Jade Palace Vendetta (Samurai Mysteries) Page 11

  Kaze reached into his sleeve and took out a scrape of cloth. He opened it up and held it so that it could be seen in the light of the fire.

  “Do you see this crest?” he said, pointing to the design on the cloth. It was the three plum blossoms.

  “Yes,” Elder Grandma said, showing no surprise at Kaze’s display of the cloth.

  Kaze looked at her and thought that this was a frightening woman. She was as tough as any man and as shrewd in any negotiation as the wiliest of peasants.

  “This is the crest of the family I used to serve before they were eliminated in the aftermath of Sekigahara. I obtained this cloth from your grandson. It was wrapped around some rice crackers.”

  She gave a quick glance to her young grandson, who seemed frightened at the mention of him.

  “Were those from the supplies we brought, Nagatoki?” she asked.

  “Yes, Elder Grandma,” Nagatoki said. “I’m sorry, but—”

  She cut him off. “Never mind. Don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

  Turning to Kaze, she asked, “What is it you want to know about that cloth?”

  “I want to know where the cloth came from and if, by some chance, it was associated with a young girl. The girl would be nine now, but she was seven when I lost track of her.”

  Elder Grandma sat back. She was sitting on her heels, her legs tucked under her. “I know where the cloth came from. And I will tell you. But you must do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Kill Hishigawa.”

  “I’m not a murderer,” Kaze said.

  “But you’re a samurai.”

  “Yes, and as a samurai I kill. But I do not murder.”

  “What’s the difference?” Elder Grandma said aggressively.

  “Murder is unjust. If I kill, it may simply be the luck of battle or it may be because the world is better off with someone dead. Murdering Hishigawa to get you to tell me about a scrap of cloth is not just. You have a vendetta against him, but I do not. You may have a good reason to wish him dead, but I do not. You must kill him, because I will not.”

  Elder Grandma pointed to her headband, emblazoned with the kanji character for “revenge.”

  “Do you see this?”

  “It’s hard to miss.”

  “The Noguchi clan has an official vendetta against Hishigawa. He killed my son and stole one of his daughters. Hishigawa did business with my son before Sekigahara, providing weapons to our clan. He saw my son’s daughter and became possessed by her. If it wasn’t my own blood, I would have said she was a fox-maiden, because Hishigawa was so totally enamored of her that it was almost like a man who is seized by a fox-spirit who is masquerading as a woman.

  “He sent an evil hag called Ando to act as his go-between, to arrange a marriage. My son refused. Despite Hishigawa’s wealth, my family saw no profit in linking its long lineage with a grubby merchant like Hishigawa.

  “Soon my son’s house was attacked by Hishigawa’s thugs. They killed my son and stole his daughter, giving us the basis for our official vendetta against Hishigawa. Weeks ago, my grandson, Mototane, went to enforce the vendetta against Hishigawa and to bring back my granddaughter, his cousin. He was a superb swordsman and a brave warrior, and he should have been able to kill Hishigawa. If he didn’t have the chance to kill him, he should have been nearby waiting for that opportunity. Instead, I have seen no sign of him.

  “If you won’t kill Hishigawa, then I want you to find out what happened to Mototane. If you want to know about this scrap of cloth, you will tell me what happened to my grandson. The moment you tell me what happened to him, I shall tell you where I got that cloth and what I know about it.”

  Kaze didn’t bother trying to argue with Elder Grandma. He knew it would be useless to bargain with her. Instead he asked, “And what will you do?”

  “We will wait to see if we have a chance to kill Hishigawa and rescue my granddaughter, Yuchan.”

  “Yuchan!” Kaze said.

  “You’ve seen her?”

  “No, but I’ve heard Hishigawa talk about her. She’s his wife. He adores her and is still possessed by her. He even has a special palace for her inside his villa. She seems to be living in luxury.”

  “Then I want you to get us information about Yuchan, too.”

  “No,” Kaze said. “You said you wanted information about Mototane. If I find information about Yuchan, I will also tell you, but I won’t expand the bargain.”

