by Lian Hearn
She called his name; he turned to her and, when she seemed unable to continue, said, trying to sound kind, “Tell me what I can do for you? Do you have any needs that are not met? Do you need money?”
She shook her head.
“Shall I arrange a marriage for you? I will find a suitable shopkeeper or merchant. You will have your own establishment, your own family eventually.”
“I do not want any of those things,” she replied. “Don João needs me. I cannot leave him.”
He thought she might thank him, and was surprised when she did not. Instead she spoke abruptly, awkwardly. “There is one thing I desire above everything. Something only you can give me.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly and waited for her to continue.
“Tomasu,” she said, tears starting in her eyes, “I know you have not completely turned from God. Tell me that you are still a believer.”
“I am not a believer,” he said calmly. “I meant what I told you just now—there is no one true religion.”
“When you spoke those terrible words, God sent me a vision.” The tears were pouring down her face. There was no doubt of her distress or her earnestness. “I saw you burning in hell. The flames were devouring you. That is what awaits you after death, unless you come back to God.”
He remembered the revelation that had come to him after the terrible poison-fever that had taken him to the very threshold of the next world. He would believe nothing, so that his people might believe whatever they chose. He would never abandon that stance.
“Madaren,” he said gently, “you must not speak to me of these things. I forbid you ever to approach me in this way again.”
“But your eternal life is at stake; your soul. It is my duty to try to save you. Do you think I do this lightly? Look how I am shaking! I am terrified to say these words to you. But I must!”
“My life is here, in this world,” he said. He made a gesture at the garden, in all its spring beauty. “Is this not enough? This world into which we are born, and in which we die, to return, body and soul, into the great cycle, the seasons of life and death? This is wonder and miracle enough.”
“But God made the world,” she said.
“No, it makes itself; it is far greater than you think.”
“It cannot be greater than God.”
“God, the gods, all our beliefs, are created by humans,” he said, “far smaller than this world that we live in the midst of.” He was no longer angry with her, but he could see no reason why he was detained here by her, continuing this pointless discussion.
“Your masters are waiting for you. You had better return to them. And I forbid you to disclose anything about my past to them. I think you realize by now that that past is closed. I have cut myself off from it. My circumstances make it impossible for me to return. You have enjoyed my protection and I will continue to extend it to you, but it is not unconditional.”
He felt chilled, despite the warm day, by his own words. What did he mean; what did he intend to do with her? Execute her? He remembered, as he did almost every day, the death, at his hands, of Jo-An, the outcaste who had also seen himself as a messenger of the Secret God. No matter how deeply he regretted the act, he knew that he would do it again with no more hesitation. He had killed his past, his childhood beliefs with Jo-An, and none of them could be resurrected.
Madaren also was subdued by his speech. “Lord Otori.” She bowed to the ground as if recalling her true place in his world, not his sister but lower than the maids of his household—like Haruka, who had been waiting half-hidden on the veranda, and now, as he turned to go inside, stepped into the garden.
“Is everything all right, Lord Takeo?”
“The interpreter had some questions,” he said. “Then she seemed to become unwell. Make sure she is recovered, and see that she leaves as soon as possible.”
32
Terada Fumio had spent the winter in Hagi with his wife and children. Shortly after the meeting with the foreigners, Takeo went to their house on the other side of the bay. The sheltered gardens, warmed by the hot springs surrounding the volcano, were already bright with azaleas and peonies, and other more exotic plants that Fumio brought back for Eriko from distant islands and remote kingdoms—orchids, lilies, and roses.
“You should come with me one day,” Fumio said as they strolled through the garden and he related the provenance and history of each plant. “You have never left the Three Countries.”
“I don’t need to, when you bring the world to me,” Takeo replied. “But one day I would like to—if I ever retire or abdicate.”
“Are you considering such a thing?” Fumio studied him, his lively eyes scanning his face.
“We will see what happens in Miyako. I hope above all to resolve matters without fighting. Saga Hideki has proposed a contest—my daughter is determined to be my stand-in—and she and everyone else are already convinced that the outcome will be in my favor.”
“You will wager the Three Countries on one single contest? Better by far to prepare for war!”
“As we decided last year, we will prepare for war. It will take a month at least for me to get to the capital. In that time Kahei will assemble our armies on the Eastern border. I will abide by the contest, win or lose, but on certain conditions that I will discuss with Saga. Our forces are there only if my conditions are not met, or if they break faith with us.”
“We should move the rest of the fleet from Hagi to Hofu,” Fumio said. “Thus we control the Western part of the sea, and can strike at Kumamoto if necessary.”
“Yes, our greatest danger is that Zenko will take advantage of my absence and move into open revolt. But his wife is to come to Hagi; his sons are already there. It’s my opinion that he will not be so foolhardy as to risk their lives. Kaede agrees with me, and she will exert all her influence on Hana. You and your father must go with the fleet to Hofu; be prepared for attack from the sea. Taku is there, and will keep you informed of whatever happens. And you can take the foreigners with you.”
“They are to return to Hofu?”
“They are to set up a trading house there. You can help them with that, and keep an eye on them. The Muto girl, Mai, will also go with them.”
