“Ando-san likes young maids. She buys them from agents who scour the countryside for young farm girls. She likes to break them in so we can turn a profit by selling them into service elsewhere. Although we’ve had many young girls in this house during the time I’ve been here, there’s nothing I can tell you about one with a plum blossom crest.”
Kaze, who had made similar inquiries all over Japan, was neither surprised nor disappointed by Enomoto’s answer.
“Is it true that the bandits were trying to kill Hishigawa-san?” Enomoto asked.
“It was very peculiar. Most hesitated after they had killed the guards and demanded Hishigawa-san’s surrender, but at least one man, Ishibashi, had only the death of Hishigawa-san as his goal.”
“Ishibashi?” Enomoto said.
“Yes. Hishigawa-san said he was the leader of the bandits.”
Enomoto looked genuinely upset. “Disgusting,” he said. “Hishigawa-san was robbed of gold less than a year ago. At that time they killed the guards with him, but they didn’t hurt him. It’s disturbing that they wanted to kill him this time.”
“Why does Hishigawa-san transport gold from Kyoto anyway?” Kaze asked.
“Because his businesses get out of balance in terms of the amount of gold they have. He has to reallot gold among the three locations of Kamakura, Edo, and Kyoto periodically.”
“I understand that,” Kaze said. “I just don’t know why he actually transfers the gold from each of his businesses.”
“Do you know a way he could avoid that?” Enomoto said, surprised.
“I’m not a merchant,” Kaze replied.
“Of course. Forgive me.” Enomoto knew not to pursue talk of commerce, but he eyed Kaze speculatively. “Oh,” he said. “Speaking of merchants, I apologize for Hishigawa-san’s rudeness with this.” He took the stack of paper-wrapped coins from his sleeve and put it in front of Kaze with a bow. This time it was properly wrapped, in a folded sheet of fine paper, to hide the fact that it was a stack of money. “He wasn’t trying to insult you. He thinks it’s normal to hand money to samurai. You saw how the barrier guards snatched up their payment.”
Kaze waved his hand, as if dismissing Hishigawa’s breach of etiquette in handing Kaze the payment so crassly. Kaze took the payment from Enomoto and put it in his sleeve.
“With so many samurai wandering the roads it’s difficult to get employment, even for a man of your skills. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and fight for me?”
“No. I can’t work here,” Kaze said.
“Why not?”
Kaze paused for a minute, then said, “As I told you, I have other obligations that I must fulfill. Besides, I think Hishigawa-san may be a bad man. If he’s not a bad man, then he’s certainly a weak one, the way he’s possessed by his wife, Yuchan.”
Enomoto grinned. “What makes you think that I’m not a bad man, too?”
Kaze looked at Enomoto and said, “I’ve already considered that possibility.”
Enomoto laughed. “Very good,” he said, “just remember that I am a bad man. A very bad man. We’re all bad here. Otherwise we wouldn’t be in this household.”
Kaze picked up his sakè cup and took a sip. “That’s something I’ll remember in my future dealings with you,” he said.
Enomoto laughed again.
Kaze decided to explore Kamakura and left Hishigawa’s villa to go into town. When he walked out of the villa, he saw Hanzo and Goro sitting by the manor’s front gate looking miserable.
Kaze walked up to them and said, “What’s the matter?”
Both held out their hands. They each had a few coppers. “We were promised gold,” Hanzo said accusingly, “and this is what Hishigawa-san paid us. He didn’t even give us the full ten coppers he said he would.”
Kaze looked down at the meager copper coins in their hands. He reached into his sleeve and took out the paper-wrapped coins. He opened the paper, then tore open the tissue that was wrapped around the coins. He took four of the oblong gold coins and dropped two each into the upturned palms of the surprised peasants.
“I’m the one who promised you gold,” Kaze said.
He started down the path into the town of Kamakura. He had only taken a few strides when Goro and Hanzo came rushing up to him. They dropped to their knees and placed their foreheads on the grounds, their hands on either side of their heads, “Thank you, Samurai-sama! Thank you, thank you!” they said.
