The Samurai's Garden (9 page)

****

Just outside the doorway, Ginjiro froze in place, listening intently. He'd come to ask for instructions about crops in the far side of the field, but the voice he heard was not Hanako's. Caution had him stopping to assess a possible threat to his mistress, but the cultured, melodious voice was anything but fearsome. Her words were not threatening, and he decided Hanako was not in danger, but he allowed himself to listen to the mystery woman's voice, letting himself be drawn in by the soothing tones. During his years as a warrior, he had known many noblewomen, but the pampered, empty-headed ladies had held no appeal for him. Certainly, none had held his attention simply with the sound of her voice.

He wanted to see the owner of the voice. Carefully, he bent his upper body toward the doorway, not wanting his sometimes clumsy feet to give him away. The new voice spoke calmly, but directly. Hopefully, her attention would be focused on Hanako, who customarily knelt at the table with her back to the door. This meant that the guest would be facing the doorway.

His upper body was nearly level with the ground, but he couldn't quite see far enough into the room to get a glimpse of the voice's owner. Perhaps if he just took one more step…

Carefully, quietly, he lifted his left foot and moved it toward the doorway. Unfortunately, his right foot was in the way, and his eyes widened in horror as he realized that he was now face down, his limbs arranged in an inelegant heap on the floor. Thank goodness he and Hiro had installed a new tatami mat inside the doorway, or his face would have hit the rough wood planks.

Perhaps his tumble had gone unnoticed. Perhaps he could just back out, and the women wouldn't know…

"Ginjiro!" Hanako's footsteps scurried toward him. "Are you all right?"

Ginjiro nodded, wincing when the motion scraped his face on the dry reeds in the mat. Despite the discomfort, he kept his face to the floor, scooting backward, hoping to leave before she—

"It seems the samurai has injured his head in the fall."

Ginjiro groaned, mortified to be caught in such an embarrassing position. How on earth could he explain his clumsiness?

His groan of frustration was interpreted as a sign of pain.

"Oh, Ginjiro," Hanako cried, "Forgive me! You must have tripped in that trench I dug for the plants outside the door. And now you are hurt!"

"Perhaps we should move him inside so we can tend to his wound." The warm contralto voice that had mesmerized him floated from his other side. He turned his head toward the voice and nearly yelped from the pain of the movement.

A gentle touch — one he hadn't experienced since his youth — caressed his face. Another hand probed his scalp, almost immediately finding the very spot that throbbed from within. He flinched and his eyelids clenched shut.

"Ah, here it is. Fortunately, there is no bleeding, but it is starting to swell. Let's help him get comfortable, and then we can put a cold cloth on his head."

Ginjiro's mind momentarily transported him back to his youth, when gentle hands cared for his boyhood scrapes, when a soft voice helped him relax and be coddled. But the voice he heard now was not his mother's. The women helped him to his feet and led him to the cushions around the table.

Finally, the pain faded enough for him to open his eyes and behold the owner of the intriguing voice. The sight was as stunning as the sound.

The beautiful woman holding the cloth to his head couldn't possibly be the mother of the Nakamura brothers. Her raven hair had only a few streaks of gray, and her face was unlined. She held his head with a maternal touch, but the reaction in his heart was anything but filial.

He heard Hanako's footsteps as she left for the stream and returned with a wet cloth, but he had eyes only for the lovely guest.

All too soon his time in paradise ended, and the widow left. A servant assisted her into a waiting carriage, and she was whisked away. Hanako answered his original question about the western field, and he returned to work. But for the rest of the day and all through the night, images of Hanako's beautiful neighbor filled his thoughts.

****

As soon as he saw Hanako, Hiro realized something had happened. She knelt over a plot of scallions, listlessly pulling out weeds. Sometimes a scallion would come up along with the weeds, but she didn't seem to notice. Worried, he knelt beside her.

"What has happened to disturb you?" he asked gently.

Hanako gasped and dropped the plants as her hand flew to her throat "You — I didn't hear you come." Her eyes widened as she noted the position of the sun, and she pushed to her feet. "It is late! I don't have a meal prepared."

She turned to go into the hut, but Hiro caught her arm before she could escape.

"It is not so late that Ginjiro and I will perish from lack of food. We are accustomed to living without regular meal times. Please, come and sit with me by the stream. Between us, we should be able to catch a fine supper in no time."

Hanako's hesitation worried him even more. "Has someone or something frightened you?" His frown deepened as another thought occurred to him. "Has Sato-san been harassing you again?"

The surprise in her eyes reassured him before her adamant denial. "No, I have not seen him, except when I am with you." Her lips curved in an impish grin. "I am certain he would not dare to trouble me in front of you."

"He would be wise not to trouble you even if I am not with you," he muttered. "But what is bothering you? You seemed to be pulling out as many scallions as weeds. You are normally much more careful."

Hanako stared down at the mess she had made and groaned. Hiro gently turned her away from the garden and led her toward the stream, hoping the serenity of the wooded area would calm her enough to share her thoughts. He did not have to wait long.

He listened intently as she told him about her visitor. His chest tightened at the mention of the
ronin
. But he sensed there was more on her mind than the news of a possible invasion.

"You know that Ginjiro and I will protect you with our lives," he reminded her.

"I hope it will not come to that. I am so glad you are here. But the two of you are the only men who know how to fight against them."

Hiro's senses went on alert. "Wouldn't the rest of the men in the area try to protect their own?"

"Yes, they would, and many women too. But the people here don't know how to fight against former samurai. Nakamura-san said—" She bit her lip as she chose the words to reveal her neighbor's plan.

