Death at the Crossroads

CHAPTER 14

The next morning a tired but richer Aoi left the bandit camp as Kuemon gathered his men together. Since two men had been killed by a traveling samurai, the men no longer wanted to stake out roads in small bands. Now they insisted on sticking together. Kuemon found this arrangement inefficient and cowardly, but he wisely acquiesced. He thought that in a few weeks the fear generated by their slain comrades would disperse, or perhaps they would kill that samurai, and things would return to normal.

Hachiro was left on guard as the rest of the men departed. Hachiro was the eighth child of his parents. In fact, his name, Hachiro, meant “number eight.” He had attached himself to the bandits because it represented one of the few ways he could better his lot in life, but he was slowly learning that he didn’t have the ruthless mettle it took to become a successful brigand.

In his tale of how the samurai easily killed the two bandits, Hachiro had neglected to mention his failure of nerve in spearing the samurai in the back. In this band, a failure of nerve would mean expulsion or death, and he wasn’t willing to face either. So he stood with a spear at his guard post trying to look fierce as Boss Kuemon and the ten men in his band went off to stake out a road.

As the bandits disappeared, stillness fell on the narrow canyon that hid their camp. Hachiro sat on a patch of grass and put the spear down next to him. The sun was warm and caressing, and the pine scent of the trees that covered the slopes of the canyon formed a delicious perfume. Hachiro was tired. He had spent the last of his meager share of the bandit’s plunder on the woman from the village, and he felt both sleepy and sated because of this.

Hachiro was one of the last to use her, and he had stayed up most of the night waiting for his turn in excitement and nervous anticipation. Now that she and the bandits were gone, the glow from sleeping with her mixed with the warm sun, pine scent, and lack of sleep combined into an irresistible anesthesia. He knew that Kuemon would order him beaten if he caught him sleeping on sentry duty, but he also knew that it was unlikely that Kuemon or anyone else would be back before afternoon. Hachiro laid back and decided to take just a short nap. In seconds he was sound asleep.

Ever patient, Kaze let the youth settle down and get into a deep sleep before he moved. With the silence of an experienced hunter, Kaze made his way past the boy, careful not to let his shadow fall on the boy and possibly disturb him.

Aware that there might be some men left in the camp, Kaze carefully made his way from one crude shelter to the next. Finally, in what appeared to be the leader’s log hut, he found the group’s armory. He looked over the band’s ragged collection of weapons and found what he had hoped. He took a sample and left.

A few hours later he presented himself to Lord Manase and placed an arrow down before him. Manase was sitting in his study, once again dressed in several sumptuous, layered kimonos.

Manase looked down at the arrow with great interest but didn’t pick it up. His painted eyebrows high on his forehead always gave him a quizzical look, but this time the look was backed by words. “What is it I’m looking at?” he asked.

“The samurai at the crossroads was killed by a rather distinctive arrow. It had a dark brown shaft and very fine fletching done in gray goose feathers. This arrow is identical. I took this from the bandit camp this morning.”

“Is that so?”

“If the Magistrate has preserved the arrow that killed the samurai, you could compare them for yourself.”

“I don’t think he did,” Manase said. In response to Kaze’s expression, he added, “But I believe you that the arrows are identical. So what is your conclusion?”

“It’s not likely that two people would have arrows as finely made as this one in-”

“In a backwater like this?”

“I was about to say in an area that doesn’t look like there would be a great need for arrows as fine as this,” Kaze said.

Manase laughed. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for one peasant. Why?”

“Just a whim.”

“You are a strange fellow. The villages are full of peasants, and one less wouldn’t be a terrible loss. Besides, the man is old.”

Kaze shrugged. “You said that if I brought you proof that he didn’t kill the samurai you would release him.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll order him released.”

“Thank you, Lord Manase.”

“So the bandits killed another man. This time it was a samurai. They’re getting to be quite annoying now.”

“I know where their camp is. I could lead you there if you wanted to wipe them out.”

“Me?”

“Or your men. You mentioned your district was a hundred fifty koku, so it should be easy to gather enough men to take care of them. There are around twelve bandits.”

Manase shifted uncomfortably.

Kaze waited for Manase to speak. The silence between the two men extended for a painfully long time. Kaze finally said, “I would accompany the force, if you like.”

Manase laughed a nervous laugh. “That offer has made me a little uncomfortable.”

“I meant no offense. If you want your men to handle this alone …” Kaze let the sentence trail off, in the characteristic Japanese way to invite comment from the other party in a conversation.

“That’s not the reason. It would be good for you to accompany anyone going to attack the bandit camp. Unfortunately, I really don’t have any men besides the Magistrate and a few guards.”

Kaze couldn’t understand what Manase was saying. As the head of a 150-koku territory, he was supposed to maintain many fighting men.

“You mean your men are off in the service of the Tokugawas?”

“I mean I don’t have any men besides the Magistrate and the guards.”

Kaze was stunned. Manase had ignored the most fundamental duty of a District Lord to his master: the maintenance of samurai who could be called up for battle.

“This is rather embarrassing,” Manase continued. “This weary provincial domain doesn’t have the resources to properly maintain the lifestyle of a gentleman.” Manase waved his hand at his expensive kimonos. “In fact, I’ve actually had to borrow money to purchase the proper quality of essential materials, such as equipment for the tea ceremony. As a result, some things have had to be”-Manase sought for a good word-“deferred. Of course, I will create the proper contingent of samurai when the time is appropriate, but right now I just have the Magistrate and a few men. You’ve seen some of them. They are not fit for the kind of mission you are proposing.”

Kaze sat immobile, fighting to keep his emotions off his face. Revealing his emotions would offend Manase, and Kaze still needed Manase’s goodwill. But it was a struggle to maintain his composure because Manase had admitted to a dereliction of a duty so basic that it defied Kaze’s entire view of the world and how it should be properly structured. Each common samurai owed allegiance to a lord, unless he was a ronin like Kaze. But even ronin sought employment in the service of a lord. The lords owed allegiance to greater lords, and those Lords owed allegiance to a clan. It was a neat military pyramid that could collapse if the foundation was not maintained. If the Tokugawa government called on Manase to deliver his fighting men for service and he failed, then it would mean death for Manase.

“I’m sorry to hear that it will be impossible to field a proper force to wipe out those bandits,” Kaze said, choosing his words carefully. “Twelve men are too many for me to take on alone, but those bandits are ruining the economy of this District. Perhaps there is something I can do if I spend some time thinking about it.”