by Hearn, Lian
“And what do these loose tongues have to say?”
“I am not being disloyal myself. I am simply repeating what is said because I think you should know.”
“I understand.”
“They fear our father’s indecisiveness in the face of Tohan aggression. They are concerned about the role our uncles play in the clan’s decisions. They predict that the East will be handed over to the Tohan rather than defended.”
“Not while I live,” Shigeru said. “We will spend the autumn and winter preparing for war; it is my intention to start gathering men and training them.”
Takeshi’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Just don’t start a war until I’m old enough to fight!”
By now Shigeru had seen many men die. He would never forget the moment when life left the body of the first man he had killed—Miura. He did not fear his own death, though he still intended to make it significant, but the idea of Takeshi’s death was unendurable. All the more reason not to delay the confrontation with the Tohan. But if it is next year, as it probably will be, Shigeru thought, at fourteen, he will not be too young to take part. How can I keep him out of the battle?
“Anything else you can tell me?” he asked.
“Maruyama Naomi’s husband is in favor of an alliance with the Tohan. This is causing unease among the other Seishuu families—especially the Arai. People say we should join with the Seishuu before they support Iida Sadamu and we find ourselves caught between them and pincered.”
Shigeru sat in silence for a while, remembering his earlier thoughts on an alliance through marriage with the Seishuu. “I have never been to the West,” he said finally. “I would like to go there; I would like to see how they arrange affairs in Maruyama, for instance.”
“Take me with you,” Takeshi begged. “There is still plenty of time before the snows begin—and autumn is a fine season for traveling. And let’s go to Kumamoto too. I want to meet Arai Daiichi—they say he is a mighty warrior.”
“The eldest son?”
“Yes—he is only young, but he is said to be the best swordsman in the Three Countries! But he is probably not as good as my elder brother,” Takeshi added loyally.
“I suspect you will be a better swordsman than I,” Shigeru said. “Particularly if you go to Matsuda Shingen at Terayama.”
“I would like to be taught by Matsuda—but I don’t know that I could stand all those months in the temple.”
“You would learn a lot. Maybe you should spend the winter there. We will call on Matsuda on the way.”
“On the way back,” Takeshi pleaded.
“You should stay at least a year,” Shigeru said, thinking, He will be far from the battlefield there.
Takeshi groaned. “Too much studying.”
“Training the body is of no use unless you also train the mind. And besides, the study is fascinating in itself, as well as being a means to an end.”
“These things interest you—you are like our father! That’s why I’m warning you not to get drawn in, as he has. Let’s not take any notice of signs or omens or what the gods say or don’t say. Let’s just put our trust in ourselves and our swords!”
A few moments beforehand, Shigeru had said his brother was still a child, and Takeshi’s voice was full of a boy’s enthusiasm and optimism; nevertheless, Shigeru felt that this was their first conversation as adults. Takeshi was growing up, and a new element had entered their relationship. Twice now Takeshi had offered advice and Shigeru had taken it.
22
Shigeru decided that night to entrust the patrolling of the eastern borders for the rest of the year to Lord Kitano, and to his wife’s family, the Yanagi of Kushimoto. Since the previous year, both families had supplied men and horses. He summoned the captains and told them he was returning to Hagi, leaving careful instructions on the frequency and size of the patrols and ordering them to send weekly messengers to the city to keep him informed on every detail.
The apparent lack of activity among the Tohan across the border made him uneasy. He wished he had a network of spies, as the Tohan had, to bring accurate news back from Inuyama. He was careful to tell no one else of his half-formed plan to travel to the West and see what alliances could be made with the Seishuu, fearing such a development would be seen as unnecessarily aggressive and would provoke Iida into open warfare.
Two days later they rode north to the sea, then turned west and followed the coast road to Hagi. The typhoon season had been a mild one and seemed to be over early. Clear autumn weather made the journey enjoyable, and the men were cheerful at the prospect of returning home.
In the open country, Shigeru rode ahead with Irie to discuss his idea with the older man. Ever since they had journeyed together to Terayama, Irie had become his most trusted adviser. Ascetic and taciturn by nature, Irie was tireless and clearsighted. His hair was grizzled with age, but he was still as strong as a twenty-year-old. He was a realist, but he was different from the fickle pragmatists Kitano and Noguchi, for example. His loyalty to Shigeru and the Otori clan was absolute, undivided by self-serving acts or opportunism. And his grasp of the complex situation now facing the Three Countries was acute. He put no faith in signs and talismans, but he was cautious by nature and would not lightly take the sort of action that would plunge the Three Countries into war, which Shigeru knew was what the young men—Kiyoshige, Miyoshi Kahei, his own brother—desired, and the outcome he himself favored. He felt he needed Irie to check his own impulsiveness, to help him be decisive but not rash.
