Free Women of the Pleasure Quarters by Lesley Downer Page A

explained, was the heart of the instrument; all the sound came from this. If the crosspiece were as taut and unyielding as he was at that moment, a single stroke of the plectrum would break it. But if he could be as flexible and responsive as it was, no one could defeat him. Inspired by her words, he bounded out into the snow and, with a few nonchalant slashes of his sword, decimated the dozens of men gathered outside. For the rest of his sword-wielding career, he never forgot her or her advice.
    The historical Yoshino was born on the third day of the third month 1606. She was sold to the pleasure quarters at the age of six and at fourteen was so beautiful and accomplished that she was promoted to the rank of
tayu,
a rare and extraordinary honor. So famous and so hugely desired was she that she had no need ever to bestow her favors on anyone. Her wealthy and adoring patrons made sure that her income was high enough for her to be able to pay all her annual expenses in advance. But no matter how much they paid her, she kept them at a distance, hopelessly yearning for her.
    One day she was called to entertain at a gathering of Kyoto’s most influential literary coterie, presided over by the emperor’s fourth son. There she met Joeki Haiya, a merchant’s son. Not only was he handsome, refined, and accomplished enough to satisfy the most demanding courtesan, he was an adept of the tea ceremony, which he hosted with wonderful finesse, and also extremely rich. At the time he was twenty-two, she twenty-six. He fell hopelessly in love, so much so that he laid out the enormous fortune necessary to buy out her contract, for—beautiful, accomplished, and celebrated though she was—she was still the property of the bordello keeper. Having bought her freedom, he married her.
    Thus far is history. The rest may or may not be legend. Joeki’s adoptive father, goes the story, was furious that the boy had brought the family into disrepute and disowned him. After all, Yoshino might be a superstar but until she married she had been a glorified prostitute who made her living by selling her body (or so he thought). Reduced to poverty, the lovebirds retired to a humble house on the outskirts of Kyoto. Joeki began to sell off his much-loved collection of tea ceremony utensils to support them.
    Then one day Joeki’s father, far from home, was caught in a rainstorm and sought shelter under the eaves of an unprepossessing house. Through the window he heard a gentle, refined voice inviting him to rest inside. He walked across the stepping stones of a humble but perfectly arranged garden and into a house where everything, though poor, was of the most exquisite taste. On a wall was a single piece of calligraphy by the most accomplished master of the day.
    The lady of the house appeared, dressed in a plain, humble kimono which could only enhance her radiant beauty. Dignified and gracious, she knelt and performed a tea ceremony for him, whipping up a bowl of foaming green tea. On returning home he recounted the tale of his adventure to friends and discovered that this vision was none other than Yoshino. He summoned his son immediately, was reconciled with him, and took the couple back into his family.
    Yoshino died in 1643 at the age of thirty-eight (very young in modern terms but not so extraordinary in those days). Joeki grieved for her for the rest of his life. Without her, he declared, the magnificent city of Kyoto, with all its luxury and culture, was nothing but a desert.
    Music of a Bygone Age
    Once the most glittering of pleasure quarters, today Shimabara has become a shabby backwater. But there are a couple of splendid old buildings with blackened beams and tatami-matted rooms, where five or six women still preserve the
tayu
traditions. There in a huge, ancient house called Wachigaiya, I came face to face with one.
    She was a tiny fairy-like creature, barely visible beneath her voluminous layered kimonos. Her face was chalky, her eyebrows and