‘Careful what you say,’ said Taki. ‘There are spies everywhere. There’s nothing we can do. We just have to obey.’
‘Obey what?’ said Sachi. ‘We were supposed to lead the southerners away from the castle – or I was rather. You already disobeyed! You were told not to come along.’
She smiled at her friend. Taki was picking at her noodles. She’d probably never had plain peasant fare before. The voluminous skirts of her court robes half filled the bare little room. She was such a samurai, such a court lady. ‘But I’m glad you did, Taki. I’m very glad.’
‘Lady Tsuguko realized you needed a chaperone,’ said Taki in her matter-of-fact way. ‘Even the most ignorant southerner would
never believe a princess would travel without one, no matter how many attendants she had.’
‘It’s a long way to Kano,’ murmured Sachi.
‘It’s madness to go all that way,’ grumbled Taki. ‘I can’t imagine what these fellows are thinking of.’
They looked at each other.
‘But we have no choice,’ said Sachi. ‘I can’t reveal that I’m not the princess till I know she’s safe. And I can’t go back to the castle. I’ve been given a mission and I have to fulfil it. Perhaps the southerners saw the imperial palanquin leaving the city. They could be on our tail right now.’
There was a rumble as the heavy wooden door creaked in its grooves. The women started and glanced at each other. Sachi quickly pulled her cowl across her face as the door opened. It was the man she had seen holding the reins of the horse. He slid on his knees into the room.
He was holding two halberds in elaborately embroidered silk bags. Keeping his eyes on the coarse straw matting, he pushed them towards the women.
‘Here,’ he croaked. His voice had barely broken.
Dumbfounded, Sachi stared at the exquisite silk. Quite forgetting she was supposed to be the princess, she let her cowl fall aside and stretched out her small white hand to touch the hard steel inside the delicate case.
She glanced at the man. He was barely a man at all. He still had the long forelock of a child, though it was loose and shaggy instead of neatly oiled. Beneath the uncombed hair and dusty travelling clothes, he was just a boy. His face was so pretty, his cheeks so round and smooth, he might almost have been a girl were it not for the straggly hairs sprouting above his lips. The tips of his ears were scarlet.
‘You have taken good care of us,’ she said. She felt a smile crossing her face. With her halberd to hand she could take on any enemy.
The youth grew redder still. He took a deep breath.
‘Domain of Kano. House of Sato,’ he gabbled. His voice was shaking. ‘Name of Tatsuemon. At your service.’
A board creaked outside the room.
‘My masters,’ he stuttered. ‘If your honours . . . If your honourable ladyships . . . If you permit . . .’
Sachi realized with a shock that this child-man, who had just wielded his sword in a ferocious battle, was more afraid of her than she was of him. Then she remembered how they must look, she and Taki, with their white skin and fine-boned faces, in their magnificent brocade kimonos, wafting perfume wherever they moved. Even her nun’s robes must seem unimaginably lavish. If this boy thought she was an imperial princess, he must think her way above the clouds. These men risked execution for daring even to breathe the same air as beings so high above their station.
Taki nodded haughtily to the boy as Sachi rearranged her cowl over her face. The door slid open again and two men came in. One shuffled forward while the other remained on his knees by the door.
So these were men. Not children like young Tatsuemon but real men. Sachi felt a moment of blind panic. It was years since she had been in the presence of such exotic and dangerous creatures. They carried with them a faintly salty odour mingled with the smell of tobacco smoke. And Taki? Had she ever spoken to a man other than when playing with her brothers as a child?
Taki broke the silence.
‘How dare you enter our presence without asking our permission?’ she demanded, using the language with which court ladies addressed commoners. ‘We could have you executed like common criminals, without the privilege of suicide, for actions unbecoming your station.’
‘Our offence is neverending,’ muttered the first man, brushing his head on the worn matting. It was the voice Sachi had heard outside the palanquin, soft and cultured despite the rough samurai intonation. ‘We are sorry for inconveniencing you. Toranosuké of the Matsunobé, at your service,’ he added, with a formal bow.
‘Shinzaemon of the Nakayama, domain of Kano,’ growled the second.
‘Where are you taking us?’ barked Taki.
