The Song of the Wild Geese: A Historical Romance Novel: The Geisha Who Ran Away, #1

By India Millar

Terue. The girl who was plucked from obscurity to become the most sought after geisha in Edo's Floating World. The geisha who was so beautiful and talented that one of the richest nobles in Japan desired her as his wife.

But Terue wanted more from life, and was willing to risk everything to get it. Pregnant with her lover's child and knowing that the disgrace would mean certain death for both her and her unborn child, Terue makes the devastating choice to flee Japan on the day her daughter – Kazhua, The Geisha with the Green Eyes – was born and changes both their destinies forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Empress Publishing
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393113249

Book preview

PROLOGUE

It would not be truthful to say I do not remember my mother. My family. Of course I do. It is just that their memory is dull somehow. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is to say that they seem to me as if I am looking at them through a silken screen. They are there. I can see their features, but they are slightly blurred somehow. Not quite real.

Of course, many people would say that I am confused. That the life I led with my family was real, and each day since I left them has been the dream. But they do not know. They cannot be expected to understand.

I think my mother was a pretty woman. She always seemed so to me, at any rate. And my father never took a concubine, so he must also have found her pleasing. Of course, we were poor, so it may be that he simply could not afford a concubine rather than a matter of choice. But I don’t recollect Mother ever complaining that he spent money they didn’t have on courtesans—or even common whores—so perhaps he was a contented man, after all.

Not that I understood about concubines or courtesans in those days. I was a mere child, the only daughter in a family of five brothers. It may have been simple neglect. After all, what was the point of trying to teach a mere girl anything about life, or anything else for that matter? But I was soon to learn differently.

In fact, I began to learn the day that my new life began.

ONE

Adults can never

Truly remember childhood,

Be it good or bad

Iwas eleven years old on the day that Auntie visited our humble village. In fact, it was a week before my twelfth birthday when she took me away from my home and brought me here to the Floating World, to the Green Tea House, so that my new life could begin.

Do I have to go, Mama? I can hear my voice now, plaintive with confusion and worry. Have I done something wrong? If I’m good, will you come and bring me back home again?

Mother’s face was stone, not like her normal, smiling expression at all.

Are you hungry, Junko? she asked. I had no need to think about it. Of course I was. Breakfast—and supper the night before—had been a small bowl of plain rice. My brothers and father, being men, had a small portion of vegetables as well.

Yes, I said simply, even as I wondered what my empty belly had to do with this strange woman whose fierce expression already frightened me out of my wits.

We are all hungry, dear. But if you go with Auntie here, then we will all eat. You will never be hungry again, and you will be given nice clothes to wear and you will live in a lovely house. You would like that, wouldn’t you?

I said yes, of course. Put like that, there was no choice. So I went quietly with the woman Mama called Auntie, and did not try to jerk away from her grip as she marched me away from our village. I was bewildered as well as frightened. I had never seen this woman before. How could she be my Auntie? But after a while, curiosity overcame fear and confusion, and I asked her—very nicely—how long it would be before I could go back home. She laughed at me.

Oh, I think it might be quite a while, child, she said. I puckered my face in an effort not to cry and she slapped me—quite hard—on the back of my head. Don’t pull faces. It will give you wrinkles.

I didn’t believe her, but that was the last time I pulled a face for many, many years.

Odd how lessons learned in childhood stay with a person, isn’t it?

I thought that we walked for a very long time. I tried to distract my mind from worrying about what was happening to me by skipping on my shadow, and I remember clearly that it grew shorter and shorter as we walked, which of course made it far more difficult to try and touch it. It had shrunk to almost nothing by the time Auntie stopped. In fact, she stopped so suddenly I went ahead of her and she jerked me back with a fierce tug on my hand.

Are you hungry, child? she asked. The same question mother had asked hours and hours ago. It made me want to cry and I couldn’t speak. I nodded and she shook me.

I asked you a question. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Are you hungry?

