“My sister’s son, Sonoda Mitsuru, and three of my own retainers.”
“Leave your nephew here. He may enter my service for the winter and escort us to Inuyama. He will be a guarantee of your good faith.”
He stared at the ground, taken aback at the request; yet, she thought with anger, any man in her position would have demanded the same. With the young man in her household, his uncle would be less likely to misrepresent her or otherwise betray her to Arai.
“Of course, trust between us is a symbol of my trust in Lord Arai,” Kaede said, more impatiently, as he hesitated.
“I see no reason why he should not stay here,” Akita conceded.
I have a hostage, she thought, and marveled at the sense of power it gave her.
She bowed to Akita, Hana and Ai copying her, while he prostrated himself before them. Rain was still falling when he left, but the sun had struggled out again, turning to fragmented rainbows the drops of water that clung to the bare branches and the last of the autumn leaves. She made a sign to her sisters not to move.
Before Akita entered the guest room, he turned to look back at them. They sat motionless until he was out of sight. The sun vanished and the rain streamed down.
Ayame stood from where she had been kneeling in the shadows and closed the shutters. Kaede turned and hugged Hana.
“Did I do well?” Hana asked, her eyes lengthened and full of emotion.
“It was brilliant, almost like magic. But what was that look between you?”
“We should not have done it,” Ai said, ashamed. “It’s so childish. We used to do it when Mother or Ayame was teaching us. Hana started it. They never knew if they were imagining it or not. We never dared do it in front of Father. And to do it to a great lord . . .”
“It just seemed to happen,” Hana said, laughing. “He didn’t like it, did he? His eyes went all jumpy and he started to sweat.”
“He is hardly a great lord,” Kaede said. “Arai might have sent someone of higher rank.”
“Would you have done what he asked, then? Would we have gone back with him to Inuyama?”
“Even if Arai himself had come, I would not,” Kaede replied. “I will always make them wait for me.”
“Do you want to know what else I noticed?” Hana said.
“Tell me.”
“Lord Akita was afraid of you, Older Sister.”
“You have sharp eyes,” Kaede said, laughing.
“I don’t want to go away,” Ai said. “I never want to leave home.”
Kaede gazed at her sister with pity. “You will have to marry someday. You may have to go to Inuyama next year and stay for a while.”
“Will I have to?” Hana asked.
“Maybe,” Kaede said. “Lots of men will want to marry you.”
For the sake of an alliance with me, she thought, saddened that she would have to use her sisters so.
“I’ll only go if Shizuka comes with us,” Hana declared.
Kaede smiled and hugged her again. There was no point in telling her that Shizuka could never go in safety to Inuyama while Arai was there. “Go and tell Shizuka to come to me. Ayame, you had better see what meal we can give these men tonight.”
“I’m glad you told them to leave tomorrow,” Ayame said. “I don’t think we could afford to feed them for longer. They are too used to eating well.” She shook her head. “Though I have to say, Lady Kaede, I don’t think your father would have approved of your conduct.”
“You don’t have to say it,” Kaede retorted swiftly. “And if you want to stay in this household, you will never speak to me like that again.”
Ayame flinched at her tone. “Lady Shirakawa,” she said dully, dropped to her knees, and crawled backward from the room.
Shizuka came in shortly, carrying a lamp, for dusk was now falling. Kaede told her sisters to go and change their clothes.
“How much did you hear?” she demanded when they had gone.
“Enough, and Kondo told me what Lord Akita said when he went back to the pavilion. He thought there was some supernatural power at work in this house. You terrified him. He said you were like the autumn spider, golden and deadly, weaving a web of beauty to captivate men.”
“Quite poetic,” Kaede remarked.
“Yes, Kondo thought so too!”
Kaede could picture the ironic gleam in his eyes. One day, she promised herself, he would look at her without irony. He would take her seriously. They all would, all these men who thought they were so powerful.
