Autumn Princess, Dragon Child

by Lian Hearn

  When it was too dark to walk farther, Saburo stopped by a rocky outcrop. The ground next to it was flat, sandy rather than stony, and the rocks offered a little shelter.

  “We will rest here until moonrise. Sleep if you can. I’ll keep watch.”

  Masachika sat down, trying to hide the fact that his limbs were trembling from the climb. He had no appetite, but he forced himself to swallow the rice ball Saburo held out to him. It was flavored with dried shrimp and salted plum and increased his intense thirst. Snowmelt had gathered in small hollows in the rocks, and they drank from that, licking the last moisture with their tongues.

  He did not want to sleep, too aware that while he needed Saburo to guide him, the groom did not need him. If the man suspected him, as he was sure he did, he could easily dispatch Masachika in the mountains and no one would ever know. Masachika was determined to live, for if he could deliver both the Autumn Princess and Kiyoyori’s daughter to Miyako, he would win the most profound gratitude from Lord Aritomo and avenge himself on Takaakira.

  However, when he lay down exhaustion overtook him, and dreams began to appear behind his eyelids. He slept without meaning to. He heard familiar voices speaking to him: his father, Tama. He could not catch what they were saying, but it seemed important. Then, suddenly, a dark brown foal stood before him. It looks like Kiyoyori, he thought in surprise. How can a horse so resemble my brother?

  He woke, his heart pounding. He sat up swiftly and looked around. The moon had cleared the mountain peaks and lit up the rocks around him. He was alone.

  He leaped to his feet, cursing aloud, but then he heard a rustle from the bushes and Saburo appeared.

  “What’s the matter?” said the groom. “I just went for a piss. Did you think I’d abandoned you?” He was regarding Masachika with unpleasant shrewdness.

  “You are a Kakizuki lord,” Saburo went on, “brother to the great Kiyoyori. I have been entrusted with the task of getting you to Nishimi and helping you rescue the Princess and your niece. I know nothing about you, except what the mountain forces you to reveal of yourself. But, already, you have shown you do not trust me. Only the untrustworthy find it impossible to trust others.”

  Masachika did not reply. He relieved himself behind the rocks, then followed Saburo as they began to climb upward, under the third-month moon.

  12

  HINA

  Throughout the long, cold winter, Hina had worked at mastering the lute. She had never known an instrument like it. Many times she felt like consigning it to the fire. She would gladly watch it burn, for all the pain it had caused her. It went out of tune, its strings snapped for no reason or seemed to turn sticky under the plectrum so it slipped from her fingers. Even Sadako could not persuade it to play. Yet every now and then it relented and a burst of music would come from it, filled with such purity and yearning it brought tears to her eyes.

  At those times she wanted to take it to Aki, but it seemed wiser not to spend too much time with her. The girl lived in the servants’ quarters and Hina saw her only once or twice, when she pretended to be more of a child than she really was and went with Bara to the kitchen to be given precious treats, dried persimmons, pickled plums, red bean paste, which grew more scarce as winter dragged on.

  When she recovered from her fever, Aki worked in the kitchen, after a fashion, for it was obvious she had neither training nor natural skill, but, as her time drew nearer, it was considered unsafe for her to be there, both for her sake and that of the household, for if childbirth were to take place suddenly in the kitchen, the residence would become polluted. She was confined, with another woman who was expecting a child, to a small detached hut. It was dark and cold, and Hina, who saw it once, thought it a most inauspicious place to give birth.

  Aki’s labor was long and agonizing and no one expected her to survive it. Risu went into labor on the same day. It was also long and difficult—the groom, Saburo, had to pull the foal from her body—but the mare recovered quickly from the delivery, with Saburo’s help, and nursed her foal immediately.

