The Samurai's Garden

by Patricia Kiyono

  The pleasantries ended when her obachan's husband came home. Hanako remembered a big man with a big voice. The servants dropped down, their faces touching the floor in a deep bow, and the temperature seemed to plunge considerably. The man reminded her of a bear, the way he stormed into the house and roared at everyone. Obachan stopped what she was doing, rose shakily, and bowed. Her smile disappeared, and she remained silent, her eyes remained downward as her husband frowned at Hanako and her father.

  Hanako was sent to the servants' quarters to wait while the adults conducted their business. She never knew exactly what her father had hoped to accomplish on this trip, but suddenly the voices in the sitting room were raised, and the sliding door opened. Her father was pushed roughly out of the room, and the magistrate was heard to say, "Do not come here again! I have already loaned you enough money to buy and supply your farm four times over! You have nothing to show for it. You are no longer family."

  With sharp instructions to a servant to see Father out, the door panel slid closed with enough force to rattle its bamboo frame. A moment later, a maid came to escort Hanako outside, and the visit to the lovely home came to an abrupt end.

  The walk home had been even longer than the trip there. After they returned to their hut, her father had been a changed man. Though he had once been a kind, loving man, he'd become distant and preoccupied. He no longer seemed to care about the farm or about his child. His only concern had been getting his next drink.

  The experience had taught Hanako about the dangers of being in someone else's debt. Allowing Hiro to build her a new home would put her deeply in his debt, unless they married. Her farm would be her dowry. Could she do it?

  She snapped out of her trance and realized Hiro was still waiting for a response. "We had a barn over there," she answered, gesturing toward an empty spot near the hut, "but it was burnt to the ground. I was fortunate the house wasn't destroyed, too. Forgive me," she continued. "I must think about rebuilding and — about all this."

  Hiro grinned, and her mutinous heart zinged. He simply nodded and rose to return to work.

  ****

  Hanako frowned as she prepared the evening meal. When the three had returned from the fields that afternoon, the two men had gone into their hut and engaged in an intense conversation. She had gone into her garden for some herbs, pausing to peek into the other hut. The men hadn't noticed her. Hiro wrote as he spoke. She had no idea what the brushstrokes meant, but it sounded like they were talking about money. She crept away before they could notice her.

  When she called them to dinner, the men ceased their conversation and came into her hut with smiles. Dinner was relatively quiet, although the men seemed to be quite cheerful. As had become their custom, Hiro and Ginjiro insisted she eat with them, but she didn't have much of an appetite. What had their conversation been about? Were they pooling their resources so that they could leave and start over somewhere else? Perhaps they felt they knew enough about farming to start their own. Perhaps — her heart froze at the thought — perhaps they wanted to buy her out!

  As soon as the meal was finished, Hanako rose on her knees and reached for the plates to clear them away, but Hiro caught her wrist and stopped her. Her skin warmed at his touch, and the warmth spread up her arm straight to her heart.

  "The dishes can wait. Ginjiro and I have something we want to share with you."

  Hanako sat back on her heels, apprehensive of the change that she knew would take place. Perhaps she would now know about the mysterious document Hiro and Ginjiro were working on in their hut. Sure enough, Hiro pulled the roll from inside his yukata.

  "Ginjiro and I have discussed the matter of wages and benefits."

  Hanako's heart sank. Wages? Benefits? She had not paid either of them, and they had received no benefits other than the food from her lands and stream.

  "We have agreed we owe you much for what you have given us."

  They owe me? What I have given? What does he mean? The questions raced through Hanako's mind.

  "We were both in need of a place to stay and a purpose to our days. You have given us that, and excellent meals."

  "But—"

  "Your accommodations are clean and comfortable, and much more suited to our needs than an inn. The air here is cleaner and the surroundings much more peaceful."

  "But surely—"

  "In addition, you are instructing us in a new skill, a noble profession so basic that no one can exist without people like you. In our former profession, we knew nothing of the work you do. Now, no matter what we choose to do with our lives, we will have the skill to provide ourselves with food. So we have figured out what we would have had to pay for an apprenticeship in addition to our lodging. It more than equals the cost of a new home."

  Hanako barely glanced at the paper Hiro held. The figures would have no meaning for her. She recognized a few slashes as numbers, but had no idea what they said. Numbers meant little to her, other than the general cost of her needs and knowing which coins would pay for them.

  "What is this?" She gestured toward the document.

  He angled it toward her so she could look at the figures. She was too ashamed to admit they meant nothing to her. Even the calculations were foreign to her, because they included numbers far greater than any she had ever used. She felt small, so small.

  "We have added together the amounts we owe you for our lodging, as well as tutoring in our new profession. And there is a modest retribution for the damage brought by the ronin last year."

  "I can't believe you would want to pay me enough for a new home. Besides, you need to subtract what I would pay you in wages for your work on my farm."

  Hiro opened his mouth to refute her, but this time Ginjiro intervened.

  "Shimizu-san, I owe you my life."

  Both Hanako and Hiro turned to him in surprise.

