by Lian Hearn
The change of subject surprised him. “I had two sons, but they both died many years ago.”
“You must know there are concerns about your health. What will happen to the realm after…”
“I can assure Your Majesty, I have no intention of dying!”
He could see his bluntness angered her, but all she said was “I look forward to hearing the news of Yoshimori’s capture. I trust you will inform me immediately.”
He promised he would. As he left, the werehawks swooped clumsily from the rafters and flew after him. On his way back through the many halls and courtyards he had been half-listening for the sound of the lute, and now he heard it, coming from the cloister that overlooked the lake.
Sesshin sat plucking the strings idly. He did not seem to play consciously and yet a tune emerged. The werehawks landed in front of him and opened their beaks, singing as if in harmony.
“Good day, my friends,” Sesshin said, his fingers still. “What have you come to tell me?”
He turned his head toward Aritomo, and even though Aritomo knew the old man could not see him, his sightless attention unnerved him.
The birds warbled. Sesshin cocked his head, listening.
“The leaves are turning red,” he said. “Yes, autumn is coming and all will be red.”
Red was the color of the Kakizuki. It seemed hotter than ever in the cloister as the sun sank in the west. Aritomo’s mouth was parched. He swallowed hard and said, “I could have you confined and tortured. It is by my grace that you are free.”
“You could, you could,” the old man agreed amiably. “But it will make no difference. The leaves will still turn red.”
2
MASACHIKA
Masachika’s spirits rose as he rode toward Aomizu. It was true Aritomo had been more than usually scornful to him and he had been made aware yet again that the lord to whom he had devoted his life disliked him intensely. Moreover, his head ached from the wine he had drunk the night before and his eyes, which had always been weak since the bees attacked him at Matsutani, were playing their usual tricks on him, one moment darkening as if he were going blind, the next perceiving people and animals, surrounded by flashing lights, that were not really there. Yet he felt the stirrings of confidence and hope. Maybe it was only a rumor, that Yoshimori had been found, but it could just as likely be true. If he were the one to deliver Yoshimori to Aritomo, as he had delivered the Autumn Princess, his standing would be assured and his rewards great. His secret desire, which he had never shared with anyone, not even his wife, Tama, was that Aritomo would make him his heir. Surely that would be a reasonable price to pay for the missing emperor?
But then I must also have heirs, he thought. Tama had fallen pregnant twice, but had not been able to carry either child to term, and now she was almost past childbearing. He still loved her and depended on her, but his lack of sons troubled him. Without them what was the point of being lord of three flourishing estates, let alone becoming Aritomo’s successor? At times he regretted not having taken his former betrothed as a second wife; he feared Tama’s jealousy and rage, but the idea of marrying another woman still persisted.
His reflections wandered to Kiyoyori’s children, though he had not thought about them in years. Perhaps it was riding alongside Lake Kasumi that brought Hina to his mind, for she had drowned in its waters. It had been reported to him that a funeral was held, and his messenger had been shown the grave in Aomizu. And Kiyoyori’s son had died at Ryusonji, though some strange legend had arisen about him and the dragon child. There were similar legends about Kiyoyori, whose body had never been found. Was it possible he had not died but was waiting to return and take his revenge? He often remembered reluctantly his dream of the foal. He had sent the young horse to Ryusonji with the others. After the Prince Abbot’s death, Shikanoko had taken all three into the Darkwood. Was Kiyoyori still there, still Lord of the Darkwood? Would he come back with Shikanoko?
He shook himself and urged his horse on, riding fast as though he could escape these memories of the dead.
It was a week since the funeral, but the pleasure boats were still tied up at Aomizu. It seemed no one had taken charge since Lady Fuji’s death. Masachika inspected the boats and then retired to a nearby temple, where he used Lord Aritomo’s authority to commandeer a room and prepared to question the entertainers. It amused him that even though Aritomo had told him not to draw attention to himself, everyone was aware of his identity. He heard his name repeated through the courtyards and knew faces would pale, bowels loosen, and limbs tremble.