‘We are sorry,’ said the first man. ‘We had to make a rapid decision. Her Highness’s safety is paramount. There are rumours
that the southerners are searching for her and determined to capture her. We can’t allow that to happen. We have urgent business in Kano and we are taking you there. We will arrange a safe place for you to stay until the danger is passed. We undertake to be responsible for your safety and well-being. We will protect you with our lives.’
‘And suppose we don’t want to go with you? Kano is near Kyoto, isn’t it? I have heard it’s a hornet’s nest there.’
‘You are our responsibility,’ said the man. ‘Our fates have been thrown together.’
Sachi peeked at him from behind her cowl. He was bundled like a samurai in layers of thick winter clothing. But his hair was long and unoiled, tugged back into a glossy black tail and bound with a thick purple cord. It was strange to see hair on top of his head where samurai were supposed to be clean-shaven. The hands on the rough straw mats were soft, too soft for a soldier’s. He did not seem the kind of person who could create the mayhem she had glimpsed outside the palanquin.
The second man was squatting silently behind. He looked up suddenly and for a moment their eyes met. Sachi had never seen such a face before – lean with jutting cheekbones and piercing eyes that slanted upwards like a cat’s. A scar cut across the dark skin of his cheek. He had a shock of hair, bushy as a fox’s tail, and large, powerful hands – swordsman’s hands. She felt a tingle of something like fear and quickly looked away.
‘We are at war,’ he barked. ‘We all have to suffer. Time is short. If you ladies don’t want to come with us, we’ll leave you here.’
‘Don’t be hasty, Shin,’ muttered the first man. It was strange – rather touching – to be in the company of men after all this time, to hear them talking among themselves in their gruff way. ‘We can’t do that. It’s our duty to protect the princess.’
‘We have other duties too. All this talking wastes time. Quickly. Tell them.’
The first man turned to the women again.
‘I am afraid your ladyships must suffer yet greater inconvenience,’ he said. ‘We are attracting too much attention. You must leave your palanquins behind. These people will store them for you. You can trust them.’
‘What?’ snapped Taki. ‘So how do we travel? You don’t mean . . . ?’
Her voice trailed off. The man bowed. Taki looked outraged. She glanced at Sachi, who nodded. There was nothing they could do. In any case, luxurious though it was, she was beginning to hate the imperial palanquin. The man drew in his breath apologetically.
‘And . . . Excuse our rudeness . . . Your garments. We have spoken to the lady of the inn. She will provide you with clothes. Your garments will be carefully transported.’
Wafting in from the road outside came a familiar refrain. ‘
Ee ja nai ka? Ee ja nai ka?
Who gives a damn? Who gives a damn?’
V
Sachi’s hair was already short and could easily be twisted into the kind of knot that townswomen wore. But Taki’s swept the ground. With great ingenuity, exclaiming at the beauty of it, the lady of the inn combed and coiled and oiled and twisted it until her hairstyle at least was just like that of an ordinary townswoman. Taki carefully rolled up their priceless silk kimonos and wrapped them in bundles to be loaded on to the packhorses. A peasant turned concubine pretending to be a princess disguised as a townswoman, Sachi thought. She could be anything. All it took was a change of clothes.
On the battlefield surrounded by heaps of corpses, addressing wild men who threatened to take them captive, Taki had been fearless. Yet now she seemed discomfited – horrified, indeed – by her abrupt decline in status. Here she was, of gentle birth, a different species from these rough soldiers and common townsfolk. Admittedly she was a lady’s maid, but that was in the greatest palace in the land. She had never in her life worn anything except the finest silks. She was used to having a fresh kimono and new white
tabi
socks every day. She fingered her coarse cotton garments with dismay.
‘The southerners will never find us dressed like this,’ said Sachi. ‘They’ll never even notice us. Think of your favourite, Zeami,’ she added, trying to console her. Taki loved to chant the great
playwright’s verses. ‘ “If kept hidden, it is a flower. If not hidden, it is no flower.” You’re like a flower, a single flower. Or a Korean tea bowl. Or a tea room. Yes, you’re like a tea room – very plain and simple, no splendour or luxury, and all the more beautiful for it.’
‘Yes, but the tea room is in a nobleman’s garden and very expensive, not out on the road brushing up against the common people,’ sighed Taki. ‘The smell is so dreadful! And this gown scratches my skin.’
