“Matsuda is one of the Otori,” Shigeru replied. “There could be no reason for him to teach the Tohan.”
Arai smiled but did not make any further comment. However, at the end of the day, after they had spent the afternoon galloping across the plain in pursuit of the swift hawks with a recklessness that impressed even Takeshi, and while the birds’ prize catches of pheasant, partridge, and a couple of young hare were braising over charcoal, Arai returned to the subject of the relationship between the Otori and the Tohan.
Dusk was falling, the smoke from the fires rising in gray plumes. The western sky was still pale yellow from the last of the sunset. Shizuka, who had ridden with them with all the skill and fearlessness of a man, poured wine for them. Arai drank in the same way as he rode, with no restraint and with reckless pleasure. From time to time the woman’s hands brushed his, and a look flashed between them. Her presence disturbed Shigeru, not only for the obvious and unsettling attraction between her and Arai but also because he did not trust her.
Arai said, “Sadamu has increased his invective against the Otori, so we hear, and has taken something of a dislike to you.”
“I made the mistake of saving his life,” Shigeru replied. “He can turn any action into a studied insult.”
“And how do you intend to respond?” Arai spoke lightly, but a new seriousness had crept into the conversation, and Shigeru was aware of it. Only Kiyoshige and Takeshi sat close enough to hear. And the woman.
“Forgive me, Lord Arai, I would like to discuss my response with you, but it is a private matter for your ears only.” He glanced at Shizuka.
She sat without moving, a slight smile on her face. Arai said, “You may speak freely in front of Muto Shizuka. You are not accustomed to the way we do things in the West. You must get used to women taking part in these discussions if you are also to talk to Maruyama Naomi.”
“Am I to have that pleasure?”
“It seems she is on her way to Terayama. She is a great admirer of the work of Sesshu, both the paintings and the gardens. You will meet her there—quite by chance, of course.” Arai laughed again, seeing that his words had not quite dispelled Shigeru’s misgivings, and turned to Shizuka. “You will have to make a formal oath to Lord Otori to convince him.”
She came forward a little and said in a calm, clear voice, “Lord Otori’s secrets are safe with me. I will never reveal them to anyone. I swear it.”
“There,” Arai said. “You can trust her. I promise it.”
She touched her head to the ground before him. Shigeru had to be satisfied or risk offending Arai.
“It is true that Sadamu considers himself offended by me,” he said. “But it is convenient for him; it gives him an excuse to do what the Iida have long intended—to expand into the Middle Country at the expense of the Otori. The silver mines around Chigawa, the rich seaport of Hofu, and the fertile lands in the South all attract them. But Sadamu will not be satisfied with the Middle Country alone: he seeks to control the entire Three Countries; sooner or later he will move against the West. I believe an alliance between the Seishuu and the Otori would dissuade him in the first instance and would defeat him if it came to war.”
“You must know that the Seishuu prefer to keep peace through diplomacy and alliances,” Arai said.
“I can hardly believe this is your own preference. Your family have never cared for the Tohan, so it is said.”
“Maybe not, but I am just one small part of the clan. My father is still alive and I have three brothers. Furthermore, Lady Maruyama’s marriage, and several others—my own wife will probably be chosen for me from a family sympathetic to Iida, if not actually related to him—have brought the whole of the West much closer to the Tohan.” He leaned forward and said quietly, “The Otori are a great clan, a historic family, possibly the greatest in the Three Countries—but what has happened to them? What were they doing while the Iida were negotiating these alliances? You know what people say—that while the Otori skulk in Hagi, the rest of the Middle Country will be stolen from them and they won’t even notice!”
“That’s an insult—”Takeshi began, but Shigeru silenced him, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Many mistakes have been made,” he admitted, “but surely it is not too late to remedy some of them.”
“I will speak to my father,” Arai said. “But I can make no promises. We may not care much for the Tohan, but to be honest with you, we have little love for some of the Otori allies either, in particular our nearest neighbors, the Noguchi. It may be very imprudent for us to openly defy the Tohan at this time. We have nothing to gain from it. I came to meet you because I liked what I’d heard of you, and I don’t mind telling you I like what I see now. But my preferences can have very little influence on the policies of the West.”
“At least give us the assurance that you will not stab us in the back while we fight the Tohan in the East.”
“So it will come to war?”
“I believe Sadamu will attack the Otori next summer. We will defeat them but not if we have to fight on two fronts.”
“If Maruyama Naomi agrees to that, then there’s every possibility the Arai will too. And Lady Naomi will almost certainly choose the more peaceful solution, for that is the Maruyama way.”
The meat was ready, but despite its succulent gamy flavor, the day’s vigorous exercise, and the crisp night air, Shigeru ate with little appetite and his sleep was restless, not only because of the many flasks of wine and the hard ground. His earlier confidence of the wisdom and desirability of the alliance was replaced by a more realistic appreciation of its difficulties, the many obstacles and the need for months of careful diplomacy, months he could not spare.
