This is an abridged version of a larger story I've created about Monique's and Rodrigo's quest for the miraculous, blood-red healing crystals hidden in a secret cave on a distant mountain in Japan. The crystals allow for perfect health, and therefore the possibility of immortality. Who will find them first, and what will perpetual health be like?
Some backstory is necessary to get you up to speed: Parts I and II are posted on my Magic Crystals world. But I'll mention here: that to add to Monique's woes, her brother has married a cunning shrew who made Monique’s life so miserable that poor Monique fled to live in a convent rather than live at home.
We begin: Rodrigo has arrived in Edo, and Monique is in the convent dreaming of stowing away to Japan so she can restore her beauty with the healing crystals, find true love, and have a happy life again...The year is 1624...
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CHAPTER 1: THE JEWEL MAIDEN
Captain de Sousa passed through the divided hangings of dark fabric marked with white calligraphy. When he entered the establishment, he announced himself as Portuguese as he stood confidently in a doublet of dun worsted cloth buttoned over a square-collared shirt, with loose breeches tucked into bucket-top boots, his baldric buckled at his right shoulder, and his cape hung from his left. The scarlet plumes of his wide-brimmed leather hat danced when he removed it. He looked around.
The room was quite large and crowded with shoppers. Above, white banners inscribed with black calligraphy hung from the rafters; below, raised platforms about knee-high spanned nearly the length of the shop and were inset with a cushioning of olive green silk. Upon them sat an array of genteel men and women enfolded in the slender robes of their timeless fashion. Senior salesclerks, uniformed in tan robes, catered to their preferences, showing them samples of exquisite lacquerware boxes, bowls, plates and objects of great variety, while junior salesclerks, often children as young as ten, uniformed in striped robes, served them complimentary tea and snacks. Rodrigo moved among the wealthy clientele; he wondered which of the salesclerks might be Muroto.
As always, the first mate of the Águia Elevada strode a step behind his captain.
Senhor da Cunha was a tall thin man with a jaunty gait. About five years older than Sousa, João Carlos da Cunha had a taste for the heterodox attire of a corsair. He favored tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, and a colorful cotton shirt worn loosely belted beneath an unfastened doublet. With a red bandana, several strands of glossy pebbles and small wooden beads hung down about the open neckline of his shirt. A homespun cloth of red with narrow blue stripes covered his brow and tied at the back of his head; thin black hair flowed out beneath it to his shoulders. Black sideburns accented his thin cheeks, and his oversized nose gave his face character. His dark brown eyes twinkled cheerfully. At his left ear hung a large pearl earring, a gift from his captain. He wore no cape or sword but under his calico shirt he carried a pistol.
The two very conspicuous men took a seat on a nearby platform. Captain de Sousa maneuvered his cutlass so it would not nick the woodwork. When a tan-robed salesclerk approached them, Sousa asked for Muroto-san. With a bow, the clerk hurried away. The Portuguese men exchanged a glance of anticipation. They were a bit surprised when a tiny woman in an artless brown robe, approached and greeted them with a bow.
“Rodrigo Oliveiro de Sousa. Your servant, senhora,” he stood and introduced himself with a formal European bow. He told her about having been directed to this establishment. It was his method always to speak Portuguese first, allowing himself to engage directly should the speaker be conversant, which proved virtually nonexistent outside of Nagasaki, or to allow any candid words that might be uttered to be heard by João Carlos before his translating caused the speaker to raise his guard.
Stating his own name in Japanese with a polite bow, Senhor da Cunha also reintroduced his captain and reiterated their reason for being here.
“She says that her husband is presently out but asks if she might be of service.”
“Tell her we need to speak with him. Ask when he is expected back.”
He translated her response, “He will be in tomorrow. We should return then—”
Rodrigo tried not to frown at having to wait another day.
“—But she asked about our accommodations, if we are comfortable where we are staying. She says she has a brother-in-law, Waiyoku Kodomo, who runs an inn not far from here, who caters to, uh, Europeans such as us. She says he is a very dapper fellow and can offer us a Spanish-style bed.”
