The Harsh Cry of the Heron (26 page)

Maya smiled. ‘You did
not bring back the branch!’

‘There was no
blossom!’

‘No blossom! You
picked a spray. Then you threw it away and pissed yourself. I saw you.’

‘You weren’t there!’

‘Yes, I was.’

Sunaomi shouted for
the maids to come and punish her, but Maya was already running away.

As summer gave way to
autumn, Takeo prepared to travel again. It was the custom for the coun-try to
be governed from Yamagata from the end of the ninth month until the winter
solstice, but he was forced to leave earlier than he intended, for Matsuda
Shingen died peacefully at the beginning of the month; Miyoshi Gemba brought
the news to Hagi and Takeo left at once, with Gemba and Shigeko, for Terayama.
The records of the work that had occupied them through the summer - the policy
decisions, agricultural and financial planning, codes of justice and the
carefully considered conclusions of tribunals - were dispatched in boxes and
baskets on long trains of pack horses.

There was nothing to
mourn in Matsuda’s passing. His life had been long and full of achievement, his
spirit one of purity and strength. He had taught Shigeru, Takeo and Shigeko,
and he left many disciples dedicated to continuing his vision. Yet Takeo missed
him irrationally and deeply, and felt the loss as one more breach in the
defences of the Three Countries, through which wind would howl or wolf enter
when winter came.

Makoto was installed
as abbot in his place, and took the name of Eikan, but Takeo continued to think
of his old friend by his former name, and, after the ceremonies were completed
and they travelled on to Yamagata, took some comfort from the knowledge that
Makoto continued to support him as he had always done; and he thought again
with longing of the time when he might retire to Terayama and spend his days in
meditation and painting.

Gemba accompanied
them on to Yamagata, where the various matters of administration took up all
Takeo’s attention. Shigeko attended most of the meetings with him, but rose
early every morning to practise her horse riding and archery with Gemba.

Just before they
departed for Maruyama in the first week of the tenth month, letters came from
Hagi. Takeo read them eagerly, and shared the family news immediately with his
eldest daughter.

‘Your mother has
moved with the little boys to Lord Shigeru’s old house. And she has started
learning the foreigners’ language.’

‘From their
interpreter?’ Shigeko wanted to ask her father more, but Minoru was with them,
as well as servants from the Miyoshi household, and Jun and Shin, as usual,
outside but within earshot. However, later, when they walked in the gardens,
she found herself alone with him.

‘You must tell me
more about the foreigners,’ she said. ‘Should they be allowed to trade in
Maruyama?’

‘I want them where we
can watch them at all times,’ Takeo replied. ‘They will stay in Hagi for the
winter. We need to learn as much as we can about their language, customs and
intentions.’

‘Their interpreter:
there was something strange about the way she looked at you, almost as if she
knew you well.’

He hesitated for a
moment. Leaves were falling in the tranquil garden, carpeting the ground with
drifting gold. It was late afternoon, the mist rising from the moat mingling
with wood smoke, blurring outlines and details.

‘Your mother knows
who she is, but no one else does,’ he said finally. ‘I will tell you, but keep
it secret. Her name is Madaren; it is a name often used by the sect known as
the Hidden. They share some of the beliefs of the foreigners, and used to be
severely persecuted by the Tohan. Everyone in her family was killed, except her
older brother, who was rescued by Lord Shigeru.’

Shigeko’s eyes widened
and her pulse beat more rapidly. Her father smiled.

‘Yes, it was me. I
was called Tomasu then, but Shigeru renamed me Takeo. Madaren is my younger
sister: we were born to the same mother, but from different fathers - my
father, as you know, was from the Tribe. I thought she was dead for all these
years.’

‘How extraordinary,’
Shigeko said, and with her characteristic swift sympathy, ‘How terrible her
life must have been.’

