Makoto said finally, “Then I must accept that he is favored by the Enlightened One, as you are.”
“The saint told me, ‘It is all one,’ ” I said. “I did not understand at the time, but later at Terayama I remembered Shigeru’s words just before his death, and the truth of what she said was revealed to me.”
“You cannot put it into words?”
“No, but it is true, and I live my life by it. There are no distinctions between us: Our castes as much as our beliefs are illusions that come between us and truth. It is how heaven deals with all men, and how I must too.”
“I followed you because of my love for you and because I believe in the justice of your cause,” he said, smiling. “I did not realize you were to be my spiritual adviser too!”
“I know nothing of spiritual matters,” I said, suspecting he was laughing at me. “I have abandoned the beliefs of my childhood and I cannot take on any others in their place. All religious teachings seem to me to be made up half of deep truth and half of utter madness. People cling to their beliefs as if they could be saved by them, but beyond all the teachings there is a place of truth where it is all one.”
Makoto laughed. “You seem to have more insight in your ignorance than I after years of study and debate. What else did the saint say to you?”
I repeated the words of the prophecy to him: “ ‘Three bloods are mixed in you. You were born into the Hidden, but your life has been brought into the open and is no longer your own. Earth will deliver what heaven desires. Your lands will stretch from sea to sea. Five battles will buy your peace, four to win and one to lose.’ ”
I paused at that point, not certain whether to go on.
“Five battles?” Makoto said. “How many have we fought?”
“Two, if we count Jin-emon and the bandits.”
“So that was why you asked if the fight could be called a battle! Do you believe it all?”
“Most of the time. Should I not?”
“I would believe anything I heard from her if I had the good fortune to kneel at her feet,” Makoto said quietly. “Was there anything more?”
“ ‘Many must die,’ ” I quoted, “ ‘but you yourself are safe from death, except at the hands of your own son.’ ”
“I am sorry,” he said with compassion. “That is a terrible burden for any man to bear, especially you who have such a strong bond with children. I imagine you long to have your own sons.”
It touched me that he knew my character so well. “When I thought Kaede was lost to me forever, when I first went to the Tribe, I slept with the girl who helped me bring Shigeru out of Inuyama. Her name was Yuki. It was she who took his head to the temple.”
“I remember her,” Makoto said quietly. “Indeed, I’ll never forget her arrival and the shock her news caused us.”
“She was Muto Kenji’s daughter,” I said, with renewed sorrow for Kenji’s loss. “I cannot believe the Tribe used her so. They wanted to get a child, and once it was born they killed her. I regret it bitterly and I should not have done it, not only because of my son but because it was the cause of her death too. If it is to be my son who kills me, it will only be what I deserve.”
“All young people make mistakes,” Makoto said. “It is our fate to have to live with their consequences.” He reached out and clasped my hand. “I am glad you told me all this. It confirms many things I feel about you, that you have been chosen by heaven and are protected to a certain extent until your goals are achieved.”
“I wish I were protected from sorrow,” I said.
“Then you would indeed reach enlightenment,” he replied dryly.
THE FULL MOON brought a change in the weather. The heat lessened and the air cleared. There was even a hint of autumn in the coolness of the mornings. Once the festival was over, my spirits lifted a little. Other words of the abbot came to me, reminding me that my followers, all those who supported me, did so of their own free will. I had to set my grief aside and take up my cause again so that their deaths would not be in vain. And the words Shigeru had spoken to me in a small village called Hinode, on the far side of the Three Countries, also returned to me.
Only children weep. Men and women endure.
We made plans to move on the following day, but that afternoon there was a slight earth tremor, just enough to set the wind chimes ringing and make the dogs howl. In the evening there was another, stronger one. A lamp was knocked over in a house up the street from where we were lodging, and we spent most of the night helping the townspeople contain the ensuing fire. As a result, we were delayed another few days.
By the time we left I was mad with impatience to be with Kaede again. It made me hurry toward Maruyama, rising early and pushing the horses till late at night under the waning moon. We were silent mostly; Jiro’s presence was too sharply missed to allow the lighthearted banter with which we had ridden out, and I had a vague sense of apprehension that I could not rid myself of.
It was well into the Hour of the Dog when we reached the town. Most of the houses were already darkened and the castle gates were barred. The guards greeted us warmly, but they could not dispel my unease. I told myself that it was just that I was tired and irritable after the tedious journey. I wanted a hot bath, something decent to eat, and to sleep with my wife. However, her woman, Manami, met me at the entrance to the residence, and as soon as I saw her face I knew something was wrong.
I asked her to tell Kaede I had returned, and she fell to her knees.
“Sir . . . Lord Otori . . .” she stammered, “she has gone to Shirakawa to bring her sisters here.”
“What?” I could not believe what I was hearing. Kaede had gone off on her own, without telling me or asking me? “How long ago? When is she expected back?”
“She left shortly after the Festival.” Manami looked as if she would burst into tears. “I don’t want to alarm Your Lordship, but I expected her before now.”
“Why did you not go with her?”
“She would not allow it. She wanted to ride, to go quickly so she would be back before your return.”
