The Seabird of Sanematsu by Kei Swanson Page B

fourteen when she came to the twenty-year-old Sanematsu as bride, tiny, with large, oblong eyes dark as ebony and glowing, her hair cascading to her knees in a black river and framing a face as white as alabaster. Her grace had been certain to catch the eye of every man, even though to look upon the daimyo’s wife, or any of his women, was punishable by death in the most dishonorable manner. There were ways, however, not to be caught.

    Sanematsu would confront Matsumoto in time, but he could not be direct until his enemy revealed some hint of his guilt himself. Matsumoto would be even more dangerous once he learned the truth of his transgression was known.

    “It is unfortunate the child died with her. Especially for you.”

    “Sire, I must…I am…” Matsumoto stuttered.

    “Do not speak.” He delighted in the man’s incautious reaction--he had managed to rattle the usually unflappable samurai. His suspicion justified, now he could confront him. “I have known about you for a long time, my friend. And. still, I call you ‘friend.’” He must keep Matsumoto unsettled. He was still much more useful alive and on guard than dead and guilt-free.

    “Sanematsu-uji…sire…”

    “Do not deny it. It dishonors you more to lie. I know you stole into Masa’s bed, and that she welcomed you there. Have you not wondered why I allowed her to depart from life?”

    Matsumoto stared at him, shock and dismay covering his visage for an instant. Sanematsu credited him for his quick recovery.

    “I did not ask it of her,” Sanematsu admitted, once more intent on the incense. “She came for my permission of her own will, as was her duty. I would have been forced to order it when the child was born.”

    He swallowed hard, remembering the fetal corpse Masa had ripped from her body in the act of ritual seppuku. She had forgone the usual throat puncturing favored by women in order to assure the child’s death.

    “She could hardly present me with the product of adultery as my heir.” A bastard of his own could become heir, but the rules for women were different.

    He sat, in silence, regarding Matsumoto. They had been children together, fostered at the same temple, taught by the same teachers, fought side-by-side in their first battle and from there planned and executed many more. He knew all of Matsumoto’s foibles long before Matsumoto did himself.

    This intimate understanding made him well aware of the attraction of his general to his first wife, Nene. The young men had spent too many hours over sake, reveling amid drunken stories and pursuits of young maidens, for him not to know.

    Before Nene was acknowledged as betrothed to Sanematsu, Matsumoto could speak of no other girl. Sanematsu had watched him nurture the seed of covetous hatred planted in his heart on their joining day, and soon the vine grew to enshroud his whole being, choking off any goodness he might have possessed.

    The council and Lord Shigehide arranged the joining for the proper reasons. A samurai did not take a wife based on what his heart felt but, rather, the political needs of his clan. Seven years his senior, widow of a daimyo of a nearby ryo-chi, Nene brought with her a three-year-old daughter and her husband’s domain.

    After the announcement, Matsumoto asked to serve Satsuma Province by joining the warriors sent each year to increase the emperor’s army at Muromachi. Sanematsu honored the request, and the deepening evil had overcome Matsumoto there. He returned a man different from the one Sanematsu had sent. But, by then, neither was Sanematsu the same.

    Remembering Nene brought thoughts of his other wives. He failed to care for Nene as a husband ought, but they had been comfortable with their roles and accepted their duties. She had been a good wife and mother in all respects, obedient and faithful, so he was certain he had fathered his eldest daughter. Sanematsu fed his lusts in the Willow World and she…well, women had few appetites