Autumn Bridge (32 page)

“May a bold tide bear you forth,” Genji said, “and the tide of remembrance bring you home.” He looked straight into her eyes as he spoke.

The six friends gathered together before the sailing of the
Star of Bethlehem
. Genji, Heiko, Hidé, Hanako, Emily, and Stark bowed and emptied the small ceremonial cups of sake. Much had changed during the swift passage of a single year.

Hidé, the wastrel, gambler, and ne’er-do-well, had become the lord’s chief bodyguard. He had demonstrated his courage in fierce battles at the Mié Pass and outside the walls of Mushindo Monastery. No one had seen such potential hidden within the lazy mediocrity he had been. No one except Genji, who had unexpectedly raised Hidé from the ranks.

“
Lord
Hidé,” Genji said. “That has a good sound, doesn’t it?” Hidé’s elevation to chief bodyguard had brought with it a simultaneous elevation to landed status. Thus, he now had to be addressed with the noble sobriquet.

Hidé’s face grew as crimson as the hindquarters of a mountain monkey. “I cannot become accustomed to it, lord. I feel like an impostor.”

The others laughed good-naturedly, but Genji did not. He spoke in a quiet voice that only served to emphasize the seriousness of his words. “An impostor you most definitely are not. I know no one in this life more genuine than you, Lord Hidé. In the life to come, I expect to meet no one who exceeds you in that regard, except perhaps the Buddhas and the gods.”

The color instantly fled from Hidé’s face as his eyes watered and his shoulders bunched. Fearlessly stolid in battle, he was so prone to tears in emotional situations, his nickname among the men was “Captain Kabuki.”

Hanako quickly interceded to prevent the imminent flood. A housemaid then, she was now Hidé’s wife and the mother of their infant son, Iwao. She had lost an arm at Mushindo, but none of her grace or charm. If the little boy grew up to attain a fair portion of his father’s strength and his mother’s wisdom, he would be an exceptional man indeed. Who could have seen what a perfect match the two would be? Who if not Genji, who had arranged the marriage himself?

Heiko could not keep from seeing a certain bitter irony in this. He could bring together two people who had never even thought of each other, but with Heiko, the best he could do was send her away.

Hanako said, “Instead of giving him a title, Lord Genji, you should have given him a theater. My talented husband cries more easily than the most skilled heroines of the stage.” All Kabuki actors were male. Thus the heroines were female impersonators, and they were considered the highest exemplar of the art.

“Hidé as a geisha!” Genji said. “What do you say to that, Heiko?”

By now, everyone was laughing, including Hidé, his tears forgotten in the hilarity of the image called up by their lord.

“You’re a good friend, Hidé,” Matthew Stark said, “but I have to tell you, I’ve seen cows in the Panhandle that would dress up prettier than you.”

Stark was the Christian missionary who had come to kill, had killed, and was returning to his homeland in the same ship that was taking Heiko away from hers. Had vengeance cured the pain of his loss? Had it brought him peace? The anguish that showed in his eyes every time he heard a child laugh or saw a child smile said it had not. His loss, whatever it had been, had been so great that he heard the voices of the dead, and saw their faces, more clearly than those of the living. Even when he laughed, as he did now, Heiko could see a man more dead than alive despite the heart that beat so stubbornly in his breast. Such a man would not live long. Anyone could see it. Anyone but Genji, who had entrusted him with the task of protecting a fortune in gold he was sending to America with Stark’s commission as his trading agent there.

There was a perfect, sad balance in Heiko’s relationship with Stark, was there not? He had lost everything that truly mattered to him, and she was about to have the same experience.

“If there is a market for pretty cows,” Genji said, “perhaps you should look into it.”

“Maybe I should,” Stark said, “if I have the time.”

Genji said, “We will be partners for many years to come. We will have time for many things. Perhaps one day we will even speak each other’s language as easily as we speak our own.”

Stark’s lips curved up in a smile below those sorrowful eyes. “Truth be told, I don’t speak my own language all that well. Too many years in the saddle, too few among people who knew how to talk right.”

