The Seabird of Sanematsu (33 page)

After Uesugi’s footsteps receded, Aderyn opened the courtyard shoji a crack and watched the procession enter the gate. He would not have left if she had not agreed to come, but she had no intention of leaving her room. She wanted to observe Sanematsu by herself, to see his bride while she would not have to be polite. Through the tears she could not prevent, she watched the household gather in the courtyard. They knelt in orderly rows then bowed as Sanematsu, galloped through the gate.

Straight and tall in the saddle, he wore a straw rain cape tied about his shoulders so it dangled low off his neck. A straw hat also hung down his back, in case the clouds returned and drenched the lands in a sudden downpour, as it was wont to do in these months. Beneath the straw protection, his kariginu, the usual darkest of blue with the white familial kamon emblazoned on it, was neat, crisp.

Unbound except for a small, thick ponytail at the crown, his hair draped to his shoulders. A stray wisp flew over his forehead to give him the look of a ten-year-old boy out for a ride. The heavy growth covering his upper lip, however, gave evidence of his maturity. His cheeks and jaw were smooth and bronzed.

How is it possible he looks more handsome than before?
Aderyn longed all the more to be in his presence.

There was no kaga in the group, only mounted warriors and foot soldiers. No woman could be with him. Her hopes rose.

He nodded to his servants, and they stood in response. Aderyn was taken by the way he swung down from the lathered Dai-tan and walked with a determined, hasty step toward the North Wing, where his women resided. He must wonder where she was. She could almost feel his gaze as it traveled up the pavilion.

Intent as she was on watching Sanematsu, she did not hear the figure in black steal into the room. His presence became known only when he clamped a hand over her mouth and thrust a needle-thin dart into her left breast. It burned as if a hot coal had stabbed her. She tried to scream but could not. Kicking and scratching at her assailant, she managed to achieve little for her effort as the poison spread through her. Her eyes drooped closed, and she became groggy. She struggled to keep them open.

**
*

After gagging the drugged girl, he pulled her toward the open door. She continued to struggle, exasperating him, so he finally hoisted her onto his shoulder, her feet dangling behind him. She kicked and slapped him until he stopped long enough to secure her hands. He could ignore her feet as her energy faded.

The drug worked deeper. She would soon be asleep. Or dead.

Not tying her feet was a mistake. She kicked over the lamp stand next to the door. The oil ran out, carrying fire across the wooden surface to the brazier recessed in the floor. The dripping fuel ignited in a large, intense burst of flame that raced through the wood-and-paper room.

A spark caught her clothes as he ran down the corridor. The flames spread up the garments and dripped onto the floor.

Roused by the pain, she screamed behind the gag. The man stopped long enough to snuff the flames. If not for the chance she might be rescued, he would have left her and allowed the fire to consume her. Instead, he would take her with him and finish the job where he could be certain of her death.

Lifting the unconscious girl back on his shoulder, he disappeared the way he had come.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Nakata-uji.” Sanematsu addressed the older man after perfunctory bows. They walked toward the dwelling. “How goes everything?”

“Well, my lord, well.”

He stopped long enough to greet some of his retainers on his way to the north wing.

“Uesugi-uji.” He acknowledged his new aide-de-camp, but he did not speak to Matsumoto. “Are you well? What of Tori-sama? Where is she?”

“I am well, my lord, but…” Uesugi looked around. “May I speak with you…privately?”

He followed the young samurai to the edge of the garden, where Uesugi felt he might speak more freely.

“Tori-sama is having some…difficulty. I believe she is pouting, sire.”

“Pouting? Only children pout!” Sanematsu’s laugh was robust. After being away eight months, he was happy to be home. Everything around him was familiar--the faces, the buildings and the gardens.

But he would have to leave again soon enough.

“It is hard to know what to say about a woman. She refused to come greet you. Said she would come only if I left first with her guards.” Uesugi swung his head around. “I see she has not arrived. Maybe she means for you to come to her. She believes you to have agreed to accept a woman of the council’s choosing. Have you, sire?”

“On the contrary.” He started up the steps, throwing off the straw hat and cloak before he entered. A maid gathered them as he started in. “I have chosen one they are sure to reject!”

Suddenly, shouts of “Fire!” broke the calm of the garden. Automatically, the residents of the yashiki began to perform the emergency ritual so necessary where the houses were constructed of wood and paper. Servants and samurai alike formed a bucket brigade. Families, from the least child to the oldest grandparent, joined in to put out the flames. The captain of the fire brigade, who outranked all other samurai, including Lord Sanematsu, issued orders.

