Kuninosuké had turned even paler but he held his ground, breathing hard. No one was going to kill themselves while he was there.
In their indigo farming clothes, Fujino, Kiharu and Okatsu were the only ones who hadn’t taken leave of their senses. They were picking up the children, shaking them, hugging them, prising their hands open, taking their daggers and putting them back in their scabbards. The children stared around, dazed.
Fujino went to Madame Kitaoka. She put her arms around her and held her and the two women knelt, Madame Kitaoka’s bony shoulders shaking, Fujino stroking her hair and murmuring as tenderly as if she was a child. It was a sight so extraordinary it almost shook Taka out of her stupor. She would never have dared hug Madame Kitaoka. No one would.
Still on her knees on the ashy soil, Fujino turned to the newcomer. ‘Toyoda-sama, we’re in your debt. You came just in time. I’m Fujino, the master’s number two wife.’
He bowed. ‘Forgive me, Madame. I should have recognized you. I often visited your house in Tokyo.’
She held her hands out pleadingly. ‘Please tell me. My son, my Eijiro. How is he?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t lie to you. When I left they were preparing for death. We have no ammunition, no food. But I promise you one thing. You can be proud of him. Rest assured he will die like a warrior.’
His eyes fell on Taka and she realized she was staring stupidly. He’d risked his life to come down from Castle Hill and cross this city crawling with hostile troops to find them. She wondered how and why he, her father’s right-hand man, came to be here, not on the opposite hill at her father’s side. He’d said her father had sent him but she wondered if that was true or if he’d come, in part at least, because of her.
But seeing him just made her disappointment all the sharper. It was unbearable that it should be him here and not Nobu. She turned away and swallowed hard, trying to stop tears welling up. If she once let them flow, she thought, she would never stop, she would cry until the end of time.
Her mother took her arm and shook her. ‘Taka, you remember Toyoda-sama. He’s a hero. He’s one of your father’s most loyal men. He’s brought an important message from your father.’
Taka could hear the eagerness in her mother’s voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. ‘I heard his message,’ she said, her voice thick. ‘If it’s my father’s wish, I’ll obey.’
She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly she saw her life taking a different, unexpected turn. Her mother would want her to marry Kuninosuké – not now, not at this terrible time, but later, when everything was over. The hero who had braved enemy gunfire to deliver her father’s message, the man her father had loved and would have wanted her to be with, who would remind them all of their beloved master whenever they saw him and who, as her mother knew, Taka had admired when she was a little girl – it was the perfect match. Madame Kitaoka would want it too. Taka groaned and shook her head. If she had never known Nobu, if he had not reappeared in her life, she might have gone along with it. But now it seemed the grimmest of futures.
‘Give her time, Fujino,’ said Aunt Kiharu. ‘The poor girl’s been to the other world and back. Children, run down to the well and fetch water and food. Bring up as much as you can find.’ The children had thrown off their white robes. They trooped off into the trees as if the night’s events had never happened.
‘More people coming up,’ one shouted back. ‘The watchman’s here.’
The rifle fire was more intense than ever. ‘I saw that blaze of yours from down in the valley.’ Straw-sandalled feet crunched across the stones. The watchman’s voice was stern. ‘What can they be thinking of, using up all their firewood like that, I asks myself?’
The footsteps stopped and Taka heard wheezing. The watchman gabbled on, half audible above the guns. ‘I came up here as fast as I could on these old legs. Had to make the journey in the dark. Fellow won’t take no for an answer. Hammering on the door in the middle of the night, wouldn’t even let me stop for a drink or a bite to eat. “Hurry, hurry,” says he. “What’s the rush?” says I. “It’s urgent,” says he. And there I’d been thinking all along he was deaf and dumb.’
40
SOMEHOW TAKA MANAGED to struggle to her feet and stumble towards the gap in the trees, scuffing through fallen leaves, breathing the sharp sweet smell of sap and pine needles as she pushed aside bushes and swaying plume grass. She had to get to the edge of the clearing, see what was happening on Castle Hill. Holding on to a branch to steady herself, she stood swaying, gazing out across the valley. Lights glowed and the shadowy ruins of houses were beginning to take shape. Behind the volcano, layers of pale gold, amber and violet streaked the sky. A bird sang and others answered its dawn cry.