Most of them claimed they knew nothing, and he concluded they were telling the truth. They were divided in opinion over Lady Yayoi’s guilt, some swearing that she had loved, even revered, Lady Fuji and was not capable of carrying out such an act of revenge, others claiming she had always been strange, different, too clever in some way, and had secretly resented her mistress. They had quarreled over a request. Moreover, she had many unusual skills, often treated people for all kinds of diseases, and was familiar with a wide range of herbs, both healing and dangerous.
Arinori attended most of the meetings. From the way he spoke of them, Masachika suspected he had some fondness for both women, probably had been intimately involved with them. There was nothing wrong with that, unless questions of regulations and tax had been overlooked, but he would keep it in mind. Arinori might not be quite so close to Lord Aritomo as he pretended, but Masachika liked to know as much about his rivals, and their weaknesses, as possible. He could already see several ways in which he could further undermine the Aomizu lord.
One young woman, Asagao, seemed to have known Yayoi best, and he questioned her at length.
“She said she was just going to the crossroads,” Asagao said, tears trickling down her cheeks. She had wept almost continuously; her eyes were red, her lips swollen. Masachika felt the stirrings of attraction for her.
“But I knew she was lying.” Asagao wiped her face with her sleeve. “When she said goodbye, I knew it would be forever.”
“You had known her for a long time?”
“We were at the temple together when we were children. She must have been about twelve.”
“And how many years ago was that?”
Asagao flushed a little and said, “I am now twenty-five, so twelve years ago.”
“So long?” Masachika said, letting his eyes linger on her face, making her color deepen more. Then he addressed Arinori. “What do we know about this temple?”
“Lady Fuji kept young girls there until they were old enough to serve on the boats. I first went to it about twelve years ago, as it happens. It’s probably just a coincidence, but the Abbess is the mother of the sorcerer they call Shikanoko.”
“Oh yes, I remember now,” Masachika said. “You went there to investigate. Was Yayoi there then?”
“She was,” Arinori said. “As a matter of fact, she caught my eye. She was an exceptionally beautiful girl. I asked Lady Fuji to arrange that I might be her first…”
“And in return?” Masachika demanded.
“I have looked after them both, I admit, but there’s been no conflict with my loyalty to our lord.”
“I am sure,” Masachika said smoothly. “I am not questioning your loyalty.”
“As soon as Fuji hinted to me that she might know where Yoshimori was, I sent messengers to Miyako. I would have questioned her further myself, but unfortunately…” Again he let his sentence trail away, as though there were things he did not like talking about, words he feared uttering. Masachika noted this reluctance but said nothing, simply waited for Arinori to resume his account.
“When Yayoi did not return I assumed she had gone with the acrobats. I followed immediately, but there was no sign of them on the road. They had vanished. So I went on to the temple. I thought there might have been some kind of collusion between them. I knew Yayoi had been a great favorite of the Abbess.”
“And?”
“I was angry. I’d always sus
pected that pack of women of subversion in some way. They offended me again and I learned nothing. I had the temple set on fire and the nuns fled. The Abbess was injured, but they took her with them.”
Masachika turned his attention back to the young woman, who was crying even more. “Did either Fuji or Yayoi mention Yoshimori to you?”
“Who is Yoshimori?”
“The deceased emperor’s grandson.”
“No,” Asagao said. “Why would they or anyone else here talk about any of the emperor’s sons or grandsons? We are riverbank people. That world is as distant from us as the clouds are from the earth.”
“Who was Yayoi?” Masachika questioned. “Where did she come from?”
“I can’t tell you for sure. Most of us never talk about the past. But people used to say she was found in the lake—the acrobats pulled her and a baby boy from the water. The boy was brought up by them and still lives with them.”
Pulled from the lake. Twelve years ago. Masachika said nothing for a few moments. His heartbeat had picked up. Was it possible? Had she not drowned after all? I must have known. That is why I thought about her earlier. Sometimes even he was amazed at the accuracy of his intuitions. And the boy—could he be the son of Akihime, the Autumn Princess? He remembered telling the Princess her son had drowned with Hina—how she had wept! But he had never told Aritomo about the child.
