Brilliance of the Moon

by Lian Hearn

  “Lord Otori,” Kahei said. He leaped back in the saddle and galloped off down the line.

  “Forgive me, Takeo,” Makoto said quietly.

  “Next time I’ll kill you,” I said. “Give me your horse.”

  I rode along the lines of waiting soldiers, repeating the command. “Don’t be afraid of pollution,” I told them. “I have already crossed the bridge. If there is any pollution, let it fall on me.” I had moved into a state that was almost exalted. I did not think anything in heaven or on earth could harm me.

  With a mighty shout, the first warrior rode into the water, and others streamed after him. The first horses were led onto the bridge, and to my relief it held them safely. Once the crossing was under way, I rode back along the line, issuing commands and reassuring the foot soldiers, until I came to where Kaede was waiting with Manami and the other women who accompanied us. Manami had brought rain umbrellas and they stood huddled beneath them. Amano held the horses alongside them. Kaede’s face lit up when she saw me. Her hair was glistening with rain, and drops clung to her eyelashes.

  I dismounted and gave the reins to Amano.

  “What happened to Aoi?” he asked, recognizing this horse as Makoto’s.

  “He’s hurt, I don’t know how badly. He’s on the other side of the river. We swam across.” I wanted to tell Amano how brave the horse had been, but there was no time now.

  “We are going to cross the river,” I told the women. “The outcasts built a bridge.”

  Kaede said nothing, watching me, but Manami immediately opened her mouth to complain.

  I put up my hand to silence her. “There is no alternative. You are to do what I say.” I repeated what I had told the men: that any pollution would fall on me alone.

  “Lord Otori,” she muttered, giving the minimum bob of her head and glancing out of the corner of her eye. I resisted the urge to strike her, though I felt she deserved it.

  “Am I to ride?” Kaede said.

  “No, it’s very unstable. Better to walk. I’ll swim your horse across.”

  Amano would not hear of it. “There are plenty of grooms to do that,” he said, looking at my soaked, muddy armor.

  “Let one of them come with me now,” I said. “He can take Raku and bring an extra horse for me. I must get back to the other side.” I had not forgotten the man I’d seen scuttling away. If he had gone to alert others of our arrival, I wanted to be there to confront them.

  “Bring Shun for Lord Otori,” Amano shouted to one of the grooms. The man came up to us on a small bay horse and took Raku’s reins. I said a brief farewell to Kaede, asking her to make sure the packhorse carrying the chest of records made the crossing safely, and mounted Makoto’s horse again. We cantered back along the line of soldiers, which was now moving quite quickly onto the bridge. About two hundred were already across, and Kahei was organizing them into small groups, each with its own leader.

  Makoto was waiting for me by the water’s edge. I gave him his horse back and held Raku while he and the groom rode into the river. I watched the bay horse, Shun. He went fearlessly into the water, swimming strongly and calmly as if it were the sort of thing he did every day. The groom returned over the bridge and took Raku from me.

  While they swam across, I joined the men on the floating bridge.

  They scrambled across like the rats in Hagi Harbor, spending as little time on the soggy mass as possible. I imagined few of them knew how to swim. Some of them greeted me, and one or two touched me on the shoulder as if I would ward off evil and bring good luck. I encouraged them as much as I could, joking about the hot baths and excellent food we’d get in Maruyama. They seemed in good spirits, though we all knew that Maruyama lay a long way ahead.

  On the other side I told the groom to wait with Raku for Kaede. I mounted Shun. He was on the small side, and not a handsome horse, but there was something about him I liked. Telling the warriors to follow, I rode ahead with Makoto. I particularly wanted bowmen with us, and two groups of thirty were ready. I told them to conceal themselves behind the dike and wait for my signal.

  Jin-emon’s body still lay by the barrier, and the whole place was silent, apparently deserted.

  “Was this something to do with you?” Makoto said, looking with disgust at the huge body and the display of heads.

  “I’ll tell you later. He had a companion who got away. I suspect he’ll be back with more men. Kahei said this area was full of bandits. The dead man must have been making people pay to use the bridge; if they refused, he took their heads.”

