The Samurai's Daughter (45 page)

They’d reached a maze of streets with pine and cherry and plum trees hanging over bamboo fences surrounding neat thatched houses. Footsteps hurried down alleys and robes disappeared through garden gates. Nobu felt his rifle on his shoulder and his knife in his belt and remembered that this was enemy territory.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they came to a broad river with a wooden bridge across it and willow trees alongside. Taka scrambled down the grassy bank.

‘The Kotsuki,’ she said breathlessly, kneeling and dipping her fingers. ‘No one can see us here. Can we rest for a moment?’ She was panting. Red and orange fish darted in the clear water. She looked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. ‘My father was born round here. His family were poor samurai, so they lived a long way from the castle. As far as I know his house is on the other side of the river somewhere, a little way north, across Nishida Bridge.’

Nobu smiled at her. ‘I thought he lived in a samurai mansion,’ he said. ‘I looked for you there.’

She put her hat on the grass and sat down, curling her legs under her. He crouched beside her, ready to spring to his feet if need be, and laid his hand on hers, enjoying the feel of her soft
cool
skin. The sun would be setting soon and he knew they had to hurry but he wanted to stretch out the time they had together while he could. Bees hovered around the tangle of yellow, blue and purple wildflowers.

‘He’s not that sort of person,’ she said, plucking at a primrose. ‘If you met him, you’d understand. He’s modest, he’s not interested in riches or luxury or fancy living. He used to scold my mother for being extravagant and she’d get cross because he refused to spend money on household things or clothes. He has a thatched house at the top of the bay. He spends most of his time there – he did until he went to war, that is. He likes to write and study and go rabbit-hunting with his dogs and fish and bathe in hot springs. He likes being with students. He hates the smug politicians in Tokyo who are only interested in money. He says men of power should be men of principle too. I don’t care what you think. He’s a wonderful man.’

She had tears in her eyes. He pulled his hand away, picked up a stone and hurled it into the water. He wanted to say, ‘There’s more to it than that, more to it than corrupt politicians. We can’t have a country split into princedoms. We need to bind together and be strong.’ He took a breath. The words were on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out.
He’s leading an armed insurrection against the government. He can’t just take the law into his own hands. And he’s the general of the army that destroyed my city and my clan and my life and my family
. The unvoiced thoughts sent a stab of pain through his chest. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

But he said nothing. Some day he would tell her about Aizu Castle, about his mother and sisters and grandmother; but if he put that bitterness into words, it would drive a wedge between them. Better to stay silent. She’d been right. They were not individuals, they belonged to their clans, they could never escape them. With such a history of hatred behind them, how could they ever be together? And yet whatever it was that bound them seemed to transcend everything, even that.

‘The war will soon be over.’ The words were inadequate but what else could he say? Besides, he knew the war could only end with her clan’s defeat and then she would hate him.

‘Either you’ll win or we will,’ she said, her eyes flashing. ‘When our scouts come back for supplies, they tell us victory is close, our men will be on their way to Tokyo soon.’

He frowned.
How can you be so blind?
he wanted to say.
Look at your city. Everyone’s run away. Isn’t it obvious who’s winning?
But seeing her so wide-eyed and innocent, he couldn’t bear to dash her hopes. All the same, he felt needled by the talk of General Kitaoka. She knew her clan had defeated his but she never stopped to think how he must feel.

‘What do they say about Kumamoto Castle, these scouts of yours?’ The words were out before he could stop them.

‘My father said that when the garrison saw his army they’d surrender and join him and they’d march on Tokyo together.’ She looked at him then and he wondered if she was thinking that her father had already led one army to victory – against his people.

‘That’s what he said before he left,’ he said. ‘Do you want to know what really happened?’ She’d turned pale as if she’d already guessed. She twisted her hands, clenching her fists till the knuckles were white. He took a breath. He would tell her, he thought, just a little of what havoc her beloved father had brought to the country. ‘Your father and his men laid siege to Kumamoto Castle for almost two months. The garrison were terrified when they realized they had the great Kitaoka at their gates, but they didn’t surrender. Even when your father’s men attached messages to arrows, telling them they had no chance and urging them to join him, and fired them over the walls, they still held firm. Then we sent our armies to dislodge him. Day after day there were battles. Thousands have died on both sides and many more have been wounded. But in the end we lifted the siege and your father and his men fled into the mountains.’

