Cloud of Sparrows (23 page)

“Or perhaps all three,” Shimoda said. “There might have been more than one kind of flag.”

“Give a hand,” Stark said.

Hidé and Shimoda understood what he wanted without understanding his words. They both bowed to Saiki and went to the outsider’s assistance.

“Slowly,” Stark said. He and the two samurai moved the heavy beam that lay across Emily’s back. Most of its weight rested on a partially collapsed wall. If it had hit the wall before it hit Emily, she shouldn’t have been hurt too badly. He couldn’t tell right now because she was still lying facedown and unconscious. She hadn’t moved since he’d found her. He knelt and ran his hand slowly down her back, feeling for breaks. When he neared the base of her spine, her eyes snapped open with violent suddenness. She took in a short, sharp breath, spun around, and kicked Stark in the stomach, knocking him on his back. She was on her feet in a flash, eyes wild and confused, looking for a place to run.

“Emily, we’re safe.” Heiko slipped out of Genji’s embrace. She moved slowly toward the frightened woman. “Lord Genji and his samurai are here. No one can harm us.”

“Heiko.” Emily’s eyes cleared. The tension that had clenched her body dissolved and she melted into Heiko’s arms, sobbing. “I thought . . .” She didn’t finish what she was saying, but Heiko understood. It was the past clawing at her. So it was with so many women. The past, always the past. That which was and could not be undone.

“May all the Buddhas and all the gods save us,” Saiki muttered. He turned away from yet another outrageous, inappropriately public display of emotion. The outsider woman’s behavior was of no consequence. She was a barbarian like any other outsider. But Heiko should know better. The perfected expression of appropriate behavior was the essence of a geisha’s being. If it had not been clear to Saiki before, it was utterly clear now: The outsiders were a deadly pollution that must be completely expunged, and the sooner the better. Their very presence caused the ancient ways to deteriorate with shocking rapidity. Before his eyes was the proof. His own lord, the heir of one of the most venerable clans in the realm, clutching at a woman like a drunken lout in the Yoshiwara pleasure district. The most renowned geisha of Edo embracing an outsider woman as if the two were unnatural lovers.

All the Buddhas and all the gods may not be enough to save us, Saiki thought. We are supposed to be a nation of warriors. Yet we have permitted ourselves to grow so weak, the outsiders can smash the palaces of the Great Lords in the Shogun’s capital and we can do nothing to defend ourselves. His hand went to his sword in frustrated rage. But he didn’t draw it. There was no one to draw it against.

Smiling, Stark said, “Never knew you packed such a wallop, Emily.”

“I’m so sorry, Matthew. I was confused.”

“No harm done.” He bent down and picked up the dagger Kuma had dropped.

Saiki instantly drew his sword.

“Unnecessary,” Genji said to him. Then to Stark he said, “Who was he going to kill? Heiko or Emily?”

Stark and Genji looked down at Kuma’s body. Stark shook his head.

“Do you know him?”

“No,” Genji said. He turned to Heiko. “Do you?”

When she’d heard the two shots and nothing more, she’d assumed Kuma had gotten away. All her life, he always had. At the sight of his body, she lost her balance. She closed her eyes and leaned against Genji, feigning a lesser weakness to cover the greater one that took away the strength in her legs. Kuma was dead!

“No, my lord,” Heiko said.

Saiki said, “Surely, as weak as they are, not even the Shogun’s advisors will let this insult pass unpunished.”

Genji looked around at the ruins of Quiet Crane.

“There is no insult here,” he said. “We have been asleep for three centuries, dreaming an ancient warrior dream. Now we are awake. That is all.”

Yet others rest their hopes on the favor of the gods.

Then there are those who place their faith in spies, assassins, seductions, betrayals, corruption, greed, fear.

These are all delusory paths for one simple reason. One thought of victory and you lose the real while clutching the false.

What is the real? When the blades of your enemies are slashing ferociously at you, and your life hangs in the balance, you will know.

