Daigoro did not expect the son of Yasuda Jinbei to speak to him so rudely, but he took it in stride. Bowing to his mother, he passed off the baby, kissed Aki’s hand, and followed Kenbei to the tearoom. He was surprised to see Azami come along.
The three of them sat around a low table. Daigoro and Kenbei batted the necessary pleasantries back and forth: your grandson looks well, will this heat ever end, all the standard fare. Other women would have contributed the occasional neh to the conversation, or dropped a compliment here and there, but Azami remained silent. When she finally spoke, she just blurted, “House Okuma is in debt.”
By the gods, Daigoro thought, you might at least have waited for the serving girl to bring some tea. “We are,” he said, then realized he wasn’t a part of that we. He had cast himself out. “That is to say, yes, my mother’s house has taken on significant expenses of late. Skimping on a funeral brings bad karma to the deceased, and we buried two of our own. We also feasted the Imperial Regent—”
“With our coin,” Azami pointed out.
“That was the wedding. We hosted him once before that, when he first paid us a visit. Food and sake for over a hundred men does not come cheaply.”
Neither did poppy’s tears, he chose not to add. His mother had been taking them nightly to help her sleep—and more often than not, a dose or two during the day as well. He’d speak to Old Yagyu later tonight about how she was holding up now that he’d weaned her off the treacherous stuff.
For now he had more pressing problems. “My lord and lady, may I ask what brings this on? If Lord Yasuda’s medicines have become too expensive, it goes without saying that House Okuma’s stores are open to you.”
“No need,” Kenbei said. His voice was deep and dour. “My father’s care is expensive, yes, but it will not last much longer. After that, rule will pass to me.”
“Oh?” Daigoro did not cloak his surprise. The Okumas and Yasudas had spoken openly with one another for many years. They had also maintained a unified front for that long, fending off all other comers, including Izu’s other lords protector when they got too ambitious. “What of your elder brothers?”
“They maintain homesteads of their own, strategically placed for the defense of Izu.”
“I know. It’s just . . . well, I beg your pardon, Kenbei-san, but I would have thought you would assume one of those holds when a brother came home to rule.”
“Home!” Kenbei’s anger was sudden. Though he suppressed it just as quickly, it still lent a certain heat to his words. “I am the one who stayed home with Father. I am the one who manages House Yasuda—and also the one who must deal with Toyotomi Hideyoshi after you slaughtered so many of his men outside the Green Cliff.”
“I am sorry for that, Kenbei-san. And I am eternally grateful for your family’s support. Any number of soldiers and servants in your house could have betrayed me to my enemy, yet none have done so.”
“We gain nothing by exposing you, and stand to lose much. You have been a useful ally. I do hope that will continue. When my father passes, I intend to make some changes.”
“Oh?”
“House Yasuda has languished too long in the shadow of the Red Bear. Your father was a mighty warrior and a shrewd diplomat. No Yasuda will say otherwise. But his time has come and gone.”
“Speak plainly, sir.”
“You renounced your name when you treated with General Shichio, neh? And with it, you renounced your marriage. Do you stand by your oath?
“You know I do.” And never mind that Aki won’t hear a word of it, Daigoro thought. She insisted the law was on her side—he’d cast himself out of the house, not her—but in truth a woman had no say in matters of marriage. “Make your point, Kenbei-san.”
Kenbei swallowed. He glanced briefly at Azami, then said, “You are no longer Okuma Daigoro. There is no man to speak for the Okumas now, and therefore no Okuma to speak for Izu. That duty passes to me now.”
Daigoro bit his lip before he said anything rash. He could hardly believe his ears. And if he’d heard Kenbei correctly, the appropriate response was to beat him and his wife with a horsewhip.
That would have been Ichiro’s approach. It was tempting, too. But their father would have taken the softer