The wing of the castle burned within, the thick clay walls encasing the flames. The direction of the wind was checked, and flammable material in the area was removed. At the opposite end of the wing, where it connected to the central building, men with axes worked in haste to form a firebreak.

**
*

Sanematsu wiped his face with the hunting jacket he had slipped off when the exertion of firefighting became stifling. His daughters were out, safe with their nurses. Only Tori was missing, and flames licked from the quarters assigned to her.

“Tadakuni-dono, where was Tori-sama?” His heart went to his throat. Red tongues of fire thrust through the shoji as it consumed the rice paper and fragile wooden frames.

“In her room--” Uesugi saw what he did.

As he helped his servants and retainers, Sanematsu’s heart was heavy. He could envision Tori fighting the flames--she would not panic, keeping her head while she tried to find her way out.

What if she became trapped? He pictured her cornered by the red blanket of death. She would probably search for him through the haze, and he could almost hear her calling to him. He had to find her!

He ran up the stairs. Unable to contain his fear, he screamed at last “Tori!”

Beams fell around him as he made his way in farther and, surrounded by fire, climbed the stairs. Smoke filled the halls, and he covered his nose with the kariginu he carried bunched in his right hand. Sparks flew in the air, blinding his view. Cinders landed and fizzled when they came in contact with the profuse sweat on his bare torso. None stayed lit long enough to damage his skin.

“Ko-tori!”

He struggled past the head of the stairs and turned down the corridor where her room was. He had only one chance to save her. Walls collapsed. Rooms were destroyed. Tatami exploded into flames, igniting the wooden floors beneath them. The fire rose higher over his head as he neared her room, the center of the blaze. Ahead of him, the flooring began to give way and he retreated a few steps, moving his search for another way in.

“Ko-tori!”

“Sanematsu-uji!” Nakata took hold of his arm. “She has escaped or is dead.”

As the fire roared around them, the samurai captain attempted to budge his young lord. Thick smoke billowed down the hallway, and timbers crashed about them. The old man moved with a fleetness belying his age between the daimyo and the debris, knocking Sanematsu out of danger and taking the blow himself full force.

Stunned, Sanematsu reached to brace himself against walls no longer there. He stumbled backwards as he tried to regain his balance. More beams fell ahead of him, the heat of the blaze engulfing them. A plank grazed his head. Pain and warmth filled his forehead, and he touched above his right eye. His fingers came back crimson.

The blood began to drip down into his eye; he wiped it away with the kariginu. He staggered forward, shaking off the dizziness. He had to get to her room.

As he lurched down the fire-engulfed corridor, hands came from behind to pull him away.

“Sire, you are hurt!” Hikita announced over the roar of the fire. The ever-loyal bodyguard had followed Nakata inside, also refusing to allow the daimyo freedom to roam the burning building and endanger his life. “We can go no further!”

“Ko-tori,” Sanematsu whispered, either to call to her or remind Hikita of her absence. But he did not fight Hikita’s pull on his upper arm.

“We will find her.”

Hikita directed him out of danger, through the fire-engulfed building and into the safety of the courtyard. A maid met them and helped guide Sanematsu to a campstool. She wiped his face with a wet cloth, cleansed the wound and then held pressure to stop the blood running from his eyebrow. The soot, blood and water streaked his face. Were there also tears?

He watched as the fire was contained. When the last of the flames was doused with water and dirt, the north wing of his castle no longer existed.

“What became of Nakata-uji?” he regained his senses enough to ask.

“He has crossed into the Void,” Hikita, trying to catch his breath, answered from where he sat on the ground beside him.

“And Tori-sama?”

“She has not been found.” Hikita had a trace of emotion in his voice. He had, over the months, begun to experience a regard for Tori, a sense of caring about her in his Nihon man’s heart, as if she were a little sister to be watched after.

“When the ashes have cooled, I want every inch searched. Find her!” Sanematsu shouted at the smoldering ruin. Then: “Dead or alive, find her.” He spoke the words as gently as a prayer.

The search could not progress until the following morning, when men ventured into the ruins of the north wing. Hikita Takayasu arrived before the sun to oversee the task.

The evening before, Sanematsu had dismissed him, insisting the warrior rest--Hikita had not left the yashiki grounds since they rode in together, and Sachi would wish to have time with her husband to inspect his scar and see to his health.

Volunteers arrived to help with the massive job of cleanup and rebuilding. Craftsmen, carpenters, masons, artisans and common laborers from the city offered their help. Peasant women came to the aid of the kitchen and house servants to care for the children. Kono and the other physicians looked after those who had been injured.