If you do not, you have lived your life in vain.

“We three were entrusted by our late Lord Kiyori to safeguard his grandson,” Kudo said. “This sometimes means we must be adamant, even against the express views of the young lord. His life is more important than whether we win or lose his favor.”

“I am well aware of that,” Sohaku said, “but I can hardly order actions in direct contradiction to his commands.”

“A weak argument,” Saiki said. “You could have arranged for the outsider to come to Edo on his own, perhaps as a result of a ‘misunderstanding.’ Our lord would have accepted that.”

“Thank you for your instruction,” Sohaku said. Heat rising, he bowed with excessive submissiveness. “Please guide me further. What ‘misunderstanding’ might I have used to keep him from returning Lord Shigeru to duty?”

“Thank you for raising another important issue,” Saiki said, returning Sohaku’s exaggerated bow with one of his own. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us in detail how that happened. My poor understanding fails to grasp how such a dangerous and preposterous turn of events could possibly have occurred.”

“May I suggest we converse in lower tones,” Kudo said. “Voices tend to carry from our present location.” In fact, both Saiki and Sohaku were speaking in a subdued manner. The rapidly escalating level of politeness, however, was a clear danger signal. It was the customary prelude to many a sudden duel. Kudo’s warning was his way of defusing the situation.

The three men were in the wreckage of one of the rooms that had faced the central garden. Remarkably, the garden itself had survived the bombardment intact. Not even the pattern raked into the sand had been touched. The same could not be said of the room. The roof, walls, and most of the floor were gone. Saiki, Sohaku, and Kudo sat in a remnant corner, their attendants on guard where the doorway had been. The change in circumstances was not reflected in anyone’s posture, demeanor, or formality.

“There is much confusion, fear, and speculation,” Kudo said. “No one knows who perpetrated the attack, or why. We are leaders. Everyone will look to us for answers. Should we not be seeking those answers instead of allocating blame?”

“Answers are unimportant,” Saiki said. “What matters is our behavior. If we are confident, those who follow us will be confident as well, whether they—or we, for that matter—know anything or not.”

Sohaku leaned forward. “We shouldn’t quibble over meaningless details about the outsider or Shigeru. The real question is much more serious.”

“I agree,” Kudo said. “We should reach a decision on the critical matter.”

“I do not believe an obvious conclusion has yet presented itself,” Saiki said.

Sohaku and Kudo looked at each other in surprise.

“Am I missing something?” Sohaku said. “When last we met, you were the strongest among us in contemplating the appointment of a regent to wield actual power in the domain. If my recollection is correct, you said the young lord was a dilettante who would lead our clan to ruin.”

“Perhaps I should have characterized him as somewhat too refined, rather than as a dilettante.”

“What of his infatuation with the Christian outsiders?” Kudo said. “Surely you have not changed your mind about that?”

“No, I continue to see danger there,” Saiki said. He recalled the display of unconcealed emotions he had just lately witnessed. “If anything, the danger is greater than ever. Actions against them may have to be initiated in the future, covertly and without the permission of the young lord, if necessary.”

Kudo nodded, reassured. “Taken together with everything else, his behavior toward his uncle is decisive.”

“I wonder if it is,” Saiki said. “It appears questionable on the surface, I agree. However, put in the context of prophetic visions, it could be an extremely wise move.”

“Prophetic visions?” Sohaku was outraged. “Since when do you believe in that fairy tale? I never saw any evidence Lord Kiyori could foretell the future, and I served him for twenty years. As for Lord Genji, the only interest he has in the future is which geisha he will sleep with tonight and which sake he will acquire for his next moon-viewing party.”

“Shigeru is a complete madman,” Kudo said. “I was among those who took him into custody. Had you been there, you would not be so complacent. He sat laughing, drenched in the blood of his own clansmen, the slaughtered bodies of his wife, his daughters, and his heir lying before him. I will never forget it. I wish I could.”

