The Samurai's Daughter

  Fujino was still on her knees, her hands on the ground. She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Come in,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve sent out for a meal for you.’

  Taka had gone to fetch a flask of shochu, the local beverage, brewed from sweet potatoes. She knew it was her father’s favourite drink. As she came in she heard his booming laugh.

  He’d taken off his jacket and was sitting cross-legged beside the firebox in a small downstairs room at the back of the house, warming his hands. Her mother, large and curvaceous, was on her knees next to him, keeping his cup filled. A couple of lanterns lit the dark corners of the shabby room.

  ‘Are you really leaving tomorrow?’ Fujino said softly, leaning towards him. ‘You …’ – she barely breathed the word. ‘Always the stubborn one. No one could tell you a thing.’

  She tried to top up his cup again but he held a large hand over it. He never had drunk much.

  There were so many things to talk about – everything that had happened in the three years they’d been apart; why he hadn’t been in touch, why he hadn’t come to visit even after Fujino had written to tell him they’d arrived in Kagoshima, why he had to go to war. But they probably wouldn’t discuss any of that. He came here to forget. The two of them would laugh and chat and talk nonsense as if they’d seen each other only yesterday.

  ‘Why don’t I come with you?’ Fujino said, smacking him teasingly on the thigh. ‘It’s not only samurai women who can fight, you know. I can ride a horse with the best of them!’

  The general threw back his head and laughed till tears ran down his face. ‘That would have to be quite a horse! No, you belong here. I want to know you’ll be here, waiting for me, when I get back.’

  Taka knelt beside him. She had so much to tell him and there was only this one night.

  ‘We had such a journey, Father,’ she said. ‘We had to leave everything behind – well, nearly everything. Ten days on the ship and Mother was seasick all the way! Do you know, I’ve been learning English. I can read and write it now too.’ She paused to take a breath, remembering that her English lessons had come to an end when they’d left Tokyo. So much had happened that she didn’t fully understand.

  ‘Little Taka,’ General Kitaoka said, chuckling. ‘You’ve grown into a beautiful young lady. And such a slender little creature too.’

  ‘It’s just as well she doesn’t take after either of us!’ said Fujino. ‘Haru is married now, you know. I arranged a marriage for Taka too but it … it didn’t work out.’

  ‘To whom? Who were you plotting to give my precious little girl to?’

  ‘There’s a young man called Hachibei Masuda, a very clever fellow. He’s a merchant, the heir to the House of Shimada …’ She glanced at him timidly; he was bound to disapprove of such a person.

  ‘A merchant? The Shimada heir?’ He scowled. ‘Those merchants certainly know how to make money. Those one-time colleagues of mine – Inoue and the rest – are all in their pockets. They hold the puppet strings, they make the politicians dance to their tune.’ He leaned forward and looked at Taka, his big eyes gentle. ‘Taka-chan. Did you want to marry this Masuda?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Taka said. ‘He was a dreadful, pompous, preening man. He sent a horrible letter saying he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to marry me after all. I was so glad his letter came.’ She glanced nervously at her mother, afraid she’d be shocked at such an abrupt change of heart; she simply couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer.

  Fujino gaped at her, then clapped her plump hands and laughed. ‘Well, I never. And there I was thinking you were heartbroken. So you just wanted to please me!’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what we’ll do with you, Taka. We have to find a husband for you or you’ll be too old and then what will happen?’

  ‘“Pompous, preening …” That’s not right for my girl,’ said the general. ‘You need a strapping young samurai like those brave lads of mine, keeping guard outside the door. When we get back we’ll find the perfect husband for you.’

  They fell silent. Taka guessed that her mother was wondering, as she was, if he ever would come back. The general picked up his long-stemmed pipe from the tobacco box on the floor, took a puff and blew out a long plume of fragrant smoke.

  ‘I wish you would introduce me to your wife,’ Fujino said in her most matter-of-fact tones. ‘You know I could be of service to her – help with the children, help around the house, do whatever I can, now you’re going away.’

  Taka shook her head. Help around the house? In theory, of course, that was what geishas did. Many of her schoolfriends’ mothers had been samurai women and there had often been geishas at their houses, helping out.

