Taiko. Part 4

"Yes."

"I suppose you felt it was all right not to apologize to me directly. You thought you'd make up some kind of lie, make a joke of it, or ask the kitchen workers to cover for you! This time I'm not going to put up with it." Of.u.ku grabbed Hiyoshi's ear and pulled. "Well, come on. Speak up."

I'm sorry.

"This is getting to be a habit. We're going to get to the bottom of this. Come along we'll talk to my father."

"Please forgive me." Hiyoshi's voice sounded just like the cry of a monkey.

Of.u.ku did not loosen his grip. He started to go around the house. The path that led from the warehouse to the garden entrance of the house was screened by a thicket of tall Chinese bamboos.

Suddenly, Hiyoshi stopped in his tracks. "Listen," he said, glaring at Of.u.ku and knocking away his hand, "I've got something to tell you."

"What are you up to now? I'm the master here, remember?" Of.u.ku said, turning pale and beginning to tremble.

"That's why I'm always obedient, but there's something I want to say to you. Of.u.ku, have you forgotten our childhood days? You and I were friends, weren't we?"

"That belongs to the past."

"All right, it belongs to the past, but you shouldn't forget it. When they teased you and called you 'the Chinese kid,' do you remember who always stuck up for you?"

"I remember."

"Don't you think you owe me something?" Hiyoshi asked, scowling. He was much smaller than Of.u.ku, but he had such an air of dignity about him that it was impossible to ell who was the elder. "The other workers are all talking, too," Hiyoshi went on. "They say the master is good, but the young master is conceited and hasn't got a heart. A boy like you, who's never known poverty or hardship, should try working in someone else's house. If you bully me and the other employees again, I don't know what I'll do. But remember that I have a relative who's a ronin in Mikuriya. He has over a thousand men under his command. If he came here on my account, he could wipe out a house like this in a single night." Hiyoshi's threatening stream of nonsense, combined with the fire in his eyes, terrified the hapless Of.u.ku.

"Master Of.u.ku!"

"Master Of.u.ku! Where's Master Of.u.ku?"

The servants from the main house had been searching for Of.u.ku for some time. Of.u.ku, held prisoner by Hiyoshi's stare, had lost the courage to answer them.

"They're calling you," Hiyoshi muttered. And he added, making it sound like an order, "You can go now, but don't forget what I told you." With this parting remark, he turned away and walked toward the back entrance to the house. Later, his heart beating wildly, he wondered if they were going to punish him. But nothing happened. The incident was forgotten.

The year drew to a close. Among farmers and townspeople, a boy turning fifteen usually had a coming-of-age ceremony. In Hiyoshi's case, there was no one to give him a single ceremonial fan, much less a feast. Since it was New Year's, he sat on the corner of a wooden platform with the other servants, sniffling and eating millet cakes cooked with vegetables-a rare treat.

He wondered grimly, Are my mother and Otsumi eating millet cakes this New Year's? Although they were millet farmers, he could recall many a New Year's when there had jeen no cakes to eat. The other men around him were grumbling.

"Tonight the master will have visitors, so we'll have to sit up straight and listen to his stories again."

"I'll have to pretend to have a stomachache and stay in bed."

"I hate that. Especially at New Year's."

There were similar occasions two or three times a year, at the New Year and at the festival of the G.o.d of wealth. Whatever the pretext, Sutejiro invited a great many guests: the potters of Seto, the families of favored customers in Nagoya and Kiyosu, members of samurai clans, even the acquaintances of relatives. From that evening on, there would be a horrendous crush of people.

Today, Sutejiro was in an especially good mood. Bowing low, he welcomed his guests in person, apologizing for having neglected them that past year. In the tearoom, which was decorated with one exquisite, carefully chosen flower, Sutejiro's beautiful wife served tea to her guests. The utensils she used were all rare and precious.

It was Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa who, late in the previous century, had first practiced the tea ceremony as an aesthetic exercise. It had spread to the common people, and before long, without anyone consciously realizing it, tea had become a central part of people's daily lives. Within the confines of the narrow little tearoom with its single flower and single cup of tea, the turbulence of the world and human suffering could be forgotten. Even in the midst of a corrupt world, the tea ceremony could teach one the cultivation of the spirit.

"Do I have the honor of addressing the lady of the house?" The speaker was a big-boned warrior, who had come in with the other guests. "My name is Watanabe Tenzo. I am a friend of your kinsman Shichirobei. He promised to bring me tonight, but unfortunately he's been taken ill, so I came alone." He bowed politely. He was gentle in demeanor, and although he had the rustic appearance of a country samurai, he asked for a bowl of tea. Sutejiro's wife served it in a yellow Seto bowl.

