Heaven's Net Is Wide

25

The following day they left early in the morning to ride to Terayama. The beauty of the autumn weather and the prospect of seeing Matsuda Shingen raised Shigeru’s spirits a little, even though he had few hopes of the meeting with Maruyama Naomi. He knew her husband was from the Tohan; the husband’s daughter was married to a cousin of Iida Sadamu, Nariaki. Naomi was only a year or so older than Shigeru himself. Despite what everyone kept telling him about the Maruyama way of doing things, he doubted if she had any real power, if she would ever act against the wishes of her husband and his family-which would be those of Iida Sadamu.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more reluctant he was to meet her. Mingled with his fears was a kind of anger at his own family, his father, his uncles, who had allowed this situation to develop. He couldn’t help wondering why they had not approached the Seishuu themselves, years before, when he and Naomi had been children; they were almost the same age; they could have been betrothed then. And why had the Seishuu not considered the Otori heir rather than a binding alliance with the Tohan? Did they, and most of the other clans in the Three Countries, consider the Otori an insignificant force, a declining clan destined now to be wiped out by the Tohan?

By the time they arrived at the foot of the mountain, he had decided he did not want to meet her and hoped she would not be there. The journey had unsettled him further, though he should have been delighted by the rapturous welcome he received along the way. The progress was slowed by so many people wanting to greet him, talk to him, offer presents to him and his men, and meet Takeshi.

“You will have to learn to be more standoffish,” Kiyoshige said, after the fourth or fifth halt to examine some innovative farming technique or be informed about a new taxation levy. “They will eat you alive. You cannot be available to all these people. It’s like being nibbled by a pool full of carp!”

“And we’ll never get to the temple,” Takeshi added.

Shigeru saw what he had become, a sort of symbol for these people who put all their trust and hope in him. If he failed them, they would fall under Tohan rule: he could not bear to see that happen. Yet was he ready to take the measures that would bring war on the whole fief? And he was saddened in some way by the adulation. It had little foundation and was like a fantasy, unrealistic and unsustainable. He wanted their lives to have a sounder base-justice because it was Heaven’s will, not on the whim of some idealized hero.

There were several retainers already at the inn at the foot of the mountain, wearing the Maruyama crest on their surcoats. They stared at Shigeru and Takeshi with undisguised curiosity as the brothers dismounted from the horses, leaving them in Kiyoshige’s care.

“We’ll go straight to the temple,” Shigeru said.

“Yes, I’ve eaten and drunk enough to last me for days,” Takeshi replied, for they had been fed at every stop.

As they made the climb, Shigeru recalled the day when he had made it alone. He had been fifteen-more than a year older than Takeshi was now. He had found the early days almost unbearable, had longed to leave. Would Takeshi find it unendurable? There would be other boys as young as he, but they would be novice monks, not the son of the head of the clan. He thought he might speak to Matsuda, ask him to treat Takeshi leniently, but then corrected himself. Takeshi would be treated by Matsuda as he needed to be, and leniency was the last thing he needed if he was to learn to curb his recklessness and remedy the effects of his mother’s indulgence.

At first Takeshi leaped ahead up the path, but as the climb steepened, his pace slowed. The thought of the coming months was perhaps turning him serious.

They were greeted by the monks with a quiet, undemonstrative pleasure and taken immediately to Matsuda Shingen, now the Abbot of the temple. He made them welcome, openly delighted to see Shigeru again. Matsuda studied Takeshi carefully, but said little to him beyond commenting that in looks, at least, he was very like his brother. Then he called for two young boys, who were in simple clothes and whose heads were shaven, and asked them to take Lord Takeshi and show him around while he spoke to Lord Otori.

The boys left in deferential silence, but before they were beyond the cloisters, Shigeru could hear Takeshi’s eager questions and soon laughter from all three.

“It is very early for your brother to be here,” Matsuda said. “I wonder if he has the maturity…”

“I’m hoping he will learn it here,” Shigeru replied. “He does not receive the discipline he should in Hagi: My parents spoil him, Mori Kiyoshige leads him astray, and he has little respect for anyone. I want him to stay here for at least a year, possibly more. His education and training must be the same as mine-”

“I have other responsibilities now,” Matsuda interrupted gently. “It is not possible for me to absent myself from the temple for long periods, as I did with you.”

“Of course, I understand that. But I hope you will be able to teach him, here, much of what you taught me.”

