Her monthly bleeding came, bringing her renewed disappointment and placing her in seclusion for a week. Not even Hiroshi visited her. When it was over the copying was finished, too, and she became even more restless. The Festival of the Dead came and went, leaving her filled with sorrow and regrets for the departed. The work on the residence that had gone on all summer was completed, and the rooms looked beautiful, but they felt empty and unlived in. Hiroshi asked one morning, “Why isn’t your sister here with you?” and on a sudden impulse she said, “Shall we ride to my house and fetch her?”
There had been a week of leaden skies, as if a typhoon were threatening, but then the weather had suddenly cleared and the heat had abated a little. The nights were cooler and it seemed a perfect time to travel. Sugita tried to dissuade her, and even the elusive elders appeared one by one to argue against it, but she ignored them. Shirakawa was only two or three days away. If Takeo came home before she returned, he might ride and join her. And the journey would stop her from fretting all day long.
“We can send for your sisters,” Sugita said. “It is an excellent idea; I should have thought of it myself. I will go to escort them.”
“I need to see my household,” she replied. Now that the idea was in her head, she could not relinquish it. “I have not spoken to my men since my marriage. I should have gone weeks ago. I must check on my land and see that the harvest will be brought in.”
She did not tell Sugita, but she had another reason for the journey, one that had lain in her mind all summer. She would go to the sacred caves of the Shirakawa, drink the river’s elemental water, and pray to the goddess for a child.
“I will be away only a few days.”
“I am afraid your husband will not approve.”
“He trusts my judgment in all things,” she replied. “And, after all, didn’t Lady Naomi often travel alone?”
Because he was accustomed to receiving orders from a woman, she was able to overcome his misgivings. She chose Amano to go with her, as well as a few of her own men who had accompanied her since she had left in the spring for Terayama. After some consideration she took none of her women with her, not even Manami. She wanted to go quickly, on horseback, without the formalities and dignity that she would have to put up with if she traveled openly. Manami pleaded and then sulked, but Kaede was adamant.
She rode Raku, refusing even to take a palanquin with her. Before she left she had planned to hide the copies of the records below the floor of the tea room, but the hints of disloyalty still worried her, and in the end she could not bear to leave them where anyone might find them. She decided to take both sets with her, already thinking she might hide the originals somewhere in her house at Shirakawa. After much pleading, Hiroshi was allowed to accompany her, and she took him to one side and made him promise not to let the chests out of his sight on the journey. And at the last moment she took the sword Takeo had given her.
Amano managed to persuade Hiroshi to leave his father’s sword behind, but the boy brought a dagger and his bow as well as a small, fiery roan horse from his family’s stables that acted up all the first day, causing the men endless amusement. Twice it wheeled round and bolted, heading for home, until the boy brought it under control and caught up with them, blue-faced with rage but otherwise undaunted.
“He’s a nice-looking creature, but green,” Amano said. “And you make him tense. Don’t grip so hard. Relax.”
He made Hiroshi ride alongside him; the horse settled down and the next day gave no problems. Kaede was happy to be on the road. As she had hoped, it kept her from brooding. The weather was fine, the country in the full flush of harvest, the men cheerful at the prospect of seeing their homes and families after months away. Hiroshi was a good companion, full of information about the land they passed through.
“I wish my father had taught me as much as yours taught you,” she said, impressed by his knowledge. “When I was your age I was a hostage in Noguchi Castle.”
“He made me learn all the time. He would not allow me to waste a moment.”
“Life is so short and fragile,” Kaede said. “Perhaps he knew he would not see you grow up.”
Hiroshi nodded and rode in silence for a while.
He must miss his father, but he will not show it, she thought, and found herself envying the way he had been taught. I will have my children brought up that way; girls as well as boys will be taught everything and will learn to be strong.
On the morning of the third day they crossed the Shirakawa, or White River, and entered her family’s domain. It was shallow and easily fordable, the swift white water swirling between rocks. There was no barrier at the border; they were beyond the jurisdiction of the great clans and in the region of smaller landholders, where neighbors either were involved in petty standoffs or had formed amicable alliances among themselves. Nominally these warrior families paid allegiance to Kumamoto or Maruyama, but they did not move to the castle towns, preferring to live on and farm their own lands, on which they paid very little tax to anyone.
“I’ve never crossed the Shirakawa before,” Hiroshi said as the horses splashed through. “This is the farthest I’ve been from Maruyama.”
“So now it’s my turn to instruct you,” she said, taking pleasure in pointing out the landmarks of her country. “I will take you to the source of the river later, to the great caves, only you will have to wait outside.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“It’s a sacred place for women. No men are allowed to set foot in there.”
She was eager to get home now and they did not linger on the way, but she was studying everything: the look of the land, the progress of the harvest, the condition of oxen and children. Compared to a year ago when she had returned with Shizuka, things had improved, but there were still many signs of poverty and neglect.
I abandoned them, she thought guiltily. I should have come home before. She thought of her tempestuous flight to Terayama in the spring: She seemed to have been another person, bewitched.
