An hour or so after Tsgotbaatar's death, Kanjurjab called Boria and Jon to his ger. The women were excluded as they huddled together tending their fire, crying themselves blind in their lamentations. For the first time since I had known him I heard Kanjurjab's voice hard with anger as he sent his boys packing for laughing at their play.
In every society that I have lived in, it is the men who make decisions and organise the formalities of death. It would seem that it is for women to give in to their weaker natures and to wail their grief. For myself I do not like to join in with the ebb of life, it collides uncomfortably with my instinct to live it.
Mai invited me to sit with Xue and Boria's wife Alta, but I was restless and wanted to walk. As I left them crouched around the fire in Alta's ger it occurred to me that Tsgotbaatar's wife and daughters had not shed a tear. The camp was droning with sobs from every other ger, but Tsgotbaatar's home was almost silent. Mai's little eyes were swollen with crying, but I think her tears were more for Kanjurjab than for Tsgotbaatar. The truth was that Tsgotbaatar, both as husband and father, had left Xue and her girls long before his death and they were already used to his absence.
Some hours later I came across Kara at the back of my house. She was banging her head against the wall, calling Tsgotbaatar's name over and over, pulling wildly at her matted hair. Her face was covered in blood and as I eased her away from the hard stone wall she sank to the ground, moaning softly. I wondered how she had learnt of Tsgotbaatar's death. I don't think anyone had told her; perhaps she knew it instinctively, like her master's dogs knew it. I took her inside, cleaned her wound, gave her vodka from my flask and left her to her grief.
That night a pale moon drifted high in the dark sky. It lit Suiyuan in a ghostly light and set the dogs barking. Mai said that it signified that a pure heart had left the earth that day. She told me that every Mongolian had a small piece of the great god Tengger set in the crown of their heads, and that that little piece of pure energy had a counterpart star in the heavens which at death goes out. She said that she could tell that Tsgotbaatar's star had left, and pointed north to where the sky seemed full of stars. Then she put my hand on her stomach so that I could feel her baby moving. When I said the child seemed to be very strong she agreed and told me that was because it was a boy.
Our departure for the grasslands was put off until the funeral rites had taken place and Tsgotbaatar's family had performed the proper prayers and made the appropriate offerings. In an unexpected stroke of luck Kanjurjab, busy with arrangements and shocked that he was now head of not only his family, but also his tribe, asked Jon to ride out with me. He explained to Jon that although I was fearless on horseback, I was without skill and did not yet understand a horse's nature. And so it was that through Tsgotbaatar's death my episode with Jon found its beginning.
At first Jon was polite and formal with me. He showed me none of the same kindness that he had when Kanjurjab had been with us. I expect that he was doing his best to resist the pull in my direction, but he might as well have fished in grass, for he did not have the steel in his nature to resist me. He knew that a liaison with me would break the ties of both family and friendship for ever, but I knew he would not be able to help himself.
I welcomed the warmth of the summer in the hope that it would be my first and last one in Mongolia. I was determined to be gone by the time winter set in. If I waited too long my journey out would be even worse than the one that had delivered me to Suiyuan.
On one of my longer than usual rides with Jon, we came across a tall octagonal tower that sat surreal and elegant in the newly green landscape. Jon said that when he was a boy he and his friends held races around this charming old pagoda, and once he had fallen from the top of it and been knocked unconscious. I asked him if he had been badly hurt and he said that he had broken his arm and that to this day it was still a little twisted.
'Let me see,' I said.
He pushed his sleeve up and showed me his arm, which turned, as though offended, from his body. I ran my finger slowly down the length of it pausing on the pulse at his wrists, and he moaned softly and took a step backwards.
'I'm sorry to offend you, Jon,' I said, as though hurt at his withdrawal.
He looked at me for a long time, then he said quietly, 'Nothing about you offends me, Yoshiko. My head and heart are full of all the things about you that do not offend me.'
