“What have they done to you, the highest lady in all of Mino?” Oguna asked, his voice strangled.
Lady Akaru slumped down to the ground as if the energy had drained from her body. Oguna knelt before her with a look of concern. She smiled faintly and raised her hand timidly to touch his cheek. “You’re so like him now. I thought my heart would stop when I saw you standing there. But now that I think of it, it makes perfect sense. After all, so many years have passed since I saw you last. Even His Highness, the prince, must have changed since I first met him in Mino.”
“He hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Really? Well, I’m glad then. But I have changed. I couldn’t bear for him to see me like this. Even if I must die forgotten here, I don’t ever want him to know.”
Suddenly angry, Oguna demanded, “Who did this to you? You were wed to the emperor. This is no place for the emperor’s wife!”
“The emperor is punishing me,” she said in a voice no more than a whisper. “I failed to appease his soul and so … I’m paying for it. But it’s my own fault. I can’t blame anyone else.”
“I don’t understand. I can’t stand by and let him do this to you,” he said vehemently. “If our clansmen knew, they would be heartbroken. You weren’t born to work as a lowly servant. And the prince. He didn’t bring you to Mahoroba to be treated like this.”
Lady Akaru looked up at him, her eyes wild and stricken like the eyes of a doe driven to the edge of a cliff, and in them he saw what she could not say out loud. But then her eyes dulled and she looked down. “I brought this upon myself. Oguna, don’t tell anyone you met me. Keep this secret safe in your heart. Please don’t tell the prince. And you too. Please, please don’t do anything rash.”
“Lady Akaru …” Oguna was not satisfied, but she shook her head, silencing him.
“Off you go now. If you spend too long talking to me, people will start to think something is suspicious. Especially when you look so much like the prince. I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again, but take care of yourself and serve the prince well.” She gave him no chance to protest. While she might have been stripped of her rank, she had not been stripped of the dignity that came with noble birth. He tried to convince her, but she brushed him off, and before he knew it, she had arranged for one of Lady Inabi’s maidservants to take him and Nanatsuka into the hall.
Oguna was so distracted he could barely pay attention, but Lady Inabi was delighted to see him. Soft and plump, she was not at all like Prince Oh-usu, except perhaps in her cheerful disposition. Despite being the highest-ranked wife of the emperor, she was easy to please and had a great weakness for talking about her son. Summoning Oguna to her side, she inundated him with memories of the prince, as if, indeed, the past had come to life. Nanatsuka, who seemed to have expected this, sat and listened patiently.
When she had talked to her heart’s content, she turned her attention to Oguna himself. “Are you sure you’re not related to the emperor?” she asked. “I can’t believe that there’s no connection at all. Of all the emperor’s sons, Oh-usu is most like him. Which means that you are too.”
“I’m sure it’s purely a coincidence,” Oguna answered hastily. “I was born in Mino.” Furious with the emperor for what he had done to Lady Akaru, he resented being told he looked like him.
Finally, it was time to take their leave and escape at last from Lady Inabi’s reminiscences. As he rose to go, Oguna summoned his courage and asked, “Do you know the young woman with the long hair who works in the kitchens? I thought that she might be from Mino.”
Lady Inabi blinked and waved her fan gracefully. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly keep track of all the lowly serving wenches. Why, I can’t even remember the faces of my ladies-in-waiting.”
* * *
THAT NIGHT Lady Akaru could not sleep. Oguna had appeared out of nowhere, looking just like Prince Oh-usu when she had first met him at the archery tournament, and now she could not banish the prince from her mind. She had struggled so hard to forget him—his eyes, his voice, the expressions that flowed across his face, but now these images spilled forth, flooding her heart. She blamed Oguna bitterly for destroying the dam she had built to hold them back.
It’s not fair, not after I made it all this way without shedding any tears.
