Heart of the Ronin (28 page)

He lay with her nearly every night since they had been married, and she did her duty to please him. He told her she was beautiful, and that he honored her, but she knew there was an underlying need that went beyond her. On their wedding night, she had concealed her loss of virginity by pricking herself with a pin, hoping the flow of blood would be enough to deceive him. He had been pleased to see the blood on their bed clothes. When he did not challenge her about it, a tremendous weight of anxiousness lifted from her heart.

Today she tried not to let her husband see the pervasiveness and persistence of her despair, so she bowed and smiled at him. “Good morning, husband. I trust you slept well.”

“Yes, I slept well. The morning was not too cold for you? You went to the temple this morning?”

“Yes, but the weather was not too cold. Shall I make you some tea?”

“Certainly. Tea would be good.”

She bowed again and began to warm some water for tea over the brazier of coals. As they waited, he said, “Did you speak to the nuns?”

And there it was. The underlying need that drove his physical lust for her. In spite of all their nights together, Kazuko was not yet with child. There was, as yet, no heir. Every morning he tried to find out if she was pregnant, asking politely, in a roundabout way. She asked the nuns at the temple to pray for her fertility every time she visited. She sometimes felt that once she produced an heir, her husband would have no further use for her, and then she would be even lonelier. But perhaps she was being unreasonable. Tsunetomo was kind to her, and he was a gentle, if insistent lover. He had gone to great lengths to make her happy when she first arrived, showering her with gifts. He attributed her despair and sadness to missing her home. He had no idea of the truth of her pain. He had thrown parties and banquets for her, hiring entertainers to provide her with spectacle, all at great expense, and she had been incapable of enjoying any of them, even though she tried to put on a pleasing face.

These days, Kazuko wished that her womb would bear fruit. She wanted a baby. Perhaps a baby would fill the void of loneliness in her belly. She worried that she was barren, and she prayed that it not be so. Some days, she feared that her indiscretion before her marriage had displeased the gods, who then left her barren. Her indiscretion. It was the single most spectacular night of her life. Must she now be punished for one night of true happiness?

“Yes,” she said, “I spoke to the nuns. As always, they are praying on my behalf.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I spoke to a healer yesterday and asked him for a remedy, something to increase fertility.”

“Thank you, husband. You are always thinking of me. I am sorry you have to go to so much trouble.”

“It was nothing. And you’re no trouble at all. You brighten my life, Kazuko. I look forward to seeing you every day.”

She blushed, and a small, fleeting warmth stirred in her belly. It lasted for only a few heartbeats before being quenched by the cold heaviness in her spirit. Was that what it was like to feel good? She tried to remember; it seemed so long since she had.

“For years I have missed the wisdom and kindness of a woman in my house. You are like a breath of spring air, like a freshet bubbling from the earth. You make me happy.” He reached over and laid his hand on hers. She felt the thick calluses, rough on her skin, as he squeezed gently.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I did not wish you to cry. I only want you to be happy with me.”

She dabbed at her eyes and said, “I am sorry, husband. You make me happy. You are a kind man.”

He said, “You are a good wife to say so, but I can see the unhappiness in you. Sometimes I see you from afar, when you forget that anyone might be watching. Do you miss your home? Your father?”

She saw the opportunity to lie and took it. She nodded and looked at him apologetically. “I am sorry, husband.”

“It’s quite all right,” he said. “It is only natural for a young woman to miss her home. But you are a good wife to me.”

“Thank you, husband.” Tears burned in her eyes, because she knew what was troubling her, knew the source of her longing, her aching need that all the kindness in the world could only diminish, never erase.

A look of true concern and compassion creased his brow. He moved around the table next to her and took her in his arms. She allowed her head to rest against his firm chest and let the tears come. His body was stiff against her, unaccustomed to the display of softer emotions. She could sense his discomfiture, his uneasiness, but she also sensed that he knew what she needed and was doing his best to give it to her.

After a time, the blackness in her spirit began to fade, like the coming of a cloudy dawn. She looked up into his face, and he looked down into hers. She kissed him. His eyes widened with surprise, then he responded to her kiss.

After a moment, she pulled away. “Am I too bold? Too unladylike?” Only one thing could make her aching loneliness go away, if only for a little while.

“No.” Then his arms squeezed her close to him.
 