Yes, I said simply. Although truth to tell, I was so anxious by then that my stomach was seething with fear rather than hunger. But it seemed rude to say no.

I was shocked when she slapped my bottom, hard. I burst into tears. It was not just the pain, but also the sheer terror of the whole day.

I want to go home! I wailed. Let me go. I want to go back to Mother.

For answer, Auntie crouched down so that her face was close to mine. She bared her teeth at me and it was like being snarled at by a fox. Instantly, I was sure she was going to eat me and I screamed at the top of my voice.

Be quiet. Her voice was so cold, it was worse than the smack she had given me. I was so terrified that I stopped bawling and held my breath to keep the sobs inside. Forget about your mother, and your family. I am your family now. I am your Auntie. And when you speak to me, you will call me Auntie. Now, we shall try again. Are you hungry?

I gawped at her. She raised her eyebrows and stared at me silently. Finally, I understood what she wanted.

Yes, Auntie. I am hungry. I gulped the words on a breath before I could cry again.

So am I. We will break our journey now, eat, and spend the night here.

She took my hand again and I walked alongside her toward the most beautiful building I had ever seen. Even in my utter bewilderment, I worried that the people who owned the house would allow me to enter. Auntie was very richly dressed. I thought that her kimono alone must have cost more than I could count. My own kimono was patched and darned. Naturally, any money for clothes went to my brothers. I glanced down at my dusty bare feet and then back up at Auntie, beseeching her to tell me to wait outside. Perhaps, if I promised not to run away, she might allow it? Surprisingly, she seemed to understand my unvoiced concerns.

Child, do something with your face. Smile, for the gods’ sakes! You have no idea how the fates have favored you today. And for the rest of your life, if you do as I tell you. Listen to me. This is the most important thing you will ever learn. Hold your head up high. Look as if you are important. It doesn’t matter how you are dressed. Do you understand?

I glanced down at my ragged clothes and tears welled in my eyes again. Auntie snatched a breath, but before her hand could descend on me, I looked up quickly. I had always been very timid, and I had learned years ago that I didn’t need to actually look grown-ups right in the eye, which they always seemed to expect. Instead, if I looked between their eyebrows, it seemed to make them think that I was really looking at them, and it was enough to hide my shyness. I did that now.

Yes, Auntie.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but my answer and my raised face seemed to please her.

Good. It doesn’t matter how much you play-act, people only see what you let them see. They cannot look into your thoughts or your heart, child. Always remember that.

I turned her words over in my mind and found them oddly reassuring. Was Auntie clever at hiding her own worries, I wondered. A glance at her face told me not to be so silly. Nothing could ever scare Auntie. She wouldn’t let it.

We walked into the building with my hand clasped firmly in Auntie’s hand, and I kept my head up and my eyes wide.

True to her words, Auntie stared around as if the place disappointed her.

A room. For tonight, for myself and my maid, she said crisply when a man came in answer to her call. I was to be her maid, then. I turned the thought over in my mind. It seemed odd that she had come to our tiny village to choose me as her maid. The knowledge was greatly comforting. At least I now knew what my future was.

Ah, the innocence of childhood!

The man bowed deeply and ushered us into a room so grand it stopped the breath in my throat. Futons were already laid on the polished wood floor and there were flowers beautifully displayed in front of a small shrine. It smelled sweet and clean. I tried not to gawp too obviously.

We ate in the room, but I cannot remember what the food was. Memory insists that it was delicious, but what passed my lips that evening I could not tell you. Soon after the dishes were cleared away, Auntie declared that she was exhausted and we would sleep.

We will leave early in the morning. I have instructed the innkeeper to have a palanquin ready for us at first light.

And that was it. She rolled herself in her bedding and within minutes her breathing was the regular rhythm of sleep. I, however, could not sleep. Curiosity beat about my head like birds’ wings, and no matter how tightly I shut my eyes, sleep would not come. We were in a ryokan. An inn. We must have walked very far from home, as I had never even seen a ryokan before. And we must have far to go still, as tomorrow we were to travel in a palanquin rather than walking.

