The Seabird of Sanematsu (18 page)

Sanematsu opened the scroll--a sketch of his daughters.

“I am pleased, Ko-tori.” He sounded touched.

“And that pleases me.”

Aderyn returned to her seat. The meal was served; and when the food was consumed, the women were dismissed. Sanematsu called to her before she could leave the hall.

“Ko-tori, please remain. I wish for you to be seated here.” He indicated the space behind him.

“Very well.” She crossed the floor again and felt the same aghast stares on her back. She rounded the end of the table where the monk sat picking at small bites of plain rice. When he looked up as she passed, she glimpsed his eyes. They looked somewhat familiar, as did his thick shock of raven hair. Were not all monks shaven-headed? She did not see disapproval there before he returned his attention to his dinner.

At Sanematsu’s side, she took the place vacated by his maid.

**
*

Sanematsu saw the disgust on his men’s faces--women did not leave the modesty of the screen! He watched from the corner of his eye as Ko-tori observed them drinking sake in unceasing abundance. Now that she was close, his concern increased. The red, raw wounds on her face--wounds like those he had seen on battlefields--were evident when she faced him as she arrived at the banquet. How could she have come by them? He did not like secrets, particularly when they involved those around him.

“Ko-tori,” he said, almost in a whisper. He turned, and she leaned forward to hear him. “What has happened to your face?”

“Nothing more than the sandals of your country, my lord.” She laughed. “I fell while hurrying to the bathhouse. I have a terrible time with the geta.”

“Ah, so.” Sanematsu pursed his lips as he mulled over her response. “Perhaps you should not wear them. I believe Sachi-sama has given you the slippers we often wear. Why do you not wear those?”

“Yes, my lord, I will do that from now on. Thank you for your concern.”

He faced front. They could not continue their discussion because the evening’s entertainment required his attention. A woman from the Willow World sat in front of the guests to sing and play her samisen. She held the floor for some time but relinquished it to a sister artist who was a dancer. When the second woman finished, a guard came from outside.

“My lord, pardon my interruption…” He knelt. “…but the woman Sayo-sama has requested an audience. I informed her you were occupied, but she persists. She says it is most urgent as well as appropriate for this special day.”

“Let her come,” Sanematsu decreed. He flung back another bowl of sake then set it on the table. Ko-tori refilled it.

Sayo entered with Tsuta trailing. They were both dressed in the Kyoto Court style, indicative of the price Sanematsu had paid to have Tsuta in his house. Every man present lusted for the exquisite woman of the Floating World. Her uchiki was the most expensive--a rich, heavy silk hand-embroidered with apricot blossoms in gold and silver thread. Her hair was piled on her head in glossy rolls pinned with hairpins fringed with more silver and gold. Like Haru, she had painted her face a flawless white. Her shaved eyebrows were redrawn higher on her forehead than the natural position in bold black pencil. Her lips were a perfect red bow.

Both women carried themselves with the air of samurai ladies, although neither was of that elite class. They knelt before the men of bushido.

“You wish to speak?” Sanematsu was full of indifference, and it showed in his tone. He gave Tsuta a glance. The time had come to put her aside. He would tell Haru to make the arrangements.

“Yes, my master. I bring favorable news.” Sayo’s crusty voice irritated him, the grating whine rubbing his nerves raw. “News you have long awaited.”

Tsuta kept her head bowed, allowing the edge of her collar to dip on her back for the purpose of exposing her soft nape.

“Be quick, old woman.” He picked up his sake cup and started to his lips with it.

“My foster-daughter is with child.”

The bowl paused without touching his mouth, and a hush fell on the others. Sayo fluttered her fan and puffed herself up more.

“Only a male child from my consort interests me.” He drank. How could she presume to think this news would be appropriate for his banquet? Her announcement embarrassed him, bringing undue attention to his performance on the futon. Others did not need to know his business. This reinforced his decision to put her aside.

“My lord.” Tsuta spoke while she kept her eyes lowered. “I asked my foster-mother to give the news as a gift on your birthday.”

Now it was clear. Sanematsu caught Tsuta’s glare toward Ko-tori. When he glanced behind him, his seabird returned his mistress’s stare. Tsuta had heard of Ko-tori’s present and now wished to better her--the sooner she was out of his household, the calmer it would be.

