The Samurai's Lady (3 page)

The morning after the letter‟s arrival he broached the subject with Katharine. His fear of his giving in at whatever protest she might offer made him speak more sharply than he meant to.
“You must leave this place.” He told her without ceremony. “I have decided what to do with you.”
“Do with me?” She stared at him open mouthed, incredulous. The closeness that had developed between them these past months evaporated like water vapor. “How dareyou! I am not a piece of rubbish you can pick up and throw away at will.” She was up and across the room in the blink of an eye.
“Katsuko. Katharine, please. Dozo?” He said gently, turning her to face him. “I‟m sorry. I didn‟t mean it that way.” He preferred this reaction to a tearful protest. She couldmove him to act as he normally would not when she cried. “I‟m sending you to my sister in Kanazawa. Your master died and you appealed to the Daimyo rather than beg or go hungry. He took pity on you and sent you where he knew you would be happy.”
“Where is Kanazawa?” She asked, despondently.
“On the island of Honshu.” He answered, remembering their geography lesson that seemed so long ago now. “Ryochi and I will take you.”
“When do we leave?”
“Next week.” He told her. “I am having papers prepared so that we can pass the checkpoints more easily.”
“Checkpoints?” She wondered.
“Yes.” He saw fear and the need to trust mixing in her eyes and reached out to hold her small hand in his. “I am sorry I can‟t tell you everything now. You will have totrust me.” He held her gaze. “It will be all right, I promise.” He said softly. The days were becoming hot and humid. The rains had stopped, making everything fresh and green.
One of Katharine‟s most enjoyable pastimes was to sit in the garden and play her lute, especially in late afternoon. Her English dresses, fine when she was recuperating indoors had been put aside in favor of the yukata, a cotton kimono. Fujito watched her from the crest of a low hill, enjoying the music and her lilting voice.
After the evening meal, Fujito went out onto the veranda. Katharine was sitting facing the garden and the sunset, her lute in her lap.
“Play me that song you played the other night.” He requested. “The one that started slow then got faster.”
She knew the one he meant and began to strum.
When she was finished, he complimented her on her voice. She blushed prettily, which made him smile. He left for a moment then returnedwith a book. “A tale of Genji.” He told her. “Would you like me to read some to you?”
“Certainly.” She set her lute aside and listened attentively. She could now understand a great deal of the words, and this pleased her.
The heat was oppressive and she began to doze. Unknowingly she rested her head on his shoulder. She did not know how much time had passed when she felt the touch of his fingers on her cheek.
“Come, my little plum blossom.” He said softly. “It is time you were asleep.” He smiled. He helped her up and followed her inside.
The night before their departure for Kanazawa was clear and warm. Katharine, having nothing better to do went out to the veranda. The sun was just about to set behind the western hills when she heard the screen slide open. Fujito stepped out carrying his flute and a lantern. She stood up to leave.
He set the lantern down and knelt beside it. She had just reached the door when he said,
“No, please stay.”
The melody he played was beautiful, almost haunting. Enraptured, she closed her eyes and floated on the strains. When she opened her eyes, the sun‟s last rays were justreaching the bay just beyond the low bamboo wall at the end of the garden. She went to get a better look at the shimmering water.
Putting the flute down he came to stand beside her. “It is beautiful, isn‟t it? Come.” He took her hand and led her across the bridge.
Gentle waves lapped at the shore of the bay that had, only a few months ago, been deadly. The sun rested on the distant islands, turning the water a red-pink and tingeing the few clouds above them with mauve
Fujito sat on a large near-by rock and motioned for her to join him. Submissively she knelt beside him on the sand. Without thinking, she leaned closer to support her
weight. Unexpectedly he encircled her shoulders with his arm. Katharine wondered how much of Western ways he knew.
He would never know if it was the sunset or the fact that he might never see her again, that moved him. Or perhaps it was the proximity to each other over the last months or the soft koto playing in the distance that inspired him to press a kiss on her temple. She met his soft gaze with questioning eyes; his lips met hers in a quick feather-like kiss, and then returned.
She didn‟t know whether to push him away or relax in his arms. The decision was made for her. He moved away and stood to his feet.
“It is getting late.” He whispered huskily. “We must leave early tomorrow.” He turned and headed back to the house.
He was a fool. He should never have allowed his emotions to get the better of him. No woman had made him act so in his entire life. It was good that she was leaving in the morning. Sentiment had no place in the heart of the samurai. The sun had only just risen when they were ready to go. He told her the boat was waiting for them in the bay.
Unlike the previous evening small boats dotted the shoreline as far as the eye could see. Many had already moved out. Ryochi waited patiently beside the Asama Maru.
“This is goodbye.” Michiko said on a sigh. Since the young woman had saved her life by her quick thinking, they had become good friends. She would miss her. Katharine had forgotten the waves of sickness and fear in the time she had spent on Kyushu but as they drifted further away from the shore, it all came flooding back.