“If he is willing to learn it, I can promise you I will.”

“I have another reason for sending him here at this time,” Shigeru said. “If we are to be at war next year, he will be out of harm’s way, and if I meet my death on the battlefield, the heir to the clan will be in safe hands. I trust you, where I do not trust my uncles.”

“You are right, in my opinion, both about the coming war and about your uncles,” Matsuda said quietly. “But are the Otori prepared? You must delay as long as possible, while you build up your forces.”

“I suspect Sadamu will attack us early, through Chigawa. I intend to concentrate our defense around Yaegahara.”

“You must beware of a double attack, from the south as well as the east.”

“That is why I have sent Irie to Noguchi to claim his support. And my wife’s father will guarantee the support of Kushimoto.”

“I’m afraid next year is too soon,” Matsuda said. “Try not to provoke Sadamu into an early attack.”

“I must be prepared, yet I must not provoke him,” Shigeru said, smiling. “It is not possible to do both.”

“Whatever you choose to do, you have my support always,” Matsuda said. “And Lord Takeshi will be safe while he stays with us.”

As Shigeru rose to leave, the older man said, “Let us walk in the gardens for a while. It is such a beautiful day.”

Shigeru followed him along the polished wooden floor that gleamed in the dim light: sunlight spilled through the open doors at the end of the corridor, and he could smell wood smoke and pine leaves from outside, mingled with incense from the main hall of the temple.

At the end of the corridor they crossed a small courtyard and stepped into another wide room, whose doors were all open onto the garden beyond. The matting glowed gold. Two painted screens stood at either end; he had seen them often before but never failed to be moved by their beauty. When he had first come to the temple, the other boys had recounted the legends about their creator, the artist Sesshu, who had lived in the temple for many years. The bare panel was said to have once been painted with birds, so lifelike they all took flight, and the gardeners complained Sesshu’s horses roamed at night, trampling and eating the crops, and demanded he should tether them.

A wide veranda gave onto the garden, facing south, warm with the autumn sunshine. They paused on the silvered cypress wood boards while a monk brought sandals, but before Matsuda stepped into his, the other man whispered to him.

“Ah!” Matsuda said. “It seems my presence is requested for a few moments. If you will excuse me, Lord Shigeru, I’ll join you later.”

Shigeru could hear the waterfall in the distance and walked toward it, for it was one of his favorite parts of the garden. To his left lay the drop to the valley below: the slopes turning crimson and gold, the ranges beyond folding one after the other against the sky, already hazy in the afternoon light. To his right, the mountain itself formed the background to the garden, deep green with cedars, against which bamboo trunks stood out, slender and graceful, and the white splash of the waterfall fell like spun threads over the gleaming rocks. He climbed a little among the ferns and looked back down on the garden. From here the rocks looked like mountains, the shrubs like entire forests. He could see the whole of the Middle Country in this small plot of land, its ranges and rivers. Then the illusion was broken by a figure appearing through the bushes-but not before, for a moment, she had seemed like a goddess walking through her creation.

He saw a young woman of great beauty, which surprised him, for no one had told him she was beautiful. Her hair, long and thick, framed her pale face with its small mouth and leaf-shaped eyes. She wore a robe of a yellow the same color as the falling ginkgo leaves, embroidered with golden pheasants. She made no sign of having seen him but went to the edge of the stream where a wooden stepped bridge had been built across the iris beds and gazed away from him out over the valley, as though drinking in the perfection of the view.

Despite her beauty-or maybe even because of it: he had been imagining her as a ruler; now he saw her as a woman, a very young one-he thought he would leave without speaking to her; but she stood between him and his way out. He thought, If she speaks to me, I will stop. If she says nothing, I will simply pass by her.

He stepped down the path and across the stream. She turned at the sound of his feet on the small pebbles of the path and their eyes met.

“Lord Otori?” she said.

In the years that followed, he would watch her grow into a woman of composure and self-control. At that moment he was aware of the girl she still was, not much older than him, despite her apparent calmness, unsure, not quite grown up, although she was a married woman and already a mother.

He bowed in response but said nothing, and she went on, a little hurriedly, “I am Maruyama Naomi. I’ve always wanted to see this garden. I am a great admirer of the work of Sesshu. He was a frequent visitor to my hometown. We almost consider him one of ours.”