“Nevertheless, I will recognize only a male child.” He could not put his finger on why, but this whole scene did not ring true. There was more to it than met the eye.

“I understand, sire,” Tsuta answered, gripping her ornamental fan in a white-knuckled hold.

“What my foster-daughter is too modest to say, Lord Sanematsu,” Sayo interjected, “is that, should she produce the heir to Satsuma Province, she should be compensated.”

“Are not all who bear my children rewarded?” Sanematsu’s unease increased. This was not the place for such conversation or a confrontation.

“Yes, my lord, but there has never been a mother of your son.” The words were harsh and bold.

“We will have to wait and see if there is yet to be such, will we not? If this happens, what would you wish as reward?”

He narrowed his eyes. His grip on the sake bowl was so tight it almost crushed the fine porcelain. If Tsuta were to produce a male child, he would be tied to her and her foster-mother. He could buy her contract, free her from Sayo and the life of a concubine, yet if she bore his son she would remain in his household. He wanted her out of his life.

“I wish to be joined with you,” Tsuta announced without hesitation.

“You ask to be joined with me?”

The sake cup disintegrated in his hand. Rice wine and blood ran down his hand as he held the shards in his fist.

Ko-tori moved to clean up the mess. She tended the laceration in his palm, wiping it with a cloth provided her by the maid. Sanematsu had difficulty concentrating on Tsuta. Cradling his large hand in her two small ones, Ko-tori dabbed at the blood. It made him entertain visions of her hands elsewhere on his body.

“My son would be sure of his birthright.” Tsuta’s words erased the visions.

“I cannot promise such anymore than you can promise a son.” He took his hand from Ko-tori’s. A glance at it told him the cut was superficial and no longer bleeding. “I will buy your contract. Old woman, you will confer with my sister and come to an honest agreement. But it is to be fulfilled only when she has fulfilled her obligation--a male child from this pregnancy. There will be no other chance.

“Also, you will submit to my physicians’ examination. If they say it is true you are with child, I will make my final decision concerning joining at that time.”

He had his plan. He would not give her what she wanted, but what he did give was all she would need.

“Very well,” Sayo conceded.

She and Tsuta departed.

**
*

As though struck by lightning, all the blood rushed to Aderyn’s feet; her head swam with shock and surprise. Tsuta was pregnant, having a child fathered by Sanematsu Yoshihide. Pressure filled the center of her chest. And he was contemplating marriage. A demon sucked her breath from her body. Why did she feel this way? He was her captor--she had no claim on him or his affections. Or his seed.

Yet in the two short weeks the concubine had been gone, she had held out hope of a place for her with Sanematsu. Did she want to be his concubine? No, she did not wish to be a plaything. He needed a friend. She wanted to be close to him.

Her heart skipped several beats and fluttered. The lacerations in her flesh pulsed with pain as her face flushed.

Discontentment and misery showed on the face he turned to her. An instinctual urge moved within her breast. She desired to embrace him, to stroke his thick, raven hair while speaking reassuring words.

But that door was closed. Using a baby to force him to marry her, Tsuta had barred her from being anything more than a prisoner to Sanematsu. Though such a vile trap was laid in Europe all the time, men there were seldom confronted in public with their indiscretions. Was this even an indiscretion in Nihon? Would Sanematsu be required to marry someone because she was pregnant? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to ask.

A sudden impulse to tell him what had happened in the stable rose in her throat. She wanted him to hold her, to cry while he soothed her with words of comfort. Only Yoshihide could say the words to make the horrible feelings go away--and Tsuta owned his comfort.

So, then, after she told him the sordid details, what if he would not console her? What if he, too, felt she was dirty and did not deserve his compassion? Once more she conceded she dared not risk telling him. She did not want to be estranged from him.

Yet, through no fault of her own, she had lost him. Matsumoto’s attack had not removed her from Sanematsu’s favor. Tsuta’s announcement before the assembly was what threatened her, and when Tsuta delivered his son, he would be gone forever.

