CHAPTER ONE

Western coast of Kyushu, Nihon-1480

Ryn!” The shouting of her name startled Aderyn awake. “Come on, now, girls! Up, up!”

Her sense of impending doom perked up. Something had to be terribly wrong for her mother to speak Welsh after so many years of Portuguese. She climbed over her sister to get out of the bunk they shared as Ana responded to their mother’s command with listless motion. The two eldest, Adelaide and Alicia, were already up.

Fighting over the dresses cluttering the deck, the four girls bumped and collided. Aderyn cursed her luck at having grabbed Ana’s gown as she struggled to push her well-developed bosom into the smaller bodice.

“Girls!” Kathryn returned to gather her daughters.

No time to find another dress.

“You must hurry! Get topside, now!” Her mother disappeared again.

At first, Aderyn thought a storm had engulfed the ship, flooding it with rainwater, as the sound of her mother’s wet dress slapping sloppily against her thin legs echoed in the hall. She changed her mind as she listened to the sounds from topside. The sound of steel and exploding gunpowder told her a battle was in progress.

Who could be attacking? Their ship was a trading vessel with only one small cannon. Besides, the Portuguese flag allowed them free navigation in the Pacific.

She recalled a violent lurch sometime before dawn, a movement more abrupt than she was accustomed to yet not enough to completely rouse her. A lifetime of seafaring had left her unfazed by the ocean’s frequent rages.

Fussing with her bodice buttons, Aderyn followed her sisters through the hallway to the ladder leading to the deck. They lifted their hems out of the water soaking their brocade slippers and rising up their ankles. The lack of time to don petticoats was now a blessing.

Adelaide and Alicia were already at the gangway. A few steps up the ladder Alicia blocked the way. Nearby, her mother screamed with fervent urgency.

“Go on, ’licia, up wi’ you now!”

“No, Mama! I cannot!” Alicia cried.

They had to get out of the bowels of the ship. Aderyn took charge, stepping toward the ladder and her terrified big sister.

“Yes, you can!” she shouted. “Now, go!”

She placed her shoulder against her sister’s broad hips and shoved so hard she forced Alicia to move upwards or be crushed against the stairs.

The girls erupted from the hatch like so much vomit from a drunken sailor. The sun rose at the edge of the ocean behind the ship. In front, Aderyn caught a glimpse of mountainous land before her attention was drawn to the furious activity on the deck.

In chaotic bedlam, men rushed across the deck, slipping in the seawater and blood washing the planks of the small frigate. Their shouts and cries filled the air along with the clank of steel and burst of gunfire. Kathryn shepherded her daughters amid the pandemonium into a corner. Her sisters’ bodies squeezed Aderyn against the cabin.

Alicia’s frenzy spread to Adelaida, whose tears and screams were out of control. Aderyn fought to remain calm. A clear head and steady nerves would show her the way out of this.

Huddled on the deck, peeking out beneath Ana’s skirts, she glimpsed the pistol the girls kept in their cabin at their father’s order. The thought to come up armed was fortunate; but in the nervous outburst, Ana had forgotten the weapon, and it slipped from her hand. Aderyn reached for the flintlock and squirmed about so her fingers could touch then close around the cold barrel.

She struggled to rise from her prostrate position but was only able to come to her knees. Now her view was through the open areas between her sisters’ arms, and she watched the crew fighting the Asian warriors pouring over the rails. Before long, the few who remained alive ran out of gunpowder and shot. They drew short daggers in an attempt to defend themselves against the army of skilled swordsmen.

The attackers were small men, with an occasional one a head or so taller then their fellows. All were dark, their skin a tanned bronze different from the Chinese and Filipinos Aderyn was familiar with. They had shaved their raven hair from the crown of their heads and tied the rest back. Their intense slanted brown eyes shown with ferocity.

They wore a uniform of flowing jackets wrapped around their bodies and tight leggings, all of dark blue with some sort of white detail on the sleeves and the front and back. They used their long, razor-sharp weapons as if they were extensions of their hands.

As more of the crew fell to the swift swords, a small heroic band remained to guard the women. One-by-one, they were slain. A scream rose to Aderyn’s throat and emerged in a loud wail as she watched her father’s body drop. The echo died, not to be replaced with another. Overcome with emotion, she could not cry out again.

She could just watch, her eyes wide in horror. Kathryn, the only woman able to shake herself from the shock of death, grasped her husband’s fallen dagger in a desperate attempt to defend her children. Before she could raise the weapon, a single slash of a long sword cut along her shoulders, dissecting her head from her body.

The echo of her mother’s abbreviated scream rattled in Aderyn’s brain as blood pumped through it, driven by an adrenaline frenzy. Struggling to calm her nerves, she brought the pistol up and, without thought, aimed it into the melee. As her father had taught her, she took a deep breath to steady her aim, then closed her eyes and fired.

The shot hit the man who had killed her mother squarely in the chest. As he fell forward into the huddled girls, he knocked the pistol away; and Aderyn slipped. Unable to regain her feet, she curled beneath her three sisters. As if to blot out the threat of death, she squeezed her eyes close.

Relieved to be free of the view of the carnage, Aderyn cowered behind her human shield. The battle came back to her when a blade slid through Alicia’s body and cut her side in a glancing blow. A seemingly endless scream came from her gut as she reacted to the pain and her sister’s death. Her other two sisters’ voices were soon silenced as well.

A startling calm settled in as she lay beneath the mass of corpses. She trembled and struggled to control the hysteria spreading through her. She fought to blot out the smell of death and blood and to forget the cries of the slain. As much as she wanted to, she could not allow the screams to begin. If she did, she would never stop.

For fear of drawing attention to herself, she dared not take the breath she needed. She forced her eyes open to see what was happening in the stillness. She touched her stinging wound with tentative fingertips. Blood oozed from it, but she didn’t worry about it. Although it was painful, she took heart in the fact she could feel, therefore she was alive.

The mid-morning sun invaded her dark, cramped space to create hothouse heat and humidity beneath the suffocating pile of flesh crushing her. The weight pressed her shoulder into the wet, rough deck. She fought to suppress the fear swelling in her throat again.

What was she going to do now? Her family was dead, leaving her alone. Alone where? She could not give up. What she needed was a plan.

The first thing she had to do was survive, and that meant getting off the ship. It would be better if she were unseen. Then she would worry about the next step.

The fear settled in the pit of her stomach, and she resisted it by concentrating on her escape. If she allowed the panic to grow any further, it would take over her existence and she would die. Would her death help her parents and sisters? Nothing could help them now. And they could not help her.

She would think about the plan, not her plight. If the invaders went away, she would have a chance to escape to the nearby shore. Her muscles twitched, threatening to cramp. They wanted to move, telling her it was necessary. To avoid giving away her existence became harder.

The victors explored the floundering hulk as the sounds of hoofbeats and whinnying horses approached from a distance. With caution, Aderyn wiggled around to peek through the corpses, and witnessed a great flurry of activity among the men. They gathered near the opening in the rail that led to the gangplank. Were they getting ready to depart?

No. An air of expectancy fell over the group. Something, or someone, important approached.

Anxiety seeped through her, making Aderyn’s breath shorter. The feeling grew, and her breath caught in her chest. Concentrating on the air moving in and out of her lungs, she slowed her breathing. She tried to be silent and, as expectantly as the warriors, waited for whatever would happen next.

***

Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide of the clan Minamoto led the parade of superb horses carrying the leaders of his great army to the ocean’s edge. His magnificent bay stallion held his head high and tossed it as the smell of battle and blood filled his nostrils. Sanematsu sat in the saddle, tall and straight, his eyes focused on the ship listing in the rocky surf.

His entourage came to a halt, and grooms ran forward to hold the warhorses as their masters dismounted. Sanematsu moved to the small rowboat manned by two samurai, his strides long and purposeful. He stepped in, found his balance with ease and stood as the men rowed out to the frigate.

He ascended the ladder and stepped onto the deck. Ignoring his bowing warriors, he wandered the deck. He did not like what greeted him, though Sanematsu Yoshihide had seen enough bodies to be untouched by the carnage.

He quickly came to the conclusion that the assault had been for nothing, the ship unimportant, the cargo pitiful. The one cannon and few flintlocks would do little to arm his forces, and the crates of who-knew-what would be useless. What bothered him the most was that these people had died for no reason--every death should be for a purpose.

From the least of his servants to his highest general, every life had a use and each man or woman reason to be born and die. Only in this light could he accept the role to which he had been born. The title of daimyo--“Great Lord”--bestowed upon him many rights and privileges while bringing burdens and obligations enough to weigh on his young shoulders. He felt twice as old as his twenty-five years.

He came back to the foredeck and stopped next to the corpses. The bodies of four women lay sprawled in a heap before the cabin, surrounded by the men who had died defending them.

“Lord Sanematsu, we have inspected below decks.” Matsumoto said in his deep, rough voice. “It seems to be a trading ship, to or from Min-koku. There are numerous crates in the hold.”

“Very well, Matsumoto-uji.” Sanematsu turned his face from the pile. His words coming soft and gentle in his deep-timbred voice. “Secure the wreckage, then remove the dead and have them burned. When that is complete, have the men unload the cargo.”

Matsumoto bowed and turned his back.

“Many pardons, my lord.” He reversed. “The vessel is damaged and may be difficult to secure. Unloading will be perilous. The crates do not appear to have anything of value in them.”

Sanematsu stared at him.

“You were the one who advised the council of the necessity of such an attack. You said ships destroyed on our coast would provide marketable goods and weapons from the world outside Nihon. Weapons denied us by the government. It appears you were wrong. I will have to think twice before I rely on your judgment again.”

A touch of bitterness coated his words. Matsumoto’s counsel was often valuable, even if in a sinister way. Since the beginning of both their military careers, he had served Sanematsu as advisor. While Matsumoto’s methods could be harsh, they helped balance his own more moderate tactics. Theirs was a necessary symbiotic relationship, yin and yang to one another, even if Sanematsu didn’t fully trust Matsumoto.

The Matsumoto clan had been karou to the Sanematsu clan for several hundred years. The position of trusted and loyal retainer of the highest honor gave Matsumoto’s words more weight than those of other men.

But Matsumoto Katsura made Sanematsu Yoshihide’s skin crawl. Short and stocky, his legs bowed, his round and pockmarked face had an ugly scar across his right cheek and flat nose. His bald shiny pate was also scarred, as if someone had beaten him on the head repeatedly with a dull sword but was never able to give the fatal blow. Thick lips in a permanent snarl exhibited yellow, block-shaped teeth.

Although forced to deal with him, since there was no one in his army to replace him, Sanematsu respected the warrior but despised the man, who had become a villain full of spite. Keeping him on a short rein prevented him from doing too much damage--a valuable ally in war, Matsumoto was, in peace, a questionable friend.

“I want the cargo unloaded no matter the cost. It has already been too high. Let the bodies remain on the ship for the sea gods to deal with when it is burned.”

He took a deep breath to give further orders.

***

Aderyn concentrated on the words, happy to have something to consider other than her pain. She recognized the language as Japanese--familiar by her having learned it from a nursemaid. A different dialect than the one she knew, with some words undecipherable, but she could follow the conversation.

The leader of this army, a sure and confident man, interested her. Those around him kept their distance yet were alert to defend him at the slightest hint of need. He would be the one with whom she would have to contend if she were unfortunate enough to be exposed.

He stood a head taller than most of the others. A loose jacket hung open to expose the two swords in a snug girdle around his trim abdomen; he wore the swords with the hilts to the left. Beneath this was a close-wrapped shirt identical to those of his army. A crest on both sides of the upper chest and the sleeves in white detail cut the dark blue and was repeated on the middle of his back. The shirt had a broad collar and crossed in the front to tuck into wide-legged black trousers.

His hair, so dark it appeared to have a blue tinge, was pulled up into a severe topknot, but the forepart of his head was covered with smooth, glossy hair, not tonsured like that of the others. His cleanshaven jaw was square and set. Even on the rolling and pitching ship, he had a sure and steady stance.

Aderyn’s muscles were in agony. Try as she might, she could not ignore the leg cramps. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out and quelled a moan in her throat. If discovered, she would be killed. There was no ally here…unless, some instinct told her, she could prove herself worthy in this man’s eyes.

Oh, God, the pain!

The slightest of unintentional whimpers revealed her hiding place. The warriors standing at their generals’ sides moved with rapid, military precision to pull away the protection of her sisters’ bodies. The weight lifted away from her was a relief; the fresh air rushing over her filled her lungs, replacing the smell of death. Before the glare of the bright morning sun blinded her, a glint flashed off the sword the one called Matsumoto, drawn in the swiftest of moves. Was she about to die?

CHAPTER TWO

NO!”

The gleaming steel stopped a hair’s width from the flesh of her neck. The one called Sanematsu had ordered her life spared. Wide-eyed, Aderyn stared in the direction of the voice.

He put a hand on Matsumoto’s sword arm and looked down at her; their eyes met and held. Her breath came in rapid gulps, and her heart raced. She could imagine what a sight she must be. Her torn gray wool dress, soaked with water, blood and other fluids she did not care to analyze, clung to her body. Her hair, matted and saturated with the same liquids, clung to her head, shoulders and back. A clump dangled down her forehead to drape across her nose and tickle the edge of her mouth before she flung it away with a defiant toss of her head.

She dared not show her fear to this man--he had the authority to let her keep her life, or to take it away. Gaining his respect was imperative. A warrior, he could see courage in an instant and would have immense respect for it, especially from a female. She could not have been in the East for this long and not learn the low regard with which females were held in this part of the world.

“Bring her along.” Sanematsu released Matsumoto’s arm, but did not retreat. He looked down at her, and she kept her eyes locked on his in an unwavering stare. She pretended to be unaware of the cold steel brushing her neck as it was withdrawn and sheathed.

With a questioning look, the Evil One, as Aderyn thought of him, settled his scabbards in the thin girdle around his waist and reached to pull her to her feet. She shook him off and got up under her own power, careful to step from the mass of arms and legs tangled around her. Straightening her dress, she again tossed her hair back out of her face.

“Sire, why do you wish to bother with her? She is of no use. A filthy yabanjin. You have never bothered yourself with spoils of war.”

“Barbarian or not, it is enough for you to know that I do wish her.” Taking his eyes off her for the first time, Sanematsu bent and picked up the flintlock from amid the bodies and tucked it into his girdle alongside his swords. “Order the men back to their tasks.”

“Where do you wish her quartered?”

“Do as you see fit, but do not harm her.” Sanematsu turned on his heel and strode toward the waiting boat. Unhindered by his flowing trousers, he disembarked down the rope ladder with a grace Aderyn had never seen in a man. Soon, his tall form, its back to the ship, was in view as the powerful samurai rowed toward the shore. At the ocean’s edge, he stepped into the shallow water and splashed up the beach to his horse.

Matsumoto gave orders to the men on deck, his harsh tone full of anger. They returned to their duties, and now that Sanematsu departed, he gave Aderyn his full attention.

His smirk increased as his finger traced the edge of the dress, tickling the flesh bulging over the tight bodice. The touch sent shivers up her spine and tears of frustration and anger welled up in her eyes.

His crooked, wicked grin increased. Seeing his pleasure at her unshed tears, Aderyn resolved not to cry. Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, she gave him a direct look while squaring her shoulders to stand ramrod-straight. Defiantly, her breasts remained in reach of the lewd warrior.

“Come.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the rope ladder with a rough tug. He did not hide his nature well nor was he a man who could tolerate a stare such as she exhibited. She suspected his master’s interdiction was the only thing preventing him from taking revenge for her insulting behavior.

Before they could climb down the rope ladder into one of the boats that had brought the boarding party, two men approached. Aderyn took the opportunity to look around the ship as he spoke with them. Although she could translate their words, she did not. The work around her was far more distracting.

Sorrow washed through her anew as the bodies were dragged to the center of the ship, and she blinked away the tears when she thought of her lost family. She renewed her vow to harden her heart, to survive. Today’s joy could be tomorrow’s sorrow. Life was now, and she must take hold of it. The past, even a moment past, was dead, and the future might never be. The present was all she had.

The men bowed and departed. Matsumoto gripped her upper arm once more and propelled her into the rowboat. When they reached land, he ordered the rowers to move the boat high up onto the beach--too good to get his feet wet. The other man had plunged into the surf like a small boy playing in a mud puddle, as if eager to feel the warm water and soft ooze of the ocean’s floor beneath his feet.

The first off the boat, Matsumoto took precise steps to secure his footing as they stepped onto the sandy shore. Aderyn followed, urged on by the soldiers and their swords. Her first efforts to walk up the soft sand resulted in a sprawling tumble. The guard nearest her grunted his commands, prodding her with the blunt end of his staff. The only thing he did not do was put a hand on her to either help her stand or push her along.

Coming up on her hands and knees, the squishy sand oozing between her fingers, she pushed herself upright. As she managed to move on the shore, guards fell in position, their captive at the center.

The samurai marched Aderyn toward a hard-packed road with such haste her skirt entwined around her legs. The pressure to move quicker forced her to hoist her heavy skirts, soaked and crusted with sand, up almost to her hips to free her feet. Her porous slippers made it even more difficult to keep pace.

The first step onto the hard road came as a welcome shock. She kept the heavy skirt lifted even though her progress became easier.

Her height gave her an advantage to see over the heads of her guards. They proceeded through the city, following a narrow street past the houses of fishermen and farmers that lined the outskirts. Full of smells, some easy to distinguish, others strange and exotic, the air had still the salty sting of the sea. She could taste it glazing her lips as it tickled her nose. The heavy odor of fish, rotten and fresh, along with the night soil used to feed the tiny plants growing in small plots near the squalid houses, masked the scents of green grass and flowering plants.

Colorful shops crowded to the very edge of the city, cloth coverings flapping over the window and door openings. Those portals not covered exposed the shops’ wares for customer appraisal--fruits and vegetable in one, housewares in another, fishing supplies in yet a third. People were sprinkled inside and out, dressed in grays and browns, some in black, all the garments draping wraps covering wiry, hard-used bodies. Old women, round and wrinkled, milled around houses. Small children moved at their feet and dress hems, laughing and shouting. The adults worked over their plots of garden or the fishing boats.

As the entourage of soldiers and Aderyn passed them, the villagers stopped their work. They turned and dropped to their knees, unconcerned with the hardness of the ground they knelt on. Prostrating themselves, they rose once the group had passed. Aderyn craned her neck to peer behind and watched the people return to their work without an apparent second thought about the troop and their captive stranger.

The trek led out of the city, passing more gardens and rice paddies up the mountainside. The road’s gradual incline made Aderyn’s calves cramp and ache as the strain increased. Her lungs labored to move oxygen through them, and her heart pulsed hard in her chest. A bright sun beamed in the mid-morning. Sweat rippled down her face and ran in rivulets between her breasts and down the small of her back. She longed to know how much longer she would have to trudge along.

The majestic castle towered above the city. The structure gave the illusion of being carved into the mountain covered with thick green forests behind it. Clouds hid the crest, and a hint of snow at the top peeked out from under the vaporous fringe. The pagoda-like structure came into view from the top to the bottom as Aderyn neared the surrounding wall. The square keep at the center rose from layers of porch-encircled floors, widening as they reached the ground.

At the end of the road, a huge gap opened in the heavy stone walls. Aderyn was not given time to empty the sand from her shoes or take in her surroundings once within them. Matsumoto hustled her to a small house in the rear of the main building.

Inside, a woman knelt on the wooden floor folding small towels. Another moved jars and bowls on a low shelf. Very plain, they were dressed alike in dark clothes, with scarves to protect their hair. They turned in unison, the one standing knelt and both prostrated themselves to Matsumoto.

“Prepare her for Lord Sanematsu.” He turned to the guards who had followed them from the vessel. “Hamasaki-uji, you will remain to watch our lord’s prisoner. Take her to the cells until after his day’s duties.”

“Yes, Matsumoto-uji.” The youngest man inclined forward from the waist. Matsumoto and the others left.

Aderyn paid little attention to her guard, more concerned with what kind of place this was and what Matsumoto meant by “preparations.”

A pleasant, sweet smoke from a fire burning somewhere beneath the small, dark hut flowed through the air. Clumps of wet sand dropped from her skirt to the unfinished hardwood flooring, the planks smooth and gleaming. Fine steam rose from a large redwood vat filled with hot water, making the room humid. Perspiration trickled down her torso.

Because of her childhood in Macao, the strict cleanliness of the Eastern people did not come as a surprise. Her mother had taken exception to this, among other points of Asian custom. Daily sprinklings of face and hands were all Kathryn saw as necessary. Their clothes were seldom laundered, months passing before the long, heavy woolen dresses and multi-layered underclothes were considered unfit for wear. Her hair did not touch water any more often than her body.

Now, she reached to her scalp to scratch at the lice residing there that had come to life, as if they knew their existence was about to come to an abrupt end.

The vat called like a womb into which she could retreat. The desire to be free of the smell and stain of battle increased with the thought of having hot, soapy water cover her from head to toe. She wanted to lower her soiled body into the water and let it soak away the crusted blood on her face, hands and side. The dress was scratchy and stiff, now that the gore had begun to dry.

The women broke into Aderyn’s abstraction when they moved toward her. She protested as they reached to remove her clothes. Undressing and bathing in front of the guard who stood inside the doorway disturbed her. She pushed the women aside and backed away. “No” wouldn’t come in any of her languages. At dawn, she had lost everything except her pride and dignity. Was she to now lose even that?

The harder she resisted, the more persistent the maids became, until they at last overpowered her and tore the dress from her body. They chattered, and although Aderyn understood their words, she remained silent--there were times when silence and seeming incomprehension were the best defense. The petticoat and pantaloons fell away after a bit more protesting, and only Aderyn’s small hands shielded her private areas from Hamasaki’s eyes.

He stood without emotion, eyes front and unseeing. Maybe this was not the first time he had performed such duty. She did not know whether to be hurt or relieved by his lack of interest, but it did not relieve her embarrassment.

As though sensing her shame, the women gave her a small square towel. They guided her to a low stool while they spoke to each other. One woman soaped and scrubbed her skin with a hard brush while the other shampooed her hair. Once they had removed every trace of dirt, buckets of clear warm water cascaded over her head. The smell of blood and death fell away with the water; and Aderyn savored the refreshing sensation of clean skin.

After the smooth, fragrant soap rolled down her body to drip away through the wooden slats, she stepped to the vat. Gritting her teeth, she lowered her body, inch-by-inch, into the tub and sat on the stool beneath the steaming surface. Her body eased once her flesh became acclimated to the heat. Weary muscles unbound, and she grew drowsy.

The women went about tidying the hut, leaving her to her ease. Hamasaki stood, his face stony, looking into some far distance to avoid the sight of the naked woman.

Aderyn kept her guard up, wary of what would happen next. Still, for the first time since she awoke, she could think about something besides surviving. She was curious to learn more about where she was, although fear still filled her. What would her captor do with her now she was all clean and groomed? Would he have his way, and then kill her? Or keep her in some sort of harem to call on at intervals?

The prospect of learning a new culture stirred excitement within her, despite her precarious situation. She had soaked up more about the people of the East in her sixteen years than her father, who had traveled among them daily. The colors of the market and aroma of the foods had piqued her inquisitiveness. The rhythm of the languages and the manner of the people interested her. But each tidbit of knowledge made her hunger for more.

With her curiosity came her gift for tongues. The Jesuit fathers who taught her and her sisters the basics a woman would need were fearful of the young girl whose Mandarin and Cantonese were flawless. Her other basic languages, Welsh and Portuguese, were part of her family. The Japanese frightened them the most. When and where had she learned it? Was it a human language or the Devil’s own tongue?

The answer was simple. Since arriving in Macao as a toddler, she had had Asian nurses because of another of Kathryn’s obsessions. Although Benito’s business provided little better than a good living, Aderyn’s mother had felt a need for servants. Their nurse Hana, a Japanese woman who had fled to Macao with her outcast husband, cared for the children the longest. Aderyn had worshipped the woman, who took every curse and cuff dealt to her, and missed her after she died. She had honored Hana’s memory by remembering her language.

One of the maids touched Aderyn’s arm in a gentle way not unlike Hana’s, and the other woman approached to help take her out of the water. They wiped her body with small towels that felt good on her heat-reddened skin. Since they left her not completely dry, the moisture evaporated with a refreshing cooling sensation.

They medicated and dressed the superficial sword wound, which was more painful than anything. One of the maids held open a plain garment for her to put her arms in. The woman overlapped the front edges and tied it with a sash around her waist. The feel of soft, old cotton enveloped her. Wide sleeves hid her hands, and the hem came to her ankles. The other maid slipped flat straw sandals onto her feet. The snarls were combed from her hair, and it was drawn back and plaited into a rope hanging past her hips.

When the woman announced she could leave, Hamasaki came to life to escort Aderyn to a stone-and-mortar structure set off from the main building. The scent of hay and manure drifted from the nearby stable. Rats and insects scurried away from them as the guard led her down the hall. Spider webs dangled from the corners and draped in thick abundance across the doorways. Shadows clung to every wall.

Hamasaki unlocked the heavy door of the first room; the hinges squealed a protest at being bothered. He stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. He did not push her inside, as she suspected the Evil One would have.

She crossed the threshold into the cold, tiny cell with timid steps. The room smelled musty, as if it had not been used in a very long time. A weak sunbeam came through a small square window with iron bars high up on the wall.

Hamasaki grunted and moved back into the hall. As she stood in the middle of the bleak room, the bolt shot with a metallic thunk.

Aderyn kicked off the sandals, pulled the hem of her garment up to her knees and sat cross-legged on the rough stone floor covered with worn straw mats. Hungry, she did not foresee food being offered any time soon. Then again, she had not been ill-treated so far and supposed a meal would appear. This man for whom she was “prepared” would not wish a malnourished skeleton to share his bed.

A shiver raced through her at the idea of bedding any man. She would never have entertained thoughts of having the Evil One as a lover. What of the other? Looks could be deceiving but he did not appear evil.

Without warning, the horror of her position overcame her. Tears came in a torrent, coursing down her cheeks as reality arrived in a crush of uncontrollable emotion. Sobs wracked her as she went from kneeling to lying with the thin bed covering wadded around her face to prevent anyone’s hearing the loud wails she could no longer keep inside.

Her sisters and parents had perished. Why had she been spared?

At last, the lament stopped; and she drifted into an exhausted sleep, oblivious to her uncertain fate.

CHAPTER THREE

Lord Sanematsu had ridden away with his retainers to a small farming village five miles inland to collect the taxes to support his provinces. With war imminent at all times, the group of samurai drew the attention of the wary peasants--invaders from the northern islands of Nihon or bands of rogue samurai often swooped into small villages to pillage the farms and houses, taking what provisions and women or boys they fancied.

The industrious farmers and peasants stopped working to bow as Sanematsu passed. He nodded his acknowledgment and reined his horse in at the center of the town. There was no distinct area of commerce within the grouping of sporadic dwellings; rice and vegetable growing were more important than lavish living. The low houses were adequate shelter for the hard-working families.

A young boy ran to hold the warhorse’s head but avoided any eye contact with Lord Sanematsu, since to do so was rude and punishable. The boy knew, though, that Sanematsu’s reaction to a familiar look would not be a rebuff but a tousling of his hair.

Sanematsu Yoshihide was not considered an easily angered master; rather, more as a kindly older brother. When Lord Matsumoto was sent to do his master’s work, the town’s mood was different. A volunteer to hold the horse had to be pushed forward, and then several days later, more often than not, the boy would disappear.

The boy who held Sanematsu’s horse today had to fight his way from the group of his peers to have the honor. Like all young peasant boys, he dreamed of joining Sanematsu’s army when he was old enough.

Sanematsu slipped off the right side of his horse as an old man hurried from the common building. The daimyo reached out to prevent him from falling to his knees, knowing the old man’s joints did not take to bending. They stood to exchange their bows. The old man made certain his was deeper, to reflect his respect for his liege lord.

They entered the building that served as the town’s meeting hall and center of government. Sanematsu oversaw the business of tax collecting while his men carried bags of rice and a small amount of gold out to the waiting carts supplied by the village. He sipped tea with the village elders, heard their laments of crop failures and farming difficulties. He could do nothing about these, but he used the knowledge to justify their limited provision of his household.

Lord Sanematsu earned the respect of his subjects with his fairness and sound judgment. With this treatment, it was he who profited, able to count on his people’s loyalty. Keeping him out of war was a greater reward than rice or gold--a village starved and without means to support itself might use what resources it did have to join with an enemy to overthrow him. Bands of ronin--masterless samurai--wandered Nihon in a loose cohesion looking to farmers to provide support for their belligerent efforts, and hungry farmers were whom they preyed on to mount an attack to overthrow a daimyo.

When the teapot was empty and business complete, Sanematsu emerged from the building to reclaim his steed. The boy holding the reins was feeding the horse a sweet cake. Sanematsu concluded the boy had stolen the treat from a vendor, as peasant children seldom had funds to purchase things. He also had the look of a mischievous boy.

“And what would be your name, young horse master?”

“Hosato, sire,” the boy answered, proud to be addressed by the warrior. He stroked the horse’s muzzle to avoid Sanematsu’s eyes.

“You must be about thirteen years old. You were born the year of the greatest rice harvest.”

“Yes, sire.” Thoughtlessly, Hosato looked up to meet Sanematsu’s gaze.

“I often wish I were thirteen again, Hosato.” Sanematsu tousled the boy’s thick hair. “Do your parents honor.”

Hosato blushed. “Yes, sire.” He gulped a breath. “Sire, would there be a place in your army for me? It would be a great honor for me to serve you.”

“You have a sturdy hand with horses.” Sanematsu took the reins and pulled himself up into the saddle. “My horse master may have need of a young man to assist him in his old age. If your father will release you, come to Nishikata-jyo.” He reached into a pouch tied at his waist and removed his chop and a small scroll. With practiced hand, he stamped it and replaced the chop. “Present this to Uma when you come.”

Hosato took the scroll, holding it with the reverence one gave an Imperial summons. Sanematsu smiled. The scroll would give Hosato true celebrity status.

He watched as the boy looked toward the crowd. If the young man was a lesser son, Sanematsu could expect him to arrive at the gates of the walled fortress estate within days, as the farmer would be happy to release him to attend the daimyo’s horses and be one less mouth to feed.

He left Hosato’s village for the next, and continued until he had completed his expedition to six more villages. It would take him every day for half a year to finish collecting taxes from all the towns and villages in his ryo-chi. Because the province he governed was so broad, the task sometimes required daylong journeys and overnight stays.

He could have sent Matsumoto, staying himself at Nishikata to enjoy the fruits of his labors; but he did not trust Matsumoto to share his views on governing and how to treat the peasants. He also liked to show his people his genuine concern for their hardships and his delight in their joys. The brief encounter with the boy Hosato had made this trip worthwhile. Too, there was little of interest for him at Nishikata-jyo.

He returned to his city late in the afternoon and went straight to the audience chamber. There he drank more tea and ate small delicacies sweetened with honey and fruits, and met with his governing body.

As was not uncommon until a young heir reached majority, a Council of Elders had been established by his father’s will when the young Sanematsu first became daimyo. Sanematsu Shigeni had never thought much of his offspring’s military ability and hoped the boy would learn under the older warriors’ tutelage.

Sanematsu’s grandfather, Shigehide, had seen to it, however, that the council was not disbanded, so he could continue to govern through the young heir. Tradition required an able-bodied warrior to lead the army and sit in the hereditary position of daimyo. Yoshihide had nevertheless acquiesced to Shigehide, allowing his grandfather to remain involved, even to control the four old men, warriors with allegiance to Shigeni, who made up the council. He overlooked his grandfather’s influence, comfortable with the support of the older soldiers and wanting the help.

The old men reveled in political discussions, and they called meetings often. Sanematsu did not enjoy the long-winded debates and did his best to avoid attending. Today the council conferred with him regarding his alliance with the Shogun.

The topic of greatest interest was the rumor Ashikaga, the present Shogun, was considering appointing Sanematsu shugo--military governor--of the Satsuma Province. This would improve his position and increase his wealth, but also his responsibility to the shogunate. As shugo, Sanematsu would be required to maintain a residence in Kyoto. The council would go with him and sit in on the meetings to give their advice on the matters brought before the Bakafu.

The tent government of Ashikaga did not have authority over Sanematsu’s army, even if he owed the Shogun his allegiance. This did not mean his domain was safe when he was away. In their eagerness to indulge in all the festivities and vices the Eastern Capital had to offer, the council seemed to forget Sanematsu’s absence would leave the domain vulnerable. For that reason, he was reluctant to pursue the appointment.

He was already allied to the Shogun by the gift to his clan of the Satsuma Province of Kyushu. It had been presented by the Minamoto clan in return for the Sanematsus’ allegiance during the Gempei War in 1185, in compensation for the help of the Sanematsu retainers at Dan-No-Wa, where the Taira clan had been defeated. To be exiled to such an isolated ryo-chi, away from the center of government, was an insult for a clan so closely allied to the victorious Minamoto. It also meant the ruling clan feared Sanematsu’s power, making the posting a double-edged indignity.

Still, Sanematsu enjoyed a unique autonomy that came with Nishikata’s distance from Kyoto and because of the might of his military force. His ability on the battlefield allowed him to make his own rules and ignore those of Ashikaga’s he disliked. Seldom did he use the capability, because the day would come when he would be called to account for his actions.

The position of shugo would take much of this authority and freedom away.

“My Lord, I wish to remind you of your…prisoner.” Matsumoto spoke in a hushed voice at a lull in the elders’ conversation. The council perked up at his words. “It draws late, and I thought you would wish to deal with her before you retire.”

“You have neglected to inform the council of any prisoners taken from the foreign ship,” Shigehide pointed out.

“It is of little consequence, Grandfather.” He brought his feet underneath his hips, readying to stand.

“But are not all foreigners of concern? We must have an opportunity to question any prisoners,” Lord Kaihara insisted.

“I do not think I wish to have the council meet with such a barbarian before I do so myself.”

Now standing, he used his height as a way of intimidating the seated men.

“On the contrary, Lord Yoshihide,” Lord Imaizuni countered. “The council, as governing body of your ryo-chi, is obligated to conduct such interrogations.”

“I remind the honorable lords that I am daimyo of the Satsuma provinces and will do as I please.” Sanematsu firmly, but politely, cut off any further debate. “I am retiring to my rooms. Goodnight.”

As the sun set, he crossed the courtyard. His maid met him at the steps to his quarters and removed his sandals, leaving him with only thick black socks on his feet. He had put one foot onto the verandah outside his chambers when his two eldest daughters assaulted him. The adolescent girls ran to him down the wide porch.

“Father!” Aya and Hatsu greeted him in unison. The area echoed with their laughter.

The girls bowed to their father and daimyo, and then came to his side.

“You must come see our new dances,” Aya, the eldest and Sanematsu’s stepdaughter, insisted.

“Yes, Father, Aya dances so well,” Hatsu asserted. They gazed up at him in adoration and eagerness.

“And you do not, Hatsu?” His firstborn child was shorter than her half-sister and heavier. Both were pretty, attired in uchiki, the multi-layered ensemble of the women they were growing into.

“Please, Father.” Aya took hold of his sleeve.

“Come, Father.” Hatsu imitated her sister.

They pulled their great lord father along by the wide sleeves of his hitatare. His outer garment hung open over his inner shirt, which was closed with the girdle holding his swords. Sanematsu began to laugh as he considered the sight the three must make as he allowed the girls to drag him to the women’s quarters.

His girls, the delight of his life, used their power to persuade their father to do anything they wished. Their time in his household would be short, and their position was always in peril should any of their father’s consorts give birth to a brother. A son would be given all the power the girls now held.

“Good evening, Chiyo and Miyo.” Sanematsu found his younger daughters in the chamber with their nurses and the musicians. He folded his long legs beneath him and sat on one of the cushions a nurse provided. The little girls crawled into their father’s lap and cuddled next to him as their sisters began to dance.

Accompanied by a female samisen player, they moved with practiced grace, their uchiki making a colorful kaleidoscope. The performance was brief, as their study had been short.

“So, Father?” Aya asked. “What do you think?”

“Yes, is not Aya the most talented dancer you have seen?” Hatsu added.

Eager for his attention, the older girls huddled around him, the younger ones still in his lap.

“You are both accomplished dancers. I have never seen such delicate movements. You have worked hard to learn so much in so little time. I am sure your future performances will be even more delightful. Now, I must beg to be released to bathe.”

“Oh, Father,” Hatsu pouted, “We thought you would show us some of the dance moves a warrior learns.”

“Maybe later.” He handed six-year-old Miyo, who had fallen asleep in the comfort of his arms, to her nurse. “I am too tired tonight.” He hugged Chiyo, an energetic three-year-old, and gave her away, also. This freed him to stand. “Goodnight, ladies.”

He embraced the older girls to each of his sides. They encircled his waist to hug him in return.

“Goodnight, Father.”

Sanematsu entered the public chamber, a spacious room, quiet and peaceful, walled with sturdy wooden panels on all but one side. Carved half-panels decorated the back wall, the remainder a mural showing a panorama of the coast of Kyushu painted on the screen above. Heavy dark-wood beams held up the ceiling. In the twilight before the moon rose, candles glowed on the chest and the low tables near the cushions. Paper lanterns with short candles rested on tall poles placed at equal distances around the perimeter of the room.

The furnishings were more elaborate. Two chests stood against opposite walls and a table sat beside an armrest. All were black-lacquered with gilt inlay of a simple design. A sword rack stood inside the door, and several large cushions and another armrest sat in the corner. The zabuton had quilted covers of linen and silk, filled with barley husks.

Near the entry was a niche with an unadorned vase fitted with two cuttings. Tatami covered the floor from wall to wall, giving off a fresh green scent that blended with the incense rising from an altar atop the shorter of the chests. The second chest was tall, with long panels that opened to reveal numerous drawers.

The unadorned shoji were moveable, allowing the rice-paper-paneled walls to be opened for fresh air. One stood open when he entered.

The instant he slid the door closed behind him, his mistress was at his side. He waved Tsuta away. He was not hungry, being full of the afternoon’s tea. He loosened the girdle holding his swords, and then removed them. He placed the short sword in a rack and carried the long one with him to the corner, where he sat cross-legged on a zabuton. The sword in its scabbard rested on the floor at his right.

Sanematsu sat, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. His back was straight, his head held high, his body and mind weary. Meditating, he waited for the energy to bathe. His head fell forward, and then he jerked awake.

Hamasaki and a girl stepped into the room, admitted by Sanematsu’s private guard, who stood vigilant in the outer hall.

“My lord.” Hamasaki dropped to his knees. A hand clasped on the woman’s wrist forced her down with him. She bowed forward in like manner.

“Greetings, Hamasaki-uji.” He bowed, and then all three straightened. “You may depart.”

Hamasaki fled, and the personal guard fell back and closed the shoji. The panel slid without resistance on its thin wooden frame with a faint hiss followed by a definitive snap.

Sanematsu berated his carelessness. Dozing off could have cost him his life. Since childhood, he had been drilled never to show a sign of weakness or appear less than perfect. It angered him to have to be so rigid in every facet of his life. He wanted to be at ease in his household, but nothing about his life promised relaxation.

He shook the cobwebs from his brain while he tried to recall who this was. When he remembered her--the prisoner from the ship--he was amazed. She looked so different from the filthy, gore-covered girl she had been. With half a heart, he motioned for her to come forward.

***

Aderyn stood and walked to a zabuton a few feet in front of Sanematsu. She knelt on the floor cushion and sat on her heels, watching her captor. Confusion clouded his dark eyes. He did not remember her!

He signaled for a maid and requested tea. The servant returned minutes later and, after he moved the sword to his left, knelt at his right. Aderyn watched her prepare the tea. Her black hair, straight and long, framed a face with delicate features powdered pale, and red paint adorned her mouth. Her hands, too, were delicate and tiny, and lacquer glistened on the nails of her long, slender fingers.

The man did not look at the maid often, but when he did, Aderyn could read lust in his eyes--she had not spent so many years with lecherous, woman-starved sailors without noticing the leers. Though she had been aware of her elder sisters’ keeping company with sailors in the darkest areas of the ship, the men terrified her and she avoided them.

Well, if he looks so at her, he will have no need of me!

No longer afraid, she grew curious. She had received fair treatment since the moment Hamasaki had awakened her with a tray of food in the afternoon. She was so hungry she did not care or remember what she had eaten. The Evil One then came and ordered Hamasaki to take her to Sanematsu’s quarters after the daimyo had dined. A short while later, a woman arrived and spoke in muted tones to the young guard and he had brought her here.

As she came out of the prison, she noticed a deep glow in the western sky, changing shape. A stream of smoke billowed; cinders flew. Imagining her father’s ship disappearing beneath the water in flames brought anguish to her heart. No hope of escape, no familiar language or customs. No family to join her in her exile except in her memory. She was alone without ally.

Or was she? The man who saved her life could be such. Wiping a tear off her cheek, she had continued after Hamasaki.

The maid’s gesture for her to move closer interrupted Aderyn’s reverie. This brought her within inches of the table in front of Sanematsu, her knees under its edge. The maid poured the tea and presented the first bowl to her master. With a nod of his head, he took it, his eyes resting on her. She repeated the process and offered the small bowl to his prisoner. Concentrating on preventing her hands from trembling, Aderyn reached to take the delicate cup, but it slipped through her fingers, damp with nervous sweat.

Hot tea rushed across the tabletop toward Sanematsu. Jumping to help, Aderyn upset the table. The teapot tipped backwards and emptied onto his leg. The maid began to mop his clothing with her wide sleeve. The simple, light garment soaked up the liquid effectively.

“I am sorry!” Aderyn reached forward. “Please let me help.”

“My lord, let me help you.”

Both fussed over him and spoke at the same time. Sanematsu’s concentration was on the hot liquid soaking through the final layer of his trousers, not on who was talking. The chaos abated when it was blotted up.

“I hope you will forgive me. It was all my fault,” Aderyn repeated.

“Do not concern yourself, Tsuta-sama.” Sanematsu straightened his clothing, not looking at either female.

At Tsuta’s quick intake of breath, he looked up to see her staring between him and the foreigner, a hand held over her mouth in astonishment.

“Why do you look so strange, Tsu-sama?” He picked up his sword to inspect it for tea stains.

“I did not speak, my lord. She did.”

Tsuta looked at Aderyn, who had once more settled back on her heels on the zabuton.

“You spoke?” Sanematsu waved a hand at Tsuta. She arranged the room so no evidence of the mishap remained, and then disappeared with the used teapot and table.

“Yes. I am sure I do not speak your language well, but I do have knowledge of it.”

Hana had warned her that Japanese was a language in which it was easy to insult others without meaning to. She did not want to insult this man with the long sword on his lap and her life in his hands.

The uproarious laughter her sentence triggered startled her. The tension evaporated as Sanematsu laughed with deep, warm guffaws. He wiped at the tears in his eyes from the fit of hilarity.

Aderyn sighed. Now she was sure she was in Japan.

Marco Polo’s great book about Cathay had mentioned Zipagu, and it had fascinated her. Because of that and Hana, she would be able to communicate without the use of interpreters, an advantage she had over Polo. Where to begin? A million questions sprang to mind.

“Your speech will pass.” Sanematsu composed himself. His tone showed neither gladness nor disapproval. “A few words need to be improved. I am sure we can work on that.”

Calm fell over the chamber, and they exchanged comfortable looks. Aderyn drew her first easy breath. Any man who could laugh so gaily could not be as depraved as she suspected. Unlike the Evil One, whose laugh curdled her blood, this man’s warmed her soul.

Sanematsu called to the guard outside. The man entered, knelt to bow then approached in response to Sanematsu’s beckoning hand.

“Yes, my lord” was all Aderyn heard. The samurai bowed once more and turned to her.

“I will find time to speak with you later.” Sanematsu dismissed her. “You will be escorted to more comfortable quarters.” He stood, sword in hand, and departed.

The guard did not move until Sanematsu had vanished. Then he turned and grunted to Aderyn. She interpreted this to mean “move.”

She followed the warrior through a maze of corridors and up several flights of stairs to a place he informed her in the fewest words possible was the women’s quarters. The room, in an isolated corner of the fortress, was stark except for a low table and a paneled screen. Fresh, clean-smelling tatami covered the floor, a candle shielded by four paper panels burned on a table.

The unhindered view of the ocean though the shoji separating the room from the veranda enthralled her. As the guard closed the panel behind her, she turned from watching the water move through a wide beam of moonlight falling across the waves. Moments later, a maid appeared to help her prepare for the night. She did not speak as she went to the left side of the room and knelt to pull a panel aside. This revealed a three-drawer chest inside a small alcove.

“This is tansu.” The girl put her hand against the chest to indicate what the word referred to, and then removed a garment from the top drawer. She moved to Aderyn and handed her the garment. “You wear this for sleeping. It is called kosode, which means ‘small-sleeved.’ It is worn beneath the osode, which is what you are now wearing and which means ‘large-sleeved.’”

Aderyn accepted the garment and fumbled with the belt of her osode. Seeing her difficulty, the maid came and soon pushed the soft cotton off her shoulders. Aderyn drew the unlined kosode on and wrapped it around, tying it by the two small strings inside. Unlike the first garment, it was soft and smooth, the material caressing her skin.

“I will open your futon. It is where you sleep.”

The maid moved to the tansu again, pulled open the doors at the bottom and removed a folded pad and a wooden block. She spread the bedding out and laid a cover over it. The wooden block sat at one end.

“This is your pillow. Sleep well.”

Aderyn nodded as the girl slipped through the shoji. She crawled beneath the soft quilting atop the thick cotton padding. When she blew out the candle in the rice-paper lamp, darkness enveloped the room, and she settled down to sleep.

The night’s sounds crept in, becoming louder as the household retired for the night. Night birds called to one another; insects chirped. Dogs barked and horses neighed. A brief but raucous catfight occurred. An occasional voice floated to her ears. They were calming sounds, soft and gentle. Aderyn burrowed deeper into the cozy nest. She felt content, comfortable. Now, instead of fear, she was excited about exploring this man’s world.

Her peace was short-lived as visions of the ship battle resurfaced and she noticed the shadowy backs of two guards silhouetted on the opaque shoji.

***

In his sleeping quarters, a new wave of exhaustion washed through Sanematsu as his servant helped him undress. He removed the katiginu and hitatare, which left him wearing an undergarment comprised of a length of white silk wound around his slender hips. The scant fundoshi did little to cover his buttocks and came up just above his pubis to leave his flat abdomen bare.

He washed his face and hands in a basin of clear water and with a small cloth sponged the reddened area of his left thigh where the scalding tea had been spilt. There was no real damage to the skin. He thought about the comical episode and smiled.

He lay down on the bedding Yaemon had spread out; the boy-servant tucked the mosquito netting around the futon and left his master to sleep. The panel had not had time to click shut before Tsuta entered and joined her master in his bed.

“I did not summon you,” Sanematsu said as she snuggled next to his bare body.

“Your samurai sent for me.” Her fingertips played over the skin on his chest. “Do you wish for me to depart?” she purred.

Sanematsu took her hand in his to still its aggravating movements.

“Yes.”

As she sat up, Tsuta’s sleeping garment gaped open and her lips formed into a childish pout. She moved his hand to her breast.

“Are you certain, sire?”

“Leave me!” Sanematsu jerked his hand away and turned his back to her. Hearing her leave, he relaxed, happy to be alone in his bed.

He folded his arms under his head as he lay on his stomach. His thoughts returned to the strange female residing under his roof. He wanted to know what the barbarian knew, but did not know where to start. If she had military knowledge to share, knowing this would intrigue the Shogun. It would give him something to offer in return for her life, supposing he wanted to spare her further.

Why he did stay her execution was a quandary, since he could be forced to order it in the near future. The men under his command who had observed his actions were also a consideration. He had no way to explain to them he was tired of death.

He was a warrior, as they were, bound by the same chivalric code of bushido. Yet he had another authority, that of daimyo. As feudal lord, his actions required no justification. What he wanted, he did without regard to his army or subjects. He was required to answer only to his emperor, his conscience and, in his case, his Council of Elders.

He would decide the barbarian’s fate in the morning.

CHAPTER FOUR

Aderyn awoke, startled by the shoji’s opening. Groggy from deep sleep, it took her several minutes to recall where she was. She sat up, her neck stiff from sleeping on the odd wooden block, as a woman entered.

This was not the maid from the previous night. Small, dressed in layers of robes, the edges of which overlapped at the neck, she carried herself with a proud, more refined mien. Her dress had a base of plain white, with the overlying layers shades of green from the color of pale sea foam to that of the dark forest. Her long hair was pulled back and tied at the nape, with a tall comb stuck into the base. She had a pleasant round face.

She bowed. Aderyn affected a half-bow from her bed.

“I am Sachi, wife of Hikita-sama.” She spoke in soft tones, her words an airy, breathless effort. “My master wishes I become your personal attendant. I will answer your questions and teach you that which you should know.”

Sachi appeared to be a few years older than she was and did not present the cold front the others had. Aderyn hoped she and this young woman could be friends. She longed to talk with someone. There were so many questions, so much to learn.

“I would appreciate that, Mistress Hikita.”

“So sorry. You should address me as Sachi-sama. My husband’s family name is Hikita, but Nihonese wives are called by one name. ‘sama’ follows a name as an honorific. This means ‘honored one’ and is used when addressing those of one’s own rank or higher. ‘Ue’ is used with close family members. The samurai will call one another by ‘uji’ if addressing each other by their clan name or ‘dono’ if using their personal name. The peasants and the people of the fields are not addressed so. Their names are the words for their profession. Like carpenter, roofer or fisherman.”

“Oh. Thank you, Sachi-sama. My name is Aderyn Aquilla. Please call me Aderyn. It is my given name, and Aquilla is my father’s name.”

“Then you belong to no man, Aderyn?” Sachi stumbled over the name.

Aderyn noticed Sachi did not use “sama” after her name. Apparently, the woman did not regard them as equals.

“No. I do…not.” She would soon be considered an old maid but supposed the point was moot.

“So sorry.” It was hard to tell whether Sachi was sorry she had asked or sorry Aderyn was unattached. Before she had time to pursue the subject, her new personal attendant began helping her get ready for the day.

“This is an uchiki,” Sachi explained as she helped Aderyn arrange the ensemble of long robes. She had chosen red, with a white kosode beneath many layers of beautiful silk osode. The shades of red flowed from light to dark as her greens did.

Aderyn liked the close-fitting silk attire. Even though weighty, the fabric made the garments feel airy and free, unlike the bulky petticoats, pantaloons and woolen European dresses. Sachi tied the sash into a large flat knot at the small of her back in a deft motion. Then Aderyn wiggled her big toe into odd thick white socks. The slit between her first toe and the last four made it easier to wear the sandals, but she did not put them on. Shoes, Sachi explained, were worn outside, never in the house.

“They would crush the delicate reeds of the tatami, mar the wooden floors and bring the dirt of the world inside. Please, sit. I will bring your tea.”

Sachi put the futon away while Aderyn knelt on the floor in the manner she had seen both Sachi and the woman with Sanematsu do. Sachi set a table before her. She went to the shoji at the back of the room and received a tray from a servant. She returned and placed the tea things on the table.

“We do not eat our first meal until the sun is at its peak. Now, we have tea.” She poured.

Only tea? Aderyn hoped her empty stomach did not rumble and let everyone know how hungry she was. She had always had a healthy appetite, was used to eating the same meals her sailor father did. Concerned she would become obese; her mother had always been after her not to be such a glutton.

She and her new friend drank the hot tea without talking. As the sounds of servants moving through the corridors and workers outside filtered in to them, Aderyn wanted to rush to the open panel and watch the inhabitants go about their daily chores. Unable to do so, her thoughts filled with questions.

“Where am I?”

“I am sure our lord will be most honored to answer some of your questions.” Sachi lowered her eyes, intent on the tea bowl. “I must bring up something which I hope you do not think of as rude.”

“Please speak freely, Sachi-sama.”

“It is your speech. Nihonese is a language of several layers, from that of the peasants and farmers to that of the samurai and even further to the language used by the imperial court. So sorry, but yours is the speech of the lower classes.”

“Oh.” Aderyn sipped her tea. “I guess Lord Sanematsu does not wish for me use it, then?”

“No, he does not, nor will you be able to understand what he is saying if he uses his manly words. He will allow your poor language to himself but does not wish you to speak with others, who would not excuse you.” Sachi allowed a grin to come to her lips. “There is also a language for women in which we can speak our minds without insulting the men.”

“And you will help me with all of these?”

“It is my duty.” Sachi went back to her tea bowl.

***

As she and the foreigner drank tea, Sachi thought back to her conversation with Sanematsu the night before. Surprised when he sent a maid to summon her from her bed, she had no choice but to comply with the command. His further request was equally baffling. He wanted her to make the foreigner feel comfortable enough to confide in her. He wanted to know things about the girl, and he wanted her to know their ways.

Normally, Sachi would not allow a stranger to call her by name, but Lord Sanematsu had instructed her to become the barbarian’s teacher. He ordered her to make the mysterious woman a friend. So, Sachi would treat her as such from the start.

On untried ground, she was afraid of this barbarian female. Like the rest of his subjects, she never doubted the wisdom of Sanematsu yet did allow herself a bit of bemusement. No foreigners, not even victims of shipwrecks or from ships that had been stolen by pirates, had ever been allowed to stay alive in Nihon. For the foreign girl to do so put her daimyo in danger. It endangered them all. If he were executed for his indiscretion, his subjects could face death or worse. Did the girl have strange powers, as some suggested foreigners did, to cause Lord Sanematsu to risk all their lives?

She kept her suspicions silent and threw herself into the task before her.

“Will I be seeing him today?” Aderyn’s words brought Sachi back from her thoughts. She tried to imitate the ritual of tea-pouring while Sachi guided her with only her hands.

“He is a very busy man and will let me know when he has time.”

She corrected the barbarian’s speech, subtly and politely, so she would know the words proper to use when speaking with the Lord of Satsuma Province. And, with the wisdom of a mother, she made sure Sanematsu’s Barbarian was comfortable, which included a trip to the privy behind the dwelling. The secluded pathway kept her from seeing much of Sanematsu’s world, but when they returned to her room, Sachi led her out into the public areas of the castle.

***

Sachi guided Aderyn through Lord Sanematsu’s residence. Down the halls, past closed shoji, she could feel unseen eyes watching them but did not speak of it. Sachi told her these were the women’s quarters. Glancing into the open rooms, Aderyn saw they were empty except for an occasional chest or pile of pillows. She wished she could study the brush strokes on the silk panels of folding screens standing open in two of the rooms.

When they stepped into an inner courtyard garden, a maid provided Aderyn with sandals. A cobblestone pathway led into the building on the opposite side through the islands of small pebbles groomed into precise designs. All around, the castle rose above them. Once more slipping off the sandals, they entered the wing, and Aderyn followed Sachi down a corridor to a stairway.

“These are the banquet and public audience rooms where Lord Sanematsu greets his people.”

Aderyn recognized the chamber were she had upset the tea table. She would rather not be reminded of it. The women moved further into the residence.

Sachi paused in the corridor at the entrance to a larger, grander audience hall. Made of silver with a golden background of tree branches and flower blossoms, a pair of sculpted cranes flew downward toward each other on the heavy oak door panels.

“These panels are called fusuma.” Sachi noticed her charge’s rapt stare. “They were fashioned by an artist in Kyoto and transported here. Our master is a patron of artists and very knowledgeable about such things.”

Inside the room, more gold emblazoned the walls, panels and ceiling. Eight huge pillars of oak, unadorned, rubbed smooth to show the natural grain, held up the ceiling. Maids cleaned the shoji and hardwood floor. A raised platform set with cushions, an armrest and a writing table took up the far end of the wide, bare room.

“The household servants live in the back so they can come and go without disturbing the master and his family.” Sachi continued her lecture as they walked through the back doorway into another hallway.

Aderyn trailed her fingers over the beautifully carved railings as the two women ascended the large stairway. Sachi left her no time to examine the artwork.

“These are Sanematsu-sama’s private rooms. Also, those of the male members of the household and his family.”

“He must have a large family,” Aderyn muttered, but Sachi heard her.

“Yes and no. Most of the rooms are empty while older retainers of long-standing use some. Lord Sanematsu’s grandfather and our master’s three daughters are his blood relatives. He has one stepdaughter. There is also his half-sister, who is in charge of his household business.”

They went back out to the courtyard. Guards stood at intervals along the ledge of the high wall encircling the very large compound. The protective wall enclosed the gardens, both vegetable and flower, along with the stables and kitchens, outhouses and workshops. The castle, tiered like a cake, rose above the tall trees and spread out at the base into wings, separated by flower-filled oases. Wide verandahs encircled the first story and several higher ones, open to the elements but with shoji that could be closed to shut out the world. A heavy wood-and-iron gate closed the castle grounds off from the city. There were no other breaches in the wall surrounding the compound.

Servants’ quarters and the garrison, both to the rear of the grounds, joined the daimyo’s dwelling. Large amounts of fine sand covered a wide area beside the garrison. Aderyn recognized the bathhouse where she had been reborn near the part of the house designed for Lord Sanematsu. The kitchen was behind the women’s quarters.

Sachi did not offer to tour Aderyn through the shrine standing opposite the garrison. Large in neither width nor height, it appeared to be so a tall man could just manage to stand upright inside. A water bucket and ladle rested on the porch beside the broad, dark doorway. A porch, floored with boards polished to a glossy sheen, encircled the entire hardwood building.

Sachi prodded Aderyn along politely, directing her into the house. Inhabitants of the unique world moved through it without care or concern for the stranger within their universe. Gardeners tended the growing things; grooms brushed spirited horses; soldiers worked at martial exercises in the area next to the barracks. The kitchen garden grew food for the household; in others, flowers and greenery flourished for beauty. In a corral near the stables a man worked with a horse. An older man showed a young boy how to care for the tack used by samurai. Women’s work centered on the house, scrubbing and polishing everything in sight. Even the smallest child had a cleaning task.

Aderyn’s calves ached by the time they returned to the residence, and she kicked off the wooden sandals at the first step with a grateful sigh. In her room, the women sat down to the first meal of the day, and Sachi continued Aderyn’s training in the area of proper dining etiquette. Aderyn knew how to use the eating sticks, which she suspected surprised her teacher.

***

Inside the shrine, Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide knelt before the altar. A stone icon of Nihon’s god of war and warriors sat on a small wooden table. Two hundred years ago, the first Sanematsu daimyo had commissioned a stonecutter in Kamakura to fashion the twenty-eight-inch-tall image of Hachiman Taro astride a warhorse.

