Autumn Bridge (39 page)

Genji said to Smith, “I am not insulted by rumors. It is the nature of rumors to be scandalous.”

“I agree,” Smith said, “and it is only natural to wonder what you and Emily have been doing the past six years.”

“That is true,” Genji said. He smiled but did not elaborate.

Smith laughed. “And what have you been doing? As Emily’s potential groom, I feel it is not out of place for me to ask.”

Hidé listened to the conversation as they rode leisurely toward Mushindo, more leisurely than he would have preferred. The spy he had spotted in the previous valley was likely Saemon’s man. It was in expectation of an ambush that he had insisted on bringing a guard of twenty-four men.

Genji had said, Saemon is not going to ambush me on the way to Mushindo.

I wish I shared your belief, lord, Hidé had replied.

A hundred men are far too many, Genji said.

Not if Saemon has two hundred, Hidé said.

If we turn a casual visit into a procession, Genji said, which a hundred men will do, we will attract much attention, increasing danger rather than diminishing it.

Fifty, then, Hidé said, armed with rifles.

Twenty-five, Genji said, counting yourself, and bows and arrows will be sufficient.

Twenty-five, with rifles, Hidé said.

Genji let out an exasperated sigh. All right, twenty-five with rifles, then.

Now that an attack was imminent, Hidé was glad he had given up numbers and gained rifles. He looked at his men. They had been watching him. Without being told, they were prepared for an attack. Smith had not noticed anything. He rode along as casually as ever.

“Men and women,” Smith said, “will behave as men and women were intended to behave by nature, not by the rules created by man.”

“Is that a Christian belief?” Genji said.

“That is a fact, which I have observed my entire life in the Hawaiian Islands.”

“Emily and I have been busy with our own separate work. She with propagating the Christian faith, and I with political crises.”

“For six years?”

“The last six years have been extremely eventful,” Genji said.

“Lord,” Hidé said. He spurred his horse alongside Genji’s. A lone horseman approached from the east.

It was a messenger from Lord Saemon.

“Those two seem less than fond of each other,” Saemon said, indicating Farrington and Smith, who rode side by side in complete silence and with intent interest in every direction except where the other was.

“They favored opposite sides in the recent American conflict,” Genji said.

“I wonder if their animosity will last two hundred and sixty years, as Japan’s has.”

“Americans look to the future rather than to the past. It is likely they will avoid our folly.”

“That can happen only if both make strenuous efforts to that end,” Saemon said.

“I cannot but agree,” Genji said, “and hope that such will be the case.”

“I add my hope to yours,” Saemon said.

Hidé looked away in order to hide his frown. The casual bantering allusions to the opposing loyalties of their ancestors irritated him. Genji was too much at ease. That Saemon the Slippery was in their midst did not mean, as his lord apparently thought it did, that an attack was no longer possible. All it did was change the varieties of available treachery. A pair of Genji’s bodyguards watched each of Saemon’s men. Hidé himself was more than ready to cut Saemon down at the first provocation.

Saemon said, “I understand there is also some rivalry between them with respect to your houseguest, Miss Gibson.”

“You are well informed, Lord Saemon.”

“Not particularly, Lord Genji. There is much talk about them, and Miss Gibson.”

“And me?”

Saemon bowed. “Inevitably, yes. As your friend and ally, I must advise you to disassociate yourself from the lady as soon as possible. The political situation is highly unstable. She loses you valuable support you might otherwise have.”

Hidé could not quite suppress a harsh laugh. Saemon, Genji’s friend and ally?

Genji said, “Did you have something to add, Hidé?”

“No, lord. I coughed, nothing more. I inhaled some dust from the road.”

To Saemon, Genji said, “Any support that is withheld because of Miss Gibson’s presence is support that lacks a core, and I do not regret its absence. She is soon to be betrothed in any case, and will shortly thereafter leave Japan.”

“Is that so?” That was a surprising revelation, and one Saemon was not sure he believed. He knew that Farrington and Smith were going through the motions of courting Emily. He had assumed — and still did, and would, until proof stronger than Genji’s words appeared — that it was all a charade to allow the four to plot together. He had not been able to uncover the nature of the plot as of yet, but no plot involving so many people could be kept secret for long. That was why, whenever possible, his own plots were known only to himself.

He did not believe there was any real animosity between the two men, and as for the woman, well, no one could be as naive and as blind as she pretended to be. It was all too obvious to him that she was deeply involved in what was going on, whatever it was. She was likely an agent of the American government itself. The Americans could pick no one less likely to arouse suspicion or better situated to gather intelligence. They knew how little serious attention the Japanese paid to women. No one — except himself — had any real interest in Emily’s activities, which gave every appearance of being innocuous to the point of complete futility. (According to his informants within Genji’s household, she had ceased even the little Christian proselytizing she had formerly engaged in, and was now completely absorbed in translating the inner history of the Okumichi clan into English. That she would even attempt to perpetrate such a preposterous subterfuge showed how insultingly little she thought of the Japanese. A history that could not be revealed except to those of the lord’s lineage would hardly be exposed to outsiders in their own language.) At the same time, she was an intimate associate of a politically important Great Lord, and was alternately resident in his palace in Edo, the Shogun’s capital, and his castle in Akaoka Domain on the western island of Shikoku, a hotbed of anti-Shogunal activity. It was extremely clever. Farrington was a naval officer, Smith a merchant, so both had easy access to overseas communications. It was a simple task for Emily to slip messages to them when they pretended to come courting. Was Genji actively involved? If so, it would be treason of the worst kind. In India, certain Great Lords, there called rajahs, had turned their domains over to the British under the guise of asking for their protection. Might Genji do the same in Japan with the Americans?