Even above the mystery of it, one thing above all else kept me awake. I had never slept on my own before. Normally, my futon was shared and crowded with two of my brothers. I always slept between them, snug and safe. Whichever way I turned, there was a warm body by my side. On this strangest of nights, my futon stretched forever. No matter where my anxious fingers crept to, there was nothing but emptiness. And it was a cold night.

Tears blurred my eyes and crept down my cheeks. I was chilled and frightened and lonely. Only one thought gave me a little comfort. Mother had said that if I went with Auntie, then the whole family would eat well for a long time. That pleased me greatly and made me proud. But still, I was cold and getting colder by the minute.

I eased out of bed and walked across to Auntie’s futon as quietly as a moth. I slid beside her and cuddled against her, stealing her warmth.

If you have lice, and give them to me, then tomorrow you will wish you had never been born, she said.

I do not have lice, Auntie, I whispered.

She said nothing else, and I slept next to her as close to contentment as was possible for a little girl who had just lost her old life.

TWO

Snakes must shed their old

Skins to find comfort. All I

Must do is change clothes.

There were mirrors in the Green Tea House.

It was the first time I had really seen my own reflection—apart from a blurred outline glimpsed in the village pond when I took water from it—and the sight of my face looking back at me was startling.

I was so fascinated, I turned this way and that, viewing first one profile and then the other. I stuck my tongue out and watched with enchantment as the stranger in the mirror did the same thing. Would wonders never cease! Now, when I have mirrors made of glass all around the house and I can look at myself whenever I choose, I smile as I remember how easy I was to delight in those early days in the Green Tea House. The mirror that intrigued me wasn’t even a particularly good one, as they were made of copper in those days, and my reflection was actually slightly misty.

My smile of pleasure didn’t last long anyway.

There was far more in the tea house to terrify me than please me.

I shared my room with two other girls. My companions were called Aki—which means Autumn in English, and Ren, which translates to Lotus. Both girls were about the same age as me, Aki being a few months older than Ren. Both of them had been in the Green Tea House for many months. Aki had arrived first. She had been there nearly a year already, and she let me know in no uncertain terms that she was my superior in every way.

Finished with the mirror, have you? she demanded.

I put it down quickly, embarrassed. I would have liked to explain that I was fascinated by it not from vanity, but because I had never seen myself properly before. But Aki was having none of it.

Think you’re worth looking at, do you?

Ren giggled dutifully, as she did at most of Aki’s words.

Not at all, Aki, I said politely. I was about to explain, but Aki had no time to wait.

Good. Because you’re not. Where do you come from?

Before I could give her the name of my village, she was speaking again.

Doesn’t matter. I don’t suppose I would ever have heard of it anyway. I wonder how Auntie came to find you, out there in the sticks. Got some special talents, have you?

I thought about it, and then shook my head. To my amazement, Aki seemed to find this amusing.

You will have when Auntie’s finished with you. I suppose that’s what she sees in you. She likes raw clay so she can model it how she wants.

I glanced at Aki curiously, wondering if she realized what she had said. Tongue in cheek, I asked, Can I expect to be as talented as you and Ren when she has finished with me?

The sarcasm when straight over Aki’s head. She raised her chin and almost smiled.

"You have much to learn, of course. Can you dance? Play the samisen? Sing? Perform the tea ceremony?"

I thought about it. I knew Aki would mock me whatever I said, but I spoke anyway. After all, however deficient I was in talents, Auntie had chosen me to be her maid, so she must have seen something in me.

I can’t do any of that. But does it matter if I’m going to be a maid?

Both girls looked at me, and then Ren began to laugh. Aki followed a second later. I watched them both in bewilderment, deeply hurt that they should find me so funny. Finally, Aki’s laughter was reduced to giggles.

