Heart of the Ronin (33 page)

He resumed his purposeful stride and headed again toward his house. After listening at the door and hearing nothing, he went inside and shut the door behind him. He did not remove his hand from the hilt of his sword. The inside of his house was cold, so he moved to the hearth in the center of the room, removed the lid over the coals, and began to fan them, throwing bits of kindling on them to build the fire. All with one hand ready to draw steel.

The feeling of uneasiness subsided. Before long, the fire warmed the interior of his house. A soft scratching came at the door. He opened the door, and Akao slid inside. The dog wiped his feet on the reed mat before stepping up onto the tatami and sidling up to the fire.

Akao said, “Strange smell tonight.”

Ken’ishi asked, “Have you seen anything strange?”

“See nothing. Smell strange.”

“A stranger?”

“Not like a man smell.”

A soft knock came at the door, and he turned to face the door. “Who’s there?”

Kiosé’s voice. “It’s me.”

“Please come in.”

The door slid open, admitting a fresh, chilly draught of night air, and he saw Kiosé revealed in the glow of his firelight. “Excuse me. Am I intruding?”

Ken’ishi put his alertness aside, but did not let it go. “Not at all.” He gestured her inside.

She smiled back shyly. Ken’ishi long ago noted that she always resisted smiling, except when she was with him alone.

“I am sorry. Tetta did not send me. He does not know I am here. They think I am sleeping.” She removed her sandals and slipped up onto the floor, sliding across the floor on her knees to sit near him.

“Tetta will be unhappy with you.”

“Perhaps. But I had to see you,” she said. She looked so pretty in the firelight. The darkness and shadows of night masked so much of the weight upon her spirit, the small imperfections in her appearance, the worn, threadbare clothes. In the firelight, she looked more innocent, childlike. She brushed aside a few wisps of hair from her cheek. He was glad for her company.

“Did you mean what you . . . the things you said to Tetta?”

“What things?” he asked with false innocence.

“You are teasing me.” She blushed.

Ken’ishi chuckled. “You were listening.”

“I could not help but hear. I was cleaning the hallway. I just wanted to say thank you for your concern, but you shouldn’t go to so much trouble for me. I am already in your debt for saving my life.”

“You’re not in my debt.”

“You are too good to me. If you bought my contract, then I would be even more indebted to you. You should not put yourself out for me. I am just. . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she could not bear to finish the words.

He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned over and touched her face.

A look of surprise flickered across her face, then she allowed herself to lean her cheek into his caress.

In the protection of the firelight, they embraced, sharing their warmth against the moan of the frigid winter wind. As they lay together, Ken’ishi could not help but wonder what other dangers lurked in the darkness outside.

Seven

April’s air stirs in

Willow leaves . . . A butterfly

Floats and balances

—
Basho

Norikage saw Ken’ishi’s brow furrow in frustration sitting across the desk. The desk was littered with pages covered with scrawled calligraphy. The paper maker in Hakozaki had been happily producing more of the coarse, fibrous wood pulp paper at Norikage’s request. Even the cheap wood paper was expensive, but he loathed Ken’ishi’s idea of scratching characters in the dirt. It was just too . . . rustic. Proper writing must be taught with paper, brush, and ink.

Morning sunlight spilled through the open window like liquid, golden warmth. The air was rich and moist with the coming of spring, smelling of vegetation and the sea. Then one of the village farmers walked by carrying a filthy bucket, and the stench hit Norikage in the nose almost immediately. He made a disgusted noise. “Can’t those peasants find a different route to carry fertilizer through?” The farmers in the rice fields were working the village waste into the soil in preparation for the spring planting. Some children were playing a game of tag with Ken’ishi’s dog in the street, punctuated by the gleeful laughter of the children and playful yips from the dog.

He glanced at Ken’ishi, who was concentrating on brushing a character onto his paper. He said, “No, this character is written
this
way. Do it again.” Ken’ishi had difficulty in writing characters with more than ten strokes. Until Norikage began teaching him how to write, the young warrior had not known how to count past ten. Norikage showed him again how to write the character for “garden,” counting out the final strokes as he did so. “Eleven . . . twelve . . . thirteen.”