“Sesshu must belong to the entire world,” Shigeru replied. “Not even the Otori can claim to own him. But I was thinking just now how this garden reflects the Middle Country in miniature.”

“You must know it well?”

“I spent a year here. I have brought my brother for a similar stay.”

“I saw him earlier; he is like you.” She smiled. “And then you will return to Hagi?”

“Yes, I’ll spend the winter there.”

They were both silent after this brief exchange. The noise from the waterfall seemed even louder. A flock of sparrows rose from the ground and fluttered into the branches of a maple tree, scattering the crimson leaves.

There is no point in saying anything, Shigeru thought. She is only a girl: she can be no help to me.

“Lord Otori is fond of hawking, I believe,” she said suddenly.

“When I have the time; it is a fine pursuit.”

“Did the plains of Kibi give you satisfaction?”

“I enjoyed the outing but had hoped for a greater catch.”

“Sometimes the catch is greater than you bargain for,” she said, with the hint of a smile. “As it must have been at Chigawa!”

“Does everyone know this story?” Shigeru asked.

“Probably too many people for your good,” she said, gazing intently at his face. “You are in great danger.” She gestured toward the garden. “The Middle Country is open to the east.”

“But protected to the west?” he questioned.

“Let us walk a little,” she said, without replying directly. “There is a pavilion, I believe. My woman will make sure no one disturbs us.

“You may know,” she said when they were seated in the pavilion, “that my marriage allies the Maruyama closely with the Tohan. Everyone expects this to bring our domain into line with Iida. But I am reluctant to allow ourselves to be controlled by the Tohan. I am afraid above all that our ancient tradition of inheriting from mother to daughter will be abolished. I have a three-year-old daughter. I am determined she will inherit from me. Despite my marriage, despite the alliance, I will always resist any attempt to change this.

“My husband has told me repeatedly how much the Iida family dislike and resent this tradition. The Iida hate everything that they suspect questions or challenges their right to absolute power. I have been to Inuyama. I have seen the way they treat their women, how women have been reduced, over the years in which the warrior class has risen to power, to the level of objects, to be used in marriage alliances or to give their husbands children but never to be allowed equal rank or even any real power. Only Maruyama is different.”

She looked away over the valley, and then her eyes returned to his face. “Will Lord Otori help me to protect my domain and my people?”

“I was looking to the Seishuu for help,” he admitted.

“Then we must help each other. We will be allies.”

“Can you bring the whole of the West into alliance with the Otori?” he queried, and added, “I need more than sympathy. I don’t mean to be insulting, but I have seen how the Iida operate in the East, the way they have dominated the Tohan, destroying those families that will not submit to them; their use of children, especially daughters, as hostages. Forgive me, but you are particularly vulnerable. You say you have a three-year-old daughter. Your husband has strong ties with the Iida family; your daughter will be sent to Inuyama as soon as she is old enough.”

“Maybe. I have to be prepared for that, but at the moment not even Iida Sadamu has the power to demand hostages from the Maruyama. And if the Otori can hold him in check, he never will.”

“The Middle Country is a useful defense,” he said, with some bitterness. “But if we fall, you will follow.”

“The Seishuu know this,” she replied. “That is why Iida will find no allies among us.”

“We cannot fight on two fronts,” he said. “But I also should not leave Yamagata undefended, to the south and west.”

“You have my promise that we will not attack, nor permit any Tohan incursions.”

He could not help staring at her, filled with doubt. How could she make such assurances? Even Arai Daiichi, a man, an eldest son, had not been able to promise this. She could have come to him with Iida’s knowledge, acting as a decoy to give him false security.

“You can trust me,” she said quietly. “I swear it.”

So Muto Shizuka had also sworn to him-and in front of witnesses. Here they were overheard by no one other than the sparrows.

“Do you trust no one?” she questioned, when he had been silent for a long time.

“I trust Matsuda Shingen,” he said.

“Then I will swear it in front of him.”

“I believe your intention,” Shigeru said. “It is your ability to achieve it that I have to doubt.”

“Because I am a woman?”