  Makoto dismounted to take a closer look. “Some of these are warriors,” he said, “and young men too. We should take his head in payment.” He drew his sword.

  “Don’t,” I warned. “He has bones of granite. You’ll damage the blade.”

  He gave me an incredulous look and did not say anything, but in one swift movement slashed across the neck. His sword snapped with an almost human sound. There were gasps of astonishment and dread from the men around us. Makoto gazed at the broken blade in dismay, then looked shamefaced at me.

  “Forgive me,” he said again. “I should have listened to you.”

  My rage ignited. I drew my own sword, my vision turning red in the old, familiar way. How could I protect my men if they did not obey me? Makoto had ignored my advice in front of these soldiers. He deserved to die for it. I almost lost control and cut him down where he stood, but at that moment I heard the sound of horses’ hooves in the distance, reminding me I had other, real enemies.

  “He was a demon, less than human,” I said to Makoto. “You had no way of knowing. You’ll have to fight using your bow.”

  I made a sign to the men around us to be silent. They stood as if turned to stone; not even the horses moved. The rain had lessened to a fine drizzle. In the fading misty light we looked like an army of ghosts.

  I listened to the bandits approach, splashing through the wet landscape, and then they appeared out of the mist, over thirty horsemen and as many on foot. They were a motley, ragged band, some obviously masterless warriors with good horses and what had once been fine armor, others the riffraff left behind after ten years of war: escapees from harsh masters on estates or in silver mines; thieves; lunatics; murderers. I recognized the man who’d fled from the hovel; he was running at the stirrup of the leading horse. As the band came to a halt, throwing up mud and spray, he pointed to me and screamed, again something unintelligible.

  The rider called, “Who is it who murdered our friend and companion, Jin-emon?”

  I answered, “I am Otori Takeo. I am leading my men to Maruyama. Jin-emon attacked me for no reason. He paid for it. Let us through or you will pay the same price.”

  “Go back to where you came from,” he replied with a snarl. “We hate the Otori here.”

  The men around him jeered. He spat on the ground and swung his sword above his head. I raised my hand in signal to the bowmen.

  Immediately the sound of arrows filled the air; it is a fearful noise, the hiss and clack of the shafts, the dull thunk as they hit living flesh, the screams of the wounded. But I had no time to reflect on it then, for the leader urged his horse forward and galloped toward me, his sword arm stretched above his head.

  His horse was bigger than Shun, and his reach longer than mine. Shun’s ears were forward, his eyes calm. Just before the bandit struck, my horse made a leap to the side and turned almost in midair so I could slash my adversary from behind, opening up his neck and shoulder as he hit out vainly at where I had been.

  He was no demon or ogre but all too human. His human blood spurted red. His horse galloped on while he swayed in the saddle, and then he fell suddenly sideways to the ground.

  Shun, meanwhile, still completely calm, had spun back to meet the next attacker. This man had no helmet and Jato split his head in two, spattering blood, brains, and bone. The smell of blood was all around us, mixed with rain and mud. As more and more of our warriors came up to join the fray, the bandits were complet
ely overwhelmed. Those who still lived tried to flee, but we rode after them and cut them down. Rage had been rising steadily in me all day and had been set alight by Makoto’s disobedience; it found its release in this brief, bloody skirmish. I was furious at the delay that these lawless, foolish men had caused us, and I was deeply satisfied that they had all paid for it. It was not much of a battle, but we won it decisively, giving ourselves a taste of blood and victory.

  We had three men dead and two others wounded. Later, four deaths by drowning were reported to me. One of Kahei’s companions, Shibata from the Otori clan, knew a little about herbs and healing, and he cleaned and treated the wounds. Kahei rode ahead to the town to see what he could find in the way of shelter, at least for the women, and Makoto and I organized the rest of the force to move on more slowly. He took over command while I went back to the river where the last of the men were crossing the floating bridge.

