The Seabird of Sanematsu (12 page)

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.