The palace was a beautiful sight this morning. Sunlight reflected from a million places: The large roofs were of an immaculate and glittering whiteness against the shiny red columns and the gilded dragons at the eaves. By asking directions, the doctor found the attendants’ bureau where he was passed from white-clad servants to black-robed officials. His hopes of seeing Toshiko evaporated. This was where the business of government took place, a world of officials. Eventually he was left to wait in a chilly passage which seemed to lead to an important office. The passage was full of waiting men, and very important-looking officials passed in and out of the distant double doors. They wore rank colors on their formal hats and did not glance at those who humbly waited, shivering and with hopeless expressions on their faces.
At some point in his long wait, it occurred to the doctor that a mistake must have been made, and he approached an attendant to ask. By now, he did not feel humble and was brusque because he thought of the time he had wasted that could have been spent looking after the sick.
But the attendant assured him that all was correct and that he would be admitted shortly.
Admitted?
Yamada began to suspect that he had been summoned by the emperor himself. Since he had been waiting past his customary midday meal, his empty stomach was growling. Besides, he remembered their previous meeting and how angry and rude he had been then, and nervousness now twisted his gut, making him queasy.
When they finally called him, he was sweating with the tension in spite of the cold. This was going to be very different from that casual encounter in the cook’s room. He would see the emperor officially. Few men were allowed in his presence, and most of those held ranks far above his.
The great doors opened and closed behind him. He saw a wide expanse of shining floor and in the distance the figure of the emperor bent over his desk. An official sat at another desk. The shutters were closed against the cold, but many braziers and lights stood about the two desks. When Yamada hesitated at the door, the official waved a peremptory hand for him to come forward. The doctor walked to the center of the room where he knelt and touched his forehead to the floor.
“This is the doctor, sire,” said the official.
“Doctor? Oh, yes. I remember. Come closer, come closer. And you may leave us, Tameyazu.”
Yamada rose and approached the emperor’s desk, wondering what he was to do next and if he was permitted to look into the emperor’s face. He knelt and in his confusion he stared down at the documents that lay strewn across the desk until he saw the emperor’s hand reach out to cover them. Afraid that His Majesty thought he had been reading them, he raised his eyes.
Yes, the face was that of the cook’s visitor, but today the emperor was not smiling. Yamada touched the floor with his head again.
“Come, Doctor. Sit up,” the emperor said. “I wish to consult you about a medical problem.”
Yamada took a deep breath, sat up, and risked another glance. Perhaps the emperor was ill. He looked well enough, but many ailments remained hidden from the eye. “Yes, sire?”
The emperor studied him for a moment. “You can keep a confidence?”
The doctor blinked. “Of course, sire.”
“It is nothing of great import, but gossip would be very unpleasant. You are to mention to no one what we discuss.”
Yamada bowed. He was slightly offended and said stiffly, “Certainly not, sire.” His nervousness faded as his curiosity grew.
“I am told,” the emperor said, “that you are of good birth, that your studies at the imperial university are recent, and that you excelled at them.”
The doctor bowed again. He had done well at the university, but most of what he knew about medicine had come to him later, in the slum dwellings of the capital. He was tempted to say so, but Otori would not like it, so he was quiet.
“These studies have included matters of a sexual nature?”
Well, hardly in the slums. People who were starving did not worry much about procreation. It seemed to take place all too often and too easily for the poor. He said, “Yes, sire,” and became nervous again. The only time powerful men of the emperor’s age consulted their physicians about sexual problems was when they worried about dysfunction or a wife’s inability to conceive. The retired emperor already had a large number of children, so he was probably not desperate for more. Why the sudden concern about his sexual performance?
And then he remembered Toshiko and was filled with a sudden hatred for the other man.
The emperor pursued his subject, unaware of Yamada’s clenched hands and grinding teeth. “Then you are familiar with all the methods and medicines that enhance the pleasures of the bedchamber?”
The doctor raised his eyes briefly. The emperor’s face had an earnest, almost pleading expression. Yamada reminded himself that this was the emperor, but that he was also a man and a patient and apparently very worried. Private feelings must be put aside when treating a patient. He said cautiously, “Yes, sire. There are various substances and activities that are said to help the male performance. I am not myself very familiar with their efficacy but —”
The emperor smiled and said quickly, “You are too young.”
Yamada blushed in spite of himself. “Yes, sire, that may be so, but many men my age have such concerns. I meant only that I could not attest to these prescriptions from my observation. A great deal of our knowledge is based on what people report, and they may not always understand their bodies or tell the truth.”
The emperor considered this and nodded. “Yes, I see. Well, I cannot say I have ever experienced any problems maintaining my stamina before now.”
The doctor said, “In that case, surely it may be a temporary affliction, sire.”
The emperor rubbed his chin and looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps, but there are reasons why I wish to be absolutely certain. You understand?”
Yamada gulped but met the Emperor’s eyes and asked, “How can I help, sire?”
“You may answer some questions, and then perhaps you may wish to ask some. When we are done, I am sure you will feel able to prescribe.”
The doctor bowed. Dear heaven, he thought, I want to like this man and help him, but what if my advice loses me Toshiko forever? He twisted his hands in irresolution.
The emperor said gently, “Do not be afraid, Doctor. I shall not blame you for my weakness.”
Yamada managed a pale smile at this misunderstanding of his fears and reminded himself that there had never been any hope for him and that, as a physician, he had a duty to help to the best of his ability. “Please ask, sire,” he said.
“Thank you. Then my first question is this: May a sudden weakness in a man be caused by a decrease in the female’s life-giving force?”
Surely that could not refer to Toshiko. Suppressing surprise, the doctor said cautiously, “Ancient medical texts state that women over thirty and those who have given birth are not beneficial to the male’s stamina, but I have not seen any evidence of this and I doubt it is true.” Indeed, in his practice, poor women produced children far too readily and repeatedly to suggest that their men had such problems.
“Good,” said the emperor. “Then would you say that the opposite is equally untrue? That a man cannot gain stamina from lying with virgins?”
Yamada’s ears started to burn again. It was warm in the room from the braziers, and the air was scented with the oil of the many lamps, but he was hot for other reasons. “I don’t believe it helps, sire,” he managed.