The daimyo was small, but his torso was broad, his posture regal in maroon garments emblazoned with his dragonfly crest in gold. His tanned, square face disturbed Hirata. Its two sides didn’t match. The right half was slightly askew; the eye gazed off into space.
“Please join us,” Lord Niu said. Only the left half of his mouth smiled at Hirata.
As Hirata and his family settled into the compartment, Midori sat rigid with panic, her heart hammering, not daring to look at anyone. Please, she prayed inwardly; please make our families consent to our marriage! If they didn’t, she was doomed, because love wasn’t the only reason she must wed Hirata.
During their courtship, they’d enjoyed more time together, and more freedom, than was usual for unmarried young gentlemen and ladies. Their connection with Reiko and Sano placed them in constant proximity, and they’d taken advantage of their situation. While Reiko thought Midori was busy waiting on Lady Keisho-in, and Keisho-in thought Midori was with Reiko, Midori was actually meeting Hirata in deserted gardens or empty storehouses. There, chaste embraces had led to things less than chaste.
A flush of pleasure and guilt enflamed her as she recalled lying naked with Hirata beneath pine trees at dusk. How much she’d wanted to satisfy him, and to experience the rapture of having him! And how much she now wished they’d exercised self-control, for soon afterward had come the cessation of her monthly blood, a continual nausea, a fullness in her abdomen. Midori had threaded a needle with red thread and stuck it in the wall of the privy, hoping that this ancient folk remedy would cause the blood to come, but to no avail. She was pregnant.
Now she listened to her companions exchanging courteous pleasantries. None of them knew her problem, not even Hirata. She hadn’t told anyone. She couldn’t admit her shame, or admit that if she and Hirata didn’t marry, she would bear an illegitimate child, disgrace her honor, and ruin herself.
“Your family has a proud tradition, does it not?” Lord Niu said to Hirata’s father. “I understand that your people have served the shoguns since the Kamakura regime four hundred years ago.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Hirata’s father looked stern and intimidating to Midori, but also gratified that the daimyo recognized his heritage. She relaxed as she began to think that her father would continue to behave properly.
“And you’ve made a name for yourself in the police force.” Lord Niu smiled his peculiar half smile. “It’s men like you who’ve kept society under control and made Edo the great capital it is.”
“That’s high praise, coming from the ruler of an entire province,” Hirata’s father said, obviously warming toward the daimyo. “Your kindness is more than I deserve.”
Lord Niu gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Oh, I’m just the humble overseer of a country estate that the Tokugawa deemed fit to give me.”
He turned to Hirata. “So you’re chief retainer to the shogun’s sosakan-sama.”
“Yes, my lord.” Hirata sat stiffly, his expression serious. Midori felt a rush of tenderness toward him for trying so hard to appear a suitable husband for her.
“That the sosakan-sama trusts you with so much responsibility at your youthful age speaks highly of your character,” said Lord Niu. His left eye studied Hirata; his right wandered. “And I hear you’re looking into Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder. What have you discovered so far?”
Blushing, Hirata gave an account of the investigation, mentioning the suspects and the missing courtesan and pillow book.
“Cunning and initiative,” Lord Niu said jovially. “That’s exactly what I expected to find in you.”
Hirata’s parents beamed with pride. Captain Segoshi smiled. Midori and Hirata exchanged quick, elated glances.
“I understand that your daughter is a favorite lady-in-waiting of His Excellency’s mother,” Hirata’s father said to Lord Niu, then addressed Midori: “Can you play music?”
Midori tensed, realizing that he wanted to know whether she possessed the accomplishments required of a lady, and that this was a test she must pass. “Yes,” she said, hesitantly, “I’ve played the samisen since I was a child.”
“Have you learned calligraphy and flower arranging and tea ceremony?”
“To the best of my humble ability.” Midori chewed her fingernail; seeing her grandmother frown, she dropped her hand and tried to look the modest, feminine, perfect daughter-in-law.