  “All right,” Elder Grandma said. “Done!”

  It would take luck to discover the fate of Noguchi Mototane, but Kaze believed you sometimes made your own luck through work and preparation. It was like the story of Oda Nobunaga and the coins. Nobunaga was the predecessor of Hideyoshi, the man who recognized Hideyoshi’s unique talents and raised him from a common ashigaru foot soldier to a general.

  Early in his career, Nobunaga and his troops, although outnumbered twelve to one, were marching to Okehazama to have a decisive battle with the powerful daimyo Imagawa Yoshimoto. Imagawa was invading Nobunaga’s territory, determined to crush him. He was launching a bid to march on Kyoto to claim control of all of Japan, and Nobunaga’s small domain was in the way. Imagawa had already destroyed a frontier fortress of Nobunaga’s and the Imagawa army was camped in the narrow and rugged gorge of Okehazama as they prepared to move on Nobunaga’s main castle.

  On the way to battle the Imagawa army, Nobunaga stopped at the Atsuta Shrine to offer a prayer for victory. The Imagawa forces were far greater than Nobunaga’s, yet the headstrong Nobunaga chose to go on the offense instead of cowering in his castle. His troops felt that it would take divine intervention to come back alive, much less victorious.

  While at the shrine, Nobunaga made an offering of several gold coins. Holding the coins in his hand, he looked at his retainers and announced, “If the Gods want us to win the upcoming battle, then all the coins I now offer will show their heads, to symbolize the heads of the enemy we will soon be taking.” Nobunaga then threw the coins toward the altar. They all landed with their heads showing.

  His retainers were amazed and heartened by this sign of divine support, and they soon spread the word to Nobunaga’s troops. Under the cover of a furious thunderstorm, Nobunaga attacked the Imagawa army when they were still exhausted from their march. Imagawa, supremely confident, had not expected to be attacked by the smaller forces of Nobunaga. When he first heard the sounds of battle above the din of the thunderstorm, he thought a brawl had broken out among his own men. Without armor, Imagawa went to quell the brawl. Within minutes, he had lost his head. His troops, completely demoralized and routed, were defeated in a short, violent battle.

  This victory marked the rise of Nobunaga. A year later Tokugawa Ieyasu, the same Ieyasu who later first allied himself with Hideyoshi and eventually conquered Hideyoshi’s family at Sekigahara, was Nobunaga’s ally.

  The sign of divine favor shown Nobunaga at Atsuta Shrine was marred when it was later discovered that the coins that Nobunaga had used were doctored. They had heads on both sides.

  After returning to Hishigawa’s villa, Kaze ate and then quietly slipped out of his room. In the dark, he made his way toward the drum bridge and climbed a tree. Ever since he was a child, Kaze had had an affinity for trees, seeing them as stairways to heaven, a way to separate his body from the earth both physically and metaphorically. Relaxing on a tree limb in the lotus position, he watched the island silently, curious about Yuchan’s lifestyle and convinced that Noguchi Mototane’s disappearance and possible death were linked to her.

  Presently, he saw Ando scurrying to the bridge, carrying two nested lacquer food trays. He couldn’t see the contents of the bottom tray, but the top tray looked like it was full of delicacies, much finer than the supper Kaze had eaten. Kaze wondered if Yuchan was enjoying a special dinner. Yuchan seemed to live in cloistered elegance, like a member of the imperial family, her every whim and need catered to. Kaze was a bit surprised that a maid wasn’t taking
Yuchan’s food to her, but apparently Hishigawa’s wife received very special treatment from all in the household, including Ando. Kaze mused that this must be a strange life, so much like that of a pampered prisoner. Was the loss of freedom compensated for by the granting of luxury?

  Later, Ando returned to the main villa, but a few minutes later she and Hishigawa appeared. They passed the man guarding the drum bridge and crossed over to the island, entering the Jade Palace. What Kaze found interesting was that several hours later they returned to the villa together. Kaze would have expected Hishigawa to spend the night with Yuchan.

