Shike - Robert J. Shea (best finance books of all time .TXT) 📗

same expression of sorrow. Now she recognized his look. It was the same he had worn the day she learned Kiyosi had been killed.

“My honoured uncle and cousin did not visit me to admire my son’s calligraphy and praise his swordsmanship,” Taniko said, fear tightening its cold grip on her heart.

“Tanikosan,” Ryuichi said slowly. “Long ago I failed you by allowing you to hear terrible news from the lips of a stranger. I vowed that if the occasion should arise, I would not play the coward again.”

Taniko put her hand to her heart. “Tell me quickly, Uncle.”

“The monk Jebu and the Lieutenant Muratomo no Yukio are dead.”

The cup Taniko was holding crashed to the floor. Munetoki’s hand was on her arm instantly, steadying her.

“How clumsy of me,” Taniko murmured as she wiped the pale green liquid from the polished floorboards. “What were you saying, Uncle?”

Ryuichi went on. “I know that you cared deeply for both men. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Please tell me how Jebu-how they died,” Taniko whispered.

Munetoki answered her, his voice softer than usual. “Most heroically, as the story is told. The Lieutenant and twelve followers, among them the giant monk Jebu, held out for half a day against a thousand Mongols. The Zinja in particular performed superhuman feats in battle. At last Yukio and his men succumbed, but not before they had killed over three hundred Mongols. Yukio and his wife and children all committed seppuku. The story will be told down through the ages.”

I can’t believe Jebu is dead, Taniko thought. Aloud, she said, “With so many against so few, might not one or two have slipped away unnoticed?”

“They were trapped in a fort on the side of a said Munetoki. “An easy place to defend, but impossible to escape from. They are certainly all dead.” He spoke with some satisfaction. By Munetoki’s martial standards, if any of Yukio’s men had got away, it would have tarnished the glory of the event.

“Besides, the heads of Yukio and Jebu have been identified,” said Ryuichi sadly. “As soon as the snow melted in the passes, Lord Yerubutsu of Oshu sent a delegation of his warriors with the heads of Yukio and Jebu preserved in black-lacquer boxes filled with sake. When they arrived here, the Shogun was occupied with the rites dedicating the new stupa to his mother. It would have been unseemly for him to inspect severed heads. So he delegated my honoured brother, Lord

Bokuden, to go and see the heads. Then they were burnt on the beach.” His face took on an even more miserable look. “I’m sorry, Tanikosan.”

I will not scream, Taniko told herself. I will hold myself together. This has happened to me before, and I have lived through it. I will live through it this time. I will not scream.

“Do you know Moko the shipbuilder, Uncle? Please send him to me. He was devoted to Jebu and Yukio. I want to do the same service for him that you did for me-make certain he does not get this news from a stranger.”

“A common carpenter is your friend, Cousin?” said Munetoki with a puzzled frown.

“A very old and dear friend,” said Taniko, feeling a sob swell in her chest until it threatened to tear her apart. “I need to be alone now. Will you excuse me?”

After they left, she sat still for a long time. A maid came to remove the ch’ai service, but Taniko waved her away. Alone, she poured water into the brazier under the pot to extinguish the coals. Thus life ends-a little fire that is suddenly overwhelmed and snuffed out. The windows of her room faced south, and bars of sunlight streamed through the lattice. Whenever I saw the sun, she thought, it always comforted me to think that wherever he was, the same sun was shining on him. It shines on him no more. Cut his head off and put it in sake, and then burn it on the beach! Oh no, no. Yukio’s wife killed herself to die with him. Where is the girl Shizumi? I must try to get word to her as well as to Moko. She will probably want to kill herself, too. If only I could have died with Jebu. And yet I have only myself to blame for being apart from him. I held Kiyosi’s and Atsue’s deaths against him. I felt I couldn’t live with him. I was a fool. Perhaps if I had stayed with him he would not have been killed with Yukio. Oh, Jebu, Jebu. I never knew how much I loved you until now.

She stood, holding her fists clenched at her sides, and screamed his name, so loud and so hard that it hurt her throat. Then she collapsed like a bird, arrow-shot in flight. She lay curled on the floor, weeping violently. Her maids rushed in. With little cries of pity and dismay they washed her face with cold water and put quilts over her. Not knowing what was wrong, they wept along with her even so, pressing their flowing sleeves against their faces. Taniko was unable to speak to the women, but part of her mind was clear. She was surprised at the sharpness of her grief, the violence of her reaction. She had thought that Zen somehow protected a person from the suffering of life. Eisen seemed so resilient, so calm and cheerful, that she had expected Zen would make her that way, too. That she hurt so much seemed almost a betrayal.

