by Hearn, Lian
Shigeru lay on his back, his arms behind his head. At first she thought he must be asleep, but as she approached, she saw his eyes were wide open.
It must be a dream, she thought. I will awaken soon, and she did what she would have done in the dream, lay down next to him, taking him in her arms, laying her head on his chest, saying nothing.
She could feel his heart beating against the flesh and bones of her face. She breathed at the same time as he did. He turned slightly and put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.
The ache of separation dissolved. She felt the tension and fear of the last years drain from her. All she could think about was his breath, his heartbeat, the urgency and hardness of his body, her complete desire for him, and his for her.
Afterward she thought, Now I will wake up, but the scene did not change suddenly. The air was warm on her face, the birds sang in the forest, the ground beneath her was hard, the grass damp.
Shigeru said, “Why are you here?”
“I am on my way to Inuyama. I felt I wanted to see the gardens. I did not know you were here. Matsuda told me last night. I was going to leave at once, but this morning something drew me to walk this way.” She stopped and shivered. “It was as if I was under a spell. You have bewitched me.”
“I could say the same. I could not sleep last night—I was to visit Matsuda today before I return to Hagi. I thought I would do it early and then go back to my mountain hut. I lived there with Matsuda when I was fifteen; I was his pupil. I was moved to rest beneath this tree. It has a special significance for me, for I once saw a houou there—the sacred bird of peace and justice. I hoped to see it again, but I am afraid it will not be found in the Three Countries while Iida lives.”
The mention of Iida’s name reminded her of the fear that hovered all around, yet in this place, with him, she felt protected from it.
“I feel like a village girl,” she said wistfully. “Sneaking away with my young man.”
“I will go and announce to your parents that we are betrothed,” he said. “We will be married before the shrine, and the whole village will celebrate and drink too much!”
“Will I have to leave my family and move to your father’s house?”
“Yes, of course, and my mother will order you around and make you cry, and I won’t be able to stand up for you, or all the village men will laugh at me for being besotted with my wife! But at night I will make you happy and tell you how much I love you, and we will make lots of children together.”
She wished he had not said those words, even jokingly. It was as though he had spoken something into existence. She tried to put her fears from her.
“I came with Muto Shizuka as far as Yamagata, and before that I was in Noguchi, where I met Arai Daiichi. He asked about your intentions, having heard that you were interested only in farming.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Only that you were patient, which Arai is not. He is on the verge of rebelling, I think. It will only take one small incident or insult to set him off.”
“He must not act alone or precipitously. It would be too easy now for Iida to crush him and eliminate him.”
“Shizuka and I talked about the Tribe. An idea came to me that we might use them. Lord Shigeru, we cannot go on like this. We must act. We must kill Iida. Surely if we cannot confront him in battle, we can find someone to assassinate him!”
“I have thought the same. I have even spoken to Shizuka about it. She has indicated that she would not be unwilling, but I am reluctant to ask such a thing of her. She is a woman; she has children. I wish I could fight Iida man to man, but I fear if I go to Inuyama, I will simply be putting myself into his hands.”
They were both silent for a moment, thinking of the young Yanagi warrior who had died on the castle wall.
Shigeru said, “The Tribe do not want Iida removed: he employs many of them. So we could only work with someone in whom we had complete trust, otherwise we run the risk of simply revealing our plans to the Tribe in general and to the Tohan. As far as I can see, there is no one apart from Shizuka.”
Naomi whispered, “I will be in Inuyama in a few weeks. I will be in his presence.”
“You must not even think of it!” Shigeru said in alarm. “Whatever your fighting skills, you will be no match for him, and he is surrounded at all times by warriors, hidden guards, and members of the Tribe. You and your daughter would both die, and if you are dead, my life becomes meaningless. We must continue to dissemble, to do nothing to arouse his suspicions, to wait for the right moment to reveal itself to us.”
“And the right assassin,” Naomi said.
“That too.”
“I must go back. Sachie will be worrying about me. I don’t want anyone coming in search of me.”
“I will walk with you.”
“No! We must not be seen together. I will set out for Yamagata as soon as I get back to the temple. Do not come there today.”
“Very well,” he said. “I suppose you are right. I will go back to my solitary hut for another night.”
She felt tears threaten suddenly and stood to hide them. “If only I were just a village girl! But I have heavy responsibilities—to my clan, to my daughter.”
