The Peony Lantern by Frances Watts Page A

was that the prospect of a visitor could send us squawking around the room like a couple of chickens. My father often had friends come to sit around the hearth, smoking pipes and drinking sake and complaining about the taxes demanded by the lord of Owari, but I had assumed it must be normal for a man of Shimizu’s rank to keep his family life private.
    When everything was tidied away, we both went to the reception room, where I fussed around Misaki to make sure her seam was just so, that the collar of her under-kimono was showing just the right amount, that her hem fell exactly to her ankle.
    â€˜Who could it be?’ Misaki asked, even though I was the last person in the world who would know.
    â€˜I couldn’t say, my lady,’ I replied as the voices reached us from the entrance and we both sank to our knees.
    When Lord Shimizu entered the room with a beaming man we were both sitting quietly, heads bowed.
    â€˜Misaki, this is Kuroda Taro, an old friend of mine from the domain. We were at school together. Taro, this is Misaki and her churo , Kasumi.’
    We both touched our foreheads to the floor.
    â€˜It’s a pleasure to meet you, Taro-san,’ Misaki said. ‘Please sit and we’ll fetch some tea.’
    I kept my head bowed demurely, but looked up from beneath my lashes to examine the visitor. My first impression was of a merry face.
    â€˜Thank you, Misaki-san. I’d like that.’
    I rose and followed Misaki to the kitchen, where Ishi was already spooning tea leaves into an iron pot and ladling in steaming water.
    â€˜Put some wagashi on a plate, Kasumi.’ Ishi waved her ladle at a blue-and-white plate with painted carp swimming on its surface. ‘Taro-san has a sweet tooth like you wouldn’t believe.’
    As I arranged the sweets — fashioned to look like the hydrangeas which bloomed in the rainy season, with petals made of sweet adzuki-bean paste in blue, white and purple — Misaki put two cups to match the plate on a lacquered tray.
    Back in the reception room, Misaki poured tea into the cups and handed them to the men while I held out the plate of sweets.
    Taro eyed them with the avarice of a greedy boy. Shimizu watched his friend indulgently, his gaze occasionally swivelling to rest with pride on his wife.
    â€˜So you have known my husband a long time,’ Misaki prompted.
    Taro finished his sweet then responded, ‘We practised swordsmanship together. It is a measure of Minoru’s compassion that I was not injured more often.’
    â€˜You didn’t always present such an easy target as you do now,’ Shimizu said, nodding at his friend’s ample stomach.
    â€˜True, true, I have grown soft — and large.’ He turned to Misaki with a look of mock regret. ‘While your husband works so hard to advance the interests of the daimyo and the domain, I prefer to focus on my studies.’ He bent his head to the cup of steaming tea and inhaled. ‘I see you have been buying tea from Sunsyu, old friend.’
    Shimizu raised his eyebrows. ‘Impressive.’ To us he said, ‘Taro is a master of the tea ceremony.’
    â€˜And incense discrimination,’ Taro added. ‘Don’t forget that. I have a very fine nose — and by fine I mean discriminating, not pleasing to the eye. Unless you would call the snout of a fox pleasing.’
    Misaki hid her laugh behind her hand.
    â€˜I think your lovely wife sees me as a figure of fun,’ Taro said to Shimizu, delighted.
    â€˜I can’t imagine why,’ his friend responded dryly.
    â€˜And you, Kasumi, do you find foxes’ snouts pleasing?’
    With his rounded body, I thought he resembled a badger more than a lean fox, but I knew better than to say so. I merely replied, ‘The fox is a form of Inari, the kami of tea — it seems a very suitable snout to me.’
    â€˜Ha!’ He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Well said. She has a clever