Across the Nightingale Floor

by Lian Hearn

  “Another week is all we need,” Shigeru whispered.

  I felt the darkness rise like ink in my veins. I raised my eyes and looked Shigeru full in the face—something I still rarely dared to do. We smiled at each other, never closer than when we were agreed on assassination.

  From the streets outside came sporadic shouts, cries, the pad of running men, the tramp of horses, the crackling of fires, rising to wailing and screaming. The Tohan were clearing the streets, imposing the curfew. After a while the noise abated and the quiet of the summer evening returned. The moon had risen, drenching the town in light. I heard horses come into the inn yard, and Abe’s voice. A few moments later there was a soft tap on the door, and maids came in with trays of food. One of them was the girl who had spoken to me earlier. She stayed to serve us after the others had left, saying quietly to Kenji, “Lord Abe has returned, sir. There will be extra guards outside the rooms tonight. Lord Otori’s men are to be replaced by Tohan.”

  “They won’t like that,” I said, recalling the men’s unrest.

  “It seems provocative,” Shigeru murmured. “Are we under some suspicion?”

  “Lord Abe is angry and alarmed by the level of violence in the town,” the girl replied. “He says it is to protect you.”

  “Would you ask Lord Abe to be good enough to wait on me?”

  The girl bowed and left. We ate, mostly in silence. Towards the end of the meal Shigeru began to speak of Sesshu and his paintings. He took out the scroll of the horse and unrolled it. “It’s quite pleasing,” he said. “A faithful copy, yet something of yourself in it. You could become quite an artist . . .”

  He did not go on, but I was thinking the same thought: in a different world, in a different life, in a country not governed by war. . . .

  “The garden is very beautiful,” Kenji observed. “Although it is small, to my mind it is more exquisite than the larger examples of Sesshu’s work.”

  “I agree,” Shigeru said. “Of course, the setting at Terayama is incomparable.”

  I could hear Abe’s heavy tread approaching. As the door slid open I was saying humbly, “Can you explain the placement of the rocks to me, sir?”

  “Lord Abe,” Shigeru said, “please come in.” He called to the girl: “Bring fresh tea and wine.”

  Abe bowed somewhat perfunctorily and settled himself on the cushions. “I will not stay long: I have not yet eaten, and we must be on the road at first light.”

  “We were speaking of Sesshu,” Shigeru said. The wine was brought and he poured a cup for Abe.

  “A great artist,” Abe agreed, drinking deeply. “I regret that in these troubled times, the artist is less important than the warrior.” He threw a scornful look at me that convinced me my disguise was still safe. “The town is quiet now, but the situation is still grave. I feel my men will offer you greater protection.”

  “The warrior is indispensable,” Shigeru said. “Which is why I prefer to have my own men around me.”

  In the silence that followed I saw clearly the difference between them. Abe was no more than a glorified baron. Shigeru was heir to an ancient clan. Despite his reluctance, Abe had to defer to him.

  He pushed his lower lip out. “If that is Lord Otori’s wish . . .” he conceded finally.

  “It is.” Shigeru smiled slightly and poured more wine.

  After Abe had left, the lord said, “Takeo, watch with the guards tonight. Impress on them that if there are any disturbances, I won’t hesitate to hand them over to Abe for punishment. I fear a premature uprising. We are so close now to our aim.”

  It was an aim that I clung to single-mindedly. I gave no further thought to Kenji’s statement that the Tribe would claim me. I concentrated solely on Iida Sadamu, in his lair in Inuyama. I would get to him across the nightingale floor. And I would kill him. Even the thought of Kaede only served to intensify my resolve. I didn’t need to be an Ichiro to work out that if Iida died before Kaede’s marriage, she would be set free to marry me.

  · 9 ·

  e were roused early in the morning and were on the road a little after daybreak. The clearness of the previous day had disappeared; the air was heavy and sticky. Clouds had formed in the night and rain threatened.

