“Where did he find you?”
The memory of their first meeting floated through the haze in his mind, and he wanted to laugh out loud. But that was impossible; it was hard enough just to gasp out the words, “Pond … at the dam …”
Oguna suddenly realized that a woman was now standing beside the emperor, her eyes studying Oguna’s face. Though not young, she was beautiful. Unadorned by jewels or gold, she could not be a royal consort, yet she shone with inner nobility. The headband tied around her forehead was white, and from her neck hung a round copper mirror, her only accessory. The sight of this sacred object told him instantly who she was—Princess Momoso, the emperor’s younger sister, keeper of the royal shrine in Itsuse and high priestess of the God of Light.
So that’s who was riding in the palanquin the other day … Oguna felt strangely content. Not only had he seen the emperor with his own eyes, but now he had also met the high priestess of Itsuse. While Toko had spoken with awe of the Keeper of the Shrine in Mino, the woman before him was far more elegant than Prince Oh-usu’s mother or any woman he had ever met. Her piercing gaze struck him with extraordinary force, and when he stared back at her, it was as though he were enveloped in cold flame. Why she looked at him that way, whether out of curiosity or pity, he could not begin to guess and had no strength left to wonder. His back burned from the lashes, and sounds ebbed and flowed around him.
Dimly, he registered the fact that the guards had grabbed him once more and he was being dragged from the courtyard. Oguna was thrown back into his cell only to be hauled out again almost immediately. Unable to walk, he was carried, slung like a sack over someone’s shoulders, and then shoved inside what seemed to be a palanquin. They must have been planning to take him some distance. He wondered vaguely where the execution grounds were, but he was past caring. Nausea swept over him when the men heaved the poles upward and began to lurch forward. Thinking that he would be put out of his misery soon, he fought against the nausea until he finally lost consciousness.
HE DREAMED dream after dream, fragmented and disconnected. Oguna was standing on a riverbank watching an egg in a reed basket float down the river. Then he was sobbing as he tried to flee from a huge snake whose coils covered the sky. Prince Oh-usu bent down and looked into his eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked.
The scene shifted, and Oguna found himself drowning in boiling water. He had to save Toko, who was also drowning, but his limbs felt like lead. Nanatsuka stalked off, his eyes angry. Oguna was alone. That was what he had wanted but now he was suffocating, alone in the darkness. This was his tomb.
“But he was reborn, wasn’t he?” Lady Akaru said.
“No,” the prince replied.
In the sky high above, the child Toko laughed and beckoned him. He was a boy again. She wants to play make-believe, he thought. She’s going to be a white bird …
Someone gently sponged the sweat from his forehead. This felt familiar. When he had come down with the measles, Matono had wiped his brow like that.
“Mother?” he asked, blinded by the dark.
“I’m right here,” a warm voice answered.
I see. This must be my room in Kamitsusato, he thought. But why hadn’t he met his mother before? Where could he have been all this time? And shouldn’t Toko be sleeping beside him? They had both had the measles at the same time …
I remember now. I had a terrible nightmare about a snake coiled in the sky. He wanted to tell Matono but couldn’t. There were some things that just could not be said. Delirium dragged him into another dream and he no longer felt her hand.
OGUNA WAS NOT in his room in Kamitsusato. He was in a small room, neat and bright, but totally unfamiliar. Now he was wide awake. This was real—he could tell because his memory had come flooding back, but that made his circumstance all the more confusing. Why had he been laid to rest on clean bedding like a patient? The basin of water by his pillow and the young woman of about twenty sitting where he remembered Matono being in his dream just increased his bewilderment.
“Who are you?” he asked, but his voice was only a hoarse whisper. The sound caught the woman’s attention, however, and he tried again. “Where am I?”
“This is the outer hall, a separate building. You aren’t permitted inside because you’re a man.” Oguna was clearly having difficulty understanding her, so she added, “I serve the Itsuki no Miya. She asked me to care for you.”