* * *

Hatsumi sat in her chambers, a couple of walls removed from her mistress’s rooms. Kazuko and her husband were having breakfast, and Hatsumi did not like to intrude. She sat waiting for one of the servants to come with her breakfast. She had called them once already, but they had brought nothing yet. She gathered her robes to cover her feet better. The air in the room was chilled with winter, in spite of the brazier of glowing coals on one side of the room.

“Where is that Moé? Silly girl,” she muttered.

Hatsumi did not like to be kept waiting. She enjoyed her superior position as the lady’s chief maidservant. And Lord Tsunetomo was much wealthier than Lord Nishimuta. He had more land in his fief, and the cultivation was better. And the tea produced in his area, newly cultivated with plants from China, was considered superior to tea produced anywhere else in the land. The tea was Hatsumi’s favorite thing about living on Lord Tsunetomo’s estate. If only Moé was not so slow about bringing it.

She opened her mouth to call again when she heard someone coming down the hallway. A vague silhouette appeared on the shoji screen and knelt outside. A breathless voice called softly, “I am sorry, mistress. I am too slow.”

Hatsumi let the surliness emerge in her voice. “Well, come then. I’m waiting.”

The shoji slid aside and the young servant girl entered the room carrying a tray with Hatsumi’s breakfast, a bowl of rice and some pickled plums. Moé was perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old. Her face would have been pretty, Hatsumi thought, except that her eyes were crossed and she had a large mole on her nose. She set the tray down in front of the older woman and bowed deeply.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?”

The girl’s eyes widened as she cast about almost frantically.

“The tea.” Hatsumi’s voice dripped with derision.

Moé gasped. “I am sorry, mistress! I will return immediately!” She leaped to her feet and ran from the room.

“Stupid girl,” Hatsumi muttered, just loud enough for Moé to hear before she was gone. Part of her pitied the poor girl, but that part was overpowered by annoyance at the girl’s ineptitude. Hatsumi would not touch her breakfast until the tea came, so she waited impatiently, fidgeting, looking about the small chamber.

Her gaze meandered across the room, resting upon a beautiful bundle of neatly folded cloth resting on a shelf. The bundle was a new robe of lovely forest-green silk, brightly embroidered. It was a gift from Yasutoki. The day before, a servant had brought her the robe, and bundled inside was a slip of paper with only Yasutoki’s name, and no explanation. She had not yet worn it; she was saving it for a special occasion, because it was beautiful, and expensive, and she could not determine why he had given her such a gift. She had never received a gift from a man. Was he making advances toward her? What were his intentions? The thought that a man might be interested in her filled her with a distasteful mixture of exhilaration and revulsion. Being the object of someone’s desire was an exciting thought, but the ultimate goal of that desire involved an act that filled her with a horror she could not contemplate. Forever burned into her memory were the smell of Hakamadare’s foul breath, the taste of his spittle, and the tearing agony of his demonic organ. She had once longed for the touch of a man, imagined what love must be like, but no longer. It seemed that love, the act of love, would be forever lost to her. Besides, Yasutoki must know what had happened to her. He had been at Lord Nishimuta’s castle when they returned. How could he be interested in her after she had been so fouled? Still, why else would he send her such a luxurious gift?

The tug-of-war in her belly was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching quickly. The door slid open quickly, revealing Moé carrying another tray, this one laden with a teapot and cup. She was breathing heavily as she entered and prepared to pour the tea. Hatsumi noticed that the girl’s hands were shaking as she turned over the teacup and placed some dark emerald leaves in the pot.

Hatsumi said nothing, just watched her impatiently.

The girl sensed Hatsumi’s impatience and worked with speed and efficiency. She poured hot water into the teapot over the shredded tea leaves, then placed the lid on the teapot, gently swirled the water in the pot, then poured the bright green tea into the waiting cup.

Then some noises came from the direction of her mistress’s chambers, heavy breathing and small rhythmic cries, building. “You may go, Moé,” Hatsumi said. “That will be all.”

Moé bowed and stood up quickly. In the act of standing however, her knee bumped the small table. The teacup jumped into the air and overturned, spilling hot tea into Hatsumi’s lap. Moé froze, staring in horror.

Hatsumi jumped to her feet with a sharp cry, staring at the wet stain on her robe. “Stupid twit!” she snarled. She picked up the teapot and dashed the steaming hot water into the girl’s face.

