by Lian Hearn
“Ah, what a wasted life,” she murmured. “Yes, I see myself, shriveled and old, with no man’s love and no children.”
Hina had closed the box quickly and had been especially diligent and affectionate to Sadako for the next few days. Though she cried over the eyes to cleanse them and keep them moist, sometimes telling herself she was an orphan, alone in the world, hidden by a man who would one day force her to marry him, unlikely ever to see again the boy she truly loved, they did not really show her the devastating insights that others seemed to see.
In truth, when she kept her thoughts firmly in the present, neither grieving for the past nor fearing the future, she was not unhappy. Learning was a joy, her teachers were kind to her, Bara loved her.
She heard Bara call her name, and she closed the box and went back to the veranda. The air was warming up now, and it felt pleasant to sit in the sunshine and let Bara rub her feet and then fasten her sandals.
Bara had placed a tray on the boards. It held two small rice cakes, a slightly shriveled mandarin, and a sprig of red-berried sacred bamboo. “I did not dare make it too lavish,” she said. “I didn’t want to make anyone suspicious.”
As she lifted the tray and stood up, she remarked, “You have your precious box, I see.”
“I am going to lend it to the Lake Goddess,” Hina replied.
“What’s inside, my chick?”
“Have you never looked in?” Hina returned, knowing Bara’s inquisitive nature.
Bara went red. “I did take a peek once, but all I saw was myself, all my regrets from the past, the stupid things I’d done, the way I treated my mother. It upset me, I’m telling you. I’d never look again.”
“They are a man’s eyes. Perhaps he was a sorcerer, perhaps he was a saint. He was blinded, unjustly, by my stepmother. I am their guardian until I can return them to Matsutani.”
Hina was silent as they walked back to the shrine, wondering if that day would ever come.
The warmer weather had brought everyone outside. Retainers were exercising horses in the pasture. Fishermen were in their boats offshore, their wives and children on the beach, their gossip and laughter loud in the clear air. The surface of the lake was as still and smooth as a mirror.
The presence of so many people made Hina very nervous. She was sure someone would find their behavior unusual and would come to investigate. At the steps of the shrine she put the box down, so she could clap her hands to awaken the Goddess and alert Akihime. Bara laid the offerings on the step and pulled at the bell rope. It clanged above Hina’s head as she spoke softly to Aki in between her prayers.
Goddess of the Lake, protect your child. “Lady, when there is no one around, come out and throw yourself in the water.” She was dedicated to you as a child, act now to save her. “Let the fishermen find you.” Hide her in your depths and let your waves bring her to shore. “My maid, Bara, will make sure you are looked after. I am leaving something here to protect you, but do not look at it.” Goddess of the Lake, bless these eyes and enable them to see clearly.
There was a large gap between the top step and the bottom of the door and Hina pushed the rice cakes and the mandarin through it. She heard the faintest whisper.
“Thank you. I will do as you say. I will leave my sword here, for the Goddess. Please look after it. I will keep my knife so I can kill myself if I am discovered.”
“That is not going to happen,” Hina said. She had complete confidence in the Goddess and in Sesshin’s eyes.
10
AKI
After Kiyoyori’s daughter and the woman left, Aki ate the rice cakes, though they barely satisfied her. The baby was growing large and she was always hungry. She was also terribly thirsty. The mandarin was dry inside. She chewed each segment and sucked the peel, but its bitterness made her mouth and tongue sore. Then the baby shifted position, stretching and kicking, giving her an urgent need to urinate. She squatted in a corner close to the door, hoping the Goddess would not be offended, praying no one would see the water drip through the floor. The stream seemed endless, its noise deafening.
She scattered the remains of the mandarin peel over it to mask the smell, took the sword, and placed it behind the small altar at the back of the hut. Then she sat, leaning against the wall, gathering her strength and courage for the next move. She could see the merit in Hina’s plan, but she did not look forward to committing her life to the chill water of the lake and the mercy of fishermen.
