Death at the Crossroads (12 page)

In the normal course of things, Kuemon would have remained a porter his entire life. But things were hardly normal in Japan. First, after three hundred years of constant warfare, one particularly powerful warlord named Oda Nobunaga almost succeeded in uniting Japan. Oda was assassinated, and one of Oda’s generals, a man called Hideyoshi, the Taiko, seized power and, through diplomacy and war, did unite Japan. The astounding part was that Hideyoshi was a peasant. This was a lesson not lost on Kuemon. Where numerous hereditary warlords failed, a talented peasant was successful.

Kuemon considered himself talented. He was a good fighter and a leader of men. He abandoned his life as a porter and took up the life of a brigand. He was not sorry for his choice. Now he had a nice band of men, and he made a living a thousand times richer than any palanquin porter could make.

Hideyoshi was dead and, slowly but surely, Tokugawa Ieyasu was tightening his control on the government while Hideyoshi’s son and widow remained cowering behind the thick walls of Osaka Castle. Kuemon decided Ieyasu would kill Hideyoshi’s son when he was ready. It’s what Kuemon would do.

Despite understanding what Ieyasu would do, Kuemon did not identify with the new head of Japan. Ieyasu was an aristocrat, not a peasant. Although he affected the spartan ways of the warrior, Kuemon had heard that Ieyasu claimed a newfound family link with the Fujiwaras. This convinced Kuemon that the days of peasants rising
to generals were numbered and that birth would become paramount under a Tokugawa regime. The Fujiwaras were one of the families that could claim the ancient title of Shogun, and that meant Ieyasu had a preoccupation with the trappings of birth and an interest in claiming the ancient title for himself. Because of his low birth, Hideyoshi could never claim this title, and he had had to accept the less important title of Taiko.

Kuemon’s men all called him “boss,” and that was title enough for him. The title of boss was more than he could ever hope for as a palanquin porter.

“Someone approaching!”

The voice of Hachiro pierced the peace of the camp, and every head went up to hear the identification of the interloper. Hachiro was not good for much, as his recent encounter with the samurai who killed two of Kuemon’s men showed, but he was useful for odd jobs like standing sentry, guiding people, running messages, or tending the camp. That damn samurai had eluded Kuemon’s trap, but Kuemon was a patient man, and he would have a chance to kill him again.

“It’s Aoi!”

Kuemon smiled. The tart from the village. Initially, Kuemon had insisted that she sleep with him to avoid paying her for her services, but now Kuemon was convinced that she slept with him because she liked it. He puffed out his chest like a courting pigeon and awaited her arrival in camp.

T
he next morning a tired but richer Aoi left the bandit camp as Kuemon gathered his men together. Since two men had been killed by a traveling samurai, the men no longer wanted to stake out roads in small bands. Now they insisted on sticking together. Kuemon found this arrangement inefficient and cowardly, but he wisely acquiesced. He thought that in a few weeks the fear generated by their slain comrades would disperse, or perhaps they would kill that samurai, and things would return to normal.

Hachiro was left on guard as the rest of the men departed. Hachiro was the eighth child of his parents. In fact, his name, Hachiro, meant “number eight.” He had attached himself to the bandits because it represented one of the few ways he could better his lot in life, but he was slowly learning that he didn’t have the ruthless mettle it took to become a successful brigand.

In his tale of how the samurai easily killed the two bandits, Hachiro had neglected to mention his failure of nerve in spearing the samurai in the back. In this band, a failure of nerve would mean expulsion or death, and he wasn’t willing to face either. So he stood with a spear at his guard post trying to look fierce as Boss Kuemon and the ten men in his band went off to stake out a road.

As the bandits disappeared, stillness fell on the narrow canyon that hid their camp. Hachiro sat on a patch of grass and put the spear down next to him. The sun was warm and caressing, and the pine scent of the trees that covered the slopes of the canyon formed a delicious perfume. Hachiro was tired. He had spent the last of his meager share of the bandit’s plunder on the woman from the village, and he felt both sleepy and sated because of this.

Hachiro was one of the last to use her, and he had stayed up most of the night waiting for his turn in excitement and nervous anticipation. Now that she and the bandits were gone, the glow from sleeping with her mixed with the warm sun, pine scent, and lack of sleep combined into an irresistible anesthesia. He knew that Kuemon would order him beaten if he caught him sleeping on sentry duty, but he also knew that it was unlikely that Kuemon or anyone else would be back before afternoon. Hachiro laid back and decided to take just a short nap. In seconds he was sound asleep.

Ever patient, Kaze let the youth settle down and get into a deep sleep before he moved. With the silence of an experienced hunter, Kaze made his way past the boy, careful not to let his shadow fall on the boy and possibly disturb him.