Sanematsu came here every morning to pray to the fierce god for the strength and wisdom necessary for his position in life. At his most vulnerable, he prayed alone, unguarded. When he was out in the public world, at all other times, his guards surrounded him. Two were on duty outside his room at night while he slept and at the doorway of any room during his waking hours. Only the most trusted retainers were given the weighty responsibility of seeing to Sanematsu’s safety. After so many years of such protection, he no longer noticed their presence.

As he sat in deep thought in the cool darkness, the sound of the mandatory three handclaps to draw the god’s attention faded. The sweet smell of the incense sticks wafted through the air. Here, he could drop the façade he showed the world.

The real Sanematsu would fight when necessary but found no joy or pride in war. Alone in the shrine, he could give in to the emotion threatening to erupt when he scanned the battlefield and anguished over the deaths he had witnessed. He could drop his shoulders, let the mantle of daimyo roll off and be tired.

Today, he brought confusion and bewilderment to Hachiman Taro. He had canceled his tax-collecting expedition to remain at home. Most of the time, he dreaded the confines of the castle walls. He enjoyed traveling through the countryside, the nights sleeping in the open with his warriors about him; his concerns those of men. He could ignore the problems of women and the difficulties they presented in his life.

Yet today he did not want to be away. He was powerless to get the strange woman out of his head.

The memory of her on the ship and then the previous evening remained etched in his mind. Kneeling before the tea tray, clad like one of Nihon’s peasant women, her face and hair stood out like a rare flower among common ones. She had been bold, staring at him when he had discovered her on the ship, and her demeanor had been defiant. Was she not afraid of him? He who held her life in his hands? A man who could easily, and justifiability, have had Matsumoto sever from her shoulders the head she held so erect with its small chin thrust out?

The night before, he had admired the way she sat, shoulders square, eyes straight forward, a slight smile on her pink lips. She did not cower before the Great Lord. Those eyes, looking into his with confidence, fascinated him. They were a color he had not known existed, reminding him of a lime--a crisp and clear green.

The lighter shade of her hair attracted him, also. The bath maids had pulled the brown tresses with shots of reddish-gold back into one heavy braid hanging down to brush the floor when she knelt. Her skin hue was between dark and fair, the pink tinge covering her cheeks in a permanent blush reddened when she was embarrassed. Her body was as abundant as that of a young wife and mother, but her face held a soft, girlish innocence. All of this combined to touch him.

Nothing about the woman should interest him at all. A samurai’s only dealings with women were of an intimate nature. In return, their chief concern was to care for his every need. Allowing himself to be so bothered by her was not appropriate.

Most intriguing was the part of the world she represented, an area all of Nihon had been shielded from. The Nihonese were too concerned with warring to venture far from their shores. Then, too, the ruling samurai feared outside influence and the threat of conquest by foreigners. Sanematsu viewed this differently, sure there was much to learn from other lands. The knowledge she might possess intrigued him. The woman was his key, although to what he was not sure.

CHAPTER FIVE

Matsumoto Katsura entered the shrine, the only one who dared interrupt Sanematsu when the daimyo was with his god or a woman. The feudal lord needed to be available to his second-in-command at any time without notice. He placed his swords in the rack beside Sanematsu’s. The law required an armed soldier to remain seven feet from a higher lord--a law he and all his kind struggled to obey.

A samurai lived with his swords, wearing them or having them at hand at all times, and setting them aside was difficult, even when done voluntarily.

Matsumoto looked covetously at the scabbards of Sanematsu’s swords, made famous by legend. If only fate had put those blades into his keeping, he would now rule Satsuma Province instead of playing nursemaid to a man who played with children.

Lord of the Satsuma Province Sanematsu Yoshihide had power over a third of the inhabitants of Kyushu. He commanded an army of five thousand-plus men sworn to do his bidding no matter what he asked. The code of bushido held obligation to daimyo the ultimate duty. To fail at that giri resulted in dishonor, disgrace and death by the ritual self-kill, seppuku, the ultimate answer for dishonor. No matter how much Matsumoto loathed Sanematsu, he was linked to the Sanematsu clan because of their families’ allegiance to one another.

For generations, the Matsumoto clan had been allied to the Sanematsu. Their great-great-great-great grandfathers were foot soldiers serving Hojo NagaMiyo, a general of the Minamoto clan and, showing themselves loyal, had been rewarded.

Sanematsu’s ancestor had distinguished himself further, surviving the Mongol invasion of 1281 and saving the noted general’s life. For this, he rose in rank. Matsumoto Katsugoro, Katsura’s progenitor, did not garner the same honors, and was left to rise through the ranks to the position of general and receive the title of karou to Sanematsu Shigemasa, the position still held by Matsumoto Katsura.

Sons were born, and upon them more honors were heaped. The Sanematsu attained the ultimate rank of daimyo, an exalted title with heavy pressures and decisions. A Sanematsu two generations past had made a wrong alliance and fell from grace but not power. The ties between the two families remained, and they were cast out of Kamakura with their daimyo to a fief on Kyushu.

As the Matsumoto clan served the Sanematsu, discontent increased with each new branch of the family tree. Now Matsumoto Katsura combined the anger and resentment with a personality capable of acting on the ambitions so long held in check.

He did not linger on his animosity today, as more pressing business forced his hunger for power aside for the time being. He moved near Lord Sanematsu.

“My lord.” He spoke so as not to alarm him.

“Come.”

***

Sanematsu did not turn. He had been aware of Matsumoto’s presence the moment the karou stepped inside the shrine, seeing him with his sixth sense. Matsumoto had never been able to hide his envy of Sanematsu’s perfection of what their sensei called hara-gi, the art of seeing without seeing, any more than the man could hide his hatred of his position as second to a man he despised.

His flesh crawled in Matsumoto’s presence. Equals on no level, Matsumoto exceeded him in lust, greed, treachery and shrewdness. He despised the man, respected the warrior and mourned the adolescent who had been his friend but had grown into a villain full of spite.

“It has been some time since we talked as childhood friends,” he commented, airing his thoughts.

“We are no longer children, sire.” Matsumoto knelt beside him. They faced the altar, but Matsumoto did not offer the god his devotion.

“How well aware of that I am, Katsura-dono.” Sanematsu sighed. He longed for the blissful days of boyhood, with their freedom from responsibility and absence of care. For a moment, he wished to be young and innocent once more. “It has been a long time since we played in the garden.”

“It has, sire.” Matsumoto bowed his head to him.

“Can you not bring yourself to call me by my name? Even in private?”

First names were not bandied about among their people; it was an ultimate honor to be asked to call another by that name a mother gave her son. The closeness of a strong friendship permitted its use. Sanematsu had given that freedom to Matsumoto when they were youths, before he was aware of Matsumoto’s treachery.

“I will try, Yoshihide-dono.”

“You come to reproach me.” He knew what Matsumoto wished to say to him. They seldom had conversations that did not involve business of the army.

“I am concerned about the attitude of the men after your actions aboard the ship. Regretfully, it is my task as karou to remind you that you cannot afford to be reduced in the garrison’s eyes.”

Sanematsu knew his preoccupation with the barbarian woman was causing muttering among the household staff. The servants were, in theory, to close their eyes to whatever the lord of Satsuma Province chose to do, but he had heard the whispers of the maids this morning. Not that any of them would deny him his pleasures, but this girl was a foreign devil! He had overheard them speculating whether there where not sufficient women among the civilized people of Nihon to satisfy his lusts.

Sanematsu turned on his knees to face Matsumoto. The warrior he had called ally coveted everything he had--his power, his position, his possessions and his women. His appetite for sexual playthings was well known, as Matsumoto was never subtle in his lusts. Sanematsu could almost see the hot rush of passion in his eyes at the thought of taking the barbarian in the same manner he had often employed with defeated enemies’ women. Matsumoto’s admonishment seemed quite hypocritical.

“My honorable karou, I appreciate your concern. I also know many things about you and your appetites. You have a taste for that which is not yours to enjoy.” His forceful and robust voice echoed in the small dwelling.

“I do not understand what you mean.” Matsumoto’s eyes narrowed in mock confusion, but Sanematsu read him with ease.

“I think you do. You are more acquainted with indulging in the passion for women than I, so I am sure you think I ordered the foreign woman taken prisoner for certain pleasures you have tasted. I assure you I did not have the same thoughts you did.”

“So sorry, but I wonder if it is too soon since the honorable Lady Masa’s death for you to return to your duties,” Matsumoto’s words were full of respect but his tone lascivious. “The ashes of Lady Masa’s funeral pyre have been cold less than half a moon.”

Sanematsu studied the thin stream of smoke rising from the incense, the stick half-spent. One hour had elapsed in prayer and still calm had not come over his soul. With Matsumoto’s arrival, his unrest had become worse.

“Masa was very beautiful, was she not?” he commented.

“It has been spoken throughout the province that Lady Masa rivaled the goddess Amaterasu Omikami with her great beauty.” Matsumoto used words designed to cloak any overt observation of his daimyo’s wife’s beauty.

Masa, daughter of Kazamaki Sukezane, had been fourteen when she came to the twenty-year-old Sanematsu as bride, tiny, with large, oblong eyes dark as ebony and glowing, her hair cascading to her knees in a black river and framing a face as white as alabaster. Her grace had been certain to catch the eye of every man, even though to look upon the daimyo’s wife, or any of his women, was punishable by death in the most dishonorable manner. There were ways, however, not to be caught.

Sanematsu would confront Matsumoto in time, but he could not be direct until his enemy revealed some hint of his guilt himself. Matsumoto would be even more dangerous once he learned the truth of his transgression was known.

“It is unfortunate the child died with her. Especially for you.”

“Sire, I must…I am…” Matsumoto stuttered.

“Do not speak.” He delighted in the man’s incautious reaction--he had managed to rattle the usually unflappable samurai. His suspicion justified, now he could confront him. “I have known about you for a long time, my friend. And. still, I call you ‘friend.’” He must keep Matsumoto unsettled. He was still much more useful alive and on guard than dead and guilt-free.

“Sanematsu-uji…sire…”

“Do not deny it. It dishonors you more to lie. I know you stole into Masa’s bed, and that she welcomed you there. Have you not wondered why I allowed her to depart from life?”

Matsumoto stared at him, shock and dismay covering his visage for an instant. Sanematsu credited him for his quick recovery.

“I did not ask it of her,” Sanematsu admitted, once more intent on the incense. “She came for my permission of her own will, as was her duty. I would have been forced to order it when the child was born.”

He swallowed hard, remembering the fetal corpse Masa had ripped from her body in the act of ritual seppuku. She had forgone the usual throat puncturing favored by women in order to assure the child’s death.

“She could hardly present me with the product of adultery as my heir.” A bastard of his own could become heir, but the rules for women were different.

He sat, in silence, regarding Matsumoto. They had been children together, fostered at the same temple, taught by the same teachers, fought side-by-side in their first battle and from there planned and executed many more. He knew all of Matsumoto’s foibles long before Matsumoto did himself.

This intimate understanding made him well aware of the attraction of his general to his first wife, Nene. The young men had spent too many hours over sake, reveling amid drunken stories and pursuits of young maidens, for him not to know.

Before Nene was acknowledged as betrothed to Sanematsu, Matsumoto could speak of no other girl. Sanematsu had watched him nurture the seed of covetous hatred planted in his heart on their joining day, and soon the vine grew to enshroud his whole being, choking off any goodness he might have possessed.

The council and Lord Shigehide arranged the joining for the proper reasons. A samurai did not take a wife based on what his heart felt but, rather, the political needs of his clan. Seven years his senior, widow of a daimyo of a nearby ryo-chi, Nene brought with her a three-year-old daughter and her husband’s domain.

After the announcement, Matsumoto asked to serve Satsuma Province by joining the warriors sent each year to increase the emperor’s army at Muromachi. Sanematsu honored the request, and the deepening evil had overcome Matsumoto there. He returned a man different from the one Sanematsu had sent. But, by then, neither was Sanematsu the same.

Remembering Nene brought thoughts of his other wives. He failed to care for Nene as a husband ought, but they had been comfortable with their roles and accepted their duties. She had been a good wife and mother in all respects, obedient and faithful, so he was certain he had fathered his eldest daughter. Sanematsu fed his lusts in the Willow World and she…well, women had few appetites and were allowed to fulfill them in their own, solitary ways.

Matsumoto had by then joined with Nami and was fathering sons, legitimate or otherwise.

Sanematsu wished he could have managed a similar contentment with Suye, the council’s second political choice. How he hated her…and she, him! He would have given his permission for Matsumoto to have a chance with her--they were suited for one another.

Confronting him at every turn, she lashed out with an acid tongue that no amount of punishment would quell. It was as if she knew he did not have the heart to put her aside or have her killed, as was his right. He finally took action to bring harmony to his house by sending her away, out of his sight. She had died a year later of a fever epidemic in the North.

Suye had given Sanematsu his second daughter Miyo, now six, and, his third and last wife, Masa had given birth to Chiyo three years ago to increase his delight. Seen as unfavorable, the birth of girl children softened Sanematsu’s heart. Surrounded by vile and sordid death, his girls were his only joy. He delighted in their laughter, their grace and their beauty, reveling in their femininity. When they were toddlers, he sang songs and told them stories; when they became children, he played silly games with them. With the older two, he was teaching them to write poetry and practice calligraphy.

There was but one drawback--his girls could not govern Satsuma Province when he died. Only a male child could do that, and Nene had given him his only son. The frail boy had died, taking Sanematsu’s first wife with him into the Void minutes after birth.

Like any person, Sanematsu wanted to live a long time, but the life of a warrior tended to be brief. He must have a son to have any hope of peace in Satsuma Province’s future. The political and military plans he established could not be completed in one lifetime. All his hopes to achieve his goals rested in karma--and in the nest of a woman’s body. The future of the ryo-chi and his son were tied together.

And every female who came to his bed knew this. Each courtesan hoped to find her body quickened with Lord Sanematsu’s heir. His repulsion at facing such a dilemma with each pillowing made his life all the more stressful.

Tsuta was his defense. He had first seen her during a visit to a teahouse in Miyazaki on Kyushu’s east coast when she had been a thirteen-year-old virgin. At fourteen, when she was destined to become a Courtesan of the First Rank, Sanematsu called her to his bed. He had had few mistresses before her, and since, none. Several concubines did reside in the castle, but they were seldom called upon, as Tsuta tended every need with accomplished skill. This, as he’d planned, kept him from being confronted with more than one baby a year whose fate he must decide. After two years, Tsuta had not been fruitful, and he was content.

His last wife had known how much her husband dreaded such predicaments. When Masa’s belly swelled from an infant that was not his, she had chosen death, fulfilling her duty to him.

It had taken little effort to know who fathered the child. He had spent one year in Kyoto and, from there, gone to the battlefield without a visit to his yashiki. Returning to Nishikata three months later, he found his wife heavy with child. During his absence, the closest man to Lady Masa had been the commander-in-chief of the garrison--Matsumoto.

Why she had waited until his return to fulfill her giri was something he could never figure out. She should have corrected her mistake before it became so obvious, before the whole of Nishikata could see. A wife should do all she could to prevent dishonor to her husband, even if it meant death. Perhaps Matsumoto had made a plan to destroy him before his return. Or maybe she had hoped he would allow her to live in disgrace because of his gentle nature. She failed to grasp how well he had been trained as a warrior.

Sanematsu shivered now, recalling the confrontation. He had shouted and raged while she knelt before him, disheveled and in tears, beseeching him to grant her wish to commit seppuku. She pleaded to be allowed to bring back his harmony and apologized for her wrongdoing.

He could have refused. The child, if male, would not be his heir. If he cast them out, their lives would not be worth much. This way, they died with the highest honor.

“I must ask your permission, sire,” Matsumoto’s voice broke into his thoughts. “to end my life with honor.” He inclined his body toward Sanematsu, his head touching the floor in front of him. “I have lost much face with your belief that I could do such a dishonorable thing. I cannot live with such shame.”

“I am afraid I cannot allow that.” The refusal was as empty as Matsumoto’s request. If his former friend had believed death necessary, he would have spoken of honor instead of face, for honor was far above face. “I need you alive to serve me. There will be no more discussion on the subject.”

Matsumoto sat erect and looked at him. His eyes told Sanematsu he had not heard the last on the matter, but it would come to haunt him another day. Both men stood.

“I do not want to hear that you have touched this barbarian.” Sanematsu glared at his general. “In any manner.”

“I would not think of causing you any disgrace, my lord.” Matsumoto spoke through gritted teeth. “So, you have decided the barbarian’s future?”

“That is not in my power. It is for her karma to decide. I find her…interesting. This girl has something I have never seen in our women. I want to find out if she can think. If she has wit. I want to talk with her,” Sanematsu said, almost to himself.

“Then she does speak?” Matsumoto’s hopeful and inquisitive tone showed his interest in the barbarian for his own ends.

“It is hard to tell.” He hastened to cover his slip. “She speaks a strange sort of language, familiar but different from the language of the gods. It will take some time to sort out and to teach her the proper words.” He straightened his shoulders and snapped, “Maybe you should spend more time at your home or with your consorts. Then you would have no need to think with your loins.”

Sanematsu Yoshihide strode away; his stockinged feet made no sound on the polished floor. He left no hint as to what he would do next.

CHAPTER SIX

Matsumoto sat alone to wonder at Sanematsu’s speech. He doubted the daimyo had cared for Masa as much as his words suggested--Sanematsu cared for no one, especially his wives. The women accorded the title “Lady” were a means to an end, their one duty to produce a male child of Sanematsu Yoshihide of the Minamoto clan.

A vulgar grin curved his mouth as he thought of his lord’s confirmation of the rumor spreading through the castle. Matsumoto had managed to sire the heir to the province, and Sanematsu had been denied it. Masa had stolen the coup d’grace from Matsumoto, but she had taken the easy path from her husband, also.

His anger at Sanematsu’s admonition about the barbarian increased his determination to reverse the years of history. Always having to kowtow to the daimyo, his duty was to die before Sanematsu. How he would love to have Sanematsu die first. Then Satsuma Province would be his.

Patience. Patience, and it will all be yours.

He would have to be very careful. If he wanted to rule, he must first keep the vulnerable Lord Sanematsu in power until the time came when he could be rid of him and move into the position himself. If Sanematsu’s behavior continued, as with the barbarian ship, it would undermine the respect and fear the men had for their master and lead to mutiny. An uprising was in Matsumoto’s scheme, but now was not the time. Other plans must be laid first for him to emerge victorious.

Matsumoto hid his contempt for his master’s strategy regarding the girl, letting the feeling fester. Sanematsu wished to talk with her. He could think of many more amusing uses for a woman, and they had nothing to do with talk.

I am more of a man than my lord is.

He replaced his swords into his girdle and, smiling with confidence, left the shrine.

***

Aderyn spent a free solitary hour sitting in her room, looking out over the water broken by large rocks far offshore. The same rocks that had ruptured the ship, they reminded her of the day past. It seemed so remote, a horrible dream from which she had awakened at last.

Why was she alive?

The more she thought about the outcome of the battle, the more it made sense. She could not say she understood God’s plan for her, but this had to be His design. God, in all His wisdom, knew she alone had a chance to survive in the Japans. She was the only one who could speak the language, the only one willing to tolerate the Eastern lifestyle or with any desire to learn more about the people, the only one with common sense enough not to get hysterical if something was different.

She never understood her mother and sisters’ acquiescence to remain, first, on the ship then, later, in the small house near the wharf. Forbidden to go ashore or leave the yard to explore Macao, she broke the prohibitions whenever she had the chance. She lived for the days when her father would take her to the docks with him or to the warehouses along the quays; and she drank in the strangeness, devouring the sights and sounds as she did the treats Benito would buy her.

Even though it shamed her, Aderyn could not grieve for her family. Did shock prevent it? Perhaps it was too soon to mourn. Maybe her sisters had been right. When she shut them out of her world, they claimed she was heartless and cruel.

As the youngest, she had been the object of their contempt. They thought her love of books foolish, her desire to leave home and mingle with the Asians utterly stupid. Her mother, unhappy aboard ship and miserable ashore, made all their lives wretched. Aderyn loved her father, but as she grew older and life bore down on him, she recalled his harshness more than his gentleness.

She remembered one conversation they’d had when she was fourteen. They sat at a table in the dark corner of a Portuguese drinking house, a number of mugs of rich red wine having loosened his tongue. The story of the first time he and Kathryn met rolled out of his mouth; her mother’s version was not too different.

What fascinated--and scared--her was that he likened her to the young Kathryn. Would she grow to be such a fishwife? On that very evening, she began dreading marriage.

Her life here would give her a chance at a happier existence. She would no longer have to fear turning into her mother, since there was not much chance of her finding a man to marry. Too, there was the possibility she would not live to see tomorrow.

Sachi returned to her room and brought the news Lord Sanematsu wished to see her. A million questions sprang into her mind as Sachi fixed a ribbon on her braid. She declined the cosmetics the woman offered--her hands trembled so that trying to apply any face paint would end in sloppy disaster. Let him see the unadorned her and be content. Was she a piece of goods to be perfected for a buyer to appraise?

She wore the red uchiki Sachi had dressed her in that morning. Try as she might, though, she could not convince the material to lie over her curves, which caused the line of the garment to be misshapen.

Aderyn made her long way to the audience chamber. What should she feel in her position? She should hate Sanematsu for killing her family, but she had overheard him say that part had been Matsumoto’s idea. He had ordered her life spared. Was she rationalizing? All she knew was that this strange man controlled her fate.

What if she were to become his concubine? What would she do if her freedom were lost and her dignity cast aside? She set her mouth and pushed her shoulders back. He would not force her into his bed! If he chose to take her against her will, this man would find a warrior to contend with as brave as any in his army.

***

Sanematsu waited, alone, for the women. At this hour, his grandfather and the council were resting, and he could overlook their order to be included in any audience with the barbarian woman.

He was tired of the old men who spent their hours napping, playing Goh, practicing the tea ceremony and planning how to run his fief. He had, from time to time, entertained thoughts of renouncing his position, but then reality would step in and his hopes of a life of his own would vanish. He submitted to the council’s interference because it was easier.

Early in life, he had learned how to take the path of least resistance out of any dilemma. He disliked confrontation, going out of his way to avoid it. His birthright forced him to cultivate an aggressive, stern character, to learn the ferocity of the bushi. Contempt for those beneath him was ingrained into his being. He had learned to be quick to anger and to punish but could never justify such responses. To react with violence and gruffness to every slight or imperfection was not in his makeup.

He rode to war only after all avenues of peace were exhausted. Servants who erred in some manner were sent away instead of slain. He overlooked slight and unintentional insults.

Other warriors gave him a questioning eye, but he did not have to answer to them. He was daimyo of the Satsuma Province, a law unto himself until he no longer breathed or was, like his grandfather, ineligible to rule.

His true personality was patient, easy-going. This made him appear an indecisive ruler, especially when he allowed the Council of Elders to make the decisions. He accepted their advice in the proper manner so he would forfeit nothing, yet he lost confidence in himself each time, becoming less and less a leader, all for the sake of his sanity.

When he acted out of whim, as he did with this meeting, he regained some part of himself. It reminded the council of their position, that Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide ruled Satsuma Province, not Lord Shigehide and the Council of Elders. He would deal with the barbarian in his own way; use her, if possible, as a tool against them. He would mingle his karma with hers, no matter how briefly.

Only two women knew the girl spoke their language, and both would keep the secret unto death, if necessary. His slip of the tongue at the shrine, however, had given Matsumoto a hint about it.

He heard his guard speaking with Sachi. The perfect choice to befriend the barbarian, Sachi was the wife of one of his retainers. Of samurai birth, loyal and intelligent, she would train the girl well and make herself a permanent ally.

The woman was here, and he was anxious, almost nervous. He snorted and cast the ridiculous feelings off. She was a woman! A barbarian female, at that. She should not be allowed to cause this turmoil.

The shoji slid back, and the women entered, led by his guard. They fell to their knees and bowed to touch forehead to floor. Sanematsu inclined his head, and all rose.

“My lord,” the guard spoke. “Sachi-sama, wife of Hikita-uji, and the foreigner.”

“Yes. Come,” Sanematsu acknowledged curtly.

The guard moved back to the doorway and sat on his heels, sword on knees.

***

Sachi motioned for Aderyn to follow her forward; they settled on cushions before Lord Sanematsu. This time, Aderyn did not look at him. She stared at her folded hands, mindful of Sachi’s instructions.

“My lord.” Sachi’s soft voice carried in the room. “At your request, I have instructed her in our ways. If she or her actions should offend you, I assume the responsibility.”

“I am sure you have done well in the few hours I have given you,” Sanematsu replied. “You may leave us.”

Sachi departed without a glance at Aderyn, who watched her friend’s departure with dread.

“I have not had the opportunity to ask your name.” His forceful and commanding voice struck her.

“I am Aderyn Aquilla.” Her voice echoed in the room. “Aderyn is my given name.” She could no longer contain her curiosity, lifting her gaze to snatch a timid peek across the short distance between them.

He sat tailor-fashion on a dais raised about a foot off the floor. Over his heavy dark-blue silk osode, he wore what Sachi had explained was a suikan. The short, wide-sleeved black jacket with a broad yoke at the back made his already impressive shoulders appear wider. Sachi had also told her the long, skirt-like pants Sanematsu wore casually were called hakama.

Aderyn found herself captivated by his face. In contrast to the plain, flat countenance common to the other men, his features were strong and angular. Taut brown skin stretched over high cheekbones and a square jaw. His large eyes were almond-shaped, with a slight tilt at the corners. When he spoke, perfect white teeth shone between well-defined, supple lips. His height and long, straight legs, plus his fairer skin, made him look more like the Manchurians or Koreans she had seen in Macao.

“I am Sanematsu Yoshihide of the clan Minamoto, Lord of Satsuma Province of Kyushu.” His name sounded like “Yo-she-he-da” to Aderyn’s ears. “You may address me as Sanematsu-sama,” he said with formality, but his tone had become less authoritative, his attitude relaxed and unceremonious. “How old are you, Aderyn?”

“Fifteen last month, sire.” Aderyn tried not to laugh as her name came out almost unrecognizable. She lost her battle and giggled.

“Why do you laugh like a silly maid?” Sanematsu demanded.

“I am sorry, Sanematsu-sama.” Aderyn composed herself. “I know your language does not have a place for certain sounds. My nurse Hana-sama could not pronounce my name, either. The lack of proper pronunciation makes it sound…funny.”

She watched as his hand came to rest on his sword. The guard moved to stand at her back. Was Sanematsu insulted? Had she misspoken or done something wrong? Her heart raced, and she struggled to take a deep breath. Was her life to be forfeit for a slip of her tongue?

CHAPTER SEVEN

This was when and how she would die. His right hand lay on the scabbard, the left poised to move to the hilt, the other man behind her. Her error could cost her life! His black eyes glared at her from the warlord’s hard face.

“I mean no disrespect, sire.” Aderyn thought fast. “Surely, much of my speech is as funny to you, as unpracticed as I am with your language.”

She waited several long moments as Sanematsu mulled over her comments. She hoped she had placated him by returning his pride.

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand away from the sword and waved the guard back to his place. He fingered the hem of his sleeve, taking great pains to study the stitching. Aderyn suspected he was forming his next inquiry and that it would involve language.

“Does your name have a meaning?”

“It is Welsh for bird.” Aderyn felt a rush of relief at having escaped death a second time.

“Hmmm.” Sanematsu eased back, his right arm on the armrest. “Maybe I should call you ‘Ko-tori’ or ‘Tori.’ They are our words for bird, and since our women are given names of two syllables, Tori will fit you.”

“As you wish, Sanematsu-sama.” Her level of comfort increased. It shouldn’t be so, as he was daimyo, a respected feudal lord, and she his prisoner.

“Yes, Tori is much better, formally. Personally, I will call you Ko-tori--little bird.”

***

Sanematsu relaxed. Not only was this girl intelligent, she was diplomatic. Sachi had taught her well about the relationship between master and servant. The barbarian realized he could not afford to be an object of ridicule.

“Lord Sanematsu? Since you have asked mine, may I ask your age?”

With a freedom he seldom allowed, he roared with laughter. She was not to be a disappointment! Failing to consider the propriety of her questions, not thinking twice before speaking her mind, she was open and honest with him. Nor did she avoid his glare, as even the bravest warrior would do.

“I have seen twenty-five new years.” He composed himself to ask the necessary questions. “Tell me, what reason have you to be near our land?”

“I can better tell you why I was here if I knew where ‘here’ is.” The unique green eyes flashed with pleasure. Her lips formed a soft grin.

He could see no harm in telling her. It was unlikely she would find her way back to wherever it was she sprang from.

“You are in Nihon, on the west side of the southernmost island, Kyushu. The city nearby is Nishikata, the seat of government for the Satsuma Province.”

“My father is…was a trader.” Now the grin faded, and her gaze dropped. The hitherto straight shoulders rounded, and the front of her robes gaped open, revealing a deep cleavage. Sanematsu’s concern was not for the bosom, but the sadness that filled the stranger.

She blanched and struggled to remain calm and unemotional. How difficult it must be to speak of her family and the life that was lost forever.

“We lived in Macao while he made his trips to the Philippines and Korea.”

She paused. The pulse at the base of her throat raced and her breath became erratic. She was close to losing control, but he did not think she would. She was too strong.

“We were traveling to a new trading house when the rocks in your ocean interfered.”

She stiffened her back, and her gaze lifted to his face, clear and bright. The grief threatening to break through moments before was well in hand again.

Again, the barbarian exhibited her diplomacy. She thought better of bringing up the matter of his soldiers assaulting the sinking ship. Or perhaps she believed the ship’s breaching on the rocks had led to the slaughter. What did it matter?

“You are not of Min-koku or Chosen. Where do you call your homeland?” Sanematsu leaned forward, his elbows on the armrests on either side of him, his hands together to support his chin. Though touched by her pain, he could not voice his pity for her and her loss.

“I have great difficulty in answering that question, especially in the manner you have asked it.” She held herself erect, sure and proud once more. “You are very right, Lord Sanematsu, when you say I am not of China or Korea.” She stopped and wrung her hands. Her emotions rose, but it was confusion that clouded her eyes now instead of grief. “This is hard. Are you aware of lands other than your own? Many of our own people are afraid of the dragons and the vast unknown of boundless water.”

He watched her. Their eyes met and held.

“I am aware of other countries.” He could not give away more information than he received. To give her his knowledge would allow his barbarian to keep secrets if she wished. “Continue.”

“I was born on the trip bringing my mother and three sisters to Macao, so that is the only place I know to call home. I say, then, with all honesty, Asia is my homeland.” The confusion left her voice, replaced with confidence.

“I will have to form some purpose for your presence here,” he mused out loud.

“I did not ask to come here,” Aderyn blurted.

“That will help.”

He allowed a bit of a smile. Did she realize how close she came to death each time she spoke without thinking? Sachi would have to see to this area of her teaching. He did not wish to lose this seabird just yet.

“How?” The question narrowed her green eyes as she continued to look at him.

“Nihon has long been…closed to visitors. We are too concerned in our own dealings to wish to be involved with others.” He would not go further into matters of government. Such were no affair of a barbarian female. She did not need to know of her increased peril. Or that she put him in it with her.

***

Sanematsu smiled fully for the first time. It looked as if it were an expression foreign to his face, but one that face could get used to. For that brief moment, his whole countenance was alight, and his eyes twinkled.

He should try it more often.

“I have spoken of the need to open Nihon to the world many times. Alas, the Council refuses to back me, so I must hold my tongue and ally myself with those who follow the Shogun.” He paused, and the rare smile faded. After he appeared to shake off some bad thoughts, he continued. “I have always been very curious about life outside our world. Would you be disposed to share it with me, Tori?”

“Sire, I spent only a few brief years in Portugal and must admit I did not like it there. I would be honored to tell you what I have learned from my parents and teachers.”

The time she spent in her father’s homeland had been awkward. She knew how to comport herself in Macao and China, but Lisbon’s customs were foreign and unpleasant. She had cried nightly to return to Asia, her home.

Now it struck her--the key to her survival was his desire for knowledge.

“That would be more information than I have. We will go to the garden for tea.”

The warrior rose in one easy movement, his sword in his hand. He remained standing for a moment while he slid the scabbard into his girdle and flounced the tail of his jacket out behind him.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Behind her, the panel moved. With as much grace as possible, Aderyn stood and waited for Sanematsu to walk out the door ahead of her. Three guards from inside followed them, while two more men from outside preceded Lord Sanematsu. They now surrounded her.

She hurried, hindered by her narrow-skirted dress, to keep up with his long steps. She concentrated on keeping her head bowed and her hands clasped before her. Sanematsu walked up the two steps to the garden pavilion and settled on a zabuton with both back and armrests, indicating Aderyn should take the one at his right. She obeyed, thankful her seat provided the sturdy padded backrest. Kneeling for such a long time already had her back aching.

In moments, Sachi and Tsuta arrived with a maid who carried a tray and service for tea. The ladies settled near them and began to serve. Sachi glanced at her once, giving her a reassuring smile. It alleviated her unease.

“I do not know where to begin telling you of my land.” She sipped the tea, holding the small bowl as she had seen Sachi do in the palm of one hand, supporting it with the fingertips of the other.

“No, no,” Sanematsu admonished. “We will speak after tea.”

“Oh.” She did not know whether it was custom to remain silent or if her host used it as an excuse to enjoy the quiet. The garden was lush, providing shelter for birds and insects of all sorts. The colorful birds sang and chirped, filling the air with their avian conversation. A breeze dissipated the humidity, rustling through the trees while small animals stirred the shrubs.

So, they were silent as the teapot emptied. Tsuta never allowed Sanematsu’s bowl to remain empty, and Sachi saw to Aderyn’s in the same manner. Tsuta seemed to jump instants before Lord Sanematsu made his wishes known. He never said anything, yet the woman was always doing something for him. The beautiful lady glanced her way from time to time. Was this Sanematsu’s wife?

While she sipped, she studied her surroundings. Gardeners worked with diligent attention to weeding and planting small plants that would soon join the greenery growing in the courtyard. The colorful flowers’ heady aromas drifted on the air. She had missed the ocean, but now flowers were the most beautiful things on earth, most of all the deep purple irises so numerous in the garden.

Once they finished their tea, Tsuta and Sachi departed. Sanematsu let half a smile slip.

“You may begin.”

“But where, my lord? What do you know of the outer world?”

“I know what I must.”

“Well, then. My parents are…were from two different European countries. My father came from Portugal and my mother, Wales. They came to Asia when my father became a trader. We traveled overland, and I was born en route.”

“Where were you traveling to when your ship was destroyed?”

“To Macao. Father had bought into a trading house there.”

“The rest of your family…”

“I am the youngest of four girls.” She picked at the material of her osode. The sadness returned, her heart heavy with unshed tears.

“Your father was not…political, by chance, was he?”

“The only politics he cared about were those that kept him in business.” She paused and looked up at him. “Lord Sanematsu, what do the women of Nihon do to pass the time? All Sachi-sama and I have done is drink tea and talk. My hands are becoming restless.”

“A samurai does not concern himself with the business of women. What did you do in your world?”

“When we were not occupied with household chores, we played games. I read whatever I could get my hands on and I drew.”

“You are an artist?”

“I would not go that far, sire. But I do like to make pictures of what I see. It keeps my hands and mind occupied so I do not get into any mischief. I have a very great talent for straying into trouble.”

“I will have Sachi instruct you in our women’s pastimes. I would hardly wish for you to find your way into any misbehavior within my ryo-chi. Perhaps a brush and ink will suffice to keep you busy. Hikita-uji, send for paper and brushes for my guest.”

“Yes, sire.” The handsome man bowed from the waist then turned and went down the path. At the corner, a young boy knelt. He jumped to his feet, listened to the older man’s words and fled toward the castle. The samurai returned to the steps of the pavilion.

“Is that man my friend Sachi-sama’s husband?” Aderyn asked.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious.” She wished she had something to occupy her hands now so she could avoid his soft brown eyes. His look made her warm inside.

***

Sanematsu liked the way the hot tea flushed the woman’s face. As she ducked her head, he resisted the urge to push the waves of thick brown hair away so he could see the deep green eyes so rare to his world.

The feeling she stirred in him was strange--a risky desire to have her near him. He had enough to answer for because she was breathing. If she managed to get into trouble in her idle hours, he would have to respond to that, also, or she might find herself in danger he could not save her from.

Hikita’s command through the servant boy was obeyed in prompt order, and Ko-tori’s skill at working the ink stone into fluid ink impressed him. Within seconds, she had a bowl ready for use. She held the stone and brushes with the skill of a master calligrapher as she made several strokes of the brush. In a matter of minutes, she had completed a simple sketch of the area.

“You use the brush as if it had been born into your hand.” He did not comment on the fact that she was left-handed.

“Almost. I cannot recall when I have not painted. My father gave me pencils and paper when I was a toddler and scrawled all over his invoices one evening. As I said, the amusement kept me out of trouble.”

Lightness had entered her voice, and the tension in her body relaxed. She was at ease with her artwork.

“Perhaps you can show me some of your work.”

“I had a good bit aboard ship. I suppose it is gone.” She cleaned the brush with the cloth and clear water. He suspected she used the action to avoid his eyes.

The waves of her sorrow would stop with time. He could not explain that the things lost were simply possessions that could be replaced, or that she would someday join her family in the great Void. She would have to learn these life lessons on her own.

“Perhaps. You can never be sure of anything in Nihon,” he replied instead. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes, my lord.” She raised her eyes, but not her head.

They passed the afternoon and twilight together. The girl did the most talking, answering his many questions. He, on the other hand, revealed little, though he gave the appearance of answering her inquiries. Never had he known a woman to discuss life in such an objective and open manner--Ko-Tori spoke her own thoughts instead of echoing his own.

They were engrossed in one another when a maid neared the steps. When Sanematsu acknowledged her, she approached and whispered near his ear. With a wave of the hand, he dismissed her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I am reluctant to call an end to our discussion, yet I must,” Sanematsu announced. “I have arranged to dine with my grandfather and members of the Council of Elders. I do not think I wish to introduce them to you just yet. Feel free to visit the garden. I will ask you not to roam the halls without Hamasaki-uji or myself. That would be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Lord Sanematsu.” Ko-Tori bowed to him.

“I will send Sachi so you may return to your room.”

He stood. She also regained her feet, and he was pleased to see her following Sachi’s instructions about never sitting when he stood and vice versa.

“I bid you a good night, Tori.”

“Goodnight, Sanematsu-sama,” she said in a soft voice.

***

Sanematsu left the pavilion, and soon, Sachi came for her.

“I hope I will be able to walk after kneeling so long.” Aderyn waited for the blood to return to her feet.

“You will soon become accustomed to it,” Sachi assured her.

They dined and then sat in the inner courtyard of the yashiki. The sun lingered after Sanematsu departed. The castle faced the seaport, and as the day ended, the bright beams spread out toward the isolated courtyard until the great red ball slipped beneath the waters, taking the streams of orange with it.

As evening came, servants lit the lanterns, samurai shut the heavy gates, stablehands secured the horses and the aroma of cooking fires wafted from the houses beneath the stone walls. Maids closed the rice-paper panels of the lower rooms, blocking the occupants off from the world. Nishikata-jyo settled for the night.

“I trust your afternoon was pleasant.” Which was as close as Sachi could come to asking if she had enjoyed being with Lord Sanematsu.

“Most.” She all but sighed.

The evening breeze from the ocean was heavy with the scents of salt and crepe myrtle mixed with wisteria and exotic flowers. More perfumes, subtle but nonetheless intoxicating, filled the air. Cool ocean currents swept at her hair to pull tendrils free.

“My lord has instructed me to inform you of the other inhabitants of Nishikata-jyo,” Sachi stated with formality.

“More teaching?” Aderyn addressed her tutor with a groan. She leaned forward, burying her face in the fold of her dress.

“Not truly.” Sachi smiled. “Our lord’s household is quite small.”

“All right.” She sat up. “Tell me about his wives, concubines and fifty children.”

Her words held a frivolity she did not feel when thinking of Sanematsu having a wife. Why should it matter if he were married or not? She did not wish the position herself! Becoming his concubine was an even worse thought.

“At present, he has no wife. Lady Masa died two moons ago. As for concubines, he has several but prefers to have Tsuta-sama to share his futon. She attended our master this afternoon at tea. Tsuta-sama is from the Floating World, where those women who spend their lives caring for the needs of men dwell. As is their custom, these women call themselves by names of nature.

“‘Tsuta’ means ‘ivy’ and the name suits her. She has the nature of the greenery that entwines itself around and clings to the object it admires. As a Willow World woman, she would not be considered for his wife. She is not samurai. A samurai should marry for reasons of policy, not affection.”

Aderyn nodded to show she remembered. Her nose crinkled as if she smelled something foul. She did not like the beautiful woman very much.

“Tsuta-sama has not done much to ingratiate herself to those in Sanematsu-sama’s household and has seen to the removal of two of his lesser maids.” Sachi must have noticed her response to Tsuta but continued in spite of it. “Tsuta-sama successfully hides her jealousy and mean-spiritedness from Lord Sanematsu. That was why I included myself at tea this afternoon. I must make certain of your safety.” Sachi stopped all of a sudden. “I should not include you in the petty gossip of our women.”

“She is very lovely,” Aderyn admitted. “I feel ungraceful when she is around, just as I did around my sisters. I have always been grotesque and awkward.”

“Although you are taller than our women, you are not grotesque.”

“I am not much taller than the European women in Macao,” Aderyn countered. “The women here are all small and delicate.”

“That does not make you a monster. It only seems so to you because Tsuta-sama comes to our lord’s mid-chest whereas you come to his shoulder.”

“I could easily fit beneath his chin if I were to bury my face in his chest while held in an embrace,” she spoke her most intimate thoughts.

“I had not thought in that direction.” Sachi dipped her face for a moment then spoke again. “As for children,” she continued, as if to give Aderyn something else to think about. “Aya-hime is his stepdaughter. She is thirteen. Since she has had her gempuku, our coming-of-age ceremony, she is called by ‘hime.’ This means ‘princess of a samurai.’ Hatsu-sama is his first daughter and is nine. They have sisters, Miyo-sama, six, and Chiyo-sama, three. He has no heir.

“Lady Haru is our master’s sister. She is widowed, and her son, who governs a small ryo-chi on another island, prefers to allow her to remain to oversee her brother’s house.

“Sanematsu Shigehide is Lord Sanematsu’s grandfather. He is of a venerable age and resides in the south wing. Lame from a battle wound, he must rely on a manservant to help him. He was forced to concede his position of daimyo, as he was unable to lead the Sanematsu army. The decision was a bit more political than because of his wound, but those are matters of men. He does not leave his chamber often, only when the Council meets with Sanematsu-sama.”

“Sanematsu-sama said he was having dinner with them tonight.”

In the distance, an owl hooted.

“The Council of Elders is made up of four lords, major ryo-chi owners who have added their lands to the Sanematsus’. Shigehide-sama settled a truce with them--a defeated lord joins another daimyo’s ryo-chi when defeated in war. They are of the elder lord’s generation and owe their allegiance to him. But that again is a matter for men, not women”

“Lord Sanematsu says I cannot be alone when I walk about the house.”

The owl had swooped on quiet wings to pluck a meal from the ground and now settled in the cedar tree at the edge of the garden.

“Why? Is he afraid I will escape to nowhere?”

“That is not the reason. In this house, there are many people. Lord Sanematsu and his family are at the top, followed by the council lords. Surrounding these are the samurai. In this sphere, there are also many levels. Samurai is an honored status, and with status, comes power. The bushi have power second to none save Lord Sanematsu. A samurai may judge a situation and act on it without asking our master, and he may or may not be questioned about his action. It takes very little to insult them, and their katana are ever sharp. It is from them Lord Sanematsu protects you.”

“They should have called this country Death,” Aderyn muttered.

***

Sachi heard, but chose to overlook the comment. Who knew how she would feel if thrown into a new life in a strange land? While shocked and appalled at her charge’s actions and thoughts, Sachi valued something that lay below the surface.

She liked Aderyn--her attitude, her unflappability and her courage. On unfamiliar ground, the foreigner held her footing as if she fought on her own battlefield. She turned each move to her advantage. The men she touched saw her fighting spirit and respected it--and Nihonese men did not respect Nihonese women. For this, she envied the girl.

“Lord Sanematsu asked that you not speak with any other than him or me, Aderyn.”

Every time she spoke that name, it was as if she insulted her because she could not pronounce it properly.

“Sanematsu-sama has decided my name should be Tori, since Aderyn is so difficult for your tongue.”

“It would be better for us.”

Sachi giggled. As usual, Sanematsu exhibited his wisdom. The instant Aderyn said bird, Sachi pictured a tiny hen protecting her chicks. She knew Aderyn was a bird, an untamed fighting bird!

***

A maid approached. Aderyn hated the way everyone walked so quietly--she jumped every time a person appeared out of nowhere. Sachi spoke with the newcomer in whispers. No one ever spoke to Aderyn--she guessed Sanematsu had given them the same rules Sachi had given her.

Sachi excused herself to follow the maid. After they disappeared, Aderyn stood and paced a few steps. She wished she had something to do. The garden was quiet and eerie with the flickering lights.

“Good evening, Barbarian” a harsh voice greeted her as Matsumoto emerged from the shadows behind her. The evil grating of his tone demonstrated he meant there would be nothing good about the evening at all.

CHAPTER NINE

Startled, Aderyn’s fear grew as she got a good look at the warrior. After Sachi’s warning about samurai, his appearance and manner were terrifying. When she focused on the two swords in his girdle, his obscene chuckle made her realize he thought her eyes were on what lay beneath the swords! She averted her gaze.

“I said ‘good evening.’ In our land, it is considered polite to respond,” he growled.

Aderyn did not take her eyes from Matsumoto’s face. Nor did she speak. To prevent any indication she understood the words from showing, she schooled her face into an expression of puzzlement. She must obey Sanematsu Yoshihide’s edict.

“Qué? What is it?” she asked in her native Portuguese.

“My Lord Matsumoto.” Sachi’s voice preceded her out of the shadows. She bowed, and Aderyn copied her. “So sorry, but the yabanjin seems to be slow in learning even the basics of the tongue of the gods. Please, accept my apologies. I should not have left her alone with the possibility of insulting such a great warrior as yourself.”

Aderyn wanted to vomit with all the bowing and scraping Sachi was doing. Fear and intimidation were on the Nihonese woman’s face, yet when she addressed him, the tone of her voice was confident.

“It would be preferable if she never spoke Nihonese. Her foreign tongue would destroy its harmony. Good evening, Sachi-sama.”

Matsumoto departed, the crisp silk of his hakama snapping with the force of his angry strides.

When Aderyn started to speak, Sachi held up a quieting hand, watching Matsumoto’s back. She did not drop the hand until he had vanished.

“Thank you, Sachi-sama. I did not say anything to him except in Portuguese.”

“That was wise. Matsumoto, excuse me for saying, is not an honorable man.” Sachi’s voice registered her disgust.

“If you mean he is evil, I will agree. Why do you not call him by Matsumoto-sama?”

“It is a bad habit we women have developed.” Sachi’s face flushed red. “We tend to not call those samurai we do not like by the honorific when they cannot hear. I am sorry we are so rude.”

“It is not that terrible. You should be able to express your feelings,” Aderyn protested. “What do you have?”

“Lord Sanematsu has sent you a gift.” Sachi lifted a cloth-wrapped parcel. “It is a great honor to receive a gift from our liege lord.”

Aderyn sank to her knees to unfold the cloth. She gasped at the artist’s treasures of rice paper scrolls, ink stone, brushes and charcoal sticks she found inside. In her trunk aboard ship, she kept a supply of materials, but none as fine as these. He had given her one of the two things that would make her new life bearable.

“It is more than I could ever wish for.” She looked up at Sachi with tears in her eyes. “How can I thank him?”

“By using his gift to please him.” Sachi knelt also. “Artists hold a special place in our country. A very honored place.”

“I am not good enough to be honored in any country.”

Aderyn had never considered her talent worthy of the numerous compliments she received for her artistic endeavors. She unrolled a scroll and laid it flat. Then she picked up a charcoal stick and began, drawing a simple sketch of the courtyard well lit by the numerous lanterns.

“Your work is very nice.” Sachi watched with fascination. “True, it is not the style of our artists’ work, but you show equal skill.”

“Thank you. You are too kind.” Just as adroitly, Aderyn dashed off a sketch of Sachi. Then she made another portrait.

“That is most interesting, Tori.” Sachi leaned closer to the sketch Aderyn had composed of Lord Sanematsu from memory. “Few people ever see him with a smile.”

“Have you?” She gave her teacher a questioning look. Sachi continued to omit the honorific from her name, but it did not matter.

“Well, yes.” Sachi assumed her custom of studying the hands in her lap. “Lord Sanematsu and I have known one another since we were children. Very young children.”

“Oh.” Aderyn returned to her work, thoughts she could not voice springing to mind. Were they childhood sweethearts? Lovers even now?

Darkness covered Kyushu when Aderyn grew tired and went to her bed.

***

In the foulest of moods, Matsumoto made his way through the yashiki. His disposition had not been at its best when he encountered the female, because he had not been invited to dine with Sanematsu and the Council. His stomach, of course, was not his concern. Power provided his sustenance, not food. Being left out of the decision-making process diminished his strength and fueled his discontentment.

His frustration had mounted since leaving Nishikata-jyo and the barbarian. A pawn in the power struggle, she had vexed him! Determination to use her as his tool to power and his instrument of pleasure grew.

Once he finished his routine checks on the garrison, assured of the security of the castle, he left for the samurai estates located outside the walls in the surrounding forests. The houses reflected their owners’ status in the army hierarchy. Whereas Sanematsu dwelt in a massive fortress, his general’s residence was more palatial. Limited to one story because of the constant threat of earthquakes, it contained many rooms and was surrounded by an engawa--an open verandah--on all four sides.

He arrived at his home within a short time. His wife Nami, old and drawn before her time, met him at the steps and removed his sandals. He brushed her aside, passing into the well-lit house. Matsumoto’s mother and third eldest son sat at the hibachi in the main room were the rice pot steamed and tea water boiled.

With the politest manner, Nami asked if her husband would like to bathe before he ate. He growled and demanded sake. He drank several full flasks then rose and departed.

Outside, he called for his horse. As he waited, he heard his mother’s razor tongue start its nightly tirade on Nami’s shortcomings as wife, mother and human being in general. When the brilliant white stallion arrived from his private stable, he mounted and galloped toward Nishikata’s Pleasure Quarter.

His dark mood began to lift with the thought of what awaited him. At the door of his favorite teahouse, a pre-adolescent girl greeted him, ushering him in with proper ceremony. Word of Lord Matsumoto’s arrival passed through the house with the speed of a fire in the paper-and-wood structure.

Sena, the foster mother who oversaw the girls, met Matsumoto in the main room and welcomed him to her unworthy establishment. He accepted sake while he endured the formalities. Although they never spoke of the business at hand, the woman gauged his desires from his responses and attitude. She took her leave and began the preparations.

A meal was served, during which an apprentice of the third rank played her samisen. Another girl entertained him with a dance after he had eaten; he continued to drink. All this artistic entertainment was as brief as decorum would allow. Matsumoto was not interested in dance and song.

Sena returned and suggested a soaking bath and massage for her master, after which she would have all in readiness to attend his needs. He agreed.

Lounging in the steaming water, Matsumoto fantasized about the sexual play he was about to engage in. He had pillowed with charges of this house before. Sena’s house, not one in which the inhabitants were proud to be, was the last step on the descent into prostitution for the members of the Willow World.

His thoughts of his last visit, the moans and weeping, the body and the instruments, deepened into a passionate vision to awaken the fleshy appendage between his legs. Halfway through the fantasy he realized it was Sanematsu’s yabanjin he envisioned. He barked for the attendant and left the tub.

The masseuse had difficulty kneading warmed oil into the samurai’s taut muscles. His impatience and hostility would not allow him to remain until she could succeed in easing the tense fibers.

Edgy and eager, he entered the Pleasure Room assigned to him. The aroma of spicy incense invested the air and candles flickered, obscuring the soft yet threadbare futon. Cushions littered the floor, and a closed wooden box sat at hand. A teenage boy lay in a corner, clad in a woman’s gauzy kosode, a drugged glaze to his eyes. Sena had recently acquired him for Matsumoto’s use. His long, straight hair was cut with bangs over his eyes like a girl child’s. His soft features had just the faint beginnings of masculinity. The kosode, loose at the top, revealed a smooth chest without musculature.

Fuku, a minor maid, entered with a tray of sake and settled Matsumoto on the futon; he was treated to slight flashes of breast as she moved. Her hair was dressed above her collar to allow her nape, the area a Nihonese man found more sensual than breast or genitals, to be seen.

The impoverished house insured Matsumoto was the only visitor who received first-rate sake, plentiful and at the proper temperature. His bill, which Nami would receive and pay without question, would be of such an amount as to allow Sena to replace what he drank plus some.

Events moved forward with Fuku performing the favorite sexual pleasure Matsumoto enjoyed. Even though she attended him with perfect technique, he found some infraction for which to punish her. His closed fist struck her cheek, and his blood surged.

Eager to enjoy further passion, he waved the boy to his side. When he was near, with one hand Matsumoto ripped the kosode from his body. The boy stood abjectly. This was how he liked his boys--and his girls, for that matter. How he wished it were the barbarian’s fruit he held in his hand.

In his frustration, his grip caused the boy to cry out. Warmed by the sake, Matsumoto reclined and indicated for his attendants to continue.

The woman stood, her bruised face ignored, and dropped her kosode with feigned bashfulness. She undid her hair, and it fell in waves around her. The boy came to assist her as she knelt and opened Matsumoto’s kosode. He was pleased as hot tongues and curious hands handled him. Fuku’s lengthy hair provided purchase for him to pull her up until she lay over his chest.

He always started with the woman. The boy would finish the satisfaction of his lust…and they would begin again.

He laughed. These would feel his power, as one day the barbarian would!

CHAPTER TEN

As the autumn rains drenched the countryside and the days passed, Aderyn was Sanematsu’s constant companion. They discussed the principalities of Portugal, Britain, France and Spain, and the legends of Nihon.

“Explain your Ten-nou’s divinity again,” Aderyn requested. “I do not understand.”

“I do not know what there is to understand,” he replied. “Jimmu Ten-nou was the first Son of Heaven. The Goddess Amaterasu Omikami is his great-great-great grandmother. He descended from the god named Hikonagi Takeugaya Fukiaezu and Tamayori Hime to establish the Chrysanthemum Throne to rule all of Nihon. All who are of the ancestry of Jimmu Ten-nou are divine beings to our sacred isle.”

“That is hard to imagine.” Her brown waves swayed as she moved her head in disbelief. She worked a small piece of charcoal over the rough parchment on her lap.

“How is your royalty given power over their lands? Does not your god anoint them?” He watched as she drew.

“Yes, they have the divine right to rule, but they are not gods.” Her gaze locked with his.

Three moons had passed since they first spoke, when she had taken such care not to look at him. Now, with the barriers of decorum falling to their friendship, she failed to mind her behavior as often as before. He did not mention her infractions, at times was even amused by them.

“How can they be? They do not rule the Land of the Gods.”

“I will concede that.” Her sparkling green eyes left his to focus on her art. “But what of the shogun? Why does he make the laws instead of the Ten-nou?”

“Shogun Ashikaga is general over all the emperor’s armies. This gives him the right to relieve Ten-nou of the burden of tedious lawgiving. It allows him to be concerned with the responsibilities of a deity.”

Sanematsu watched the tiny muscle in her jaw twitch as she mulled his response. Her round cheeks were pink with sun over her light tan complexion. As she concentrated on the difficult sketch, the tip of her tongue pushed between her full lips. A warm wave moved through his body.

“And it is this Shogun’s idea that barbarians are dangerous to Nihon?” Again she turned her exquisite eyes to him, and the flood surged.

“It is not the barbarians themselves our government fears. It is their ideas and dogma they are wary of. We are a land of conformity and order. To upset that tranquility is unthinkable.”

Processing his thoughts and answering her questions in diplomatic form was difficult. The images running through his brain were not governmental in the least.

In some ways, the emotion for the foreign woman awakening within him disturbed him; in others, he welcomed the feeling. Some might think it improper to entertain lustful desires for her. Matsumoto would not have argued the impropriety, but his desires would be merely physical. Sanematsu’s passion was for more than Aderyn’s body. This was the sentiment that concerned him.

“All this political talk makes my head hurt,” she said as she finished her detailing.

She raised her head and flexed her shoulders. The movement pressed her full breasts against the tight silk of her uchiki. The heat of his reaction increased.

“I have an idea. Sachi-sama taught me a game. Would you like to learn it?”

“Of course. I am sure it is interesting if Sachi-sama took the time to teach you.”

The diversion would distract him from what was happening in his body.

“I will bring the board.”

Aderyn unfolded her lean legs and rose to her full height. The ensemble of robes fell in a whisper of silk as she moved away. He watched her hurry to the yashiki, her hips swaying beneath the uchiki and her long hair moving across her narrow shoulders.

When she returned, she carried a rectangular wooden box and a small table. She unfolded the legs of the table and set the box on top. Unclasping the hasp, she lifted the lid and removed the cups with small black and white stones.

“Do you know how to play goh?” she asked when she had the board set.

“Yes.” Sanematsu chuckled. He did not tell her the game was one of the earliest forms of military tactics used to instruct young boys.

“Oh.”

Her enthusiasm evaporated, and she sat back on her heels. The pout on her lips reminded him of his daughters.

“And I thought it was something I could teach you.”

“We can still play,” he suggested, eager to return the excitement to her eyes.

“I know!” The animation brightened her face once more, and her eyes sparkled as she rose from the table. “We will play another game. One Sachi-sama said women play.”

“Then I probably do not know it,” he stated, determined not to reveal his knowledge if he did.

“We take the stones.” She picked ten of each of the white and black stones from the bowls. She handed the white to Sanematsu. As he took them, their hands touched and a strong and intense shock passed between them.

“Now.” She took a deep breath as if ridding herself of the feeling. It did not remove the flush rising from her throat to color her cheeks. “We each take turns balancing one upon another on a finger until they topple. Whoever manages to hold the most wins.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Sanematsu studied the white pieces in his palm. “You go first.” To balance anything smaller than his sword, he needed to control the trembling her touch caused.

Aderyn, holding her breath and sticking her tongue out between her lips as she did when concentrating on anything, placed one smooth black stone atop another on her extended finger. The tower collapsed with her sixth addition.

Now it was the samurai’s turn. He held three perfectly aligned and still, starting to apply a fourth. He hesitated. There was no doubt he could hold more stones than Aderyn dared think of, the balancing game an old trick of martial arts instructors; but did he wish to best her? It pleased him to think of losing to her. The white stones clattered across the table.

