by Lian Hearn
It made her sad, reminding her of the night in the capital when Shikanoko had told her how Tsumaru had died, when she had waited in vain for her father to come home. Grief and her childish love for Shika were inextricably entwined in her heart.
Many of the songs were sad, set in the season of autumn, which suited her melancholy mood. Sometimes she pretended she was the Autumn Princess, which was what she had learned everyone called Lord Hidetake’s daughter. She liked the name—it sounded sorrowful and beautiful at the same time. She had suspected for months that that was why Takaakira had been sent here. It suited him as a place to hide her, but all the time he was listening to her music and poems, supervising her lessons and the restoration of the estate, he had expected the Autumn Princess to turn up here at her old home.
“He waited for her all autumn,” she said to herself. It suggested a poem and she let her mind play idly with the words, but really it would work only as a love poem, and she did not think Takaakira was waiting like a lover. Rather, he and Lord Aritomo had set an ambush, a trap from which the Princess would not escape alive.
Where was she now? Had they decided she was dead and so there was no need to wait for her anymore? And Shikanoko, had he also departed for that other world, like her father and her brother, her mother, everyone she had ever loved? These thoughts saddened and subdued her. Her teachers and Bara noticed her changed mood and thought she was pining for Takaakira. They suggested more outdoor activities, when the days were fine.
It continued to be very cold, with overcast skies. The palace was constructed for the hot, humid weather of summer and the airy rooms were freezing. Sadako and Masako both caught colds and kept to their own quarters for several days. Hina’s fingers were too numb to hold a pen or a plectrum; like her toes, they were chilblained and itched and ached. She and Bara slept under piles of quilted clothes, snuggling together to keep warm.
One morning, there was a sudden change in the weather. The wind blew from the south and the sun appeared, low in the sky, but warm. Hina woke early, and Bara, who was usually restless all night from the cold, was still deeply asleep. Hina was seized by the desire to go outside.
The pasture had been white with frost every morning for weeks, but this day it was bare and brown. The horses, with their shaggy winter coats, were grazing on the stalks of dried grass. Hina leaped down the cliff path—there was no one around to tell her to walk sedately. Some fishermen were already at the water’s edge preparing boats and nets, taking advantage of the sudden warmth. She skirted them, not speaking to them. Farther along the shore, beyond the cliffs, a flock of plovers rose into the air at her approach, uttering plaintive cries.
A horse whickered in the distance and she turned in the direction of the sound. It neighed more loudly, then began to trot to her, slowly, clumsily because of its swollen belly. Behind it, cantering freely, was the silver white stallion.
“Risu!” Hina cried. “Nyorin!”
The mare reached her, almost knocking her over in her eagerness to nuzzle her. Hina held her head, stroking the broad forehead, then put her other hand on the belly and felt the foal kick. She was filled with an emotion so intense it brought tears to her eyes. Nyorin lowered his head and breathed in her face. She stroked his soft pink nose.
“Where is Shikanoko?” she said aloud, and then called, “Shikanoko!” Her voice sounded tiny, fainter than the plovers’ cries.
The horses wore harnesses, and on Risu’s back a bundle from which the neck of a lute emerged. Hina could not reach to touch it.
It was like a dream, filled with strange images that must have some significance but that she could not interpret. All she could think was that Shikanoko had fallen and was lying injured somewhere nearby, in the rice fields or on the lakeshore.
“Show me where he is,” she said to the mare, and took the reins in her hand. She would have liked to ride, but she was afraid of hurting the unborn foal, and Nyorin was far too tall for her to mount without help.
Risu seemed to understand, for she began to walk purposefully along the shore toward the little shrine to the Lake Goddess. A vermilion bird-perch gate stood right in the water, and opposite it was a small hut. It was empty, occupied only at the seasonal festivals, and, though the farmers and fishermen left offerings at the outside altar, ringing the bell and making requests, no one ventured inside. The Lake Goddess was known to be unpredictable and capricious, and no one wanted to risk inadvertently offending her.