  The next morning, the maid found Kaze sleeping soundly in his futon, as if he had been in his room the entire night.

  CHAPTER 13

  A thin strip of steel,

  holding a noble spirit

  and a master’s skill.

  After a breakfast of miso soup and rice, Kaze went back into Kamakura. During his previous day’s visit, he had asked about the forge of Kannemori, the swordsmith, and learned that it was in the hills in the opposite direction from Hishigawa’s villa.

  Kaze had met Kannemori during his first visit to Kamakura with his Sensei. Kaze was impressed by the Sensei’s respect and affection for Kannemori, which had prompted Kaze to refer to Kannemori as a Sensei, in this case meaning a master of his craft instead of a teacher.

  Kannemori’s forge was tucked into a small valley high above Kamakura. The narrow mountain path to the forge gave Kaze an ideal opportunity to make sure he wasn’t being followed by the assassins of the previous night. He had not yet decided why these assassins had been hired, but he knew that once he discovered why they were hired, he would know who had hired them.

  Before Kaze saw the forge, he heard it. A rhythmic clang-clang-clang-clang sound of hammers striking hot metal drifted up from the valley.

  During his first visit, Kaze had been allowed to witness part of the forging process for a katana. This was a rare honor, because each swordsmith jealously guarded the way he formed a sword, sometimes by drastic means.

  Kaze knew the story of the master swordsmith Masamune, who had once been tempering a blade in the presence of another swordsmith. This involved taking the heated blade and plunging it into a vat of water. The blade was usually heated to a degree that matched the color of the moon when it started its nightly journey in June or July. The water was described as the temperature of water in February or August. In fact, blades were often dated February or August, regardless of the month they were actually manufactured.

  Masamune’s blades were of such superior quality that other smiths were convinced that he had some secret in their manufacture that he was hiding. The visiting smith surreptitiously stuck his hand into the water to see the exact temperature Masamune used when tempering his blades. Without hesitation, Masamune took the red-hot blade, still unfinished and held with pincers, and used it to strike off the offending hand of the visiting swordsmith.

  Mindful of this and similar stories, the young Kaze kept his hands carefully in his lap as he sat silently next to the Sensei, watching Kannemori Sensei work on a blade.

  Some blades were mass-produced for common soldiers and samurai, but Kannemori’s blades were made for samurai who treasured fine swords. It could take weeks or even months to finish a particular blade, and many craftsmen became involved before the sword was completed. A special artisan created and fitted the tsuba, the sword guard. Another created the tsuka, or hilt, a complex assembly of wood, ray skin, pommel and hilt decorations, and silk, leather, or cotton tapes and cords. Another artisan created and custom-fitted the saya, or scabbard, to each individual blade.

  At the heart of all this effort was the blade itself, the creation of the swordsmith and an object heavy with mystical, religious, and practical significance. The sword was one of the great symbols of Shinto, and the religious significance of the blade was marked by the ritual the smith went through before working on the sword.

  As the young Kaze watched, Kannemori sat on a mat in his fundoshi and poured a bucket of water over himself in a ritual act of purification. Assisted by his sakite, his aides, Kannemori donned ceremonial dress, including a small, black lacquered hat that was tied under his chin with cord. He then prayed to the shrine shelf, dedicated to the God of the forge, which occupied a corner of his workshop.

  His spirit in the proper mode, Kannemori then commenced to work on the sword, first heating bits of iron on a metal spatula. The iron was repeatedly heated and pounded until it fused into one piece, with Kannemori’s assistants handling the heavy metal mallets as the master manipulated the iron using pincers. When the metal was one piece of the proper consistency, the process of folding and refolding the hot metal began. Care was taken to assure that no air or impurities were between the layers of metal, because this weakened the final product. Over and over again the metal was heated, folded, and pounded together, forming layer upon layer of fused steel. It was hard for Kaze to sit through this repetitious process, but he drew strength from the presence of the Sensei, who seemed to have an inexhaustible wellspring of patience.

