by Hearn, Lian
The sneer in his voice made the blood rise in Shigeru’s face. He fought to control his temper, realizing intuitively that the only way to deal with Iida was through self-control, calmness, and courtesy.
“I was told that you were handsome,” Sadamu went on. “But good-looking boys grow up to be weak men. They are spoiled by too much attention when they are young. If you are the best the Otori can produce, I don’t think we have anything to fear.”
Shigeru could not help being amazed by the man’s effrontery—alone, unarmed, surrounded by enemies, Sadamu was self-confident enough to be deliberately insulting.
“The man who saw me fall—you hold him too?”
Shigeru nodded in assent.
“Bring him to me.”
“He is still at the place where Lord Iida fell. He will join us tomorrow.”
Shigeru heard a murmur from the men who surrounded them of anger at the insulting tone, anger in response to Iida’s rage. He knew it would take only a word from him—less, a single gesture—and Iida’s life would be over. Yet he would not kill an unarmed man; nor would he take any action that would bring on war before the Otori clan was fully prepared.
If Iida was aware of his own vulnerability, he gave no sign of it. He appeared to accept the situation and wasted no more time or energy struggling against it. He stretched out beside the fire, adjusted a rock under his head for a pillow, and seemed to fall instantly asleep.
Shigeru could not help admiring his equanimity: there was no doubt Iida Sadamu was a courageous man and a formidable enemy. He had already seen the evidence of his ruthlessness and his cruelty.
He sat up with the guards keeping watch. None of his men slept much, apart from Komori, who was exhausted by the rescue. They shared Shigeru’s restlessness, as though they had captured a tiger or a bear that might suddenly attack them and rip them apart. It was a soft, mild night, the constellations blazing across the vault of heaven. Just before dawn there was a shower of falling stars that made the men gasp and caused the superstitious among them to clasp their amulets. Shigeru thought about Heaven, and the gods and spirits that ruled the lives of men. He had been taught that the test of government was the contentment of the people. If the ruler was just, the land received the blessings of Heaven. He wanted to ensure justice throughout the Middle Country, to realize his vision of his fief as a farm. Yet men like Iida seized power and dominated those around them by sheer force of will, their desire for power unhindered by compassion or the desire for justice. You either shared their view and submitted to them in return for their protection or opposed them by meeting their will with your own and by being stronger. He was grateful for this strange meeting. He would never forget that he had seen Iida Sadamu naked and powerless.
They rose at first light, as larks called their morning song, and prepared the horses, ate a sparse meal of cold food, and departed. Iida rode Komori’s horse, ropes tied to its bit and held by warriors on either side lest he attempt to escape, while Komori himself ran at Shigeru’s stirrup, guiding them back through the treacherous country.
After an hour they came to the Ogre’s Storehouse. The men who had spent the night there were prepared for departure. The Tohan man stood beside the horses, holding the bird perch with the hawks still on it. Hungry, they raised their feathers and called piercingly.
When the man saw Iida, he tried to bow to the ground without letting go of the birds, his movements made clumsy by fear.
“Bring the birds,” Iida commanded from the horse. The man rose and went to him, holding the perch so that it was level with his lord’s chest. Iida seized one bird in his bare hands. It struggled and screamed, trying to slash with beak and talons. He broke its neck and threw it to the ground, then killed the second in the same way. This he threw directly in the face of his retainer.
No one spoke. No one would plead for the man’s life. He was Tohan: Iida could do with him what he wanted. The man laid the perch down in the grass, his movements no longer awkward but almost graceful in their deliberation. He undid his overgarments—he had already taken off his leather armor—and said quietly, “I ask you to give me back my sword.”
The Otori warriors led him away from Iida to the edge of the pit. Afterward they threw the body down.
“Ogre’s breakfast,” one of them said. The birds lay in the dust, the brightness fading from their plumage. They already had ants in their eyes.
IRIE AND KIYOSHIGE were surprised to see them return so soon and even more astonished when they learned the identity of their companion.
“Lord Iida Sadamu has had a terrible experience,” Shigeru said. “He was lucky to escape death. He will be our guest while he recovers.”
He explained briefly what had happened and accompanied Iida to the best room in the inn, treating him with exaggerated courtesy and insisting that the highest-quality clothes and food be supplied. He made sure Iida was well guarded; then he himself bathed and changed his own clothes, dressing with great care in formal robes and having a barber come to shave his face and head and dress his hair.
Then he conferred with Irie and Kiyoshige. “Since Lord Kitano is on his way here, I think it would be pleasant for him to see his sons. I intend to ask Sadamu to send letters to Inuyama requesting their presence. Once they are here and Kitano has formally reaffirmed his loyalty, we will escort Lord Iida to the border.”
