Heaven's Net Is Wide

18

Shigeru rode home in a cheerful mood, feeling he had every reason to be pleased with the results of his decisive action. His popularity and reputation were increased among the ordinary people who came out to welcome him at every town and village, showering him and his men with gifts of food, fruit, rice wine. The weather continued hot and fine; the harvest would be good: everyone, it seemed, was happy.

But his reception at the castle was less enthusiastic. He had hardly dismounted in the outer bailey when Endo Chikara himself came to welcome him home, saying, “Your father has asked you to go to him at once.”

“I will wash and change my clothes,” Shigeru replied. “The effects of the journey…”

“Lord Shigemori did say ‘at once,’” Endo demurred. Shigeru passed the reins to Kiyoshige. The two young men exchanged glances. Kiyoshige raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing.

Now I am to be chastised, Shigeru thought ruefully. But even though he expected it, it was no easier to bear. His uncles were very angry, his father bemused and sorrowful. His father’s displeasure was caused more by the fact that Shigeru had acted alone without consultation or permission; his uncles, whose attendance annoyed Shigeru intensely, were more concerned about what they described as the unfortunate results-the deaths of Honda and Maeda, the unnecessary provocation of the Tohan.

“If I had not been there, Sadamu would have died!” Shigeru retorted. “At least lies cannot be fabricated about his death. Furthermore, he swore in front of witnesses to control his men and prevent any more incursions into the Middle Country. We will have peace in the border region, and the mines around Chigawa are secured.”

“Lord Kitano is somewhat displeased at your meddling in his affairs,” his older uncle said.

“Kitano reaffirmed his allegiance to me personally, as did his sons,” Shigeru said, trying to control his anger. “Tadao will stay close to me in the meantime…”

It was no longer a question of being right-although he was sure he was-but of whose will would prevail, who was the stronger. He reminded his uncles that he was the heir to the clan, that he was now an adult, and that he expected their complete loyalty for the sake of the clan. He made no apologies either to them or to his father and left the meeting close to rage. He felt his father should have supported him; he deplored Shigemori’s indecision and vacillation. Filial duty bound him to defer to his father-but if the security of the Otori clan itself demanded contrary action, what should he do, what course should he take?

Kiyoshige had escorted Tadao to the retainers’ quarters, and Irie had returned to his own house in the town beyond the castle wall. Shigeru went alone to his rooms in the residence. It was almost evening; the sun had already sunk below the steep hill on the west side of the gardens. He requested that a maid come to the bathhouse at the hot spring between the rocks. The girl scrubbed the dirt from his skin and the stiffness from his limbs; then he sent her away and eased himself into the scalding water.

After a while he heard Takeshi’s voice in the garden. He called out to him, and his brother came through the bathhouse, undressed, and began to wash himself. Then he joined Shigeru in the water.

“Welcome home! Everyone’s talking about what you achieved. It was wonderful-how I wish I had been with you!”

Shigeru smiled. His brother’s admiration was a shadow of what he had hoped for from his father, but its genuine enthusiasm cheered him. He studied Takeshi: the boy had grown during the summer, his legs much longer, his chest filling out.

“And you met Iida Sadamu. I would have fought and killed him.”

“He was unarmed-and as naked as you are now! By the time he was clothed again, it seemed more sensible to negotiate with him.”

“The Tohan never keep their word,” Takeshi muttered. “Don’t trust him.”

Kiyoshige called from outside, “Lord Shigeru?”

“Come and join us,” Shigeru exclaimed as Kiyoshige appeared at the threshold. “We’ll all eat together.”

“I have already made arrangements to eat with Kitano Tadao. I thought Lord Takeshi might accompany us.”

“I want to eat with my older brother,” Takeshi said, “and hear about his exploits.”

“Shigeru won’t tell you anything,” Kiyoshige said. “He is far too modest. Come with me and I’ll tell you what a hero he is and how much the people love him.”

“So am I to be left alone?” Shigeru said, stretching out in the water and thinking about sleep.

“Not exactly.” There was something in Kiyoshige’s voice that alerted him.

