In the morning she questioned Rieko again about Yumi’s disappearance and Ishida’s distress. When she received no other answer than veiled accusations, she decided she would appeal to Fujiwara himself. It was nearly a week since she had seen him; he had stayed away during their sickness. She could not endure the inexplicably threatening atmosphere any longer.
“Will you tell Lord Fujiwara I would like to see him?” she asked Rieko when she had finished dressing.
The woman went herself and returned to say, “His Lordship is delighted that his wife desires his company. He has arranged a special entertainment for this evening. He will see you then.”
“I would like to speak to him alone,” Kaede said.
Rieko shrugged. “There are no special guests at present. Only Mamoru will be with him. You had better bathe, and I suppose we must wash your hair so it can be dried in the sun.”
When her hair was at last dry, Rieko insisted on oiling it heavily before she dressed it. Kaede put on the quilted winter robes, grateful for their warmth, for her wet hair had made her very cold, and though the day was sunny, the air was chill. She ate a little soup at midday, but her stomach and throat seemed to have closed against food.
“You are very white,” Rieko said. “Lord Fujiwara admires that in a woman.” The undertone in her words made Kaede tremble. Something terrible was about to happen—was already happening; everyone knew about it but her, and they would reveal it to her when it pleased them. Her pulse quickened and she felt its rapid thump in her neck, in her belly. From outside came a dull hammering sound that seemed to echo her own heart.
She went to kneel at the shrine, but even that failed to calm her. At the end of the afternoon Mamoru came and led her to the pavilion where she had watched the first snow fall with Fujiwara at the beginning of the year. Although it was not yet dark, lanterns were already lit in the bare-branched trees, and braziers burned on the veranda. She glanced at the young man, trying to learn something from his demeanor. He was as white as she was, and she thought she detected pity in his eyes. Her alarm deepened.
It had been so long since she had seen any landscape that the scene before her, the gardens and the mountains beyond, seemed unutterably beautiful. The last rays of the sun turned the snowcapped peaks to pink and gold, and the sky was a translucent color between blue and silver. She gazed at it, drinking it in as if it were the last sight she would see on earth.
Mamoru wrapped a bearskin around her and murmured, “Lord Fujiwara will be with you soon.”
Directly in front of the veranda was an area of tiny white stones raked into a swirling pattern. Two posts had been newly erected in the center. Kaede frowned at them; they broke the pattern of the stones in a harsh, almost threatening way.
She heard the padding of feet, the rustling of robes.
“His Lordship is approaching,” Rieko said behind her, and they both bowed to the ground.
Fujiwara’s particular fragrance wafted over Kaede as he sat next to her. He did not speak for a long time, and when he finally told her she might sit up, she thought she heard anger in his voice. Her heart quailed. She tried to call on her courage, but she had none. She was deathly afraid.
“I am glad to see you recovered,” he said with icy politeness.
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “It is thanks to Your Lordship’s care,” she whispered.
“Rieko said you wished to speak to me.”
“I always desire Your Lordship’s company,” she began, but faltered when his mouth twisted mockingly.
Let me not be afraid, she prayed. If he sees I am afraid, he will know he has broken me. . . . He is after all only a man; he did not want me to have even a needle. He knows what I can do. He knows I killed Iida. She drew a deep breath.
“I feel there are things going on that I do not understand. Have I offended Your Lordship? Please tell me what I have done wrong.”
“There are things going on that I do not understand,” he replied. “Almost a conspiracy, I would say. And in my own household. I cannot believe my wife would stoop to such infamy, but Rieko told me of her suspicions and the maid confirmed them before she died.”
“What suspicions?” Kaede asked, showing no emotion.
“That someone brought a message to you from Otori.”
“Rieko is lying,” Kaede said, but her voice did not obey her.
