The Harsh Cry of the Heron (51 page)

‘Let Lord Otori come
with me,’ he said as he walked past Takeo, and Takeo followed him, on his
knees.

Shigeko was waiting
outside with the kirin. She fell to one knee when the Emperor approached, and
with head bowed held out the cord, saying, ‘Your Majesty: this creature is
nothing compared with your greatness, but we offer it to you in the hope that
you will look with favour on your subjects in the Three Countries.’

The Emperor’s
expression was one of pure astonishment, possibly as much at being addressed by
a woman as at the kirin. He took the cord carefully, glanced back at the
courtiers, looked up at the kirin’s long neck and head, and laughed in delight.

Shigeko said, ‘Your
Majesty may touch her: she is very gentle,’ and the man-god put out his hand
and stroked the soft fur of the fabulous creature.

He murmured, ‘The
kirin only appears when the ruler is blessed by Heaven.’

Shigeko replied as
quietly, ‘So is Your Majesty blessed indeed.’

Ts this a man or a
woman?’ the Emperor said to Saga, who had approached, in the same manner as
Takeo, on his knees, for Shigeko had used the speech of a male ruler.

‘Your Majesty, it is
Lord Otori’s daughter, Lady Maruyama.’

‘From the land where
women rule? Lord Otori has brought many exotic things! Everything we hear of
the Three Countries is true. How I should like to visit there, but it is not
possible for me to leave the capital.’ He stroked the kirin again. ‘What can I
give you in return?’ he said. ‘I doubt I have anything that can compare.’ He
stood as if deep in thought for a few moments, and then spun around and looked
back as if struck by a sudden inspiration. ‘Bring me the Otori sword,’ he
called. ‘I will bestow it on Lady Maruyama!’

Takeo remembered a
voice from the past: So it goes from hand to hand. Kenji. The sword that Kenji
had given to Shigeru after the defeat at Yaegahara, and that Yuki, Kenji’s
daughter, had brought to Takeo, had now been put into the hands of Maruyama
Shigeko by the Emperor himself.

Takeo bowed to the ground
again, and as he sat up he saw the Emperor was observing him shrewdly. At that
moment, the temptation of absolute power glittered before him. Whoever was
favoured by the Emperor - or, to put it more bluntly, controlled the Emperor -
controlled the Eight Islands.

That could be myself
and Kaede, he thought. We could vie with Saga: if we defeat him tomorrow in the
contest, we could displace him. Our army is prepared. I can send messengers to
Kahei to advance. We will drive him back to the north and into the sea. He will
be the one in exile, not me!

He entertained the
fantasy for a few short moments, and then put it from him. He did not want the
Eight Islands; he wanted only the Three Countries, and he wanted them to remain
at peace.

The rest of the day
was spent in feasting, recitals of music and drama, poetry competitions, and
even a demonstration of the younger noblemen’s favourite game of kick ball, in
which Lord Kono proved himself to be unexpectedly adept.

‘His languid
demeanour hides his physical skill,’ Takeo remarked quietly to Gemba.

‘They will all be
worthy opponents,’ Gemba agreed serenely.

There was also a
horse race just before sunset, which Lord Saga’s team, mounted on the new
Maruyama steeds, won easily, adding to the crowd’s general admiration of the
visitors, and the pleasure and astonishment at their unparalleled gifts.

Takeo returned to the
mansion pleased and encouraged by the events of the day, though still anxious
about the morrow. He had seen with his own eyes the skill and horsemanship of
their opponents. He could not believe his daughter could defeat them. But Gemba
had been right about the sword. He would have to trust him in the matter of the
contest.

He had raised the
oiled-silk curtains of the palanquin to enjoy the evening air, and as it was
carried through the gate he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the shadowy
outline of someone using invisibility. It astonished him, for he had not
expected the Tribe to operate in the capital: none of his records, nor the Muto
family’s knowledge, had ever indicated that they had penetrated this far to the
East.

