Sowing Ghosts 3.3

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[Continuing chapter 3]

“Am I really going to have to spend the entire day sitting and waiting on our lords?” Shiro looked at Hiroki in a manner suggesting despair, as though he’d been asked to open his belly. No, thought Hiroki: he’d be happier about that than about the prospect of sitting indoors all day.

“I’m afraid there is no other choice,” Hiroki told him. They had fallen behind Tetsuo and the two lords, Naitō and Matsukata, during the walk to the arms master’s mansion. “Our lords require one of us to wait on them while the other two conduct the research they have asked for. As Tetsuo is injured, it is safer for our lords that you stay with them. It’s duty, Shiro, and that’s all.”


“But they didn’t call for us yesterday and they won’t call for me today! Why can’t we explore the city? There’s so much of it to see, and we’ve hardly seen any of it. You,” he said, nodding at Hiroki, “at least have wandered around a bit at night. I have seen nothing but the inside of houses since the moment we arrived.”

“I don’t recall anybody locking you in at night,” Hiroki said. “And during the day I’m no more free to wander about than you are.”

“I want new clothes,” Shiro said, flapping his sleeves at Hiroki. “I look like a peasant in these things.”

“The arms master’s retainers already know us for what we are, Shiro. New clothing won’t change anything.”

“It will make me feel better about things.”

“Then we will arrange for a visit to a kimono-maker, once we have leave to do so. For now, let’s try to not leave our lords with only Tetsuo protecting them.” He picked up the pace of his walking, and did not look back to see if Shiro followed.

The day had dawned fair, but already Hiroki could see hints of worse weather to come from the north. It had often felt, this winter, as if the world would never warm, and spring blossoms would never again appear. I understand Shiro’s impatience, he thought, even if Shiro doesn’t fully understand it. It wasn’t just that he would have nothing to do today; it was the entirety of their lives since last year’s Autumn Festival that had been overturned. Back in Kozuke they would have been active throughout the winter and all the year around, riding to the furthest villages of Lord Tanuma’s domain, helping to train the village-warriors for the coming campaigns, or helping to supervise the construction of castles on hilltops. If they had been especially blessed, there would have been missions into the neighbouring domains, gathering information and killing an enemy or two.

The journey here, by contrast, had involved little more than the same thing, day after day: riding beside the two lords, his and his companions’ mere presence a deterrent to any bandits who might think to target them. To simply serve, now they were in the capital — to be more vassal than warrior, samurai than bushi — was something that bit at his spirit.

So it was with considerable fellow-feeling that Hiroki saw Shiro’s young face light up when Lord Naitō told them, “We will not require your attendance on our conversations today, any of you. You will better serve us by learning what you can about Yanagimoto.”

“Will you be satisfied with the protection the arms master gives you?” Hiroki ignored Shiro’s glare; the question had to be asked.

“If the arms master cannot provide adequate protection in this city, who can?” Lord Naitō tucked his hands all the way into his sleeves. “I suspect we will have another bad day, with rain or even snow before evening.”

“We will trust in the arms master,” then, Hiroki said. “Do I have your permission, lord, to send each of us in a different direction today? I believe we will accomplish more if we work separately.”

“You have.” For a moment they walked in silence, watching as two labourers hurried past them, a heavy rice-bale suspended from a pole they carried on their shoulders. The men’s bare legs were a deep red through exertion and cold. “What are your plans?” Lord Naitō asked.

“I would like to send Shiro south to Sakai,” Hiroki said. “The shogunate Yanagimoto serves is based in that city so there ought to be people who can speak about him. Tetsuo I would have make enquiry in as many sake shops as he can safely visit in a day.”

Lord Naitō smiled. “He would definitely be a better choice for this task than young Shiro.”

“Yes, we can trust Tetsuo to keep his mouth as closed as he opens his ears. Shiro enjoys himself too freely.”

“And for yourself?”

“I intend to visit temples as well, but in the city. There is a sect here that is growing as even Zen suffers, and whose adherents are mostly townspeople and lower-status warriors. I am hoping to learn something, from their temples, of the rōnin in the city. I very much doubt the man who attacked you last evening was acting for himself, sir.”

“But surely he could not have been hired by Yanagimoto.”

“We do not know this, Lord Naitō. One side of the fight we were forced into must have supported Yanagimoto, and we couldn’t keep our presence a secret.”

“An interesting thought.” Lord Naitō scowled, waving off the young woman approaching them with a tray on which teacups steamed. “We should have brought thirty men with us, not three.”

Ahead of them the arms master’s compound spread, its white walls shining dully in the weak winter daylight. The usual cluster of heavily armed warriors guarded the gate; one of them, Hiroki noted, was staring up at a grey-green pine tree whose twisted branches projected over the wall from a trunk inside the grounds. After a moment’s thought Hiroki dismissed the tree as a security risk: a monkey could use those branches to get over the wall, but nothing heavier, not even a boy.

At the mansion’s gate they encountered their landlord-host, just as they had the previous afternoon. This morning, though, young Hosokawa Katsunata was by himself as he stepped out of the gate-house and into the street. “Where is your rude wakashū friend this morning?” Lord Naitō asked him, smiling to take some of the bite out of the question.

Lord Hosokawa smiled back, but the smile looked strained to Hiroki, and Hosokawa’s eyes were not happy. “I am afraid I do not know,” he said, returning Lord Naitō’s bow. “I haven’t seen him since we left here yesterday.”

“Is this normal behaviour for him?” Hiroki wondered if there was something beyond rudeness to the wakashū’s dislike. Would he know how to hire an assassin?

“It is … not unknown to me.” Lord Hosokawa shared a wry smile with Hiroki. “However, normally when he’s like this I know what I’ve done to offend him. Today —” He shrugged. “I was very distressed to hear of the attack on you last evening,” he said. “I trust the good Tetsuo’s wound is not serious?”

“It is already healing,” Hiroki told him. “I had not realized that word of this incident had got out, Lord Hosokawa.”

“It has got out to me. I find it very important that I know as much as I can of what happens in this city,” he said. Hiroki wanted to know more about that, but it was clear that Lord Naitō cared not at all for the wakashū or even who might know about the attack. Hiroki was dismissed, with the instruction to check for messages every few hours, in case he was needed.

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