Takeshi unconsciously imitated his brother, stretching in the same indolent way, linking his hands behind him and resting his head on them. “I’ll stay with you,” he said, and at almost the same moment, Shigeru was saying, “Go with Kiyoshige, Takeshi. It will honor Tadao. It is the correct thing to do.”

Kiyoshige said, “I’ll tell you how Sadamu strangled his own hawks!”

“I don’t think you actually witnessed that,” Shigeru observed.

“No, but Komori and the other Chigawa men related it to me.”

Takeshi sat up and looked toward Kiyoshige. “He strangled his own hawks? Why?”

“Presumably because they led him into the Ogre’s Storehouse!”

“I have to hear this.” Takeshi leaped from the water, splashing Shigeru as he went. “You don’t mind?”

“It’s what you should do. Be polite to Tadao. We don’t want him to pine for Inuyama.”

When Kiyoshige and Takeshi had gone, Shigeru dressed in a light cotton robe and returned to his apartments, half expecting to spend the night alone, half expecting… he was not sure what. But his pulse had quickened and his veins tingled, not only from the heat of the water.

It was almost dark. Lamps had been lit in the doorway and inside the main room, making the pale colors of the flowers on the painted screens gleam in the shadows against the golden background. The eyes of the finches among the blossoms glinted as if they were alive. A spray of jasmine had been placed in the alcove, and its fragrance filled the room.

At the same time as he stepped out of his sandals, he could smell beneath the jasmine another scent-perfumed hair and garments. He paused for a moment, allowing himself to experience the moment, the anticipation of pleasure as acute as the pleasure itself would be.

She had had the lamps placed so they lit her face. He recognized her at once: the white skin, the eyes shaped like willow leaves, the strong cheekbones that stole true beauty from her face but gave it character that somehow added to her charm-Akane, the daughter of the stonemason. He heard the soft rustle of her clothes as she bowed to the floor and said quietly, “Lord Otori.”

He sat cross-legged in front of her.

She raised herself and said, “I came to thank Lord Otori for his kindness to myself and my mother. You honored my father in death. We are forever in your debt.”

“I am sorry for your father’s death. The bridge is one of the marvels of the Middle Country. Its construction adds to the glory of the clan. His death enhanced that. I thought it should be commemorated.”

“My family have sent gifts-nothing of any significance, food and wine. It’s asking too great an honor, but may I serve you them now?”

His single instinct was to touch her, to hold her, but he also wanted to treat her with courtesy, to respect her grief; he wanted to know the woman who had cried out in the moment when her father was entombed, not merely the courtesan who would eventually give herself to him because he had expressed a desire for her.

“If you will share them with me,” he replied. His heart was pounding.

She bowed again and went on her knees to the door, where she called quietly to the maids. Her voice was soft, yet she spoke with complete authority. A few moments later he heard the soft pad of the maid’s socked feet, and the women exchanged a few words. Then Akane returned with a tray of food and wine, bowls and shallow dishes.

She gave him one of the dishes and he held it with both hands as she poured wine into it. He drank it in one gulp; she refilled the dish and then, when he had drunk a second time, held out her own so he could pour wine for her.

The food was chosen and prepared to increase the sensitivity of mouth and tongue: the orange melting flesh of sea urchin, slippery oysters and scallops, a delicate broth flavored with ginger and perilla. Then fruits, cool and juice-filled: loquats and peaches. Both of them drank sparingly, just enough to set their senses on fire. By the time they had finished eating, Shigeru felt he had been transported to an enchanted palace where a princess was bewitching him completely.

Watching his face, Akane thought, He has never been in love. He will fall in love for the first time with me.

She was also beginning to ache with desire.

He had not known it would be like this-the driving compulsion to lose himself within the body of this woman, the complete surrender to her skin, her mouth, her fingers. He had expected there would be the physical release-as in dreams or by his own hand-under his control, swift, pleasurable but not overwhelming or annihilating. He knew she was a woman of pleasure, a courtesan who had learned her craft with many men; he was unprepared for the fact that she seemed to adore his body and took the same delight in it as he did in hers. He had never known intimacy, had barely talked to a woman since his childish conversations with Chiyo: it was as if half his self, which had been asleep in darkness most of his life, had suddenly been caressed and startled into life.

“I have been waiting all summer for you,” she said.