She must have slept a little. She dreamed of Kai and Yoshi, the last time she had seen them, a few weeks ago. She had been riding along the lakeside road when she noticed the boats plying their way along the edge of Lake Kasumi, had followed them, and that night had watched the performers on the shore. Yoshi and the monkey boy whose name she did not know tumbled with a group of monkeys. The older men threw them through the air. And Kai sat on the side with the other musicians and beat her drum. Aki was happy, for Yoshi looked content and healthy, and he and Kai had found each other again. They would look after each other. She crept away back to where she had left the horses, put her arms round Risu’s neck, and cried into her mane. She thought of going to join them, for hadn’t Lady Fuji told her to come back if she didn’t like life as a shrine maiden? But she was afraid of facing Fuji and the other women of the boats and did not want to be made to give up the horses. So she had ridden away, but in her dream she went down and called out to them. They both turned toward her and she saw their faces, and then she woke up. A strong wind was shaking the hut and it had grown much colder. She was shivering and her legs were cramping. She was about to stand up and move around when she heard men’s voices. Her heart seemed to fill her throat and pound deafeningly in her ears.
This is the end, she thought, and felt the baby shudder inside her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered to it and grasped the knife.
Footsteps came closer, two or three men, on the steps.
“Could someone be hiding in the shrine?”
“It’s possible, better check to make sure.”
“What’s in that box?”
“Are those … eyes?”
Aki hardly dared breathe. For a few moments no sound came from outside. Then inexplicably she heard sobbing, accompanied by broken phrases filled with regret and grief.
“Those men I killed treacherously.”
“Those infants we slaughtered in Miyako!”
“I used to serve the Kakizuki. I betrayed them!”
“My favorite child—dead at six years old.”
“Those girls we raped, how they screamed.”
The wind howled more loudly and sleet pattered on the roof.
“Have we angered the Goddess?” she heard one man ask, and another replied, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Look at the lake!” cried the third. “A blizzard is coming!”
Their feet pounded down the steps and then Aki could hear nothing but the wind. She waited for a while, trying to control her breath, then opened the door a tiny crack. The wind forced it open further and snow flurried in, melting on the floor. She caught some flakes on her hand and licked them. The lake and the shore had disappeared; everything was turning white.
On the steps lay Hina’s box. She forgot she had been warned not to look in it and her gaze fell on the eyes.
All the sorrows and regrets of the past year rose within her. If only she had not yielded to Shikanoko. If only she had not hidden from him afterward. She relived again the shock of seeing him broken on the ground. Why had she run away from him? She would never see him again and the baby would grow up fatherless. She had abandoned the Emperor, when she should be with him, protecting him with her life.
Her tears fell mingling with the snow. Her despair was complete. It was not to save her life that she ran into the lake. It was to drown herself.
11
MASACHIKA
Masachika knelt before Keita, the Kakizuki lord. It was months since he had arrived, on the orders of Takaakira, in Ra
kuhara, where the remains of the Kakizuki army had fled after the battles of Shimaura and the Sagigawa, when they had lost Miyako. He had been welcomed as Kiyoyori’s brother, and indeed heir, for he was now legally the Kuromori lord, though no one actually called him that. In his usual way he had made himself useful, offered to carry out tasks no one else wanted to do, listened sympathetically to the endless recountings of battles lost, and even wrote many of them down, recording all the blame-erasing excuses of betrayal and injustice with murmurs of outrage. No one suspected him of being a spy, and, in truth, he had done little spying worthy of the name, though he now had a very clear idea of the strength and state of mind of the Kakizuki leaders. An unusually severe winter, with two months of gales and heavy snow, kept him, along with the rest of the Kakizuki, shivering in Rakuhara, where the cold winds penetrated every corner of the inadequate buildings and snow drifted up to the eaves.