  People had been forbidden to gather in the streets, and the Tohan enforced the ruling with their swords, cutting down a night-soil collector who dared to stop and stare at our procession and beating to death an old woman who did not get out of the way in time.

  It was inauspicious enough to be traveling on the third day of the Festival of the Dead. These acts of cruelty and bloodshed seemed to add ill omens for our journey.

  The ladies were carried in palanquins, so I saw nothing of Kaede until we stopped for the midday meal. I did not speak to her, but I was shocked by her appearance. She was so pale, her skin seemed transparent, and her eyes were dark-ringed. My heart twisted. The more frail she became, it seemed the more hopelessly I loved her.

  Shigeru spoke to Shizuka about her, concerned by her pallor. She replied that the movement of the palanquin did not agree with Kaede—it was nothing more than that—but her eyes flickered towards me and I thought I understood their message.

  We were a silent group, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. The men were tense and irritable. The heat was oppressive. Only Shigeru seemed at ease, his conversation as light and carefree as if he were truly going to celebrate a longed-for wedding. I knew the Tohan despised him for it, but I thought it one of the greatest displays of courage I had seen.

  The farther east we went, the less damage from the storms we encountered. The roads improved as we approached the capital, and each day we covered more miles. On the afternoon of the fifth day we arrived at Inuyama.

  Iida had made this eastern city his capital after his success at Yaegahara, and had begun building the massive castle then. It dominated the town with its black walls and white crenellations, its roofs that looked as if they had been flung up into the sky like cloths. As we rode towards it I found myself studying the fortifications, measuring the height of the gates and the walls, looking for footholds. . . . Here I will go invisible, here I will need grapples. . . .

  I had not imagined the town would be so large, that there would be so many warriors on guard in the castle and housed around it.

  Abe reined his horse back so he was alongside me. I’d become a favorite butt for his jokes and bullying humor. “This is what power looks like, boy. You get it by being a warrior. Makes your work with the brush look pretty feeble, eh?”

  I didn’t mind what Abe thought of me, as long as he never suspected the truth. “It’s the most impressive place I’ve ever seen, Lord Abe. I wish I could study it closely, its architecture, its works of art.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he said, ready enough to be patronizing now that he was safely back in his own city.

  “Sesshu’s name still lives among us,” I remarked, “while the warriors of his age have all been forgotten.”

  He burst out laughing. “But you’re no Sesshu, are you?”

  His contempt made the blood rise to his face, but I meekly agreed with him. He knew nothing about me: It was the only comfort I had.

  We were escorted to a residence close to the castle moat. It was spacious and beautiful. All the appearances suggested that Iida was committed to the marriage and to the alliance with the Otori. Certainly no fault could be found with the attention and honor paid to Shigeru. The ladies were carried to the castle itself, where they would stay at Iida’s own residence, with the women of his household. Lady Maruyama’s daughter lived there.

  I did not see Kaede’s face, but as she was carried away she let her hand appear briefly through the curtain of the palanquin. In it she held the scroll I had given her, the painting of my little mountain bird that she said made her think of freedom.

  A soft evening rain was beginning to fall, blurring the outlines of the castle, glistening on the tiles and the cobblestones. Two geese flew overhead with a ste
ady beating of wings. As they disappeared from sight I could still hear their mournful cry.

  Abe returned later to the residence with wedding gifts and effusive messages of welcome from Lord Iida. I reminded him of his promise to show me the castle, pestering him and putting up with his banter, until he agreed to arrange it for the following day.

  Kenji and I went with him in the morning, and I dutifully listened and sketched while first Abe and then, when he grew bored, one of his retainers took us around the castle. My hand drew trees, gardens, and views, while eye and brain absorbed the layout of the castle, the distance from the main gate to the second gate (the Diamond Gate, they called it), from the Diamond Gate to the inner bailey, from the inner bailey to the residence. The river flowed along the eastern side; all four sides were moated. And while I drew I listened, placed the guards, both seen and hidden, and counted them.

