“Ah, so you do answer back!” she said with a laugh. “And don’t you dare apologize for doing it.”

She seemed pleased.

The streets of Sakura were lined with stalls that offered a bewildering range of goods: fruit, sacks of rice and millet; rolls of rich silks; slices of candied yams and steaming bowls of tea; incense and ink blocks.

Takeko wanted to see everything, and Jimmu had trouble keeping up with her as she darted from stall to stall. Eventually she bought a lacquered paper box as a gift for her father, and for herself, a small horse carved in red jade.

Jimmu was enchanted by the changing expressions on Takeko’s face, and her infectious laughter. For a while, he was able to forget that he was her servant.

The hours passed quickly. After eating at a stall that sold hot soba noodles and seafood, it was time to leave.

As they walked along the crowded street toward the spot where the horses were tethered, Jimmu lost his footing and collided with a richly dressed samurai, who flew into a rage.

“You idiot!” shouted the samurai. “Don’t you have any control over yourself?”

Jimmu was irritated by the man’s bullying tone, but kept his temper.

“I apologize for my clumsiness, sir,” he said.

A knot of people had gathered, hoping to see a sword fight.

The samurai enjoyed the attention, and played up to his audience.

“I’m not sure that your apology is sufficient!” he blustered. “Contact with you has sullied my clothing. I see you’re wearing a sword. Is it for show, or do you know how to use it?”

The onlookers sidled backwards to get themselves out of harm’s way.

The samurai’s insulting question was a challenge, and a few months earlier Jimmu would have risen to it, but he had Takeko to think of, so he exercised the restraint that Captain Muraki had recommended.

“Yes, sir, I know how to use my sword. I also know when to use it, and now is not the time,” he said. “Kindly allow my mistress and me to leave in peace.”

The samurai felt less sure of himself. He sensed the confidence that underlay Jimmu’s calm politeness.

“Very well,” he said. “You may count yourself lucky that I’m in a forgiving mood today.”

The samurai continued down the street.

“You could have killed him,” Takeko murmured.

“Perhaps,” said Jimmu. “But I’m here to guard you, not fight duels.”

Takeko smiled mischievously. “You always manage to surprise me, Jimmu, but one day I’ll uncover your secret.”

Jimmu felt an icy stab of alarm.

“My secret?” he gasped.

“Everybody has secrets,” said Takeko.

Jimmu relaxed.

“And what’s yours?” he inquired.

“Ah, wouldn’t you like to know!” said Takeko.