Oguna almost leapt to his feet, only to be instantly reminded that his body was incapable of doing so. He struggled to a sitting position. “This isn’t … the royal shrine … is it?”
“Of course it is. This is the sacred shrine of Itsuse. Don’t you remember?” she said in surprise. “What a time we had bringing you here without anyone seeing. Especially when you were so delirious.”
Oguna was speechless. Itsuse! Maybe he was still dreaming after all. The shutters had been thrown open, and through the window’s wooden slats he could see outside. There was no garden, just a steep slope covered in oak and broad-leafed evergreens. The light shining through the trees and the fragrance of the breeze spoke of early autumn deep in the mountains.
“Why did you save me?” Oguna finally asked, perplexed. It didn’t feel real enough to rejoice; it was all too strange.
“You’ll have to ask Her Highness. She often came to see you. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that you’re awake.”
Remembering Princess Momoso’s piercing gaze, Oguna was overcome with anxiety. What on earth could the princess want with an impostor and a traitor? He wasn’t actually afraid of pain, but enough was enough. When the maidservant left the room, he wondered if he could escape before she came back. His wounds, however, were not fully healed and his body was very weak. It had been all he could do just to sit up. Alone in an unknown place with no friends or familiar things to cheer him, Oguna felt as lost and helpless as a baby, something he had not experienced for a long time. And he was tired of putting up a bold front. His dreams had swept away all his defenses and left him here, naked. Even the sun on his skin felt cold and distant.
The floorboards in the corridor began to creak, and Oguna heard the swish of cloth, signaling the approach of several people. The soft rustling reminded him of a snake slithering through the grass and he trembled, desperately suppressing the urge to back up, crawling, against the far wall. That would be too humiliating.
The door was flung open, and the Itsuki no Miya glided into the room. She wore a pleated scarlet skirt over a pure white robe and bore herself with the same natural dignity he had sensed when he first saw her. Although accompanied by several ladies-in-waiting, she entered the room alone. The door closed swiftly behind her.
She stood looking down at Oguna where he sat on the futon. “I was concerned that you wouldn’t survive, but my prayers have been answered.” Her voice, low and rich for a woman, was surprisingly soft. Not at all imperious.
“You said your name was Ousu. Did you not come from Mino? Prince Oh-usu went there once to build a pond and villa.”
There was no need to hide the truth now. Oguna nodded, averting his eyes.
“And your parents, could it be you don’t know who they are?”
Once again, he nodded.
And then, suddenly, she was there, kneeling right beside him. Oguna, his nerves already stretched taut, jerked back in surprise and looked up. Instead of the stern expression he had anticipated, her face was tinged with grief and tears welled in her eyes. The fine lines etched around her eyes and mouth were like those of any woman who had lived through pain and sorrow. The sight touched his heart. Thick, lustrous hair flowed over her shoulders and a gentle, feminine scent wafted from it.
“Could it be … could it be that you were abandoned and set afloat on the river in a reed basket?”
“How do you know that?” Oguna demanded. He could not help himself. It was too strange. Perhaps she had the gift of prophecy like the high priestess in Mino. “Surely Prince Oh-usu would never have mentioned it
…”
“No, no one told me. And I told no one. I have kept this knowledge sealed in my heart for sixteen years. But your face, I could never mistake your face. You are my son, the child I bore sixteen years ago at the edge of Mino, the child who was torn from my arms only a few days after I gave birth.” Her voice trembled and tears spilled from her eyes. Overcome with emotion, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him toward her, pressing him against her cheek.
“How I suffered after losing you! How I longed to hold you once again! My dear, beloved child, I can scarcely believe we have been reunited. I had given you up for dead. You cannot imagine the pain I endured, unable to share this burden with anyone.”
Clasped in her arms, Oguna listened, stunned. The world seemed to shatter around him in an explosion of white light. It would have been a lie to say that he had not secretly wished to hear those words from someone someday. But never in his wildest imaginings had he expected it to happen under such circumstances as these. And this woman was the emperor’s sister, the Itsuki no Miya herself! What was going on?
