Brilliance of the Moon

by Lian Hearn

  Then I called for Shun and went out for a ride on him to clear my head, stretch his legs before taking him on another hard journey, and look at the state of the land.

  About half the rice harvest was in, the farmers working day and night to get the rice cut before the weather changed. Those I spoke to were anxious, forecasting an imminent typhoon, citing the halo around the last full moon, the migrating geese, their own aching bones. I organized Sugita’s warriors to lend a hand in strengthening the dikes and banks against floods; no doubt they would complain, but I hoped the sense of crisis would override their pride.

  Finally I found myself, only half-intentionally, on the edge of the hamlet where the outcasts had settled. The usual smell of tanning hides and fresh blood hung over it. Some men, Jo-An among them, were skinning a dead horse. I recognized the bright roan color; it was Hiroshi’s, the one I’d seen dying that morning. I called to Jo-An and dismounted, giving the reins to one of the grooms who’d ridden out with me. I went and stood by the riverbank and Jo-An came and crouched by the water, washing the blood from his hands and arms.

  “You’ve heard the news?”

  He nodded, glanced at me, and said, “What will you do?”

  “What should I do?” I wanted some word from some god. I wanted to hear another prophecy, one that included Kaede, that bound our futures together. I would follow it blindly.

  “There are three more battles,” Jo-An said. “One to lose and two to win. Then you will rule in peace, from sea to sea.”

  “With my wife?”

  He looked away across the water. Two white egrets were fishing near the weir. There was a flash of orange and blue as a kingfisher swooped from a willow. “If you are to lose one battle, you should lose it now,” he said.

  “If I lose my wife, none of it matters to me,” I said. “I would kill myself.”

  “That is forbidden to us,” he replied quickly. “God has his plan for your life. All you have to do is follow it.”

  When I did not reply, he went on: “It matters to us who have left everything for you. It matters to those in the Otori lands who suffer now. We can bear war if peace comes from it. Don’t abandon us.”

  Standing by the peaceful river in the evening light, I thought that if I did not get her back, my heart would break utterly. A gray heron came flying slowly over the surface of the water, just above its own reflection. It folded its huge wings and landed with the slightest of splashes. It turned its head toward us, watching us, then, satisfied that we posed no danger to it, began to stalk silently through the shallows.

  My real goal was to avenge Shigeru’s death completely and take up my inheritance. Then the prophecy would be fulfilled. But it was impossible for me to let anyone take Kaede from me without resistance. I could do nothing but go after her, even if it meant throwing away everything I had struggled for.

  I bade farewell to Jo-An and rode back to the castle. Word had come that Hiroshi was awake and improving in health. I asked for him to be brought to me shortly. While I was waiting I searched the residence for the box of records but found no trace of it. It was yet another source of concern. I feared it might have been stolen, which would mean the Tribe had penetrated the castle once and could do so again.

  Hiroshi came to me just before nightfall. He was pale, with dark hollows under his eyes, but otherwise he had made a swift recovery. Physically and mentally he was as tough as a full-grown man. I questioned him about every detail of the journey and made him describe the terrain around Shirakawa and Fujiwara’s residence. He told me how Raku had been killed, and the news saddened me deeply. The black-maned gray horse was the first I had mastered, a link with Shigeru and my brief life as his son in Hagi. Raku had been my gift to Kaede when I had nothing else to give her, and he had brought her to Terayama.

  I’d sent everyone else away so I could speak in private to Hiroshi, and now I told him to move closer.

  “Promise you will tell no one what we speak of next.”

  “I swear it,” he said, adding impulsively, “Lord Otori, I already owe you my life. I’ll do anything to help rescue Lady Otori.”

  “We will rescue her,” I said. “I leave tomorrow.”

  “Take me with you,” he begged.

  I was tempted to, but I did not think he was well enough. “No, you are to stay here.”

  He looked as if he would protest, but thought better of it and bit his lip.

  “The records my wife was copying—did she take them with her?”