Hina looked around. There was no one in earshot. The fishermen had launched their boats and were slowly rowing across the lake. She climbed the steps and listened at the door, then called quietly, “Is anyone there? Shikanoko?”
She heard the smallest of creaks from the floor within, as if someone were tiptoeing over it. Then a woman’s voice replied, “Who are you? Why do you say that name?”
“Who are you?” Hina whispered. “And why do you have his horses?”
“You know them? Tell me their names.”
“The mare is Risu and the stallion, Nyorin,” Hina said. “Let me in, we cannot talk like this.”
“I will let you come in, as long as you are alone. But be warned, I have a sword.”
“I am alone,” Hina said, and pushed open the door.
It was still dim inside the shrine. The room smelled of mildew and dust, and a faint scent of lamp oil, like a memory of summer nights. A young woman stood before her, the sword in her hand, on her back a small ceremonial bow. Her matted hair was tied in a horse’s tail, held back from her face by a headband. She wore leggings under a short jacket, the clothes filthy, hardly better than rags. Her face was dark from dirt and weather.
They stared at each other for a few moments, then Hina said, “I am Kiyoyori’s daughter. But can you be the Autumn Princess?”
“I used to be called Akihime.” She lowered the sword and said formally, “Your father was a brave and loyal man. I am grateful for his sacrifice. He and my father died on the same day.”
Hina felt one sob rise in her chest, but she fought it down. “No one knew for certain. Did you see him die?”
Akihime looked at her with pity. “No, but—well, I will tell you one day, but not now. Why are you here? How did you survive the massacre in the capital?”
“A warrior saved me. Yukikuni no Takaakira. He brought me here to hide me.”
“For what purpose?”
After a pause, Hina said, “He wants to make me his wife. He is educating me to be a perfect woman, while the rest of the world forgets that Kiyoyori’s daughter ever existed.”
“But you are still a child,” Akihime exclaimed.
“Not for much longer,” Hina said.
“Let’s hope the Miboshi are overthrown before that time! I did not know that Takaakira would be here. I came because my family owns this estate. I thought I could hide here.”
“He has been waiting for you,” Hina said. “They expected you to come. You are not safe here.”
“I don’t know where else to go,” Akihime said. “I would have come before, or hidden somewhere else, but I had the horses. I could not abandon them. I’ve had to fight to hang on to them, so many people wanted to steal them from me. I have been traveling up and down the highways, but, even though I now look like this, people were beginning to talk about me. Men were seeking me out to challenge or capture me. My father taught me how to fight, but I did not expect to be defending myself against thieves and rogues on the road. I can’t fight, or travel, much longer.” She opened her jacket and showed Hina the swell of her belly.
Hina felt her eyes narrow and a wave of jealousy and anger flooded through her. Barely controlling her emotions, she said, “Is that why you have Shikanoko’s horses?”
“You are quick to guess! What a clever child you are. Yes, he is the father.” Akihime’s expression turned somber, but her voice suggested something else.
The last thing Hina wanted to be told was that she was a child. She lost all desire to help Akihime. She just wante
d her to disappear, or be dead. But then she remembered that this young woman served the Emperor, for whom both their fathers had died. They were tied together by powerful bonds.
“Where is Shikanoko now?” she said.
“I don’t know. The horses attacked him. He was unconscious when we left him.”
I would never have left him! “Is he dead?”
“I don’t know,” Aki said again.
“You said we? Were you with the child Emperor?”
Aki nodded.
“And where is he now?” Hina said, looking around, as if Aki might have hidden him somewhere within the shrine.
“I will tell you the whole story, I promise you, but not at this time. I must decide what to do next.”
“Takaakira is away,” Hina said. “Some crisis arose that meant he had to go to the capital. I’m not sure when he will return. Most of the former servants ran away. I wonder if there are any left who would know you?”
