Samurai's Wife (28 page)

She moaned louder and pressed herself against him. For a moment, Sano swooned with pleasure. Then horror jolted him from dazed lust and into awareness that he'd taken the first step toward forbidden sex. Now his desire filled him with revulsion. With an anguished cry, he pulled away from Kozeri.

She stared in surprise. "What's wrong?"

Raising his hands in a gesture of helpless apology, Sano shook his head and said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't you want me?" Tears welled in Kozeri's eyes.

"I can't do this," Sano said. Turning, he fled as if pursued by an invading army.

At Kodai Temple, the afternoon had passed in its unvarying routine of prayers and chores; the nuns had returned from begging in the city, and evening rites had begun. While bells tolled across Miyako, the setting sun poured fiery light through the windows of the convent dormitory. There knelt the nuns, heads shaven, completely naked. In three rows, firm young bodies alternated with those of older women with sagging flesh. They faced the abbess, who sat upon a platform at the front of the room.

"Breathe deeply," intoned the abbess. She sucked air through her mouth. "In. Out. Gather the energy within you."

At her place in the middle row, Kozeri inhaled the musky smell of the women whose breaths echoed her own. She tried to let her mind drift and feel the energy kindle inside her. For fifteen years she'd practiced this exercise, designed to focus her mental power and bring spiritual enlightenment. Usually she slipped into a trance easily, but tonight the required concentration evaded her. The shogun's sosakan had disturbed her inner harmony. Scenes from the past invaded the darkness behind her closed eyelids.

She saw the garden of her family's mansion, the secluded paradise of her youth. Again she ran laughing through the spring rains, hot summers, autumn leaves, and winter snows with her favorite cousin and playmate, Lord Ryozen. As the years passed, Kozeri became a beautiful young woman, Ryozen a handsome youth; friendship evolved into romance. Their families approved of the match, which would strengthen the connection between two noble clans. At age fifteen, Kozeri and Ryozen knelt before the Shinto priest and sipped the ritual three wedding cups of sake.

Kozeri spent happy days making a home for Ryozen, while he worked as secretary to Left Minister Konoe. In the evenings they entertained themselves with music, poetry, and lovemaking. Soon Kozeri was pregnant. Then, five months later, things went suddenly, terribly wrong. Kozeri was resting in her room one afternoon when her mother entered.

"Daughter," said the older woman, her face woeful, "I bring terrible news. Ryozen is dead. Someone stabbed him."

Kozeri shook her head in disbelief. "But I just saw him this morning. There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake," her mother said sorrowfully.

"No!" Kozeri stumbled from the house and met servants bringing in a blanket-covered figure on a litter. Tearing off the blanket, she saw her husband's still, pale face. She burst into a torrent of weeping.

Then an excruciating cramp convulsed her stomach. Kozeri screamed and fell. More pains wracked her. She heard her mother calling, "She's in labor! Fetch the doctor!"

Many agonizing hours later, Kozeri delivered a dead baby boy. She lost much blood; fever followed the stillbirth. Ten months passed before Kozeri rose from her bed. She sat listlessly in the garden, pining for Ryozen. Then one day her father came to her.

"It is time to consider your future," he said. "Left Minister Konoe has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have consented."

Now the sonorous voice of the abbess drew Kozeri back to the present: "Feel the energy flow from your center to every part of your body. Let us seal the power inside us."

Kozeri opened her eyes and saw the abbess holding a long strip of cloth. She picked up a similar cloth from the floor beside her. Imitating the abbess's movements, she wrapped it tightly around her stomach. The other nuns did the same. In the dying sunlight, their faces shone with a tranquillity she envied.

"Lean forward, head and shoulders down," said the abbess. "Align your nose with your navel. Relax. And breathe, slowly. One, two..."

With the cloth compressing her muscles, Kozeri inhaled and exhaled, silently counting toward four hundred breaths. Briefly she resisted the memories, then let them come....

She hadn't wanted to remarry, but it was her duty to obey her father, who craved the prestige the new match would bring to their clan. Hence, she wedded Left Minister Konoe. He was a virtual stranger; his rank and wealth awed her. During the ceremony, she dared not even look at him, and their wedding night proved an inauspicious beginning for the marriage.