  He whispered, “We took both the originals and the copies. We hid them at Shirakawa in the sacred caves.”

  I blessed Kaede in my heart for her wisdom and foresight. “Does anyone else know this?”

  He shook his head.

  “And you could find them again?”

  “Of course.”

  “You must never tell anyone where they are. Someday we will make a trip together to retrieve them.”

  “Then we can punish Shoji,” he said gleefully. After a moment he added, “Lord Otori, may I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “The day my father died, the men who killed the guards made themselves unseen in some way. Can you do that?”

  “Why do you ask? Do you think I can?”

  “The women in the room today were saying that you were a sorcerer—forgive me. But you can do many strange things, like making me sleep.” He looked at me, frowning. “It was no ordinary sleep; I saw vivid dreams and understood things I’d never known before. If you can make yourself invisible, will you teach me how?”

  “Some things cannot be taught,” I said. “They are talents that are born in you. You already have many skills and you have had the best of upbringings.”

  Something I said made his eyes suddenly fill with tears. “They told me Jiro was dead.”

  “Yes, he was killed by an assassin who was aiming at me.”

  “And you killed the assassin?”

  “I had him put to death, but he was already dying. He bit off his own tongue.”

  Hiroshi’s eyes gleamed. I wanted to explain something of my pain at Hajime’s death and Jiro’s, my revulsion at the endless cycle of bloodshed and revenge, but I did not think this warrior’s son would be capable of understanding it, even after the Kikuta sleep, and I wanted to ask something else of him.

  “Do many people believe I am a sorcerer?”

  “Some whisper about it,” he admitted. “Mostly women, and idiots.”

  “I am afraid of disloyalty in the castle. That’s why I want to leave you here. If you think there is any danger that Maruyama will side with Arai when I am gone, send word to me.”

  Hiroshi stared at me. “No one here would be disloyal to Lord Otori.”

  “I wish I could be as certain.”

  “I’ll ride and find you myself,” he promised.

  “Just make sure you take a quiet horse,” I told him.

  I sent him back to his uncle’s house and ordered food to be brought. Makoto returned with a report on the preparations; everything was ready for our early departure. However, after the meal he tried again to dissuade me.

  “It’s utter madness,” he said. “I won’t say another word after tonight, and I’ll go with you, but to attack a nobleman whose betrothed you stole . . .”

  “We were legally married,” I said. “He is the one who has committed an act of madness.”

  “Didn’t I warn you at Terayama how such a marriage would be viewed by the world? It was your own rashness that has led to this, and it will lead to your downfall if you persist in it.”

  “Can you be sure you weren’t motivated by jealousy then as you are now? You’ve always resented my love for Kaede.”

  “Only because it will destroy you both,” he replied quietly. “Your passion blinds you to everything. You were in the wrong. It would be better to submit to that and try to make your peace with Arai. Don’t forget, he is probably holding the Miyoshi brothers as hostages. Attacking Lord Fujiwara will onl
y enrage him further. . . .”

  “Don’t give me such advice!” I said in fury. “Submit to having my wife taken from me? The whole world would despise me. I would rather die!”

  “We probably all will,” he replied. “I am sorry I have to say these things to you, Takeo, but it is my duty to. However, I have told you many times that your cause is mine and I will follow you no matter what you choose to do.”

  I was too angry to continue talking to him. I told him I wanted to be alone and called to Manami. She came in, her eyes red with weeping, and took away the food trays and spread out the bed. I took a bath, thinking it might be the last for some time. I did not want to stop being angry, for when my rage abated, grief and something worse—apprehension—took its place. I wanted to stay in the intense, dark mood of my Kikuta side that made me fearless. One of Matsuda’s teachings came into my mind: If one fights desperately, he will survive. If he tries to survive, he will die.

  The time had come to fight desperately, for if I lost Kaede, I lost everything.

