The Golden Naginata (51 page)

He matched the nun's gaze, but as she did not reply to his frank speech, the humor in his eyes began to fade. He looked away from her, uncomfortable or ashamed. As he wished her opinion, the bikuni searched for some honest response, and said,

“Surely Lord Sato's daughter has noticed that Otane did not return to her duties as lady-in-waiting. Someone will come to this house looking for her. A lot of trouble if it seems a peasant is living with a samurai family as though he were a son-in-law. Her family risks a lot in your favor.”

The farmboy was unmoved by this. He met her gaze again, then leaned her direction to share a secret. “If Otane's grandfather had not gotten so ill unexpectedly, we would already have run away together! When Otane told her father about your helping her, we all agreed you must have been a famous samurai before you were a nun. We thought you'd be brave enough to give a dying fellow a nice service despite Lord Sato's decree favoring Priest Kuro exclusively. So Otane and I delayed our plans a while. Well, how could we know you lacked knowledge of the sutras? If you hadn't left the room so fast, I'm sure Mr. Todawa would have apologized for bothering you. I know Otane is embarrassed to have put you in such a spot. But there is another matter Otane and I talked about privately, another reason for hoping to talk to you.”

Otane brought a tray of fresh rice balls and some hot tea to the bikuni and placed these at her side. She slapped Iyo's greedy hand, then produced some walnuts from her sleeve for him. These kept him busy, albeit noisily, cracking and eating the nuts. Otane was tense, but let her beloved farmboy handle the matter he had brought up.

“It's like this,” said Shinji. “When Lord Sato finds out you killed three of his retainers, he'll send more than three to punish you. The corpses may already have been found. It's best you run away with Otane and me! After Otane has made enough prayers for the sake of her grandfather's spirit, we intend to sneak across the river gorge. I have a pass to do so, since my family farms across the bridge and we must always bring a certain percentage of our crops to the castle. Otane has secretly taken her grandfather's pass, since he will not require it. I altered it a bit so that she can use it to cross over the rope bridge with me.”

Their plan was a terrible thing. They could be crucified just for running away in the first place. Altering a fief pass was also a punishable crime.

“As a mendicant,” said Shinji, “you can come and go as you please, more or less. The three of us could meet at the rope bridge and not have any trouble. If the single guard stationed there suspects something, we can give him some money. Most of the samurai serving Lord Sato these days are corrupt and easy to bribe.”

“Many illicit lovers try what you suggest,” said the bikuni. “Most of them are captured by and by. Do you know you could be crucified? I don't think you've exhausted other avenues as yet. A special petition could be set before Lord Sato, who might make an exception for your case.”

“You haven't been here long enough to know how things are!” exclaimed Shinji. “In other places, such special dispensation can sometimes be acquired. Otane's father is very low-ranking for a samurai. In fact, before he was placed under house arrest, his main duty was caring for Lord Sato's plum trees. Practically a farmer himself! Otane and I would have a good case with any other lord, but Sato has no concern for people's happiness. We know exactly what he would say. ‘Recite the Lotus Sutra until you have gotten over your desire for one another.' If we argued, he might have us killed, our corpses buried in Priest Kuro's horrible cemetery at the Temple of the Gorge, where already several of Kuro's victims now repose. Nobody petitions Lord Sato for anything anymore, nor complains about the way he governs things—or fails to govern. If there are no complaints, things aren't too bad. Otherwise, Priest Kuro whispers in Lord Sato's ear, and the advice is no fun for anybody.”

The bikuni was beginning to have very strong doubts about the dark priest's motivations. She said, “A priest should not be so drunk with power. I would like to know more about this Kuro.”

“Better not to deal with him at all!” said Shinji. “Accompany us away from Kanno province,
neh?
It's selfish to want you to help us, but it's for your sake too.”

“A bikuni travels alone,” she said. “I will go my way after I have carved a stone lantern for the men I was forced to kill.”

“Someone will have to carve one for you!” said the farmboy. When she did not comment, his face became clouded with anger. He said, “Are you too proud to keep us company? An ex-samurai like you can't be concerned with lovers intent on breaking the law!”

She studied his expression a long moment before speaking. “You dislike samurai a lot,” she said. “But you want to marry one.”