She lay helpless, tortured by a grief ,that would not let her eat or sleep or talk to anyone. Sametono came and tried to talk with her and ran out of the room crying when she could not answer him. He did not come back, and one of the maids, who realized that Taniko could hear and understand even though she did not speak, told her that her Uncle Ryuichi and Aunt Chogao had taken the boy to live with them for a time.

Eor four days she remained in that condition. Then she fell into a deep sleep, dreamless, almost a coma. When she woke, the first thing she saw was the terrified face of a maid, saying that Lord Hideyori was on his way to see her.

She felt beyond fear. She remembered Hideyori’s rage when the dancer Shizumi publicly avowed her love for Yukio. How must he have felt on learning that Taniko, the woman he wanted to marry, was prostrate with grief at the news of Yukio’s and Jebu’s deaths? Having no idea of what had existed between her and Jebu, he would think, of course, that her grief was for Yukio. And some of it was. She had come to like Yukio, in China, and next to the Order, he had been Jebu’s whole life. She might have given Jebu a reason to go on living after Yukio’s death. But she had not. Jebu died believing that she did not love him. She began to cry again. It was thus that Hideyori found her, when he hurried into her chamber before the maids could give her warning.

Despite the suddenness of his entry, sliding back the shoji screen with his own hand, he looked unhappy rather than angry. He wore billowing white silk robes of mourning with a taboo tag, signifying that he was bereaved and was to be left alone, dangling from his black cap. No sword hung from his belt.

Taniko pressed her forehead to the floor. “Eorgive me, my lord, for being so poorly prepared to receive you.”

He knelt before her, seizing her hand in a powerful grip. A fire seemed to burn in the black depths of his eyes.

“Do you hate me, Tanikosan?”

“I? Hate you?” Eor a moment the question bewildered her. Then she understood. He was, after all, the man responsible for the deaths of Jebu and Yukio. Why didn’t she hate him? Because, she realized, this grief left her no room for vengefulness. Now she could see how the loss of Kiyosi and later, of Atsue, had embittered her, turning her against the man she had loved most in her life. Now she understood it did not matter who had killed Jebu. It was her karma that the men she loved must die in battle, and it was foolish to hate those who killed them.

Hideyori said, “I realize that it was Yukio who rescued you from the Mongols and brought you back safely to the Sunrise Land. You owed him a great debt of gratitude. I also owe him a debt for doing that. Otherwise I would never have met you again. I spoke violently against him to you. But that was only to use your wisdom to test my fears about Yukio. You were the only one who would argue with me.”

He gestured down at his white robe. “Like you, I mourn him. I swear to you I did not want him killed. Do not blame me for his death, because now I need you more than ever, Tanikosan.”

I suppose I need you, too, Hideyori, Taniko thought. At least, I need your goodwill if Sametono, who is now all I have left in the world, is to live. How amusing that Hideyori expected me to hate him, and I expected him to hate me. But how can he mourn Yukio? How can he say that he did not want him killed? What a horrible world this is. When Sametono reaches manhood, if he lives that long, I will kill myself.

“Do you truly regret your brother’s death, my lord?” she asked.

“By the Three Buddhas, I swear I gave strict orders to Arghun not to harm him, only to arrest him and bring him to me. Yukio was a good soldier who did not understand how the courtiers were using him in their intrigues against me.”

“I’m sure he would have come to you any time you sent for him and promised him safe conduct.”

“He would have come with an army, Tanikosan. How could I have stood against him?” Hideyori’s eyes widened with candour. “You know I’m not half the general he was. He would have overthrown me, taken over the country, and then not known what to do with it. Under his administration, the Sunrise Land would have fallen to pieces. I am building a nation to last forever. But now that he is dead, I can admit that I would not be where I am were it not for him. When they brought his head to Kamakura along with that of his friend, the mighty Zinja, I made an excuse that viewing the heads would defile the rites I was performing for my mother’s memory. Actually, I was too heartbroken to look at my brother’s head, or that of Jebu, the Zinja. He saved my life once, long ago. I was told that even your father, Lord Bokuden, was moved to tears when he opened the black boxes and gazed upon the pitiable contents.”

I will not believe that, Taniko thought.

“Who does not grieve over Yukio’s death?” Hideyori went on. “He was beloved throughout the Sunrise Land, so my reports tell me. Even though his life ended in failure, the people admire him. They think of me as a coldhearted murderer when I was only trying to do good. I must punish Arghun and Yerubutsu, to prove that I did not want Yukio to die. I must avenge him, Tanikosan.” Unease flickered in his eyes. “I fear his angry ghost.”

“His ghost?”

“Yes, his and the monk Jebu’s. Such powerful spirits are not easily put to rest. I must avenge them, to placate them.” He clenched his fist. “Yerubutsu will be dealt with when the time is ripe, but Arghun’s rampaging through this country must be stopped at