Cloud of Sparrows (53 page)

The rest is for you to discover.

“I know she will find happiness where she goes,” Genji said, “so I am happy for her.”

Genji’s thirty men were dressed in black, anonymous as ninjas. He recognized Hidé and Taro, because he knew them so well, and several of the others by their horses. Behind the scarf that masked his own identity, he grimaced. What did it say about a leader that he knew a horse better than he knew a man? Perhaps, if that leader was a cavalryman, it said a good thing, and not a bad. Perhaps.

“There is one easy way out of the village,” he said. “Do not obstruct it. Let them come to you. Watch for anyone trying to go over the surrounding hills. Forty-one men and boys, and sixty-eight women and girls. Every one must be accounted for. Am I understood?”

“Yes, lord.” The men bowed. No one asked why they were in disguise. No one wondered aloud why their lord had such an interest in a miserable eta village in Hino Domain. No one questioned his need to lead the attack himself. They understood all they were required to understand, that they would enter the village and kill every living person, so they said, Yes, lord, and bowed.

“Then let us proceed.”

Swords drawn, Hidé and fifteen men charged through the village. The horses thundering among them roused everyone not already wakened by the dawn sun. Some were already outside engaged in the earliest tasks of the day. They were cut down at once, many others the moment they stepped from their dwellings. When they reached the other end of the village, Hidé’s men dismounted and came back toward the center, killing everyone they encountered. The remaining samurai entered from the near side on foot or circled the outskirts to catch those who tried to flee.

Genji did not hesitate. He killed along with his men. He killed men who tried to fight with farm tools, and he killed men who ran. He entered hut after hut and killed children in their beds, and mothers who shielded their infants, and the infants. He looked at the faces of the dead and saw no one he sought.

Perhaps Kawakami had lied. That so many people should die because of it pained Genji, but he knew the pain would be greater if Kawakami had told the truth. Hope for the lesser pain was on the rise when he entered the last hut near the center of the village.

Hidé was already inside. He was staring at a woman huddling in fear with her daughter. Between them was an infant, gurgling in innocent contentment. A young man stood protectively in front of them, a threshing tool in his hands. An older man, the father of the household, lay dead at their feet.

“Lord,” Hidé said, his horrified eyes going from the women to Genji and back again.

Genji couldn’t bring himself to look at her right away. Hidé’s eyes told him what he would see. He examined the fallen man. Was there a hint of Heiko’s determination in the set of the older man’s mouth? He thought there was.

He heard someone enter behind him and stop suddenly.

Taro said, “Lord.” There was the same tone of shocked distress in his voice that had been in Hidé’s.

Genji could avoid it no longer. He forced himself to look up and saw his own damnation.

In the older woman, a blurred and undeniable reflection of Heiko’s face peered fearfully at him through the years and toil of outcast life. The young woman clinging to her was clearly her daughter. Her rough prettiness, her bloom of youth, were reminders of the greater, subtler beauty with which Genji was so familiar. The brave young man with the threshing tool must be her husband, the infant their child. Heiko’s mother, sister, niece, and brother-in-law. On the ground, her father. Somewhere, in another part of the carnage, he knew he would find her two brothers.

“Lord,” Taro said again.

Genji said, “Let no one else enter this hut.”

“Yes, lord,” Taro said. Genji heard him step out.

“You may join him,” Genji said.

“I will not leave you alone,” Hidé said.

“Go,” Genji said. He wanted no one to witness his crime. Let it be his eternal shame alone.

“I will not, my lord,” Hidé said, and moving suddenly, he cut down the youth in the next instant. Before Genji could react, the next quick strokes of Hidé’s blade felled the two women, then, with but the slightest hesitation, sliced open the baby’s throat.

“Taro,” Hidé said.

Taro stepped in. “Yes?”

“Take Lord Genji to his horse and ride with him to our gathering place. I will complete the task with the rest of the men.”

Taro bowed. “I will do so.”

Genji stumbled out into the morning light. He hardly knew what he was doing, or where he was going.