She could hear the peaceful breathing of the other kitchen girls as they slept, crammed like sardines into the small shack. Someone stirred in the heavy darkness. She couldn’t cry here. Rising quietly, she crept toward the door, being careful not to step on anyone, and slipped outside.
The chill night air caressed her cheek, and a crescent moon floated in the midnight sky. But when she glanced up, she saw only a silver blur. Perhaps hunger was making it harder to hold back her tears. The spiteful kitchen chief had made her go without dinner, claiming that she had ruined the greens when she dropped them. Although resigned to her punishment, she had neither the will nor the strength left to stop lamenting her fate. She wanted to cry out loud like a little child.
In her heart, she turned toward Mino. O Keeper of the Shrine … how long must I go on living? I can never atone for my mistake. Is it wrong to wish to end it all? If only she could become a spirit and fly home—home to Mino, to those beloved mountains, valleys, and rivers …
She wandered aimlessly along the wall, searching vaguely for somewhere to weep in private. But when she turned the corner, she froze, startled by a figure that stepped out of the darkness. Were the guards spying on her even at this ungodly hour? She studied his face in the faint light, trying to discern his features, only to discover that it was, impossibly, Prince Oh-usu.
Just like before, she thought. He waited for me and when I turned the corner, there he was … standing at the turning point in my destiny.
Whatever it was that had kept her will strong and steady came crashing down, and spreading her arms wide, she ran toward him. Though she half believed him to be some phantom of her imagination, the arms that caught her were warm and strong—those arms that she had known but once before … and those lips. This time she did not push him away. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and while she wept, she realized that she was not the only one weeping.
Prince Oh-usu whispered through clenched teeth, “You’re so thin. You feel as though you might break. And all this time, I knew nothing. I traveled distant lands, ignorant of your fate.”
“It was better that you didn’t know. Why did you come? Oguna? That naughty boy must have told you after all. I asked him not to.”
“I would never have taken him into my care if I thought he would be so heartless as to ignore your fate. I came as soon as he told me. How could I not? But I didn’t know where to find you. I was just about to wake up everyone in my mother’s household.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t. There are people here who spy on me on the emperor’s orders.”
Prince Oh-usu drew back slightly to see her face more clearly in the light of the moon. “Tell me. Did my father do this to you because of me?”
The tears welling from her eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “… Yes. Because I could not forget you. I thought that I could. But it was impossible. And so my magatama did not shine.”
“Your magatama?”
“The curved bead passed down in the Tachibana clan. It was for the talisman that the emperor brought me here—it should have stilled his violent spirit and granted him a longer life. But I failed to move the stone, something I never imagined could happen …” She covered her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body. “The emperor demanded to know to whom I had given my heart. He even accused me of loving you. I insisted that it wasn’t true, but he banished me to the servants’ quarters until I should answer him honestly …”
She was shaking, and the prince pulled her to him tenderly and stroked her hair as if she were a child. “How could he do that to you?” he said, gazing into the darkness. “And I, knowing nothing, actually envied him. Do you know what I was thinking on the day you rejected me—and ev
er since I handed you over to my father? I was thinking of killing him and taking you for myself. You told me you could serve no one but the emperor. So my only option was to kill my father and become the emperor myself. Why didn’t you tell me? If you had said just one word, I would never have let him do this to you.”
“I am a lady of the Tachibana clan. I was trained, above all else, to accept my fate. But now … I don’t understand anything anymore. I have lost any power I might have had. What destiny is there for someone who is powerless? I …” She broke off, hesitating, and then said plaintively, “My heart is yours, against every ban and prohibition I have tried to place upon it. I can’t think of any way to stop it. If you told me to kill myself, I would gladly do so.”
“As for me, if I have you, I need nothing else, nothing at all.”
They held each other close without stirring until finally the prince said, “If I take you away with me now, my father will surely brand me a traitor. But I have no intention of letting you out of arm’s reach ever again. Will you come with me? Even if it brings dishonor to your name?”
“I have already given you my answer,” Lady Akaru whispered.
