Cloud of Sparrows (24 page)

“Lord Kawakami, what a surprise.” Saiki approached the taut arrangement of adversaries in a casual manner. He seemed unaware of the drawn swords. “I would invite you within for refreshment. However, as you might have noticed, our ability to offer hospitality is somewhat restricted at present. Perhaps another time?”

“Saiki, talk some sense into Lord Shigeru, if you can.” He stroked the mane of his jittery mount. “He refuses to permit my entry, which is commanded by the Shogun.”

“Forgive the contradiction, Lord Kawakami,” Saiki said, walking right up to the semicircle of glittering blades. “I believe Lord Shigeru is correct to deny you entry.”

“What?”

“According to the Osaka Protocols, the Shogun must inform a Great Lord of any inspection at least two weeks prior to the scheduled date. As chief administrator of Akaoka Domain, I must inform you that my lord has received no such notice.”

“The Osaka Protocols are two hundred and fifty years out of date.”

“Nevertheless,” Saiki said, with a deep bow and a deeper smile, “they are still in effect.”

A clever look came onto Kawakami’s face. “As I recall, the Protocols make exception in time of war.”

“That is correct. But we are not at war.”

A burning building collapsed behind Kawakami, and his horse, panicking, reared up on its hind legs. It was several moments before he was able to fight it back under control.

“If this is not war, it is a remarkably good imitation of it,” Kawakami said.

“I was thinking in terms of an actual declaration,” Saiki said, “to which the Protocols make specific mention. Has the Shogun declared war on someone?”

Kawakami frowned glumly. “No, he has not.”

He turned his horse and abruptly rode off, leaving Mukai to order his men to cover their weapons and withdraw.

“As diplomatic as ever,” Shigeru said, putting his swords away.

“Thank you,” Saiki said, though he knew Shigeru had not meant it as a compliment. “You seem quite yourself again, Lord Shigeru, and just in time, too.”

“My lord,” Hidé said, “Stark carries a hidden firearm.”

“Yes, I know,” Genji said. “Don’t worry. He’s not a danger to me.”

“Are you certain, my lord?”

“I am.”

Hidé relaxed. If this was a matter of foreknowledge, then it was outside his realm of responsibility.

Genji smiled. It was comforting to have as chief bodyguard a man whose mind he could read as well as if he could truly read minds. He said, “Is Hanako well?”

“I don’t know, my lord.”

“Have you not found her?”

“I haven’t looked.”

“Why not?”

“My responsibility is to ensure your safety. I can’t wander off with personal concerns.”

“Hidé, you’re speaking of your betrothed, the future mother of your son and heir, your lifetime friend and companion.”

“Yes, lord.”

“Go find her. Shimoda will protect me in your absence, won’t you, Shimoda?”

“Yes, lord.”

Hidé bowed down to the ground. “I will return quickly.”

“You will return tomorrow morning,” Genji said, “after breakfast. And one more thing. Reduce the depth of your bows. As chief bodyguard, it is incorrect for you to take your attention away from our surroundings, even momentarily.”

“I hear and obey, my lord.”

“Good. Go find your bride.”

Heiko waited until Hidé was gone and Shimoda had withdrawn to a discreet distance. They sat on cushions beneath a large tent erected near the shoreline wall, the only section of wall to survive the bombardment intact. A mild onshore wind carried the sea scent to them.

“How much you have changed in such a short time,” Heiko said. She touched the side of the sake flask. Satisfied that it contrasted appropriately with the ambient temperature, she filled Genji’s cup.

“What do you mean?”

“One week ago, you were a figurehead. A nonentity merely tolerated by your hereditary vassals. Now you are truly their lord. A most remarkable transformation.”

“Crisis changes people,” Genji said, filling Heiko’s cup in turn. “If they are fortunate, crisis shows them what truly matters.”

She turned away, dizzied by his frank gaze. How difficult it had been to be in love with him. How much more difficult it was now that he returned her love. If only they were farmers or shopkeepers or fisherfolk, they could give life to their feelings freely, without concern for hidden consequences.

“You are overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment,” she said. “I will not remember anything you say to me today.”

“You will always remember,” he said, “and so will I. It’s not the moment that overwhelms me. It’s you, Heiko, you alone.”

“It is unnecessary to say sweet words to me,” she said. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but a soft smile was on her lips, and her breathing remained calm. “I love you. I have loved you from the moment I met you. I will love you with my life’s last breath. You don’t have to love me in return.”

He smiled that careless smile that always melted her heart. “For me to love you with equal passion is boringly symmetrical, I know. Perhaps, in time I will learn to love you less. Will that please you?”

With a laugh, Heiko fell into his arms. “With my charms? I am afraid you are doomed to love me more over time, not less.”

“Confident, aren’t you?”

“No, Gen-chan,” she said, “I’m not, not at all. Love is a woman’s weakness, not her strength. And no matter how beautiful she is, her time of fullest flowering is brief. I don’t expect you to love me forever. But please, if you can, please be kind.”

He thought of slipping his hand through the wide sleeve of her kimono to caress her. But the day was chilly and his hands were cold. It wouldn’t be pleasant for her, so he refrained. Even as these thoughts arose, she moved in such a way that her hand and his found their way into each other’s kimonos at the same time. The instant he felt the warmth of her bosom was the same instant he also felt the sharp chill of her fingertips against his own body. Heat and cold were one. Who, he wondered, was the real mind reader here?

“How can I be anything other than kind? When I am with you, when I even think about you, all the cruel edges of the world fall away, and my heart, my entire being, grows soft.”

“Not your entire being.”

“Well, no, perhaps not my entire being.”

They gave no thought to undressing. Even had they been within the confines of Genji’s innermost rooms, they would not have done so, not for a midday tryst. Their clothing was too complex, particularly Heiko’s.

