‘If I was a courtesan I’d cut off my little finger and prove my love to you with my blood,’ she said solemnly. ‘But instead I give you my word. This is my vow. If there’s some way we can be together we’ll find it. I’ll never be with anyone else.’
‘There never has been anyone but you,’ he said. ‘There never will be.’
14
CRASHING THROUGH THE bushes, soaked in sweat, Nobu wondered if he’d gone completely mad. Here he was, in the bowels of the enemy, streaking across the labyrinthine grounds of the Kitaoka estate like a fox with a bear on its tail; yet all he could think of was Taka. The scent of her perfume clung to his clothes, he could almost feel the touch of her lips and warm body. His head swam. He hardly knew where he was or where he was going.
Stopping to catch his breath, he groaned aloud. He had duties and responsibilities and to want a woman, let alone one so far out of his reach, was sheer folly. They could never be together, he knew that perfectly well. Yet every time he had to wrench himself away, he left a part of himself behind.
Stumbling blindly through the trees, he’d reached the edge of the estate. The wall towered in front of him. Hearing a sound behind him, he snapped to his senses, glad of a distraction to block the clamour of thoughts. There were voices and flickering lights – a patrol, he guessed, guarding the estate. If they spotted him, he’d be dead. They wouldn’t stop to ask questions.
The moon was rising, casting a watery light. It made it easier to see but also made him more visible. He cupped his hands to his mouth and gave a long, low hoot, like an owl.
Jubei, Yasu’s former servant, had given Nobu a leg up on his way in and had said he’d keep a lookout, though Nobu suspected that after such a long time he’d probably have given up or fallen asleep. So he was relieved to hear an answering call.
He stood at the bottom of the wall, looking up. It was as high as a house, of packed earth and stone with a steep tiled roof. He started to clamber up, fumbling for footholds and grabbing at the overhanging eaves, then a tile snapped off in his hands and he tumbled back down with a clatter of pebbles, cursing.
The voices and dancing lights were getting closer. Gritting his teeth, he heaved himself up and poked his head over the roof ridge, keeping low. Jubei was lurking in the shadows a little way away.
Nobu knew he had to get a move on but still he hesitated. There was another owl cry. Jubei was getting impatient. Grimly he turned. Despite everything, he needed to have one last look – at the grounds engulfed in darkness, the shadowy trees and bobbing lanterns and the distant lights of the mansion. He felt the heat that rose in waves from the soil, breathed the scents of the pine trees and the sweet yugao flowers, heard the cry of a reed warbler, the trickle of a waterfall and the cool ‘tock’ of a bamboo pipe striking a stone. It was Amida Buddha’s western paradise, a forbidden land where he could never again set foot. That was where Taka belonged, and he was condemned for ever to be outside it.
He frowned. This was no time for foolish thoughts. He turned back and Jubei gave him a hand as he jumped down.
‘Usss,’ Jubei grunted. In the darkness Nobu could see his gap-toothed grin. His sturdy legs were bare and his broad forehead under his knotted handkerchief glistened with sweat. In his blue cotton jacket with a crest on the back he looked like a workman or a porter or the rough gambler he was.
It hadn’t taken much to persuade him to come along. Jubei was always up for action, no matter how hare-brained. Nobu had told him that he wanted to look around the Kitaoka estate. Everyone said Kitaoka was behind the trouble brewing on the southern island of Kyushu and he might get wind of a plot if there was one. He’d worked at the Kitaoka mansion, he knew his way around.
They’d strolled past the gates several times already. Then that night when they’d seen rickshaws milling outside Nobu had whispered that this was his chance to sneak in unnoticed. They’d gone round to a side wall of the estate and he’d climbed in, Jubei grinning hugely all the while. If he’d known his real purpose, Nobu thought, he would never have believed it.
When news came that the enemy armies had breached the city walls and the first contingents of warriors were summoned to the defence of the castle, Nobu had been a child. He remembered sitting on his knees in the great hall at home in Aizu, with the kettle bubbling on the brazier and the smoke-blackened beams crisscrossing high above.
There were no classes any more; the school had been requisitioned as a hospital. His sisters’ voices rang out in the morning air, yelling war cries as they sparred with their wooden practice sticks in the garden, preparing for battle with deadly seriousness.
