Chapter Five: The Chosen
"Absolutely ridiculous," the messenger muttered to himself the next morning as he urged his mount up the slick mountain trail. "I bet they were just exaggerating about the girl. Surely any girl living alone in a rundown cottage would love to become a queen."
Haru Yoshioka, he had been told by Hiromi, was the daughter of a respected samurai that had died two years before due to a pestilence that had tortured the area, and her mother had died soon afterward from the same disease. Even the family horse had died, and the young woman had never seen a reason to replace him, which left her all alone in the world. The fiancé she still loved had been on a ship that had disappeared without a trace years before, making the locals claim some silly local superstition about sky pirates taking him for who knew what.
To occupy his mind as he struggled of the path, he thought about the reward that his monarch would give him, for finding his bride. That is, if the girl resembled the dead queen as much as the villagers had insisted. He sighed, and made a final turn around the forest terrain to come into sight of a large cottage, complete with an empty stable to the side of it.
He blinked, looking around the glen in confusion. "Is this the right place?" he asked out loud, with only occasional birdsong trilling an answer back to him. He sighed and slid off of his horse stiffly, an affectionate pat on the neck telling the mount to graze for a while, which it did gladly.
He gripped the oilskin-covered portrait under one arm, and marched up to the sturdy front door. Breathing through his nostrils, he raised one fist to the door, and began knocking. "Yoshioka-sama?" he called as loudly as he could. "Are you home?"
Only silence met his question, making him sigh and sit down in the doorway to wait for the woman's return. He rested his head between his arms, and allowed his mind to wander. However, he hadn't slept well the night before, due to his excitement of possibly finding the king's bride, so he slowly fell against the door, and surrendered to sweet slumber, the portrait wrapped protectively in one arm.
ooOoo
"Sir?" a soft musical voice asked, and an unseen hand began to shake him awake. "What on earth are you doing all the way up here?"
The messenger groaned, and reluctantly opened his eyes. He opened his mouth to answer the girl, but then stopped cold, staring at her with amazement.
She was about an average height with a slim build that was covered with a simple tan country dress. Her hair, which was a long and straight dark brown, was swept away from her face with what looked like a white handkerchief. Her large eyes were golden brown, with a spark of kindness in them, but also annoyance. In the crook of one arm was a basket almost overflowing with wild herbs and berries. But strangely enough, she also had a wooden katana strapped to her slender waist.
"If you stare long enough, I grow green fur," she said sarcastically, making the man look down to his feet and cough innocently, fighting back the unexpected blush that had crossed his cheeks from the lovely young woman's gaze.
"My apologies, Yoshioka-sama," he said as he rose to his feet, and bowed respectfully. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"I'll survive," she said with a casual shrug. "Now, why were you camped out on my front step?"
He bit his lip nervously, and handed her the oilskin burden that he had been carrying for three months. "I'm looking for a girl that resembles the dead queen exactly, Yoshioka-sama. The king is willing to make such a girl his bride."
Curiously, Haru gently pulled the oilskin away, and stared at the portrait within without so much as changing her expression.
Gravely, she looked up at the messenger, a storm beginning to brew in her dark eyes. "Who put you up to this?" she asked in a low terrible tone, re-wrapping the oilskin around the portrait and giving it back to the man. "Machida? If so, I'll have to reprimand him a little better, next time I see him."
"I don't know anyone named Machida, but the king sent me," the horseman said earnestly. "He's been tearing the kingdom apart, trying to find a girl like you. You won't believe how happy everyone will be to see you at the capital."
"Too bad," she said unsympathetically, firmly grabbing him by the shoulders and easing him away from her door so that she could step inside her house. "I'm already engaged to a fine man, and I will not marry anyone else."
"But you would become a queen!" the messenger protested, blocking her door from closing.
Without warning, she grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him so close that they were nearly brushing noses. "Do I look like the type to care about riches or rank?" she hissed at him.
He couldn't speak. The hold of her eyes was too great, and he could almost see flames dancing inside of them. His heart felt like it was stopping from fear.
"Exactly," she spat, throwing him to the ground with one hand easily. "Now leave immediately, or I'll have to send you back to the king in pieces. Go!" she barked, sending the man scrambling to his feet and running for his grazing horse. He mounted it one-handed, since he was still gripping the queen's portrait, and urged his horse into a run back down the mountain path.
Haru smiled grimly in satisfaction, and closed the door firmly.
ooOoo
"Wow," Hiromi giggled as the messenger stumbled into the tavern again, and collapsed into a chair. "You're still in one piece. She must have been in a really good mood today."
"That's a good mood?" he whispered in horror, wishing that he could hide behind his mother's skirts like a child. "She… she was…"
"She's actually pretty nice, when you get to know her," Hiromi said conversationally, setting a foaming tankard of beer in the man's hands professionally. "But Humbert's death has made her more than a little hostile to anyone that tries to pay court to her. I wouldn't be shocked in the least if a hundred years from now, the descendants of villagers right now will claim to see her spirit standing at the wharf, forever waiting for Humbert to return to her. It's such a shame. They made such a wonderful couple," Hiromi said softly, using a corner of her homespun apron to dab at her tearing eyes regretfully.
