Cloud of Sparrows (13 page)

“Bows but no firearms,” Genji said, “and no armor. A casual hunting expedition. No crests on your clothing.”

“Yes, lord. We understand and obey.” Hidé and Shimoda hurried from the room.

Saiki shuffled forward on his knees and bowed low. “Lord, please reconsider. An attempt was made on your life not an hour ago. An outsider guest of yours has been seriously wounded. All Edo knows this by now. Who would choose such a moment to go hunting? It is most implausible. No one will believe it.”

“I disagree. My reputation as a frivolous dilettante practically demands such an act.”

Saiki said, “Lord, at least permit me to accompany you.”

“I cannot. Your very presence will make us appear excessively serious. That is the opposite of what we want.”

One of the samurai began to laugh at this, but stifled himself when Saiki turned and glared.

“Besides,” Genji said, stifling laughter of his own, “you are needed here to protect our guests against any further attack.” He looked at Cromwell. Behind his closed lids, his eyes danced a dreamer’s dance.

“Where are the other two?”

“In the inner garden, lord,” one of the guards said.

“Paper,” Genji said. When it was brought, he penned a brief note in English. “Dear Miss Gibson and Mr. Stark, I regret that I must leave for a short time. I will send a friend to stay with you. Her English is even worse than mine, I am sorry to say, but she will see to it that your needs are met.” He signed it in the outsider fashion, with his given name before his family’s. “Sincerely, Genji Okumichi.”

After meeting with the Shogun’s spymaster, Heiko returned to her cottage in the Ginza woods on the eastern outskirts of Edo near the New Bridge to the Tokaido Highway.

“Your bath is ready,” Sachiko said in greeting.

“Thank you.” Heiko undressed quickly, threw on a simple cloth robe, and walked out to the bathhouse. She always bathed after meeting with Kawakami, no matter what the time of day. Today she felt more in need of cleansing than usual.

The report she had given forced her to recall images she would have preferred to forget. She had met Genji’s uncle Shigeru on several occasions. There had never been a hint of anything out of the ordinary. What madness drove him to slaughter his entire family, including his only heir, a fine boy six years of age? Was the malady an individual affliction, or did it signify a fatal taint in the entire bloodline? Would her beloved Genji, too, go mad one day?

“Can you verify everything you have told me?” Kawakami had asked.

“No, lord.”

“Then this is all conjecture.”

“The deaths are not conjecture, lord, only the manner of their occurrence. Shigeru’s father-in-law, Yoritada, was reportedly killed in an avalanche near Mount Tosa along with his entire household, including his visiting daughter, Umeko, and her three children. While they were gone, a fire said to be accidental burned down their residence. Unlikely in the first instance, and extremely convenient in the second, if bloodshed did take place.”

“Coincidences do occur from time to time,” Kawakami said.

“Yes, lord.”

“Is that all?”

“No, lord. There is more. The arrival of an outsider ship this morning excited Lord Genji’s interest. The
Star of Bethlehem
. He didn’t say what cargo it carries.” Heiko was not concerned about giving anything away. By now, Kawakami’s other spies would have told him all this and more. “He left for the harbor in the hour of the dragon.”

“Human cargo,” Kawakami said. “More Christians of the True Word sect. This may signal Lord Genji’s involvement in a Christian plot of some kind.”

Heiko giggled. “It’s so ludicrous, the idea of someone like him involved in any plot at all. He’s only interested in women, wine, and music. If there was a plot, then surely it would have been the late Lord Kiyori’s. And with his demise, the plot must also be dead.”

“He has an interest in hunting, too, does he not? That is part of our martial tradition.”

Again Heiko giggled. “Part of your martial tradition, perhaps, Lord Kawakami, for you are a true samurai. When Lord Genji goes hunting, he invariably returns empty-handed.”

“Don’t be swayed so easily by appearances,” Kawakami cautioned. “That could be a performance for our benefit.”