“Light the lamps and send someone to fetch Lord Sugita,” I said, but it seemed he had already heard of my return and was on his way.
I walked into the residence. I thought I could still smell Kaede’s fragrance on the air. The beautiful rooms with their hangings and painted screens were all as she had designed them; the memory of her presence was everywhere.
Manami had told the maids to bring lamps, and their shadowy forms moved silently through the rooms. One of them approached me and whispered that the bath was ready for me, but I told her I would speak with Sugita first.
I went into Kaede’s favorite room and my gaze fell on the writing table where she knelt so often to copy the records of the Tribe. The wooden box that held them always stood alongside the table; it was not there. I was wondering if she had hidden it or taken it with her when the maid announced Sugita’s arrival.
“I entrusted my wife to you,” I said. I was beyond rage, just cold to the depths of my being. “Why did you allow her to leave?”
He looked surprised at the question. “Forgive me,” he said. “Lady Otori insisted on going. She took plenty of men with her, led by Amano Tenzo. My nephew, Hiroshi, went too. It was a pleasure trip, to see her family home and bring her sisters here.”
“Then why has she not returned?” It seemed harmless enough; maybe I was overreacting.
“I am sure she will be back tomorrow,” Sugita said. “Lady Naomi made many such journeys; the domain is used to their mistress traveling in this fashion.”
The maid brought tea and food, and we talked briefly of my journey while I ate. I had not told Sugita exactly what I’d had in mind in case it all came to nothing, and I did not go into details now but merely said that I was working out a long-term strategy.
There was no word from the Miyoshi brothers and no reports on what either Arai or the Otori were up to. I felt as if I were wandering in half-darkness. I w
anted to talk to Kaede and I hated this lack of information. If only I had a network of spies working for me . . . I found myself wondering as I had before if it would be possible to find talented children—Tribe orphans, if such children existed—and bring them up for my own purposes. I thought of my son with a strange longing. Would he have a combination of Yuki’s talents and mine?
If he did, they would be used against me.
Sugita said, “I hear young Jiro died.”
“Yes, sadly. He was struck by an arrow that was intended for me.”
“What a blessing Your Lordship escaped!” he exclaimed. “What happened to the assassin?”
“He died. It will not be the last attempt. It is the work of the Tribe.” I wondered how much Sugita knew about my Tribe blood, what rumors had been circulating about me during my absence. “By the way, my wife was copying something for me. What happened to the box and the scrolls?”
“She never let them out of her sight,” he replied. “If they are not here, she must have taken them with her.”
I did not want to show my concern, so I said no more. Sugita left me and I took a bath, calling to one of the maids to come and scrub my back, wishing Kaede would suddenly appear as she had at Niwa’s house, and then remembering, almost unbearably, Yuki.
When the maid had left me, I soaked in the hot water thinking about what I was going to tell Kaede, for I knew I must share the prophecy about my son with her, yet I could not imagine how I would frame the words.
Manami had spread out the beds and was waiting to extinguish the lamps. I asked her about the records box and she gave me the same answer as Sugita.
Sleep was a long time coming. I heard the first roosters crow and then fell into a heavy slumber just as day was breaking. When I woke, the sun was well up and I could hear the sounds of the household all around me.
Manami had just come in with breakfast and was fussing over me and telling me to rest after such a long and tiring journey when I heard Makoto’s voice outside. I told Manami to bring him in, but he called to me from the garden, not bothering to undo his sandals.
“Come at once. The boy, Hiroshi, has returned.”
I stood so quickly that I knocked the tray and sent it flying. Manami exclaimed in shock and started to pick the things up. Roughly, I told her to leave them and bring my clothes.
When I was dressed I joined Makoto outside.
“Where is he?”
“At his uncle’s house. He’s not in very good shape.” Makoto gripped my shoulder. “I’m sorry: The news he brings is terrible.”
My immediate thought was of the earthquake. I saw again the flames that we had fought to extinguish and imagined Kaede caught in them, trapped in her burning house. I stared at Makoto, saw the pain in his eyes, and tried to form the unspeakable words.
“She is not dead,” he said quickly. “But Amano and all the men, it seems, were slaughtered. Only Hiroshi escaped.”
I could not imagine what had happened. No one would dare harm Kaede in either Maruyama or Shirakawa lands. Had the Tribe kidnapped her to strike at me?
“It was Lord Fujiwara,” Makoto said. “She is in his house.”
We ran across the main bailey, through the castle gates, down the slope, and over the bridge into the town. Sugita’s house lay immediately opposite. A small crowd had gathered outside, staring silently. We pushed through them and entered the garden. Two grooms were endeavoring to persuade an exhausted horse to get to its feet. It was a pretty roan color, its flanks darkened by sweat. Its eyes rolled in its head and froth came from its mouth. I did not think it would ever get up again.
“The boy rode day and night to get here,” Makoto said, but I hardly heard him. Even more than usual I was acutely aware of every detail around me: the shine of the wooden floors from within the house, the fragrance of the flowers placed in alcoves, birdsong in the garden shrubs. Inside my head a dull voice was repeating, Fujiwara?
