As she had hoped, Arai came that evening to call on her. The visit was made openly: they were both from the Seishuu; it was to be expected that they would meet. Muto Shizuka accompanied him. Naomi greeted her with mixed feelings. Shizuka had delivered Shigeru’s farewell letter to Maruyama, and just to recall that time now filled Naomi with the same confusion of grief, jealousy, and despair. Six years had passed, but her emotions had become no less intense. Their paths had crossed from time to time, and Shizuka had brought some news of Shigeru. Now Naomi waited with the same blend of feelings: she would hear news of him, but Shizuka had been with him, had heard his voice, knew all his secrets, perhaps even felt his touch. This last thought was unendurable to her. He had promised her he would lie with no one but her, but six years . . . surely no man could restrain himself for so long. And Shizuka was so attractive . . .
They exchanged courtesies, and Sachie brought tea. After she had served her guests, Naomi said, “Lord Arai is now captain of the guard. I suppose you rarely see Lord Shirakawa’s daughter.”
He drank and said, “I would be happy if I only saw her rarely, for that would mean she was treated as she should be and welcomed into the Noguchi family. I see all too much of her, and so do all the guards!”
“At least she is alive,” Naomi exclaimed. “I was afraid she had died and that the Noguchi were concealing it.”
“They treat her like a servant,” Arai replied angrily. “She lives with the maids and is expected to share their duties. Her father is not allowed to see her. She is just at the point of becoming a woman; she is a very beautiful girl. The guards lay bets on who will be the first to seduce her. I do my best to protect her. They know I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on her. But it is shameful to treat a girl from her family in such a way!” He broke off abruptly. “I cannot say more; I’ve sworn allegiance to Lord Noguchi, for better or worse, and I must live with my fate.”
“But not forever,” Naomi said in a low voice. Arai glanced at Shizuka, who seemed to listen for a moment before nodding her head slightly to him.
He said in a whisper, “Do you know what Lord Otori’s intentions are? We hear little of him—men say he has gone soft and has abandoned honor for the sake of being allowed to live.”
“I believe he is very patient,” she said. “As we all must be. But I am not in contact with him.” She looked at Shizuka, thinking she might speak, but Shizuka said nothing.
“I have had to learn patience here,” Arai replied bitterly. “We are divided and made helpless; we all sit separately in the dark regretting what might have been. Will anything ever change? I will lose Kumamoto altogether if my father dies and I am still festering here. Better to act and fail than to continue like this!”
Naomi could think of nothing to say in response other than to urge him to continue to be patient, but before she could say anything, Shizuka made a sign to Arai. Immediately he began to speak about the weather. Naomi replied with inquiries as to the health of his wife.
“She has recently had her first child—a son,” Arai said abruptly.
Naomi looked briefly toward Shizuka, but the girl’s face gave nothing away. Naomi had often thought enviously how lucky she was, able to live openly with the man she loved and bear his children. Yet Shizuka must now feel jealousy toward her lover’s wife and his legitimate son. And what would happen to the two older boys?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice outside; the maid slid the door open to reveal one of Arai’s guards kneeling outside. He brought a message that the captain’s presence was required back at the castle.
Arai left, saying no more beyond formal words of parting. She was glad he would be watching over Kaede, yet his attitude worried her. He was so impatient: one small event would set him off, and then suspicion would fall on her and her child. Shigeru’s years of patient waiting would be undone. Shizuka stayed for a little longer, but the residence became more busy as the maids began to prepare the bath and the evening meal, and they spoke only of trivial things. However, before she left, Shizuka said, “I am traveling to Yamagata tomorrow. I am taking my sons to stay with my family in the mountains. Perhaps we could be company for each other on the road?”
Naomi was immediately seized by a desire to go to Terayama and walk in the peaceful gardens where she had first met Shigeru and felt the shock of recognition and the conviction that they were bound together from a former life. She had planned to go to the port of Hofu and travel by ship to the mouth of the Inugawa and from there along the river upstream to Inuyama, but the prospect of the sea voyage was already unsettling her; there was no reason why she should not change her plans and go by the high road by way of Yamagata with Shizuka.
SHE HAD ORDERED the palanquin for the journey, but as soon as they were beyond the outskirts of the town, she got out and mounted her horse, which one of the men led alongside his own. Shizuka was also riding: her younger son, who was about seven years old, sat behind her, but the older son had his own small horse, which he handled confidently and skillfully.
The sight of the boys filled her with sorrow: for her own son who would have been about the same age as Zenko, had he lived, and for the unborn children that would never exist—Shigeru’s sons. She wanted to bring them into being through the sheer force of her longing and her will: they would be like these boys, with strong limbs, thick glossy hair, and fearless black eyes.