Questions whirled in his brain, yet, at the same time, wrapped in her scent and with her tears on his face, something that had lain dormant deep within his heart was shaken. The sight of Princess Momoso, so obviously refined and noble, weeping without restraint made his heart ache. Had she ever cried like this for anyone else? Had anyone ever wept for him like this before?
“Please don’t cry,” he said quietly. “If I am truly your child, then, please, tell me why you abandoned me.” He trembled as he asked this question, so central to his life yet one he had never expected to ask.
“You were a gift from the God of Light. The others forbade me to give birth because I am the high priestess, the Itsuki no Miya, but I knew that it was the right thing to do, that it was my duty. So I left the shrine in Mahoroba and wandered from place to place. It was a difficult and painful journey, yet you grew strong and healthy within my womb. When I reached Mino, my time was near, and I built a birthing hut on the desolate banks of an unknown river.
“How happy I was! You were like a precious jewel. But I was blind to the treachery of my maidservant, to the fact that her mind had been poisoned by preposterous lies. While I lay sleeping, she took you … and set you adrift in the river. At first, she lied and said that you had drowned. Mad with grief, I plunged into the water and began searching the riverbed for your body. Then, perhaps fearing that I would die, she began to cry and plead for forgiveness, saying that she had not had the heart to kill you but instead had put you in a basket and let the river take you.
“I almost died. I lost all hope and strength. But now I am so glad that I survived; so glad that I lived on, clinging to the hope that, one day, we would meet again. How I have longed to hear you call me mother. Please do. Call me Mother.”
Oguna obeyed meekly. The word, unfamiliar to his tongue, felt awkward and strange, but he could no longer doubt that she was indeed his mother.
There was one more question he had to ask. Gathering his courage, he said hesitantly, “Mother … what about my father? Who is my father?”
Princess Momoso finally loosened her arms and pressed a sleeve against her eyes. When she had regained her composure, she said, “Your father is the God of Light. I am the priestess. He gave you to me as a gift. You need feel no shame. Rather you should be proud. For of all the people in Toyoashihara, you are closest to the gods. The blood of the youngest child of the God of Light runs through my veins as well. You are of higher and more noble birth than anyone else who walks this earth.”
Oguna suddenly remembered Toko declaring so confidently, I think that you’d feel much better if you just knew who your parents were. In his heart, he addressed that lively girl, still dressed in red. Toko, now I know whose child I am. But I’m even more confused than before. What should I do? My birth … is it something to be celebrated or cursed?
He did not want to think about who his father was. It was like falling over the edge into darkness. His mother had told him his father was a god so that he wouldn’t worry about it. Perhaps it’s better that way, he thought.
chapter
three
TREASON
Treason
“DID YOU SEE that? Bull’s-eye!” Toko shouted proudly. Three arrows quivered in the middle of the straw bag she was using as a target.
“You show great promise, my lady,” said Tsunuga, a member of the headman’s guard. “You’re a keen markswoman. If you could just use a slightly stronger bow, you could even compete with the men.”
“Isn’t this bow good enough for fighting?”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t shoot far enough.”
“Well, never mind. I’ll just have to build up more muscle then,” Toko announced, patting an arm so slender it looked like it would never show a bicep. At that moment, she heard someone call her name.
“Toko? Toko! What on earth do you think you’re doing? Come here at once!”
Glancing at Tsunuga, Toko grimaced. “Oh, dear. Mother found me,” she said and ran lightly over to the house. “I wasn’t doing anything, Mother. I was just borrowing the target for a minute.”
Matono frowned at her daughter’s innocent expression. “A girl your age shouldn’t be out in the yard where there are only men. Nor should you be using a bow and arrow. And what on earth were you thinking to dress like that?”
Toko looked down at the men’s hakama she was wearing. “But, Mother, you were the one who told me that a big girl like me shouldn’t show her knees. And I can’t wear a long skirt until I’m a woman, right? So I decided to wear hakama instead. It makes perfect sense to me.”
