The Tokaido Road (1991)(528p) (44 page)

For the briefest of instants Hanshiro imagined the letter was addressed to him. While people streamed past him he reached out and touched it lightly with his fingertips. His heart, his soul, his marrow, ached to open it.

But as surely as he knew the calligraphy was Lady Asano’s, he also knew the letter’s contents were not meant for him. Even if it could tell him her whereabouts, honor would not allow him to take it down and read it.

There is no medicine that will cure a fool,
he thought.
You aspired to break off the flower, but the branch is too high for the likes of you.

IF ONE EATS POISON

“Your five
-fun
strumpet looks like a rice mortar wearing a
kimono.”
As the wind blew swirls of dust around him, BMshk continued an argument that had been meandering along since he and his brother left Fuchu.

“Yours has a face worn down in the middle like a mounting block.” Hairy turned away from the gusts to light his pipe. He puffed on it as he walked on the other side of the mare’s nose from his brother.

“Remember when the sandal bearer got drunk and annoyed the women of the Three Gate House, and they dared him to screw a sea urchin?”

“It stung him until his stalk swelled up like a paper lantern.” Hairy waddled a few paces. “For two days he walked like a duck visiting fire victims.”

“That’s the only time his stalk was ever thicker than a dumpling skewer.”

Even though it was only midday, the BMshk brothers had rested several times along the way. At each stop they had washed down the dust of the road with cheap wine. After each stop they had become more waggish. By the time the first of the many stands selling Mariko’s famous sweet-potato stew came into view, they were laughing uproariously. They were boiling tea in their navels, as Kasane put it.

They were also wearing a hole in Cat’s bag of patience. Fortunately the double gates to Fuchu’s pleasure district had been closed when they passed through the town, or the brothers would surely have found an excuse to detour by way of it. As it was, for the one and a half
ri
to Mariko they had regaled each other with stories of their past adventures there.

Cat was worried. Viper trusted this pair, but wine jugs had mouths. “We’ve hired a pair of oil sellers,” she muttered.

Kasane gave her a sympathetic glance. Door-to-door oil vendors even made their way to her village from time to time. Their habit of stopping to gossip with the housewives had earned them a reputation as laggards.

The journey to Mariko may have taken longer than Cat had anticipated, but the frequent stops hadn’t been wasted. She and Kasane had been grateful for the chance to stretch their cramped legs each time the dust clogged the hostlers’ throats and they stopped for a drink. And thanks to the two BMshk, they had new travel permits bought from a forger at a hundred and fifty coppers each.

Cat’s name was now Jimbei and Kasane was Sugi. As their home they named Kururi, the capital of Kasane’s home province of Kazusa. There would be a mix of dialects there, and even if they encountered an official who could distinguish accents from individual villages, they might be able to pass. It was risky, but not as risky as trying to use their old permits.

Better than the permits, though, was Cat’s new staff, also purchased in Fuchu. It looked harmless enough. It was a wooden pilgrim’s staff with a pointed iron cap that fitted tightly over the shaft. Six iron rings, three on each side, dangled from the two filigreed loops.

It looked very much like the first staff Cat had carried when she left Edo. But the cap on this one could be lifted off to reveal a straight, double-edged blade, sharp enough to shave a nun’s head. The decorative bands of beaten brass around the shaft added strength to the places most likely to be struck with a sword or staff.

Kasane had been too preoccupied to notice the mare’s slow pace. With her legs dangling from the front of the open pannier frame, she had leaned her elbows on the rim. When she wasn’t glancing behind her, looking for her pilgrim, she gazed dreamily into the future. Cat could guess what she was thinking.

Kasane had passed the hours singing old tunes softly to herself. Her voice was full and pleasant, and all her songs had been about love. So was the one she was singing now.

Time cannot alter

The flow of water,

Or love’s strange, sweet way.

BMshk dropped back to walk alongside Cat’s pannier. “For five hundred more coppers, Your Honor, we’ll take you over the Utsu-no-yama trail.”

“That’s too much money.”

 “The pass is dangerous. A murder was committed there just last month.”

“Surely you two fierce men aren’t afraid?”

“Of course not. But even in daytime the trees make the road so dark that if someone were to pinch your nose, you wouldn’t see him. Besides, the nag wears out a bale of sandals on the rocks.”

“Looks like we can’t go with you for any price.” Hairy pointed his pipe at the mob of porters, hostlers, horses, and
kago
bearers milling about in the yard of Mariko’s transport office.

With a rolled scroll, probably a labor requisition, a minor transport official waved the brothers over to the side of the road. “Excuse the inconvenience,” he called out.

Cat slumped in her seat, lowered her head so her face was hidden by her hat, and pretended to be dozing. Her hand rested casually on her staff.

“How fares your saintly mother, BMshk-san?” the official asked politely.

“Still waiting for good fortune, Your Honor.” BMshk squinted into the blowing dust.

“Fortune and misfortune are entwined like the strands of a rope.” The official sucked air through his teeth philosophically. The amenities observed, he brandished the scroll.  “Lord Hino’s councillor is on his way to Edo and will stay here tomorrow night,” he said. “Lord Wakizaka will be here tonight on his way back to Harima.” With the processions of two lords arriving, the official had reason to look harried. “The members of the two trains are like the teeth of a comb in number. Lord Wakizaka must have your steed.”