  Hina had not known it was possible to adore a horse so much. From the moment she set eyes on the foal, the morning after his birth, when he was already standing on wobbly legs beside Risu, she had been in love with him. She had to see him several times a day, and she lay awake at night longing for morning so she could feast her eyes on him again. She made garlands of spring flowers and hung them around his neck, brushed his coat, and polished his little hooves. His mother was brown and his father, Nyorin, almost white, but the foal’s coat was as dark as coal, so she called him Tan.

  “He will turn gray, or silver like his father, after his first year,” Saburo said. “All grays are born brown or black. He is going to be a fine horse. And see how he loves you, Lady Hina.”

  Whenever she went to the pasture the foal ran to greet her and followed her closely, breathing at her neck. Sometimes he fixed his huge dark eyes on her as though he would speak at any moment.

  “What is it, my darling Tan?” she crooned to him, bringing her face close to his, and felt she was on the point of understanding him.

  She loved the baby, who had been born on the same day, almost as much. Both had been difficult births for different reasons. The mare was so old, the girl so young. Aki was very ill after the delivery and could not feed him; the other woman luckily was able to nurse him along with her own baby girl. Aki whispered that his name was to be Takeyoshi, and for now they called him Takemaru: little bamboo shoot, little warrior, for take could mean both. He had a shock of black hair and a face that seemed old and wise. He was active and did not sleep much. His foster mother’s young sister sometimes carried him around on her back, but mostly Bara looked after him. Often she walked with Hina to show the baby to the horses.

  “This is your twin, Take,” Hina would say, taking the baby from Bara and showing him to the foal. “He will be your horse, for you were born on the same day at the same hour.”

  Yet, even as she spoke, she felt all the uncertainty of the future. They would not be able to conceal Aki and the baby forever. Snow still lay on the slopes and the nights were very cold, but one day the wind turned and blew from the east. Spring had come, and surely Takaakira would return soon.

  The next day, Saburo was not at the stables. Bara told Hina his father had died and he had gone back to his village for the funeral. His absence added to Hina’s unease. She realized she had come to depend on him and to trust him. Bara also was on edge and anxious.

  The wind blew more and more strongly and spring came in a rush, leaves appearing on the trees, birds calling in the early morning. One day, Hina went with Bara and the baby to the pasture. She was carrying the lute, for she had dreamed in the night that she had offered it to the Lake Goddess and it had begun to play on its own. It had looked different in the dream, no longer shabby and battered but gleaming rosewood, inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. She could still hear its exquisite music in her head. She also brought Sesshin’s book, the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store, intending to read a little in the quiet of the shrine while Bara entertained the baby.

  As usual Tan cantered up to her, nuzzling her and breathing in her breath, wrinkling his lips and snorting over Take, who laughed and wriggled with delight.

  “Look,” Bara said, pointing out over the lake. “A boat is coming!”

  Hina’s heart plunged to her belly. “Is it Lord Takaakira?”

  “It could be.”

  They stared out over the water, dazzled by the sun, the wind bringing tears to their eyes. From the boat came strands of music and laughter, and a strange high sound, like an animal squealing.

  “That doesn’t sound like the lord,” Bara said, and they both gave a gasp of relief at the same time. Bara looked guilty as she smiled. “It must be one of the market boats. They have been driven across the lake by the wind. I suppose they were trying to get to the Rainbow Bridge, and Majima.”

  “What beautiful names,” Hina said. “Where are they?”

/>   “On the other side of the lake. They will be holding the twenty-fifth-day market there today. I think they might be performers, for those cries are monkeys.”

  “Monkeys!” Hina exclaimed. “Let’s go down to the dock and see them. Little Take would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  The foal gave a strange sound, startling them. He was gazing intently toward the stables. His body trembled all over.

  “Oh, it’s Saburo,” Bara said. “Did Tan recognize him?” She waved, holding the baby in one arm.

  Saburo and another man were walking past the barracks, where the warriors were preparing for another day, getting out their bows to practice archery, repairing and polishing armor.

  “Who’s that with him?” Hina said.

