The Seabird of Sanematsu (23 page)

“She has reason, all right. She hates me,” Aderyn spat. From the first night, when she had spilled tea into Sanematsu’s lap, the elegant mistress had it in for her. Never had she been in Aderyn’s presence that she did not show her hostility.

“Perhaps, but no matter her feelings, Sanematsu-sama may do as he wishes. If you were a concubine, he would not have to send you away. Why should he cast a friend away any swifter?”

Sachi had not given her the answer she wanted or needed. She had to be assured that Tsuta could not have her killed. She had enough problems with the threat of Matsumoto hanging over her. If Tsuta and the Evil One joined together, she had no chance.

Well, time would tell her what she needed to know.

They sat in quiet, and the tea was left to cool. Later, after the noon meal, they walked back to the yashiki. They parted at the stairway--Sachi had tasks concerning the Purification Ritual, and Aderyn did not wish to help. She went up to her room. Crossing to her window, she sank to her knees.

Sundown came and went while she watched castle life go on about her, sometimes drawing on her papers. She moved only when necessary. A maid came and helped prepare her for sleep. She was on her way back to her room after one last visit to the privy before she retired when she witnessed again the shadowy figure’s call on the secluded room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lord Sanematsu left Tsuta the second morning as distressed as he had the first. They had pillowed once each night before he drank himself to sleep, unable to abide her pleading for another coupling, as the first was difficult enough for him to achieve.

He continued to wait and hope. For once, he had set in motion a scheme of his own design. If it failed, would he have the courage to proceed with his own plans in the future?

Busy with matters far removed from women, he moved through the day. Yet he could not put them out of his mind, his thoughts more of Tori than Tsuta. The two, on different and various missions, wandered about the yashiki grounds within his sight. Their demeanors were as opposite as possible
--
Tsuta, radiant but quiet with her pleasure, smiled with an inner glow; Aderyn, loudly disgruntled with her depression and unable to hide her emotions, carried her unhappiness like a great blanket to give away to everyone she met.

The moon rose, and Sanematsu petitioned Tsukiyomi, the god of the moon, to allow his plan to reach the conclusion he wanted. Lingering on his engawa to watch the full moon creep along the dark night sky, he could see Tsuta’s bright room, her form silhouetted against the shoji. His fate would be sealed tonight, the third he spent with her, if he could not prove her deception.

He had done all he could; his fate rested with the Moon god.

He made his way to her chamber. With a very proper if disgruntled demeanor, he entered, and without question, Tsuta accepted his mood. Samurai were known for their continual grumpiness. In the correct way for a woman of the Willow World, she returned pleasantness.

Sanematsu halfheartedly consumed the light meal she served and showed no interest in the artful arrangement of each dish. In the ultimate act of impoliteness, he even failed to comment on her efforts. Each bite turned to tasteless dust in his mouth. Each morsel of fish was full of bones, the rice undercooked, the pickles limp, the fruit green and sour. He followed every bite with sake. The rice wine, too, disappointed him, with no alcoholic numbing of his nerves, no alcohol-induced oblivion to escape his obligations.

Tsuta put away the dishes and removed more warmed sake from a cubicle.

“May I massage your shoulders, my lord?” she suggested in hope of dispelling his foul mood.

Sanematsu threw back a bowl of sake and grunted. Tsuta folded the osode from his shoulders, arranging it neatly on the floor around his hips. Dipping her fingers in heated oil, she began to knead his neck and shoulders.

“You are very tense this evening, sire,” she said, to show her interest. “Are you concerned about matters of government?”

“I have many affairs which are no business of yours,” he snapped. Did she think she could ease the burdens of daimyo from his shoulders? Did she hope to offer counsel that would alleviate the weight on his mind?

“So sorry. I do not mean to pry, great lord, only to help easy your burden.” She spoke with an irritating whine.

Her fingers dug into the muscles at his neck as if she wished to choke him. If things did not go as planned, she would.

“Sake,” he growled, thrusting the empty bowl at her. If he could not use the alcohol to deaden his mind, fetching it would get her hands off his body.