Sugita came out at our approach, his face ashen. There was nothing he could say to me. He looked like a man who had already decided to end his life, a shell of what he’d been the night before.
“Lord Otori . . .” he said, faltering.
“Is the boy hurt? Can he talk?”
“You had better come and speak to him.”
Hiroshi lay in a room at the back of the house. It gave onto a small green garden; I could hear a stream flowing through it. It was cooler here than in the main rooms, and the bright morning glare was tempered by shady trees. Two women knelt beside the boy, one wiping his face and limbs with a damp cloth. The other held a tea bowl from which she was trying to persuade him to drink.
They both stopped what they were doing and bowed to the ground when we came in. Hiroshi turned his head, saw me, and tried to sit.
“Lord Otori,” he whispered, and despite himself his eyes filled with tears. Struggling to control them, he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
I pitied him. He was trying so hard to be a warrior, trying so hard to live by the warrior’s strict code. I knelt beside him and gently laid my hand on his hair. He still wore it dressed like a child’s; he was years from his coming-of-age day, yet he tried to act like a man.
“Tell me what happened.”
His eyes were fixed on my face, but I did not return his gaze. He spoke in a quiet, steady voice, as though he had been rehearsing his account over and over on the long ride home.
“When we came to Lady Otori’s house, the retainer, Lord Shoji—don’t trust him, he betrayed us!—told the lady that her sisters were visiting Lord Fujiwara. She sent him to bring them back, but he returned saying they were no longer there but the lord would tell Lady Shirakawa—he would only call her that—where they were if she visited him. We went the next day. A man called Murita came to meet us. As soon as Lady Otori rode through the gate, she was seized. Amano, who was at her side, was killed at once. I didn’t see any more . . .”
His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. “My horse bolted. I could not control him. I should have taken a quieter horse, but I liked this one because he was so beautiful. Amano rebuked me for it; he said he was too strong for me. I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t defend her.”
Tears began to pour down his cheeks. One of the women leaned over and wiped them away.
Makoto said gently, “We must be grateful to your horse. He certainly saved your life, and if you hadn’t escaped we would never have known what had happened.”
I tried to think of something to say to comfort Hiroshi, but there was no comfort.
“Lord Otori,” he said, trying to get up. “I’ll show you the way. We can go and get her back!”
The effort was too much for him. I could see his eyes begin to glaze over. I took him by the shoulders and made him lie down. Sweat was mingling with the tears now, and he was trembling all over.
“He needs to rest, but he becomes agitated and tries to get up,” Sugita said.
“Look at me, Hiroshi.” I leaned over him and let my eyes meet his. Sleep came to him at once. His body relaxed and his breathing evened.
The women could not help gasping, and I caught the look that flashed between them. They seemed to shrink away from me, averting their heads and taking great care not to brush against my clothes.
“He’ll sleep for a long time,” I said. “It’s what he needs. Tell me when he wakes up.”
I got to my feet. Makoto and Sugita also rose, looking at me expectantly. Inwardly, I was reeling with outrage, but the numbing calm of shock had descended on me.
“Come with me,” I said to Sugita. I really wanted to speak with Makoto alone, but I did not want to risk leaving Sugita. I was afraid he would slit his own belly, and I could not afford to lose him. The Maruyama clan’s first loyalty was to Kaede, not to myself; I did not know how they would react to this news. I trusted Sugita more than the rest of them and felt that if he stayed loyal, so would they.
We walked back across the bridge and up the hill to the castle. T
he crowd outside had increased, and armed men were appearing in the streets. There was an atmosphere of unrest—not really panic or even alarm, just a host of unruly people milling, exchanging rumors, readying themselves for some unexpected action. I had to make decisions quickly before the situation caught fire and burned out of control.
Once we were inside the gates, I said to Makoto, “Prepare the men. We’ll take half our warriors and ride at once against Fujiwara. Sugita, you must stay here and hold the town. We’ll leave two thousand men with you. Stock the castle against siege. I will leave tomorrow at first light.”
Makoto’s face was drawn and his voice anxious. “Don’t do anything hasty. We have no idea where Arai is. You could be simply riding into a trap. To attack Lord Fujiwara, a man of his rank and status, will only turn opinion against you. It may be best not to react immedi—”
I cut him off. “It’s impossible for me to wait. I will do nothing except bring her back. Start at once.”
We spent the day in frantic preparation. I knew I was right to act immediately. The first reaction of the Maruyama people was fury and outrage. I wanted to take advantage of that. If I delayed I would seem halfhearted, seeming to accept others’ opinion of my legitimacy. I was all too aware of the risks I was taking, and knew I was following one act of rashness with another, but I could not conceive of any other way of acting.
At the end of the afternoon I told Sugita to summon the elders. Within the hour they were all assembled. I informed them of my intentions, warned them of the consequences, and told them I expected their complete loyalty to myself and my wife. None of them made any objections—I think my anger was too strong for that—but I was uneasy about them. They were of the same generation as Fujiwara and Arai and were formed by the same code. I trusted Sugita, but with Kaede gone, could he keep them loyal while I was absent?