Grass for His Pillow

by Lian Hearn

  At the end of the week she returned home. The first snow had melted and frozen, and the road was icy but passable. Icicles hung from the eaves of the houses, dripping in the sun, glistening and brilliant. Fujiwara had kept his word. He was a rigorous and demanding teacher and set her tasks to practice before she returned to his house again. He had already dispatched food for her household and men.

  The days had been spent in study and the nights in storytelling. She knew by instinct what he wanted to hear, and she told him details she had not known she remembered: the color of flowers, the birds’ song, the exact condition of the weather, the touch of a hand, the smell of a robe, the way lamplight fell on a face. And the undercurrents of desire and conspiracy that she had both known and not known, and that only now became clear to her with the telling. She told him everything, in a clear measured voice, showing neither shame, grief, nor regret.

  He was reluctant to allow her to return home, but she used her sisters as an excuse. He wanted her to stay there forever, she knew, and she fought that desire silently. Yet, it seemed that everyone shared it. The servants expected it and their treatment of her changed slightly. They deferred to her as though she were already more than a specially favored guest. They sought her permission, her opinion, and she knew they would only do so if he had so ordered.

  She felt deep relief when she left him and she dreaded returning again. But when she was home, she saw the food, the firewood, and the money he had sent, and was grateful that he had kept her family from starving. That night she lay thinking, I am trapped. I shall never escape him. Yet what else can I do?

  It was a long time before she slept, and she was late rising the next morning. Shizuka was not in the room when she awoke. Kaede called to her, and Ayame came in with tea.

  She poured Kaede a cup. “Shizuka is with Kondo,” she said. “He returned late last night.”

  “Tell her to come to me,” Kaede said. She looked at the tea as though she did not know what to do with it. She sipped a mouthful, placed the cup on the tray, then picked it up. Her hands were icy. She held the cup between them, trying to warm them.

  “Lord Fujiwara sent this tea,” Ayame said. “A whole box of it. Isn’t it delicious?”

  “Fetch Shizuka!” Kaede cried angrily. “Tell her to come to me at once!”

  A few minutes later Shizuka came into the room and knelt in front of Kaede. Her face was somber.

  “What is it?” Kaede asked, “Is he dead?” The cup began to shake in her hands, spilling the tea.

  Shizuka took it from her and held her hands tightly. “You must not be distressed. You must not become ill. He is not dead. But he has left the Tribe, and they have issued an edict against him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You remember what he told you at Terayama? If he did not go with them, they would not allow him to live. It is the same.”

  “Why?” Kaede said. “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s the way the Tribe are. Obedience is everything to them.”

  “So why would he leave them?”

  “It’s not clear. There was some altercation, some disagreement. He was sent on a mission and never came back from it.” Shizuka paused. “Kondo thinks he may be at Terayama. If he is, he will be safe there for the winter.”

  Kaede pulled her hands away from Shizuka and stood. “I must go there.”

  “It’s impossible,” Shizuka said. “It’s already closed off by snow.”

  “I must see him!” Kaede said, her eyes blazing in her pale face. “If he has left the Tribe, he will become Otori again. If he is Otori, we can marry!”

  “Lady!” Shizuka stood too. “What madness is this? You cannot just take after him like that! Even if the roads were open it would be unthinkable. Better by far, to marry Fujiwara, if you want what you say you want. It is what he desires.”

  Kaede struggled to regain control of herself. “There is nothing to stop me from going to Terayama. Indeed, I should go there . . . on a pilgrimage . . . to give thanks to the all-merciful one for saving my life. I have promised to go to Inuyama, to Arai, as soon as the snows melt. I shall go to the temple on the way. Even if Lord Fujiwara does want to marry me, I can do nothing without consulting Lord Arai. Oh, Shizuka, how long is it till spring?”

  ·9·

  The winter days crawled past. Every month Kaede went to Lord Fujiwara’s residence, stayed for a week, and recounted the story of her life, at night while the snow fell or the moon shone coldly on the frozen garden. He asked many questions and made her repeat many parts.

