Shike, p.33
Shike, page 33
The tent was dark and reeked of smoke and sweat. It had a cylindrical latticework wall and a flattened conical ceiling whose spokes, radiating from two central poles, reminded her of a parasol. There were layers of thick, soft rugs on the floor, woven in intricate patterns, and she sat on silk cushions. So this was the sort of place in which Jebu's people lived. Thinking of Jebu reminded her of Horigawa's prediction that Jebu would be killed by the Mongols. Horigawa had tried to kill him before and failed. She prayed to the Buddha to help Jebu live.
Unable to keep track of the time, she brooded, circling again and again through boredom, fear and hopelessness. She would probably never see the Sacred Islands again. Or Jebu. She threw herself down on the cushions and wept.
She had had chances to kill Horigawa. Why had she never. done it? She decided that if she ever met him again she would cut his throat without a word of warning and take the consequences. What a fool she had been to imagine that some good might come of this journey to China.
She sat up. The pillow on which her head had rested was soaked with tears. Her face was ruined. She found a pitcher of water and a basin and washed her hands and face. Her make-up box had been taken from her along with all her other clothes. There was no mirror. She desperately wanted a bath. The air in the tent was warm and close, and she could feel herself sweating. These Mongols probably never bathed. Just as the rumours foretold, they did stink abominably. The entire camp smelled of the greasy, unwashed bodies of meat eaters.
One small oil lamp struggled vainly with the shadows around her in the circular room. Through a round opening in the centre of the tent roof she could see a patch of black sky with a single star in it. It was a warm, windless night.
As the oil lamp flickered lower, she lay in the near darkness and called upon the Lord of Boundless Light. "Homage to Amida Buddha." After a while she sank into the long, heavy sleep of the despairing.
In the morning one of the Chinese men brought her food, coarse cakes and wine, and put more coals on the fire. She tried to ask him questions, but he would not answer her.
The tent was provided with a porcelain pot for her to relieve herself. She had fresh water now, and she took off all her clothes and washed herself thoroughly. The cool water refreshed her.
After dressing, she went to the doorway of the tent and opened the low wooden door. Bright sunlight and dust assailed her. All around her she had heard the bustle of men and horses. She had not realized until now how quiet the Mongol tents were.
A guard in a silk coat snapped at her in his language and waved her back into the tent. She went back and sat down, and considered how she might escape.
She had as much chance of eluding the Mongol horsemen as a baby rabbit trying to escape a falcon. And even if she did, how could she survive in an unknown, war-ravaged countryside? She was even more likely to meet injury or death if she ran away from here than if she stayed.
She had lost everyone and everything she loved. It scarcely mattered what the Mongols did with her. Again she sat down and buried her face in her hands and cried.
After a time, though, the tears stopped flowing. She was doing precisely what Horigawa would want her to, letting herself be ground between the millstones of monotony and despair until she had no power to resist her fate. She reminded herself that she was samurai. She remembered that she had resolved not to let them crush her. She stood and clenched her fists.
A Mongol woman's round face appeared in the doorway.
"May Eternal Heaven send you good fortune," she greeted Taniko in Chinese. "I am Bourkina, servant of our lord Kublai Khan."
Bourkina might be anywhere from thirty to seventy years of age. She wore a yellow Chinese silk robe and a heavy necklace of gold and jade that hung down to her waist. Her stride was long, her gestures commanding, almost mannish. She reminded Taniko of peasant women she had seen, women who worked constantly and lacked the delicate manners of well-born ladies. She might enjoy silk and jade now, but she had surely been born in poverty. Her hair and eyes were dark, and Taniko could see in her no resemblance to Jebu.
Bourkina was solicitous. Was Taniko comfortable? Did she need anything? All Taniko's belongings would be delivered to her later in the day, as soon as they could be located. Bourkina asked what sort of food Taniko preferred and said she would do her best to see that she enjoyed her meals. In all this concern Taniko sensed little warmth. It was as if Bourkina had been placed in charge of a valuable horse and were seeing to its needs. With the advantage, in this case, that the horse could talk. But this horse wanted to do more than talk.