  “I don’t know,” Bara said, sounding puzzled. “Another groom, perhaps? I haven’t seen him around here before.”

  Hina was watching the way Saburo walked, nonchalant but wary, eyes flicking around as if searching. He saw Bara and made a slight gesture with his head. What does it mean? Hina wondered. She would never know. Suddenly Saburo was not walking anymore. The man alongside him grabbed him and twisted him into a strange position, one arm behind his back. The knife at his throat. Shouts of surprise. The men on their feet, swords drawn. Saburo on his knees. The sudden gush of blood. Bara’s scream. The foal pushing her, pushing her to the shore.

  Run, daughter. It is your uncle. He will hand you over to the Miboshi.

  “Akihime!” she cried. “Bara, we must warn Akihime.” Then she stopped, terrified the murderer had heard her.

  Bara stood whimpering as if in shock. Hina held the lute and the text in one hand and with the other seized the baby from her. She looked around, frantic. Where should she run to?

  The boat had reached the shore. The easterly wind had dropped. She could hear laughter, the careless laughter of ordinary people. She thought of what she was leaving behind. Takaakira, her life of music and learning. The eyes? How could she leave the eyes? They were in her room. And the sword? Akihime’s sword, which she had returned to the shrine as an offering to the Lake Goddess.

  Bara was stumbling, like a sleepwalker, toward Saburo’s fallen body. The other man, Hina’s uncle, was gesticulating, explaining to the men who surrounded him. Hina heard their cries of amazement and triumph. Akihime was betrayed.

  She felt the lute pull her. She ran to the dock, Take bumping and chuckling in one arm, the lute and the scroll in the other. The lute was changing before her eyes just like in her dream. It became beautiful, gleaming in the morning sun, and as she approached the boat it began to play, the glorious music echoing through the sudden calm.

  Then with a rush the wind rose again.

  “Ah, here comes the westerly!” called the helmsman. “We will get to the market, after all!”

  “Take me with you!” Hina cried, as the oarsmen turned the boat and the west wind filled the sail. The lute was almost deafening her. Behind her Tan was neighing.

  Two boys, a few years younger than she was, stood on the deck, surrounded by monkeys.

  “What are you doing with that lute?” one of them shouted to her, as the boat skimmed the side of the dock.

  “Take it!” Hina put Take down for a moment and threw the lute to them and then the text. Then she picked Take up and holding him tightly in her arms jumped after them. But the boat had already veered around and the baby hampered her. She fell into the deep water next to the dock. She did not dare release her grip on Take. He struggled and screamed, choking on the icy water. The beautiful robes Takaakira had given her were now deadly, filling with water, as heavy as iron.

  13

  MASACHIKA

  The following day Masachika took Akihime to Miyako, crossing the lake by boat, using the same westerly wind. He did not go to Aomizu but went directly to Kasumiguchi. He was troubled that Hina and the baby had disappeared, apparently drowned in the lake, though there was no trace of their bodies—it would have been tidier to scoop all three up in the one net—but he had the main catch secure in his hands. The weather was worsening and he did not want to get caught on the open lake in a storm.

  He searched the house and the shrine before leaving and found enough evidence to prove that Takaakira had been keeping the young girl in the house for nearly a year. When he questioned the two women, who were teachers of some kind, they swore they had not known who their pupil was, but attested to her intelligence, gentle nature, and talent for music and poetry, none of which interested Masachika in the slightest. But in her room he found the box and that interested him greatly.

  He remembered what the groom had said but could not resist the temptation to look inside. Immediately sadness swept over him. He felt anew the loss of Tama and Matsutani. He saw himself always, all his life, compared with Kiyoyori, and falling short. He saw his self-serving nature, his jealousy, his treachery. Bitter regrets assailed him for all that might have been. While his mind was so open and vulnerable, one of his flashes of insight came to him. The eyes were Sesshin’s and would give him mastery over the spirits at Matsutani. He closed the box, and made sure it traveled with him.