The horses slowed to a walk. Away to their left, the Yaegahara plain was turning tawny under the autumn sun. The tasseled heads of the grasses shimmered palely, and brown and orange butterflies flitted round the horses’ hooves. Bush clover and yarrow flowered purple and white. To the east lay range after range of mountains. Already the breeze smelled of the sea.
“It will be good to be home,” Irie said. “My first grandson was born a month ago. My son wrote to say he looks like his grandfather. I am looking forward to seeing him.”
“I am sorry, I am hoping you will come away with me again, and quite soon. I am thinking about traveling to the West, possibly entering into negotiations with the Seishuu.”
“Have you told anyone else about this plan?” Irie asked.
“No, only my brother, Takeshi. He was relating some gossip to me—of how people fear we will be squeezed by Iida using Maruyama Naomi’s marriage as an alliance. I am sure that could be prevented if we act now.”
“Of course I will come with you, whenever you decide to go. In my opinion there’s a great deal of merit in such an undertaking. I believe Iida has also been making approaches to the Arai, though they have a history of antagonism toward the Tohan and have never entered into marriage alliances with them. It’s a shame you have no sisters, for the Arai have four or five sons and none of them are married yet. No doubt Iida is lining up wives for them now!”
He glanced at Shigeru and said, “Your wife has not yet conceived?”
Shigeru shook his head.
“I hope there are no problems. Your uncles have too many sons, your father and yourself not enough. Of course, you have not been married long; there is plenty of time. But you should stay at home with your wife more; that’s my only reservation about traveling away so soon. See if you can’t stay long enough to give her a child before you leave.” Irie chuckled.
Shigeru did not reply to this, beyond pretending to laugh too; for him the situation had nothing in it to laugh at. He missed Akane and looked forward with excited anticipation to being with her, but he dreaded seeing Moe and having to try again to overcome her fear and her coldness. He sometimes found himself wishing she would die and disappear from his life, and then he would be pierced by guilt and an uneasy pity for her.
“Or maybe you should take her with you,” Irie continued. “She has not yet made the formal return to her parents’ home, has she? This could be a good opportunity. And the freedom of traveling, the pleasures of t
he journey, may help bring on a child. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“I had been wondering whether to travel in state or to go in unmarked clothes with you and only a few attendants. If the purpose of my journey is to escort my wife home and to take Takeshi to Terayama, I can travel openly without unduly arousing Tohan suspicions.”
“We could arrange some suitable celebration and invite the Seishuu families to attend,” Irie suggested.
“Will they come?”
“If the right language is used, I believe they will.”
“And if Iida Sadamu hears of it, will he suspect we are plotting against him?”
“He believes that already,” Irie replied shortly.
“All the same, I think we should send messengers secretly,” Shigeru said. “Can it be done without it being generally known in Hagi? Do you have individuals you can trust?” He remembered an earlier conversation he had had with Irie. “I almost wish we could employ the Tribe.”
“There is no need for that. Many Hagi merchants trade with the Seishuu; there are many family ties. There are several lines that we can explore.”
“Of course!” Shigeru exclaimed. “My cousin, Otori Eijiro, is married to a woman from the Seishuu. He would make a good go-between. I’ll send messages to him as soon as we get home.”
SHIGERU’S MOTHER, Lady Otori, was as concerned as Lord Irie by her daughter-in-law’s failure to conceive a child, especially since the girl had been her choice, and she felt it her responsibility to turn her into a perfect wife and mother. Moe was losing her looks, growing thin and sallow, and Lady Otori feared that her obvious unhappiness would drive Shigeru further into the arms of Akane, who seemed to become more attractive and alluring every day. The tragedy of Hayato’s death had not, it seemed, tainted her with any scandal; people decided it proved her desirability and her devotion to Shigeru. The mercy shown to Hayato’s children was held to be the result of her compassionate intercession, and such fulfillment of obligations to a former lover was thoroughly approved. All this increased popularity infuriated Lady Otori. She feared above all that Akane would bear Shigeru’s child and that her son would acknowledge it—such a disaster had to be forestalled by Moe’s conceiving a legitimate heir.
She gave Moe advice on how to woo a husband, supplied her with illustrated books that depicted an interesting range and variety of techniques and positions, and had Chiyo come and take care of the young woman, remembering her own inability to bear live children and Chiyo’s solutions.
Moe looked at the pictures with repulsion, for they showed exactly what she was so afraid of: the uncomfortable and embarrassing positions, the taking, the intrusion. She feared the outcome, too, though she knew it was what everyone expected of her, the only thing they expected. She had a deep dread of childbirth and a premonition that she would die of it.