  “It could be the subject of a drama,” he said more than once. “Maybe I should try my hand at writing such a thing.”

  “You would never be able to show it to anyone,” she replied.

  “No, the delight would be in the writing alone. I would share it with you, of course. We might have it acted once for our pleasure and then have the actors put to death.”

  He often made comments like this, with no trace of emotion, alarming her more and more, though she kept her fears hidden. With each retelling her face became more masklike, her movements more studied, as though she were endlessly acting out her life on a stage he had created as carefully as the perfectly constructed theater where Mamoru and the other young men played their roles.

  During the day he kept his promise to teach her as if she were a boy. He used men’s language with her and made her speak it to him. It amused him sometimes to see her dressed in Mamoru’s clothes, with her hair tied back. The role-playing exhausted her. But she learned.

  Fujiwara kept his other promises, having food delivered to her house and money handed over to Shizuka at the end of each visit. Kaede counted it with the same avidity with which she studied. She saw them both as equal currency for her future, giving her freedom and power.

  In early spring there was a bitter snap of cold weather that froze the plum blossoms on the branches. Kaede’s impatience grew with the lengthening days; the increased cold and harder frosts, followed by fresh snow, nearly drove her mad. She could feel her mind, frantic like a bird trapped inside the house; yet, she did not dare share her feelings with anyone, not even with Shizuka.

  On sunny days she went to the stables and watched Raku when Amano let the horses out to gallop in the water meadows. The horse often seemed to look questioningly toward the northeast, tasting the sharp wind.

  “Soon,” she promised him. “Soon we will be on our way.”

  Finally the full moon of the third month turned and brought with it a warm wind from the south. Kaede woke to the sound of water dripping from the eaves, trickling through the garden, racing down the waterfalls. In three days the snow was gone. The world lay bare and muddy, waiting to be filled with sound and color again.

  “I have to go away for a while,” she told Fujiwara on her last visit. “I have been summoned by Lord Arai to Inuyama.”

  “You will seek his permission to marry?”

  “It is something that must be discussed with him before I can make any decisions,” she murmured.

  “Then I will let you go.” His lips curved slightly but the smile did not reach his eyes.

  For the last month she had been making preparations, waiting for the thaw, thankful for Fujiwara’s money. Within a week she left on a cold, bright morning, the sun appearing and disappearing behind racing clouds, the wind from the east, keen and bracing. Hana had begged to be allowed to come, and at first Kaede intended to take her. But a fear grew in her that once they were at Inuyama, Arai might keep her sister as a hostage. For the time being, Hana was safer at home. She hardly admitted even to herself that if Takeo were at Terayama, she might never go on to the capital. Ai did not want to come, and Kaede left her hostage, Mitsuru, with Shoji, as a guarantee for her own safety.

  She took Kondo, Amano, and six other men. She wanted to move quickly, always aware of how short a life might be and how precious every hour was. She put on men’s garments and rode Raku. He had wintered well, hardly losin
g any weight, and he stepped out with an eagerness that equaled hers. He was already shedding his winter coat, and the rough gray hair clung to her clothes.

  Shizuka accompanied her, along with one of the maids from the house, Manami. Shizuka had decided she would go at least as far as Terayama and, while Kaede went on to the capital, she would visit her grandparents’ home, in the mountains behind Yamagata, to see her sons. Manami was a sensible and practical woman who quickly took it upon herself to supervise their meals and lodging at the inns along the road, demanding hot food and water, disputing prices, cowing innkeepers, and always getting her own way.

  “I won’t have to worry about who’ll look after you when I leave you,” Shizuka said on the third night, after hearing Manami scold the innkeeper for providing inferior, flea-ridden bedding. “I think Manami’s tongue would stop an ogre in its tracks.”

  “I’ll miss you,” Kaede said. “I think you are my courage. I don’t know how brave I can be without you. And who will tell me what is really happening beneath all the lies and the pretense?”