Her kimono was silk, of the
omeshi
style of heavy crepe. Over it, she wore a long
haori
outer coat, padded against the cold. The kimono was secured by a wide, embroidered
obi
sash, which was tied in a
fukura
suzume
bow and accented at the top edge by an
obi-age
bustle sash tucked under it.

There were over three hundred different bows to choose from, and every day Heiko spent considerable time deciding which one to tie. She had chosen the fukura suzume pattern—the plump sparrow—because she had thought it likely that Genji would return home today, and wanted to celebrate the occasion with a subtle visual reference to the clan totem. As it turned out, she had estimated his arrival day accurately. Had she been wrong, she would not have tied the fukura suzume again. That would have been graceless. Instead, if her timing had been off, she would have missed the opportunity and accepted the fact.

An
obi-jime
cord held the obi itself in place. Between the kimono and the obi, she wore an
obi-ita
stay, which served to keep the kimono from wrinkling along the obi line. A
makura
pad beneath the bow helped keep its shape. An
obi-dome
brooch attached to a cord somewhat narrower than the obi-jime cord decorated the front of the obi.

Beneath the kimono, obi, makura, obi-age, obi-jime, and obi-dome, she wore a
nagajuban
full-length underkimono, also of silk. The cords attached to the collar ends were passed through the loops of the
chikara
nuno
collar and tied in such a way as to create the appropriate fist-sized opening at the nape of the neck. A
date-maki
undersash was tied around the nagajuban.

Beneath the nagajuban was the
hadajuban
undershirt and
susoyoke
half slip. Beneath these were various pads at the collarbone, stomach, and waist. Since the kimono was cut in straight lines, these pads were necessary to conform the shape of the body to the gown’s natural flowing outlines. She would normally also have worn a sash around her upper torso to suppress her bustline. But since she expected Genji’s return, she had not wrapped herself this morning.

Though both Genji and Heiko remained clothed, there were more than enough openings in their attire to permit intimacy of the highest and closest order. Indeed, just as heat and cold were one, so were being dressed and the state of utter nakedness.

Breathing hard, Genji said, “If love is your weakness, I shudder to imagine what your strength might be.”

Doing her best not to pant, Heiko said, “You will, I think, shudder anyway, my lord.”

Keeping his eyes politely averted, but unable to keep a smile from his face, Shimoda silently lowered the flaps of the tent.

Once he began searching for Hanako, the full extent of the destruction finally struck Hidé. A ferocious earthquake had devastated Edo when he was a child, followed as earthquakes often were by a fire that immolated half the city. Quiet Crane Palace had been reduced to similar smoking rubble, with crushed and dismembered bodies strewn everywhere, and the air acrid with roasting human flesh. Hidé’s stomach churned as he imagined what the odor burning his nostrils could signify. He fought back nausea and tears with equal effort.

At the wreckage of the outsiders’ rooms, he saw a bright shred of a woman’s kimono caught under a fallen beam. Kneeling, he picked it up and held it gently with both hands. Was it hers? She had worn a similar fabric when he had last seen her, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure. Why wasn’t he more observant? How could he deserve to be chief bodyguard when he couldn’t even identify his intended wife’s kimono?

No sooner did Hidé have this thought than he rejected it. He could no longer indulge in such self-doubt. His lord had appointed him to this post. To doubt his ability to carry out his duties was to doubt his lord. Loyalty demanded that he believe in himself because his lord believed in him. When he experienced one of his many faults, he must now endeavor to correct himself, to become the man his lord saw within him. Such was his obligation. He stood. His posture straight and confident.

But the shred of silk was still in his hand and tears welled in his eyes. What good were status and accolades with no one to share them? Where was the sweetness in triumph, the comforting presence in defeat, the celebration and mourning even in a perfect samurai’s death?

Hidé was sixteen years old and wearing his first full-sized katana when he met Hanako. She was then an orphan nine years of age, just brought into the palace by Lord Kiyori on old Abbot Zengen’s recommendation. He blushed as he remembered the first words he had spoken to her.

“You, fetch me some tea.”

The little girl in the faded cotton kimono raised her chin and said, “Fetch it yourself.”

“You will bring me tea, girl.”

“I will not.”

“You are a servant. I am a samurai. You will do as I command.”

The little girl laughed.

“Lord Kiyori is a samurai,” she said. “Lord Shigeru, Lord Saiki, Lord Kudo, Lord Tanaka, they are samurai. You, you’re just a brat with a new unblooded sword.”

Angry embarrassment brought him to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his katana.

“I am a samurai. I can cut you down right now.”

“You cannot.”

“What?” Hidé was stunned yet again by the girl’s brazen and unexpected responses. “A samurai has the power of life and death over any peasant like you.”

“Not you.”

“And why not me?”

“Because I am in the household service of your clan. You are duty-bound to protect me. With your own life, if necessary.”

And with that, the little girl walked away, leaving a shamed Hidé standing openmouthed and speechless behind her.

He looked around at the ruins of the palace. Yes, was it not, in fact, right on this very spot that it had occurred, so many years ago? He stared at the ground, as he had stared at it then. She had been only a child, but she had reminded him of something he should never have let out of his thoughts. A samurai was a protector, not an arrogant bully.

That brazen little girl had grown up to be a woman of merit and virtue, and so, naturally, he had avoided her over the years as he drank and gambled his life away.

What a perfect wife Lord Genji had chosen for him. And now she was lost forever.

“Hidé!”

He turned at the sound of Hanako’s surprised voice.

She stood where a walkway had been, a tray with a tea service in her hands.

Overwhelmed by happiness, Hidé moved to embrace her, but caught himself just before doing so. He bowed instead.