“I don’t think so. Your former companion Muto Shizuka was seen in this district. I was surprised. If she wanted to see you, she should have approached me. Then I remembered that Arai had used her as a spy. The maid confirmed that Otori sent her. That was shocking enough, but imagine my astonishment when she was discovered in Ishida’s rooms. I was devastated: Ishida, my most trusted servant, almost my friend! How dangerous not to be able to trust one’s physician. It would be so easy for him to poison me.”
“He is completely trustworthy,” Kaede said. “He is devoted to you. Even if it were true that Shizuka brought a message to me from Lord Otori, it has nothing to do with Dr. Ishida.”
He looked at her as though she had not grasped what he was saying. “They were sleeping together,” he said. “My physician has been having an affair with a woman known to be a spy.”
Kaede did not reply. She had not known of their relationship; she had been too wrapped up in her own passion to notice it. Now it seemed quite obvious. She recalled all the signs: how often Shizuka had gone to Ishida’s rooms to collect medicine or tea. And now Takeo had sent Shizuka with the message for her. Shizuka and Ishida had risked seeing each other and they were to be punished for it.
The sun had set behind the mountains, but it was not yet dark. Twilight lay over the garden, barely dispelled by the light of the lanterns. A crow flew overhead to its roost, cawing bitterly.
“I am very fond of Ishida,” Fujiwara said, “and I know you had become attached to your woman. It’s a tragedy, but we must try to comfort each other in our grief.” He clapped his hands. “Bring wine, Mamoru. And I think we will begin our entertainment.” He leaned toward Kaede. “We don’t have to hurry: We have all night.”
She still had not grasped his meaning. She glanced at his face, saw the cruel set of his mouth and the skin’s pallor, the tiny muscle in his jaw that gave him away. His eyes turned to her and she looked away to the posts. A sudden faintness came over her; the lanterns and the white stones began to swirl around her. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “It is not worthy of you.”
In the distance a dog was howling. It howled and howled without ceasing. It is Ishida’s dog, Kaede thought, and could almost believe it was her own heart, for it expressed utterly her horror and despair.
“Disobedience and disloyalty to me must be punished,” he said, “and in a way that will discourage others.”
“If they must die, make it swift,” she said. “I will do anything you ask of me in return.”
“But you already should do that,” he said, almost puzzled. “What else can you offer that a wife should not already do?”
“Be merciful,” she begged.
“I do not have a merciful nature,” he replied. “You have run out of bargaining power, my dear wife. You thought you could use me for your own purposes. Now I will use you for mine.”
Kaede heard footsteps on the gravel. She looked toward the sound as though the power of her gaze could reach Shizuka and save her. Guards walked slowly to the posts. They were armed with swords and they carried other instruments whose appearance brought a metallic taste of fear to her mouth. Most of the men were somber-faced, but one of them was grinning with nervous excitement. Between them, Ishida and Shizuka were two small figures, weak human bodies with an immense capacity for pain.
Neither of them made a sound as they were tied to the posts, but Shizuka raised her head and looked at Kaede.
This cannot happen. They will take poison, Kaede told herself.
Fujiwara said, “I don’t think we left y
our woman with any way of saving herself, but it will be interesting to see.”
Kaede had no idea what Fujiwara intended to do, what torture and cruel death he had devised, but she had heard enough stories at Noguchi Castle to be able to imagine the worst. She realized she was on the edge of losing control. She half rose, in itself unthinkable in Fujiwara’s presence, and tried to plead with him, but even as the words came stumbling from her there was a disturbance at the front gate. Guards called out briefly, and two men came into the garden.
One was Murita, the man who had come to escort her and had then ambushed and killed her men. He carried his sword in his left hand; his right hand was still scarred from when she had cut it. She thought she did not know the other, though there was something familiar about him. Both knelt before Fujiwara, and Murita spoke.
“Lord Fujiwara, forgive me for disturbing you, but this man says he brings an urgent message from Lord Arai.”
Kaede had sunk to the floor again, grateful for this brief respite. She turned her eyes to the other man, noticed his big hands and long arms, and realized with a shock that it was Kondo. He had dissembled his features, and when he spoke, his voice was changed too. But surely Murita and Fujiwara would know him.