“I win!” she squealed and bobbed with excitement as his youngest daughters did when they were happy.

“I guess you did,” he conceded.

And so the afternoon passed, with the balancing game and conversation, pleasing Sanematsu as much as it appeared to delight Aderyn. The daimyo won an occasional game, but took care not to exceed his seabird’s stones by more than one.

***

“Sanematsu-sama, Sachi-sama says I must get permission from you to leave Nishikata-jyo.” Aderyn walked with the daimyo through the garden behind the yashiki. Lush deep-green foliage crept to the edge of the stone walk meandering through the area. Fronds of ferns brushed her legs. At curves in the path, large stones were set on patches of pebbles. An occasional carved statue broke through the greenery.

The climate of fall had not changed enough to affect the plants and tenacious gardeners kept the garden fragrant and full.

“Why do you wish to venture farther than the walls of my yashiki?” Sanematsu clasped his hands behind his back as he walked.

“I have explored every corner except the shrine and stables.”

“There is nothing for a woman in those places.”

They strolled around a corner, encountering one of the gardeners, who stopped his work and made a respectful bow toward Sanematsu. The master of the yashiki acknowledged his obeisance with a wave of his hand.

“But there is!” Aderyn argued. The gardener returned to his work after they passed. “At least in the stable. You have exquisite horses.”

“The horse master works very hard to maintain my horses.”

“Sachi-sama says I must ask your permission to see them closer. It seems I cannot do anything without your consent. She will not grant me anything.”

“You pout as my daughters do.” Sanematsu gave her a knowing glance and brief smile. “It is for your protection and safety that she guards your freedom so. If something untoward should befall you, she would be held accountable.”

“Is she a guard like Hamasaki-sama?” Aderyn bristled. Sachi was her teacher, her friend. Was she actually a spy or guard? Was Sanematsu no more than warden instead of friend?

“No, she is not. Her role is to protect you from others. There are those who would destroy you to punish me. To show me their power and influence.” He paused in both speech and motion. His arms swung forward, and he thrust his hands into the flowing sleeves of his hitatare. His eyes appeared to focus on the mountaintop. “You are a stranger to us. Sachi-sama, Hamasaki-sama and I are more familiar with your manners and ways. We…overlook much that others would find offensive. We accept your foreign ways because we know you mean no harm or insult. We also see you trying to learn our ways.

“Our society is such that we hide much of our feelings, even from those closest to us, all in the name of harmony. I have come to…enjoy your openness. It is refreshing. I like being able to quit a discussion without having to be right or wrong.”

“Your debates prove you are right, my lord. Especially in the matter of the land of the gods. And you have a way of changing the direction of a conversation.” She passed the daimyo, who moved to catch up with her. “We were talking about allowing me to leave the yashiki.”

“You have my permission to wander farther down into the village. I will instruct Sachi-sama of my agreement.”

They walked side-by-side, a position Sanematsu did not seem to question.

“May I be allowed to go farther?”

“You are taking advantage of my good nature,” he warned.

“I only want to go to the shore. I grew up on a ship and the wharf. I miss the water and breezes.”

“Very well. You may go to the shore, but no farther.” His tone was a dichotomy of softness and firmness.

“Thank you, my lord.”

They continued through the garden until the winding path ended at the spot it began.

“Now, as usual, I must turn you back over to Sachi-sama,” he said.

As though on cue, her teacher appeared, approaching them. After she bowed and greeted Sanematsu, Sachi asked, “Are you ready for your morning meal?”

“You know I am!” Aderyn laughed, and her Nihonese friends smiled.

***

With Sanematsu’s blessing, Aderyn established the habit of long walks on the beach. Away from the safety of the fortress, Hamasaki was in charge of a company of seven soldiers. Sachi, her invariable partner, did not mind the outings; but on the first, she insisted they proceed to the shore in a vehicle instead of walking through the crowded city like commoners.

Aderyn agreed, and they emerged from the house into the courtyard to find two kaga. This means of transportation was unknown to her, and for a few minutes she could only stare. It was a square box about six feet on a side with two movable panels. Four stout, muscular men stood at the ends of two long, thick poles. Their only attire, tightly wrapped fundoshi, exposed their hard and sinewy legs and wide, callused feet. Their arms and shoulders were overdeveloped from the work. Their dark, nut-brown faces were dry and wrinkled.

“You must step inside after removing your geta.” Hamasaki distracted her from her stare.

A maid knelt, her hands outstretched toward Aderyn’s feet, hidden beneath the robes of her uchiki. She held one foot then the other out for the girl to slip off the geta then entered the box. The maid set the shoes inside, and Hamasaki closed the panel. Sachi had already entered the second kaga.

The walls of the box moved in on her, the atmosphere stuffy and hot. Without warning, the kaga rose upward, swayed and proceeded forward. Aderyn’s stomach became unsettled with the motion. The longer the trip lasted, the more bile rose to her throat. How anyone could survive sea travel without a day’s seasickness and become sick on land was beyond her.

When they stepped onto the sand at last, she asked, “Sachi-sama, might we walk from the yashiki?”

“It would seem a better idea, since you have gone pale and shaky. Your face is waxen, and your hands are trembling.”

“Thank you.” Aderyn held her hands close to her midriff to still them and her rolling stomach.

“I did not know it would cause you such distress, Tori.” Sachi snapped open an umbrella, resting it on her shoulder to shade her face.

“It will pass.”

They walked away, and Hamasaki sent back the kaga to the castle.

***

“I never knew a bath could feel so wonderful.” Aderyn sank farther into the hot water until it lapped over her chin. At times, she was overwhelmed with amazement at how easily she had become used to Nihonese customs in a short half-year.

“Did you not bathe in your world?” Sachi shared the tub. Sweat, the result of the hot water and steam, dripped from their faces. Their hair hung limply.

“Not like this!” Aderyn dropped water through her hands. “We bathed only when absolutely necessary, like after the monthly bleeding. And never in winter! Mother would simply haul seawater up and dump it over our heads. It froze your soul, even in summer! And the soap was horrible. It left your skin red and sore.”

“I do not think I would wish to subject myself to that.” Sachi’s face curled into a mask of displeasure.

“It was a punishment to bathe.” Aderyn laughed. “Now, I hate to get out!”

“Perhaps that is the difference between a child and an adult,” Sachi commented, easing against the tub’s edge. “Children here do not often like bathing.”

“Do you have children, Sachi-sama? You do not say much about yourself or your home.”

Six months and she knew little about the woman who shared her waking hours. When she asked certain questions, Sachi deftly avoid answering them. Perhaps talking about her family would not be so taboo.

“My husband has given me three sons.” Sachi spoke with pride. Her angled eyes twinkled with excitement and her face light up.

“How old are they? Are they here, in the castle?” She had never seen children with her teacher and only Sanematsu’s daughters lived inside her wing. Her sightings of them were brief.

“My eldest is eight, the youngest, five, and the middle one, seven. A foster mother who lives in the samurai estates below the yashiki cares them for. It is a common practice that leaves me free to tend my husband and his household.” Sachi rose from the edge, wiping her face with a towel. “I did not realize you were so interested in children. I will seek permission for you to meet them.”

“I would like that, and to meet Lord Sanematsu’s daughters. He has told me many stories about the girls.”

“I am sure our master will see to it you and his daughters meet. Now, we must depart.”

“Arrgh,” Aderyn growled.

***

The weeks passed without boredom as Aderyn kept busy with Sanematsu and Sachi. She tried to teach Sanematsu to sketch and ended up struggling not to laugh at his stick figures. Among his many gifts were several colored ink stones, allowing her to create more elaborate works. He admired the work and seemed anxious for each finished piece.

Most frequently, she drew Lord Sanematsu--fierce and savage in full armor; regal and proud in formal kami-shimo, which combined a hitatare with hakama; youthful and virile in casual kosode, daimon and hakama; precise and agile in his practice clothes. One portrait, a sketch of him lost in contemplation and unaware of her attention, was the one she kept closest at hand.

In turn, he taught her to write with brush and ink. Taking to the art of calligraphy with ease, Aderyn found writing Nihonese helped build her vocabulary.

“Tori.”

Sanematsu broke one of their unusual silences. They were in his sitting room facing an open shoji to look seaward. Maids had opened the wooden shutters that during the night had closed out the torrential rains that pounded the residence. Even at the later hour of morning, almost midday, the sun had not shown its face. A gray shadow covered the ocean as clouds hung low; a chill touched the breeze.

“I would ask a favor.”

“Anything, my lord, if it is in my power.” Something had bothered him all morning. she supposed it had to do with the council, since he always returned to her agitated after a meeting with them.

“I think only you can.” He drew a hard breath. “Must you view everything you draw? Or can a person describe something for you to make a picture?”

“I have never done so, but I can try.”

Aderyn was sure she would try to fly if he asked it of her.

“Could you try now?” His face showed deep disquiet. Worry and puzzlement clouded his eyes.

“As you wish.” His preoccupation and now dour expression worried her. She did not like seeing him upset.

Sanematsu sent a servant for her art materials. At the same time paper and charcoal arrived, a middle-aged couple shuffled into the room. They settled well away from Lord Sanematsu.

“Today I gave audience to the inhabitants of Nishikata,” he explained. “Tori, this is Shimoda and his wife Fuyu. They seek their child, a boy of about thirteen new years. They will tell you what Taro looks like, and you will provide a picture for my men to show around the other villages.”

Aderyn readied herself as Sanematsu spoke with the grieving parents. They kept their eyes from his face, but Aderyn caught their curious looks toward her. After he finished speaking, the room settled into an uncomfortable quiet. She awaited their words then exchanged questioning looks with Sanematsu when no one was forthcoming. He nodded once in her direction.

“Shimoda-sama, you may speak to me,” she addressed the peasant. Their palpable unease piqued her curiosity. “I understand your language well.”

At last, the farmer spoke, and Aderyn began to draw. When Shimoda mentioned the boy’s resemblance to his wife, she looked at Fuyu to sketch some of her features onto the paper and noticed the woman’s silent tears.

It was not long before she held up the picture. Fuyu gasped, her hand rising to her mouth to hold in the astonishment.

“It is as if he is here,” her husband said. “You do us much honor with your concern, Sanematsu-sama. We are forever indebted to you.”

Both Shimoda and Fuyu lay in a bow to the floor.

“Your difficulties are always my concern. I hope this will help us locate your son.” Sanematsu inclined his head.

The parents left, and Sanematsu’s servant took the picture to the captain of the guard.

“Is there anything special about this boy?” Aderyn asked. Why would a ruler be so concerned with the disappearance of a child? Those in authority seldom worried about the day-to-day dealings of their people.

“All my subjects are special to me, since I am responsible for their well-being,” he explained. “As a father, I share their sorrow. With this man, especially, I empathize. He has one son--no one else to help with his rice or to look to in his old age for care. Most of all, he is their child and it touches the inner heart.”

“Could he have run away?”

“For what reasons? He is fed, clothed, housed and treated with honor as the firstborn son. A second son might, but not a firstborn.” He shook his head. “I fear something evil has happened.”

“I find your deep concern for your subjects admirable, my lord.” Aderyn fought the urge to place a hand on his arm in comfort.

***

The following day, Matsumoto reported to his daimyo.

“The boy cannot be found, sire.”

When he received the barbarian-created picture, he had recognized the boy. He did not think the family would want him back in his present condition and destroyed the likeness of the soft, effeminate, longhaired boy at his first opportunity. It irked him that the foreign woman should be used to make such a tool of investigation.

“I do not like it, Matsumoto-uji.” Sanematsu paced his garden, his general accompanying him. Around them, the gardeners prepared the plants for winter. “It is not natural for children to disappear within my province.”

“Who knows?” Matsumoto shrugged. “Perhaps it was not his karma to be a rice farmer.”

He recalled his last encounter with the boy. Those soft hands were not suited for manual labor, and the delicate mouth was perfect for the service he demanded of him. His round buttocks made a nice cushion for Matsumoto’s Jade Root. No, the boy was not suited for outdoor work.

“I have done all I can. Remain watchful for him.” Sanematsu left for the stables.

“I prefer to remain watchful of someone else,” Matsumoto muttered. “Someone nearer, female…and foreign.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Five days after Matsumoto met with Sanematsu to report his unsuccessful search for the rice farmer’s son, Aderyn and Sachi ventured down the shore on their routine walk. Led by Hamasaki, five of their military escort preceded them into a small cove around the arm of rocks. Watched over by two men, the women, chatting, giggling and enjoying the day, did not bother to keep up with the advance escort.

Hamasaki rejoined them before they rounded the bend. As he trotted down the shore, his hand rested on his swords to prevent their clanking.

“So sorry,” he spoke, out of breath and red-faced. “Tori, you must remain here with Sachi-sama.”

“What is it, Hamasaki-sama?” Sachi used the elite, polite words for conversation between men and women.

“Nothing to concern you. You will be taken care of here. I must return.” The young samurai guard moved away.

Aderyn fought her natural curiosity and remained where her guard had ordered. Well, more like requested. Moments later, they heard the men approaching. Four carried a bundle.

Curiosity overwhelmed any good sense Aderyn ever had and she rushed to them.

“What do you have?” she asked, working to maintain the calm tone Sachi used so often.

“It does not concern you,” the man nearest her spat, trying to continue on his way.

“Please, show me,” she demanded, stepping to block their path. Her personal guard caught up with the group, so she felt comfortable instructing the guards.

“I do not think Lord Sanematsu would wish it,” Hamasaki said.

“Excuse, please.” Sachi stepped up. “You should be aware that Lord Sanematsu allows Tori almost all she wishes. I realize you are charged with her welfare, as I am. For this, I will take the responsibility.”

“Very well, Sachi-sama.” Hamasaki signaled his men to lower their load.

“Tori,” Sachi spoke, resting her hand on Aderyn’s arm. “are you sure you want to view what may be a body?”

“It may be something, or someone, from my father’s ship,” she said, eager to know it her suspicion was true.

“It has been six moons, Tori,” Sachi pointed out.

“Things could still be coming ashore. We have never been this far down the shore.”

Her heart longed for something from her past life. There were days when she woke expecting her family to appear out of nowhere only to remember they were gone forever.

As instructed, one man opened the wrappings, and Aderyn studied the grotesque mask death and the sea had made of the boy who had been the subject of her drawing. He lay, abused in death as he appeared to have been in life. She fought the wave of nausea creeping up from deep within her body and turned away. The four bearers were allowed to move toward the yashiki.

“Who could have done such a thing?” she asked Sachi as they continued their walk with Hamasaki and two soldiers. The cold ocean breeze increased and stirred her hair loose from it bindings. She hugged her waist beneath her heavy outer robe.

“It will probably never be known. It appears the body was in the water for quite some time.”

Sachi moved her paper parasol from one shoulder to the other to try to include Aderyn in the shade. Although winter approached, she was always conscientious of the sun’s ability to damage complexions so carefully kept pale. Every time she tried to get her to carry a kasa, though, Aderyn laughed at her concern. She did not care if the sun darkened her skin the way the ladies of Nihon did.

“Sanematsu-sama will not take the news well,” she said. “He was very upset when the father told him the boy was missing.”

“I agree, but he will deal with it as he must.”

***

The way Aderyn wanted to shield the Great Lord from any unpleasantness was curious. Was it their friendship that led her to do so or was it another emotion growing within her breast? Sachi wondered. Did Aderyn harbor the same desire to protect Lord Sanematsu as she did to shield her husband from pain or harm? Was the relationship between her master and his companion changing?

“May I suggest we return to the castle? You will no longer enjoy your walk since your thoughts will be with Lord Sanematsu. And I speculate his will be with you.”

Pink spread over the foreigner’s face.

***

Sanematsu Yoshihide took the news of the boy’s death in grim silence. Retreating to the shrine of Hachiman Taro, he spent an hour listening to the raging of his own soul.

Following his orders, his doctors had inspected the body, and when he exited the shire, they gave him the information he needed to act. He made his way to the council chamber.

At his request, the Council of Elders assembled in a large room designated for governmental meetings and other important gatherings inside Nishikata-jyo. On a high dais at the north end, he had both arm- and backrests because he often sat for long periods. His grandfather half-sat, half-lay below the dais at his right. The council rested farther down before him.

“Honorable lords, I have called you together to discuss matters which are very disturbing to me.” He gave a stern look to the old men who stared back at him, daring them to interrupt him. “It appears someone is murdering the children of Nishikata. While bushido grants that a warrior may use his sword to slay another--man, woman or child--with honor, for a justifiable offence, neither it nor I allow murder.

“I find this situation appalling. While I will not dictate a man’s appetites, I will see those who find pleasure in such fatal lusts do not fulfill them in my ryo-chi.”

“What do you propose to do to prevent it?” his grandfather asked. His high-pitched reedy voice carried across the room. “Are you going to enter the houses of the floating world and police the futons?”

The other elders made noises of agreement.

“No, but I will issue orders to the women of those houses regarding the dealings they will have with the men who visit. Children are not to be harmed. Any member of the floating world who permits such perversions will have the house closed and all her possessions confiscated. The women will be turned into the streets to fend for themselves.”

This would be the most disagreeable consequence for any of the women, as they would then be among the prostitutes of Nishikata.

“I wonder what has brought about this concern for men and their sexual excursions in the willow world. Could it be the result of contamination by your foreign devil plaything? Do you feel guilty for your hunger for her? Someone not of the land of the gods?”

The old man’s eyes widened with speculation. The accusatory tone of his voice grated on Sanematsu.

“The children of Satsuma Province are not toys to be used and tossed away! I will tolerate and allow mutual pleasure as the Cloudburst and Rain should be, but that children should die for someone’s pleasure is far from acceptable.” His breathing came rapid and heavy gulps, as if he had finished a physical fight. “And as far as my guilt, it is between me and my conscience.”

“I do not see it is right for my heir to dirty his hands with such matters,” his grandfather commented. “You should not concern yourself with what a man does upon the futon.”

“Hmmph,” Sanematsu scoffed. “And when did the futon fall outside of your concern? Especially mine? It seems to me you have more interest in how, when and with whom I take my pleasure than anything else.”

His rage cooled as he made himself relax, shrugging to ease the knots in the muscles between his shoulder blades. They remained tight, and he attempted the exercise he had been taught years before.

“This meeting is concluded.”

He made an attempt to rise to his feet. Before he could stand, Imaizuni, a squat, round man, the youngest on the council, spoke with feigned abjectness.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lord Yoshihide.”

Sanematsu acknowledged him across the space of the chamber.

“As you wish.”

“For moons now we have been subject to rumors concerning the yabanjin in our midst. As yet, you have given us nothing but delays and excuses in regards to our viewing her. It is time we insist, for the good of Satsuma Province, that she be brought before us.”

He gave a hard stare to the man when he finished speaking. It was not uncommon for the council members to speak in such harsh terms to him yet he chaffed under the barrage. How much longer could he take these old men who stuck their noses into his business?

“Lord Imaizuni.” His voice carried through the hall. “I do not have to remind you that I alone am Lord of Satsuma Province, and I will do with anyone in that province as I wish. I see no need for the council to meet with her. Tori is a girl, neither warrior nor politician, and thus of no value.”

“So sorry, Sanematsu-uji,” Lord Kaihara spoke up, “but a yabanjin’s presence, be it male or female, has never been permitted. We cannot allow the Lord of Satsuma Province to be open to ridicule.”

“You do not allow me anything! I, on the other hand, allow you to live and advise me. Advice I may or may not heed! The matter of Tori is my concern, and when, or if, I wish to present her to you will be my decision.”

Sanematsu Yoshihide rose and, without bowing, stormed out of the chamber. Still, he knew he would succumb to their demand. Then, once more, Ko-tori’s life would be in peril. Could he save her?

CHAPTER TWELVE

You wished to see me, honorable Grandfather?” Lord Sanematsu bowed to the old man. With the aid of a special chair, used when he wished to be imposing, Shigehide sat erect in the center of his private room; the crippled leg jutted out at an odd angle from his body. A goh board was laid out in front of him. His samurai manservant sat over to the side, having been Lord Shigehide’s opponent at the gameboard.

Sanematsu concentrated on his grandfather. The old man’s thin skin stretched over his flat cheekbones. His hair, tonsured in youth, had disappeared over the years to leave him bald; the yellow skin on his skull was as dry and creased as it was over the rest of his wasted body. When his grandfather had been able to stand erect, he reached Sanematsu’s shoulders. The grandson often wondered where his great height came from, as his father had been short in stature, also.

“Yes, Yoshihide-ue, I did send for you.” His voice was deep and stern without signs of age. “Several days ago.”

Since the day the council had given him their ultimatum, it had been only a matter of time before his grandfather brought pressure to bear on him. Sanematsu’s position and Nihonese etiquette did not permit the council to question his actions, but Lord Shigehide could.

“I am disturbed at what I hear about my heir.”

“What upsets you so?” Sanematsu glared at the patriarch who chose to head the family--when it suited him. If he wanted to rule, why did he not?

“This girl, the barbarian. I understand you are instructing her in our ways.”

“I am.” Sanematsu would not deny it even if he could. “She has a deep understanding of our country. I believe she may have been Nihonese in her former life.”

“What?” The old man gave him a look that seemed to bore into him.

“You have not yet reached the age when your ears have failed.” Sanematsu tired of this discussion. He refused to allow anyone to sway him with regard to Aderyn.

“Things of Nihon are not for foreigners.” The old man snorted. “They have no way of appreciating the arts, beauty and harmony.”

“Grandfather, as I told you and the council, I will do as I wish. She does not fear me. I respect that. Her laughter is not like the tittering of our women. I like that.” Why was he telling his grandfather this? The old man had no way of understanding the mystical spell the girl wove around him.

“I will disregard your emotional outburst. Such lack of discipline is something that infernal monk chose to overlook in your training. I, however, cannot overlook the fact you have failed to tell us she spoke our language.”

“It is not necessary I tell the council everything,” Sanematsu stated matter-of-factly. He pushed his hands into the sleeves of his hitatare.

The elders failed to accept that he was well within his rights as daimyo to decide any matter. Because he often took the path of least resistance in the Council meetings, and by custom deferred to age, the elder lords took for granted he agreed with their decisions.

As for keeping secrets, Nihon was not a land conducive to such things. Mysteries were rarely kept long. His grandfather’s spies would have uncovered Tori’s knowledge of the language. He ignored the remark about the monk, used to his grandfather’s snide remarks about his mentor and friend, Sou Kiyohara.

“Females of any sort have been known to cloud a man’s, especially a young man’s, mind. It was so with your father. I do not know how many times we were forced to deal with bastards who might challenge you to your fief.” His grandfather lifted a tea bowl to his lips.

Was this a dig at him, a disparagement for his lack of bastards? Did it make him less of a man not to have illegitimate children?

“If it is a spell, I will allow her to spin it.” Something inside him responded to this seabird. The closest person to have provided such stimulation was Tsuta, yet what Tori aroused was greater, deeper. He could not spend enough time with her, and loneliness filled his hours when he was not with her. When they were together, the time was short no matter how many hours elapsed.

“I suppose the council and I should concentrate on finding you another wife.” Shigehide replaced the tea bowl on the tray at his side. “There are enough young women of the court whose fathers are clamoring for attention.”

“I do not care for another wife.” Sanematsu could not tolerate the thought of having to share his bed with another of the council’s choices. Should he decide to take another wife, he intended to do the choosing.

“You would do well to remember your duty to your domain. An heir is essential.” The old warrior adjusted his lame leg with his hand.

“Ah, so. We are back to that. Tori could mother a son easily enough.” This conversation would come to nothing, and he tired of it. Besides, he enjoyed needling the old man.

“Would the Shogun accept a barbarian’s child as your heir?” Shigehide pointed a bony finger at his grandson.

“I had not thought much about such a child.” Speaking of Tori in this manner made him uneasy. A pleasant uneasiness, like the first stirrings of his manhood as an adolescent, a feeling he liked yet did not know what to do with, at that young age. “However, if the occasion arises, neither you nor the Shogun will stand in my way.”

Without waiting to be dismissed, he left the room.

***

From the engawa along the front of his garden chamber, Sanematsu Yoshihide watched the foreigner as she sat on one of the large stones in the courtyard. She gazed reflectively at the cloudless sky. Having just come from her bath, her freshly washed hair draped over her shoulders. In the time he had spied on her, the long mass of rich brown hair had gone from dripping wet to glossy dry, stroked straight and smooth by the unceasing rhythm of her comb.

He left the engawa and walked across the graveled courtyard.

“Tori.” He broke into her reverie.

“Good evening, my lord.” She turned toward him. The comb continued to glide through the shock of hair she held over her shoulder.

“Your ha--are alone out here,” he stammered. He wanted to snatch the comb away and rake the luxurious hair with his fingers, bunch great handfuls of it in his palms and bury his face there. What was he thinking?

Perhaps his grandfather was right. In the half-year she had shared his ryo-chi, Tori had woven a spell over him. The spell showed him what he wished to be and illuminated the flaws in his world and his character. Most of all, she mesmerized his masculine being. This touch of woman to man drew him to strange thoughts.

“No, I am not. Hamasaki-sama is over there.” Aderyn pointed her comb at the young samurai, who stood amid the shadows.

“I meant…” Sanematsu found himself sputtering like an adolescent. “It is getting cool. Should you not be inside so as not to catch a chill?” He was speaking like the old women! “I do not wish for you take ill.”

“I usually dry my hair earlier in the afternoon, but the sun seems to be going down sooner.” Aderyn gathered her hair in both hands and lifted it behind her with a flounce. “I love this time of day,” she sighed.

“Winter is coming rapidly.” The trivial conversation imparted so much. Putting sentences together was difficult because of his flighty and dispersed thoughts. The idle words were necessary to calm his racing blood. The heat in his groin rose to an intolerable peak. “If you are finished, might I suggest coming inside to eat? Though you are not concerned with your health, I am sure you are concerned with your stomach.”

“Sachi-sama must have told you I am always concerned with my stomach!” Aderyn laughed. Such laughter appealed to him. She stood and walked with him into his garden chamber, where his servants had his meal prepared. He hoped the conversation would become less trite, but knew any discussion with Tori would be gratifying.

***

Several nights later, Sanematsu’s house guards gave her a perfunctory glare as Aderyn entered his audience chamber with Sachi trailing. Since she came and went from the daimyo’s presence so often, the watchmen did not question her.

The room’s panels stood open on two opposite sides in hopes of a gust of wind to dissipate the heat of the afternoon. The early winter months’ climate was fickle, as though the weather was unable to decide whether it wanted to be hot or cold. The days were humid and hot. The nights were cool and damp. A haze hung over the vista of the ocean and the mountains filling the areas once hidden by the rice paper screens.

Sanematsu paced the room, lost in deep, troubling thoughts. He wore a short dark-blue hitatare of a light material with black hakama. His short sword hung in the girdle around his narrow hips, and the long sword rested alone on the rack within easy reach of the dais.

Rebellion brewed in Lord Amemiya Tsumi’s region, northeast of the Satsuma Province, the only region near his posing a threat. Amemiya commanded a major army, but for years the two daimyo had held to the truce established by Sanematsu’s father.

Now the ruler of a small but powerful ryo-chi, Amemiya made noises of war. This posed a political problem. Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa had put an end to petty squabbles between daimyo by decreeing the aggressor would be declared a rebel to suffer the consequences. This alienated the rebel’s clan from all support, and anyone would have an opportunity to attack at any time without punishment.

Sanematsu’s generals and advisors were disturbed, but he chose to disregard them. He would not leave Nishikata nor risk the rebel label.

The women knelt to await his attention. With deliberate slowness, he turned, his hands clasped at the small of his back. They bowed, and he nodded in response. He studied Aderyn when she sat up, straight and stiff, anticipating his speaking. He could not bear to think of leaving her for a battlefield.

“You sent for me, my lord?” she reminded him.

“Yes, Tori.” He could not allow his face to show his quandary. “Sachi-sama, you may depart.”

“Yes, sire.” Sachi moved elegantly as she gathered her robes about her and stood. With soft, quick steps she left the room, her sock-covered feet whispering over the tatami.

“Ko-tori, the time has come.” Sanematsu seated himself before her on the raised dais. “I must present you to my grandfather and the Council of Elders.”

“As you wish, my lord.” She studied her hands in her lap. Her unbound hair draped around her face.

“Unfortunately, I cannot always do as I would wish. I have been able to keep you from them longer than I expected. They will be demanding and overbearing, but you need not fear them,” he explained. “I will not allow harm to come to you from anyone.” His words surprised him. Never had he spoken his thoughts in this manner. He hardly recognized himself at times anymore.

Aderyn raised her head, and he took in her bright green eyes. He hoped he shielded his trouble from his. Would she consider herself the prime source of his diffculties?

“When must I go?”

“Tomorrow at the Hour of the Snake.”

***

“Very well.” Aderyn swallowed hard. She feared her voice would tremble if she said more.

“You are quite pale, Ko-tori,” Sanematsu remarked. “Do you need to lie down? Have some tea?”

“No.” Now her voice did quiver. His concern touched her, and she was afraid she was going to give in to tears.

She sniffled and righted her shoulders. Four old men should not scare her. She’d faced the open ocean, rolling seas, her mother’s anger, her father’s discipline and Matsumoto’s sword. What more could frighten her? What more could threaten her?

“I am fine, my lord. I am calm enough to defeat you in the balancing game without your subterfuge.” Would he take her up on the lie?

“My what? You won fairly.” His reply came in a blustery rush.

“No, Sanematsu-sama, I did not.” She watched as he stumbled over words and fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“And how would you know?” His deep brown eyes, wide with surprise, sparkled with amusement. His bound hair reflected the lantern light with the bluish highlights of a raven’s plumage. Aderyn resisted the temptation to go to him and undo the hair, to move her fingers through its thickness.

“I was bragging to Sachi-sama about my wins, and she told me you had defeated her at the age of six!” she confessed.

Sanematsu laughed heartily. “I shall have to talk with the honorable Sachi-sama. She tells you too much.”

“She has many secrets she keeps from me.” Like what to expect at the council meeting. If they had their way, she suspected, they would destroy the relationship she and Sanematsu had that allowed them to laugh and smile with one another.

“Secrets are often kept to prevent one from being distraught or discontented by the information.” Sanematsu sobered. “I have kept you and your language secret for a selfish reason. I do not wish to share you with others. You are…special to me.”

His confession took her aback. What was she to do with this knowledge? Now she understood the need to keep secret what might be upsetting to someone. His words bothered her in a manner she could not identify, though the feeling was a warm and comforting one. She was bolstered with courage to meet with his council by having heard them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The chamber echoed with the sounds of the soldiers as Aderyn was led into the huge audience hall used for feasts and large gatherings. She had not felt this much a prisoner since her first day in Sanematsu’s house.

A tall latticework screen like those used to divide the wide rooms into small intimate areas loomed before her. Made of strips of reed split very thin and backed with transparent silk then decorated with artwork to better hide those behind it, the byoubu was a perfect shield. Through it the men would be able to see her arm movements and the wave of uchiki sleeves if she made any grand gesture; and with a little effort and something to set where it could push the reeds apart, she would have been able to see the men it blocked from view.

The shadowy outline of the Council of Elders gave the impression that they sat in an arc with a wide space between them and the screen. Her entourage fell back, and Hamasaki indicated she was to kneel.

Somewhere in the large room sat Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide.

“Tori, you are now in the presence of the Council of Elders of the Satsuma Province of Kyushu.” His voice boomed with authority as it had the first day he spoke with her. “You will submit to their questions with respect and honesty.”

“Yes, my lord.” Aderyn spoke without a hint of fear. Hearing his voice gave her strength and courage. He would catch her should she fall. At least, she hoped he would. Could she count on their friendship to save her life?

In her lessons with Sachi, Aderyn had learned Lord Yoshihide was an instrument of enforcement for his grandfather and the four old men. His actions were usually in response to their decisions, although not always. Would the council actually decide her fate? Or was that just how it appeared?

“Barbarian.” Sanematsu Shigehide spat the word, an opening volley in what she suspected would become a war. “My grandson has been remiss by failing to give you audience before us. Perhaps you could explain why. Was it your suggestion?”

“Many pardons, Great Lord,” Aderyn spoke as Sachi did when she conversed with such men. “I am a foreigner, but if my teachings are correct, only Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide may answer such a question. Is he not daimyo of Satsuma Province? What he chooses to do needs no explanation, especially from a woman.”

“Hmmph,” Lord Shigehide snorted.

“Foreigner.” Imaizuni entered the fray and allied himself to the elder Sanematsu. “If you are so knowledgeable, you know our shores do not welcome outsiders. Why do you come here and expect the privilege of living?”

“Respectfully, my lord, you must ask Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide. It is his wisdom and blessing under which I exist. If you continue with such questions, I must refuse to answer them, as I am not our daimyo and cannot answer for him.”

She was sure they would not overlook her use of “our,” claiming Sanematsu as her master as well as theirs. Would they hold it for or against her?

***

“Lord Yoshihide.” Sanematsu Shigehide turned to his grandson. “I wish to speak to you of another matter. Surely, you can hear me on this.”

“Yes, honorable Grandfather.” Sanematsu made an effort to remove the pleased smirk from his face. Tori’s answers were well-stated, veiled with diplomacy. Her responses proved she was learning and Sachi was an ideal teacher. The council was not pleased with her, since his grandfather was changing the subject.

“Lord Kanna’s eldest daughter is of marriageable age. It would be a wise arrangement if you were joined. I will proceed with the betrothal.”

“You will refrain from making any joining plans until I advise you to do otherwise. Now, you have requested an audience with Tori and I have granted it. From now on, I will decide any matter concerning her. You men will confine your advice to politics and governmental affairs.” He spoke in a manner he usually avoided when he met with the council. The fact he no longer needed their sagacious guidance had been clear for some time. He was tired of the pretense of allowing them to lead him, but he was not ready yet to dismiss them. “This audience is concluded.”

The men of the council sat, stunned and angry. The façade of council rule was crumbling, and the old men had to be sensing the approaching end to their reign. If they were honest with themselves, they would realize he, whom they thought they managed, permitted them that power and thus was in control all along.

He understood his grandfather’s comment about a new wife was a tactic to distract Tori from thinking she could influence him in such a direction. Yet they must have known she had not shown any overt behavior toward him of an affectionate nature. She offered him friendship, and the idea warmed him.

He rose and walked around to the other side of the byoubu, pausing to look down at Aderyn. When she raised her face to him, he smiled. Something inside the center of his chest swelled with pride and affection.

“Come.”

***

She followed him, the proper distance behind to his left. He led her to the garden pavilion, covering the distance with long strides. Aderyn tried her best to keep up.

She had convinced Sachi to allow her to exchange the wooden geta for a pair of rope-soled slippers so she could walk faster. Sachi did not understand why she needed to move quicker but had provided the footwear. Aderyn wished she could find a replacement for the narrow-hemmed uchiki with all its layers as well, but she had never seen women in the castle wear anything else. The peasant women and servants did wear plain attire similar to the men’s, but not the upper-class women.

Sanematsu strode with masculine grace in the formal kosode he had worn to attend the council. Sachi had explained his attire once when he was dressed for an audience with a visiting daimyo. Aderyn had seen only a glimpse because Sachi and Hamasaki had hurried her away to her rooms out of the visitors’ view.

This time she could study his kami-shimo, an outfit made up of an over-jacket with stiffened shoulders called a daimon and the everyday hakama. Beneath the daimon was a dark blue hitatare and a white undergarment, a hitoe. The daimon, with its batwing shoulders, made an impressive figure out of the already imposing Sanematsu.

While traversing the distance between the council chamber and the garden, she pondered the meeting. She had dreaded the encounter since the beginning, being led by Sachi to believe the elders held the power to decide her fate. What she had seen was just the opposite. They had puffed and postured, taking great pride in their positions, but nothing had happened or was threatened. The only hint of action was a suggested betrothal for Sanematsu Yoshihide.

Why had something so personal been mentioned in front of her? Did they think she wanted to be wife to their daimyo? Her face warmed with a rush of blood at the thought.

And what about Sanematsu? How did he feel about the meeting and what had taken place? Was he against having a new wife? Why? Did it have anything to do with her? What if it did? Would she welcome such attentions? The heat on her cheeks increased, and her chest seemed full.

As they crossed the courtyard, Aderyn concentrated on the crest of two hawk feathers crossed on a wooden wheel at the center of Sanematsu’s back. That kamon of the Sanematsu clan was emblazoned on each sleeve and both sides of his upper chest as well as mid-back. So focused was she on the design she almost plowed into him when all of a sudden he stopped to dismiss the guards. None seemed to notice her nose had almost been against their master’s spine as she took hasty steps backward.

The guards stationed themselves about the garden house as Sanematsu climbed the steps and turned her way.

“Ko-tori, I see by your reddened face that the council has upset you. I wish there was a way for me to make up it up to you.”

“Oh, I am…That is not…It was not too hard.” Aderyn stood on the pathway and gathered herself. His mention of her embarrassment increased her shame. Why did he have to tell her she was blushing?

Yet, she was pleased. This was as close to an apology as she would ever get from Lord Sanematsu, and she was warmed that he would even try. The men of Nihon were publicly--and most of the time privately--never sorry for anything they did or said.

“It is likely I have only succeeded in making them angry with me, and they will avenge themselves on you.”

Had she managed to assuage the elders? Or had she irritated them? Her presence and obvious closeness to Lord Sanematsu riled most of those around him, yet he continued to take up for her. She was his prize, a pet. No, she could not think of herself as a cat, tended by its master, brought out and petted at his leisure. She was a guest, a pampered prisoner whom he entertained in his idle hours.

But this was not correct either. Over the weeks, they had built a friendship, a trust that allowed him to speak against his council on her behalf. From their reaction, he did not treat them in that manner very often, if ever. Would the change in his demeanor toward them help or hinder her?

“You are so wise for a…” He looked at her, his eyes solemn and intense.

“A barbarian? Or a woman? I am more of a girl by your standards.” She grinned at him, tilting her head in that coquettish way she had seen her sisters affect.

Sanematsu nodded.

“Yes, you are all of those, as well as my friend.” He sat and waved her to do the same. “I have a special meeting arranged for you, more pleasant, I hope. My daughters have been badgering me to allow them to meet you. They can be most persistent.”

A maid appeared with a tray of tea, juice and manju. Aderyn had come to love the pastries made at Lord Sanematsu’s request.

“I know how that can be. My sisters and I could talk our father into almost anything if we tried hard enough.” If Sanematsu’s daughters were as influential as she and her sisters, they could be a worse danger than the council. All at once, she was terrified.

“I must confess, my daughters do have me well in hand, and I, in turn, spoil them without thought. I am afraid the men who take them to wife will have a difficult time.”

Aderyn read his face. Although often as not he was unreadable, she had come to discover the tiny details of behavior and expression that reflected his mood. Now, he was an open book, his tremendous love for his children in his eyes.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A melodic clamor of soft voices and giggles alerted the adults of the approach of the girls and their nurses.

“Here they come,” Sanematsu announced.

From his left, the group came toward the pavilion. The girls wore bright, single-layered osode tied with wide white sashes. Their hair was long and simply done, ribbons adorning the ponytails. The two little ones wore black canvas shoes while the elder two wore geta.

“They have been to your beach.” Sanematsu smiled her way. “They wanted to see what you found so interesting there.”

“I like the ocean. The smell, the sight, the sounds are all a big part of my life,” she tried to explain.

The daughters arrived at the steps. When she caught sight of him, Chiyo cried out for her father and began to squirm in her nurse’s grasp. Sanematsu called his children to him.

“Ah, my little crane.” He caught Chiyo as she lunged from her nurse’s arms to grab his neck. “Tori, this is my youngest, Chiyo.”

Once in her father’s lap, the three-year-old sat still and content.

“What have you been doing?” he asked her.

“I went to the water,” she replied in baby babble. “See.” She pushed a seashell towards his nose, eager for her father to approve of her treasure.

“I see quite well!” He laughed and leaned backwards to avoid being injured. He took the small arm in his hand to pull it away from his face. “It is lovely. Here, take this and run along.” The toddler crammed the pastry he gave her in one piece into her mouth.

The other young child stood at the bottom of the pavilion steps with her nurse. The older girls had come up to kneel before Sanematsu. The bows exchanged between father and daughters went unnoticed by Aderyn, and his attention and eyes rested on the reluctant offspring.

“Miyo is being bashful, Tori,” he confessed. “Usually she is talkative, inquisitive and rambunctious, always into something she should not be. The nurses assure me this is as it should be. She is six.”

Aderyn smiled and nodded as though she knew what he was talking about. Truth be told, she had no idea if he was right or wrong, knowing little of children.

“Miyo, did you not find a treasure also?” Sanematsu called to his daughter.

Aderyn warmed to hear him speak so gently to her. He gave Chiyo to her nurse, who took the satisfied child away to the nursery.

“No.” Miyo put the fingers of her left hand into her mouth. The nurse removed the hand and encouraged her forward. At the same time, she spoke into her ear. The girl shook her head and hung back.

“What did you find?” Sanematsu sensed a secret.

The older girls giggled behind their hands and turned to look at their little sister. Aderyn caught their surreptitious glances her direction.

She was not surprised at their beauty. The two girls’ features were exquisite and delicate, their eyes dark and wide. Aya, Sanematsu’s stepdaughter, and Hatsu shared a maternal resemblance. Hatsu also shared with the two younger girls some of their father’s looks. His features, outstandingly handsome for a man, became exquisite in the young women he had sired.

“She found a crab!” Hatsu said, excited about being the one to tattle. “Show Father your fingers,” she urged Miyo.

They reminded Aderyn of her sisters. They had often banded together against her to force her into doing or admitting something against her will.

“Come, Miyo, let me see.”

Concern etched on his face, Sanematsu went toward the girl. The little girl shied away from the daimyo.

“Please show me, Miyo,” he coaxed, squatting to the child’s level and reaching toward her. The gentle tone sent a glow of contentment through Aderyn.

The child threw her arms around her father’s neck. She hugged him close, and soft sobs came from the face buried in his shoulder. Sanematsu clasped her to him. He spoke calm words to persuade her to release him so he might see her injury, and the child held up her hand for inspection. She sniffled as her father manipulated her bruised fingers.

Satisfied the child was not permanently harmed, Sanematsu straightened to his full height. A dark flush colored his face, and his eyes flashed as he slapped the child’s nurse. The maid cowered, her eyes downcast, but made no effort to excuse herself or to flee his wrath.

The sight of the abuse, as well as Sanematsu’s actually meting out such punishment, caused Aderyn’s stomach to clench as though she had been struck. How could the man with whom she’d spent so many calm and pleasant hours cause pain to a woman? He was a warrior, but this was not war.

As he stood glaring at the maid who was charged with his daughter’s welfare, however, she came to understand his fierce reaction. He was a father, concerned about his baby, wanting only the best for his daughters. Still, the sudden violence left her unnerved.

“How did this happen? You are to make sure they are not harmed!” He inhaled deeply; the breathing raised and lowered his shoulders. He turned to Miyo, who stood holding onto his hakama. “Go. Have my physician attend her.”

He gave the child a cake and dismissed her. She forgot the sore fingers, intent on the sweet, and went with her nurse.

Sanematsu faced the pavilion and held his arms wide. The older girls ran down the steps to embrace him. The wide sleeves of his osode draped them, one on each side. Aderyn envied the way he touched the girls with familiarity. Just a brush of his hand against hers when he took a tea bowl from her made her want to take that hand in hers. When he bent to look at her drawings, she wanted to stroke his soft raven hair.

Could this be another emotion beginning to grow deep within her? She begrudged the closeness his daughters, his mistress and even Sachi had with him. There was a separation between them, culturally and racially as well as the space of captor and prisoner. Her position, never out of her mind, would not allow her to open to the sensations and desires she was gestating.

But she found it harder and harder to ignore the affection she’d become more and more aware of since the night she spilt hot tea in his lap. The yearning had strengthened. She scoffed at the idea, remaining confused and lost amid her feelings.

***

“These are my young women, Tori. Aya-hime, Hatsu-ue, this is Tori.” Sanematsu led his daughters up the steps to retake their places. They bowed to one another, Aderyn’s deeper, a perfect reflection of Sachi’s instruction. Lower caste persons bowed lower than those higher in rank. His daughters were above her in status.

When they finished, a maid poured tea. The females eyed each other while the male observed. The girls would follow all the polite formal etiquette they had been taught, so nothing personal would pass among them.

Any animosity towards Tori could manifest itself years from now when his daughters had households of their own. Wives of daimyo and samurai were obedient and submissive, yet held a gentle power to influence their men. If one of his daughters hated Tori enough, she could entice her husband to move against her. The husband might use assassination, open rebellion or blackmail to eliminate the foreigner in their midst. If the barbarian remained among them.

Sanematsu did not see such a devious nature in any of his daughters. At thirteen, Aya was becoming a willowy slip of a woman. Nine-year-old Hatsu, prone to chubbiness, hinted at attaining some of the unusual height of her father. She was already taller than her half-sister by several inches.

“Are you going to replace Tsuta-sama?” Hatsu asked Aderyn with unaccustomed bluntness.

“Hatsu-ue, you should not ask such questions,” Aya advised her sister in a soft-toned reproach.

“But is that not what usually happens?”

They talked as if Aderyn were not at hand.

Sanematsu cleared his throat. “Aya-hime, Hatsu-ue, this is not proper conversation.” His tone was neither harsh nor stern nor was it soft and tender. “Tori, you must forgive them. Hatsu has always spoken what is on her mind.”

“I am not offended, my lord,” Aderyn admitted. “I do not think anyone could replace Tsuta-sama.”

“She has been with me a long time.” Sanematsu gave her a mischievous smile.

Aderyn’s composure crumbled. She bowed her head to hide her blush, evidence of her discomfort at his last words. Sachi, in fulfilling her position as Tori’s teacher, reported to him in detail his seabird’s thoughts on pillowing. During one of these disclosures, he had learned of the young barbarian’s disturbance over Tsuta’s place.

Women of his world were open and liberated with their bodies. This was not to say they were immodest or promiscuous. They accepted the function and needs of their womanhood, fulfilling those urges as was necessary. Tori was embarrassed and ashamed of pillowing and the workings of her woman’s body. Sachi had explained Tori’s unease with the relationship of men and women. It seemed that, in her world, a man remained faithful to one woman, and those who did not were seen as wrongdoers.

This was one of the many things that made Ko-tori an enigma to him.

Sanematsu was embarrassed for her and ashamed of himself. Still, he was responsible for her inner harmony and must endeavor to restore her calm.

“Tori is a gifted artist, my daughters,” he told them, hoping to restore her serenity.

“I have heard, Father, from Sachi-sama,” Aya said. “Tori, perhaps you could teach us? We have had many hours practice with calligraphy.”

“I would be happy to. You could help me with my calligraphy. Sanematsu-sama has started teaching me.” She glanced his way, giving him a soft smile.

“I would be most honored, although Father is much better than I,” Aya agreed.

The girls began to speak with Sanematsu. They told him about their morning’s expedition. Aya shared Aderyn’s enthrallment with the ocean, but Hatsu thought it boring.

“Father,” Aya addressed him with an over-serious tone, “have you had time to see the new samurai, the young men who have finished their testing and been sent to your guard?”

Sanematsu was amused that his daughter felt it necessary to remind him of which samurai she spoke. Every spring, young men of samurai rank from all over Nihon went to Kyoto to be tested and be recognized as warriors. It was a ceremonial rite of passage called gempuku, wherein a young boy became a man. The ceremony, held when a boy reached the height of an adult male, could take place anywhere, but it had become customary to hold a yearly festival in Kyoto for the high-ranking samurai sons.

They were then sent to their father’s daimyo’s garrison for service. Thirty-four such newly declared men had been added to Sanematsu’s ranks. They had yet to be presented to him, there being other formalities to go through first.

“No, I have not. Lord Matsumoto sees to their duties when they arrive. Has one offended you?” No young man had offended her. Attracted her attention was more like it.

“Oh, no, Father!” Aya was flustered. Although the area of the courtyard was cold after the descent of the sun behind the mountains, she employed her silk fan with vigor to cover her agitation. “I had wondered, that is all.”

“I have an idea. When they are presented to me, you may sit at my side and give me your opinion of each one,” he said in a roguish tone.

“You are most gracious, Father, but I must decline.” Aya folded her fan and pushed it into her sash. The maneuver hid her face from him. “I know nothing of the fighting arts and could not speak to you with any intelligence.”

“Aya-hime,” Aderyn interrupted. Aya raised her gaze from studying her hands. “I often sit by the practice area and sketch your father and his men at work. Would you like to see what I have finished or maybe sit with me? That is, if Lord Sanematsu does not object.”

“Father, could I?” Aya turned to her stepfather with expectancy.

“As you wish.”

The shy girl had already made a choice. With luck, the young man Aya fancied would fill the requirements to be her husband. Sanematsu would use Tori to help him discover who this warrior-swain was.

The girls chattered on with him while Aderyn tended to the tea and juice she and the girls enjoyed. He slipped from role to role, accepting the many characters he was forced to assume--a gentle, affectionate father; an angry, frightened father; a wise, teasing father. The daughters withheld little, and in return, he showered them with his affection.

Sanematsu took note of the dichotomy of his barbarian prisoner through the evening. Tori would display great maturity; then, out of the blue, the girls would say something to cause his foreign friend to blush. In many ways, she was as young as the least of his daughters, but there were so many other ways in which she was every bit as much a woman as his mistress.

The illusion came from her appearance. With a statuesque and proud posture, she towered over the women of his world. Her full bosom and rounded buttocks made her appear as though she had borne children. Her confident poise projected wisdom.

The women of Nishikata-jyo had control of everything from the servants to the purse strings, so the men of the castle could concern themselves with the things of manhood, that is, war. They ran his household, satisfied his lusts, bore his children. Tori had no idea how to perform these duties; and although she was mature enough for childbearing, he knew from Sachi she was appalled at the idea. As for lust, did she know it existed?

So much about this woman-child attracted him, but he could not let that happen. He could not let himself be attracted to her or allow her into his most personal areas. She had never done anything to stir his blood on purpose, yet her very existence made his heart pound and blood rush to fill his loins. He squelched such thoughts before they could take hold of his body.

Tori was a danger to herself. Many things she had done with or said to him could cause her to lose her life with another samurai. If she were to survive, he would have to spread his wings to protect her. What was his would not be harmed unless he so ordered.

Yet because of Tori, he, too, was in danger. Her presence threatened the chauvinism of the Nihonese, who feared outsiders. How could he explain to Lord Ashikaga, Shogun by Emperor Go-Tsuchimikado’s edict, why he let her live on the Sacred Isle?

He glossed over the potential peril with the thought that the Ten-nou and Shogun were far away in Kyoto and no threat. He was safe on Kyushu, in his ryo-chi…for now.

Then again, perhaps the Ten-nou was correct about foreigners. They brought strange ideas and new thoughts to the Land of the Gods. Sanematsu questioned his role and those of the people around him. Most perplexing was his loss of interest in Tsuta. His attention, and body, was pulled in a different direction.

***

Tsuta wandered Nishikata’s market. Trailed by her guards, she picked over fruits, vegetables, fish, and moved to other vendors with items from all over Nihon. Without seeing what she looked at, the courtesan examined silk, sandals, hats, baskets, dolls, beads and jewels. What she wanted was not a trinket, but an end to her turmoil.

Turning, she trotted to her kaga. She barked orders to the bearers before she climbed in and slammed the panel shut. Her mood lightened by slight increments with the decision to seek resolution.

The kaga came to rest at the teahouse of Sayo. Tsuta alit and marched through the gate. The guards positioned themselves at the doorway. Sayo was with her seconds later.

“Oh, Foster-mother!” Tsuta wept. She fell into the older woman’s arms. Since her own parents had sold her to the woman at the age of two, Sayo had been her mother.

“What is wrong, my daughter?” When the girl’s tears subsided, Sayo guided her to sit on the mat. “You have no reason to cry. You are treated well by Lord Sanematsu, are you not?”

“I suppose.” Tsuta wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her osode.

“He does not beat or abuse you in any manner, as other samurai are known to do. He restricts his pleasures to you and showers you with as much affection as a Nihonese man is capable of.”

A female child came with tea and disappeared.

“I am very fortunate.” Tsuta sniffled. “I am so foolish for crying. It will be hours before I can show my face outside!”

“You are correct. You cannot allow anyone to see your puffy, reddened eyes,” Sayo admonished. “Why are you acting this way? It is not becoming to such a lady of Sanematsu’s house.”

“I have failed to serve my master,” Tsuta confessed. “Now I shall be punished for it.”

“Why this change of situation? You have held Lord Sanematsu content for the past two years.” Sayo poured tea with practiced calm.

“You have trained me well, Foster-mother.”

Sayo’s spies within Nishikata-jyo reported to her at regular intervals, or her foster-mother would have seen to it she was properly punished for any infraction, even if Sanematsu did not.

Tsuta’s placement with Sanematsu had been the second highlight of Sayo’s life, for which she still reaped rewards. When Sanematsu became Tsuta’s sponsor, he agreed to set Sayo up in Nishikata, though he had not purchased the courtesan’s contract outright as he could have done.

The notoriety of Sanematsu’s patronage brought many samurai to her house. And there was always the possibility of his buying Tsuta’s contract. This entire monetary burden was on the courtesan’s slim shoulders.

“For the last three moons, I have come to his pillow sporadically, where before it was every night,” Tsuta explained. “Sanematsu-sama is a young man and very virile. His lust never flags for long. Last night he called for me for the first time in ten days. I cleansed myself with care and dressed with particular thought. I laid out the instruments I knew would please him from my pillow box.

“He dined, and I sang, as he likes. But try as I might, his attention was elsewhere. I kept having to draw his thoughts back to me.” She choked back a sob. “When at last we did go to the pillow, it was not the same. He has never been so afflicted.”

“Could you not cause the Steaming Shaft to rise?” Sayo guessed, using the trade word for the peerless part of all men.

“Oh, no, Foster-mother.” Tsuta smiled. “It sprang forth as usual without aids, tall and rigid. I have never had to resort to the use of potions or devices.” She tried not to sound as if she bragged. It was not proper to boast of either one’s master or one’s own sexual prowess. “The problem was he did not complete the Cloudburst. He attended to my pleasure, but as for his own, he could not!” She covered her face with her hands. “Or would not!”

“Tsuta-ue, you will soon have his son.” Sayo reached out and stroked her foster-daughter’s hair. “You are young and have many years.”

“How can I if he will not spill his seed because of the barbarian woman?” Tsuta raised her head. Anger replaced her pain. “He can think only of her!”

“Ah, I understand. He is pillowing her?” The gray-haired head bobbed up and down. The loose jowls of her round face swayed with the movement.

“No. But since she arrived, she is with him during the day, and at night, I can tell he dreams of her. As we pillowed last night, when I thought the Cloudburst was upon him, he whispered her name.”

“It is as I have suspected.” Sayo pulled the opulent osode tighter over her breasts. “We must work to insure the barbarian does not displace you, my daughter.”

“We both know if Sanematsu-sama wishes to oust me, he will do so unless I have a powerful tool to use,” Tsuta reminded her. Neither of them wished to return to Miyazaki and the masterless samurai who found work on the ships in the port.

“Tsuta-sama, we will find a way to keep you with Lord Sanematsu. Send word that you will be staying here for a few days. That you are ill. We will decide what to do. In the meantime, your absence will make him miss you more.”

“I hope you are right.”

“Am I not always?” An idea was already forming in Sayo’s mind, as she patted Tsuta’s hand with her pudgy one.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Alone, Sanematsu sat and pondered the dilemmas of his life. The day had been long, exhausting both mind and body. In the hours before he retired, he sipped sake and thought about what was happening around him.

He was not doing his duty to his people and threatened to fail his emperor. His highest-ranking officers now went to deal with tax collecting in the villages. Earlier in the day, he had received his generals’ reports regarding the tensions in the northwest. He dreaded the incipient war for more reasons than his own hatred of bloodshed. The thought of leaving his castle disturbed him. He sent others to deal with the conflict instead of going himself.

He had not met with the council in the last month. By not overseeing the elders’ decisions, he appeared to be conceding to their wishes. Pressures were building. The coming months would bring the appointment of shugo, the position of provincial governor, and he would be required to attend the Bakafu at Kyoto.

Ashikaga’s Bakafu was so named from the tradition of a battlefield government established inside the commander’s tent when the early shoguns had no fixed residence. As shugo, he would be required to maintain a yearlong presence at the Kyoto court where the Shogun met with the Bakafu, issued decrees and formed alliances. The appointment could not be refused and brought with it a heavy responsibility. Although the lure of Kyoto did present itself as an escape, Sanematsu did not want to leave Nishikata. He did not wish to be away from Tori, the source of his pleasure and his quandary.

Once he had found great peace and harmony, nestled in his castle; now it was all confusion. He was a boiling turmoil inside, the deepest part of his soul distraught and frothing. The chaos was about to spill over and destroy his contentment. He was no longer complacent about his life and the people in it; he chaffed at accepting his role and the rigors of it. For the first time in his life, he saw flaws and blemishes everywhere. Things he had overlooked for ten years came into focus, and he did not like what he saw.

When he had received Tsuta’s message a week earlier that she was confined to bed at Sayo’s teahouse with illness, Sanematsu was not concerned. He felt no guilt about being pleased to be alone. Since he could not have the body that dominated his thoughts, he would entertain fantasies. And it was not his mistress who stirred his blood.

He could hardly contain his passion for Tori. Events of that very afternoon had caused it to rise to its highest peak. The regions below his swords swelled as he recalled what had occurred.

***

While Sanematsu met with his war council and Sachi attended to the duties of her own household, Aderyn walked the beach of the small cove. She hated the way her guards shadowed her. They moved with every step she took, and forming a claustrophobic human wall around her.

The air held a hint of the coming spring, alluding to its warmer weather. Even now, the heat was evident along the shore. The breeze calmed, leaving the humidity to fill the air, and the sun bore down. Sweat dripped to the small of her back and between her breasts. Droplets trickled down the side of her face, and her clothing became stifling. At the edge of the water, a strange summons seemed to call to her from the ocean.

“Hamasaki-sama,” she told the samurai, “please leave and take the others with you.” She waved a hand toward the guards.

“So sorry, Tori. Lord Sanematsu will not permit me to leave you alone.” Hamasaki spoke softly but with determination, ready to resist whatever argument she tried to offer him. He had witnessed her outbursts of stubbornness often enough.

“I do not care! I am tired of all of you surrounding me. I will not run away,” she asserted.

“I cannot.” He sounded certain he would have his way.

“Lord Sanematsu wishes me to be pleased.” Aderyn changed her tactics, adding a honeyed tone to her voice. “If you remain, I will not be pleased. I would have to tell him who was responsible for my unhappiness.”