Otane knelt at Shinji's side and pulled on his sleeve, keeping him from saying something angrier than he already said. She whispered, “I told you she was too severe. She won't help us. We must run away without her.”

“Tah-neh!” exclaimed Iyo, having run out of noisy walnuts.

“Shut up!” the farmboy scolded, making Iyo stop grinning, making him upset. Otane went nurturantly to the big fellow and soothed his hurt feelings. The bikuni didn't like to see a samurai daughter jerked back and forth like that, meeting the needs of others and never really stating her own feelings. Perhaps it was true, though, that all she required was the presence of the handsome, if somewhat rude, Shinji.

“If your plan is to succeed,” said the bikuni, “you must be calmer in your hearts. Fear makes people angry. Anger makes people careless.”

Shinji folded his arms and turned his back on the bikuni and the firepit. Otane's large, hurt eyes watched the bikuni's profile. She said, “I've caused him a lot of responsibility.” Her tone was apologetic. When she said this, Shinji turned back to face his lover, and his anger had dissipated. He looked miserable and forlorn. He virtually leapt in Otane's direction, to fall beside her and cling to her sleeve, weeping like a child. Bowing his head, he wailed, “It's I who have caused you the trouble!”

They were pitiful to see. The bikuni began to tie her hat upon her head, indicating her intention to leave, but also to hide her face lest they notice her reluctant concern. She stood, saying, “Is Lord Sato as heartless as you say? Villagers seem to dislike him, but I saw no particular evidence of cruelty. If his men catch runaways, however, he is justified in applying the law, though laws are often cruel.”

“Really it isn't Lord Sato so much as that dark priest,” said Otane, extricating herself from the clinging Shinji and hurrying to the doorway to place the bikuni's sandals where she could step into them. “Since Kuro came, there have been numerous bad omens, poor crops, illness, deaths, and Lord Sato's retainers have become unruly. In past years when things were bad, taxes were reduced, but this year they were raised a little bit. It's not that things have become untenable, but happiness has been erased from the land. It's much worse in the castle than in the village. But a shadow cannot fall upon the lord of a country without the country feeling it as well.”

The bikuni placed her longsword through her obi and stepped out into the back garden. Otane hurried on ahead to get the rear gate. The bikuni stood beneath the gate's roof while the young woman held the gate open. The nun asked, “I did not want to pester you with my own problem while your family could overhear. But as you were a lady-in-waiting for Lord Sato's daughter, perhaps you can help me with something I need to know, even though I have been no help to you.”

Otane's eyes conveyed her willingness to help.

“I came here looking for a man of Omi in the service of Lord Sato, but was informed that no such man is in the castle. I can well believe the one I seek would not work for Lord Sato if it could be helped, since things are as they are. But I think there is more to it, or the men I talked to would not have been so upset about my query.”

Otane, too, appeared upset by the query, but she took a deep breath to calm her feelings, and spoke confidentially. “Ordinarily a lady-in-waiting knows little about what men of the castle do. But the man you speak of was Lady Echiko's betrothed, destined to become Lord Sato's son-in-law!”

The nun replied, “I'm surprised,” though there was no hint of shock in her tone.

“He was Lord Sato's favorite retainer and achieved a high rank among castle men. Though his clan had declined in his native province, still he had a good family tree and might well have been a minor Lord himself, had he been a more ruthless fellow. Lord Sato was glad that his daughter noticed this man above others. We ladies-in-waiting conspired to help Lady Echiko have secret meetings with him from time to time. All of this was when it was still nice to live in the castle, before Priest Kuro possessed our Lord's heart.

“I don't know exactly what happened, but some while later, Lord Sato announced that Heinosuke, my Lady's betrothed, was to be exiled for some petty reason. Everyone knew it was on the advice of his Lordship's new cleric, who certainly did seem to dislike Heinosuke and some other good men.

“On the same night as the proclamation of exile, someone made an attempt on Priest Kuro's life. A week or so later it was finally announced officially that young Heinosuke had gone wild and made a foiled attempt on the priest, then ran off. We ladies-in-waiting knew it wasn't exactly like that, for Heinosuke had come to Lady Echiko the very night of the assassination attempt.”

“Do you know if he really tried to kill Priest Kuro?” asked the nun.