  The castle was full of people: warriors and foot soldiers, blacksmiths, fletchers and armorers, grooms, cooks, maids, servants of all kinds. I wondered where they all went at night, and if it ever became quiet.

  The retainer was more talkative than Abe, keen to boast about Iida, and naively impressed by my drawing. I sketched him quickly and gave him the scroll. In those days few portraits were made, and he held it as if it were a magic talisman. After that he showed us more than he should have, including the hidden chambers where guards were always stationed, the false windows of the watchtowers, and the route the patrols took throughout the night.

  Kenji said very little, beyond criticizing my drawing and correcting a brush stroke now and then. I wondered if he was planning to come with me when I went into the castle at night. One moment I thought I could do nothing without his help; the next I knew I wanted to be alone.

  We came finally to the central keep and were taken inside, introduced to the captain of the guard, and allowed to climb the steep wooden steps to the highest floor. The massive pillars that held up the main tower were at least seventy feet in height. I imagined them as trees in the forest, how vast their canopy would be, how dense and dark their shade. The cross beams still held the twists they had grown with, as though they longed to spring upwards and be living trees again. I felt the castle’s power as though it were a sentient being drawn up against me.

  From the top platform, under the curious eyes of the midday guards, we could see out over the whole city. To the north rose the mountains I had crossed with Shigeru, and beyond them the plain of Yaegahara. To the southeast lay my birthplace, Mino. The air was misty and still, with hardly a breath of wind. Despite the heavy stone walls and the cool, dark wood, it was stiflingly hot. The guards’ faces shone with sweat, their armor heavy and uncomfortable.

  The southern windows of the main keep looked down onto the second, lower keep, which Iida had transformed into his residence. It was built above a huge fortification wall that rose almost directly from the moat. Beyond the moat, on the eastern side, was a strip of marshland, about a hundred yards or so in width, and then the river, flowing deep and strong, swollen by the storms. Above the fortification wall ran a row of small windows, but the doors of the residence were all on the western side. Gracefully sloping roofs covered the verandas and gave onto a small garden, surrounded by the walls of the second bailey. It would have been hidden from the eye at ground level, but here we could peer down into it as eagles might.

  On the opposite side the northwest bailey housed the kitchens and other offices.

  My eyes kept going from one side of Iida’s palace to the other. The western side was so beautiful, almost gentle, the eastern side brutal in its austerity and power, and the brutality was increased by the iron rings set in the walls below the lookout windows. These, the guards told us, were used to hang Iida’s enemies from, the victims’ suffering deepening and enhancing his enjoyment of his power and splendor.

  As we descended the steps again I could hear them mocking us, making the jokes I’d learned the Tohan always made at Otori expense: that they prefer boys to girls in bed, they’d rather eat a good meal than have a decent fight, that they were seriously weakened by their addiction to hot springs, which they always pissed in. Their raucous laughter floated after us. Embarrassed, our companion muttered an apology.

  Assuring him we had taken no offense, I stood for a moment in the gateway of the inner bailey, ostensibly smitten by the beauty of the morning-glory flowers that straggled over the stone walls of the kitchens. I could hear all the usual kitchen sounds: the hiss of boiling water, the clatter of steel knives, a steady pounding as someone made rice cakes, the shouts of the cooks and the servant girls’ high-pitched chatter. But beneath all that, from the other direction, from within the garden wall, there was something else reaching into my ears.

  After a moment I realized what it was: the tread of people coming and going across Iida’s nightingale floor.

  “Can you hear that strange noise?” I said innocently to Kenji.

  He frowned. “What can it be?”

  Our companion laughed. “That’s the nightingale floor.”

  “The nightingale floor?” we questioned together.

  “It’s a floor that sings. Nothing can cross it, not even a cat, without the floor chirping like a bird.”

  “It sounds like magic,” I said.

  “Maybe it is,” the man replied, laughing at my credulity. “Whatever it is, his lordship sleeps better at night for its protection.”