'Don't you know that it is the same for me,' I said. 'My head and heart are always full of you, Jon.'
'Simply by speaking, Yoshiko, we betray your husband and my friend,' he said sadly.
'Yes, that's true,' I said, 'and betrayal is hard, Jon, even for me who did not want this marriage. If women could choose I would not have chosen Kanjurjab. I can hardly bear my life here. I think that I will die young with the harshness of it.'
'Don't speak of death, Yoshiko,' he said, taking my hand and placing its palm against his cheek. 'I cannot bear to think of your death, although I suspect that you may be the death of me.'
I laughed to distract him from the idea, saying that I would never choose to hurt him and the thought of his death was too dark a thought for such a light summer day.
'I will speak of it only once more,' he answered, 'for I must tell you that even before I met you, Yoshiko, I knew you; that is why I couldn't take my eyes from your face on your wedding day. You came to me in a dream on the night that I married Nandak.'
'You dreamt of another woman on your wedding night, Jon!' I teased him.
'It was not the sort of dream you think,' he said. 'I did not see your face in this dream, but the moment I set eyes on you in Port Arthur I knew that you were one and the same person.'
'What sort of dream was it?' I asked.
He told me that I had come to him disguised as the shadow of a woman with short hair and beautiful breasts. As Nandak slept beside him, I had taken a knife from my sleeve and mortally wounded him. As he lay dying, I had stolen a clot of his blood and put it in a phial that hung around my neck. He had called to me as I left his ger, begging me to stay, but I went without a backwards glance. He remembers feeling strangely sad to see me go. When he woke, Nandak told him he had been weeping in his sleep.
'What a horrible dream. How you must fear me, Jon.'
'I both fear and love you, Yoshiko, and between this fear and love I have never felt more alive.'
That same afternoon I made love with him on the hard earth at the base of the pagoda. He said that the scent of me was like no other woman he had ever known and that my fragrance would have the power to wake him even from the sleep of death.
Jon was a sensual and romantic person who despite his rough appearance had a heart to match the most sensitive of Japanese poets. He had spent his youth trying to hide the softness of his nature in a society where it was not considered masculine to show emotion or be quick to tears. Sorry would have liked him and been sad at how I intended to use him. Natsuko, of course, would not have been surprised at my cruelty, while Kawashima would have been amused.
A truthful woman will admit that to be made love to by a man who loves you so much more completely than you do him is a most seductive and heart-warming experience, comparable perhaps to looking into a mirror and discovering yourself to be not only beautiful, but also alive with the sort of power that darkens your eyes and makes your skin glow. The feeling was new to me. Neither Kawashima nor any of the men he sent to me, including Yamaga, had been in love with me. I had often experienced feelings of sexual power when men addicted to my lovemaking would return time after time. But I had never before experienced this giving over of the whole self to the other, as Jon had given himself to me. I was delighted that my plan to get him to love me had worked so quickly and so well. Perhaps, though, he had loved me at first sight so that my task was accomplished even before begun. I have read of such things in Japanese literature and I believe that I loved Yamaga from the moment I first saw him. In Jon's love for me I was reminded of my own feelings for Yamaga and of the
sickening pain I had suffered at the loss of him. I sensed that Jon would not have my powers of recovery, but of course he would live. In truth I was not the shadow woman of his dream and he would not be mortally wounded. Eventually we all learn that in the core of love lies the worm of tragedy. It is the way of attachment and cannot be avoided. Even Mai and Kanjurjab will be lost to each other at the end, for when love is established so is the seed of its eventual conclusion. Most people long for love and feel less than complete without it. They cannot settle until their twin is found because they are not enough for themselves. Since Yamaga I have done my best to avoid love, but then I am quick at learning life's lessons.
