For an instant everyone was shocked to silence, and it was eerily quiet in the stillness of the early morning air. Even Arthfael was too stunned to break the hush; instead it was a woman’s voice that destroyed the calm.
“Boudicca!” Aina shouted loudly as the men and boys surrounding the corral burst into laughter at Arthfael humiliating defeat, “Wot ‘ave ye done!”
“Ha!” Malvyn announced with a great deal of satisfaction. “She’s beaten Arthfael!” The men and boys strung about the corral exploded with cheers, and most of the younger spectators jumped down to congratulate her. They’d all received too many of Arthfael’s merciless beatings to feel any pity for him.
“Boudicca!” Aina shouted again. “Climb out of there this instant!”
“Yes girl, climb out of the ring and come and greet yor king,” a deep voice sounded from the middle of the courtyard. Everyone spun and gazed up at Prasutagus, who sat regally on his tall, powerful warhorse. He was glaring scornfully down at them all. Everyone went quiet, fearing the worst. Malvyn however, who knew the King best, could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
Aina gasped audibly and Boudicca sheepishly dropped her wooden weapon in the mud and moved slowly toward the rail fence. It took all of her will power to keep her hands from her hair, which she realized must be a horrible nest of tangles.
‘So be it,’ she thought and raised her head high. ‘This is who I am,’ she decided and wiped her hands down the pads to remove most of the mud and sweat. Prasutagus frowned and climbed from his horse as Boudicca smoothly hopped over the rail fence and moved to stand before him.
He was old, but she already knew that…over twice her age though he looked older. He was tall, even taller than she, and Boudicca was silently thankful. He had a full black beard which was speckled with gray, and long dark hair pulled back and secured with a leather thong.
‘He’s an old man,’ she thought as she looked up into his face, but she caught the sparkle in his dark eyes and realized almost immediately that he was pleased with her. She tried to suppress a smile and failed. He eyes sparkled all the more.
“Well tis verily good ye can fight,” Prasutagus admitted softly. His voice was deep and rumbled like that of a dragon. “If ye can kiss half as well, I’ll be naming ye me bride to be on the spot,” he finished with a laugh, and pulled her to him, dirty pads and all.
Boudicca was once more surprised by his height as he reached down and grabbed her waist with a pair of large hands. Suddenly shy, she tried to take a step back but he easily pulled her closer and then locked his arms around her. She was confident with a weapon in her hand, but she wasn’t at all sure she had the same skills when it came to kissing, especially kissing an old, gruff man with breath just this side of death.
“Come on, let’s have it then,” the king said with obvious delight and leaned forward.
Boudicca gulped and clamped her eyes closed tight, hoping that such a strategy would suffice. She felt rather than saw the king move closer, and was nearly to the point of panic when suddenly the face of the dead boy from the meadow materialized in her mind. The vision came through clear and strong, and she could almost feel him holding her close, like a lover. His heavenly face smiled down at her, flooding her soul with courage and desire. She boldly moved forward, ignoring the scrape of the beard, and planted her lips on the king’s with all the passion and love she felt for the unknown Trinovantes’ boy.
But now, some instinct told her he was not unknown. She knew him somehow, though how, she could not say. Nor did she know why she felt such love for him. It was a bit crazy to possess such strong emotions for a stranger, and a dead one at that…but love him she did. Her kiss reflected such ardor, and the king responded by pulling her closer still, holding her tight with his long, strong arms.
When they finally broke apart the king was breathing heavily. He stared down into Boudicca’s eyes for what seemed like an impossibly long time, before smiling and turning to his ragtag audience.
“Well, it seems I’ve found me queen,” he announced, and the courtyard erupted in cheers once again.
Boudicca smiled, and even laughed as Prasutagus effortlessly lifted her from her feet and spun her around as if she were a small child. She enjoyed the rush of wind and the feel of his strong arms holding her firmly, but she was also thankful for the vision of the dead boy. He’d saved the moment, she was sure of it.