“Lady Maruyama,” he said formally as he, too, got to his feet. “Don’t despair. It will not be for much longer.” She nodded, not daring to speak. Neither of them looked at each other again. He bent and gathered up his belongings, put the sword in his belt, and walked away up the mountain path, while she went back the way she had come, her body still ecstatic from the encounter, her mind already skittering with fear.
SHE SPENT days of the journey trying to compose herself, calling on all the methods she had been taught since childhood to bring mind and body under control. She told herself she must never have such a meeting again, that she must stop behaving like a foolish girl infatuated with a farmer. If there were to be a future for Shigeru and herself together, it could only come through their self-control and discretion in the present. But already she knew in the deepest parts of both body and mind that it was too late to be discreet. She knew she had already conceived a child, a child she longed to have but which must not be born.
She considered returning immediately to Maruyama, but such an action might offend Iida and increase his suspicions to the point of harming Mariko. She felt she must continue her journey: she was expected at Inuyama; messengers had already been sent. Iida would never be convinced by any excuses of sickness; he would only be insulted. She could do nothing other than complete the journey as planned—and continue to pretend.
Her journey led her through the heart of the Middle Country—the former Otori lands, which had been ceded to the Tohan clan after Yaegahara. The local people had resisted becoming Tohan and had borne the brunt of the Eastern clan’s cruelty and oppression. She overheard little on the road and in the overnight lodging places, for the formerly ebullient people had become taciturn and suspicious, and with good reason. She saw several signs of recent executions, and every village sported a notice board declaring penalties for breaking regulations—most of them involving torture and death. At the fork where the highway divided, the northern road leading to Chigawa, the eastern to Inuyama, the palanquin bearers stopped for a rest outside a small inn that served tea, bowls of rice and noodles, and dried fish. As Naomi alighted, her eyes fell on another notice board. Here, from its roof, a large gray heron had been suspended by its feet. It was barely alive; it flapped its wings sporadically and opened and closed its beak in weakened pain.
Naomi was deeply distressed by the sight, repelled by the unnecessary cruelty. She called to the men to cut the bird down. Their approach alarmed it, and it died struggling against their attempts to save it. As they laid it down on the ground before her, she knelt and touched the dulled plumage, saw its eyes film.
The old man who kept the inn hurried out and said in alarm, “Lady, you should not touch it. We will all be punished.”
“It is insulting to Heaven to treat its creatures so,” she replied. “It must surely bring bad luck to all travelers.”
“It is only a bird and we are men,” he muttered.
“Why does anyone torture a bird? What does it mean?”
“It’s a warning.” He would say no more, and she knew she should not insist for his own safety, but the memory continued to trouble her as she made the final stage of the journey through the mountains that surrounded Inuyama. The fair spring weather continued, but Naomi could not enjoy the blue sky, the soft southern breeze. Everything had been darkened by the dying heron.
She stayed for the last night, a few hours’ distance from the capital, in a small village on the river, and while the meal was being prepared, she asked Sachie to speak to Bunta; maybe he would be able to find out something in the village.
She and Sachie had finished eating by the time he returned.
“I met some men from Chigawa,” he said quietly, after he had knelt before her. “No one wants to talk openly. The Tohan have spies everywhere. However, these men told me a little: the heron is a warning, as the innkeeper said. There is a group—a movement—throughout the Middle Country. Loyalty to the Heron, it’s called. The Tohan are trying to eradicate it. There’s been a lot of unrest lately in Chigawa and the surrounding districts. It’s all to do with the silver mines. The movement is apparently very strong there: the lives of the miners have become more and more wretched; many abscond and escape to the mountains; young people, even children, are forced to take their place. The men say it is slavery, and under the Otori they were never slaves.”
She thanked him but did not ask any more. She felt she had heard too much already. “Loyalty to the Heron”—they could only be supporters of Shigeru.
Naomi rose early the next morning and arrived in the capital shortly after midday. She had made this journey many times now, yet she could never quite dispel the feeling of dread that the sight of Iida’s black-walled castle inspired in her. It dominated the town, the sheer walls rising from the moat, their reflection shimmering in the slow greenish water of the river. A narrow street led in a zigzag pattern to the main bridge. Here, even though she was a frequent visitor and already known to the guards, she and Sachie had to descend from the palanquins while they were thoroughly searched—though, Naomi thought resentfully, only the smallest and most loose-limbed assassin could have concealed himself there.