Chiyo had her own ideas of where the problem might lie. She saw in Moe a woman completely unawakened, unaware of the pleasure centers of her own body, too inhibited and too selfish to discover her husband’s. It distressed her personally on behalf of the young man she had raised from infancy, and she was also aware of the political implications, which could be disastrous for the whole clan.
She brewed a tea that had a very strong narcotic effect, both soporific and hallucinatory. She persuaded Moe to drink it, and when it had taken effect and the girl was almost asleep, thrust her fingers up between her legs and realized the hymen was still unbroken. Even in her drugged state, the touch was enough to arouse panic in Moe. Her muscles clenched and went rigid; she cried out in fear. “Don’t hurt me—oh please, don’t hurt me.”
Chiyo tried to calm her by stroking and caressing her, but there was no natural flow of wetness. She had thought to break the hymen herself, but the membrane seemed unusually resistant, and even the use of a smooth, oiled wooden phallus could not penetrate.
Moe had no clear memories afterward, just an obscure sense of violation and abuse. She began to believe that a demon had come in the night and lain with her, and her fears increased—that she had been unfaithful to her husband and would bear a goblin child as a result; everyone would see her shame. She trembled when Chiyo came near her and was reluctant to take food or drink prepared by her. Lady Otori despised Moe all the more and bullied her more, too.
It was with mixed feelings that Moe heard the news of Shigeru’s imminent return. She had enjoyed the respite of his absence, especially knowing that he was also absent from Akane, but she was deeply unhappy and was intelligent enough to realize that her only hope of happiness lay in a reconciliation with her husband.
Her mother-in-law swept into her room that evening with the same idea in mind.
“You must look your best for him. He will come straight to you. You must do whatever he wants, and above all, please him.”
Chiyo took Moe to the bathhouse and scrubbed her skin with bran; after the bath she rubbed lotions all over her body; the scent of jasmine filled Moe’s nostrils, making her head swim. Her hair was combed carefully and left loose so it fell around her. She was dressed in night robes of silk. The attention flattered her, and as she sat waiting for him, she felt for the first time a pleasant ache between her legs and a flutter of excitement in her belly. She sipped a little wine and felt the blood pulse in her veins.
It is going to be all right, she thought. I will not be afraid of him. I won’t hate him anymore. I must love him. I must desire him.
Night fell; the hours passed and Shigeru did not come. Finally she said to Chiyo, “He must have been delayed on the road.”
At that moment, from the adjoining room they heard Takeshi’s voice, greeting his mother.
Moe did not move for several moments. Then she picked up the wine flask and flung it across the room. It hit a painted screen and did not break but spilled the wine in one ugly splash across the deep pink flowers.
“He has gone to Akane,” she said.
AKANE, WHEN SHE realized Shigeru had come straight to her before even going to the castle, was jubilant. The sight of him, dusty and travel-stained, his smile when he greeted her, swept away most of her anxiety. She made a great fuss over him, pretending to be horrified at how dirty he was, scolding and teasing him, then going herself to the bathhouse to help the maid scrub his back. She washed every part of his body, thinking with anticipation of how she would feel him against her soon—but not too soon. She wanted to delay the moment, feeling her own skin tingle and her muscles soften with the languor of desire. It was a little over a year since the first time they had made love, when he had returned, like tonight, from the eastern borders. She ordered the same food to be prepared: cool, glutinous, juice-filled. Night fell and she called for the lamps to be lit, hardly taking her eyes off him as he ate and drank. He had changed from boy to man in that year. I changed him, she thought. I taught him how to be a man.
After they had retired and had satisfied their desire with passion, she lay against him. “Now you will stay in Hagi till spring,” she said contentedly.
“I will spend the winter here. But before that, I have another journey to make.”
“You are cruel!” Akane said, only half pretending. “Where are you going?”
“I will take Takeshi to Terayama. He can spend a year there. He wants to study the sword with Matsuda, and the discipline will be good for him.”
“He is very young—you were fifteen, were you not?”
“He turns fourteen in the new year. I have other reasons too. I think we will be at war next year. If my brother is at the temple, he will not be able to run away and fight.”
“He would do that,” Akane said. “Lord Takeshi is bolder than men twice his age.”
“He should learn to fight properly—and grow to his full stature.” Shigeru paused and then went on. “I am also escorting my wife to her parents’ house in Kushimoto. She has not yet made her formal visit home.”
“Your wife is traveling with you?” Akane felt the stab of jealousy, thinking of the days and nights
they would spend together on the road.