Little did she know that from that day forward he would always be there for her, appearing in her mind’s eye when duty called, loving her…protecting her. Anytime she was required to be intimate with her much older husband, the dead boy would appear, the vision of him strong and clear, allowing her to want, allowing her to love. And though she didn’t understand such strong feelings, she could not deny them. They were a mystery, as was her dead boy from the meadow.
Encounter Four
Chapter Nine
Katashi and Chisuzu
September 13th, 1180 A.D.
The palanquin shifted violently and Yoshiko let out a little scream of fright, waking the Lady Chisuzu. The small norimono they rode in tipped dangerously to one side before suddenly righting itself. Yoshiko, slightly embarrassed by her outburst, stuck an angry head out the curtains of the sedan and scolded Isamu, the chief porter in charge of carrying her young charge to the hot springs at Atami.
“Isamu you fool, do you wish to dump Lady Chisuzu in the mud,” she shouted as the porters began to descend a rather deep gully.
“No Misu…apologies Misu,” Isamu replied from his position next to the door of the norimono. He bowed quickly several times before half-heartedly slapping the man in front of him in the back of the head. The porter took the punishment without complaint, though he’d not been the one to slip and nearly dump the ladies from their sedan.
Yoshiko, Chisuzu’s Uba, or milk mother, was the lady’s chaperone on her trip and in charge of her welfare and safety. Though strictly a peasant, Yoshiko had a renowned temper that even the trailing samurai avoided. Yoshiko had served the Tokimasa family since before Chisuzu was born, and insisted that the young girl be treated with the respect someone from the Hōjō clan deserved. Despite her anger however, she could see that Isamu and the other porters were tired.
“The lady is tired,” she said abruptly, preserving the man’s face, “we will rest on the far side of the gully.”
“Yes misu,” answered Isamu gratefully, a feeling all the porters shared. They demonstrated it by being exceedingly careful over the rough terrain. Once on the far side of the gully they continued on for nearly a hundred paces before coming to a grassy field that had once been cleared for planting, but was now fallow and ringed with wild cherry trees.
With practiced ease the porters lowered the norimono down until it settled softly in the tall grasses. Doshin Namihiko, the officer of the guard, immediately ordered his samurai to fan out across the open meadow in order to protect the Lady Chisuzu, who for the most part, ignored the soldiers.
Once settled on a blanket in the grass, Yoshiko began to dole out their midday meal, which consisted of a ball of rice, some dried fish and an assortment of nuts and berries. Chisuzu ate almost timidly, with very small bites, as her eyes wandered the meadow. The porters were off somewhere behind the palanquin, Chisuzu could hear them eating and talking softly to one another. The samurai assigned to protect her were scattered across the meadow. They did not eat or drink, but instead stood alert and ready for any sign of danger.
Tokimasa, Chisuzu’s father and head of the Hōjō clan, would show no mercy if his youngest daughter were to come to any harm. Not that any of the men would expect mercy for such a dishonor. The shame from such a failure would be unbearable, and most would gladly take their own lives rather than face their lord Tokimasa. It was their duty…their only duty, to see that such a tragedy did not happen, and so they were very vigilant.
Yoshiko sat with her back straight and waved away the flying insects that threatened to land on their food. She watc
hed Chisuzu closely as she ate, ready to chastise her if she noticed any transgression. Happily the girl was developing rapidly into a polite, controlled young lady; of course the daughter of an important daimyo could be nothing less.
“This would be a very beautiful spot in the spring,” Yoshiko commented, “with the cherry trees in bloom.”
Chisuzu glanced around the meadow and smiled. “It is a beautiful spot,” she replied, gazing up at the blue sky as it peeked through the dark green foliage.
Strewn across the meadow were large, round boulders covered in dark green moss. They stood out starkly against the lighter green of the tall grass and the deep browns of the tree trunks. The wind was blowing softly, carrying the sounds of happy birds around the open field, their songs accompanied by the tinkling of the small brook that bubbled past in the gully below.
“Hmmph,” Yoshiko replied as Chisuzu watched a bright blue bird land in a nearby tree. It sang for a moment and then flew off once more, zooming easily through the tangle of branches that made up the surrounding forest.
