The Samurai's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    ‘Gonsuké, show Nobu to the servants’ section.’ The leading rickshaw creaked as the large lady put one pale silk-shod foot, then the other, on the step which one of the servants had set in place. ‘Make sure he gets a good meal and a decent set of clothes.’
    Nobu was following Gonsuké towards the house when the door slid open and a tall, heavyset young man strode out. The servants bowed and stepped back, falling over each other to let him pass. His hair was cropped short and he was wearing expensive western-style clothes. Nobu’s heart sank as he saw his supercilious air and the arrogant way he held his shoulders, and he shrank back and tried to lose himself among the grooms and rickshaw pullers. He had heard that General Kitaoka was a giant and this fellow was huge; his son, he guessed. The young man barked at the grooms then swung round and fixed Nobu with his large black eyes, hands on his hips. Nobu stared stubbornly at the ground.
    ‘What have we here? Who’s this surly character? Not taken on a new servant, have you, Mother? What would Father say? We can’t even afford the ones we have.’ The young man stepped closer and poked Nobu in the chest. ‘You. What do you have to say for yourself?’
    Nobu scowled and clenched his fists. He was panting with rage. It was all he could do to hold back and not do anything foolish. He hated the way the potato samurai had not only defeated his people but turned them into slaves, made them creep abjectly while they ground them under their heels. His fortunes might have fallen and this jumped-up peasant’s risen but Nobu was not one whit inferior to him. But this was not downtown Tokyo and besides, this man was twice as big as he was and burly too. He wouldn’t stand a chance if he tried to fight him. He’d have to bide his time. That had become the lot of the Aizu. One day their moment would come and they’d avenge themselves. He took a breath, got a grip on himself and bowed his head.
    ‘Don’t be a bully, Eijiro. Leave him alone!’ The girl in the pink dress had jumped down from her rickshaw and raced over to them, holding her skirts high, her small feet crunching on the gravel. ‘He can do plenty, a lot more than you.’
    ‘We had some trouble at the Black Peony,’ said the large lady calmly. ‘Someone tried to attack us – a mad ronin, waving his sword around. He could have killed us. This lad appeared out of nowhere and helped us, so I offered him a job. It was the least I could do.’
    ‘He saved our lives,’ said the girl. ‘He’s going to carry my books for me when I go to school.’
    The young man drew himself up and his face darkened. He should have followed his instincts, he thought. He was going to have problems if he stayed. Then he stole a glance at the girl, who was glaring defiantly at the young man. No one had ever stood up for him before, certainly not someone as pretty as her. He wouldn’t leave just yet, he told himself.

3
    ONE AFTERNOON, A month or so after the new servant arrived, Fujino summoned Taka, Haru and a few of the maids and they trooped out to the storehouse in the grounds of the mansion. It was cold inside the whitewashed earthen walls and Taka’s breath puffed out like steam. She had swathed herself in layers of kimonos and put a padded haori jacket over the top but she still rubbed her hands together and pulled them into her sleeves to keep them warm. The tatami was like ice under her feet.
    She wrinkled her nose. The storehouse smelt of age and damp and mouldy plaster. It was full of dark corners that no amount of lantern light ever reached, where all sorts of monsters and ghostly presences seemed to lurk. Family heirlooms, priceless antiques, things no one would ever use were stored within these fireproof walls. Even if the great house burnt to the ground and the whole family perished, these mouldering treasures would survive.
    As they stepped further in, the trunks and chests cast enormous shadows that