The Samurai's Garden (13 page)
Read The Samurai's Garden Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono
Noburo was the first to speak. "This is truly a deadly weapon," he conceded.
Hiro nodded his agreement. "In the past,
shoguns
used large groups of gunmen, called
ashigaru
, to conquer opposing forces. But after the Tokugawa clan took power over most of Japan, the guns were put away in favor of more traditional weapons. I have read that in the west, gun use is much more prevalent."
"How did Watanabe-san get this weapon?" Shinobu, the second eldest, turned a suspicious glance toward the newcomer.
"The American Admiral Perry brought newer and more deadly versions of these weapons. Some of these were left here. They say some of the
ronin
have them." He looked around at the men assembled there. "If that's true of the
ronin
here, we will be in more danger than I thought."
Takaro suddenly jumped up. "I know where we can get some of these!" At the incredulous stares from the rest, he pointed to a slightly overgrown path leading away from the village.
"A few years ago as I was gathering firewood, I found an old abandoned shack. When I looked inside, I found several crates, with broken locks on them. The crates had strange looking characters on them, so I couldn't tell what was in them. Since the locks were broken, I looked inside, and there were dozens of these. I didn't know what they were, so I forgot about them until now."
He led the group to a dilapidated structure on the edge of the Nakamura property. Overgrown bushes concealed most of the tiny hut. The dusty interior and preponderance of cobwebs testified to the absence of human visitors for quite some time. A dozen wooden crates were stacked in the middle of the single room, bearing foreign characters.
Hiro pointed to the red, white, and blue emblem painted on some of the boxes. "These are from the United States. They manufactured most of the guns imported by the
shogun
many years ago."
Noboru perked up. "I remember hearing about a shipment supposedly lost at sea. When the shipwreck was finally located, the entire cargo had been taken."
"These must have been weapons intended for the
shogun
," Hiro mused, "but they are no good to him now. The question is, do the
ronin
know about these?"
"We must keep them out of their hands," Noboru insisted, and the others agreed. Hiro and the other former samurai brought the crates out of the hut and dragged them to the path, while two of the Nakamuras went to get some horses and small carts. The guns would be stored in a compartment under the floor of the Nakamura house.
"The guns are useless without ammunition," the young samurai reminded the group.
"Yes, that is true," Hiro agreed. I will look into sources. If I get them, would you be willing to train several men to use these weapons?"
****
Sometimes help comes from surprising sources. Less than two weeks after the arsenal discovery, Sato-san arrived at Hiro's home, leading a sad-looking, heavily-burdened horse.
It was after the dinner hour. Hiro and several other men were in the house, putting finishing touches on the new home. His eyebrows rose when he saw his visitor, but he bowed in response to Sato-san's greeting.
After asking the young housemaid to bring tea, he led his guest to a low table and gestured for him to sit. The little merchant shuffled in, staring around him in awe. Stiffly, he lowered his bulk to sit beside the richly lacquered table.
"What can I do for you, Sato-san?"
"I heard about the cache of guns at the Nakamura lands. It is very fortunate, but the weapons are of no use without ammunition. Please accept my humble contribution," he concluded, bowing as he held out a small wooden box toward Hiro.
Nodding his acknowledgement, Hiro pried the lid off the box. Inside were hundreds of metal cylinders, about two inches long and a half-inch in diameter. Protruding from one end of each cylinder was a pointed metal missile. They looked exactly like those Watanabe-san used in his rifle.
"How did you manage this?"
Sato-san's lips curved into a smile that did not reach his eyes. "In some things, it is better if you remain in the dark." He rose and bowed, showing Hiro no more information would be forthcoming. "It was my honor to be of service."
"Wait," Hiro called out. "All this ammunition must have been expensive. Could I assist you in paying for it?"
A slow grin crossed the older man's face. "You are generous to make such an offer, Tanaka-san. But I have as much at stake here as the rest of the villagers. When the
ronin
came last year, we all suffered. I think Shimizu-san perhaps suffered more than most, but we all lost. Much of my livestock was taken for food, some simply slaughtered and left in the streets for no reason other than to cause havoc. I was fortunate I had enough left so I could go on. But the shock was too much for my elderly mother. Sheâ"
He swallowed, closed his eyes, and composed himself.
"She recognized one of her grandchildren in the unruly mob. A young soldier who, until then, had been a source of great pride for her. Before I could stop her, she killed herself in shame." He looked up at Hiro then, determination mixed with grief. "I vowed I would have vengeance for her death. I am not a fierce warrior. But I am a businessman, and I wish to use my resources to contribute to this cause." He bowed again, and left.