“It is years since I have been here. I don’t think they would recognize me.”
“The men are on the lookout for you. But they are expecting a young princess, not…”
“A vagrant with child.” Akihime smiled bitterly.
“Stay here if you are not afraid,” Hina said.
“I have been afraid for months, but here I … I was going to say I wasn’t afraid. I was dedicated to the Lake Goddess, who is a manifestation of All-Merciful Kannon, as a child. I used to hide here from my nurses and no one dared come to find me. I even ate the rice cakes and other offerings—the Goddess never punished me. But now she no longer protects me. I broke my vow of purity—I was supposed to be a shrine maiden at the Goddess’s shrine at Rinrakuji. She is punishing me now.”
She looked so sad Hina was moved to pity. “I’ll look after you. I’ll fetch some food and leave it here, and later I’ll send Bara to bring you to the house.”
“And what will the men say when they see two strange horses, with saddle and bridles?”
“I’ll take them to the stables now and say I found them. It’s not the first time stray horses have turned up.” Hina could not help smiling. “And Risu will have her foal safely here. Do you think I’ll be able to keep it as mine?”
“No one is more worthy of it,” Aki said, smiling, too.
“I saw the lute,” Hina said. “Do you play?”
“I try, but I cannot master it.”
“May I play it?”
“I will tell you a secret,” Aki said. “It is Genzo, the Emperor’s lute. Take great care of it and keep it hidden.”
Hina went outside cautiously. The horses waited close to the shrine. Hina stood on the steps to reach Risu’s back, untied the bundle with the lute, and tucked it under one arm. Then she took Risu’s reins in one hand and Nyorin’s in the other, and began to lead them to the stables.
She had gone less than halfway when she saw Bara running across the pasture. The other horses tossed their heads and ran away from her, kicking out and bucking as if it were spring. Then they circled back to inspect the newcomers, sniffing the air and neighing loudly.
Bara cried out, “Lady Hina, what are you doing?”
“Look what I found,” Hina shouted back. “Stray horses!”
“Be careful, they may be dangerous.”
“No, they are gentle,” Hina said, but when Bara came closer and tried to take Risu’s reins, the mare laid back her ears and showed her teeth.
“Behave!” Hina said and smacked her lightly.
“I don’t like horses,” Bara confessed. “They are so heavy and clumsy, they put their feet everywhere without looking, and they seem to be moody.”
“They don’t like people who are afraid of them,” Hina said, remembering what her father had told her. “It makes them nervous.”
“But what are you doing out so early?” Bara asked. “I woke and you were not in the house. The lord will be so angry if he finds out. Anything might have happened to you.”
“I couldn’t go back to sleep, and it felt suddenly warm. I just wanted to be outside on my own.” Hina felt some contrition at Bara’s concern, but it also irritated her.
Bara looked at her. “Well, it seems to have done you some good. Your eyes are bright and your cheeks rosy. But Lord Takaakira does not want you to look like a farm girl. He likes you languid and pale, like a lily.”
“I would rather be a rose, like you, Bara!”
Bara smiled. “Next time, wake me up and I’ll come with you. Here. Give me that bundle before you drop it.” She took it from under Hina’s arm. “What’s in it? Is it a lute?”
“Yes, it was on the horse’s back. I’ll try it out later,” Hina said, and then, “You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you, Bara?”
“I would, my chick, as long as it does not get me into trouble with the lord.”
Hina smiled but did not reply. They were now on the lower track that led to the stables and two men came running down to meet them, exclaiming in surprise at the sight of the horses. One was a groom Hina particularly liked, though she could not say why, since she had hardly ever spoken to him. But he looked cheerful and openhearted, and he treated the horses gently. Now she noticed for the first time that Bara liked him, too, and perhaps he liked her back, for they exchanged a swift, almost secret smile and Bara’s cheeks flushed, much more than Hina’s.
