by Hearn, Lian
He saw a young woman of great beauty, which surprised him, for no one had told him she was beautiful. Her hair, long and thick, framed her pale face with its small mouth and leaf-shaped eyes. She wore a robe of a yellow the same color as the falling ginkgo leaves, embroidered with golden pheasants. She made no sign of having seen him but went to the edge of the stream where a wooden stepped bridge had been built across the iris beds and gazed away from him out over the valley, as though drinking in the perfection of the view.
Despite her beauty—or maybe even because of it: he had been imagining her as a ruler; now he saw her as a woman, a very young one—he thought he would leave without speaking to her; but she stood between him and his way out. He thought, If she speaks to me, I will stop. If she says nothing, I will simply pass by her.
He stepped down the path and across the stream. She turned at the sound of his feet on the small pebbles of the path and their eyes met.
“Lord Otori?” she said.
In the years that followed, he would watch her grow into a woman of composure and self-control. At that moment he was aware of the girl she still was, not much older than him, despite her apparent calmness, unsure, not quite grown up, although she was a married woman and already a mother.
He bowed in response but said nothing, and she went on, a little hurriedly, “I am Maruyama Naomi. I’ve always wanted to see this garden. I am a great admirer of the work of Sesshu. He was a frequent visitor to my hometown. We almost consider him one of ours.”
“Sesshu must belong to the entire world,” Shigeru replied. “Not even the Otori can claim to own him. But I was thinking just now how this garden reflects the Middle Country in miniature.”
“You must know it well?”
“I spent a year here. I have brought my brother for a similar stay.”
“I saw him earlier; he is like you.” She smiled. “And then you will return to Hagi?”
“Yes, I’ll spend the winter there.”
They were both silent after this brief exchange. The noise from the waterfall seemed even louder. A flock of sparrows rose from the ground and fluttered into the branches of a maple tree, scattering the crimson leaves.
There is no point in saying anything, Shigeru thought. She is only a girl: she can be no help to me.
“Lord Otori is fond of hawking, I believe,” she said suddenly.
“When I have the time; it is a fine pursuit.”
“Did the plains of Kibi give you satisfaction?”
“I enjoyed the outing but had hoped for a greater catch.”
“Sometimes the catch is greater than you bargain for,” she said, with the hint of a smile. “As it must have been at Chigawa!”
“Does everyone know this story?” Shigeru asked.
“Probably too many people for your good,” she said, gazing intently at his face. “You are in great danger.” She gestured toward the garden. “The Middle Country is open to the east.”
“But protected to the west?” he questioned.
“Let us walk a little,” she said, without replying directly. “There is a pavilion, I believe. My woman will make sure no one disturbs us.
“You may know,” she said when they were seated in the pavilion, “that my marriage allies the Maruyama closely with the Tohan. Everyone expects this to bring our domain into line with Iida. But I am reluctant to allow ourselves to be controlled by the Tohan. I am afraid above all that our ancient tradition of inheriting from mother to daughter will be abolished. I have a three-year-old daughter. I am determined she will inherit from me. Despite my marriage, despite the alliance, I will always resist any attempt to change this.
“My husband has told me repeatedly how much the Iida family dislike and resent this tradition. The Iida hate everything that they suspect questions or challenges their right to absolute power. I have been to Inuyama. I have seen the way they treat their women, how women have been reduced, over the years in which the warrior class has risen to power, to the level of objects, to be used in marriage alliances or to give their husbands children but never to be allowed equal rank or even any real power. Only Maruyama is different.”
She looked away over the valley, and then her eyes returned to his face. “Will Lord Otori help me to protect my domain and my people?”
“I was looking to the Seishuu for help,” he admitted.
“Then we must help each other. We will be allies.”
“Can you bring the whole of the West into alliance with the Otori?” he queried, and added, “I need more than sympathy. I don’t mean to be insulting, but I have seen how the Iida operate in the East, the way they have dominated the Tohan, destroying those families that will not submit to them; their use of children, especially daughters, as hostages. Forgive me, but you are particularly vulnerable. You say you have a three-year-old daughter. Your husband has strong ties with the Iida family; your daughter will be sent to Inuyama as soon as she is old enough.”
“Maybe. I have to be prepared for that, but at the moment not even Iida Sadamu has the power to demand hostages from the Maruyama. And if the Otori can hold him in check, he never will.”
“The Middle Country is a useful defense,” he said, with some bitterness. “But if we fall, you will follow.”