  He came upon the sword in the shrine. It had been placed behind the altar, and he marveled that no one had stolen it, for he had never seen a finer blade. He felt an unusual reluctance to touch it, and when he lifted it the sword felt heavy and unwieldy, but after a few moments it settled into his hand, and he was aware it had acquiesced in some way. It thrilled him, giving him hope that his life was about to turn around, that he would be well rewarded, that he would become a better man as a result. To his surprise, a prayer formed on his lips. He also found a ceremonial bow made of catalpa wood, but it made him feel uneasy and he decided to send it to Ryusonji. He was holding it in one hand and the sword in the other when he came out of the shrine. The horses were standing out in front, as if they had been waiting for him. They stared at him fixedly, and a shaft of terror pierced him as he recognized the foal from his dream.

  Masachika did not dare voice his fears. He gave orders that the horses should be brought to Miyako, resolving to present them to the Prince Abbot. If the foal were possessed, the Prince Abbot would recognize the spirit.

  The maid, Bara, was hysterical at the loss of her lover, which Masachika realized Saburo must have been, and useless, so he took the younger of the teachers, Sadako, with them, to wait on Akihime, for even though she was a fugitive she was still a nobleman’s daughter. Akihime refused to speak and did not respond to any of his questions regarding Yoshimori, or the child to whom she had recently given birth, although when his patience gave out and he told her the boy had drowned, she wept silently.

  * * *

  Lord Aritomo inspected Aki as if she were a piece of art. Takaakira was in the room with them, but so far he had not spoken. Masachika glanced at him from time to time, trying to assess his reactions, but the lord of the Snow Country remained impassive.

  The rain was teeming down. As Masachika had feared, the westerly had increased to a gale. Rivers were breaking their banks, destroying the spring plantings of rice and vegetables.

  “You see,” Lord Aritomo said, “I was right. She went to her childhood home. We only had to wait for her.” He smiled tight-lipped, then addressed Masachika.

  “Well done. You will be rewarded.”

  Masachika bowed. He had related how the groom Saburo had come to Rakuhara, but so far he made no mention of Hina or the baby, nor did he say anything about the eyes or disclose the sword.

  “Why are her arms bruised?” Aritomo said.

  “She was about to cut her throat. I had to prevent her. She struggled against me.”

  Aritomo nodded.

  “May I present the knife to you?” Masachika said.

  Aritomo took it and inspected it carefully. “It is very fine. In a way I am sorry it does not come fresh with the blood of a princess, but, of course, she will be more use to us alive.”

  He turned to Takaakira, showing him the knife. “You would have
had the honor of finding her, and earlier, if I had not summoned you back here to advise me on this upstart at Kumayama. What does he call himself?”

  “Shikanoko,” Takaakira replied.

  “Tell Masachika about him.”

  “He is causing us some trouble by establishing a garrison between the capital and Minatogura. He attacked his family fortress at Kumayama and killed his uncle, who had become one of our vassals. Then he took over Kuromori at the beginning of the winter. Next will be Matsutani.”

  “What possible claim can he have to Matsutani?” Masachika exclaimed.

  “Right of conquest, it is called,” Aritomo said drily. “Don’t be too concerned. He won’t be there for long. We are going to use the Autumn Princess to draw him out. According to the Prince Abbot at Ryusonji he has strong feelings for her. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

  Akihime did not raise her head.

  “He will try to rescue you, but he will die in the attempt,” Aritomo said pleasantly. “But first you will tell us where to find Yoshimori, the false emperor.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Akihime replied. “He was kidnapped from me. I have not seen him for months. But, as you well know, he is the true emperor. Isn’t Heaven itself telling you that? If he is restored to the throne, these disasters will end.”

  The rain fell more heavily, as if the river itself had been drawn up from its bed and was emptying itself out over the city.