He took Risu’s reins from Hina and the other man took the stallion’s. A boy ran from the stables and chased the herd of horses, which had been following them, back to the pasture. They cantered away, a wave of brown, black, and gray. Nyorin pulled back as if he would gallop after them.
“Whoa!” the groom cried, and Hina said, “Stay, Nyorin.”
“Where did these beauties come from?” the man holding Risu said.
“I found them in the pasture.”
“The mare is in foal,” the man observed. “Getting close, by the look of her.”
“You must take care of them,” Hina said. “They will be mine. What is your name?”
“Saburo, lady.” He bobbed his head to her. “You called the stallion something?”
“Nyorin,” she said, adding quickly, “It means Silver, so I think it suits him.”
“And the mare?” Saburo said. “Are you going to give her a name, too?”
Hina pretended to think. “How about Risu?”
“Very well, lady. I’ll clean them up and feed them.”
“I will come and see them later,” Hina said as she patted the horses goodbye. They turned their heads to watch her go and whickered after her.
Bara made Hina sit on the veranda while she fetched water to wash her feet. It was as good a place to talk as any.
“Bara, dear,” she said quietly. “There is someone hiding in the shrine.”
“So the horses did not turn up alone?”
“No, it is a young woman and she is going to have a baby. She has nowhere else to go.”
Bara continued washing Hina’s feet with even more vigor, splashing water unnecessarily.
“Is it the person the lord has been waiting for?”
“How do you know that?”
“People talk about it. They wonder why Lord Aritomo allowed Takaakira to be absent from the capital for so long. There are a few left here who served Lord Hidetake and still consider themselves Kakizuki. That groom, Saburo, for example.” Saying his name made Bara smile.
“And you, Bara?”
“I am from Akashi, the free city. I am neither Miboshi nor Kakizuki. But Lord Takaakira employs me and trusts me. I can do nothing against his wishes.”
“Well, it could hardly be her,” Hina said. “She is not a princess, she is a vagrant.”
She sat quite still while Bara dried her feet, afraid she had already betrayed Aki, wondering how she could warn her.
“If Lady Hina expressly commands me to do something, I cannot disobey her,” Bara said very quietly.
“What should I command you?” Hina said.
“The men will al
most certainly search for the owner of the horses,” Bara said.
“I thought you could fetch her to the house after dark, but how can we stop them looking in the shrine and finding her?”
“Better to hide her in plain view. So that someone else finds her, who is not looking for her.”
“The fishermen,” Hina whispered. “If they found her in the water they would think the Lake Goddess had delivered her to them.”
“A young pregnant woman who tried to drown herself but was saved by the Goddess,” Bara said, thinking aloud.
“Let’s take offerings to the shrine now, in thanks for the horses,” Hina said. “We will tell her our plan.”
“I’ve just got your feet clean,” Bara complained.
“You can do them again afterward. Go quickly, bring rice cakes and whatever else we have.”
While Bara hurried off to the kitchen, Hina turned her attention to the lute. She untied the bundle and took it out, surprised at how shabby and ordinary it looked. She plucked a string; it responded reluctantly. It needed tuning, but beyond that she felt some deep-grained obstinacy that resisted her fingers and her will.
She was about to lay it down and put her sandals on again when she thought of something else. She decided to take the eyes to the shrine, too, so they would protect Akihime. Carrying the lute, she went quickly to her room, where the box that held them was hidden beneath a silk cloth. She could hear her teachers coughing from their quarters. They still sounded very unwell; there would be no lessons today.
She took the box out and left the lute in its place, then raised the lid and prayed quickly, recalling how, when Takaakira had opened the box in the house in Miyako, she had seen him transfixed by the eyes, unable to move until she closed the lid. She had never dared ask him what had happened to him. When she opened the box it was to pray to Sesshin and to water the eyes with her tears. Once Sadako had come up behind her and looked over her shoulder, saying in her gentle voice, “What have you…?” which was as far as she got. She stood without moving, staring at the eyes, and then tears began to slide from her own eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