This time, Hiro did not stop him.
****
Ginjiro sat on the bank of the stream, soaking in the coolness of the shade. It had been a long day in the fields. Hiro was anxious to get the crops in, because the end of the harvest meant an end to his bachelorhood. Ginjiro had never seen Hiro so happy. Hanako was a good match for him. She was a strong, resourceful woman. They would have fine children.
Once, Ginjiro had thought of marrying. She had been a lovely girl, the daughter of a prosperous merchant. He had brought her lovely things â combs for her hair, lotions, and special sweets. But in the end she had rejected him for a more successful man, a rising politician. A handsome man with a bright future. Ginjiro had never again thought of binding himself to another.
Until now.
But once again, the woman was of a higher station. It would do no good to dream.
A twig cracked behind him. Instinct had him alert and ready to fight. He had no weapon except his walking stick, but he knew how to use it. As soon as he saw the two men walking toward him, he knew they posed no threat.
"Good afternoon, Yamada-san." Noboru and Shinobu Nakamura bowed respectfully, and Ginjiro returned the greeting. He looked up at them, curious to know why Reiko's two eldest sons would be walking along the stream, rather than along the road to the town.
"We wanted to speak with you a moment, if you would be willing," Noboru began. At Ginjiro's nod, he continued.
"We have been looking out for our mother for a long time. Our father has been dead for ten years. She is an astute woman, but I'm sure you understand that the heart knows no reason."
Ginjiro's eyes narrowed. Were they here to warn him against any contact with their mother?
"Our father was a hard-working man. He was not poor, but he wasn't titled. Hers was a wealthy, influential family who disowned her when she defied them and married a farmer.
"She had faith in him and moved with him to the far north, here to Hokkaido, where they started from nothing and built our home. Father wanted to make sure she never regretted her decision â and her trust was not misplaced."
Noboru's eyes met Ginjiro's. "You are much like our father. You may have nothing, but you work hard, and are an honest man. Not only have you taken the oath of the
Bushido
, you live by it. Tanaka-san says he would trust you with his life. And so we have come to tell you that if it is your wish, we would trust you with our mother."
The Nakamuras left, but Ginjiro stood in a daze. He had just been awarded the heavens and the earth. What more could he ask?
Then he quickly sobered. Having the permission of her sons was a gift. But he had yet to gain the assent of the woman herself.
Â
Â
Hanako knelt on the floor of the hut. With shaking hands she opened the box. It had been years since she had looked inside, but she knew every item in it. It was the box of memories, the mementos of her dear mother. After this day, she would no longer live here in this hut, the only home she could remember. Today was her wedding day.
When she had married Kenji, it had been a hurried affair. Her father had lost her in a card game, and Kenji had been eager to collect his winnings. There had been no preparation, no new kimono, no celebration. This marriage was so different. By mutual choice, she was marrying a samurai, a respected member of the community. Instead of being repayment of a debt, she was a true bride.
Her gown was a simple one, rather than a traditional hooded, white wedding kimono, but it was far nicer than any she had ever worn. Hiro had insisted on buying it for her. She couldn't understand the necessity of purchasing such finery, but had finally relented when Nakamura-san took her aside to give her some advice.
"As Hiro's wife, you will need to present an image of importance and dignity. You must dress accordingly. It would not do for you to appear at a special occasion like your wedding in the same clothes you wear every day," the older woman had told her.
Now, Hanako raised the tiny clasp on the wooden box and lifted the lid. There they were â her mother's finery. One remaining china teacup, two elegant lacquered combs, a silk fan, and a silk purse. She lifted one of the combs out of the box and held it gently. Faded silk ribbons cascaded from it. Hanako closed her eyes and tried desperately to remember what her mother might have looked like wearing it. A vague image of a gentle woman with a kind face floated in her mind, but it was her voice she remembered most.
"Hanako-san?"
Could it be? Had her mother come back to her on this important day?
"Hanako, I thought you might need some help. I hope I'm not intruding."
Hanako opened her eyes. Reiko Nakamura stood at the doorway. Quickly, she rose to greet her neighbor.
"Nakamura-san, thank you so much for coming. I â I don't know how to put this on." She held out the comb. "And I've never worn a silk kimono, so I don't know how to tie the
obi
. Could you help me?"
Reiko came to her and reached for the comb. "This is very lovely. Was it your mother's?"
"Yes, I think so. I found it a long time ago. It was in this box." She stooped to pick up the case. "I would like to use the combs and her other things today. Do you think they would look all right?"