“We should get assurances that the border violations will cease,” Kiyoshige said. “I can’t believe he fell into your hands like this! What a stroke of luck.”
“We will—but there is no guarantee that he will keep his word, and we cannot hold him for long. Irie, have a doctor come and tend to him. He can testify that Sadamu is too weak to travel.”
“Weak is hardly a word you would use to describe Sadamu!” Kiyoshige said, grinning.
After another explosion of rage, Sadamu gave in and wrote to his father. Within a week, Tadao and Masaji arrived in Chigawa; they were reunited with their father, Lord Kitano, the following day. All three of them made solemn declarations of allegiance in Sadamu’s presence, and Sadamu himself undertook to maintain the borders and prevent any more incursions into Otori territory. The doctor pronounced Sadamu fit to travel, and Shigeru accompanied him to the border, where he was met by a large force of Tohan warriors. Their faces were grim beneath their helmets, and they did not speak to or even acknowledge the Otori contingent. The leaders leaped from their horses to prostrate themselves before Sadamu, expressing their joy and relief at his return. He spoke to them sharply, ordering them to remount immediately and not to delay their departure any longer.
Once the horsemen had splashed across the river that marked the border, several of them turned to wave their swords and jeer at the Otori. Bows were armed and raised in reply, but Shigeru spoke swiftly to forbid retaliation.
“Not even a word of thanks!” he observed as Sadamu and his retainers galloped away.
“You have made an enemy,” Irie replied.
“He is Tohan: We were born enemies.”
“But now he hates you personally. You saved his life and he will never forgive you for it.”
THE PLUM RAINS BEGAN, and Shigeru spent the following weeks based in Chigawa. The reinforcements arrived, and patrols were sent out to set up stations all along the border until the end of autumn. He also took the time to examine the agricultural conditions of the district, advised Kitano that taxes were too high and he must take no more than thirty percent of the harvest, and spent two days listening to various grievances that the peasants held against officials and merchants.
He visited the silver and copper mines with Komori and discussed ways of increasing production, realizing anew how important it was to keep the mines out of Tohan hands. He would have been happy to stay all summer, but at the end of the month messengers arrived from Hagi with a letter from his father.
“I am summoned home,” he said to Kiyoshige. “I wish I had not read the letter, but having done so, I suppose I must obey.”
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He allowed Lord Kitano’s younger son to return to Tsuwano with his father, but he had decided Tadao, the elder boy, would accompany him to Hagi and stay there, to encourage his father to remain loyal.
18
Shigeru rode home in a cheerful mood, feeling he had every reason to be pleased with the results of his decisive action. His popularity and reputation were increased among the ordinary people who came out to welcome him at every town and village, showering him and his men with gifts of food, fruit, rice wine. The weather continued hot and fine; the harvest would be good: everyone, it seemed, was happy.
But his reception at the castle was less enthusiastic. He had hardly dismounted in the outer bailey when Endo Chikara himself came to welcome him home, saying, “Your father has asked you to go to him at once.”
“I will wash and change my clothes,” Shigeru replied. “The effects of the journey . . .”
“Lord Shigemori did say ‘at once,’” Endo demurred. Shigeru passed the reins to Kiyoshige. The two young men exchanged glances. Kiyoshige raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing.
Now I am to be chastised, Shigeru thought ruefully. But even though he expected it, it was no easier to bear. His uncles were very angry, his father bemused and sorrowful. His father’s displeasure was caused more by the fact that Shigeru had acted alone without consultation or permission; his uncles, whose attendance annoyed Shigeru intensely, were more concerned about what they described as the unfortunate results—the deaths of Honda and Maeda, the unnecessary provocation of the Tohan.
“If I had not been there, Sadamu would have died!” Shigeru retorted. “At least lies cannot be fabricated about his death. Furthermore, he swore in front of witnesses to control his men and prevent any more incursions into the Middle Country. We will have peace in the border region, and the mines around Chigawa are secured.”
“Lord Kitano is somewhat displeased at your meddling in his affairs,” his older uncle said.
“Kitano reaffirmed his allegiance to me personally, as did his sons,” Shigeru said, trying to control his anger. “Tadao will stay close to me in the meantime. . . .”
It was no longer a question of being right—although he was sure he was—but of whose will would prevail, who was the stronger. He reminded his uncles that he was the heir to the clan, that he was now an adult, and that he expected their complete loyalty for the sake of the clan. He made no apologies either to them or to his father and left the meeting close to rage. He felt his father should have supported him; he deplored Shigemori’s indecision and vacillation. Filial duty bound him to defer to his father—but if the security of the Otori clan itself demanded contrary action, what should he do, what course should he take?
