The Flower Mat Page 4

  "Strange—there are no mosquitoes in your room, mother." Tatsuya reached over to the candy bowl and picked out a black candy. "I think there aren't too many of them in Shinzo's or Kyunosuke's room. But as for my room, there's no difference between day and night; they just come and never leave. I wonder what they're thinking."

  "That's because you're there all day, Tatsuya. They go in there because your odor has become attached to your room. It would be better if you burned mosquito incense, but you never do."

  "You might be right. But don't you think even mosquitoes have likes and dislikes in eating? For example, this person doesn't taste good, or this man isn't so bad. ..."

  Kyunosuke returned home. When Ichi heard him at the front of the house, she quickly went and told him what her husband had said. Kyunosuke nodded, went into his mother's room with an innocent look on his face, and suddenly reached for the candies.

  "I'm sorry I'm late."

  "You often come home late nowadays," said Iso.

  "That's because we're going to start checking the crops in the field soon," Kyunosuke answered. "Since the property tax is apparently going to be increased again this year, it's hard work to prepare the assessments."

  "Increasing the property tax again—well, well," said Tatsuya. "If the property tax is increasing like that, I bet the farmers won't be able to live a very easy life."

  Kyunosuke was about to say something, but he changed his mind. He got up and went into the back room.

  After a time Shinzo came in. He picked up his teacup, but soon put it down and looked at Iso a bit uncertainly.

  "I have a favor to ask of you," he said to his mother. "I want you to take in a boarder. What do you say to that?"

  "What do you mean by a boarder?" Iso raised her eyes with a puzzled expression. "What kind of person is he?"

  "He's lived a little too fast a life. Being the third son and having a strong personality, he ran away from home. But things would be all right if he apologized to his parents. He came in here through the back door and is now in my room."

  "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. We don't mind having him at all, but this is a small house."

  "Well, I'll let him use my room." Shinzo stood up. "And since he doesn't want his family to know where he is until he apologizes to them, please manage it somehow with the servants."

  "Shouldn't I greet him?" Iso asked.

  "Tomorrow will be all right. Ichi, won't you come with me?"

  Ichi followed Shinzo. Instead of consulting her as he usually did, he gave her orders concerning the meals and bedding for the guest and told her to tell the servants that a relative was in the house. He also told her that the guest might stay with them about twenty days, depending on the circumstances.

  That night after Ichi had gone to bed, the whispered conversation went on in her husband's room. It was an unusually close, humid night, and she was perspiring in the bed. The buzzing of mosquitoes around the netting disturbed her, as did low voices from the room beyond her own. She wiped away perspiration constantly, unable to sleep. And the night passed.

  Around noon the next day a strong north wind began to blow, and soon the weather became stormy. After the long drought the trees and grass had become white as if covered with dust, but their glossy green color reappeared before Ichi's eyes, and they swayed with a sudden gust of wind as if they were dancing for joy.

  Ichi was fond of rain and liked to watch it through the window. She felt herself revived. The clouds, the color of India ink with gradations into gray, were running fast from south to north in a low sky. Depending on the density of the clouds, the rain became scant or strong; it slapped trees, slapped houses, and slapped the ground, and everywhere made a thick gray splash.

  Ichi had felt that her body was drying up, and that even her blood had become thicker. But while she watched the rain, her skin was thirstily absorbing moisture. Just as fresh moss holds water, she felt that her whole body was becoming richly damp with moisture.

  While Ichi watched the rain with a feeling akin to intoxication, she remembered the man named Gorobe Toda. He used to visit the Okumura household six or seven years ago, bringing official business to her father, who at that time held the post of karo, or principal retainer. At one period he had shown up at the house almost every day. He must have known that Ichi was greatly loved by her family and especially by her father, Kasho, for he had brought flowers to her on several occasions. Of course she did not receive them herself, and her parents would not have allowed her to place flowers presented by her father's subordinate in her room, but the sweet white oleanders, mountain lilies, and wonderful yellow chrysanthemums were beautiful and left a lasting impression.

  After a time the man had stopped coming, but she had a faint recollection of a story that he had been demoted to a post at Edo because he had done something wrong. It must be this same man who was in the Kugata home.

  Even if this were the same man, there was nothing strange about it, she thought. But when she noted his condition now—wounded, hiding from prying eyes— there seemed an unfortunate distance, too, between the Ichi of the present and the Ichi who had received flowers from him years before. Her heart grew heavy.

  "Well, well, you're sitting beside the window." Iso's loud voice cut into Ichi's silent thoughts. "Rain splatters are blowing in, aren't they ! It's bad for your health. What are you doing here?"

  "It's raining so magnificently, I was fascinated." Ichi was a little embarrassed. She blushed. "Oh, I've made the tatami* so wet! What shall I do !"

  "It's you who's important, not the tatami. You'd better change your clothes quickly. That's all right— I'll order the maid to clean it up." Then, calling after Ichi who was hurrying from the room, "Unless you dry your body thoroughly you'll catch cold."

