The Samurai's Garden Read online

  He hadn't intended to do more than help her make her purchase, but the chance to get acquainted intrigued him. Working on her farm would allow him to pass the time while he decided on his life's course, as well as pay penance for the wrongs done by his former comrades.

  Finally, they reached a pair of dilapidated huts. From this point, the road curved and disappeared in the woods. He stopped on the road, turning to her and raising his brow in a silent question. When she simply nodded toward the larger one, he walked to the doorway and entered it.

  The evening's dim light made it difficult to see inside, but when his eyes adjusted he could tell the woman kept a tidy home. The shabby contents were clean, and arranged comfortably. While Hanako dealt with the animals, he took stock of his new temporary lodgings.

  A simple wooden box to the right of the stove held two rusty urns. A bowl of rice and a few berries had been placed in front of the urns, along with a stub of candle. A man's garment, made from cheap coarse fabric, had been draped on the wall behind the box. This must be her obustudan, the home for the spirits of her husband and father. It was a far cry from the elaborate, lacquered wood and gold-painted arrangement holding his father's ashes. Yet, the simple tribute was equally profound.

  Her entrance into the room interrupted his perusal. She lit a lantern, further highlighting the shabbiness of the hut's furnishings. "I will prepare the evening meal. Will you have some tea?" Her voice, though marked with the accent of a peasant, was lyrical.

  "I would enjoy some refreshment. Thank you." He sat on one of the threadbare cushions in the seating area and watched, fascinated, as the young woman performed her task. Her motions were fluid and economical as she prepared tea and a meal of soup and vegetables.

  "Does someone live in the other building?" he asked.

  "When my father lived, he slept there. I hope it will be suitable for you. It's dusty, so I'll clean it for you while you eat."

  "I am certain it will be satisfactory. Thank you for your hospitality."

  "I apologize for the lack of substance in our meal," she said as she set the fare on the floor in front of him, "but I left early for the market and didn't go fishing today. I'll be sure to have a better meal tomorrow." She bowed respectfully and turned to leave.

  "Please sit with me." The words came from his mouth without warning. She froze in mid-step and spun back to stare at him. She may be a simple girl, but she has some manners. It would not be her place to be seated with a man as he took his meal. "I have some questions, and since I am quite tired and would like to sleep after eating, I want to speak with you now."

  She hesitated another moment, and then nodded. She knelt demurely, keeping a respectful distance, and folded her hands on her knees. He noted her hands trembled slightly, despite her expressionless face.

  "Do you not have any relatives to help you?" he asked.

  "No," she replied. "My mother died in childbirth when I was young. My brother was sickly and lived only two years. My father and I lived here until he passed away three years ago. I have no aunts, uncles, or cousins who will acknowledge me, and my husband never talked about his family."

  "How long were you married?"

  "Six years."

  "So your husband took over the farm when your father died?"

  She took her time answering him. A series of expressions swept across her face: frustration, sorrow, defeat. He hadn't meant to evoke painful memories. Finally, she sighed and squared her shoulders. Her eyes still downcast in respect for his gender and rank, she answered in a clear, firm voice. "Father was — ill — for a long time before he died. My husband wasn't raised on a farm, so he didn't really know what to do. I — helped him with the work and the management."

  Hiro's compassion for the young widow grew. Apparently her father had left her to make all the arrangements and decisions, and now that her husband was gone she was left with all the physical labor as well. He would need to work hard to help her get back on her feet. But he knew nothing about agriculture, and even less about farm animals. He'd have to observe and take his cues from his hostess.

  He finished his meal then set the bowl down. "Thank you for the delicious meal. Are there any duties you wish for me to complete before I retire?"

  Hanako shook her head. "The animals are settled for the night, and since the light of day is gone, we can't do any work in the field. As soon as I have prepared your room we should sleep, and begin our work early in the morning." Since he had finished, she rose, bowed, and took his bowl. She placed it in the cooking area and hurried outside.