“He did!” said Otane in a harsh whisper, her eyes large when she confessed her knowledge. “I remember Lady Echiko was playing her koto, when suddenly a string snapped—a bad omen! She had been singing a sad song because of the news of her betrothed's pending exile. It was a cold, cloudless night and all the doors were shuttered. Yet there was a cold wind from somewhere, which ran through Lady Echiko's chamber. We ladies-in-waiting looked around to see what door had been opened. The oil lantern suddenly went out, as though Fukkeshibaba the fire-extinguishing hag had slipped in and blown it out. We were as frightened as little children by then, until we were relieved to hear Heinosuke's voice in the darkness.

“‘Please don't light that,' Heinosuke said as I was about to fix the lamp. So we sat in the dark and could not help but hear what he said to our Lady. ‘I have failed to kill that fellow and he has had his revenge on me for trying. Now there is no help for me. I will escape tonight, Echiko, and you must forget me.' Our Lady was most upset, as you can imagine. She moved her koto to one side—I heard it slide across the tatami mat—then scooted toward the place in the darkness where Heinosuke's voice could be heard.

“He avoided her and said harshly that she should not come near him. She would not listen, so Heinosuke drew his sword! We heard it slide from the scabbard and we held our breaths. Echiko stopped where she was, shocked beyond belief that her beloved could threaten her! ‘Believe it!' said Heinosuke, his voice devoid of its usual gentleness. ‘There is nothing between us anymore!' I thought I heard a catch in his voice; and Echiko must have known he was lying about it, too, since she knew him better than anyone. ‘I only came to say goodbye,' said Heinosuke, then opened the sliding door to Lady Echiko's garden.

“Lady Echiko ran out into the moonlight to stop him, but something startled her, and she cried out and fainted. We brought her in and put her to bed, fussing over her because she was delirious. Her betrothed never returned and our Lady remained inconsolable. She took ill and only rarely left her bed in the months that followed. There is a rumor that Heinosuke is still somewhere plotting revenge, but surely there is nothing to it, or he would get word to Echiko so that she doesn't pine to death.

“Only two nights later, she had a horrible nightmare and could not be restrained from getting up at the Hour of the Ox, wandering madly around her chamber. She ended up smashing her koto, which reminded her of her last unhappy meeting with Heinosuke. I sympathized, thinking how I would feel if Shinji vanished from my life! The next morning, she had no memory of damaging her koto, and was distraught that she could not play it. She has been irrational like that for a long time now.

“When I left her side yesterday, seeking relief in a secret tryst with Shinji, I could hardly believe Lady Echiko's appearance. She has become like a skeleton of herself, a shadow of the beauty that was. The horrifying part is that Lord Sato has shown a lot of concern, sending Priest Kuro every night to chant the Lotus Sutra for her. It's been too much! I don't care if Shinji and I are caught and crucified. I won't return to the castle.”

The bikuni mused. “A strange, sad story,” she said, then turned away from Otane as though to leave without further word. But she stood in the gate a while longer. When her voice issued again from beneath her hat, she said, “If you and Shinji must try to find a better place, I suggest you go in the direction of Shigeno Valley. It's a long journey for you, but the lord of that valley is a woman named Toshima. You may have heard of her, since women rarely rule a fief alone, and it has made her famous. Under her protection, you can work hard as farmers in her valley. Tell her a strolling nun with two swords said so on her honor! If you are caught before you reach there, you'll be brought back here and killed.”

The nun stepped out onto the path leading to the main road. Otane bowed behind the departing nun, then closed the gate, a barely audible “Thank you” reaching the bikuni's ears. As the nun made her way back to the road and started toward the village, she could not unburden herself of thoughts about Otane. “How sad she is,” the nun said to herself. “I hope people help her and her lover along their way.”

Under the protection of a thatched lean-to that had been propped up by Priest Bundori for the nun's sake, a stone lantern was slowly taking shape. The nun worked diligently, oblivious to the chill, heavy rain outside her tiny cover. The priest had loaned her mallet and chisel, and gotten her started with numerous verbal instructions, for she had not made such a lantern previously. “You must bore the horizontal holes first, while the stone is strongest,” he'd advised. “Then shape the outside of the lantern. The top is made separately. Don't worry if it stands straight or not; the ground where you put it won't be flat in any case.”