The search was insulting, yet Iida’s suspicions were well founded: many longed to see him dead—indeed, as she had said to Shigeru, she would kill him herself if she could. But she put all such thoughts from her and waited impassively and calmly until she was permitted to proceed.
She entered the palanquin again and the porters walked through the main bailey to the south bailey where Iida’s residence was built. Here she climbed out once more, to be met by two of Lady Iida’s companions. The porters and her men returned over the bridge to the town, and she and Sachie and their two maids followed the women through the residence gate, down the angled steps into the gardens, which extended away for a considerable distance as far as the riverbank.
The fragrance of flowers was everywhere: the purple irises around the stream that flowed through the gardens were just beginning to bloom, and heavy blossoms of wisteria hung like icicles from the pavilion roof.
Naomi and Sachie waited while the maids undid their sandals and brought water to wash their feet, then stepped up onto the polished wood veranda. It was newly constructed and ran around the entire residence, and as their feet trod over it, it responded with little cries like birds.
“What is it?” Sachie said in wonderment to one of the maids.
“Lord Iida had it constructed this year,” she whispered quietly. “It is a marvel, isn’t it? Not even a cat can cross it without setting it singing. We call it the nightingale floor.”
“I have never heard of such a thing before,” Naomi said, her heart sinking further. Surely Iida had made himself invulnerable.
The residence was decorated in a sumptuous style, gold leaf covering the beams of the ceiling and picking out the triple oak leaf on the bosses on the walls. The floors of the passages were all polished cypress, and the walls were decorated with flamboyant paintings of tigers, peacocks, and other exotic animals and birds.
They progressed in silence into the deepest recesses of the residence, into the women’s rooms. Here the decorations were more restrained, delicate flowers and fish replacing the animals. Naomi was shown to the room she usually occupied; the boxes and baskets that contained her clothes, gifts for Lady Iida, new robes and books for Mariko, were taken away to the storehouse, Sachie going with them to oversee the unpacking, and tea was brought in elegant pale green bowls.
Naomi drank it gladly, for the afternoon was becoming very warm, and sat trying to compose herself.
Sachie returned with Mariko. The girl greeted her mother formally, bowing deeply, then came closer into Naomi’s arms. She felt as always the rush of relief, almost like the gush of milk into the breast, that her child was alive, safe, close enough for her to hold, stroke the hair back from her forehead, gaze into her eyes, smell her sweet breath.
“Let me look at you,” she exclaimed. “You are growing up so fast. You look pale. Are you well?”
“I have been quite well; I had a cold last month and the cough persisted. I am better now that winter is finally over. But Mother also looks a little pale; you have not been ill?”
“No, it is just that I am tired from the journey. And of course, so moved by seeing you.”
Mariko smiled as her eyes brightened with tears.
“How long will Mother stay?”
“Not long, this time, I’m afraid.” She saw Mariko struggle to hide her disappointment. “I have things to do back in Maruyama,” she explained, and she felt her womb clench in fear.
“I hoped you would stay until the plum rains are over. It is so dreary here when it rains every day.”
“I must leave before they begin,” Naomi said. “They must not delay me.”
For the plum rains might last five or six weeks, and she would have to spend that time among the household women, who knew every detail of each other’s lives, and when each one had to be secluded because of her monthly bleeding, a custom practiced by the Tohan. These women had so little to occupy them that they would study her day and night; she feared their boredom and their malice.
“Sachie has brought more books for you,” she said briskly. “You will have plenty to occupy yourself with while you are confined indoors by the rain. But tell me your news. How is Lady Iida?”
“She was very sick in the winter with an inflammation of the lungs. I was afraid for her.” Mariko’s voice fell to a whisper. “Her women say that if she were to die, Lord Iida would have to make up his mind between you and me.”
“But she is, thank Heaven, still alive, and we hope will have many years of health. How is her little boy? Her father must be proud of him.”
Mariko lowered her eyes. “Unfortunately, he is a delicate child. He does not take to the sword and is afraid of horses. He is six years old now. Other boys his age are already receiving warrior’s training, but he clings to his mother and his nurse.”
“It’s sad; I cannot imagine Lord Iida is patient with him.”
“No, the boy is more terrified of his father than of anything else.”
Naomi met the child, Katsu, later when she joined Lady Iida for the evening meal. His nurse brought the little boy in, but he cried and whined and was soon taken away. He did not seem to be very intelligent and certainly was neither confident nor courageous.