Kiyoshige had escorted Tadao to the retainers’ quarters, and Irie had returned to his own house in the town beyond the castle wall. Shigeru went alone to his rooms in the residence. It was almost evening; the sun had already sunk below the steep hill on the west side of the gardens. He requested that a maid come to the bathhouse at the hot spring between the rocks. The girl scrubbed the dirt from his skin and the stiffness from his limbs; then he sent her away and eased himself into the scalding water.
After a while he heard Takeshi’s voice in the garden. He called out to him, and his brother came through the bathhouse, undressed, and began to wash himself. Then he joined Shigeru in the water.
“Welcome home! Everyone’s talking about what you achieved. It was wonderful—how I wish I had been with you!”
Shigeru smiled. His brother’s admiration was a shadow of what he had hoped for from his father, but its genuine enthusiasm cheered him. He studied Takeshi: the boy had grown during the summer, his legs much longer, his chest filling out.
“And you met Iida Sadamu. I would have fought and killed him.”
“He was unarmed—and as naked as you are now! By the time he was clothed again, it seemed more sensible to negotiate with him.”
“The Tohan never keep their word,” Takeshi muttered. “Don’t trust him.”
Kiyoshige called from outside, “Lord Shigeru?”
“Come and join us,” Shigeru exclaimed as Kiyoshige appeared at the threshold. “We’ll all eat together.”
“I have already made arrangements to eat with Kitano Tadao. I thought Lord Takeshi might accompany us.”
“I want to eat with my older brother,” Takeshi said, “and hear about his exploits.”
“Shigeru won’t tell you anything,” Kiyoshige said. “He is far too modest. Come with me and I’ll tell you what a hero he is and how much the people love him.”
“So am I to be left alone?” Shigeru said, stretching out in the water and thinking about sleep.
“Not exactly.” There was something in Kiyoshige’s voice that alerted him.
Takeshi unconsciously imitated his brother, stretching in the same indolent way, linking his hands behind him and resting his head on them. “I’ll stay with you,” he said, and at almost the same moment, Shigeru was saying, “Go with Kiyoshige, Takeshi. It will honor Tadao. It is the correct thing to do.”
Kiyoshige said, “I’ll tell you how Sadamu strangled his own hawks!”
“I don’t think you actually witnessed that,” Shigeru observed.
“No, but Komori and the other Chigawa men related it to me.”
Takeshi sat up and looked toward Kiyoshige. “He strangled his own hawks? Why?”
“Presumably because they led him into the Ogre’s Storehouse!”
“I have to hear this.” Takeshi leaped from the water, splashing Shigeru as he went. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s what you should do. Be polite to Tadao. We don’t want him to pine for Inuyama.”
When Kiyoshige and Takeshi had gone, Shigeru dressed in a light cotton robe and returned to his apartments, half expecting to spend the night alone, half expecting . . . he was not sure what. But his pulse had quickened and his veins tingled, not only from the heat of the water.
It was almost dark. Lamps had been lit in the doorway and inside the main room, making the pale colors of the flowers on the painted screens gleam in the shadows against the golden background. The eyes of the finches among the blossoms glinted as if they were alive. A spray of jasmine had been placed in the alcove, and its fragrance filled the room.
At the same time as he stepped out of his sandals, he could smell beneath the jasmine another scent—perfumed hair and garments. He paused for a moment, allowing himself to experience the moment, the anticipation of pleasure as acute as the pleasure itself would be.
She had had the lamps placed so they lit her face. He recognized her at once: the white skin, the eyes shaped like willow leaves, the strong cheekbones that stole true beauty from her face but gave it character that somehow added to her charm—Akane, the daughter of the stonemason. He heard the soft rustle of her clothes as she bowed to the floor and said quietly, “Lord Otori.”
He sat cross-legged in front of her.
She raised herself and said, “I came to thank Lord Otori for his kindness to myself and my mother. You honored my father in death. We are forever in your debt.”
“I am sorry for your father’s death. The bridge is one of the marvels of the Middle Country. Its construction adds to the glory of the clan. His death enhanced that. I thought it should be commemorated.”
“My family have sent gifts—nothing of any significance, food and wine. It’s asking too great an honor, but may I serve you them now?”
His single instinct was to touch her, to hold her, but he also wanted to treat her with courtesy, to respect her grief; he wanted to know the woman who had cried out in the moment when her father was entombed, not merely the courtesan who would eventually give herself to him because he had expressed a desire for her.
“If you will share them with me,” he replied. His heart was pounding.