She bowed, contrite in appearance. “Yes, lord.” She doubted that he believed what he said. More likely, he thought the Okumichi clan, like that of the Shogun’s, was in the terminal stage of its decline. The grandfather, Kiyori, was the last of them who bore any resemblance to the Great Lords of yore. The son, Yorimasa, had been a degenerate opium addict who died young. The grandson, Genji, appeared to be much as Heiko had described. And Shigeru, the only truly dangerous Okumichi left alive, was insane. Perhaps this was enough to preserve Genji’s life. If he was not a threat to anyone, there would be no reason to order his death.

She came out of her reverie a few short steps from the bathhouse. Goose bumps flashed across her skin under the thin cotton robe, and not from the chill of the day. Steam rose from the hot water within the tall rectangular tub. A lone bird called from the woods. Nothing was out of the ordinary. So what had brought her to full attention? A name came to her, by chance or instinct.

“Come out, Kuma,” she said, “and I won’t kill you. Not today, anyway.”

A roar of big-bellied laughter came from the bathhouse. Kuma stepped out and bowed.

“Don’t look so angry, Hei-chan,” Kuma said, using the friendly diminutive “chan.” “I was just testing your alertness.”

“And would you have kept testing while I disrobed?”

“Please,” Kuma said, affecting an aggrieved expression. “I am a ninja, not a degenerate peeper.” Then a huge grin widened his broad face. “I would have continued to observe from my hiding place, but only for testing purposes.”

Heiko laughed as she passed Kuma and entered the bathhouse. “Turn around, please.” When Kuma complied, she removed her robe and began to bathe. She stood beside the tub, drew water with a small bucket, and poured it over herself. The extreme heat of the water made her shudder with pleasure.

“Two weeks ago, Kawakami told me to shoot Genji at the first opportunity,” Kuma said, scrupulously keeping his back to the bathing woman. “It almost came this morning.” He could tell from the sounds when the water splashed on Heiko’s body, and when it splashed on the ground. He thought he could also tell which parts of the body. Now, from the sudden cessation of splashing, he knew his words had unsettled her.

“That’s a surprise,” Heiko said. When she spoke, her voice was as careless as ever, and she resumed bathing after only the slightest pause. “He has given me the impression that the assignment will be mine to carry out.”

“He’s too devious to ever tell anyone more than a small part of the truth,” Kuma said. “Perhaps he is even too devious to really know what he himself is doing. When I met with him today, he didn’t order me to try again. I think he still hasn’t decided whether he wants Genji dead or not.”

“It makes things more confusing than they have to be,” Heiko said.

Kuma could hear the relief in her voice. That told him what he had long suspected. Heiko was playing her role as Lord Genji’s lover a little too well.

“I hope you haven’t begun fooling yourself as well as your target.”

“What do you mean?”

“You care for him,” Kuma said.

“Of course I do,” Heiko said. “If I didn’t, he would know. There is no way to pretend with one so sensitive, especially in such intimate circumstances.”

“But you are ready to kill him, if necessary?”

“Only a fool acts out of love,” Heiko said. “You did not raise a fool.”

“I hope not,” Kuma said, listening to softer sounds coming from the bathhouse. Heiko was soaping herself. “Anyway, I think Kawakami has another, completely different plan underway, and that one has taken precedence over the one that calls for Genji’s immediate demise.”

“Oh? What plan?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kuma said. “It must involve you. Don’t you know?”

“No.” Heiko rinsed the soap off. Clean, she stepped into the deep wooden tub. The water was very hot. She lowered herself slowly until she sat on the bottom with the water up to her neck. “You can turn around now.”

Kuma did. Heiko’s face scrubbed free of makeup, her long hair wet and unbound, she looked like the little girl he once knew. How unpredictable fate was, how inclined toward tragedy.

Heiko said, “Kawakami’s change of heart might have something to do with Genji’s grandfather’s death and his uncle’s disappearance.”