  Jo-An and his companions were still huddled by the water’s edge. Jo-An stood and came to me. I had a moment’s impulse to dismount and embrace him, but I did not act on it and the moment passed.

  I said, “Thank you, and thanks to all your men. You saved us from disaster.”

  “Not one of them thanked us,” he remarked, gesturing at the men filing past. “Lucky we work for God, not for them.”

  “You’re coming with us, Jo-An?” I said. I did not want them to return across the river, facing who knew what penalties for crossing the border, cutting down trees, helping an outlaw.

  He nodded. He seemed exhausted, and I was filled with compunction. I did not want the outcasts with me—I feared the reaction of my warriors and knew the friction and grumbling their presence would cause—but I could not abandon them here.

  “We must destroy the bridge,” I said, “lest the Otori follow us over it.”

  He nodded again and called to the others. Wearily they got to their feet and began to dismantle the cords that held the rafts in place. I stopped some of the foot soldiers, farmers who had sickles and pruning knives, and ordered them to help the outcasts. Once the ropes were slashed, the rafts gave way. The current immediately swept them into the midstream, where the river set about completing their destruction.

  I watched the muddy water for a moment, called my thanks again to the outcasts, and told them to keep up with the soldiers. Then I went to Kaede.

  She was already mounted on Raku, in the shelter of the trees around the fox shrine. I noticed quickly that Manami was perched on the packhorse with the chest of records strapped behind her, and then I had eyes only for Kaede. Her face was pale, but she sat straight-backed on the little gray, watching the army file past with a slight smile on her lips. In this rough setting she, whom I had mainly seen restrained and subdued in elegant surroundings, looked happy.

  As soon as I saw her, I was seized by the fiercest desire to hold her. I thought I would die if I did not sleep with her soon. I had not expected this and I was ashamed of how I felt. I thought I should have been concerned with her safety instead; moreover, I was the leader of an army: I had a thousand men to worry about. My aching desire for my wife embarrassed me and made me almost shy of her.

  She saw me and rode toward me. The horses whickered at each other. Our knees touched. As our heads bent toward each other, I caught her jasmine scent.

  “The road’s clear now,” I said. “We can ride on.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Bandits, I suppose.” I spoke briefly, not wanting to bring the blood and the dying into this place where Kaede was. “Kahei has gone ahead to find you somewhere to sleep tonight.”

  “I’ll sleep outside if I can lie with you,” she said in a low voice. “I have never felt freedom before, but today, on the journey, in the rain, in all its difficulties, I have felt free.”

  Our hands touched briefly, then I rode on with Amano, talking to him about Shun. My eyes were hot and I wanted to conceal my emotion.

  “I’ve never ridden a horse like him before. It’s as if he knows what I’m thinking.”

  Amano’s eyes creased as he smiled. “I wondered if you would like him. Someone brought him to me a couple of weeks ago; my guess is he was either stolen or picked up after his owner was killed. I can’t imagine anyone getting rid of him voluntarily. He’s the smartest horse I’ve ever known. The black’s more showy—good for making an impression—but I know which one I’d rather be on in a fight.” He grinned at me. “Lord Otori is lucky with horses. Some people are. It’s like a gift; good animals come to you.”

  “Let’s hope it augurs well for the future,” I replied.

  We passed the hovel. The dead were laid out in rows along the dike. I was thinking that I should leave some men to burn or bury the corpses when there was a disturbance ahead, and one of Kahei’s men came through on his horse, shouting at the soldiers to let him pass, calling my name.

  “Lord Otori!” he said, reining in his horse just in front of us. “You’re wanted up ahead. Some farmers have come to speak with you.”

  Ever since we’d crossed the river, I’d been wondering where the local people were. Even though the rice fields were flooded, there was no sign of their having been planted. Weeds choked the irrigation channels, and though in the distance I could see the steep thatched roofs of farmhouses, no smoke rose from them and there was no sign or sound of human activity. The landscape seemed cursed and empty. I imagined that Jin-emon and his band had intimidated, driven away, or murdered all the farmers and villagers. It seemed news of his death had traveled fast, and had now brought some of them out from hiding.