Aware that there might be some men left in the camp, Kaze carefully made his way from one crude shelter to the next. Finally, in what appeared to be the leader’s log hut, he found the group’s armory. He looked over the band’s ragged collection of weapons and found what he had hoped. He took a sample and left.

A few hours later he presented himself to Lord Manase and placed an arrow down before him. Manase was sitting in his study, once again dressed in several sumptuous, layered kimonos.

Manase looked down at the arrow with great interest but didn’t pick it up. His painted eyebrows high on his forehead always gave him a quizzical look, but this time the look was backed by words. “What is it I’m looking at?” he asked.

“The samurai at the crossroads was killed by a rather distinctive arrow. It had a dark brown shaft and very fine fletching done in gray
goose feathers. This arrow is identical. I took this from the bandit camp this morning.”

“Is that so?”

“If the Magistrate has preserved the arrow that killed the samurai, you could compare them for yourself.”

“I don’t think he did,” Manase said. In response to Kaze’s expression, he added, “But I believe you that the arrows are identical. So what is your conclusion?”

“It’s not likely that two people would have arrows as finely made as this one in—”

“In a backwater like this?”

“I was about to say in an area that doesn’t look like there would be a great need for arrows as fine as this,” Kaze said.

Manase laughed. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for one peasant. Why?”

“Just a whim.”

“You are a strange fellow. The villages are full of peasants, and one less wouldn’t be a terrible loss. Besides, the man is old.”

Kaze shrugged. “You said that if I brought you proof that he didn’t kill the samurai you would release him.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll order him released.”

“Thank you, Lord Manase.”

“So the bandits killed another man. This time it was a samurai. They’re getting to be quite annoying now.”

“I know where their camp is. I could lead you there if you wanted to wipe them out.”

“Me?”

“Or your men. You mentioned your district was a hundred fifty koku, so it should be easy to gather enough men to take care of them. There are around twelve bandits.”

Manase shifted uncomfortably.

Kaze waited for Manase to speak. The silence between the two men extended for a painfully long time. Kaze finally said, “I would accompany the force, if you like.”

Manase laughed a nervous laugh. “That offer has made me a little uncomfortable.”

“I meant no offense. If you want your men to handle this alone …” Kaze let the sentence trail off, in the characteristic Japanese way to invite comment from the other party in a conversation.

“That’s not the reason. It would be good for you to accompany anyone going to attack the bandit camp. Unfortunately, I really don’t have any men besides the Magistrate and a few guards.”

Kaze couldn’t understand what Manase was saying. As the head of a 150-koku territory, he was supposed to maintain many fighting men.

“You mean your men are off in the service of the Tokugawas?”

“I mean I don’t have any men besides the Magistrate and the guards.”

Kaze was stunned. Manase had ignored the most fundamental duty of a District Lord to his master: the maintenance of samurai who could be called up for battle.

“This is rather embarrassing,” Manase continued. “This weary provincial domain doesn’t have the resources to properly maintain the lifestyle of a gentleman.” Manase waved his hand at his expensive kimonos. “In fact, I’ve actually had to borrow money to purchase the proper quality of essential materials, such as equipment for the tea ceremony. As a result, some things have had to be”—Manase sought for a good word—“deferred. Of course, I will create the proper contingent of samurai when the time is appropriate, but right now I just have the Magistrate and a few men. You’ve seen some of them. They are not fit for the kind of mission you are proposing.”

Kaze sat immobile, fighting to keep his emotions off his face. Revealing his emotions would offend Manase, and Kaze still needed Manase’s goodwill. But it was a struggle to maintain his composure because Manase had admitted to a dereliction of a duty so basic that it defied Kaze’s entire view of the world and how it should be properly structured. Each common samurai owed allegiance to a lord, unless he was a ronin like Kaze. But even ronin sought employment
in the service of a lord. The lords owed allegiance to greater lords, and those Lords owed allegiance to a clan. It was a neat military pyramid that could collapse if the foundation was not maintained. If the Tokugawa government called on Manase to deliver his fighting men for service and he failed, then it would mean death for Manase.

“I’m sorry to hear that it will be impossible to field a proper force to wipe out those bandits,” Kaze said, choosing his words carefully. “Twelve men are too many for me to take on alone, but those bandits are ruining the economy of this District. Perhaps there is something I can do if I spend some time thinking about it.”

K
aze approached the hut door and called out, “
Sumimasen!
Excuse me!”

There was a scurrying noise inside, and after a few minutes the door slid back and a sleepy-eyed face poked its way into the sunlight. Although it was afternoon, it was obvious that Kaze had roused Aoi from her slumbers. When she saw who it was, Aoi’s eyes widened. “Chotto matte, kudasai. Please wait!” she said.

