by Lian Hearn
THE STORM LASHED the village for three or four days. Before Kondo returned, another message came, from a Muto girl who worked in Lord Fujiwara’s residence in the South. It was brief and tantalizing, telling them none of the details they wanted to know, written in haste, and apparently in some danger, saying only that Shirakawa Kaede was in the house and was married to Fujiwara.
“What have they done to her now?” Kenji said, shaken out of his grief by anger.
“We always knew the marriage with Takeo would be opposed,” Shizuka said. “I imagine Fujiwara and Arai have arranged this between them. Lord Fujiwara wanted to marry her before she left in the spring. I’m afraid I encouraged her to become close to him.”
She pictured Kaede imprisoned within the luxurious residence, remembered the nobleman’s cruelty, and wished she had acted differently.
“I don’t know what’s happened to me,” she said to her uncle. “I used to be indifferent to all these things. Now I find I care deeply; I’m outraged and horrified, and filled with pity for them both.”
“Since I first set eyes on her I’ve been moved by Lady Shirakawa’s plight,” he replied. “It’s hard not to pity her even more now.”
“What will Takeo do?” Shizuka wondered aloud.
“He will go to war,” Kenji predicted. “And almost certainly be defeated. It may be too late for us to make peace with him.”
Shizuka saw her uncle’s grief descend on him again. She was afraid he would indeed follow his daughter into death and tried to make sure he was never left alone.
Another week passed before Kondo finally returned. The weather had cleared and Shizuka had walked to the shrine to pray again to the war god to protect Takeo. She bowed to the image and stood, clapped her hands three times, asking also, helplessly, that Kaede might be rescued. As she turned to walk away, Taku came shimmering out of invisibility in front of her.
“Ha!” he said in triumph. “You didn’t hear me that time!”
She was astonished, for she had neither heard him nor discerned him. “Well done!”
Taku grinned. “Kondo Kiichi has returned. He’s waiting for you. Uncle wanted you to hear his news.”
“So make sure you don’t hear it too,” she teased him.
“I like hearing things,” he replied. “I like knowing everyone’s secrets.”
He ran ahead of her up the dusty street, going invisible every time he passed from sunshine to shadow. It’s all a game to him, she thought, as it used to be for me. But at some point in the last year it stopped being a game. Why? What’s happened to me? Is it that I learned fear? The fear of losing the people I love?
Kondo sat with her uncle in the main room of the house. She knelt before them and greeted the man who two months earlier had wanted to marry her. She knew now, seeing him again, that she did not want him. She would make some excuse, plead ill health.
His face was thin and haggard, though his greeting was warm.
“I’m sorry I have been so delayed,” he said. “At one point I did not think I would return at all. I was arrested as soon as I got to Inuyama. The failed attack on you had been reported to Arai, and I was recognized by the men who came with us to Shirakawa. I expected to be put to death. But then a tragedy occurred: There was an outbreak of smallpox. Arai’s son died. When the mourning period was over, he sent for me and questioned me at length about you.”
“Now he is interested in your sons again,” Kenji observed.
“He declared he was in my debt, since I’d saved your life. He wished me to return to his service and offered to confirm me in the warrior rank of my mother’s family and give me a stipend.”
Shizuka glanced at her uncle, but Kenji said nothing.
Kondo went on: “I accepted. I hope that was the right thing to do. Of course, it suits me, being at the moment masterless, but if the Muto family object . . .”
“You may be useful to us there,” Kenji said.
“Lord Arai assumed I knew where you were and asked me to give you the message that he wishes to see his sons, and you, to discuss their formal adoption.”
“Does he want our relationship to resume?” Shizuka asked.
“He wants you to move to Inuyama, as the boys’ mother.” He did not actually say and as his mistress, but Shizuka caught his meaning. Kondo gave no sign of anger or jealousy as he spoke, but the ironic look flashed across his face. Of course, if he were established in the warrior class, he could make a good marriage within it. It was only when he had been masterless that he’d seen a solution in her.