“Lord Fujiwara, Lord Arai sends his greetings to you. Everything is going according to plan.”
“Is Otori dead yet?” the nobleman asked, glancing briefly at Kaede.
“Not yet,” the man replied. “But in the meantime Lord Arai asks that you return Muto Shizuka to him. He has a particular personal interest in her and wishes to keep her alive.”
For a moment Kaede felt hope flood into her heart. Fujiwara would not dare harm Shizuka if Arai wanted her back.
“What a strange request,” Fujiwara said, “and a strange messenger.” He ordered Murita, “Disarm him. I don’t trust him.”
The dog howled with a new intensity of fear. It seemed to Kaede that there was a moment of stillness, and then as she tried to call out, as Murita stepped toward Kondo, as Kondo drew his sword, the whole world groaned and lifted. The veranda rose through the air; the trees flew and then crashed; the house behind her shook and was torn apart. More dogs were barking now, frantically. The caged birds shrieked in alarm. The air was full of dust. From the fallen buildings came the screams of women and the instant crackling of fire.
The veranda landed heavily with a thud that shook Kaede’s body; the floor was slanting back toward the house, the roof splintering above her. Her eyes were full of fragments of dust and straw. For a moment she thought she was trapped, then she saw that she could climb out and began to scrabble up the strange slope the veranda had assumed. Over its edge she saw as if in a dream Shizuka slip her hands from the bindings, kick one of the guards between the legs, take his sword from him, and slash him in the neck. Kondo had already dealt Murita a blow that had almost cut him in half.
Fujiwara was lying behind Kaede, partly covered by the fallen roof. His body was twisted and he did not seem to be able to get up, but he reached out to her and took her ankle in his hand, the first time he had ever touched her. His fingers were cold and his grip inescapable. The dust was making him cough, his clothes were filthy, and he smelled of sweat and urine beneath the customary fragrance; yet when he spoke his voice was as calm as ever.
“If we are to die, let us die together,” he said.
Behind him she could hear the flames, crackling and snarling like a living creature. The smoke thickened, stinging her eyes and masking all the other smells.
She pulled and kicked against his clutching fingers.
“I just wanted to possess you,” he said. “You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted you to be mine and no one else’s. I wanted to intensify your love for Takeo by denying it so I could share in the tragedy of your suffering.”
“Let go of me!” she screamed. She could feel the heat of the fire now. “Shizuka! Kondo! Help me!”
Shizuka was fully occupied with the other guards, fighting like a man. Ishida’s hands were still tied to the post. Kondo killed one of the guards from behind, turned his head at Kaede’s voice, and then strode toward the burning house. He leaped onto the edge of the veranda.
“Lady Otori,” he said, “I’ll free you. Run to the garden, to the pools. Shizuka will look after you.” He climbed down and deliberately cut through Fujiwara’s wrist. The nobleman gave one harsh scream of pain and outrage; his hand fell from Kaede’s ankle.
Kondo pushed her upward and over the edge. “Take my sword. I know you can defend yourself.”
He thrust it into her hands and went on swiftly: “I swore allegiance to you. I meant it. I would never let anyone hurt you while I live. But it was a crime for someone like me to kill your father. It’s even more of a crime to attack a nobleman and kill him. I’m ready to pay for it.”
He gave her a look stripped of all irony and smiled. “Run,” he said. “Run! Your husband will come for you.”
She stepped backward. She saw Fujiwara try to rise, the blood pouring from the stump of his arm. Kondo wound his long arms round the nobleman and held him firmly. The flames burst through the fragile walls and received them both, wrapping them, concealing them.
The heat and the screams engulfed her. He is burning, all his treasures are burning, she thought wildly. She thought she heard Kumiko cry out from the inferno and wanted to do something to save her, but as she started toward the house, Shizuka pulled her back.
“You are on fire!”
Kaede dropped the sword and put her hands uselessly to her head as the flames erupted on her oiled hair.