Forlorn, she focused her attention on Sanematsu instead of the other men, who were in the deepest throes of drunkenness. She kept his sake bowl full, yet he was without a trace of inebriation. Nothing changed his hard face with its cold eyes. Her heart broke for both of them.

But perhaps she grieved before it was necessary. Sachi and Hamasaki had indicated all was not as it appeared within Nishikata-ryo. That knowledge encouraged her, to some extent.

The feast continued until early morning, and by then had dissolved into drunken revelry. The entertainment became lewd; the guests departed with women supplied by Sanematsu’s house.

“You have great impudence, barbarian.” Matsumoto turned his attention to Aderyn, leaning close to mutter his remark.

“I am sure you take great pride in knowing what happened,” she replied in just as hushed tones.

The Evil One had waited to speak with her when Sanematsu’s interest was turned to the monk, their heads close together. She struggled not to react to his nearness in a way that might draw notice to them.

“I am sure you do not wish to have Lord Sanematsu question me.”

“If you did tell him, it would ruin whatever you have in mind for yourself and our master. He will gladly cast you my way.”

“I do not know what you mean.” She flounced the heavy waves of her hair in a gesture of nonchalance, all too aware that Matsumoto would take much delight in Sanematsu’s discarding her to him.

“Oh, I am most certain you do,” the samurai hissed.

“Tori,” Sanematsu cut into the conversation.

“Yes, my lord?”

“You appear to be quite tired this evening. I think it would be best if Hamasaki-sama were to escort you to your room.”

His forehead was wrinkled between the eyes, as if he were trying to decide a difficult question.

“If you like, sire.” She ducked her head in submission to his veiled request.

“Then we shall say goodnight.” He turned his attention back to the monk, and the sake cup before him.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

He had looked away from her so suddenly she wondered if the cuts on her face were so repulsive he could no longer look at her. Had Tsuta’s news changed their relationship so quickly? Could their friendship be dissolved so easily?

Once in her room, she called for a maid and asked for sake. The girl did not bat an eye, as if women asked for the traditionally male alcoholic beverage every day.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In the early dawn of the day after his twenty-sixth birthday, Sanematsu Yoshihide stood being dressed by his manservant and Yaemon, his young boy servant. The boy arranged the clothing for the adult to dress him in. Sanematsu moved out of habit, his mind not on his toilet but his barbarian.

Angry, he had no avenue to vent that anger. She was going to have to learn how to lie better. When she sat beside the fighting area, she had worn the rope-soled shoes instead of the geta she blamed the fall on. And the method in which rocks opened the skin and the way steel did were different.

He did not fault her for lying, since she could not tell him the truth in front of witnesses. If anyone were at fault he was, since he was the one who had dismissed the guards and was negligent in sending Hamasaki to her when he departed. The intimacy they had shared in the bathhouse had filled his thoughts, not the evil lurking around her. When he discovered who had committed such an atrocity, he would take his head!

Yaemon finished the minor details of Sanematsu’s costume, and taking his swords from their resting place beside the doorway, the daimyo left the room. He went down the corridor, oblivious to the nightingale flooring singing with his passage.

His thoughts moved from one woman to the next. Tsuta’s claim of pregnancy weighed heavily on him also. If she carried a child, its conception had occurred several months ago, since he had seldom taken her to the pillow in recent weeks. He recalled the signs from Nene’s pregnancies. She had been sick and fainted in the early months. His other wives had shown early signs even a man could understand. As the months passed, their faces filled out, and their breasts became larger well before their body. Tsuta showed none of these signs.

How had she managed to keep it secret for so long? Secrets were rare in Nishikata-ryo. Even as master, he could not keep secrets.

Angered by the perplexing questions, he could only hope time would answer any of them.

Sanematsu shook off the thoughts about the women. He had more pressing political concerns. With twenty men in tow, he passed through the two massive gates walling his residence off from the world. A band of Amemiya’s samurai had been captured within fifteen miles of Nishikata and he was needed to preside over their interrogation and execution. He must know what his opponent was planning, why he was willing to risk being outcast. War crouched at the edge of the Satsuma Province, and he must push it back or lose all.