After that first time, not a day passed without our making love, usually by the pagoda, but sometimes in the green meadows where the grass smelled clean and made tiny cuts on our skin as we rolled naked on it. Jon was a considerate lover but too conventional to be exciting to me. I could have taught him how to please me better, but I wanted him to think me unskilled in such matters. In any case, Kanjurjab was proving an adept student and had called me to his bed several times since Tsgotbaatar's death. I think that he was eager for me to conceive, so that his father's star might be replaced in the heavens. If I had been able to, my life may have found its place on those bleak plains of Inner Mongolia. They say that women born in the Year of the Tiger make good mothers.
Meanwhile, Jon found caution hard and I worried that we would be discovered before my plan could be put into action. Throughout the day he would seek me out, talk to me with his head bent to one side, as though everything I said deserved his complete attention. It was as though he could not bear to have me out of his sight. Such captivation was what I wanted from him, but it did put us at risk. Sometimes, late into the night when everyone was sleeping, Jon would come to the house, quieten the growls of the dogs and cover me with his body until the thin dawn light seeped through the cracks in the shutters. I asked him what he told Nandak and his concubines about his night absences. He said that he didn't need to tell his concubines anything and that Nandak believed that since Tsgotbaatar's death he found it difficult to sleep and felt the need for solitary contemplation.
'Does she really believe that?' I asked doubtingly.
'How would I know?' he said. 'Her smile disguises everything she feels.'
I often saw Jon full of nervous energy, striding up and down between the gers as though he might explode with the knowledge of us. He was like a boy who had discovered in himself an unsuspected capacity for love and adventure and was fired with the thrill of it. He told me that he felt as though his blood was shouting and that he couldn't concentrate on even the simplest task. It surprised me that no one seemed to notice Jon's behaviour, but I thought it wise to draw him into my plan before his changed personality gave us away.
I chose my time well, waiting until just before we made love. Close at his side against the pagoda wall, I said that if I couldn't have him forever as my one true love, then I couldn't bear the torture of having to be near him every day. I would run away and be lost to him, even if it meant spending my life in misery.
'Where would you run to, Yoshiko?' he asked.
'I would run to China, Jon,' I said innocently, as though I had just thought of it. 'I could make a life there, although it would be a poor one without you.'
'You would die on the plains by yourself,' he said, touching my cheek lightly. 'For you, even summer nights in the open would be a burden. Without me to read the stars for you, how would you navigate?'
'Then come with me, Jon,' I said, 'take me out of Suiyuan so that we can have a life together. I cannot bear it here and when we are discovered, as we are bound to be, things will be the worse for us.'
Surprisingly, Jon put up no resistance to the idea of us leaving Suiyuan together. I think that at first the idea was like a fantasy that he enjoyed imagining and talking about. All true lovers dream of a future with the object of their desire and the idea of escape allowed Jon to imagine what his might be with me. It wasn't long before he came to believe that not only had it been his idea, but also that it was our only chance of spending our lives together. He said that he had the courage of love and was prepared to give up everything for the passion he believed to be ours. Although he was sorry to desert Nandak and his children, he was more ashamed of betraying Kanjurjab. Despite the pain the severing of such strong ties would cause him, Jon would have paid any price to be with me.
With his blood up, he made a plan for us to slip away on the first night of the summer grazing. We would simply go on a ride and never return. The camp would be busy with the putting up of gers and preparing the first meal. It would be dark and we would have a few hours' start before anyone thought of looking for us. If we stayed longer, it would be impossible for us to be together at all, as Kanjurjab would resume his rides with me and I would be expected to sleep in my husband's ger.
Any plan we made would have its hazards, but Jon said that he would risk all three of his souls for me and that he loved me more than the stars in the heavens, more than Tengger himself. I echoed his words back to him but could not think that he believed them; they sounded empty and passionless to my ears.
People think me cruel, and they are right. I can be very cruel, but I am not without sympathy for my victims. I liked Jon, but I felt impelled to act on my own behalf. I readily confess to selfishness, something that we all repeat many times in our lives.