  “I think you can discern that well enough for yourself,” Shizuka replied. “Besides, Kondo will be with you. You will make a better impression on Arai without me!”

  “What should I expect from Arai?”

  “He has always taken your part. He will continue to champion you. He is generous and loyal, except when he feels he has been slighted or deceived.”

  “He is impulsive, I thought,” Kaede said.

  “Yes, to the point of rashness. He is hot in every sense of the word, passionate and stubborn.”

  “You loved him very much?” Kaede said.

  “I was only a girl. He was my first lover. I was deeply in love with him, and he must have loved me after his own fashion. He kept me with him for fourteen years.”

  “I will plead with him to forgive you,” Kaede exclaimed.

  “I don’t know which I fear most, his forgiveness or his rage,” Shizuka admitted, thinking of Dr. Ishida and the discreet, entirely satisfactory affair they had been conducting all winter.

  “Then maybe I should not mention you at all.”

  “It’s usually better to say nothing,” Shizuka agreed. “Anyway, his main concern will be with your marriage and the alliances that may be made by it.”

  “I will not marry until I have secured Maruyama,” Kaede replied. “First he must assist me in that.”

  But first I must see Takeo, she thought. If he is not at Terayama, I will forget him. It will be a sign that it is not meant to be. Oh, merciful heaven, let him be there!

  As the road ascended farther into the mountain range, the thaw was less apparent. Drifts of unmelted snow still covered the paths in places, and often there was ice underfoot. The horses’ feet were wrapped in straw, but their progress was slow and Kaede’s impatience intensified.

  Finally, late one afternoon, they arrived at the inn at the foot of the holy mountain, where Kaede had rested when she had first visited the temple with Lady Maruyama. Here they would stay the night before making the final ascent the next day.

  Kaede slept fitfully, her mind full of the companions from her previous journey, whose names were now entered in the ledgers of the dead. She recalled the day they had ridden out together, how lighthearted everyone had seemed while they had been planning assassination and civil war. She had known nothing of that; she had been a green girl nursing a secret love. She felt a wave of scornful pity for that innocent, guileless self. She had changed completely, but the love had not changed.

  The light was paling behind the shutters, and birds were calling. The room seemed unbearably stuffy. Manami was snoring slightly. Kaede got up quietly, pulled on a quilted robe, and slid open the door to the courtyard. From behind the wall she could hear the horses stamping on their lines. She heard one of them give a whicker of recognition. The men must be up already, she thought, and heard footsteps turn through the gate. She stepped behind the shutter again.

  Everything was misty and indistinct in the dawn light. A figure came into the courtyard. She thought, It’s him. She thought, It cannot be.

  Takeo came out of the mist toward her.

  She stepped onto the veranda, and as he recognized her she saw the look that swept across his face. She thought, with gratitude and relief, It’s all right. He’s alive. He loves me.

  He came up onto the veranda silently and fell on his knees before her. She knelt too. “Sit up,” she whispered.

  He did so, and they stared at each other for several moments, she as if she would drink him in, he obliquely, not meeting her gaze. They sat awkwardly, so much between them.

  Takeo said finally, “I saw my horse. I knew you must be here, but I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I heard you were here. In great danger, but alive.”

  “The danger is not so great,” he said. “My greatest danger is from you—that you cannot forgive me.”

  “I can’t not forgive you,” she replied simply. “As long as you don’t leave me again.”

  “I was told you were to be married. I have been afraid of it all winter.”

  “There is someone who wants to marry me: Lord Fujiwara. But we are not married yet, not even betrothed.”

  “Then we must marry immediately. Are you here to visit the temple?”

  “That was my intention. Then I was to go on to Inuyama.” She was studying his face. He looked older, the bones more pronounced, the mouth more determined. His hair, shorter than it had been, was not pulled back in the warrior style but fell against his forehead, thick and glossy.