**
*

Sachi entered Aderyn’s room while the girl lay sleeping, undisturbed by the bright morning sun shining in her face. Taken aback yet not surprised, she picked her way through the empty sake flasks strewn about the room near the futon. She had not expected Tori to sleep well in light of Tsuta’s announcement.

She neared the edge of the futon and knelt to wake her. The netting had not been arranged to keep out the insects of the spring season, and Tori’s bare extremities showed evidence of fresh mosquito bites. For some reason, the girl had bound her left sleeve at the wrist and secured the front of the sleeping kosode at her neck.

With maternal motions, Sachi pulled the covering up over the sleeping girl then tucked the netting beneath the heavy quilting. Removing the flasks, she left Tori to awaken on her own, no matter how late in the day.

As she traveled down the corridor, the samurai guards were in the process of changing. Once more the shadowy figures would be evident at Aderyn’s door, a doorway left unattended for the past many weeks.

**
*

“Sachi-sama.”

Sanematsu kept his back turned, facing the open panel. His thoughts were embroiled with events inside and outside his ryo-chi. He needed the help of a friend.

“Yes, my lord?” His friend knelt behind him.

The daimyo turned from the calming view of the ocean and paced the small receiving room. Three days ago he had left his castle to address the matter of spies and returned with his quandary unresolved. Their answers, given under the pain of torture, did not settle his anxiety. Added to his distraction with Tsuta and his desires for Tori, his distress was mounting.

“We have known one another all our lives,” he commented.

“Yes, Lord, since we were babies, I would guess.” Sachi’s family had been allied to the Sanematsu over many years, her father a general in his father’s army.

“I remember your brothers. How are they?”

“They are well, sire. Do you wish for me to contact one of them for you?”

“No, no.” Sanematsu stopped and knelt before her. He studied the woman who had been a playmate and was now a confidante. When they were children, the girl held her own with two brothers and their master’s son. They were the only children allowed to play with the Sanematsu heir, and the bonds made in childhood remained. He had never considered Sachi as anything other than friend.

Could he trust her with what he was about to say? Of course--she had access to much that would put him at risk and never did she use the knowledge except to help him. Her guidance would be wise in this area and remain between the two of them.

“I find myself in need of the counsel of a woman, in the matters of women.”

“I would be most pleased to help.” Sachi’s clenched hands tightened.

Unable to remain still, Sanematsu began pacing again, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders thrust back severely. The night air crackled with the electricity created by the forceful swish of his silk hakama.

“I do not wish to join with Tsuta-sama,” he disclosed. Speaking bluntly with Sachi was natural, just as was spending hours in discussion with the barbarian. Despite custom, it did not seem abnormal. “But, I have no way of honorably refusing her. I agreed publicly to join with her if a male child is delivered.”

“I do not see how I can help you, sire. This is a matter of men.”

“I need to know if she truly carries a child.” He turned to look at his ally. “How does a woman know she carries a child?”

“There are many tiny signs. The greatest is the absence of her woman’s blood.” Sachi blushed and dipped her eyes. “I am sorry to have offended you.” Men were not concerned with these matters unless they precluded them from fulfilling their needs.

“Speak freely, Sachi. I have asked.” He watched her as she thought.

“Yoshi-sama, there may be a way.”

He had given unspoken permission to use his boy’s name by using her name without honorific.

“Speak with your physicians about the cycle of the moon and tides. The people of Min-koku put great store in them.”

The medical men of Nihon trained with the wise ones from Min-koku, basing their practice on their knowledge.

“As for yourself, think back to what time of the month Tsuta-sama sent another to your bed. That will tell you when she was afflicted.”

“Very well.” Sanematsu took his seat.

Women were charged with providing another if they could not perform their duties for their men. Sachi’s plan assumed that he had not called Tsuta to his bed during her time. Since he had not asked for her company in several weeks, he doubted his childhood friend’s idea would be of use. Still, the information might be useful in a plan of his own.

“I have taken the liberty of having a meal provided. Will you join me?”

“Of course, my lord.” Sachi moved nearer as the servant brought a table and tray with Sanematsu’s food. She took the task of serving the daimyo, and the maid departed.

“Your counsel is wise, Sachi,” Sanematsu commented after slurping a mouthful of udon noodles.