Zenko rode with the men ahead: they treated him with respect but teased him affectionately. The laughter and jokes made the younger boy jealous, and at the first rest stop he begged to be allowed to ride with his brother. One of the guards good-naturedly took him on the back of his horse, and the two women found themselves virtually alone on the road as it wound along the banks of the river—the western border of the Middle Country. Within every bend, rice fields had been cultivated, and the seedlings were being planted to the accompaniment of singing and drum beating. Herons and egrets stalked through the shallow water, and the bush warbler’s song erupted in the forest. The trees all bore new leaves of brilliant green, and wild flowers spilled over the banks. Sweet chestnut catkins attracted hundreds of insects; the air was warm, but it was still chilly in the shade of the forest.
Naomi could control her impatience no longer. “Have you seen Lord Otori?” she questioned.
“I see him from time to time,” Shizuka said, “but I have not been to Hagi this year. Last year I saw him in the spring and in the autumn.”
Tears sprang into Naomi’s eyes, astonishing her. She said nothing, not trusting her voice. Even though she turned her head away, as if she were taking in the beauty of the view, Shizuka must have noticed her distress, for she went on to say, “I am sorry, lady, that I see him and you do not. He does not forget you; he thinks of you all the time and longs for you.”
“He speaks to you of this?” Naomi said, outraged that he should share their secrets, bitterly jealous of this woman who saw him when she could not.
“He does not need to. We speak of other things that it is safest for all of us not to divulge. You were right when you told Arai that Lord Otori is patient. Moreover, he is devious and hides his true self from the world. But he never forgets his hidden ambition—to see Iida dead and to marry you.”
It thrilled her to hear it spoken of openly by another person. She looked directly at Shizuka and said, “Will it happen?”
“I hope for it with all my heart,” Shizuka said.
“And Lord Otori is well?” She simply wanted to keep speaking his name, to keep talking about him.
“He is; he maintains his estates with great success, he travels a lot, sometimes with my uncle, Kenji. They have become good friends. Lord Takeshi is also very close to him and has grown into a fine young man. Lord Otori is admired by everyone.”
“There is no one like him,” Naomi said quietly.
“I do not believe there is,” Shizuka agreed.
They rode in silence for a while, Naomi brooding on Shigeru. It was eight years since she had me
t him at Seisenji, six years since she had last set eyes on him. Yet on this spring journey she felt like a girl again, her whole body longing to be touched, longing to be part of the lush and fertile landscape pulsating with the energy of life.
Finally she said, “You will spend the summer with your family?”
“The boys will,” Shizuka replied. “I will return to Noguchi unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Naomi prompted.
Shizuka did not answer but rode in silence for a while. Then she said quietly, “How much do you really know about me?”
“In his letter Lord Otori told me that you had sworn to help him, that you are from the Tribe, and that I must tell no one. I know that you have lived with Lord Arai for many years; he seems to care deeply for you.”
“Then I can say this much. Unless the Tribe issues me other instructions, for the time being, they are happy for me to stay with Arai.”
“I thought you were free to make your own decisions,” Naomi said.
“Is any woman ever free? You and I, for different reasons, have more freedom than most, yet even we cannot act as we might wish. Men are brutal and ruthless: they act as if they love us, but our feelings do not matter to them. As you heard last night, Arai’s wife has just had a child. She knows of my existence and the boys’. Arai lives openly with me and has done so since I was fifteen years old, but he has not acknowledged my sons, though he seems to love and be proud of them. Ten years is a long time in a man’s life. I daresay one day he will tire of me and want to dispose of me. I have no illusions about the world, you will realize. Accidents happen to children . . .” She glanced at Naomi’s face. “Forgive me, I did not mean to open old wounds. But I do not intend to leave my sons where harm can come to them. Besides, they bear the name of Muto: they are Tribe children. It is time for them to begin their training, as I did at their age.”
“What is that training?” Naomi asked curiously. “What does it equip you for?”
“You must know of the activities of the Tribe, Lady Maruyama. Most rulers use them from time to time.”
“I do not know of any Tribe members in Maruyama, and I have never employed them,” Naomi exclaimed. After a moment she said, “Maybe I should!”
“Did Lord Otori not tell you about your groom, Bunta?”
Naomi swung round in the saddle. Bunta rode some way behind them, alongside Sachie. “Bunta is from the Tribe?”
“It was from him that I learned of your meetings with Lord Otori.”
“I will have him executed,” Naomi said in fury. “Sachie said he would keep my secrets!”
“He kept them from everybody except me. Luckily he told me, for I’ve been able to protect you both. And I have told no one else. Say nothing and do nothing about him. He is able to keep me informed of your whereabouts and your safety. If you ever need to get hold of me, you can do it through him.”