“I have been thinking about you since I saw you at the bridge,” he replied. “I am sorry you had to wait so long.”

“Sometimes it’s good to wait. No one appreciates what is easily acquired. I saw you ride away. People said you were going to teach the Tohan a lesson! I knew you would send for me. But the days seemed endless.” She paused for a moment and then said very quietly, “We met once before, you will not remember. It was so long ago. It was I who helped you when your brother nearly drowned.”

“You will not believe how many times I dreamed about you,” he said, marveling at the workings of fate.

He wanted to tell her everything: the torture of the Hidden, the dying children, the courage of Tomasu and Nesutoro, the fierce satisfying skirmish with the Tohan; Iida Sadamu; his disappointment and anger at his father’s reaction; his distrust of his uncles. He knew he should be guarded, that he should trust no one, but he could not help himself. He opened his heart to her as to no one else in his life and found her mind as receptive and willing to accommodate him as her body.

He knew he was in danger of the very thing his father had warned him against-becoming infatuated with Akane. You will not fall in love with her, his father had told him. Yet how could he prevent that happening when she delighted him completely? At midnight it seemed impossible, but when he woke again at dawn, he lay thinking about his father’s words, making a huge effort to pull back from the edge of the pit, as dangerous and inescapable as the Ogre’s Storehouse. He told himself that she was not beautiful, that she was a prostitute, that he could never trust her: she would never bear his children; she was there only to give him pleasure. It was unthinkable to fall in love with such women: he would not repeat his father’s weakness.

She opened her eyes, saw he was awake, and drew him to her again. His body responded and he cried out again at the moment of release, but afterward he spoke to her coldly, told her to leave after the first meal was served, without saying she was to come again or what future arrangements might be made.

He spent the rest of the day in some turmoil, wishing she was still with him, hoping he had not offended her, longing to see her again, yet fearing becoming entrapped by her. He wished he was back in Chigawa-dealing with the Tohan seemed simple and straightforward.

AKANE SENT FOR her palanquin and left with as much dignity as she could muster, but she was offended and mystified by his sudden coldness.

“He doesn’t like me after all,” she said to Haruna. “He seemed to at first, very much. He even talked to me, as if he had never talked to a woman in that way in his life. But he sent me away this morning.” She frowned. “It was almost insulting,” she added. “I won’t forget it.”

“Of course he liked you,” Haruna said. “There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t like you. But he is the heir to the clan: he’s not going to fall in love with you. Don’t expect him to. He’s not another Hayato.”

But Akane still missed Hayato. She liked having men in love with her. She had been flattered by Lord Shigeru’s interest in her, and she found him very pleasing. She wanted to be with him again; she wanted him to love her.

“I don’t expect we’ll be hearing from him again,” she said. “Everyone knows I spent the night at the castle-and why. It’s so humiliating. Can’t you put it about that I spurned him?”

“I give him three days,” Haruna replied.

Akane spent the next few days in a very bad temper, quarreling with Haruna and being spiteful to the other girls. It was still very hot-she would have liked to walk to the volcano, but she could not go out in the sun. The business of the pleasure house went on all around her, day and night, sometimes arousing her desire, sometimes her scorn for the insatiable lust of men. On the evening of the third day, after the sun had set, she walked to the shrine to see the flowers and shrubs planted by the old priest. Some exotic yellow flower whose name she did not know gave out a heavy sweet fragrance, and huge lilies gleamed white in the dusk. The old man was watering them with a wooden bucket, his robe hitched up into his sash.

“What’s up with you, Akane? You’ve been alone all summer! Don’t tell me you’ve gone off men!”

“If I had a grain of sense, I would,” she replied.

“You need one of my amulets! It’ll spark your interest again. Or better still, come and live with me. I’d make you a good husband.”

“I’ll do that,” she said, looking at him fondly. “I’ll make you tea and scrub your back, clean the wax from your ears, and pluck your beard.”

“And keep me warm at night, don’t forget that!” He laughed so much that he began to cough and had to put the bucket down.

“Don’t excite yourself, grandfather,” Akane said. “It’s bad for your health at your age!”

“Ah, no one ever gets too old for that, Akane! Here.” He took a knife from his sash and carefully cut a spray of the yellow flowers. “Put this in your room; it will perfume the whole house.”