“I hope it can be of use.” Sachi tasted her tea while he continued to eat. Even though he had asked her to join him, she would not consume any of the delicacies prepared for him.

“And Tori? How has she been these few days?”

“Well, my lord. She has been a bit quieter than usual.” She replaced the empty noodle bowl in his hand with a wet cloth.

“I would not call her quiet at any time.” He allowed a smile to curve his mouth as he cleaned his chin of broth. “I am sure Tsuta-sama’s news has not sat well with her.”

“I have explained to her that the matter does not concern her.” Sachi poured tea.

“I am not quite sure that is the truth,” he said under his breath as he brought the tea bowl to his lips. “Be watchful of her safety, and instruct Hamasaki-sama to be on guard, also.”

“Yes, sire.” Sachi peeled an orange into perfect sections and laid them on the dish in a fanned pattern. “He is a diligent young man.”

“His father served mine well.” Sanematsu picked up a section and placed it into his mouth whole. His face puckered with the sourness of the fruit. He spoke once he swallowed. “I believe this to be a bit unripe.” He handed the dish back.

“Should I send for more?” She placed the sour orange aside.

“No, I will have something later in the day.” He washed his hand. “I will have Kono-sama come speak with me and make arrangements for him and the other physicians to examine Tsuta-sama.”

“The matter of the physicians may prove to be an equally bitter fruit for her. Do not be surprised if she balks at the suggestion,” Sachi warned as she stood with the tray.

“It will not be a suggestion,” Sanematsu assured her.

If Tsuta truly wished to join with him, she would submit to any examination he deemed necessary.

Sachi departed after goodbyes, and Sanematsu awaited Kono. His spirits were lightened with the formulation of a plan.

**
*

Sanematsu instruct his three physicians to examine Tsuta without Sayo present. They were to question the consort about her cycles and give him all the information. A week later, the physicians completed their assignment. He called Tsuta to him that evening.

“My physicians tell me they cannot determine the validity of your condition.”

He lay on his side on his futon, bare under the coverlet over his lower torso. A book of poetry lay open on the bed. The shoji remained shut in an effort to prevent eavesdropping, which closed off any chance of a cooling breeze. A tiny line of perspiration dotted his upper lip.

“You do not think I would deceive you, Sanematsu-sama!” Tsuta brought ready tears to her eyes. “I hoped you would have learned to trust me. I understand too well your need for an heir and wish only to please you.”

“I am certain of that, Tsu-sama,” he reassured her.

No matter how much he needed a heir, he did not want it from Tsuta. The Sanematsu heir should not come from the nest of a woman of the Floating World. He wanted to choose his son’s mother, not leave it to others.

There was little possibility of doing what he wished. Tsuta was in his way. During the banquet, he had been so concerned with Tori’s injuries he had not considered his words following Tsuta’s revelation. Since, he had made the promise before the council and his samurai--he was bound by his agreement. If she gave him a son he would be forced to join with her.

“We will proceeded as I promised,” he conceded now. “I will make plans for our joining after the boy’s birth.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Joy replaced Tsuta’s tears. Her mouth tensed as it tried not to smile. She used dabbing her tears with her osode sleeve to hide her struggle.

He dismissed her and forced her from his mind by concentrating on matters of the ryo-chi. Instead of picking up the book of poetry, he pulled a scroll of military strategy from beneath the quilts of his futon.

**
*

Aderyn, too, fought inner battles. Stronger than many girls her age, she could usually best anyone, whether in a shouting match or a calm debate.

Now, she did not know how to react. Matsumoto’s lurking, waiting to pounce on her, left her unnerved and frightened. She could do nothing to fight him. More powerful than she in physical prowess and social standing as he was, she could not stand against him. As samurai and karou, no one other than Sanematsu could stop him, but if she told it would destroy any relationship she might have with the daimyo. There was also the chance that he might not believe her over the samurai.

Had Sanematsu sought her company, their discussions would have kept her from dwelling on Matsumoto’s intentions, but he seemed to be avoiding her. A dark pall had settled over her vivacious spirit. Her mood changed to brooding. Things had already changed, at least in her mind. Sanematsu had cast her away.