Kaze looked down at the two peasants. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be disgusting. I gave you gold, not something of true value.”
Leaving the puzzled peasants looking after him, Kaze continued his journey into the town.
Kaze went past the main street of Kamakura, which had a raised stone causeway running down its middle. When Kamakura had its bakufu government, a Shogun had built the causeway as a way of begging the Gods to ease the childbirth of his wife.
On each side of the main street were numerous shops filled with food, merchandise, and clothes. Kaze picked a shop that sold katsuo-bushi, dried bonito. The slabs of dried bonito looked like blocks of wood. A small plane was used to shave pieces off for flavoring in soups and other dishes. The dried bonito looked so much like wood that sometimes scoundrels would sell blocks of wood to unsuspecting housewives at what appeared to be a bargain price for bonito. Often the housewives were so embarrassed that they didn’t report the fraud to the village authorities, allowing the scoundrels to move on to the next village.
The words “katsuo-bushi” could also be interpreted as “victorious samurai,” so dried bonito was a popular and auspicious gift. Kaze decided to start with this shop because he thought that “victorious samurai” might bring him luck.
“Sumimasen, excuse me,” he said.
The shopkeeper looked at Kaze and bowed. He was a mere gnome of a man, wearing a gray kimono. “Yes, Samurai-sama?” he said, using the “sama” honorific to show how exalted Kaze, or any customer, was.
“Do you know if anyone in the neighborhood has a nine-year-old girl as a servant? She might have come here when she was seven.”
If the shopkeeper thought this was a strange question, he was too polite to show it. “No, Samurai-sama, there is no girl like that in this neighborhood. We are poor shopkeepers, so most do not have servants of any age.”
Kaze had been searching for over two years, and the only real clue he had to the girl’s whereabouts was the piece of cloth he had received from the trio he was also seeking, so he wasn’t surprised by the shop-keeper’s response.
“I am also seeking a trio,” Kaze continued. “One is an elderly woman who is still sturdy and fit. She may be wearing a headband with the kanji for ‘revenge’ on it. She’s accompanied by a young man, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and an old servant who is unusually thin.”
“I can help you with those people, Samurai-sama. They were in my shop just two days ago. If you’ll excuse me for saying it, Samurai-sama, but the woman was rather… well, forceful is how I would describe her. But I mean no disrespect, especially if she is related to you, Samurai-sama!” the shopkeeper added quickly.
“I take no offense,” Kaze assured him. “Did the trio say where they were staying in Kamakura?”
“No, Samurai-sama. The woman talked about what poor quality my bonito is and, ah, insisted on a discount, but they made no mention of where they were staying. I should imagine it is not at an inn, if she was cooking, but perhaps they wanted the bonito as a gift.”
Kaze thanked the shopkeeper and went a few shops down the street, repeating his inquiry. The fact that the trio might be in Kamakura was a great help to Kaze, although he had no way of knowing if they were staying in Kamakura or if they had gone on to Enoshima Island to the south or Edo to the north. After asking at several shops, he learned that the woman had also purchased miso and some rice, all at a discount after criticizing the quality. Kaze was confident that they were staying somewhere in the Kamakura area. One wouldn’t buy supplies like that if they were
still on the road.
Kaze asked at temples and inns about the trio, with no luck. He continued methodically searching Kamakura until it was dark and the cheery glow of colored paper lanterns hung in front of drinking places and inns illuminated the street.
He was aware that people were following him long before the sun set, but he ignored them. There were three men. They were quite good, periodically changing the one who followed Kaze and sometimes walking on parallel streets so they weren’t directly behind him. They were careful to keep hidden, so Kaze couldn’t see their faces to discover if the three men were familiar. Kaze didn’t lack for interest in who the men were and why he was being followed, but he assumed the reasons would eventually be revealed.