She poked her head back into her hut, and Kaze waited for a few more minutes as Aoi scrambled around, fixing her hair and putting on a better kimono. As he waited, Kaze put down the earthen jug he was carrying and looked around the village. Several faces, which were watching him from open windows or half-opened doors, retreated to the darkness of their houses as he looked in their direction. Kaze sighed. A small village has too little to keep it busy when the local economy is bad. The hut’s door slid open.

“Samurai!” Aoi said, stepping outside her hut and bowing deeply. “How can I serve you?” She put a sly smile on her face.

Kaze lifted up the jug he brought with him, and said, “I thought we might drink together. It gets lonely in such a small village, and I’ve heard that you’re good company.”

Aoi stood to one side and bowed again. “That would be nice,” she said. “Please enter, and I’ll stir up the fire to get hot water going. I would love to drink with you.”

Kaze ducked into the low door of the hut and looked around, letting his eyes accustom themselves to the gloom of the hut. Like most peasants’ huts, the interior had a raised wooden floor with two cutouts with dirt floors. One cutout was by the entrance, so people could sit on the edge of the raised floor to take off their sandals, and the other was in the center of the hut, where a charcoal fire could be built for warmth and cooking. The fire was just glowing embers and white ash, showing that Aoi hadn’t even made her morning meal yet, but the hut was still filled with lingering hints of smoke.

Kaze sat on the wooden floor and removed his sandals. He placed the jug of sake next to him, and when Aoi had stirred up the fire, she scurried over to pick up the jug. She removed the cloth cover and wooden stopper from the jug and poured some of the sweet sake into a flask. She placed the flask into a metal pot of water that she had hanging over the fire. She looked at Kaze and smiled, then she filled a second and third flask, placing them into the water.

Aoi prepared a small plate of food. “It will just be a minute for the sake to warm,” she said. “Please sit down and relax.” She put a zabuton cushion on the floor.

Kaze moved to the cushion and sank down. Aoi moved to his side, placing the plate before him.

“What a surprise,” she said. “I’ve seen you in the village. It’s hard to miss such a handsome and manly samurai!”

Kaze said nothing. Aoi leaned into him, the edge of her kimono negligently hanging open so Kaze could see the curve of her breast. “I’ve been hoping you would visit me,” she said in almost a whisper. She placed her hand on his arm. “You are so good-looking, and a gentleman, too. The whole village knows you saved the life of the charcoal seller.” She sighed. “I’m sure all the girls fall in love with you! Handsome, kind, and I’m sure virile and generous!” She rubbed his arm softly.

“No,” Kaze said, extracting his arm from her grasp. “Not handsome, not a gentleman, and too poor to be generous. And today, not even virile. I just wanted some company while I drank my troubles away.”

The smile dropped from Aoi’s face. Kaze took a small, paper-wrapped bundle from his sleeve and placed it down before her. It made a pleasant clink as the coins stacked inside the paper hit each other. “Of course, I intend to pay you for your company.” The smile returned to her face.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Aoi said as she scooped up the bundle and placed it in her sleeve. “It’s my pleasure to drink with you!”

“I’m glad,” Kaze said, amused. “I feel like some company today.”

Aoi returned to the kettle and tested the temperature of one of the flasks. She looked over her shoulder, “Not really warm enough yet,” she said, “but let’s start anyway!” She took the flask out of the water and brought it and two tiny sake cups to Kaze on a woven tray.

She poured two glasses of sake from the flask and handed Kaze his cup, holding the cup with both hands, bowing slightly, and saying, “
Dozo!
Please!”

Kaze took the cup and sipped the tepid wine. “Ahh!” he said, smacking his lips. “I needed that!”

Aoi filled Kaze’s cup again before picking up her own. She tossed hers down with a practiced hand. “
Oishi!
Tastes good!” Aoi said. She picked up the flask and poured herself another drink. “Now, if I can’t make you feel better in other ways, why don’t you at least tell me your troubles?”

Kaze looked at her over the rim of his cup. “It’s very frightening.” He finished his drink and held his cup out for Aoi to refill it.

“What’s frightening?” Aoi asked, puzzled. She pick up the flask, shook it slightly to judge the amount of liquor still in it, and filled Kaze’s cup.

“All the things that are happening.”

“What’s happening?”

Aoi expected Kaze to talk about the brigands and the attempt on his life, which the brigands had told her about. Instead, he leaned toward her, his voice a hoarse whisper, and said, “Ghosts!”

Aoi, who was in the process of fishing another flask out of the pot of warm water, paused. “Ghosts?”

“Yes.” Kaze shook his head. “It seems to get worse every place I go, and I think this District may get to be the worst yet.”

“What are you talking about, samurai-sama?”