  Hiro took out his pipe and went out into the night. His years of warrior training had taught him to familiarize himself with his surroundings. The road to the village marked the northern edge of Hanako's land. Open fields lay to the east and west. To the south, dense woods guarded the fields. A narrow stream gurgled as it cut a path out of the woods toward the house then curved and returned back into the trees. Hiro examined the earth, digging at it with his toe. The cold harsh winter had left it hard-packed. It was no wonder Hanako wanted livestock to help with the plowing.

  The soft rustle of Hanako's kimono told him she had finished cleaning out his hut and returned to her own. Through the open doorway, he saw her scoop out her own meal and sit down to eat. If the thin soup was all she'd had to eat all day, it wouldn't do much to fill her. He would have to do all he could do to help.

  Chapter Two

  The bright morning sun woke Hanako from a deep slumber. She chided herself for oversleeping. There was so much to do, now that she had the animals. The chickens needed to be fed, the field needed plowing, and—

  She sat up, suddenly wide awake. Her guest! He would need something to eat before working outdoors all day. She scrambled to her feet, deciding what to do first. She would not have time to catch fish, but maybe one of the hens she brought home yesterday would have an egg or two.

  She stopped suddenly at an unfamiliar sound outside her hut. Who or what would be making that noise? The road was not well-traveled, and it was not the sound of an animal foraging for food. She peeked through the doorway, and her jaw dropped as she realized what she had heard.

  Hiro stood at the edge of the clearing, swinging an ancient axe in a deadly arc at the trunk of a thick tree. A loud crack preceded the thunderous boom as it crumpled to the earth. The axe continued its work as limbs and branches were separated from the trunk.

  Hanako's mouth went dry at the sight of her handsome guest. He was stripped to the waist, his tanned and muscled arms glistening as they swung rhythmically. She couldn't resist leaning out of the doorway to get a closer look. Mesmerized, she stared at the rippling muscles on his back. Kenji had never stirred such feelings in her. Of course, Kenji had never subjected himself to hard physical labor. He was an artist and an intellectual.

  Thinking of her husband brought memories of him cowering in a corner, pleading for his life. A big, muscular soldier stood over him, his sword raised…

  Memories of that dreadful time brought a dull ache to her heart. She lifted a hand to her breast as if to massage the ache away. Remembering her guest, she turned from the doorway. She couldn't think about such things now.

  She lit the fire and put on water for tea. The little earthen jar held enough rice for one healthy serving, so she washed the precious grains and set them aside to soak. A quick trip to her garden produced a radish and some herbs. After a moment's hesitation, she picked a few blossoms from her flowerbed. Such a fine gentleman was probably used to having lovely things at his table. She didn't have much, but her flowers would have to do.

  She found a thin wooden board and cleaned it as well as she could. Remembering an old bottle of cheap sake her father had left behind, she dug it out and pulled out the stopper. The rancid odor nearly made her swoon. The fancy gentleman would definitely not drink this concoction. But the decorated bottle gave her an idea. After dumping out the contents, she arranged the blossoms in it and set the arrangement on her makeshift tray.
/>   The rice was boiling in the pot, and she had just finished seasoning the chopped radish when Hiro entered the hut. His face and torso gleamed from his morning exertion. Hanako forced herself to look away.

  "Thank you for cutting up the firewood. I didn't realize the woodpile was so low." She continued to look away as she prepared his tray. If she gave in, she would subject herself to longings she had forgotten. It would not do to wish for the attentions of the wealthy traveler.

  ****

  Hiro put the axe away and walked back to his hut. He made use of the tiny washbowl and returned to Hanako's hut to find out what the day's work would be. She was still busy cooking, so he sat down on the cushion to watch her.