She did not know if she was more angered or amused by his pragmatism. She had no intention of sending her sons to Arai or of ever sleeping with him again or of marrying Kondo. She hoped fervently that Kenji was not going to order her to do any of them.
“All these things must be considered carefully,” her uncle said.
“Yes, of course,” Kondo replied. “Anyway, matters have been complicated by the campaign against Otori Takeo.”
“We’ve been hoping for news of him,” Kenji murmured.
“Arai was enraged by the marriage. He declared it invalid immediately and sent a large contingent of men to Lord Fujiwara. Later in the summer he himself moved to Kumamoto, close enough to strike at Maruyama. The last I heard was that Lady Shirakawa was living in Lord Fujiwara’s house and was married to him. She is in seclusion, virtually imprisoned.” He sniffed loudly and threw his head back. “I know Fujiwara considered himself betrothed to her, but he should not have acted in the way he did. He had her seized by force; several of her men were killed—Amano Tenzo among them, which was a great loss. There was no need for that. Ai and Hana are hostages in Inuyama. Matters could have been negotiated without bloodshed.”
Shizuka felt a pang of sorrow for the two girls. “Did you see them there?”
“No, it was not allowed.”
He seemed genuinely angered on Kaede’s behalf, and Shizuka remembered his unlikely devotion to her.
“And Takeo?” she said.
“It seems Takeo set out against Fujiwara and met Arai’s army. He was forced to retreat. After that it’s all very unclear. There was a huge, early typhoon in the West. Both armies were caught close to the coast. No one really knows yet what the outcome was.”
“If Arai defeats Takeo, what will he do with him?” Shizuka asked.
“That’s what everyone wonders! Some say he will have him executed; some that he wouldn’t dare because of Takeo’s reputation; some that he’ll make an alliance with him against the Otori in Hagi.”
“Close to the coast?” Kenji questioned. “Which part, exactly?”
“Near a town called Shuho, I believe. I don’t know the district myself.”
“Shuho?” Kenji said. “I’ve never been there, but they say it has a beautiful natural blue pool, which I’ve always wanted to visit. It’s a long time since I’ve done any traveling. The weather is perfect for it now. You had both better come with me.”
He sounded casual, but Shizuka sensed his urgency. “And the boys?” she asked.
“We’ll take them both; it will be a good experience for them, and we may even need Taku’s skills.” Kenji got to his feet. “We must leave at once. We’ll pick up horses in Yamagata.”
“What is your plan?” Kondo said. “If I may ask, do you intend to make sure Takeo is eliminated?”
“Not exactly. I’ll tell you on the road.” As Kondo bowed and left the room, Kenji murmured to Shizuka, “Maybe we will get there in time to save his life.”
· 9·
o one spoke as we rode, but the attitude of Akita and his warriors seemed courteous and respectful. I hoped I had saved my men and Hiroshi by surrendering, but I did not expect my own life to be spared. I was grateful to Arai for having me treated like an Otori lord, one of his own class, and for not humiliating me, but I imagined he would either have me executed or order me to kill myself. Despite my childhood teaching, Jo-An’s words, and my promise to Kaede, I knew I would have no alternati
ve but to obey.
The typhoon had cleared the air of all humidity, and the morning was bright and clear. My thinking had the same clarity: Arai had defeated me; I had surrendered; I would submit to him and obey, doing whatever he told me to do. I began to understand why the warriors had such a high regard for their code. It made life very simple.
The words of the prophecy came into my head, but I put them aside. I did not want anything to distract me from the correct path. I glanced at Hiroshi riding next to me, his shoulders squared, his head high. The old horse plodded calmly along, snorting now and then with pleasure at the warmth of the sun. I thought about the upbringing that had made courage second nature to the boy. He knew instinctively how to act with honor, though I was sorry he had come to experience surrender and defeat so young.