Hirata’s father nodded, and she could tell she’d favorably impressed him. Giddy delight filled her.
Then Lord Niu said, “Yes, my, daughter is a prize. And you would steal her from me the way the Tokugawa stole my family’s ancestral lands after the Battle of Sekigahara.”
He spoke with a sudden rancor that completely dispelled the harmonious atmosphere. Midori saw puzzlement on the faces of Hirata and his party, and consternation on those of her grandmother and Okita. Her heart sank, for this was exactly what she’d feared would happen.
Lord Niu, a shrewd, competent leader of his subjects, had one eccentricity-his unreasonable obsession with injustices done to his clan. Now Midori realized that his compliments to Hirata’s family had been veiled expressions of hostility toward them, and he’d meant from the beginning to oppose the marriage.
“You should be satisfied that your ancestors helped the Tokugawa trample my clan in the dust,” Lord Niu said bitterly to Hirata and his father. “You should be satisfied that the bakufu extorts millions of koban in taxes from me every year. But no-you greedy louts want my flesh and blood!”
For as long as Midori could recall, her family had carefully avoided mentioning the Tokugawa or the Battle of Sekigahara to Lord Niu, for fear of rousing his violent temper. But they couldn’t prevent him from thinking of those topics at inopportune times and angering himself. And although his relatives limited the time Lord Niu spent in public, lest his behavior shame them or create problems, they couldn’t always restrain him. Once, after the Tokugawa revenue agents had collected a large tribute from him, Lord Niu had mounted his horse and ridden through a village, shrieking and cutting down innocent peasants. The clan had so far managed to hush up his bad spells, and neither the bakufu nor the general public knew of them-yet. What a disaster that his obsession should interrupt the miai!
“Master,” Okita said cautiously to Lord Niu, “perhaps this isn’t a good time to dwell on the past.”
Ignoring his retainer, Lord Niu again addressed Hirata and his companions: “It’s clear to me that you are plotting with the Tokugawa clan to take over my province, steal my money, and destroy my whole clan.”
Hirata and his father gaped in shock. Midori huddled in fear, and her grandmother sadly shook her head. Hirata’s father blurted, “With all due respect, Honorable Lord Niu, that’s absurd. We came in peace, to consider the possibility of joining our families together through a marriage between your daughter and my son.”
Midori longed to explain the daimyo’s behavior and beg the forgiveness of Hirata and his family, but she was too afraid to do anything but watch helplessly as Lord Niu stood.
“I’ll never allow a daughter of mine to marry the spawn of a scoundrel like you!” he shouted at Hirata’s father. People in other compartments fell silent and stared at Lord Niu. His skewed face twitched; his eyes glittered with hatred. “You’re a dirty thief, and a treacherous sneak, and a foul murderer!”
Hirata’s mother and Captain Segoshi looked aghast. Hirata’s father surged to his feet. “How dare you insult me?” he demanded. Anger reddened his complexion. “I’m a man of honor, and I’ll not tolerate this disgraceful treatment from an outside lord. Take back what you said, or I’ll-”
Sneering in contempt, Lord Niu smacked Hirata’s father on the cheek. Then the two men were wildly hitting and kicking each other. Midori and the other women cringed away from the combatants. Hirata cried, “Father, stop!” while Okita begged, “Master, please control yourself.”
The musician onstage halted his performance as the audience stood up to watch the commotion. Lord Niu jumped up on a divider and drew his sword. Hirata’s father also drew his weapon, but his bad leg hindered his climb onto the divider. Men in the audience stamped on the floor, shouting, “Fight! Fight!”
Hirata grabbed his father, and, with Segoshi’s help, pulled him back inside the compartment and restrained him. Okita wrestled Lord Niu, grappling for the sword. The audience booed.
Lord Niu yelled, “I’ll get you yet, you despicable villain!”
Okita, panting from his effort to hold the daimyo, addressed Hirata: “You’d better go.”
As Hirata hurried his family out of the theater, he looked briefly back at Midori. His face reflected the despair in her heart. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