Naomi struggled to contain her astonishment and anger. Shizuka had revealed all these things perfectly calmly, and she was smiling now. Trying to match her composure, Naomi said, “Lord Otori told me you had sworn allegiance to him. Does he hope to use the Tribe in some way? Against Iida, I mean?” And then she said, “Would you be able to . . . ?”
She stopped, unable to voice the idea out loud, afraid that even in this sunny landscape where they seemingly rode alone, spies would overhear them.
“Lord Otori is waiting for the right moment,” Shizuka murmured, so quietly Naomi could hardly hear her. “And then he will act.”
Shizuka’s company raised Naomi’s spirits and made her hopeful, and her cheerful mood continued after they parted in Yamagata. Shizuka went, she said, to her uncle’s house. Naomi spent the night in an inn before traveling on the next day to the temple with Sachie, two guards, and Bunta. The men stayed with the horses at the resting place at the foot of the temple, and Naomi and Sachie climbed the steep path alone.
They left early in the morning: dew edged the tips of the bamboo grass and turned spiders’ webs into jewels. As always, she felt the spiritual peace of the temple drawing her toward it, and as the two women walked in silence, she felt the familiar sense of awe settle over her. Naomi’s head was covered by a wide shawl, and she wore simple clothes, like an ordinary pilgrim. She had not sent messengers ahead, and her arrival was unexpected.
In the main courtyard and around the women’s guest room, the cherry blossoms were already past their peak, and the pink and white petals lay thick on the ground. Scarlet azaleas and peonies, white with red tips, were just coming into bloom.
Naomi walked in the gardens and sat for a long time by the pool, watching the red and gold carp milling below the surface of the water. She had begun to believe that she was indeed just a simple pilgrim, divested of all the cares and anxieties of her life, when her reverie was interrupted by the appearance of the Abbot, Matsuda Shingen.
He came quickly toward her.
“Lady Maruyama! I had no idea you were here. Forgive me for not welcoming you before.”
“Lord Abbot.” She bowed to the ground.
“This is unexpected—but of course we are always honored by your presence . . .”
He seemed to finish on a questioning note. When she made no response, he said, very quietly, “Lord Shigeru is here.”
The blood rushed through her body as though it would burst out. She felt her eyes widen like a madwoman’s, and she struggled to control herself.
“I did not know,” she said calmly. “I hope Lord Otori is in good health.” It was all she could manage. I should never have come. His presence must have drawn me here. I must leave at once. If I do not see him, I will die.
“He is making a retreat in the mountains,” Matsuda replied. “He comes here from time to time—though we have not seen him for many months. I thought perhaps an arrangement had been made—like the previous time.”
“No,” she replied hurriedly. “It is a coincidence.”
“So I do not need to send a message to Lord Shigeru?”
“Certainly not. I must not intrude on his meditation—and in any case, it is better than we do not meet.”
He seemed to gaze searchingly at her, but he did not press the subject.
They went on to speak of other things: the situation at Maruyama, Naomi’s daughter, the beauty of the spring weather. Then he excused himself, and she remained alone while the day drew to its close and a silver sickle moon rose above the mountains, accompanied by the evening star.
The chill air of night finally drove her inside. Sachie was even more attentive than usual. Naomi felt her companion’s concern and longed to talk to her but did not dare: once she began to unburden herself, she feared she would lose all control. She bathed in the hot springs beneath moon and starlight, aware of the whiteness of her skin through the steam and the water, ate a little, and retired early before the moon was even halfway across the heaven. She lay awake most of the night, thinking of the moon and how her body followed its cycle. As the moon began to increase, she knew she was at her most fertile: all the more reason not to see him, for to conceive a child now would be a disaster; yet her body, ignorant of all her fears, longed for him with its own animal innocence.
Toward dawn she slept a little but was woken by the insistent cries of sparrows beneath the eaves, driven by spring to mate and nest. She rose quietly and put on a robe but not quietly enough for Sachie, who woke and said, “Lady? Can I fetch you anything?”
“No. I will walk a little outside before the sun is up. Then we will return to Yamagata.”
“I will come with you,” Sachie said, pushing aside the quilt.
Naomi heard herself say, “I am not going far. I would rather be alone.”
“Very well,” Sachie replied, after a moment.
I am possessed, Naomi thought, and indeed she seemed to be moving without volition, as if drawn by spirits through the dew-soaked garden and up into the mountain.
The world had never seemed more beautiful as the mist that hung around the pe
aks gradually dissolved and the light turned from gray to gold. She had meant to return once the sun had cleared the steep range to the east, but even after that, when the air became warmer, she found reasons to keep walking—just around the next bend, just to look at the view over the valley—until the path leveled out into a small clearing where a huge oak rose from the spring grass.