The Saname residence, which stood on top of a hill, enjoyed an expansive view of the plains. During the current season, however, there was nothing to see in those fields but dark soil. With silk cultivation also concluded, the women spent the winters spinning their looms indoors while the men traveled to other regions peddling woven fabrics. The same was the case for Saname clan, apart from the fact that the silk their women wove was primarily transported to Je Island—from where it would then be taken abroad. Those who excelled in raising silkworms and were known for their weaving were held in high regard and attracted throngs of suitors.
“I heard that the Raven Consort has managed to avoid execution and has instead been given a new role. Is that true?”
These were the first words to leave Choyo’s mouth. Father always jumps straight to what’s important, thought Shin, awestruck by his directness. He hadn’t even taken the time to welcome him back.
On the other hand, however, he couldn’t help but notice the contempt with which he spoke of Raven Consort.
“From what I’ve heard, it seems His Majesty’s chief vassals were all against executing her,” Shin said.
“Not just Adviser Un, but Chief Secretariat Ka as well?” “I don’t know the specifics.”
Shin’s response made Choyo scowl. He seemed annoyed by Shin’s perceived incompetency.
“It also appears that the other concubines begged for her life to be spared,” Shin added.
The lines in Choyo’s brow deepened even more. The look on his face was a stern one—so much so that it wouldn’t have looked amiss if there were blue veins protruding out of his forehead. Maybe Banka had just crossed his mind.
Shin continued. “Talk of the Raven Consort spread far and wide among the townspeople… They’re saying she fought off a crowd of corpses and dispersed a pillar of water that had spurt up from the ground with a single arrow.”
Choyo gave Shin a piercing look. Shin wanted to avert his gaze but resisted the urge. It felt like his father could see right through him—it was a feeling that struck him with terror.
“Did you witness it with your own eyes?” Choyo asked. “Well, no… It’s just hearsay, but…”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Choyo’s voice sounded as authoritative as ever, but Shin could sense a hint of anger in it now. This didn’t happen very often. He hadn’t even sounded angry when Shin and Ryo had told him they were staying in the imperial capital. Did he really despise Jusetsu that much?
“The head of the Yozetsu family was appointed as the salt and iron envoy a short while ago, was he not? Do you know anything about his actions?” Choyo asked.
“As far as I know, he didn’t express any opinion regarding her execution.”
This response prompted Choyo to stroke his chin, lost in thought. “Well, I suppose he doesn’t have any other choice,” he grumbled to himself. “Has His Majesty issued any orders to the province council, or to the envoy institute? Has the army done anything?”
There was no way Shin would have been privy to such information. It wasn’t as if he was one of the emperor’s confidants.
“Nothing publicly, at least,” he replied.
Choyo stared hard at his son. Cold sweat rolled down Shin’s back and he found himself unable to look away.
“Anyhow,” began Choyo.
To his son’s relief, he had now averted his gaze. The next thing he said, however, caught Shin off guard.
“In the spring, you shall wed Tojo of the Kitsu family. I suggest you keep that in mind.”
Shin paused. “Are you telling me I’m getting married?” He was dumbfounded.
Choyo shot him a sharp look. The man hated being asked questions to which the answer was already obvious.
“Kitsu Tojo… Isn’t she…?” Shin began.
The Kitsu family was one of the Saname clan’s branch families. That being said, their family had branched off quite some time ago, so they acted more as the Saname clan’s vassals than anything else.
“She’s turning sixteen this year. She’s a terrible weaver, but she’s hardworking and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and pick mulberries. She’ll make a good wife for you.”
Shin thought of his late mother. As the daughter of a prominent family, she never picked up a needle—not even when her servants were making every effort to make ends meet. She never lifted a finger once she was married either. She left her children for her wet nurse to look after, shut herself inside her room, and never showed her face properly. Shin couldn’t even remember her having spoken to him.
“Has she finished her mourning?” Shin asked. “She’s Kitsu Rokujo’s daughter, isn’t she?”
Kitsu Rokujo, who’d been one of Banka’s ladies-in-waiting, had died after taking the blame for his father’s plot.
Choyo was silent, but his eyebrows twitched.
“Wouldn’t it be best to start the wedding rituals after her mourning period is over?” Shin added.
“It’ll be too late by then.”
People were expected to take three years to mourn the death of a parent. There were a number of cumbersome procedures involved in getting married, so it would take almost four years for the two of them to actually tie the knot.
“Kitsu Rokujo entrusted Tojo to the Kitsu family when she became one of Banka’s ladies-in-waiting. She was raised as the daughter of the present head of the family. As such, she has no need to mourn.”
What a preposterous thing to say, thought Shin. Rokujo was still her mother. What kind of logic was Choyo using? Why couldn’t they postpone the marriage until her mourning period was over? What was the rush?
That wasn’t the only thing that was troubling Shin either.
Kitsu Rokujo had died for his father’s sake. It felt wrong to marry that woman’s daughter. If she found out the truth, wouldn’t Tojo come to hate both Shin and his father?
“Do you object?” Choyo asked Shin, who was looking depressed.
“It doesn’t feel right to be marrying a girl who’s still in mourning,” Shin said.
His objection should have been obvious, but the look in Choyo’s eyes was icy cold.
“Has the Raven Consort stolen your heart?”
Shin was startled. “Wh-what are you…?” He broke out in a sweat, tongue-tied.