Tsuta moved to the flask and filled the bowl; Sanematsu did not regret that she did not return to the massage. He left the osode on the floor without thought to Tsuta’s savoring of the sensual look of his oil-slick back and chest.

After he drank the last of the rice wine, she moved to his side. Nestling against him, she caressed the taut brown skin of his chest. She planted soft kisses on his breast.

“Stop.” He took hold of her hand. The stroking that had once ignited his loins now aggravated him like a bug bite.

“As you wish, my lord.” She sat up.

“I wish this night to be over,” he muttered.

“Perhaps I could sing for you,” Tsuta offered.

“Very well.” Performing would prevent her touch.

In her soft voice she sang of Prince Hikaru of the ancient Heian Court. Had she selected the erotic verse full of the Shining Prince’s philandering on purpose? Against his will, his manhood woke. He covered his groin with the folds of his robe, hoping she would not see.

The song ended, and Tsuta set the instrument aside.

“My lord, would you like for me to prepare a potion for your vigor?” She supplied more sake and retrieved a small vial from her sleeve.

“I have never had need for such before and will not be party to it now!” He snatched the vial from her and cast it aside with such fury the glass shattered. The clear fluid spread in a stain on the pristine mat. “If my pleasuring is not sufficient for you, it is no concern of mine.”

He guzzled the sake. For her to suggest he use the herbal stimulant told him she had not seen the rise of his Jade Root.

“Very well.” Tsuta moved to the panel separating the rooms. Kneeling beside the shoji, she slid them back. In the faintly lit adjoining chamber, the white quilting of the open futon shone. Because it was required, Sanematsu followed her; Tsuta lay with her loosened kosode open to entice him.

Settling next to her on his side, he folded the silk away from her body and pressed his palm against her bare skin. Beneath his hand, her abdomen was flat, no sign of a growing baby. He stroked upward until he cupped her breast. This, too, remained soft and small, the heaviness of pregnancy absent.

He caressed her, his hand moving over her stomach to her pelvis. He combed the silky hair of her pubis with his fingers. After a quick prayer, he slid them between the nether lips. Moisture, hot and thick, coated his fingers as always. With gentle movements, he probed within, feeling more of the copious fluid. Something about it was different.

He withdrew his fingers. A dark, sticky substance covered them. His prayer might have been answered. The room was too dark to tell for sure.

“Bring the lamp.”

Not daring to look at his hand for fear of raising his hopes, he held it over her body while he waited.

After giving him an apprehensive look and unable to move with his hand held over her, Tsuta retrieved a small lamp on her opposite side. As she drew it closer, he watched her face pale as her fears were justified and his hopes sustained.

Thick, red menstrual blood smeared his fingers. He flung his hand away from him, clots stringing across the room.

“You conspire to deceive me?” he shouted as he rose, crisscrossing his legs underneath him, to sit.

“By no means, sire.” Tsuta trembled. “Please call your physicians!” She spoke with urgency and lay stone still on the bedding, a quilt pulled protectively over her.

“Do you have pain?”

Her lack of pleading surprised him, but he suspected her tears were false. Did she not know her time was due? Did she truly think he did not know the difference between her woman’s bleeding and a miscarried child? Although the women of his house were conscious of not offending him with such things, he had seen enough of the soiled rags to have knowledge of it, as well as the blood of the mares he bred.

He stood and crossed to the water urn and basin in the corner and washed his hands.

“Only a little,” she sniffled. “I did not wish to spoil our night. Are you going to call Kono-sama? He must do something!”

“Then you have had pain without telling me? You would have me injure you further?” In anger, he spun to face her. “I see your plan. You hoped I would agree to your magic and be so caught up in pillowing I would never have stopped to notice anything!”

“No! Yes! No, I would not have you cause me harm or trick you. Yes, I must have…it must have been…when I was moving things into my new rooms.” She struggled to give acceptable answers. “Yes, I remember now--a sharp pain when I pulled open a chest. Please, call Kono-sama, my lord.”