Frowning sternly, Yasu had informed Jubei that he released him from his service forthwith. There was no need for him to give up his life on their family’s behalf. Jubei was to go home immediately, Yasu had told him, handing him a purse full of money.
Jubei’s broad face had visibly swelled with indignation. ‘How can you have such a low opinion of me, sir?’ he’d demanded, staring stubbornly at the floor. ‘I know I’m a good-for-nothing fellow but my family has served yours for generations. If your city is under attack I’ll stay and fight in your defence. I know I’m supposed to obey orders, sir, but I absolutely refuse to leave.’
In the end Yasutaro had relented and thereafter they had fought side by side. Yasu and Kenjiro often laughed about Jubei’s recklessness. Whenever he heard enemy troops, he’d head for the door, rifle in hand, and they’d had to grab his sleeve and pull him back. In battle he always made sure he was in the front line. Now, eight years later, he had taken a wife and opened a tofu shop, but he often complained that he could do with a bit of action and he still got into fights.
‘Looks like the coast’s clear, for the moment at least,’ Jubei said, glancing around. ‘We’d better get out of here. I tell you, you wouldn’t get me scrambling up that wall if you paid me.’
‘They were having a meeting,’ said Nobu. ‘Didn’t hear much, but at least we know we can break in if we want to. Could be useful to keep an eye on them.’
He cocked an ear, listening for shouts on the other side of the wall, but there was silence. He seemed to have escaped unnoticed. Then he heard noises coming towards them from the darkness at the end of the road.
‘Damn! Rickshaws. Better make ourselves scarce.’
He looked around sharply. They were in a singularly lonely part of town. The road was bordered on both sides with high earthen walls, without a single tree or bush for cover. The only possible hiding place was the moat which ran alongside the wall on the Kitaoka estate side. With no time to think, they dropped to their hands and knees and scrambled into it, praying to the gods that it was dry, and lay on the bottom as still as corpses, the long grass tickling their noses and insects buzzing around their eyes and faces.
The yells of the rickshaw drivers grew louder as the pounding of feet and clatter of wheels turned into a thunder. Then a voice shouted, ‘Here, idiot! I said, here! You got no brains at all?’
There was a creaking and thumping as shafts hit the ground, followed by a bang and a squawk of ‘Hey! Watch out!’ It sounded as if a second rickshaw had had to swerve to avoid running into the one in front. Nobu grimaced as he recognized the accent. Satsuma, for sure, and drunk. Eijiro’s friends, no doubt.
There was grunting and panting and a foot scraped on the earthen road.
‘What’re ya up to, Yamakawa?’ the second voice whined. ‘We nearly ran into you.’
Yamakawa. Nobu knew that name, one of Eijiro’s cronies. Nobu used to see him when he visited the Kitaoka house, a stocky pugnacious youth with a thick neck and jutting jaw who stuck out his chest like a fighting cock. He’d been all deference when Eijiro was around but treated the servants like dogs.
‘There was someone over there, by the wall.’ Yamakawa’s arrogant voice was familiar too, with its rough Satsuma inflections.
‘The sake’s affected your eyesight, my friend. Hurry up. Get back in your rickshaw or we’ll never make it to
Daimonji Teahouse. It was one yen we wagered, remember?’
‘I tell you, I saw someone – or something.’
‘Next you’ll be saying it was a fox spirit. There’s no one here.’
‘Fox spirit? A thief more likely, one of those northern beggars. Kitaoka should keep the place better guarded. Get down and help me look around.’
Nobu held his breath as feet kicked the grass over his head, sending showers of soil on to his face. A small animal scampered along the bottom of the moat. The voices receded up the road. Mosquitoes buzzed and an owl hooted.
Jubei clenched his fists, bringing down another shower of dirt. ‘Bastards,’ he muttered. ‘There’s only two and they’re blind drunk. Let’s give them a scare. It’s too long since I bruised my fist on a Satsuma skull.’
He shifted as if he was about to climb out.
‘Hold it,’ Nobu muttered, slapping a mosquito that had settled on his arm. ‘There’ll be more on their way.’
Jubei gave a grunt of disbelief. ‘Since when did you baulk at a fight? Isn’t this the lad that was so eager to climb into the Kitaoka residence?’