“The Seishuu know this,” she replied. “That is why Iida will find no allies among us.”
“We cannot fight on two fronts,” he said. “But I also should not leave Yamagata undefended, to the south and west.”
“You have my promise that we will not attack, nor permit any Tohan incursions.”
He could not help staring at her, filled with doubt. How could she make such assurances? Even Arai Daiichi, a man, an eldest son, had not been able to promise this. She could have come to him with Iida’s knowledge, acting as a decoy to give him false security.
“You can trust me,” she said quietly. “I swear it.”
So Muto Shizuka had also sworn to him—and in front of witnesses. Here they were overheard by no one other than the sparrows.
“Do you trust no one?” she questioned, when he had been silent for a long time.
“I trust Matsuda Shingen,” he said.
“Then I will swear it in front of him.”
“I believe your intention,” Shigeru said. “It is your ability to achieve it that I have to doubt.”
“Because I am a woman?”
He saw anger flash briefly in her face and felt obscurely disappointed in himself for persisting in insulting her. “Forgive me,” he said. “Not only that—because of the circumstances—”
She interrupted him. “If we are to deal with each other, we must be honest from the start. You think I am not used to the way you look at me. I have been accustomed to it since I was a child. I know all your thoughts: I have had them voiced to me with far less courtesy and forbearance than you show, all my life. I am used to dealing with men, older than you, with less hereditary power maybe, but certainly with more deviousness. I know how to achieve my own ends and how to enforce my will. My clan obey me, I am surrounded by retainers I can trust. Where is my husband now, do you suppose? He stayed in Maruyama, on my orders. I travel without him when I please.” She stared at him, holding his gaze. “Our alliance will only work, Lord Otori, if you understand all of this.”
Something was exchanged between them, some deep recognition. She spoke from the same assurance of power that he had, so profound it was as if it formed the marrow of his bones. They had both been raised in the same way, to be the head of their clan. She was his equal; she was Iida Sadamu’s equal.
“Lady Maruyama,” he said formally. “I trust you and I accept your offer of alliance. Thank you. You have my deepest gratitude.”
She replied in similar vein. “Lord Otori, from today the Maruyama and the Otori are allies. I am deeply grateful to you for championing my cause.”
He felt the smile break out on his face, and she also smiled frankly at him. The moment went on a little too long, and she spoke into a sile
nce that had become almost awkward. “Will you return to the women’s rooms with me? I will prepare tea.”
“Gladly,” he replied.
She bowed deeply and rose to her feet. Shigeru followed her along the path between the rocks and the dark-leafed shrubs. They walked around the side of the main halls and courtyards of the temple and descended the slope to where a group of small buildings were set aside for the use of women visitors. The main guest rooms lay a little farther up the hill, around the hot springs, and beyond them, beneath the huge cedars, were the graves of the Otori lords and their retainers, the moss-covered headstones and lanterns dating back for hundreds of years. Doves were coo-cooing from the roofs, and the sparrows chattered in the eaves. From the forest beyond came the poignant autumn cry of kites. In the inner depths of the temple, a bell pealed out clearly.
“It will be cold tonight,” Lady Maruyama remarked.
“Will you stay here?”
“No, I will stay at the inn at the foot of the mountain and return to Maruyama tomorrow. You will remain here for a few days?”
“Two at most. I must make sure my brother is settled in, and there are several matters on which I need to seek Matsuda’s advice. Then I have various affairs to deal with in Yamagata—the fief is administered from there at this time of year. But I will be back in Hagi before the solstice, before the snow.”
They came to the veranda of the women’s guesthouse, and stepped out of their shoes onto the boards. A woman a few years older than Naomi came out to greet them.
“This is my companion, Sugita Sachie,” Lady Maruyama said.
“Please come in, Lord Otori. It is a very great honor.”
When they were seated, Sachie brought tea utensils and hot water, and Lady Maruyama prepared the tea. Her movements were precise and elegant; the tea was bitter and foaming. After they had drunk, Lady Maruyama said, “You are acquainted with Sachie’s older sister, I believe. She is married to Otori Eijiro.”
Shigeru smiled. “I am hoping to break my journey with them on the way home. It will be a pleasure to report this meeting to your sister. I admire your brother-in-law greatly.”
“Sachie writes very often to her sister,” Lady Maruyama said. “You may receive messages from her, from time to time.”