She turned her back to him while she glanced over her shoulder, eyes askance.

Hamasaki Heishiro looked perplexed. She watched the battle between his orders and what she asked raged inside him then walked a few steps away. Let the young man stew.

“As you request.”

Hamasaki turned on his heels, snapped at his men, and they went away. Aderyn waited until they were out of sight then disrobed. Her conscience prickled at having put him through the agony of disobeying Sanematsu, but she needed to be alone. Rationalizing that nothing would happen to her, she pushed the nagging guilt away and waded into the refreshing, if chilly, water.

The fine sand slipped between her toes, and an occasional brave small fish brushed her legs. The cold water tingled her flesh with gooseflesh, and her nipples puckered. When she was in up to her knees, she dove into the waves and came up several feet away from shore. She swam out into the open sea.

***

Complying with Sanematsu’s commands, Hamasaki dispatched a runner to inform the daimyo of the barbarian’s activity. When the messenger arrived, Sanematsu had finished listening to his generals and planned to apply his free time to his martial training. Hamasaki’s man’s report dictated that he set out for the beach.

There he spied Tori swimming far out in the cove. Captivated, he watched and waited for her to return to shore. The sun seemed to shine brightest over her as she glided through the waves.

Contrary to her wishes but nevertheless following his lord’s orders, Hamasaki had dispersed men to stand on the cliffs on either side of the beach to keep anyone else away from “Tori’s Cove.” She must not have seen the men watching her because she began to splash and frolic. Several minutes had passed when he heard the warrior on the right shout as he gestured toward Tori’s playground.

Both Sanematsu’s samurai and Tori’s guards tried to get the girl’s attention, but she was too far out to notice. He ordered his men into the water to retrieve her. They hesitated for a moment then obeyed, handing their swords over to their peers. What seemed an eternity later, two of them emerged dragging her, who struggled between them like a fish on a line.

The way she shook off the soldiers when she caught sight of him amused Sanematsu. In knee-deep surf, she marched up to him, nude and dripping ocean water.

“How dare you?” she shouted. She stood before him as she always did, proud and dignified. “How could you treat me like this? I am tired of being watched, unable to be out of anyone’s sight! I was only swimming.”

Sanematsu could do nothing but stare. Tori’s anger blinded her to her state of undress. During all their conversations and time together, her thoughts and speech had never been that of a woman, so he tended to overlook her gender. Now he was confronted with it, and she was more beautiful than he could have imagined.

Her skin had a natural tan, as if she were sculpted out of teak. Her hair, sleeked back on her head, clung provocatively to her firm body. Her breasts stood upright, full and round, the pink-tinged nipples puckered in the cool air. Her abdomen was flat, with a nest of light-colored fur at the juncture of her thighs. A red flush covered her face and neck as it always did when she was angry.

“Do you have to keep those dogs on me?” she railed on. “I am suffocating! I cannot go anywhere. Do you think I can swim to Min-koku? Or Portugal?”

Sanematsu came to his senses, tearing his eyes away to see his men leering at her. Fortunately, her nudity distracted them from noticing the barbarian shouting at their feudal lord.

He looked for her clothes.

“Why are they here all the time?” Tori continued, still so angry she did not realize everyone was staring at her. “I do not desire to escape, and I am quite safe here.”

Sanematsu handed his swords to the man at his right--the man who always stood at his right.

“There…”

He untied the girdle holding his garment closed.

“…was…”

He removed the white hitatare, leaving his torso beneath bare.

“…a…”

He approached Tori and draped the hitatare around her.

“…shark.”

By instinct, she put her arms in the sleeves, and he closed the front. He tied the girdle with tenderness. The garment came to the top of her knees, whereas on him it fell just passed his groin. The sleeves, three-quarter length on the warrior, covered the girl’s hands.

“They…” He pointed to the men who had served as lookouts. “…saw it approaching you. Those ‘dogs’ saved your life, Ko-tori.”

His words were soft as he studied her green eyes.

Those unique eyes cut left then right to see the samurai lookouts. She then turned toward the open ocean. A triangle of gray flesh cut the surface in wide circles in the clear blue water.

“My men are here to protect you, not to keep you prisoner,” Sanematsu explained, his hands on her shoulders.

“I am sorry.” She inspected the sand between her bare feet. “Please, thank them for their watchfulness.” She raised her face to him. “I apologize for shouting at you.”

“It is your way.” He shrugged and removed his hands. “But, from now on, will you allow them to do as I have ordered? If they fail, for any reason, they will have to answer according to bushido.”

As she was not conditioned to consider the way of the warrior, he was certain she had not thought of how her demands could have resulted in Hamasaki’s death. He would have to insure that Sachi explained what bushido required of failures, about the ritual of self-kill, seppuku, along with the many other responsibilities of a woman of samurai rank.

“Yes, my lord, I understand. May we go home?” She held his hitatare closer.

“Yes.”

***

Sanematsu, naked to the waist, his long sword again in his right hand, led the group through the city to the yashiki. He deposited Tori in her quarters then went to the practice area. Sparring all afternoon, he worked up a profuse sweat and immense fatigue. He practiced long and hard, until he could not raise his sword. Then, after relaxing in a bath, he satisfied the resulting ravenous appetite.

Now, long after sunset, he sat with his sake, feeling the sensations continue to churn in his lower abdomen. He could do nothing to quell the desire the episode on the beach had stirred. Ko-tori’s nude image refused to leave his thoughts, and his feelings took on new and uncomfortable meanings.

He had never experienced such a strong desire, such hunger, such need, with any of his women. Pillowing was a duty performed to preserve the familial line and his personal health. Why had he not experienced this flame with the women of his past? Could the fire burning in him be a passion no other woman had uncovered?

Was this the emotion Tori spoke about when she related romantic stories from her own country? The stories, first told to Sachi were, as with everything concerning the foreign girl, reported in their entirety to him. Tori explained the European courting customs often so Sachi could understand the stories popular in the West. Her tales were filled with embracing, hugging, kissing and other such intimate gestures reserved for the privacy of the bedchamber here.

Since the age of thirteen, he had enjoyed the tingle of soft, moist lips on his body, but the casual touch of mouth on mouth in public seemed indecent. Yet, stirred whenever he was in her presence, he entertained thoughts of sharing such gestures with the foreign girl.

He pushed away the thoughts of touching her, of joining with her. His relationship with Tori was perplexing and complicated. Though she was a woman, he treated her differently than the women of Nihon. It seemed right to listen to her, to allow her to speak her mind, to treat her with the respect accorded to men.

He feared that if he were to take her to the pillow she would be lowered to the position of a woman; and as much as he desired her, he dared not risk losing her as an equal. Then he would think it unimaginable that he could not pillow with her and remain her friend.

His frustration grew, and he sent for his personal guard.

“Hikita-uji,” he addressed his most trusted man, “you have visited Sayo’s teahouse of the Willow World?”

“Yes, my lord.” Hikita’s dark eyes remained fixed on his as he knelt before him.

“Do you have knowledge of any lady worthy of my attention?”

“Perhaps my wife could be of better assistance. She has always provided most wisely in this area.”

“Have her come to me, then.”

Samurai did not just drop in at a teahouse--only lesser-level warriors took their pleasure with prostitutes. They were for the lower classes.

“Yes, master.” Hikita departed.

***

Sachi sat opposite Tori playing one of the many games they had taught each other. Soft words at the door interrupted their giggling. The evening guard opened the shoji, and Hikita Takayasu charged in.

“Sachi, you will come with me,” he growled.

“Yes, anata danna-sama. Please, excuse me, Tori.”

The samurai stood impatiently as Sachi gathered up her uchiki--to cool her body in the humid night, she had folded it down around her waist so only the thin hitoe covered her slender shoulders. Then she stood and followed her husband out and down the halls.

As they neared the quarters of their master, he informed her, “Lord Sanematsu would have a moment of your time. He is troubled and wishes for you to send for a woman from the teahouse.”

“I do not think that will make his trouble any less.”

“I do not like the way the barbarian’s presence upsets Lord Sanematsu.” Hikita spoke boldly to his confidante and wife. “My job is to protect him, but I cannot protect him from what the girl does to him.”

“You are very wise, anata danna-sama.”

He had voiced his concern several times, sharing with her Tori’s effect on the man who held all their fates in his hands. But as much as they were servants of Sanematsu, they were also his friends.

“I do not see how you can help him.” Hikita shook his head, his shoulders drooping a bit.

“The woman he desires does not reside in the teahouse,” Sachi reflected, touching her husband’s arm.

“I am relieved I am not the only one who notices the…attraction.”

Hikita regarded his wife in an almost tender way. Sachi smiled at him.

“What are we to do?”

“Nothing, anata danna-sama.”

They arrived at the doorway to Sanematsu’s private chambers. Hikita opened the door, and Sachi entered.

***

In the time it took for Sachi to arrive, Sanematsu had rethought his plan. Until moments ago, he had been happy not to have anyone share his futon. Why was he now sending for a woman? He recognized the signs of sexual arousal, but did he really want to fulfill his lust? Could he?

“Good evening, Sachi-sama.” He had to say something, since he had called for her.

“Good evening, my lord.” Sachi added an extra bow of her head after she knelt.

“I had meant to ask a favor of you, but it is not important. You may return to whatever you were doing. Please excuse my interruption.”

“Very well, sire.”

Sachi left the chamber. She passed Hikita, leaving him as confused as she was.

Sanematsu watched the shoji close and called for more sake. He would not sleep, and the night promised to be long.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aya sat beside Aderyn a distance away from where the warriors practiced. Aderyn held a paper and brush and employed both with skill. While Sanematsu’s stepdaughter was in possession of the same tools, her eyes were riveted on a young man. Aderyn could not say exactly which one, since there were so many bodies moving about.

At the start of the training session, all the men wore the same loose clothes, tied with a girdle at the waist. As the hours passed, they began to shed the coats to expose sweaty, corded pectorals and backs. Some of their hakama, like Sanematsu’s, looked as if they would fall down from the lack of hips to support them. This was perhaps not the place for decent young women.

Aderyn finished her sketch at the same time the men finished practice. As they dispersed, she relaxed her shoulders and hand. Aya rushed away, taking Aderyn’s supplies with her.

Sanematsu came over and smiled down at her. His bound hair glistened with sweat and stray strands fell around his ears and neck. The scent of wintergreen hairdressing carried in the air. He wiped without success at the rivulets of perspiration running down his face with the sleeve of his hitatare. The edges of the jacket gaped open.

“Did we pose well?” he asked.

“You acted as if you did not know I was even here.” She looked up the length of him. Her famished eyes passed from his narrow, dirty feet to his slender hips, over the flat stomach indented with a small navel to his wide, golden chest.

“I find it very hard to forget you are nearby.” He dropped to one knee in front of her. “It is a wonder I was not injured, because my mind was preoccupied.”

“My lord Sanematsu.” She reached to touch him, hesitated then pulled back before she made contact. “You must always keep your mind on your fighting.”

“I shall,” he reassured her.

She could tell he read her concern deep within her eyes. It was hard for her to hide her emotions the way he and his people did.

“My lord!” A retainer rushed forward.

“Yes?” Sanematsu rose and faced him, his manner cold and stony.

“Excuse me, but Lord Shigehide has called a council meeting and requests your presence at once.”

“Inform my grandfather I will bathe and be there at my leisure.” His dismissive tone gave no hint of argument or concern about his grandfather’s summons.

“Yes, sire.” The man rushed away.

“Come. Walk with me,” Sanematsu said to Aderyn. His smile softened the order, and in an uncharacteristic gesture, he reached out a hand to her.

She delicately placed her fingers in his palm and stood. With reluctance, she released his hand--hot, sweaty and hard with calluses--as soon as possible, bewildered by the feelings it stirred.

They walked toward the bathhouse.

“Who is that very old man?” She nodded at a man with stark white hair who stood off to the side of the practice area.

“My sensei,” he answered. “I thought he was old when he started teaching me the fighting arts. I can hardly imagine his years.”

“He must be very good.”

“With age, he has gained much wisdom. My father had Master Wada brought here for me when I was seven.”

He waved the guards away as they reached their destination. Even the elite Hikita and Hamasaki left.

“Why do you hesitate?” he questioned when Aderyn stopped at the stairs. He paused to face her, one foot on each step. “We were talking.”

“I cannot be with you while you bathe!” she protested, still unnerved by his unaccustomed touch.

“Of course, you can!” he exclaimed, his lips curved into a pleasant smile. As though reading her thoughts, he said, “You know very well it is not uncommon for women to bathe with men. And women are always attendants in the bathhouse for either.”

“But I have never shared my bath with anyone except Sachi-sama, and Hamasaki-sama is the only man with us. At least, he is dressed!” Her face burned. Lord Sanematsu would be naked. What would she do if she saw him so?

“I could order you to.” His voice was soft; the teasing glint in his eye she adored deepened.

“Would you?” He would not order her to do anything she did not wish to.

“In this matter, yes.” He entered the bathhouse. “Now, come with me.”

Aderyn hesitated. Every fiber screamed out for her to join him, to see the man beneath the clothing. She wanted to deny the desire as a wave of conscience swept through her. If a priest were nearby, she would have raced to confess and receive his absolution for her sinful thoughts.

Instead, she climbed the steps closer to the source of temptation.

As she entered the damp room, Aderyn looked for Lord Sanematsu in the shadowy interior. Two women hovered over him as he stood beside the tub, from which thick steam rose. Speechless, she watched as the maids peeled the clothing from his body. One pulled the jacket away from his torso, and the other untied the strings holding his pants up. Aderyn’s heart thumped in her chest, anticipating the view of Sanematsu Yoshihide’s nakedness.

The canvas garment slid down to his feet. The moment she saw the tight round buttocks, Aderyn fought to keep her hands from flying to cover her face. The maid knelt and gathered the pants into her hands as Sanematsu lifted his feet to free them. When he turned to take a seat on the low stool provided for him, Aderyn tried to fixed her stare on his chest instead of giving in to the impulse to let her eyes make the occasional quick dip to his navel…and beyond.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she struggled to move air through her lungs. Once he was seated, the view of his intimate areas was eliminated. That was, if she did not strain to peer into his lap.

The maids lathered, scrubbed and rinsed their master’s smooth skin. One untied the ebony hair and combed it until it hung past his shoulders. Some strands fell forward on his forehead, reminding Aderyn of the small boys she saw in Nishikata. The maid shampooed and rinsed his hair. When she finished, Sanematsu stood. Heat rose from Aderyn’s stomach, filling her chest and face with a flush as she waited for the next glimpse of his manhood.

Thankfully, he draped the small square towel used for washing over his groin, but as he stepped into the vat, Aderyn was subjected to a rear view. Water rolled off his broad shoulders, down his muscular back to his narrow waist and hips. The muscles of his glistening buttocks flexed beneath golden skin. His thighs were hard and smooth. She thought her heart would explode with its rapid beats.

A tingle arose between her legs, a dampness she attributed to sweat emerged from the deep parts of her. Her lower abdomen churned with desire for him.

When Sanematsu was submerged to his waist, sitting on the stool beneath the water, he removed the tenugui. He wrung it out and laid it on the tub’s edge. He did all of this as if aware of her naivete and not wishing to embarrass her. Aderyn could finally take a deep breath, but passion rolled within her.

She walked around the tub, took a seat on a dry stool beside the vat and dropped her hand into the water. Sanematsu immersed his head several times before he eased back against the edge.

Aderyn loved his hair--thick, dark and always shiny. It looked so much nicer unbound.

“As I was saying, Ko-tori, my father was very wise,” he said, returning to their conversation outside the bathhouse. “I began my warrior training at the age of three, learning to defend myself without a weapon. When I was seven they gave me my katana, and trouble ensued. That was when my choice of doing things with my left hand was severely challenged. The teachers were perplexed and did not know what to do with me.

“Being left-handed is thought, in Nihon, to be an evil thing, against all nature. I, myself, feel if I cannot use my eating sticks with my left hand…well, starving is also against nature!”

He laughed, and Aderyn smiled. His rare pleasant facial expressions had originally seemed uncharacteristic of him. The longer she was with him, the more he smiled, and the more familiar it became.

“My father, instead of concurring with their idea of forcing me to use my right, sided with my mother, who suggested the gods had made my left side stronger for their purposes. He sent samurai out to scour the land near and far for a left-handed teacher. It was a difficult task.

“A monk at the Asosan Temple, left-handed but under vows not to leave the temple, sent another brother, Master Wada. He taught me to use my difference to confound my opponent. A man faced with a ‘different’ challenger has to think how to proceed. Because I do not have to think, moving with conditioning and reflex, I am victorious in those few seconds of my enemy’s hesitation.”

“I understand too well, Sanematsu-sama,” she responded. “I, too, am left-handed.” She floated her hand across the surface of the hot water, warm tendrils wrapping around her in a cozy cocoon.

“I noticed.” He relaxed against the tub edge while he thought. “I think you should now call me by my first name.”

Surprised and nervous, Aderyn warmed with the request. To be allowed the use of someone’s common name was a great honor. By eliminating formality, he became less and less the powerful daimyo and more and more a man. What would he want in return? What did she have to give him, who had everything?

“I am unworthy of such an honor, my lord.” She dropped her chin and clasped her hands in her lap.

Sanematsu sat erect, the water sloshing against the cedar walls with the force of his movement, and lifted her chin with a finger.

“You are worthy of it, and all I have to offer you.” His face was solemn.

“As you would have it,” Aderyn whispered. “Yoshihide-sama.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Aderyn’s presence during the afternoon’s training had also distracted Matsumoto Katsura. Concerned more with Sanematsu’s distraction, he could not contain the rage his lust provoked. He became so angry he injured two of his opponents during the hand-to-hand combat practice.

Frustrated, he watched as the woman followed Lord Sanematsu inside the bathhouse. Though surprised by this odd event, he could rest assured the daimyo would not take his pleasure with the girl. He had overheard the messenger about the council meeting; Sanematsu had no time to tarry in his bath.

Matsumoto sensed he would have his chance soon. While he waited in the garden, like a spider in anticipation of a butterfly’s falling into his web, he fantasized about Sanematsu’s seabird. Youthful partners were the easiest targets for his predilection for sexual domination; but since the passage of Sanematsu’s new law, the teahouses would not supply the boys he required.

Now his blood boiled, and he ached to have his way with the one person he could dominate in the most intense manner. He would have her kneeling before him and begging to taste and touch his Jade Root, to have it thrust deeply inside her. She would plead and cry for him. He hoped she would struggle and give him an excuse to inflict pain on the delicate bird. It would add so much to his pleasure.

So involved was he with his erotic schemes, Matsumoto did not notice Tori and Sanematsu emerging from the bathhouse until he heard Sanematsu speak.

“I wish for you to dine with me.”

“Thank you, my lord,” came the girl’s reply. Her soft, pleasure-filled tone of voice appalled the eavesdropping general. “I shall see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

Sanematsu took what appeared to be the first reluctant step in departing. However, Matsumoto did not waste time with his master, but watched his master’s bird. The steam had caused her to sweat, and a flush covered her face. She fluffed her uchiki at the neck like a shy maiden. Aroused more than ever, he decided he would show her what that feigned innocence would get her.

“I, too, Yoshihide-sama,” he heard her answer, her tone airy and delicate. The quick smile her whispered caress of his name brought to Sanematsu’s lips as he strode toward the main house disgusted Matsumoto.

“Tori.”

Her name spat like a curse from his lips as he stepped from the shadows where he lurked. Sanematsu had done him a great favor by dismissing the guards. With no one near for him to order away, she was at his mercy.

“Sachi-sama suggested I show you the stables. She said you have an interest in…flesh. Horseflesh, that is.”

Her expression was fearful--she knew her place well. He was samurai and carried two swords with license to use them. She could not refuse him.

“Come, now,” he snarled. “I know you speak our language.”

“I know you do, Lord Matsumoto,” she spoke precisely. “I remember asking Sachi-sama about the stable, but…I was thinking…whether or not I had the time right now. Lord Sanematsu has requested I attend the evening meal with him. I must change into more appropriate attire.”

“You will make the time.” He forced her with a painful grip on her forearm down the steps.

***

The remote area of the courtyard was quiet and menacing, devoid of people. Eerie silence surrounded the wood-and-plaster building housing the great warhorses of Sanematsu’s army. When they entered the dark stable, hay and horse scent assaulted Aderyn’s nose. The rush of blood in her ears muffled the sounds of the horses. Fear narrowed her vision.

Matsumoto led her past stalls from which the occupants poked their noses. Any other time and in any other company she would have enjoyed visiting the horses.

He shoved her into an empty stall at the back of the building. In the stall next to it, a huge bay stallion watched them over the half-gate. Fresh hay lay on the hard-packed ground of the shadowy depths. A shelf set low on the back wall was laden with tack and grooming equipment.

“You have been alone with Sanematsu-sama far too long, barbarian.” Matsumoto removed his swords. The long one he kept in his hand. The short one he stood in the corner.

“I do not understand, Matsumoto-sama.” Aderyn tried to be brave, preparing to talk her way out of this. She took a timid step toward the gate. Her heart constricted in a painful wrench.

“Of course, you do.” Matsumoto blocked her. “You and I will learn more about each other.”

Aderyn retreated until she was backed into the corner when he reached to touch her face. The closer he came, the harder the wood and rope pressed into her shoulder blades. His face, inches from hers, loomed large and menacing; his hot, fetid breath nauseated her.

“Sanematsu-sama is not what you need. You need a powerful man to teach you pleasures you have never experienced.” Matsumoto’s lust made his coarse voice more grating.

“No! You cannot--” Her protest stuck in her throat as his fingers closed around her neck, stopping both words and breath.

“You will not speak. I do not wish your words. Remove your clothes.”

Matsumoto dropped his hand after the order and backed away.

“I will not!” she choked out after a gulp of air. Anger coursed through her as her blood rushed along her veins. When he unsheathed the long sword, her terror returned.

“You will do it now!” He placed the point of the sword against her cheek. “Or Lord Sanematsu will be told of an unfortunate accident that has befallen his barbarian seabird.”

With precise skill, he pushed the blade tip, opening the skin in a line along her cheekbone. Pain and hot blood filled her face. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes until a single drop rolled down her injured cheek. Mixed with blood, it ran into the corner of her mouth to allow her to taste her anguish.

“Are you going to comply?” He ran his tongue over his dry lips and panted. The razor-sharp steel slid down to the hollow of her cheek. Another small, painful wound appeared.

“Yes.” Her voice quavered; the saliva in her mouth dried up.

The leer in his eyes revealed he wished she would resist so he would have an excuse to hurt her more. She put a hand to her belt and opened the front of the osode with deliberate slowness, in desperate hope someone would interrupt this horrendous happening. A hitoe, a thin, plain chemise-like garment worn by joined women that Sachi made her wear lay beneath. As was its purpose, it hid her body.

A growl emerged from deep within Matsumoto’s throat. The katana cut though the material in a direct line from her left shoulder across her chest, making a wound, long and curved, beneath her right breast. Blood dripped down her ribs. She swallowed hard to keep from screaming. The pulse rate in her temples tripled.

In the next stall, the horse began to move in nervous excitement at the smell of blood and other human scents similar to those of war. He nickered and bumped his shoulder against the wooden walls, trying to break through the gate.

Matsumoto’s moved his sword away. “Take it off.”

Aderyn’s hair swayed as she shook her head. She could not go on with this. She closed her eyes, but her tears would not cease. Salty water flowed down her face and burned the cuts on her cheek. She bit her lips until they bled, but she did not make a sound.

“You will regret your decision.”

The sword returned to her shoulder, the flat edge pressed against her skin. He forced her to her knees as he opened his practice clothes. He reached into the loose fundoshi, pulling out his rampant flesh. Aderyn averted her eyes from the thick, heavily veined organ. Gravel and rocks sliced into her knees.

As though he sensed the evil taking place, the horse’s movements became more frantic. He bounced up and down as his whinnies changed to snorts, His forelegs lashed out, cutting through the air with sharp hooves. When Aderyn saw his heavy head over the high wooden divider, her tears stopped.

The sword came away, and Matsumoto positioned the weapon so it passed over her shoulder without harming her flesh. The sharp edge came to rest, poised, by her upper arm. He applied pressure, and it sliced a deep, painful wound into the muscle.

Aderyn stared up at him but did not cry out. The breath captured in her lungs burned, and her chest hurt from the rapid pounding of her heart, but she would not show it. He would take too much pleasure in that for her to allow it. She would do anything to prevent his enjoying her torture.

The great stallion now neighed and thrashed in his stall. His agitation increased as Matsumoto’s advances became bolder. If she could hold out a little longer, someone surely would come investigate. The stablehands were very particular about the horses.

She concentrated on the horse and its frenzied movements. He reared, bumping his ears on the ceiling, then came down to strike the gate with his hooves. His ears flattened against his head; his nostrils flared. His neighs became a loud scream. When his hooves did not move the gate, he charged. His deep chest crashed into the wood as he continued his vocalization.

Matsumoto reached for her exposed breast, shrouded by the halves of the hitoe. The nipple puckered with cold and fear. A horrible leer was painted on his face. Sweat dripped down her torso. A shiver raced down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck rising.

“What is going on?” a young voice called from the stable doorway. “Uma?”

Aderyn’s trembling heart skipped several beats. Matsumoto’s fat fingers halted in mid-reach and his head went up.

“Is someone here?” the man asked as he neared the empty stall. “What is going on?”

Aderyn listened to the approaching footsteps. The horse continued his assault on the gate.

“Great horse.” His tone was gentle.

The snick of steel sounded as a sword left the scabbard.

“What causes this commotion?” He was next to the stall.

Matsumoto grasped Aderyn’s injured arm and squeezed it then, with an indelicate shove, propelled her under the shelf at the back of the stall. She crouched into the corner, pulling her legs up to her chest. Her chin quivered, and she drew the ruined hitoe up over her body. Her arms encircled her knees tightly to try and keep her trembling under control.

Matsumoto, his back to her, gathered his swords and righted his clothing. In seconds, he would be gone, and she would be safe. For how long? She would never be free of him. At any time, he could complete his attack.

“Great horse, easy,” the young man soothed. “What is this about?”

The stallion calmed but continued to stomp its rear hoof.

“Uesugi-uji.” Matsumoto exited the stall and approached the unknown warrior. “I ordered you and your fellow recruits to attend Nakata-uji’s war class.”

“You did, my lord,” the new samurai answered. “It has concluded. I heard Dai-tan’s screams as I passed the stables. I thought something had happened to him, so I came to investigate. I am sorry if I displeased you, Matsumoto-uji.”

“You have done well. I must have disturbed him while working on my horse’s tack. The horse is quiet now. We can leave him.”

Matsumoto’s voice faded as he and the warrior-to-be left the stables.

In pain, Aderyn pulled herself up. She lifted her osode and draped it around her shoulders, having no strength or, with her injured arm, way to fasten it. Tearing a length from the destroyed hitoe, she wrapped the wound. The blood continued to seep down her face as she wiped away tears.

She could not openly walk to her room. As she struggled to get into the corridor, she became weak and stumbled against the occupied stall’s splintered gate. The fear she had controlled for so long had drained every ounce of her energy. She slid to the ground and cried.

The smell of old hay came with the burst of warm air blowing down her neck as something nudged her head. Something soft nibbled her shoulders. She looked up. The horse pushed his velvet nose against her bleeding cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered. If not for his noise, the young samurai would have passed by and left her to Matsumoto. Her horror intensified as she thought of what he would have done to her.

As he bent low to accommodate her, she grabbed the horse’s head. Encircling the massive neck with her arm, she allowed him to pull her up as he raised his head. She clutched great handfuls of his black, coarse mane and buried her face in it. Violent sobs racked her body, and her shoulders shook as she burrowed her face in the warm coat. Tears flooded down her face. Nickering in response, the warhorse comforted her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Aderyn made what seemed to be an endless journey to the bathhouse. She placed her foot on the first stone step and, by sheer will, forced one then the other up the stairs. A single maid guided her to the stool with a gentle hand then proceeded with her bath. The steamy building was a refuge where she had no qualms about the woman’s discovering what Matsumoto had done and could hide until the strength to face the world returned. She would not know the wounds’ origin, and would not ask, for Nihonese bathing etiquette allowed no information about bathers to be spoken of.

Trying to remove Matsumoto’s filth, Aderyn had her scrub a second time, harder, with more soap and hotter water. She merged with the steaming tub feeling only a little better--the maid could not cleanse her soul.

“Shall I send for Hamasaki-sama?” the woman whispered.

“Please,” Aderyn spoke no louder. She wondered where her omnipresent guard was. If he had not been dismissed by Sanematsu, Matsumoto would never have humiliated and hurt her! What had delayed him from returning to her side? With all the trouble he had taken to protect her so far, surely, the daimyo would have sent him back.

On her return, the maid announced, “Hamasaki-sama is outside.”

“Thank you.”

Normally, he would enter the bathhouse. Did the bath maid keep him out to maintain the secret of her wounds? How did she manage it, when he had shared the room so often before?

A pink tinge colored the water from the blood running from the arm wound.

“Tori.”

The maid approached her; it occurred to her for the first time that no one used honorifics with her name.

“Are you not to attend Lord Sanematsu’s evening meal?”

“Yes.” Aderyn did not even try to guess how she knew. The workings of the castle were such that very little went unnoticed. How long would she be able to conceal the injuries from Sanematsu? She had to try.

She could no longer hide. She came out of the bath and dressed in a clean osode. The bath maid treated her arm wound with ointment, wrapped it with a tight bandage and then smoothed the balm on the cuts on her face and chest. She gave the clay jar to her with instructions on its use before Aderyn departed the sanctuary of the bathhouse.

As she and Hamasaki walked to the women’s quarters, she draped her hair over her face.

“Tori, I am remiss in attending you,” he confessed. “Lord Sanematsu had another duty for me to perform.”

“I did wonder where you were.” She fingered her hair to insure it occluded her face. “Lord Sanematsu dismissed his guards when he entered the bathhouse.”

“He is an excellent swordsman. Since you were at his side, you were better protected by his katana than mine.”

Her bodyguard was a step ahead of her, a little at the side. Their height was identical.

“But he left me alone.” She swallowed hard and held her trembling chin in check. If she stayed with this line of conversation she would be in tears.

“Perhaps he was distracted when you parted,” he suggested, with more openness that she was accustomed to.

“It is of no matter. All is well,” she lied. If she told him what had taken place and of her wounds, he would be subject to answering with his life. She had learned that the answer for failure was dire. Was she worth it? Was a small amount of blood shed enough to merit his death? She could not have it on her conscience.

No one waited in her chambers. From the lacquered chest of beauty products, she took up a small hand mirror to inspect her face. How would she explain the injuries? They were not small enough she could hide them with makeup nor, except for her arm and beneath her breast, large enough to leave scars. Sanematsu would surely ask.

Nor could she tell him that Matsumoto had tried to rape her. It was her word against his, and Matsumoto’s carried more weight. He was samurai; he was karou; he was a lord in his own right.

He was a man.

Sanematsu would have to remain ignorant; but even if she had to die doing so, she swore she would have her revenge on Matsumoto. This would not break her spirit. She would keep the dignity and pride he had hoped to take from her, refuse to cower before him or avoid his presence. She would seek it out and show him how determined she could be. Never again would he see her cry!

Finished dressing, Aderyn combed her hair without energy. As she struggled with her thoughts, exhaustion came anew. How could she make it through the long hours of dinner with Sanematsu--seldom were their meetings short? Matsumoto’s assault had taken all the strength she possessed.

“Tori?” Sachi called from the outer room. “Are you there?”

“Yes, Sachi-sama.” Aderyn willed her voice to be steady. She shivered at the thought of confronting others with her wounded face. It was easy to be brave all alone in her room. Perhaps she should confess all to Sachi--the lady would hold it secret.

Then she thought better of it. She would tell Sachi some story about the cuts on her face and keep her from spying the ones hidden discreetly beneath her clothing.

“May I enter, Tori?” Sachi requested. There was a touch of urgency in her tone, as if she were fearful Aderyn would not let her in.

“Please do.” Aderyn pulled her hair back, away from her face. Let all see the gashes, especially Matsumoto, the only other person to know their origin.

“Lord Sanematsu has summoned his entire household to dinner,” Sachi said as she entered. “Are you ready?”

Aderyn finished the braid as Sachi watched from behind.

“I believe so.” She faced her. “I require your help with my outer robe.”

“Oh, Tori.” Sachi’s hands went to her mouth in astonishment. “What has happened?” She stared at the wounds.

“It is nothing.” Aderyn made an effort to sound nonchalant. Still weak, she tried not to sway when she stood. “You know how clumsy I am. I was coming across the garden and stumbled. I cut my face on the rocks, that is all.”

“It does not appear…Let me see to the obi.” Sachi tied the white girdle encircling Aderyn’s narrow waist with quick, efficient flips and tucks of the heavy silk. “The bright green enhances your eyes. I thought so when I had the seamstress make it.”

“I am glad I have some special occasion to wear my newest uchiki.”

The conversation sounded stilted, each of their thoughts on matters other than clothing.

“Shall we go to the audience hall?” Sachi put the finishing touches on Aderyn’s dress.

“Yes, I am starved.” She was becoming quite adept at telling untruths. She was, in fact, sore and fatigued. Actually on the verge of nausea, she did not want to face food, wishing only to crawl into her futon and pull the quilts over her head.

But she was duty-bound to attend Sanematsu’s banquet and determined to show Matsumoto her courage.

As they made their way to dinner, she attempted to add credibility to her story by joking about falling over if she walked too fast in the geta. It also gave her an excuse for her lack of energy.

“Why has Lord Sanematsu called everyone to dinner?” she asked to change the subject.

“I doubt our master would tell you himself. This is a special occasion. It is his birthday.”

“He told me when we first spoke that he had seen twenty-five ‘new years.’ What did he mean?”

“We celebrate and count age from the first day of the year. But, as he is our daimyo, we have a feast on his actual day of birth. It is really an excuse for a party.” Sachi giggled behind her hand.

Aderyn had never seen such a feast at Nishikata-jyo. The audience hall had been transformed into a festive place. Guests sat at low tables placed in rows along two walls. Screens hid a third row of tables. At the center of the back wall, where Lord Sanematsu sat, the table was elevated. Flanked by Lord Shigehide on his right and Lord Matsumoto on his left, he looked as if this was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

The members of the council sat to the right of his grandfather and the high-ranking samurai beyond Matsumoto. A dull-robed priest sat on the corner at the end of the line of warriors. Female servants sat behind and to the left, one to each male guest. Only men occupied the tables in view. Women retreated to their places off to the side, behind the painted screens.

While they waited their turn to greet the daimyo, Aderyn spoke to a maid and sent her on an errand. Sanematsu’s honor guard called them forward after several other guests. They knelt and prostrated their bodies. Aderyn’s spirits lifted when she rose. As their eyes met, Sanematsu’s dark, exotic ones fought not to crinkle into a smile. He cleared his throat and put on a sterner facade.

Sachi took Aderyn to the screened corner. The byoubu were the same as when she had sat before the council, except in these lattices small wedges spread the reeds and allowed the women to surreptitiously view the men.

“Tori,” Sachi told her before they took their places, “you must greet Lady Haru.”

Aderyn followed her past Sanematsu’s two oldest daughters, who acknowledged their father’s friend with subtle nods. They approached the woman who sat at the end of the table.

“My Lady Haru,” Sachi said with great politeness, “may I present Tori, our master’s guest?”

“It is a great pleasure to meet you.” Aderyn bowed. She did not like the now-familiar look of disdain she saw on Sanematsu’s sister’s face.

“I have heard much about you.” Haru nodded to Aderyn and Sachi.

There was little familial resemblance between brother and sister. In fact, they shared no feature. Haru was a short, fleshy woman, her thinning hair pulled back and streaked with gray. Her uchiki was full and billowing. The years she had above her brother showed--her round, flat face was lined with wrinkles and folds of fat. The court fashion of black ink on her teeth did not hide their yellowness and stains.

Because of the remoteness of Nishikata, most of the young women had foregone the teeth-blackening tradition, but the older women who had spent long years in Kyoto continued the practice.

White rice powder broken by red blotches painted on her cheeks and the scarlet outline of her lips made a garish mask of her face. High on her forehead, painted eyebrows replaced those she had shaved.

Haru dismissed them, and Sachi and Aderyn took their places. Looking over her shoulder, Aderyn lamented her distance from Sanematsu. They were halfway down the room from the dais where he sat, looking oddly solitary among the guests. The servants served appetizers and the traditional female drink of plum wine. Warm sake flowed in vast amounts on the male side of the screen. Pieces of raw fish with kelp and seasoned rice lay on dainty dishes in front of her.

The women could hear the salutations and poems composed for Sanematsu. Lady Haru spoke the birthday wishes of the women of the household through the silk. The servant Aderyn had dispatched returned and, at a break in the well-wishers, she called out, “My lord?”

A gasp filled the hall. Haru was the only woman permitted to speak from behind the screen.

“Yes, Ko-tori?” Sanematsu replied without hesitation, as if her action were quite normal.

“May I be allowed to approach you?”

Sachi shook her head in a fit of panic, frowning like a disapproving mother. And like a disobedient child, Aderyn ignored her, brushing her silent admonition away.

“Of course.”

She heard him swallow. This was the only hint that he was not as calm as he tried to appear.

Aderyn went around the screen and crossed the open area. She knelt very close to Lord Sanematsu’s elevated table. Inside the sleeve of her uchiki, she held a scroll.

“Lord Yoshihide…” She used the given name he had granted permission for her to use. “…in my country we have a custom of giving gifts for one’s birthday.”

She refused to look at Matsumoto, who glared at her from Sanematsu’s side. Her agitation increased. She would not let him see her fear.

“I wish to give you this.”

She pulled the scroll from her sleeve and offered it on extended palms. Sanematsu’s guard transferred it to her master’s hands.

“What could a barbarian have that our great master would want?” Matsumoto scoffed, though his voice held a hint of a leer. He quaffed a bowl of sake. Others joined his coarse laughter.

“It is a modest and unbecoming offering, but it comes freely, without persuasion.” She stared at him now, without flinching, certain he understood her meaning.

Sanematsu opened the scroll--a sketch of his daughters.

“I am pleased, Ko-tori.” He sounded touched.

“And that pleases me.”

Aderyn returned to her seat. The meal was served; and when the food was consumed, the women were dismissed. Sanematsu called to her before she could leave the hall.

“Ko-tori, please remain. I wish for you to be seated here.” He indicated the space behind him.

“Very well.” She crossed the floor again and felt the same aghast stares on her back. She rounded the end of the table where the monk sat picking at small bites of plain rice. When he looked up as she passed, she glimpsed his eyes. They looked somewhat familiar, as did his thick shock of raven hair. Were not all monks shaven-headed? She did not see disapproval there before he returned his attention to his dinner.

At Sanematsu’s side, she took the place vacated by his maid.

***

Sanematsu saw the disgust on his men’s faces--women did not leave the modesty of the screen! He watched from the corner of his eye as Ko-tori observed them drinking sake in unceasing abundance. Now that she was close, his concern increased. The red, raw wounds on her face--wounds like those he had seen on battlefields--were evident when she faced him as she arrived at the banquet. How could she have come by them? He did not like secrets, particularly when they involved those around him.

“Ko-tori,” he said, almost in a whisper. He turned, and she leaned forward to hear him. “What has happened to your face?”

“Nothing more than the sandals of your country, my lord.” She laughed. “I fell while hurrying to the bathhouse. I have a terrible time with the geta.”

“Ah, so.” Sanematsu pursed his lips as he mulled over her response. “Perhaps you should not wear them. I believe Sachi-sama has given you the slippers we often wear. Why do you not wear those?”

“Yes, my lord, I will do that from now on. Thank you for your concern.”

He faced front. They could not continue their discussion because the evening’s entertainment required his attention. A woman from the Willow World sat in front of the guests to sing and play her samisen. She held the floor for some time but relinquished it to a sister artist who was a dancer. When the second woman finished, a guard came from outside.

“My lord, pardon my interruption…” He knelt. “…but the woman Sayo-sama has requested an audience. I informed her you were occupied, but she persists. She says it is most urgent as well as appropriate for this special day.”

“Let her come,” Sanematsu decreed. He flung back another bowl of sake then set it on the table. Ko-tori refilled it.

Sayo entered with Tsuta trailing. They were both dressed in the Kyoto Court style, indicative of the price Sanematsu had paid to have Tsuta in his house. Every man present lusted for the exquisite woman of the Floating World. Her uchiki was the most expensive--a rich, heavy silk hand-embroidered with apricot blossoms in gold and silver thread. Her hair was piled on her head in glossy rolls pinned with hairpins fringed with more silver and gold. Like Haru, she had painted her face a flawless white. Her shaved eyebrows were redrawn higher on her forehead than the natural position in bold black pencil. Her lips were a perfect red bow.

Both women carried themselves with the air of samurai ladies, although neither was of that elite class. They knelt before the men of bushido.

“You wish to speak?” Sanematsu was full of indifference, and it showed in his tone. He gave Tsuta a glance. The time had come to put her aside. He would tell Haru to make the arrangements.

“Yes, my master. I bring favorable news.” Sayo’s crusty voice irritated him, the grating whine rubbing his nerves raw. “News you have long awaited.”

Tsuta kept her head bowed, allowing the edge of her collar to dip on her back for the purpose of exposing her soft nape.

“Be quick, old woman.” He picked up his sake cup and started to his lips with it.

“My foster-daughter is with child.”

The bowl paused without touching his mouth, and a hush fell on the others. Sayo fluttered her fan and puffed herself up more.

“Only a male child from my consort interests me.” He drank. How could she presume to think this news would be appropriate for his banquet? Her announcement embarrassed him, bringing undue attention to his performance on the futon. Others did not need to know his business. This reinforced his decision to put her aside.

“My lord.” Tsuta spoke while she kept her eyes lowered. “I asked my foster-mother to give the news as a gift on your birthday.”

Now it was clear. Sanematsu caught Tsuta’s glare toward Ko-tori. When he glanced behind him, his seabird returned his mistress’s stare. Tsuta had heard of Ko-tori’s present and now wished to better her--the sooner she was out of his household, the calmer it would be.

“Nevertheless, I will recognize only a male child.” He could not put his finger on why, but this whole scene did not ring true. There was more to it than met the eye.

“I understand, sire,” Tsuta answered, gripping her ornamental fan in a white-knuckled hold.

“What my foster-daughter is too modest to say, Lord Sanematsu,” Sayo interjected, “is that, should she produce the heir to Satsuma Province, she should be compensated.”

“Are not all who bear my children rewarded?” Sanematsu’s unease increased. This was not the place for such conversation or a confrontation.

“Yes, my lord, but there has never been a mother of your son.” The words were harsh and bold.

“We will have to wait and see if there is yet to be such, will we not? If this happens, what would you wish as reward?”

He narrowed his eyes. His grip on the sake bowl was so tight it almost crushed the fine porcelain. If Tsuta were to produce a male child, he would be tied to her and her foster-mother. He could buy her contract, free her from Sayo and the life of a concubine, yet if she bore his son she would remain in his household. He wanted her out of his life.

“I wish to be joined with you,” Tsuta announced without hesitation.

“You ask to be joined with me?”

The sake cup disintegrated in his hand. Rice wine and blood ran down his hand as he held the shards in his fist.

Ko-tori moved to clean up the mess. She tended the laceration in his palm, wiping it with a cloth provided her by the maid. Sanematsu had difficulty concentrating on Tsuta. Cradling his large hand in her two small ones, Ko-tori dabbed at the blood. It made him entertain visions of her hands elsewhere on his body.

“My son would be sure of his birthright.” Tsuta’s words erased the visions.

“I cannot promise such anymore than you can promise a son.” He took his hand from Ko-tori’s. A glance at it told him the cut was superficial and no longer bleeding. “I will buy your contract. Old woman, you will confer with my sister and come to an honest agreement. But it is to be fulfilled only when she has fulfilled her obligation--a male child from this pregnancy. There will be no other chance.

“Also, you will submit to my physicians’ examination. If they say it is true you are with child, I will make my final decision concerning joining at that time.”

He had his plan. He would not give her what she wanted, but what he did give was all she would need.

“Very well,” Sayo conceded.

She and Tsuta departed.

***

As though struck by lightning, all the blood rushed to Aderyn’s feet; her head swam with shock and surprise. Tsuta was pregnant, having a child fathered by Sanematsu Yoshihide. Pressure filled the center of her chest. And he was contemplating marriage. A demon sucked her breath from her body. Why did she feel this way? He was her captor--she had no claim on him or his affections. Or his seed.

Yet in the two short weeks the concubine had been gone, she had held out hope of a place for her with Sanematsu. Did she want to be his concubine? No, she did not wish to be a plaything. He needed a friend. She wanted to be close to him.

Her heart skipped several beats and fluttered. The lacerations in her flesh pulsed with pain as her face flushed.

Discontentment and misery showed on the face he turned to her. An instinctual urge moved within her breast. She desired to embrace him, to stroke his thick, raven hair while speaking reassuring words.

But that door was closed. Using a baby to force him to marry her, Tsuta had barred her from being anything more than a prisoner to Sanematsu. Though such a vile trap was laid in Europe all the time, men there were seldom confronted in public with their indiscretions. Was this even an indiscretion in Nihon? Would Sanematsu be required to marry someone because she was pregnant? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to ask.

A sudden impulse to tell him what had happened in the stable rose in her throat. She wanted him to hold her, to cry while he soothed her with words of comfort. Only Yoshihide could say the words to make the horrible feelings go away--and Tsuta owned his comfort.

So, then, after she told him the sordid details, what if he would not console her? What if he, too, felt she was dirty and did not deserve his compassion? Once more she conceded she dared not risk telling him. She did not want to be estranged from him.

Yet, through no fault of her own, she had lost him. Matsumoto’s attack had not removed her from Sanematsu’s favor. Tsuta’s announcement before the assembly was what threatened her, and when Tsuta delivered his son, he would be gone forever.

Forlorn, she focused her attention on Sanematsu instead of the other men, who were in the deepest throes of drunkenness. She kept his sake bowl full, yet he was without a trace of inebriation. Nothing changed his hard face with its cold eyes. Her heart broke for both of them.

But perhaps she grieved before it was necessary. Sachi and Hamasaki had indicated all was not as it appeared within Nishikata-ryo. That knowledge encouraged her, to some extent.

The feast continued until early morning, and by then had dissolved into drunken revelry. The entertainment became lewd; the guests departed with women supplied by Sanematsu’s house.

“You have great impudence, barbarian.” Matsumoto turned his attention to Aderyn, leaning close to mutter his remark.

“I am sure you take great pride in knowing what happened,” she replied in just as hushed tones.

The Evil One had waited to speak with her when Sanematsu’s interest was turned to the monk, their heads close together. She struggled not to react to his nearness in a way that might draw notice to them.

“I am sure you do not wish to have Lord Sanematsu question me.”

“If you did tell him, it would ruin whatever you have in mind for yourself and our master. He will gladly cast you my way.”

“I do not know what you mean.” She flounced the heavy waves of her hair in a gesture of nonchalance, all too aware that Matsumoto would take much delight in Sanematsu’s discarding her to him.

“Oh, I am most certain you do,” the samurai hissed.

“Tori,” Sanematsu cut into the conversation.

“Yes, my lord?”

“You appear to be quite tired this evening. I think it would be best if Hamasaki-sama were to escort you to your room.”

His forehead was wrinkled between the eyes, as if he were trying to decide a difficult question.

“If you like, sire.” She ducked her head in submission to his veiled request.

“Then we shall say goodnight.” He turned his attention back to the monk, and the sake cup before him.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

He had looked away from her so suddenly she wondered if the cuts on her face were so repulsive he could no longer look at her. Had Tsuta’s news changed their relationship so quickly? Could their friendship be dissolved so easily?

Once in her room, she called for a maid and asked for sake. The girl did not bat an eye, as if women asked for the traditionally male alcoholic beverage every day.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In the early dawn of the day after his twenty-sixth birthday, Sanematsu Yoshihide stood being dressed by his manservant and Yaemon, his young boy servant. The boy arranged the clothing for the adult to dress him in. Sanematsu moved out of habit, his mind not on his toilet but his barbarian.

Angry, he had no avenue to vent that anger. She was going to have to learn how to lie better. When she sat beside the fighting area, she had worn the rope-soled shoes instead of the geta she blamed the fall on. And the method in which rocks opened the skin and the way steel did were different.

He did not fault her for lying, since she could not tell him the truth in front of witnesses. If anyone were at fault he was, since he was the one who had dismissed the guards and was negligent in sending Hamasaki to her when he departed. The intimacy they had shared in the bathhouse had filled his thoughts, not the evil lurking around her. When he discovered who had committed such an atrocity, he would take his head!

Yaemon finished the minor details of Sanematsu’s costume, and taking his swords from their resting place beside the doorway, the daimyo left the room. He went down the corridor, oblivious to the nightingale flooring singing with his passage.

His thoughts moved from one woman to the next. Tsuta’s claim of pregnancy weighed heavily on him also. If she carried a child, its conception had occurred several months ago, since he had seldom taken her to the pillow in recent weeks. He recalled the signs from Nene’s pregnancies. She had been sick and fainted in the early months. His other wives had shown early signs even a man could understand. As the months passed, their faces filled out, and their breasts became larger well before their body. Tsuta showed none of these signs.

How had she managed to keep it secret for so long? Secrets were rare in Nishikata-ryo. Even as master, he could not keep secrets.

Angered by the perplexing questions, he could only hope time would answer any of them.

Sanematsu shook off the thoughts about the women. He had more pressing political concerns. With twenty men in tow, he passed through the two massive gates walling his residence off from the world. A band of Amemiya’s samurai had been captured within fifteen miles of Nishikata and he was needed to preside over their interrogation and execution. He must know what his opponent was planning, why he was willing to risk being outcast. War crouched at the edge of the Satsuma Province, and he must push it back or lose all.

***

Sachi entered Aderyn’s room while the girl lay sleeping, undisturbed by the bright morning sun shining in her face. Taken aback yet not surprised, she picked her way through the empty sake flasks strewn about the room near the futon. She had not expected Tori to sleep well in light of Tsuta’s announcement.

She neared the edge of the futon and knelt to wake her. The netting had not been arranged to keep out the insects of the spring season, and Tori’s bare extremities showed evidence of fresh mosquito bites. For some reason, the girl had bound her left sleeve at the wrist and secured the front of the sleeping kosode at her neck.

With maternal motions, Sachi pulled the covering up over the sleeping girl then tucked the netting beneath the heavy quilting. Removing the flasks, she left Tori to awaken on her own, no matter how late in the day.

As she traveled down the corridor, the samurai guards were in the process of changing. Once more the shadowy figures would be evident at Aderyn’s door, a doorway left unattended for the past many weeks.

***

“Sachi-sama.”

Sanematsu kept his back turned, facing the open panel. His thoughts were embroiled with events inside and outside his ryo-chi. He needed the help of a friend.

“Yes, my lord?” His friend knelt behind him.

The daimyo turned from the calming view of the ocean and paced the small receiving room. Three days ago he had left his castle to address the matter of spies and returned with his quandary unresolved. Their answers, given under the pain of torture, did not settle his anxiety. Added to his distraction with Tsuta and his desires for Tori, his distress was mounting.

“We have known one another all our lives,” he commented.

“Yes, Lord, since we were babies, I would guess.” Sachi’s family had been allied to the Sanematsu over many years, her father a general in his father’s army.

“I remember your brothers. How are they?”

“They are well, sire. Do you wish for me to contact one of them for you?”

“No, no.” Sanematsu stopped and knelt before her. He studied the woman who had been a playmate and was now a confidante. When they were children, the girl held her own with two brothers and their master’s son. They were the only children allowed to play with the Sanematsu heir, and the bonds made in childhood remained. He had never considered Sachi as anything other than friend.

Could he trust her with what he was about to say? Of course--she had access to much that would put him at risk and never did she use the knowledge except to help him. Her guidance would be wise in this area and remain between the two of them.

“I find myself in need of the counsel of a woman, in the matters of women.”

“I would be most pleased to help.” Sachi’s clenched hands tightened.

Unable to remain still, Sanematsu began pacing again, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders thrust back severely. The night air crackled with the electricity created by the forceful swish of his silk hakama.

“I do not wish to join with Tsuta-sama,” he disclosed. Speaking bluntly with Sachi was natural, just as was spending hours in discussion with the barbarian. Despite custom, it did not seem abnormal. “But, I have no way of honorably refusing her. I agreed publicly to join with her if a male child is delivered.”

“I do not see how I can help you, sire. This is a matter of men.”

“I need to know if she truly carries a child.” He turned to look at his ally. “How does a woman know she carries a child?”

“There are many tiny signs. The greatest is the absence of her woman’s blood.” Sachi blushed and dipped her eyes. “I am sorry to have offended you.” Men were not concerned with these matters unless they precluded them from fulfilling their needs.

“Speak freely, Sachi. I have asked.” He watched her as she thought.

“Yoshi-sama, there may be a way.”

He had given unspoken permission to use his boy’s name by using her name without honorific.

“Speak with your physicians about the cycle of the moon and tides. The people of Min-koku put great store in them.”

The medical men of Nihon trained with the wise ones from Min-koku, basing their practice on their knowledge.

“As for yourself, think back to what time of the month Tsuta-sama sent another to your bed. That will tell you when she was afflicted.”

“Very well.” Sanematsu took his seat.

Women were charged with providing another if they could not perform their duties for their men. Sachi’s plan assumed that he had not called Tsuta to his bed during her time. Since he had not asked for her company in several weeks, he doubted his childhood friend’s idea would be of use. Still, the information might be useful in a plan of his own.

“I have taken the liberty of having a meal provided. Will you join me?”

“Of course, my lord.” Sachi moved nearer as the servant brought a table and tray with Sanematsu’s food. She took the task of serving the daimyo, and the maid departed.

“Your counsel is wise, Sachi,” Sanematsu commented after slurping a mouthful of udon noodles.

“I hope it can be of use.” Sachi tasted her tea while he continued to eat. Even though he had asked her to join him, she would not consume any of the delicacies prepared for him.

“And Tori? How has she been these few days?”

“Well, my lord. She has been a bit quieter than usual.” She replaced the empty noodle bowl in his hand with a wet cloth.

“I would not call her quiet at any time.” He allowed a smile to curve his mouth as he cleaned his chin of broth. “I am sure Tsuta-sama’s news has not sat well with her.”

“I have explained to her that the matter does not concern her.” Sachi poured tea.

“I am not quite sure that is the truth,” he said under his breath as he brought the tea bowl to his lips. “Be watchful of her safety, and instruct Hamasaki-sama to be on guard, also.”

“Yes, sire.” Sachi peeled an orange into perfect sections and laid them on the dish in a fanned pattern. “He is a diligent young man.”

“His father served mine well.” Sanematsu picked up a section and placed it into his mouth whole. His face puckered with the sourness of the fruit. He spoke once he swallowed. “I believe this to be a bit unripe.” He handed the dish back.

“Should I send for more?” She placed the sour orange aside.

“No, I will have something later in the day.” He washed his hand. “I will have Kono-sama come speak with me and make arrangements for him and the other physicians to examine Tsuta-sama.”

“The matter of the physicians may prove to be an equally bitter fruit for her. Do not be surprised if she balks at the suggestion,” Sachi warned as she stood with the tray.

“It will not be a suggestion,” Sanematsu assured her.

If Tsuta truly wished to join with him, she would submit to any examination he deemed necessary.

Sachi departed after goodbyes, and Sanematsu awaited Kono. His spirits were lightened with the formulation of a plan.

***

Sanematsu instruct his three physicians to examine Tsuta without Sayo present. They were to question the consort about her cycles and give him all the information. A week later, the physicians completed their assignment. He called Tsuta to him that evening.

“My physicians tell me they cannot determine the validity of your condition.”

He lay on his side on his futon, bare under the coverlet over his lower torso. A book of poetry lay open on the bed. The shoji remained shut in an effort to prevent eavesdropping, which closed off any chance of a cooling breeze. A tiny line of perspiration dotted his upper lip.

“You do not think I would deceive you, Sanematsu-sama!” Tsuta brought ready tears to her eyes. “I hoped you would have learned to trust me. I understand too well your need for an heir and wish only to please you.”

“I am certain of that, Tsu-sama,” he reassured her.

No matter how much he needed a heir, he did not want it from Tsuta. The Sanematsu heir should not come from the nest of a woman of the Floating World. He wanted to choose his son’s mother, not leave it to others.

There was little possibility of doing what he wished. Tsuta was in his way. During the banquet, he had been so concerned with Tori’s injuries he had not considered his words following Tsuta’s revelation. Since, he had made the promise before the council and his samurai--he was bound by his agreement. If she gave him a son he would be forced to join with her.

“We will proceeded as I promised,” he conceded now. “I will make plans for our joining after the boy’s birth.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Joy replaced Tsuta’s tears. Her mouth tensed as it tried not to smile. She used dabbing her tears with her osode sleeve to hide her struggle.

He dismissed her and forced her from his mind by concentrating on matters of the ryo-chi. Instead of picking up the book of poetry, he pulled a scroll of military strategy from beneath the quilts of his futon.

***

Aderyn, too, fought inner battles. Stronger than many girls her age, she could usually best anyone, whether in a shouting match or a calm debate.

Now, she did not know how to react. Matsumoto’s lurking, waiting to pounce on her, left her unnerved and frightened. She could do nothing to fight him. More powerful than she in physical prowess and social standing as he was, she could not stand against him. As samurai and karou, no one other than Sanematsu could stop him, but if she told it would destroy any relationship she might have with the daimyo. There was also the chance that he might not believe her over the samurai.

Had Sanematsu sought her company, their discussions would have kept her from dwelling on Matsumoto’s intentions, but he seemed to be avoiding her. A dark pall had settled over her vivacious spirit. Her mood changed to brooding. Things had already changed, at least in her mind. Sanematsu had cast her away.

Unable to have him console her and allow her to confront her pain, she dammed the tears back, braced her spine and carried on as if all were right. At night, however, her resolve collapsed. Days passed, and sleep came later and later. When she did succumb to exhaustion, Matsumoto entered her dreams and perpetrated vile and vicious acts on her unguarded body. The longer the days, the more horrific her nightmares became.

From a far corner of the dreams, Sanematsu observed. He talked and laughed with Tsuta while holding a bundle. He turned away and departed without lifting a hand to help as she cried out.

The maid who slept in the alcove beside Aderyn’s room and the guards posted at each side of the outer door witnessed her troubled sleep, overhearing her as she thrashed and called out. Once, the men even entered the chamber, swords bared, to see who was attacking the daimyo’s guest. They found her sleeping. Her maid came to check on her, also, and waved the men away. Disturbed, she sought Sachi.