****
Reiko's heart rejoiced at Hanako's request. She loved her sons, but would have cherished a daughter. The last few months had been a joy for her, meeting with Hanako, instructing her in the etiquette of polite society. There had been lessons on proper grammar, on walking while wearing wooden
geta
, and serving tea as a hostess rather than a servant.
She remembered her own wedding, so long ago. It had been a clandestine affair, as she had married a man her father deemed beneath her. She had taken only the clothes on her back, and a few cherished mementos. But there had been love. Looking at Hanako now, she saw love there, and knew this union would be blessed. Now, she lifted the delicate comb from Hanako's hand.
"Your mother would be so pleased to see you wear these today. They will be perfect with your new kimono." She looked up at Hanako, her eyes wet.
"I would be delighted to help you get dressed."
The white silk was decorated with cranes flying gracefully over a field of lavender.
How appropriate
. Cranes were the symbol of long life and prosperity. Lavender stood for faithfulness. Hiro and Hanako would have a long and prosperous life together.
****
"You are certain about this?" Hiro spoke over his shoulder as they mounted the steps to the temple. She had agreed to the marriage, but now she seemed to have second thoughts. Walking three steps behind him, she looked so pale, so fragile, and her hands shook in her long kimono sleeves.
"I am certain," she assured him, though the tremor in her voice told him she was not.
The gown was new, his wedding gift to her. She was not dressed in traditional wedding finery, but rather in a lovely silk gown that could be worn in any formal setting. Even this gesture had been met with resistance. What was the sense in spending good money on silk, when the garment would probably be worn only once? A good, serviceable cotton gown would be much more practical. Hiro had insisted, assuring her the cost provided no hardship for him. He had appealed to the Widow Nakamura for help. Finally, Hanako had relented, muttering about all the animals that she could have purchased for the price of the silk.
Instead of the traditional wig, she had swept her hair up in a simple hairstyle, held in place with a pair of combs. The coral-inlaid combs looked expensive, but lovely in their simplicity. The women he knew in his other life would have preferred ornate hairdos, but on Hanako's shining hair the combs were perfect. She carried a fan and a tiny silk purse he had not seen before. He wondered where she had obtained such lovely trinkets.
Hiro smiled inwardly as they made their way into the temple. His sensible little flower, he thought. She had not viewed this marriage as a means to financial gain, but rather as a practical arrangement. Merchants in the village were more willing to deal with her when he was along to make the final sale or purchase, even though they knew she was the one who did all the bartering and made the decisions. In addition, she had grudgingly acknowledged his financial resources, as well as his manpower, made it easier for her to get the work done.
He didn't have to remind her that having children would be beneficial for her as well. Sons would mean extra labor, as well as assuring the land would remain in her family. Daughters would be welcome, too. He imagined a tiny version of his Hanako. She would be brave and outspoken like her mother, with intelligence as well as beauty.
With his personal wealth, he could have purchased his own land and hired workers to do most of the manual labor, but it would not have given him the satisfaction he had here. Hanako had taught him well, but he would not want to undertake his own agricultural venture without her. She had become so much more than his mentor.
Since neither of them had any family, The Nakamura family sat on Hanako's side, and Ginjiro and the other samurai sat on Hiro's side. The guests sat along the sides of the temple, facing each other.
Once everyone took their places, the priest, attended by two shrine maidens, entered. The priest began the cleansing ritual by waving his
onusa
, a pole with white paper streamers cascading from the top. The priest chanted, using an ancient dialect. Even though he had studied with Shinto priests, Hiro didn't understand all the words. Still, he took comfort in the solemn tradition. He stole a look at his bride. She knelt beside him, perfectly still, though he noticed her eyes moved constantly, taking things in. She was frightened. Her hands shook, and her breaths were shallow and rapid.
Has she ever attended a Shinto ceremony? Perhaps not.
From what he had heard of her previous marriage, it probably hadn't been performed in the temple. Would she know what to do when it came time for the tea ceremony?
Careful to keep his face forward, he glanced to his left toward the Nakamuras. Reiko sat with her sons, a calm, serene expression on her face. She had spent a lot of time with Hanako lately. Hopefully she would have told her what to expect.
He wanted to tell Hanako not to worry. To promise her he would take care of her and cherish her always. To reassure her that they would work together to make their dreams come true. To show how very much he desired her. Taking care not to move his head any more than necessary, turned his face and saw his bride looking up at him. Their gazes met, and a wealth of communication passed between them.