"I am not acquainted with the etiquette of the tea ceremony," he said. Tenzo looked around him while contentedly sipping the tea. "As might be expected of such a famous, wealthy man, the tea implements here are certainly well crafted. While it is rude of me to ask, isn't the porcelain pitcher you are using a piece of akae ware?"

"Did you notice that?"

"Yes." Tenzo looked at the pitcher, deeply impressed. "If this were to fall into hands of a Sakai merchant, I daresay it would fetch about a thousand gold pieces. Quite apart from its value, it's a beautiful piece."

As they were chatting, they were called inside for dinner. Sutejiro's wife led the way, and together they went into the hall. The place settings had been arranged in a circle around the room. As host, Sutejiro sat in the very center, greeting his guests. When wife and the maids had finished serving the sake, he took his own seat at one of the tables. He picked up his cup and started to tell stories about the Ming, among whom had spent many years. It was so that he might talk about his adventures in China, a country he knew well, but one that was still relatively unknown in j.a.pan, that he would invite his guests and treat them to such lavish entertainments.

"Well, this was a real feast. And again tonight I've heard a number of rather interesing stories," said one guest.

"I've certainly had my fill. But it's getting late. I'd better be on my way," said another.

"Me too. I really should be taking my leave."

The guests departed one by one, and the evening came to a close.

"Ah, it's over!" said a servant. "The stories may be a great treat for the guests, but hear about the Chinese all year round."

Not hiding their yawns, the servants, Hiyoshi among them, worked frantically to clean up. The lamps in the large kitchen, in the hall, and in Sutejiro's and Of.u.ku's rooms were finally blown out, and the stout bar on the gate in the earthen wall was set in place. As a matter of course, samurai mansions, and also the homes of merchants-if they were at all substantial-were enclosed by an earthen wall or surrounded by a moat, which would be backed up by two or three tiers of fortifications. When night fell, people in cities and the countryside felt uneasy. This had been the case ever since the civil war the previous century, and n.o.body thought it strange anymore.

As soon as the sun went down, people slept. When the workers, whose only pleasure was sleeping, crawled into their beds, they slumbered like cattle. Covered by a thin straw mat, Hiyoshi lay in a corner of the male servants' room, his head on a wooden pillow. Along with the other servants, he had listened to his master's stories about the great country of the Ming. But unlike them, he had listened avidly. And he was so p.r.o.ne to fantasizing that he was too excited to sleep, almost as though he had a fever.

What's that? he wondered, sitting up. He strained his ears, sure he had just heard a sound like a tree branch breaking and, just before that, the sound of m.u.f.fled footsteps. He got up, went through the kitchen, and stealthily peeked outdoors. On this cold, clear light, the water in the large barrel was frozen, and icicles hung like swords from the wooden eaves. Looking up, he saw a man climbing the huge tree at the back. Hiyoshi guessed that the sound he had heard earlier was the cracking of a branch the man had stepped on. He observed the strange behavior of the figure in the tree. The man was swinging a light no bigger than a firefly around and around. A fuse cord? Hiyoshi wondered. The red swirl threw faint, smoky sparks into the wind. It seemed likely that the man was sending a signal to someone outside the walls.

He's coming down, Hiyoshi thought, as he hid like a weasel in the shadows. The man slid down the tree and set off with long strides toward the back of the grounds. Hiyoshi let him pa.s.s and then trailed after him.

"Ah! He was one of the guests this evening," he muttered in disbelief. It was the one who had introduced himself as Watanabe Tenzo, the man who had been served tea by the naster's wife, and who had listened raptly to Sutejiro's stories from beginning to end. All he other guests had gone home, so where had Tenzo been until now? And why? He was dressed differently from before. He wore straw sandals, the hems of his baggy trousers vere rolled up and tied back, and a large sword was belted at his side. His eyes took in the surroundings with a fierce, hawklike expression. Anyone seeing him would instantly realize that he was out for someone's blood.

Tenzo approached the gate, and just at that moment, the men waiting outside crashed against it.

"Wait! I'll loosen the bar. Be quiet!"

It must be a raid by bandits! Their leader had indeed been signaling to his followers, come to pillage the house like a swarm of locusts. Hidden in the shadows, Hiyoshi thought, Robbers! Instantly his blood surged, and he forgot all about himself. Although he did not think it through, he no longer cared about his own safety because he was concerned solely about his master's house. Even so, what he did next could only be described as foolhardy.