“And my hostage, Sonoda Mitsuru, is he terrified too?”
“Your hostage!” Shizuka laughed. “How did you dare suggest that?”
“Was I wrong?”
“No, on the contrary, it made them believe you are much stronger than was first thought. The young man is a little apprehensive about being left here. Where do you intend to put him?”
“Shoji can take him in his house and look after him. I certainly don’t want him here.” Kaede paused, then went on with a trace of bitterness, “He will be better treated than I was. But what about you? He will not be any danger to you, will he?”
“Arai must know I am still with you,” Shizuka said. “I see no danger from this young man. His uncle, Lord Akita, will be careful not to upset you now. Your strength protects me—all of us. Arai probably expected to find you distraught and desperate for his help. He will hear a very different story. I told you the birds would gather.”
“So, who do we expect next?”
“I believe someone will come from Maruyama before the onset of winter, in response to the messengers Kondo sent.”
Kaede was hoping for the same thing, her mind often turning to her last meeting with her kinswoman and the promise that had been made then. Her father had told her she would have to fight for that inheritance, but she hardly knew who her adversaries would be or how to set about going to war. Who would teach her how to do it; who would lead an army on her behalf?
She said farewell the next day to Akita and his men, thankful that their stay was so short, and welcomed his nephew, summoning Shoji and handing him over. She was aware of her effect on the young man—he could not take his eyes off her and trembled in her presence—but he did not interest her at all, other than as her hostage.
“Keep him busy,” she told Shoji. “Treat him well and with respect, but don’t let him know too much of our affairs.”
Over the next few weeks men began to turn up at her gate. Some secret message had gone out that she was taking on warriors. They came singly or in twos and threes, never in large groups, men whose masters were dead or dispossessed, the straggling remnants of years of war. She and Kondo devised tests for them—she did not want rogues or fools—but they did not turn many away, for most were experienced fighters who would form the kernel of her army when spring came. Nevertheless, Kaede despaired of being able to feed and keep them all through the long winter.
A few days before the solstice, Kondo came to her with the news she had been waiting for.
“Lord Sugita from Maruyama is here with several of his men.”
She welcomed them with delight. They revered the memory of Lady Maruyama and were accustomed to seeing a woman as a leader. She was especially glad to see Sugita, remembering him from the journey to Tsuwano. He had left them there to return home, to ensure the domain was not attacked and taken over during Lady Maruyama’s absence. Filled with grief at her death, he was determined her wishes should be fulfilled. A man of great practicality, he had also brought rice and other provisions with him.
“I will not add to your burdens,” he told Kaede.
“They are not so heavy that we cannot feed old friends,” she lied.
“Everyone is going to suffer this winter,” he replied gloomily. “The storms, Iida’s death, Arai’s campaigns—the harvest is a fraction of what it should be.”
Kaede invited him to eat with her, something she did with none of the others, whom she left to Shoji and Kondo to look after. They talked briefly about th
e events at Inuyama, and then at length about the Maruyama inheritance. He treated Kaede with respect, colored by an affectionate familiarity, as if he were an uncle or a cousin. She felt at ease with him: He was not threatened by her but he took her seriously.
When they had finished eating and the dishes had been cleared away he said, “It was my lady’s desire to see her domain in your care. I was delighted to receive your message that you intend to take up your inheritance. I came at once to tell you that I will help you; many of us will. We should start to plan our actions before spring.”
“It is my intention, and I’ll need all the help I can get,” Kaede replied. “I have no idea how to set about it. Will I be able simply to take the lands over? Who do they belong to now?”
“They belong to you,” he said. “You are the next female heir, and it was our lady’s express wish that the domain be yours. But several other people lay claim to it: The main contender is Lady Maruyama’s stepdaughter, who is married to a cousin of Lord Iida. Arai has not been able to eradicate him, and he has quite a large force: a mixture of Tohan who fled from Noguchi Castle when it fell, and disaffected Seishuu who see no reason why they should submit to Arai. They are wintering in the far west, but they will march on Maruyama in the spring. If you do not move swiftly and boldly, the domain will be fought over and destroyed.”