“My lord?” Taro tried to lead him to his horse.

“No.” Genji stood and watched as Hidé searched among the corpses, taking great care to examine their faces. He pointed out the bodies of two men. Genji knew they must be Heiko’s brothers. These were dragged into the hut Genji had just left, and the hut was set on fire. Only when all the bodies were counted and they and the entire village were ablaze, only then did they mount their horses and ride away.

Was Genji’s guilt less because Hidé had prevented him from doing the actual killing? No. It was Hidé’s sword, but it was Genji’s intention. And what had he accomplished? The living evidence was gone. It didn’t guarantee that Heiko’s secret would remain one. Others may know, in other villages. Some surviving intimates of Kawakami could have heard a hint or two while sharing sake with him and viewing the moon. Killing the family had been a necessary measure, but he couldn’t kill enough people to securely seal away the truth even if he killed half the nation. The only place Heiko was sure to be safe was outside Japan. The truth would not follow her that far, and if it did, it would have no meaning.

In America, few even knew Japan existed, much less eta.

Genji didn’t deny missing Heiko. Had Emily wished he would? She couldn’t read his expression. There was a smile on his lips, of course, the small smile that was always there. Was there a hint of sorrow in his eyes? There had to be.

She felt a tiny pang in her heart she hoped was not jealousy. What did she truly feel? Heiko had been her very best friend in Japan, and a true friend indeed. Emily would miss her sorely, though her continued presence would certainly have further complicated her already tangled emotions. Love was hard enough when it was plain and simple, as it was for Hidé and Hanako. How much harder it was when two women were in love with the same man, and those two women were close friends. Not that there was any kind of competition, or even a hint of awareness about her feelings on either Genji’s or Heiko’s part. Emily was not a consideration. She was an outsider, grotesque, misshapen, and very difficult to look upon. She would not be loved. But she was free to give away her heart, even if no one else ever knew. That was enough. Wasn’t it? Or did she wish to be thought beautiful once again, as she had been in America? Sometimes she thought she did, despite the pain it would inevitably bring to her, if only Genji thought she was beautiful, too.

“How can you be so sure?” Emily said. “Happiness is not necessarily every person’s lot.”

“Just a feeling.”

“A feeling. You’re not claiming to have dreamed of her happiness, I hope.”

“No. I’ll have no more dreams, not of the kind you mean.”

“Do you really accept that?” Emily’s question was earnest. If he would surrender all pretensions to prophecy, he would be that much closer to salvation.

“Well,” Genji said, “just one more. Will you allow it?”

Emily frowned and looked away. “It’s not a matter of my allowing or not allowing anything, Lord Genji, as you well know. And please stop smiling at me that way. I am not amused in the least by blasphemy.”

Genji didn’t stop smiling. He did stop speaking, however, and after a minute of silence, Emily regretted the harsh tone she had used with him. His attitude toward religion was painfully unserious. If every future patron of Christianity in Japan were like him, it would not be long before the True Word was just another sect of Buddhism or the Way of the Gods, not by design, but by a benign and neglectful absorption. This disturbed her, but not as much it once did, not as much as it still should. When she thought of Genji, religion was no longer the first thing on her mind.

“Can you still see it?” Genji said.

“Yes, I think so,” Emily said. “There.” A flash of white at the edge of the world. A sail on a mast of the
Star of Bethlehem
. Or windblown spray from the crest of a distant wave.

When had she fallen in love with him, and why? How could she do something so foolish, so hopeless, so certain to end in misery?

“My lord.” Taro bowed at the entrance of the room.

“Yes?”

“I regret to inform you there was an incident in Yokohama earlier today.”

“What sort of incident?”

“Some of Lord Gaiho’s men made remarks. Ours felt compelled to respond.”

“With remarks of their own?”

“No, lord. With swords. Five of our men were hurt, none seriously.”

“That many? Have our skills eroded so badly in so short a time?”

“No, lord.” For the first time since he began his report, Taro looked pleased. “Seven of Lord Gaiho’s vassals have returned to the source, and an equal number are likely to follow in short order, thanks to their injuries.”