“On the way here I passed through a village where a
kappa
had stolen a child. Do you know what a kappa is?”

Aoi, her eyes wide, shook her head no.

“It’s a disgusting creature, all slimy and white. It looks like a jellyfish made into a man. It lives in water or wet places, such as in deep ponds or the still water under a bridge. It has a saucer, made of flesh, growing out of the top of its head.” Kaze touched the top of his head to illustrate his point.

“What for?”

“The saucer contains water. As long as the kappa is near water, he can’t be defeated, so he carries some with him always. The only way to kill him is to knock him off his feet, so the water spills out of the saucer. Then you can kill him.”

“You … you’ve seen such a creature?”

“Of course. I once killed one, but the one in the village near here was too strong for me. I had to leave him, despite the fact that he will steal more children.”

“What do they do with the children they steal?”

“No one knows. The children are found dead, floating in a pond or river, usually drowned, but no one knows what the kappa does with them.” Kaze looked around, as if making sure they were alone in the hut. “I think they mate with the children before they drown them, and that’s where new kappa come from.”

Aoi put her hand to her mouth.

“But that’s not the half of it. In this district much worse things are happening.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear about the demon?”

“You mean the story about the demon that rode through Higashi village?”

“It’s not a story. I talked to someone who saw the demon. It had fierce eyes, a twisted mouth, blood-red skin, flowing white hair, and two horns, like this.” Kaze brought his two fists up to his forehead, using his little fingers to indicate tiny horns growing out of his head. “It was awful. A truly bad omen. It was riding a big black stallion, and people say lightning flashed as the horse’s hooves struck the earth. It was out gathering victims and had the soul of an adult strapped across his horse, carrying the poor man to hell.”

“Honto? Truly?”

Kaze nodded gravely. Then he sighed. “It’s a terrible time. This is the wrath of heaven. Under the Taiko we had peace, but the Tokugawas have started their reign with the death of thirty thousand or more. That’s just at one battle: Sekigahara. Think how many more have died and will die soon. The Tokugawas are hunting down all who oppose them and killing them. All that blood! All those souls crying out for vengeance! All those ghosts wandering the land, unable to find rest because of their violent end. No wonder demons are now abroad in our country.”

“Are demons worse than kappa?”

“Of course. You can kill a kappa and you can protect your children by keeping them away from water and damp places. But demons can go everywhere and they can’t be killed. They will break down the door of a hut if they want the person inside. As demons start snatching souls, one by one, other ghosts and monsters will be stirred up. It wouldn’t surprise me to see dragons and other hideous creatures wandering the land. It will simply get worse and worse until the spirits of all the dead are appeased through the sacrifice of the living.”

“You’ve seen such things?”

Kaze’s pleasure at spinning tales was momentarily clouded by the memory of his encounter with the obake of the Lady. “Yes,” he said darkly.

Aoi was no fool. She had long since learned to distrust men and their pronouncements. But the way this samurai affirmed his contact with the supernatural sent chills up her spine. She stared at his tight lips and set jaw. She looked into dark eyes that seemed to know something that stretched beyond the parameters of this life and extended into the period between incarnations. She froze, uncertain about what to do next. Finally, she whispered, “Honto? Is that true?”

As if returning from a dream, Kaze’s eyes refocused and looked at the frightened woman. It was what he was trying to achieve, and now it was no longer fun. “Honto,” he said.

“What can we do?” Aoi said, her eyes wide.

Kaze shrugged, finishing the sake in his cup. “I don’t know. I simply report what I know to be true. In fact, there are rumors that dragon tracks have been spotted in the next district. Once dragons take over a district, there is nothing to do but leave or be eaten.”

Aoi, who had been perched attentively on her calves, collapsed to the side, sitting despondently with anxiety and fear. “What can we do?” she asked once more.

“I don’t know,” Kaze said. “No one has the answers for such terrible times. Under the Taiko we had relative peace and stability. The Taiko had his failed Korean adventure, but at home we did not have wars and we had order. Now with the Tokugawas our entire social order is upset. Their government extends its control into every aspect of the land, usurping rights that are not theirs. It’s even rumored that Ieyasu will declare himself Shogun.” Kaze paused, then sighed. “Do you know what I’m talking about?” he asked, not unkindly.

Aoi shook her head no. To her, talk of the rulers of Japan was like talk of the Gods. They were remote and mystical figures. The talk of ghosts and demons had more immediacy and reality to her. It was
much more likely that a ghost would alight in this remote village than a ruler of Japan.

Instead of continuing, Kaze held out his cup. It took Aoi a few moments to react, but finally she picked up the sake flask and reached to pour another drink for Kaze. The rim on the cup made a chattering sound as the shaking flask bumped against it.