He had plenty of time to compare the two lords, Keita and Aritomo, and concluded that on the whole he was lucky to have spent the winter in Rakuhara rather than Miyako. For, even in exile, Keita had not given up his love of luxury, his fondness for music, dancing, and poetry. The roof might leak, the ill-fitting shutters rattle, the chinks in the wall let in icy blasts, but Keita still slept under silk, ate from celadon bowls, and was entertained by his many court ladies and concubines. Aritomo possessed the capital and occupied two thirds of the Eight Islands, yet he chose to live frugally and despised ostentation. The craftsmen of Miyako were plunged into gloom and longed for the spendthrift Kakizuki to return so their businesses might prosper again. The craftsmen in the towns around Rakuhara rejoiced in the lively trade in ceramics, weaving, lacquerware, paper, and musical instruments.
Next to him, one of the elders, Yasutsugu, who had been a friend of his father’s, said quietly, “A spy has come from Nishimi. We think the Autumn Princess is there. Only she knows what became of Yoshimori. It has filled everyone with hope. They are bringing the man here now so we can all hear what he has to say.”
“What wonderful news,” Masachika murmured.
A young man, in the clothes of a groom, was escorted in and prostrated himself before the gathering. When he sat up, Masachika could see he had the honest, open face that elicited trust, so useful for a spy. He told them a girl had been pulled from the lake by fishermen as the first snowstorm of the winter swept over Nishimi. She was pregnant and everyone assumed she was some vagrant who had tried to end her life. Her survival was considered something of a miracle and she was given shelter, though at first no one thought she would live. The icy water brought on a severe chill, followed by a fever, almost too fierce for her weakened frame to bear. But she survived and gave birth to a boy, who was thriving.
“How can the Autumn Princess be a mother, and abandoned?” Keita said doubtfully. “What was she doing alone? Who is the father of the child?”
It was so far from any noble person’s experience it seemed unthinkable.
“Is she an imposter, hoping to gain some advantage?” Yasutsugu said.
The groom answered, “She herself has claimed nothing. She hardly speaks. I know this from Lady Hina, by way of my informant, Lady Hina’s maid.”
“Who is she, this Lady Hina?” Lord Keita was frowning slightly.
“Some young girl whom Yukikuni no Takaakira brought to Nishimi and is keeping there, without Aritomo’s knowledge. The maid, Bara, showed me a knife that the pregnant woman had on her, and I recognized it as belonging to Lord Hidetake, whom I served in Miyako and Nishimi. I realized the woman must be his daughter, and the maid confirmed it.”
“If she is truly the Autumn Princess we must bring her here and speak with her. But do we need to concern ourselves with Takaakira’s plaything?”
Masachika tried to mask his intense interest. Hina had been the pet name for Kiyoyori’s daughter. What if the child had been too young, too innocent to realize she should change it? He had thought Takaakira had been lying. Now he knew for certain he had been, and why.
“She is more than that,” the groom said. “Inexplicable things have happened. The day Akihime was found, two strange horses turned up. They had harness that had once been of high quality. One, a mare, was pregnant, and gave birth to a foal the same day the child was born. The other is a stallion, fine-looking but strong-willed and stubborn. When they arrived Lady Hina gave them names, but they already answered to those names as if they had been called them before, for a long time, and I would swear they knew her. Horses cannot lie! Later, Bara told me the lady retrieved a magnificent sword that had been left in the shrine. She also took back to her room a box containing eyes.”
“Eyes?” Lord Keita repeated.
“Eyes that make you look into your heart and see everything you ever lost, all your failures and regrets, all your hidden secrets. Those eyes apparently kept Takaakira’s warriors from searching the shrine, where the Princess was hiding. They would have found her if they had gone inside. And then the Lake Goddess sent a storm, at Lady Hina’s request.”
Masachika knew it was his brother’s daughter. Takaakira had told him she was dead so he could keep her for himself. His heart swelled with joy at this knowledge, which gave him power over the man who had humiliated him. Takaakira’s contempt had stayed with him for months, fueling the jealousy and resentment he held for Aritomo’s favorite. And all the time Takaakira had been deceiving his lord. This will bring him down. I’ll make sure of it. He had to go to Nishimi himself, at once.
