Autumn Bridge (49 page)

“Lord Nao’s daughter?” Yorimasa thought he was beyond shock, but he was wrong. “Lord Nao of Shiroishi Domain?”

“Do you know another Lord Nao?” Kiyori said.

“The Lord of Apples,” Yorimasa said. What a fool. He had thought he could suffer no more humiliation. He should have known worse was always possible.

“He is to be your father-in-law,” Kiyori said. “Do not insult him with such an epithet.”

“Why not? The Lord of Apples. That is his title from one end of Japan to the other. You have betrothed me to the daughter of the most ridiculous Great Lord in the realm. Why?”

Yorimasa’s shame and anger were so great, tears sprang to his eyes. Only his rage kept them from falling.

“Lord Nao’s realm is small—” Kiyori began.

“Small, insignificant, poor, weak, and so far out of the way, one would have to live in the wretched Ainu villages of Yezo to be farther north!”

“Lord Nao’s realm is small,” Kiyori said again, “but soundly managed. His reserves of rice allowed him, like us, to survive the most recent famine without the uprisings that disrupted so many other domains. His army—”

“You call his handful of country bumpkins an army?”

“His army, accustomed to harsh winters, is one of the few capable of waging an aggressive campaign in that season.”

“Because it is always winter there!”

“And his orchards, which you denigrate, produce the finest apples in the realm—”

“Who eats apples but horses?”

“—renowned for their beauty and flavor. Lord Nao himself is a worthy samurai of the old school. We fought our first battles together when we were barely more than boys.”

“You and he crushed starving peasants for the Shogun. Now you elevate those slaughters to ‘battles’?”

“Enough! We leave tomorrow for Shiroishi Domain. You will marry Lord Nao’s daughter. Prepare yourself.”

Yorimasa did as he was told. He prepared himself for marriage.

He fed his hatred and his anger, his disgust and his shame, with the memory of every slight and insult and humiliation he had received and imagined, every disparaging remark and snigger he had heard behind his back during the past, most miserable year of his life. He promised the demons of the ten thousand hells the pain he had suffered and the pain he had inflicted were nothing compared to the pain to come.

Lord Nao’s precious daughter would soon envy even the hungry ghosts clinging miserably to the charnel mists.

“Well?” Lady Chiemi had glared at her husband all evening, and he had ignored her. Finally, she could keep silent no longer.

“Well, what?” Lord Nao said.

“When do you intend to tell me whatever it is you have gone out of your way not to tell me?”

“You are talking nonsense. If I have something I wish to tell you, I will tell you without hesitation.”

Lady Chiemi said, “And if you have something you wish not to tell me, you will delay for as long as you can, then you will tell me when you think it is too late for my objection to have any effect. I know you too well, Lord Nao.”

Indeed she did. Nao and Chiemi had been playmates as children, his father being the chief retainer of her father, then the Great Lord of Shiroishi. Because the lord had only daughters, he adopted Nao when the two were married, making him his heir. They were
long-time friends, and almost brother and sister, in the best sense.

He said, “There is nothing to object to. It is already done. Midori is betrothed.”

“To whom?”

“Lord Kiyori’s son.”

Lady Chiemi leaned suddenly to her left, as if stricken by dizziness, and held herself away from the floor with both hands.

“Shigeru?”

“Yorimasa.”

“Oh, no. That cannot be. It cannot.”

“The wedding will take place the week before the summer equinox.”

“Please, my lord. I beg you to reconsider.” She pressed her forehead against the floor in a full bow. “Yorimasa will destroy her.”

“Nonsense. He is a samurai and a lord. He will be patient.”

She looked up, her face wet.

“You cannot be ignorant of the reports about him.”

“I do not listen to gossip.”

“Yorimasa takes pleasure in hurting women—”

“You should not listen to gossip, either.”

“He binds them, drugs them, tortures them—”

“Some geisha are said to play at those things. It is pretense, nothing more.”

“He uses his organ as a weapon, to humiliate and injure. He forces entry with the severed appendages of beasts—”

“I refuse to dignify—”

Sobbing now, she said, “Several geisha can no longer work. One died of her injuries. Another killed herself. A third suffered such damage, she became completely incontinent, and went mad. When her brother came for her and saw how she was, he killed her, then he killed himself. Please—”

Lady Chiemi could not continue. She could only weep.

Lord Nao sat in silence, head bowed. When her tears stopped, and her breathing calmed, he said, “Lord Kiyori has shared a prophecy with me.”

“Prophecy? No one believes he has such a power except ignorant peasants. And you. Are you really such a fool?”

“The year before the uprising, he told me—”

“The peasants were starving!” she screamed. “It did not take a prophet to see that they would riot!”

“Calm yourself, Chiemi.”

“If you do not call off the wedding, I will kill myself. You have my word as the daughter of a samurai.”

“Then you will rob Midori of an irreplaceable asset she will need in her marriage. She is rather young to be without her mother’s counsel and comfort.”

“If I kill myself, there will be no marriage. Such an evil omen will end it before it begins.”