“Well then, if I’m going to be called a traitor anyway, let me be one. I’ve seen much these last few years as I plotted my father’s death. He is not a just ruler. He’s selfish, cold, and cruel and thoroughly obsessed with extending his mortal life. While traveling from one land to the next, I’ve secretly been gathering an army. One of my bases is in Mino.
“Lady, let us go back to Mino together—and overthrow the emperor, for our own sakes.”
4
THE MEN FURTIVELY summoned in the darkest hour before dawn did not seem nearly as shaken as Oguna to hear the prince speak of treason. It was clear from their expressions that they had been waiting for this day. As Oguna was the only one not informed in advance, he was the only one genuinely surprised.
The prince issued commands with a grim calmness. “The emperor’s troops won’t move until they have solid proof. There’s still time. We must seize this chance and escape beyond Mahoroba’s influence. We’ll gather again at Kukuri in Mino. Send word to our allies in Owari and Izumo. Our success depends on speed. If we can get through Suzuka Pass without being stopped, our prospects are good. With reinforcements, we could even launch a counterattack. But we must hurry. The most important thing is to get as many men through to Kukuri as possible. Don’t take needless risks.”
Nanatsuka too appeared to have been expecting this turn of events. When they left the prince, he immediately disappeared into the armory and began counting weapons. Seeing the stunned look on Oguna’s face, he grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “This is no time for standing around. Not if you want to survive.”
Oguna frowned. “I know I was the one who asked the prince to help Lady Akaru. But I had no idea it would come to this.”
“Maybe you didn’t. But Lady Akaru is, after all, the emperor’s wife. How could we possibly be pardoned for stealing her away?”
“Are traitors executed? Even princes?”
“They’re hanged. Even princes,” Nanatsuka replied, adding with a wicked grin, “But the prince isn’t the type to stand by and let that happen. Nor are we.”
Keeping the lamplight as dim as possible, Oguna packed feverishly. He didn’t regret telling the prince, he decided. Besides, he had no time to worry about it. Yet his heart ached with the knowledge that Prince Oh-usu was launching a war against his own father.
They slipped out of the hall before sunrise. To avoid suspicion, only a small band rode through the east gate with the prince—few enough to convince any observers that they were just going to the hot spring. With them went Lady Akaru, Nanatsuka, and Oguna. The others exited the capital separately, each heading for Kukuri by a different route. During the hurried meeting before they left, someone suggested that Oguna pose as the prince to lure away pursuers, but Prince Oh-usu had vetoed the idea, perhaps thinking him too young. Oguna felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment at this decision.
The sun rose between the ridges ahead just as they crested the shoulder of Mount Moroyama. In the red light of dawn, a flock of crows rose startled from their roosts and began cawing raucously. Glancing up at them, the prince frowned. “They sound unlucky. Shall I shoot them?”
Lady Akaru, who had been following silently, spoke up. “Oh no! Please don’t do that.” Although she looked a little strange disguised as a male servant wearing hakama, she sat boldly astride her horse. “No one in Mino would ever think of shooting a crow. According to clan legend, one of our ancestors became one. It would be terrible to kill a relation, even if it were a bird.”
The prince gave a short bark of laughter and his face brightened. “I had no idea. You’re related to crows, are you? I’ll have to watch that you don’t sprout wings and fly away.”
Lady Akaru blushed slightly and smiled. She looked so beautiful in the early morning light that Oguna gazed at her in admiration. He could see no trace of the worn and haggard woman of the previous day. Like a flower placed in water, she had regained her vitality overnight; just being with the prince and traveling with him to Mino had transformed her. I did the right thing, Oguna thought, relieved and comforted. Although he knew their journey was fraught with uncertainty and there was no guarantee they would even make it to the next day, his heart still leapt at the thought of returning to Mino. If he reached Kukuri alive, he would see Kamitsusato, the old familiar valleys and fields of his homeland, the hall where he was raised. And Toko. He would see Toko again. Finally, he could fulfill the promise that had weighed on his heart so long …
“I remember a story about that same crow,” he said, joining the conversation. “Toko loved it so much she used to ask for it all the time. The story of the bird funeral.”