Aoka village had been quiet over the winter. There were a few minor disputes between townspeople, but Norikage handled those. Norikage had seen little of Chiba and his brothers since Ken’ishi killed their father. The rest of the townspeople seemed to tolerate Ken’ishi. He spoke to them with none of the haughtiness Masahige had shown, almost as if he were one of them. Of course, he could never be one of them, because he was not born here. If he lived out the rest of his days in his village, Ken’ishi would always be an outsider, just as Norikage was. But Norikage accepted that. He knew that this village was just a stepping-stone on a longer journey.

“Why must I learn characters that have no use?” Ken’ishi protested. “When will I ever write the word for ‘garden’?”

Norikage’s normally well-controlled voice shrilled with his own frustration. “Do you wish to be nothing more than an ignorant bumpkin? An uneducated peasant like the rest of the people in this village who cannot read and write?”

“I’ve made my way just fine.”

“Fool! You are lucky to have survived!” Norikage snapped. “Perhaps I can explain in terms you will understand. Warriors are taught to seek the advantage in every situation, yes?”

Ken’ishi’s eyes turned wary. “Yes.”

“Imagine two men, both physically equal, both strong, capable men. What if one of them is educated and the other is not? Who has the advantage?”

Ken’ishi said nothing, but Norikage saw the calculation behind his gaze.

“What if these two men sat before their lord, and their lord said that he could choose only one of them for an important promotion? Who would be the most suitable choice?”

“The stronger of the two.”

“But they are both equal in strength and prowess. What if one of them can read and write important documents? What if one of them knows about history and religion, better to advise his lord? Who should be chosen?”

The young man finally sighed. “Very well. The educated man.”

“And well he should. Unless, of course, the lord is seeking nothing more than a mindless brute. This sometimes happens, to be sure, but not in positions of great delicacy or responsibility. The same is true of the Imperial court, except the weapons used are words, not blades.”

“What do you know of the Imperial court? You have been in the capital?”

Norikage looked at the papers on the desk without seeing them. Perhaps he had said too much.

Ken’ishi said, “You have too many secrets.”

“Eh?”

“You are hiding something from me.”

“As you are hiding something from me.” Norikage put the proper air of indignance in his voice. He had learned in the Imperial court that the best way to defend oneself was to steer attention to someone else. “Come now, you have been here nearly five months, and I have been waiting for you to tell me. There is something in your past that haunts you. I assure you, I have no interest in exposing your secrets to anyone else.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“What a rude thing to say! But of course, I do not trust you either. I trust no one in this world. Very well, as a show of good faith, I will tell you something.” Norikage took a deep breath. To divulge such a secret of his own went against his nature; divulging the secrets of others had always been easy, however. But now his curiosity was too strong; to get something, he had to give something. “My father was a minister in the Imperial court, so I was raised among wealth and power. He was always in the midst of court politics. A more backstabbing, vicious lot of people never existed. They sheath their weapons in poetry and fine arts, but they are sharks! A mere word from one of the powerful courtiers behind the throne can end a man’s life. Alas, I did not realize what this meant.”

Norikage glanced at Ken’ishi, but the young warrior sat stoic and silent. Then he continued, “One of the Emperor’s concubines was a rare beauty. Since I was a boy, I had watched all these court nobles, men and women alike, trading lovers among themselves as if they were sets of fine clothes. So I saw nothing wrong with arranging a liaison with this exquisite creature. Besides, she was not even favored by the Emperor at the time. He did not have time for her. So beautiful she was! In the prime of her womanhood at fourteen! And she favored me as well, or she would have never accepted my advances. Court nobles sometimes use love to form their political alliances, but those alliances change with the passing breeze, and this lovely girl was artless as a babe. Only when she grew large with child did I discover that the Emperor had been saving the flower of her virginity for himself, for a special occasion. Why do you smile?”