  But Fujino had been a grand lady herself, in charge of a house full of servants. Despite her down-to-earth tone, her sadness was palpable; it filled the room. Taka wondered why her father hadn’t ever married her. She knew that in the old days samurai men had always had arranged marriages with women of good samurai families; but her father’s generation had been different. They’d been revolutionaries, they’d rejected the old ways and they’d thrown aside that convention too. Many of the colleagues who’d fought beside him in the streets of Kyoto had married their geisha lovers. Only he had not.

  But those were the same colleagues he had gone on to despise, who he felt had betrayed the revolution and used their new-found power to line their own pockets, the ones who were destroying the samurai class and its ethos.

  Maybe that was why he’d chosen to take the traditional path instead. Maybe he’d felt that, as a Kagoshima samurai, he should take a Kagoshima wife. All the time he’d been in Kyoto he’d been with Fujino. He’d only married later, when he’d gone back to Kagoshima, and he’d never once brought his new wife to Tokyo. She’d always stayed in this tropical southern city. It had been Taka and her mother and siblings he’d lived with in the grand Tokyo mansion during his days as counsellor and commander-in-chief.

  Taka looked at him. She wanted to ask, ‘Why? Why didn’t you marry her?’ But she didn’t dare.

  The general was gazing at Fujino. Taka wondered if he was asking himself the same question. ‘You were there when we were fighting in Kyoto,’ he said softly. ‘It was always you, only you.’

  ‘That was long ago.’

  It was sweet and touching to see these two plump, middle-aged people together. Taka had always thought that only people her own age felt passion. Fujino was always so calm, so collected, Taka had imagined she would never understand her feelings for Nobu, that she could never have been swept away by feelings as intense and overpowering as those.

  But she saw now she’d been wrong. She’d only ever seen the two of them as her parents. She’d never thought of them as people like her, with feelings like hers. But now she saw that they cared for each other as deeply as she did for Nobu, maybe even more.

  She’d been so excited at seeing her father she’d been chattering away, taking up precious time, when this was their only chance to be together. Quickly she murmured an excuse and backed towards the door. As she slid it open she saw her father reach out and take her mother’s hand. Fujino wiped away a tear.

  27

  STANDING IN THE darkness of the vestibule, Taka put on a thick jacket and wrapped a scarf around her head and face. Her father’s straw sandals were neatly arranged side by side where he’d left them, and she remembered with a pang how he used to sit quietly weaving them himself, specially large for his large feet. She wished she could have kept him there for ever. There’d been a gaping hole in their lives ever since he’d left for Kagoshima.

  She slipped her feet through the rope thongs of a pair of wooden geta clogs. She needed to leave the house but had no idea where she would go – perhaps to the teahouse where her friend Toshimi was entertaining that night. There’d be a party going on but she could sit in the kitchen with the maids and keep warm. She wished Okatsu could come with her, but she had to stay in the house in case Fujino needed her.

  Outside it wa
s as noisy as a festival day or New Year’s Eve, with everyone chattering and laughing. Despite herself, Taka brightened up at the prospect of mingling with the crowds. It was the first time she’d ever been out on her own; usually Okatsu or one of the maids was always with her. Even though the geishas wandered the streets as they pleased, her mother liked to keep an eye on her. She had a reputation to uphold, she was the great general’s daughter. But all the rules had fallen by the wayside now the men were leaving town the next day.

  She was about to open the door when she heard shuffling and stamping and people blowing on their hands.

  ‘It’s no good, I tell you,’ grumbled a voice in a thick Kagoshima brogue. The words were muffled as if the man was speaking through a scarf. ‘He should’ve let us search the place before he went in. Especially after those men we found the other night. There could be killers under the floor. They could easily have crept in and be hiding down there and cut through the tatami with their swords once he’s asleep.’

  Taka started, listening in alarm as she made out what the man was saying. It sounded like one of the guards her father had posted outside. It was typical of her father to be so careless of his own safety. He hadn’t said a word about the risks he was taking or the danger he was in.