“Does it have a special power?” she said.

“Of course. Why else would I give it to you?”

“Do you have spells to make men fall in love?” she asked idly.

He looked curiously at her. “Is that your problem? Who is he?”

“No one. I just wondered.”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “Spells to make them fall in love and charms to bind against love. The plants have many powers, and they share them with me.”

She walked back, carrying the spray, conscious of the fragrance enveloping her. She walked past Haruna’s room and called mockingly, “Three days, eh?”

Haruna stepped out onto the veranda. “Akane! You’re back! Come up for a moment.”

Still holding the yellow flowers, she stepped out of her sandals onto the veranda. Haruna whispered to her, “Mori Kiyoshige is here.”

She went into the room and bowed to him. “Lord Kiyoshige.”

“Lady Akane.” He returned her bow and studied her frankly, his eyes glimmering with amusement and complicity. His courtesy told her everything. She did not allow herself to smile but sat with impassive face and lowered eyes.

“Lord Otori was very satisfied with our last collaboration,” Kiyoshige said. “He has another assignment for me. I am to arrange for a house to be built for you. Lord Otori thought you would prefer to have your own establishment rather than moving to the castle. I’ve spoken to Shiro, the carpenter. He will come tomorrow and discuss the design with you.”

“Where is it to be built?” Akane said.

“There is a suitable piece of land near the castle, by the beach, in a small grove of pines.”

Akane knew the place. “Is it to be my own house?”

“You understand the arrangement, of course?”

“It’s far too great an honor for me,” she murmured.

“Well, everything is written down-servants, money, and so on. Haruna has read it and says she approves.”

“Lord Shigeru is extremely generous,” Haruna said.

Akane pouted. “How long does a house take to build?” she demanded, irritable.

“Not long, if the weather holds.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You may return to the castle now with me, if you have no other plans.”

It irritated her further that he should think she had nothing else to do with her life. “It’s almost dark,” she said. “No one will see me.” She did not want to appear to be smuggled into Shigeru’s rooms.

“I will provide torches,” Kiyoshige said. “We will make a procession, if that is Lady Akane’s wish.”

He made me wait, Akane thought. I will make him wait for me. But only for one night.

“I should read the agreement,” she pleaded. “And discuss it with my mother. I will do that tonight, and tomorrow, if you would be so kind, you may return-a little earlier, I think, before sunset.” She was already imagining how it would look, the palanquin, servants with huge sunshades, the Mori retainers on horseback.

Kiyoshige raised his eyebrows. “Very well,” he agreed.

Haruna brought tea, and Akane served him. When he had left, the women hugged each other.

“A house!” Haruna exclaimed. “And built especially for you by the best carpenter in Hagi!”

“I shall make it so beautiful,” Akane replied, now visualizing the house under the pines, surrounded by the constant sighing of the sea. “I will see Shiro first thing in the morning. He must show me the site-or does that appear too eager?”

“There is no hurry,” Haruna said. “You can take your time.”

The building of the house was delayed by the first typhoons at the end of the summer, but it was sheltered in the lee of the mountain range and was not damaged. It rained hard for a week, and umbrellas replaced the sunshades when Akane made her thrice-weekly visits to the castle. As her relationship with the heir to the clan progressed, she became more flamboyant, and people began to line the street to watch her palanquin go past as if it were part of a festival.

By the time the nights had begun to cool and the maples to put on their brocade, the house was finished. It was built facing south to catch the winter sun, thatched with grass-reed stalks, with wide eaves and deep verandas of polished cypress. The screens were decorated by an artist who had long been one of Haruna’s clients. Akane herself had slept with him several times, though neither of them referred to the past. At her request he painted flowers and birds according to the seasons. Akane chose beautiful bowls and dishes in the local earthenware, made by the most famous craftsmen; mattresses and quilts filled with silk cocoons; carved wooden headrests.

When the house was complete, she had a ceremony performed to purify and bless it. Priests came down from the shrine and performed the rituals, sprinkling water and burning incense. After they had departed, late that night when she lay next to Shigeru, listening to the sea, she marveled at what fate had given her and what her life had become.