This captured the captain’s interest for he found no comfort in the Japanese manner of slumbering on a bedroll laid upon the floor. Very appreciative, he had Senhor da Cunha get directions and thank her for her aid, adding that they would return on the morrow to meet with her husband. The first mate then asked her about her line of chopsticks. Of the pricey samples shown him, imported from Noto Province, João Carlos liked the ones of black lacquer with silver bats and a golden moon inlaid into the upper stems, plus the protective silk-lined case for them. Rodrigo questioned the sense of him buying such an expensive frivolity. João Carlos remarked that he had been steadily improving on his ability to use them, and a quality pair would make a functional souvenir, but most importantly they will get a better reception from Senhor Muroto tomorrow when he learns they patronized his business. Purchase complete, the woman made a bow of farewell to João Carlos as he and Sousa left the shop.
****
Same time the next afternoon they were back. Upon seeing them enter, a salesclerk immediately alerted a tall attractive man in a full-length brown robe covered by an open jacket of dark cotton loosely tied at the center with cording. The man, not quite forty, presented himself to the Europeans as Muroto, the store’s proprietor.
After making introductions, Senhor da Cunha confided that Muroto-san was highly recommended to them and they had traveled a great distance to meet him. The sailor requested if they might speak privately for the business about which they were here to speak was of a sensitive nature.
Appearing to understand, Muroto led them out of the shop by a back way and along a passageway, where a panel slid open slightly and the occupant within observed them enter a small chamber having nothing but four round woven mats on the hardwood floor. The three men each sat down upon a mat, comfortably by one, awkwardly by the other, and quite uncomfortably by the captain. The tiny woman from yesterday entered with a sake jar and three dishes on a tray that had shallow legs; placed in front of her husband, it stood on the floor as a very low table. She then left them alone.
Pleasantries were exchanged and a savoring of the sake. With a deferential bow João Carlos was quick to complement their host for entertaining them so hospitably. Rodrigo was tired of waiting and wanted to get on with what was most important. He instructed Senhor da Cunha to repeat the story of the Cave of the Eight Immortals and ask if there was any truth to it. Muroto confirmed there was. The captain’s heart began to beat a little faster. Senhor da Cunha continued that they were here to see him because they were given his name, told he could aid them in discovering the whereabouts of this cave. Did he know where the sacred mountain of Yukitake was located?
João Carlos’ voice trembled when he relayed, “He says he does not but he knows someone who does, someone who has been there.”
Rodrigo tried to maintain a calm exterior. “Ask him if he might arrange for us to meet him.”
Responded João Carlos, “He is a she: his great-grandmother, and she lives here on the property.”
“Great-grandmother? She must be a bent and withered stem.”
“He says she is 105.”
“Zut alors! Let us not delay lest she expires before the sun sets!”
Muroto, however, displayed no haste and, pouring more sake for his guests and himself, began to tell her story, which João Carlos relayed to his captain:
“Eighty years ago, the year following the birth of Tokugawa Ieyasu, his great-grandmother, whose name is Tamamono, gave birth to a son, his grandfather. The warring clans then engaging in ongoing skirmishes ruined the crops for her village. Her husband was conscripted into bearing arms for his overlord and was killed in battle. The rice tribute still had to be paid but there was little left for the peasants afterward and they suffered from famine that year. Fearful for the life of her baby, whom she left with her mother, she put on her husband’s clothes, cut her hair and, armed with his sword, she slipped out of the village one night in search of the means to bring aid to them.
“It was a dangerous time for a woman or a boy to be traveling alone. In the wake of endless battles, in a time of shifting alliances, peasant revolts and social chaos, bandits roamed the provinces. One such gang came upon her and took her prisoner. Her beauty, even as a ‘boy’ attracted much attention and it was not long before she was discovered to be a woman. In the absence of the gang’s leader, his second-in-command held the authority. Her beauty moved his heart to tenderness and he protected her. It was a tenderness of heart she also returned.
“Then the leader of the bandits returned. He desired Tamamono for himself, but his lieutenant would not have her defiled and declared he would fight for her. In the match he killed the leader and took over the gang as its new chief. Tamamono rode with him and the bandits throughout the province as his consort. Until they came under attack by the overlord’s troops attempting to root out all banditry. She survived the savage battle but was taken with her lover to the castle as prisoners.