  The rain and the wind stopped around midnight. It had rained so hard during the early evening that they had feared flooding. But with the passing of the storm, the weather had turned unbelievably fine, and the moon dipping toward the west shone beautifully, as if newly polished.

  Three guests had arrived during the storm and had talked for a long time with Ichi's husband and Kyunosuke in the room where Toda was staying. What they were talking about she of course did not know. Two had left around ten o'clock, and the third when the sky was growing lighter. Her husband had said goodbye to the third guest at the back door, but had not immediately reentered the house. This caused Ichi concern, and she got out from under the mosquito netting.

  The terrible thought came to her that her husband might have gone somewhere and she would never see him again, or that some extraordinary thing had happened and that his life was in danger. She was so wrought up that she forgot about being clad only in her nightgown, and she hurried outside in her bare feet. Her agitation was so great that her feet seemed barely to touch the ground. She hurried to the back door and found her husband standing by the garden fence in front of the door. Shinzo was alone. One hand was resting on the fence, and he was gazing at the moon. Ichi would not soon forget the outline of her husband's head and back as he stood gazing upward.

  Shinzo turned slowly, and when he saw Ichi he went close to her.

  "What a reckless thing to do! Why are you out here dressed like that?"

  Ichi groaned and looked up at her husband. Her anguish changed quickly to relief and joy and to an overpowering love for her husband.

  She threw herself into Shinzo's arms, sobbing. "Since you didn't come back at once, I was afraid that you might have gone somewhere or that something might have happened to you, and I couldn't remain in the room."

  "You silly!" Shinzo put his arm around his wife and hugged her. "What are you frightened about? I'm only looking at the moon—it was so beautiful when I came out here to see my guest off. It's as clear as if it had been washed by rain."

  "Please tell me, is some misfortune about to happen?" Ichi whispered, her head still pressed against his breast. "I've been so worried lately, constantly fighting an uneasy feeling. I know it's not
my place to ask such a thing, but won't you please tell me what is going on?"

  His arms held her more tightly, and his face, illuminated by the moon, assumed an expression almost of agony. He closed his eyes and pushed his face close to Ichi's, and was silent for what seemed like ages.

  "A samurai cannot live only for himself and his family," he finally said. "This applies not only to samurai but to all human beings. Every man has an obligation to mankind in addition to himself and to his family. I am now trying to carry out one of these obligations, which concerns the government of this clan. Moreover, it has much to do with the happiness or unhappiness of our people."

  "Just as I expected !" Ichi cried, drawing away from him. Her look turned from one of love to despair. "This has been going on after all. . . . Our life will soon be destroyed, won't it?"

  "You must try to be calm. We're doing our utmost to avoid any tragedy. Since the problem isn't a difficult one, and since we've been working on it very carefully, I think it will be solved safely behind the scenes. We made a promise that we wouldn't rush things until we were assured of success."

  "You've got to stop this, please!" Ichi shook her head. "There are many people here; I don't think thisis your problem alone. And I can't live without you. Please think of the one who is going to be born and of your mother. Don't do anything to destroy the happiness of this family."

  Shinzo looked at his wife as if she were a stranger. Her shy, oval face, generally regarded as beautiful, had changed completely. This woman with glittering eyes and twisted lips was not Ichi. This selfish, greedy face full of an animal instinct to hold onto what she had was not that of the woman he loved.

  "Aren't you ashamed of yourself for saying such a thing, Ichi? Husband and wife, children, parents, brothers, home, a happy life—everyone wants these things, and it's hard to watch them being lost or destroyed. But we have to defend society from overthrow and destruction. Every human being has this duty, particularly the samurai, who are in a position to engage in politics. . . . Isn't it funny that you don't understand such an obvious thing, Ichi, even though you were brought up in a samurai family."

  Shinzo gently held his wife close. "Well, lift your face and look up at the moon," he said. "Your nerves are on edge because your health isn't normal. Everything will soon be resolved safely. We're working on it, so you shouldn't be so worried. Just give birth to a healthy, good child. . . . Cheer up and look at the moon. This must be the first time you've ever looked at the moon this late in the evening."

  Shinzo put his hand under his wife's chin, raised her head, and smiled at her.

  How powerful, how dear, how beloved is my husband's moonlit face! Even if something happens, my husband belongs to me, Ichi thought. I shall never let him go—never.

  She impulsively put her arms around her husband's neck and stretched to press her lips against his. Shinzo tried to avoid her passionate kiss but thought better of it and, embracing Ichi's trembling body, accepted the kiss, which tasted of tears.

  Footnote

  * Tatami: a thick straw matting about 3 ft. by 6 ft. used as a floor covering. It is still often used as a unit of measure for rooms, e.g., a 10-mat room.

  Part Two

  6

  THE STRONG driving rain was followed by a heat wave which immediately dried up the earth, trees, and grass, as if the rain had never fallen. The streets had to be watered regularly to keep down the clouds of dust which rose thickly into the air.

