think you wouldn’t cut me loose again if necessary,” Hoshina said. “I’d rather separate than live in dread of the next time.”
The chamberlain stared in shock. “Do you mean you’re leaving me?”
Hoshina nodded, though reluctantly.
“For good?”
Unhappy silence was Hoshina’s answer. Lady Yanagisawa felt Kikuko tug her hand. She motioned her daughter to keep quiet so that she could continue spying.
“I’ll make up to you for all you’ve suffered,” the chamberlain said. Panic laced his eagerness to appease Hoshina. “Do you want a higher position? Or a larger stipend?” He upturned his palms in a magnanimous gesture. “Anything you ask, I’ll give.”
Lady Yanagisawa watched Hoshina vacillate. She felt the current of passion that still flowed between the lovers. She gripped Kikuko’s hand while her lips moved in silent, incoherent prayer.
At last Hoshina said sadly, “Nothing you can do will make me forget that you would have sacrificed my life for your own self-interest.”
The chamberlain dropped his hands. He turned away from Hoshina, and Lady Yanagisawa glimpsed naked desperation in his eyes. He took a few blind steps down the veranda, then rallied and faced Hoshina.
“All right, I should have defended you instead of deserting you,” he said. “I made a mistake. I was selfish, and stupid.” Lady Yanagisawa was astounded because she’d never heard her husband admit any fault. “I’m sorry I let you down. Please forgive me!”
Nor had she thought him capable of apologizing or begging. But now he clutched Hoshina’s shoulders in urgent entreaty. Hoshina reached up, grasped the chamberlain’s hands, and broke their hold on him.
“You’re only making this harder than it already is,” he said in a breathless voice that quavered.
The chamberlain looked stunned by the rejection. “Have our three years together meant so little to you that you would deny me a chance to make amends?” he demanded.
A wry, tortured smile quirked Hoshina’s mouth. “If they’d meant more to you, would we be having this discussion?”
They gazed helplessly at each other. Lady Yanagisawa saw tears glitter in their eyes, and the restraint that kept them from succumbing to desire. Then the chamberlain cleared his throat and said, “Maybe a separation is a good idea. Take some time to recover from your ordeal. Come back when you’re ready.”
Hoshina shook his head. “I’d rather say good-bye today, while we still have more good memories than bad. I won’t hang about waiting for some bitter end.”
As he turned to go, the chamberlain said, “I forbid you to go!” The hurt and despair on his face turned to fury. “I order you to stay!”
Hoshina pivoted. “I’m not your man anymore,” he said, his expression affronted. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“You’re mine to command as long as I control Japan,” the chamberlain said scornfully. “Don’t forget that everything you have depends on me. If you walk out of here, you’ll lose it all.”
Lady Yanagisawa marveled at how suddenly all the tensions in their relationship had exploded and their love had turned to enmity. Hoshina replied with equal scorn: “I haven’t as much to lose as you think, because you haven’t as much control as you once did. A lot has changed, in case you haven’t discovered.
“While you were off rescuing Lady Keisho-in, the shogun got tired of your son. The position of heir to the regime is wide open. Rumor says Lord Matsudaira’s nephew has the advantage. And I’ve been visiting the daimyo and army officers I befriended while I was helping you build your empire. They’re my allies now. And now that you threaten me, I’ll convince them that we should cast our lot with Lord Matsudaira’s faction.”
The chamberlain blanched with horror at the realization that he’d lost not only his lover, but his partner in political intrigue, many of his supporters, and his chance to rule the next regime. 'So you’ll punish desertion with desertion?” he said. “Well, you won’t get away with it. You’ll live to regret that you betrayed me!”
Hoshina’s cocksure grin didn’t hide his sorrow. “We’ll see,” he said, and walked away.
The chamberlain gazed after him a moment. Then he leaned on the veranda railing and buried his face in his hands. Lady Yanagisawa pitied him; but glee sang within her because his troubles afforded her an opportunity. Bereft of his lover, deserted by his friends, he needed someone. And who else could give him more loyal devotion than she?
Lady Yanagisawa stepped out from behind the tree, pulling Kikuko with her. The chamberlain looked up, and their gazes met. His reflected annoyance that she’d witnessed his defeat, but for once he noticed her; for once he didn’t act as if she didn’t exist. This miraculous event marked a new beginning. Lady Yanagisawa didn’t know how she could replace Hoshina in his affections, or help him achieve his ambitions, but she swore that she would.
Someday he would love her and value her. Someday he would rule Japan, with her by his side. And when someday came, she need never be jealous of Reiko again.
Sano, seated behind his desk in his office, looked up at Hirata, who hovered in the doorway. “Come in,” Sano said with quiet formality.
Hirata entered, knelt opposite Sano, and bowed. His face was taut with the same apprehension that Sano felt. Discord negated their five years of friendship. That this confrontation had been delayed by the aftermath of the rescue mission increased the strain between them. Although Sano hated to punish a retainer who’d served him so well as Hirata had, he must uphold his authority and enforce the discipline required by the Way of the Warrior.
“Your willful insubordination has dishonored us both,” he said. “Disobeying your master is the worst possible violation of Bushido.” Yet even as he spoke, Sano recalled the many times he himself had bent the rules.
“A million apologies.” Wringing his hands, Hirata looked sick, terrified, and as ashamed of himself as devastated by the reprimand. But he met Sano’s gaze and said bravely, “Will you please allow me to explain what I did?”
Sano frowned, offended that Hirata had the temerity to justify his behavior; but he owed Hirata for services rendered. “Go ahead,” Sano said.
“When we found the kidnappers, I thought that if we came back to Edo to tell you, they might move the women off the island-or hurt them-before you could get there,” Hirata said. “We had to choose between leaving them at the kidnappers’ mercy or trying to save them ourselves. I made the decision that seemed right.”
The merit of his rationale occurred to Sano, but so did the risk Hirata had taken. Sano said, “The Dragon King had fifty-two men, by our final count. You pitted yourself and Marume and Fukida against them all. You knew the odds were that you would fail. You also knew the kidnappers had threatened to kill their hostages if they were attacked. You put the women in more danger than if you’d left.”
Hirata breathed through his mouth; even though chastened by Sano’s argument, he said, “We killed twenty-two of the Dragon King’s men. By reducing their number, we allowed the women to escape from the palace, where he might have trapped and murdered them once you and the army came. We made your invasion much easier than it would have been if not for us.”
“I realize that. But the outcome doesn’t justify the action.” Knowing he’d often followed the opposite belief and used it to rationalize things he’d done, Sano cursed himself as a hypocrite. “You couldn’t have predicted what would happen when you disregarded my orders. That everything ended well was more a stroke of luck than a credit to you.”
Hirata bowed his head. Defeat settled upon him like a visible, crushing mantle. “You’re right,” he said. “I did wrong. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“I already have.” As Hirata looked up in surprise, Sano said, “If I’d been in your position, I probably would have done the same thing.” He gentled his tone as he added, “I can’t condemn you for wanting to save your wife and child.”
“Then you’re not going to punish me?” Hope vied with amazement in Hirata’s eyes.
“If I were to follow protocol, I would dismiss you from my employ,” Sano said. “But I don’t want to lose you because you made one mistake.”
Furthermore, Sano had always chafed at protocol. “Consider my reprimand and your shame as your punishment,” he said. “Resume your duties. Use better judgment next time.”
“Yes, Sosakan-sama. Thank you!” Hirata exuded relief as he bowed to Sano. The color came back into his face.
Sano believed he’d made the right decision, and the bad feeling between him and Hirata had dispelled; yet the