  “I’ll send men to escort you up the mountain. I’ll come to the women’s rooms in the temple this evening. We have so much to plan. Don’t look in my eyes,” he added. “I don’t want you to fall asleep.”

  “I don’t mind,” she replied. “Sleep rarely comes to me. Send me to sleep until this evening, then the hours will pass quickly. When I slept before, the White Goddess came to me in a vision. She told me to be patient, to wait for you. I am here to thank her for it and for saving my life.”

  “I was told you were dying,” he said, and could not continue. After a few moments he spoke with an effort. “Is Muto Shizuka with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have a retainer from the Tribe, Kondo Kiichi?”

  She nodded.

  “They must be sent away. Leave your other men here for the time being. Do you have another woman to accompany you?”

  “Yes,” Kaede said. “But I don’t think Shizuka would do anything to harm you.” Even as she spoke, she thought, But how do I know? Can I trust Shizuka? Or Kondo, come to that. I have seen his ruthlessness.

  “I am under sentence of death from the Tribe,” Takeo said. “Therefore any one of them is a danger to me.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be out like this?”

  He smiled. “I’ve never let anyone confine me. I like to explore places at night. I need to know the terrain, and if the Otori are planning to attack me across the border. I was on my way back when I saw Raku. He recognized me. Did you hear him?”

  “He has been waiting for you too,” she said, and felt sorrow uncurl in her belly. “Does everyone want your death?”

  “They are not going to succeed. Not yet. I’ll tell you why tonight.”

  She longed for him to hold her. She could feel her body leaning toward him. In the same moment he responded and took her in his arms. She felt his heart beat, his lips against her neck. Then he whispered, “Someone’s awake. I must go.”

  She could hear nothing. Takeo pulled gently away from her. “Till this evening,” he said.

  She looked at him, seeking his gaze, half hoping to be plunged into sleep, but he had gone. She cried out in alarm. There was no sign of him in the courtyard or beyond. The wind chimes rang out sharply as if in the breath of someone passing beneath them. Her heart was pounding. Had it been his ghost that had come to her? Had she been dreaming, and what would she find when she awoke?

&nbs
p; “What are you doing out here, lady?” Manami’s voice was shrill with concern. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  Kaede pulled the robe around her. She was indeed shivering. “I could not sleep,” she said slowly. “I had a dream. . . .”

  “Go inside. I’ll send for tea.” Manami stepped into her sandals and hurried away across the courtyard.

  Swallows darted to and from the eaves. Kaede smelled wood smoke as the fires were lit. The horses whinnied as they were fed. She heard Raku’s voice as she had heard it earlier. The air was sharp, but she could smell blossoms. She felt her heart swell with hope. It had not been a dream. He was here. In a few hours they would be together. She did not want to go inside. She wanted to stay where she was, remembering his look, his touch, his smell.

  Manami came back, carrying a tray with tea and cups on it. She scolded Kaede again, and chivied her into the room. Shizuka was getting dressed. She took one look at Kaede and exclaimed, “You’ve seen Takeo?”

  Kaede did not reply immediately. She took a cup of tea from Manami and drank it slowly. She felt she had to be careful what she said: Shizuka was from the Tribe, who had placed Takeo under sentence of death. She had assured Takeo that Shizuka would not harm him, but how could she be certain of that? However, she found she could not control her expression, could not stop smiling, as if the mask had cracked and fallen away.

  “I am going to the temple,” she said. “I must get ready. Manami will come with me. Shizuka, you may leave now to see your sons, and you can take Kondo with you.”

  “I thought Kondo was to go with you to Inuyama,” Shizuka said.

  “I have changed my mind. He must go with you. And you must both leave at once, now.”

  “These are Takeo’s orders, I suppose,” Shizuka said. “You cannot pretend to me. I know you have seen him.”

  “I told him you would not harm him,” Kaede said. “You would not?”

  Shizuka said sharply, “Better not to ask that. If I do not see him, I cannot harm him. But how long do you intend to stay at the temple? Don’t forget, Arai is waiting for you at Inuyama.”