saying for her to wait until after she had refreshed herself. Then she would be told all. The events leading to Yoshiko's sister's death had long been known to her and there was no time for mourning. She did let Yoshiko know before she bathed that she had heard the sad news, but as samurai women they must put their feelings second to their duty.
Mitsuko came for her after she had sufficient time to prepare herself. At last she was properly gowned and her hair dressed and set with long jewel tipped pins. It seemed strange to Yoshiko to have the bleached rice powder on her face again and tint on her lips and cheeks. But at least she was once more a lady of quality for all to see and note.
When she answered the tap of a discreet finger on the shoji , a sliding door, she knelt with good grace to open it for her aunt.
" Ah so desu? Yoshiko-chan. You are very lovely. It is good that the terrible journey did not mar your beauty, for it will be of value to you and your family this day." Holding a finger to her lips, she said, "Shhh. Ask me nothing now. Just follow me and have faith, for as I promised earlier all will be answered for you in a few more moments. Patience is the spice of fulfillment."
As with all women, her curiosity was incredible, but she had learned as a child when to control it. She glided after her aunt's soft steps until they came to a door that she knew led to the chamber where her kinsman, by marriage to her mother's sister, held audience. Had Yoritomo sent the samurai to aid Kujo in some matter? Or were they here to make certain of his loyalty in the coming battles? She did not know, but four samurai guarded the doors, hands to the hilts of their swords. Two were Kujo's and two were Minamoto's.
With the tension building in her breast, the doors began to slide open ever so slowly until at last she saw what her obasan , Mitsuko, had promised was to come true.
Seated in the center of a long low back lacquered dais, flanked by Kujo on his left and his son, Yeshitsune, on the right, was her master and lord – Yoritomo Minamoto.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was the hour of the boar and the sun was just beginning to fall behind the mountains when Muramasa and Casca were summoned. It was with reluctance they had to leave their weapons behind, but they knew there was no way they would be permitted to carry them in this household without permission of the master.
Not knowing what to expect, they followed quietly behind the same large nosed retainer who had shown them to their cubicle. As Casca had suspected, the castle was on war footing. Armed guards were everywhere and they were alert and sharp looking. They eyed him and Muramasa suspiciously as they passed them on their way to wherever they were going.
When the retainer stopped in front of a shoji guarded by both the samurai of Kujo and the samurai of Minamoto, he halted. He hissed under his breath for them to show proper respect and to watch their manners or they would surely lose their heads. Kneeling down in front of the shoji , he spoke softly with many bows, though the listener on the other side could not see him. A moment passed before a voice whispered back. He bowed his head to the floor, slid back on his knees, and waited.
The shoji slid open, a kneeling samurai attendant bowed and then motioned silently with his hand for them to enter. They did as the retainer had, dropping to their knees they tried to move gracefully into the chamber. They failed miserably as they were not used to these court gymnastics. The attendant who opened the door looked at them with contempt. They were obviously inferior types. But if his master wished to see them, it was not for him to dispute his master's wisdom.
Casca kept his eyes on Muramasa, trying to emulate every movement. Somehow he knew when the sliding screen opened this was something more than a casual introduction to the kinsman of Yoshiko.
Muramasa went in first, bowing his head to the tatami mats, not raising
Mitsuko came for her after she had sufficient time to prepare herself. At last she was properly gowned and her hair dressed and set with long jewel tipped pins. It seemed strange to Yoshiko to have the bleached rice powder on her face again and tint on her lips and cheeks. But at least she was once more a lady of quality for all to see and note.
When she answered the tap of a discreet finger on the shoji , a sliding door, she knelt with good grace to open it for her aunt.
" Ah so desu? Yoshiko-chan. You are very lovely. It is good that the terrible journey did not mar your beauty, for it will be of value to you and your family this day." Holding a finger to her lips, she said, "Shhh. Ask me nothing now. Just follow me and have faith, for as I promised earlier all will be answered for you in a few more moments. Patience is the spice of fulfillment."
As with all women, her curiosity was incredible, but she had learned as a child when to control it. She glided after her aunt's soft steps until they came to a door that she knew led to the chamber where her kinsman, by marriage to her mother's sister, held audience. Had Yoritomo sent the samurai to aid Kujo in some matter? Or were they here to make certain of his loyalty in the coming battles? She did not know, but four samurai guarded the doors, hands to the hilts of their swords. Two were Kujo's and two were Minamoto's.
With the tension building in her breast, the doors began to slide open ever so slowly until at last she saw what her obasan , Mitsuko, had promised was to come true.
Seated in the center of a long low back lacquered dais, flanked by Kujo on his left and his son, Yeshitsune, on the right, was her master and lord – Yoritomo Minamoto.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was the hour of the boar and the sun was just beginning to fall behind the mountains when Muramasa and Casca were summoned. It was with reluctance they had to leave their weapons behind, but they knew there was no way they would be permitted to carry them in this household without permission of the master.
Not knowing what to expect, they followed quietly behind the same large nosed retainer who had shown them to their cubicle. As Casca had suspected, the castle was on war footing. Armed guards were everywhere and they were alert and sharp looking. They eyed him and Muramasa suspiciously as they passed them on their way to wherever they were going.
When the retainer stopped in front of a shoji guarded by both the samurai of Kujo and the samurai of Minamoto, he halted. He hissed under his breath for them to show proper respect and to watch their manners or they would surely lose their heads. Kneeling down in front of the shoji , he spoke softly with many bows, though the listener on the other side could not see him. A moment passed before a voice whispered back. He bowed his head to the floor, slid back on his knees, and waited.
The shoji slid open, a kneeling samurai attendant bowed and then motioned silently with his hand for them to enter. They did as the retainer had, dropping to their knees they tried to move gracefully into the chamber. They failed miserably as they were not used to these court gymnastics. The attendant who opened the door looked at them with contempt. They were obviously inferior types. But if his master wished to see them, it was not for him to dispute his master's wisdom.
Casca kept his eyes on Muramasa, trying to emulate every movement. Somehow he knew when the sliding screen opened this was something more than a casual introduction to the kinsman of Yoshiko.
Muramasa went in first, bowing his head to the tatami mats, not raising
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