Autumn Bridge (37 page)

The samurai led him along a newly constructed walkway into the inner garden of the palace. There he was surprised to see Genji sitting on a chair in the main room, which, he noticed with even sharper surprise, had been entirely converted into a reception room in the Western style. Genji was dressed as usual in traditional samurai garb, except on this occasion he wore English riding boots instead of the traditional sandals.

“Why, Lord Genji,” Smith said, “I see you have decided at last to begin your conversion to Western ways.”

Genji laughed. “I would not call it a conversion. It is more like a sampling.” He gestured at the room. “Does this meet with your approval?”

“How could it not? It looks very much like my own living room in Honolulu.”

Genji smiled. “It should. I used your description as a guide. From what you said, I take it that the climate in Hawaii is not unlike that of Japan in the milder seasons.”

“Yes, that’s true. Winter is another story, however.”

“In winter,” Genji said, “perhaps I will redecorate following Lieutenant Farrington’s description of his home in Ohio.”

Smith’s good cheer evaporated instantly upon the mention of Farrington.

“That sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” he said. “You would be better advised to pick one scheme and stay with it.”

Smith was affected the way he was because he suspected Emily preferred Farrington to him. He had never observed anything intimate or romantically conspiratorial passing between them in the brief moments he had seen them together. But her reaction to Smith himself was not particularly warm. Since she had made it clear to both of them that she would decide between them, the conclusion was obvious to Smith. He had not withdrawn his suit, because he was not a quitter. As long as the decision had not yet been announced, there was always a chance.

Smith held out for that chance, not because he loved Emily, but because he desired her more than he had ever desired anything in his life. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in life or in portraiture, or had even dared to imagine. That he did not love Emily bothered him not in the least. Love was something for women and children, not men. Women were dependent and sympathetic, while men were powerful and dominating. This, too, followed Darwin. A healthy, dynamic man — like a healthy, dynamic nation — constantly strove for greater power and increased possessions.

“That is something I don’t understand about Western architecture,” Genji said.

“Which is?” Smith said.

“Its inflexibility. A room serves only one purpose. Furnishings, once placed, remain. Do you find this logical?”

“Yes, I do,” Smith said. “Our rooms remain as they are because we have an abundance of furnishings and strong, solid walls. Your rooms alter depending upon the occasion because you have few furnishings, and instead of walls, you have removable screens.”

“I see the logic of each. What I meant to ask is, do you find your way more logical than ours?”

“If I may be honest without giving offense,” Smith said, and paused.

“I am never offended by honesty,” Genji said. He smiled and added, “Indeed, I do my best not to be offended by intentional insult, either.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but it has been my understanding that samurai are always ready to answer the least insult with their swords.”

“Yes, and a foolish waste of time, energy, and life it is. It is as if you gave control of the trigger of your pistol to anyone who cared to pull it. Would you do that?”

“No, of course I would not.”

“I, too, prefer not to.” Genji bowed slightly. “Please continue.”

“Western rooms are more logical than Japanese ones because tables and chairs are more logical than their absence. Furniture of the Western type allows the human body to assume a healthier, more natural posture in repose, rather than the cramping of muscles and reduction of blood circulation required by sitting on the floor. Similarly, walls of solid construction are far more effective at protecting against turbulent weather, insects, and vermin, and also provide much greater security than walls of movable paper screens. I would think this last aspect would particularly appeal to you, since you are a samurai.”

“Security does not come from the solidity of walls,” Genji said, “but from the loyalty of retainers. Without them, walls of impenetrable steel could not protect me.”

“My lord.” Hidé, Lord Genji’s chief bodyguard and senior general, appeared in the courtyard. With him was Lieutenant Robert Farrington, the American naval attaché and Smith’s rival for the hand of Emily Gibson.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Farrington said. He shot a hostile glare at Smith. “I must have misunderstood your invitation.”

“Not at all,” Genji said. “Please come in.”

“Forgive me, Lord Genji, but I have a strong preference to be elsewhere than in company with your present guest.”

“Elsewhere is precisely where we are going. Please. Join us.”

Smith stood, bowed to Genji, and returned Farrington’s glare.

“Don’t inconvenience yourself, Admiral. I am always ready to yield to Union war heroes.” The way Smith spit the words out expressed his meaning far more eloquently than what he said.

Genji saw Hidé move slightly to allow himself a better angle to draw his sword and cut Farrington down in a single motion. The two samurai sitting in the corridor outside the room had their attention fixed intently on Smith. Both Americans were armed with revolvers. Since Genji considered them friends, he did not require them to disarm before entering his presence, against the advice, and much to the dismay, of his retainers. Whenever Farrington or Smith were visiting, his men were ready to strike. A little too ready for comfort. Americans shifted about more than Japanese, and moved their arms frequently in gestures large and small. These unpredictable movements often had his bodyguards reaching for their swords. If Genji had it to do over again, he would ask his American acquaintances to leave the guns at the entrance, for their sake rather than his own.

Genji said, “Well, I suppose if one of you were to decline to ride with me, it would simplify things for Emily. However, is that truly a good thing? Don’t American women greatly value the ability to choose for themselves?” As he expected they would, his words surprised both men. They now looked at him instead of at each other.

“How is Emily involved in this matter?” Smith said.

“She is the heart of our involvement,” Genji said. “I as her friend, and you as her suitors.”

Farrington said, “Forgive the contradiction, Lord Genji, but I don’t see how the question of whether or not Mr. Smith and I choose to ride together arises in that connection. We are both your friends, and we are both seeking Emily’s hand. It does not follow that he and I must be in each other’s society beyond absolute necessity.”