"So, she plans on staying in that lonely cottage until she dies, waiting for a ghost to return and marry her?" the messenger asked incredulously.
"Yes," the bar maid sadly, sitting across from the man. "I've tried telling her that her longing for Humbert isn't healthy, and that she desperately needs to move on with her life, but she refuses to listen to me. She'd sooner die than forget about Humbert."
"What was this Humbert like, anyway?" the dark-clad man asked curiously. "He must have been pretty impressive, for her to be so devoted to his memory."
"I don't know about impressive, but…" Hiromi sighed, trying to think of a way to put the blonde boy from her memories into words. "I didn't really know him all that well. He didn't like talking to anyone but Haru, although he was always polite to everyone. His parents were dead, but as far as I could tell, he considered her family to be his, since he was her father's ward and they had grown up together. The only reason he left for sea was that he didn't want her reputation to suffer when they left childhood behind, and he wanted to make enough money to provide a good life for Haru. She still blames herself for not stopping him, or at least not encouraging him to go any direction but the sea. I'd love for Humbert to come back, if nothing else than to make her smile again, but I know better. It's been six years, and there's been no sign of him. He has to be dead, wouldn't you say?"
"One would think," the man said softly, his own eyes melancholy. "If I had a girl like that, I probably wouldn't have been able to stay away from her longer than a year, or at least send a letter every now and again."
"Exactly," Hiromi agreed sadly. "And no one will ever be able to love Haru more than Humbert did."
The messenger sighed sadly. 'As sad as this is, it won't please the king.' His resolve became stiffened, knowing what it was that he had to do. "Hiromi, is there some place in town where I can purchase paper and ink?"
"Yes," Hiromi said, and then gave him the directions for the general store. "Did you need to write a letter?"
'No, but I'll need them to draw a picture of Miss Yoshioka while she doesn't know I'm watching her. The king may have his faults, but perhaps he can give her the happiness she deserves.'
ooOoo
"No!" the king bellowed at the five girls that were gathered in front of him, making them quake in the fancy dresses that had been provided for them to appear before the unstable monarch. "None of these girls look a thing like my wife! Tell them to return home!"
The young women immediately ran out of the room, scarcely taking the trouble to hide their relief until they were out of the king's line of vision.
Luckily, the king wasn't paying attention to them anymore. He stared out of a window pensively, beginning to wonder if there really was a girl somewhere that looked like his dead wife. He sighed, wondering if the proclamation was really such a good idea, after all.
"Your majesty," Natori said respectfully as he entered the room from a side entrance silently. "A messenger's returned."
"Does he have a girl with him?" the king asked angrily.
"No-"
"Then send him back out the walls!" the old monarch ordered, turning back to his window to sulk.
"But he claims to have information on the girl you wish to marry."
The king looked at his advisor grumpily. "Do you think he's telling the truth?" he asked bluntly.
"There is but one way to find out, my king," the kimono-clad old man said gently.
The senile monarch growled angrily. "All right. Send him in."
Natori nodded, and waved a hand at one of the servants, who in turn opened a small door to beckon to the man waiting on the other side.
The messenger was solidly built, with a military bearing as he marched up to his king, and bowed low. "Your majesty," he said with respect.
"What do you have to offer that can persuade me not to throw you in the dungeon?" the monarch demanded angrily. "I remember specifically saying that you needed to bring a girl back, not news of her."
"Forgive me, my king," the man said apologetically as he eased a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket, and offered it to the royal. "This was all I could bring back to you."
A little curious, the king grabbed the paper, and unfolded it to behold its contents.
His already huge eyes became bigger as a thunderous gasp was heard from Natori who had been sneaking a peak over his monarch's shoulder.
"How do I know this isn't a drawing of my wife in a peasant dress?" the king demanded of his strangely calm messenger.
"Because I can show you where to find that girl. She's the daughter of one of your more famous samurais, Hasho Yoshioka."
The king looked up sharply, his face contorting with concentration. "Yes… he made mention of a little girl before he died of some pestilence on a remote mountain somewhere."
"She's grown up now, but I'm afraid there's bad news, my king," the horseman said apologetically. "Miss Haru Yoshioka is engaged to a sailor that disappeared six years ago, and she doesn't appreciate the efforts of anyone that tries to make her forget about that commitment. She doesn't find the prospect of becoming a queen all that appealing, sire," the messenger added nervously with a shudder, remembering that terribly angry look in her eyes just before she had ordered him off her property. He was still suffering from nightmares of that experience.
The king grinned greasily, signaling for Natori to call a captain. "I bet I can change that tune of hers."