His voice when he spoke was made stern and cruel by these memories. “Where are these acrobats now? Why have they not been brought in for questioning?” He addressed Arinori, but it was Asagao who answered.
“They always go to the Darkwood at this time of year, to capture young monkeys.”
“Do you think Yayoi went with them?”
“I suppose so,” Asagao replied. “I don’t know where else she would go—but I can’t imagine her living as they do in the forest. She is like me, delicate, refined.” She gave Masachika a look that was part challenging, part submissive, which he found quite charming. She was a truly beautiful young woman. He returned her look openly.
“Did she leave anything behind?”
“Almost everything. That’s why no one thought she was going to vanish. She even left her lute—she gave it to me and said I could play it. I brought it with me.”
“Show me,” Masachika said, but the shabby old instrument did not really interest him. Asagao, however, interested him very much. He liked the way sorrow and fear had bruised her. It made him want to grip her, leave his own imprint on her flesh. His wife’s face floated for a moment before his eyes. He was away from home for long periods and had often taken advantage of the many women offered to him. They satisfied his physical needs, though none had ever touched him deeply. But this girl was different. He had always liked the riverbank women, and she seemed both exotic and vulnerable. She would be his reward for the inconvenience of the journey, for Aritomo’s coldness and scorn. And the idea that she would give him a son fueled his desire.
“The Darkwood is part of my estate,” he said. “As it happens, I plan to return to Matsutani to arrange a great hunt for Lord Aritomo, in the autumn. But men cannot spend all day and all night hunting—we need entertainment, too. I will take you and your lute with me. And Lord Arinori will pursue these acrobats and make sure Yayoi is not with them. Then we will arrange for the acrobats to be brought to Matsutani, as well. Lord Aritomo might find them amusing.”
Arinori chuckled, and after Asagao had left to collect her belongings he said, “You have a taste for riverbank women, I see. I’ve had many a discussion as to which is the most beautiful, Yayoi or Asagao. I always had a slight preference for Yayoi.”
Masachika cut him off, not wanting to consider they were on the same level. “Just how much did Fuji tell you?”
“Only what I said. She was going to propose a business deal; that’s the sort of woman she was. She would not reveal anything more until she had settled the terms of the contract.”
“All we can conclude, then, is that Yoshimori might be somewhere in the neighborhood?”
“Or anywhere around the lake. The boats travel great distances.”
“No one has seen him for twelve years or more,” Masachika said. “How would we even recognize him?”
“We could arrest and question every young man of the right age,” Arinori suggested.
Masachika dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Better to try to find Yayoi and question her.”
“Well, I would undertake that, but I have other commitments. I am sure our lord has told you of the planned attack. I can’t say too much. It’s all highly secret.”
Masachika struggled to hide the fact that he had no idea what Arinori was talking about.
“You may have noticed how few ships I have on the lake,” Arinori said in a low voice. “They have all been sent to Akashi. And we have been building war vessels there for many months—but I must say no more. You never know who might be listening. There seem to be more spies and informants than ever. Everyone’s always hoping to overhear something they can sell or use to their advantage.”
“It is probably better that you are otherwise occupied,” Masachika said, spitefully. “You have already done enough damage with your clumsy pursuit of Yayoi. We will send a message from Asagao, by means of those older men we already questioned, to bring the acrobats in the Darkwood to Matsutani, with the monkeys. Let’s see if they can find Yayoi and report where she is without scaring her farther away. It’s a shame your secret mission will prevent you from taking part in the hunt. It will be unlike any ever held in the history of the Eight Islands.”
3
TAKEYOSHI
At first, Take’s spirits were lowered by the death of the old woman, the grandmother he had never known. For a day or more he grieved, but then, the farther they walked, the more excited and elated he began to feel. He had always thought of himself as an orphan, a foundling of unknown parents. Now the idea that he might have a living father, and that his mother, though dead, had been a princess, thrilled him. Suddenly he seemed to understand everything about himself; his character and instincts all made sense. He felt the heft of the pole, the responding muscles in his arms and shoulders.