At the end of his search of inns, Kaze headed down an alleyway that ran between two secondary streets. The darkness of the alley was relieved only by the faint light of the stars, and Kaze wasn’t too surprised that the three men took this opportunity to approach him. What did surprise him was that the men made no attempt to talk to him. Instead, he heard the hurried shuffle of sandaled feet behind him as the three men rushed him.
Kaze drew the dead man’s sword, dropped his body slightly, and made a sweeping cut with the katana as he spun around. The deadly arc of steel had a dull shine to it as it caught the faint light of the heavens. The blade cut into the midsection of one the three men and caught a second in the forearm. Kaze continued his turn and straightened, ending up to the side of the three men as the one caught in the belly collapsed to the earth with a loud groan.
The other wounded man and his unhurt companion stood for an instant looking at Kaze, who was standing at the ready with his sword in the “aimed at the knee” position. The faces of the men were obscured by cloths, so Kaze couldn’t see their features. It was obvious that they had intended to kill him. They weren’t Tokugawa officials, so Kaze had no idea why these men would want him dead.
The man wounded in the forearm was holding his sword with only one hand. His other was clamped across the cut on his arm, stanching the flow of blood. Suddenly, he grunted to his companion the single word “Go!” Kaze thought the word was a signal for a coordinated attack, but instead the two men started running down the alleyway, leaving Kaze with their dying companion.
Instead of pursuing the two fleeing assassins, Kaze turned the dying man over. The man’s breathing was labored because the blade had cut into his diaphragm, and he held his hands across the cut, as if his actions could stop his life from leaking out of the terrible slice.
Kaze removed the face cloth. It was someone unknown to him. The masks were intended to hide the men’s faces from townspeople as they murdered Kaze.
“Why did you attack me?” Kaze asked.
The man groaned.
“Tell me why you attacked me,” Kaze said.
The man looked up at Kaze. In the dim light of the alleyway it was impossible to see his eyes, but Kaze saw the man sag and cease breathing, and he knew the eyes would be lifeless and already starting to film.
Kaze sighed. He thought briefly of taking up the pursuit of the other two but decided it was hopeless. He wasn’t frightened by the attempt on his life, but he was curious. If the men wanted him dead because of who he was before he became a ronin, they could kill him with the help of the law. He was fair game for a wide variety of enemies, including the entire Okubo clan.
If they had tried to kill him because of the gold he carried in his sleeve, that narrowed down the potential suspects to Hishigawa’s household. No, Kaze thought, that wasn’t all. The suspects included Hishigawa’s household and the two peasants, Goro and Hanzo. Kaze had saved Goro’s life, but Goro was also the one Kaze had caught contemplating a theft of the gold. Kaze didn’t expect gratitude when men were blinded by the glint of gold. He had no feelings of anger at the thought that the two peasants might have arranged his assassination to get the rest of the gold he carried. It was a hard time, and men did hard things.
He wiped the dead man’s blade on the kimono of the corpse, then held it before him with both hands and his head bowed.
“Thank you for the use of your blade, Ishibashi-san,” Kaze said to the spirit of the man who had owned the sword. “I’m sorry to have used your katana to kill someone, but in this situation it can’t be helped.” Kaze looked up and carefully slid the blade back into the scabbard. The sooner he got his own blade and stopped the use of the dead man’s sword, the better. Next time the spirit of Ishibashi might not be so generous in letting the man who killed him use his sword so successfully.
CHAPTER 12
Old face and gray hair,
but a heart that beats strongly.
Fearsome grandmother!
Kaze left the body of the assassin in the alleyway and continued walking back to Hishigawa’s villa. He didn’t carve a Kannon statue, but decided he would bring one back to the site the next morning to appease the soul of the dead assassin. Someone would find the corpse in the morning, and it was better if Kaze was not entangled with the Tokugawa authorities as they investigated the killing. He still had much of Kamakura to search for the girl, and he also had the trio to find.
The moon had not yet risen in the sky but, in the center of Kamakura, lantern light shone and people were still wandering the streets in its mellow glow.
