was wrong. He loved Reiko, whom he’d already hurt badly by faking his death. He ached with his need for Kozeri.
Hands poised above her shoulders and their faces almost touching, Sano saw his inner turmoil reflected in her eyes. As a nun, she would have taken a vow of celibacy, but she was a sensual woman who’d lived fifteen years without a man. Sano could see her trembling with repressed hunger. Forcing himself to think of Reiko, he only realized a disturbing truth about his nature. A part of him was drawn to women with an aura of tragedy, whose spirits carried the same veins of darkness as his own.
Women like Aoi, the ninja spy he’d fallen in love with during his first case as the shogun’s investigator.
And Sano knew that Reiko, with her bright personality, could never quite satisfy the dark part of him, no matter how much they loved each other.
Suddenly Kozeri moaned, a sound of utter, passionate submission. Tilting her head, she laid her cheek on Sano’s hand, eyes closed and lips parted. The feel of her hot, moist skin thrilled Sano. With his other hand he stroked the nape of her neck, that most erotic visible part of a woman’s body. Lefting his fingers trail slowly down Kozeri’s back, he drew her closer to him.
She moaned louder and pressed herself against him. For a moment, Sano swooned with pleasure. Then horror jolted him from dazed lust and into awareness that he’d taken the first step toward forbidden sex. Now his desire filled him with revulsion. With an anguished cry, he pulled away from Kozeri.
She stared in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
Raising his hands in a gesture of helpless apology, Sano shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you want me?” Tears welled in Kozeri’s eyes.
“I can’t do this,” Sano said. Turning, he fled as if pursued by an invading army.
25
At Kodai Temple, the afternoon had passed in its unvarying routine of prayers and chores; the nuns had returned from begging in the city, and evening rites had begun. While bells tolled across Miyako, the setting sun poured fiery light through the windows of the convent dormitory. There knelt the nuns, heads shaven, completely naked. In three rows, firm young bodies alternated with those of older women with sagging flesh. They faced the abbess, who sat upon a platform at the front of the room.
“Breathe deeply,” intoned the abbess. She sucked air through her mouth. “In. Out. Gather the energy within you.”
At her place in the middle row, Kozeri inhaled the musky smell of the women whose breaths echoed her own. She tried to let her mind drift and feel the energy kindle inside her. For fifteen years she’d practiced this exercise, designed to focus her mental power and bring spiritual enlightenment. Usually she slipped into a trance easily, but tonight the required concentration evaded her. The shogun’s sosakan had disturbed her inner harmony. Scenes from the past invaded the darkness behind her closed eyelids.
She saw the garden of her family’s mansion, the secluded paradise of her youth. Again she ran laughing through the spring rains, hot summers, autumn leaves, and winter snows with her favorite cousin and playmate, Lord Ryozen. As the years passed, Kozeri became a beautiful young woman, Ryozen a handsome youth; friendship evolved into romance. Their families approved of the match, which would strengthen the connection between two noble clans. At age fifteen, Kozeri and Ryozen knelt before the Shinto priest and sipped the ritual three wedding cups of sake.
Kozeri spent happy days making a home for Ryozen, while he worked as secretary to Left Minister Konoe. In the evenings they entertained themselves with music, poetry, and lovemaking. Soon Kozeri was pregnant. Then, five months later, things went suddenly, terribly wrong. Kozeri was resting in her room one afternoon when her mother entered.
“Daughter,” said the older woman, her face woeful, “I bring terrible news. Ryozen is dead. Someone stabbed him.”
Kozeri shook her head in disbelief. “But I just saw him this morning. There must be some mistake.”
“There is no mistake,” her mother said sorrowfully.
“No!” Kozeri stumbled from the house and met servants bringing in a blanket-covered figure on a litter. Tearing off the blanket, she saw her husband’s still, pale face. She burst into a torrent of weeping.
Then an excruciating cramp convulsed her stomach. Kozeri screamed and fell. More pains wracked her. She heard her mother calling, “She’s in labor! Fetch the doctor!”
Many agonizing hours later, Kozeri delivered a dead baby boy. She lost much blood; fever followed the stillbirth. Ten months passed before Kozeri rose from her bed. She sat listlessly in the garden, pining for Ryozen. Then one day her father came to her.
“It is time to consider your future,” he said. “Left Minister Konoe has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have consented.”
Now the sonorous voice of the abbess drew Kozeri back to the present: “Feel the energy flow from your center to every part of your body. Let us seal the power inside us.”
Kozeri opened her eyes and saw the abbess holding a long strip of cloth. She picked up a similar cloth from the floor beside her. Imitating the abbess’s movements, she wrapped it tightly around her stomach. The other nuns did the same. In the dying sunlight, their faces shone with a tranquillity she envied.
“Lean forward, head and shoulders down,” said the abbess. “Align your nose with your navel. Relax. And breathe, slowly. One, two…”
With the cloth compressing her muscles, Kozeri inhaled and exhaled, silently counting toward four hundred breaths. Briefly she resisted the memories, then let them come…
She hadn’t wanted to remarry, but it was her duty to obey her father, who craved the prestige the new match would bring to their clan. Hence, she wedded Left Minister Konoe. He was a virtual stranger; his rank and wealth awed her. During the ceremony, she dared not even look at him, and their wedding night proved an inauspicious beginning for the marriage.
In the bedchamber, Konoe tenderly undressed her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said.
Kozeri knew she should show gratitude toward him for rescuing her from widowhood, yet she couldn’t help recalling Ryozen, and their happiness together. Tears burned her eyes. Feeling no desire for Konoe, she endured his caresses; she let him mount her. But when he pushed his erection against her womanhood, her inner muscles clenched shut. Konoe thrust and panted, but couldn’t get in. Pain overcame Kozeri’s self-control. The tears spilled.
Konoe forced a smile and said, “It’s been a strenuous day. Let us sleep now, and begin over tomorrow.”
He spent all his free time with Kozeri, and much money on gifts and amusements for her. All the palace ladies envied Kozeri, but the left minister seemed so grand that she couldn’t get over her shyness. When he talked, she could manage only timid monosyllables in reply. Further attempts to consummate their marriage failed, and Konoe began to express his dissatisfaction in frightening ways.
Every evening he would ask, “What did you do today? Whom did you see?” and make Kozeri account for every moment of their time apart. He forbade her to go anywhere without him. He dropped in on her during the day, as if to catch her doing something wrong. He would not allow her to receive guests. Besides Konoe and his staff, the only people Kozeri saw were her elderly music, calligraphy, and painting teachers.
Isolated and lonely, she began to resent her husband. He sensed her antipathy and punished her with cutting remarks, violent acts. Once, in a fit of rage, he tore up all her clothes.
“Ungrateful wretch!” he shouted, stripping her naked and throwing her out in the snowy garden. “Freeze out there until you can show some affection for your husband!”
The next day he apologized profusely and bought Kozeri a new wardrobe. Her husband seemed to be two different people: his normal, public self, and the monster who ruled her. Kozeri’s fear worsened their marital relations. She would have gladly let the left minister enter her, if only to pacify him, but her womanhood closed up whenever he tried. Furious, Konoe abandoned the gentle, patient approach. He fed Kozeri aphrodisiacs. He slathered oil on her crotch, prying at the threshold with wooden implements. Her pained cries further incensed him. Muttering curses, he drove his organ at her like a battering ram.