Amano had sent two of the men ahead, and Shoji Kiyoshi, the domain’s senior retainer, was waiting for her at the gate of her house. He greeted her with surprise and, she thought, coolness. The household women were lined up in the garden, but there was no sign of her sisters or Ayame.
Raku whinnied, turning his head toward the stables and the water meadows where he had run in the winter. Amano came forward to help her dismount. Hiroshi slid from the roan’s back and it tried to kick the horse next to it.
“Where are my sisters?” Kaede demanded, brushing aside the women’s murmured greetings.
No one answered. A shrike was calling insistently from the camphor tree by the gate, grating on her nerves.
“Lady Shirakawa . . .” Shoji began.
She spun to face him. “Where are they?”
“We were told . . . you sent instructions for them to go to Lord Fujiwara.”
“I did no such thing! How long have they been there?”
“Two months at least.” He glanced at the horsemen and the servants. “We should speak in private.”
“Yes, at once,” she agreed.
One of the women ran forward with a bowl of water.
“Welcome home, Lady Shirakawa.”
Kaede washed her feet and stepped onto the veranda. Unease was beginning to creep through her. The house was eerily quiet. She wanted to hear Hana’s and Ai’s voices; she realized how much she had missed them.
It was a little after noon. She gave instructions for the men to be fed, the horses watered, and both to be kept ready in case she needed them. She took Hiroshi to her own room and told him to stay there with the records while she spoke to Shoji. She was not hungry at all, but she arranged for the women to bring food to the boy. Then she went to her father’s old room and sent for Shoji.
The room looked as if someone had just walked out of it. There was a brush lying on the writing table. Hana must have gone on with her studies even after Kaede’s departure. S
he picked up the brush and was staring at it dully when Shoji tapped on the door.
He entered and knelt before her, apologizing. “We had no idea it was not your wish. It seemed so likely. Lord Fujiwara himself came and spoke to Ai.”
She thought she detected insincerity in his voice. “Why did he invite them? What did he want with them?” Her voice was trembling.
“You yourself often went there,” Shoji replied.
“Everything has changed since then!” she exclaimed. “Lord Otori Takeo and I were married at Terayama. We have established ourselves at Maruyama. You must have heard of this.”
“I found it hard to believe,” he replied, “since everyone thought you were betrothed to Lord Fujiwara and were to marry him.”
“There was no betrothal!” she said in fury. “How dare you question my marriage!”
She saw the muscles round his jaw tense and realized he was as angry as she was. He leaned forward. “What are we to think?” he hissed. “We hear of a marriage that is undertaken with no betrothal, no permission asked or given, none of your family present. I am glad your father is already dead. You killed him by the shame you brought on him, but at least he is spared this fresh shame—”
He broke off. They stared at each other, both shocked by his outburst.
I’ll have to take his life, Kaede thought in horror. He cannot speak to me like that and live. But I need him: Who else can look after things here for me? Then the fear came to her that he might try and take the domain from her, using his anger to mask ambition and greed. She wondered if he had taken control of the men she and Kondo had gathered together in the winter—and if they would obey him now. She wished Kondo were there, then realized that she could trust the Tribe man even less than her father’s senior retainer. No one could help her. Struggling to hide her apprehension, she continued to stare at Shoji until he lowered his eyes.
He regained control of himself, wiping the spittle from his mouth. “Forgive me. I have known you since you were born. It is my duty to speak to you, even though it pains me.”
“I will forgive you this time,” she said. “But it is you who shame my father, through disrespect to his heir. If you ever speak to me in that fashion again, I will order you to slit your belly.”
“You are only a woman,” he said, trying to placate her but enraging her further. “You have no one to guide you.”
“I have my husband,” she said shortly. “There is nothing you or Lord Fujiwara can do to alter that. Go to him now and say my sisters are to come home at once. They will return with me to Maruyama.”
He left immediately. Shocked and restless, she could not sit quietly and wait for his return. She called to Hiroshi and showed him the house and garden while she checked all the repairs that she had had done in the autumn. The crested ibis in their summer plumage were feeding on the banks of the rice fields, and the shrike continued to scold them as they trespassed into its territory. Then she told him to fetch the chests of records and, carrying one each, they made their way upstream along the Shirakawa to where it emerged from under the mountain. She would not hide them where Shoji might find them; she would entrust them to no human. She had decided to give them to the goddess.
The holy place calmed her, as always, but its ageless, sacred atmosphere awed her rather than lifted her spirits. Below the huge arch of the cave’s entrance the river flowed slowly and steadily in deep pools of green water, belying its name, and the twisted shapes of the calcified rocks gleamed like mother-of-pearl in the half-light.
The old couple who maintained the shrine came out to greet her. Leaving Hiroshi in the company of the man, Kaede went forward with his wife, each of them carrying one of the chests.
Lamps and candles had been lit inside the cavern, and the damp rock glistened. The roar of the river drowned out all other noise. They stepped carefully from stone to stone, past the giant mushroom, past the frozen waterfall, past Heaven’s Stairway—all shapes made by the limy water—until they came to the rock shaped like the goddess, from which drops fell like tears of mother’s milk.