  The region had almost limitless underground springs, and pure water came to the surface in the city and the fields wherever wells had been dug. Ogaki's people would never be short of water, even if there was a long drought.

  Of course the Kugata house had its own well, which despite its shallowness gave a generous supply of water that overflowed from the trough and imparted an illusion of coolness. Iso found it too cold, but it was Ichi's only relief from the heat, and she sometimes felt she could not endure a moment without it.

  Ever since her talk with her husband about the samurai's obligations, Ichi had been under a nervous strain which might have resulted from her physical condition. She was subject to sudden attacks of violent heartbeat and feelings of suffocation. Worse yet was her inability to fall asleep easily. Her sense of hearing became more acute, and she could hear voices or the movements of people two rooms beyond hers.

  Yet nothing unusual was happening. The guest, Gorobe Toda, confined himself all day to his room, where he seemed to do everything in a languid reclining position. The regular visitors had by now decreased to three, and their visits had become less frequent—first every three days, then every five days. However, since Ichi did not know what was going on, she could not tell whether this change portended a good or bad turn of events, and her ignorance increased her uneasiness.

  Around eleven o'clock one night, five or six days after the worst summer heat, she heard the unusual sound of high-pitched voices in the family room. The voices were so clear that from where she lay under the mosquito netting Ichi could distinguish the words.

  She involuntarily sat up upon hearing the word Seishukufu. When she had gone to visit her mother in the spring, this unfamiliar word had been Kyunosuke's message to her brother, and she remembered it readily now because her present feeling was exactly like the uneasiness aroused in her at that time by Bennosuke's reaction to the message.

  Ichi listened to the loud conversation with bated breath.

  "This Seishukufu is worthless. Not only is it worthless—it's absurd."

  "Why?" Kyunosuke asked. "The person who did it is a friend of mine. I know his work and I know him personally, and I know he's reliable."

  "Maybe he's reliable, but this Seishukufu is absolutely useless. If he wasn't aware of that fact, he's obviously been tricked."

  "Maybe you have a reason for saying that, but ..." That was Gorobe Toda speaking. "Which part is wrong? Or is it wrong from beginning to end?"

  "No, I wouldn't say that. Generally speaking, it's reasonable enough. But the important parts have been altered, and it's done in such a way that we can't make a distinction if we put them together. For example, this part and this one are obvious deceptions. It's far from the Great Bear, but they're the ones we trust the most in Edo."

  "Are you really sure?" Kyunosuke's voice was harsh. "If that's true, it will become important."

  "I'm absolutely positive. We've got to check up on this Okumura fellow as soon as possible. Even if he isn't a spy, we've got to assume that they know what we're up to, since we've been tricked like this."

  "I think you're going too far. If that were the case, we'd have heard from Ohara," Toda said, in an effort to ease the tension. "You're constantly in contact with him, aren't you, Kugata?"

  "Yes. But Ohara is that kind of person, so . . ."

  "No, I'm not going too far," said the high-pitched voice. "Anyway, we've got to check up on Okumura. Maybe we've missed our chance."

  The man speaking in the high-pitched voice was Samanosuke Watanabe, who had arrived that day from the Edo mansion to announce Lord Toda's proposed return to Ogaki in October and to visit Kugata after nightfall. Of course Ichi was not aware of this and she could not understand the major import of the conversation, but their remarks about her brother and the Seishukufu astounded her.

  My brother Bennosuke has some connection with those people. He's doing the same work they are. And for some reason they're going to investigate him because he's done something unfavorable to them. The thoughts whirled in her confused brain.

  The conversation grew lower. Soon she heard someone leaving. Ichi slid back into bed and closed her eyes. Her time was approaching, and she was greatly affected by heat. The perspiration seemed to pour out of her body even if she lay still, and if she lay in the same position for any length of time her lower body would become numb. The child's movements were growing stronger, and since it would suddenly kick her while she was dozing she often cried out in her sleep. These things alone would have been enough to disturb h
er, but her added worry about the frightening things happening one after the other wore her out mentally and physically.

  If I'm completely worn out it will have a bad effect on the child. My husband says he's almost certain nothing will happen, and all my worry can't help him, so I shouldn't think about it any more. My duty as a woman is to give birth to a dear, healthy, good child. This line of thought finally soothed her into a deep sleep.

  She was suddenly awakened by a touch on her shoulder, and found her husband squatting outside the mosquito netting.

  "What happened?" he asked. "Are you awake now? . . . You were being tormented by a nightmare, so I woke you up. Did you have a bad dream?"

  "Not that I know of." Ichi straightened the neckband of her kimono and sat up. "Had you already gone to bed?"

  "I'm going now. I bet you'd like to wipe the perspiration off. Shall I cool the towel?"

  "I perspire so much." Picking up the towel from the head of the bed, Ichi wiped her breast. "Won't the gods punish me for allowing my husband to do such a thing?"