  The entire sword could not be constructed in one day, but Kannemori showed Kaze the grooved block of copper he used to correct the curvature of the blade, as well as the special files he used to shape it. He also showed Kaze the clay used to cover the blade before tempering. To Kaze, the clay looked like any clay, but Kannemori rubbed a bit between his fingers and even placed a tiny bit on his tongue to taste it, pronouncing it exceptionally suitable for the exacting work of sword creation.

  Kaze marveled at the degree of subtlety in touch, sight, sensitivity, and even taste that the swordsmith must develop to help him properly gauge all the materials used in his art.

  Now, two decades later, Kaze had not been invited to watch Kannemori at work, so he knew to hang back and not approach the forge while he was working. A master might be willing to reveal secrets to a young boy that he would keep hidden from a grown man. Kaze found a convenient tree limb and sat on it, balancing himself in the lotus position. He thought about the secrets of a master and the last long conversation he had had with his Sensei.

  Kaze had been with his Sensei for several years, training hard and trying earnestly to learn. One day his Sensei said to him, “Have you heard that a master keeps one secret, one important secret, away from his pupils?”

  “Yes, Sensei, I have.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  Kaze thought a moment. “I suppose it might be, or how could a master stay superior to his student?”

  Sensei sighed. “What do you think is the supreme joy for a true master?” he asked.

  Kaze shook his head. “I don’t know, Sensei.”

  “The supreme joy for a true master is to have a pupil who surpasses him, so a true master would not withhold an important secret from a pupil. What do you think would be the effect of doing this? If a master did withhold a key secret from each generation of pupils?”

  “Then I suppose, over time, that school of swordsmanship would get weaker and weaker as each succeeding generation of pupils knew less and less of the true essence of the art of the sword.”

  “Precisely,” the Sensei said. “But now I think it is time for me to tell you the final secret in the art of the sword and, indeed, in the art of life.”

  “What is that, Sensei?” Kaze said eagerly.

  “The secret is, there is no secret.”

  Kaze looked puzzled.

  “The final secret is that after you’ve learned all the techniques, there is still something else that will make a difference. That thing will allow a pupil to excel beyond his master, and it is something within the pupil.”

  “What is that thing, Sensei?”

  The Sensei smiled. It was one of the rare times that Kaze had seen the Sensei smile.

  “That’s the secret that is not a secret. I don’t know what it is. It is some quality within yourself that may allow you to surpass me in some way and in some dimension. Now you ha
ve been with me several years. Despite your stupidity and slowness, you have learned the techniques of my school of the sword. In fact, you are now at the point where you are very close to being a novice.”

  Kaze was confused. He knew he had made progress with the sword. “Why do you compare me with a novice?” Kaze asked, slightly hurt.

  “Because being close to a novice is being close to perfection in the use of a sword.”

  “What do you mean by that, Sensei?”

  “When you were totally without knowledge of the sword and you picked it up, you might not have even been holding it in the proper grip. But if someone attacked you, you would instinctively parry their thrusts and try to use the sword to defend yourself. You would do this even if you knew no technique and had not been initiated into the secrets of the sword. In this, you would be using the sword in a Zen manner.

  “Zen says there must be no space between thought and action. A space so much as to allow a hair is not desirable. It is the same with a flint and steel. When the flint strikes the steel, there is no hesitation before the production of the spark. The same is true in the use of the sword. When you are a complete novice, there is no thought or hesitation in how you instinctively use the weapon.

  “As you start learning the technique of the sword, you start practicing. At first you are very clumsy and have a hard time putting together combinations of moves so that you can both defend yourself and then attack your opponent. As your skill with the sword increases, you become increasingly confident in your abilities, and you no longer have to think about each of the movements, so they can be executed smoothly and correctly in turn.

  “Eventually you can get to the point where you no longer have to think about technique at all. You are simply imbued with a sense of Zen so that you are instinctively on the alert at all times, in the state of mind we call zanshin. When you are attacked, you parry and defend and eventually attack your opponent without thinking about which technique you use or hesitating between each movement.