Kaede said, “I must ask the goddess to protect these treasures for me. Unless I myself come for them, they must stay here with her forever.”
The old woman nodded and bowed. Behind the rock a cave had been hollowed out, well above the highest level of the river. They climbed up to it and placed the chests in it. Kaede noticed that it contained many other objects that had been given to the goddess. She wondered about their history and what had happened to the women who had placed them there. There was a damp, ancient smell. Some of the objects were decaying; some had already rotted. Would the records of the Tribe rot away there, hidden under the mountain?
The air was cold and clammy, making her shiver. When she put the chest down, her arms felt suddenly empty and light. She was seized by the knowledge that the goddess knew her need—that her empty arms, her empty womb, would be filled.
She knelt before the rock and scooped up water from the pool that had gathered at its base. As she drank she prayed almost wordlessly. The water was as soft as milk.
The old woman, kneeling behind her, began to chant a prayer so ancient that Kaede did not recognize the words, but its meaning washed over her and mingled with her own longing. The rock shape had no eyes, no features, yet she felt the benign gaze of the goddess upon her. She remembered the vision she had had at Terayama and the words that had been spoken to her: Be patient; he will come for you.
She heard the words clearly again, and for a moment they puzzled her. Then she understood them to mean he would come back. Of course he will. I will be patient, she vowed again. As soon as my sisters are here, we will go to Maruyama at once. And when Takeo returns, I will conceive a child. I was right to come here.
She felt so strengthened by the visit to the caves that at the end of the afternoon she went to the family temple to pay her respects to her father’s tomb. Hiroshi came with her, as did one of the women of the house, Ayako, who carried offerings of fruit and rice and a bowl of smoking incense.
His ashes lay buried among the graves of her ancestors, the Shirakawa lords. Beneath the huge cedars it was gloomy and cool. The wind soughed in the branches, carrying the min-min of cicadas. Over the years earthquakes had shifted the columns and pillars, and the ground heaved upward as if the dead were trying to escape.
Her father’s grave was still intact. Kaede took the offerings from Ayako and placed them in front of the stone. She clapped her hands and bowed her head. She dreaded hearing or seeing his spirit; yet she wanted to placate it. She could not think calmly about his death. He had wanted to die but had been unable to find the courage to kill himself. Shizuka and Kondo had killed him: Did that constitute murder? She was aware, too, of the part she had played, the shame she had brought on him; would his spirit now demand some payment?
She took the bowl of smoldering incense from Ayako and let the smoke waft over the tomb and over her own face and hands to purify her. She put the bowl down and clapped again three times. The wind dropped, the crickets fell silent, and in that moment she felt the earth tremble slightly beneath her. The landscape quivered. The trees shook.
“An earthquake!” Hiroshi exclaimed behind her as Ayako gave a cry of fear.
It was only a small tremor, and no more followed, but Ayako was nervous and jittery on the way home.
“Your father’s spirit spoke to you,” she murmured to Kaede. “What did he say?”
“He approves of everything I have done,” she replied with a confidence she was far from feeling. In fact the tremor had shocked her. She feared her father’s angry, embittered ghost and felt it attacked all she had experienced in the sacred caves at the goddess’s feet.
“May heaven be praised,” Ayako said, but her lips tightened and she continued to give Kaede anxious glances all evening.
“By the way,” Kaede asked her as they ate together, “where is the young man Sunoda, Akita’s nephew?” This young man had come with his uncle the previou
s winter, and she had made him remain in her household as a hostage, in Shoji’s care. She was beginning to think she might have need of him now.
“He was allowed to return to Inuyama,” Ayako said.
“What?” Shoji had relinquished her hostage? She could not believe the extent of his treachery.
“His father was said to be ill,” Ayako explained.
So her hostage was gone, diminishing her power further.
It was already dusk before she heard Shoji’s voice outside. Hiroshi had gone with Amano to his house to meet his family and sleep there, and Kaede had been waiting in her father’s room, going through the records of the estate. She could see many signs of mismanagement, and when it was obvious Shoji had returned alone, her rage against her father’s senior retainer grew even more fierce.
When he came to her Ayako followed him, bringing tea, but Kaede was too impatient to drink it.
“Where are my sisters?” she demanded.
He drank the tea gratefully before replying. He looked hot and tired. “Lord Fujiwara is glad of your return,” he said. “He sends you his greetings and asks that you will call on him tomorrow. He will send his palanquin and an escort.”
“I have no intention of calling on him,” she retorted, trying not to lose her temper. “I expect my sisters to be returned to me tomorrow, and after that we will leave for Maruyama as soon as possible.”
“I am afraid your sisters are not there,” he said.
Her heart plunged to her belly. “Where are they?”
“Lord Fujiwara says Lady Shirakawa is not to be alarmed. They are perfectly safe and he will tell her where they are when she visits him tomorrow.”
“You dare to bring me such a message?” Her voice sounded thin and unconvincing to her own ears.
Shoji inclined his head. “It gives me no pleasure. But Lord Fujiwara is who he is; I cannot defy or disobey him, nor, I believe, can you.”