She’d put her hands to her mouth and shut her eyes as if she wanted to block out his words. ‘Is he alive?’ she whispered, her
voice
shaking. He put his arm round her small shoulders, immediately remorseful. It was wrong to spoil their last hours together. She’d learn the truth soon enough.

‘If he were dead, the war would be over and we’d all be going home,’ he said quietly. ‘There are other things you should know too …’ He rested his head on hers and closed his eyes, smelling her sweet perfume. There’d be another time to tell her about Aizu Castle and all that had happened there.

Above the murmur of water and the cries of birds, Nobu heard a distant thrum. Boots, marching, slow and cautious, stopping, then marching on again. He sat up sharply. The last thing he wanted was to encounter his own men. His disguise was far too successful. They’d take one look at him and see a local, a Satsuma man humping a rifle, out and about in this deserted city, up to no good. If they found out who he was and what he was doing – which they would if he was killed – his family would be dishonoured for ever. But to shoot his own men was treason. He was in an impossible position. He smashed his fist into the ground, sending up a shower of earth. There was nothing for it but to run or hide.

Taka had jumped up in alarm. He snatched up her hat and pushed her down the bank and into the shadows under the bridge, out of sight. There was a towpath there, fetid with urine and excrement and rotting food, and some reeking piles of rags on the grass. The rags stirred and he realized they were beggars, sleeping.

The footsteps stopped right above them and he heard thumps as the men threw down their rifles and settled themselves on the grass. Three or four at most by the sounds of it. Taka crouched behind him. He could feel her heartbeat.

‘Talk about disappointed. You’d have thought there’d be life in the geisha district, at least.’ The man had the rapid-fire patter of a downtown Edo man, a Tokyoite born and bred. Conscripts. ‘I was looking forward to a pork cutlet. The pork’s famous down here.’

‘Or a dish of grilled eel!’

‘It was a woman I was hoping for …’

‘Too bad we scared everyone off.’

There were chortles and grunts followed by a splash. They were throwing stones into the water.

There was a rustle as someone lurched down the bank. One of the piles of rags stirred and snorted and Nobu froze, hoping the soldier didn’t come over to investigate or, even worse, to relieve himself. Taka’s hand was on her halberd. If Nobu didn’t defend them, she would.

He glanced around. There was a boat banging lazily in the reeds a little way away. If the conscripts came any closer, he and Taka could make a break for it and head for the opposite bank.

‘Found a flat one.’ The voice boomed out just above him. A stone skimmed the surface of the water, jumping a few times, kicking up spray.

‘Better get back to base or we’ll be in trouble.’ It was an older voice.

‘Where’re we spending the night?’

‘On shipboard, with luck. Anyone on land is asking for it. The place may look dead but I tell you, there’ll be rebels swarming out of the hills as soon as we turn our backs.’

‘We should count ourselves lucky. If we get sent to the mountains we’ll be sleeping under the stars.’

‘And marching through the rain.’

Nobu crouched under the bridge till the voices had faded away, then jerked his chin towards the boat.

‘We’d do better to wait till dark but we don’t have time. We’ll have to take our chances.’

Water cascaded off the rope, soaking his sleeves, as he hauled the boat to shore. The wood was bleached and slimy with moss but it was sound enough, with a couple of plank seats and oars and a pole inside. Waves slapped the sides and the boat rocked as he gave Taka a helping hand, gesturing to her to stay low, then sculled towards the far bank.

Three men were sauntering along, dark against the afternoon sky. A voice drifted across the water. ‘Hey, over there. Who’s that? Rebels, looks like. Satsuma bastards.’ It sounded like the fellow who’d been looking forward to a pork cutlet. One of the silhouettes lifted a rifle.

‘They’re peasants. Leave them be.’ It was the older man. ‘One’s a woman, look. We’re not supposed to rile the locals.’

‘A woman?’ the first voice sang out. The lecherous tone was unmistakable. The warble changed to a bark. ‘You, get over here and be quick about it. Government officers, on inspection duty.’