“The lord of the castle was well pleased with the work of his warriors, especially for bringing him such a blossom to adorn his chamber and he had her established as one of his concubines. She patiently endured his attentions when she saw who this lord was: a high-ranking retainer to Lord Yukitaka of the Sanada clan. He was the overlord whose attack ruined her village and killed her husband. She had vowed revenge. She lulled him with soft charms and false obedience and then one night cut his throat. She rescued her bandit-lover and they fled to the mountains. Of course, they were tracked.
“She was gravely wounded in the defense they mounted and was believed by the Sanada warriors to have died. After killing or driving off the last of their attackers, her lover hid her in a mountaintop cave he had discovered in his youth, whose secret entrance looked invisible unless one was standing in just the right spot. Along the walls and floor of this cave was a sheen of small red crystals. The bandit left her there to rest as he searched out medicinal herbs. When he returned, she was fully healed. They were overjoyed. He descended the mountain to hunt for food, only to be ambushed by a re-grouped unit of Sanada warriors. Tamamono heard the report of the musket shot. When she hurried down the mountain to him, she was too late, he was dead. She filled a pouch with the crystals but, alas, found that they cannot revive the dead. She mourned him and buried him. After further concealing the cave entrance, she journeyed home to her mother and son.”
A profound silence filled the chamber at the conclusion of the tale.
Rodrigo sat as if petrified by his amazement. He just heard the woman’s own kinsman speak her fabulous tale...his quest was validated...his dream to be realized! An energizing elation then began to spread through him and he felt himself breathing again. But it left him when João Carlos spoke Muroto’s question:
“He asks if you would like to meet her...right now.”
Unable to speak, Rodrigo nodded his head affirmatively.
Muroto paused. There was a caveat which he stated to the translator.
“Senhor Muroto says the Lady Tamamono demands a token of tribute before she grants an audience. The price is two ichibu kin. Each.” João Carlos looked disconcerted because he knew that, after purchasing yesterday’s chopsticks, he no longer possessed the equivalent to that much gold and was unsure how much was in his captain’s coin pouch.
Captain de Sousa merely removed a gold ring from his finger. “Ask him if this will suffice.”
Muroto appraised the chunky ring set with a cabochon amethyst and, approving, dropped it into his robe.
The merchant slid open a wall panel, different from the one by which they entered this chamber, which led to another passageway. He instructed Senhor da Cunha that it was necessary for them to approach barefoot. Remarkably, Captain de Sousa objected to this. His firm opposition went on until João Carlos told him he was embarrassing his host and jeopardizing his goal. Refusing to surrender his cutlass, Rodrigo pulled off his boots and socks, grumbling about a lack of slippers to replace them.
Muroto brought them to a very small chamber. They were instructed to kneel on round mats similar to those in the chamber where they had shared the sake. Compliant, though wondering why a decent chair would not work as well, Rodrigo knelt with his first mate, facing a wall. Muroto slid open the wall partition. The chamber was now double the size, with a low platform on the far side. Rodrigo’s discomfort immediately evaporated in the heat of the thrill suddenly coursing through his blood.
In the center of the low platform knelt a woman, seated back on her heels, erect, holding a large fan of red paper, spread open 170 degrees, before her face. Long pouches dangled from the sleeves of her resplendent yellow silk robe interwoven with white geese in flight scattered over stylized willow boughs and nesting owls in chartreuse and grey. A wide, stiff ivory-white sash, tied with a scarlet cord, cinched her waist. Muroto knelt before her, honoring her with a low bow.
“He is telling her we have paid with treasure for the privilege of speaking to her,” João Carlos whispered discreetly.
The woman lowered her fan. Rodrigo and João Carlos both gasped. She knelt there as a young woman, appearing as one whose bloom had barely passed through twenty-five summers. Black cosmetics for her almond eyes and red for her cupid’s-bow lips enhanced not disguised the smooth and creamy beauty of her fair skin. The front portion of her thick ebony hair was done up in rolls ornamented with red-lacquered sticks with gold inlay from which dangled florets of yellow and orange while the remainder of her tresses flowed down her back. An exquisitely alluring scent lingered about her. Of all the women he had seen in his world travels none could be recalled by Rodrigo as more entrancing than she. Yet, equally dazzling to him was the golden chain she wore. At her breast, there hung a pendant crafted as a lotus flower at whose center winked a faceted rubicund gem.
