I awakened sometime after midnight, hands and fingernails stained with blood. The light was too dim to see the extent of the smear upon my kimono, but it was there. I cast my gaze around for any sign of Master Nobu’s brother, and saw a patch of disturbed grass, but no body. I drew a slow breath and hoped. Perhaps he had stalked back to the house alone.
I remembered his threats and my having injured his face. The ugly scars would fit together with the scrapes upon my hands. Together they would more than testify of our struggle. The injuries I had inflicted upon him would be difficult badges to wear publicly. Perhaps, then, he would not return to the house. Either way, I could not fail to return, and yet, I could not appear stained with blood.
I made my way toward the river and washed my hands and fingernails. I could do nothing for the silk, but must find a way to change and hide my kimono before the sun’s rising.
I stumbled toward the house as quickly as my heavy kimono permitted, and watched from a distance. A few lights and revelers remained wakeful on the veranda, playing go, or singing folk songs in wine-soused voices. I might be able to escape their notice, but I could not escape Madame’s. She stood on the south-facing veranda, staring out into the garden. Vigilant. Very likely watching for me. And this was what taught me to blame her.
She comprehended everything with the sight of my disheveled hair and disarranged robe, and she ran to me into the garden and guided me toward a quiet corner.
“What have you done?” It was the first time I had ever heard fear in Madame Sato’s voice.
“How could you fail to tell me of Master Nobu’s brother’s interest!”
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Her eyes widened, exposing the whites.
“Where is he?”
“Gone! Has he not returned to the house?”
“No!”
“Then I do not know where he is.”
She gripped my shoulders.
“What did you do to him?”
“I remember we struggled, but I lost consciousness, and when I awakened he was gone.”
She sighed heavily and released me.
“Let us hope he survived.”
“Do you care what he did to me?”
“I trust you to defend yourself.”
“You think I could overcome a man twice my size?” I asked, incredulous.
Madame stood silent and finally answered with a chilling, “Yes.”
And with this confession, I perceived what Madame knew. She knew about me, and the violence I had done and would yet do, and she had brought me out of seclusion notwithstanding. I met her cool gaze.
“Then more’s the blame to you for not communicating Nobu’s intent.”
“And where was your judgment? If you had kept to the house, it hadn’t happened.”
I could make no defense to this. Madame wasn’t concerned with justice, nor even with Nobu’s personal welfare. My false identity could not bear the scrutiny of a scandal. My mysterious, often destructive, nature could bear it far less. We were both in a precarious situation.
Madame made an impatient gesture with one hand and shuffled across the veranda into the house. When she returned, the Nagaishi samurai followed. I gasped and instinctively withdrew under the shadow of the eaves.
Madame spoke to Nagaishi in a low tone.
“Can you do it?”
He made an affirmative reply, promising three days, and leapt over the veranda, brushing by me, almost touching my sleeve. He paused for a moment to observe me warily, then disappeared into the darkness.
“Madame?” I whispered, my eyes following the now disappeared form of the samurai. “Can we trust…?”
“Yes, ” she said, and silenced me with a warning glance. “I have long had dealings with the Nagaishi. They are the Spider Clan. We can trust them.”
* * *
Madame and I were not natural suspects for a violent crime against a healthy man. Our prospects seemed safest if we stood by until the wedding’s end. Twenty-four hours would be enough.