The faint smile Norikage had seen developing on Ken’ishi’s face disappeared like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

Norikage continued warily, “In any case, the child died of a fever before it reached a year, or so I was told. To preserve our family’s status and wealth, I was banished from the capital and stripped of my family name. If I was a warrior, you might call me a ronin.”

“So how did you come be the assistant of a Hojo constable?”

“The flow of money from the Shogun’s headquarters to a place as far away as this becomes a mere trickle. Masahige was originally from Kamakura, near the Shogun’s headquarters, but his family is not one of the thickest branches on the Hojo tree; they could be pruned.”

“You talk like a courtier. Speak plainly.”

Norikage sighed and rolled his eyes. “His family barely survived the great war between the Taira and Minamoto clans that led to the Shogun’s government. After the Hojo clan became the Shogun’s regents, Masahige’s grandfather attached the family through marriage to the Hojo, and took on the Hojo name. So when Masahige reached his majority, his family sought a government post for him. Constable of Aoka village is the post he was given, and not a very lucrative one, as you well know.”

“I consider myself wealthy. I have food to eat and a house to live in.”

“You have little more than a hovel!” Norikage laughed. “Ah, Ken’ishi, you are a man of simple tastes and pleasures. Masahige was not. He had fallen into debt, and he could not pay his creditors. Before I left the capital, my mother told me she did not want me to live as a pauper, even though I was banished from the family, so she gave me some money. Quite a lot of money, actually. I met Masahige in a whore house in Hakozaki, the place where he had accumulated most of his debt. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. And so I am here. If the government were to discover my position here, however. . . .”

“I understand.”

“So now you must tell me your secret.”

Ken’ishi hesitated, just as Norikage had. Norikage wondered in the silence what kind of dark deeds might lie in the past of a warrior as young as this one. Then the young man began his tale. The more Ken’ishi spoke, the more Norikage realized that the youth was telling more than he intended, but somehow could not stop himself, as if his life was so filled with events, so crammed into such a short time that he had to release them somehow. He had to
tell
someone, and so Norikage listened to the young man’s tale of poverty and want and endless wandering, and to the tale of the beautiful noble maiden, and of the oni bandit chieftain. Norikage often spurred the tale onward, enthralled by the young man’s simple words.

Norikage said, “I have heard the story about this ronin oni-slayer. It has made the rounds through every sake house in the province! That was you?”

“I have not heard any such story. Ka—the young maiden and I killed the oni.”

“I heard tales of the oni that lived in those parts. He was a bad one, they say. Sometimes he and his gang would make forays into Hakata in the dead of night to rob someone’s house or steal the wares of a wealthy merchant. A horrible creature.”

“It was.”

“In the capital there were rumors of courtiers who were really oni in disguise. Foul creatures they were, but powerful, with webs of intrigue that reached into every corner of the Imperial court,” Norikage mused. Then he grew serious again. “The girl’s father is a fool, whoever he is! But you are better off!” He laughed. “You are here!”

Ken’ishi smiled wanly. “Yes, I am here.”

“And you have Kiosé now. You can forget your noble maiden. Come now, tell me who she was!”

Ken’ishi looked out the window, a trace of wistfulness in his gaze that Norikage knew he would never admit to. “I cannot tell you her name. And as for Kiosé, I do not have her. She still belongs to Tetta. But he allows her to cook for me, and to clean my house.”

Norikage nodded. Of course, he would not mention in Ken’ishi’s presence that he had partaken of Kiosé’s womanly charms a few times before the night Ken’ishi arrived in Aoka. The young man did not interfere with Tetta’s business, but Norikage knew he did not like that Kiosé had been bedded by most of the men in the village. Kiosé made a great deal of money for Tetta. Nevertheless, Norikage recognized the young man’s protectiveness of her and had not visited her since. He did not wish to instigate any unpleasant feelings between them.

Ken’ishi said nothing.

“It is no secret. If you show too much favor for her, your reputation might suffer. You could buy her freedom.”

“Someday.” Then he looked at Norikage. “But I don’t plan to go into debt.”

Norikage smiled. “I would suggest no such thing! It’s too bad. She is a pretty girl. But you do not love her.”