I am a warrior, born to fight. But now I need a teacher more than ever.
He felt he had grown taller. His gaze, as it continually swept the tangled trees for signs of danger, was more acute, his stride longer and more tireless, even his understanding was more perceptive. He was just thinking that the Emperor could be anywhere, and that the woman he knew as Lady Yayoi, or Older Sister, was the only person who knew, when Kon called from a high tree a little way ahead.
Take turned to watch the young men following. Noboru the monkey had switched to Yoshi’s shoulder, and was affectionately grooming his hair. Saru was talking loudly and rapidly. Take could not hear what he was saying but could guess what it was, some involved anecdote, a ribald dream, a tale of seduction. Both young men laughed loudly, the sound ringing through the forest.
They should not laugh so loud! Take thought, as though trying to blind himself to the knowledge that had already pierced him like a ray of light. But it was blazing inside him and could not be ignored.
Yoshi!
I have a warrior’s insight now, he thought. How should I not know my lord, my prince, the ruler of this earthly realm I walk on? And then he felt shocked and almost offended. It was an outrage that the son of Heaven, the heir to the Lotus Throne, should be ambling along a rough and dusty track, swapping dirty jokes, a monkey on his shoulder.
I will see him restored or die, he vowed solemnly. He could hardly prevent himself from running back and hurling himself at Yoshi’s feet, swearing allegiance, offering him his life. It seemed the green light of the forest took on a new translucence, the birdsong became ravishingly beautiful. He gazed on Kon, finally understanding the bird’s persistence. He heard nobility in the call now, and admired Kon’s perseverance. The young Emperor had been lost, abandoned by everyone. Only Kon had stuck by him.
He found it hard to treat Yoshi naturally, and over the following days grew shy and deferential in his presence. Saru noticed it and teased him.
“Take has a crush on you,” he whispered to Yoshi, loud enough for Take to hear. “I bet he has some juicy dreams! Why don’t you share them, brat?”
It was obvious Saru had no idea—he could never have teased and insulted Yoshi if he had known who he was. It made Take decide that Yoshi could not know his true identity. If he had the slightest inkling he would not allow such familiarity. Saru’s behavior upset and offended Take, but he said nothing, unsure what to reveal or when.
Yoshi became silent and withdrawn, as though a great weight had settled on his shoulders.
A feeling of coldness, almost enmity, began to grow between Take and Saru. All his life Take had admired the young acrobat, as if Saru were his older brother. Now he became aware of the immense gulf between them. He could not help seeing himself differently: his father was a warrior, his mother a princess. Saru was a nobody from the insignificant village of Iida. Yet these thoughts troubled him and he was half-ashamed of them, for in the world of the acrobats talent and ability were all that mattered, and in these Saru far outstripped him. He still admired him, but he found Saru crude and resented his friendship with Yoshi, seeing how demeaning it was.
They drew near the hot springs and began to notice signs of the monkeys’ presence—broken twigs and half-eaten fruit on the ground, chattering in the treetops. Noboru became agitated and screeched most of the day. The young men set up camp. They swam in the hot pools, climbed trees, and every day practiced acrobatics, tumbling across the clearing, swinging from branches like monkeys. Take joined them, but his old carefree exuberance was gone.
I will never be an acrobat, he thought, looking at their slight, wiry frames. He was already as tall as Yoshi, taller than Saru. I will never perform again.
The lady—he did not really want to use her old name and she had not told him her true one—retreated from them, telling them she would spend the days reading, fasting, and meditating. He wanted to talk more to her, to question her about everything, but her reserve discouraged him. She came every morning to collect fresh water, but otherwise stayed out of sight. Occasionally Take heard her chanting but he did not know what the words meant. He had only ever heard her sing ballads of love before. He took to sleeping nearby in case anything threatened her in the dark, but both day and night were peaceful. Nobody came.
