Nishima-sum.”
“I am honored, Lady Okara. I have long been an admirer of yours, and if my secretive uncle had told me before this evening that you were friends, I would have asked him to introduce us long ago.”
“After listening to your performance, I must say the honor is mine. How lovely you play, my dear. If you paint as well as your father assures me you do, then your talent is prodigious indeed. You must come and visit me in my studio one day.”
Nishima broke into a smile, “I would be glad to, Lady Okara. Thank you.”
The moon had now risen sufficiently to cast light into the garden where it made a path across the Seahorse Pond, and mixed with the colored light from the lanterns.
The courtier came out onto the stage again and bowed twice before speaking. “Tonight the Emperor asks that we pay honor to Lady Okara Haroshu, whose series of woodblock prints,
Twenty-one Views of the Grand Canal,
has, at the Emperor’s request, been set to dance by the Sonsa Troupe of the Imperial City.”
He turned and bowed toward the curtain from behind which the first dancers would emerge. Unseen attendants shaded the lamps and cast the stage into comparative darkness. Dew glistened on the lawns and a warm breeze came in off the nearby lake.
Wooden drums began a low, syncopated rhythm and a single lantern wasunveiled to reveal a group of dancers, dressed as peasants, stooped under invisible burdens in the predawn. A flute began to mingle with the drumming, the notes fluttering like a butterfly on a breeze. The half-dozen dancers, wearing the loose fitting clothes and the flattened, conical hats of field workers, began to drop their burdens and dance along the tow path. More lanterns were unveiled illuminating the backdrops, which were painted in a style similar to Lady Okara’s, though greatly simplified. The dancers began a series of pantomimes of courtship and revelry, the suppleness that came from long years of Sonsa training captivating the crowd. A young woman stepped forward to dance a solo and Nishima touched her uncle’s arm.
The Emperor’s new lover, Shonto thought. Of course Nishima had never seen her before, but he was sure she was right. And yes, the woman was beautiful. Even in her peasant costume the perfection of her dancer’s body was obvious.
Dance your best, Shonto thought. The Emperor is not always kind to those he discards. Your only strength then will be your talent, because no one will dare to take you to wife.
But she could dance! She was not just some flower the Emperor had plucked and set in the sunlight. She was a talent. Perhaps this would protect her. With some effort he turned his eyes away to study the Emperor. The ruler’s admiration for his Sonsa was absurdly blatant—no more subtle than the emotions of a child. She is in no danger from him tonight, anyway, Shonto thought, unless his lust is to be feared.
The drumming returned to its original cadence, then stopped abruptly, the dancers frozen in the poses of the peasants in Lady Okara’s print,
On the Tow Path at Dawn.
On top of the curving bridge the Emperor’s lover balanced, her arms thrown out gracefully and one foot in the air as if she had just jumped for joy. The lanterns were shaded as the applause began. The guests near Lady Okara bowed to her and paid her compliments.
Six more of the
Twenty-One Views
that made up the Grand Canal sequence were performed, each as clever as the first, four featuring the talents of the Emperor’s lovely Sonsa.
How he flaunts her, everyone thought, but what will become of her, poor child? She was not of a good family, as everyone knew, a vassal-merchant’s daughter, and therefore not entirely without education, but still…. There was no denying her talent, though. Breeding or no, she would have been a marvel during any dynasty.
The dancing came to an end and received prolonged and enthusiastic applause. Lady Okara was surrounded by bowing guests, all of them wishing to be seen with
“I am honored, Lady Okara. I have long been an admirer of yours, and if my secretive uncle had told me before this evening that you were friends, I would have asked him to introduce us long ago.”
“After listening to your performance, I must say the honor is mine. How lovely you play, my dear. If you paint as well as your father assures me you do, then your talent is prodigious indeed. You must come and visit me in my studio one day.”
Nishima broke into a smile, “I would be glad to, Lady Okara. Thank you.”
The moon had now risen sufficiently to cast light into the garden where it made a path across the Seahorse Pond, and mixed with the colored light from the lanterns.
The courtier came out onto the stage again and bowed twice before speaking. “Tonight the Emperor asks that we pay honor to Lady Okara Haroshu, whose series of woodblock prints,
Twenty-one Views of the Grand Canal,
has, at the Emperor’s request, been set to dance by the Sonsa Troupe of the Imperial City.”
He turned and bowed toward the curtain from behind which the first dancers would emerge. Unseen attendants shaded the lamps and cast the stage into comparative darkness. Dew glistened on the lawns and a warm breeze came in off the nearby lake.
Wooden drums began a low, syncopated rhythm and a single lantern wasunveiled to reveal a group of dancers, dressed as peasants, stooped under invisible burdens in the predawn. A flute began to mingle with the drumming, the notes fluttering like a butterfly on a breeze. The half-dozen dancers, wearing the loose fitting clothes and the flattened, conical hats of field workers, began to drop their burdens and dance along the tow path. More lanterns were unveiled illuminating the backdrops, which were painted in a style similar to Lady Okara’s, though greatly simplified. The dancers began a series of pantomimes of courtship and revelry, the suppleness that came from long years of Sonsa training captivating the crowd. A young woman stepped forward to dance a solo and Nishima touched her uncle’s arm.
The Emperor’s new lover, Shonto thought. Of course Nishima had never seen her before, but he was sure she was right. And yes, the woman was beautiful. Even in her peasant costume the perfection of her dancer’s body was obvious.
Dance your best, Shonto thought. The Emperor is not always kind to those he discards. Your only strength then will be your talent, because no one will dare to take you to wife.
But she could dance! She was not just some flower the Emperor had plucked and set in the sunlight. She was a talent. Perhaps this would protect her. With some effort he turned his eyes away to study the Emperor. The ruler’s admiration for his Sonsa was absurdly blatant—no more subtle than the emotions of a child. She is in no danger from him tonight, anyway, Shonto thought, unless his lust is to be feared.
The drumming returned to its original cadence, then stopped abruptly, the dancers frozen in the poses of the peasants in Lady Okara’s print,
On the Tow Path at Dawn.
On top of the curving bridge the Emperor’s lover balanced, her arms thrown out gracefully and one foot in the air as if she had just jumped for joy. The lanterns were shaded as the applause began. The guests near Lady Okara bowed to her and paid her compliments.
Six more of the
Twenty-One Views
that made up the Grand Canal sequence were performed, each as clever as the first, four featuring the talents of the Emperor’s lovely Sonsa.
How he flaunts her, everyone thought, but what will become of her, poor child? She was not of a good family, as everyone knew, a vassal-merchant’s daughter, and therefore not entirely without education, but still…. There was no denying her talent, though. Breeding or no, she would have been a marvel during any dynasty.
The dancing came to an end and received prolonged and enthusiastic applause. Lady Okara was surrounded by bowing guests, all of them wishing to be seen with
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