***

Sachi took the maid’s resting place to complete her duty to Sanematsu’s yabanjin. After only one night, Tori’s screams disrupted her sleep; she rushed to her bedside along with the two guards.

Although asleep, Tori shouted in Portuguese, except for the name of their master. Beneath the covers, she struggled with phantoms.

“Tori! Be calm.”

Sachi took her shoulders to keep her from harm. The two men watched, confused with nothing to use their swords against.

“All is well.”

As Tori writhed, her covering fell away to reveal her unclad body, allowing them to see the cut beneath her breast and on her arm. Samurai and lady exchanged perplexed looks. With quick moves, Sachi covered the girl, continuing to speak soothing words.

Tori woke, her eyes clouded with questions.

“Sachi-sama? What are you doing here?”

“You were calling out,” Sachi explained. “I thought you might harm yourself.”

She dismissed the men by waving them out as she spoke. They obeyed. The maid, Kuri, arrived and stood just inside the doorway.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you. How could I have disturbed you?” She pulled the cover protectively to her chest.

“Kuri was concerned for your welfare. I slept nearby. I do not wish to be impolite, Tori, but I must ask what causes you to be so troubled.”

She pulled the edge of the quilt from the girl’s grip and folded it back to expose the sword cuts. The thin line of open skin beneath Tori’s breast was healing, the tissue pink and healthy. The deep arm wound, however, was infected and red; Tori’s struggling had torn it open to seep fresh blood.

Sachi took care as she removed the fouled bandages and motioned for Kuri to come near. After whispered instructions the girl departed.

“How did you come by these wounds?

“I…do not wish to speak of it.” Tori jerked the cover back over her. She put her back to Sachi and lay on her side.

“Tori, Kuri has told me you do not eat. You do not sleep well. If someone has harmed you, Lord Sanematsu will see they are punished.” She put a hand on Tori’s shoulder and rolled her over onto her back. “I wish to help, not to pry.”

“It is not so…simple. I cannot tell you…or anyone!” Tears snuck out from under her clenched eyelids. Her chin quivered, and she bit her lip as she lost the battle not to cry.

She rose to embrace Sachi and wept. Rocking her as she had her babies, Sachi held her as she sobbed, tears flowing down her face, her nose running in great globs. Her breath came in huge gulps as she clutched Sachi’s over-kosode.

Sachi soothed her until she was quiet. When the sniffling stopped, she moved her away and gave her some paper for her nose and face.

“I did not intend for you to see me like this.” Tori blew her nose several times.

“All women have, at times, the need to cry,” Sachi said to ease her embarrassment.

Kuri returned with a tray.

“Here, let me see to this.” Sachi redressed Aderyn’s wound with a clean bandage. “Sharing your fear would ease that, also,” she commented as she put the last touches to the dressing.

“Sachi-sama, you once explained the search for solitude every Nihonese seeks.” Tori took a deep breath and pushed her hair out of her face. “You also said your people respect the wishes of others in regard to privacy. Another does not see or hear unless it is proper.”

“I recall this.” Sachi smiled. An avid student, Tori complained playfully about her teachings. Her teasing made their conversations all the more interesting.

“In this matter, please, do not ask,” Tori pleaded. She clutched Sachi’s hand so hard she thought her fingers would break, “As my friend, do not see and do not hear!”

Sachi stroked the barbarian’s hand, hoping to relax her grip. Within a few moments, she did ease her hold, and the quiet of the night filled the room. Fear, pain and intimidation registered on the girl’s face, and Sachi had her answer. Samurai were skilled at the art of intimidation.

She feared blooding his katana without honor was not all an unnamed warrior had done. He was, after all, a man, and Tori, even if not Nihonese, was pretty and had been unclothed, if the cut on her chest was an indication. What else had taken place? Sachi longed to know, yet etiquette did not allowed her to pry unless Tori allowed it. She did, however, have one avenue of recourse.

“Tori, I will not inquire further after one question, which you must answer.” She hated the impropriety but had to have knowledge on which to base her actions. “Has anyone take from you that which you were not willing to give?”

“No,” Tori choked out. The light-colored locks swayed as she shook her head.

“I will pry no more. If you should desire to tell me, I will be most honored to listen. I can help.” Sachi pulled her hand from Tori’s and smoothed the girl’s hair over her shoulder. “I am your friend. You must always trust in that.”

“Thank you, Sachi-sama. Thank you.” Tori hugged her.

“I have something to help you sleep.” Sachi came out of the embrace, holding Tori at arm’s length to study her eyes. Dark circles filled her sockets and the skin over her cheeks was drawn. Exhaustion marked her face. Though hours away, dawn would come too soon for someone who could not get the rest they needed.

From the lacquered chest in a corner, she removed a small vial of powder. She sprinkled a scant amount in a bowl of water and stirred it briskly until no trace remained. Coming back to the bedside, she handed the bowl to Tori.

Aderyn made a face after sniffing the contents. “If it smells this bad, how must it taste?”

“It will help you to sleep,” Sachi informed her. “Go ahead. Drink.” She put a hand beneath the bowl and pushed it up toward her mouth. “I would not poison you.” She gave a light laugh.

Aderyn sipped.

“It is awful!” She offered the bowl back.

“Drink.” Sachi pressed it back. “Or must I call Lord Sanematsu? He will see that you do.”

“I bet he would. You have become my mother.” She brought the bowl to her lips, shut her eyes and gulped the sedative.

“Everyone needs a mother.” Sachi took the empty bowl. “Here.” In place of the medicine bowl, she handed her a small sake bowl of honey from Kuri’s tray. Tori licked in a childish manner at the sweet syrup as Sachi put away the medicine. When the sweet treat was gone, she set the second bowl aside then encouraged her to lie back and covered her. Soothing the girl’s hair back off her face, she stroked her cheek with a practiced hand.

“You are a very good friend, Sachi-sama.” Tori’s words slurred as the medicine took effect. Her eyelids drooped.

“Sleep, Tori.” Sachi continued to stroke her hair. “I will stay with you.”

She slipped into sleep. Sachi wondered what karma held for the girl. Why was she so important to Lord Sanematsu? Was she a female plaything? What would her place be when he joined with Tsuta? What would Lord Sanematsu do should he discover someone had harmed his bird? Did he not suspect? Since the night of his feast, he had had many difficulties. Maybe he had not thought of her.

Bound by giri, she had to inform him of Tori’s situation. It saddened her to go against Tori’s wishes, but her duty to her liege lord came before such promises. Nor did she wish to drive Tori away from her, for they needed one another too much. Though she feared Lord Sanematsu’s reaction when he found out, she would tell him in the morning.

CHAPTER TWENTY

You requested this meeting, Sachi-sama, so speak,” Sanematsu said with uncustomary impatience. His temper had worn thin; his nerves set on edge by each encounter. Never before had the politics of his life caused such turmoil that he could not compartmentalize all the details to remain calm and relaxed. No more. There was too much to deal with.

“Yes, my lord. It concerns Tori.”

Sachi would find no reassurance in his presence, and he could not blame her. He was not himself.

“Something harmful has happened to her. She will not tell me what.”

“I did notice cuts on her face.” He settled his agitation.

“She also has a wound on her breast and left arm.”

“And she does not say who did this?” His voice rose, and he felt his face grow hot. “Was that all that was done?”

“She asked that I not press the subject. If anything else happened, she is afraid to tell me. She will not open up to allow me to help her.”

“I will demand she tell me exactly what took place!” His voice rattled the panels, startling a cat lounging on the engawa. He started out the door.

“Sire!” Sachi called as she stood to follow him. “That is exactly what you cannot do!”

“What?” He whirled to face her. The cat fled the room, scurrying out the panel he had slid open.

“So sorry, great lord.” Sachi ducked her head, falling back two paces. “Please forgive me, but you must not confront Tori. She asked that I not see her disgrace. I have betrayed her confidence.”

“You have done only your duty to me. She will understand. I must now do mine to her.”

Sanematsu’s rage filled his being. Someone had hurt a person important to him. The pain in his chest spread to his stomach, the acid churning with the knowledge of Tori’s hurt.

“I must discover what happened and who hurt her! I will not have her harmed by anyone!”

“You must leave her alone.” Sachi took her life in her hands to speak so bluntly, even with a man she knew as well as she did her own husband. “Or, at least, do not be direct. You have the story she gave you. She thinks you already know and are avoiding her, since you have not been with her in a number of days. If you treat her as you always have she will explain it to you in due time.”

Sanematsu relaxed and slid the panel back in place. Sachi was wise, seeing things more clearly than he.

“You have made your point, and I am thankful, Sachi-sama. I will wait to learn the truth, but I will see her now.”

***

The loud roar of the waves crashing on the shore filled Aderyn’s ears as she walked on the beach. Coming to a halt at the water’s edge, she debated whether or not to attempt to wade. Hamasaki and the two other guards kept their distance. He would delight in dragging her out. Maybe she should let him. The man deserved something as revenge for the day of the shark. She would not give him the pleasure today.

She resumed her walk, her head down to search for interesting seashells. Now and then, she knelt to pick one up, cleaning and inspecting the specimen. All too often, she would toss the treasure away, but she continued to search.

Without warning, a man’s feet and legs came into view. Before she could help it, she collided with his chest. In terror, she screamed and turned to run.

“Ko-tori!” Sanematsu gripped her upper arms to keep her from fleeing. Almost immediately, he lessened his hold on her left arm, but kept the right in tight restraint to prevent her from fleeing in panic.

“Oh, Sanematsu-sama!” She stepped back. She did not fight his grasp, but avoided his searching gaze. “I…am…s–s–sorry,” she stuttered. “You…startled me.”

“I did not intend to frighten you.” Bit-by-bit, he released her. “You are well guarded. Do you think Hamasaki-sama would allow anyone dangerous to walk up on you in this manner?”

“I was deep in thought.” She tried to put him off the subject by facing the ocean. She rubbed the injured arm then stopped lest he ask her if she were hurt.

“What could be so interesting to keep you from being aware of someone approaching?”

“Nothing, really.” She shrugged and threw the few shells she held back into the ocean.

“Ko-tori, my country, my ryo-chi, are such that you dare not lose yourself in unawareness. You have no guarantee of safety unless my men or I are at your side.”

***

She did not reply, only turned her back to him. She sniffled softly. Touched by her evident pain, he took her shoulders and turned her to face him, then dropped his hands. His greatest desire was to pull her to his chest and enfold her in the safety of his arms, to feel her length along his body.

“I do not think you are being truthful with me.” He watched closely as she looked up at him. Her eyes darted away and back, as if she could not resist his gaze. “And I do not believe you fell.” He grazed the cut highest on her cheek with the tip of one finger.

She took his hand away from her face.

“You know how clumsy I am, sire!”

She tried to laugh, holding his hand an instant too long. He hoped his warmth would enter her cold one.

She walked away. “I would trip over my own bare feet. And these dresses give me such problems.” She flounced the layers of robes. “I wish I had something else to wear.”

Sanematsu watched her wipe her eyes, trying to do it before he saw there were tears.

“You could wear these.” He gestured at the black hakama he wore, choosing to postpone, for the moment, learning what had befallen her. Sooner or later, he would have an answer. “They are for men, but you could wear them because you are--”

“A barbarian!” Her genuine laughter was music to his ears. She faced him, her green eyes sparkling.

“Because you are you, you can be allowed many things.” A sly smile came to his lips. “You wore my hitatare very well once.”

“Those would be preferable to these. I never learned to walk properly for a lady even in European dresses, so my stride is too long for these narrow skirts. Your hakama and hitatare would be perfect if we ever get around to going horseback riding.”

They wandered the sand.

“You once spoke of something called a picnic,” Sanematsu reminded her. The scent of her soap and shampoo drifted across to his nostrils, teasing awake his manly urges. The desire to press his face into the soft swell of her throat filled him.

“You remember the oddest things at the weirdest times.” She stooped to pick up a silvery shell. Dusting and blowing the sand off, she put it in the sleeve of her uchiki. Her pale hand pushed the silk away, revealing the soft underside of her forearm. His passion grew; he wanted to run his lips along the sleek skin.

“You shall prepare such an outing for tomorrow, and we will ride out to the woods. I know of a special place where we can be alone.”

Being alone with the one woman who stirred his blood as no other would be tempting. Could he restrain himself and leave her chaste? He would welcome the temptation.

“Shall we return to the castle?”

The sun began to fade.

“I would rather walk some more,” Tori admitted.

“Very well.” He clasped his hands behind his back to avoid touching her. For a little while longer, they strolled away from Nishikata, the castle and all their burdens.

***

Aderyn woke the following morning to the quiet sound of Sachi entering her room. Her friend carried two pieces of clothing--a white hitatare and a pair of black hakama. Aderyn did not ask what man was doing without his clothing. From the size of the pants, it was more likely a boy. By its familiar roominess, the shirt came from Lord Sanematsu.

Dressing in the male attire took almost as long as getting into a female’s. Sachi applied a new kind of ointment to her cuts, wrapped them with new bandages and, in a concession to her womanhood, pulled a hitoe around her. Wrapping her legs as Sanematsu did, she wore the canvas shoes with rope soles. By the time they were finished, she had decided she would wear the comfortable, casual costume all the time. She pulled her long hair back and tied it with a ribbon.

“Ryorishi has prepared the lunch you ordered,” Sachi stated. “You will pick it up then meet Lord Sanematsu at the stables.”

“Good.” A chill ran through her at the mention of the stables. Would she have to enter the building? What would she do? How could she keep her composure? She took a deep breath and tried to forget her anxiety.

Sachi accompanied her to the kitchen, where she received the best picnic lunch she could devise. Many Nihonese dishes lent themselves to packing and being served cold. Ryorishi, the chief cook, explained in minute detail how the foreigner was to serve his creations and all but threatened her life if he learned she strayed from his instructions. The cook assured her that, packed in the basket, the meal would be safe for carrying on the back of a horse.

With mixed excitement and apprehension, Aderyn approached the stables. She hung back, looking around for Matsumoto, afraid to enter. His sneering laughter rang in her ears, and she expected him to step out of the shadows.

Lord Sanematsu, flanked by his men, emerged from the building. The sleek bay stallion followed him. Sachi slipped away from her side.

“Oh, Sanematsu-sama,” Aderyn cooed as she approached the familiar horse. The dark muzzle stretched out, pulling at the reins he held. “Is this one to be mine?”

She could view the horse without the shame and tears that had shielded his beauty from her before. During the rare years she was in Europe she had been introduced to horses. This Nihonese-bred horse, the tallest she had ever seen, was far superior to even the fine Spanish horses. No white markings marred the dark, reddish-brown hide adorned with raven black mane and tail. The velvet nose bobbed up and down to nuzzle Sanematsu’s head and shoulders as he tried to push past his master to reach her.

As his retainers watched in amazement, Sanematsu roared with laughter.

“Hardly! He is my warhorse, a spirited stallion, not trained for a woman.”

He stroked the silky muzzle. The animal whinnied and pressed against the familiar hand, determined to reach his goal. Frustrated, the horse tossed his head high and proud.

“I believe he wishes to meet you. This is Dai-tan.” The name meant “Bold One.”

“He is so beautiful.”

Aderyn went to the animal as Sanematsu and his people watched in awe. Normally, the horse would have stepped away to evade a stranger’s touch. Instead, he approached her like a decrepit carthorse; the regal head dropped, his ears sagging and the battle-bred disposition melting away. Aderyn spoke to him in whispers and he rubbed against her hand in response. His big brown eyes registered his recognition. She sensed an explanation was in order, but she could not explain to Lord Sanematsu what tied her to his horse.

“He is magnificent,” she said instead as she stroked the sleek neck.

“This will be your horse.” Sanematsu signaled for a blaze-faced bay mare to be led out to stand beside Dai-tan. The stallion’s head popped up, instantly alert, and the two horses exchanged breath. “She is his mother and should be excellent for your purposes.”

Did he think her a complete idiot? She did not need an old mare. She could ride--and well, at that.

“What is her name?” She turned her attention to the mare. She, too, was tall and lean. Spirit lit her eyes.

“She is called Koji, ‘one without a parent.’ Her mother was lost shortly after her birth,” Sanematsu told her.

An old man--Uma, the horse master, Aderyn was told--tied the food basket to the saddle then turned to help her up, directing her to the horse’s right side. She wasn’t surprised, as she had seen the samurai mount from the side she would not have dared approach with a European-trained mount.

Lord Sanematsu approached, moving Uma aside.

“I will assist you.” He stepped behind her, placing a hand on either side of her waist. She leaned against him to place her foot in the stirrup. The length of his hard body supported hers. His strength, his chest rising and falling against her, caused her heart to pound and the air in her lungs to become short. She was hot and damp in areas of her body never so afflicted. An electric thrill coursed through her.

Her foot secure, Sanematsu lifted and pushed her up onto the horse’s back. Without his body next to hers, the flow of current was broken. A warm glow remained.

Regretting the loss of his touch, she settled into the saddle. What would her mother say if she saw her riding astride instead of using a decorous sidesaddle? She wiggled to adjust to the body between her thighs as well as to ease the itch she could not interpret.

As Sanematsu swung into his saddle, the samurai entourage began to shuffle and form up. Dai-tan stomped and paced, eager to be off.

“Hikita-uji,” he said to Sachi’s husband, who sat on his own horse, a dapple-gray, in front of him, “you and Hamasaki-uji will accompany us. The rest will remain.”

“Yes, sire.”

Hikita and Hamasaki moved near as the others broke away. The group was ready. Horses, stabled for long hours, strained to run and stretch their legs. Aderyn’s spirits were as high and as avid. She would be away from the horrible memories of Matsumoto, and an adventure, though small, lay ahead.

“My lord!”

At the sound of Matsumoto’s voice, fear clutched her heart. When it resumed beating, its pace increased. He marched across the courtyard toward them, accompanied by his personal foot soldiers. Panic rose as she glanced around for escape.

“You should not leave the castle,” the Evil One advised Sanematsu. “The council meets to decide the matter of Amemiya-sama.”

“There is no need for the council to consider this matter. I have decided.”

Aderyn took advantage of Sanematsu’s distraction to maneuver her horse next to his, hiding behind him. She was so close their legs rubbed, and in her crouched position, her shoulders nearly touched his.

“You will take five hundred men and go to war,” Sanematsu instructed his general.

When Matsumoto stormed away without seeing her, Aderyn’s breath eased. Ecstasy had replaced fear when Sanematsu ordered him to battle--she hoped he did not return. She would not be able to take credit for his demise, but she would revel in it.

“Ko-tori? Are you all right? You are pale,” he observed.

“Oh, yes.” She came back to reality, unaware of being in deep thought until Sanematsu’s voice touched her. Had he noticed enough of her reaction to piece the facts together?

She could not allow him to discover her secret. Pulling the reins up, she at up straighter.

“Very well.” Sanematsu pulled Dai-tan’s head to face the gate. The stallion picked up on his lead and responded with enthusiasm. The other three horses fell in behind them. “We are ready.”

Lord Sanematsu led the procession of four through the city along the meandering main road. Gravel and stone crunched beneath the horses’ hooves. In the market, venders and their customers ceased haggling to bow to their liege lord. As they righted and saw a barbarian girl clad as a young man trailing behind him, a murmur followed. The peasants of Nishikata had heard rumors of the foreign girl, but few had actually seen her. They were surprised to see her ride open and free with their master and his bodyguards.

***

By the time they reached the far edge of Nishikata, Aderyn led the way. Hard-pressed to keep up with Koji, Sanematsu struggled to keep Dai-tan from breaking into a run. Farmers watched his odd behavior while bowing as he passed their fields.

Just past the last large rice field, he directed Aderyn to turn down a wide road.

Springtime had come to the island of Kyushu full of greenery, flowers and renewed life. Lush foliage enveloped them. Farmers worked abundant fields harvesting plentiful vegetables and fruits. The smell of oranges and lemons filled the air, mingling with the ripe stink of human night soil used as fertilizer. The nurturing water of the rice paddies rippled in gentle waves, moving the tender green shoots in the same direction. Women waded through the watery fields removing insects, debris and weeds.

Farther away from the farms, the forest rose thicker, lining the sides of the road. At intervals, a canopy of limbs shaded the narrow path. The riders traveled at a comfortable pace once the horses had spent their pent-up energy.

***

Sanematsu was at her side, with the samurai before them. She looked around at the trees, searching for the animals they could hear scurrying away from their approach. Peering through the trees, she watched a deer leaping away; a squirrel, after racing up a tree trunk to achieve a secure branch, turned and chattered its displeasure at being disrupted in its foraging.

In the very tops of the trees, large birds nested and perched on waving limbs. Small birds hopped and fluttered between branches nearer the ground. Their twittering and chirping made a pleasant calliope.

Flowers of bright and subtle colors bloomed in profusion. Purple hibiscus, soft pink azaleas, orange daylilies burst forth amid the deep greens. Until now, Aderyn’s view had been limited to the ocean side of Nishikata, the waves of the sea and sand of the shore. Flowers cultivated by meticulous caretakers filled the gardens. The natural wonder of the forest threatened to overwhelm her. Spurring Koji forward and faster, she wanted to be a part of it, to be awash in the horticultural spectacle as she was the waves of her beloved ocean.

Trees, bushes, foliage of myriad kinds and descriptions pushed up to the road and blurred in a wash of green as she sped past. Scents of soil and blossoms assaulted her nose. The flowers’ colors flashed before her. She had never been this far from Nishikata, and the freedom excited her. She gave Koji her head. Her hair bounced on her back and cool breezes went through her clothes. She laughed loud and long.

***

Behind her by several steps, Sanematsu enjoyed watching Tori, surprised at how well she controlled the horse. The return of her happiness pleased him; the sound of her laughter teased his spirit. It was as if he had never ridden this road before, although he had been over it thousands of times. Ko-tori made each thing she did with him new and unique.

She disappeared around a curve in the road and abruptly her laughter stopped. Urging Dai-tan forward, he hurried after. As he rounded the curve, he saw Koji, her back unburdened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ko-tori!” Sanematsu jerked Dai-tan to a stop and looked in the direction of her voice as she rose from the ground and beat the dust off her clothing, uttering a strange curse in her native language.

“Ko-tori!” He repeated, sliding from his horse’s back. His feet had hardly hit the ground before he ran to her side. He took her arm.

“I am fine, Yoshihide-sama.” She moved out of his grasp with a quick sidestep. “I got carried away, and Koji gave me my comeuppance.”

Sanematsu moved away as she appeared to wish him to do. He did not speak of his concern, disappointed by her aloofness. When he discovered what disturbed her, he could rebuild their closeness. Then, perhaps, she would no longer shun his touch.

“We are near the meadow. Shall we walk?”

Shaken by her evasiveness as well as her spill, he guided her along the road. He was as upset as if one of his daughters had been in jeopardy. The emotion rising in his throat was the same as when the crab had harmed Miyo. His chest ached.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I better walk out the soreness I will probably have later.”

They traveled a short distance down the road to where he moved tree limbs and a bush aside from the end of a footpath. Tori preceded him down the trail. Hikita and Hamasaki, still on horseback, led Dai-tan and Koji and followed.

After a short hike through deep forest, they paused at the mouth of the path. The men entered the meadow and passed her as she took in the view, her mouth agape. No one spoke as he watched her run to the center of the meadow, where she spun like a child who sought to become so dizzy she could not stand. When she broke away, Hamasaki moved to catch her, but he stopped him. Tori had no desire to leave his world. Neither did he wish to break the spell she wove.

When he gestured, Hikita handed him the basket, and he followed her. The guards remained in the shade to tend the horses.

She collapsed and lay on her back, sunk in the tall grass. His shadow fell across her, and she shaded her eyes to look up at him.

“Hello.” She giggled as if drunk. “Come down here.” She patted the grass at her side.

“I am pleased you find my hiding place pleasant.” He could only bring himself to squat next to her. He put down the basket.

“It is marvelous!” She sat up tailor-fashion. “It is so green and spacious. I have been shipbound for years. We would sit on the sea for days with brief shopping trips and such to break the monotony. Then you add the months I have been enclosed in the yashiki, it makes this open space even more beautiful and overwhelming.”

“We would be more comfortable beneath the tree.” He pointed to the ancient cryptomeria standing off-center in the lea. “The afternoon sun will become unbearably hot.”

Tori bounced up and ran in an exuberant zigzag to the shade. Sanematsu followed like an indulgent parent keeping up with an impulsive child. She flopped down again with her legs curled to one side and waited for him to resume his squat.

“I come here to be alone,” he continued. “Only Hikita-sama knows of its existence. Now, Hamasaki-sama.”

“Hamasaki-sama will never tell.” She leaned close to whisper loudly, as if in conspiracy. The sun, the greenery and the space seemed to inebriate her. “The man does not speak.”

“And he says you do not stop.” He smiled.

She sat back again, her cheeks fiery.

“He bothers me. He just stands there!” She sounded exasperated. “He must be so bored.” The exasperation disappeared. “I am hardly interesting, but he is so dull. I have drawn him in about every situation possible except lovemaking.”

She gasped, covering her mouth in Sachi’s gesture.

“What does that mean?” Sanematsu did not understand her phrase. She had translated it into the proper words, but together they did not make much sense in Nihonese.

“I am sorry.” She looked up into the cryptomeria’s boughs. “I do not wish to talk about it. I was not thinking.”

He stood and called to Hikita. Once the man arrived, he handed his katana to his guard. Hikita took the sword and fetched a folding campstool, then returned to the perimeter.

“I think we should speak of it,” Sanematsu persisted as he unfolded the stool.

Her face grew redder. “It means, well…uh, what a man does to a woman to have a baby.”

Her words were rushed, as though speeding through them would prevent his hearing them.

“Oh, pillowing.” He nodded his understanding. “It is also for pleasure, is it not?”

“I would not know.” She spoke to the ground as she angrily pulled innocent grass blades out of the soil.

“Have you never pillowed, Tori?” he asked. He reached to prevent her destruction of further clumps of grass.

“Of course not!” she answered hotly and jerked her hand away from him. “I told you I was not married.”

“One does not have to be joined to pillow,” he explained, as if to a child. At an early age, his society taught the pleasures and desires of their bodies were natural and pure. “Nor does one have to be with another to release the tension of one’s body.”

***

“I cannot talk about it!” Aderyn jumped up and walked away. She put her back to him, her arms crossed under her breasts, her eyes fixed on the treetops across the field. She had no knowledge of what a man and woman did in the privacy of their bed, so what he meant by “release” was an even greater mystery. Talking about such things with him filled her with a feeling she did not understand, and the sensation increased when he touched her no matter how innocent it might be. She struggled to cover the unnamed emotion she suffered with anger. She understood anger.

“I come here to find harmony.” His voice carried to her. “I regret disturbing your peace. I will have Sachi speak with you and see what can be done to help you feel more comfortable with your womanhood.”

“She and I have talked quite enough on that subject, thank you very much.” Although she spoke to the trees, her words were directed to him. “I am quite content not talking about it.” Her voice dropped. “Especially with you, Yoshihide-sama.” She hoped he did not hear her confession.

“Very well. Shall you show me what you have brought for our meal?”

“If you wish.” She faced him, still unsettled. The look in his dark eyes raised the warmth in her body back to her face.

“My stomach wishes it the most.” An easy smile came to his lips to dispel her anger.

Her spirits brightened as she spread the cloth she had procured from the seamstress and laid out the meal, a unique picnic. Matsumoto’s hateful attack moved to the back of her consciousness, and she could dwell on Sanematsu’s gentleness. She made her mind up to enjoy the day. That was if she could keep Yoshihide from dwelling on intimate activities.

She set the meal out in the exact manner the cook had explained to her, each item in its small dish.

“Ryorishi-sama had a problem with what to pack for you to drink.”

“Tori, I am sure Sachi-sama has explained that ‘sama’ is not added to the peasants’ names. It is used only for those of higher rank.”

He chose to comment on the strangest of things. Did he ever listen to what she was saying?

“Yes. She, too, reminds me every time I do it. But is not every Nihonese higher in rank than me, a barbarian? Even the eta?”

“What was Ryorishi’s difficulty?” He ignored her question, declining to talk about Nihon’s lowest social class.

“He could not send tea, as I do not know how to properly prepare it. So he said. Nor could he send sake, as I, again, cannot serve it fittingly. So, he asks you to forgive him for this.” She lifted a ceramic bottle from the basket.

“Plum wine?” He did not sound angry--more like surprised.

“Yes. Ryorishi-sama and I realize it is for women, but we thought you would not mind.” She poured the sweetish wine into small bowls and handed one to him.

“I do not object. When I was a boy and came to my mother’s chambers, I would often empty her bowl faster than the maids could fill it. She, of course, pretended not to see.” Sanematsu picked up his eating sticks and a bowl of food. “I sometimes regret I must keep up appearances with sake.”

Aderyn took her bowl, but she did not eat.

After swallowing, he asked, “What is wrong?”

“You cannot sit like that.” Aderyn pointed her sticks at his stool.

“So sorry, I do not understand.” He further stiffened his posture.

“This is a picnic, not a formal feast. You must relax.”

“I do not think I can sit as you do.” He pointed to the way she sat with her legs askance under her hips.

“Then kneel in our way, but just not on a stool. Any way but so rigidly, as if you were at council.”

In demonstration, she stretched out on her side, propped up on an elbow. After looking quizzical for a moment, Sanematsu handed her his bowl and hashi. Then he stood, refolded the stool and sat tailor-fashioned on the cool grass. Aderyn gave him back his food. They ate in silence.

***

Accustomed to women satisfying their hunger away from him then picking at a bowl of plain rice in his presence, Sanematsu tried not to react to Tori’s lack of constraint compared to the feminine etiquette required of the women of Nishikata-jyo. Her appetite could put a robust warrior to shame.

They had shared several meals over the past months, and he never ceased to be amazed by the manner in which she ate. Truth be told, he enjoyed her passion for food.

“You have never spoken of your mother, Yoshihide-sama.” She drank the last of her wine. Her cheeks were flushed, and a stray strand of hair fell across her forehead. “Did she die when you were a child?”

“In a sense, yes. When I was fifteen and became daimyo, she retreated to a temple.” He sought his own bowl of wine. “She does not allow me to visit.”

Tori poured another cup of wine as he pushed the loose tendril from her forehead. He did not allow his fingers to linger as long as he wished to.

“Your own parents were not of the same land, were they?” He put the unruly hand around his wine cup.

“They were from different countries, but of the same race.” She shook her head to move her loose hair back. “They were Europeans.”

“And how did their match come about? They were arranged?” He drank to cover his feelings.

“Far from it!” She laughed. “Would you like to hear how they met? It will sound quite familiar.”

“By all means. You have learned much about my family.” He settled back, relaxed from the wine and her company.

“From age thirteen,” Aderyn began, “my father was a seaman. At twenty, he came to the coastal town in Wales where my mother’s family were tenant farmers. Being a Spaniard in the eyes of the English and, so, an enemy, he was beaten and left to die on the shore by some of the locals.”

“I recall your history lesson.” He held his cup for more wine, which she poured while she spoke.

“My mother was fourteen and a bit of a dreamer, they say. She was the last of ten children and liked to wander the beaches when her work was done.”

“Not unlike you.” He lifted a mouthful of rice to his lips while keeping his gaze on his companion.

“Please, do not compare me to my mother.” Her eyes flashed with fury for an instant.

“Very well. Go on.”

“She found my father, injured and unconscious, and brought her father and brothers to help. Now another touch of history. The Welsh, being part of Britain, did not relish the presence of a Spaniard or Portuguese, yet the Brownes--my mother’s people--were not political and nursed him to health. My mother, swayed by his dark hair, olive complexion, rugged body and her own romantic notions, stayed at his bedside, and language lessons helped the days pass.”

“Like you study my culture and language,” he commented.

“I told you it might sound familiar. Now, listen. You wanted to hear this. When Father was well, he helped with the farm work, waiting for a ship to carry him back to Lisbon. My mother grew more intrigued, even though she was warned about becoming bewitched by the handsome stranger. Soon, they planned to leave together. When the day and ship arrived, Mother slipped away with him in the dark of the night.

“This part I have figured out on my own with the help of my sisters--she was six months pregnant when they arrived in Portugal.”

She blushed at her confession, and he wondered why but did not react.

“They found a priest and were married at the first church they came to.

“I could never see Mother as such a wild and romantic girl,” she concluded. “And, although I always thought he was the most handsome man I ever saw, Father could never have been so dashing. But I remember something in her eyes when she would tell us the story, usually on the nights when we thought he was lost at sea or killed. It must have been a reflection of what they had had those years before sea travel, the Orient and we girls began to weight on them. Maybe I will know what she felt and what made her give up everything for him. Someday…”

Her voice turned wistful, almost inaudible.

“You have much of them in you,” he observed. “Your fondness for the ocean. Your long walks along the shore. Your sense of adventure.”

“I do not wish to lose it as they did.” Tori’s green eyes met his ones. “They became so bitter and hard. Somewhere, it seemed, they lost even their love for each other. I do not think I could bear falling out of love once I have found the man I can love.”

He rose, disquieted.

“It is time we returned to the castle. I will see to the horses while you finish here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Standing at the open shoji on the third story of the castle in her personal quarters, Tsuta watched Sanematsu and his barbarian ride out through the yashiki’s gates. The foreign woman’s laughter carried easily through the air--she did not attempt to exhibit her mirth in a dignified manner.

The network of spies Sayo had established among the servants brought Tsuta the information about the outdoor meal Tori had persuaded Lord Sanematsu to participating in. It sounded ridiculous. How could one enjoy a meal without proper decorum and ritual? How would the foods be served in harmonious display, appropriate to all the senses? And her master acted as though he would enjoy the outing!

Tears welled in her eyes. Things were not working as Sayo had promised. She hated the time she spent in her quarters in Nishikata-jyo, because she did not share his futon. Her hours were passed sitting with the women of his retainers, including Sachi and Sanematsu’s stepdaughter. She had never liked Sachi, for the woman embodied what Tsuta could never be without marriage to a samurai, and samurai rarely joined with peasant courtesans.

And Sanematsu did not send for her! Without pillowing, there was no way to secure her position.

Fighting back her tears, she left her room. Not until she was at the teahouse, nestled in her foster-mother’s arms did she cry.

“You must stop these outbursts,” Sayo admonished. “Lord Sanematsu will become suspicious.”

“And I will inform him women often cry when carrying a child.” Tsuta dried the traces of her tears.

“Do not think he can be fooled easily.” Sayo poured tea for her and sake for herself. “You must remember we are not dealing with a first-time husband. Sanematsu-sama has fathered three children and has seen what pregnancy does to a woman. Have you pillowed recently?”

“No! I do not see him, much less lie with him. He is always off somewhere. And now Sachi-sama is among my ladies. I am sure she is a spy, trying to find some way to be rid of me so she can slip her barbarian pet into his futon! She and Aya-hime are always chattering about the infuriating yabanjin! What I would not give to be where I would never hear the name ‘Tori’ again!”

She did not touch the tea bowl, although she had the urge to pick it up and throw it against the wall.

“There must be a way to join with Lord Sanematsu before something prevents it.”

The narrow eyes of her mistress tightened as she contemplated the situation.

“If our master were to die heirless, Lady Haru’s son could fill the vacancy. It is time I changed our plans. Men cannot be trusted to arrange these matters. I will call upon an older acquaintance to help with our predicament.”

“As you wish, Mother.” Tsuta relaxed, sure her mistress would see to all that was necessary to insure her place with Sanematsu. Without question, she helped Sayo to dress in her elaborate best uchiki. She even guided the girls as they fussed over her foster mother’s makeup and hair until the mirror almost reflected the attractive girl of the First Rank she must have been thirty years earlier.

The mistress of the teahouse departed for the Nishikata-jyo alone at sunset. Tsuta lay on her futon and speculated on what would take place as her foster mother spoke with her old patron.

***

Lord Sanematsu Shigehide received Sayo without qualm. Sitting on his engawa he faced the horizon to enjoy the last rays of sunlight. The dropping sun reminded him of himself, in the twilight of his life, dying to make room for the new sun. Sayo’s visit harkened him back to his youth. Receiving her, he could pretend he was the youthful, virile warrior of yesterday.

“Good evening, Great Lord.” Sayo bowed.

“Good evening, lady of the First Rank.” Shigehide bowed. The woman’s words were an attempted to fill the needs of his ego. “Come sit and enjoy the sun’s descent.”

Kneeling on the pillow at his side, Sayo settled her voluminous uchiki about her. Neither spoke as their eyes followed the sun’s trail, but the remaining senses registered each other. Well-blended perfumes did not cover up the smells of aging. Wrinkles and lined faces were not hidden by cosmetics. Bodies twisted by disease, time and trauma could not be disguised.

Yet elderly eyes saw past the ravages of time, seeing what they remembered instead of what was.

When only a red tint was left in the sky, Lord Shigehide turned to her.

“I am not longer the Great Lord of Satsuma Province,” he reminded her.

“You shall always be the Great Lord to me.” Sayo gave a coquettish flutter to her fan. “You were when I was lady of the First Rank and fortunate enough to share your futon.”

Shigehide had financed Sayo’s teahouse in Miyazaki as his grandson had set up her teahouse in Nishikata. Only the interference of others had caused him to desert her, leaving her bitter towards the elite rank. Determined to prevent the same disgrace from befalling Tsuta, she stooped to calling in favors of the past.

“Sayo, you come to me after so long for only one reason. You wish me to intercede with Yoshihide-dono in regard to your foster-daughter’s pregnancy.”

“You do me dishonor,” she simpered. For him to know her intentions was not to her advantage. She would have been on firmer footing if she could have maneuvered to her reason for visiting. “My daughter carries this child precariously. Her emotional state could upset the fragile life.”

“Females have many reasons to be catered to. I wonder how often they use these excuses to twist us men to their way?” He cast his rheumy eyes her way.

“A woman without shame would not hesitate to use such devices.” Sayo folded her fan and gripped it. If she were not careful, he would destroy her plan instead of helping to speed it along. “Lord Sanematsu needs a son, as you did and his father before him. Heirs come late in life to the Sanematsu clan.”

“Yoshihide-dono has many years to sire a son. Many women vie for his bed.” Now his concentration was on his teacup.

“Many pardons, Great Lord, but wars rage like the wind through Nihon. Earthquakes and tai-fu can take even the daimyo of Satsuma Province. No one can say what karma will bring.”

“You speak with wisdom. Still, Yoshihide-dono need not rush to join with your foster-daughter. She should count herself fortunate that he has stated they are to join if she should birth a son. Yoshihide-dono could merely name the boy heir and have no need to deal with the woman again.”

“This is so.”

Custom allowed for a man to take several avenues to legitimize his heir, but only one path lay before a woman. Shigehide spoke the blunt truth. This necessitated another tack.

“Tsuta does not know of this, but she is of a samurai family, albeit one without master.” She would say anything to maneuver Shigehide. If Tsuta appeared worthy of being Lady Sanematsu, it would be easier to sway the old warrior. She would add another twist. “There is also the question of the barbarian female. Do you think it is wise to allow her to work her spell over your grandson?”

Shigehide studied her face while he contemplated her words; from long association she could guess the direction of his thoughts.

For decades, the only war on Kyushu had been internal, accomplished by making careful political choices. Following the ages-old rules of society kept harmony among those in the Satsuma provinces and aligned them with those in power.

Now, a foreigner lived among them, gaining more and more freedom. Soon she would forget she was Yoshihide’s prisoner and think her position more intimate. His grandson had mentioned taking the woman to pillow. This would be acceptable, but threatened to produce an heir of mixed blood. That could not be allowed.

Shigehide was not so old he could not recall the fire of passion in his blood. A ronin samurai’s daughter would be more desirable than a barbarian she-devil.

“I will see what can be done,” he assented. “In return, I will have one thing.”

“Anything, my lord.” Sayo lowered her face to hide the signs of triumph.

“You will depart from Nishikata. I will provide funds for you to go where you wish. Further, you deserve no part of the honor, and power, granted the mother-in-law of a daimyo.”

“As you wish.” She tried to hide the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

The only way a woman of her status could elevate her station was to place a foster daughter in a position near a man of power. As mother-in-law of such a man, she could whisper instructions and requests into the foster daughter’s ears. From there, the deed could be set in motion and her ultimate will be done. Sayo had foreseen great personal reward as Tsuta’s advisor. Now she could only hope to prolong her departure, plant seeds where she could and connive ways to continue to advise Tsuta from afar.

“I respectfully remind you that steps need to be taken soonest.”

“Do not push, Sayo.” Shigehide’s face was hard and craggy. “I will see to it at my discretion.”

“Thank you, sire.”

He waved her away.

***

A week later, Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide was summoned to his grandfather’s chambers and received the “suggestion” that he join with Tsuta before her child’s birth. Haste fit into his plans, and he was just as eager to get on with the details, to be freed or doomed. His submission came swift, his protest was token, and preparations began.

Tsuta, accompanied by Sayo, returned permanently to her quarters in Nishikata-jyo without ceremony. As ranking lady of Sanematsu’s court, Haru oversaw her brother’s household but refused to have anything to do with legitimizing his concubine’s offspring. Without quarrel, Sanematsu accepted her refusal and assigned Sachi to the preparations.

Sachi could not refuse to plan the joining, but she did not like the duty any more than his sister had. In her precise manner, she notified the priest of the need for his services, sent messengers with invitations to the Purification Ritual to daimyo and ranking samurai, called on the seamstresses to begin the elaborate osode that would make up the wedding uchiki. All was to be readied in one month.

During this time, she seldom saw Tori; the girl went about her days as usual, unaware of the events in the making. Sachi was please she was occupied with a book in which she wrote and illustrated her words and those of the Nihonese, but her concern about the girl sent her to Lord Sanematsu.

“My lord,” she said after the formalities had been observed, “have you considered Tori’s place after your joining?”

They walked at an idle pace through the gardens. Several yards ahead, her husband, Hikita Takayasu, accompanied them.

“Why should it change?”

“Many pardons, but you must know Tori has found her woman’s emotions in her months here. Her sexuality is awakening, and since you are the only man who has access to her aside from her retainers, she has fixed her affection upon you.”

Sanematsu snorted his disbelief.

“My lord, you have seen your own daughters eyeing the young men. Tori is such an adolescent young woman. I ask you to use care where you are treading, or you may lose all you have with her. You are her only friend.”

“Sachi-sama, you do yourself little justice. She is your friend, also.” He hid the concern she knew he must entertain at the thought of losing Tori’s confidence. She and Tsuta did not like each other, and if things did not work out as he hoped, he would be forced into either making a choice or taking on an impossible juggling act.

“I am as an older sister, my lord.” She stopped and thought a moment. “Lord Sanematsu, she must be told,” she announced with trepidation.

He halted and turned to face her.

“You dare much. This is the second time you have presumed to tell me what to do. Perhaps you are learning from Tori.” He departed, heading toward the shrine of Hachiman Taro. His guard accompanied him. Over his shoulder, he called back, “Then tell her. It is not my concern!”

“Lord Sanematsu, it is your concern.” Sachi’s voice quivered.

He stopped, but did not turn.

“You must be the one.” Her voice shook with fear. “If you do not do this, it will not matter if Tori is told or not.”

Her husband confronted her, anger clouding his face. Sachi kept her eyes away from his, which in silence ordered her to close her mouth.

“She must know you deem her important enough to tell her, or she will never believe you trust her again. You must value Tori’s companionship to risk making so many enemies by encouraging it,” she continued. “Do not let something so relatively small destroy it all.”

Sanematsu did not reply as he resumed walking. Sachi watched her liege lord and her husband enter the shrine Lord Shigeni had built in honor of his son’s birth. She sighed and returned to her work. She had done all she could to stay the brewing storm. If Sanematsu chose not to prevent it, he would have to weather it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Why does Lord Sanematsu want to see me so late?” Aderyn followed Sachi across the dark courtyard. The usual group of samurai accompanied them, carrying torches to light the way to their destination, the only bright room. The flooring made subtle, almost imperceptible, squeaks and cracks as they walked along the corridor of Sanematsu’s wing. Sachi had told her of the nightingale floors, laid to prevent intruders from entering the daimyo’s chambers undetected.

“I cannot say,” Sachi answered in a hush.

Hikita met the women at the doorway and ushered them in. He refused to speak or look at his wife.

Aderyn had never been in this room before. She glanced around from the pillow where she knelt. Two lanterns placed on poles illuminated the room, and the futon lay unrolled. Suddenly, she realized she was in Sanematsu’s sleeping chamber. Had the time come for her to pay for her rescue?

Sanematsu sat at his writing table, dressed in a sleeping kosode. Tea and sake sat untouched on the tray next to him. He continued to brush ink on the paper. It seemed forever before he laid it aside and raised his eyes.

“Good evening, Sachi-sama, Tori.” His voice were pleasant, and he looked toward them but not at either woman. “I regret calling you so late. My day has been quite full, and I fear my night…”

He ordered everyone out of the room save for Aderyn. As the emptiness pressed in her, her anxiety increased. She had wished for his embrace, delighted in his touch. Now she cringed. Would Sanematsu’s embrace be any different from Matsumoto’s groping? If his plans were to assault her sexually, she prayed he would remain the gentle man she cared about.

***

Sanematsu stood, and the long white kosode gaped open across his chest. Barefooted, he paced with the short, quick steps of a trapped animal. He came to rest at the open shoji near the zabuton Sachi had vacated and faced Tori across the narrow space between them.

“I must leave in moments to…perform certain parts of our joining custom.” He spoke in low tones, as though he did not want to speak at all. “You are aware I am to join with Tsuta?”

“You said you would when the baby was born.” She swallowed hard. “If the child were a boy.”

“Things have changed.” It was a quick, harsh statement. “It begins now.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I do not have time to explain everything!” He startled himself by shouting. This whole ordeal with Tsuta caused him no end of difficulties. He could not eat, drink or sleep. His even temperament flared with sharp, impatient flames. Now he had raised his voice to Ko-tori. “Sachi-sama will tell you what it involves.” He inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. “The decision came swiftly. It is…necessary. Plans…change often…” He knew he rambled. He had meant for all of this to be a matter-of-fact business. “I wanted…to inform you instead of…your hearing it from some other,” he hurried to conclude.

Hurt registered on her face but she said nothing. Had she heard him?

He wanted to apologize, overwhelmed by the urge to take her in his arms. Such a desire was foreign to him. Women in his life were for a purpose, as evidence his duty to join with Tsuta and legitimize his heir. He did not know what to do with the feeling. If he succumbed, he would never leave Tori’s side, never fulfill his karma by siring an heir. What possible path lay for them together as man and woman? They were destined to be friends; and he regretted causing pain to one of the few people he could call friend, the only one he could share his innermost thoughts with.

“I must go.” He moved toward the door, pausing, as he passed, a step behind her. Gazing down at her, he saw her shoulders sag as she sniffled. Aware her usual strong resolve was collapsing, he ached with new feelings.

Her hair draped the narrow expanse of her back--a rich, dark, golden-brown mantle covering an uchiki of lavender with a design of small white cranes. He reached to touch her but wavered, unable to bring himself to comfort her. One touch and he could never let her go. He could never have what he wanted most. He fled, angry he could not take away the pain he was responsible for.

***

As the shoji whispered open then snapped shut, Aderyn gulped and sighed. Standing, she wiped her running nose with the back of her hand as if she were a child. Unable to put a name to her confusion, she had to find Sachi. Only a woman could answer her questions.

When she emerged from Sanematsu’s sleeping chamber, Hamasaki waited for her.

“Good evening, Tori,” he greeted.

“Hamasaki-sama, I thought you had retired for the day. Has something happened to Mizuno-sama?” she inquired about her evening guard. She rubbed at her eyes, attempting to dry the tears as he led her down the engawa.

“Sachi-sama asked that I return to my duty with you.” They came to a corner, each moving the opposite direction. “Are you not going to your rooms?”

Aderyn could not face the solitary quarters. “Could you take me to Sachi-sama?”

“She is…busy with matters of Sanematsu-sama’s household.” He put his hand on her arm to steer her in the proper direction. “I must take you to your room.”

“Very well. But first…” She didn’t want to tell him where she needed to go. If she could not find Sachi, she would seek the solitude of the latrine to give in to her emotions.

“Ah, yes. This way.”

Hamasaki followed his charge to the outhouse. There, Aderyn’s thoughts closed in on her. Sachi would now desert her, also. She was pleased to have Hamasaki instead of the night guard. He was the next closest person to her, even if it was in an awkward way. She considered asking him her puzzling questions but thought better of it. He was a man.

She rejoined her guard, and they continued to her quarters. Before they entered the building, she looked back across the courtyard. In the darkness, a tall male form entered a dimly lit room.

***

At mid-morning the next day, Sachi greeted Tori.

“I have a wonderful outing planned,” she said with excitement as she helped braid her hair. “I am going to take you to my home.”

“That will be pleasant.” Tori’s voice was dull, quiet.

“You showed such interest in seeing where I lived.” Sachi finished the plait. “I thought today would be perfect.”

“I know what you are trying to do.”

“I am trying to share my life with you. Now, come along.” She took the tone of a mother with a disobedient child and went out into the hall. Tori sighed and followed.

***

Beyond a side gate in the yashiki wall, the women traveled down a path leading to a stone stairway. It wound down the hillside, through the streets of a group of houses below the castle. Sachi’s house, enclosed like all the others by a high wooden fence, was hidden among the plentiful trees. Inside the gate, a tidy garden led to the engawa of the wooden one-story house. Deep eaves dropped off the roof edges. Cryptomeria, azaleas, chrysanthemums and crepe myrtle bloomed around the house. Part of a vegetable garden was visible at the back.

Sachi led the way up the three steps to the porch. A maid appeared to take their sandals and placed them so the toes pointed away from the house, ready for stepping into when they left.

The house was open, cool and shadowy. Small objects adorned corners, and a small painting on a wooden panel hung on the wall. The ancestral shrine sat in a side room.

Down the hall, Sachi showed her the two sleeping rooms for herself and Hikita. Aderyn did not comment on how strange it was that the Hikitas did not sleep in the same room. Besides feeling it was impolite, she could not manage to care.

Farther back was a kitchen and servants’ rooms. Returning to the front room, they sat at a table where tea had been laid out.

“You did not show me your sons’ rooms.”

“My children live with their foster mothers in a small house nearby,” Sachi said matter-of-factly. “They should be away studying the fighting arts, but my husband allows them to remain a few years longer so I may see them often.”

“Who lives here? In this area?” Aderyn picked up a piece of manju, pulling at the pastry with apathy.

“These houses are called the samurai estates.” Sachi poured tea into two small cups. “Samurai who are given their own fief in Satsuma Province live there most of the year, but some choose to allow another samurai to be their retainer. Matsumoto-sama has a fief in the northeast but allows Toramoto-sama to oversee it. Those warriors without families reside in the large dormitory on the yashiki grounds.”

“Do I…know any of them?” She placed a small piece of the manju in her mouth, letting it melt on her tongue.

“Sanematsu-sama’s retainers of higher rank--Lord Matsumoto lives in the largest one,”

Sachi answered and handed her a cup. She accepted the tea, hoping Sachi did not notice the shiver running through her as she thought of how close she had passed by his house.

“Your guard, Hamasaki-sama, lives farther down from here.” Sachi sipped her tea.

Replacing the cup on the tray, Aderyn rose and went to the open shoji. Clouds built to block the sun as a storm threatened, cooling the summer air. Leaves, shaken from the tree boughs, raced across the manicured garden. Her heart sagged.

She wanted to go home. Where was home? Portugal? Wales? None of the countries her blood called home. Macao was the only place she had truly known until almost six months ago. Now, Nishikata was home. Or had been.

When she awoke that morning, she had felt alone, and alien. Before, she had imagined she belonged. Now she knew she would never belong, would forever be “the barbarian.” That she would always be “Sanematsu’s barbarian,” however, was very doubtful.

“Did you know last night that Lord Sanematsu was going to tell me about his joining with Tsuta?” She could not face Sachi.

“Yes,” Sachi admitted, as if she were guilty of conspiracy.

“Why did you not say so?” She hung her head, and the braid swung over her shoulder. She fingered the tuft at the end.

“I did not feel it my place to do so. Lord Sanematsu was the one to tell you such news.” She made the tiniest of sounds as she sipped her tea.

For long, hard minutes Aderyn remained silent. She swept her eyes over the garden unseeing, unshed tears clouding them. She blinked them away.

“Lord Sanematsu said you could explain the Nihonese way of marriage. He was very angry when I questioned him about it.” Questions, answers--all her days were filled with learning new things. She did not think she really wanted to understand the marriage process.

“The ritual takes place over three nights,” her teacher cleared her throat and began. “The man visits the woman, supposedly in secrecy. He will send her a poem if he is pleased after the first visit.”

“And if not?” Could she hope Sanematsu would be displeased with the prostitute he had slept with for years?

“Seldom do things proceed so far for her to be displaced. It must be a very offensive matter, such as dishonesty about chastity or an infirmity. It is not required that a women be a virgin, but if the male is led to believe she is such it must be, or he may put her aside.”

Sachi breathed deeply. Is this as hard for her to say as for me to hear?

“The lady then sends a gift after receiving his poem, to show her affection. He returns for the second night, arriving at the middle of the Hour of the Rat and departing at dawn so no one sees him.

“The third night is different. The lady will serve tea, sake and some food. He will depart publicly in the late morning. From that day on, she will be his wife.” Sachi paused for a sip of tea. “Some days later, a priest will come and perform a purification ritual, a public ceremony symbolizing their joining. Then there is a feast.” She folded her hands in her lap as though closing a book.

“When will Tsuta be able…?” She faced Sachi. “When could she request that Lord Sanematsu…get rid of me?” She stood as if made of stone while Sachi studied her face. What words could her friend use to remove her torment? Only Lord Sanematsu could soothe the hurt.

“Tori, no one tells Lord Sanematsu what to do--” Sachi began.

“Sachi-sama, who are you trying to fool?” She came back to where Sachi sat. “Everyone tells him! Traditions and customs, Lord Shigehide, the Council of Elders, Matsumoto, probably his sister--and you! And everyone knows it except Lord Sanematsu!”

“Certainly, Sanematsu-sama must follow tradition, and he must consult with others in making decisions concerning military and governmental matters. He must consider all suggestions to make a just decision,” She could see how hard Sachi struggled to explain with the proper diplomacy. “Tsuta, as Sanematsu’s wife, will have no more influence over her husband than any other Nihonese wife. And she would have no right or reason to be rid of you.”

“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.”

While Sachi did as he requested, he walked to the doorway. Hikita held an over-osode, and Sanematsu slipped his arms into it but left the edges open. He turned back to the women by the time Sachi produced a sheet of white silk covered with a large bloodstain.

“The evidence, my lords,” he said to the council and Shigehide. “Now. Sayo, you will take your foster daughter and leave my castle tonight. By the seventh sun, you will depart Nishikata, never to cross my line of vision again, or you will face the death you deserve.” He pulled the edges of his osode together, tying it with the sash Hikita handed him. “You, my grandfather and council, will leave the matter of my wife and heir to me. Find some other way to fill your time.”

He strode out of the chambers before anyone could challenge him. Hikita left with his master.

***

Aderyn had spied on him these past nights. Sachi had said he would leave at late morning of the third day. Why did he leave now, long before midnight? Could something have gone wrong with him and Tsuta? Dare she hope?

Her long osode, the outer robe of the same lavender uchiki she had worn the night Sanematsu spoke with her alone in his sleeping chamber, unfolded as she stood. Beneath the lightweight silk robe, she was nude. She liked the traditional costume most at night, after bath and before bed, the only time she could handle the sensation of feeling feminine.

Her spirits rose. Her heart pounded between her breasts as if she were a tiny bird; her breath came in short gasps, and her face heated. Not stopping to think whether it was a good time or not, she hurried to catch up with him.

“Lord Sanematsu?” she called when near enough for him to hear without her screaming in a rude manner. “Is everything all right?”

“Ko-tori.” He whirled, seeming, only for a moment, to smile. His disheveled garment did not cover his upper body and threatened to slip off his broad shoulders. He tried to slow his rapid breaths. “You are awake late.”

“I was retiring when I saw all the people.” She pointed to Tsuta’s room, where the group had thinned as they returned to their beds. “Are you well?”

***

Her question brought him out of his abstraction. Coming toward him in the moonlight, Tori’s osode, worn without an underskirt this late at night, pulled apart at the bust to reveal her deep cleavage and the soft upper curves of her breasts. He swallowed a lump in his throat and his warrior’s knees became weak. His loins churned with desire and his heart raced.

“Yes. Everything is quite well.” Now was not the best time to be with Tori. He was too vulnerable. “You should retire.”

“I was just going. Goodnight, Yoshihide-sama.” She turned to leave.

As she walked away in what seemed like slow motion, he could not look away. Her hair, piled on top of her head, left the smooth skin of her nape exposed.

Sanematsu felt as he had when Master Wada struck him in the pit of his stomach with the hilt of his sword during martial practice. At the cove, he had been affected by her sensual naked curves, but not to the degree the small patch of skin discreetly hidden with hair or silk by chaste women affected him at this moment. Tori could not consciously appear any more erotic than she did now, innocent in the moonlight. Sanematsu stared, as awkward as a teenager, as a rush of heat filled his Jade Root when she absentmindedly unpinned her hair.

As she walked away and the cascade of tresses fell to her thighs to curtain off his view of her nape, he found he could breathe, ashamed of himself and his episode of voyeurism. Embarrassed by his physical reaction and afraid of what it all meant, he rushed to his own quarters.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Without fanfare or concern, Tsuta disappeared from the castle; and within the week, Sayo’s teahouse closed, the women dispersing to parts unknown. No official announcement was made of the failed joining, but rumors abounded until everyone in Nishikata had learned of the attempt to fool Lord Sanematsu. That he saw through the deception was to his credit and increased his popularity with his peasants.

For several weeks, Sanematsu closed himself off to everyone in an attempt to come to terms with many things. The episode with Tori in the garden and his reaction were the most puzzling. As a man, he wanted her, but he did not wish to change their standing. They were friends, and he enjoyed that, for he had few male friends, much less female confidantes. To fulfill his desire would, he suspected, obliterate the companionship they had.

Yet, even if he could have both her body and her companionship, what if she did not feel the same? What if she did not desire him at all? He didn’t dare seek the answer, for he could not face Ko-tori’s rejection.

***

The barbarian problem perplexed another of Nishikata-jyo’s long-time inhabitants. Haru, widow of Lord Katayama and half-sister to Sanematsu, was pleased when Tsuta was cast away and the balance of power maintained. But Yoshihide’s actions in regard to the one he called Tori had not changed and threatened to proceed in a most disagreeable direction.