“So,” the groom concluded, “Lady Hina is much more than a young girl who has caught the eye of Takaakira. I believe she is a warrior’s daughter, but, even more than that, she is a sorceress in the making.”
Lord Keita looked troubled. “We will consult the genealogies to find out who she is.”
Masachika cleared his throat and said, “May I speak, lord?”
When permission was granted he went on. “Kiyoyori’s daughter was known within the family as Hina. Perhaps this is her.” He addressed the groom, “I am his brother, her uncle. I thought my beloved niece was dead.” He allowed his voice to choke and raised his sleeve to his eye, as if to wipe away tears.
“I am happy to be the source of such good news,” the man exclaimed, and directed a cheerful smile at Masachika, which he immediately suspected was false. His fears that he might be unmasked, never far from the surface, now rose to disturb him. Did the man know something about him? What did the smile really mean?
“What is your name?” he said.
“Saburo, lord,” the man replied.
“You should return to Nishimi as soon as possible. What reason did you give for leaving?”
“My father’s funeral.”
“Very sad. And how did you get through the barrier?”
“I came over the mountains. There are many secret paths.”
“You can show me,” Masachika said. “We will return to Nishimi together and I will verify the truth of your report. If my lords agree,” he added hastily, looking around at the elders and Lord Keita.
“Should we not rather prepare to attack Nishimi and rescue both the girls, before they are discovered?” Yasutsugu suggested.
“Takaakira has many men there,” Saburo said. “Such an attack would only reveal the importance of the girls and put their lives in danger. Better to try to spirit them away. I can bring them here.”
“If she truly is the Autumn Princess and if I recognize Hina as my niece, we will do that together,” Masachika said.
Saburo could not hide his reluctance. “It is a hard journey over the mountains, and how will I explain who you are at Nishimi?”
“I have had worse journeys,” Masachika replied. “I will dress as a groom, pass as a relative of yours, seeking work.”
“I mean no offense, lord, but you do not speak like any relative of mine.”
“You think I can’t mimic you?” Masachika said in a familiar way, immediately regretting it, as the elders all stared at him in astonishment.
“You are a man of hidden talents,” Yasutsugu remarked.
“All in the service of Lord Keita and the Kakizuki,” Masachika said hastily.
“Do you swear it?”
“On my brother’s soul,” he said and prostrated himself before them.
* * *
Clothes were brought for Masachika and some food prepared for traveling. As soon as it was ready and he had changed, they set out.
Saburo looked him over critically as they walked through the north gate of Rakuhara, past the guards, who wished Saburo a safe journey and screwed up their faces at Masachika, not recognizing him.
“Your hands give you away,” Saburo said. “How long is it since they have held reins?”
“I have not ridden all winter,” Masachika replied. He thought he heard contempt in the groom’s voice and decided he would kill him before they came to Nishimi. However, he knelt and rubbed his hands in the spring mud on the path. Small yellow flowers bloomed along its edge, attracting early bees. The sun was warm, but there was still a trace of winter in the air and snow lingered on the slopes of the mountains they had to cross. It was a little after noon. Night still fell early; they had less than half a day of walking ahead, unless Saburo intended to walk all night. Masachika tried to recall what phase the moon would be in. Surely it was coming up to full, so there would be plenty of light. If he’d known he was going to make this sudden trip, he would not have stayed up so late the night before, nor would he have drunk quite so much. His head ached already.
Saburo set a fast pace, even after the slope steepened and the climb began. The path gradually became more overgrown until it was scarcely more than a fox track and they often had to go on hands and knees to crawl through the undergrowth. After they passed a den, where they could hear newborn cubs mewing and could smell the rank fox odor, the path disappeared completely. Saburo seemed to be following some course he had marked on his descent, carefully placed stones, bent twigs, marks scratched on rocks. Masachika tried to pick them out and realized he could not. Without Saburo, he would be lost. Reluctantly, he decided to let him live until they arrived at Nishimi. He spent the rest of the day devising his punishment and death.