In the bedchamber, Konoe tenderly undressed her. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he said.

Kozeri knew she should show gratitude toward him for rescuing her from widowhood, yet she couldn't help recalling Ryozen, and their happiness together. Tears burned her eyes. Feeling no desire for Konoe, she endured his caresses; she let him mount her. But when he pushed his erection against her womanhood, her inner muscles clenched shut. Konoe thrust and panted, but couldn't get in. Pain overcame Kozeri's self-control. The tears spilled.

Konoe forced a smile and said, "It's been a strenuous day. Let us sleep now, and begin over tomorrow."

He spent all his free time with Kozeri, and much money on gifts and amusements for her. All the palace ladies envied Kozeri, but the left minister seemed so grand that she couldn't get over her shyness. When he talked, she could manage only timid monosyllables in reply. Further attempts to consummate their marriage failed, and Konoe began to express his dissatisfaction in frightening ways.

Every evening he would ask, "What did you do today? Whom did you see?" and make Kozeri account for every moment of their time apart. He forbade her to go anywhere without him. He dropped in on her during the day, as if to catch her doing something wrong. He would not allow her to receive guests. Besides Konoe and his staff, the only people Kozeri saw were her elderly music, calligraphy, and painting teachers.

Isolated and lonely, she began to resent her husband. He sensed her antipathy and punished her with cutting remarks, violent acts. Once, in a fit of rage, he tore up all her clothes.

"Ungrateful wretch!" he shouted, stripping her naked and throwing her out in the snowy garden. "Freeze out there until you can show some affection for your husband!"

The next day he apologized profusely and bought Kozeri a new wardrobe. Her husband seemed to be two different people: his normal, public self, and the monster who ruled her. Kozeri's fear worsened their marital relations. She would have gladly let the left minister enter her, if only to pacify him, but her womanhood closed up whenever he tried. Furious, Konoe abandoned the gentle, patient approach. He fed Kozeri aphrodisiacs. He slathered oil on her crotch, prying at the threshold with wooden implements. Her pained cries further incensed him. Muttering curses, he drove his organ at her like a battering ram.

One night, after another failure, he said, "It's no use. You don't want me. You don't love me. And you never will."

Rising, he donned his dressing gown and stood looking down at Kozeri, his face taut with angry frustration. While she cowered, he said, "For love of you, I committed a heinous act. I risked my position and my honor, sacrificed my tranquillity and freedom. All for nothing!"

He left the room, and a horrifying thought took shape in Kozeri's mind. His words showed her the past in a different perspective. Little things, hardly noticed at the time, now took on an ominous significance. She recalled Ryozen remarking, "The left minister enjoys hearing about how we play music together." Indeed he seemed eager for any information regarding their personal life, and Kozeri had been pleased by what she thought was his interest in Ryozen, whose career would benefit from Konoe's patronage. She remembered the left minister's frequent visits to their home, and ceremonies where his brooding gaze followed them. Now Kozeri understood that she, not her husband, had been the real focus of Konoe's attention all along.

He'd fallen in love with her while she was still married to Ryozen. The police had never caught Ryozen's killer; they couldn't find anyone with reason to wish him dead. Left Minister Konoe could have stolen Kozeri from Ryozen by simply ordering them to divorce and commanding her to marry him; thus, no one had suspected Konoe of the murder, even though he benefited by her widowhood. But Kozeri knew his jealous nature. He wouldn't have wanted her first husband around as a rival for her love, so he'd "committed a heinous act."

Left Minister Konoe had murdered Ryozen.

Now the four hundred breaths ended. The abbess began to chant: "Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu."

"Namu Amida Butsu," Kozeri repeated along with the other nuns. Their voices rang with joyous conviction; hers sounded hollow as she remembered the horror of her discovery, and the confusion that followed. Nobody would believe her if she accused Konoe of murder; he was too important and respected. The Imperial Court wouldn't let her go to the police. Her family wouldn't risk Konoe's disapproval by taking her side. Kozeri must hide her emotions and keep peace with the left minister.