Her reliable spy network reported his brooding over the barbarian, and this afternoon she was informed of his council meeting in which he told them he would no longer attend further meetings. What could this mean? Was he no longer taking the elders’ advice into consideration? Was he planning to dissolve the council? Although it was well within his right to do so, what would result? More importantly, how could she ensure her position?

These recent events had put Haru’s power over her brother in question. Power increased her happiness, and she did not relish the idea of giving it up to any woman. When Yoshihide’s mother fled to the convent in the wake of her husband’s death, Haru had moved into the position as head of his household. She resented her brother’s maleness, for it alone gave him his position and authority. Usually, she could manipulate him in small but significant ways, yet always over her head was the threat of a new Sanematsu wife.

Now her peril lay in the increasing power of Sachi and the yabanjin. Why was Hikita’s woman so important to Sanematsu? Was she a former lover? Haru did not think so. A man of pride, Hikita Takayasu would not remain loyal if that were the case. The reason her brother had turned to Sachi for help with his foreigner could have been because her husband was the most trusted of Sanematsu’s men. Whatever the motive, it displeased her.

The yabanjin’s influence grew, and the girl had Sanematsu’s respect. Haru had been certain he would soon tire of his plaything, but he remained enthralled as she led him around like a puppy. Her spies denied anything carnal took place between the daimyo and the girl, and she was sure Tori would be cast aside if he but once took her upon the futon. How could an uncivilized woman pillow a civilized man in a satisfactory manner? It would be like coupling with an animal!

Still, as long as Tori lived, she threatened Haru’s position. What could be done? Sanematsu paid no heed to the men around him who offered advice about what should be done with the barbarian. What could his sister do they could not?

She could see that her brother selected husbands for his daughters who could pose no problem for her own son’s ascension, should the feudal lord die without heir. As long as Yoshihide fathered daughters, Haru had no need to worry, but she had to keep her position for her future to be secure.

The time had come for her to speak with her brother and assure her base of power.

By the time she reached Sanematsu’s doorway, Haru had worked herself into a fury. Two guards stood there to protect the daimyo from anyone who wished him harm. She swept her bulk past them without a glance.

Her brother sat in a simple, long hitatare, drinking sake poured for him by a maid. His legs were bare, and his chest and that part of him necessary for modesty covered. She wondered if he had, or was about to, enjoy the pleasures of Kiyo’s young body?

Seeing Kiyo heartened her. Like all higher society men of Nihon, her brother kept consorts for the times of his wives’ infirmities, childbirth, monthly courses or simply for diversion. For him to have Kiyo in attendance so soon after Tsuta’s fiasco showed he was concerned with his body’s health and needs.

And his choice was Nihonese. If he had an appetite for foreign flesh, would he not have rushed to the yabanjin?

“Sanematsu-sama, may I speak with you?”

“Of course, Haru-sama.” Sanematsu drained the small bowl and held it out for more. “Be seated. Would you care for wine? Tea?”

“No, thank you. I will take little of your time.” She settled on the cushion beside him.

***

“Well?” He didn’t hide his impatience. “What brings you out of the women’s quarters? You have hardly stirred from your rooms, even when summoned, for the past moon. And have dealt with matters of your own choosing instead of those I have asked of you.”

Sanematsu was on his third flask of sake, the fourth bowl since Haru had entered.

“I find it distasteful that you should attempt to father an heir with a mere consort,” she began scolding. “You are samurai. Further, you disgrace the bushi with your lust for the yabanjin.”

“What?”

Kiyo moved to dab sake from his hitatare and chin as he sputtered. When he waved her away, she filled the bowl again.

“Kiyo-sama.” Haru addressed the consort. “You may leave. I will attend our lord.”

Kiyo awaited his signal of agreement before she fluttered out.

“It is incorrect for you to allow her to contaminate your household,” Haru continued. “She is given too much freedom, especially with your daughters. They can speak of almost nothing else!” She poured sake without the artistry of Kiyo. “I have a difficult task keeping the servants from gossiping about the two of you. It will destroy you, Yoshihide-ue!” She used the familial honorific.

“Do not presume to tell me what will destroy me! If I wish to be destroyed, there are many within this castle’s very walls who would gladly do it without Tori’s help!”

“I wish only to aid you, sire.”

He saw through her feigned meekness.

“What will you do about Kyoto? Can you trust your men while you are gone?”

She spoke of his year of alternate attendance, a time the Shogun could call at any moment. He awaited the summons with dread.

“Can I trust you while I am away? I can trust no one where Tori is concerned!”

“She is your consort, my lord. No one will dare to touch a woman of yours.”

“She is no consort! And even my wives are not safe from those who wish to insult me by pillowing them. Masa is dead because of it, with my second son! Tori is my guest and will be treated as such.” He drank, hoping to wash away the dread, fear and attraction he had for Tori.

“As you say. What shall you do about those at Bakafu? You have not even informed them of her presence.”

“I am sure my oversight will be corrected,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

The military camp in Kyoto ruled all of Nihon with a heavy hand. The generals appointed by the Ten-nou used knowledge for and against the other daimyo to prevent their rebellion.

“What if Ashikaga-sama orders you to bring your yabanjin to Kyoto? How will you keep her out of his hands?”

The Ashikaga had seized control of the Kyoto government in 1338 to establish the Bakafu, the government of the shogun, in the Muromachi district. Because of Kyushu’s remoteness from the Bakafu, the daimyo there tended to be more autonomous, picking and choosing which imperial edicts they chose to observe. Sanematsu, being the highest-ranking of the lords, set the tone of those choices. The Sanematsu daimyo were powerful, but not embroiled in political intrigue--he kept his hand in the political stew as self-protection.

Nevertheles, the possibility of Ashikaga demanding Tori be brought before him for trial and execution had come up often in his thoughts. If the Bakafu knew of her presence, they would not hesitate to demand she appear before them. Only one way would she escape being taken into custody for either imprisonment or death. He was not sure even of that, because it had never been tried. Still, he had never heard of the shogun taking away a man’s wife.

“There is a way,” he said nonetheless. “She would at least be protected from Ashikaga-sama.”

Beneath the chalky white court make-up Haru blanched. “I have always believed you one step short of simpleminded, but this all but proves it.” In her fury, the words tumbled forth. “No daimyo in his right mind would consider taking a yabanjin, a non-person, as wife. You would not dare to disgrace the clan in such a way!”

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” The shoji shook with his shout. “You may be twenty years older than I, and if the gods of Nihon have any wisdom, you will be well into your next life before I depart this one, but that does not give you the right to dictate to me, Lord of the Satsuma Province of Kyushu, Master of Nishikata-jyo! I am your liege lord. I grant what authority you have! You are here because I need you. If you must speak to me at all, make it about those areas that are your concern!”

Sanematsu rose. For one of the few times in his life, he was enraged, and the loss of his temper dispelled his stress. Fed up with people telling him what to do and not to do, he did not care if the entire household heard the confrontation. They thought he could not rule his ryo-chi without their advice. No one had ever let him, so how did they know what he was capable of?

Then, calm in appearance but seething beneath the surface, he resettled himself on the zabuton. Haru filled his sake bowl, and he drained it in a gulp. She poured more.

“I am sorry if my concern has distressed you, sire,” she said through gritted teeth. “There is a matter which, as you point out, is of my concern. Your stepdaughter, Aya-hime--”

“I know my daughters’ names!”

“She has reached the age when she should be betrothed. You should begin to think about a proper joining.”

“Very well,” he said after he drank more of the rice wine. “I am sure go-betweens have approached you on behalf of ambitious lords. Prepare a listing, and I will choose.” He would have to discover the samurai who had caught Aya’s eye and hope he was not already betrothed. “If that is all, you may depart.”

“Yes, sire.” Haru bowed to him. “Do you wish me to have Kiyo-sama summoned?”

“No. I am tired and will retire.” He finished the bowl he held. Kiyo had failed to touch him, though his body spilled its seed into her as designed. Pillowing had begun to increase his frustration so he decided he would no longer pillow.

“Goodnight, my brother.” Haru lumbered to her feet. The shoji opened, and she left.

Sanematsu rose, intent on removing his hitatare. On the other side of the room, a shoji moved without sound and Yaemon entered.

“My master, so sorry. There is a messenger from Lord Matsumoto.”

“Send him in.” Sanematsu closed his hitatare and sat.

“Sire.” The messenger prostrated himself.

“What is it?” He was curt to the samurai--Lord Uesugi’s eldest son, one of the new warriors, who had been assigned to Matsumoto’s regiment in the Northwest Province.

Uesugi Tadakuni handed him a small scroll sealed with the Sanematsu kamon. He broke the wax crest, unrolled it then swept his eyes over the characters.

“Go to the guardhouse. Tell the commander to prepare the men for traveling. Then go to the kitchen. They will feed you. We leave within the hour.”

Hungry samurai were poor warriors, and young men of Uesugi’s age were never satisfied.

“Yes, sire.” Uesugi bowed once more and was gone.

“Yaemon-dono.” The boy was in the room before a second passed. “Ready my things for battle. I will return shortly.”

Sanematsu left the room in a whirl. He had someone else to see.

***

Aderyn sat at her sewing, a candle providing light to see by. The rest of the room was dark, shadows flickering around her work area. The piece was almost finished; all that was left was to thread it on the leather thong she had asked Sachi to obtain for her earlier in the day.

She had lain down hours before, but sleep would not come. She had opened the shoji to allow a breeze to enter and the room had grown quite cold; a servant had come earlier to see if she wanted the charcoal brazier lit. She had declined, not being bothered by the temperature.

Distracted by the increased sounds of movement in the courtyard, she went to the shoji. Below, men scrambled about preparing the horses. Odd--they tended to be fast asleep at this hour. Sanematsu’s huge bay stallion was there, saddled and fitted for war. She strained to see the horse’s master.

“Tori.”

She jumped, startled by his voice coming from behind her.

“My lord.” She fell to her knees and bowed. He crossed the room, closed the garden shoji then turned and offered her his hand. Aderyn took it and stood.

“That is no longer necessary, Tori.” An odd softness touched his face and centered in his eyes. “But you should not be so inattentive. I have warned you before.”

“You also said Hamasaki-sama and his group would not allow any but you so near me without warning.”

She stood inches away from him. When her eyes confronted his broad chest, bare and very close, a wave of anticipation washed through her.

Sanematsu’s hitatare crossed at a point a few centimeters below his navel. The garment, longer than the casual hitatare, exposed his nude legs from mid-thigh to feet. He had the firm, hard physique of an athlete. His nearness, the sweet male aroma of his brown skin, set her trembling. An erotic fog clouded her senses despite a mind-clearing toss of her hair.

***

Sanematsu pushed a long strand over her shoulder, a touch he had craved since the day he had seen her on the ship, her long hair loose and tangled.

“I shall not always be here to protect you.”

“But Hamasaki-sama will.”

“He is the fortunate one,” he admitted. Her expression said she enjoyed his fingers in her hair, while her eyes lingered on his. Her head tilted as if to plead with him to cup her cheek. “I have had distressing news from the Northwest Province. Lord Matsumoto cannot settle things. I am leaving to attend to matters myself.”

He withdrew his hand without taking advantage of the opportunity to stroke her face. Would he be satisfied with such a chaste touch?

“When?” she said, the sigh as though she had been holding her breath. He followed her stare to see his long, narrow feet in the house sandals.

“Tonight.” He noticed the item in her hand. “What is this?”

“Oh.” She inhaled, sniffled and studied the piece of inch-square needlework forgotten in her fingers. “It is a small present for you, my lord. I have just finished it.”

Sanematsu took the cloth. A white seabird against an ocean of blue, stitched in the tiniest of petit point.

“If you will allow me.” She took back the amulet and worked the leather through. She tied the ends then looked uneasily from it to him. He inclined toward her so she could put it over his head.

***

When she touched his skin as she adjusted the small square to lie flat on his bare chest, fiery heat ran from her fingers up her arms. The flame continued to her own chest, burning into her heart and making her lungs labor before it came to rest in her lower abdomen. Aderyn yanked her fingers away, but the fire continued to grow in her most private areas. She focused on the tatami.

“With this, I shall remember you.” Sanematsu took her hand in his. “It will keep us close.”

He tilted her chin to lift her face up. A tear, held until then in her eye, rolled down her cheek. He caught it on his finger and brought the tear-wet fingertip to his tongue.

“How will I survive in your absence, Yoshihide-sama?” she choked.

“You will. You are as the seabird for which your mother named you, and which you have chosen to sew for me. Helpless as the gull when it sweeps to the water, you are also strong, able to reclaim the air currents. Within you is a strength, Ko-tori, which you will find when you need it.” Holding her hand in his, he placed the other along her cheek. “You have no need of my power to protect you, for you have your own. It will never fail.”

His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheek. The scent of his wintergreen hair oil hung in the air. Aderyn studied his eyes. They were deep and somber, yet tenderness sparkled there. Without thought, she did what came naturally.

She kissed him.

Sanematsu startled ever so slightly then softened to share her kiss and became swept up in passion. He took her in his arms without disturbing their contact. With the tip of his tongue he traced the thin line of her mouth and parted her lips for an instant. He withdrew his mouth, continuing to hold her in a tight embrace.

Safe and warm, Aderyn laid her head on his chest. His passion was evident, the urgency of his body next to hers obvious. The firm ridge of flesh between his legs pressed against her. Her own body struggled to return that desire.

If she gave into the passion, would Sanematsu think her a clumsy child compared with the women in his life? Would she lose him after he had taken her body? Was there any way she, a barbarian, could hold the affection the Lord of Satsuma Province, a man of great wealth and power? A man who could have any woman he fancied?

She wept, turning her face into him, moistening the cloth of his hitatare. After a time, she raised her face. His eyes twinkled at her. No matter how short it might last, she would do anything to insure she could hold him like this. Should she die this instant, she would go happily, the taste of his lips lingering.

Aderyn withdrew from his embrace. The walls held many spies. If one watched them now--and she was sure one did--great damage could result. Sanematsu did not need to be the target of an evil rumor of indiscretion.

“You will take great care, Yoshihide-sama?”

“I will take every precaution.” He smiled at her concern. “You know I am well trained with the sword.”

“You are a mighty swordsman.” Although she laughed, it sounded feigned even to her. “Do not unsheathe it, and you will have no need to worry,” she philosophized.

She faced away from him and hugged herself.

“Let us not talk of fighting.” His hand on her shoulder turned her. “I must leave and want my last words to be of…”

***

He could not finish the sentence. He had not known the meaning of love until moments ago when he had seen her standing before the open shoji, vulnerable, innocent and strong. Yes, he loved her, and still he could not voice it.

“Do not say it, sire.” Tori put a finger to his lips. “Let us continue, until your return, as friends.”

“That is best. Do not despair. I will return to you soon.” He kissed her again, enjoying the new affectionate gesture. “Goodbye, my friend.”

“Your gods go with you, Yoshihide-sama, and mine. Goodbye, my master…”

Sanematsu left without another word or gesture. If he did not go now, he never would.

“…and my love,” he heard her whisper just before he disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sanematsu lay on his futon, staring without seeing at the center of the tent roof over him. He had been at the war camp three days and had accomplished nothing.

The journey to Kamaga, Lord Amemiya’s province northwest of Satsuma Province, however, had been enlightening. He recalled the ride and conversation…

***

“Uesugi-uji,” he called to the young samurai to his right.

“Yes, sire.” The boy-warrior moved his horse closer to Sanematsu’s. On the daimyo’s order, Uesugi had taken the position near him in the procession.

“I wish for you to become my aide. You will concern yourself with my needs, on or off the battlefield.”

“Thank you, sire.” Uesugi gave his master the required nod of his head, but Sanematsu saw the anxiety in his eyes at the new promotion.

“Do not be alarmed. I do not involve myself with men for my personal pleasure.”

He could see the boy was relieved he would not have to enter his master’s futon as part of his duties.

“My lord, many of the novice samurai would be honored to have such a position. My fellows and I hold you in high esteem. I hope I am able to perform with honor.”

“I am not so certain I am worthy of such praise.”

“If I may be so bold, we are fortunate to be among your forces. It is well know that your army is the best armored and provisioned in the country.”

“You are a very talkative warrior.”

“I am sorry if I have offended you, my lord. I do tend to talk too much when I am…nervous.”

“Do not be nervous. I am not offended. What else is said of my army?”

“Well, we have discussed the mounts your horse master provides. We have heard they are from the mountains of northern Nihon, and we know their training is excellent. Camp conditions are always the best and the food of the highest quality and plentiful. Our fathers could not do better than joining our swords with yours.”

“To a young man, I am sure the availability of enough food to fill the ever-empty belly is appreciated.” Sanematsu recalled his appetite in his own youth, when no amount of rice would fill the void. “A warrior who is sated will remain loyal to whoever fills his rice bowl.”

This was especially true in a country were famine raged at intervals.

“Yes, sire.” A red flush rose up the young man’s throat to his face, giving credence the Sanematsu’s statement. “We have been fortunate to learn under the tutelage of your brilliant generals. Your battle plans are designed to leave the fewest of our comrades dead. The Sanematsu army is a formidable military machine,” Uesugi concluded.

“I hope I am able to keep my forces intact.” He suppressed a chuckle at the boy’s encyclopedic analysis.

“Why has Lord Amemiya come against you as he has? Especially with the shogun’s decree against civil war.”

“Necessity is what causes most wars. Before I was born, my father settled a truce with Amemiya-sama. He must now expand his ryo-chi, as his three sons are of age and hunger for lands of their own. He is willing to risk alienation to satisfy them.”

“Two of those sons lay dead before I left, sire.”

“That is unfortunate. I will pledge a truce to counsel with Lord Amemiya in hopes of putting a stop this carnage.”

“What if he will not be satisfied with anything less than your head on a pike before the war will halt?”

“I will endeavor not to allow that.” Sanematsu spurred Dai-tan on, eager to arrive at the battle camp.

Without knowing it, young Uesugi placed a burden on his daimyo’s shoulders that increased when he reached the camp and received the reports from his commanders. The last casualty total listed a third of his forces fallen. He had hoped that once he was at the battleground his mental fog would disappear and he would be able to concentrate. It had not been so. He had to pull himself together--if not for his position, for his men.

He came up with the solution to his dilemma.

“Uesugi-uji!” He flung away the covering and bounded to his feet. Not bothering about his state of undress, he went to the tent flap clad in fundoshi. “Uesugi-uji!”

“Yes, sire?” The sleepy young man presented himself, rubbing his eyes and straightening the clothes he slept in. Straw from the warrior’s bedding clung to his hair.

“I have a message to send to Nishikata.” Sanematsu searched for his writing materials. He pulled one drawer out of the traveling case and threw the contents into a heap on the ground before moving to the next. Uesugi crossed to a low table in the corner opposite his master’s bedding. On top of it lay scrolls and the pouch with Sanematsu’s seal. He handed the brush and inkstone to his master.

“Go.” Sanematsu grabbed the writing tools. “Have your horse readied. I will be finished by then.” He waved him away.

As promised, the scroll was rolled and sealed when Uesugi returned. Sanematsu walked the samurai out to his horse in the quiet camp. Clouds hid the moon’s face. Tent panels snapped in the wind and great gusts wrapped the Sanematsu banners around their poles. Guards scrutinized the darkness for intruders.

“Deliver this to Hamasaki Heishiro. At once, Uesugi-uji, at once!” he shouted as the boy mounted and disappeared into the night.

Sanematsu returned to his futon, elated and anxious. He forced himself to be calm. It would be days before he received an answer, and he had a battle before him and his army.

At dawn, he called his generals together and gave rapid instructions. He specified every detail and broached no debate--he would rely on his own plans instead of those of his advisors. The battle to come was a rite of passage in which he would succeed or fail on his own. He refused to think of the thousands of men he doomed if he failed. After all, it was their giri, the duty of obligation to their liege lord, and karma, his and theirs.

***

Late in the afternoon a day later, Uesugi arrived at Nishikata-jyo. Hamasaki was not at the castle so he was forced to go into the city, and found the man guarding Tori and Sachi as they browsed the market. He gave Hamasaki the scroll then stood back and watched.

He could not help staring at the woman called “Sanematsu’s yabanjin” when she came close to Hamasaki and spoke.

“Is it from Sanematsu-sama?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hamasaki told her after he re-rolled the scroll and slipped it into the wide sleeve of his hitatare. “You are to join him at Kamaga as soon as possible.”

Uesugi listened to the conversation, concentrating on each word. The older samurai’s tone indicated his disapproval of the order. Who was he to disobey? A retainer did not question his daimyo’s judgment.

“Why?” Now the barbarian had the audacity to question a warrior. This woman was very different from the ones he was familiar with.

“It is not our place to question our master, Tori.” Sachi finished her business with the vendor in quick order. She gathered their small purchases into a basket to carry home. “We best hurry back to the yashiki and prepare our things.”

Good. The wife of Hikita would correct her behavior. Perhaps she would even discipline the barbarian.

“Only Tori and I will be returning, Sachi-sama. Lord Sanematsu feels you should remain to tend to your household.” Hamasaki’s voice was strong and commanding. Uesugi wondered how he could be so domineering, and when he himself would have the confidence to carry himself so.

“Very well, Hamasaki-sama,” Sachi responded.

“We will depart in the morning at sun-up,” he announced.

“Is there not a battle going on there?” the foreign woman asked as they climbed the main road to the fortress. Uesugi walked behind them, leading his horse by the reins.

“Perhaps he anticipates the battle will be concluded by the time you arrive,” Hamasaki offered. “You have been his companion so often he may miss your conversations.”

Uesugi was astounded at the casualness of their talk. Hamasaki carried himself less as a battle-ready warrior and more as an acquaintance of his prisoner.

“The country is very pretty there. He might wish to show you more of his lands,” Sachi interjected as they reached the yashiki.

“If you two will proceed with packing, I will attend to the horses and provisions for the journey.” Hamasaki started toward the stables. “You,” he addressed Uesugi, “come with me.”

The older warrior’s long, rapid stride caused Uesugi to trot to catch up. Once they were inside the stables, the scent and warmth of the horses embraced them. Hamasaki went to the tack room and began to assemble saddles and bridles.

Uesugi broke the silence. “Excuse me, honorable samurai. May I be allowed to ask about the barbarian?”

“Her name is Tori.” Hamasaki thrust a saddle into his empty arms. “You will address her so.”

“I am sorry.” Contrite, he dipped his head.

“What is it you wish to know?”

“Why is Lord Sanematsu having her come to the place of battle? How can she be important to the outcome?”

“It is important because he wishes for her to be there.” Hamasaki turned to the feed bins. “Take that to the stall second from the door.”

Uesugi place the saddle where Hamasaki indicated and returned.

“Are you not…offended to be nursemaiding her? You are not truly guarding her, are you?”

“I am doing what is required of me by my master! As for guarding her, there are many ways to protect a person.”

“Protect? You are not preventing her escape?”

“You are naive, young warrior,” Hamasaki scoffed, an almost-chuckle escaping his lips. “I fulfill my obligation to Lord Sanematsu, no matter what shape it may take. Now, boy-soldier, go to the kitchen and eat. I am sure that is one thing no one will have to tell you how to do.”

“Very well.” Uesugi began to depart.

“Nursemaiding,” he heard Hamasaki grumbled. “The only nursemaiding I am doing is to a warrior with a dry katana!”

Uesugi bent his head, ashamed of being an untried samurai yet afraid of his coming first taste of battle.

***

As the first rays of the sun pierced the clouds of the new day, the group gathered in the courtyard and mounted their horses. Aderyn adjusted the saddle and her hitatare and hakama.

“Are you sure you would not rather ride in the kaga?” Sachi asked. “It would be no trouble to summon one.”

“No, Sachi-sama, this is the fastest way and you know I get sick in that thing!” Aderyn looked down on the small woman who stood at the horse’s side.

“You must remember you are a lady of Lord Sanematsu’s court. You are so…” Sachi could not find the proper word.

“Barbaric?” Aderyn filled in.

“No. I do not know what it is, but it is as if you do not know that you are a woman.”

“Believe me, Sachi-sama, I know. But I know what you are trying to say. I will comport myself properly when I get there.”

“Very well. Uesugi-sama, you must assist Hamasaki-sama in caring for Tori.”

“Yes, my lady.” Uesugi brought his horse up beside Aderyn’s.

“She is very important to Lord Sanematsu.” Sachi could not seem to stop talking.

“I will give Hikita-sama your regards,” Aderyn told her.

This would be the first time she would be alone with only Hamasaki to accompany her. Soon, he would order them on their way, and neither woman was ready to let her friend leave her sight.

“Thank you.”

“We must be off, Sachi-sama,” Hamasaki broke in.

“Very well.” Sachi moved back and watched as the two men, a servant with a packhorse and the girl disappeared through the wooden gate.

***

“Uesugi-sama?” Aderyn said when they were a distance away from the yashiki. “Do you know why I am going to the camp?”

Uesugi blanched. Like many of Sanematsu’s subjects, he feared her.

“Only that Sanematsu-sama wishes you there, my lady.”

“I am no lady, Uesugi-sama. Call me Tori. I do not merit ‘sama.’”

“It is widely speculated you will soon be Lady Sanematsu.” Uesugi’s expression told her he regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth.

“Have you taken to gossip, Uesugi-sama, the business of women?” Aderyn chided. “Do not hold store in those rumors, Tada-sama. May I call you that?”

Hamasaki had ridden ahead to keep watch, and the servant lagged behind, leaving no chance of their being overheard. Lost without Sachi to protect her from herself, Aderyn hoped Uesugi could help her. He had the same naive and unsophisticated air about him her friend did. It gave her confidence and self-assurance with him, different from the ease she had with their master. Plus, Sanematsu would not have trusted anyone he had not personally selected for this mission.

“I would prefer Tadakuni.” He blushed at the use of the pet name.

“You know, it is strange. I was walking through the garden last evening, and in the darkness, I saw two shadows. I heard a laugh, and someone said ‘Tada-sama.’ Then the shadows came together for an instant, and I heard a distinct rustle of silk,” she said with as much innocence as possible.

“I will admit I was in the garden,” he answered with force.

Though the young man did not carry himself like a full-fledged samurai, soon enough he would be able to assume the visage, as well as the voice, of a warrior. Now, however, his harsh tone did not fit with his pout.

“I do not accuse you of any wrongdoing, Tadakuni-sama. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Many a young man has fondled a serving maid in the dark.”

She could consider such ideas now without dying of embarrassment. Not long ago, she would have found it hard to ponder, much less speak openly of them.

“I–I…ah, well, I do agree. A young man has curiosity as well as the right.”

“I have seen you noticing our lord’s stepdaughter.”

“I have…noticed.” Uesugi gulped hard.

“You were not with a serving maid last night, were you, my friend?” Aderyn hoped the word friend would put him at ease. She chanced a direct look at the boy.

“No, I was not.” Uesugi looked ashamed, guilty and a little confused. “Please, for Aya-hime’s sake, do not let Lord Sanematsu know!”

“It was dark. How could I see who stood in the garden? Is it my place to spy on those who seek privacy?”

“I shall be in your debt, Tori,” Uesugi sighed.

“The rumor of your rendezvous with a girl is not unlike the rumor of Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide and a certain yabanjin.” She made her point. “I am sure Lord Sanematsu will pay no heed to rumors. And I can assure him Aya-hime was with me at the time you and your ‘maid’ were in the garden.”

“Thank you, Lady Tori,” he said.

Aderyn smiled.

For the next few miles, they rode in silence. Lush vegetation crept to the road on both sides. Vivid colors stood out where flowers of all kinds blossomed. Black pine trees rose to tower over the travelers, and the forest was full of sounds. A large buck dashed across the road, followed not long afterwards by a doe and her fawn. In a clear blue sky with wisps of vaporous streamers birds flew high overhead.

With relief, Aderyn agreed when Hamasaki suggested a stop by a creek to water the animals and rest. She had been afraid to ask to stop in case Hamasaki knew a reason for haste she did not. As he held the horse’s head, she slid from Koji, and then all four travelers went about personal business.

Aderyn had long since learned not to care about his presence, since Hamasaki turned his back to give her privacy; and he, in turn, was accustomed to her easing behind a bush without announcement. Now, she undid the hakama and squatted. In front of her, the bushes rustled and parted. A scream escaped her throat.

“My pardons, Lady Tori.” Uesugi drew up short. “I was seeing to your protection.”

“I do not need protection!” She stood with her hakama lowered around her knees. “Go away!”

Sword drawn, Hamasaki came running. “Tori, are you safe? What is wrong?”

“I am quite all right.” She pulled her clothing up around her bare hips while Uesugi stared, flustered and red-faced. “I merely have an over-enthusiastic samurai waving his sword at me!”

“Come!” Hamasaki seized the young man’s ear to remove him from Tori’s vicinity. “You will leave her safety to me! I will let you know when and how to see to her care!”

The sound of his tongue-lashing faded as Aderyn went on about her business. Moments later she emerged, her clothing righted. Uesugi knelt beside a pile of kindling, busy with the fire.

“Is this your penance?” she asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“Humph.” He stood and stomped away.

“Leave him alone.” Hamasaki worked at the saddle of her horse. “He has a task to perform. Let him do it.”

“Do not be so hard on him. He was only doing what Sachi-sama instructed him to do.”

“And your scream could have alerted every enemy within ten miles.”

“I am sorry. I will try not to scream so loud when I am startled.” Aderyn took a seat.

She helped with the meal, a simple dish of hot tea poured over rice. Hamasaki and Uesugi added salted cod roe to the top of their cha-zuke. Aderyn did not like the taste of tatako, so put a pickled plum in hers. After they had eaten, she washed and packed the dishes. They prepared to remount.

“Hamasaki-sama, what do you do when you leave me?”

“I am sorry, Tori, I do not understand.” Hamasaki became nervous, always apprehensive when she looked at him with intent curiosity.

“When you are not guarding me, where do you go?” she asked as she remounted.

“Oh. My home is among the samurai estates in Nishikata.” He mounted, and they moved off. Uesugi took the point.

“Do you live with your parents or do you have a wife?” His parents would live with him if he were the eldest son. And, since he was a retainer of Sanematsu’s, his father should have been, also.

“I have a wife and daughter. My wife carries my son, if the gods permit.” His face glowed with pride. It was the first time he had ever showed her any emotion.

“Congratulations. Please tell me when the baby is born so I may visit your wife. I would have thought you older than a man with infant children. How old are you, Hamasaki-sama?”

“You have many questions. I have seen nineteen New Years.”

Age and maturity came quickly in Nihon. At close to sixteen years of age, Aderyn was but a child when compared to these men’s experience. Sanematsu ruled Satsuma Province by the time he was fifteen. Uesugi was a warrior at sixteen. Would she catch up with them in a fourth of a year?

The group made excellent time. They passed small villages preceded by vast barley fields and rice paddies. The tall and lush rice plants swayed in the wind. Ripples ran over the flat water that gave the rice sustenance. Farmers and their wives tended the fields. The smallest children rode their mothers’ backs, tied on with her sash.

Closer to the village, women tended garden plots and children. Toddlers played outside the houses, while older children worked beside their parents. Aderyn drank in the homey scenes.

Life for the least person here was so simple and quiet. Their daimyo, like a kind father, provided a pleasant existence for them. He carried their concerns on his back, his brow knitted when disaster befell them, his stomach gnawed when they were hungry. Lord Sanematsu buried their dead and rejoiced in their births. Did they realize the gift and sacrifice of his happiness Sanematsu gave them?

The day of the picnic, Sanematsu had exposed a new side for her to see. On the night before he left for Kamaga, he had come to her room, alone and open, and they had revealed what they felt for one another. Could she count on seeing him like that ever again?

She could never have him as a woman in love did a man. He was not hers and never would be. He belonged to these serfs, and he would do what benefited them.

“Tadakuni-sama, how is our lord? Is he well?” Uesugi had taken Hamasaki’s place at her side.

“When I left him he was. But he was miserable. He was very irritable and unable to attend to military matters. Perhaps I should not give such information to you.”

“It is right for you to. Lord Sanematsu speaks to me of matters different from those he shares with his warriors.”

So, that is why he sent for me. Her heart beat louder. Blood rushed to her ears, and a chill raced up her spine. He had no such difficulty before I came! What if…?

Overcome with foreboding, she urged Koji into a gallop. She could not have said how she knew, but she had to reach Sanematsu as soon as possible or never see him again.

Hamasaki and Uesugi kept up only with difficulty.

“Tori,” the older samurai shouted over the thundering hooves. “we should make camp.”

“No. Lord Sanematsu expects us tomorrow afternoon. He will be pleased if we arrive early.” It was difficult to shout over her shoulder, but she had to convince him.

“I do not know…” Hamasaki had brought his horse alongside hers.

“The horses are sturdy and can endure the pace. Uesugi-sama made the journey in a day and a night.”

“Very well.”

Aderyn’s heart rested in her throat. Would Sanematsu be alive when they arrived at Kamaga?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A few hours after dawn, they reached the camp. Lather dripped from the horses, and their lungs sounded like forge bellows. The camp bustled with activity, the battle having come and gone. Shroud-wrappeed warriors lay to the left and right in neat rows. The sun glinted off their swords arranged across their stilled chests.

Bile filled Aderyn’s throat, and she fought the scream threatening to erupt from within. Was she too late? If Sanematsu had met his death, would she and the others have been allowed to ride in unobstructed?

“Tadakuni-sama! Where?” She did not have to explain.

“There.” Uesugi gestured toward the center of the camp. The bivouac was a neat arrangement of tents housing two to six men, lined in rows except for the very center. There, two large tents stood with wide spaces around them. A large rectangular flag, its kamon exposed clear and prominent, snapped on a pole outside one tent.

She spurred the mare toward it then slid without regard for dignity from the saddle and rushed to the flap. A samurai came out and stopped her.

“You may not enter,” he grunted.

The arms that pushed her back were Matsumoto’s. He turned his attention to Hamasaki and Uesugi as they came to her side, but he refused to release Aderyn’s arms.

Hamasaki broke the silence. “What is the news, Lord Matsumoto? We arrived as soon as possible.”

“Our master lies within, gravely injured.” Matsumoto indicated the tent with a nod. “His physicians are in attendance.”

Aderyn gasped and struggled to get passed him. Unable to break his loathsome grip, she was sure he enjoyed applying the restraint. The pain of his tightening grasp caused her to wince and grimace.

“Matsumoto-uji, you do not need to restrain her,” Hamasaki commented.

Matsumoto glared at the guard. Did he regret assigning him to her? Hamasaki had become a companion to her instead of a controller.

As if aware it was better not to allow Hamasaki a reason to protect her, Matsumoto dropped his hands.

Once she was free, Aderyn started inside the tent. Matsumoto shot out a hand to stop her.

“I said you are not permitted. Hamasaki-uji, you should put a rope on this one to remind her of her place,” the karou snapped. “His distraction with her has already cost him.” He spoke as if she were not present. “Take her away. It may be hours before he is able to see her. Then, he may not wish to do so.”

He re-entered the tent.

Aderyn stood numb. Sanematsu needed her! If she had arrived sooner, she could have told him of her premonition, perhaps stopped him from entering the battle. Now, Matsumoto denied her access to him. What was she to do?

Hamasaki put a gentle hand on her arm. Uesugi stepped to her other side, touching her sleeve.

“My lady,” he leaned in to her ear and afforded her the undeserved title. “I will keep you informed of what our lord wishes of you.”

“Thank you.” Aderyn wiped a tear from her eye. She would not shed tears, even in frustration. Permitting Hamasaki to lead her, she turned in slow motion and went in the direction Matsumoto had indicated.

“Tori,” Hamasaki said as she started into her tent. She paused and turned to him. “Our lord will see you. He called you to his side. I see no reason for him to change his mind.”

Aderyn wanted to embrace her guardian in gratitude, but such a gesture would not be acceptable. She smiled as best she could and entered the tent.

In the cold, dim interior, she took advantage of the open futon, dozing fitfully. The ride had left her tired, but Sanematsu’s condition would not let her sleep. She gave up and left the bedding. After she washed her face and hands and redid her braid, she began a long, agonizing wait.

The tent was too small, so she paced outside in front. Hamasaki sat by the corner on a campstool; there was no consolation in his sober face. Across the way, Sanematsu’s physicians came and went from his tent carrying trays. What were they doing? Was he dead? What would happen if he died?

Without his protection, Matsumoto and the others would not allow her to live. But she could not fathom her life without Sanematsu anyway, and would not want to live without him. What she feared was the method of her death.

She went back inside and sat down on the futon. She had no more than put her head down when Hamasaki and Uesugi burst in, excitement overcoming their usual placid demeanor. Uesugi was so keyed up he could not stand still.

“My lady, come quickly! He has awakened and demands to see you.”

Aderyn rose, and the three left the tent.

“I have discovered what has occurred over the last few days,” Uesugi said. “Lord Sanematsu led the army into an attack at daybreak, falling upon Lord Amemiya’s troops while they slept. The causalities were considerable, with Sanematsu-sama being wounded near the end of the battle. My friend told me how, although weakened by the loss of large amounts of blood, he fought on.

“Amemiya-sama surrendered after Sanematsu had personally taken his eldest son’s head. Only then did our master lead his men off the field. When he reached the camp, he collapsed and Hikita-uji carried him to his tent. Hikita-uji was wounded also. Sanematsu-sama has drifted in and out of consciousness since.

“He has now awakened and demands you be brought to him. Matsumoto-sama has counseled against it, but when Sanematsu-sama threatened to go to you if you were not in his presence at once, his doctors became afraid he would hurt himself further. That was when Matsumoto-sama consented and sent me to bring you.” He snickered. “Matsumoto-sama is angry because Sanematsu-sama is so adamant.”

“It would not do to have Matsumoto-sama further irritated,” Hamasaki warned her.

“I will try not to,” Aderyn assured him. Her very breathing irritated her enemy enough.

At the command post, they entered the tent of Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide. Darting glances about the interior, Aderyn sought him. Three older men, the physicians, sat against the far side of the tent. A young boy rested in the near corner. At last, she located the still form prostrate on a futon.

Sanematsu Yoshihide lay eerily quiet, slow, ragged breathing the only evidence of life. Matsumoto, puffed up with self-importance, stood near him. Fighting the urge to rush, she approached his bedside. Her emotions were almost beyond control. Needing to touch him to assure herself he was alive, she could not. Too many people who did not understand her closeness to their daimyo watched her, hoping for a slip in decorum.

Sanematsu turned his head her direction. His brown eyes burned with intensity.

“Tori,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Aderyn knelt beside the futon. “Sire.”

“Everyone, out!” His forceful shout resulted in a coughing fit. The crowd thinned. Uesugi paused at the inside flap to stand as sentinel, since Hikita was incapacitated. Hamasaki took up position outside.

Sanematsu recovered with a sip of water she helped him take from the small bowl she found on a table next to his bedding. Pale, his narrow face was an ashen mask. Dark circles underlined his sunken eyes, and a shadow covered his jaws. Strands of dark hair fell down his neck, around his ears and across his forehead. When he swallowed the mouthful, his breath came in shallow, labored movements, as if the act of breathing hurt.

He lay back, and she put the bowl aside.

“You have arrived at last, my seabird.” His trembling hand reached. She squeezed it between hers. “I feared I would be with my ancestors before I saw you once more.”

“Do not think that way.” She fought to steady her voice. A sob welled up in her throat to see him so near death, and her heart ached.

The nut-brown skin of Sanematsu’s bare torso stood out on the white cotton matting. She wanted to stroke the muscles firm and solid beneath the smooth, satiny skin. A red blotch spread on the thick, wide band that encircled him below his ribcage and across his stomach.

“I am told I have lost a great amount of blood.” His eyes did not leave hers for an instant, a faint sparkle there still. “I am glad you have come.” He had to force each word out of his mouth with a great effort.

“Do not talk more, sire.”

His fingers were cold when she brought his hand to her lips. He struggled to keep the pain off his face. Why did he try? She was the only one present to witness it. Did he not know she would understand his agony?

But she knew from watching them practice that injured samurai were stoic and iron-faced. To show pain was not honorable.

“You must save your strength.” She lowered his hand to her lap, continuing to hold it tight.

“So they tell me.” He squeezed her hand as a spasm of pain clouded his eyes. “I can rest if you remain at my side.”

“I will, great lord.” She smoothed his hair back from his hot, dry forehead. “Rest and save your strength.” Tears choked her.

“Your presence gives me strength.” He drowsed, fighting to keep his eyes on hers.

“Ssssh.” She placed her finger to his lips as she laid his hand on the quilt next to his side. “Be still, my lord.”

“Only if you cease to address me so.” Sanematsu forced his eyes open and his voice to be strong. “Call me…Yoshi. At birth, I was named so. When it was changed to Yoshihide after my gempuku, my boy’s name became a nickname.”

As always, he taught her, even though it took all the breath he had.

“Yes, Yoshi-sama.”

Aderyn pulled the covering over his bare chest to his shoulders. He was asleep by the time she finished.

As pleased as she had been when he allowed her to call him Yoshihide, to allow her Yoshi was an even greater honor. It meant she was closer and dearer--and a greater danger--to him.

The hours dragged. He slept fitfully. She bathed his face with tepid water, removed the cord binding his hair and combed it. As she laid it down around his neck and just over his shoulders, the heat of his fever clung to the strands. She could not resist a timid touch to the satiny skin on his broad shoulders. Was it the fever, or a unique fire that seared her fingertips?

The physicians returned to maintain their own vigil. Not speaking to her, they worked around her and glared their disapproval for her peering over their shoulders. When she viewed his wound, Aderyn gasped.

The sword slice on his left side extended from front to back, and was deep. Miraculously, the invading blade had touched no vital organ as it cut underneath his ribs and above his waist. If the blow had been stronger, or on the right, he would have died on the battlefield. Still, he could linger for days before the relief of dying. Aderyn prayed she would not have to relinquish him to death, but how could he survive?

“Why do you not sew the wound closed?” she asked the elder physician. The sailors of her father’s ship used thread and needle to help wounds heal.

“Sword cuts this deep do not heal well if closed on the outside,” Kono explained. “It must be allowed to mend from the inside out. Now, please excuse me, I must tend our master.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, but did not move.

The doctors placed fresh dressings on the wound and departed. Aderyn wiped away the sweat droplets popping out along Sanematsu’s brow and upper lip. Her fingers traced his soft lips and recalled his smile and laughter, rare though they were. Would he ever wake and laugh with her again?

How could Sachi and other Nihonese women send their men to war with seeming ease? And why did men rush to battle? Did they not feel the anxiety of their women? Did the female suffering not touch them? A woman’s job was to tend the wounds and bury the dead.

So, as women of warriors had done for centuries, Aderyn sat at Sanematsu’s side. As night fell, Hamasaki was relieved of duty to sleep, and Uesugi napped in the corner near the entrance, awakened by the doctors when they entered.

The longer she sat in the fading light, the more tired she became. As her eyelids drooped, she never took her eyes off Sanematsu. Then, exhaustion won, and she curled up at his side.

She must have slept a fair amount, since she was a bit refreshed when she woke to Uesugi’s touch. Panicking that he woke her because something was wrong, she put her hand on Sanematsu’s motionless form. His chest moved, but he did not otherwise stir.

“You should go to your tent, Tori,” Uesugi advised.

“I must stay.” Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she fussed with the covering Sanematsu had tossed off.

“I am sure our master would not deny you time to yourself. Besides, the doctors must attend to him in private, Lady Tori.”

Aderyn’s palms lay on the quilt over Sanematsu’s chest as the three doctors waited for her to exit. They had not asked her to leave before. What were they going to do to him?

Uesugi touched her sleeve. “Tori, please. You will do him no good, as exhausted as you are.”

Genuine concern shone in the young man’s eyes. She was tired and hungry, but to have such selfish needs when Sanematsu lay at death’s door was disloyal, was it not?

“He will understand.” Uesugi guessed her thoughts. “Come.”

As if to urge her on, the doctors moved closer.

“You may be right. They are of more used to him at this point, I suppose.” She stood, her legs wobbling; Uesugi held her upright until she was steady on her feet. Once ready to walk, she moved to Sanematsu’s traveling case and placed his comb in her hitatare sleeve.

“I will remain at his side in your stead.”

“Thank you, Tadakuni-sama.” She touched his arm with affection. “Call me--”

“At his slightest move,” Uesugi replied without allowing her to finish.

As Aderyn left the tent, the bright sun blinded her, and she was forced to stop to allow her eyes to adjust. The camp remained busy; all Sanematsu’s retainers went about their business, seeming unaffected by their lord’s condition. Guards stood at their posts. Samurai honed their weapons and their martial skills. Grooms curried horses and mended tack. Servants carried out various missions.

Aderyn crossed to her tent. She removed her soiled clothes, unbound her hair and untangled it with Sanematsu’s comb. Sachi had packed her toiletries, but the comb was a talisman. The scent of his hair and the wintergreen hair dressing oil clinging to the wooden implement comforted her.

She braided the mass into two simple plaits. After sponging her body with herb-scented water, she slipped on a plain osode. Hamasaki brought her a bowl of noodles and broth and a piece of fruit. She downed the food and hurried to return to Sanematsu’s side.

As she made her way, she knew the soldiers watched, even though she could not catch anyone looking. When Lord Matsumoto emerged from Sanematsu’s tent, Aderyn’s heartbeat doubled. As he approached her, her breathing became labored.

“Good afternoon, Lord Matsumoto,” she greeted him with all politeness, fighting not to rush past. If she insulted him in public, he would be compelled to punish her.

“Good day, barbarian,” Matsumoto sneered. “I see you have found time to refresh yourself. But, then, Lord Sanematsu is under your spell, and you will cause greater harm at will.”

“I can assure you I wish Lord Sanematsu no harm.”

“I am sure. He had best be warned regarding your care.” His tone was suggestive, his expression leering.

“From what I have seen, I care more for him than some who are extremely close to him.” Aderyn held him with her stare. Glaring into his yellowish-brown eyes, she refused to allow him to see any sign of fear in hers.

Neither moved for what seemed an eternity. When Matsumoto broke the stare, his departure left her free to enter the tent.

The day continued and waned, with Sanematsu semiconscious hours after sunset. He tossed and turned, moving to his left side only to be forced by the severe pain to return to his back. As his fever raged, Aderyn sponged his face and arms in an attempt to cool him. The three physicians hovered, conferred and came to a decision. The elder doctor confronted her, standing steadfast, his hands hidden inside his wide sleeves.

“You must leave,” he decreed. “We must wash him in cool water.”

“I can help.” She began to remove Sanematsu’s covers. “I left you with him once. I…cannot do it again.”

The bald doctor grabbed her wrist.

“We cannot allow you to be with our lord as we attend him in this manner,” he ordered, holding her tightly.

“What?” Aderyn was puzzled. What did they mean? She could sit by and talk with Sanematsu while he bathed, but she could not minister to him while he was injured because they were going to undress him? “Do not worry about me. Tend only to Lord Sanematsu!”

“Our lord has ordered Tori here.” Uesugi stepped into the debate. “She will remain until he orders her away.”

Sanematsu himself brought the confrontation to an abrupt halt. In his fever-enveloped brain, he struck out at those around him. Aderyn took hold of his left arm to prevent him from injuring himself further, but he threw her away. Regaining her place, she lay on his chest, careful to avoid his wound as the doctors fought to still his flailing extremities.

The strength with which Sanematsu battled them was amazing. The cords in his neck stood out, and his pulse there pounded. Beneath her hands, his power, the smooth skin taut over hard, sleek pectoral muscles was evident. His right arm bulged and strained in resistance to the grasp of one of the doctors. Power vibrated in the fibers of each muscle, toned by years of conditioning, each one primed and ready to expend that strength.

Uesugi stepped in. One of the doctors moved away to prepare a drug to put Sanematsu into a deeper sleep. The team forced the fluid into his mouth, and over a period of minutes he settled.

Weak and worn, Aderyn spent her last energies on Sanematsu’s delirious struggle. The overnight ride to camp combined with her vigil drained her, and she crumpled into an exhausted slumber, so close to Sanematsu’s right side her head rested on his shoulder.

***

The remaining physician reached to rouse the sleeping girl.

“Leave her.” Uesugi ordered from behind him.

“She cannot be allowed to remain where she is,” the doctor protested in hushed tones.

“I do not think our master would object.” Uesugi allowed himself a half-smile.

“I must protect him from evil gossip.” The healer reached for her once more.

“I said leave her!” Uesugi stepped nearer to the futon. “There will be no gossip unless you start it.”

“You take your position too seriously, little samurai.”

“I speak for Lord Sanematsu.” Uesugi withdrew his sword several inches. “This katana, too, will enforce his wishes. Shall I proceed?”

The doctor eyed the sword. Uesugi left him no room to doubt he would use his weapon if required.

“As you say, warrior. The responsibility lies with you.” The physician left the tent.

Uesugi secured the sword while looking at the sleeping figures. They looked like pictures in the manga scrolls he had seen of lovers spent after hours of pillowing. He gave Tori a soft smile as he spread a covering over her. He then extinguished the candles to allow darkness to conceal them. Without a sound, he left the tent to stand guard at the entrance.

***

When the bright Kyushu sun defeated the lazy morning haze, sunlight filled the canvas dwelling sheltering Sanematsu and his yabanjin. As she lay on her side facing the opening, warmth covered Aderyn’s cheek. The hand stroking her hair from behind, though, was what actually woke her. For a moment, she could not remember where she was. Sanematsu’s armor, sitting upright in the corner with the look of the man himself, reminded her.

She rolled onto her back and turned her face his way.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Sanematsu continued to play with her hair, his fingers entwined in the strands that had worked free of the plait. “And I believe it is afternoon.”

His eyes were bright, but it could have been caused by the fever. A faint, pain-induced shadow lay beneath them, a different sort of shadow covered his jaws and upper lip. She put a finger on his lip to stroke the faint mustache.

“I will have my attendant see to that at once.” His smile, though weak, indicated he enjoyed the touch. “Is this your doing, also?” The movement of shaking his loose hair caused pain to cloud his eyes.

“Yes.” Aderyn moved her hand to his cheek. “Now, be still, sire.” She came up on her knees and reached for a bowl of water.

Without warning, the air filled with riotous noise.

“What is that?” He sipped from the bowl, with her aid.

“I have no idea.” She lowered his head to a zabuton in place of the wooden pillow, working the cushion down beneath his shoulders. With his head elevated, even if only the slightest bit, she hoped he would rest better. It would, at least, keep him from choking. “I will see.”

She stood, straightened her clothes and flounced her braids back over her shoulders. When she stepped through the tent flap samurai blocked her way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

What is going on?” Aderyn pushed through the crowd. “You disturb our lord.”

“See?” Matsumoto gestured toward her as he addressed a group of high-ranking samurai. “She has been with him all this time and has probably slain him in his sleep.”

“I what?” What was Matsumoto up to?

“Let us pass,” Matsumoto demanded of Uesugi, who blocked his entry. This was clearly not the first time he had made this request.

“I cannot.” Uesugi and the other samurai who stood with him tightened their line. The younger warriors had come to help their friend stand guard over their respected lord. Hamasaki was also present, but Aderyn was his charge.

“You will let me inside, upstart!”

Matsumoto stepped toward the youth while starting to draw his sword. Uesugi pushed his own weapon out of its scabbard with his thumb, the blade freed by the length of the digit, a slight tremor to the young swordsman’s hand. Hamasaki watched, his own hand resting on his sword hilt, ready to draw but making no overt move to do so. Should her safety come to be in jeopardy, he would add his sword to Uesugi’s.

“I do not wish to cross swords with you, Matsumoto-uji, but I will, in order to uphold my great lord’s wish.” Uesugi’s voice wavered, yet his words were strong.

“It is his wish for his karou to be barred from him?”

Swords remained in their scabbards, but hands were at the ready for use as the heated words flew.

“He has told you of these desires? Are you sure she did not voice the wishes?” Matsumoto waved his thick, short finger in her face.

“Lord Sanematsu made his wishes known before the battle. What need does he have of your wisdom unless he is conscious to request it?” Uesugi countered.

Aderyn quailed. Uesugi, in his earnest innocence, condemned her. If he said too much in defense of her, he would fuel the fires of rumor.

“Uesugi-sama, your actions are admirable,” she interjected. “You have dutifully protected our lord through his most vulnerable time. However, Lord Sanematsu is awake and would like to have Lord Matsumoto present.”

The general marched through the youthful guards as if a major battle had been won. He whipped the tent flap open and disappeared into the shelter. Aderyn remained with Uesugi and Hamasaki as the others dispersed.

“Tadakuni-sama!” Aderyn took him by the arm, as a scolding mother might. “How could you? Did you not stop to think? You may well have assigned the hour of my death!”

“I had no wish to harm you, Lady Tori.” Uesugi blanched and looked down at the ground like a small boy caught doing mischief. “I only wished to allow Lord Sanematsu time with you. He is brutally injured.”

“And he remains very weak.” She released his sleeve and gave a wistful look toward the closed tent flap. “I do not know why Matsumoto thinks I wish to kill him.”

“Because that is what he would do if he had the chance you have had, Tori.” Hamasaki stepped up. “I have not spoken to you of this, as it is not been your concern. Now, you must understand things are not as they appear within the yashiki of Sanematsu. I protect you not only from your enemies, but his as well. You must be on guard, when you are with him, to see that no one causes him harm. As a woman in his house, it is your responsibility.”

Aderyn stared, dumbfounded. Hamasaki had spoken fewer than fifty words to her in all these months as her shadow, and now he had chosen to burden her with this knowledge. Hamasaki Heishiro had recognized her as a person and friend, but she did not like what he said.

“But why should anyone want to kill me? I only want the best for Satsuma Province.”

“They fear you because you are not of the Land of the Gods,” Uesugi answered.

Hamasaki turned back into his usual stone.

“Do they not understand what he means to me? You both do.”

“I am afraid if they did they would fear you more,” Hamasaki replied.

She did not respond. Did he think her love for Sanematsu wrong?

Aderyn glared at the tent flap. “I wish I knew what lies Matsumoto is feeding him.”

“There is no way to know until he calls for you. Come, I shall escort you to your tent to wait.”

Hamasaki took a step in that direction. She made no move, and her gaze was unwavering.

“Tori,” Uesugi said, “Lord Sanematsu is very wise. He will see through to the truth in all matters. Most important, he understands what he means to you.”

“I pray so,” she muttered, and began her trek to her lonely tent.

***

Matsumoto entered and did not speak until he had bowed and knelt at the foot of the futon. Then he said, “I hope your injury is not troubling you overmuch.”

“Do not concern yourself with my condition.” Sanematsu relaxed on the zabuton Tori had so thoughtfully placed beneath him. It made breathing easier, and he was much more comfortable; but his strength lagged. He longed to slip back into oblivion and hide from the pressure of government. “I am sure your only interest is how long I will continue to breathe. I shall easily outlive you.”

“Do you think I wish you ill, great lord?”

Sanematsu sensed Matsumoto was beginning to form a plan. His karou’s devious mind, which sought continually to undermine him, could read the truth of his condition on his face. It would take little to finish the job started on the battlefield.

“You may not wish me ill, merely dead, so you might better control those who serve me.” Despite his body’s weakness, he could still, for short intervals, fill his voice with strength and power. “I have more important matters to concern me than your quest for my power. What has taken place since I fell from my horse? Dai-tan is unharmed, I trust?”

He needed Matsumoto’s expertise, his eyes and ears--he had been out of touch for too many hours. Could he trust him to be truthful?

“Your warhorse awaits the next battle. I have accepted Amemiya-sama’s surrender and plan to deal with him this afternoon.”

“Humph. I will see to Amemiya-uji myself.” Sanematsu rose from his bedding, using his elbows to support his body. Pain tore through his side, and he sucked air between his clenched teeth. He eased back onto the soft, straw-filled mat that made his bed and feather cushions that were his pillow.

“There is another matter which, with great regret, I must call to your attention.” Matsumoto’s words had a strange ring to them.

“Speak.” Sanematsu closed his eyes to listen.

“Do you think it wise to have her here?”

“I want Tori here.” Sanematsu gave him a look that dared him to speak ill of his seabird. “That makes it wise. You would do well to stay away from her.”

“A woman has no place in a war camp.”

Matsumoto swallowed hard. Sanematsu could see his stare made the other man very uncomfortable.

“This is no longer a war camp. You have taken Amemiya-sama’s surrender,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and now the kind of women who do follow warriors will descend upon your men.” Matsumoto’s words dripped with malice. “Then again, maybe you are correct in calling her to camp. I suppose you should have the same rewards.”

“Tori is no camp-following whore!” Sanematsu shouted as best he could. His heart raced deep within his chest. He braced the rip in his side with his hand as the pain doubled.

“Of course not, sire. But no one knows this save you and I.”

“I cannot control what others think. Tori stays. Hamasaki-sama will see to her behavior.” Sanematsu closed his eyes and sighed. “Have my doctors attend me. Then go see to the preparations for Amemiya-sama’s seppuku. I wish to see no one else.”

The karou bowed and left.

Sanematsu could not allow Tori to see his weakness. With her lack of guile, she would give away the mortality of his condition and cause his army to lose confidence. He needed time and strength, neither of which he had. He must attend this afternoon’s ritual to show himself to his samurai to maintain their loyalty and support. A large number were already allied with Matsumoto.

He wearied of people questioning him about Tori. How could they understand his love for her? Solid barriers were in place against their being together as husband and wife, though not in the manner of man and woman. He would never get the chance to be with her in any manner, if he read the omens correctly. With every breath, his life ebbed from him, drained further with every drop of blood seeping into the dressing on his side. In his desperation to hang on, his hand bunched into a fist around a wad of his bedding.

The doctors arrived, and after their examination, they told him his side was satisfactory, at best. Sanematsu’s senses told him otherwise. He was dying. Only one man could save him.

“I will attend Amemiya-sama’s surrender. No one is to know how badly I am injured. Make whatever preparations are necessary.”

“My lord.” Kono spoke humbly as one did to one’s liege lord. “I fear if you insist upon rising you will do yourself further damage.”

“I do not care!”

“You will bleed to death, sire!” the bald physician joined in.

“Then I will die, as is my birthright!” Sanematsu did not add aloud I will die as a man.

When they accepted he could not be dissuaded from his determination to present a strong front to his retainers, the healers prepared him as best they could. He sat upright, careful to dislodge his wound as little as possible. The muscle and skin that had started to heal reopened, as well as previously untorn tissue. The pain cut through him as it had when he had slid from Dai-tan’s back into the supportive arms of Hikita.

With great effort, he kept his breathing regular even though he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. So well ingrained was his training not to respond to pain that no sound escaped his lips. He swallowed the moan caught in his throat as he fought off unconsciousness.

No matter his agony, he had to remain alert. If he gave in, he would never wake. Death would overtake him with ease. At one point in his life, he would have welcomed death and the freedom it provided, but not now. Not now he had something to live for, to look forward to.