Smoke hung like a shroud over Castle Hill. Flashes ripped across it, close to the place where the red dot had been. There was no red dot now. Rifle fire echoed round the hills, rattling her brain, making it hard to think. It was best that way. Thinking hurt too much. Surely no human being could survive such a relentless barrage.
She heard Madame Kitaoka’s voice behind her. ‘What have you done, old fool? You’ve betrayed us! You’ve brought the army down on us!’
How unfair, Taka thought, when it had been Madame Kitaoka’s own idea to light the fire in the first place. Now everyone knew where they were.
‘But …’ It was the watchman.
‘Silence!’ shrieked Madame Kitaoka.
Taka’s legs felt as if they didn’t belong to her. Slowly she turned her head. It made her dizzy to move too fast.
So their hiding place had been discovered. It was no surprise that Kuninosuké knew it. He must have come here many times with Taka’s father, he knew Madame Kitaoka, the aunts, Uncle Seppo. There was nothing to worry about in that.
But if the army had found them, it was the end for all of them. They’d thought soldiers wouldn’t bother with mere women but they’d been wrong, it seemed. Armed men – maybe hundreds – could have crept up the hill in the darkness, taking advantage of the gunfire to mask the crunch of feet and crack of branches. Madame Kitaoka must have caught a glimpse of movement or of rifles glinting in the trees. The woods were probably full of them, lurking behind every tree and bush, waiting for the signal, ready to burst out. Maybe they’d shoot them but more likely they’d beat them, rape them, take them away and make them into slaves, just as Madame Kitaoka had said.
Taka wished she’d listened to her. She’d been right. They should have killed themselves then and there before such humiliation could overtake them, before Kuninosuké had a chance to stop them.
The watchman had taken off his conical straw hat and was turning it round and round in his thick brown fingers, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched. Madame Kitaoka’s eyes blazed. She was on her feet, her arm raised, holding her dagger. She must have snatched it back from Kuninosuké. Her taste of death had turned her into a fearsome warrior.
Fujino, the other women and Uncle Seppo were staring wide-eyed towards the far side of the clearing. Taka drew in a breath sharply as the first soldier limped out of the trees, a rifle slung over his shoulder. His uniform was ripped and dirty and his face bearded. His eyes were dark hollows. He looked a battle-hardened veteran, as if he’d been fighting for years.
She peered into the woods behind him. It was too dark and she was too far away to see much but she was sure she caught a glimpse of figures in the shadows. Any moment now there’d be uniformed men pouring out. There was a sudden movement and she started violently but it was only a deer bounding away. Monkeys shrieked. A crow landed on a branch, sending leaves showering down, and gave a caw. It sent a shudder along Taka’s spine. It was an omen of death.
The soldier stared wildly at the mound of ash and the heap of white robes lying in the dirt then turned towards the women in their indigo work trousers and jackets and started to run, half limping, towards them. Taka shrank as deep as she could into the bushes, trembling, praying to the gods he wouldn’t
notice her.
Kuninosuké was crouching at the edge of the clearing, watching the soldier steely-eyed. He glanced at Taka as if to check that she was well hidden, then leapt up and charged towards the man, shouting, ‘Stop! That’s far enough!’ The soldier started and swung round. Even in the dim light Taka could see his eyes, wide open as if he’d seen a ghost. Kuninosuké darted into his path, the veins in his neck standing out, blocking his way like a fierce guardian deity outside a temple, his hand on his sword hilt.
Taka turned away and gazed at the smoke billowing over Castle Hill. It made no difference what befell a few women compared to the massacre taking place there. Her head was throbbing and there was a fiery pain pressing behind her eyes. She wanted desperately to lie down, curl up and sleep and never wake up again.
‘It’s not the army, Older Sister.’ Aunt Kiyo’s dry tones were barely audible against the rattle of gunfire. She was the only one who dared stand up to Madame Kitaoka. ‘There’s only one of them. He could be a new recruit. Thousands have joined our cause. We couldn’t possibly know them all.’
‘I don’t think we have to worry with Kuninosuké here.’ It was Uncle Seppo’s voice. He’d been the first to put away his dagger.