"May I have writing materials?"
Bourkina looked astonished. "What for?"
"I like to write down what I see and think."
Bourkina looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted wings. "How did you learn to write?"
"In my country all people of good family are taught to read and write. Women, of course, write a language different from that of men, but it serves our purposes quite well."
"Among our people women do not read or write at all, and only a few men do. Our Great Khan Mangu and our lord Kublai Khan and their two brothers are all considered scholars. But they are most unusual men."
"You speak Chinese. That is a mark of learning in my country." Bourkina smiled proudly. "It is a necessity for us Mongols. How else could we give orders to our slaves?"
"What has become of Prince Horigawa and his party?"
"Your master delivered his message from the Sung Emperor's Court to Kublai Khan and left."
"He is my husband, not my master." Since Horigawa had told the Mongols she was a mere courtesan, she must try to show that she was a person of consequence.
"Your husband left you with us as a gift?" Bourkina's face showed mingled shock and disbelief.
"A husband and wife can be enemies."
Bourkina shrugged. "It does not matter what you were before you came to us. My task now is to determine your present value."
Taniko felt her face grow hot. "I know what my value is." I will not be treated like a sack of rice, she thought.
The Mongol woman thrust her face into Taniko's. "Listen, those who can't live with us, die. You must realize, if you want to live, that Eternal Heaven has given my people the whole earth to rule as we see fit. Eorget what you were before. You will find your proper place among us."
Taniko sighed and nodded. This woman's talk might sound like wild boasting, but it was simply the truth as the Mongols saw it. Unless Taniko chose to die at once, she would have to learn the ways of this new world.
"I simply meant that I do not want- I want to be something more than a woman for your men to use."
Bourkina smiled. "Our lord Kublai Khan requires us to be most careful in determining the value of each person and thing." "How will you determine my value?"
Bourkina sat down on the cushions and gestured to Taniko to sit beside her. She snapped her fingers and a Chinese boy hurried in with a lacquer tray bearing blue and white porcelain cups and a pot of Chinese ch'ai-the same beverage the Takashi had been importing into the Sacred Islands.
"Tell me about yourself," Bourkina said.
Sipping the steaming green liquid, Taniko began the story of her life, not in any orderly way, but taking each fact as it came to mind. She realized that, pleasant as Bourkina seemed, it was her task to pass judgment on the strange woman from across the sea. Therefore, like a calligrapher, concerned as much with the beautiful appearance of each word as with its meaning, Taniko tried to shape each part of her story to present herself to Bourkina in the best possible light. She stressed her breeding and learning, her association with the great men of her own land, her marriage to a prince.
"He said nothing about your being his wife."
"What did he say of me?"
"In China there are many women who sell their bodies for gold or silver-or for a bowl of rice. The prince said that in your land you were such a woman. He said you were the concubine of a nobleman in your country. The nobleman was killed, and you threatened to make a scandal because he left you no part of his wealth. As a favour to the family, the prince took you away with him on his journey to China."
Taniko shut her eyes. She felt herself about to cry, remembering Kiyosi and Atsue. But this Mongol woman would only despise her for her tears. She masked her feelings.
"I was, as I told you, a woman of noble family married to Prince Horigawa. He and I were estranged and I did, indeed, become the consort of a man who was not simply a noble, but the heir of the most powerful family on our islands and commander of all our warriors. I had a son by him. When he was killed in battle, I wanted none of his wealth. I only asked to keep our son, but he was torn from me by his father's family. I was taken out of the country so I could not protest."
"How many children have you had?"
"Two. I had a daughter, and Prince Horigawa killed her because she was not his."
Bourkina said, "Among my people the penalty for adultery is death. Eor both the man and the woman."
Taniko was astonished. "Death? If that were the law in my land, all the best families would be wiped out." Instantly she wished she had not said so. If the Mongols considered it a great crime to couple with someone other than your spouse, perhaps Bourkina would think Horigawa's low estimate of her to be accurate.