“It was a mistake to come,” he said to Kiyoshige as they rode back to Yamagata.
“You never know. You have established a relationship—one that could become a friendship. And you know that you will meet Lady Maruyama before you return to Hagi.”
Shigeru made no reply, remaining unconvinced.
“Anyway,” Kiyoshige said, “it was worth it for the food alone!”
“And the hunting,” Takeshi agreed. “My only regret is I did not watch Lord Arai use the sword. If he fights in the same way as he rides, it would be something to see.”
“It doesn’t look as if you will ever have that opportunity,” Shigeru said. Their boyish cheerfulness irritated him. “Arai will never fight alongside us. The most we can hope for is not to make an enemy of him.”
The heaviness of his spirits was not dispelled when they returned to Yamagata and told Irie of the outcome of the meeting.
“I cannot remedy the neglect of years in a few short months,” Shigeru concluded his account. “We have wasted all of our opportunities while the Iida have been negotiating, making marriages and alliances. We are hemmed in on all sides. There is every sign that Sadamu is preparing an attack soon. I hoped to strengthen us against it, but I may simply be precipitating it. Will we ever be ready?”
“We must spend the winter preparing men and arms and planning strategy,” Irie replied. “The southern and eastern provinces are the most vulnerable. Rather than return to Hagi with you, I suggest I go to Noguchi and impress on him the need to stand firm and not give into Tohan intimidation.”
“And to start preparing men,” Shigeru said. “They must be in readiness to advance along the eastern border in spring.”
“Should I stay there for the winter to oversee it?”
“Send messages before the snow to let me know how the situation looks. I’ll decide then.”
Shigeru fell silent. “I am most concerned about spies,” he said finally. “I feel Sadamu watches us all the time and will know my every move. What can I do to escape his net?”
“Be very careful who you talk to and who else is there,” Irie replied. “Surround yourself only with warriors you know and trust. Choose servants only from Otori families.”
“Easier said than done,” Shigeru rep
lied, thinking of Muto Shizuka.
25
The following day they left early in the morning to ride to Terayama. The beauty of the autumn weather and the prospect of seeing Matsuda Shingen raised Shigeru’s spirits a little, even though he had few hopes of the meeting with Maruyama Naomi. He knew her husband was from the Tohan; the husband’s daughter was married to a cousin of Iida Sadamu, Nariaki. Naomi was only a year or so older than Shigeru himself. Despite what everyone kept telling him about the Maruyama way of doing things, he doubted if she had any real power, if she would ever act against the wishes of her husband and his family—which would be those of Iida Sadamu.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more reluctant he was to meet her. Mingled with his fears was a kind of anger at his own family, his father, his uncles, who had allowed this situation to develop. He couldn’t help wondering why they had not approached the Seishuu themselves, years before, when he and Naomi had been children; they were almost the same age; they could have been betrothed then. And why had the Seishuu not considered the Otori heir rather than a binding alliance with the Tohan? Did they, and most of the other clans in the Three Countries, consider the Otori an insignificant force, a declining clan destined now to be wiped out by the Tohan?
By the time they arrived at the foot of the mountain, he had decided he did not want to meet her and hoped she would not be there. The journey had unsettled him further, though he should have been delighted by the rapturous welcome he received along the way. The progress was slowed by so many people wanting to greet him, talk to him, offer presents to him and his men, and meet Takeshi.
“You will have to learn to be more standoffish,” Kiyoshige said, after the fourth or fifth halt to examine some innovative farming technique or be informed about a new taxation levy. “They will eat you alive. You cannot be available to all these people. It’s like being nibbled by a pool full of carp!”
“And we’ll never get to the temple,” Takeshi added.
Shigeru saw what he had become, a sort of symbol for these people who put all their trust and hope in him. If he failed them, they would fall under Tohan rule: he could not bear to see that happen. Yet was he ready to take the measures that would bring war on the whole fief? And he was saddened in some way by the adulation. It had little foundation and was like a fantasy, unrealistic and unsustainable. He wanted their lives to have a sounder base—justice because it was Heaven’s will, not on the whim of some idealized hero.
There were several retainers already at the inn at the foot of the mountain, wearing the Maruyama crest on their surcoats. They stared at Shigeru and Takeshi with undisguised curiosity as the brothers dismounted from the horses, leaving them in Kiyoshige’s care.
“We’ll go straight to the temple,” Shigeru said.
“Yes, I’ve eaten and drunk enough to last me for days,” Takeshi replied, for they had been fed at every stop.