All around us were the signs of the devastation left by the typhoon when it swept along the coast. Roofless houses, huge trees uprooted, flattened rice, and flooded rivers, with drowned oxen, dogs, and other animals stranded among the debris. I felt anxious briefly about my farmers at Maruyama, wondered if the defenses we had built had been strong enough to preserve their fields, and what would happen to them if Kaede and I were not there to protect them. To whom did the domain belong now, and who would look after it? It had been mine for one brief summer, but I grieved over its loss. I had put all my energy into restoring it. No doubt the Tribe would return, too, punish those who had supplanted them, and take up their cruel trade again. And no one but I could put a stop to them.
As we approached the small town of Shuho, Arai’s men could be seen foraging for food. I pictured the extra hardship this huge force of men and horses was imposing on the land. Everything that had already been harvested would be taken, and what had not been harvested would have been ruined by the storm. I hoped these villagers had secret fields and hidden stores; if not, they would starve when winter came.
Shuho was famous for its many cold springs, which formed a lake of a brilliant blue color. The water was reputed to have healing qualities and was dedicated to the goddess of good fortune. Perhaps this was what gave the place a cheerful atmosphere, despite the invasion of troops and the destruction of the storm. The brilliant day seemed to promise the return of good fortune. The townspeople were already repairing and rebuilding, calling out jokes to each other, even singing. The blows of hammers, the hiss of saws, set up a lively song against the sound of water as streams ran overflowing everywhere.
We were in the main street when, to my astonishment, I heard from out of the hubbub someone shout my name.
“Takeo! Lord Otori!”
I recognized the voice, though I could not immediately place it. Then the sweet smell of the fresh-cut wood brought him up to the surface of my mind: Shiro, the master carpenter from Hagi who had built the tea house and the nightingale floor for Shigeru.
I turned my head in the direction of the voice and saw him waving from a rooftop. He called again, “Lord Otori!” and slowly the town’s song stilled as one by one the men laid down their tools and turned to stare.
Their silent burning gaze fell on me in the same way that men had stared at Shigeru when he rode back from Terayama to Yamagata, angering and alarming the Tohan who accompanied us, and on me when I had been among the outcasts.
I looked forward, making no response. I did not want to anger Akita. I was, after all, a prisoner. But I heard my name repeated from mouth to mouth, like the buzz of insects around pollen.
Hiroshi whispered, “They all know Lord Otori.”
“Say nothing,” I replied, hoping they would not be punished for it. I wondered why Shiro was here, if he had been driven from the Middle Country after Shigeru’s death, and what news he had from Hagi.
Arai had set up his headquarters in a small temple on the hillside above the town. He was not accompanied by his whole army, of course; I found out later some were still in Inuyama and the rest encamped halfway between Hagi and Kumamoto.
We dismounted and I told Hiroshi to stay with the horses and see that they were fed. He looked as if he were going to protest, then lowered his head, his face suddenly full of sadness.
Sakai put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and Hiroshi took Shun’s bridle. I felt a pang as I watched the little bay docilely walking beside him, rubbing his head against Hiroshi’s arm. He had saved my life many times and I did not want to part with him. For the first time the thought that I might not see him again lunged and hit me and I realized how deeply I did not want to die. I allowed myself to experience this sensation for a moment, then I drew up my Kikuta self like a defense around me, thankful for the dark strength of the Tribe that would sustain me now.
“Come this way,” Akita said. “Lord Arai wants to see you immediately.”
I could already hear Arai’s voice from the interior of the temple, angry and powerful.
At the veranda’s edge a servant came with water and I washed my feet. I could do little about the rest of me; my armor and clothes were filthy, coated in mud and blood. I was amazed that Akita could look so spruce after the battle and the pursuit through the rain, but when he led me into the room where Arai and all his senior retainers were gathered, I saw they were all equally well dressed and clean.
Among these large men Arai was the biggest. He seemed to have grown in stature since I had last seen him at Terayama. His victories had given him the weight of power. He had shown his characteristic decisiveness in seizing control after Iida’s death, and Shigeru’s; he was physically brave, quick-thinking, and ruthless, and he had the ability to bind men to him in loyalty. His faults were rashness and obstinacy; he was neither flexible nor patient, and I felt he was greedy. Whereas Shigeru had sought power because with it he could rule with justice and in harmony with heaven, Arai sought power for its own sake.