Is that why you think she’s brought you here? To be a maid?

That’s what Auntie told the innkeeper near my village, I protested.

Well, she would, wouldn’t she? It wouldn’t be respectable for her to be roaming the countryside on her own. She wiped her streaming eyes and grinned widely. I sensed she wouldn’t tell me any more until I asked, but Ren jumped in.

Don’t you know what this place is?

It’s a tea house.

No, it’s not. Aki again, glaring at Ren to be quiet. "Well, it is. But tea houses are on every corner here in the Floating World. This isn’t just any old tea house, it’s the Green Tea House. It’s famous throughout Edo. In fact, it’s famous throughout Japan. Men travel for many days just to come here."

I stared at each of them in turn, totally bewildered. Edo I had heard of. It was the capital of Japan, the most important city in the whole of the country, which meant it was the most important city in the whole world. But if I was in Edo, how could I be somewhere called the Floating World at the same time? And why should anybody go out of their way just to get tea? My mother made excellent tea—when she could afford to buy it—but nobody came to take tea with us.

My expression set Aki and Ren off again. I watched both girls shake with laughter, clinging to each other for support. I had had enough. I stood and was ready to leave the room, in spite of the fact that I had no idea where I was going to go.

Oh, let flow the water. Aki was smiling broadly. I was still suspicious, but these two girls—apart from Auntie—were the only people I knew in my new world, so I sat down again and spoke humbly.

Please, Aki. I am only a simple village girl. Until Auntie brought me here, I had never been farther than the fields around my own village. If you would be so kind, please explain to me about the Floating World. And this place. And why I am here.

Aki preened at my words. You are in the Floating World. I frowned, wanting to protest again that she had said I was in Edo, but she raised her finger and I was silent. The Floating World is part of Edo. It is very famous. It is the place where men come to be entertained, to enjoy themselves. I nodded, although I still had no idea what she was talking about. You are in the most exclusive tea house in the whole of Edo, which really means in the whole of Japan. Auntie allows only the richest and most powerful men to enter our doors, which is why we all have to be so talented. See?

No, I said simply. If I’m going to be a maid, why do I have to be able to sing and dance, like you said?

Aki closed her eyes and shook her head wearily. "I told you. You’re not really going to be a maid at all. You’re a maiko, like we are. When you’ve learned everything you need to know, you’ll have your mizuage ceremony and then you’ll be a geisha. If you’re good enough. Are you with me now?"

Maiko? Geisha? Mizuage? The words chased around my brain. I knew of geisha. Everybody did. They were beautiful, talented women who used their many skills to entertain rich men. But I had never actually seen one. In fact, to me they were as far away from my life as the spirits that inhabited the unseen world all around us. And I had heard the word maiko. It had enchanted me, as it literally meant dancing child. And now Aki was telling me that I was a maiko? But mizuage. Now that was a complete unknown.

I was so puzzled and surprised that I blurted the first words that came into my head. "What’s a mizuage?"

I had expected more laughter, but instead, Aki and Ren turned their heads to stare at each other in an elaborate mime of amazement.

"You have to have your mizuage before you can be a geisha, Aki said slowly. Have you never heard of it?"

No. Is it some special kind of ceremony?

Aki licked her lips. Sort of. Ren giggled again, and Aki dug her in the ribs with her elbow. The easiest thing will be to show you. Come on.

I followed both girls obediently and waited when Aki paused outside a screen door much like the one that led into our room.

Tamayu-san. I glanced at Aki in surprise. The strident voice she used in front of me was suddenly soft and very humble. She waited a beat and then repeated the words again. When she was met by silence, she turned to us.

She’s not here. I thought I heard her go out earlier. Come on, we can slip in and she’ll never know we’ve been here. In spite of her words, Aki slid the screen door open very slowly and carefully. Nice, isn’t it?

