Born in sin, living in shame, Devil's brood, condemned to Hell, praying for salvation and forgiveness, Felicity so devout and filled with fear of the Lord and terror of the Devil, desperate for Heaven. Then going home to food. A haunch of meat from the spit and if a piece fell on the floor you'd pick it up and brush the dirt off and eat it if the dogs didn't get it first, but you'd throw them the bones anyway. Castings on the floor. Leavings pushed onto the floor to be swept up perhaps and thrown into the road perhaps. Sleeping most of the time in your dayclothes and scratching like a contented dog, always scratching. Old so young and ugly so young and dying so young. Felicity. Now twenty-nine, gray, few teeth left, old, lined, and dried up.
"Before her time, poor bloody woman. My God, how unnecessary!" he cried out in rage. "What a stinking bloody waste!"
"
"So sorry… it was just… you're all so clean and we're filthy and it's all such a waste, countless millions, me too, all my life… and only because we don't know any better! Christ Jesus, what a waste! It's the priests-they're the educated and the educators, priests own all the schools, do all the teaching, always in the name of God, filth in the name of God… It's the truth!"
"Oh yes, of course," Mariko said soothingly, touched by his pain. "Please don't concern yourself now, Anjin-san. That's for tomorrow…
Kiku wore a smile but she was furious with herself. You should have been more careful, she told herself. Stupid stupid stupid! Mariko-san warned you! Now you've allowed the evening to be ruined, and the magic's gone gone gone!
In truth, the heavy, almost tangible sexuality that had touched all of them had disappeared. Perhaps that's just as well, she thought. At least Mariko and the Anjin-san are protected for one more night.
Poor man, poor lady. So sad. She watched them talking, then sensed a change in tone between them.
"Now I must leave thee," Mariko was saying in Latin.
"Let us leave together."
"I beg thee stay. For thy honor and hers. And mine, Anjin-san."
"I do not want this thy gift," he said. "I want thee."
"I am thine, believe it, Anjin-san. Please stay, I beg thee, and know that tonight I am thine."
He did not insist that she stay.
After she had gone he lay back and put his arms under his head and stared out of the window at the night. Rain splattered the tiles, the wind gusted caressingly from the sea.
Kiku was kneeling motionless in front of him. Her legs were stiff. She would have liked to lie down herself but she did not wish to break his mood by the slightest movement. You are not tired. Your legs do not ache, she told herself. Listen to the rain and think of lovely things. Think of Omi-san and the Tea House in Mishima, and that you're alive and that yesterday's earthquake was just another earthquake. Think of Toranaga-sama and the incredibly extravagant price that Gyoko-san had dared to ask initially for your contract. The soothsayer was right, it is your good fortune to make her rich beyond dreams. And if that part is true, why not all the rest? That one day you will marry a samurai you honor and have a son by him, that you will live and die in old age, part of his household, wealthy and honored, and that, miracle of miracles, your son will grow to equal estate-samurai-as will his sons.
Kiku began to glow at her incredible, wonderful future.
After a time Blackthorne stretched luxuriously, a pleasing weariness upon him. He saw her and smiled.
"
He shook his head kindly, got up and opened the shoji to the next room. There was no maid kneeling beside the netted futons. He and Kiku were alone in the exquisite little house.
He went into the sleeping room and began to take off his kimono. She hurried to help. He undressed completely, then put on the light silk sleeping kimono she held out for him. She opened the mosquito netting and he lay down.
Then Kiku changed also. He saw her take off the obi and the outer kimono and the scarlet-edged lesser kimono of palest green, and finally the underskirt. She put on her peach-colored sleeping kimono, then removed the elaborate formal wig and loosed her hair. It was blue-black and fine and very long.
She knelt outside the net. "
"
"
She slipped under the net and lay beside him. The candles and oil lamps burned brightly. He was glad of the light because she was so beautiful.
His desperate need had vanished, though the ache remained. I don't desire you, Kiku-chan, he thought. Even if you were Mariko it would be the same. Even though you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, more beautiful even than Midori-san, who I thought was more beautiful than any goddess. I don't desire you. Later perhaps but not now, so sorry.
Her hand reached out and touched him. "Dozo?"
