied Julian firmly. For the time being he had had more than enough of sightseeing in Kyoto during such inclement weather. At the great religious festivals, with their splendid pageantry, or for three weeks in the year when the cherry blossom, azaleas, iris and camellias were all out, the gardens must be a delightful sight, but they were not out yet. And while the trained eye of the Japanese garden lover might appreciate their lay-outs and take pleasure in the fact that, with infinite patience, the gardeners had removed every down-pointing needle from every branch and twig of their pine trees, he felt that to have seen one was to have seen them all. He could not even now remember in which garden he had marvelled at the hundreds-of-years-old pine tree, the lower boughs of which had been trained to give the appearance of a large boat, and in which he had seen the big flat-topped heap of smooth sand on which for centuries priests had stood to take their observations of the stars. ‘No,' he repeated, ‘I'm used to having a nap in the afternoon; so if you'll forgive me I'd like to go back to the hotel.'

‘It's for you to say,' Bill smiled, and added a little pointedly; ‘when a feller's getting on into middle age I guess he needs a bit of a let-up now and then. O.K. But there's upwards of four hundred shrines and temples in this town. Plenty of good ones to see yet and keep our
minds off Merri. I'll pick you up same time tomorrow; then we'll get going on the round again.'

But Julian was not destined to see any more temples in Kyoto. Next morning, a quarter of an hour before Bill was due to call for him, his telephone rang. It was Bill, and he was speaking from the lobby. He asked Julian to come down at once. When they met five minutes later he took Julian by the arm and piloted him through the crowd in the entrance hall and up a flight of stairs to the tea-lounge, where it was quieter. Then he said:

‘My old man's buddy, the Police Chief in Osaka, called me half an hour ago. He says there's no sort of evidence that Hayashi had anything to do with snatching Merri; so getting a warrant to search Hayashi's place is out. But they've traced the ship Merri was brought in on. She's a small tramp called the
Matabura
and I thought we might go see her Captain. Maybe money'll persuade him to give, and we'll pick up some bit of information he didn't turn in to the police. But we'll have to make it snappy. The
Matabura
has been on a run up to Yokohama since she landed Merri, and she's due to sail again at midday.'

Julian readily agreed and they hurried out to the car. As soon as they had settled themselves, Bill gave the gist of the report he had received from the Police Chief. There were always one or two spare cabins on a tramp and it was a recognised custom that their Captains should be allowed to make a little extra money by taking passengers in them when they were not required for other purposes by the owners.