“No. Whether you live or die, Midori will marry Yorimasa, because Midori is to give birth to the heir of Akaoka Domain.”

“That is the prophecy?”

Lord Nao nodded.

“But what of Yorimasa? Shigeru?”

“Neither will rule. That is for Midori’s son. Kiyori has seen it in a vision.”

“And has he seen the suffering his son will inflict on our daughter?”

“Do not think of such things. Accept what must be.”

“My lord, Midori is your youngest child, and your only daughter. You love her very much. I know you do. How can you deliver her to such a fate?”

“Because it is her fate. To attempt to escape it can only lead to greater disaster.”

“How can any disaster be greater?”

Lord Nao moved to his wife’s side and held her close to him.

“Let us be happy together during the next weeks. It will be the last time she will be our child. After the equinox, she will go with her husband to Cloud of Sparrows.”

Kazu said, “Are you ready?” He was stripped down to his loincloth, his bare skin brown from the countless hours of peasant labor in the fields, a sheen of sweat upon it from his previous exertions.

“I am,” Midori said. Her outer kimono was abandoned on the ground, along with the elaborate and heavy obi sash, her sandals, her fan, and the tanto knife that Father always made her carry for self-defense. To free her legs, she had hiked her kimono up between them and tucked it into her sash at the waist, forming makeshift pants, not unlike the hakama samurai wore in combat, though much shorter. It was not very graceful — indeed, it was extremely improper — and her parents, her mother especially, would be very vocal in her disapproval if she caught her this way. But what choice was there? She was sure she could beat that braggart Kazu, but not dressed like a little princess doll.

“Who do you think will win?” she heard someone in the crowd say. Work had come to a standstill. Everyone in the orchard had gathered to watch.

“Kazu’s faster than anyone else in the village. He’ll win, for sure.”

“Midori’s fast, too.”

“She’s fast for a girl. Girls can’t beat boys.”

“Midori can. She’s beaten everyone she’s ever faced, boys and girls.”

“Oh, they just let her win because she’s the lord’s daughter.”

Nothing anyone could have said could have made her angrier, or more determined to win.

She said, “Someone give the signal.”

“I will,” Michi said. She was the same age as Midori, and her best friend among the village children.

“No, I want to,” someone else said.

“You always want to give the signal.”

“Because I never get to, that’s why.”

“Stop arguing,” Midori said. “Michi. You give the signal.”

“Ha!”

“Aw!”

Kazu’s eyes were focused on the tree in front of him.

Midori kept her gaze on Kazu. He was sixteen, strongly built, and handsome in a crude sort of way. For him, this was just another opportunity to show off, to display his strength and speed to the village girls, and perhaps to Midori as well. For Midori, it was far more serious. She was the daughter of the Great Lord of the domain. The blood of countless generations of samurai ran in her veins. Any match between two individuals was no different in essence from a duel to the death. She kept her gaze on Kazu. She didn’t have to look at the tree. It was right in front of her. It wasn’t going anywhere. Weapons were important, and so were weather, terrain, and time of day. But the real key to victory was to defeat your opponent even before combat began. She had heard her father say so many times as he trained her brothers in the arts of war. She continued to stare hard at Kazu. Finally, for an instant, he glanced in her direction. His eyes were caught by the deadly focus of hers. His lips parted slightly in surprise. Just then, Michi gave the signal.

“Go!”

Midori shot off the ground as fast as a fireworks rocket. She paid no attention to the shouts of the crowd, or to Kazu’s progress in the neighboring tree. She no longer had any thoughts at all. She disappeared completely in the climbing, and there was no distinction between the wind and her breath, the leaves and branches and her hands and feet, the motion of her body and the stability of the tree trunk, the ground and the sky. She didn’t even realize she had reached the treetop until she heard the shouts of the children below.

“She beat him!”

“Midori won!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“See! Girls can beat boys!”

“Midori’s the fastest!”

Above her were only the ocean-blue sky and the wave-foam white of the passing clouds. For a moment, she felt like she was underwater. She looked down at the suddenly quiet crowd and saw everyone on their hands and knees on the ground, bowing low, as if she were a princess of the Imperial Court.

Midori laughed happily.

“You don’t have to be so formal. It was just a tree-climbing contest.”

Then she saw why the peasants were bowing. They weren’t bowing to her.

Three horsemen had arrived while the race was on. One of them was her father, and he was frowning most furiously at her. She recognized the second rider as her father’s good friend and fellow Great Lord, Lord Kiyori. The third was the most handsome young man she had ever seen in her life.

His high arching brows, prominent eyelashes, and delicate features would have made him appear too girlish, were it not for a certain harshness in the line of his cheekbones, and the hard set of his jaw. Though he sat in his saddle in a rather indolent manner, his physique was obviously that of a samurai who had spent many years in serious training. He urged his horse forward so he could see her more clearly. He stopped directly under her and looked up through the branches. When he saw her, he laughed. He had a beautiful laugh.

Midori felt a blush spreading over her entire body.