‘She has survived,
has learned a foreign language, has grasped every opportunity offered to her,’
Takeo replied. ‘She has done better than many. Now she is under my protection
to a certain extent, and permitted to instruct my wife.’ After a moment, he
added, ‘There have always been many Hidden in Maruyama. Lady Naomi gave them a
safe haven, indeed was one of them. You will need to acquaint yourself with
their leaders. Jo-An, of course, was also a believer, and many former outcastes
still live in hamlets around the city.’

She saw his face
darken, and did not want to pursue a subject that brought back so many painful
memories.

‘I doubt I will live
to even half Matsuda’s age,’ Takeo continued with great seriousness. ‘The
future safety of these people is in your hands. But do not trust the
foreigners, nor Madaren, even though she is your relative. And remember to
honour all beliefs, but follow none, for that is the only path for the true
leader.’

Shigeko reflected on
this for a few moments, and then said, ‘May I ask you a question?’

‘Of course. You know
you may ask me anything at any time. I do not want to conceal anything from
you.’

‘Prophecies justify
your rule as ordained and blessed by Heaven. The houou nest again in the Three
Countries. We even possess a kirin - one of the signs of a great and just
ruler. Do you believe all this of yourself?’

T believe all of it
and none of it,’ Takeo replied. ‘I seem to balance my life between the two. I
am deeply grateful for everything that Heaven has bestowed on me, but I will
never take any of it for granted nor, I hope, abuse the power entrusted to me.

‘Old men grow
foolish,’ he added lightly. ‘When that happens, you must encourage me to
retire. Though, as I said, I do not expect to see old age.’

‘I want you never to
die,’ she exclaimed, suddenly fearful.

‘I will die happy
knowing I am leaving everything in safe hands,’ he replied, smiling. But she
knew he was masking many concerns.

A few days later they
crossed the bridge near Kibi, and Takeo was reminiscing with Gemba about the
past: the flight from Terayama in the rain, the help given by Jo-An and the
outcastes and the death of the ogre Jin-emon. The shrine on the bank had been
dedicated to the fox god, but in some strange twist of belief Jo-An had become identified
with this deity and was now also worshipped here.

‘It was at that time
that Amano Tenzo gave me Shun,’ Takeo said. He patted the neck of the black
horse he was riding. ‘This fellow is nice enough, but Shun astonished me in our
first fight together. He knew more about it than I did!’

‘I suppose he is dead
now?’ Gemba questioned.

‘Yes, he died two
years ago. I’ve never seen another horse like him. Did you know he was Takeshi’s
horse? Mori Hiroki recognized him.’

‘I did not know that,’
Gemba replied.

Shigeko, however, had
known it all her life, one of the legends that she had grown up with. The bay
horse had been broken in by Lord Takeshi, Shigeru’s younger brother, who had
taken him to Yamagata. Takeshi had been murdered by Tohan soldiers, and the
horse had disappeared until Amano Tenzo bought him and gave him to Takeo. She
thought with pleasure of the secret gift she had for her father, already, she
hoped, on its way to Maruyama, for she intended to present him with a surprise
at the coming ceremony.

Thinking about
legends and marvellous animals made an idea come into her mind. It seemed so
brilliant she felt she must share it at once.

‘Father, when we go
to Miyako next year, let us take the kirin as a gift for the Emperor.’

Gemba gave a shout of
laughter. ‘What a perfect gift! Nothing like it will ever have been seen in the
capital!’

Takeo turned in the
saddle and stared at Shigeko. ‘It is a marvellous thought. But I gave the kirin
to you. I do not want to demand it back again. And is it capable of making such
a journey?’

‘It travels well by
ship. I could accompany it to Akashi. Maybe Lord Gemba or Lord Hiroshi will
come with me.’

‘The Emperor and his
court will be dazzled by such a present,’ Gemba said, his plump cheeks rosy
with pleasure. ‘Just as Lord Saga will be disarmed by Lady Shigeko.’

Shigeko, riding
through the peaceful autumn countryside towards the domain that was to be hers,
where she would see Hiroshi again, felt that they were indeed blessed by
Heaven,’ and that the Way of the Houou, the way of peace, would prevail.