  ‘What, you mean some would-be assassin crawls under there and waits, day after day, just in case ’e ’appens to come by? They’ll have frozen to death by now if they haven’t starved,’ came the answer, followed by a snort.

  ‘Anyone could work out he’d come here his last night in town.’ It was a stern older voice. ‘It’d be easy for an assassin to slip in with all these mobs. We mustn’t lower our guard. We haven’t flushed out all the plotters yet by any means.’

  ‘And ’im so visible, too. It’s a good thing we posted men round the back of the house. He should have let some of us in there with ’im. I told ’im so but there’s no arguing with ’im.’

  ‘You’d have men inside with you, would you, if you were spending the night with your geisha?’

  ‘If only I was, not out ’ere freezing my balls off!’

  There were chuckles.

  ‘He must really want to see ’er to take such a risk.’

  ‘Princess Pig, they called her,’ said the older voice softly. ‘Lovely lady. I remember her well. We all do, all of us who fought in Kyoto.’

  Taka slid the door open abruptly. She didn’t want to overhear impertinent remarks about her mother.

  There were fifteen or twenty fearsome-looking fellows outside, standing around in bulky jackets, thick kimono skirts and leggings with nothing of their faces visible except for watchful eyes, glittering behind the folds of their dark scarves. A couple were tall, some short, some slight, some burly. It was impossible to tell which were the ones Taka had heard. Long swords poked from their hems and they held rifles in gloved hands. They straightened up as she appeared and bowed, backing respectfully out of her way.

  Taka bowed in return and hurried off along the narrow street. Despite the cold it was crowded with people, watching for geishas as they emerged from one teahouse and flitted off to the next, their painted faces glowing white in the lantern light, surrounded by groups of rowdy young men.

  Taka was slipping through the crowds, pulling her jacket closer round her, when she heard footsteps behind her. A hand snatched at her sleeve.

  She started. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving or where she was going.

  ‘Sorry, lady. You can’t walk alone. It’s not safe.’

  It was the voice she’d heard a moment earlier, speaking with a Kagoshima accent, the one who’d been so concerned for her father’s safety. She turned with a sigh of relief. ‘I often walk at night.’ This man had no need to know she’d never been out alone before.

  The guard had pushed his scarf away from his face to speak. She looked at him, puzzled. She had a feeling she’d seen him somewhere before. There was something familiar about the angular face, narrow eyes and hair tugged back into a tiny topknot.

  ‘Things have changed. There’ve been threats against the general’s life. You can’t trust anyone any more. Someone might kidnap you or take you hostage.’

  Taka had regained her composure. She laughed. ‘Everyone knows me round here. I have nothing to fear.’ She walked on but the guard fell into place behind her.

  ‘At least let me accompany you, madam.’

  She sighed. ‘Well, if you insist. What is your name?’

  ‘Kuninosuké Toyoda, ma’am, first lieutenant in the general’s personal bodyguard.’

  Kuninosuké Toyoda … The name was not familiar; but people often changed their names when they started a new phase of life.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be back there with the others, guarding him?’

  He jerked his chin dismissively. ‘There are plenty of guards there already.’

  Towards the end of the road the houses were darker and there were fewer people about. Taka heard the crunch of the guard’s straw sandals on the frozen ground and saw his large shadow stretching behind hers. It was unexpectedly reassuring to know he was there.

  They’d reached the crossroads at the centre of the Daimonguchi pleasure quarter and the red-painted Inari shrine, with its glowing lanterns and stone foxes, where the geishas always stopped to pray for prosperity and good luck. It was a haven of quiet in the noise and revelry of the geisha district. Taka clapped her hands and tossed a coin into the box. The guard stepped up beside her, put his hands together and bowed too.

  She pushed her scarf away from her face. In the distance figures bundled in thick clothing hurried to and fro and lanterns blazed. All over the quarter people were dancing. Laughter and singing, the shuffle of feet and the plaintive twang of shamisens echoed from teahouses where men were abandoning themselves to drink and pleasure, putting aside their responsibilities, duties and ranks for this one night. Tomorrow they would wake up and be soldiers again, marching to war.

