by Lian Hearn
“Lady Maruyama’s father commanded me to put this into her hands,” he said quietly. When she had taken it, he bowed to the ground before her, the first person to honor her as ruler of the Three Countries.
54
From Kuba Makoto, to Lady Otori.
Iwanted to tell you myself about the last days of your husband’s life.
It is nearly autumn here in the mountains. The nights are cool. Two nights ago I heard the hawk owl in the graveyard, but last night it had gone. It has flown south. The leaves are beginning to turn; soon we will have the first frosts, and then the snow.
Takeo came to the temple with Miyoshi Gemba at the beginning of the eighth month; I was relieved to see him alive, for we had heard of the destruction of Hagi and Zenko’s advance on Yamagata. It seemed obvious to me that no attack on the Middle Country could succeed while Takeo lived, and I knew Zenko would try to have him murdered as soon as possible.
It was in the middle of the day. He and Gemba had ridden from Yamagata. It was a very hot day; they had not come in haste, but in a rather leisurely fashion, like pilgrims. They were tired, obviously, and Takeo was a little feverish, but they were not desperate and exhausted as fugitives might be. He told me little about his meeting with you, the previous night. These matters lie between husband and wife, and outsiders cannot interfere. All I can say is that I am truly sorry, but not surprised. Passionate love does not die away, but turns to other passions, hatred, jealousy, disappointment. Between man and wife it can only be dangerous. I had made my feelings on this clear to Takeo many times.
Later I realized that what you had been told had been part of a long intrigue to isolate Takeo at the temple, where we have all sworn a vow to take no life, and where we are unarmed.
Indeed, the first thing Takeo did was to remove Jato from his belt.
“I’ve come to do some painting,” he said as he gave the sword to me. “You looked after this for me once before. Now I will leave it here until my daughter Shigeko comes for it. It was placed in her hands by the Emperor himself.”
And then he said, “I will never kill again. Nothing in my life should gladden me right now, but this does.”
We went together to Lord Shigeru’s grave. Takeo spent the rest of the day there. Usually there are many pilgrims, but because of the rumors of war it was deserted. He told me afterward he was concerned that people would think he had abandoned them, but it was impossible for him to fight against you. I myself was undergoing the greatest conflict I had ever experienced since I first made the vow never to kill again. I could not bear his serene acceptance of death. All my human emotions made me want to urge him to defend himself, to destroy Zenko, and you, too, I must confess. I struggled with this night and day.
Takeo himself seemed to have no conflict. He was almost lighthearted, though I knew he also experienced great sorrow. He was grieving for the loss of his baby son, and, of course, the rupture with you, but he had relinquished power to Lady Shigeko and he had put aside all desires. Gradually this heightened mixture of emotions overtook all of us at the temple. Everything we did, from the mundane chores of everyday life to the sacred moments of chanting and meditation, seemed touched by an awareness of the divine.
Takeo devoted himself to painting; he made many studies and sketches of birds, and the day before his death he completed the missing panel on our screens. I hope you will see it one day. The sparrows are so lifelikethat the temple cats are deceived, and are often seen stalking them. Every day I half expect to see them flown.
He was also greatly comforted by the presence of his daughter, Miki. Haruka brought her from Hagi.
“I could think of nowhere else to go,” Haruka told me. We had come to know each other well, years ago when Takeo was fighting for his life after the earthquake and the fight with Kotaro. I liked her very much. She was resourceful and intelligent, and we were all deeply grateful to her for bringing Miki.
Miki had been struck dumb by the terrible things she had seen. She followed her father like his shadow. Takeo questioned her about her sister, but Miki did not know where she was; she could not speak to him other than by gestures.
At this point Makoto laid down the brush for a while, flexing his fingers and gazing out onto the beauty and tranquility of the gardens. Should he tell Lady Otori what Miki had written down for her father and all that she had revealed to him about Maya and the baby’s death? Or should the truth remain hidden with the dead? He took up the brush again; the new ink making the characters dark.