Takeo went on to tell his old friend his concerns about such foreigners as there might already be in Kumamoto, the mirror and what else might be entering the country through that city.
“I’ll find out what I can,” Fumio promised. “I’ve got to know Don João quite well this winter, and am coming to understand their speech. Luckily he is not a discreet man, particularly after a few flasks of wine.
“Speaking of wine,” he added. “Let’s drink a few cups ourselves. My father wants to see you, of course.”
FOR A FEW hours Takeo put aside all his anxieties and enjoyed the wine, the food Eriko prepared, fresh fish and spring vegetables, the company of his friend and of the old pirate Fumifusa, and the beautiful garden.
He returned to the house by the river, still in this calm and cheerful frame of mind, and his spirits were further lifted when he heard Shizuka’s voice as soon as he walked into the garden.
“You did not bring Miki with you?” he asked when he had joined her in the upper room. Haruka served them tea and then left them alone.
“I was in two minds about it,” Shizuka replied. “She wanted very much to see you again. She misses you, and her sister. But she is at the age where she is learning rapidly. It seemed unwise not to take advantage of that. And since you will be away all summer, and Kaede will be busy with the new baby…Anyway, it’s good for her to learn obedience.”
“I had hoped to see her before I left,” Takeo replied. “Is she well?”
Shizuka smiled. “Flourishing. She reminds me of Yuki at that age. Full of confidence. She has blossomed in Maya’s absence, as a matter of fact—it’s been good for her to emerge from her sister’s shadow.”
The mention of Yuki’s name sent Takeo into something of a reverie. Noticin
g it, Shizuka said, “I heard from Taku at the end of the winter. He told me Akio has been in Kumamoto with your son.”
“It’s true. I don’t want to speak of it openly here, but his presence in Zenko’s castle town has many implications that you and I must discuss. Do the Muto elders support you?”
“I have been told of some dissent,” Shizuka replied. “Not in the Middle Country, but from both East and West. I am surprised Taku has not returned to Inuyama, where he could exert some control over the Tribe in the East. I should go there myself, but I am reluctant to leave Kaede at this time, especially if you are to depart so soon.”
“Taku has become obsessed with the girl we sent to look after Maya,” Takeo said, feeling the same flash of anger.
“I had heard rumors of that. I’m afraid my sons must both be a great disappointment to you, after everything you have done for them.”
Her voice was measured, but he saw that she was genuinely distressed.
“I trust Taku completely,” he said. “But such a distraction can only make him careless. Zenko is another question, but for the moment he is in check. However, it seems he is determined to claim the leadership of the Muto family, and that is going to bring him into direct conflict with you and Taku, and of course myself.”
He paused, and then said, “I have tried to placate him; I have threatened him and commanded him, but he is determined to provoke me.”
Shizuka said, “He grows more like his father every year. I cannot forget that Arai ordered my death, and would have watched you kill his sons, in his quest for power. My advice, both as head of the Muto and as an old friend of the Otori, is to get rid of Zenko quickly, before he gathers any more support. I will arrange it myself. You only have to order it.”
Her eyes were bright, but she shed no tears.
“The first day we met, Kenji said I should learn ruthlessness from you,” Takeo replied, amazed that she should advise him so coolly to kill her elder son.
“But neither Kenji nor I were truly able to instill it in you, Takeo. Zenko knows this, which is why he is not cowed by you, nor does he respect you.”
Her words stung surprisingly, but he answered mildly, “I have committed myself and this country to a path of justice and peaceful negotiation. I will not let Zenko’s challenge divert that.”
“Then arrest him and try him for plotting against you. Make it legal, but act swiftly.” She watched him for a few moments, and when he did not reply went on, “But you will not follow my advice, Takeo; you do not need to say anything. Of course, I am grateful to you for sparing my son’s life, but I fear the cost to us all will be beyond bearing.”
Her words made the cold touch of premonition brush against his spine. The sun had set and the garden was transformed by the blue light of evening. Fireflies flickered above the stream, and he saw Sunaomi and Chikara come splashing through the water under the wall—they must have been playing on the riverbank. Hunger had driven them home. How could he take the life of their father? He would only set the boys against him and his family, and prolong the feud.
“I have offered to betroth Miki to Sunaomi,” he remarked.
“It is a very good move.” Shizuka made a visible effort to speak more lightly. “Though I don’t think either of the children will be grateful to you! Don’t mention it to anyone; Sunaomi will hate the idea. He was deeply upset by the episode last summer. When he is older, he will realize what an honor it is.”
“It is too early to announce it formally—maybe when I return at the end of the summer.”
He thought from her expression that Shizuka was going to remind him again that he might have no country to return to, but they were interrupted by a cry from the far end of the house, where the women’s rooms were. Takeo heard Haruka’s footsteps running the length of the veranda, making the nightingale floor sing.
In the garden the boys stood and stared after her.
“Shizuka, Dr. Ishida,” Haruka was shouting. “Come quickly! Lady Otori’s pains have begun.”