"What did she say?"

"She said her sons will come to ask you to train them and the other villagers to fight, if and when the time comes. She says it is our only hope."

Hiro digested this news. He would be asked to return to his former life. Not only would he be asked to think and act as a warrior, but he would be expected to help others in this peaceful place to become warriors as well. Everything he had tried to escape was returning to him. Slowly he turned toward the stream. His steps were measured as he approached the water. Finally, he looked up at Hanako.

"Nakamura-san may be right," he told her. "If the villagers do nothing but wait, they will be like the fish in this stream, going about their business without a thought to the danger that approaches them. The
ronin
will descend upon them, and they will be helpless—" He drew his short sword and plunged it into the water, raising it again with two wriggling fish speared through. "—as helpless as these creatures."

****

"You are not harmed anywhere?" Hanako fretted as she checked Hiro for wounds. The constable had come with his men and had taken the three intruders away. The man Hiro fought was dead, and the other would be fortunate to survive the night. The third man was a merchant from Sapporo who had seen Hanako in the local market and had decided to add her to his stable of concubines. Taking her for a simple farm woman, he'd decided she would be a welcome addition to his collection. He hadn't counted on the woman having two field hands who had been part of an elite fighting force. He now awaited sentencing in the village jail.

Hiro still burned with rage at the callous way the nobleman had tried to take Hanako. As a member of the samurai class, he had embraced a strict code of ethics. Justice, Bravery, Benevolence, Politeness, Veracity, Honor, and Loyalty were the seven codes of the
Bushido
, or "Way of the Warrior". Taking a woman against her will went against the majority of these codes. The men who had come today deserved the harshest punishment available.

"Are you certain you are all right?" Hanako asked again.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm just hungry."

"Yes, of course. I will prepare your meal," she said as she scurried toward the cook stove. He noticed her hands shook as she measured the rice, poured water into the pot, and attempted to light the fire. The flame would not start for her, and as she tried again and again, she got more agitated. Finally he got up and stood behind her. He reached around her and put his hand on hers.

"You are too distressed from today's events. I can do this."

She dropped the flint and covered her eyes. Great sobs racked her body, and she tried to step away from him, but he gathered her in his arms and rocked her gently.

"You are safe, my little flower. I would not let anyone harm you."

"B-but they could have killed you! They had swords and you and Ginjiro had nothing but farm tools!"

"I could not let them take my future wife."

"You must have been a fierce warrior."

He smiled against her hair. "When I needed to be, I was."

Hiro basked in the warmth of their embrace. He had made the right choice for a wife, he thought. They would make a comfortable life together.

She pushed herself away. Her brows were knit together, her lips pursed in a frown.

"What is it?" he asked.

She took her time answering. "The men who came today — I wonder if they were part of the group who came last fall."

"I suppose it's possible. They seemed quite young, though. They didn't fight like trained samurai."

"The
ronin
— the ones who came last fall — they took the same oath as you, didn't they?"

Hiro froze at the question. His lips pressed into a thin line, his brows dipped, and he fixed her with an icy stare. When he spoke again, his voice was low and menacing.

"Do you mean to say you consider me in the same league as them? Has nothing I have said or done convinced you that you can trust me with your life? Is that why you will not consent to marry me?"

He advanced again, and she stepped back against the wall. Her eyes widened, and Hiro wondered if he'd frightened her. But the eyes shone not with fear, but excitement. She reached out and laid a hand on his chest, and his heart danced at the contact.

"I do feel safe with you. In my head, I know you are not like those men. I have never known such comfort as you have given me these last months. But I am leery of binding my life to another. The last time, I was not allowed a choice, and the result was… unfortunate."

He could feel his anger drain from him, and she continued. "The other men in my life, my father and my husband, were not strong men. And yet they controlled my life. You are so strong I fear your power over me would be much greater. And that frightens me. It's not your physical power — I know you would not hurt me physically — but you might perhaps expect me to be someone I am not."

"Do you fear my power as much now as when I first came here?"

She took her time answering. "I don't think so." She stepped around him and paced, absently noticing this house allowed her to pace farther than the tiny hut she had lived in most of her life. "Actually, I don't think I ever feared you. If you had wanted to hurt me and take my lands by force, you could've done so long ago. It's just that if I marry you, you would legally own all I have — little as it is — and I would again have nothing."

She watched him as he considered her answer. Would he dismiss her concerns? Her belongings were nothing compared to many, but they were hard won. If they were to marry, and then he tired of her, she would need to start over again. How could she not want to hold on to what little she had now?

Finally, Hiro answered. "It is true I would be considered the owner of your lands and possessions. But all I have would also be yours."

"And all of it could be taken away if you decide we don't suit each other."

"Yes, the laws don't protect women. I have seen wives and concubines tossed aside by unscrupulous, wealthy men." He caressed her cheek then lifted her chin, waiting for her to match his gaze with his. "I would not do that to the woman to whom I pledge my life. But I know it would be a lot to ask of you to believe that. What if we were to find a way to legally set your holdings separate from mine? Perhaps we could will them to our sons or daughters. Would that satisfy your concerns?"

Again, she was struck speechless by his generosity. He had actually listened to her concerns and offered a compromise far beyond what any woman could expect.

"Could — could this really be done?" she asked.

Hiro shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "But I can find out. For now, I think we should take a break from the hot sun. Let's sit by the river and catch some fish for our supper."

The ordeal left Hanako too drained to argue. She followed Hiro to the stream.