“I hear and understand,” Saiki said.

Sohaku and Kudo looked at each other again, this time with resignation. Saiki had spoken his favorite catchphrase, the one that indicated that his mind was made up and would not be changed.

Saiki continued. “However, as cogent as your observations undoubtedly are, my view of the young lord has undergone a certain transformation. While I remain uncertain about his visionary ability, I am now open to the possibility of its existence.” He pointed off to the eastern end of the garden, where the innermost part of the palace had been.

Sohaku looked. “I see nothing but ruins. Undeniable evidence of the need for drastic change.”

“I, too, see ruins,” Saiki said, “but I see something you fail to see.”

“Which is?”

“Those are the remains of Lord Genji’s quarters.”

“Yes, I know. So?”

“He would have been there when the bombardment took place had he not traveled to Mushindo Monastery.” Saiki was gratified to see the dawning of understanding in his comrades’ faces.

“He couldn’t have known,” Kudo said. But his voice was shaky.

“Yet it appears he did,” Saiki said.

“Nothing is proven,” Sohaku said.

“Nor disproved,” Saiki said.

“If he knew, why didn’t he warn us?” Sohaku said.

“I don’t pretend to understand the workings of mystical foresight,” Saiki said. “Clearly, we must defer a decision on this matter to a later date. In the meantime, prepare for travel. This location is no longer safe.”

“You mean to recommend evacuation to Cloud of Sparrows,” Sohaku said.

“I do.”

“Logistically alone, a very difficult undertaking,” Sohaku said. “Most of the domains between Edo and Akaoka are hostile to us. The Inland Sea is not itself a significant barrier. Its waters, however, are patrolled by the Shogun’s naval forces. Crossing to our home island under such conditions will be hazardous.”

“I prefer hazardous to fatal,” Saiki said. “We cannot remain where we are.”

“There is another consideration,” Kudo said. “The Shogun has not given permission for anyone to withdraw from Edo.”

“My loyalty is to Okumichi no kami Genji, Great Lord of Akaoka,” Saiki said, “not the usurper who boasts the Shogun’s title and occupies the Shogun’s palace.” He bowed and rose to his feet. “If my lord orders me to obey that person, I will. If he orders me to kill that person instead, then only my own death will prevent me from carrying out the command. I know who I am. I trust you do, too.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned away and proceeded toward the wreckage of his lord’s quarters.

“He’s a stubborn old man,” Kudo said.

Sohaku snorted. “He was a stubborn young man. Why would the years diminish his salient attribute?”

“It’s very clear he’ll never agree to a regency now. He’s convinced himself Genji can see the future.”

No more words were spoken. After a lengthy silence, Sohaku and Kudo looked at each other, eye to eye, bowed, and rose as one.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” Stark said. “I can’t find the slightest trace of him.”

“Perhaps the angels transported him as he thought they would,” Emily said, then smiled a sad smile to show she didn’t believe it.

“What will you do now?” Stark asked.

“What I must. I will gather as much of our things as I can find, pack them, and await the next ship returning to America.” The very thought convulsed the muscles of her chest and brought fresh tears to her eyes. She sat down hard on the ground beside the debris of her former room and wept shamelessly. She had found the haven she had not dared to believe existed, a paradise where she escaped her beauty so completely she was considered positively repulsive. She had found it, and with a single gunshot, she had lost it. It was too much for her. She was strong, but she was not that strong.

Stark knelt down and took her into his arms, resting her head against his chest. Misunderstanding the cause of her sorrow, he said, “You will feel better when you’re home,” which only served to increase her agony. Helplessly, he held her as she clutched at him and sobbed. “You’re young, Emily. Your life has just begun. Heaven will smile on you. You will find love anew. I know you will.”

Emily wanted to tell him it wasn’t love she wanted to find, it was peace. The words couldn’t find their way out through her devastating sorrow.

