Sweet Saturday Sample

Welcome! I have another short sample from my historical novel. Hiro, a former samurai soldier, has come to Hanako's farm in northern Japan and offered to help her for the season. Here, he is fishing in the stream behind her home:

            He found a sturdy old tree with a thick branch overhanging the stream.  Carefully inching out on the branch, he found that it could accommodate his weight, and lay face down along its length.  He waited, his sword poised and ready for his prey.  The rippling water played a calming melody, and the shade from the rest of the tree enveloped him in a blanket of security that he hadn’t experienced in years. 

As a warrior in the elite forces of the bushido, he had not known serenity, only anger and death.  What would it be like to live in peace and beauty, instead of constant pain and needless bloodshed?

            A splash in the water below reminded him of his task.  A school of carp, making its way upstream, swam into his vantage point.  Drawing on his survival training, he lowered his sword, spearing the largest of the group.  Quickly he raised and lowered the sword again and again, until the still-moving fish covered half his blade. 

            The water beneath him turned murky, and his arm froze as the haunting memory of another time, another knife, overtook him.  His stomach churned as he remembered a man he had known all his life, one he loved and revered, dying by his own hand.  Though Hiro had fought nobly and had observed the death of many, this time it had brought him to his knees.  It was then that he knew he could not continue as a warrior. 

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Sweet Saturday Sample

            Welcome back! This week I've decided to revisit my historical romance about the adventures of a former samurai soldier during the late 1870s. Here we meet Hiromasa's friend, Ginjiro, who has come to work on Hanako's farm:

            Just outside the doorway, Ginjiro froze in place, listening intently.  He had come to ask for instructions about crops in the west end of the field, but the voice he heard from inside was not Hanako’s.  Caution had him stopping to assess a possible threat to his mistress, but the words spoken in the cultured, melodious voice were not threatening, and he decided Hanako was not in danger.  He allowed himself to listen to the mystery woman’s voice and let himself be drawn in by the soothing tones.  During his years as a warrior, he had been in the presence of noblewomen, but the shrill voices of the pampered, empty-headed ladies had held no appeal for him.  Certainly none had held his attention simply with the sound of her voice.

            He had to see the owner of the voice.   Carefully, he bent his upper body toward the doorway, not wanting to give himself away. Hopefully her attention would be focused on Hanako, who customarily knelt at the table with her back to the door.  That meant the guest would be facing the doorway. 

            His upper body was nearly level with the ground, but he couldn’t quite see far enough into the room to get a glimpse of the voice’s owner.  Perhaps if he just took one more step…

            Carefully, he lifted his left foot and moved it toward the doorway.  Unfortunately, his right foot was in the way, and his eyes widened in horror as he realized that he was falling into the house. He landed face down, his limbs arranged in an inelegant heap on the floor.  Thank goodness he and Hiro had installed the tatami flooring, or his face would be covered with dirt. 

            Perhaps his tumble had gone unnoticed.  Perhaps he could just back out, and the women wouldn’t know …

            “Ginjiro!”  Hanako’s footsteps scurried toward him.  “Are you all right?” 

            Ginjiro nodded, wincing when the motion scraped his face on the dry reeds in the flooring.  Despite the discomfort, he kept his face to the floor, scooting backward, hoping to leave before she-

            “It seems the samurai has injured his head in the fall,”

            Ginjiro groaned, mortified to be caught in such an embarrassing position.  How on earth could he explain his clumsiness?

            His groan of frustration was interpreted as a sign of pain.  “Oh, Ginjiro,” Hanako cried,  “Forgive me, Ginjiro.  You must have tripped in that trench I dug for the plants outside the door.  And now you are hurt!”

            “Perhaps we should move him inside so that we can tend to his wound.”  The warm contralto voice that had mesmerized him before floated into his mind from his other side.  He turned his head toward the voice, and nearly yelped from the pain of the movement. 

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Sweet Saturday Samples

This conversation follows the scene from last week's sample. Again, it's from my historical, set in Japan in the 1870s. My main character is a former samurai soldier.

"You could afford to stay in the finest hotels, and learn about farming from a wealthy landowner," Hanako argued.

“But the wealthy landowner would not be able to show me the pleasure of working with the soil, of creating something from nothing. He would not show me the beauty of the sunrise, the wonderful fresh smell after a spring rain or the musical melodies of the insects in the evening. If I stayed in a fine inn, I would not understand all the difficulties you face and see how you manage in spite of them. You are a far better teacher than any moneyed landowner, and your lessons are worth far more than what I have paid for your livestock and taxes.” He stopped speaking then, realizing he had said more than he’d intended. He stirred his culinary creation then pulled two new bowls from his bottomless pack and scooped a generous portion onto one. Then he brought it to her, with a new pair of chopsticks.

Hanako was stunned at the novelty of having a man serve her, as well as the poetic way Hiro had described her life. Could it be that he understood why she stayed here, despite all the hardships and advice against it? Was it possible that a man who had been raised to destroy could actually embrace a life that celebrated growth? Could she trust him? But no, he wasn’t offering a lifetime. He was only here temporarily. Soon he would pack his swords and leave. If he wanted to continue farming, he would purchase his own land, and she would go back to her dreary existence. She refused to think of that.

Instead, she simply smiled and said, “I am glad that you are pleased with your experience here. I will work hard to ensure you learn enough to make it worth your investment. But I insist that when the harvest is in, you must share in the profit.”

He regarded her silently for a moment, and then turned to fill his own plate. He took his time pouring himself some tea and carefully brought his meal over toward her futon. He settled himself on a cushion and began to eat. Hanako wondered if he planned to ignore her assertion and was about to repeat herself when he finally answered. “There is one way that we can settle the matter of money owed and profit shared.”

“How is that possible?”

“We could marry.”

Thanks for stopping by! The characters above say "honor", another of the samurai virtues.

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