And what of Heiko herself? In her twentieth year, she was more beautiful than she had ever been, the most acclaimed geisha in the Shogun’s capital city of Edo, an already storied heroine whom people spoke of in the same way they did the fabled courtesans, princesses, and noble ladies of legend. Her reputation for courage, the visible proof of her extraordinary physical perfection, her exquisite subtlety of demeanor, the gracefulness of even her most mundane actions, and, perhaps most surprising, the absence of that artificial haughtiness affected by lesser beauties — all these combined to make her irresistible to almost everyone. Everyone, that is, except Genji, who was sending her away to America with Stark, supposedly to establish a base there for the domain, but in reality simply to send her away.

Why?

Heiko didn’t know. She knew he loved her. He showed it in the softness of his every glance, the gentle lingering of every touch, the caress in the tone of every word, the desperate yearning with which he surrendered himself to her in their every act of passion. Yet he was sending her away.

Something had changed at Mushindo. When Genji came back from that last meeting with Kawakami the Sticky Eye, something in his attitude toward her was different. It was not that he was colder or more distant. The change was not of a gross kind that could so easily be detected and labeled. No, it was almost imperceptible. Only because she was so skilled a practitioner of the arts of the nearly imperceptible was Heiko able to sense it. It was not a lessening of love, for if anything, their love had increased over the year just past. The current was stronger, but it was no longer sweeping them along together. Instead, it was pulling them apart.

Why? Genji knew. He knew so much that no one else did. But he said nothing. Every time she asked, he said there was nothing to say.

Liar.

Great Lord, hero, prophet, lover, liar.

And liar most of all.

We will be together again, in America, he said.

Liar.

The world was changing rapidly, and Heiko could imagine many things that had been unimaginable only a short time ago, but she could not see Genji in America. He was a Great Lord of the realm. More than that, he was a Great Lord poised on the verge of a historic triumph, the overthrow of his hereditary enemy, the Tokugawa Shogun, who grew weaker with every passing day. No one knew who would take power, but the possibilities were many, and Genji was among them. No Great Lord would choose this time to leave Japan for America.

She was going. Genji was not, not now or ever. She would leave and she would never see him again.

Why?

Heiko didn’t know. She had looked into the matter as closely as she could and found nothing informative. Some weeks after Mushindo, Genji had led a raid into Kawakami’s old domain of Hino. He was said to be seeking something — an amulet, a scroll, a person — the possibilities offered were various. There were further rumors that an isolated village of peasants had been slaughtered, but that seemed unlikely. Genji had probably attacked the remnants of Kawakami’s die-hard retainers who had gone into hiding, which was only prudent. Beyond that, nothing unusual had occurred. So, at the end, she knew no more than she had at the beginning. Kawakami had said something, something destructive, and for some reason Genji had believed him.

“After a lifetime governed by obligations,” Genji said, “you will find the freedom of America exhilarating, I am sure.”

Heiko bowed. “I am relieved that one of us has that confidence, my lord.” She said it in a cheerful manner, with a smile she did not feel. If Genji saw through it, he gave no sign. He smiled, too. They played the game for the last time.

When the party ended, she went to her quarters to retrieve her travel kit.

Hanako arrived soon after. “Lady Heiko, you sent for me?”

“Thank you, Hanako. Please enter.” She closed the door after her. Heiko had thought about this for a long time. She had no right to tell Hanako anything, since the secret was Genji’s, not hers. But since she was leaving, and would likely never return, someone had to know so that proper precautions could be taken.

“Last spring,” Heiko said, “you will recall that Lord Genji fell unconscious in the rose garden at Cloud of Sparrows Castle.”

“Yes, I remember it well. He had not fully recovered from his wounds, and overexerted himself.”

“Injury was not the cause. He had a vision.”

“Ah,” Hanako said. She knew this, of course. Everyone did. Servants were better at discovering information than any system of spies the Shogun had ever devised. Having been one herself until very recently, she was still privileged to be the recipient of the most interesting gossip. What the vision was, none among the servants knew, of course.

“Lord Genji shared his vision with me,” Heiko said. “Emily will bear his child.”

Hanako was shocked. “He predicted it?”