  He hadn't expected to be comfortable here, but he had slept soundly and awakened full of energy. The air here seemed cleaner, everything looked brighter, and he had tiptoed past her hut to investigate the surroundings in the light of day. Noticing the nearly depleted woodpile, he imagined her struggling to chop the wood for her fire. The thought distressed him so much he chose the tallest tree he could find, cutting it down and chopping it into pieces so that she wouldn't have to worry about the chore for a while.

  Watching her now, as she worked on the simple meal, he compared her to the women he had known. Embodying the traditional concept of beauty, their smooth, uncalloused hands held delicately painted fans in front of their powdered faces. Hanako's fingernails were lined with dirt, and her face was tanned from working outdoors. Her clear eyes shone with intelligence and sincerity. Yet in her simplicity she was as elegant as a geisha.

  Hanako's breakfast preparations were interrupted by a strange bellow from behind the hut. Hiro looked up, uncomprehending, while she jumped up and ran outside. He got up to follow her.

  The cow had broken her lead rope and had begun to trot away. Hanako ran after the animal, but the kimono she wore didn't allow her to run very fast. She could only move her legs from the knees down, and the cow got farther and farther away.

  Hiro knew he could overtake the animal more easily and raced after the errant cow. Charging past Hanako, he finally reached the animal and grabbed what was left of the lead rope. Then he slowed his steps, gradually bringing the cow to a halt. The massive animal resisted his pull, but Hiro managed to turn her around.

  A flash of gray to his right caught his attention. A wolf? Was that why the cow had run? Perhaps he'd better go hunting later.

  Before Hiro had the cow back to the hut, Hanako was already hard at work digging a hole. A sturdy pole and a thicker rope lay on the ground nearby.

  He admired her athletic movement, as well as her fine form, as she set about her task. She was such a hard worker. A sudden thought entered his mind, startling him with its intensity.

  She is a strong woman, worthy of a strong warrior.

  He wondered again about the husband who had been fortunate enough to claim her as his own. Had he been strong? She had said that he had not been interested in working the farm, but he must have helped her with the hard physical labor.

  His heart had never known jealousy. If a woman preferred not to respond to his advances, it was of no consequence to him. But the vision of this particular woman in another man's arms brought an unfamiliar ache to his chest.

  He reached for the shovel. "I will take care of this. You'd better tend to your animals."

  She opened her mouth as if to argue but closed it and simply nodded her assent, handed the tool to him, and walked toward her charge.

  By the time he finished, the sun was high in the sky, and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet. He remembered the breakfast Hanako had prepared for him. Would it still be edible? He doubted it.

  He returned to the hut, finding the planned morning meal covered with scavenging insects. He noted the care with which she'd set the makeshift tray and had arranged the flowers. She'd really made an effort to serve him. Gingerly taking the bowl with his fingertips, he disposed of the mess and looked around for her food stores, intending to start over. There were none. Had she really planned to give the last of her food to him?

  Remembering the stream behind the hut, he lifted his sword and went in search of some nourishment. The stream, as he had hoped, was clear, and he saw he would be able to make a fine catch.

  He found a sturdy old tree with a thick branch overhanging the stream. Carefully inching out on the branch, he found it could accommodate his weight, and lay face down along its length. His hand gripped his sword and he waited, poised and ready for his prey. The rippling water played a calming melody, and the shade from the higher branches enveloped him in a blanket of security he hadn't experienced in years.

  As a warrior in the elite forces of his daimyo, he had not known serenity, only anger and death. What would it be like to live in peace and beauty, instead of constant pain and needless bloodshed?

  A splash in the water below reminded him of his task. A school of carp, making its way upstream, swam into his vantage point. Drawing on his survival training, he lowered his sword, spearing the largest of the group. Quickly he raised and lowered the sword again and again, until the still-moving fish covered half his blade.

  The water beneath him turned murky, and his arm froze as the haunting memory of another time, another knife, overtook him. His stomach churned as he remembered a man he had known like a brother, one he loved and revered, dying by his own hand. Though Hiro had fought nobly and had observed the death of many, this time it had brought him to his knees. It was then that he knew he could not continue as a warrior.