‘Don’t be crazy. You haven’t even got a weapon,’ said Nobu, recalling his brothers’ stories of what a hothead Jubei was. ‘Remember your pride. We can’t go round brawling like thugs. Yasu would be furious.’
All the same, Jubei had a point. It made no sense to climb into the Kitaoka residence and then refuse to fight a couple of drunken youths. The problem was that they were Taka’s people and somehow that made them Nobu’s too. It was hard to share Jubei’s blind hatred of them any longer. He shook his head in bewilderment. The spell she had cast over him was taking away his fighting spirit and turning him into a weakling.
There was a belch and a hiccup. The voices were getting louder. The Satsuma men were on their way back.
‘What did I tell you? There’s no one around.’
‘Gi’s a moment.’
The footsteps were so close they could smell the sake on the men’s breath. Nobu cringed as he heard fumbling and the rustle of starchy clothing. There was a rushing sound like a waterfall and the stench of urine filled the air. He wrinkled his nose as splashes stung his face. At least the bastard hadn’t relieved himself right on top of them.
‘I tell you it’s driving me crazy, cooling my heels around here,’ said Yamakawa’s voice. ‘It’s all well and good hanging around the Yoshiwara, like those good-for-nothing northern thugs used to before we got rid of them. But it’s not a life for a man.’
‘We certainly showed them, though, didn’t we! Aizu Castle, remember that? Now that was a battle!’
There was a chortle. ‘The flames, yeah. Remember the boom when the gunpowder store blew? Like thunder! Some bonfire, that.’
‘That was a brilliant campaign. I didn’t put my sword back in its scabbard for a month. Rotting from all the blood, it was.’
‘Do you remember those cannons of ours?’
‘Fifty. What a noise.’
‘And the garrison marching out with their heads shaved, flying their flag of surrender?’
‘Pathetic crew, half-starved runts, the lot o’ them. Yeah, that was what I call men’s work. What I’d give to see action again!’
Nobu was exploding with fury. It was all he could do not to fling himself out and lay into the men. He could hear Jubei spluttering. Before Nobu could stop him, he sprang up, shouting, ‘You want action, you murderous bastards, you can have it!’
Nobu leapt out after him.
The two men stumbled back gawping, eyes like plates, mouths hanging open, as if they thought these creatures flying straight out of the ground were tengu demons or corpses rising from their graves. One was Yamakawa, sure enough. Nobu knew that thick neck and fighting dog scowl. They were in western-style jackets and trousers, like dandies, and he noticed straight away that neither had their swords. In the dark, Yamakawa gave no sign of recognizing Nobu. He’d been a scrawny teenager and a mere servant when their paths had last crossed, he hadn’t existed as far as Yamakawa was concerned.
The second man was slight with a pointed chin and tufty hair like a fox. He was shaking. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. Leave me alone,’ he quavered.
Yamakawa had already recovered. ‘They’re peasants, you fool, not ghosts. It’s the riff-raff I saw climbing the wall.’
‘Peasant yourself!’ Jubei shouted. ‘Murderous bastard! Get back to your potato fields, yokel!’
‘Show some respect, dog. Bloody northerner, aren’t you? Too bad we didn’t cut you down sooner. I’ll make up for that right away.’
Scowling, Jubei bunched his fists and stepped forward threateningly, looming over the short southerner. He aimed a punch at Yamakawa. The man ducked under his fist and stepped crisply aside, his eyes gleaming. He didn’t look drunk at all. His hand flew to his belt.
‘Watch out!’ The words died on Nobu’s lips as Yamakawa raised a fleshy arm. There was a flash like lightning in the moonlight. The southerner had a dagger in his hand. He gave a war cry like a banshee’s shriek as he swung it up and before Nobu could move or even shout had driven it straight into Jubei’s belly. The big man breathed out hoarsely as if he’d been punched and staggered back, clutching his stomach.
‘Insolent peasant! That’ll teach you to tangle with your betters!’