She peeked through the leaves. The men were squaring up to each other like a couple of sumo wrestlers before a bout, neither taking his eyes off the other. If she hadn’t known it would have been impossible to tell which was the Satsuma rebel and which the soldier. They were both as thin and wiry as skeletons, in faded, filthy uniforms with shaggy hair and beards. Kuninosuké was bigger and burlier and his square-jawed face was paler, while the soldier’s was bruised and blackened. Their eyes blazed like coals.
There was a fan poking from the soldier’s belt. He put his hand on it and tried to sidestep Kuninosuké but Kuninosuké was too fast. ‘Go back. There’s nothing for you here. Go back where you came from.’
The man scowled and opened his mouth but Kuninosuké held up his hand. ‘You’re too late. The job is done. I’ve carried out my master’s command. You kept your word, you’re a man of honour, but you’re not needed now. There’s nothing more to do.’
The soldier lowered his eyes to Kuninosuké’s waist where the amulet swung. He brought his eyebrows together in a grimace, gripped his sword hilt and took a step forward.
Taka distinctly heard the whisper of metal and saw a flash of steel as Kuninosuké slid his own sword a hand’s span from its scabbard. The women and Uncle Seppo had drawn back into the trees. Madame Kitaoka was poised, blade in hand. The samurai aunts too had their daggers bared. Fujino, Aunt Kiharu and Okatsu held back the children, who scowled as fiercely as their mothers.
‘This is Satsuma territory,’ said Kuninosuké. His voice was soft and menacing. It carried right across the glade to where Taka crouched. ‘You’re not welcome. Your men have killed enough of ours. Our women are alive, that’s all you need to know. Now leave them to mourn. Go. I don’t want to kill you but I will if I have to. You’re young. Save yourself, get out of here.’
The soldier took his hand off his sword hilt, pulled out the fan and held it up. He gave a grunt of laughter. His beard made him look old but he had a young man’s laugh. He shook his head and threw up his hands. ‘You know why I’m here, Toyoda-sama,’ he said. ‘Your master sent me. And I know why you’re here. We have no secrets from each other.’ Taka started and rubbed her eyes. She knew that voice. ‘You gave me the slip, you cheated me. I should have guessed that was what you were planning when you disappeared at the bottom of the hill. You’re right, the job’s done. But I can’t fight you. I won’t, I refuse. You saved my skin on Castle Hill and I’m in your debt for that. You’re a good and honourable man.’
Taka listened open-mouthed, feeling as if she was waking from a dream. Nearly half a year had passed and it was hard to hear above the rattle and clatter of gunfire but she recognized the intonation, the accent. She didn’t have to see his face to know. On the other side of the clearing Okatsu gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. She’d recognized him too.
‘I won’t fight you,’ the soldier said again. ‘Kill me if you want, if you care to kill the bearer of your master’s fan. But before you do, I need to know one thing – that Madame Fujino and her daughter are alive and well.’
Taka had been too shocked and dazed to move before but now her heart gave a leap. She scrambled to her feet, pushed aside the branches and bushes, rushed out of the trees and flew towards the soldier. Her legs wouldn’t carry her fast enough, they gave way with every step. He turned and saw her. His face lit up and he straightened his shoulders, no longer worn out and beaten down but young and full of joy. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized who it was before.
He had taken his eyes off Kuninosuké. There was a glint of light. Kuninosuké was drawing his sword, not swiftly, as samurai usually did, but slowly, stealthily, his eyes narrowed.
Taka screamed, ‘Kuninosuké, no!’
He froze, swung round and stared at her as if she’d gone mad.
Madame Kitaoka gave a shout. ‘Aizu.’ She’d recognized the accent. The word echoed around the glade like a battle cry. ‘Kill him, Kuninosuké, cut him down, or I will.’
In her peasant’s trousers, unencumbered by kimono skirts, she flew across the clearing with shocking speed, her eyes blazing as if she carried the vengeful spirit of the entire Satsuma clan in her thin frame. Nobu’s eyes were on Taka. He was running towards her, careless of the middle-aged woman bearing down on him.