“The bird funeral? Tell it to me,” the prince asked.
“Our ancestor, the crow,” Lady Akaru began, “mourned the death of a young maiden. He gathered all the birds together to hold a funeral for her. The wild geese became the vessel bearers, the herons became the broom bearers, the sparrows became the rice-pounding girls, and the pheasants became the mourners. Birds of every kind joined in, singing and dancing for eight days and eight nights until the maiden’s soul turned into a white bird and flew back from the land of the dead to be reborn. The funeral bier is said to have been on Moyama, the mountain where the Tachibana clan shrine is now located.”
“I know a story a little like yours,” the prince said, but his face suddenly darkened. “It’s about the funeral of Amano Wakahiko. He was sent as a messenger to the earth but fell in love with the daughter of the earth gods and forgot his mission. For eight years he failed to report until finally, one day, he shot the messenger of the gods. The fatal arrow he had loosed was later used to kill him, and the birds mourned his death in the same way.”
“But of course he was reborn too, wasn’t he?” Lady Akaru said, trying to cheer him up.
But the prince shook his head. “No. Not that I heard.”
THE PRINCE’S assumption that their flight would remain undetected for at least a day or two proved wrong. They ran into the emperor’s soldiers at the first ford in the river. It was only a small patrol, insufficient to block their way and quickly scattered, but the prince’s men were not fully prepared and there were a few tense moments before they seized the boats.
As he poled down the river, Nanatsuka grumbled, “My lord, I beg you to control your urge to fly headlong into battle. If you behave like that, no number of lives will be enough.”
“There are too few of us. I can’t always be hiding behind you every time we have to fight,” the prince responded.
“Look at it from our perspective. If we lose you, we’re finished.”
“All right, all right,” he answered in his usual offhand manner, but then he gazed soberly at the opposite bank. “We may be attacked again if we disembark at the ferry dock. Let’s go a little farther downstream. I’d rather not tak
e a detour, but we have no choice. The emperor moved faster than I expected—almost too fast.”
“Almost as if he were waiting for us,” Nanatsuka said.
The prince looked up quickly. “Do you think it was a trap?”
Nanatsuka fell silent. Lady Akaru was watching them anxiously. The prince turned to her and said, “It makes no difference. It doesn’t change what we have to do—get to Kukuri. We knew they’d come after us. I’ll show you we can shake them off.”
After disembarking on the opposite shore, the prince sent out scouts. These returned to report that an unusual number of troops were on the move. The prince and his company were forced to change routes several times and finally to abandon their horses. They set them off at a gallop with bags of stones tied to their saddles to divert their pursuers and then headed deeper into the mountains, slinging whatever they could carry onto their backs.
Every time they tried to return to the main road, they found soldiers on the prowl. It looked like they would have to stay clear of established routes for some time.
Nanatsuka’s knowledge of the territory proved invaluable. He led them up a steep cliff and down through the next valley, where the rest of them would have been lost. But they could not remain concealed indefinitely. The longer they put off crossing the pass, the less chance they had of making it through. Each time they were forced to combat enemy patrols, their numbers dwindled, and some of the men sent ahead as scouts never returned.
Oguna watched in anguish as the prince’s faithful men fell, one after the other. It’s no good. They have too many people to protect, he thought. There were so few men, yet they had to guard the prince, Lady Akaru, and even Oguna. They treated Oguna deferentially, just like the prince, never giving him a turn as a scout and always pushing him to the back when they had to cut their way through enemy soldiers. Although it may have been partly because he was still young, Oguna knew that the main reason was his resemblance to the prince—he was the prince’s shadow, and they had been trained to treat that shadow as part of the prince himself.
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