The Tree of Perseverance, page 1
The Tree of Perseverance
Chronicles of the Proverbs
Book Two
India Millar
Red Empress Publishing
www.RedEmpressPublishing.com
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Copyright © India Millar
www.IndiaMillar.co.uk
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Cover Design by Cherith Vaughan
https://www.facebook.com/coversbycherith/
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recoding, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.
Contents
Also by India Millar
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Climbing the Dragon Gate
About the Author
About the Publisher
Also by India Millar
The Chronicles of the Proverbs
Frog in a Well
Climbing the Dragon Gate
The Tree of Perseverance
Secrets from the Hidden House
The Geisha with the Green Eyes
The Geisha Who Could Feel No Pain
The Dragon Geisha
The Geisha Who Ran Away
The Song of the Wild Geese
The Red Thread of Fate
This World is Ours
Warrior Woman of the Samurai
Firefly
Mantis
Chameleon
Spider
Dragonfly
Scorpion
Cricket
Moth
Haiku Collections
Dreams from the Hidden House
Song of the Samurai
This book is humbly dedicated to Baizenten, the Japanese Goddess of writers and geisha. May both you and she enjoy the words written herein!
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Prologue
We had just arrived back home after traveling to Father’s birthplace to celebrate Oban Festival. It was the first time I had accompanied my parents and brothers, and also the first time I had left our estate since I had contracted paralysis of the morning. I treasured every moment.
My family was Buddhist, although we were not regular worshippers at the temple. But in common with all Buddhists in Japan, we believed that the souls of our ancestors did not entirely leave us, but returned once each year to visit their relatives—Oban Festival. At that time, whole families returned to their birthplaces to honor their ancestors, just as we had done.
Oban Festival is held in the seventh month of the year, so the weather had been hot and humid. Mother had been tight-lipped the entire time we were away. The heat made her headaches worse than usual, and she hated traveling. But even she did not complain out loud; family and tradition are the basis of everything in Japan, so even though she loathed the annual pilgrimage, she held her tongue.
For me, it was a joyous time, when memories of those who had gone before were spoken of and families were united. Or, at least, that was what was supposed to have happened. In light of this weight of tradition, it was surely the most unfortunate of all days in the year for my brothers to betray our beloved Father.
Chapter
One
In the depths of night,
The wind sounds like the souls of
The dead come to call
“I have no sons.”
Father pointed the forefinger of his right hand at my oldest brother. The gesture was unbelievably rude, as discourteous as his words.
I heard Mother gasp and then wail. The sound was cut off abruptly, and I guessed she had put her hand over her mouth. I did not turn my head to look. I was hypnotized by Father’s hand. So great was his emotion that the pointing finger was quivering as if he had suddenly developed a palsy. I was bewildered and more than a little afraid.
Father was generally a silent, serious man. He was not given to dramatic gestures. This display of emotion was so unusual, so unexpected, that I wanted to creep away and hide under my kakebuton until things returned to normal. As they surely would! Father was often angered by his sons, but only ever momentarily. I could understand that—both of my brothers were, in my opinion, lazy. Although they were employed in the family business, they had no interest in any kind of work, instead reserving their enthusiasm for gambling, generally on sumo bouts. Father reprimanded them often, but they always won him over, and his annoyance was generally short-lived. I risked a sideways glance at my eldest brother, Ichiro.
As always, when Father was irritated with him, Ichiro’s face was sulky. He stared at the tea bowl in his hand, his shoulders hunched. I felt a chill creep up my back as I understood that Ichiro was not greatly concerned by Father’s anger. Was it possible that he could not know that this time was different? That this time, Father was not going to sigh and forget whatever had angered him quickly. Surely, even my brothers could feel the sizzling anger that enveloped Father like some dark and ominous cloud.
“Daughter.” Mother’s voice startled me. “Come, child. We will leave the men to sort this out between them. We have no place here.”
I reached for my crutch, preparing to lever myself to my feet. Naturally, I had left my geta at the house entrance, so I was without my special built-up geta and the clever reins and stirrup contraption that enabled me to walk almost normally. Or at least, so I told myself. The paralysis of the morning had caused my withered left leg, but with the help and advice of my lover, Tengen, I’d had the geta and walking aid made, and when I was wearing them, I had no need of the support of my crutch. On bad days, when my leg ached and ached, I still needed a walking stick even when I wore the geta, but even then, it was far better than the heavy, clumsy crutch I was forced to seek now.
