Kaze thought briefly of simply continuing into town, but he was still a bit curious about the rich merchant and decided to go to his house to see what would develop. As he started off to catch up with Hishigawa’s party, he noticed that Hishigawa seemed to be increasing his speed, until he was leading the procession.
CHAPTER 10
The road can be a
prelude to the gates of hell.
Home is a heaven.
Hishigawa walked along the familiar road to his villa. He often went down this road, either on foot or riding in a palanquin, so he knew each of the bends in the road and all of the trees growing alongside it. As he drew near to his home, his heart quickened. Yuchan. Yuchan. Yuchan. The name of his wife was like a mantra, driving him to see her. He forgot about the hardship and danger of the past few days and his mind became focused on one thing and one thing only: Yuchan. His steps quickened and it was as if he drew increasing strength from his growing proximity to her.
He didn’t see the strange ronin stop at the top of the hill to look down on Kamakura. He didn’t notice the surprised looks on the faces of the samurai escort he had hired as his quickening pace allowed him to take the lead of the group and eventually to start to pull ahead of them. The escorts looked at each other, unsure whether they should keep up with the man who was paying them or stay with the pushcart that seemed so important to him. The pushcart, which had its rails covered with fresh mud by the time the escort samurai saw it, seemed perfectly ordinary to them, but the merchant had made a great fuss about them guarding it.
Even before they reached Kamakura, Kaze had noticed a strange transformation in Hishigawa. After they reached the barrier, Hishigawa had seemed to grow in confidence and stature. A strange metamorphosis had started to occur, made all the stranger by its quick unfolding.
Hishigawa was no longer a weak and bent merchant cowering from bandits along the road. His spine straightened, his step lengthened, and his face slowly took on haughty lines, as if he was not some humble merchant but, in fact, some noble or high official. His assertiveness and power grew with each step toward his home.
Kaze had often seen men adopt the surroundings they found themselves in, especially in the merchant class. One moment they would appear weak and obsequious, fawning over a rich customer. Other times they’d be hard and cruel, punishing some miscreant clerk or an unfortunate servant who might have drawn their ire. Every creature feels more secure in its own den or home, but to Kaze, who had no home, it was interesting to watch how this merchant reacted as their journey neared an end.
Kaze wondered if Hishigawa was drawing his strength simply because they were near his space of power or because he was nearing his wife, for whom Hishigawa held an obvious affection.
The road they were on soon led to a gentle valley. There, in the valley, was a large villa surrounded by a high, whitewashed wall. Kaze looked at the villa in surprise, wondering how much wealth the merchant had managed to acquire to be able to afford a house as large and grand as any wellborn noble’s.
In the distance, Kaze could see a guard lounging near the front gate, something unusual for a merchant’s house. Upon seeing Hishigawa, the guard snapped to attention and called out to the house. Kaze saw several servants rushing out upon the guard’s cry. They stood in a line as Hishigawa made his way through the front gate and into the compound. Then they waited for the rest of the party to arrive.
Hishigawa had rushed so far ahead that it was several minutes before Kaze arrived with the pushcart and the rest of the party. Three women and the gate guard were still standing in line when they arrived. Two of the women were pretty young maids, looking at the ground as was proper when guests arrived, but the third was a sturdy, middle-aged woman in a gray kimono. She was watching the approaching party with hard eyes.
“I am Ando,” the woman said, addressing herself to the lead samurai in the group. “I am the Master’s head of household.”
This declaration was a surprise to Kaze. Normally Hishigawa’s mother would be the head of household and, if she were gone, then Hishigawa’s wife would serve this function. Kaze didn’t know Ando’s relationship to Hishigawa, but her position was obviously unusual.
The samurai Ando had addressed looked to Kaze, and Ando realized she had addressed the wrong man. Smoothly covering up her mistake, she gave a low bow and turned to Kaze. “Welcome to my Master’s home,” she said.
“I am Matsuyama Kaze,” he replied. “I accompanied your Master for part of the journey from Kyoto to here.”
Ando bowed again. “Thank you for bringing my Master home safely. If you’ll excuse him, he will be with you shortly. It is my Master’s custom to always visit his wife immediately upon returning from a trip.”
Kaze nodded. He felt his understanding of Hishigawa’s character unfolding the way a lotus unfolds in the cool of the evening. It was hard to picture a colorless merchant being infused with such passion for a new bride, but the evidence was before him, in Hishigawa’s actions.
A man could have a passion for a fine blade or a beautiful horse or even for some aesthetic thing like the tea ceremony and display it openly. But openly displaying such passion for one’s wife was unprecedented in Kaze’s experience. One could have passion for another being, but it was to be held close to your heart, not flaunted before strangers.
“Please come in and let us serve you some refreshments. You must be fatigued after such a long journey.” Ando’s words were proper and gracious, but her manner was not. Her shoulders were tense and her hands were clenched. She looked at Kaze with small eyes that reminded him of a ferret scanning for prey. It was plain that she was annoyed to have an unexpected guest, especially a ronin.
Ando turned to one of the maids, and Kaze saw the young girl flinch, as if she expected to be struck. “Hurry! Get some tea and something to eat for the samurai while they wait for the Master.”
The girl rushed off, and a bowing Ando motioned for the group to enter Hishigawa’s estate.
When Kaze walked through the gate, the household staff took over the gold cart, leading the cart, Goro, and Hanzo to the side of the villa. “Please make sure the two peasants get refreshments, too,” Kaze said to Ando. He could see the woman tighten her jaw again, and Kaze realized that the Hishigawa house was not one that normally gave peasants hospitality, but Ando said, “Of course, Samurai-san.”
The courtyard between the gate and the front of Hishigawa’s mansion was filled with white sand. Strips of wood outlined rectangles in the sand; the rectangles were filled with small stones, forming a walk-way leading from the gate to the entrance. As the men walked along the path, the stones made a pleasant crunching sound under their feet.
“Your Master’s love for his wife is unusually strong,” Kaze observed.
Ando thought about this remark and pondered her response. Her family had served the Hishigawas for three generations, going back to the time when the Hishigawas were samurai. Hishigawa’s father had given up that position to follow the way of the merchant, abandoning the path of honor for the path of gold. This took the House of Hishigawa and tumbled it, in the eyes of his fellow samurai, from a high position in society to one of the lowest. Despite this change in position, Ando’s family had remained loyal to the Hishigawas. Although this ronin seemed to have been of service, she was unwilling to provide details about her Master’s life and passions. So she said blandly, “My Lord loves his wife very much. Would you like a bath, Samurai-san? My Master may be a while before he can attend to more business.”