But nothing she said or did pleased him. He grew more brutal in his efforts to penetrate her, and he watched her ever more closely. Then, shortly before their first anniversary, Kozeri's samisen teacher died. The new one who came to give her lessons was a courtier in his twenties, nicknamed "Saru"-Monkey-because of his talent for mimicry. With his lopsided smile and bulging eyes, he wasn't handsome, but he was kind. Perceiving Kozeri's unhappiness, Saru made her laugh at his imitations of animals and people. For the first time since Ryozen's death, Kozeri found pleasure in life. She had a friend.

Then one evening Konoe stormed into her chamber, his face livid with rage. He grabbed Kozeri and threw her against the wall.

"Adulteress!" he yelled, slapping her face. "Dirty whore!"

Kozeri cried, "What are you talking about, husband?"

"Don't pretend you don't understand," he said. "Every day you whisper and laugh with him. I know, because I've listened outside the door. He's your lover. Don't deny it!"

He meant Saru! Kozeri was shocked. She had no romantic interest in the music teacher. Besides, Saru was happily married. "No," she protested.

"Liar!" Konoe kicked her stomach. She fell and curled up; he kicked her head. "I heard you two mocking me. I've thrown him and his family out of the palace. They'll starve to death in the streets."

Kozeri realized that her husband had eavesdropped on Saru's caustic imitation of him. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "Please!"

His fists battered her. Blood poured from her nose. She screamed as Konoe ripped handfuls of hair from her head. Cursing, he picked up her samisen and beat her with it. At last he stood back, hateful triumph in his face.

"I trust you've learned your lesson," he said.

Despair emboldened Kozeri. She said bitterly, "Why don't you just kill me, the way you did Ryozen?"

For a long, awful moment she and Konoe stared at each other. She saw the truth of her accusation in his eyes. Anger flared in them, and she braced herself for another attack. Then he shook his head, turned, and walked away.

Kozeri wept. When the tears subsided, a calm clarity settled upon her mind. She understood that Konoe meant to continue trying to force her to love him. His cruelty would worsen until eventually he lost control and killed her. Kozeri's religious upbringing had taught her to accept fate; yearning for Ryozen, she considered suicide to escape misery and hasten her reunion with him. But part of her didn't want to die. Bruised, bloody, and aching, she packed a bundle of the new robes Konoe had given her. She fled to Kodai Temple, where her family had once taken refuge during a fire in the palace. The convent was a haven for maltreated women with religious leanings. The nuns took her in, accepting her wardrobe as a dowry. Kozeri imagined herself safe from the left minister forever.

A month later, Konoe burst into the convent, interrupting the novices' prayers. "I've searched all over for you," he shouted at Kozeri. "Now you're coming home with me!" He would have grabbed her, had not monks overpowered him. As they dragged him out of the temple, he shrieked, "I'll get you. You can't hide!"

He came again and again, sending letters between visits. When the nuns begged for alms in the city, Konoe accosted her. Sometimes he pleaded, apologizing for his behavior. Often he threatened to kill her if she didn't return to him. Sometimes Kozeri heard nothing from him for months; just when she began to believe he'd given up, he would reappear and the letters resume. In spite of her gentle nature, Kozeri hated the left minister. He'd destroyed her life, driven her from home and family. Why couldn't he leave her alone? She longed for his death, and an end to her misery.

She'd gotten her wish. But now, worse troubles threatened. She was a suspect in Konoe's murder; Sosakan Sano's questions had made it obvious. What if he found out how the left minister had treated her? Still, arrest wasn't the only thing she feared from Sano. His coming to Kodai Temple had shattered the calm she'd achieved through prayer and meditation. He'd awakened old emotions, suppressed longings.

In seeking a religious life, Kozeri had fled not just the left minister. Because her second marriage had overshadowed the happy memory of her first, she'd wanted nothing more to do with men. The need for peace outweighed all other desires. For years she'd been satisfied with having food, shelter, her faith, and the other nuns for company. But Sano had awakened a response in her; desire for him had stirred Kozeri's body to life. He'd aroused in her a powerful renewed need for the love of a man. She wanted to know Sano and continue the lovemaking they'd begun by the river today; yet although she longed to see him again, she dreaded the prospect.

"Now stand," said the abbess, rising slowly. "Mouth shut, chin drawn in, spine straight. Keep breathing; look straight ahead. Clear vision equals a clear conscience."