Nobu scowled. They were far from officers, that much he knew. It was a good distance to the next bridge and the soldiers were on foot. As long as he and Taka stayed in the boat they were out of reach.

There was a click as the man cocked his rifle, followed by a bang like the crack of a whip. Birds squawked and rose in great flocks out of the trees. Taka gasped and the boat rocked as she ducked, clapping her hands to her mouth. The bullet screeched through the air and splashed into the water a good distance away. Nobu thanked his lucky stars the men were raw recruits and poor marksmen.

‘Don’t be a fool.’ The older man’s voice floated across the water. ‘Let’s get out of here before we bring a swarm of the bastards down on our heads.’

By the time Nobu and Taka reached the granite arches of Nishida Bridge they’d left the conscripts far behind. They tied the boat up under the bridge and climbed the bank to the road. Steep-roofed houses with morning glories rambling across the thick yellow thatch peeked from behind tall hedgerows dense with camellias, globe flowers and pear blossom. They were getting close to the hills.

The volcano was still behind them, black ash curling from the lip. Turning to check for soldiers, Nobu saw a couple of men heading for the bridge. One was tall and heavyset, the other short
and
skinny. They carried themselves straight and tall like officers.

As he looked, they broke into a sprint, waving their rifles and shouting, ‘Halt. Who goes there? Stop or we fire!’

‘Run!’

Taka gripped her halberd, hitched her skirts and they raced for the nearest corner. A loud bang split the air. The men were a long way behind and the bullet slammed into the bridge, sending shards of granite flying.

Nobu wondered who these fellows could be, so far from base – lieutenants, probably, hoping for glory, on the lookout for rebels. And they’d spotted one, armed and dangerous, ripe for shooting. He – their comrade, Nobu – was undoubtedly the first rebel these men had seen all day. It would almost have been funny if it hadn’t been so desperate. And here they were, looking forward to a fight, though they wouldn’t win much glory from one lone rebel. The trouble was that, unlike conscripts, these fellows knew how to handle a gun.

They sprinted around the corner, out of the line of fire. There was another bang and a bullet slammed into the road behind them. He glanced around. They were in a narrow, winding lane lined with hedges so high it was impossible to see over. The place was a maze. The boots were getting closer.

They raced from lane to lane, trying to shake off their pursuers, then stopped, hearing the pad of feet and the panting of the soldiers like a wolf pack on their tail. There were not just two sets of boots any more. The conscripts must have joined them.

Nobu realized they were running in circles. No matter which way they turned, they couldn’t escape. Suddenly they came out on a broad avenue. He stared around in horror. They were totally exposed. The street was lined with houses, boarded up and shuttered like blind eyes, deep inside gardens surrounded with high walls or hedges, gates firmly shut. Dogs skulked and a cat dived under a hedge. It would have been a peaceful country scene except that there was not a person in sight.

The footsteps were closing in on them. Soldiers burst from
the
bushes at the far end of the road and a bullet kicked up dust.

Desperately Nobu and Taka turned and dived back into the maze of lanes. Taka stumbled. She was flushed and panting. Nobu raced up the lane past a couple of gates then shoved one open, grabbed her arm and tugged her inside, slammed it shut and bolted it. They crouched behind it. The leaves rustled and he put his finger to his lips. He hoped Taka wouldn’t notice that he was sweating and his hands were shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths and looked around sharply. There were cracks in the boards of the gate and a gap between the dense leaves and branches of the hedgerow just big enough for a rifle.

The men were charging down the lane, beating at the hedges and kicking open gates like bloodhounds on the scent. A moment later they’d reached Nobu’s and Taka’s hiding place.

‘Where’s he gone, that bastard?’ snarled a voice. Nobu’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure the man would hear. ‘Come out, we won’t harm you.’ He started. He knew the ruse. Surely it couldn’t be … Peering cautiously through the leaves he made out a heavy brow and burly shoulders. Just his luck. Sakurai. He dared not move a muscle for fear of shaking the hedge but he grimaced, imagining punching his fist into his palm. The other one must be Sato, and those were the conscripts behind them.