Taka’s heart was pounding. She wasn’t going to lose him now. She plunged through the mound of ashes, sending cinders and chunks of charred wood flying and threw herself in Madame Kitaoka’s path. The thin face loomed towards her, grey hair whirling, lips drawn back, eyes huge and fierce.
Taka threw out her arms. ‘Kill me first,’ she panted.
Madame Kitaoka was almost on top of her when she saw her and stopped, gasping for breath. ‘Idiot child! Out of my way!’ For a moment Taka thought she really would stab her.
She held her ground. The others were running towards them. She screamed, ‘Mother, it’s Nobu! Don’t you recognize him? Nobu!’
Nobu pushed himself between Taka and Madame Kitaoka. He turned to face Madame Kitaoka. ‘I’m not your enemy, Madame.’ He thrust the closed fan towards her. ‘I carry a message from General Kitaoka.’
Madame Kitaoka pulled back as if she couldn’t bear to be so close to the hated enemy. She drew herself up like a serpent about to strike, her arm raised.
‘Aizu,’ she hissed.
Kuninosuké was standing like a statue, his shoulders slumped. Slowly he put his sword back in its scabbard. A look of pain crossed his face as if everything had suddenly become horribly clear.
Taka felt a pang. This was the man she’d embraced that winter night in Kagoshima, her father’s right-hand man whom he’d loved and trusted. She felt sure that he was the man her father would have wanted her to be with and she could see too that he was a fine, upright man. Now when her family were facing ruin she owed them even more of a duty than ever, not just her mother but Madame Kitaoka too. It would be so simple to do what they wanted and make them all happy.
But her heart belonged to Nobu. It wasn’t reasonable or dutiful or right but it was the way it was.
She looked into Kuninosuké’s pale eyes and for a moment felt that she could see into his soul. There was so much that she wanted and needed to say – that she was sorry she couldn’t give him what he wanted, that she was grateful he cared for her and had given up so much to come to their rescue and that she’d always admire him. But words seemed hopelessly inadequate.
Kuninosuké’s thin cheeks flushed. He swallowed and lowered his head, then drew himself up and thrust out his chest, as if mortified that he might have shown even a trace of weakness.
He seized Madame Kitaoka’s wrist, holding it so tight his knuckles were white. ‘Enough killing,’ he muttered. Madame Kitaoka seemed to shrink. She stumbled back and meekly let
him take the dagger from her.
‘Forgive me, Madame,’ Kuninosuké said, addressing her in formal language. ‘In the heat of the moment I didn’t recognize this man. I know him and can vouch for him. He came to our camp last night to deliver a letter from General Yamagata and our master requested him to find you. He carries our master’s fan as authorization.’
Madame Kitaoka bowed and reached out with a look of distaste and took the fan from Nobu. She slowly unfurled it. She closed her eyes and held it to her face, breathing the smell of it, then read the message, running her finger down the scrawled, smudged characters. She bowed her head and held her sleeve to her eyes. ‘Masa’s writing, Masa’s last command.’
Taka hardly heard her. There was a roaring in her ears. She’d dropped her arms. She was shaking. Nobu turned towards her. She saw the face she’d pictured so often, the slanted eyes and full mouth and shock of black hair, and the knowledge that everything was going to be all right was so strong it made her knees buckle. She tottered and started to fall and he caught her and held her tight.
Her eyes filled with tears and she flung her arms around him. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered. ‘I prayed so hard for you to come. I’ll never let you go again, never.’
She could feel Madame Kitaoka’s eyes boring into her. She was breaching the rules of propriety by touching any man, let alone an Aizu. The general’s wife for one would certainly do all she could to make sure she never saw Nobu again. But having been so close to death put everything into perspective. Taka didn’t care what anyone said or thought any more.
Then all the pent-up feelings of the last months and years, the yearning and sadness and disappointment, swept over her like a flood and she clung to him, buried her head in his chest and sobbed. He was there at last. She remembered the first moment she’d caught sight of him, when he’d come to their rescue in Tokyo, a skinny urchin with big eyes and clothes that didn’t fit properly, and the last, when he’d walked away from the gate of the Bamboo House and left her behind. So much had happened since then. She wondered where he’d been and what he’d seen and if they’d ever be able to tell each other even a little of all that they’d been through.