The room was as large as the one we shared, but had more furniture and the screen walls were bright with prints. One in particular enchanted me at first glance. It showed a towering wave about to break over the top of a boat. I had never seen the sea, and I wondered if it was really as beautiful and fierce as this picture.

Stop gawking and come over here, Aki called over her shoulder. She was on her knees in front of a large trunk and was sliding her hands through the contents. Got it!

I kneeled at her side, watching as she pulled out a fat book, beautifully bound in bright red leather. The characters on the front cover were embossed in gold.

I can’t read, I said reluctantly, even as my fingers itched to feel the leather and trace the gold characters.

Doesn’t matter. I was leaning against Aki, and I could feel her vibrating with excitement. This is for looking at, not reading. It’s Tamayu’s pillow book. One of her lovers bought it for her. Must have cost him a fortune, and I don’t know why he bothered. I bet there’s nothing in here that she hasn’t tried already.

She opened the front cover and held the book out to me on her splayed palms.

I stared at the full page illustration curiously. My first thought was that the drawing was quite beautiful. It showed a young couple—the man handsome, the woman beautiful, and their expressions rather serious—both very richly dressed. My eyes wandered down the page, and I gasped, feeling the blood tingle in my cheeks.

No!

Aki nodded seriously. Oh, yes. That’s what men and women do. Didn’t you know?

Of course I do. I have five brothers. I’ve seen their trees of flesh often. But they didn’t look like that! And they’d never dream of putting them there, I’m sure! I finished lamely.

I expected Aki to laugh at me again, but instead she was serious. Well, I expect where you come from they wouldn’t even imagine doing things like this. But you’re in the Floating World now and it’s different here. Look.

She turned the page carefully, jabbing her finger at the new illustration without quite touching the paper.

Look. Ren was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my cheek and in spite of my intense reluctance, I knew she would know at once if I tried to turn my head away, so I looked.

The illustration spanned both pages. The woman was on the right-hand side, the man on the left. But there were few clothes. The man’s robe was flung back and beneath it, he was clad in a simple loincloth, folded in much the way sumo wrestlers wore their far bulkier versions. The woman had a kimono draped loosely around her, but it was pushed well away from her body. So life-like was the drawing that I could imagine her clawing at the cloth, frantic to push it away from her skin as it got in her way. I tried to focus on the kimono, but it was no good. My eyes were drawn to the middle of the two pages, where—just as the fine parchment met—both of the figures also joined.

I guessed that Ren was excited by the book. Her breath was hot where it brushed my skin, and I was sure she was leaning more fiercely against me. I was deeply embarrassed. I would have given anything to be allowed to close the book, put it back in the chest, and try and forget I had ever seen it. And yet, at the same time, it held a dreadful fascination. I could not take my eyes off the couple, caught in their most intimate of moments.

The woman was lying on her back, with her widely splayed legs inviting the man, who was leaning toward her. My gaze was drawn to her black moss, and I was immediately terrified. My own private parts had a fluff of down, as misty as a dandelion head in seed. This woman’s black moss unfurled like a chrysanthemum in full bloom, rioting on the page in its glory. My black moss would never look this! Was I doomed to failure right from the start?

Ren nudged me slyly. See what he’s doing?

I glanced at the man. For a moment, I was confused. He was about to lean against the woman, I thought. Then I looked again and my eyes widened in disbelief. He had his tree of flesh in his hand, but it was like no tree I had ever seen on my brothers or even on my father. It reared from his body, stiff and straight. My eyes widened as I saw that the tip of his tree was already nuzzling between the woman’s legs, aiming straight and true into her black moss.

I shook my head, lost for words.

Ren and Aki nudged each other and giggled. Ren pushed her face into mine, rubbing against me like a friendly cat. Her cheek was wet with sweat and the touch was unpleasant.

Ever seen anything like that, have you?

I shook my head. And yet at the same moment, I knew I was lying.