Separation from Tori and relief from the burden of his council for the last ten days had made his destiny clearer, and with that understanding came a need to act, a need to heal and make the greater, more difficult choices. Dead, he could neither protect her nor share his life with her.

Sanematsu inhaled, focusing his stare at the armor standing across the way from his bed. It was imperative he show his army the strength that armor represented. He closed his eyes and focused on relaxing the tight abdominal muscles pulling at his damaged side. Sweat poured off his face, running in rivulets into his eyes. One of the physicians mopped his brow.

“I am ready,” he announced, opening his eyes once more.

Kono removed Sanematsu’s sleeping garment. The dressing came away caked with clots and flesh. He cleaned the wound before packing fine cotton wadding into the hole. To finish, he began to bind Sanematsu’s abdomen and chest with a wide piece of white silk. The youngest physician gave their master support as Kono pulled on the binding after each revolution to brace the laceration.

“That will have to do, my lord.” He tied the cloth in place.

“It will be fine.” Sanematsu could not to take deep breaths because of the pressure and pain. He blotted out the burning of the raw nerve endings, refused to feel the seep of warm blood. “I will take all responsibility, Kono-uji. If I die, it is in the hands of the gods, not yours. Have Yaemon-dono come and help me dress.”

***

Matsumoto Katsura strode across the bivouac toward Aderyn’s tent with a confident bearing. Everything was working out the way he planned. Well, not the way he planned, but to the culmination he wanted. There were even some fortunate turns he had not expected. He smiled with self-satisfaction as he thought about his imminent success.

When he had entered into the secret alliance with Amemiya, he had made promises he knew he would never keep. Sanematsu’s unexpected victory had removed that obstacle, as well as the barrier of Sanematsu himself. The daimyo would be dead within days--Matsumoto had seen enough dying warriors to recognize the signs.

With the daimyo’s determination to show off for the barbarian, he would use what little strength he had and be unable to fight death. Then the way would be clear. Matsumoto could not resist moving forward with his scheme.

He swaggered into the barbarian’s tent. She sat cross-legged on the tatami, a piece of blank paper in her lap and a stick of charcoal in her hand.

She jumped to her bare feet and faced him. “How is Lord Sanematsu?”

“He finally sees you for the demon you are.” He laughed. “I am ordered to secure you in your tent.” He had to separate her from the daimyo and stop her influence. By confining her as if at Sanematsu’s order, he would plant seeds of doubt in the yabanjin’s mind. Who could question him? Sanematsu had no time now to say otherwise, and by the time he did, he would be unable to.

He stepped closer. “You know what I would do with you.”

“I would not, if I were you.” She straightened to her fullest height.

“I thought you enjoyed our time together in the stable.” He grasped the back of her head and pulled her to him. He crushed her breasts against his chest.

“Hamasaki!” she screamed, struggling in his grip.

“You shall be sorry,” he growled as he flung her away.

She landed hard on her side in the back of the tent. Her lungs strained as the fall knocked the wind out of her.

***

As he had every time she had called, Hamasaki rushed in. A bare sword in his hand, his dark eyes sought out the cause of her scream. Aderyn watched in horror as he spied Matsumoto.

“You have no business here,” Matsumoto growled.

“There is if Tori requires me.” Hamasaki held the sword in ready position.

“Our business is private. Leave.” Matsumoto’s weapon was still sheathed, but his hand was tight on the hilt.

“Tori, do you wish for me depart?” the young man questioned. For an instant, his attention was not on Matsumoto--and it cost him dearly.

Matsumoto drew his katana with a swift move, the steel cutting through the air in blazing speed. Aderyn’s intended answer to Hamasaki was replaced with a furious scream. The razor-edged blade met the firm flesh of her guard’s neck, moving through it as if slicing a piece of silk. As it exited the other side of Hamasaki’s body, the blade glinted in the sun’s ray piercing the tent’s roof.

Wobbling on his neck for what were for Aderyn agonizingly long seconds, the head at last toppled down his torso, a look of permanent surprise on the face. A fountain of crimson blood pulsed from the wound as his body crumpled to the ground and continued for several minutes, spewing his life over the mat flooring.

A fine mist of blood spurted toward Aderyn and coated her cheek, mingling with her tears. Her trembling hands rose to her mouth and clamped over her lips to stop her screaming.

“You are wise, barbarian,” Matsumoto said. “You do not wish to have the same fate befall your friend Uesugi as did your puppet Hamasaki. I should have known you would work a spell over him when I assigned him as your guard, but I did not know then what an evil temptress you truly are. Now for our business.” He moved toward her.

“No!”

Hysterical, Aderyn bolted for the door. Matsumoto grabbed her braid and jerked her back.

“We have not finished, barbarian.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The tight pull on her braid sent sharp pain through her scalp, the beat responding to the bounding of her heart. Aderyn did not care that tears rolled down her face and her nose ran in globs. She wanted to strike Matsumoto in the face, but she had not taken such leave of her senses--he would kill her just a quickly as he had Hamasaki, and she could not afford that. Sanematsu needed her too much.

She swallowed her shock and terror.

“When I tell Sanematsu-sama the truth about now and before, how will you defend yourself? Will you do the same as with Hamasaki? Are you so sure of your position?” The words spewed out of her without thought. “Sanematsu-sama is daimyo. His word is law, and no one would question any action he takes.”

“You are too fearless for your own good.”

She watched him gather his self-control then let her go.

“Sanematsu will not be able to muster the strength to attend to Amemiya’s surrender. Because of this, he will lose respect, and his power will diminish. If death does not overtake him, a mutiny will, and he will no longer be daimyo. You will then be mine for any pleasure…or pain…I wish to give you.”

He left at the same swiftness with which he had entered.

Aderyn sank to her knees--her legs failed to support her any longer, and every muscle in her body trembled. She could not take her eyes off the body of Hamasaki. The crumpled corpse lay on its left side in the middle of the tent. The head had rolled a few feet away, coming to rest on an ear, facing her, the dead accusing eyes staring. Was this to be the result of association with her? He had died because she called for him.

Oh, God! It was my fault! She cried with loud, gulping sobs, but the tears were for Hamasaki Heishiro, not herself. She did not matter. Sanematsu lay near death, and the minute he exhaled his last breath her life would be over. Her blissful existence had become a nightmare.

She regained her composure and stood by when soldiers as evil-looking as Matsumoto came to remove Hamasaki’s corpse. Welcoming work to use her nervous energy, she cleaned up the evidence of the violence as best she could. Her mood shifted as she gathered the blood-soaked bedding and tatami and thrust it outside, and anger enveloped her. What had the Evil One told Sanematsu about her, and why had the daimyo believed him? If she could talk to him, help uncloud his mind, he would see Matsumoto had lied. She prayed she would still be alive when her chance came to correct Sanematsu’s thinking.

Finished with the gruesome task, Aderyn was left with her conscience. She tried to think of a way out of her predicament, unable to accept fate without putting up a fight.

First, she had to escape her prison. Her experiences with sneaking off her father’s ship or out of the house for a foray in Macao now came in handy. She walked to the front flap and lifted it. Two guards turned and began to bare their swords. She dropped the canvas and went to the back of the tent and pondered the hem. Kneeling, she raised the fabric inches above the ground and peered out. No one guarded the back. She slid under and away without making a sound. She hurried around the perimeter of the camp.

She listened and watched for pursuers, ever mindful that discovery of her escape would seal her fate. Pausing to look between tents at Sanematsu’s across the open space, she heard muffled voices from the one nearby. She listened closer when she heard his name and recognized it was Matsumoto who had spoken it.

“…get as near to him as you can. He is already gravely injured. Another wound will finish the job.”

“I am but a peasant girl, sire, here for your pleasure,” a woman whined. “How can I hope to get near our lord?”

“You will approach insisting you have a message from Lord Shigehide. I will see that no one hinders you,” Matsumoto commanded. “You have the acting ability to get his attention. And you know the consequences of failure.”

Aderyn blanched. She could picture him as he hissed into the prostitute’s face, almost feel and smell his breath.

“I will obey,” the trembling voice said.

“Good. Perhaps I will remember you when I am daimyo.”

She heard the whoosh of the tent flap as he left. After checking to be sure no one would see her, she slipped around the front and inside. Obviously, these were Matsumoto’s quarters--armor and weapons lay about everywhere.

The girl stood with her back to Aderyn, a translucent kosode giving hints to the thin young body beneath. The garment slipped off her shoulders to expose her back. Deep red welts crisscrossed the ivory skin beneath tangled clumps of loose raven hair. Observing this evidence of Matsumoto’s recent beating did not make it easy for Aderyn to hit her over the head with the first heavy object she found, but she had to stop Matsumoto’s plot.

She tried not to look at the ravaged face as she trussed the camp woman up with the belt of her kosode. Rage filled her as she arranged the girl comfortably and discreetly on the open futon. Matsumoto did not deserve to live, much less have this delicate flower in his bed.

Enough of such thoughts. She needed to tell Uesugi, her remaining ally, of the plot. Snatching a dagger from Matsumoto’s scattered arsenal, she crept toward the young samurai’s tent, a single-man canvas dwelling near Sanematsu’s, close enough to serve his master. Peering from behind a larger four-man tent, she saw two warriors standing watch. Back to her covert approach.

Once hidden behind the tent, Aderyn paused to listen. No sounds. With the dagger, she cut a peephole and placed her eye against it. Uesugi lay on his futon, his back to her. His armor sat nearby, but no weapons. She moved back to make the rent larger.

“Uesugi-sama,” she whispered, hoping he was not asleep. “Tada-sama, please answer me!”

Uesugi did not make a sound, but did roll over and come to a squatting position. Catching her eye, he placed his finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the front to indicate the presence of guards. He then duck-walked to her and crawled through the tear.

“Come.” He took hold of her arm to maneuver them away from the populated area.

Out of danger of being overheard, they exchanged stories of what Matsumoto had devised. Then Aderyn explained the assassination plot.

“Are you sure?” Uesugi’s voice cracked. Aderyn recognized his dread of having to face Matsumoto with such accusations. She wasn’t any more enthusiastic about it.

“Yes! Matsumoto plans to have Sanematsu-sama killed. I overheard him ordering the girl who…pillows with him to do so. He already killed Hamasaki, and he may be after Hikita. We must stop them!”

She struggled for composure, overwhelmed by a desire to break into hysterical tears. This was not the time to lose her resolve.

“What can we do? We are only two, and we do not know who is still loyal. Without Hamasaki, we have no allies. Matsumoto-sama has made alliances with many of the samurai within Sanematsu-sama’s army. They are only waiting his command to rise up. And we cannot know who they are.”

“I have an idea.”

While she searched for him, she had formulated a plan and now explained it in a rush of words. They snuck through the rear of the now-empty camp. In moments, they were back inside Matsumoto’s tent. The girl was still unconscious.

Aderyn found an uchiki, and Uesugi the makeup kit. He painted her face, taking pains to angle her eyes with the cosmetics.

“There.” He placed the jar of eye paint in the box. “Try to keep your eyes downcast, as a proper servant would, and you will pass.”

They exchanged wry smiles. Aderyn would have difficulty with that.

“I will dress, and we will be ready.” She began to disrobe.

Uesugi stepped to the exit. “I will be back in a moment.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my costume. As you know, each clan has a different style, color or adornment on their armor. I cannot very well present myself in Uesugi armor. Sasaki Shigumi is on guard duty at the road. I can borrow his ancestral armor.”

“Ah,” she replied. Would there ever be a time when one sentence was not followed by another that taught her something?

Uesugi slipped away, and while he was gone, Aderyn became more indistinguishable. She covered her mass of brown locks with a black wig used by maids and prostitutes to achieve the court-style hairdo of ladies higher in the caste system. As she straightened her sash and secreted the knife away, she turned at the noise of someone entering the tent.

“Oh!” Her hand went to her mouth. A fierce, helmeted samurai confronted her. His black-lacquered armor covered his body from head to knees. The blade of a bare sword flashed in his hand. Forgetting the hidden dagger, Aderyn gave the area a frantic search, seeking a weapon.

“Lady Tori, it is I, Uesugi.”

“Tadakuni-sama?” Aderyn stepped closer and pushed the helmet away from his face. “It is you!”

“Your escort is ready. No woman can travel alone. We cannot be late.”

“Nor can we fail.”

“We will not. Come, Lady Tori.” Uesugi bowed and ushered her out of the tent.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The masqueraders approached the edge of the crowd of retainers and servants who knelt before a pavilion that had been set up in the field.

“Lord Sanematsu is officially ending the conflict between himself and Amemiya-sama,” Uesugi explained as they covered the ground. “In his benevolent manner, he is allowing Amemiya-sama to commit seppuku. This is our ritual of honorable self-killing which allows a samurai to demonstrate his dedication to the way of the samurai. It is a great dishonor to be beheaded by one of Sanematsu-sama’s generals.”

“Some favor,” Aderyn mumbled. Uesugi’s mention of Sanematsu’s general brought Matsumoto’s sword skill to mind to unnerve her.

“Over two hundred of Amemiya-sama’s forces were executed after the last battle.” Uesugi continued. “Their deaths are considered dishonorable, and their families are disgraced.”

“Then Amemiya-sama should not be given the chance to die with honor.” Sanematsu’s kind gesture failed to impress her.

“Perhaps, but because they are equals, Sanematsu-sama must behave so.”

Moving through the crowd, they came nearer the dais. Sanematsu sat on a campstool beneath the canopy.

She had not been exposed to this aspect of him. “He looks so…elegant. Why is he wearing white?”

“He wears a white dobuku because that is our color of revenge. The over-mantle is called a jimbaori. It is a campaign jacket, and is blue to represent the Sanematsu clan. Beneath that is the kami-shimo. You will notice Amemiya-sama’s clothing is made of hemp and is light yellow in color. Do you remember seeing a wooden box near Sanematsu-sama’s sword rack? The one almost as long as he is with the kanji of his boy-name on it?”

“Yes.” Flat and wide, the box almost equaled the breadth of Sanematsu’s shoulders.

“It carries our master’s seppuku kami-shimo. A samurai would be considered without etiquette not to have his seppuku kami-shimo when his master may call for it. Mine is rolled behind my saddle. Our master can afford to have a burdensome box for his, as he has many servants.”

Aderyn had a clear view of Sanematsu as they drew nearer. The formal attitude of Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide of the clan Minamoto was very impressive. His fierce and regal bearing was without a trace of softness or a sign of pain. His hands were on his hips and his back was straight. His swords in their gold-and-silver ornamented wooden scabbards were stuck in his sash, along with the tasseled baton of a field commander. His hair was confined in its topknot, the sides and pate glistening with hairdressing oil. A large, impressive helmet with tall horns of beaten metal sat at his side on the tatami. Between the horns, the kamon of the Sanematsu clan was emblazoned for all to see--two hawk feathers crossed in the center of a wooden wheel.

Uesugi broke the silence as he and Aderyn entered the crowd.

“Make way!” He pushed through the masses, leading her toward Sanematsu. “Message from Nishikata! Make way!”

She followed on his heels and peeked at the people from the corners of downcast eyes. As loudly as her heart pounded, she was sure everyone could hear it. The crowd seemed to close in. Movement was difficult and slow. As she and Uesugi arrived at the edge of the dais, it was as if she had walked miles instead of feet.

She gasped for breath and steadied herself. Her heart jolted with terror as she saw Matsumoto blocking the steps.

“Who is the cause of this commotion?” He scrutinized Uesugi.

“Sasaki Shigumi,” he answered with bravado.

Aderyn chanced a look at Sanematsu as he watched Matsumoto and Uesugi exchange words. He gave no sign of recognition or infirmity. No one would see his weakness and pain save her, for she knew where to look. They had to succeed for his sake.

She glanced to the left. Amemiya sat on a reversed tatami covered with a blue cloth. A short sword rested on a shihou raised off the cloth in front of him--the sunlight glinting off the blade glared in her eyes. The man appeared to be fifty years old, with graying hair and a wrinkled face where no expression could be read. A short man, heavy with muscles from the occupation of war, his kami-shimo gaped open to expose an age-flaccid abdomen. A samurai stood behind him with a bare dai-katana. Aderyn averted her gaze from the long battle sword.

“Who sends this message?” Matsumoto demanded.

“Lady Haru,” Aderyn replied in a meek, accented voice. She prayed he would not recognize her voice. She was too far away for Sanematsu to overhear her. If they did not get him out of danger before he realized who she was, he would give her away and Matsumoto’s reaction would be violent.

“The message concerns Lord Sanematsu’s youngest daughter,” Uesugi added, raising his voice so Sanematsu would hear.

“Let them pass!” Sanematsu ordered, and Matsumoto moved aside.

Uesugi handed Sasaki’s swords over to Yaemon. After leading Aderyn up to the dais, he stepped out of the way, but kept an eye on her back and Matsumoto.

As she approached Sanematsu she was on her own. She rose after dropping to her knees and bowing low and extended the scroll to her master. Uesugi had inscribed the message explaining the danger moments before they embarked on this playacting. Her hands shook so that, after Sanematsu had taken the scroll, she clutched them on her lap.

***

Sanematsu unrolled the scroll and tried to read. The brushed characters became black smudges in his blurred vision. So weary he could not concentrate, the effort actually hurt. Something was wrong with his Chiyo, and he could not read what Haru had to tell him!

Protocol and the sun combined to drain his energy. A raging headache throbbed with every beat of his straining heart, the unevenness of that beat evident in his temples.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

The serving girl neared him. He looked at her, a faint sense of familiarity washing over his senses. Matsumoto shifted, his hand on his sword.

“I fear you may not be able to read the message,” she continued. By her odd accent he placed her as from a remote region of his province. “It was written in such haste. May I come closer to tell you what has happened?”

“Very well.” Sanematsu crumpled the scroll in his left hand.

The girl moved to place her lips near his ear.

***

A warm feeling moved through Aderyn as she inhaled his scent, and when, for a brief instant, her cheek touched his. Beneath the piquant aroma was another, one she remembered from the ship the day more than fifty people died. A small, dark stain soiled the white silk at his waist. Aderyn shuddered. Was it death she smelled?

“Please, Lord Yoshi, trust me.” She implored, using her true voice. “There is a plot to assassinate you. Uesugi-sama and I have come to take you to safety.”

“How do you--” Sanematsu began.

“There is no time to discuss it!” Aderyn whispered the harshest words of their language. Her time with Sanematsu had educated her a thousand-fold--her use of language was now close to flawless, and she struggled to save his life. If they did not move soon, Matsumoto would guess something was wrong and stop them. “Announce that you must return to Nishikata to see about Chiyo-sama. Matsumoto is to finish here.”

She left off the honorific on purpose, no longer able to give him respect. Leaning back on her heels, she looked up. A faint gleam of the bond she and Sanematsu shared reflected in his eyes.

***

Sanematsu Yoshihide inhaled as deeply as the wound would allow and recognized the familiar scent of his seabird. Her bath soaps and shampoo filled his being with reassurance and contentment. The skin of her cheek was soft and smooth as it brushed his.

A flood of desire to enfold her next to his bare skin filled him, and the erotic thought made his blood rush. His head swam with the intoxicating nearness of the one person he could rely on. She had risked her life to save him. How could he ever think of her as foreign when she fulfilled her giri with such pride and confidence?

Kneeling inches from him, her cosmetic-enhanced eyes imploring--there was no way she could ever disguise those green eyes that bored into his heart. Yet she looked so…so…Nihonese! Her voice, so strange and soft, filled him with strength and desire. He needed her at his side, wanted her near him for more than just lying in his bed. As no other, he could trust her and would put himself into her hands.

He almost smiled, but that would not do. An assassin was bent on killing him. Was that not always the case? Someone always plotted to take his life and what he owned.

The crowd watched and waited.

“Lord Amemiya,” Sanematsu faced his defeated enemy. “I have been informed my youngest daughter lies near death. I shall return to Nishikata at once.” He motioned his guards to move up. They obeyed and formed a wall behind their lord. “Matsumoto-sama…” Sanematsu faced his general. “…carry on. Then dismantle camp and prepare to return home with my men.”

Using all his strength, he rose nobly. Tori stood to allow him to step in front of her on their way down the platform; he could tell she fought her instinct to take his arm to provide support. At great cost, he managed to keep his warrior’s countenance.

Uesugi regained his swords and led the way, while Tori trailed behind Sanematsu. He lagged, and she came forward, shielding the ever-widening crimson stain from view.

“Let me stand close at your side so you might lean on me. They will think it is your grief that afflicts you,” she suggested to keep anyone from discovering his deterioration, but he did not avail himself of her support.

***

Their pace was too slow and laborious. Not sure of the loyalties of the warriors who accompanied them, Aderyn wanted to get Sanematsu into safety. The smell of death was more prevalent.

His strength held until he arrived at his tent. The guards positioned themselves at the entryway. Only when they entered and the flap was closed did he sag onto her shoulder.

Uesugi aided her in guiding their master to his futon, easing Sanematsu onto his back. Then he went for the healers. Sanematsu was safe from the world, if not from his wound.

Aderyn remained and removed the ornaments of state. She placed the saihai in its case then put Sanematsu’s long and short swords on the rack in the corner, adding the requisite bow of respect to the blades.

“If there is a plot against me…” Sanematsu spoke low and with effort. “…I had best have my katana nearby.”

Aderyn lifted the heavy long sword with two hands, and realized that should he be attacked, he could never draw the blade. She grasped the hilt in her left hand and the scabbard in her right and tugged.

The warriors made drawing their swords look easier than it was. Once eased free, it slid out little by little. Lights playing on the razor edge displayed the intricate etching on the blade. A katana was never drawn without cause and never returned to its home without tasting blood. Aderyn prayed this time would be an exception as she put the weapon at Sanematsu’s side.

“I have a pounding headache,” he admitted.

“Maybe this will help.” Aderyn undid his tight topknot, combing the hair down to his shoulders with her fingers.

“You seem to enjoy that.” His lips fashioned a soft curve.

“I confess I do.” She caressed the dark hair “Why do you confine it all the time?”

“It is a custom. All samurai wear the topknot as the traditional symbol of their warrior class. When I was eight, my hair was first fashioned into the topknot of the bushi. The priest bundled and yanked the long hair my mother had so meticulously cultivated so as to hold it aloft and pulled away from the scalp. This allowed the sword’s blade to cut off the excess that escaped from his fist. The pain remained as another holy man applied a tight black cord to the base near the crown and pulled it tight.”

He rested for long seconds before he spoke more.

“It was left disarrayed, hanging down like a horse’s tail, until I become samurai. When I was fifteen, my gempuku was held. That is our ceremony establishing a boy into manhood, performed when the boy is the proper height. I had attained it at eleven. The hair is cut, and the oil and lacquer are applied to train the hair to lie forward over the crown onto the brow.

“To ease the heat and sweat caused by the heavy helmet worn during battle, most warriors shaved the middle part. Between battles, they allowed it to grow back, but I never wear the sakayaki.”

“I wish you would refrain from teaching. Save you strength.” She stroked the loose tendrils. “I might as well make you more comfortable.” Lifting the over-mantle off, she untied the sash holding his osode closed. The effort was torture for him, and she could see why. The binding cloth was soaked, vivid with red blood.

The doctors scurried in, followed by Uesugi. Kono ordered them out so Sanematsu could be better attended.

Aderyn hesitated. What if the doctors were Matsumoto’s men?

“I shall be safe,” Sanematsu assured her. “My physicians can be trusted--they are samurai.”

Uesugi took her arm. “Come.”

She stood and backed away from the bedside.

“Before you return, wash your face,” Sanematsu requested. “Ko-tori-sama.” The title touched her ears like a caress. His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her.

“Yes, Yoshi.” She returned the show of affection by omitting his honorific. Their eyes met and held across the space. They were now equals, if only in private.

Under Uesugi’s guard, she entered her tent and removed the disguise. Seeming a little older for the adventure, Uesugi squatted on his heels inside the doorway, his sword on his knees.

“I suppose Matsumoto is planning his revenge.” She finished cleaning her face and pulled off the wig.

“I doubt it. He may worry for a while, but he will not have time to take action. The whole camp thinks Chiyo-sama is dying. They will be busy preparing to leave. Yet by now he is aware we have told Sanematsu-sama our suspicions. He will be on guard.”

“I hope you are right.”

“I will step out so you may change,” he offered.

As he left, Aderyn glimpsed people hurrying. Tents fell, and horses were saddled. She changed clothes, pulling on a pair of the black hakama and a white hitatare that she tied closed with a thin black belt. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

Leaving the tent, she took a place beside Uesugi, squatting in like fashion. She tucked the knife into her belt.

“Lady Tori, I must ask for the aikuchi.”

“This?” Aderyn withdrew the dagger.

“Yes. It is the knife a lady samurai would use to defend herself or her husband, or to commit seppuku if she is unable to. Only samurai, men or women, may be permitted to carry weapons. I allowed it earlier, as it was necessary. No insult is intended. I must do my duty.”

“I take no insult, Tadakuni-sama.” Aderyn handed the weapon to him. “I do not think I could use it.”

Uesugi put the dagger in his sash with his short sword and silence settled on them. They waited, both anxious about the life of their master. They wondered if it had ended.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

My lord,” Kono said with finality after the other doctors had left the tent. “we have done all we can. It is in the hands of the gods. The wound remains open and seeps blood. You should not try to travel at this time.”

“I will take your advice…under consideration.” Sanematsu did not react to the doctor’s concern. “Would you have Tori-sama and Uesugi-sama return?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Sanematsu eased onto his bed; pillows propped him half-upright. The lapse in protocol had restored a tiny bit of his strength. In addition, the doctors had medicated him with a pain-relieving drug and potions to give him vitality. They only slowed death. He closed his eyes and dozed until he heard Tori and Uesugi enter.

Uesugi dropped to his knees at the entrance. He placed his swords on the rack and the dagger beneath it on the ground then prostrated himself before his daimyo. Tori followed suit.

“What are you two doing?” Sanematsu quizzed, his voice filled with affection. “You were not so timid an hour ago. Come closer.”

“My lord.” Uesugi came to his right. “I regret we have been disrespectful to you in our behavior. I felt it was the only way to prevent your murder. I acted, I assumed, in your best interest.”

“Yes, Uesugi-uji, you placed your lives in jeopardy. I am pleased by your actions. And you!” He took in Tori, who hung back at the foot of his bedding. “Your performance has reinforced my…regard for you.” He wished he could tell her he respected her, but his culture would not allow him to voice such feelings for a woman. Nor could he say he loved her, as he wished. “Come, sit beside me and tell me about this plot.”

She maneuvered nearer on his left, unharmed, side. She moved the bare sword. Uesugi was in reach of his and was more able to defend Sanematsu than the daimyo could himself. She and Uesugi sat cross-legged.

“I hesitated to say much,” she stated in beginning her tale. Would Uesugi challenge her for speaking on their behalf? “I am the only one who overheard the plot. It would be the word of a barbarian against that of a samurai.”

“Tori-sama, I place great store in your word. I trust you with my life. You have no motive to lie.”

“Matsumoto came to Uesugi-sama and I with word that you were convinced we were against you. He indicated we were to be kept under guard by your order. So…” She smiled, and he returned it. “…I escaped.”

“I would have expected that.”

“I crept along the back of the camp to get to your tent. I stopped between two others and heard Lord Matsumoto telling a girl to kill you.” She paused, waiting for a reaction.

“Do you know the girl?” he asked.

“Yes,” Uesugi answered. “She is one of the pleasure women.”

“Bring her.”

He dashed away.

“I am telling the truth,” Tori stated.

“I know,” he reassured her. “I desired us to be alone. It is time I told you more about Matsumoto-sama.

“I am fully aware of my danger from him. He covets everything I own.” He paused for a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Once, we were as close as brothers,” he continued, his eyes open again. “We suckled from the same wet nurse, trained at the same monastery. Yet he has always been a mean, evil element next to me that I could not put away. I cannot expect you to understand why, but I cannot punish Katsura-dono.”

“You are right, I do not understand. Things are different here. You base decisions on things I cannot fathom.”

“In time you will. You have learned much in nine moons.”

“Do you forgive him, my lord?”

“No. Nor do I forget. He is simply too powerful for me to move against at this time. Should I be suspected of harming him, I must answer to higher authorities, as he is my karou. Let us say that now he will be wary and will not harm me or you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I have known since the day your ship arrived that Matsumoto-sama was your enemy. You are my prisoner, a unique captive he covets. If he cannot have you, then you are his enemy.” He reached to touch her face. “And your eyes tell me the things you do not want me to know. He put these scars on you.” He traced the faint line of the scar on her cheek with one fingertip. “Did he violate you further?”

She shook her head as tears flowed freely and silently down her face.

“You are not to blame. Besides being my friend, you have done nothing to cause his actions. He has made you ill-at-ease within my yashiki.”

Tori did not respond, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Do not cry, Ko-tori-sama. When the time is right, I will have revenge for the both of us.” He wiped the tears away. Anger boiled up--he wanted to drive his katana deep into Matsumoto’s chest. He would relish the moment Matsumoto erred and he was allowed to destroy him.

“He killed Hamasaki-sama.” Tori controlled her tears. “When he came to tell me about your supposed orders, Hamasaki-sama came to my defense.”

“He served me well,” Sanematsu reflected. He was too tired to concern himself with Matsumoto or anyone else. From the corner, Death stared at him. Had it taken a few steps closer? “I will see that his family is well cared for. He had an old mother, wife and young child, if I remember correctly.”

“And another child on the way.”

He studied her. “Matsumoto-sama has done one thing in our favor. He is responsible for bringing us together.”

“How is that?”

“He ordered the attack on your father’s ship. I came too late to stop his slaughter.”

“I wish you had been sooner. I miss my family,” she confessed for the first time.

“We are your family now.” He pulled on her arm until she leaned down and he could embrace her. His protective wings could only cover one insignificant yabanjin female, not a ship full of foreigners. “I am your family,” he whispered into her hair.

Footsteps approached. Tori rose from his embrace and knelt at his side as Uesugi returned.

“Well?” He settled back onto his pillows. Tori wiped his face with a cool cloth from a basin at his bedside. She was so near; his hand came to rest on her thigh.

“So sorry, sire.” Uesugi knelt away from the sickbed. “The girl is dead.”

“You two have done your duty.” Matsumoto had covered his traces once again. “I must now act to save myself and those around me. We must be ready. Have Lord Matsumoto come to me, Uesugi-uji. Then instruct Nakata-sama to follow when I have dismissed him.”

“Yes, my lord.” Uesugi bowed and left again.

***

Aderyn began to rise. “I shall await your call.”

“No.” Sanematsu took her hand. “I know your fear. Matsumoto-sama knows this, too, but you cannot allow him to see it. You first start to conquer your enemies by showing strength and fearlessness. When you stand instead of fleeing, your enemy loses his key advantage. You are safe. And I want you at my side for as long as possible.”

“Yes, Yoshi,” she whispered and gazed at their joined hands. The darker skin of his long fingers wrapped hers in comfort and security.

“They removed your gift after I fell. It lies in that drawer.” He pointed to the travel unit in the corner. “Bring it to me.”

As she had the night he left for battle, she placed the needlework amulet around his neck. Her fingers once more brushed his chest; the heat was great, a combination of her passion and his fever. She let her hand travel up his face to feel his neck, cheek and forehead as her mother had hers when she was ill. Beneath the not-so-much a lover’s caress, his skin seared her fingers like a flame. His eyes, cloudy and sunken, watched her, appearing to enjoy the touch no matter what the intent.

“You need to take some juice or water.” The last thing she wanted to do was move her hand from his body, but it was important that he have fluids. She reached for the flask at his side, and poured clear water into a small bowl and held it to his dry lips. With effort, he managed to swallow several mouthfuls.

After she placed the bowl back beside the flask, she asked, “Did you actually wear it during the battle?”

“I told you it would keep us close.” He sank farther into the bed. “It was what caused me to remember our conversation about a Roman general.”

“Julius Caesar.” Aderyn re-settled cross-legged at his side. No matter where she moved, his hand touched her leg or thigh.

“Yes. I used his plan you spoke of. It seems to have worked,” he said in a soft voice.

“I am glad to see the Jesuit fathers did not waste their time teaching us to translate Caesar’s Gallic Wars from Latin to Portuguese. Of course, they used it as a language lesson, not military strategy.” Her laugh was soft, and then she sobered. “You almost died, Yoshi. You still could,” she whispered. Her fingers lay on the bandage.

***

Before he could respond, the intimate moment was interrupted. With all the arrogance of his character, Matsumoto clamored in. If he were surprised to see Tori at Sanematsu’s side, he hid it well, as he had almost everything. The prostitute had obviously died by his hand, so he knew his plot was foiled. Yet they would all play the game as usual, each taking on the role assigned to them.

“You called for me, my lord?” He bent at the waist.

“I was just telling Tori-sama about Amemiya-sama’s surrender.” He used her name with the honorific so Matsumoto would know how to address her. He then gave orders. “You will take the garrison and return immediately to Nishikata.”

“What of Tori-sama?” The title stuck on his tongue.

“Do not concern yourself with her. She is my concern.” His tone was commanding. “From now on, you are to have no dealings with her. Do you understand?”

***

“Yes, sire.”

Matsumoto regarded Tori for an instant: a shiver flowing through her as she suffered the glare of his hard, cold eyes. Sanematsu’s rage against his karou increased and the frustration of his inability to act only fueled it.

“You may go and prepare to depart.”

Tori gave him a sip from the bowl of the doctors’ herb tea. Matsumoto bowed, turned on his heels and departed. Nakata entered, passing so close to the general their armor brushed.

“Yes, Lord Sanematsu?” The old warrior bowed.

Since the first day he had strapped the pole flying the banner to his back as a foot soldier, Nakata had served the Sanematsu clan. That had been fifty of his sixty-five years ago, yet his battle-hardened body stood straight and tall, able to carry the sashimono again if necessary. In the field, he was second-in-command after Matsumoto and had earned Sanematsu’s unconditional trust.

“Become more comfortable, old friend.”

He paused to allow the man to sit cross-legged on the tatami. The warrior cast a curious gaze on Tori.

“I have a very important task for you. The garrison is to leave for Nishikata. You and twelve men of your choosing, the most trustworthy, plus Hikita-sama, Uesugi-sama and Tori-sama, will remain with me. The doctors are to leave, also.”

Worry crossed the old man’s face.

“But your daughter…?” A gentle giant of a man, Nakata had played with the young Sanematsu and now amused the daughters of the daimyo with the same stories and games.

“Do not worry. Chiyo is well. On the morrow, you and eight of those men will leave with Tori-sama and Uesugi-sama to return to Nishikata. Once there, guard her as one of my family, as if she were my wi--daughter. Counsel her, Nakata-uji. She is still a stranger in the Land of the Gods. Anything Sachi-sama tells you in regards to Tori-sama is to be respected. Uesugi-sama will replace Hamasaki as her guard.”

“Yes, sire.” Nakata addressed her. “I will allow no harm to come to you, Tori-sama.”

“Thank you, Nakata-sama.” Tori bowed.

“May I respectfully ask where you will be, my master? And for how long?” Nakata was bold to inquire, but loyal attention to duty for so long brought respect even from one’s lord.

“I do not know how long, and where must be kept secret for a while. Go see to your men. Lord Matsumoto should be getting ready to leave.” Sanematsu dismissed the elderly soldier and his concern.

When they were alone, Tori asked, “May I know where you are going?”

“It is safer for you if you do not ask. Rest assured, I will return.”

He gazed into her green eyes and sighed. He had wished for a companion such as this young girl for so much of his life. She brought controversy, dissent and bloodshed. He needed time to weigh the problem before his next move. Did he have it? Death seemed to have approached even closer to his bedside.

Uesugi entered, deflecting his thoughts. Hikita accompanied him, limping from his wound; a dressing bound the deep cut in his left thigh.

“Lord Matsumoto has departed,” Uesugi announced. “Nakata-sama’s men have been posted at guard.”

Hikita glared at the boy. It was his place to tell Sanematsu.

“Very well. Station yourselves outside the entrance and rest. We shall all need our strength.”

***

Aderyn removed the zabuton from behind Sanematsu’s back and helped him lie down. She attempted to move away, but he restrained her. Without a word, he indicated she should rest at his side. Content, she nestled in the crook of his arm against his unharmed side, his shoulder her pillow. When she looked at his face, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep.

With caution, she reached to touch his bare chest above the binding. As she began to withdraw without touching him, he clasped her wrist with the same swift suddenness he drew his sword. She glanced at his face; his deep eyes smiled at her. He placed her small, white hand flat on his broad, brown chest, and then released her wrist to lay his hand over hers. They settled into a quiet closeness.

“All of my life, I have prepared for my position as daimyo.”

His deep voice broke the silence, his breath on her hair. She kept her eyes closed as she listened.

“When he came to be daimyo, my father was twenty-nine years of age, with more battle and political experience than I had when I came to the seat at fifteen. I was preparing to embark on my manhood ritual when he died after a victorious battle, as is the glorious reward of a warrior.

“My empowerment was swift. The same day, my mother left for a temple in the Eastern Mountains. Haru-sama, joined with Katayama Naotora several years before, resided at Fukuyama. Thus, strangers surrounded me. I had never met my wife and stepdaughter until two moons before on our first night together.

“My father claimed I was too tied to my mother’s uchiki sash. While my peers rode into battle at their fathers’ sides, I rarely saw or had close contact with mine. My mother taught me about ruling. She did me no disservice, and I have fallen back on her advice often.

“My most important task was not on the field of war, but upon the futon. I was to sire an heir. The council arranged marriages with women who would ally me with important men, and my wives’ pregnancies were times of great joy and hope in Nishikata. While I care for my girls as much as any father, with each daughter the council has encouraged me all the more. I am glad I have no son. The burden of rule is a terrible thing to pass on to a boy because he has had the misfortune of being the firstborn male.

“I cannot live for myself. I must do that which will benefit the Satsuma Province. A male heir is what I must have. To that end, I must take a fourth wife.”

He gave a heavy sigh.

“May I be so bold as to inquire what happened to your wives? Sachi-sama has not told me much about them. I did not know there was more than one, Aya-hime’s mother.”

“My daughters’ mothers have all died.” He spoke without emotion.

Time passed in silence. The sound of horses and men receded as the army departed. He broke the quiet again.

“I must have time to heal so I may decide my future and my children’s fates as well as yours, Ko-tori-sama.” He brushed his lips across her hair. “If it is my karma, and yours, I shall always have you as part of my house.”

“I will abide by whatever must be, Yoshi.”

Could he find the courage to refuse his council’s choice? Could he find the desire to make her his wife? Such hopes were the stuff of dreams--the bonds of custom and responsibility were too thick for one mere man to cut. He would do his duty.

“I will decide what is right for all, Ko-tori-sama.”

“I know.” She blinked away the tears in her eyes. She would not cry.

“Sleep. We must be off early.”

He exhaled a deep sigh of finality. She could not rest until his chest rose again with the labored respirations of his pain and fever. Mesmerized, she was afraid of the moment when he would take his last breath.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Reaching the crest of the hill above the war camp, Aderyn looked back over her shoulder at the final tent--Sanematsu’s--being struck. Her heart fell, and her troop of foot soldiers passed as she paused.

They had parted at sunrise. She and Uesugi said their goodbyes to Lord Sanematsu after a sparse meal in the dim light of false dawn. Sanematsu could not eat and took little of the tea she prepared for him. She forced herself to empty the bowl of millet gruel and eat some fruit because he watched, as concerned about her as she was him.

Now she saw him, beside a kaga. He stood tall and dignified, as if the battle had never taken place. Hikita was at his side, close enough to support the failing daimyo. The dark kami-shimo and hakama covered any evidence of bleeding. His hair dangled to his shoulders as she had left it.

Dai-tan, wearing only a blanket from withers to tail, stood tied to another samurai’s horse to tag along instead of leading the group. Sanematsu’s honor guard and bearers waited to begin the journey to a destination only he knew.

As Uesugi pulled on her horse’s bridle, empty longing tugged at her heart.

***

Stepping into the kaga, Sanematsu watched the horses disappear over the crest. As she dressed his hair and they spoke their farewells, Ko-tori had been gay and lighthearted. It was pretense--she was as apprehensive as he kept trying to talk himself out of being.

He thought back to his solitary meeting with Uesugi before they departed.

“Uesugi-uji, I understand you are unbetrothed,” he began after his manservant had finished dressing him. He sat, regaining his strength from the ordeal.

“My wise father has not yet deemed me worthy of joining.” Nervous energy forced Uesugi to finger his sash, empty of weapons.

“Much thought must be put into joining one’s heir. Even I, with only daughters, must consider such matters carefully. I find, however, that females have a way of selecting the men they wish, especially if they are as indulged as mine. Take, for instance, Aya-hime. She has hinted that one of the new samurai has caught her interest.” He was grateful for Tori’s enlightening word in regard to “the youth” Aya spoke of. “She will not confess this man’s name, so I might inquire of his desires. Do you think you might ask and discover this suitor?”

“I–I…could…uh, would…” Uesugi paused and gulped. “Sire, I would be honored to help you in this matter. Uh, sire…well, uh…a man would be fortunate to catch the eye of such a beautiful woman as your stepdaughter.”

“This is true. She must be guarded from herself and her young man’s appetites. Shielded from impropriety. You will see to it, then? While I am away, you will keep the two apart?”

Anxiety and hope warred on the young man’s face.

“I can assure you of a proper reward.”

“Thank you, sire, but no reward is necessary. A kind word to my father about my ability as a warrior would be appreciated.”

“Very well. If I should have cause to speak with Uesugi Tadayori, I will mention it.” He is a good man. Aya could do no better.

Settled into his covered litter, the daimyo lolled between consciousness and sleep. He wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion. Sweat pouring off his forehead and body soaked his clothing. The heat of his fever threatened to burn the skin off his aching bones. His head felt bigger than the whole kaga and throbbed with every movement as a signal was given and the bearers lifted the litter onto sturdy shoulders. They made off at a trot in the direction of the Eastern Mountains.

Sanematsu awoke sporadically throughout the day to feel his condition worsening. His heart pounded, and he could hear the air as it moved in his chest. His feet and hands were no longer hot but cold, almost numb. The pain in his side was constant and severe, as though the sword still turned within his body. His breath was ragged and shallow, any deeper would result in a sharp pain.

The drug he drank from the vial given him by the doctors dulled the pain but left him drowsy. Should bandits attack the small group, he needed to be alert, so he took the dose sparingly.

Near dusk, he called the procession to a halt and with Hikita’s helping hand stepped feebly from the kaga. Continuing with the man’s aid, he walked to the road’s side to relieve his bladder. The stream of urine was dark and meager in the waning light.

He stood for a long minute after Hikita helped him to close his clothing. As he stared toward the valley in the west, only Hikita’s discreet, strong arm kept him upright.

The evening sky was splendid at this point in the road. A red sun descended into the dark, forest-covered humps of the mountains. Deep shadows cloaked the valleys. The other group should be making camp for the night, to enter the yashiki walls the following day.

He returned to his bed. It would be dark before his group arrived at his refuge, but he could not risk his life with an overnight camp. Time was of the essence if he were to survive.

***

Aderyn picked at the small bowl of rice and dried fish Uesugi brought her. She leaned against her saddle, set on a blanket spread on the ground away from the fireside where the men had prepared their meal and now ate. The young man sat across from her, finishing his meal with relish.

When he noticed she was not eating, he set the bowl and hashi aside. “May I intrude upon your thoughts?”

“They are very small.” Aderyn put a grain of rice into her mouth. She rolled it over her tongue and mashed it against the back of her front teeth until she came to the hard, uncooked center. This she crushed with her back teeth. The samurai were better warriors than cooks.

“Lord Sanematsu will be safe. The most skilled and trustworthy warriors guard him. He, too, can defend himself well.”

“I do not worry about his safety. Those around him are the best, but he could do little to save himself from an insect. It is his health and what will happen on his return that I worry about.” She put her full bowl on the ground beside her.

“He will sort out matters and will be healthy enough on his return to act accordingly.” Uesugi paused for a moment. “Do you fear his decision concerning the council’s choice for his wife?”

“Is it so obvious? I suppose I do,” she confessed, surprised at her audacious statement. “You must know how it feels to want something so badly it hurts deep inside. To want it at any cost, at any risk, so much so you would gladly go to your death for it. You feel this way for Aya-hime?”

“That is not a concern of a samurai,” Uesugi answered with a gruff tone. “A samurai should have such thoughts only for his duty to his daimyo.”

“I cannot understand many of your ways. I can only understand how I feel. I want Lord Sanematsu happy not because of some code such as bushido but of the code of my heart.” She struck her chest between her breasts. “I want to take his pain and his trouble to myself. I would rather that sword had cut me!”

She sobbed into her hands. In Sanematsu’s presence, she had forced herself not to expose her emotions--he would not respect such a show, would see it as weakness. For too long she had held it in, and now it poured forth without restraint.

“How much can I hope to help him? I am powerless.” Although he had not said a word, she debated with Uesugi. “I am a barbarian! An alliance with me will cause him more difficulties. If I am at his side, everyone will be against him. I put him at risk just by being in his ryo-chi. My love will cause him to lose all he has. At the very least, it will keep him fighting, always mistrusting the people around him. I suppose he would die for me, but I am not sure the reason would be because he…he…he…thinks…he…”

She could not finish. It would betray too much to continue.

“He would not be so troubled if I were dead!”

“Do not think that way, Lady Tori.” Uesugi touched her hand. “I think, were you to leave him, the kami would easily possess him and send him into the oblivion of the insane.”

“Perhaps being driven insane by a ghost would be preferable.”

His bold speech astonished her. Most Nihonese conversation was couched in innuendo and riddle. He must feel their friendship had grown to allow for such openness.

“I am not sure my being with him would be such a great asset.” She wiped her face dry with the sleeve of her hitatare.

“An asset can be many things. You speak of your heart. I can only guess what you mean. Our women say the heart of a samurai is very small and well hidden.” Uesugi’s look was soft when he glanced her way. “I do not understand, but I think what Sanematsu-sama must feel for you is what I would call respect. That is the closest emotion to your love that a samurai can feel for a woman.” He paused and looked around before he said, “I would not be surprised if you are not soon officially Lady Tori, wife of Sanematsu.”

Aderyn fell silent while she retrieved her bowl. They spoke no more on the subject while she finished eating. Uesugi removed the empty bowls and left her for the night.

***

The mountain ridges rose in the dark. Cool air misted around the road, and night animals ventured out as the day creatures settled down to sleep. The black oak gates and brick walls of a Buddhist temple emerged from the shadows ahead of the travelers. The gatekeeper stepped out to meet the approaching band of samurai; the temple gate itself remained closed.

“Who disturbs the peace of this holy place?” He brandished a bo, the wooden staff the warrior-monks used with as much skill as a samurai did his katana.

“Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide, daimyo of the Satsuma Province,” announced the leader from horseback. “You will tell Sou Kiyohara we will need lodgings.”

The gate whispered open.

“You need not be so arrogant, honorable sire.” Another monk emerged from the shadows. “You are in the presence of the Great Lord Buddha. I have been expecting Yoshihide. Rooms are readied. Brother Kido, show the samurai where they may prepare camp. Bring our lord inside.”

The tired bearers carried the kaga within the temple walls and set it down before the dwelling set aside for Sanematsu. The stricken daimyo emerged, leaning heavily on Hikita.

“Yoshihide.” Kiyohara bowed at the waist. He called Sanematsu by his given name with the familiarity of having fostered the young lord. He was a tall man, the equal of Sanematsu. Although he wore the robes of a monk, his hair was coifed as a samurai’s, the pate, again like Sanematsu’s, hirsute. His unlined face did not betray his fifty years. His cheekbones were high, and his eyes widely angled.

“Sou Kiyohara.” Sanematsu’s voice came out weak and wavering. “I must request your aid. Help…”

He sagged. If not for Hikita, who moved in front to catch him in his strong arms, Sanematsu would have sprawled on the ground.

Kiyohara came to one side, and Hikita went back to the opposite side so they could carry him, unconscious, into the chamber and laid him down on the open futon. The abbot disrobed him; the cotton packing on his side was black. Crimson rivulets crawled down his skin to soak the white linen fundoshi.

Kiyohara stripped him, leaving him nude save for a small, clean cloth over his genitals. Then the priest removed the packing from the wound and, with care, probed inside. His educated fingers extracted a large mass of cotton fibers and old blood clots. A seepage of fresh blood followed. The priest spoke with sharp, quick words to Hikita, who disappeared to carry out the instructions.

Sanematsu stirred.

“Be still,” Kiyohara soothed him, patting his shoulder. “Rest. Sleep. Let me worry about this.”

The pacific tones eased the wounded man into unconsciousness.

Two monks entered the room, followed by Hikita. They carried trays of the herbs and dressings the priest had requested. Kiyohara filled Sanematsu’s open side with a poultice. The concoction smelled foul and must have stung the exposed nerve endings, as Sanematsu moaned even in his oblivion. Hikita held his master up as Kiyohara wrapped cloth around his torso.

***

Sanematsu drifted in a drugged sleep. His dreams, first vivid, then vague, came one upon the other. He saw some with clarity; others draped with mist.

In one, he was a younger man, dressed in the stark white of a bridegroom. All around, as he approached his bride, was as it had been during his first purification ritual; the hand he reached to accept would be Nene’s.

The bride turned in dream-slowness to face him. It was Ko-tori. A crimson-water curtain flowed to blot out the scene.

Startled partly awake by the dream, he struggled in Hikita’s bear hug. Kiyohara managed to secure the dressing. The priest spoke in a calming manner and mixed a strong sedative to force-feed to his patient. Sanematsu sank back into slumber as Hikita laid him back down on the futon. Blood seeped into the bandage on Hikita’s leg wound.

Certain Sanematsu was the best he could be for the moment, Kiyohara turned his healer’s hands to Hikita. The samurai tolerated the monk’s nursing and did not react as the stinging ointment was smeared into his injury.

***

He paced in front of the uyu-ba. All his daughters except for Aya knelt watching. With the passage of time, his pacing quickened.

Dream magic occurred, and he was in the birthing house, his katana drawn and bloodied, holding a male child in his arms. A woman lay unmoving on the futon. He stopped pacing to take a step toward the futon to look at her face and…

Scarlet covered the scene.

***

Despite the heavy opiate, Sanematsu convulsed. Kiyohara touched him as Hikita came to offer help. It was not necessary. Sanematsu quieted.

“Our lord is disturbed,” Kiyohara noted.

“Could his wound be causing his restlessness?”

“He has a very high fever, but it is neither that nor the injury which afflicts his mind. Rather, his mind affects his body.”

Hikita nodded agreement, though he was not sure if he understood. Priests like Kiyohara were strange and mystical people. He had seen this man do some baffling things during his service to Sanematsu.

“I do not wish to give him too much of the opium. I have seen it destroy too many men.”

The monk meant Sanematsu’s father, who had abused the Min-koku plague for years without the excuse of a battle wound.

The two men sat in solemn vigil. Sanematsu rested easier. He slept, no longer bothered by what hid within the recesses of his mind.

The sun rose, crept across the blue sky and set behind the ominous volcano guarding the temple, to return once more another morning. It came up over the valley at the temple’s feet. Hikita and Kiyohara kept their watch and tended Sanematsu. He continued to thrash about at intervals, necessitating his being medicated again.

The second day’s sunlight spread across the room to touch first Hikita, then the Lord of Satsuma Province. Sanematsu woke the moment the warm brightness covered his face. Lastly, the abbot of the mountain temple stirred and opened his eyes.

Sanematsu dismissed Hikita with a hand’s slightest wave.

“Yoshihide.” Kiyohara bowed to him.

“Such ceremony is not necessary, Kiyohara-sama.” He could only manage a low whisper. “I come to you, not you to me. I have so much I need from you.” Life.

“Not at this time, Yoshi.” Kiyohara used his child name. “You must have a clear mind. We will not speak of these matters until I judge you fit.”

“I put my life into your hands, Kiyohara-sama.”

He sighed and rested, allowed a contentment he found only in the monk’s presence to wash over and through him. He drifted into a misty sleep filled with scenes from his boyhood within these very walls. He was…home.

***

Aderyn sat beneath a shade tree and sketched a picture of the birds playing on a dwarfed shrub within the courtyard. Hatsu sat beside her.

The second caravan to return from Kamaga had been in residence for fourteen days. A pall, centered in the yashiki, settled upon Nishikata. The yashiki was maximally fortified; armed men stood all around the walls. The six chosen by Nakata for her personal guard stood nearby. The extra guards and armament disheartened her.

A bird flew high overhead, and she watched it until it was out of sight. She listened, but no sound assailed her ears. She continued to look at the sky; she heard a sound from behind, and Hatsu giggled.

“Hello, Uesugi-sama.” Aderyn returned to her sketch. She made two quick strokes, then blended with the side of an already charcoal-soiled little finger.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Hatsu-sama likes to giggle at you.” She smiled up at him. “Where have you been the past week?”

“I was called to my father’s house. He has been ill, and we thought he may being crossing into the Void, but he is a warrior and recovered.”

“I am glad.” She turned to Hatsu. “Would you do me a favor and have my maid put these away?” She handed the paper and charcoal to the girl.

“You will never finish it!” Hatsu stood and stomped her foot. The picture was to be hers when completed.

“That is no way for a young lady to act,” Aderyn scolded. “Lord Sanematsu would not approve of your attitude. I will finish it by tomorrow afternoon. Go give it to my maid, please.”

“Uesugi-sama is Aya-hime’s,” Hatsu reminded on her absent sister’s behalf.

“I do not believe that to be settled,” she stated, and the prepubescent girl departed. Alone with Uesugi, she asked, “Why did the girl who Matsumoto-sama told to assassinate our master kill herself?”

“I did not say she killed herself. I am sure it was Matsumoto-sama’s doing.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she is not samurai. Only they practice the ritual of seppuku. It is their duty.” He came to sit beside her.

“Duty to die?”

“If one fails in their giri or offends another socially higher, yes.” He leaned forward and scooped up a handful of pebbles. “Matsumoto-sama killed her so she could not be questioned. It is his right to kill anyone he chooses.”

“She is yet another to die because of me.”

“Because of you?” His eyes angled sideways as he looked at her without turning his head. His fingers manipulated the pebbles in his hands.

“If I had not overheard her and stopped her, she would not be dead.”

“Lord Sanematsu might be.”

“Yes, you are right.” Aderyn sighed. She was tired of every road leading to the grave. “I am not used to your ways of death. It is the answer for everything.”

“It is the only answer for failure,” Uesugi commented without concern.

“Then never, ever fail, Tadakuni-sama.” Her look beseeched him as she studied his face. “Never!”

“I strive always not to.” Uesugi faced her fully, dropping the pebbles. “I have not see Sachi-sama with you since our return.”

“She is required at her husband’s house. Have you seen Aya-hime?”

Aya had given in to grief on hearing of her stepfather’s possibly mortal wound, and her mourning had not lessened the few times Aderyn had been with her.

“I have…instructions to refrain from seeing her. I do believe I could easier cut off my sword arm.” Uesugi fondled a new handful of pebbles, full of nervous energy.

She smiled at his sigh. It was easy to read that the young samurai’s thoughts lay with Aya. In the darkness and quietness of her room, she had often dared to think the same thoughts he entertained. She would conjure the vision of Sanematsu at his bath, only to feel strange stirrings in her body. If she lingered too long over the thoughts, the ache, a hunger she had never known, would spread from her loins to her lower body until she could not stand the sensations. She would force the picture of Sanematsu in any form away from her mind so she could drop into a fitful sleep.

Sanematsu had warned her to be on her guard and aware of what happened around her. She could not forget she was his pampered prisoner; her existence was changed only in slight ways. Guards surrounded her at all times instead of just when she left the yashiki grounds. Matsumoto avoided contact or communication with her, but he hovered nearby, lurking like a vulture on a tree. He waited for Nakata or his minions to blink, and then she would be in jeopardy.

The servants and other inhabitants of Nishikata-jyo treated her as though she had suddenly come into existence. Before, they had tolerated her, giving what was needed and no more. Now, they spoke to her with respect, adding the honorific to her name as if she had always had it.

The first few times she had been addressed as “Tori-sama,” she was flustered, but now she was accustomed to it. She was being absorbed into Nihon, and she was comfortable with the change.

“I know how you feel,” she confided. “The days drag on so. I wish Sanematsu-sama would return.”

“Be patient, Lady Tori,” Uesugi consoled her. “He will return to us soon.”

Aderyn studied the young samurai’s eyes. His admiration for Sanematsu showed. Was her own love for Sanematsu as easily detected?

“Do you think it will be soon?”

“I can only guess, but Lord Sanematsu should dwell within these walls by the next moon.” He looked toward the sun that was beginning its descent.

They sat in silence. A maid brought tea and sake with small delicacies. The yashiki’s inhabitants went about their lives as if nothing were amiss. It was as though the conspiracy, the battle with Amemiya, even Sanematsu’s wound, had never taken place. The ache in Aderyn’s heart, however, was her constant reminder that all was not well at the castle of Sanematsu.

Change was coming to Nishikata. All too soon, a wind would sweep down from Mount Aso to disperse the mood and bring a new atmosphere to the Satsuma Province. It now stirred into a breeze in the West.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Well done, Yoshihide!” Kiyohara praised.

The daimyo completed the long, complicated kata using the staff of the sohei.

“You have learned well.”

“I am grateful I have proven worthy of your teachings.” Sanematsu handed the bo to a novice to replace in the arsenal and took a canvas jacket in return. He had worked hard to learn the military form routine to the Buddhist monk warrior.

“A moment.” Kiyohara held up a restraining hand as he started to slip his arm into the sleeve. He fingered the scar on Sanematsu’s side; his inspection used both sight and touch.

A white line running with varying degrees of width from mid-back to mid-front at the waist was the only hint of the wound. The rest of the warrior’s chest, back and abdomen was again firm muscle overlaid with taut brown skin.

“You appear to be healed, my lord. You will soon leave me.”

They resumed their walk through the temple. High thick walls made of heavy stones, of four shaku--the Nihonese measurement equal to the European foot--by six shaku surrounded the courtyard. Lichen and moss covered the walls, a testament to the age of the temple situated on the slopes of Mount Aso, an active volcano. The gigantic trees standing high within the walls validated the security they had provided the monks from the lava flow through the centuries.

Under the branches of one of these ancient trees, Sanematsu paused to dress and tie his belt.

“We have had many partings, Sou Kiyohara, yet none are permanent.”

He shook back the loose, shoulder-length hair he had begun to wear unconfined. Now he was not sure he ever wanted it tied, content with having the sides up and top pulled back. That he contemplated leaving his hair free was the first sign of rebellion. That he wished to do it to please Tori, a woman and a barbarian, was a second.