All this flashed through my mind as I took one quick look at the man seated on the raised section of the room, flanked by his retainers. He wore elaborate armor, resplendent in red and gold, but his head was bare. He had grown his beard and mustache and I could smell their perfume. Our eyes met for a moment, but I could read nothing in them other than his anger.
The room must have served as an audience room for the temple; beyond the inner doors, which were half-open, I could hear movements and whispers from the monks and priests, and the smell of incense floated in the air.
I dropped to the floor, prostrating myself.
There was a long silence, broken only by the impatient tapping of Arai’s fan. I could hear the quickened breathing of the men around me, the beating of their hearts like drums, and in the distance the song of the town rebuilding itself. I thought I heard Shun whicker from the horse lines, the eager sound of a horse seeing food.
“What a fool you are, Otori,” Arai shouted into the silence. “I command you to marry and you refuse. You disappear for months, abandoning your inheritance. You reappear and have the audacity to marry a woman under my protection without my permission. You dare to attack a nobleman, Lord Fujiwara. All this could have been avoided. We could have been allies.”
He continued in this vein for some time, punctuating each sentence with a thwack of his fan as if he would like to beat me round the head. But his rage did not touch me, partly because I had cloaked myself in darkness, partly because I sensed that it was mostly assumed. I did not resent it; he had every right to be angry with me. I waited, face on the floor, to see what he would do next.
He ran out of rebukes and insults and another long silence ensued. Finally he grunted, “Leave us. I will speak to Otori alone.”
Someone to his left whispered, “Is that wise, lord? His reputation . . .”
“I am not afraid of Otori!” Arai shouted, taking rage on again immediately. I heard the men depart one by one and heard Arai stand and step down from the platform. “Sit up,” he ordered.
I sat but kept my eyes lowered. He knelt down so we were knee to knee and could speak without being overheard.
“Well, that’s out of the way,” he said,
almost affably. “Now we can talk strategy.”
“I am deeply sorry for offending Lord Arai,” I said.
“All right, all right, what’s past is past. My advisers think you should be ordered to kill yourself for your insolence.” To my amazement he began to chuckle. “Lady Shirakawa is a beautiful woman. It must be punishment enough to lose her. I think many are jealous that you went ahead and did what they wished they dared do. And you lived, which many consider a miracle, given her reputation. Women pass, though; what matters is power—power and revenge.”
I bowed again, to avoid revealing the fury his shallow words aroused in me.
He went on: “I like boldness, Takeo. I admire what you did for Shigeru. I promised him a long time ago that I would support you in the case of his death; it irks me, as it must you, that his uncles go unpunished. I did speak to the Miyoshi brothers when you sent them. Indeed, Kahei is here with my men; you can see him later. The younger one is still in Inuyama. I learned from them how you outwitted the main Otori army and how many of the clan favor you. The battle at Asagawa was well done. Nariaki had been bothering me and I was pleased to see him removed. We came through Maruyama and saw your work there and Kahei told me how you dealt with the Tribe. You learned Shigeru’s lessons well. He would be proud of you.”
“I don’t deserve your praise,” I said. “I will take my own life if you desire it. Or I will retire to a monastery—Terayama, for example.”
“Yes, I can see that working,” he replied dryly. “I’m aware of your reputation. I’d rather use it myself than have you holed up in some temple, attracting all the malcontents from the Three Countries.” He added offhandedly, “You may take your own life if you wish. It’s your right as a warrior and I won’t prevent you. But I’d infinitely prefer to have you fighting with me.”
“Lord Arai.”
“The whole of the Three Countries obeys me now, apart from the Otori. I want to deal with them before winter. Their main army is still outside Yamagata. I believe they can be defeated, but they will fall back to Hagi and it is said that the town cannot be taken by siege, especially once the snows begin.”