As soon as the cannons stopped firing, Shigeru went to the perimeter of the palace grounds, where the outer walls had been, and stood guard. There was no danger within. But if anyone intended to take advantage of the confusion to make an attempt on Genji’s life, they would do so now, in the moments immediately following the attack. Shigeru was certain Sohaku was not yet ready to take action. He would have to sound out Saiki and Kudo first. So the only present concern was external enemies. He hoped they would come. It would be good practice. He would worry about Sohaku later, and about Saiki and Kudo, too, if it became necessary. It was unfortunate that, with danger all around, there was also the possibility that the three senior commanders of the clan must be killed. Even if Saiki and Kudo remained loyal, the loss of Sohaku would be a severe blow. He was the best strategist of the lot, and the best fighter after Shigeru himself.

The sound of approaching horses focused Shigeru’s attention. Two horses. Followed by between forty and fifty men on foot. The steady, disciplined pace of the runners’ footsteps told him they had to be samurai. Shigeru felt his shoulders relax and his breathing slow. He was ready.

Moments later, Sticky Eye Kawakami, chief of the Shogun’s secret police, entered the street fronting the palace astride a black horse. Beside him, also mounted, was his assistant, Mukai, on an appropriately inferior gray mare. Behind them was a brigade of forty running samurai. Kawakami reined his horse to a halt, a surprised look on his face as he recognized Shigeru.

“Lord Shigeru, I was unaware of your presence in Edo.”

“I have only just arrived, Lord Kawakami, and have not yet had the opportunity to inform you of my whereabouts.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I was also unaware of your previous location.”

“Oh? A terrible lapse on the part of my subordinates.” Shigeru bowed without taking his eyes off Kawakami. “I will be sure to chastise the guilty parties.”

“I am sure you will,” Kawakami said. “In the meantime, please permit me to enter the grounds and make an inspection.”

“We were not informed that an inspection was to take place. Therefore, I must regretfully decline your offer.”

“I am not making an offer.” Kawakami spurred his horse forward and his men followed closely. “By the command of the Shogun, I am to inspect every damaged palace and interview every surviving lord. Please stand aside, Lord Shigeru.”

Shigeru’s swords came out of their scabbards as smoothly and lightly as the unfolding of a crane’s wings. One moment, he stood empty-handed. The next, the longer katana was in his right hand and the shorter wakizashi was in his left. He held the weapons to either side of his body, in a stance that presented neither defensive posture nor offensive preparation. Indeed, to the untutored eye, it would seem that Shigeru was preparing to surrender, so unready for combat did he appear to be.

Kawakami, of course, knew that this was not the case. Like every good samurai, he had studied the
Go-rin-no-sho
, Miyamoto Musashi’s classic treatise on swordsmanship. Shigeru’s stance was the ultimate one in the moment before combat—
Ku
, emptiness. Far from being unready, he was open to anything, anticipating nothing, accepting everything. Only one man in ancient times had dared to use the stance, and that was Musashi himself. Since then, there had been only one other. Shigeru.

Kawakami gave the signal and forty blades left their scabbards. His men quickly moved into position to attack the lone swordsman from three directions. They did not go behind him. That would require them to cross the line between the Edo street and the grounds of the Okumichi palace. Kawakami had not yet ordered them to do so.

Kawakami did not draw his own sword. He kept his horse at what he judged to be a safe distance from the likely confrontation. “Are you so ungrounded in reality that you dare to defy the direct commands of the Shogun?”

“As you know, I do not have the privilege of serving the Shogun,” Shigeru said. “Unless my own lord conveys those commands to me, they do not exist.” He could tell from the way Kawakami held his saddle that he was not an expert horseman. That meant that he could reach him before the man could turn the horse and escape. He estimated the distance between them at five heartbeats. It would be necessary to cut down a dozen intervening men first, but that would be no problem. All of his potential opponents were tense with fear. They were already as good as dead.