“Yes, I suppose it is beautiful…” Yoshiko conceded but stopped abruptly, interrupted by a quick whistle and a thud.
Chisuzu pulled her eyes from the sky and glanced down and was surprised to see a feathered arrow protruding from her Uba’s chest. Yoshiko’s eyes were wide with shock and fright.
“Oh!” She exclaimed simply and then slumped over on her side away from Chisuzu.
“Yoshiko! Yoshiko!” Chisuzu shouted, uncharacteristically losing control. She scrambled over to her Uba’s side and cradled her head in her lap. She was only dimly aware of sounds of fighting, of the ring of steel on steel as swords crossed.
“Yoshiko!” Chisuzu cried, believing the older woman to be dead, but surprisingly Yoshiko opened her eyes.
“Ochibi-chan,” Yoshiko whispered Chisuzu’s pet name softly, and with effort reached up and stroked the girl’s cheek. She’d not called Chisuzu such in a very long time. As it was, Chisuzu only put up with the name from Yoshiko and her father. “You must run and hide,” Yoshiko blurted and the young girl saw that her teeth and lips were smeared with blood. “You cannot let Taira’s men find you, or your father will be forced to turn against Yoritomo.”
Chisuzu frowned, very afraid. At fifteen, she did not fully understand the complex politics of the land in which she lived. “I’ll not leave you,” she rebelled, though all her instincts screamed for her to obey. Tears ran down her cheeks and fell noiselessly onto her Uba’s chin and neck.
“You must!” Yoshiko insisted and squeezed the young girl’s wrist so hard it hurt. “Go now before the fighting is over!”
Chisuzu glanced around. Everywhere she looked samurai was fighting samurai, slashing and killing with lethal grace.
“Go now!” Yoshiko blurted and then sucked in a deep breath that she never let out. Her eyes glazed over and her hand suddenly flopped to the ground.
“Yoshiko!” Chisuzu whispered in despair then jumped as another arrow whizzed by and thumped into the side of the sedan. Galvanized, she scurried off the blanket and away from her lifelong companion. She quickly scampered to the far side of the palanquin and was astonished to see that all the porters were headless and dead save Isamu, who lay crumpled near an enemy samurai. Isamu’s hand held a long knife that was sticking from the samurai’s neck and it was clear that both men died fighting.
Another arrow slammed into the palanquin and Chisuzu spun around. Several of her father’s samurai were still battling, including Doshin Namihiko, but she quickly saw that they were severely outnumbered. She knew she should flee into the surrounding forest, but her knees were weak and she was very afraid. She stood transfixed as Namihiko cut down an enemy fighter, and for a moment hoped shined through her. Perhaps her father’s men would prevail after all.
“Pssst!” The sound from behind cut through the noise of the battle and Chisuzu spun. At first she didn’t see anyone.
“Pssst!” It sounded again and this time her eyes zeroed in on the source. A young man lay nearly hidden in the undergrowth on the far side of the dirt road that led to Atami. He beckoned but Chisuzu hesitated for a moment, turning back to the battle just in time to see Namihiko’s head jump from his shoulders. Her eyes flew wide and she spun and darted across the path toward the vaguely familiar young man. As she ran, her mind told her that the stranger was not samurai…he could not protect her against her father’s enemies, but she ran nonetheless.
Being a samurai herself did not stop Chisuzu from falling to her knees in the mud when she reached the far side of the road. Her beautiful silk kimono was ruined, but she didn’t give it a thought as she scrambled away from the fight. Without introduction the young man stuck out a hand and literally pulled Chisuzu into the underbrush. She was surprised by his strength, but slapped at him just the same, as he continued to drag her away from danger.
“Stop it!” She commanded as she tried to regain her feet, the young man however, ignored her until he’d pulled her over a dozen paces and into a small clearing.
“Stop! Chisuzu repeated angrily as she finally made it back to her knees. “Are you a fool?” She asked but the young man just shook his head. He put one hand over her mouth and quietly pointed with the other.