“I promised Lady Naomi that I would prevent that from happening,” Kaede said, “but I didn’t know what I was promising or how to achieve it.”
“There are many people willing to help you,” he said, leaning forward and whispering: “I was sent by our council of elders to request that you come to us, and soon. The domain prospered under Lady Naomi; we all had enough to eat, and even the poorest could feed their children. We traded with the mainland, mined silver and copper, established many small industries. The alliance between Lord Arai, Lord Otori Shigeru, and the Maruyama would have extended that prosperity all the way into the Middle Country. We want to save what we can of the alliance.”
“I plan to visit Lord Arai in the spring,” Kaede said. “I will formalize our alliance then.”
“Then one of your terms must be that he supports you in your claim to Maruyama. Only Arai is strong enough to dissuade the stepdaughter and her husband to retire without fighting. And if it comes to battle, only his army will be large enough to beat them. You must move quickly; as soon as the roads are open again you must go to Inuyama and then come to us, with Arai’s backing.”
He looked at her, smiled slightly, and said, “I am sorry, I do not mean to seem to be commanding you in any way. But I hope you will take my advice.”
“I will,” she said. “It is what I had already thought of doing, but with your support I am encouraged in it.”
They went on to talk of how many men Sugita could raise, and he swore he would hand over the domain to no one but her. He said he would leave the next day, as he wanted to be back at Maruyama before the new year. Then he said casually, “It’s a shame Otori Takeo is dead. If you had married him, his name and the Otori connection would have made you even stronger.”
Kaede’s heart seemed to stop beating and fall from her chest to her stomach. “I had not heard of his death,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Well, it’s only what people are saying. I don’t know any details. I suppose it’s the obvious explanation for his disappearance. It may be only a rumor.”
“Maybe,” Kaede said, while thinking silently, Or maybe he is dead in an open field or on the mountain and I will never know. “I am growing tired, Lord Sugita. Forgive me.”
“Lady Shirakawa.” He bowed to her and stood. “We’ll keep in touch as much as the weather allows. I will expect you at Maruyama in the spring; the clan’s forces will support your claim. If anything changes, I will get word to you somehow.”
She promised to do the same, impatient for him to be gone. When he had left and she was sure he was safely inside the guest pavilion, she called for Shizuka, paced up and down, and when the girl came she seized her with both hands.
“Are you keeping something from me?”
“Lady?” Shizuka looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”
“Sugita said he’d heard Takeo was dead.”
“It’s just a rumor.”
“But you’ve heard it?”
“Yes. I don’t believe it, though. If he were dead, we would have been told. You look so pale! Sit down. You must not overtire yourself; you must not get sick again. I’ll prepare the beds.”
She led her from the main room into the room where they slept. Kaede sank to the floor, her heart still thudding. “I am so afraid he will die before I see him again.”
Shizuka knelt beside her, untied her sash, and helped her out of the formal robes she had been wearing.
“I’ll massage your head. Sit still.”
Kaede was restlessly moving her head from side to side, clutching her hair, clenching and unclenching her fists. Shizuka’s hands in her hair did not soothe her; they simply reminded her of the unbearable afternoon at Inuyama and the events that followed. She was shivering.
“You must find out, Shizuka; I must know for sure. Send a message to your uncle. Send Kondo. He must leave at once.”
“I thought you were beginning to forget him,” Shizuka murmured, her hands working at Kaede’s scalp.
“I cannot forget him. I’ve tried, but as soon as I hear his name, it all returns to me. Do you remember the day I first saw him at Tsuwano? I fell in love with him at that moment. A fever came over me. It was—it is—an enchantment, a sickness from which I can never be cured. You said we would get over it, but we never will.”