Moé squealed in pain and covered her eyes with her hands. Hot water dripped from her chin. Soggy tea leaves clung to her face and hair. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pain. She spun and ran blindly from the room, her squeal receding. Hatsumi felt a pang of remorse. She hoped the girl was not blinded. She would be useless now if that was the case. Lord Tsunetomo might be displeased with her harming one of his servants. But the girl deserved punishment. Clumsy girls were worse than useless. She must learn to be more careful. Hatsumi felt obliged to teach her properly. Would the other servants hate her now? If they did, it would not matter. They must still obey her.

She sat down at her breakfast table again, but as she considered eating, she noticed that her stomach felt like a swirling pit of blackness, like a strange void. And her hunger was gone. Strange. The noises coming from her mistress’s chamber had subsided, leaving a heavy, encumbered silence in the air. Why did the air seem so oppressive now?

* * *

Yasutoki kept his manner cordial, even though the man sitting across the writing desk from him was his enemy. Tsunemori, Lord Tsunetomo’s younger brother, had been a thorn in his side for longer than he cared to consider. No matter how Yasutoki tried to put Tsunemori at ease, all the better to wheedle information from him, the more impregnable the wall Tsunemori built between them. Tsunemori, it seemed, would not fall victim to Yasutoki’s manipulations, and that made him dangerous to Yasutoki’s plans. Such powers of perception made Tsunemori a dangerous man indeed.

“I’m sure you can understand, Tsunemori,” Yasutoki continued, “my need for comprehensiveness in this year-end report. I thought that I would better serve my lord, your brother, by presenting all the pertinent information together. It would also allow me to better plan for the consumption of food and other supplies so that his troops would be supplied with the greatest efficiency.”

Tsunemori’s perpetual look of skepticism deepened. “You know full well that your sphere of responsibility is political and official matters, not military ones. The food and weapons stores for my brother’s warrior retainers are none of your concern. There is no need for you to include them in your report.”

“But the horses—”

Tsunemori cut him off. “The horses fall under my domain as well, Yasutoki. The horses are to be used only by samurai. The draft ponies fall under your domain. I appreciate your . . . concern, but it is unnecessary. I am preparing my own report to my brother. He is an intelligent man, able to draw his own conclusions from separate bits of information.”

Yasutoki burned with frustration, but he took care not to show it. “As you say. Lord Tsunetomo is a man of high intelligence. I am merely trying to serve him in the best way I know.”

“I know he appreciates your efforts.” Tsunemori leaned back on his heels with an air that this conversation was finished.

“Thank you for your time, Tsunemori,” Yasutoki said.

Tsunemori bowed, stood up, turned, and strode from the room with the swagger of a trained, seasoned warrior. He was not a man to be trifled with, Yasutoki reminded himself. Therefore, he must be circumvented. So Tsunemori was preparing a report on the military stores and strength of Lord Tsunetomo’s castle. It seemed obvious, therefore, that the information in the report must exist somewhere, and Yasutoki thought he knew the most likely location. Tsunemori spent far more time in the training hall and on the field than he did in his office. So much the better for Yasutoki’s intentions.

Spying Lady Kazuko out of the corner of his eye, passing by in the corridor, Yasutoki indulged in a moment of considering his plans for her. He was always looking for ways to gain advantage or leverage. He may have need of her someday. For that reason, he would tell no one of her tryst with the hapless ronin, Ken’ishi. Something happened between those two in the forest. Yasutoki had noted the ronin’s reaction when Lord Nishimuta announced Kazuko’s betrothal. The ronin had done an admirable job of concealing it, but Yasutoki knew well the look of a young man in love. And Kazuko had been no better. Nevertheless, she had done her duty and married Lord Tsunetomo. Yasutoki admired her for that. In such young men and women, love could become everything, the emperor of their spirits and actions. That Kazuko had the strength to put it aside for the good of her family told him that she would not be easily manipulated. Nevertheless, her weakness was the ronin, and weaknesses could be exploited. The mere thought that her love for the ronin could be exposed might be enough to make her more malleable. She and the ronin had ample opportunity to consummate their love. He suspected that they had, but he could not be sure. Lord Tsunetomo would have been incensed if Lord Nishimuta had given him a wife who was not a virgin.