  He shook his head, bringing himself back into the present. He had a marvelous catch, so the two of them would eat well tonight. Slowly, carefully, he backed off the branch. Carrying his quarry back to the hut, he looked around for his hostess. Apparently, the cow's anxiety had passed, and she grazed contentedly. Hanako was still hard at work, tending the chickens. Hiro felt a moment of guilt, having spent time fishing in the cool shade while his hostess had been laboring.

  "I brought some fish from the stream. I'll prepare them for a meal."

  Hanako straightened, her eyes taking a moment to focus on him. Her face brightened with pleasure as she eyed his catch.

  "That's wonderful!" Her cheeks turned pink and she averted her face. "I had forgotten about preparing a meal. Please forgive me."

  "You had other concerns." Hiro shrugged away her apology. He carried the fish into the hut, intending to filet them. She followed him. "Is something wrong? Would you prefer not to eat these tonight?"

  "Oh, they will be wonderful! I just thought — well, you have more than we need for a meal, and if you don't mind, I could trade one or two for some rice."

  So, this is how the woman has survived. He nodded his assent, and she took two of the larger fish, wrapped them in a clean cloth, and bundled them in a carrier to take to a neighbor. He watched her hurry across the field then set about at his own task.

  ****

  The meal, though simple, was delicious. Hiro stood outside the hut and smoked his pipe, surreptitiously watching as Hanako dug into her nutritious meal with relish. He had eaten earlier, consuming much less than his usual hearty portions, highly aware of the very hungry woman waiting for him in the opposite corner of the room. She was practically fainting away from hunger, and he could not bear to make her wait longer for her own meal. He could always go into the village later, he thought. There was bound to be a place where he could get more food and spirits. And perhaps some companionship.

  Watching her devour the simple meal — the fish he had caught, the rice she had bartered from her neighbor, and some spring greens from her garden — he was struck again by her inner strength and resolve. She was a survivor, and yet he sensed a fragility he wanted to protect. She was a woman who would love with her whole heart, not just her body.

  He would seek his temporary pleasures elsewhere.

  ****

  Hideyori Kato knelt on the threadbare cushion, struggling to ignore the itchiness from the coarse clothing he
wore. He would not submit to such base actions as scratching, especially in front of his company. Once his army was assembled and his fortunes regained, he wouldn't have to resort to wearing such inferior clothing. But the treasures he'd found hidden in his robes weren't enough to hire his servants, make improvements to his home, and purchase fine silk. He'd had to cut corners, and the robe he'd found in the market looked regal, even if it was made of rough linen. He needed to project an image in order to be taken seriously.

  The two gentlemen kneeling on the cushions in front of him wore expressions of curiosity and skepticism. Like him, they were former daimyos. Unlike him, they had relinquished their power voluntarily, so they were allowed to keep their homes and much of their lands. Their way of life had not suffered. But careful inquiries had revealed that these men had regretted their decisions and were interested in regaining their power. He needed to convince them it was possible to overthrow the emperor's army and return to their former feudal way of life.

  "It is necessary for us to combine our resources," he told them. "None of us, alone, could hope to overthrow the Imperial Army. But together we could restore this country to the Bushido — the Way of the Warrior."

  "But we are only three," Togashi-san inserted. "How could we hope to overcome the emperor's resources?"

  "There are thousands of displaced samurai roaming the country," Hideyori explained. "With the Meiji government's orders, they no longer have their exalted place in society. We just need to convince them to fight for us, so they can resume their rights."

  "But many of them have joined the emperor's forces," Akamatsu-san observed.

  "True, but once they see we are guaranteeing them a better life, they will join us. And if we can gather enough ronin, they will have no choice but to defect." It was rather like the choice given to the daimyos once Meiji declared an end to the feudal system.