· 11·
he sun set and the moon rose over the still surface of the sea, making a silver road for our fleet to follow.
It was so bright, I could see clearly the range of mountains behind the coast we were leaving. The tide rippled under the hulls and the sails flapped in the offshore breeze. The oars splashed in a steady rhythm.
We came to Oshima in the early hours of the morning. A white mist rose from the surface of the sea, and Fumio told me it would be the same for the next few nights as the air grew colder. It was perfect for our purpose. We spent the day on the island, reprovisioning from the pirates’ stores and taking on board more of Terada’s men, who were armed with swords, knives, and a variety of other weapons, most of which I’d never seen before.
At the end of the afternoon we went to the shrine and made offerings to Ebisu and Hachiman, praying for calm seas and the defeat of our enemies. The priests gave us conch shells for each ship and auspicious fortunes that encouraged the men, though Fumio took it all with a certain skepticism, patting his firearm and muttering, “This is more auspicious, in my opinion!” while I was happy enough to pray to any god, knowing that they were simply different faces, created by men, of one indivisible truth.
The moon, one night off full, was rising over the mountains as we set sail for Hagi. This time Kenji, Taku, and I went with Ryoma in his smaller, swifter boat. I left Zenko in Fumio’s care, having told him of the boy’s parentage and impressing on him the importance of keeping Arai’s son alive. Just before dawn the mist began to form above the water, shrouding us as we approached the sleeping city. From across the bay I could hear the first roosters crowing and the early bells from Tokoji and Daishoin.
My plan was to go straight to the castle. I had no desire to destroy my city or see the Otori clan wash blood with blood. I thought that if we could kill or capture the Otori lords right away, there was every chance the clan would side with me rather than tear itself apart. This was also the opinion of the Otori warriors who had already joined me. Many of them had begged to be allowed to accompany me and take part in the vengeance firsthand. They all had experiences of ill treatment, insults, and breaches of faith. But my aim was to penetrate the castle silently and secretly. I would take only Kenji and Taku. I placed all the other men under Terada’s command.
The old pirate had been alight with excitement and the anticipation of settling long-st
anding scores. I’d given him some instructions: The boats were to remain offshore until daybreak. Then they were to sound the conch shells and advance through the mist. The rest was up to him. I hoped to be able to convince the city to surrender; if not, we would fight through the streets to the bridge and open it for Arai’s army.
The castle was built on a promontory between the river and the sea. I knew, from my visit on the day of my adoption, that the residence was on the seaward side, where a huge wall, considered to be invulnerable, rose from the water around it.
Kenji and Taku had their grapples and other Tribe weapons. I was armed with throwing knives, a short sword, and Jato.
The moon set and the mist grew thicker. The boat drifted silently toward the shore and nudged the seawall with the faintest of sounds. One by one we climbed onto the wall and went invisible.
I heard footsteps above our heads and a voice called out, “Who’s there? Name yourself!”
Ryoma answered in the dialect of a Hagi fisherman, “Only me. Got a bit lost in this dirty mist.”
“Got a bit pissed, you mean,” a second man called back. “Get out of here! If we can see you when the fog clears, we’ll put an arrow in you.”
The sound of the oar faded away. I hissed at the other two—I couldn’t see either of them—and we began to climb. It was a slow process; the wall, washed twice a day by the tide, was coated in seaweed and slippery. But inch by inch we crawled up it and eventually came to its top. One last autumn cricket was chirping and it fell suddenly silent. Kenji chirped in its place. I could hear the guards talking at the far corner of the bailey. A lamp and a brazier burned beside them. Beyond them lay the residence where the Otori lords, their retainers, and families would be sleeping.
I could hear only two voices, which surprised me. I’d thought there would be more, but from their conversation I gathered that all available men had been posted on the bridge and along the river in anticipation of Arai’s attack.
“Wish he’d get it over with,” one of them grumbled. “It’s this waiting I can’t stand.”