  Manami was even more distressed in the morning, sobbing uncontrollably as she said good-bye and setting off the other maids too. But the mood among the men and in the streets was cheerful, with many townspeople flocking out to shout and wave at us as we rode past. I took only warriors, mainly the Otori and the others who had been with me since Terayama, leaving the farmers to finish bringing in the harvest and to protect their own houses and the town. Most of the Maruyama men stayed to defend the castle, but a few came with us to act as guides and scouts.

  I had about five hundred warriors on horseback and perhaps another five hundred bowmen, some mounted and some on foot. The rest were foot soldiers armed with poles and spears. There was a train of packhorses, as well as porters, carrying provisions. I was proud of how quickly my army had been mustered and equipped.

  We had not gone far and were about to ford the Asagawa, where we had inflicted such a huge defeat on Iida Nariaki, when I became aware that Jo-An and a handful of outcasts were following us. After the river we took the south road toward Shirakawa. I had never traveled on that road before, but I knew it would take us two days at least to reach Kaede’s home, and Makoto had told me Fujiwara’s residence lay a short distance farther to the south.

  When we stopped for the midday meal, I went to speak to Jo-An, aware as I did so of the glances the men sent in my direction. I set my ears to catch any comments, determined I would punish anyone who muttered anything, but no one dared.

  Jo-An prostrated himself at my feet and I told him to sit up. “Why have you come?”

  He gave a smile that was more like a grimace, showing his broken teeth. “To bury the dead.”

  It was a chilling reply, and one I did not want to hear.

  “The weather is changing,” Jo-An went on, gazing at a mass of high cloud spreading like horses’ tails across the sky from the west. “A typhoon is coming.”

  “Don’t you have any good news for me?”

  “God always has good news for you,” he replied. “I am to remind you of that afterward.”

  “Afterward?”

  “After the battle you lose.”

  “Maybe I won’t lose it!” Indeed I could not imagine it, with my men so fresh and eager and my own rage burning so powerfully within me.

  Jo-An said no more but his lips moved silently, and I knew he was praying.

  Makoto also seemed to be praying as we rode on, or was in that state of meditation that monks achieve. He looked serene and withdrawn, as if he had already cut his ties with this world. I hardly spoke to him, as I was still angry with him, but we rode side by side as we had so often done before. Whatever his doubts about this campaign, I knew he would not leave me, and little by little, soothed by the rhythm of the horses’ feet, my rage against him abated.

  The sky gradually clouded over with a darker tinge on the horizon. It was unnaturally still. We made camp that night outside a small town; in the early hours of the morning it began to rain. By midday it was a downpour, slowing our progress and dampening our spirits. Still, I kept telling myself, there was no wind. We could cope with a little rain. Makoto was less optimistic, fearing we would be held up at the Shirakawa, which was prone to sudden flooding in this weather.

  But we never got to the Shirakawa. As we neared the limits of the Maruyama domain I sent scouts ahead. They returned in the late afternoon to say they had spotted a medium-size force, perhaps twelve or fifteen hundred strong, setting up camp on the plain ahead. The banners were Seishuu, but they had also seen Lord Fujiwara’s crest.

  “He has come out to meet us,” I said to Makoto. “He knew what my reaction would be.”

  “He almost certainly is not here in person,” Makoto replied. “But he would be able to command any number of allies. As I feared, they have set a trap for you. Your reaction would not be hard to guess.”

  “We will attack them at dawn.” I was relieved the army was so small. I was not at all intimidated by Fujiwara; what I feared was a confrontation with Arai and some of the thirty thousand men he had under arms. The last I’d heard of Arai was that he was at Inuyama, far away in the east of the Three Countries. But I’d had no news of his activities all summer; he could be back in Kumamoto for all I knew, less than a day’s journey from Shirakawa.

  I questioned the scouts closely about the terrain. One of them, Sakai, knew the area well, having grown up there. He considered it to be a fair battleground, or would be in better weather. It was a small plain, flanked to the South and East by mountain ranges but open on the other sides. There was a pass to the South, through which our enemies had presumably come, and a broad valley led away to the North, eventually to the coast road. The road we had traveled on from Maruyama joined this valley a couple of miles before the first rocky outcrops of the plain.

