“If Kai stays she will die,” her mother said, just loud enough for Yoshimori to hear her.
“I’ll scream,” he said. “If Kai doesn’t come I’ll scream and scream. And I won’t go anywhere.”
“Wake her up,” Aki said. “I can take them both. Kai will make things easier.”
Tears sprang from her father’s eyes. Her mother was weeping silently as she thrust two pairs of clogs into Aki’s hands. Aki bowed to the ground before her parents. She did not speak, but in her heart she was crying, Father, Mother, when will I see you again?
Noise was erupting like a rainstorm: first the spattering drops, a single cry, the urgent thud of feet hurrying along a corridor, then the heavier fall, women wailing, the tread of men running, shouts, in the distance the shrill neighing of horses. Aki lifted Yoshimori in her arms and settled him on her hip. He was a slight child and she was strong, unlike most palace women, who never lifted anything heavier than a writing brush or a hair comb; even so, she did not know how far she would be able to carry him.
Kai appeared at her side, pale and silent. She was holding Aki’s ritual box.
“Your mother told me to bring this,” she said.
“I can’t carry it, too!” Aki exclaimed, near tears for the first time.
“I’ll look after it,” Kai said. She touched Yoshimori on the ankle and smiled up at him.
Lights flickered, throwing strange shadows on the brocade-and-bamboo blinds that covered the entrances to the rooms. Aki pushed the closest blind aside and stepped out onto the wide veranda. She set Yoshimori down on the edge and put on her clogs, fitting the other pair to his feet. Taking him by the hand, she pulled him upright.
“Now you must walk beside me.”
For a moment she thought she would have to show him how, but, though he had been carried almost everywhere throughout his short life, his muscles were not yet useless and he was still young enough to want to walk, even to run, like any normal child. Kai followed barefoot. They went swiftly across the darkness of the Eastern Courtyard, but as they passed the New Shining Hall a sudden light flared, revealing the face of Yoshimori’s mother, known as Lady Shinmei’in.
Aki pulled the cowl lower over her face and tried to hide the boy in the skirt of her robe. For a moment she thought they would pass by unrecognized, but the Princess leaned toward them.
“What are you doing with His Highness? Where are you taking him?”
“I must not be called that,” the boy said.
“Lady, I am his nurse’s daughter. My father, Hidetake, told me to escape with your son, into hiding.”
“Why? What is happening?”
“The Prince Abbot has sent men to arrest your husband. The Prince intends to resist.”
Lady Shinmei’in’s eyes were huge, her face as pale as snow. “Then I must be at his side and share his pillow in death as in life. Our son must die with us. Come, Your Highness. We will change these base garments and prepare your illustrious body for the next world.” She held out her arms, slender and white against the black hair that fell like silk around her. “No one can escape his fate.”
The boy hardly knew his mother. He had been brought up by Aki’s parents. He shrank closer to Aki’s side and gripped Kai’s hand.
What was Aki to do? Should she obey her father and defy the Princess? Or should she recognize the mother’s right to decide the fate of her child, relinquish him, and return to die alongside her own parents? What was there to fear in death? It lay all around, separated from life by only the thinnest of membranes. A moment’s exhilarating pain and then you passed through to the other world, leaving behind honor and courage as your memorial, facing judgment and then rebirth.
In the dim light the mother’s pale hands beckoned like a ghost’s toward the grave. The child said, “If I am to reign I cannot die now.”
Until they are seven, children belong to the gods and speak only truth. Aki knew she was hearing a divine message. Without saying anything she seized Yoshimori’s hand. For a moment he resisted in surprise, but then he surrendered to her grip and the three of them were running toward the Moon Gate and the river.
There were many people trying to escape, for the attackers, the Prince Abbot’s men, were setting the palace buildings on fire, one after another. The wind that sprang up just before dawn was driving the flames westward toward the city. Already the Hall of Light from the East was alight, and next to it the Hall of New Learning stood gutted, its rafters black against the red inferno. Priceless treasures, irreplaceable scrolls were being consumed and reduced to ashes. She felt the lute in her hand vibrate again and moan softly.
Yoshimori was quivering, too, tremors running from his hand to hers. She bent and whispered, “Be brave. Remember your own words. Your destiny is to live.”
He made no reply, but his grip tightened and as they hurried through the gate, rather than she being the guide, he was leading her.
Kai stopped for a moment and made a sign to Aki.
From behind Aki heard a great shout, as if one of the gods had appeared and was announcing his presence.
“I am Kiyoyori of the Kakizuki, lord of Matsutani and Kuromori.”
The girls looked at each other with wide, startled eyes and then hurried Yoshi on toward the river.
16
KIYOYORI
Kiyoyori had ridden straight from Masafusa’s residence to the Crown Prince’s palace. It was not far away, on the east side of the Greater Palace compound where the Emperor lived (and presumably now lay dead). As he and his small band of men forced their way through the streets, he thought of Hina left alone, wondered if he would ever see her again, if anyone would stay and look after her or if they would all run away, wondered what had happened to his steward, Iida no Taro, and then saw the man himself, standing on the corner of an alley.
Taro’s face changed at the sight of Kiyoyori. It was as if he had been waiting for him. For a moment hope shot through him. He brings good news. Tsumaru is alive, hidden somewhere in safety. But then Taro made a helpless gesture and Kiyoyori understood.
I must talk to him. I must find out what happened. He was prepared to face death, but he could not bear the thought of not knowing the manner in which his son had passed over before him.
There was no time. The horses swept past. Kiyoyori turned in the saddle briefly and saw Taro begin to run after him, weaving through the crowd. His horse shied, and he looked ahead again.
It was around the end of the hour of the ox, still a while before dawn. The gates of the palace were barred with armed men on both sides. He could see at a glance they were too few. He stationed his men on the outside facing the street, and then convinced the guards he was who he claimed to be and that they should summon someone to speak to him. A nobleman came out, leading his horse, and the guards closed the gate behind him.
Kiyoyori knew him slightly—Lord Hidetake.
“Kiyoyori,” Hidetake said in relief. “You have arrived just in time. We received word an hour ago that an attack is imminent. The Prince is putting on his armor now.”
“I would stay and fight alongside you,” Kiyoyori said, leaning down from his horse. “But Lord Keita has ordered me to rescue his grandson and escort him to Rakuhara.”
“So, Keita is fleeing,” Hidetake said. “He will not