On the morning of his death, Takeo and Miki were in the garden. Takeo had started a new painting—of his horse, Tenba. Gemba and I had just come out to join them. It was around the first half of the hour of the Horse in the second quarter of the eighth month, very hot. The showers of noise of the cicadas seemed even more intense than usual. There are two paths leading up to the temple: the main one from the inn to the temple gates, and the one that follows the course of the stream, more over grown and narrow, leading straight into the garden. It was up this path that the Kikuta came.
Takeo heard them before anyone else, of course, and seemed to know who they were immediately. I had never seen Akio, though I knew allabout him, and I had known about the boy for years, and about the prophecy. I am sorry that I knew and you did not. If your husband had told you years ago, no doubt everything would have turned out differently, but he chose not to; in this way we build our own fate.
I saw two men come swiftly into the garden; beside the younger one loped a huge cat, black, white, and gold, the largest one I have ever seen. For a moment I thought it was a lion.
Takeo said quietly, “It is Akio; take Miki away.”
None of us moved, except Miki, who stood and came closer to her father.
The young man was holding a weapon. I recognized it as a firearm, though it was much smaller than the weapons the Otori use, and Akio held a pan full of smoldering charcoal. I remember the smell of the smoke and the way it went straight upward in the still air.
Takeo was staring at the younger man. I realized this was his son—it was the first time father and son had set eyes on each other. They were not really alike, yet there was a similarity, in the texture of the hair, the color of the skin.
Takeo was completely calm, and this seemed to unnerve the young man—Hisao, he was called, though we will change his name, I think. Akio was shouting at him. “Do it! Do it!” But Hisao seemed frozen. He slowly put his hand on the cat’s head, and looked upward as if someone was speaking to him. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I couldn’t see anything, but Gemba whispered, “I can sense spirits of the departed here.”
Hisao said to Takeo, “My mother says you are my father.”
Takeo said, “I am.”
Akio was shouting, “He’s lying. I am your father. Kill him. Kill him!”
Takeo said, “I ask your mother to forgive me, and you too.”
Hisao laughed incredulously. “I have hated you all my life!”
Akio shrieked, “He is the Dog—he must pay for the death of Kikuta Kotaro and so many of the Tribe.”
Hisao raised the firearm. Takeo said clearly, “Don’t try to stop him; don’t harm him.”
Suddenly the garden was full of birds, golden-plumed. The light was dazzling. Hisao cried, “I can’t do it. She won’t let me.”
Several things happened at once. Gemba and I have tried to piece it all together, but we both saw slightly different things. Akio seized the firearm from Hisao, and pushed him aside. The cat leaped at Akio, fastening its claws on his face. Miki screamed, “Maya!” There was a flash and an explosion that deafened us, the smell of burned flesh, and fur.
The weapon had misfired in some way, had exploded. Akio’s hands were blown off, and he bled to death within moments. Hisao was stunned, and had burn marks on his face, but otherwise seemed unharmed. The cat was dying. Miki ran to it, calling her sister’s name. I have never seen a more awe-inspiring sight: Miki seemed to become a sword. The light blind
ed our eyes as it reflected from her. Gemba and I both had a sense of something being severed. The cat dissolved as Miki threw herself on it, and when we could see again, Miki was holding her dead sister in her arms. We believe Miki saved Maya from being a cat spirit forever, and we pray for her rebirth in a better life, where twins are not hated and feared.
Takeo ran straight to them, and embraced the dead girl and the living. His eyes were bright, like jewels. Then he went to Hisao and lifted him from the ground and embraced him, or so we thought. In fact he was reaching inside the boy’s jacket for the hidden weapons of the Tribe. He found what he was looking for, drew it out and closed his son’s hands over the handle. He did not stop looking at him as he drove the knife into his own belly, cutting and turning it. Hisao’s eyes were glazing, and when Takeo released his hands and began to stagger, Hisao’s legs also buckled as he fell into the Kikuta sleep.