  “What a marvelous thing! I’d love to see it,” I said.

  The man, still smiling, obligingly led us round the bailey to the southern side where the gate to the garden stood open. The gate was not high, but it had a massive overhang, and the steps through it were set on a steep angle so that they could be defended by one man. We looked through the gate to the building beyond. The wooden shutters were all open. I could see the massive gleaming floor that ran the whole length of the building.

  A procession of maids bringing trays of food, for it was almost midday, stepped out of their sandals and onto the floor. I listened to its song, and my heart failed me. I recalled running so lightly and silently across the floor around the house in Hagi. This floor was four times its size, its song infinitely more complex. There would be no opportunity to practice. I would have one chance alone to outwit it.

  I stayed as long as I plausibly could, exclaiming and admiring while trying to map every sound, and from time to time, remembering that Kaede was somewhere within that building, straining my ears in vain to hear her voice.

  Eventually Kenji said, “Come along, come along! My stomach is empty. Lord Takeo will be able to see the floor again tomorrow when he accompanies Lord Otori.”

  “Do we come to the castle again tomorrow?”

  “Lord Otori will wait on Lord Iida in the afternoon,” Kenji said. “I suppose Lord Takeo will accompany him.”

  “How thrilling,” I replied, but my heart was as heavy as stone at the prospect.

  When we returned to our lodging house, Lord Shigeru was looking at wedding robes. They were spread out over the matting, sumptuous, brightly colored, embroidered with all the symbols of good fortune and longevity: plum blossoms, white cranes, turtles.

  “My uncles have sent these for me,” he said. “What do you think of their graciousness, Takeo?”

  “It is extreme,” I replied, sickened by their duplicity.

  “Which should I wear, in your opinion?” He took up the plum-blossom robe and the man who had brought the garments helped him put it on.

  “That one is fine,” Kenji said. “Now let’s eat.”

  Lord Shigeru, however, lingered for a moment, passing his hands over the fine fabric, admiring the delicate intricacy of the embroidery. He did not speak, but I thought I saw something in his face: regret, perhaps, for the wedding that would never take place, and maybe, when I recall it now, premonition of his own fate.

  “I will wear this one,” he said, taking it off and handing it to the man.

  “It is indeed becoming,” the man murmu
red. “But few men are as handsome as Lord Otori.”

  Shigeru smiled his openhearted smile but made no other response, nor did he speak much during the meal. We were all silent, too tense to speak of trivial matters, and too aware of possible spies to speak of anything else.

  I was tired but restless. The afternoon heat kept me inside. Although the doors were all opened wide onto the garden, not a breath of air came into the rooms. I dozed, trying to recall the song of the nightingale floor. The sounds of the garden, the insects’ droning, the waterfall’s splash, washed over me, half waking me, making me think I was back in the house in Hagi.

  Towards evening, rain began to fall again and it became a little cooler. Kenji and Shigeru were engrossed in a game of Go, Kenji being the black player. I must have fallen completely asleep, for I was awakened by a tap on the door and heard one of the maids tell Kenji a messenger had come for him.

  He nodded, made his move, and got up to leave the room. Shigeru watched him go, then studied the board, as though absorbed only in the problems of the game. I stood, too, and looked at the layout of the pieces. I had watched the two of them play many times, and always Shigeru proved the stronger player, but this time I could tell the white pieces were under threat.

  I went to the cistern and splashed water on my face and hands. Then, feeling trapped and suffocated inside, I crossed the courtyard to the main door of the lodging house and stepped out into the street.

  Kenji stood on the opposite side of the road, talking to a young man who was dressed in the running clothes of a messenger. Before I could catch what they were saying, he spotted me, clapped the young man on the shoulder, and bade him farewell. He crossed the street towards me, dissembling, looking like my harmless old teacher. But he would not look me in the eye, and in the moment before he’d seen me I felt that the true Muto Kenji had been revealed, as it had been once before: the man beneath all the disguises, as ruthless as Jato.