As Yamakawa twisted the knife and jerked it out Jubei fell to his knees. Blood oozed black through his fingers and his face slackened and turned grey. The world seemed to stop. Nobu was aware of the moon, three-quarters full, the long grass whispering in the breeze and the wall stretching into the distance. From somewhere inside the grounds came the mournful cry of a fox. Frozen with horror, he saw Jubei’s cheeks grow hollow and his eyes sink in his head as his face became a death mask. The stench of butchery, of fresh blood and guts tumbling from the wound, made Nobu’s stomach turn. He gagged as if it was he, not Jubei, who had been struck.
Yamakawa was standing over Jubei, a mocking smile on his broad face. ‘Too bad,’ he said, sneering. ‘I wish I had my sword to test it on your neck.’
He raised his arm to strike again, lips pulled back in a snarl.
There was a bellow in the silence. It was Nobu’s own voice. Suddenly he was alive again. He leapt into Yamakawa’s path and stood over Jubei, legs apart, protecting him. His training took over. As the blade swung down he grabbed Yamakawa’s thick wrist and twisted with all his might, using the man’s own momentum to steer the dagger towards his chest. Yamakawa was burly and Nobu was slight but rage and grief gave him strength. They grappled for a moment before he felt the blade slide in.
As Yamakawa’s grip loosened and he reeled, Nobu wrenched the knife from his hand and hacked at him grimly, feeling the blade cut through bone and gristle and flesh. Blood spurted from the man’s face and chest and there was a hiss of air from a punctured lung as the southerner staggered and slumped to the ground, wheezing.
Somewhere behind Nobu there was a strangled scream. The second man was staring, wide-eyed. Footsteps ran towards them as other rickshaws approached.
‘Jubei!’ shouted Nobu. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Jubei had crawled a little way away, then collapsed on to his side. He was lying in a pool of blood. Nobu slipped his arm under his shoulders and tried to pick him up but he was a dead weight. He tried again but Jubei was too heavy. His eyes were open. Nobu put his hand to his mouth. No breath, nothing.
He looked around frantically. To abandon Jubei now would be to betray him twice over, but he had no choice. If he hesitated he would be dead himself. Gasping convulsively, he turned and ran, his heart racing and his mouth dry. His breath came in great pants. Hardly aware of where he was or where he was going, he ran blindly until he was far away from the road, the featureless wall and the dreadful scene of death. Then he doubled up and fell to his knees, sobbing with horror.
Jubei was dead and it was all his fault. He had hurt, probably killed Yamakawa, but that meant nothing. He could think of nothing but Jub
ei, Jubei – dead. He took his hands from his face. They were torn and battered. He was soaked to the skin in sweat and blood.
It was the doing of the gods, he thought, those fierce old gods that protected the northern clans. He’d known he was committing an unforgivable crime, consorting with that Satsuma girl, but he’d carried on regardless. And now they’d taken away this good and loyal man, made him their sacrificial victim, to punish him, Nobu, for his treachery.
‘Not Jubei. Me! You should have taken me!’ he shouted wildly, careless of who might hear. A wind rose like an answer from the gods and shook the trees. He could hear the waves beating on the shores of Edo Bay.
He was outside Sengaku Temple. The outer gate with its steep tiled roof stood black against the sky. The forty-seven ronin entombed inside seemed to rise from their graves, hovering over him in stern reproof. He’d gone there with Taka only a few days earlier and been with her again this very night, held her, touched her. And now the gods had issued their terrible warning. He had no choice. He would have to give her up for ever. Jubei’s death had severed his forbidden passion as cleanly as an executioner’s sword.
Jubei, loyal Jubei, who had come unscathed through many battles, only to die in the gutter in a senseless quarrel. He would have to break the news to his brothers. He would tell them they had been on a foolish mission and been attacked by Satsuma. It was near enough the truth. They would go the next morning and retrieve Jubei’s body and he would take responsibility for his wife and parents and make sure they were provided for.
No one could ever know the full story. But it would be a lesson to him.
Looking up at the heavens, he made a vow to the gods. He would avenge Jubei. And though it wrenched his heart, he would never, he swore, never see Taka again.
15
TAKA WOKE WITH a start. Moonlight glimmered through the paper screens, casting a wan light across the piles of rumpled bedding. Fujino’s thin cover was pushed back. She looked around sharply. One of the doors was open a crack and yellow light spilled through. Her mother was on her knees there, murmuring in the careful, controlled tones she used when some disaster had occurred.
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