  But this stubborn protector of hers was missing all the festivities. It was his last night too. She wondered what he was praying for – success in battle or just to come back alive?

  He raised his head. His brow was furrowed as if he was already on the battlefield, ready to cut down any enemy that dared get in his way.

  ‘It’s sad that you have to work tonight,’ Taka said shyly.

  He lifted an eyebrow as if startled that she was addressing him and bowed stiffly. ‘Not at all. It’s my good fortune. The general chose me for his bodyguard. It’s a great honour. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

  ‘But you’re leaving so soon,’ she persisted. ‘Just a few hours now. Aren’t you afraid?’ Her own life had changed, and for the worse, but this man was marching off into the unknown, heading for the mountains in the middle of winter, not knowing where he would spend the night, maybe into battle. She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be setting off for war the very next day.

  ‘Afraid?’ He stared at her then threw back his head and laughed. His whole face had changed. He looked like a boy. ‘I can’t wait! I’ve been kicking my heels here much too long. I want to feel my sword in my hand again. This is what we’ve been training for all these years. We’re going to clean up this country. We’ll march on Tokyo, toss out those corrupt officials and put in a government of honest men. It’ll be a second revolution, a glorious revolution.’ His eyes were shining.

  In his excitement he’d lost his Kagoshima burr. Hearing him speak like a Tokyoite, Taka remembered where she’d seen him before. He’d been a junior officer in the Imperial Guard and used to come to their house in Tokyo when her father was a member of the council of state and commander of the guard. She’d been a child back then but she’d loved to watch these dashing young men with their fine uniforms who strode around the grounds arguing about how to run the country. They were so totally different from Eijiro and his dissolute friends. Most of them had resigned when her father did and left for Kyushu with him, as many of the Satsuma had. This young man must have been among
them.

  There’d been one in particular she’d found intriguing. He was tall and rather aloof and seemed to keep apart from the others. She could see he was her father’s right-hand man. He was always at his side and when her father wanted something done he summoned him.

  In those days his hair had been cropped short like a westerner’s and he’d worn a crisp uniform with gold braid and shiny buttons and a red stripe down the trouser legs. She looked at the man in front of her in his thick jacket and leggings with his sword poking menacingly from his skirts. In the dim light that glowed from the stone lanterns in front of the shrine she recognized the clean jaw and sharp cheekbones and realized it was the same face she’d admired from a distance.

  He looked younger than she’d thought, more ordinary, not as manly and dignified and splendidly tall, but it was him all the same. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt a curious mixture of disappointment and excitement tinged with relief that he didn’t know what was going on in her mind or that she’d ever noticed him before.

  His eyes lingered on her face. His expression softened and he gave a clipped military bow. He’d recognized her too, though she must have been a chubby thirteen-year-old when he’d seen her last.

  ‘I was with the Imperial Guard in Tokyo, madam. We’re all devoted to your father. Those jackals in Tokyo are out to destroy him and everything he stands for. All that power has gone to their heads. We have to get rid of them for the good of the country.’

  He scuffed the ground with his foot. He was wearing rope sandals, as all the men did. A seagull shrieked and waves crashed in the bay a couple of streets away. Above the rooftops an angry red glow lit the clouds above the volcano. The guard’s eyes glittered in the darkness. ‘Forgive my impertinence, madam. May I ask – is your mother in good health?’

  ‘My mother?’ It seemed an extraordinary question. Taka bowed. ‘Thank you, yes.’

  ‘I saw her dance in Kyoto.’ He spoke softly, hesitantly. ‘She was beautiful, so beautiful. Her face was luminous. I was just a young lad then but I never forgot that.’ A group of men passed by, heading for the geisha houses on the other side of the crossroads. They paid no attention to the two figures swathed in thick jackets and scarves in front of the shrine. ‘I remember you too, madam, and your sister, two little girls serving drinks, very solemn. I saw you in your big house in Tokyo too and thought, those must be the general’s daughters. Excuse my rough soldier’s manners, madam,’ he added hurriedly. ‘I mean no disrespect. I’m not used to the company of fine ladies like you.’