The Samurai's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

muttered, staring at the scuffed wooden floor. It wouldn’t do to incur this fellow’s enmity, which he might if the man thought he was trying to show him up.
    ‘You’re the lucky one, aren’t you?’ said the rickshaw puller, tapping out his pipe in the ash box. He narrowed his eyes and peered at him, then gave a gap-toothed grin. ‘Gonsuké’s the name. No belongings to fetch, I can see that.’
    If he had he wouldn’t have been wearing a girl’s kimono jacket, Nobu thought ruefully. Gonsuké’s splendid livery made him feel self-conscious. The plump lady in the grey dress had told the restaurant owner to give him clothes and a meal, then offered him a job instead. At that moment he wished he could have had the clothes and food. The apprentices and grooms lounging around the antechamber were all staring at his outlandish costume and he could feel hunger gnawing at his stomach.
    He’d been lucky, he reminded himself. If he hadn’t met these ladies he’d have been sleeping out that night and it was turning very cold.
    ‘Live round here, do they?’ he asked, as casually as he could. He didn’t want this man to guess how desperate he was for a job.
    ‘Shinagawa, on the edge of the bay, by the execution grounds. Where the Eastern Sea Road starts. You know it?’
    ‘You mean … the Satsuma mansions?’ Nobu stared at him wildly. It had never occurred to him that these people could have anything to do with the southerners. After all, Gonsuké spoke with a low city accent and as for the ladies, Nobu knew a geisha when he saw one. In the rough neighbourhoods where he usually spent his days and nights they were everywhere, though these ladies were obviously geishas of a much higher rank. They carried themselves with all the airs and graces of the Kyoto entertainment district. The large plump one with the pearly complexion and classic geisha features had been wearing one of those modern western-style dresses, puffed out like a temple bell, as many geishas did. As for the smaller one, it was obvious what she was by her shiny green-tinged lips and the provocative way she tugged her kimono collar down at the nape of her neck and swept her hair up to show off the skin there.
    The two young girls had certainly looked a little classy for geishas’ daughters. But Satsuma …? The women could be the concubines of one of the Satsuma leaders, he supposed. But still it made no sense. Why was a Satsuma ronin attacking Satsuma ladies?
    And supposing they were connected to the Satsuma, how could he possibly take a job with them? No matter how desperate he was, he’d never in his life sunk so low as to work for the enemy, the ‘potato samurai’ who’d come swarming up from their sweet potato fields in the deep south to snatch control over the country. There was not a government position now that they didn’t monopolize.
    It was bad enough being a servant but at least he’d always managed to find work among his own people. Even impoverished northerners needed servants. Usually they couldn’t pay him, they just gave him his meals and somewhere to sleep in exchange for cleaning and tidying, and after not very long they’d realize they couldn’t afford even that. He’d always ended up back on the streets, knocking on the door of the next person he’d been recommended to, begging for work or at least somewhere to lay his head.
    ‘I tell you, the gods were smiling on you. Don’t you know who our master is?’ Gonsuké swivelled round importantly to show Nobu the crest emblazoned in white across the back of his happi coat . It was a feather in a circle. Nobu stared uncomprehendingly and Gonsuké raised a scraggy eyebrow. ‘Don’t you recognize it? Kitaoka – our master is General Kitaoka, the greatest man in the whole of Japan. Even a beggar like you must have heard of him.’
    Nobu recoiled in horror.
    ‘General Kitaoka …?’ Kitaoka – the most hated southerner of them all, commander-in-chief of the southern forces,