“I look forward to it,” Shigeru said. The family connection reassured him. They conversed in general terms about Eijiro’s family and then about painting and poetry. Her education seemed as broad as his, and she could obviously read men’s language. Then the conversation became more personal: he found himself sharing with her his concerns for the well-being of the people, his desire for justice.
“Our recent confrontation with the Tohan in the East took place because they came across the borders and were torturing and killing our people.”
He remembered the woman from Chigawa who had told him that many of her sect, the Hidden, sought refuge in Maruyama; indeed, Nesutoro, the man he had rescued, was on his way there with Shigeru’s letters of protection.
“We heard something of this.” Lady Maruyama exchanged a swift glance with Sachie. “The Tohan persecution of the Hidden is another reason why I will never let them take over Maruyama. I do not speak of this openly, and I am trusting you not to divulge it, but these people are under my protection.”
“I know very little of them,” he replied, half wanting to ask her more, directly. “But I find torture abhorrent: its use to force people to deny a deeply held belief is barbaric, not worthy of our class.”
“Then we have another reason to unite against Iida,” she said.
He rose to take his leave; she remained seated but bowed deeply to the ground, her hair parting slightly to reveal the nape of her neck. He was surprised and rather ashamed of the strength of his desire to slide his hands under the silky mass and feel the shape of her head in the cup of his palms.
26
Two days later, Shigeru bade farewell to his brother and began the journey back to Hagi. The weather changed and became showery. The rain was cold; the easterly wind had a frosty bite, reminding him of the coming snows of winter. Kiyoshige was waiting with the horses at the foot of the mountain, together with Otori Danjo and Harada, the messengers he had sent to arrange the meetings with the Seishuu. They rode to Misumi, Danjo’s home, and the two men told Shigeru their opinions of their undertaking.
“Arai Daiichi has not really changed since we were boys—he was always the leader, always fearless,” Danjo remarked.
“He is a man of huge abilities,” Shigeru replied. “And, I would think, very ambitious.”
“He is irked, I suspect, by his position among the Seishuu—heir to a remote and not very wealthy domain, threatened by his nearest neighbors, the Noguchi, and kept from real power by his father’s refusal to die or retire. He is attracted to the Otori alliance because it would give him equal power with Lady Maruyama, but he dare not support it openly—such negotiations would seem like treachery to his father or to Iida, and either one would not hesitate to demand he take his own life.”
“I had hoped for much more,” Shigeru admitted.
“Our efforts have not been a complete failure,” Danjo replied. “I believe the Arai will follow Maruyama’s lead and not join in an attack from the East. At this stage, it may be the best you can hope for. And you may have started an alliance, which can only be good for the Middle Country. You, Arai Daiichi, Maruyama Naomi are all young. Who knows what great things you might achieve in the future?”
“You are optimistic, like your father,” Shigeru said, smiling.
“I agree with Lord Danjo,” Harada said. “Lady Maruyama seemed to grasp immediately the significance of your journey and your desire to meet her. She had been considering approaching your father, but early attempts had not met with much encouragement.”
“I knew nothing of them,” Shigeru exclaimed. “So much time has been wasted!”
“You cannot blame yourself,” Kiyoshige said. “We have been fully occupied in the East for the past two summers.”
“And will be next summer,” Shigeru replied. They rode in silence for a while, each wrapped in thoughts of the coming war.
Harada said, “Lord Otori, I thought you would like to know, I saw the man we rescued, Nesutoro, in Maruyama. He is settled with some of his people and is learning a trade—basket-making or something of that sort. His niece, the girl, Mari, has found work in the kitchens of the castle.”
“I am glad they are safe,” Shigeru replied, a little surprised that Harada should know the girl’s name, should have remembered it. He shot a look at his retainer, but the man’s swarthy face revealed nothing. Yet Shigeru knew how moved Harada had been by the courage, suffering, and death of Tomasu, and by Nesutoro’s fortitude. He wondered if some deeper connection had been made: was it possible for a warrior like Harada to be attracted to the beliefs of the Hidden? He would have to question him further about it.
How little he really knew about any of these men, of their inner beliefs, hopes, ambitions, and fears. He expected their loyalty and their obedience to his wishes; in their turn, they demanded the same obedience from the men who served them, and so it went, through the whole interlocking hierarchy of the clan, everyone linked to everyone else through a net of loyalty and obligation. But someone like Nesutoro stood outside the net: he would only obey some unseen force, a supposed god who was above all human rulers and who would judge them after death. And he would not take life—neither his own nor anyone else’s.
