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gesture, but continued to smile at her in a way which reminded Hannah strongly of a vulture, a vile creature she had seen a picture of in a book.
    Her heart began to beat faster with fear. The look he gave her was calculating and … triumphant. There was no other word to describe it. A shiver hissed up Hannah’s spine. What was going on here?
    ‘Mr Hesketh is going to do you the honour of dancing with you, my dear. He was just saying how much he has been looking forward to this feast.’ Hannah barely heard her mother’s words through the hammering in her ears.
    ‘Oh, but I was just going to the kitchen.’
    ‘Not now. Take Mr Hesketh’s arm and lead the way.’ Her mother accompanied this request with another push, which left no room for misinterpretation. Hannah glanced around wildly, searching for some means of escape. Where was Jacob when she needed him? Edward? Anyone? ‘ Hannah. ’ Her mother’s tone was ruthless, brooking no argument.
    Hannah swallowed hard and put out her hand once more. She closed her eyes as Mr Hesketh tucked it into the crook of his arm and squeezed her fingers with his free hand.
    ‘I have waited a long time for this, Mistress Hannah,’ he whispered. ‘A very long time …’

Chapter Four
     
    Northern Japan, July 1611
     
    ‘I would like an explanation, Yanagihara- san .’
    Taro knelt by the side of the old man’s futon , looking down into the tired, drawn face. Several weeks had passed since the marriage, but still Yanagihara lingered in his bed and no one knew quite what ailed him. Perhaps it was just age, Taro thought. The Sensei was, after all, older than anyone else in the castle.
    ‘Please,’ he felt compelled to add, even though he had a right to demand whatever he wanted. He had delayed his visit for fear of hearing what the old man had seen in his vision, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to find out.
    ‘It is not important now. It’s probably better if I don’t tell you, my lord.’ Yanagihara’s voice was frail, a mere thread in the stillness of the morning.
    That had been Taro’s own opinion at first, but the question of what Yanagihara had seen had nagged at him and refused to leave his mind.
    ‘And if I command it? I have a right to know what you saw if it concerned me or my wife.’ Taro stared out into the garden through the half-open shoji sliding door, clenching his jaw in an effort to keep his patience.
    ‘Very well, I can see you won’t rest until you know.’ Yanagihara closed his eyes as if to gather his strength. ‘It wasn’t really a vision as such, not the way I normally have them, but when your lady wife and her family entered the room, I felt as if I had been hit by a cold wall.’
    ‘A cold wall? What do you mean?’
    ‘I sensed hostility, anger, confusion, perhaps even hatred, and I didn’t know whether it was directed at you or someone else. I think the lady was … much troubled.’
    Taro rubbed his chin unconsciously and sighed. He had gathered that much for himself, although whenever he tried to raise the subject Hasuko denied that anything was wrong. She would just smile that incredible smile which made him want to forget everything else and the subject was abandoned until the next time.
    He couldn’t really complain about her behaviour. She performed all her wifely duties to perfection and was outwardly obedient and solicitous, but he sensed there was something missing. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if she was present in body only and going through the motions. Her mind was elsewhere and he couldn’t reach her. It was incredibly frustrating. He had hoped for much more from their union, even though he realised that was unusual.
    Everyone Taro knew had married whoever their parents selected for them and were not expected to have a say in the matter. He supposed he’d been lucky in that respect – because his parents were both dead, he’d made the choice himself. Still, he