“Not in so many words. The portents were obvious.”

“Perhaps not so obvious,” Hanako said. “If he did not actually make a prediction, you must have misunderstood what he said. Emily is an outsider.”

“Emily is a woman,” Heiko said, “like any other. She is as capable of bearing children as you or I.”

“A Great Lord cannot have a child with an outsider. His retainers would not accept it. If he had any retainers left.”

“So it would seem. But that is what the vision portends. Would you ignore it?”

Hanako calmed herself. She could not let herself be distracted by her own thoughts. Heiko must be wrong about the vision. But what if she were right?

“No,” Hanako said, “the vision cannot be ignored.”

“Good. Then I can trust you to watch over Emily?”

“It would be helpful if I can enlist the aid of others.”

“And what others do you know who can accept this knowledge with equanimity?”

There was her husband, Hidé, an entirely reliable man. One prone to confusion when faced with unusual circumstances, however. When confused, he was far from his best. It may do more harm than good to tell him something so shocking.

Taro, her husband’s closest friend, had similar strengths and weaknesses. And if she did not tell her husband, how could she confide in another man?

All the women who were close to her were servants at the palace in Edo and the castle in Akaoka Domain. The best of them could be counted on to watch over Emily with great care. But servants gossiped ceaselessly. Once one knew, all would know, and if all knew, it was only a matter of time before others did, including enemies of Lord Genji.

There was no one else to help her.

Hanako bowed. “I will do my best.”

“Thank you. Now I can leave with a peaceful heart.”

“We all look forward to your speedy return.”

“I will not return,” Heiko said.

“Of course you will, Lady Heiko. Our lord will not endure your absence for long. His feelings for you are obvious.”

Heiko’s eyes teared. Her formal seated posture dissolved and she dropped a hand to the mat on one side as she leaned to support herself.

“I have done something to displease him,” Heiko said, “and I don’t know what it is. Do you know what it might be?”

“No, my lady,” Hanako said. “You must be mistaken.”

“You have heard nothing from the servants?”

“About you, only praise. In fact, many are speculating about when Lord Genji will formally take you into his household. Really, Lady Heiko, you are sure to return. Most think in the spring, because that is a season of beginnings. I myself believe it will be in the autumn, because when the days grow cold, passion burns with the greatest heat.”

Heiko laughed, as Hanako hoped she would.

“Do the servants really talk of it?”

“Yes, my lady. The only uncertainty is timing. They are guessing about everything. The year you will give birth, for example. Everyone favors the year immediately after your return. That would be two years from now, since no one believes Lord Genji can endure more than a year without you. There is also much speculation about the heir’s name.”

“Oh, my, the heir? Has talk gone that far?” A happy lilt had returned to Heiko’s voice.

“Oh, yes. One of the maids — Mitsuko, do you know her? — even consulted a fortune-teller in Yokohama.”

The two friends covered their mouths and laughed. The silliness of consulting a street-corner fraud about the destiny of a lord who could himself see the future was really too much.

“And what did the visionary say?” Heiko asked.

“She didn’t actually say anything at all,” Hanako said, trying hard to keep laughter from stopping her words. “She was an outsider who couldn’t speak Japanese. She used strange cards with pictures on them. Mitsuko said she pointed to two of them and nodded her head, yes. A handsome prince and a beautiful princess, which Mitsuko took for Lord Genji and yourself. Then she closed her eyes, went into a trance—”

“A trance!” Heiko was laughing so hard, she could no longer sit up straight. Tears of merriment rolled down her cheeks.

“—opened a book of kanji, and pointed first to the character
ko
, for ‘child,’ then
makoto
, for ‘truth.’ ”

When the friends finally stopped laughing, they called a maid, who brought tea. The sparkle in the maid’s eyes told them she had overheard the recent part of their conversation and had shared in their laughter.

“If even outsider card readers agree,” Hanako said, “then your separation is surely a temporary thing. Lord Genji will recall you as soon as your task is accomplished. You are leaving, not because he wishes to be rid of you, but because he trusts you as he trusts few others.”

“It is nice to believe so, isn’t it?” Heiko said, sipping her tea.