As Kaze left the center of the town, the lights and people became fewer, until he was alone on the path to Hishigawa’s villa. Kaze could hear the quiet chirping of insects as he made his way between the dark trunks of trees that lined the path. His footsteps were muffled by the dirt and pine needles on the trail. As he approached the villa, his acute senses detected something besides the insects. He slowed his progress, straining to hear something besides the natural rhythm of the night.
There. He heard it again. The crackling of small tree limbs and the movement of bodies through the trees that bordered the path. Kaze stopped and stared into the darkness, drawing his sword from its scabbard and waiting to see who or what was hiding by the side of the pathway. He wondered if this was the prelude to another assassination attempt.
Suddenly a shape came flying out of the night from the deep woods. It landed on the ground behind him, barely missing his side. It was a spear.
Moving instantly, Kaze dashed into the woods, blending into the darkness and using the tree trunks to shield him from another spear. He could hear the rustling of several bodies in the woods, fleeing. He increased his speed, dodging one dark tree trunk after another, constantly moving in the direction in which he could hear the others escaping.
Ahead he heard a cry and a crash, and he knew one of his assailants had fallen. With the agility of an acrobat, Kaze dodged tree limbs and tree trunks and in seconds came across a dark shape picking himself off the ground. Kaze kicked the shape, and it went flying to the earth again, crying out in pain. Then it started shouting, but shouting something that Kaze could never have imagined.
“Obaasan! Obaasan! Grandma! Grandma! Help me! He’s got me. Grandma—”
Kaze walked up and put his foot on the shape, giving it a second shove before it could scramble to its feet.
“Grandma,” the shape screamed, “please help!”
Suddenly there was a crash to his right, and two additional shapes emerged from the darkness of the forest.
“Let go of him or I’ll kill you!” It was an older woman’s voice, but as sharp and authoritative as any samurai’s.
“I don’t really want to let go of him,” Kaze said. “In fact, I’ve been looking for all of you ever since the last time I saw you.”
“Who are you?” the old woman snapped.
“I’m the samurai you met at the teahouse many days ago. The one who fought a duel.”
“You!” the woman said.
Kaze nodded and realized that the woman couldn’t see him in the dark, so he said, “Hai! Yes.”
“Why are you after my grandson?” the woman demanded.
“Because your grandson plays dangerous games,” Kaze an
swered.
Kaze let the young man scramble to his feet. “I got scared,” the youngster admitted. “He knew we were hiding in the woods, so I threw my spear and ran.”
“It doesn’t do much good to hide when you make as much noise as you did,” Kaze said. “Stealth requires silence as well as cloaking yourself in darkness.”
“Thanks for the lesson,” the old woman said with sarcastic gruffness. “What do you want?”
“Well, I suppose I could ask the same thing of you,” Kaze said, “because apparently you are watching Hishigawa’s villa.”
“You’re the one who said you’ve been looking for us for days,” the old woman declared. “Now you tell us.”
Kaze smiled. The old woman would have made a good field general.
“I am Matsuyama Kaze,” he said, bowing, even though they couldn’t see his gesture in the dark.
“And I am the Elder Grandma of the Cadet Branch of the Noguchi family,” the woman said.
“When I first met you, you were on a vendetta,” Kaze said. “Did you complete what you set out to do?”
“I don’t think I should tell you,” the woman said.
“Why not?”
“Because Hishigawa is the person we have a vendetta against.”
They sat around a small fire burning on the dirt floor of an abandoned temple not too far from Hishigawa’s villa, where the ragtag trio bent on revenge had made camp.
“So what is it you want?” Elder Grandma said. She was flanked by her young grandson, Nagatoki, a youth of about fifteen, and by her aged servant, Sadakatsu, who was tall and cadaverous. Neither of the two males said a word.
“I want information,” Kaze said.
“What kind of information?” she asked.
Jade Palace Vendetta (Samurai Mysteries) Page 10