Cat stiffened. Lord Hino had been an ally of Cat’s father. Wakizaka, lord of Tatsuno, was from Harima, the same province as her father. His warriors had accompanied the government’s agents when they took possession of the Asano castle and lands.

“Lord Wakizaka!” Hairy grumbled from behind Cat’s pannier. “Lord Wakizaka tries to pay with promissory notes or samples of his poetry. He’s pawned his genitals to the money lenders.”

“We are at the august lord’s service.” BMshk bowed sardonically.

“Report this afternoon for your assignment.” As the official walked away the wind whipped his
hakama
about his thin legs.

BMshk turned to face Cat. “Forgive my rudeness, Your Honor, but may I suggest you wait until tomorrow and follow Lord Wakizaka’s procession? Your safety will be assured on the Utsu-no-yama road.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Cat said.  “But my sister and I will go on alone.”

“It’s a risky undertaking,” said BMshk.

“A teacup on the edge of a well,” Hairy added.

The Bosho brothers were right. The Utsu-no-yama trail was steep and rocky and lonely and dark. And though it was early afternoon, a coming storm made the road even gloomier than usual.

Thunder grumbled among the peaks. Wind moaned through the tops of the towering cedars, causing their trunks to creak. It rustled the dense undergrowth ominously.

The
kagos
and horses for hire had all been detained at the transport office in Mariko. Most foot travelers had already taken refuge. The road was almost deserted. Cat knew she was being followed, though. She had looked over the edge and counted five men coming up the narrow switchback below.

She used a long cord to tie her sleeves back out of the way with the warrior’s dragonfly knot. She rolled her towel into a band and tied it around her head to keep tendrils of hair from blowing in her eyes. When she finished she did indeed look like the young lord Yoshitsune, trained in the warrior’s Way by mountain demons.

She waited at the far side of two huge rock formations flanking the road. The trail narrowed here until only one person at a time could pass comfortably between them. The outcropping on her right jutted out from the cliff at the top of the pass. Behind the one to her left was a drop-off into a narrow gorge three
cho
deep. Mist rose from the river that foamed and tumbled over the rocks at the bottom of it.

“Elder sister,” Cat said, “go on ahead. You can catch up with the pilgrims who passed a while ago. Wait for me across from the gate of the Wisteria Inn in Okabe.”

“We could hide until they pass, younger brother.” Kasane had seen the five men, too.

“They must know I’m here. They’d find me eventually.” Cat had decided that if she must fight, this was the best possible place. “Even if they try to kill me, I won’t die until I’m fated to.”

 “Then I’ll stay with you.” Kasane was still using her crutch, but the swelling in her ankle had gone down. She could walk with a slight limp. “I won’t die until I’m fated to, either.”

Cat sighed at the obstinacy of peasants. “ Stay out of sight.”

Cat heard the men’s voices before they rounded the corner. When they saw her they stopped to confer and tie back their own sleeves. Even though there were five of them, they would have to run at Cat one at a time. And each attacker’s sword arm would be constricted in the narrow defile.

“Give up and we won’t hurt you.” The leader of the group swaggered out in front of the others. He was powerful and ugly. He wasn’t much taller than Cat, but he had long arms.

“You must enter the tiger’s den to catch the cub,” Cat taunted. She assumed a fighting stance, with the spear held close to her side, the blade pointed up at an angle.

Ragged strands of lightning illuminated the pass in an explosion of light. The ensuing thunder resonated in Cat’s chest, which felt taut as a drumhead. She remembered Oishi’s advice,  “
Move calmly, like a lotus flower in the middle of a raging fire.”

Kira’s retainers drew their swords and advanced with a caution Cat found flattering. She faced them with a cool, remote stare. She regretted only that she had no helmet in which to burn incense so that if her head were taken, it would be perfumed and presentable.

“I am Asano no Kinume.” To be heard above the wind, Cat had to shout her challenge. “I am the daughter of Asano Takumi-no-Kami Naganori, lord of AkM castle and third master of the Banshu-AkM clan.”

Cat took a deep breath. She felt as though she were part of the storm rising around her. “I am a person of little merit,” she continued, “but it’s a matter of indifference to me if I live or die here today. If you care to test my arm, step forward.”

The leader of the group refused to lower himself by answering a woman’s challenge. With the flat of his blade held carelessly against his shoulder, he strode forward as though Cat were unarmed. As he cleared the narrow passageway he brought up his sword to parry her blow and disarm her, but he was too late.

Cat used the blow Oishi had taught her and that had served her in the fight at the ferry near Kawasaki. Her spear moved in a blurred, precise arc. It sliced deep into the forearm. Then she lunged, driving the blade through the man’s jacket and into his chest, pushing him back against the rock. She heard the muffled scrape of metal on stone as the blade passed through him.

The weight of his body pulled the spear downward as he slid into a crouching position at the base of the rock face. Cat put a foot against his chest and yanked the blade out. She could see he was dead, and she turned her attention to the next man.

Holding the spear horizontally above her head, she dropped onto her left knee with her right leg out in front of her, the knee bent, the foot braced. She swung the butt section around to parry the second man’s downward blow, then dispatched him with a sweeping strike that opened his stomach. When he fell she stabbed the point into his ear, finishing him.

His corpse lay in the opening between the rocks, making a third attack even more difficult. While two of the survivors tried to hold Cat’s attention with feints and threats, the third clambered up into the wind-sculptured hollows and crevices of the huge outcrop to her left.