Sitting beside her, Fujito noticed her discomfort; and was prepared for it. He pulled a small flask from the bamboo basket at his feet and handed it to her. “Here, drinkthis. It will settle your stomach.” He told her kindly. “How are you feeling?” He asked a while later.
“Better.” She smiled up at him. It made his heart lurch. With great effort, he kept his face passive.
They stayed two nights on the coast of Honshu, one at Matsue and the other at Takefu. When they reached Kanazawa his sister was waiting forthem. “Kazu is away.”
She told them as she led the way to the house where a meal was waiting for them. Fujito stayed the night and left at sunrise the next morning. Just before they set sail he drew Katharine aside.
“This is good-bye.” He said softly.
“Yes, FujitoSama.” She lowered her head submissively, but before she could execute a formal bow, he hooked a finger under her chin.
“I will come back for you as soon as I can.” He whispered. “I will miss you.” Katharine was surprised at the sentiment and the gentleness in his voice. He raised his hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You must go now. Kimika is waiting.” He said gruffly. He turned his head and cleared histhroat. “Sayonara.” He whispered against her cheek, brushing it ever so gently with his lips.
As she watched him get into the boat, she felt the prick of tears against her lids. But she wouldn‟t cry. She knew he expected her not to. And like the lady she had been taught to be, she would honor his request.
The old man climbed aboard and pulled away from the coast. Fujito watched her walk back to the house. He turned away. A tear slid from beneath the closed lids and down his cheek. From the middle of the bay, he looked back at the deserted shore.
The Samurai‟s Lady

Chapter Three
She hated Kanazawa almost more than Kagoshima; but at least there, she was afforded some encouragement, some gentle consolation. Fujito had treated her well, if a little stiffly at times.
Not that she disliked her mistress; she was the kindest person in the household. But her husband Kazu-San bullied the servants, including herself, and his wife as well.
Then one day he had come home to announce she was now to work in the dyeing factory where they made silk kimono cloth.
Now she found herself on one of the hottest days of the year in the vat house where large tubs of indigo dye were made.
Taking the long pole with the flat board nailed to the end she pressed it into the bottom of the first tub then raised it and lowered it again painfully. Her shoulders ached with the effort and she knew she would suffer with her head that night, as she had every night since she had begun this work two weeks ago. The bruises and cuts on her back made the pain worse.
She wished again that Fujito were there to rub her shoulders and sooth the pain away with salve. She wanted to cry as she remembered that morning now so long ago.
It was her own fault, she supposed. She had failed to perform every task Kazu set her to his standards and had been beaten soundly for it.
She watched the other workers enviously as they talked and giggled among themselves. She had no friends here, only enemies. The language Fujito had so patiently taught her was different here. The words sounded similar but the accent was strange.
Kimika was the only one that could really understand her but since coming to the mills she had been forbidden to see or communicate with her in any way. Every night she slept in the barracks with the other girls but they treated her as if she wasn‟t even there and every night she cried herself to sleep with physical pain and the emotional anguish of her loneliness. She dreamed of the handsome samurai who had saved her life, now so far away in time and space.
In the hazy light of dawn, she would imagine she heard his gentle voice saying that he had come to take her back. But when she opened her eyes she saw nothing but the bamboo walls of the hut; heard only the breathing of the other women asleep beside her.
The next day started like every other with Kazu bellowing and bullying everyone awake. But there was something different this morning. There was meaning to his words, a kind of urgency in his voice. Whatever could be wrong?
Coming out into the bright sunshine, she saw everyone gathered in front of the center vat house and Katharine‟s heart sank. She had forgotten to put the blankets around the vats to keep them at a constant temperature. The dye batch was ruined. Cold fear gripped at her limbs holding her to the spot where she stood. He would kill her for this.
He didn‟t call her over, didn‟t even look her way just left in the opposite direction from where she stood.
The morning went by, and noon time too. Then near mid-afternoon she was sent for.
This is KannakoSan you will be working for her from now on.” Kazu rasped. He nodded toward the woman who harshly nudged her toward the door. As they left, he sat back on his heels a satisfied smile on his crooked lips.
The old woman‟s stick dug into her skin like a knife. The pain was doubled as she jabbed the center of a bruise. She learned quickly not to cry out or even wince in pain. To do so meant the stick would thrust harder against her tender skin. When they arrived at the Quarter where she lived, Katharine found herself being propelled to a fine house near the center of the main street. There were other women here, made up in ornate wigs and gold thread embroidered dress. Combs of mother of pearl and encrusted with jewels adorned their headdresses. She heard a rustle of material and looked toward the back of the house. A woman could be heard giggling then a man‟s voice low and slurred with drink. He came out first, staggering a little and clumsily picked up his swords from the low table next to theopening. Shock and horror registered on Katharine‟s face as the purpose for her being here hit her with full force.
“You will not be staying here.” She was told. “Ami-San will take you to her house where you will be put to work.”