“Perhaps,” Kuma said. “If those reports are true, then the Okumichi clan is on the brink of disaster. A perfect situation for the cruel kinds of mischief our present employer favors. And speaking of our employer, don’t take him lightly. He doesn’t trust you.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s his purpose in life. Distrust.”

“He told me to watch you. I think that means he distrusts you more than usual. Be careful, Hei-chan.”

“And is someone watching you to make sure you are watching me?”

Kuma laughed. “It’s you he distrusts, not me.”

“Are you so sure? He’s not in the habit of announcing his suspicions to those he suspects.” Heiko poured water over her head. “You did check to make sure you weren’t followed?”

Kuma jumped to his feet. “Damn. You’re right. I should be more careful. I’d better backtrack. Take care of yourself, Hei-chan.”

“You, too, Uncle Kuma.”

He was in a nostalgic mood all the way back to Edo. How swiftly time passed. The little girl put into his charge fifteen years ago was now a woman of almost unbearable beauty. Uncle Kuma, she called him. She should know the truth. She was old enough now. That would violate his orders, but orders be damned. Kuma smiled to himself. Only a fool acts out of love, she said. Then call me a fool, Kuma thought. During fifteen years of training, he had grown to love Heiko like the daughter he never had. In any conflict between his duty and his love, he had no doubt which would triumph.

Yes, she should know the truth. The next time they were together, he would tell her. It would be difficult for her, very difficult. In a better world, she would never have to know. In the best of worlds, it would not matter at all. But this world was not better, and it was certainly not the best of the countless many. That was Sukhavati, the Pure Land of Amida Buddha. One day, they would all dwell there.

But not today.

Heiko soaked for several minutes after Kuma left. How fragile life was, she thought, how unpredictable. We flatter ourselves, thinking we are actors on a stage, geniuses who write our own plays, extemporize our words, and shift major plot lines and the most subtle of nuances at our every whim. Perhaps wooden Bunraku puppets feel the same way. They do not notice the puppeteers who guide their every move.

Steam rose from the water that immersed her. But she felt a painful coldness in the marrow of her bones. Genji could have died today, and she would not even have known until it was too late.

After her bath, she left her hair down in a long ponytail. She dressed in farmer’s clothing, being careful to cover every inch of skin so that her fairness would not be compromised even by the weak winter sunlight. Then she went out into her garden and tilled the soil around the winter melons. When she worked in her garden, she thought of nothing but what she was doing. There were no thoughts of slaughter, or treachery, or love.

The sun was well past midpoint in the sky when she saw four riders approaching from the south.

Genji looked down from his horse. “Honorable farm woman, I was told a famous Edo beauty lives hereabouts. Can you direct me to her abode?”

“Edo is far away,” Heiko said, “beauty so fleeting, any abode all too impermanent. May I not instead interest you in some hot soup to ward off the present chill?” She gestured at the garden. “I have made it with these very winter melons.” She would never have dressed in such unglamorous fashion had she thought there was the slightest possibility of his coming her way. Outsiders had his complete attention this morning. Genji had gone to the harbor especially to meet them. It was entirely reasonable to expect him to be occupied in the city for the rest of the day. Yet here he was in the afternoon, to all appearances heading into the hills on a hunting expedition, with nary an outsider in sight. Though her embarrassment was great, so was her joy. Genji lived, so did she, and here they were together. After what Kuma had told her this morning, she felt the preciousness of these unexpected moments.

“Your skill with the earth is most impressive,” Genji said. “Surely in a world with greater balance and harmony, a woman possessed of such farming arts would be treasured more than one adept merely in the arts of the bedchamber.”

“You are too kind, good sir.” Heiko bowed deeply to conceal the color that came to her cheeks. “But let me detain you no longer. Surely you are eager to keep your assignation with your famous lady.”

“Winter melon soup or storied beauty,” Genji said, “a difficult choice indeed.” Her discomfort amused him. She was always so sure of herself. Now here she was out of her finery, hoe in hand, tilling soil like a common peasant. Was this the first time he had ever caught her off guard? He thought it was. He was determined to enjoy it for as long as he could.