Chisuzu swiveled and intently gazed back through the underbrush. The foliage was thick, but through the gaps she could see a handful of soldiers rounding the palanquin. Her heart pounded in her chest as she immediately froze, and though she was very afraid, she was also keenly aware of the hand that pressed softly against her lips. The hand was rough; obviously the hands of the peasant, but it had a pleasant, earthy smell about it.
“Come,” the young man whispered, his lips brushing the back of her ear as he spoke. She shivered, and without meaning to leaned back closer to him, however before their bodies could touch he was gone…all but his hand, which gripped hers tightly and pulled her farther away from the road.
He moved quickly and confidently through the forest. She followed him willingly, though he squeezed her hand so hard that she felt like something of a prisoner. He weaved through the trees, leading her up and down several hills before coming to a stop at the top of a steep knoll that looked down on a section of the gully her porters had struggled with just a little over an hour ago. It already felt like days had passed.
The young man guided her around the far side of a large tree and then pulled her once more down to her knees. Chisuzu cooperated, staring up at the young man, very aware that he was still holding her hand tightly.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered and he glanced down at her with a puzzled look.
“You’re hurting my hand,” she explained softly and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Sorry!” He replied in a surprisingly deep voice. His grip slackened, but she was keenly aware that he did not release his hold on her even when his attention moved back to the surrounding forest.
She studied him silently for a moment. He had a strong, open face, with high cheek bones and wide eyes with long lashes. She wouldn’t have called him handsome, but his face was pleasing in a peasant sort of way. He ignored her and continued to stare back down the hill and through the forest and for the first time Chisuzu realized that he had a bow slung diagonally across his back. If he could use it, perhaps they would escape this trap. She was about to say as much, but when she started he held up a hand for quiet. He watched the trees below for such a long time that Chisuzu became impatient.
“What…” she whispered and he waved her to be quiet once more.
Chisuzu frowned at the affront, but after a moment turned to watch their back trail as well. Minutes passed, and Chisuzu was just beginning to hope they’d escaped further danger when the first enemy samurai topped the far hill. They were still relatively far away, but even from a distance she could see that they were directly on their trail. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she suddenly had the very real fear that she might die here, off the road, so far out in the forest that her par
ents might never find her body or ever know what happened to her.
The young man however, did not hesitate, without standing he pulled her back from the top of the hill. They crawled together on the forest floor until the summit hid them from view and then he stood and helped her to her feet. She stumbled and placed a steadying hand on his chest. She paused for a moment, embarrassed by the personal nature of the touch, but he appeared not to notice and was off, running down the hill toward the gully, pulling her along with him.
They raced down the hill hand in hand until they reached a steep embankment that guarded a wide stream that slowly meandered through the hillside on its way to the ocean. The young man immediately began to follow the stream away from the road until he came to a place that was relatively free of vegetation.
Chisuzu frowned as she glanced down the steep bank, but before she could say anything the young man released her hand and was over the edge, running to keep his balance. Chisuzu gasped, utterly sure that he would pitch forward on his face at any moment, but instead he raced down the hill, arms waving before he splashed to a sudden stop in the middle of the stream.
‘He’s abandoned me!’ she thought, knowing that there was no way she could duplicate the feat. But then he turned and smiled back up at her and she knew he would stay with her to the end.
“Come on!” He encouraged in a loud whisper. Chisuzu shook her head, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazed down at him.
“Come on,” he implored and moved out of the stream. He climbed part way back up the bank, until the way became too steep to easily navigate. “They’ll see you!”
Still Chisuzu hesitated; positive she would fall and humiliate herself in front of him.
“Come on! You are samurai?”
Chisuzu frowned; stung by the young man’s words, of course she was samurai! Suddenly angry, she sat down in the dirt at the edge of the bank and quickly removed the zori from her feet. She threw them, one after another, down at the smiling young man. He caught both almost effortlessly, which only increased Chisuzu’s annoyance with him.
One Life Well and Truly Promised Page 20