  There was little water in these uplands, which was why they were uncultivated. Horses grazed on their wild grasses and were gathered together once a year in the autumn. In early spring the grass was burned off. Sakai told me that Lady Maruyama used to come hawking here when she was younger, and we saw several eagles hunting for food before the sun set.

  The valley to our rear reassured me. If we should need it, it was a way of retreat. I did not plan to retreat and I did not want to have to fall back to the castle town. My aim was only to go forward, to crush whoever stood in my way, regain my wife, and wipe out the terrible insult of her abduction. However, I had been taught by Matsuda never to advance without knowing how I would retreat, and for all my rage I was not going to sacrifice my men unnecessarily.

  No night ever seemed so long. The rain lessened a little, and by dawn it was no more than a drizzle, raising my spirits. We rose in the dark and began to march as soon as it was light, unfurling the Otori banners but not yet sounding the conches.

  Just before the end of the valley I ordered a halt. Taking Sakai with me, I went on foot, under cover of the trees, to the edge of the plain. It stretched away to the Southeast in a series of small rounded hillocks covered in long grass and wildflowers, broken by outcrops of strangely shaped gray-white rocks, many of them splashed with yellow and orange lichen.

  The rain had made the ground beneath our feet muddy and slippery, and mist hung in swaths above the plain. It was hard to see more than a couple of hundred paces; yet I could hear our enemy clearly: the neighing of horses, the shouts of men, the creaking and jingling of harnesses.

  “How far did you go last night?” I whispered to Sakai.

  “Just over the first ridge; not much farther than this. Their scouts were also about.”

  “They must know we’re here. Why haven’t they attacked already?” I would have expected them to ambush us at the head of the valley; the sounds I heard were those of an army in readiness but not on the move.

  “Perhaps they don’t want to give up the advantage of the slope,” he suggested.

  It was true that the slope was in their favor, but it was not particularly steep and gave no huge advantage. The
mist bothered me more, as it was impossible to see exactly how many men we faced. I crouched in silence for a few moments, listening. Beyond the drip of the rain and the sighing of the trees I could hear both armies equally . . . or could I? From the enemy the noise seemed to grow in volume like the surge of the sea.

  “You saw fifteen hundred at the most?”

  “Closer to twelve hundred,” Sakai replied. “I’d bet on it.”

  I shook my head. Maybe the weather, sleeplessness, apprehension, were causing me unnecessary alarm. Maybe my hearing was playing tricks on me. However, when we returned to the main force, I called Makoto and the captains and told them I feared we might be hopelessly outnumbered, in which case we would immediately retreat on the signal from the conch shell.

  “Do we pull back to Maruyama?” Makoto asked.

  This had been one of my plans, but I needed an alternative. It was what my enemies would expect me to do, and for all I knew they might have already attacked the castle town, in which case I would find myself truly trapped. I took Makoto aside and said, “If Arai has come out against us, too, we cannot stand and fight. Our only hope is to retreat to the coast and get the Terada to transport us to Oshima. If we start to retreat, I want you to ride ahead and find Ryoma. He must arrange it with Terada Fumio.”

  “They’ll say I was the first to flee,” he protested. “I would prefer to stay by your side.”

  “There is no one else I can send. You know Ryoma and you know the way. Anyway, we will probably all be in flight.”

  He looked at me curiously then. “Do you have a premonition about this encounter? Is this the battle we lose?”

  “Just in case it is, I want to preserve my men,” I replied. “I’ve lost so much, I can’t afford to lose them too. After all, there are still two to win!”

  He smiled; we clasped hands briefly. I rode back to the head of the troops and gave the signal to advance.

  The mounted bowmen rode forward, followed by the foot soldiers, with warriors on horseback on either flank. As we came out from the valley, at my signal, the bowmen split into two groups and moved to either side. I ordered the foot soldiers to halt before they came into range of the opposing archers.