THE CHILD, as Kaede had known all along, was a boy. The news was celebrated instantly in the city of Hagi, though with a certain restraint, for infancy was a dangerous time, and a child’s hold on life tenuous and fragile. Yet the birth had been swift, and the baby was strong and healthy. There seemed every reason to be confident that Lord Otori would have a son to inherit. The curse that people whispered had been caused by the birth of twins had been lifted.
The news was received with equal rejoicing over the next few weeks throughout the Three Countries, at least in Maruyama, Inuyama, and Hofu. Possibly the joy was less than heartfelt in Kumamoto, but Zenko and Hana professed all the appropriate sentiments and sent splendid gifts, silk robes for the baby, a small sword belonging to the Arai family, and a pony. Hana made preparations for her journey to Hagi later in the summer, eager to see her own sons and to keep her sister company while Takeo was away.
When the period of Kaede’s confinement was over, and the house had been purified according to custom, she brought the child to his father and placed him in his arms.
“This is what I have wanted all my life,” she said. “To give you a son.”
“You have already given me more than I could have ever hoped for,” he replied with emotion. He was unprepared for the wave of tenderness that filled him for the tiny, red-faced, black-haired creature—and for the sense of pride. He loved his daughters, and had not thought he wanted for anything, but to hold his son filled some hitherto unrecognized need. The corners of his eyes grew hot, yet he could not stop smiling.
“You are happy!” Kaede exclaimed. “I was afraid…you have so often told me you did not want sons, that you were content with our daughters, I had almost come to believe you.”
“I am happy,” he replied. “I could die at this moment.”
“I feel the same,” she murmured. “But let us not talk of dying. We are going to live and watch our son grow.”
“I wish I did not have to leave you.” He was gripped suddenly by the idea that he might abandon the journey to Miyako. Let the Dog Catcher attack if he wanted to; the armies of the Three Countries would repel him easily, and deal with Zenko too. He was astonished at the strength of the feeling; he would fight to the death to protect the Middle Country so that this Otori child would inherit it. He examined the thought carefully, and then put it from him. He would try the ways of peace first, as he had resolved; if the trip were postponed now, he would seem both arrogant and cowardly.
“I wish it too,” Kaede said. “But you must go.” She took the child from him and gazed into his face, her own face suffused with love. “I will not be lonely with this little man by my side!”
33
Takeo had to leave almost immediately in order to complete most of the journey before the onset of the plum rains. Shigeko and Hiroshi arrived from Maruyama, and Miyoshi Gemba from Terayama. Miyoshi Kahei had already left for the East as soon as the snow melted, with the main Otori army, fifteen thousand men from Hagi and Yamagata; a further ten thousand would be mustered by Sonoda Mitsuru in Inuyama. Since the previous summer, stores of rice and barley, dried fish, and soy paste had been put aside and dispatched to the Eastern borders to provide for these huge numbers of men. Luckily the harvest had been bountiful—neither the army nor those they left behind would starve.
In all the arrangements for the journey, the most taxing was how to transport the kirin. She had grown even taller, and her coat had darkened to the color of honey, but her calmness and tranquility were unchanged. Dr. Ishida was of the opinion that she should not walk the whole way, that the mountains of the High Cloud Range would be too arduous for her. In the end it was decided that Shigeko and Hiroshi would take her by ship as far as Akashi.
“We could all go by ship, Father,” Shigeko suggested.
“I have never been beyond the borders of the Three Countries,” Takeo replied. “I want to see the terrain and the paths through the range for myself; if typhoons come in the eighth and nint
h months, that is the way we will have to return. Fumio is going to Hofu—he will take you, and the kirin, as well as the foreigners.”
The cherry blossoms had all fallen and the petals had been replaced by the new green leaves when Takeo and his retinue rode out from Hagi, through the mountain passes and along the coast road to Matsue. He had made this journey many times since the day he, a mute boy on the back of a retainer’s horse, had traveled in the other direction with Lord Shigeru, but it never failed to bring back memories of the man who had saved his life and adopted him.
I say I believe in nothing, he thought, but I pray often to Shigeru’s spirit; never more so than now, when I need all his wisdom and courage. The new rice was just beginning to appear above the surface of the flooded fields, which glittered dazzlingly in the sunshine. On the bank, where two paths crossed, stood a small shrine; he saw that it was to Jo-An, who in some districts had become merged with the local deities and was now worshipped by travelers. How strange were people’s beliefs, he thought with wonder, remembering his conversation with Madaren of a few weeks ago—the conviction that had compelled her to speak to him. The same conviction that had sustained Jo-An in all his efforts for Takeo’s sake—and now Jo-An had become a saint to those who would have despised him in real life, and whom he considered unbelievers.
He glanced at Miyoshi Gemba, who rode alongside him, as calm and cheerful a companion as might ever be wished for. Gemba’s life had been dedicated to the Way of the Houou; it had been one of hardship and self-mastery, yet it had left no physical signs of suffering. Gemba was smooth-skinned, his body well covered; as he rode he often seemed to fall into a meditative trance, and occasionally emitted a low humming noise, like distant thunder or the growl of a bear. Takeo found himself talking about Sunaomi, whom Gemba had met at Terayama, telling him of his plan to betroth the boy to his daughter.