Her brow was burning beneath Shizuka’s fingers. Alarmed, the girl asked, “Shall I send for Ishida?”
“I am tormented by desire,” Kaede said in a low voice. “Dr. Ishida can do nothing for that.”
“Desire is simple enough to alleviate,” Shizuka replied calmly.
“But my desire is only for him. Nothing—no one else—can relieve it. I know I must try to live without him. I have duties to my family that I must—I will—carry out. But if he is dead, you must tell me.”
“I will write to Kenji,” Shizuka promised. “I’ll send Kondo tomorrow, though we cannot really spare him. . . .”
“Send him,” Kaede said.
Shizuka made an infusion from the willow twigs that Ishida had left, and persuaded Kaede to drink it, but her sleep was restless and in the morning she was listless and feverish.
Ishida came, applied mugwort and used his needles, rebuking her gently for not taking better care of herself.
“It’s not serious,” he told Shizuka when they stepped outside. “It will pass in a day or two. She is too sensitive and makes too many demands on herself. She should marry.”
“She will only agree to marry one man—and that is impossible,” Shizuka said.
“The father of the child?”
Shizuka nodded. “Yesterday she heard a rumor that he was dead. The fever started then.”
“Ah.” His eyes had a thoughtful, faraway look. She wondered what or whom he was remembering from his youth.
“I fear the coming months,” she said. “Once we are closed in by snow, I am afraid she will begin to brood.”
“I have a letter for her from Lord Fujiwara. He would like her to visit him and stay for a few days. The change of scene may help to lift her spirits and distract her.”
“Lord Fujiwara is too kind to this house and pays us too great an attention.” Shizuka used the formal words of thanks automatically as she took the letter. She was acutely aware of the man next to her, of their hands touching briefly. The distant look in his eyes had sparked something in her. During Kaede’s illness they had spent many hours together, and she had come to admire his patience and skill. He was kind, unlike most men she had known.
“Will you come again tomorrow?” she said, glancing at him.
“Of course. You can giv
e me Lady Kaede’s reply to the letter. You will accompany her to Lord Fujiwara’s?”
“Of course!” She repeated his words playfully. He smiled and touched her again, deliberately, on the arm. The pressure of his fingers made her shiver. It was so long since she had slept with a man. She had a sudden strong desire to feel his hands all over her body; she wanted to lie down with him and hold him. He deserved it for his kindness.
“Till tomorrow,” he said, his eyes warm, as if he had recognized her feelings and shared them.
She slipped into her sandals and ran to call the servants with the palanquin.
KAEDE’S FEVER SUBSIDED, and by evening she had recovered some of her energy. She had lain still all day, warm under a huge pile of quilts, next to the brazier that Ayame had insisted on lighting, thinking about the future. Takeo might be dead; the child certainly was. Her heart wanted only to follow them to the next world, but her reason told her it would be sheer weakness to throw her life away and abandon those who depended on her. A woman might act like that; a man in her position never would.
Shizuka is right, she thought, there is only one person I know who can help me now. I must see what arrangement I can come to with Fujiwara.
Shizuka gave her the letter that Ishida had brought that morning. Fujiwara had also sent gifts for the new year, specially shaped rice cakes, dried sardines and sweetened chestnuts, rolled kelp and rice wine. Hana and Ai were busy in the kitchen, helping to prepare for the festival.
“He flatters me; he writes in men’s language saying he knows I understand it,” Kaede said. “But there are so many characters I don’t know.” She sighed deeply. “There’s so much I need to learn. Is one winter going to be enough?”
“Will you go to Lord Fujiwara’s?”
“I suppose so. He might teach me. Do you think he would?”
“There’s nothing he’d like more,” Shizuka said dryly.
“I thought he would want nothing more to do with me, but he says he has been waiting for my recovery. I am better—as well as I will ever be.” Kaede’s voice was doubtful. “I must be better. I have to look after my sisters, my land, my men.”