He felt instinctively
for his sword, realized that he was unarmed, had the immediate customary flash
of curiosity as he faced again his own mortality - was this to be the
assassination attempt that succeeded - all in the instant it took before the
palanquin was set down and he descended; ignoring the attendants, he ran to the
gate and searched the milling crowd with his eyes, wondering if he had been
mistaken. His name was being chanted by many voices, but he thought he could
distinguish one he recognized, and then he saw the girl.

He knew her at once
as Muto, but it took him a moment or two to remember who she was: Mai, Sada’s
sister, who had been placed in the foreigners’ household to learn their
language and spy on them.

‘Come inside at once,’
he commanded her.

Once they were
within, he told the guards to close and bar the gates, then turned to the girl.
She looked exhausted and travel-stained.

‘What are you doing
here? Do you bring news from Taku? Did Jun send you?’

‘I must speak to Lord
Otori in private,’ she whispered.

He saw the grief in
the lines around her mouth and in the expression of her eyes, and his heart
began to gallop in fear of what she had to tell him.

‘Wait here. I will send
for you directly.’

He called for maids
to help him change out of the formal robes, and then dismissed them, telling
them to send the girl to him, to serve tea and then make sure he was left
alone; not even his daughter, not even Lord Miyoshi was to be admitted.

Mai came into the
room and knelt before him. A maid came in with bowls of tea, and Takeo took one
and put it into the girl’s hands. Night was falling: despite the warmth of the
evening she was pale and trembling.

‘What has happened?’
he said.

‘Lord Taku and my
sister are dead, lord.’

Even though it was
what he had expected, the news hit him like a physical blow. He stared at her,
hardly able to speak, feeling the terrible tide of grief begin to well up
through his veins; he made a gesture that she should continue.

‘They were allegedly
attacked by bandits a day’s ride from Hofu.’

‘Bandits?’ he said in
disbelief. ‘What bandits are there in the Middle Country?’

‘That is the official
version put out by Zenko,’ Mai replied. ‘But Zenko is protecting Kikuta Akio.
Rumour on the wind is that Akio and his son killed Taku in revenge for Kotaro’s
death. Sada died with him.’

‘And my daughter?’
Takeo whispered, the tears beginning to force their way from his eyes.

‘Lord Otori, no one
knows where she is. She was not killed at the same time, but whether she
escaped, or whether Akio has her . . .’

‘Akio has my
daughter?’ he repeated stupidly.

‘Maybe she escaped,’
Mai said. ‘But she has not found her way to Kagemura, or Terayama, or any of
the other places where she might have fled.’

‘Does my wife know?’

‘I don’t know, lord.’

He saw there was
something else going on, some other reason why the girl had made this long
journey, presumably without permission from anyone in the Tribe, and unknown to
them, even to Shizuka.

‘Taku’s mother must
surely have been told?’

‘Again, I don’t know.
Something has happened to the Muto network, lord. Messages are misdirected, or
read by the wrong people. People are saying they want to return to the old
days, when the Tribe had real power. Kikuta Akio is very close to Zenko, and
many among the Muto approve of their new friendship - they say it’s like things
used to be between Kenji and Kotaro, before . . .’

‘Before I came along,’
Takeo stated bleakly.

‘That’s not for me to
say, Lord Otori. The Muto swore allegiance to you, and Taku and Sada were loyal
to you. That’s enough for me. I left Hofu without telling anyone, hoping to
catch up with Lady Shigeko and Lord Hiroshi, but they were always a few days
ahead. I just kept following them, until I found myself in the capital. I have
been six weeks on the road.’

‘I am very grateful
to you.’ He recalled that she was also grieving. ‘And deeply sorry for your
sister’s death in the service of my family.’

Her eyes went bright
in the lamplight, but she did not cry.