“For once, sir, we are in agreement,” Smith said, “and absolute necessity requires only that we are gentlemanly in our adieus should we find ourselves in the unfortunate happenstance of being in one and the same place.”

Farrington made a shallow bow of the Western kind to Smith.

He said, “Since your arrival preceded mine, sir, I will not further interrupt your interview with Lord Genji.”

“On the contrary,” Smith said, making an identical bow to his rival, “since I have already had an opportunity to speak with him, it is clear that it is I who must yield to you.”

“I beg to differ, sir,” Farrington said.

Genji sighed. He had lost their attention once again. He was a patient man, but the endless squabbling of these two exceeded his limits. How different Americans were from Japanese. If they had been samurai, they would have dueled many weeks ago, and their dilemma would have been solved. Yet here they were, still exchanging meaningless words. Of course, no sensible samurai would have expended so much energy over a mere woman in the first place, certainly not one like Emily without rank, wealth, or political connections of any kind.

Genji said, “You may differ and yield as much as you wish, for as long as you wish, when and wherever you wish. I will excuse myself, however, and be on my way. May I convey to Emily your regrets for your absence?”

“Excuse me, Lord Genji,” Farrington said, “but it was my understanding that Emily is not presently in the city.”

“That is so.”

Smith laughed. “Ah, now I see your plan, my lord. We are to ride to meet her.”

Genji bowed in assent.

“And on the way,” Smith said, looking at Farrington, “we will settle the matter of who is to win Emily’s hand.”

Again, Genji bowed. It was the only solution he could see. Emily was no closer to making a decision than she had been six months ago, when she first met the two men. It was imperative that she choose one of them and leave Japan as soon as possible.

“Have you forgotten Emily’s admonition?” Farrington said. “If we indulge in violence of any kind, she will have nothing to do with either of us.”

“If she is not there, how will she know?” Smith said.

“The permanent absence of one of us will be a telling fact, will it not?”

Smith shrugged. “It will be up to the survivor to weave a convincing tale.”

“Are you suggesting that we lie to Emily?”

“Why not? How does it hurt her?”

Farrington said, “A lie, sir, is a lie. I will not utter it.”

Smith smiled. “Rest assured, sir, you will not have to.”

“Nor will you. I refuse to participate in any such deception.”

Smith sneered. “How convenient, Admiral. As you have in the past not hesitated to shoot helpless women, I should not be so surprised to find you willing to hide behind their words.”

“You are always accusing us of being illogical,” Genji said, before Farrington could answer. “If your present behavior is an example of Western logic, I must admit I do not see it. Mr. Smith had defined what seems to me to be the appropriate, and logical, solution.”

“What is logical is not always ethical,” Farrington said. “Yes, Emily’s choice is made without further action on her part if one of us shoots the other dead. But she has trusted us not to do so. Ethics therefore requires us to conform to her trust. Yet even this is not entirely satisfactory. I love Emily very much. I know Mr. Smith does not, and I know therefore that he cannot make her happy, because he cannot treat her as she needs to be treated, that is, with love. Yet I fear she will not see this, and will be swayed by what is superficially attractive about him. His good looks, his wealth, his easy charm. Logically, therefore, I should accept his offer of a duel, for I have no doubt that I will triumph. I would save Emily from a lifetime of unhappiness with the wrong man. But I cannot, for I have promised not to. I am at a loss, sir. I admit it.”

Smith’s own face had grown progressively redder as he had listened to Farrington.

He said, “How can you speak of my innermost feelings? How can you presume to know anything of them?”

“You are not difficult to know,” Farrington said. “A man who would lie so easily for a good reason would lie without difficulty for a bad one. And a liar is not a fit husband for Emily.”

“Gentlemen,” Genji said, interrupting what gave every indication of being an endless argument, “let us ride. If it will not bring us closer to a mutually acceptable solution, it will at least bring us closer to Emily.”

Despite Farrington’s disinclination to accept Smith’s offer of a duel, it seemed to Genji that if he could get both men on the road to Mushindo, it was very likely that violence would solve the dilemma. They could barely contain themselves when they were in each other’s presence for a few minutes. How could they both survive two days together? He did not think they could.

Farrington lay back and looked up at the darkness between the stars. During the war, he had spent many nights ashore, encamped alone, under the unobstructed vault of the sky. He could not, in those days, stand being long within any building. Perhaps he had seen too many charred corpses in the ruins of the Southern towns and cities he had helped to blockade and bombard. When the war ended, so did his phobia. Perhaps the end of violence had lifted an inchoate fear from his heart. Perhaps. He did not know and never would.

Genji and Smith and the rest of the traveling party were somewhere behind him. They had probably taken shelter in one of the farmhouses of the village he had passed that day. He imagined Smith’s discomfort at the fact that he was on the road ahead of them. He could not help but smile. He had made it a condition of the journey that he travel alone, apart from Smith. Smith, of course, had objected strenuously.

Smith said, Once out of our sight, what guarantee do we have that you will not speed ahead in an effort to gain advantage by arriving first?

Farrington said, You have my word that I will not do so.

Your word? Smith said.

Your word is sufficient, Genji said.

Smith said, Lord Genji, at least send your general Hidé with him so that he does not, shall we say, lose his way.

I have been to Mushindo before, Farrington said, and the way is not complicated. To Genji he said, Is it convenient for us to meet in the clearing immediately east of the monastery?