He saw anger flash briefly in her face and felt obscurely disappointed in himself for persisting in insulting her. “Forgive me,” he said. “Not only that-because of the circumstances-”

She interrupted him. “If we are to deal with each other, we must be honest from the start. You think I am not used to the way you look at me. I have been accustomed to it since I was a child. I know all your thoughts: I have had them voiced to me with far less courtesy and forbearance than you show, all my life. I am used to dealing with men, older than you, with less hereditary power maybe, but certainly with more deviousness. I know how to achieve my own ends and how to enforce my will. My clan obey me, I am surrounded by retainers I can trust. Where is my husband now, do you suppose? He stayed in Maruyama, on my orders. I travel without him when I please.” She stared at him, holding his gaze. “Our alliance will only work, Lord Otori, if you understand all of this.”

Something was exchanged between them, some deep recognition. She spoke from the same assurance of power that he had, so profound it was as if it formed the marrow of his bones. They had both been raised in the same way, to be the head of their clan. She was his equal; she was Iida Sadamu’s equal.

“Lady Maruyama,” he said formally. “I trust you and I accept your offer of alliance. Thank you. You have my deepest gratitude.”

She replied in similar vein. “Lord Otori, from today the Maruyama and the Otori are allies. I am deeply grateful to you for championing my cause.”

He felt the smile break out on his face, and she also smiled frankly at him. The moment went on a little too long, and she spoke into a silence that had become almost awkward. “Will you return to the women’s rooms with me? I will prepare tea.”

“Gladly,” he replied.

She bowed deeply and rose to her feet. Shigeru followed her along the path between the rocks and the dark-leafed shrubs. They walked around the side of the main halls and courtyards of the temple and descended the slope to where a group of small buildings were set aside for the use of women visitors. The main guest rooms lay a little farther up the hill, around the hot springs, and beyond them, beneath the huge cedars, were the graves of the Otori lords and their retainers, the moss-covered headstones and lanterns dating back for hundreds of years. Doves were coo-cooing from the roofs, and the sparrows chattered in the eaves. From the forest beyond came the poignant autumn cry of kites. In the inner depths of the temple, a bell pealed out clearly.

“It will be cold tonight,” Lady Maruyama remarked.

“Will you stay here?”

“No, I will stay at the inn at the foot of the mountain and return to Maruyama tomorrow. You will remain here for a few days?”

“Two at most. I must make sure my brother is settled in, and there are several matters on which I need to seek Matsuda’s advice. Then I have various affairs to deal with in Yamagata -the fief is administered from there at this time of year. But I will be back in Hagi before the solstice, before the snow.”

They came to the veranda of the women’s guesthouse, and stepped out of their shoes onto the boards. A woman a few years older than Naomi came out to greet them.

“This is my companion, Sugita Sachie,” Lady Maruyama said.

“Please come in, Lord Otori. It is a very great honor.”

When they were seated, Sachie brought tea utensils and hot water, and Lady Maruyama prepared the tea. Her movements were precise and elegant; the tea was bitter and foaming. After they had drunk, Lady Maruyama said, “You are acquainted with Sachie’s older sister, I believe. She is married to Otori Eijiro.”

Shigeru smiled. “I am hoping to break my journey with them on the way home. It will be a pleasure to report this meeting to your sister. I admire your brother-in-law greatly.”

“Sachie writes very often to her sister,” Lady Maruyama said. “You may receive messages from her, from time to time.”

“I look forward to it,” Shigeru said. The family connection reassured him. They conversed in general terms about Eijiro’s family and then about painting and poetry. Her education seemed as broad as his, and she could obviously read men’s language. Then the conversation became more personal: he found himself sharing with her his concerns for the well-being of the people, his desire for justice.

“Our recent confrontation with the Tohan in the East took place because they came across the borders and were torturing and killing our people.”

He remembered the woman from Chigawa who had told him that many of her sect, the Hidden, sought refuge in Maruyama; indeed, Nesutoro, the man he had rescued, was on his way there with Shigeru’s letters of protection.

“We heard something of this.” Lady Maruyama exchanged a swift glance with Sachie. “The Tohan persecution of the Hidden is another reason why I will never let them take over Maruyama. I do not speak of this openly, and I am trusting you not to divulge it, but these people are under my protection.”

“I know very little of them,” he replied, half wanting to ask her more, directly. “But I find torture abhorrent: its use to force people to deny a deeply held belief is barbaric, not worthy of our class.”

“Then we have another reason to unite against Iida,” she said.

He rose to take his leave; she remained seated but bowed deeply to the ground, her hair parting slightly to reveal the nape of her neck. He was surprised and rather ashamed of the strength of his desire to slide his hands under the silky mass and feel the shape of her head in the cup of his palms.