‘They were attacked
with firearms,’ she said bitterly. ‘No one could have killed them with ordinary
weapons. Taku was hit in the neck; he must have bled to death in seconds, and
the same bullet knocked Sada from the horse, but she did not die from the fall:
her throat was cut.’

‘Akio has firearms?
Where did he get them from?’

‘He has been in
Kumamoto all winter. He must have been supplied by the Arai; they have been
trading with the foreigners.’

He sat in silence,
remembering suddenly the feel of Taku’s neck between his hands when he had
woken and found him in his room, in Shuho: Taku had been a child of nine or
ten; he had thickened his neck muscles to give the impression he was older and
stronger than he really was. The memory, followed swiftly by so many others,
nearly overwhelmed him. Covering his face with his hand, he fought to control
sobbing. His grief was fuelled by rage against Zenko, whom he had spared only
to see him connive in his brother’s death. Taku wanted Zenko dead, he remembered;
so, even, did Shizuka. And now we have lost the brother we could least spare.

‘Lord Otori,’ Mai
said hesitantly. ‘Shall I call for someone to come to you?’

‘No!’ he said,
regaining his self-mastery, the moment of weakness over. ‘You do not know our circumstances
here. You must say nothing of this to anyone. Nothing must interfere with the
arrangements for the next few days. There is to be a contest, involving my
daughter and Lord Hiroshi. They must not be distracted in any way. They must
not know of this until the contest is over. No one must know.’

‘But you should
return to the Three Countries without delay! Zenko . . .’

T will return as soon
as possible, earlier than I had planned. But I cannot offend my hosts - Lord
Saga, the Emperor himself - nor can I let Saga get a whiff of Zenko’s
treachery. At the moment I am in some favour -but that may change at any time.
Once the contest is over and we know its outcome, I will make arrangements to
return. It means we risk being caught in the rains, but it can’t be helped. You
will travel with us, of course; but for the time being I must ask you to stay
away from this house. Shigeko might recognize you. It is only until after
tomorrow. Then I will have to tell her, and Hiroshi, the news.’

He made arrangements for
Mai to be given money and found accommodation, and she departed, promising to
return within two days.

Mai had barely left
the residence when Shigeko returned with Gemba. They had been checking on the
horses, preparing saddles and bridles for the next day, and discussing
strategy. Shigeko, usually so self-controlled and calm, was brilliant with
excitement from the events of the day, and anticipation of the contest. He was
relieved, for normally she would have observed his silence and his lack of high
spirits, relieved too that it was too dark in the room for her to see his face.

She said, ‘I must
give you back Jato, Father.’

‘Certainly not,’ he
replied. ‘The Emperor himself gave it to you. It is yours now.’

‘Really, it is too
long for me,’ she protested.

Takeo forced himself
to smile. ‘Nevertheless, it is yours.’

‘I will give it to
the temple until . . .’

‘Until what,’ he
prompted her.

‘Either your son, or
mine, is old enough to bear it.’

‘It will not be the
first time it has rested there,’ he replied. ‘But it is yours, and confirms you
as the heir not only to the Maruyama but also to the Otori.’

Takeo realized as he
spoke that the Emperor’s recognition made the question of her marriage even
more crucial. She would bring the Three Countries to whomever she married, with
the Emperor’s blessing. Whatever demands Saga made, he would not give in to
them immediately, not before consulting Kaede.

He longed for Kaede
now, not only for her body, with deep desire fuelled by grief, but for her
wisdom, her clarity, her gentle strength. I am nothing without her, he thought.
He longed to be home.

It was not hard to
persuade Shigeko to retire early, and Gemba also took himself off to bed,
leaving Takeo alone to face the long night and the next day, filled with grief
and anxiety, unable to give rein to either.

Minoru came as always
at first light, followed by the maids bringing tea.

‘It promises to be a
fine day,’ he said. ‘I have prepared records of everything that took place
yesterday, and will likewise record everything that happens today.’

When Takeo took the
records without replying, the scribe said hesitantly, ‘Lord Otori does not look
well.’