“You aren’t by any chance with child?” her brother asked, leaning forward and peering at the grass curtain as if he could see through it and her many layers of clothes to verify for himself that her belly was getting larger. “That would really be a great thing.”
“No,” she snapped.
He caught her tone this time and chuckled. “Don’t get upset, girl. You’re young. Maybe you need a bit more time. But the moment you have a child, especially a boy, you’ll make all our fortunes in the blink of an eye.” He rubbed his hands and grinned more widely. “You’re the lucky one all right. What could be easier for a woman? A man has to work all his life to get a bit of recognition, and all you have to do . . .”
“Sssh!”
He stopped, glanced right and left, and said, “Don’t be so prickly. I wasn’t going to say anything.”
Toshiko was so angry that she could not speak for a moment. Then she informed him quite stiffly, “I am glad you came to tell me about your appointment, Brother. No doubt you will be quite busy at the palace and in town. Do not trouble yourself about me. I cannot receive visitors in any case, and I doubt we shall meet again very soon. Please give my respects to our parents and to our brother and sister. Good bye.” Without waiting for his response, she rose and left him there.
An even greater loneliness settled over Toshiko after her brother’s visit. For the others, there was still much excitement about parties and New Year’s visits from family and friends. A few left to spend time at home. For Toshiko, there was not so much as a letter. She moved through the busy days like a puppet, allowing herself to be dressed, posed, and at times put into the emperor’s bed.
She was one of the young women chosen to participate in the circle dancing at court. One morning a carriage backed up to the south veranda, and she was helped in and sent off with one of the maids to the imperial palace. This maid was hugely excited by the excursion and chattered away to her silent mistress. After they crossed the bridge over the Kamo River, she lifted the curtain a little and commented on the sights they passed on their way to the imperial palace. Toshiko wondered where the doctor lived and worked. She leaned forward to get a look at the shops, gates, and walled mansions. Perhaps in those milling crowds was the one person in all the world she wished to see again.
Encouraged by her interest, the maid became voluble. She talked of her own home in the southern part of the capital, of visiting the two great temples, Sai-ji and To-ji, of the bustling markets with their astonishing wares and entertainments, of the artisans in the different quarters reserved for their trade. Her father, it appeared, was a paper merchant.
“Where do the doctors live?” Toshiko asked.
“Doctors? Do you mean professors, Lady Toshiko?”
“No. Physicians. Do they have their own street?”
The maid laughed. “Of course not. Most people send for one of the monks or for a pharmacist. Only the good people have learned physicians come to them.”
“Oh.”
When they reached Suzaku-mon, the gate to the imperial enclosure, Toshiko lost interest. She lowered the curtain over the protest of the curious maid.
That day Toshiko received instruction in the dances. She was one of forty other young women. The movements were simple enough, and she wondered why the others seemed so nervous. The ruling emperor was, after all, a mere baby. The dancers were all very young and mostly very pretty. One girl was only ten years old and charming. All of them would be gorgeously robed in costumes provided by the wardrobe office.
Hardly one of the girls slept that night. They chatted and giggled while frowning older ladies paced the hall, reminding them that they would need their sleep for the next day’s performances.
Toshiko discovered the reason for their excitement. Each girl hoped that she would make an impression the next day. On this one day’s public appearance in their young lives, they all hoped to have their futures decided by finding a noble husband or by becoming a lady-in-waiting for one of the imperial households. Toshiko had already gained this latter status, but her position at the retired emperor’s palace — she did not mention what it entailed — was judged to be duller than those at the imperial court or in the households of the crown prince or any of the dowager empresses or imperial princesses. The retired emperor was said to be on the point of taking the tonsure.
Both performances passed uneventfully for Toshiko. Indeed, she barely paid attention to the festive atmosphere and the formal rows of senior nobles who watched them in both palaces. When it was all over, she climbed back into her carriage and returned, accompanied by more chatter from the maid, who was fascinated with the romantic possibilities of having forty beautiful young women exposed to the curious eyes of men who normally only saw an edge of a sleeve or a hem of a gown.
“You have many admirers, Lady Toshiko,” she said with great satisfaction as soon as they had left the palace. “Very great gentlemen and so handsome. I have brought all their letters.” She held up a fat bundle wrapped in silk.
“Throw them away,” snapped Toshiko.
The maid’s eyes widened. “What? Now? Throw them out into the street?”
Toshiko clicked her tongue in frustration. “No. Of course not.” What would Lady Sanjo do to her if she heard about this? “You should never have accepted them. Hide them and burn them later. No, better give them to me.”
The maid smiled knowingly and passed the bundle across.
From Lady Sanjo’s Pillow Book
Ah, spring!
How very appropriate are the last words I wrote into in my journal. We have been so busy. The beginning of the year is always the most exciting time. There are visitors and outings and banquets every single day. “Oh, cherry blossoms, fall and hide me in a cloud, so old age will never find me!”
Indeed, I have been looking my best lately. What with all the rich meals I have been eating, I am getting positively fat. A round face and softly dimpled limbs are what seduce men. Instead of stuffing my cheeks with plums, I now line my gowns with soft rolls of silk floss, cunningly doubled in all those places that men like to touch and squeeze. To my utter delight, His .Majesty took notice during one of the banquets and sent me a serving of delicacies from His own table with a note that said, “Even hungry ghosts must be fed on the New Year.” It was more than I could reasonably eat, but the dear, generous man smiled so lovingly at me that I forced myself.
The change in me has been noted by others. The chancellor himself paid me a compliment the other day. I flirted shamelessly with him before His Majesty and do believe the dearest man was quite put out. I mean His Majesty, of course. The chancellor became frightened and ran off. I suppose he thought he had been caught poaching on a heavenly reserve.
Thus my chances have improved remarkably, while my rival has fallen into disfavor. He rarely sends for her any more. He even dispatched her to court to perform with the circle dancers. When I heard of this, I quickly sent for the court silk merchant and selected a particularly precious figured brocade from his samples. I chose the most striking pattern — brilliant red safflowers against green — and set about making a new robe for His Majesty. Sitting up all night, I used my daintiest stitches and imagined to myself his delight when I presented it to Him. As I sewed the sleeves, I thought of being held in His embrace, and when I stitched the collar, I pressed my face into the fabric in anticipation. The hem . . . oh, dear, the hem! The robe is casual, the sort He would wear in the evening in the privacy of his rooms. It ends above the knees to show off His full silk trousers. I made certain that it opened easily by trying it on when it was finished.