After Muto Kenji’s
death, the old man’s body was flung into a pit and covered with earth. Nothing
marked the spot, but Hisao never had any difficulty finding it, for his mother
guided his feet there. Often rain would fall in a sudden shower while he passed
by, refracting the sun’s light in fragments of rainbows on the high-floating
clouds. He would gaze at them and pray silently for his grandfather’s spirit,
that it would have a safe passage through the world of the dead and an
auspicious rebirth into the next life, and then lower his eyes to the mountain ranges
that unfolded to the east and north, to see if another stranger was
approaching.

He was half relieved
and half sorry that the old man’s spirit had passed on. It did not hang at the
edge of his awareness like his mother’s, making his head ache with incomprehensible
demands. He had only known his grandfather for an hour, but he missed his
presence: Kenji had taken his own life at the moment and in the manner of his
own choosing; Hisao was glad his spirit had gone in peace, but he regretted the
death and, though he never spoke of it, resented Akio for causing it.

The summer passed and
no one came.

Everyone in the
village was anxious throughout the hot summer months, especially Kotaro
Gosaburo, for nothing was heard about the fate of his children, who were still
held in Inuyama castle. Rumours and speculation abounded: that they were half
dead from ill-treatment, that one or both had died; for a few days,
thrillingly, that they had escaped. Gosaburo grew thin, his skin hanging in
folds, his eyes dull. Akio was increasingly impatient with him; indeed he was
irritable and unpredictable with everyone. Hisao thought Akio would almost have
welcomed news of the young people’s execution, for it would have extinguished
Gosaburo’s hopes and hardened his resolve for revenge.

Autumn lilies
blossomed in scarlet profusion over Kenji’s body, though no one had planted the
bulbs. Birds began their long flights south, and the nights were filled with
the crying of geese and the beat of their wings. The moon of the ninth month
was huge and golden. Maples and sumac turned crimson, beech copper, willow and
ginkgo gold. Hisao’s days were spent in repairing dykes before winter,
distributing rotten leaves and dung on the fields, gathering firewood from the
forest. His watering system had been a success: the mountain field yielded a
fine crop of beans, carrots and squash. He developed a new rake, which spread
the manure more evenly, and experimented with the blades of axes, their weight,
angle and sharpness. There was a forge in the village, and Hisao went there
whenever he had time to watch the smith and help blow up the heat with the
bellows in the mysterious process of turning iron to steel.

Earlier in the
seventh month, Imai Kazuo had been sent to Inuyama to discover the truth. He returned
in mid-autumn with the welcome yet puzzling news that the hostages were still
alive, still held in Inuyama castle. He had other news: that Lady Otori was
with child and that Lord Otori was sending a splendid procession of messen- gers
to the capital. The retinue had been in Inuyama at the same time as Kazuo, and
was about to leave for Miyako.

Akio was less pleased
with the first piece of news than he pretended, bitterly envious at the second
and deeply uneasy at the third.

‘Why is Otori making
approaches to the Emperor?’ he questioned Kazuo. ‘What does it mean?’

‘The Emperor has
appointed a new general, Saga Hideki, who has been busy for the last ten years
extending his control over the East. It seems finally a warrior has appeared
who can challenge the Otori.’

Akio’s eyes gleamed
with an unusual expression of emotion. ‘Something has changed; I sense it.
Otori has become more vulnerable. He is responding to some threat. We must be
part of his downfall: we cannot wait hidden away for someone else to bring the
news of his death to us.’

‘There are signs of
weakness,’ Kazuo agreed. ‘Messages to the Emperor, the young people still alive
 ...  He has never hesitated to kill Kikuta before.’

‘Muto Kenji sniffed
us out,’ Akio said thoughtfully. ‘Takeo must know where we are. I could not
believe either he or Taku would let Kenji’s death go unchallenged unless they
were preoccupied with other more urgent matters.’

‘It is time for you
to travel again,’ Kazuo said. ‘There are many Kikuta families in Akashi, and
even here and there in the Three Countries, who need guidance, who will follow
your lead if you are there in person.’