"The prince despised me long before I lay with any other man," she said. "He married me only because my family is wealthy."
Bourkina patted her hand. "I have seen the prince. He is not much of a man. And he is a fool to have given away a woman as clever and pretty as you. You have every reason to have strayed from his pasture." She stood up. "Now let me help you undress."
"Undress? Must I?"
"We have talked for a while now, and I know something of your life and your mind. But you are not being considered for a post as a general or an ambassador. I want to see whether your body is beautiful and without blemish."
Taniko sighed and stood. "Then it is true that I am nothing more than a vessel to be used by men."
There was a note of irritation in Bourkina's voice. "You know too much of the world to talk that way. A woman's fortune is founded on her beauty, just as a man's rests on his strength. It is obvious enough, though, that your worth does not end with your body. If you were merely to be given to the troops for their pleasure, do you think I would have spent this much time with you?"
It took Taniko some time to undress. She removed robe, jacket, skirts and dresses. She had bound her hair up for convenience while travelling. Now she let it fall to her waist, and the Mongol woman's thin eyebrows went up. Einally Taniko undid the last robe and handed it to Bourkina, who let it fall to the cushions as she appraised Taniko.
Taniko had never been embarrassed by nudity, especially in front of other women. When a man and a woman came together, they did not desire complete nakedness. The most attractive way was to open your clothes just enough to permit glimpses of your body and to give your lover access to yourself. But complete nudity for practical reasons, such as when bathing or changing clothes, was commonplace, and in her own household Taniko often saw women and men naked.
No one, however, had ever examined her as closely as Bourkina did. Without a word the Mongol woman walked all around her, squinting at her from the crown of her head to her toes.
"You do not bind your feet like the Chinese. That is good. We find that custom ugly."
Now Bourkina began to touch her. Taniko shrank from the Mongol woman's rough hands, and Bourkina ordered her sharply to stand still. Taniko felt like a melon being probed by a household cook. Bourkina peeled back her lips and poked her teeth. She smelled her breath. She kneaded Taniko's breasts, pinched her nipples and felt her buttocks. She ran her fingertips over Taniko's belly.
"Not bad. Only a few stretch marks. You had two children, you say? How old are you?"
Taniko quickly decided that she could have lost five years in the China Sea. "Twenty-three."
"You are between twenty-five and thirty. But your small size and light weight have kept your body young. To a man, you might pass for even younger than twenty-three. Now lie on your back and open your legs."
Taniko knew better by now than to protest., She lay back on the cushions, turning her head away and gritting her teeth as the Mongol woman peered and probed inside her.
"Good. Childbearing has not made you slack. You appear to be free of disease. Put some clothing on." Bourkina beamed, the round, brown face stretched by a broad grin. "May I presume that you are as expert in the arts of the bed as a married woman who has also had two lovers should be?"
"I suppose so," said Taniko.
"Are you prepared to use those arts with enthusiasm, in order to live well among us?"
"What is to become of me? You must tell me that."
Bourkina held up her hand. "I don't yet know for sure. I have to make my report. Then it will be decided. Meanwhile, your clothing and possessions will be brought to you. You will bathe. You will array yourself in your finest robes, as for your wedding night. Make yourself as beautiful as you know how to. You have until sunset." Bourkina moved to the doorway of the yurt, her yellow silk robe swirling about her.
"You come from a land so different from our own that I find it hard to see it in my mind. Yet there are qualities in you I like. You are strong. You are quick-witted, and you have lived long enough to acquire some wisdom. I will give you a little advice. Do not try, because you are among Mongols, to appear beautiful in the Mongol manner. Make yourself beautiful according to the custom of your land, no matter how strange you think you might seem to us. You are a woman of experience. You understand men and you have attracted great ones to you. Do not be frightened. Try to be calm and cheerful. Behave as you would in your own home among friends and family."