As they made the climb, Shigeru recalled the day when he had made it alone. He had been fifteen—more than a year older than Takeshi was now. He had found the early days almost unbearable, had longed to leave. Would Takeshi find it unendurable? There would be other boys as young as he, but they would be novice monks, not the son of the head of the clan. He thought he might speak to Matsuda, ask him to treat Takeshi leniently, but then corrected himself. Takeshi would be treated by Matsuda as he needed to be, and leniency was the last thing he needed if he was to learn to curb his recklessness and remedy the effects of his mother’s indulgence.
At first Takeshi leaped ahead up the path, but as the climb steepened, his pace slowed. The thought of the coming months was perhaps turning him serious.
They were greeted by the monks with a quiet, undemonstrative pleasure and taken immediately to Matsuda Shingen, now the Abbot of the temple. He made them welcome, openly delighted to see Shigeru again. Matsuda studied Takeshi carefully, but said little to him beyond commenting that in looks, at least, he was very like his brother. Then he called for two young boys, who were in simple clothes and whose heads were shaven, and asked them to take Lord Takeshi and show him around while he spoke to Lord Otori.
The boys left in deferential silence, but before they were beyond the cloisters, Shigeru could hear Takeshi’s eager questions and soon laughter from all three.
“It is very early for your brother to be here,” Matsuda said. “I wonder if he has the maturity . . .”
“I’m hoping he will learn it here,” Shigeru replied. “He does not receive the discipline he should in Hagi: My parents spoil him, Mori Kiyoshige leads him astray, and he has little respect for anyone. I want him to stay here for at least a year, possibly more. His education and training must be the same as mine—”
“I have other responsibilities now,” Matsuda interrupted gently. “It is not possible for me to absent myself from the temple for long periods, as I did with you.”
“Of course, I understand that. But I hope you will be able to teach him, here, much of what you taught me.”
“If he is willing to learn it, I can promise you I will.”
“I have another reason for sending him here at this time,” Shigeru said. “If we are to be at war next year, he will be out of harm’s way, and if I meet my death on the battlefield, the heir to the clan will be in safe hands. I trust you, where I do not trust my uncles.”
“You are right, in my opinion, both about the coming war and about your uncles,” Matsuda said quietly. “But are the Otori prepared? You must delay as long as possible, while you build up your forces.”
“I suspect Sadamu will attack us early, through Chigawa. I intend to concentrate our defense around Yaegahara.”
“You must beware of a double attack, from the south as well as the east.”
“That is why I have sent Irie to Noguchi to claim his support. And my wife’s father will guarantee the support of Kushimoto.”
“I’m afraid next year is too soon,” Matsuda said. “Try not to provoke Sadamu into an early attack.”
“I must be prepared, yet I must not provoke him,” Shigeru said, smiling. “It is not possible to do both.”
“Whatever you choose to do, you have my support always,” Matsuda said. “And Lord Takeshi will be safe while he stays with us.”
As Shigeru rose to leave, the older man said, “Let us walk in the gardens for a while. It is such a beautiful day.”
Shigeru followed him along the polished wooden floor that gleamed in the dim light: sunlight spilled through the open doors at the end of the corridor, and he could smell wood smoke and pine leaves from outside, mingled with incense from the main hall of the temple.
At the end of the corridor they crossed a small courtyard and stepped into another wide room, whose doors were all open onto the garden beyond. The matting glowed gold. Two painted screens stood at either end; he had seen them often before but never failed to be moved by their beauty. When he had first come to the temple, the other boys had recounted the legends about their creator, the artist Sesshu, who had lived in the temple for many years. The bare panel was said to have once been painted with birds, so lifelike they all took flight, and the gardeners complained Sesshu’s horses roamed at night, trampling and eating the crops, and demanded he should tether them.
A wide veranda gave onto the garden, facing south, warm with the autumn sunshine. They paused on the silvered cypress wood boards while a monk brought sandals, but before Matsuda stepped into his, the other man whispered to him.
“Ah!” Matsuda said. “It seems my presence is requested for a few moments. If you will excuse me, Lord Shigeru, I’ll join you later.”
Shigeru could hear the waterfall in the distance and walked toward it, for it was one of his favorite parts of the garden. To his left lay the drop to the valley below: the slopes turning crimson and gold, the ranges beyond folding one after the other against the sky, already hazy in the afternoon light. To his right, the mountain itself formed the background to the garden, deep green with cedars, against which bam
boo trunks stood out, slender and graceful, and the white splash of the waterfall fell like spun threads over the gleaming rocks. He climbed a little among the ferns and looked back down on the garden. From here the rocks looked like mountains, the shrubs like entire forests. He could see the whole of the Middle Country in this small plot of land, its ranges and rivers. Then the illusion was broken by a figure appearing through the bushes—but not before, for a moment, she had seemed like a goddess walking through her creation.