Now she pleaded.

“I do not think he would be of much help. By his calculations, your woman’s flow should be upon you, just as it has been every month since you were first given the rice and beans of womanhood.”

When Aya became a woman his first wife had educated him to the tradition of serving a bowl of white rice topped with red beans to a young girl on the first day of her first menstrual cycle. He was grateful to his daughters, for without them he would not be aware of such customs.

“Oh, my lord, it is not! I am losing your heir!” she whined.

“Do not lie to me! Hikita-uji!” He summoned the man who, even in this private matter, was not far away.

Tsuta moved to rise.

“Stay. You will face the consequences of your trickery.”

Hikita arrived.

“Yes, lord?” He bent to one knee at the foot of the futon. Averting his eyes from Tsuta, he raised his head to look at his master.

“Bring the council, Lord Shigehide, Lady Haru and Sachi-sama here. Also, this one’s foster mother.” Sanematsu saw the terror in Tsuta’s eyes, her face as white as the quilting.

“Yes, sire.” Hikita fled.

**
*

Aderyn sat through the early night, her spirit lower than ever. Her soul ached, every fiber screaming for Sanematsu. A devilish imp sat on her shoulder and whispered he was occupied with a woman in a way he would never be with her.

After this last night with Tsuta, everything would change. No longer could she sit alone with him in his chambers to pass the day with talk and laughter. Knowing that he would return to Tsuta to fill the void in the friendship they dare not speak of or act upon would erase the ease of their time together.

She realized at last what she wanted--all of Sanematsu Yoshihide that Tsuta possessed! Her heart yearned to have him pressed against her, his body warming the length of hers. To be the special woman in his life, the only one he gave himself to.

But that was not the way it was done in Nihon. Here, a man did not keep himself to one woman, while she was required to remain his alone. Her heart cracked with the thought.

She drew her knees up to her chest, crossed her arms across their tops and laid her head on her forearms. To convince herself she was not crying, that the water on her face came from the dew and her shoulders shook from the chill in the air, was impossible. The tears dripped down her face in waves, and she sniffled. Over time, the crying eased, but she kept her face hidden in her arms.

When a commotion from across the garden reached her ears, she lifted her head. Guards with lanterns and torches illuminated the garden. The clatter of their feet, rattle of their swords and swish of their silk garments carried across the courtyard. The words they spoke were quiet.

With her sleeve, she wiped her cheeks as Sachi hurried down the steps. Her overdress trailed the graveled path and her long undone tresses swung around her knees. At her side walked Sanematsu’s bodyguard. This group entered the lit chamber and calm settled, only to be broken several minutes later by another group of men covering the same path. These were strangers until the last man came into view--Lord Shigehide, being carried on a litter, accompanied by his servant.

Now Aderyn’s heart raced with anticipation and curiosity. What was going on to call these high-ranking inhabitants of Sanematsu’s yashiki to converge on the bridal chamber?

**
*

As Hikita planned, Sachi arrived first.

“You sent for me, my lord?” She spoke from the spot at the futon’s foot where her husband had knelt minutes before.

“Yes, Sachi-sama.” Sanematsu sat to the side of the bedding. “After all the help you have been to me in this matter, I wished for you to be here. I regret I cannot tell you why at the moment. You will be told soon enough.”

Footsteps sounded in the front room, and when the shoji moved, Sachi moved to allow Sayo to enter. The foster mother attempted to approach Tsuta until Sanematsu gestured for her to stay back.

The others he had called soon arrived, except for his sister. Lord Shigehide was the last and most vocal.

“Why have you summoned all of us at this abominable hour? You wish to display this woman as your wife so soon?”

“Hardly, Grandfather.” Sanematsu’s fundoshi, the only clothing he wore, was wrapped around his slim hips. His thoughts were so clouded with Tsuta’s treachery he was unconcerned with his lack of dress. “I called you to witness the end of this charade! There never was an heir!” He pointed to the woman on the bed. “Sachi-sama, remove the sheeting I asked you to place on the futon earlier. See for yourselves.”