One morning Boria decided to ride with Jon and me to the pagoda. He had never joined us before and Jon was uneasy about it. Of course, Boria, who never did anything impulsively, had his reasons and we should have taken more care with where we led him that day than we did. Looking back I think perhaps he had noticed Jon's unnatural behaviour, or maybe he was suspicious without really knowing why. All he said was that it was a fine day for a ride and that he would enjoy the company.
When we reached the tower Jon and Boria raced around it as they had done as boys and in a light moment Boria encouraged me to join in. It made my head spin and I had to dismount and lie on the ground with my eyes closed until the sky had stopped dancing. I looked up to catch Boria staring at my prostrate body, and then at the young nettles flattened to the ground where Jon and I had lain the afternoon before. His mood changed abruptly and I knew that he had guessed our secret. He dismissed my offer of vodka and rode home between Jon and me without speaking.
If it hadn't been for Boria, I would have made my escape with Jon and left him in Port Arthur to make what he could of his life. I had already begun sewing my money into the lining of the del I planned to wear on the journey into China. Jon was deciding on which horses would be best and which dogs to take with us. We would probably only need to sleep one night in the open, two at the most. It depended on how far the tribe travelled on that first day before settling on a camp. The dogs would keep us warm as we slept and would warn of intruders. Apart from the horses and dogs, Jon would take the three nuggets of gold that had come to him as part of Nandak's dowry, and for luck a small statue fashioned in silver of Maitreya, the Buddha of the future. He gave me the three gold weights and said that I should hide them on my person. As Nandak would notice the missing Buddha he would bring it with him on the night of our escape. I did not tell him about my own money but said that I would take all the jewellery I possessed, including the jade pendant that Xue had given me. Jon said, 'Leave the pendant, Yoshiko. Kanjurjab should give it to the woman destined to be his true wife.'
With our plans made and only a few days to go before we started our journey, I was confident of success. I decided that I would return the gold nuggets to Jon when we were safely across the border. He would need them to finance his new life, wherever he chose to make it. Before I left him I would place them on the pillow next to his as he slept; it would ease my conscience and save me from having to see his pain.
I told Jon that with so little time to go before we would be together for ever, we shouldn't risk our plan with the chance of discovery. Boria may hav
e had suspicions but he had no proof of anything. Jon agreed and we decided to stop the rides, and his nightly visits to the house.
But he couldn't keep away and one night after we had made love and he lay sleeping, slumped across me, the dogs gave a low growl and I opened my eyes to find Boria standing over us. He didn't say a word, just stared for a little, then turned and left the room as quietly as he had come.
Jon slept on but I lay awake, anxious that by morning Boria would have sought out Kanjurjab and informed him of his wife and brother-in-law's betrayal. Yet something told me that might not be his way of dealing with the situation. Boria was not the sort of man to rush into things without thinking them over first. He would have no fears for my punishment, but he was fond of Jon and would not wish to see him disgraced and banished from his family and friends. It was likely that Jon and I would be gone before Boria decided what to do with his newfound knowledge. In any case, it would be pointless for me to appeal to him to keep our secret. He alone would decide and no amount of pleading from a mere woman would affect his decision.
When Jon woke I didn't tell him of Boria's visit. Instead I sent him back to his ger with a kiss and the scent of my chrysanthemum oil lingering on his skin.
As it happened, Boria, who looked like a man who'd had a sleepless night, made his intentions clear to me that same morning. I was sitting on a pile of furs, smoking one of my hoarded Turkish cigarettes, when he came striding into the house. Without even the formality of a greeting, he told me what his plans for my future were.
'It was an unfortunate day that Kanjurjab settled on you for a wife,' he said coldly. 'Unfortunate for my family and I suppose for you too, Yoshiko.'
I nodded in agreement. 'Blame me if you will, Boria, but you cannot fashion love out of the air. I do not love my husband, nor do I like his way of life, and those two things will never change.'
'Only because you will not let them,' he said. 'You are too determined for a woman, too without duty and humility. You will cause trouble wherever you go, Yoshiko, because it is not in your nature to accept your fate.'