Her friend choked on some gruel and started coughing. When Toshiko looked up, she saw that several of the others were watching them avidly. The thought struck her that they had sent Shojo-ben to question her. This suspicion stiffened her resolve. She raised her chin defiantly and said, “Well, perhaps not quite so old . . . and perhaps . . .” She let her voice trail off.
Shojo-ben dabbed at her lips. “What does age matter? Of course He will like you,” she said enviously. “How could He not?”
Toshiko smiled and got up to take back her tray. “We shall see,” she said lightly.
At this point, Lady Sanjo arrived for her morning inspection. She stared hard at Toshiko’s elaborate costume and asked in an acerbic tone, “Do you consider those colors suitable?”
Toshiko bowed. “I think so, Lady Sanjo. I believe His Majesty is fond of this shade.”
Lady Sanjo flushed and moved on to someone else. But later, when Toshiko was reading quietly in her corner, she returned and sat down beside her. “What happened last night after I left?” she asked bluntly.
Toshiko gave her a startled look, then lowered her head. “I had rather not say.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Sanjo said firmly. “I am in charge of His Majesty’s ladies. They have no secrets from me.”
Toshiko remained silent.
Lady Sanjo cleared her throat and tried again in a softer voice. “My dear girl,” she said, “please realize that I am your friend. Put your trust in me. I stand in your own dear mother’s place now. Surely you would wish to discuss certain matters with your mother.”
Still Toshiko did not speak.
“A young woman at court encounters many difficulties,” Lady Sanjo said after a moment. “You saw what happened last night. If you had confided in me that His Majesty wished you to sing for him, I could so easily have spared you that shameful exposure.”
Toshiko bowed her head a little more and thought of the deceitful ways of fox spirits who tempted humans only to devour them later.
Lady Sanjo sighed. “Well, no harm was done, I think. In fact, His Majesty seemed to enjoy your song. Am I right?”
Toshiko murmured, “His Majesty was very kind.”
Lady Sanjo’s eyes widened a little. She studied the slight figure before her. “He is a very kind man. What exactly did He say . . . or do?”
“I . . . don’t remember much.”
“I am sure you were quite overwhelmed by the honor. His Majesty’s visitor left, I assume?”
Something that the nun had said suddenly came back to Toshiko, and she looked up into the avid eyes. “Her name is Otomae. She told me that His Majesty particularly likes imayo and that I dance very well. She said many years ago she herself used to dance for His Majesty but that she is too old now.”
Lady Sanjo was not interested in the old nun. She smiled a little and nodded. “And then?” she asked. “She left you alone with Him?”
Toshiko knew what the woman wanted to hear. She dropped her eyes. “His Majesty honored me greatly,” she whispered so softly that Lady Sanjo had to ask her to repeat it.
“His Majesty honored me greatly,” said Toshiko a little louder, and not entirely truthfully.
Lady Sanjo gave a gasp. “You mean . . .?” She stopped and tried again, “My dear Toshiko, I wish to be of assistance in every way. Only ask, I pray.”
“Thank you, Lady Sanjo. You are very good, but I have no questions.”
“Surely if a very young woman, and you are barely past your childhood, were to receive the attentions, I mean the very particular attentions, of His Majesty, she might find the experience overwhelming at first. I think you may have found last night confusing. As a married woman, I can help you understand and guide you so that you will prove worthy of the distinction. Do you understand?”
Turning her face away, her embarrassment now quite real, Toshiko nodded her head. Lady Sanjo moved closer and put an arm around her shoulders. “Come, my dear,” she said, “was it so very frightening? Did His Majesty hurt you?”
Toshiko turned her head and looked at Lady Sanjo in surprise. “Oh, no, Lady Sanjo. His Majesty was very gentle.”
They were so close now that she could see the hot color under Lady Sanjo’s make-up. The other woman moistened her lips. “He was?” she asked, looking at her hungrily.
Toshiko nodded.
“I’m glad,” Lady Sanjo gasped -- her breathing was becoming quite rapid. “In the case of His Majesty you may feel awkward speaking of such things but . . .” She faltered and looked almost faint.
“Are you ill, Lady Sanjo?” Toshiko asked solicitously. “Please do not upset yourself so. You are very kind, but my mother has explained. And as you say, it is not proper to speak of such things.”
“Yes. That is very true,” said Lady Sanjo, gulping for air. “I only offer advice if it should be needed.” She took another breath. “Those pretty songs of yours. Perhaps you could teach me a few? People say I have a pleasant voice.”
Toshiko made a vague promise, then claimed that she had to write to her family – an excuse which Lady Sanjo received with no surprise – and departed for her eave chamber.
When she was finally alone, in the room which would always be that of her love, he started to tremble. That she could have said or implied the things she had now struck her as incredible and most reprehensible. They were lies, all lies, to make them think that she had found favor when He had looked at her in disgust, and had not spoken to her until He sent her away. Her shame and the knowledge that they would gloat at her ruin had made her pretend what was not true.
After a while, she calmed down and went to sit near the shutter, opening it a little, to peer out. The veranda was, as always, empty. A light dusting of snow had dulled everything, and gray clouds covered the sky. It was a sad day, and Toshiko took out her mother’s letter again.
“Dear daughter,” Lady Oba had written. “It is good that you are well. I pray every day for your success. As you know, both your father and Lord Kiyomori wish this. We believe that it is your fate to bring greatness to your family for generations to come.
“As for your future: a woman’s life is in the hands of the gods. If your path brings you suffering, then it is your karma that it be thus. You must accept it, as I have done, and as your sister will in due time. Pray to find the strength to forget yourself and serve the future generations. And may the gods then bless you with the joy of having prevailed in adversity.”
Toshiko had hidden this letter next to her skin for weeks now. Every time she took it out she remembered him who had brought it — carrying it next to his heart as she did now — and she was again filled with a wild longing. But as soon as she unfolded it to read her mother’s words, she knew that this was the suffering her mother was speaking of. She must bear it and strive to forget.
Today she thought about her parents’ wish and how she had failed them even when she was trying to obey. She did not believe that there could be joy in prevailing in this particular adversity but she knew that she must have the courage to try again. She needed the daring of a warrior about to go into a battle to the death. In families like hers, the women grew up absorbing the lessons taught to the men. Toshiko used to be angry with fate for making her a mere girl. In all of her brothers’ undertakings — except for Takehira’s pursuit of bed partners — she had attempted to equal or perhaps even outdo them, much to their father’s amusement. She knew she was a better rider; she could even stand on the back of a galloping horse. In archery, she equaled Takehira, though she could not manage to draw a large bow the way he could. She had learned to wield both a sword and a halberd. But none of those things mattered now because she was a woman. It seemed to her that men had the easier part. In her battle, the woman must die in order to prevail.
She felt like weeping for the Toshiko who would be no more but put away such childishness along with the letter.