  I cantered up through the file. The men called out to me, seeming cheerful; some were even singing. They were apparently unworried by the coming night, apparently had complete faith in my ability to find them food and shelter.

  At the front of the army, Makoto had called a halt. A group of farmers were squatting on their heels in the mud. When I reached them and dismounted, they threw themselves forward.

  Makoto said, “They’ve come to thank us. The bandits have been terrorizing this area for nearly twelve months. They’ve been unable to plant this spring for fear of them. The ogre killed many of their sons and brothers, and many of their women have been abducted.”

  “Sit up,” I said to them. “I am Otori Takeo.”

  They sat up, but as soon as I spoke my name they bowed again. “Sit up,” I repeated. “Jin-emon is dead.” Down they went again. “You may do with his body what you wish. Retrieve your relatives’ remains and bury them honorably.” I paused. I wanted to ask them for food but feared they had so little, I would be condemning them to death by starvation once we had moved on.

  The oldest among them, obviously the headman, spoke hesitantly. “Lord, what can we do for you? We would feed your men, but they are so many. . . .”

  “Bury the dead and you owe us nothing,” I replied. “But we must find shelter tonight. What can you tell us about the nearest town?”

  “They will welcome you there,” he said. “Kibi is an hour or so away on foot. We have a new lord, one of Lord Arai’s men. He has sent warriors against the bandits many times this year, but they have always been defeated. The last time his two sons were killed by Jin-emon, as was my eldest son. This is his brother, Jiro. Take him with you, Lord Otori.”

  Jiro was a couple of years younger than I was, painfully thin, but with an intelligent face beneath the rain-streaked dirt.

  “Come here, Jiro,” I said to him, and he got to his feet and stood by the bay’s head. It smelled him carefully as if inspecting him. “Do you like horses?”

  He nodded, too overwhelmed by my addressing him directly to speak.

  “If your father can spare you, you may come with me to Maruyama.” I thought he could join Amano’s grooms.

  “We should press on now,” Makoto said at my elbow.

  “We have brought what we could,” the farmer said, and made a gesture to the other men. They lowered their sacks and baskets from their shoulders and took out scant offerin
gs of food: cakes made from millet, fern shoots and other wild greens cut from the mountain, a few tiny salted plums, and some withered chestnuts. I did not want to take them, but I felt to refuse would be to dishonor the farmers. I organized two soldiers to gather up the food and bring the sacks with them.

  “Bid your father farewell,” I said to Jiro, and saw the older man’s face working suddenly to fight back tears. I regretted my offer to take the boy, not only because it was one more life to be responsible for, but also because I was depriving his father of his help in restoring the neglected fields.

  “I’ll send him back from the town.”

  “No!” both father and son exclaimed together, the boy’s face reddening.

  “Let him go with you,” the father pleaded. “Our family used to be warriors. My grandparents took to farming rather than starve. If Jiro serves you, maybe he can become a warrior again and restore our family name.”

  “He would do better to stay here and restore the land,” I replied. “But if it is truly what you want, he may come with us.”

  I sent the lad back to help Amano with the horses we had acquired from the bandits, telling him to come back to me when he was mounted. I was wondering what had happened to Aoi, whom I had not set eyes on since I’d left him with Jo-An; it seemed like days ago. Makoto and I rode knee by knee at the head of our tired but cheerful army.

  “It’s been a good day, a good start,” he said. “You have done exceptionally well, despite my idiocy.”

  I remembered my earlier fury against him. It seemed to have evaporated completely now.

  “Let’s forget it. Would you describe that as a battle?”

  “For unfledged men it was a battle,” he replied. “And a victory. Since you won it, you can describe it however you like.”

  Three left to win, one to lose, I thought, and then almost immediately wondered if that was how a prophecy worked. Could I choose to apply it how it pleased me? I began to see what a powerful and dangerous thing it was: how it would influence my life whether I believed it or not. The words had been spoken to me, I had heard them, I would never be able to wipe them from my memory. Yet I could not quite commit myself to believing in them blindly.