"Hey, you!" he called out, walking brazenly out of the shadows with who knew what in mind. He stood behind Tenzo just as he was about to open the gate. A shudder of fear ran up Tenzo's spine. How could he have guessed that he was being challenged by a fifteen-year-old boy who worked for the pottery shop? When he looked around, he was puzzled by what he saw: an odd-looking youth with the face of a monkey, eyeing him with a strange expression. Tenzo stared very hard at him for a moment.

"Who are you?" he demanded, perplexed.

Hiyoshi had completely forgotten the danger of the situation. His expression was unsmiling and blank. "All right, you, what's going on here?" he asked.

"What?" said Tenzo, now thoroughly confused. Is he crazy? he wondered. Hiyoshi's unforgiving expression, so unlike a child's, overwhelmed him. He felt he had to stare the boy down.

"We are the ronin of Mikuriya. Raise a cry and I'll cut you down. We didn't come here to take the lives of children. Get out of here. Go lose yourself in the woodshed Supposing the gesture would intimidate the boy, he tapped the hilt of his long sword. Hiyoshi grinned, showing his white teeth.

"So you are a robber, eh? If you're a robber, you want to leave with what you came here for, right?"

"Don't be a nuisance. Get lost!"

"I'm going. But if you open that gate, not one of you will leave here alive."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You don't know, do you? n.o.body knows but me."

"You're a bit crazy, aren't you?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one whose head isn't right-coming to rob a house like this."

Tenzo's men, tired of waiting, knocked on the gate and called out, "What's going on?"

"Hold on a minute," said Tenzo. Then he said to Hiyoshi, "You said if we go into this mansion, we won't go home alive. Why should I believe you?"

"It's true."

"If I find out you're playing games, I'll cut off your head."

"You aren't going to find out for nothing. You'll have to give me something in return."

"Huh?" Grumbling to himself, Tenzo was suspicious of this boy. Overhead, the starry sky was getting brighter, but the mansion, surrounded by its earthen wall, was still sunk in total darkness.

"What do you want?" Tenzo asked tentatively.

"I don't want a thing, only that you let me become a member of your gang."

"You want to become one of us?"

"Yes, that's right."

"You want to become a thief?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Why do you want to become a thief?"

"The master drives me like a horse. The people here bully me, they call me 'monkey'. all the time, so I'd like to become a bandit like you and get even with them."

"All right, I'll let you join us, but only after you prove yourself. Now explain what said before."

"About you all being killed?"

"Yes."

"Well, your plan's no good. This evening you disguised yourself as a guest and mixed with a large group of people."

"Yes."

"Someone recognized you."

"That's impossible."

"Think what you like, but the master clearly knew who you were. So, earlier this evening, on his instructions, I ran to the house of Kato of Yabuyama and let him know we would surely be attacked in the middle of the night and would appreciate his help."

"Kato of Yabuyama... that would be the Oda retainer Kato Danjo."

"Because Danjo and my master are relatives, he got hold of a dozen samurai who live around here, and they all came in during the evening, dressed as guests. They're on watch for you at the house right now, and that's no lie."

Hiyoshi could see from the pallor of his face that Tenzo believed him.

"Is that so?" he said. "Where are they? What are they doing?"

"They were sitting in a circle, drinking sake and waiting. Then they decided you probably wouldn't attack this late, so they went to sleep. They made me stand watch out in the cold."

Tenzo grabbed Hiyoshi, saying, "It's your life if you cry out." With the huge palm of his hand, he covered Hiyoshi's mouth.

Struggling, Hiyoshi managed to say, "Mister, this isn't what you promised. I won't make any noise. Take your hand away." He sank his fingernails into the robber's hand.

Tenzo shook his head.

"Nothing doing. I am, after all, Watanabe Tenzo of Mikuriya. You want me to believe this house is prepared. Even if that's true, if I left empty-handed I wouldn't be able to face my men."

"But..."

"What can you do?"

"I'll bring out anything you want."

"You'll bring it out?"

"Yeah. That's the way to do it. That way you can finish this thing without the danger cutting people down or being cut down yourself."

"Without fail?" He tightened his grip on Hiyoshi's throat.

The gate was still closed. Afraid and suspicious, his men kept calling out in loud whispers and rattling the gate.

"Hey, boss, are you in there?"

"What's going on?"

"What's the matter with the gate?"

Tenzo loosened the bar halfway and whispered through the gap, "Something's wrong here, so keep quiet. And don't stay in a group. Split up and hide."