Such thoughts worried him. He was taught it was not worthy of a man to care about a woman. What was happening to him? He had to speak with Kiyohara of these confusions.

“You have not given me leave to discuss that which weighs heaviest on my mind.”

They entered the abbot’s cell, a medium-sized room with clean tatami spread from edge to edge. A metal cabinet with three shelves sat against one wall and the opposite wall housed a small shrine to the Buddha and candles.

Next to the cabinet was a rack holding a set of samurai blades. They rested in their ornate scabbards, indicative of Kiyohara’s warrior rank. Many warriors who took up the monastic life joined the order of sohei, the military monks.

“Do you feel up to it?” Kiyohara looked out the lone window, hands clasped behind his back. He wore the long robes of a Buddhist monk but the hairstyle of a samurai.

When Kiyohara faced him, Sanematsu looked across the room into the man’s eyes. He had the strange sense he looked into a sort of mirror. This man had made his student the embodiment of his teachings. Was it possible those lessons could cause their faces to grow similar?

Kiyohara’s blank expression did not allow Sanematsu to read his thoughts.

“It is the last task I have to complete. I must meet with Shogun Ashikaga in Kyoto, and then return home.”

Sou Kiyohara gestured for him to sit. A young novice entered with tea and departed.

“How may I help you further, Yoshi-dono? I have healed your body, taught you the discipline of the staff.” Kiyohara busied himself preparing the tea. “Your inner conflicts can be resolved only by yourself.”

“You have helped me with major decisions many times in my life. I have always found your judgment wise. Was it not your hand that stayed the killing sword when I wished to escape my birthright?”

Kiyohara nodded. At seventeen, Sanematsu had been ready to flee his duty as daimyo. Only Kiyohara’s intervention saved his life and the lives of others. In many respects, sitting here before him with dangling, sweat-damp hair and wearing a plain hitatare, Sanematsu was the same naive, confused child Kiyohara had rescued.

“I have since been deterred by your words many times when I felt the same. You come unbidden into my dreams to offer guidance.”

Sanematsu paused, not sure how to say the rest. He needed someone to tell him what he had decided to do was right. The only person to give him an honest answer was Kiyohara. The abbot would understand the new emotion he felt. Or would he? He was a samurai at heart, Nihonese--and as duty-driven as Sanematsu. How could a monk know what he felt?

“At the base of all my decisions is what is best for the Satsuma Province. I want to change things in my ryo-chi, changes that will take my lifetime and yet another. To do this, I must provide an heir to carry on such changes,” he began.

Kiyohara held up his hand. “The dilemma does not lie with an heir. The dilemma is in your inability to make a decision on your own and then act upon it!” Anger flooded out with his words. “You have been held captive by Lord Shigehide and that council Shigeni surrounded you with for too long. You rule the Satsuma Province in name only. In reality, your grandfather is the governing head. You should have banished him from the castle. Then you would have not become his puppet.”

Kiyohara poured tea with a calm hand although his words were anything but. With his advancing years, his position and the esteem with which Sanematsu held him, the priest was allowed to speak bluntly, even though what he said verged on cultural heresy.

As if a veil had been lifted, everything became crystal-clear to Sanematsu. He nodded agreement. How could he have been so blind for all these years? He was, indeed, a puppet! How many others saw through the disguise? How many witnessed his humiliations?

“It is not time now to seek your manhood between your thighs but between your ears,” Kiyohara continued with jovial reproof. He lifted the cup to Sanematsu.

“Yes, of course. You are right.” He took the offered tea bowl and tasted the liquid, trying to compose himself before he spoke, but he did not sit. Pacing the floor of the small room helped him quell his temper. “For eleven years, they have sent me to battle or a futon with enemy or wife of their choosing! My peers at Bakafu do not depend upon old men to make their decisions. It is little wonder I am treated as an outsider! I am an apprentice warrior, as naive as a boy without his tying-up ceremony!”

Was his unthinking reference to a samurai acquiring his tonsure some sort of omen? He stood and shook his head in anger; the hair moved loose and free about his shoulders. He liked the feel.

Kiyohara sipped tea and let him rant.

“It is going to change!” the daimyo shouted. “No more will I be led around. I will take hold of my life. If I fail, I fail. But…” He dropped to his knees at the abbot’s side, set the teacup aside and grasped his hand and arm. “…with determination and planning, I can be whatever I wish.” His voice was a low, heavy whisper.

“Even military leader to the Ten-nou, Yoshi?” Kiyohara whispered. “Seitaishogun?” He used the formal title of the shogun, which meant “barbarian-subduing great general.”

“Yes! Even that.” He released Kiyohara and sat back on his heels.

“And to think, Yoshi, you once wished to become a fish seller,” Kiyohara teased.

They laughed together.

“Life has changed, indeed, Kiyohara-sama.” Sanematsu’s zest and anger cooled.

“Aha, now, you will tell me of Tori-sama.”

“I will not ask how you know of her because you, by some magic, know all.”

“I was present at your birthday feast when she scandalized your court by coming from behind the screen to give you a scroll. That I may know more of her does not tell me how you feel about her. Is she the barbarian you wish to subdue?”

“I do not think anyone could subdue Ko-tori-sama.” Sanematsu laughed.

“Tell me.”

Sanematsu explained how he had found her aboard the Portuguese ship. He described their first meeting and the teapot disaster, the subsequent talks, her presentation to the Council of Elders and his daughters, the way she had harangued him at the cove when the shark threatened, the details of the picnic and, finally, the way she had protected him from assassination.

Kiyohara watched and listened. Little of this he did not already know--the barbarian’s affect on Sanematsu was common knowledge. What he saw was a new light in the young lord’s eyes. They glistened vividly, alive like never before. When Sanematsu was a child and began the martial training, a similar light had sparkled. It faded the day Shigeni was killed and Yoshihide became daimyo.

“She is a beautiful girl, wise, witty, intelligent. She has a will that surpasses many samurai. She sees through all I show the world and still believes in me. I never realized how important it was to have someone believe in you. And never was it important for a woman to do so. Now, I do know.

“She gives me strength. Tori…Tori-sama is to become my wife. Regardless of anyone’s feeling on the subject. Except yours, learned one! Do we have your agreement?”

***

“You do not need my approval.” Kiyohara suspected Sanematsu had formulated a decision only minutes before he blurted it out. “You are samurai, Sanematsu-uji, and sengoku-daimyo. You need no one’s approval for anything you choose. I do commend her for being the source of this great change in your manner.”

“Kiyohara-sama.” He spoke in a quiet tone, as if they shared a conspiracy. “Do you know of love? I have never thought much of this emotion and do not think I have ever experienced it, if I understand Tori-sama’s definition, except in the form of a father’s love for his children.”

“Many years ago, I knew love.” Kiyohara sighed. “Love makes one do strange things. Dangerous things. She was promised to another, and I entered the brotherhood. Over the years, I have served her from here in better ways than as a husband,” he reflected. “But you did not ask my story.

“Beware. Love can do two things. It will send you to the greatest heights possible and then bring you to the lowest depths. Neither can be avoided, especially on the path you have chosen. Be prepared for this, Yoshi, and all will be as karma will have it.”

“Thank you, Kiyohara-sama. I will leave at first light. I must be off to rebuild my life.”

Kiyohara nodded, deep in thought. Many times Sanematsu had come and gone from the Mount Aso Temple and his counsel, yet never before had he sent a man back into the world. This time, he did.

***

Uesugi’s prediction failed. Sanematsu had departed on his secret mission from the military camp six months before, and life at the yashiki was only beginning to return to normal. Chiyo stopped asking for her father, and Aya pursued her lessons with reluctance. Hatsu became a woman in her father’s absence.

Sachi returned to her position with Aderyn as before, continuing to teach her small things about Nihonese life. Aderyn undertook the challenge of learning to read and write Nihonese; her wordbook and her artwork kept her mind occupied as she strove to fill each day’s waking hours so as to forget Sanematsu’s absence.

Her thoughts were erotic when her mind was not occupied. Stirrings would begin, and a warm glow centered between her thighs. Only Sanematsu could quench that fire.

Autumn was more like a continuation of summer in Nishikata, with bright sun, hot days and humid nights. Aderyn’s spirits remained low; the longer Sanematsu was away the deeper they sank.

One late evening, with a few stray clouds blocking the sun and a hint of cooler temperature in the air, she stood on the third-story engawa overlooking the wall. A horse and rider carrying the sashimono emblazoned with the Sanematsu kamon on a pole attached to his back tore down the road to the Nishikata-jyo. Most undignified in sandals and uchiki, she ran into the courtyard. Her two samurai shadows trotted to keep up, swords rattling.

The household awaited the contents of the first message from their daimyo in half a year, though their curiosity was not obvious since they moved to positions within hearing range as they went about their usual duties. She arrived in time to see Matsumoto re-roll the scroll. He faced her, glared with defiance and then marched away, leaving them all to wonder.

Alone in the courtyard, Aderyn grunted, her hands planted on her hips as she stared after him. On impulse, she hitched up the uchiki’s hem, kicked off the sandals and ran across the garden, ignoring the rocks bruising her soles through the socks. When she took rough hold of his arm, she failed to turn him, but they came face-to-face when momentum propelled her in front of him.

“How dare you? How could you walk away without letting anyone know where Lord Sanematsu is or when he will return?”

The workers in the yard appeared to go on about their tasks without concern for the two people shouting, yet she knew they listened and observed the exchange--the old gardeners moved to work nearer.

“You think too much of yourself, barbarian,” Matsumoto hissed, removing her hand from his arm as if he pulled an offensive bug off his clothing. “I will choose to ignore your ill manners.”

He put his back to her and made to move away.

“I do not care what you choose! I will not allow you to ignore me!” she shouted. “I demand you make known Lord Sanematsu’s message!”

Matsumoto hesitated. Then, he turned with slow and deliberate movements. He held his bare sword in his hand.

“I have had enough of your pestering!” He struck with a downward stroke.

Aderyn did not move. The clash of steel meeting steel rang through the courtyard, yet none of her guards had moved.

“I believe Tori-sama has a right to know what Lord Sanematsu says, unless it is of a military nature.” Nakata held Matsumoto’s sword at bay with his own. “In that case, I have.”

Matsumoto lowered his sword; his stare remained fixed on Aderyn. In almost the same movement, the katana slid into his scabbard and he withdrew the scroll from his sleeve. He tossed it to the sand.

“Do not cross my path, barbarian.”

Nakata retrieved the scroll and offered it to her.

“You had best read it, Nakata-sama. I am shaking too badly,” she confessed. “And…thank you.”

“It is my duty. But do not put yourself into jeopardy like that again. I am afraid my skill at sword drawing is not as Lord Matsumoto’s.”

“I will try not to provoke him again.”

Sanematsu required his men to study the fighting arts, and she had spent many hours beside the practice area watching the samurai perfect their skills in sword-fighting, fencing and empty-hand combat, most fascinated by the movements used in sword drawing. Matsumoto was good, but Sanematsu’s iaido talents were amazing. Often, she never saw the sword leave its scabbard or return, only the bare weapon in his hand in a lightning movement.

Nakata unrolled the scroll.

“Our lord is well. He has attended Bakafu in Kyoto.” The old general paused. “That is odd. The council and Lord Shigehide remain here.” He went back to the scroll. “The Bakafu has dissolved because the shogun has attempted to abdicate. Clans are fighting in Kyoto. Our lord wishes to avoid conflict and should return home by the next moon. He says preparations for a joining are to be started.”

He looked up at her.

“So, Aya-hime will have her groom,” Aderyn laughed.

“He does not say.” Nakata took his gaze from her. “It could be Sanematsu-sama who will have a new wife.”

An instant picture of Sanematsu and a Nihonese bride flashed in her mind. She chose to pretend she did not hear his observation.

“What else does he say?”

“Only military orders I will not bore you with.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

She left him. Her guards followed, so she could not react until she was in her room. She told herself she would not cry at all, but she lost her battle.

The room, so familiar before, was alien. Nothing comforted her. The pain was as if someone had beaten her with a rod. She closed the shoji and sank to her knees. Clutching a handy zabuton to her, she buried her face to muffle her sobs and cried as she hadn’t since childhood. Every tear she had dammed behind her firm resolve spilled forth. She sobbed to relieve the center of her chest of its burden, as if the tears originated there.

Why? Why did she feel this way now? What few tears she had given in to when Tsuta had threatened to take him from her had been shed silently. What had changed?

The answer came without difficulty. He had not disclosed his love for her then. She had not lain next to him, felt what little warmth there was in his damaged body seep into her, felt his gentle breath in his sleep. Her heart hurt because she would never be happy sharing Sanematsu. Her love for him was total, so complete she could not give him over to another. How could he? If he loved her at all, it would be impossible.

Behind her, the shoji moved. Sachi approached her huddled body.

“Tori-sama?” she spoke. “Might I be of help?”

“No.” Aderyn sat up and dried her face. “Thank you.”

She would cry no more. The ache transformed to emptiness as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Sanematsu would want her to be strong. If he shared his futon with another woman…he would never enter hers. He would desire her all the more, but he would not have her.

“Sachi-sama.”

“Yes?”

“Lord Sanematsu has sent word to prepare for a joining.”

Sachi knelt beside her. “Whose?”

“Aya-hime’s or…or Sanematsu-sama’s,” she explained, the words catching in her throat.

***

“Oh.” Sachi thought before she spoke. It was hard to imagine Aya joined so soon. It took too much time for arrangements. A go-between must make contact with the groom’s family, formulate the Purification Ritual and make plans for the feast to follow. It was not something done in haste.

“Sachi-sama…” Tori spoke in a hush and turned her face to her friend. “…is there any way to find out who he intends to join with?”

“No, he will have to tell you himself.”

Could Sanematsu plan to join with Tori? Or was it a female of the council’s choosing? She had her answer--Sanematsu could not join with a yabanjin.

Tori bobbed her head.

“I should be happy.” Her smile was forced. “He will be home within a month.”

“That is true.” Sachi looked for a way to move away from this distressing subject. “Shall we continue with your wordbook?”

“I suppose so.” Tori’s drooped shoulders told her the girl had resigned herself to her karma. “I have nothing else to occupy myself.”

***

A week later, Sachi found her performing the strangest behavior yet. She was in Koji’s stall.

“Tori-sama? Are you all right?” She looked down at the hay-strewn stall. “Should you be sitting here?”

Tori raised her face.

“I am fine, and why not? It is warm and clean. Uma-sama has Hosato-sama mucking it out continually. Plus Koji does not mind.” She patted the thick equine foreleg. The mare waved her tail at the pestering flies.

“But, why? Are you unhappy?” She did not know what to do. Sanematsu would not approve of his barbarian sitting in a stall with a horse.

“I am lonely, bored, depressed, angry, disillusioned--and one year older today!” Koji jumped at Tori’s shout. “If my calculations are correct, I have been in Nihon one year and three months, and my birthday has come and gone in the end of summer without notice.”

She stood and left the stall, brushing hay from her clothes. Sachi picked straw from the girl’s hair, hanging straight down in waves.

“May I congratulate you belatedly?” She smiled in an attempt to lift her spirits.

“Thank you.” Tori attempted to return the smile, but hers faded. “I am so old! Seventeen is the beginning of life in Europe. Here, life begins at thirteen, and by now I am an old maid!”

“You are hardly old in any land. You make me feel ancient! Thank you very much. I admit I was fourteen when I joined with Takayasu and fifteen when I bore my first child. I, too, felt old because she did not live a year, but it was life that caused me to feel so. You have lived much in your year with us. It is wisdom you feel, not years.”

“How do you manage it, Sa-sama?” Tori used the affectionate form of her companion’s name. “You always say the right things.”

“My years help. Let us find Nakata-sama. He may allow us to go to the ocean. We will tell him today is your birthday and it is in honor of that we wish to leave.”

***

Aderyn’s spirits rose as she and Sachi left the stables. Sachi’s words always comforted her. Would Sachi have comforting phrases to speak when Sanematsu broke her heart?

Nakata did allow them to depart the yashiki walls, but dispatched Uesugi and a troop of eight to accompany them. The women did not venture out to the ocean. They went shopping.

The morning market was busy, the vendors doing a brisk business. Aderyn stopped at each stall to eye everything and questioned Sachi about what she did not recognize. Earlier, she had discovered she had only to indicate her desire for an object and the seller would wrap it with care and present it to her without asking for money. Later, Lady Haru would receive the bill, and it would be paid out of Sanematsu’s accounts. Although it appeared Sanematsu could afford anything, she was careful about what she bought. Today, she picked up trinkets for his daughters.

“Tori-sama.”

They stood at a vendor of women’s cosmetics and hair items.

“In honor of your day, even though it passed a few moons ago, would you permit me to buy combs for your hair?”

“You do not have to do that,” she protested, but it sounded feeble even to her. She glanced over the wood, ivory and tortoise-shell combs. Some were lacquered with colorful enamel. “I was just being childish about it going unnoticed.”

“But I would like to. I am sure Lord Sanematsu would wish you to have something special for your day, as you gifted him.” Sachi picked up a set of tortoise-shells combs. “I think these would do.”

With deft hands, she swept up the sides of Aderyn’s lengthy hair and pushed combs in above her ears.

Aderyn touched them. “Thank you, Sa-sama.”

“Now,” Sachi continued as they walked away, “we shall stop for tea and honeyed cakes.”

“I agree.” Aderyn laughed. Her spirits rode high. “Maybe we could have some noodle soup first?”

“Very well.” Sachi affected the sound of a mother who had given in to the pleadings of a young child.

“You are so kind to me.” She put her arm around her friend and hugged her. “I do not know what I would do without you.”

“I am certain you would get into more mischief, but I do not see how.” Sachi giggled.

Aderyn released her, aware of the inquisitive glances of the villagers. Sachi had a way of making everything right for her, almost in the same manner Sanematsu had. At least, Sachi would still be with her when he married.

“Stop frowning, Tori-sama,” Sachi said, and handed her a wooden bowl of udon noodles. “Here. This should make you smile. Food always does.”

“Stop teasing me!” She did smile, but not because of the food.

The women found a seat on a bench at the wooden table. She took a large mouthful and slurped the hot noodles in. Her face flushed with the steam of the broth and the knowledge that Sachi could read her so well. Nishikata was more comfortable than home had ever been, and she was at ease.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

As thirty days passed, almost the same number of messages came and went between Kyoto and Nishikata. Nakata, using special carrier pigeons, informed Sanematsu of Matsumoto’s actions with the first message scroll. By return, Sanematsu established a line of communication through only Nakata. The old general made certain the young lord’s bidding was done.

Moods lightened in anticipation of Sanematsu’s arrival. For days at a time, Matsumoto disappeared on business of one kind or another. Aderyn was pleased with his departure--she did not have to avoid being alone or wary of deep shadows, could enter the stables to groom Koji without anxiety.

The stables, however, were a constant reminder of things she would rather not think about. Dai-tan’s empty stall was as gloomy as her heart. The journey that began when she last saw Sanematsu’s warhorse was coming to an end; but instead of anticipating that moment with great exhilaration, she dreaded it. It would put an end to what he had led her to hope was a beginning for them.

The household became more and more embroiled in activity. The already immaculate gardens were weeded and cleaned by meticulous gardeners. The rooms and corridors were scrubbed, oaken beams, planks and slats waxed to a glossy shine. Rice paper panels yellowed with age were replaced with fresh ones. The cooks flung out old utensils for new. Dishes were broken and new porcelain cast. The best sake and tea were stocked, new-crop rice obtained. The quantity of foodstuffs being acquired amazed her.

***

“Sachi-sama, please make them go away!” she implored as she stood in the middle of her room, clad in only a kosode. Two women moved around her like bees around a hive, placing garment pieces on her only to remove the clothing for alterations. “I do not need any clothes.”

“The seamstresses are busy with new wardrobes for everyone in Lord Sanematsu’s house,” Sachi explained.

“I know, but this is too much. No one has had to put up with as much folderol as I have!”

The silent seamstresses put a hitatare on her and pulled and tugged the front overlap to adjust the way it lay over Aderyn’s full bosom. She appreciated the warmth of the material as a breeze blew through the room when an apprentice seamstress entered with more silk.

“You have only yourself to blame.” Sachi nodded and directed the women without words. “You asked for hakama and hitatare.”

“But I want the ones I have!” She pointed to the garments she had removed earlier at the seamstress’s request.

“You may dress,” the chief seamstress stated. She and her fellows gathered their things and left.

Aderyn picked up the pair of hakama, black and of thick silk to keep warm, and a red hitatare. She pulled up the pants and tied the waist belt.

“Why are these patched with different patterns of silk? Some of them clash with the others.” She stroked the material of her sleeve as the women moved down the corridor to a room where tea waited.

“But the patches are all the same shade of red.” Sachi settled at the table. “We use squares of older garments to extend the life of the expensive clothing as well as for the artistic display. This hitatare is too large on you. And red is not a color for public wear--it is usually worn by an older samurai who has retired from public life.”

“I like this one because Lord Sanematsu gave it to me. It comforts me,” Aderyn admitted.

“Ah. It is not uncommon for a daimyo to gift someone with a garment from his wardrobe as a token of the personal relationship between them. Often, it is given to a soldier as a reward for distinguished military service or, as in your case, a token of favor. Perhaps he came to have a shirt of the revered color from one of his older generals.” Sachi paused to sip tea, and then said, “The new ones will be the appropriate color and will fit properly.”

“Well, I am not going to wear them! I am going to keep these.” Aderyn drew the comfortable garments around her and settled to the floor, sitting by the brazier.

“As you would have it.” Sachi sighed.

***

With greater freedom to roam the yashiki, but remaining under guard, Aderyn struggled to deal with emotions she could not name. Her concern and affection for Yoshihide were so strong they threatened to overwhelm her. Now she resented a woman she had neither met nor known existed. Once more she had to ask herself why she felt this way. She had no claim to him and was prohibited from the closeness she hungered for by society and culture. He could never marry her. She had to find something to get her mind off the coming wedding.

The rustle of her robes filled the hall as she stormed her way to the audience room, her drawing box tucked under her arm. Two guards accompanied her; the samurai walked with hasty steps to keep up. Inside the doorway, the one on her right stepped to bar the way.

“You cannot enter,” he stated with authority.

“Why not? This part of the yashiki is not off-limits to me.” Aderyn puffed out her chest and lifted her chin. She was not going to be denied anything if she could help it. The one thing she wanted she had no hope of obtaining.

“The servants are cleaning and waxing the flooring,” he explained.

“I will not be in their way!” She moved around him. “I want to draw the panels.”

Helpless, the guard watched her stride over the wooden flooring, managing to keep her footing on the soapy floor.

Three women clad in drab kosode, with scarves on their heads, knelt in a row working the water over the planks. One-by-one, they moved back out of Aderyn’s way then resumed their position to wipe away the traces of her careless soiling of their hard work. The samurai did not follow, stationing themselves inside the doorway to observe her from a distance.

Not caring what she had done, Aderyn went about preparing her materials to sketch. One of the guards cleared his throat, and she looked up at him.

“Why are you glaring at me?” she asked.

He nodded his head toward the woman who had moved to the part of the floor Aderyn had walked over. She was rewashing it.

“Did I do that?” Aderyn questioned. “I am sorry. I did not realize it was still wet.”

“Do not be concerned, Tori-sama,” the woman said. She dipped her rag into the bucket she towed along with her and wrung the excess water from it. “Your thoughts are with our master and the excitement of his return.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” She returned her attention to the paper and her charcoals. Excited was not the word she would use to describe her emotions. The idea of him riding into the courtyard accompanied by a kaga carrying the woman he had chosen to be his wife increased her fretfulness.

Later in the afternoon, she managed to be as intrusive in the garden as she had been the audience chamber. A gardener had spent most of the early afternoon weeding and removing debris from an area covered with fine sand and small pebbles that had a large boulder set in the middle. When she arrived, she tromped without thought through where he had meticulously raked a design. Her guards, keeping as far away from the gardener’s work as they could, spoke apologies for the barbarian’s disruption.

“What are you saying?” She turned back to them. “Why are you apologizing for me?”

“Elder gardener…” The samurai used the man’s title as a name. “…has worked very hard to prepare the gardens for Lord Sanematsu’s arrival, and you have inadvertently destroyed the harmony of it.”

Aderyn looked back to where the gardener had started again. Her footprints disrupted the neat lines drawn through the sand.

“I did not see the design.” She covered her mouth with her hands in astonishment. The gardener must feel as she would if someone messed up her drawings. “It was so beautiful. I am so sorry.”

“It could not be helped,” the old man said and continued with his work.

Aderyn departed with her guards, going back to her rooms. Everyone was so happy with the idea of Sanematsu’s returning. Why could she not feel just as euphoric?

When she had first heard the news, her spirits soared on wings like the seabirds over the cliffs--and plummeted with the mention of a marriage. She was sure it was Yoshihide’s. The council was determined he produce an heir and to that end needed a wife. And it would not be her.

The thought of being with Yoshihide in that intimately special way sent tingles through her body, but knowing it could never happen crushed her heart.

She did not want to think about it.

She moved on, oblivious to her path of destruction. The damage she did was caused not out of disregard or rudeness. She simply did not notice where others went about their business preparing for Sanematsu’s arrival. Even her drawings were dark and gloomy.

***

As the new moon waxed and waned, the yashiki came to a standstill. Nishikata-jyo awaited the return of its master with his secret plans.

“It is too damned quiet!” Aderyn shouted in Portuguese at the guard standing in the hallway outside her room. When he ignored her, she childishly made a face at him. He continued to disregard her.

“Humph!” She stomped into the room, sorry she did not wear heavy shoes instead of only the thick tabi. They would have made a much more satisfying noise on the hard wooden floors.

A shoji on the far side of the room faced the courtyard and was open to provide fresh air and give her a full view of the gardens below. The room was cool, a charcoal brazier lit in the middle. Winter was in full force, and rains came almost daily. Today was one of the few mornings when she had not wakened to the sound of it, although threatening clouds hung over the yashiki.

Rain kept the gardeners inside for days fretting over the trash blown in from the city and coast. They were busy this morning tidying up the courtyard in their usual thorough manner. She envied them their work.

“You could hear a pin drop. They act as if Sanematsu Yoshihide were god!”

Speaking Nihonese had become second nature to her, but she continued her diatribe in Portuguese. It was the only language suitable for venting her frustration.

“Tori-sama!” Uesugi ran down the corridor. His swords clanked, and the silk of his osode flapped under a heavy padded coat. “Tori-sama! Lord Sanematsu nears!” the out-of-breath samurai announced.

“So what?” Aderyn glanced out into the courtyard. Samurai were opening the gate, but she could not see Sanematsu.

“So…come. We must go meet him,” Uesugi urged. “You have been so eager for Lord Sanematsu to return. Do you not wish to be there?”

“Let him come to me!” she retorted. Her cheeks burned and her chest hurt. “Besides, I do not see him.”

“The lookout at the northwest wall saw his party approaching and sent word so all would be ready.” Uesugi stepped to her and took her arm. “Come. We must go.”

She yanked free.

“He can come up here! I will not go fawning all over them like a fool!”

“Them?”

“Sanematsu-sama and his bride-to-be.”

“It seems she is not with him,” he whispered. “Lady Tori, our liege lord returns, and as his subjects, it is our duty to receive him.”

“Then, by all means, go see Lord Sanematsu Yoshihide of the clan Minamoto, Lord of the Satsuma Province of Kyushu.” She spoke words she did not understand, but had heard Sanematsu addressed by. “I will be here!”

She pointed to the floor and stomped her foot. Again she regretted the tabi socks.

***

Uesugi was torn. He had to greet Sanematsu--it was his duty--but he should stay with Tori, as she was also a duty, one specifically given to him by Sanematsu. He looked toward the road beyond the gate. He could see banners and flags carried by Sanematsu’s horsemen and ashigaru. Lord Sanematsu neared at a furious pace. He did not have time to find Sachi to enlist her aid with the stubborn barbarian.

“I will leave the guards to watch over you.” He turned to leave.

“Take them with you!” Aderyn slammed the shoji to the courtyard closed.

“My lady?” Uesugi sweated under his heavy haori, both because of the coat and his dilemma.

“Take them with you.” She waved a hand to indicate the men at the doorway. “I will follow you in my own time. Go!”

The scream rattled the shoji.

The samurai fled but left a sentry at her outer door in defiance of her wishes.

***

After Uesugi’s footsteps receded, Aderyn opened the courtyard shoji a crack and watched the procession enter the gate. He would not have left if she had not agreed to come, but she had no intention of leaving her room. She wanted to observe Sanematsu by herself, to see his bride while she would not have to be polite. Through the tears she could not prevent, she watched the household gather in the courtyard. They knelt in orderly rows then bowed as Sanematsu, galloped through the gate.

Straight and tall in the saddle, he wore a straw rain cape tied about his shoulders so it dangled low off his neck. A straw hat also hung down his back, in case the clouds returned and drenched the lands in a sudden downpour, as it was wont to do in these months. Beneath the straw protection, his kariginu, the usual darkest of blue with the white familial kamon emblazoned on it, was neat, crisp.

Unbound except for a small, thick ponytail at the crown, his hair draped to his shoulders. A stray wisp flew over his forehead to give him the look of a ten-year-old boy out for a ride. The heavy growth covering his upper lip, however, gave evidence of his maturity. His cheeks and jaw were smooth and bronzed.

How is it possible he looks more handsome than before? Aderyn longed all the more to be in his presence.

There was no kaga in the group, only mounted warriors and foot soldiers. No woman could be with him. Her hopes rose.

He nodded to his servants, and they stood in response. Aderyn was taken by the way he swung down from the lathered Dai-tan and walked with a determined, hasty step toward the North Wing, where his women resided. He must wonder where she was. She could almost feel his gaze as it traveled up the pavilion.

Intent as she was on watching Sanematsu, she did not hear the figure in black steal into the room. His presence became known only when he clamped a hand over her mouth and thrust a needle-thin dart into her left breast. It burned as if a hot coal had stabbed her. She tried to scream but could not. Kicking and scratching at her assailant, she managed to achieve little for her effort as the poison spread through her. Her eyes drooped closed, and she became groggy. She struggled to keep them open.

***

After gagging the drugged girl, he pulled her toward the open door. She continued to struggle, exasperating him, so he finally hoisted her onto his shoulder, her feet dangling behind him. She kicked and slapped him until he stopped long enough to secure her hands. He could ignore her feet as her energy faded.

The drug worked deeper. She would soon be asleep. Or dead.

Not tying her feet was a mistake. She kicked over the lamp stand next to the door. The oil ran out, carrying fire across the wooden surface to the brazier recessed in the floor. The dripping fuel ignited in a large, intense burst of flame that raced through the wood-and-paper room.

A spark caught her clothes as he ran down the corridor. The flames spread up the garments and dripped onto the floor.

Roused by the pain, she screamed behind the gag. The man stopped long enough to snuff the flames. If not for the chance she might be rescued, he would have left her and allowed the fire to consume her. Instead, he would take her with him and finish the job where he could be certain of her death.

Lifting the unconscious girl back on his shoulder, he disappeared the way he had come.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Nakata-uji.” Sanematsu addressed the older man after perfunctory bows. They walked toward the dwelling. “How goes everything?”

“Well, my lord, well.”

He stopped long enough to greet some of his retainers on his way to the north wing.

“Uesugi-uji.” He acknowledged his new aide-de-camp, but he did not speak to Matsumoto. “Are you well? What of Tori-sama? Where is she?”

“I am well, my lord, but…” Uesugi looked around. “May I speak with you…privately?”

He followed the young samurai to the edge of the garden, where Uesugi felt he might speak more freely.

“Tori-sama is having some…difficulty. I believe she is pouting, sire.”

“Pouting? Only children pout!” Sanematsu’s laugh was robust. After being away eight months, he was happy to be home. Everything around him was familiar--the faces, the buildings and the gardens.

But he would have to leave again soon enough.

“It is hard to know what to say about a woman. She refused to come greet you. Said she would come only if I left first with her guards.” Uesugi swung his head around. “I see she has not arrived. Maybe she means for you to come to her. She believes you to have agreed to accept a woman of the council’s choosing. Have you, sire?”

“On the contrary.” He started up the steps, throwing off the straw hat and cloak before he entered. A maid gathered them as he started in. “I have chosen one they are sure to reject!”

Suddenly, shouts of “Fire!” broke the calm of the garden. Automatically, the residents of the yashiki began to perform the emergency ritual so necessary where the houses were constructed of wood and paper. Servants and samurai alike formed a bucket brigade. Families, from the least child to the oldest grandparent, joined in to put out the flames. The captain of the fire brigade, who outranked all other samurai, including Lord Sanematsu, issued orders.

The wing of the castle burned within, the thick clay walls encasing the flames. The direction of the wind was checked, and flammable material in the area was removed. At the opposite end of the wing, where it connected to the central building, men with axes worked in haste to form a firebreak.

***

Sanematsu wiped his face with the hunting jacket he had slipped off when the exertion of firefighting became stifling. His daughters were out, safe with their nurses. Only Tori was missing, and flames licked from the quarters assigned to her.

“Tadakuni-dono, where was Tori-sama?” His heart went to his throat. Red tongues of fire thrust through the shoji as it consumed the rice paper and fragile wooden frames.

“In her room--” Uesugi saw what he did.

As he helped his servants and retainers, Sanematsu’s heart was heavy. He could envision Tori fighting the flames--she would not panic, keeping her head while she tried to find her way out.

What if she became trapped? He pictured her cornered by the red blanket of death. She would probably search for him through the haze, and he could almost hear her calling to him. He had to find her!

He ran up the stairs. Unable to contain his fear, he screamed at last “Tori!”

Beams fell around him as he made his way in farther and, surrounded by fire, climbed the stairs. Smoke filled the halls, and he covered his nose with the kariginu he carried bunched in his right hand. Sparks flew in the air, blinding his view. Cinders landed and fizzled when they came in contact with the profuse sweat on his bare torso. None stayed lit long enough to damage his skin.

“Ko-tori!”

He struggled past the head of the stairs and turned down the corridor where her room was. He had only one chance to save her. Walls collapsed. Rooms were destroyed. Tatami exploded into flames, igniting the wooden floors beneath them. The fire rose higher over his head as he neared her room, the center of the blaze. Ahead of him, the flooring began to give way and he retreated a few steps, moving his search for another way in.

“Ko-tori!”

“Sanematsu-uji!” Nakata took hold of his arm. “She has escaped or is dead.”

As the fire roared around them, the samurai captain attempted to budge his young lord. Thick smoke billowed down the hallway, and timbers crashed about them. The old man moved with a fleetness belying his age between the daimyo and the debris, knocking Sanematsu out of danger and taking the blow himself full force.

Stunned, Sanematsu reached to brace himself against walls no longer there. He stumbled backwards as he tried to regain his balance. More beams fell ahead of him, the heat of the blaze engulfing them. A plank grazed his head. Pain and warmth filled his forehead, and he touched above his right eye. His fingers came back crimson.

The blood began to drip down into his eye; he wiped it away with the kariginu. He staggered forward, shaking off the dizziness. He had to get to her room.

As he lurched down the fire-engulfed corridor, hands came from behind to pull him away.

“Sire, you are hurt!” Hikita announced over the roar of the fire. The ever-loyal bodyguard had followed Nakata inside, also refusing to allow the daimyo freedom to roam the burning building and endanger his life. “We can go no further!”

“Ko-tori,” Sanematsu whispered, either to call to her or remind Hikita of her absence. But he did not fight Hikita’s pull on his upper arm.

“We will find her.”

Hikita directed him out of danger, through the fire-engulfed building and into the safety of the courtyard. A maid met them and helped guide Sanematsu to a campstool. She wiped his face with a wet cloth, cleansed the wound and then held pressure to stop the blood running from his eyebrow. The soot, blood and water streaked his face. Were there also tears?

He watched as the fire was contained. When the last of the flames was doused with water and dirt, the north wing of his castle no longer existed.

“What became of Nakata-uji?” he regained his senses enough to ask.

“He has crossed into the Void,” Hikita, trying to catch his breath, answered from where he sat on the ground beside him.

“And Tori-sama?”

“She has not been found.” Hikita had a trace of emotion in his voice. He had, over the months, begun to experience a regard for Tori, a sense of caring about her in his Nihon man’s heart, as if she were a little sister to be watched after.

“When the ashes have cooled, I want every inch searched. Find her!” Sanematsu shouted at the smoldering ruin. Then: “Dead or alive, find her.” He spoke the words as gently as a prayer.

The search could not progress until the following morning, when men ventured into the ruins of the north wing. Hikita Takayasu arrived before the sun to oversee the task.

The evening before, Sanematsu had dismissed him, insisting the warrior rest--Hikita had not left the yashiki grounds since they rode in together, and Sachi would wish to have time with her husband to inspect his scar and see to his health.

Volunteers arrived to help with the massive job of cleanup and rebuilding. Craftsmen, carpenters, masons, artisans and common laborers from the city offered their help. Peasant women came to the aid of the kitchen and house servants to care for the children. Kono and the other physicians looked after those who had been injured.

Early morning found Sanematsu pacing the courtyard to observe the work of his retainers. He had slept fitfully, tired from both the journey and firefighting but too concerned about Tori to rest soundly. In nightmares, she called to him through the smoke and cinders. She was in pain and alone, but where was she? In the dream he could not find her.

In the afternoon, he sat idle in the garden. He had done all he could to assist the workers, but they needed none of his help. They needed him out of their way.

When Hikita approached, he came out of his pensiveness.

“My lord, Nakata-uji’s body has been found.”

“Very well.” They walked to where the corpse had been laid and watched as it was given over to the priests for ceremonial disposal. The only task Sanematsu was required to perform all day was to present the swords the old man had left outside before he rushed into the burning building to Nakata’s son, a retainer in his army.

“Lord Sanematsu, I present myself as one who has dishonored himself.” Uesugi prostrated his body before his master.

Again on his campstool, Sanematsu watched the workers.

“I require your permission to cross into the Void.”

“Why would you request such, young warrior?”

“For leaving Tori-sama inadequately guarded.”

“You provided a sentry. Fujihara-sama’s body was found outside her door where you placed him. You had no way of knowing she did not intend to come to the courtyard as she said she would. It is not your responsibility. I will hear no more of it.” He waved him away.

His memories haunted him as he watched the workers. Only hours ago, he had been elated; now despair fell over him. One of his most trusted generals was dead, possibly along with the only woman he would ever love. He waited hopeful for any sign of Tori and prayed for an omen of her survival. He left his vigil only long enough to visit the shrine and ask Hachiman to intercede; then he returned and sat alone until his youngest daughter escaped from her nurse.

Chiyo ran to climb into her father’s lap. He spoke to her and held her automatically on his knee. Attracted to his loose hair, the little girl obtained his full attention when she pulled the strands hanging over his shoulder. He sent her away with the nurse, who had arrived to reclaim her charge.

“My lord.” Uesugi was the only one besides Hikita, who at the moment was busy with other tasks, who dared approach Sanematsu to voice concern. He was as tactful as possible about his daimyo’s affairs. “It will be some time before they have anything to report. The day’s sun is especially intense. Perhaps you should enter the castle.”

“My grandfather has requested a meeting,” he agreed. “I have plans I need to advise them of.” The sooner he acted, the better; then, when Tori returned, everything would be in readiness for their joining. He rose. “You may accompany me.”

They walked to the chamber he used for business. On the other side of the castle from Tori’s rooms, the chamber was untouched by fire. The heavy odor of smoke and the cedar hung in the air. Smoke damage was minimal, but ash covered the floors and chests in fine dust. Servants cleaned the daimyo’s quarters.

He dismissed them and called for tea and a meal, setting his mind to his tasks. He consulted scrolls he had written at the temple and in his private moments in Kyoto and stroked new changes between holding a bowl under his chin and shoveling rice into his open mouth with the hashi. He muttered between bites of pickle and sips of tea. As he finished, he was well pleased with his work.

“We shall now meet with the Council of Elders.” He rose and left the room, Uesugi trailing. With a confident swagger, he walked to the council chambers. His grandfather sat in his usual place, surrounded by the other council members.

***

Matsumoto hovered near the wall. Throughout the day, he had watched Sanematsu, disgusted with the man’s display of sorrow. The foreigner was but one woman. There were many others to fill her place. Was not pillowing the only thing a woman was good for? Were they not instruments to fulfill men’s need for progeny? Any flute could be played with the same results.

After his return to the yashiki, his spies reported that Sanematsu resided at the Mount Aso Temple. He had hoped the man would die there.

“Matsumoto-uji.” Sanematsu greeted him for the first time since his return. “Your care of the ryo-chi has been, as usual, adequate. After this meeting, I wish for you to relieve Hikita-uji so he may return to his duties. You will be interested in this conversation.”

“Yes, my lord,” Matsumoto replied, his jaw clenched. He had other things he wanted to do besides overseeing the petty dealings of the workers.

“Found any sign of the foreign devil woman?” Sanematsu Shigeni asked without formality. “Bunch of nonsense. She obviously set the fire and has run away.” He spoke theatrically for the observers in the room.

“As usual, Grandfather, you present your opinion first.” Sanematsu stood before the assembly, his feet set and shoulders squared. His posture held all eyes. “Now, I will speak.

“For eight months, you have ruled the Satsuma Province with minimal input from me. You had your chance, and you let it slip through your fingers!” He turned and strode across the room. “You had my army, my children, my ryo-chi, to do with as you pleased.” He whirled and faced the assemblage. “And you did nothing! You could have seized power and you did not! Well, honorable Grandfather, you have lost everything!

“I will tell you what else I have discovered.” He came to stand before his grandfather. “But first, I will tell you why. At Bakafu, I proposed a change in the attitude of the government of Nihon in regards to isolation. This confrontation resulted in the shogun pushing back my appointment of shugo. Which is no great loss, in my opinion. It does not negate any hope of the appointment, but it will not be soon.

“As we all know, Ashikaga-sama has his own problems. He is dealing with the rebuilding of Kyoto and his Bakafu after the eighteen years of the Onin War.” He strode the chamber, the crack and pop of the stiff silk of his garments echoing in the vaulted ceiling. He gave the council a history lesson. “As is well known, Ashikaga Yoshimasa tired of the role of shogun and abdicated, withdrawing from life to enjoy his pursuit of the arts. The court became awash with intrigue when Ashikaga’s wife differed with his choice of successor. He wanted his brother to take the seat of power, and Lady Tomiko favored their infant son.

“She bound the Yamana clan to her side. Ashikaga-sama surrounded himself with the Hosokawa clan. Twenty new years ago, both clans were well positioned, with a large portion of their armies in Kyoto.”

“Yes, yes.” Shigehide waved a hand. “We all know fighting broke out and the samurai brawled in the streets like dishonorable men. The grand capital of Kyoto was left in ruins. What are you trying to tell us?”

“Nothing.” Sanematsu stared at the council. “You will listen because I have told you to.” He began pacing again. “Kyoto is just now beginning to resemble the former elegant capital after five years of rebuilding. Daimyo from all over Nihon converged to form alliances and plan strategies for the new shogun, Ashikaga Yoshihisa, the eighteen-year-old heir of Yoshimasa-uji. Unfortunately, as is common with politics, factions developed for and against the young shogun.

“With these groups of dissidents came a chasm that could not be breached. It was a strange feeling to see the new shogun facing the same problems and restraints I have had since I became daimyo. I empathized with his apprehension and fear of power.

“As did the other daimyo, I left Kyoto to await the next turn of political events, which was threatening to be more civil war, and to make changes in my own ryo-chi. I am sure many of you are wondering where the Sanematsu would stand.” He stopped. “As the conflict in Kyoto attests, change has come to Nihon. Change has also come to Kyushu, change evidenced by myself. A strange woman is the only woman I wish as wife. The only one I wish to carry my heir. You, in your wisdom, would have denied me this. Therefore, I have decided I do not need you.

“I have already disturbed those at Bakafu with my unconventional appearance. I am about to disturb the five of you even more.” He paused for emphasis. “Great Lords of the Council of the Satsuma Province of Kyushu…” He spoke with a little dip of a bow to the men. “…it is time to break from my honorable, but dead, father’s will.”

The elders stared at him. No one dared speak.

“My katana has been bloodied many times over. I am now ready to stand alone. Grandfather, I honor and respect all you have taught me.” He struggled visibly to hold his temper, clasping his hands at the small of his back and marching from side to side. “But the time has come for me to take command of my birthright. You will be gone by sunset tomorrow. You may wish to retire to a northern village. Or you will not hesitate to enter a monastery. The one at Hirosaki would be perfect.”

“What? You cannot order me to leave my castle!” Shigehide shouted his face red with fury.

“Grandfather, I am heir to the Satsuma Province, am I not?”

“Of course, you are,” the old man said. “If Shigeni had any living sons, they surely would have challenged you by now.”

“So. You have just stated before everyone in this room that I am my father’s heir. This was his castle. The title ‘Lord of Satsuma Province’ was his. Twelve years ago you gave that title to me. I can--and will--do anything I wish. I want you gone--all of you!” He spoke now to the council. “You have two choices. Retirement to separate villages--or seppuku by sunset tomorrow. Goodbye, Grandfather, Lords.”

He left the men of the council sputtering--this sudden display of backbone by their daimyo had surprised them. Yet Sanematsu’s actions played into Matsumoto’s plans quite well. Now he need not be concerned with thwarting the Council when he made his move.

Things were falling into place.

***

“Uesugi-uji.” They crossed the courtyard. “Where are my daughters?”

“They are in the old wing, your mother’s quarters. Lady Haru ordered them opened.”

“We might as well finish it,” he announced.

“Certainly, sire.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

In the quiet rooms of the women’s quarters, Sanematsu’s elder daughters stitched designs on pieces of canvas in the manner Tori had taught them. Miyo played in a corner, and Chiyo lay asleep in the nursery.

The rooms remained as he remembered. Broad oaken beams and pillars, the wood polished to a glossy sheen, held the ceilings aloft. Open spaces were divided with paneled screens to make rooms. Some of the byoubu were painted with scenes from the mythological stories of Nihon. He had thought to show Tori these works of art before the battle of Kamaga. Now he might never have the chance.

He put such thoughts aside.

Aya spoke first.

“Hello, Father.” With poise, she rose to come to his side. She reached up to stroke the heavy black hair. “Tori-sama will like your hair untonsured.”

“She must have shared much with you.” He took her small hand away from his face. The samurai in him was not accustomed to anyone touching him in this way.

“We talked often,” Aya responded, as if she betrayed Tori by telling him about their conversations. “She will be found, Father.”

She returned to her place to allow her half-sisters to greet him.

“Of course.”

The words were meant to comfort them all.

Hatsu came to him, and Sanematsu encircled her with one arm to hug her to his side. His eyes noted the extra pounds as well as the maturity she had gained.

“Where is your lady aunt?” he inquired as his second daughter resumed her seat.

“In her rooms,” Aya answered.

He noticed his stepdaughter’s attention was drawn to Uesugi, who stood behind him. Aya flushed under her father’s gaze and tried to hold her eyes off the young samurai.

“Aunt Haru is afraid of you,” Hatsu added.

“And so she should be. Uesugi-uji, you may remain here with my daughters.”

He left the children. A nurse sat nearby to chaperon the young lovers.

***

As Hatsu reported, Haru wished to avoid her half-brother. Her spies had already brought news of his banishment of their grandfather and the council, and alerted her to his storming advance into the women’s quarters. Now she was fearful of what he had in store for her. Would he disapprove of her using Michi’s quarters?

By Sanematsu’s edict, no one but the patient servant who had been with his mother from the first day she came to Nishikata had entered the stately rooms of Lady Michi, wife of Sanematsu Shigeni, since her departure. But what was she to do? Move the women into the men’s quarters? Offense was the best defense, and she rushed to confront him when he approached her.

“Have you found Tori-sama?” she asked with feigned anxiety. She hoped the barbarian was dead. “I am afraid you have lost her!”

“Do not fret, my sister. You have too much for which to be happy. You are returning to your son’s household, where you shall have the power you so desire. There, you can rule your daughter-in-law in the manner of mothers-in-law.”

“You cannot mean this. Are you sure I should desert your daughters?”

Haru nearly fainted--the last thing she wanted was to be the second female in a household. Mothers-in-law did wield sharp tongues, but their power was nothing compared to the influence she held as head of Nishikata-jyo.

“Sachi-sama can manage my daughters until Tori-sama is found and becomes my wife.”

“Yoshihide-sama, you are sure about this? Has the council agreed?” She could not let him know all she knew.

“I do as I wish. As I am sure you already know, I have dissolved the council. You will be gone by the week’s end. Your son has been notified of your arrival. Resign yourself to it, sister.”

He smiled as he left.

***

Sachi awaited Sanematsu in his chambers. Hikita Takayasu sat near his wife, relieved of overseer duty by Matsumoto. They had been summoned.

Hikita had spent the night in her arms; and his ardent activity had reassured her of his good health. She felt the soft glow of a woman for whom physical and spiritual love is renewed.

Too languorous to be bothered with arranging it, she had left her hair down. Last night, the rich darkness now flowing over her neck and shoulders had draped down to envelope her husband in soft caresses, sending fire through his loins.

“Sachi-sama,” Sanematsu greeted as he walked into the room and took his position on the zabuton by the open shoji. He took several moments to adjust his kami-shimo. “My nephew has requested his mother return to his house, and I have agreed. It leaves me without a woman to oversee my house. With your husband’s permission, I would request you fill that position.”

“I would be most honored for my wife to assist you, sire,” Hikita answered, and then moved back to his usual position at guard.

“And you, Sachi-sama?”

“I will do as you wish, my lord.” She bowed low. “May I have a few days to prepare my husband’s house?” She sat upright.

When attending Tori, she had not spent every night at home; but to keep Sanematsu’s house properly she would have to reside within the walls. Fortunately, except for seeing to her husband, there was little she need be present to attend to at her own house, as foster mothers looked after her three sons.

As if he read her mind, Sanematsu said, “I will have quarters for you and Takayasu-uji prepared here.”

“Very well. My sister is widowed. She can attend to my husband’s affairs.” She would need someone to oversee Hikita’s money matters while she tended her daimyo’s.

“Then it is settled. Haru-sama leaves in a week. She will advise you until then.” A gentle rap at the panel depicting a scene from the Tokaido road signaled tea had arrived. Sanematsu gave permission to enter, and the shoji moved.

A kneeling maid opened the screen and set a tray inside the room then moved on her knees across the threshold and pulled the screen closed. She picked up the tray, stood and walked with timid steps to the low table before Sachi. There, she knelt and deposited the tray on the table. Sachi whispered to her, and the girl disappeared, leaving her to serve.

“I understand you and Tori-sama worked more on her wordbook while I was away,” Sanematsu commented after he finished his first bowl of tea.

“Yes. Regrettably, the fire destroyed much of her work. It was lucky she brought some of her things to my house several days ago. She wanted to stay there and draw pictures of my sons.”

“I am glad her efforts were not in vain. Someday, there will be a real need for such a volume.” He stood. “She will be found.”

It was a statement of fact.

Sachi kept silent and watched him.

“She must be found!” His voice revealed his anger and disappointment. “Sachi-sama.” Emotion clogged his voice. He turned to her. “You know she will be found, do you not?”

The pain of her heart was equal to his. “I am sure an answer to her whereabouts will be found.”

“You are her closest friend. Tell me. Would she flee? Have I hurt her so much as to make her run away from me?” He had succeeded in conquering his emotions.

“No, my lord. It is not Tori-sama’s nature to run from her hurt and fear. She is more likely to run toward it, to confront that which gives her pain. She cares so much for you, she is jealous of any woman in your life. When you called her to the war camp, she fell further under your spell. She began to weave a future with you that, so sorry, you and I know can never be.”

Sanematsu muttered, “Do not be so sure.”

“She was hurt because you failed to send a message to her, telling her of your plans to take a wife. As I advised with Tsuta-sama, she might have accepted the news, my lord, if you had told her.”

“She is to be my wife! Is it not obvious to her or anyone here?” Sanematsu shouted. “I never thought there was a doubt about my feelings for her.” His voice was soft again, as a father would speak to a baby. “She is very special to me.”

“Yes, I know.” Sachi bent her head. Sanematsu’s admission of love for Tori, as close to a declaration as a samurai could come, made her uncomfortable. Men did not speak to women of such intimate matters, even if they had known one another since they were toddlers.

She did what was natural. She said, “I love her, also.”

Moments of silence later, the maid returned with a sake flask and bowl. Sanematsu settled on the mat, and Sachi poured him the warmed sake. He drank in silence.

***

“My lord.” Matsumoto entered the room, disturbing the solitude of Tori’s loved ones. “A worker has found two items of the yabanjin’s.”

“What are they?” Sanematsu asked coldly. The breech between him and Matsumoto begun at the battleground widened as the man called Tori “barbarian.” He would find a way to be rid of his karou no matter the consequences. Matsumoto’s retainers could neither outnumber nor best his men.

“I do not know. The man who found them refuses to allow anyone to see them but you.”

“Very well.” He drained the wine bowl he held. “Send him in.”

Sachi removed the table and sat behind him at his left. A timid man shuffled into the room and bowed.

“Shimoda.” He recognized him as the villager whose missing son Tori had sketched. “What have you brought me?”

“These, sire.” Shimoda handed him two metal objects, both blackened by the heat of the fire.

He inspected the metal. “Do you know what these are?”

“No, my lord.” The man shuffled backward.

“Sachi-sama.” He handed the items to her. He then stood and strode to the shoji, which he slid open.

She lifted the hinged instrument. “These are her scissors. I do not recognize the other. Perhaps a sewing needle? I have never seen her use one so long. I did not obtain one of such length for her, but she could have gotten one. She has begun dealing with the craftsmen herself.”

“And you, Matsumoto-uji? Do you recognize this?” Sanematsu took the mystery item from her and held it out.

Matsumoto showed neither comprehension nor fear. He did not take the object nor did he look at it for more than seconds.

“No, Lord Sanematsu.”

“Shimoda, you may go.” He turned his back to Matsumoto and Sachi. He inspected the metal object closer. This was not a tool used by the seamstresses--it had no eye for threading and was ultra-thin. It was as he suspected.

Ninja. She had been the target for murder. But who would use such dishonorable assassins? And was she dead? Why not leave her body to be found amid the ashes to show him his loss?

No, she had not died. How long he had to find her before she was dead, however, he did not know.

“Tell the men to stop their search and begin preparations for rebuilding at once. Assemble the high-ranking officers in the audience hall in one stick’s time.”

He would have to seek elsewhere for his seabird.

***

In the ornate audience hall, thirty warriors knelt before the raised dais where Sanematsu sat on his heels upon a zabuton. Anticipation filled the room.

“You will form squads and search every village and town for Tori-sama.” Rigid, his face was a mask to hide his emotions as he issued orders. His hands were planted on his thighs. “I want every possible hiding place searched and every person questioned. You will continue to look until a message is sent to you to return.”

The men responded as one by bowing low to their liege lord. They were bound by their oaths to do anything he ordered.

“You will only receive that message if she is found, dead or alive. Otherwise, you may never see your families again.” He dismissed them. “Go.”

***

Aderyn awoke hot, hungry, dirty and in severe pain. She batted her eyelids until her eyes adjusted to the glare of one very bright ray of sunlight beaming through a thatched roof in poor repair. She estimated it was near noon.

Of what day? Flashes of memory surfaced. A fire. Being carried out of the castle. It faded, and then she recalled the thud as she was dropped onto the floor of the hut. The pain in her shoulder and hip as she land on the hard-packed earth registered in her brain before she lapsed into oblivion.

And what month? Several times she had awakened, but did not manage to remain so. It was too painful. Now she wanted to remain aware and decide when it was and where she was.

The sun was bright for the season she recalled--there were so few sunny days mixed with the gloomy, rainy days of Kyushu’s winter. But spring had not been far off.

As her body followed her mind in waking, her legs throbbed. Other things became noticeable, too. Her wrists hurt from bindings holding them in place behind her back. Her shoulders were tight and the muscles stiff. She raised her head to see her feet.

Should not have done that!

Not only did her head begin to swim and pound, she saw her condition. The hitatare, now covered with soot and damp, was open to expose her breast, where a festering sore as large as a plum gaped open. An ache penetrated to her ribcage, with sharp pain stabbing from it. Under the charred remnants of her hakama, the skin below her knees was covered with blisters, intact and ruptured. As much as she tried, the pain in her legs could not be ignored. It radiated to her bones, and she was sure they hurt, too.

Every wound ran with yellowish-green fluid. Flies landed and crawled over her. There were maggots wriggling over the wounds.

She groaned and laid her head back, closing her eyes to shut out the horror. Her stomach churned, and she retched. Green bile spewed forth until her body was empty.

Damn!

She would not give in to the nausea. There was nothing to be gained by it. She opened her eyes. Struggling with her bonds, she hurt herself more. Although she managed to ease the strain on her shoulders a good bit, the twine remained tight. She pushed the pain to the back of her mind and focused on her anger.

She was furious! She had been jerked out of her home--for now the yashiki was her home--by a stranger and thrown like a sack of rice into a dingy hut. He left her to lie as she fell, after so many hours or days, in excrement and filth. Indignation filled her, body and soul.

“How dare you?” she screamed at the emptiness.

In response to her shouts, a short man with close-cropped hair entered. He carried a tray with two bowls and squatted next to her. His face was flat and broad, with a nose that seemed to spread from ear to ear.

The sight of the rice on the tray aggravated Aderyn’s hunger. When the man grinned at her, he revealed broken, yellowed teeth and appeared to take pleasure in her torment.

“You animal!” She was so outraged she had to insult him. She wanted to remain angry. Anger was the best defense. If she gave in to self-pity, it would kill her.

“Why? Why me? I did nothing to you!” she demanded of him.

The kidnapper sat.

“Lord Sanematsu will be here soon,” she threatened. “He will find me, and I hope he cuts your heart out!”

He picked up the rice bowl and hashi. Mutely, he poked a few grains of rice into her mouth. She spat the grains into his face with as much force as she could muster.

However, as much as she wanted to refuse his food, if she did not eat she would not survive, and survive was what she had to do.

When the bowl was emptied, he proceeded to pour cold tea into her mouth, not concerned about how much he gave her at one time. She choked and gasped as he forced too much down her throat. What she wanted most was a large cup of water, but he left without even cleaning the rice and tea from her face.

She coughed. “Go away! I do not like you either!”

The words and emotion gave her a feeling of some control. It was of little consolation.

She rubbed her cheek against her shoulder. She imagined it was Sanematsu’s hand against her skin. Cool tears stung her eyes and rolled down her hot cheeks. It was as though she was on fire.

“Oh, please, my lord Yoshi, find me soon,” she prayed in a whisper.

She slipped back into darkness.

TO BE CONTINUED…