Father’s voice reverberated with authority, stopping me before I could rise. “No. Emica, sit down. Mi, stay where you are.” It was a brutal, sharp command. Mother whimpered; I bit my distress back. “This is a matter for the whole of the family. You will both stay.”
I heard Satoru, my younger brother, clear his throat uneasily, and I guessed that the seriousness of the situation had finally gotten through to him. It was Satoru who spoke.
“Father, I—both of us—are deeply sorry that you are not happy with our actions. I assure you, we thought we were acting for the benefit of the family.”
Father said nothing, just glared at his youngest son. After a while, Satoru dropped his gaze and stared at the tatami.
My initial fear began to give way to an intense curiosity. What could my silly brothers have done to make Father so very angry? Had their gambling debts become so great that they could not pay? I knew that recently Mother had begun to make plans for betrothals for both of them, and in truth, they were both of an age when they should have been married already. But both of them were suave, iki, men-about-town, and they had successfully convinced Mother—who doted on her fine, handsome sons—that they had plenty of time before they settled down with wives. Father had married relatively late, and in any event, he left such things to Mother to arrange. Was it possible that one—or both—of them had made some terrible match with a totally unsuitable girl?
As soon as the thought came to me, I knew it was nonsense. Father was a rich man. If my brothers had been so very silly, he would not hesitate to buy off the girls in question. No, it had to be something much worse. But what, I had no idea at all.
I began to wonder if Father’s anger had started to die down, but a glance at his expression told me it had not. His face was stone, but fury burned in his eyes.
“I have no sons.” He repeated the dreadful words slowly and deliberately. “Mi is the only child I have now. She has never disappointed me. She would never betray the family. She is all I could have hoped to find in my sons.”
I glowed with pleasure at such extravagant praise. But it lasted for only a moment. Ichiro spoke angrily, and I blinked in horror that he would dare to talk to our father in such a way.
“Father, you don’t understand.”
Father said nothing, and Ichiro went on quickly, his voice becoming condescending. It was not my place to interrupt, but I longed to tell him to be quiet before it was too late. If it wasn’t already so.
“We have acted in the best interests of the family, I promise you. We were going to discuss the matter with you this evening. We thought it would be a pleasant su
I watched Father’s face carefully. I still had no inkling of what was going on, but I sensed that my brothers would do well to tread carefully.
Satoru nodded eagerly at his brother’s words and spoke quickly. “We were going to wait until after dinner, Father, when Mother and Mi had left us. This has nothing to do with them. What do women know of business?”
Father’s expression did not change, but a pulse lifted the corner of his lip. He rubbed his mouth as if he was angry that his body had betrayed him. Satoru either did not notice or chose to ignore it.
“Of course, we both know that Mi amused herself in the office before she was crippled, but that hardly counts as understanding the complex world of business, does it? It’s a shame she’s as she is. I daresay it will make finding a husband for her difficult, but I expect you’ll manage to marry her off if you offer a high enough dowry. In any event, do you not think it would be better for Mi and Mother to leave us now so that we can discuss this important matter men-to-men?”
I sucked in a deep breath, feeling my pulse beat fiercely in my ears. Both my brothers were staring at me rudely, obviously waiting for me—and Mother—to stand and leave the room. Mother, traditional woman that she was, was clearly about to obey. She was gathering her kimono skirts together as she prepared to leave as her son had instructed her. She glanced at me and nodded fractionally, clearly expecting me to do the same.
For a heartbeat, I almost obeyed. Naturally, I should do so—the word of the men in the family was law. I was nothing but a girl child, and a useless, crippled one at that. Instinct made me glance at Father. He was watching me intently and unspoken words flashed between us.
“I will not leave. Neither will Mother.” I was pleased to hear that my voice sounded firm. Satoru’s jaw dropped. He stared at me, his expression as astounded as if he had seen the smallest of mice turn and confront a stalking cat. Mother wailed faintly. “Father said that Mother and I were to stay. Until he says we are to leave, that is what we will do.”
Both my brothers began to talk at once, their indignation cut off abruptly as Father spoke.
“Mi is correct. I told her and her mother to stay. I want both of them to hear how you two have betrayed this family. Ichiro, you are the eldest. It is your place to explain to us all what you and your brother have done.”