  "It is true, Shimizu-san. When I first came here, I intended to commit seppuku. I was unable to find a position as a warrior, the only life I have ever known. I felt I was of no worth and was about to end my life. But you have given me a new purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning. For that I owe you a far greater debt than the figures on that document. I have not much money to offer, but I am honored to work on your farm and will gladly assist in the building of a new home for you. It is the least I can do."

  ****

  Hanako clutched the rolled paper to her chest as she made her way down the dusty road. The sun had barely made its appearance, but Hiro and Ginjiro had already started the work in the field. Hiro had been concerned about her going alone, but she had assured him she would be quite safe walking to her neighbor's home.

  The Nakamura home graced the land to the east of hers. Since the Nakamuras were her closest neighbors, she had gone there many times to barter for her needs. But in the past, she had dealt mainly with the servants. It was they who traded the fish in her stream and the vegetables from her fields for rice, tea, or other needs.

  She made her way to the doorway and greeted the maid who answered her knock. When the maid turned to lead her to the kitchen where she normally met with the cook, Hanako's voice trembled as she blurted, "I need to speak with — the mother of Nakamura-san."

  The maid turned in surprise but quickly masked her expression as she nodded and took her instead to an elegant sitting room. Hanako's heart pounded as she waited for the Widow Nakamura.

  She had met her neighbor, but only in passing. Reiko Nakamura was the daughter of a wealthy noble family and had come from Mutsu, on the main island of Honshu. She was an educated woman, and though her son now headed the family business, Reiko continued to hold a great deal of power and influence.

  "Good morning, Shimizu-san. What a lovely surprise." Reiko Nakamura glided gracefully into the room. The woman's fluid movements reminded Hanako of the nice okasan she had met so long ago.

  Remembering to keep her mind in the present, Hanako bowed low. "Thank you for seeing me, Nakamura-san. I am honored."

  The wido
w made a slight bow in return. "You honor me. Please have some tea with me." She gestured toward a low table, surrounded with beautiful silk cushions. When Hanako knelt on one, the widow clapped for a servant and gave instructions for the beverages to be served before joining Hanako at the table.

  "Now, as much as I am pleased and honored by your visit, I know you are far too busy to pay a social call merely to socialize. What can I do for you, Hanako? Has my kitchen staff not cooperated with you? Have they perhaps traded inferior foods in exchange for your crops?"

  Hanako felt her face warm. Though she had rehearsed her request, the words came out with difficulty.

  "Nakamura-san, I need your help. I — I have a financial agreement, and I wanted to be sure it says what I was told. I heard you are able to read, and—"

  "Of course, I would be happy to read it for you. What kind of agreement is it?"

  In answer, Hanako pulled the document from her yukata and held it out to her neighbor. It embarrassed her, showing her neighbor the details of the agreement. But after the incident with the so-called "tax collector," she had to be sure she understood what this agreement entailed before she could consider signing it. And though her heart yearned to trust Hiro, her head told her she needed the advice of a woman.

  Nakamura-san unrolled the paper, smoothed it out on the table, and read.

  Hanako fidgeted, waiting for the widow to finish. What will Nakamura-san think? Will she consider me nothing more than a mistress if I were to accept this offer? The maid's entrance with the tea was a relief, because it gave her something to do with her hands.

  The older woman's expression gave nothing away. Occasionally she would nod, as if agreeing with whatever the lines and swirls told her. Once or twice she looked up from the document, frowning in thought. She called for her maid to bring a soroban, which Hanako recognized as a tool used by several merchants in the village to calculate their sales. The clicking of the beads as the widow pushed them up and down their spindles made the only sound in the room.

  When Hanako thought she could bear the suspense no longer, the widow finally looked up. Hanako braced herself for the widow's interpretation of Hiro's proposal.

  "Tanaka-san and his friend have been very thorough. He has listed each item for which he will pay you, the amount per day, and multiplied that by the number of days he has been here."

  Hanako nodded. "That's what he told me. Do you think his rates are fair?"

  The widow regarded her closely. "They seem fair. And his calculations are accurate. But this is — most unusual."

  Hanako knew the underlying question was reasonable. The man was offering her huge sums of money. It was only natural Nakamura-san would want to know the reason for the necessity of a contract like this.

  "Tanaka-san offered to build me a house," she began. "He said it is because the animals need a shelter for winter, and it would be better to build a house and convert my present home into a barn. When I didn't agree right away, he and his friend came up with this — agreement."

  Nakamura-san's eyes widened. "He offered to build you a house? Would this house be for the two of you to occupy together? Is that why he's proposing to give you all this money?"

  Hanako felt her cheeks burn. "He said the house would be — an early wedding gift, but I—"

  To her surprise, the widow's face broke into a wide smile. "That is wonderful! You have indeed made a most advantageous match."

  Hanako was stunned at the widow's enthusiastic response. "I — I haven't agreed."

  "Why not?" the widow asked.

  "I'm not — not worthy of marrying a samurai."

  "Of course you are. You are more than worthy. You are a landowner. Moreover, you are the daughter of the first rank."

  "What do you mean? My father was the town drunk."

