Chapter

           Nine

A screen sliding shut

Calm night drawn across clear sky —

Then the thunder cracks

I was woken by a loud sound, as if the fireworks had moved closer. It felt like I had barely slept, but as I lay in the dark, listening, the air was still and quiet; the fireworks had ended. I had no idea what time it was or what had woken me.

Then I heard it: a shout.

I sat up. It was a man’s voice, coming from the entrance, hoarse and urgent.

What was going on?

I rose from my bed and hastily belted my kimono around me. I stood concealed behind the screen that separated my alcove from the next room, listening for a sign of wakefulness from the room across the corridor.

The shout came again. ‘Lord Shimizu!’

I took a step forwards, then hesitated. Should I wake him?

A nearby groan told me I wouldn’t have to.

‘Who is it?’ Shimizu called.

‘It’s me, Goro. Sir, there’s a messenger from the daimyo’s mansion.’

‘I’ll be right there.’ Shimizu sounded alert now.

A lantern was lit in the bedroom, and I could see a shadow moving on the rice-paper screen as Shimizu rose from his futon and began to dress. I quickly looked away towards the faint glow coming from the entryway: the night guard’s lantern, I assumed, as Goro waited to escort his master to where the messenger waited. What could be wrong at the mansion that required a messenger to be sent in the middle of the night?

Perhaps it was Isamu, I thought in alarm. Was he ill? Or injured, perhaps — attacked as he walked home alone to the domain mansion.

Hurry! I urged Shimizu silently.

Within minutes I saw his tall dark shape walk quickly through the room on the other side of my screen.

Wide awake now, and alarmed, I tiptoed through the reception room, through the dining room, just in time to see the bobbing light of the lantern pass through the small entryway. I peered around the corner. The wooden shutter had been pulled back and Shimizu stood at the open doorway looking out.

There was the crunch of quick footsteps on gravel as the messenger approached then bowed. ‘My lord, your presence is required at the upper mansion.’ He was breathing hard, as if he had been running. Then, as if conscious of the hour, he added, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but at once.’

Shimizu didn’t question the order or the hour. He merely said, ‘Of course. Give me a moment to dress.’ He called to the night guard, ‘Goro, wake Haru — tell him we’re going out.’

I dashed back to my alcove. I felt as breathless as the messenger had sounded. He hadn’t said why Shimizu was needed. Why hadn’t Shimizu asked?

As her husband returned to the room across the corridor, I heard Misaki ask sleepily, ‘What is it?’

‘I’m needed at the mansion.’

‘Now? But it’s the middle of the night.’

‘I know.’ Shimizu’s voice was calm but grave. ‘It must be something serious.’

‘Be careful.’ Misaki sounded frightened.

‘Always. But there’s nothing to fear, my dear. You go back to sleep.’

I heard the whisper of footsteps on tatami, pausing in the entrance — I imagined Shimizu slipping his two swords through the girdle on his left-hand side, where they would be ready should he need to draw them with his right hand — then the murmur of voices outside and the creaking of the gate being dragged open.

I stood still behind the screen. The quiet of the house seemed almost menacing after the flurry of activity. How long would I have to wait before there was news?

I untied my belt and let my kimono fall to the ground, then slipped back into bed. There I lay, my eyes open, trying to think of other reasons why Lord Shimizu might have been summoned — reasons that had nothing to do with his nephew.

‘Kasumi?’ Misaki’s soft voice reached me from across the corridor. ‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes,’ I called back.

There was a rustling and then, to my astonishment, she came to sit on the edge of my futon.

‘What do you think it could be?’

I swallowed. ‘Maybe . . . do you think Isamu has fallen ill?’

‘Isamu? Oh no. We saw him just this evening and he was fine.’

I tried to imagine other possible emergencies. ‘What if foreigners have invaded?’

Misaki seemed to consider this. ‘But then there’d be noise, wouldn’t there?’ She hugged her legs to her body and put her chin on her knees. ‘Perhaps,’ she said quietly, ‘there’s a fire in the compound. Someone might have let off fireworks.’ She must have been thinking of what Taro’s wife Miri had told us. I saw her hand move to her face and was sure she was touching her scar. ‘It was such a wonderful evening,’ she said. ‘And now this.’ She sounded sad and frightened.

A wonderful evening, yes — though she hadn’t heard what I had: the cruel whispers of Aiko and her friends. Could those awful women have somehow discerned the truth? What if that was the reason for Lord Shimizu’s urgent summons to the mansion — that the secret of his marriage had been exposed? What would happen? I remembered his words to Taro: Lord Kinoyoshi would be within his rights to demand my death.

Was that what Misaki was thinking too? What would happen to her if their secret was found out? For she too was part of the deception . . .

Without thinking, I reached over to grasp her wrist. ‘It will be all right,’ I said. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’ Already I was making plans in my head. We would flee Edo. I would take Misaki back to the valley with me and —

‘To me? Why would anything happen to me?’

Of course, I berated myself. She didn’t know that I knew.

‘I just meant — if the foreigners invaded,’ I invented. ‘I would help you to return to Morioka. Or you could come with me back to the valley . . .’

‘Oh, Kasumi, that’s so sweet of you — but whatever happens, I couldn’t leave Edo.’

We were still awake when Lord Shimizu returned.

When we heard the creak of the gate, and the gruff mutter of Goro greeting his master, Misaki jumped up and ran to the entry. ‘Are you all right, Minoru?’ Her voice was high and tense. ‘What was it? Was there a fire at the mansion?’

Stepping out from behind the screen I saw the glow of a lantern as Haru preceded his master into the reception room. ‘A fire? No.’ Shimizu looked weary.

‘But it must be something serious for you to be called out like this. Is someone ill?’

‘Really, it’s nothing for you to worry about. There was . . . an incident tonight, and two government officials were killed.’

Misaki looked horrified. ‘That’s terrible. Where did it happen?’

‘In Yoshiwara, on the outskirts of the city.’ It was clear from Shimizu’s expression that he wasn’t keen to discuss it, but Misaki didn’t seem to notice.

‘At a place called the Golden Plum,’ Haru added importantly. I had the impression he was relishing being part of the drama.

His master gave him a look. ‘Light the lamp for us, Haru, then you can go back to your own quarters. Kasumi, would you make some tea?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Haru lit a standing lamp in the corner of the reception room, then accompanied me into the dark kitchen and lit a lamp for me there.

As I stoked the fire to boil the water, I heard Misaki continue to press for details.

‘But what does the death of government officials have to do with you? Why were you called? Did you know these men?’

‘Only very slightly. Some men from our domain were present at the Golden Plum. None was injured, but since it involves our domain and others, Shunsho-san has asked me to investigate the circumstances to see if the daimyo needs to be informed.’

‘Will it be dangerous?’ Misaki asked in a small voice.

‘I don’t think it’s as serious as it sounds. On the night of a festival spirits are often a little high. Most likely I’ll discover there’s some rivalry between the men involved. Like I said, it’s nothing that need concern you.’

I knew it was wrong to feel relieved when two men had been killed, but as I poured the water into the iron pot and waited for the tea to steep all I could think was how happy I was that it was them and not someone else — someone I cared about more than I wanted to admit . . .