Ichiro flushed a dull red. He stared at the tatami as he spoke, his tone rebellious.
“Father, I really do not see what all the fuss is about. We have done nothing but act in the best interests of our family. Our actions will bring great prosperity to us, both now and for future generations.”
He paused and sipped from his tea bowl. Or rather, he pretended to sip—from where I sat, I could see it was empty. My curiosity overflowed; Ichiro was speaking of future generations. Had I been right when I thought either he or Satoru had gotten themselves entangled with a totally unsuitable woman? Was it possible that they had been inveigled into a promise of marriage to one of the high-class oiran that both boasted of frequenting? Such women could be very rich indeed, but they also had hundreds—perhaps thousands—of lovers. Wealthy men who showered them with gifts and money. It was not unheard of for an especially beautiful and talented oiran to be taken as a premier concubine by a rich man. But marriage? Never.
I waited in tense anticipation, but I was disappointed. Ichiro seemed to have run out of words. Father waited for a moment and then spoke for him. His tone was so icy, I felt gooseflesh erupt on my arms.
“You do not wish to explain what you have done? Very well. I will tell my family how you have betrayed us. When we returned home from the festival today, the maid told me that Mikayo-san was waiting to see me. That he had been waiting for some time even though the girl had told him we were traveling home from the Oban Festival and that she was not sure when we would be back. I thought such behavior very odd indeed, but of course, politeness obliged me to see Mikayo-san as soon as I had washed and changed my dusty clothes.”
“That is why we didn’t tell you sooner, Father,” Satoru broke in anxiously. “We thought it would be better to wait until you had cast off the dust of the journey and you had enjoyed your meal before we mentioned it. We had no idea that Mikayo-san would come to see you himself.”
I glanced at Mother. She was frowning, her face puzzled. From somewhere, she found the courage to speak.
“How very strange of Mikayo-san to visit us without giving word. And today of all days. Did he not make a pilgrimage to his home village?”
“I asked him that,” Father said crisply. “He explained that his family had lived in Edo for many generations, so he had attended the nearest Oban Festival and did not need to travel. He had assumed that we would have done the same and was surprised we were not here when he arrived. He was even more surprised—in fact, shocked is more the word—when I was forced to explain that I had not been expecting him. I had no idea what he had come to see me about. It was deeply embarrassing for both of us.”
“I am sorry, Father. As I said, I—we—had not expected him to be here today.” Ichiro was clearly about to say more, but Father cut him off abruptly.
“Really? Is that all you are sorry about? Emica, are these wretched creatures truly my sons?”
Mother’s face was ashen. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came from her lips. I heard both my brothers take deep breaths that sounded like sighs. Although I still had no idea what they had done that was so very bad, I guessed that they finally understood how truly angry Father was with them. Even though his anger was not directed at me, I was apprehensive of what was to come.
I forced my mind to work, trying to make sense of what was happening. I knew of Mikayo. He was a wealthy, respected businessman. Unlike Father, his wealth was inherited—his family had been the most successful moneylenders in Edo for generations. Until Father had, by his own efforts and astute business dealings, stolen that position from him. Tanaka—Father’s chief clerk—had told me that the two men were, as he put it, the best of enemies. If either could do a business deal that would be to the detriment of the other, then the deal would be done without a second thought. I gathered that Father disliked Mikayo for his inherited wealth and traditional ways of carrying out business, whilst Mikayo hated Father as an upstart who was trying to usurp his rightful place in Edo’s business world.
So why had Mikayo been here, today of all days? And without an appointment? That was almost stranger still. Nobody simply visited someone’s house without making arrangements first, not even close friends. And above all, what had my brothers been doing, associating with Father’s rival?
My curiosity was soon satisfied as I listened to what Father had to say, and I began to wish with dawning horror that it had not been.
Chapter
Two
Rice will thrive as long
As its roots have cool water.
That life is so calm
“Despite my surprise, I was courteous to Mikayo-san. I offered him tea, asked after his family. His only son worked at his business, I knew. A good, steady sort of a boy. Not too intelligent, but I have no doubt that Mikayo-san is proud of him.” Father broke off and raised his eyebrows as Ichiro made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a cough. When he remained silent, Father went on calmly, his voice betraying the tension in his body. “Mikayo-san said his son was well and thanked me for my inquiry. He stopped then and looked at me as if he expected me to say more. When I did not, he spoke cheerfully.