“Who investigated?”

“I did, lord. Immediately after the confrontation.”

“So you were in Yokohama,” Genji said, “but arrived too late to prevent violence.”

“No, my lord.” Taro bowed deeply. “I was there when the violence began. I personally struck the first blow.”

Genji frowned. “That is disappointing. You are aware that the Shogun’s equanimity is lessened by signs of disorder in front of outsiders.”

“Yes, lord.”

“You are aware that Yokohama has a high population of outsiders, both resident and visitor.”

“Yes, lord.”

“Well?”

“Intolerable insults were given.” Taro’s eyes went briefly to Emily. “I believe I responded appropriately.”

“I see,” Genji said. “Yes, I think perhaps you did. You may give me a fuller report later. In the meantime, inform Lord Saiki. We are sure to receive an admonishment from the Shogun. He should prepare a formal written response.”

“Yes, lord.”

“Remember to speak loudly and clearly. Lord Saiki’s hearing is not what it was before the explosion at Mushindo Monastery.”

“Yes, lord.” Taro smiled. “At Hidé’s suggestion, we have begun the practice of augmenting our oral reports with written ones.”

“Very good. My commendations to Hidé. And, Taro, thank you for defending the lady’s honor.”

“No thanks are necessary, lord.” Taro bowed in Emily’s direction. “She is the outsider of the prophecy.”

When he was gone, Emily said, “Why did he bow to me?”

“Did he?”

“Yes. So it appeared.”

“He was happy to see you, I suppose.”

“I don’t think so,” Emily said. Her intuition told her she was one of the subjects of the conversation. She hadn’t heard her name—Eh-meh-ri—but Taro had looked at her as he spoke and Genji had pointedly not done so. “I’ve caused trouble again, haven’t I?”

“How can you?” Genji smiled disarmingly. “You haven’t done anything, have you?”

“My presence alone is trouble.”

“Don’t be silly, Emily. That’s not true, and you should know it.”

“Please. I’m not quite the child you seem to think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re a child.”

“I know antiforeign sentiment is running very high. I’m afraid I’m becoming a terrible burden to you. Please tell me. What happened?”

Genji looked at her open face and the earnest, guileless expression upon it and sighed. He found it extremely difficult to lie to her, even for her own good. “Some ignorant vassals of a hostile lord made remarks. There was a minor altercation. Some of my men were injured, none seriously, according to Taro.”

“And the other lord’s vassals?”

“Are fewer this afternoon than they were this morning.”

“Oh, no.” Emily dropped her face into her hands. “I might as well have murdered them myself.”

Genji sat on the chair beside hers. He sat upright on the edge as he had learned to do, instead of collapsing into it as he had in the past. His inner organs felt much better when they remained where they belonged, instead of being unnaturally crushed together. He put his hands lightly on her shoulders. “You take too much upon yourself, Emily.”

As soon as she felt his touch, she began to weep. “Do I? If I were not here, nothing would be said about me, and none of your men would be compelled to do anything. How can I believe I am not responsible?”

“If you were not here, we would find other reasons to kill each other. We always have.”

“No. I won’t be comforted by such easy lies.” With great difficulty, she stopped her tears, though she could not completely stop trembling. She faced him and said what she knew to be true, and what she wished never to say. “I should not remain so close to you.”

Genji looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. Finally, he nodded and said, “You’re right. I wonder why I’ve been so blind for so long. The solution is so obvious, so clear. To save us all from further violence, you must leave at once. Not only the palace, not only Edo, but Japan itself. If I had only seen the truth sooner, you could have boarded the
Star
this morning with Heiko and Matthew. No matter. I will make immediate arrangements for you to take the very next steamer. You’ll be in Honolulu before them, and join them there for the rest of the journey to San Francisco. As soon as you are gone, we will have peace at last.” He rose and walked briskly to the doorway. Once there, he stopped and turned to her. She was staring at him in astonishment. Genji laughed.