Sachi glanced at her friend and smiled. They certainly made extraordinary townswomen, the pair of them. Taki’s pale face with her pointed chin, large eyes and supercilious eyebrows looked quite incongruous framed by a townswoman’s hairstyle decorated with combs and hairpins. Her thin body, which was usually concealed within the bell-like skirts of her court robes, looked rather gawky and awkward in the skimpier townswoman’s kimonos.
Sachi twirled around, enjoying the feel of the heavy quilted hem of her outer kimono swirling at her feet. The black of her teeth was beginning to fade and there was a faint smudge of darkness above her eyes where her eyebrows were growing back. Her melon seed-shaped face, small arched nose and rosy lips looked even prettier now that she was no longer wearing thick make-up. Without the layers of heavy silks she was no longer like a great flower, sweeping slowly along. She could pull up her kimono skirts and skip and jump and run. And her delicate neck, of which she was rather proud, was set off far more fetchingly by the collars that swept low at the back.
Nevertheless it was lucky it was winter. They would both have to keep their heads and faces well wrapped up, otherwise it would be obvious they weren’t really townswomen at all.
When the little party set out again, Toranosuké – the handsome, well-spoken one of the two
ronin
– was riding in front with smooth-cheeked young Tatsuemon leading his horse. The two women walked some distance behind with the men’s retainers on each side, armed with swords and staves, guarding them. Then came porters and grooms leading the packhorses, as many as they had been able to hire. The second man brought up the rear, his swords clanking as he rode.
The road snaked across the plain between lonely paddy fields. They seemed to be avoiding the main highway and travelling by small back roads. Dotted along the way were hillocks crowned with scrawny fir trees marking the distance from Edo. Every time they passed one they knew they had travelled another few
ri
. What was happening back home in the castle? The whole country was falling into chaos and here they were, in the middle of nowhere, heading for a place they knew nothing about, with no way of escaping and nowhere to go if they did. No one knew where they were. No one would rescue them. The only consolation was that their guards were their protectors, not their enemies – or so it seemed.
For the moment the roads were flat and well paved though there were hills rising in the distance. But the women were already getting tired. Taki had never in her life walked anywhere before and Sachi had forgotten how it felt to be on the road from morning to night. They longed to stop and rest but they kept silent.
Bitter winds blew across the flat plains. They pressed doggedly on, heads bent against the gale. Flocks of geese flew overhead. From time to time they came to small open stalls, offering tea and snacks. The stallholders would rush out, begging them to stop and buy.
The convoy kept up a brisk pace. Occasionally a village poked up like an island in a dreary brown sea, breaking the monotony. Smoke swirled around the thatched roofs hidden behind clumps of trees and groves of withered bamboo. The wind soughed through the dry rice stalks. They passed groups of farmers tugging carts and bow-legged old women so bent their noses seemed to brush the ground. Even though Edo was in upheaval, in the country life seemed to go on as usual. Among the travellers were parties of refugees from Edo, plodding along, dragging carts heaped with belongings. From time to time the distant refrain, ‘Who gives a damn?’ wafted across the fields.
‘I can’t believe it,’ groaned Taki. ‘Out here in public where anyone can see us, without a single attendant, dressed in townswomen’s clothes . . . If my mother saw me now she would weep.’
‘No one’s even looking at us,’ said Sachi wonderingly. ‘We’ve disappeared.’ She rather liked being invisible.
After a while Taki brightened up.
‘For lordless samurai these fellows are quite civilized,’ she said carelessly. ‘The one at the front seems rather cultured. And that innkeeper, that peasant. She was almost human!’
‘Hush,’ said Sachi.
She felt a strange fascination for these unfamiliar creatures with their odd, slightly repellent odour. Men though they were, they were of much lower status, so much so that the fact she was a woman and they men was barely relevant. To Taki, a high-ranking samurai and a court lady, she knew they must seem far beneath her, beings of no account. In her life Taki had hardly ever met men, other than family members and the odd merchant with silks to sell. And these were not just men but
ronin
, utterly outside the bounds of civilized society. As far as she was concerned, they probably barely existed. The two of them – she and Sachi – were walking along in a kind of dream, a nightmare from which hopefully they would soon awake and find themselves comfortably back in the women’s palace.