"Why do you assume that I am calm and cheerful in my own home?" asked Taniko. Bourkina laughed.
"I understand your advice," Taniko said. "You are kind. Thank you." Remembering that Bourkina was one of Jebu's people, Taniko felt a sudden surge of affection for the big woman.
Bourkina smiled at her again. "I am always happy to help a woman who deserves it. Prepare yourself now, little lady."
"I will. Please remember to send paper, ink and brush."
Taniko asked the Chinese maid holding the large mirror to circle her slowly. She held a small mirror in her own hand, and when the maid was behind her, she swept her long black hair to one side and studied the nape of her neck. Pure white, slender, defenceless. As it should look.
Red, she felt, was her most seductive colour, so she had chosen a costume built up of layers of red. Outermost, though, was a richly embroidered over robe of light green. It made her look young and innocent. The innocence would cover passion, a dark red robe. The sleeves of an unlined dress of deep red damask peered from beneath the two outer robes. Beneath these she wore three under robes of different shades of plum red, all visible at her throat, sleeves and skirt.
When she was fully dressed, only her fingertips and her face were visible in the midst of the flowing silks. The two Chinese women who were helping her dress tried to keep blank, impassive expressions, but Taniko caught them darting curious looks at her. Would she be laughed at tonight? She could imagine how the courtiers at Heian Kyo would make fun of a Mongol woman trying, in her native clothing, to make a good impression.
But she knew that she had not beautified herself this much since Kiyosi died. Horigawa might hope for her degradation, ,but she would thwart his hopes. She would not let them crush her. She called on the Lord of Boundless Light.
She had one of the maids tuck a cloth into her neckline to protect her outer robe. She seated herself on cushions and drew her box of make-up to her, asking one of the maids to hold up the mirror. She applied a layer of white paint to her face. Erom this moment her face must remain frozen. She could neither smile nor weep. She dipped a brush into a jar of red pigment and painted her lips, a bow shape for the upper lip, a narrower red line for the lower; her natural mouth was too wide for perfect beauty. With rouge she filled in a circle of pink on either cheek. Now her face was no longer that of an individual. It was the face of ideal Woman. It might as easily be the face of the sun goddess or the Empress or a peasant girl as that of Taniko.
She glanced up at the two Chinese women. They were not laughing; they were awed, looking at her as if they were seeing a statue in a strange shrine.
Now she opened her jewellery box. Horigawa was a fool to have left me all this, she thought. With these weapons I will conquer. Eor a pendant she selected a jade necklace with an image of the seated Buddha. And of course she would wear the mother-of-pearl butterfly in her hair.
Now she was finished. She looked up at the circular smoke opening in the ceiling of the felt tent. The sky was indigo. The sun must be setting. Bourkina had told her to be ready by sunset.
She seated herself on the cushions and waited. She remembered the writing materials and pointed to the writing box, adorned with a land scape of trees and mountains, set on top of her clothes chest. "If you get ink on your robe-" one of the maids protested. "I never do."
She did not want to write for her pillow book. That could come later, when she knew what was going to happen to her. She would attempt a poem. She began rubbing the ink stick on the stone. One of the maids offered to do it for her, but she waved her away. By the time the ink was made she had her poem. She dipped the brush and wrote:
Eire warms all who come near. Only the light of the Buddha Can warm the fire.
She sat back, wondering what the poem meant. The two maids sat humbly against the wall of the tent to Taniko's right so she would not have to look at them unless she wanted to. They, at least, see me as a great lady, she thought.
But how would she be treated tonight? Was this all some trick? she wondered. The interview with Bourkina, the opportunity to make all these elaborate preparations, was it all preparation for a band of Mongol officers to make sport of her at a drunken feast? No, Bourkina appeared, though a hard woman, to be honest enough. Probably some officer of the khan, some commander of a thousand or ten thousand men, would enjoy her tonight. Or perhaps he would find her dwarfish and freakish and would contemptuously send her away or throw her to the brutes in the ranks.