Long before—at least a year before Auntie had come to our village and claimed me—I had been driving our ducks to a new pond. It had been a dry summer, and the pond in our own field was nothing but a nasty sheen of green slime.

Take them down along the riverbed, Mother instructed. Follow the track of the river down past the willow stand and you will come to a pond that should still have some water. Go later today, after the evening meal. And try and make sure nobody sees you. If there is water still there, it is better that nobody knows about it except you and our ducks.

She laughed, and I joined in dutifully, even though it seemed to me to be wrong that our ducks could drink and other ducks in the village had to go thirsty. I would do as she asked. Apart from anything else, if the ducks went thirsty for long, they would start to get thin, and that meant they would be killed and eaten. Not by us, of course. We had the occasional duck egg on special occasions, but that was all. The poor things would be sold to those who had money and inclination enough to eat flesh. Mother wrung their necks, but I was expected to pluck the sad little corpses, and I hated it. So, mindful of her words, I waited until dusk and then led our small flock alongside the river, hissing at them to be quiet whenever I was near a house.

Mother was right. I had to walk quite a long way along the riverbed, but eventually I came to a dip in the dry course and there was water. Not a great deal, to be sure, but the ducks piled in happily, drinking and throwing the water over their feathers in fine style. I watched them for a while, but the evening was hot and humid and eventually I took myself into the deep shade of a stand of camphor trees. The leaves smelled bitter, like medicine, but I was so grateful for the shade I barely noticed. My walk with the ducks had been long, and I was hot and tired. I knew I was falling asleep, but the ducks would not leave the water and I thought they would be safe.

A strange noise woke me up. I jerked upright, terrified that a fox had got amongst my flock. What Mother would say if I had to admit that I had allowed some of our precious ducks to be taken by a fox did not bear thinking about. I scrambled to my feet, staring around wildly. The ducks quacked softly and—I thought—looked at me curiously.

I was so relieved my flock was safe that it took me a while to realize the sound that had woken me was not coming from them at all. Intrigued, I walked to the end of the camphor trees and parted the low shrubs that grew in front of them carefully. I had no fear of real foxes, but full darkness had almost fallen and it was the time of day when fox spirits might be about. I was very careful to make no noise. I peered through the hole I had made with my hands and my mouth gaped in astonishment.

There were two bodies lying on the beaten earth of the clearing behind the shrubs. Two bodies that were so entangled that it took me seconds to work out that they were a man and woman. Or at least, a man and a girl. I thought the man must be hurting the girl. He was hitting her with his whole body, and she was uttering small, piercing cries. I almost ran forward, feeling I had to do something to stop this big, powerful man from hurting the far smaller, obviously helpless woman. But I did not. I knew who she was. And I knew the man, also.

The girl was called Chieko. It wasn’t her real name, but was the name everybody in the village called her. It was what passed for wit in a village as small as ours. Chieko means Wise Child, and poor Chieko was far from wise. She was actually simple. I had never even heard her speak. In fact, this was the most noise I had ever heard her make. She was the despair of her mother, a nice woman whose husband had left her when it became obvious that Chieko was never going to be of any use and his wife hadn’t gone on to produce any male children.

I don’t know why I don’t sell her for a slave, she told my mother. Well, I do. I can’t think of anybody who would even take her for free.

My mother nodded sympathetically, although I could tell she was thinking proudly of her own fine male children.

But it appeared that her mother was wrong. Chieko did have a use after all.

The man who was enjoying her body was our neighbor, but much higher caste than we were. He owned much of the village next to us, and many of the fields surrounding our own village. Mother had always instructed us to look down modestly whenever he passed, but for some reason, I caught his eye once, and he paused and lifted my face with his finger under my chin.

Well now. He hunkered down, but his face was still looking down at me. I was so terrified I could not even blink. Surely, this is a pretty flower to be growing wild in the field. Mother shuffled up to us quickly, bobbing and bowing to him manically. Your child?

"Indeed, lord. Indeed,