“The Jewel Maiden!” Rodrigo whispered.
Elegantly closing her fan, she spoke in a soft but matriarchal voice to Muroto who slipped away into another chamber, leaving the Europeans in silent awe to gaze upon her as almost a goddess. Like a queen, she looked past them. The merchant returned with an octagonal box of black lacquer whose lid had tooled upon it the design of a field of flowers at the foot of a lofty mountain. He set it on the floor in front of her then withdrew to kneel beside Captain de Sousa. He explained the box to João Carlos.
“He says that his great-grandmother has one remaining crystal left from her adventure and it is for sale. The price is 40 ryō.”
“May we see it?” Sousa inquired.
Muroto bowed affirmatively and brought the box forward. He lifted the lid. In it was another, smaller box of tooled red lacquer. When he lifted that lid, Rodrigo’s heart nearly stopped. Upon a cushion of white silk lay a red crystal the size of a 3-carat gem. Not allowed to touch it, Rodrigo nonetheless studied its blood-like translucency, exactly as what had been described to him at that sake house in Nagasaki two years ago. But 40 ryō? He did not have that kind of money. An agony wrung his heart: within his grasp, this crystal was beyond his reach.
“Senhor da Cunha, see if we can bargain with him.” His remaining rings together had an approximate value of about 15 ichibu kin or just under 4 ryō.
João Carlos conducted the inquiry and reported the lowest Muroto was willing to go was 35 ryō. Still well beyond their means. Rodrigo’s heart sank again and he squeezed his hands together. The merchant reboxed the precious jewel and set it again on the floor before the platform.
“May we speak with her?” he inquired as one hope remained to him.
Reminded that the tribute paid was not just to view her but to obtain an audience with her, the captain had Senhor da Cunha convey his admiration for her beauty and how it was a lovely veil behind which flowed the blood of an adventuress. In all Japan, she possessed the superior bravery to discover Yukitake and know its secrets. He was like her in that respect: he had crossed oceans, had braved sea tempests, had trekked through a foreign land just for the privilege to kneel before her, to honor the power that gave her perpetual health and immortal beauty, to be her disciple. He relayed a short anecdote about a sailor he had come upon in the streets of Malacca, who was being bullied and thrashed and how he, Rodrigo, though making no gains for his pains, had come to the man’s defense, kindness being its own reward. He did his best to treat the man’s wounds and took him on as one of his own crew. Having a healing crystal would have enabled him to do more. Humbly, he desired of her the favor that he may learn from her the secret location of Yukitake, to travel there and through the bounty of the Immortals obtain healing crystals for the betterment of his people, especially those back home in the Occident where the civilizing virtues of the Orient were still unknown and would do immense good.
She made her reply.
“She was moved by your words, senhor,” João Carlos told him, “and asks what you would be willing to give in exchange for her directing you to the sacred mountain.”
He had brought a crate of French champagne...he would give five bottles. He would need to retain the others as currency for bribes and as funds for the expedition.
She declined.
Surprised, Rodrigo then offered the largest of his rings.
She declined again.
Gazing upon her beauty, he spoke boldly and earnestly that he would offer himself to her.
“The Lady Tamamono wants to know in what way you offer yourself.”
“Tell her I offer my body in the service of her pleasure.”
When told this, she seized the lacquered box, stood up and walked out.
Muroto blurted to the captain, translated by João Carlos, “You insulted her. She will not return.”
Alarmed, Captain de Sousa scrambled toward the platform. He must correct the misunderstanding! Muroto held him back. No man was allowed to follow where she went.
Stricken, Rodrigo gazed at João Carlos. All this way to have hope destroyed! So close! SO CLOSE! The captain drew his first mate near for a hurried conference.
“Speak to him. You understand these people, how they think and bow and such. Convince him no offense was meant. I must have another chance to speak to her!”
Muroto was adamant that the audience was concluded and would not be repeated. As he led the men back to his shop, he directed them to claim their footwear and he continued to resist João Carlos’ entreaties. In the shop, unwilling to say more, he gestured them toward the street. The captain nodded to his first mate: they would retreat to devise a persuasive strategy and return later. The miraculous crystals did exist—he had seen them—he would not leave Japan without some for himself!
