The Peony Lantern by Frances Watts Page B

tongue on her.’
    â€˜She does indeed,’ said Shimizu. ‘A clever tongue and clever eyes — a good protector for my Misaki.’
    â€˜If you believe she needs protecting,’ said Taro, in a way that suggested to me they had spoken of this before. He drained his cup, then rose to his feet. ‘Well, I won’t bore you with my company any longer.’
    As we all raised our voices in protest, Taro gave Shimizu a meaningful look. ‘If my company is really not displeasing to you, perhaps next time you’ll invite me home and it won’t be necessary for me to invite myself.’
    Shimizu and Misaki accompanied Taro to the gate, but I stayed where I was, thinking. So Shimizu’s old friend had had to invite himself over to meet Misaki — yet Ishi was familiar with Taro’s tastes, which suggested that he had not always been such an infrequent visitor. Why hadn’t Taro been invited over since Lord Shimizu’smarriage to Misaki? Did this have something to do with the secret I had heard them discussing on my first night in Edo? I thought it could, though I was no closer to discovering what that secret might be.

Chapter
            Seven
    Shrilling cicadas
    As the air starts to smoulder
    Sound summer’s warning
    As the plum rains waned and we began to feel the heat of full summer, Edo came alive with festivals — or so Isamu told us. Lord Shimizu was visiting the domain of Matsumoto, a hundred miles to the north-west, and Isamu had taken it on himself to visit us regularly in his absence.
    As we sat in the coolest part of the garden one scorching afternoon, hoping to catch a wisp of breeze from the pond, Misaki asked, ‘What’s going on in the city at the moment, Isamu-san?’
    â€˜Well, I saw the Sanno festival,’ he began, pausing to take a sip of amazake , the cool sweet rice drink that was so effective for dispelling heat fatigue. ‘It started at the Hie shrine. I swear, I’ve never seen such a procession — it was the length of your entire village, Kasumi.’
    A procession as long as my village — how many people would that be? I wished I could see it with my own eyes. Sometimes it seemed that the life of a samurai lady was like that of a rock in a stream, still and quiet as the fast-moving water flowed around it. Though in a daimyo’s mansion it would be a different matter, I supposed; it couldn’t help but be more lively with hundreds of other women living there.
    â€˜I’ll tell you what I’m really looking forward to, though,’ said Isamu, leaning forwards to accept more amazake from the jug Misaki held. ‘I can’t wait for the —’
    â€˜The fireworks festival, of course!’ a voice cried.
    We all turned to see Kuroda Taro, and by his side Lord Shimizu.
    â€˜Minoru,’ said Misaki, happiness giving her voice the musical lilt of a blackbird. ‘You’re home.’ She bowed to him and then to Taro. ‘Come, Kasumi, we must fetch more cups.’
    Still on my knees, I bowed before rising and hurrying after her, though I longed to hear about the fireworks festival.
    Remembering Taro’s fondness for sweets, I set out squares of plum wine jelly, a perfect antidote to the heat with its cool translucence.
    On our return, the men were in deep conversation, their heads bent together; judging by their serious expressions, it wasn’t festivals they were discussing.
    When Shimizu caught sight of us he sat back abruptly and the three all seemed to make a conscious effort to resume the cheerful tone of earlier.
    â€˜So will you be going to see the fireworks, Taro-san?’ Isamu asked.
    â€˜As often as I can,’ said Taro. ‘There’s to be a viewing party held by Shunsho-san on the night of the first festival. It’s held by Lord Kinoyoshi every year for the senior men of the domain and their wives, but since the daimyo is