Takeo dropped to his knees, next to his sleeping son.
Death from a belly wound is inevitable, hideous, and lingering. I said to Gemba, “Bring Jato,” and when he returned with the sword, I put it toits last act of service to its master. I was afraid I would fail him, but the sword knew its purpose and leaped in my hand.
The air was full of birds calling in alarm, and white and gold feathers fluttered to the ground, covering the pool of blood that flowed from him.
It was the last time we saw the houou. They have deserted the forest. Who knows when they will return?
At this point the Abbot felt grief overwhelm him again. He gave way to it briefly, honoring his dead friend with tears. But there was one more matter to write about. He lifted the brush again.
Two of Takeo’s children remain with us. We will keep Hisao here. Gemba believes that out of such great evil a great spirit can be born. We will see. Gemba takes him into the forest; he has an affinity with its wild animals and a deep understanding of them. He has begun to make small carvings of them, which we see as a good sign. We feel Miki needs to be with her mother if she is to recover, and I ask you to send for her. Haruka can bring her to you. She is already a great spirit, but she is very fragile. She needs you.
He looked out into the garden again and saw the girl about whom he was writing, silent, so thin she looked like a ghost herself. She spent many hours there, in the place where her father and sister had died.
He rolled the letter and put it with all the others he had written to Kaede. He had repeated the story many times, in many variations, sometimes revealing Maya’s secret, sometimes putting noble words of farewell, to Kaede, to himself, into Takeo’s mouth. This stark unembellished version he felt came closest to the truth. However, he could not send it, for he did not know where Kaede was, or even if she was still alive.
55
The leaves had fallen; the trees were bare. The last of the migrating birds had crossed the sky in long skeins like brushstrokes when Kaede came to Terayama at the full moon of the eleventh month.
She brought the two young boys with her,
Sunaomi and Chikara.
“I am glad to see Sunaomi here,” Gemba said when he came to welcome them. He had met Sunaomi the previous year, when the boy had seen the houou. “It was your husband’s wish that he should come to us.”
“There is nowhere else for them to go,” Kaede replied. She did not want to say more in front of the children. “Go with Lord Gemba,” she urged them. “He will show you where you are to live.”
“Your daughter has gone into the forest with Haruka,” Gemba said.
“My daughter is here?” Kaede said. She felt faint, and continued with difficulty, “Which daughter?”
“Miki,” Gemba replied. “Lady Otori, come and sit down. You have made a long journey; the day is cold. I will fetch Makoto and he will tell you everything.”
Kaede realized she was on the verge of breaking down. For weeks she had been numb with grief and despair. She had retreated into the icelike state that had sustained her when she was young and alone. Here in this place everything recalled Takeo with fresh clarity. She had, unconsciously, held the illusion that he would be here, even though she had heard the news of his death. Now she saw how foolish that illusion was. He was not here: He was dead and she would never see him again.
The temple bell sounded, and she was aware of the tread of feet across wooden floors. Gemba said, “Let us go to the hall. I will send for a brazier, and some tea. You look frozen.”
His kindness undid her completely. The tears poured from her eyes. Chikara began to sob too.
Sunaomi said, fighting back his own tears, “Don’t cry, brother. We have to be brave.”
“Come,” Gemba said. “We will get you something to eat, and our Abbot will talk to Lady Otori.”
They were standing in the cloister of the main courtyard. Kaede saw Makoto come from the opposite side, almost running across the gravel path between the leafless cherry trees. The expression on his face was more than she could bear. She covered her face with her sleeve.
Makoto took her other arm and supported her, as he led her with great gentleness into the hall where the Sesshu paintings were kept.
“Let us sit here for a few moments,” he said. Their breath was white. A monk came with a brazier, and shortly afterward returned with tea, but neither of them drank.