Ami-San was only a year or two younger than Katharine. She tried to engage her in conversation but the courtesan only smiled.
She was shown her quarters in the small dwelling and told that her first customer would arrive that evening.

It had been a year since he‟d seen her. A long year spent at the Shogun‟s court in Edo as was prescribed by the Bakufu. A loyal retainer who accompanied him left his wife as hostage since Fujito was unmarried.
He had been foolish to send her away, so he‟d thought for weeks afterward. But as time passed, he realized the only foolish thing he had done was to think he‟d been falling in love with her. His feelings of affection waned as the weeks and months wore
on.
It was only at night she tormented him. When words of poetry pierced his mind and his heart, demanding release. In his sleep she entered his dreams and wrenched his
heart, until he felt it would break. In the morning, he felt as if he hadn‟t slept. He had to get her out of the country; it was the only way his soul would find peace. Just as he had been about to leave Edo, a message had come from Kimika. He opened the seal hurriedly, fearing for his sister‟s health, which was delicate at the best of times. But this was not the subject of the correspondence.
His relief had been only short-lived, however. The only consolation was that the letter had been written recently, within weeks. He sent his retainer back to Kyushu without him and turned instead for Kanazawa.
At the Western Entrance he was greeted by vendors, distributing lists of Ladies that could be found in the nearby pleasure districts, particularly in the bathhouses. Fujito took it and absently shoved it into the pocket of his coat.
He entered a nearby ryokan and was shown to pleasant rooms at the back of the house looking over a neatly manicured garden. As he removed his outer coat, the crumpled paper fell to the floor.
He picked it up. A name near the middle of the page caught his eye “No, it can‟t be!” He whispered. His stomach constricted. Not Katsuko. Working in the bathhouses as a—
His face contorted in disgust. He crumpled the paper and threw it across the room.
It was his fault; the envoy had been bluffing. After the one incident in Nagasaki, there had been no more killings. She‟d had no need to leave; he could have hidden her identity, he was sure of it.
He retrieved the crumpled list from where it had landed beside the chest of drawers and looked at it.
He would have to move fast. But before he could don his coat a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.” He barely kept the frustration at the delay out of his voice. “Excuse me, Fujito-Sama but there is someone here to see you.” The innkeeper stepped aside to reveal an older Samurai.
“Welcome to Kanazawa Fujito-Sama.” Maeda smiled and bowed low to welcome his honored guest. If they had one thing in common, it was their hatred and distrust of the
Shogunate. “I had heard of your arrival only an hour ago.”
“Domo, Maeda-Sama.”
“You must come to dinner with my wife and me tomorrow evening. Then we‟ll be entertained by the most beautiful Geisha Company in Kanazawa after the ladies retire.”
“Domo.” Fujito said again. His displeasure did not show behind his smile. What bad luck! Now he would have to wait one more day to search for Katharine. It was time to pay Kimika a visit.
The letter had not told the worst. He was horrified to learn that upon his return, Kazu had ordered Katharine to leave the safety of the household.
“What are you talking about?”
“His dye works. He made her work there.” Kimika answered timorously. She knew Isamu would not be angry with her, but she feared what he might do to Kazu. As bad as he was, what would she do without him? Her brother was an extremely patient and gentle man, but he hated her husband; indeed, he hated anyone who would exploit another human being.
“Tell me about the Mama-San.” His voice held controlled anger. His eyes were pools of iron.
“A Mama-San of the geisha house had seen her one day and commented on her beauty and her singing ability; she sang to keep from crying.” Kimika told him. “The mama-san had made a deal with Kazu. Since her services were needed at the works—”
She stopped, glancing sideways at him, fearing his reaction.
“Go on.” He told her tightly.
“Since Katsuko worked in the day, she would rent the girl out at night for entertainment; at some point, he hoped that the entertainment would include more than song and dance.”
“At twice the price, of course.” Fujito finished harshly.
“Yes.” She said softly. She did not want to acknowledge the look that suddenly passed over his eyes. But she was certain that this woman had affected him unlike anyother. “But she hasn‟t.” She strove to reassure him.
“No.” He said bitterness mingling with his anger. “Not yet.”
The sun was just beginning to sink behind the farthest buildings when Fujito prepared to leave. He was about to bid her good night when he heard Kazu return. As he made his way down the passage, he prayed that he would not say or do anything that would hurt his sister.
The brothers-in-law stared each other down in the entryway. Watching from the hearth Kimika felt the tension that was thick enough to cut with a blade. It looked for a moment as though her husband was afraid of her brother.
Kazu removed his swords and laid his scabbard aside.
Fujito kept his eyes on the other man and reached for his swords, tying the golden cords securely at his waist.
Kazu moved aside slowly.
Fujito secured his katana in the scabbard with a sharp hiss of blade against leather. He held the older man‟s eyes in an iron gaze for a brief second; long enough to be sure the meaning of the gesture was not lost on him, then disappeared through the still open door and into the night.