Matono pressed her hand against her forehead. “Honestly! You’re sixteen already. The chief’s second daughter entered the shrine ages ago to begin her training, but you—”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, Mother,” Toko said cheerfully. “Maybe I’ll never become a woman.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Matono snapped. “Just think of the shame you would bring on our household. I’d have to commit suicide. You’re a Tachibana. Such a thing would be inexcusable.”
Toko was about to shrug, but Matono looked so serious she decided against it. She did not want to make her mother sad, but sometimes she just could not stand it.
“Would you please at least behave more like a woman and a lady of our clan?” Matono said. “Mino is so unsettled right now, and everyone’s been coming and going from our hall. Try not to embarrass us like this when there are so many people watching.”
After her mother had left, Toko unstrung her bow and sat down with a sigh on a bench under the eaves. Mother’s always nagging me lately. Why doesn’t she leave me alone? After all, I’m not a woman yet.
The yard was filled with young men practicing their fighting skills. Over the last few years, the peaceful mountain villages of Mino had been transformed. The good-natured local men accustomed to using a bow or pike only for sport now vied with one another to hone their techniques. These changes had begun four years ago with the appearance of Prince Oh-usu. His vitality, enthusiasm, and leadership immediately captivated the young men, and they all longed to be bold and daring like him. Soon, his influence had spread to the older generations as well. Chief Kamubonehiko was an ardent admirer, as was Toko’s father, who had spent much of his personal wealth to support the prince’s cause.
Toko, who practically worshipped the prince, could not bear to simply stand by and watch. She longed to demonstrate her allegiance by doing something, anything at all. Her mother, Matono, however, had become stricter with each passing year. At times, Toko wanted to run away from home, but the only refuge she could think of was the shrine on the mountain. Even her mother’s nagging was preferable to that. She could not imagine living in that archaic place where visitors rarely came, and she had never gotten along with Kisako, the chief’s second daughter who had been training there as a shrine maiden for the last three years. The fact was that Toko did not w
ant to become a shrine maiden. She wanted to go out in the world, not be compelled to stay shut inside reading oracles. If she could have, Toko would have become a warrior and hunted down the enemies that threatened her people.
With her chin propped in her hand, she watched the men practice. Why shouldn’t there be at least one Tachibana woman who can wield a sword and protect Mino? But they’ll never let me. I want to train, but I can only do it when no one is watching. I’ll never get any better at this rate. I wish the prince had taken me to the capital like he did Oguna.
She wondered how Oguna was doing. He had been closer to her than a brother and she still worried about him, just as she had predicted when she last saw him. She knew he kept his feelings bottled up inside, unable to express them. That was why she had always stood by him—he needed someone who understood how he felt. But perhaps he didn’t anymore. Four years had passed. Even Oguna must have changed a little. Everyone changes. Everyone except me …
She had grown and her hair was longer—much longer, in fact, because as a princess of the clan she was not allowed to cut it. It was such a nuisance that she kept it tied in a ponytail, but even so it hung down to the middle of her back. Although she chose to act like a boy, no one would have considered treating her like one. Her long hair and slender build gave her away instantly.
Yet Toko was not quite a woman either. She lacked any hint of the coyness found in young women her age, and there was nothing sensuous about her laugh. She was not shy in the least and had no compunction about telling someone to their face how she felt about them. People saw her as a tomboy, overlooking most of her quirks with a knowing smile. Although it upset Matono that the young men did not regard Toko as a lady of the hall, she had to admit that everyone liked her. All the villagers smiled when they caught sight of “Lady Tomboy” and felt comfortable talking to her.
People rarely mentioned Oguna anymore, even in the hall where he had been raised. He had never been the type of child to make a deep impression, and as they had had no news of him since he left for the capital, people who had not known Oguna well had forgotten he even existed. Toko, however, would never forget. For her, his name was as deeply rooted in her mind as her own. She remembered the promise he had made as if it were only yesterday.
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