Early morning found Sanematsu pacing the courtyard to observe the work of his retainers. He had slept fitfully, tired from both the journey and firefighting but too concerned about Tori to rest soundly. In nightmares, she called to him through the smoke and cinders. She was in pain and alone, but where was she? In the dream he could not find her.

In the afternoon, he sat idle in the garden. He had done all he could to assist the workers, but they needed none of his help. They needed him out of their way.

When Hikita approached, he came out of his pensiveness.

“My lord, Nakata-uji’s body has been found.”

“Very well.” They walked to where the corpse had been laid and watched as it was given over to the priests for ceremonial disposal. The only task Sanematsu was required to perform all day was to present the swords the old man had left outside before he rushed into the burning building to Nakata’s son, a retainer in his army.

“Lord Sanematsu, I present myself as one who has dishonored himself.” Uesugi prostrated his body before his master.

Again on his campstool, Sanematsu watched the workers.

“I require your permission to cross into the Void.”

“Why would you request such, young warrior?”

“For leaving Tori-sama inadequately guarded.”

“You provided a sentry. Fujihara-sama’s body was found outside her door where you placed him. You had no way of knowing she did not intend to come to the courtyard as she said she would. It is not your responsibility. I will hear no more of it.” He waved him away.

His memories haunted him as he watched the workers. Only hours ago, he had been elated; now despair fell over him. One of his most trusted generals was dead, possibly along with the only woman he would ever love. He waited hopeful for any sign of Tori and prayed for an omen of her survival. He left his vigil only long enough to visit the shrine and ask Hachiman to intercede; then he returned and sat alone until his youngest daughter escaped from her nurse.

Chiyo ran to climb into her father’s lap. He spoke to her and held her automatically on his knee. Attracted to his loose hair, the little girl obtained his full attention when she pulled the strands hanging over his shoulder. He sent her away with the nurse, who had arrived to reclaim her charge.

“My lord.” Uesugi was the only one besides Hikita, who at the moment was busy with other tasks, who dared approach Sanematsu to voice concern. He was as tactful as possible about his daimyo’s affairs. “It will be some time before they have anything to report. The day’s sun is especially intense. Perhaps you should enter the castle.”

“My grandfather has requested a meeting,” he agreed. “I have plans I need to advise them of.” The sooner he acted, the better; then, when Tori returned, everything would be in readiness for their joining. He rose. “You may accompany me.”

They walked to the chamber he used for business. On the other side of the castle from Tori’s rooms, the chamber was untouched by fire. The heavy odor of smoke and the cedar hung in the air. Smoke damage was minimal, but ash covered the floors and chests in fine dust. Servants cleaned the daimyo’s quarters.

He dismissed them and called for tea and a meal, setting his mind to his tasks. He consulted scrolls he had written at the temple and in his private moments in Kyoto and stroked new changes between holding a bowl under his chin and shoveling rice into his open mouth with the hashi. He muttered between bites of pickle and sips of tea. As he finished, he was well pleased with his work.

“We shall now meet with the Council of Elders.” He rose and left the room, Uesugi trailing. With a confident swagger, he walked to the council chambers. His grandfather sat in his usual place, surrounded by the other council members.

**
*

Matsumoto hovered near the wall. Throughout the day, he had watched Sanematsu, disgusted with the man’s display of sorrow. The foreigner was but one woman. There were many others to fill her place. Was not pillowing the only thing a woman was good for? Were they not instruments to fulfill men’s need for progeny? Any flute could be played with the same results.

After his return to the yashiki, his spies reported that Sanematsu resided at the Mount Aso Temple. He had hoped the man would die there.

“Matsumoto-uji.” Sanematsu greeted him for the first time since his return. “Your care of the ryo-chi has been, as usual, adequate. After this meeting, I wish for you to relieve Hikita-uji so he may return to his duties. You will be interested in this conversation.”

“Yes, my lord,” Matsumoto replied, his jaw clenched. He had other things he wanted to do besides overseeing the petty dealings of the workers.

“Found any sign of the foreign devil woman?” Sanematsu Shigeni asked without formality. “Bunch of nonsense. She obviously set the fire and has run away.” He spoke theatrically for the observers in the room.

“As usual, Grandfather, you present your opinion first.” Sanematsu stood before the assembly, his feet set and shoulders squared. His posture held all eyes. “Now, I will speak.

“For eight months, you have ruled the Satsuma Province with minimal input from me. You had your chance, and you let it slip through your fingers!” He turned and strode across the room. “You had my army, my children, my ryo-chi, to do with as you pleased.” He whirled and faced the assemblage. “And you did nothing! You could have seized power and you did not! Well, honorable Grandfather, you have lost everything!