  "Yes, that was — unfortunate. He was not always that way. Before your mother died, he was a good man. He was not from a wealthy or noble family, but he was hardworking and honest. And your mother loved him so. She defied her father to marry him. And until she died, he did his best to keep her from regretting it."

  "You knew my mother?"

  "Yes. She was a bit older than me, but we came from the same city. We attended the same classes in ikebana and calligraphy."

  Hanako stared at her neighbor in stunned silence. Flower arranging and elegant character writing were subjects studied only by women who came from wealthy families. She knew her mother had no contact with her family, but never knew the reasons for the rift.

  Reiko continued. "The girls my age were in awe of your mother. She was the finest student in all our classes. We all knew she would attract the attention of someone significant and influential. But once she met your father, a gardener at the castle, she had eyes for no one else."

  Hanako finally found her voice. "So, my mother was from an important family?"

  Reiko laughed. "Important? Hanako, your mother was the eldest daughter of the head of the Nanbu Clan, the most powerful samurai family in the province of Mutsu!"

  She leaned toward Hanako. "There is no question in my mind you are worthy of the samurai's interest. The real question is whether or not he is worthy of you."

  Chapter Seven

  Hanako pulled the weeds growing among her beans, trying to ignore the sounds of construction. However, it was hard to dismiss the activity of a dozen men as they pieced together the lumber for the framework of her new home.

  Her visit with the Widow Nakamura had been a turning point for Hanako. She had taken her time walking back to her own farm, her mind reeling with the new knowledge of her own ancestry. Her father had never talked about his wife's family, other than to say they were selfish, vindictive people, and that he and Hanako were better off without them. Growing up, she hadn't even known their names or where they lived.

  Now she had a name and a place. She had never heard of this clan, and had no idea where Mutsu province was other than it was not on the island of Hokkaido. But Nakamura-san had said they were important. And Nakamura-san was the most intelligent woman Hanako knew.

  The conversation still hadn't convinced her she should marry Hiro. Even if her mother had been a member of the Nanbu Clan, Hanako had no idea how to speak or how to act if she were to meet them. Her rough speech and manners would surely be an embarrassment to a man like Hiro. Perhaps Nakamura-san might agree to coach her in some of the ways of a lady.

  But her discussion with the Widow Nakamura had given her the confidence to accept Hiro and Ginjiro's proposal to build a home in exchange for their food, lodging, and "instruction". She knew this agreement would be followed by a hard decision about marriage, but practicality was behind her decision to accept the offer to build. No matter how successful the harvest, she still would not have enough money or time to build a barn for her animals. Taking the offer would ensure her animals would have protection from the harsh winter.

  She had not told Hiro or anyone else about the amazing discovery of her mother's family. After all, the Nanbu Clan had disowned her mother and would probably not acknowledge her. Hiro would not be impressed at her noble lineage, especially since her mother had chosen a nobody, who had not been able to keep up this small farm. No, if Hiro really wanted to marry her, he would have to accept her lowly status.

  For now, she would concentrate on getting her farm up and running to the point where she could go on alone. Nakamura-san had told her that the agreement Hiro and Ginjiro had drawn up was fair, and she trusted the woman. The agreement gave her the means to build the structures necessary for her animals, and a warmer, safer home for herself.

  This would be enough. For now.

  "Hana-chan."

  The deep voice never failed to excite her. Hearing him shorten her name with the endearing "chan" suffix sent warmth down her spine. She rose and turned to see him, his hair tousled and his chest gleaming with sweat. She quickly turned her gaze downward. Another mistake. The rest of him was just as appetizing.

  "What is it, Tanaka-san?" />
  She saw his body tense, as if insulted by her formality. His broad chest expanded as he took a deep, calming breath. Fortunately, he chose to put her response aside and go on. "Come with me, please. The builders need your opinion on something." He turned and strode away, leaving her to follow.

  For the next hour, she followed him around the site, listening to explanations as the head builder related the choices to be made. Hanako was lost. She had absolutely no understanding of what she was asked to choose. What did it matter to her whether the panels on the shoji screens were decorated with cranes or plants, or whether the weave in the tatami mats went in one direction or the other? She had never lived in a home with either luxury.

  Seeing her distress, Hiro asked, "What would you recommend?"

  The craftsman, obviously pleased to have the customer defer to his expertise, made recommendations. After thoughtful consideration, Hiro nodded in agreement.

  The experience gave her further proof she was not fit to be a wealthy man's wife.

  When the outer walls of the new home were erected, Hanako insisted the two men should move to the larger structure. Since they did so much of the farm work, she felt guilty about them staying in the tiny hut. If and when she and Hiro married, she would move to the larger home. If not, Hiro would leave eventually, and the home would be hers anyway. Now plans were drawn for another house, this one for Ginjiro.

  She had expected the progress on the buildings would be slow, since her "apprentices" continued to spend a considerable amount of time in the fields with her. But each day, a crew of men arrived, checked in with Hiro, and went to work on the new structure. Instead of the circular, reed-covered walls common to the area, straight walls of fine lumber were erected, higher than she had ever seen except in pictures of the great temples. The interior was divided into sections. Having lived in a one-room hut all her life, she wasn't sure she could become accustomed to so much space.