Indignation appeared on their faces. Reiko said, “Not even after what Lord Matsudaira did to my son?”

“And to my mother?” Masahiro said.

“It’s not the time for me to challenge Lord Matsudaira in battle,” Sano said. “His troops outnumber mine by too many.”

Sano’s army had shrunk drastically since last autumn. He’d come home from Ezogashima to discover that he’d lost entire regiments during his absence. Without Sano here to keep them in line and their morale up, Lord Matsudaira had easily won them over. That was just as Lord Matsudaira had planned when he’d kidnapped Masahiro, and Sano had gone to Ezogashima to rescue his son.

“And I can’t afford to run a war for more than a few months.” Sano had also lost key allies among the daimyo, the feudal lords he’d counted on to fund a military venture.

“It can’t be that bad,” Reiko said. “You still have many allies.” She named some, all wealthy, powerful daimyo with large armies. “You can win.”

“Let’s declare war!” Masahiro’s face shone with zeal and confidence in Sano. “You’re not afraid of Lord Matsudaira.”

Sano dreaded the day when he would see Masahiro begin to doubt him. Now he needed to give Masahiro a lesson as difficult to teach as to learn.

“Of course I’m afraid,” Sano said, even though he hated admitting fear. “A samurai who isn’t afraid of a dangerous enemy isn’t a hero; he’s a fool.” More and more often, Sano heard his own father’s words coming out of his mouth. “A truly courageous samurai masters his fear.”

Impatient, hardly listening, Masahiro jumped up and paced back and forth, Reiko’s habit when excited. “I’ll ride into battle with you. Together we’ll defeat Lord Matsudaira.”

Sano ached with pride in his son’s spirit. Reiko looked aghast. “You can’t go to battle. You’re not even fifteen yet!”

Fifteen was the age at which samurai boys officially became adults, when the forelock that Masahiro wore tied above his brow would be shaved during his manhood ceremony.