“Which one does Miss Gibson favor?” Saemon asked.

“She hasn’t yet decided,” Genji said.

She hadn’t yet decided! More cleverness. An excellent ruse to cover endless delays. How could Saemon fail to admire Genji’s superb management of every aspect of the complex conspiracy. He was a formidable schemer of the first rank. No wonder he had defeated Saemon’s father, Lord Kawakami, even though his father had enjoyed control of the Shogun’s secret police. And even though he had apparently uncovered a vital secret about Genji, possibly touching on the missing geisha, Heiko. In this matter, if in no other, Saemon followed in his father’s footsteps. Whatever his father had discovered, Saemon would, too. He expected a report from California any day now.

“Women are by nature reluctant to diminish their choices,” Saemon said, “often preferring to forgo choosing altogether.”

“Sometimes, it certainly seems that way.”

The lead rider suddenly spurred his horse forward. Someone was approaching on foot from the direction of Mushindo Monastery. It was a woman whose head tilted away sharply to the right at a precarious angle. As she ran toward them, it bounced up and down so violently, it seemed her neck might snap at any moment.

“Stop dodging about like fools,” Taro said. “Use your bows. You — shoot down that stone-throwing idiot. And the brat. You — kill the outsider woman. Take care not to hit Lady Hanako by mistake.”

“Lord,” the two men said. Their first arrows hit no one. All their targets dropped down into the high grass as the arrows flew harmlessly overhead. They nocked a second set of arrows, but no one reappeared.

“Find them,” Taro said. He and his men moved forward with their swords ready. “Take Lady Hanako alive. Kill the others.” Hanako alone might have eluded them. But she was burdened with the need to protect Emily. They could not have gone far.

It was a windless day. He focused his attention on gaps in the grass, which could indicate either a person’s passage or presence, and watched for movement in the stalks.

There.

His concern for Hanako prevented him from stabbing blindly into the swaying grass. He approached with caution. The foliage had been pressed down by someone who was no longer there. A thin stick protruded into the space from the right. His eyes followed the stick. A girl’s hand held it and pushed at the grass to make it move. The brat. He stabbed at her and missed, the tip of his sword going into the dirt. She moved with the speed and wiliness of a hungry rat.

“Lord Taro!”

His men had found Hanako. She stood encircled by them, shifting from side to side to keep them in view as much as she could. Emily was not in sight. She must be in the grass at Hanako’s feet.

Taro lowered his sword as he neared her.

“Lady Hanako,” he said, “we mean you no harm. Please step out of the way.”

“Traitor!”

When she lunged at him, one of his men rushed at her from behind to seize her. This, of course, was what she wanted. She twirled deftly around and slashed. The man went down instantly, blood spraying from his severed carotid artery. Without pause, she went after the next closest samurai, forcing him back.

Taro jumped toward her, but as he did, the giant idiot rose from the grass and, standing nearly toe-to-toe with him, hurled a stone into his forehead with all his strength. Taro heard a crack like bone breaking. His entire body went numb. Reeling on the verge of unconsciousness and nearly blinded by the flow of blood from this newest wound, Taro fought back reflexively when he saw the flash of sunlight on a blade coming in his direction. He cut someone, he didn’t know whom, and stumbled backward, wiping the blood from his eyes. He thought the shaking of the ground beneath his feet was another consequence of the stoning, until one of his men called out.

“Lord Saemon!”

Indeed, it was Saemon, along with a company of samurai, approaching at a gallop. That could only mean that the plan had succeeded. Somewhere behind him on the road from Edo, Saemon had ambushed Genji and killed him.

Taro had sacrificed personal loyalty for principle. In order to preserve the way of the samurai, he had betrayed the man he most admired and respected and conspired with a man he detested. Taro could not help but feel he had reached the pinnacle of the ridiculous. To sacrifice a tangible, venerated, and historic attachment for an abstract principle — was this not the essence of the way of the outsiders, to whom ideas meant so much more than people and traditions? Their thinking had infected everyone, including those who most opposed them. Could it therefore not be said that they had already conquered Japan? Where thinking goes, actions inevitably follow. Perhaps Genji had been prescient after all.

A woman screamed in front of him. The giant idiot was gone. Where he had been, Emily stood, her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Taro stepped back. Saemon was here. Let him finish the dirty work.

Genji and Saemon rode at the head of the column, with Hidé close behind them. The woman with the bent neck had barely been coherent. Exhausted by her run, intimidated by the presence of Great Lords, her voice partially strangled by her deformity, words had come from her mouth in disjointed spurts.

“Lord — Lady Hanako — Danger, great danger — Treason — Please — Now!”

Hidé watched Saemon closely as they sped toward Mushindo. The woman was almost certainly a device put into play by Saemon to draw their attention away from him. Hanako and Emily were guarded by Taro, Hidé’s best friend and most trusted comrade. Treason could not come from a more unlikely source. So unlikely was it that Hidé was convinced the danger came from Saemon, as he had suspected all along, and that whatever treachery he had planned was now about to take place. That Saemon had so few men with him indicated only that many more were hidden elsewhere. His father, Lord Kawakami, had ambushed Genji at Mushindo and failed. How satisfying it would be for the son to avenge the father in the very same spot. Genji had brushed aside Hidé’s counsel of caution, and rushed ahead. If Hidé could not protect his lord, he could at least die with him, and make sure the scheming Saemon did not survive to enjoy his treachery.