Struggling to speak, Kaede said, “I must tell you first about the boys. Zenko was surrounded and defeated by Saga Hideki and Miyoshi Kahei a month ago. My oldest daughter, Shigeko, is betrothed to Lord Saga. They will marry at the New Year. The whole of the Three Countries passes to Lord Saga, and will be united with the rest of the Eight Islands under the Emperor. Takeo left a will stating his conditions and Saga has agreed to everything. Shigeko will rule the Three Countries equally with him. Maruyama will be inherited by her female heirs, and Saga has promised nothing will change in the way we have governed.”
She fell silent for a moment.
“It is a good outcome,” Makoto said gently. “Takeo’s vision will be preserved and it must mean the end of warlords fighting among themselves.”
“Zenko and Hana were ordered to take their own lives,” Kaede continued. Speaking of these matters had helped her regain her self-control a little. “Before her death, my sister killed their youngest son rather than leave him. But I was able to persuade Lord Saga through my daughter to spare Sunaomi and Chikara, on condition they be brought up here. Saga is ruthless and pragmatic: They will be safe as long as no one tries to use them as figureheads. He will have them killed if there is any sign of that. They will lose their name, of course—the Arai are to be destroyed. Foreigners are to be expelled and their religion crushed. I suppose the Hidden will go underground again.”
She was thinking of Madaren, Takeo’s sister. What will become of her? Will Don João take her with him? Or will she be abandoned again?
“Of course the boys are welcome here,” Makoto said. After that, neither of them spoke.
Finally Kaede said, “Lord Makoto, I want to apologize to you. I have always felt dislike, even hostility toward you, but now, of all the people in the world, you are the only person I want to be with. May I also stay here for a while?”
“You must stay for as long as you wish. Your presence is a comfort to me,” he replied. “We both loved him.”
She saw the tears spring into his eyes. He reached behind him and took out a scroll from a box on the floor. “I have tried to write down truthfully what happened. Read it when you feel able.”
“I must read it now,” Kaede said, her heart pounding. “Will you sit with me while I do so?”
WHEN SHE HAD finished, she laid the scroll down and looked out toward the garden.
“He was sitting there?”
Makoto nodded.
“And this is the screen?” Kaede rose and stepped toward it. The sparrows looked at her with their bright eyes. She put out her hand and touched the painted surface.
“I cannot live without him,” she said abruptly. “I am filled with regrets and remor
se. I drove him away into the arms of his assassins. I can never forgive myself.”
“No one escapes his fate,” Makoto whispered. He stood and came to face her. “I, too, feel as if I will never recover from my grief, but I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that Takeo died in the same way he lived, fearlessly and with compassion. He accepted that it was his time, and died in complete serenity. He is buried as he wanted to be, next to Shigeru. And like Shigeru, he will never be forgotten. Moreover, he leaves children behind, two daughters and a son.”
Kaede thought, I am not ready to accept his son yet. Will I ever be? All I feel in my heart is hatred toward him and jealousy of his mother. Takeo is with her now. Will they be together in all their future lives, will I ever see him again? Are our spirits separated forever?
“His son tells me all the spirits are at rest now,” Makoto continued. “His mother’s ghost has haunted him all his life, but he is now free of her. He is a shaman, we believe. If his crookedness can be straightened, he will be the source of wisdom and blessing.”
“Will you show me the place where my husband died?” Kaede whispered.
Makoto nodded and stepped out onto the veranda. Kaede slipped into her sandals. The light was fading; the garden was stripped of all color, but on the rocks next to where Takeo had died there were splashes of blood, dried to a rusty brown. She pictured the scene, his hands around the knife, its blade entering his beloved body, the blood leaping from him.
She sank to the ground, sobbing convulsively.
I will do the same, she thought. I cannot stand the pain.
She felt for her own knife, the one she always carried inside her robe. How many times had she planned to kill herself? In Inuyama, in her own home at Shirakawa, and then she had promised Takeo not to take her own life until after his death. She recalled in agony her words to him. She had urged him to cut open his own belly, and he had done so. Now she would do the same. She felt a rush of joy. Her blood and her spirit would follow his.