Heaven's Net Is Wide

44

After her daughter, Mariko, went to Inuyama as a hostage at the age of seven, Maruyama Naomi traveled twice yearly to Iida Sadamu’s city, now recognized as the capital of the Three Countries. Sometimes when the weather was settled, she overcame her fears of the sea and took a boat from Hofu; more often she went by way of Yamagata, frequently stopping for several days there in order to visit the temple at Terayama, and then following the highway to Inuyama. She rode on horseback through her own domain to the western border of the Middle Country, but from there on traveled in a palanquin, careful to present herself as a fragile woman, no threat to the warlord who now held her daughter and would use her in any way he could to gain control over her domain and over the West. Iida was arming and training more men, forcing more of the smaller families to submit to him or be annihilated. Mostly they submitted but reluctantly; risings against Iida erupted frequently among both warriors and farmers, leading to increased suppression and persecution, and the Seishuu were increasingly concerned that he would take by force what he could see no way to gain through marriage.

Iida made a point of always receiving her himself when she came to Inuyama, of treating her with great courtesy, heaping gifts on her, flattering and praising her. She found his attentions distasteful yet could not avoid them without insulting him. Each time she saw her daughter, Mariko had grown; she took after her father, would not be called beautiful but had his kindness and intelligence, and did her utmost to spare her mother pain. In company she seemed resigned to her fate but wept silently in private, struggling to control her feelings and begging her mother’s forgiveness. She was homesick for Maruyama, for its gentler climate and for the freedom she had known in childhood. In Inuyama, though Lady Iida treated her kindly, she was, like all women in the deep interior, always afraid of the sudden rages of the warlord and the brutality of his retainers.

Naomi refined the art of hiding her feelings, of appearing to be pliable and submissive while retaining the independence and autonomy of her clan and her country. She would give no one any excuse to kill her or usurp her. Carefully and methodically she built up a network of support within her domain and throughout the West. She traveled a great deal, from one side of the Three Countries to the other, in spring and autumn, usually in some splendor with her senior retainer Sugita Haruki and at least twenty men at arms, as well as her companion, Sachie, and other women; sometimes less ostentatiously, with only Sachie and a handful of men. Often the demands of government meant Sugita could serve her best by staying in Maruyama.

Occasionally Naomi went by way of Shirakawa and Noguchi. Her mother’s sister was married to Lord Shirakawa, and strong bonds of affection tied the two women; both of them had daughters who were hostages, for the Shirakawa’s eldest daughter, Kaede, had been sent to Noguchi castle when she turned seven. There were fears that the girl was not well treated there: the Noguchi, besides being traitors who had caused the downfall of the Otori, had the reputation of cruelty. Lord Noguchi, it was said, strove to impress Iida by equaling him in brutality. The year Mariko turned eleven and Kaede thirteen (and Tomasu in Mino fifteen), Lady Maruyama visited the castle and was disturbed to find there was no sign of the Shirakawa girl among the women of the deep interior. When she made inquiries, replies were evasive, even dismissive, and her fears intensified. She noticed Arai Daiichi among the castle guard. Though his father was in ill health back in Kumamoto and he had three younger brothers ready to dispute the domain, he had not been allowed to return home; it seemed he would lose his inheritance by default, Iida’s punishment for the approaches he had made to Otori Shigeru, before Yaegahara, nine years ago.

Naomi was staying in one of the mansions that belonged to Noguchi yet lay beyond the castle walls. The breeze was warm and soft, the cherry blossoms in the gardens on the point of bursting into flower. She was restless and almost febrile. The onset of spring had unsettled her; her very existence seemed intolerable to her. She slept badly, tormented by desire, longing for Shigeru’s presence, not knowing how long she could continue this half-life; her entire womanhood seemed to have been spent in this semideprived state, neither married nor free, sustained by the barest grains of memories. Sometimes in her darkest moments she contemplated sacrificing her child for the chance of marrying Shigeru; they would retreat to Maruyama and prepare for open battle. Then she would remember Mariko’s sweetness and courage, and shame and remorse would swamp her. All these emotions were compounded by her anxiety for Shirakawa Kaede, not only for the girl’s sake but also because, after Mariko, Kaede was her closest female relative-heir to Maruyama if she and her daughter were to die.

As she had hoped, Arai came that evening to call on her. The visit was made openly: they were both from the Seishuu; it was to be expected that they would meet. Muto Shizuka accompanied him. Naomi greeted her with mixed feelings. Shizuka had delivered Shigeru’s farewell letter to Maruyama, and just to recall that time now filled Naomi with the same confusion of grief, jealousy, and despair. Six years had passed, but her emotions had become no less intense. Their paths had crossed from time to time, and Shizuka had brought some news of Shigeru. Now Naomi waited with the same blend of feelings: she would hear news of him, but Shizuka had been with him, had heard his voice, knew all his secrets, perhaps even felt his touch. This last thought was unendurable to her. He had promised her he would lie with no one but her, but six years… surely no man could restrain himself for so long. And Shizuka was so attractive…

They exchanged courtesies, and Sachie brought tea. After she had served her guests, Naomi said, “Lord Arai is now captain of the guard. I suppose you rarely see Lord Shirakawa’s daughter.”

He drank and said, “I would be happy if I only saw her rarely, for that would mean she was treated as she should be and welcomed into the Noguchi family. I see all too much of her, and so do all the guards!”

“At least she is alive,” Naomi exclaimed. “I was afraid she had died and that the Noguchi were concealing it.”

“They treat her like a servant,” Arai replied angrily. “She lives with the maids and is expected to share their duties. Her father is not allowed to see her. She is just at the point of becoming a woman; she is a very beautiful girl. The guards lay bets on who will be the first to seduce her. I do my best to protect her. They know I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on her. But it is shameful to treat a girl from her family in such a way!” He broke off abruptly. “I cannot say more; I’ve sworn allegiance to Lord Noguchi, for better or worse, and I must live with my fate.”

“But not forever,” Naomi said in a low voice. Arai glanced at Shizuka, who seemed to listen for a moment before nodding her head slightly to him.

He said in a whisper, “Do you know what Lord Otori’s intentions are? We hear little of him-men say he has gone soft and has abandoned honor for the sake of being allowed to live.”

“I believe he is very patient,” she said. “As we all must be. But I am not in contact with him.” She looked at Shizuka, thinking she might speak, but Shizuka said nothing.

“I have had to learn patience here,” Arai replied bitterly. “We are divided and made helpless; we all sit separately in the dark regretting what might have been. Will anything ever change? I will lose Kumamoto altogether if my father dies and I am still festering here. Better to act and fail than to continue like this!”

Naomi could think of nothing to say in response other than to urge him to continue to be patient, but before she could say anything, Shizuka made a sign to Arai. Immediately he began to speak about the weather. Naomi replied with inquiries as to the health of his wife.

“She has recently had her first child-a son,” Arai said abruptly.

Naomi looked briefly toward Shizuka, but the girl’s face gave nothing away. Naomi had often thought enviously how lucky she was, able to live openly with the man she loved and bear his children. Yet Shizuka must now feel jealousy toward her lover’s wife and his legitimate son. And what would happen to the two older boys?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice outside; the maid slid the door open to reveal one of Arai’s guards kneeling outside. He brought a message that the captain’s presence was required back at the castle.

Arai left, saying no more beyond formal words of parting. She was glad he would be watching over Kaede, yet his attitude worried her. He was so impatient: one small event would set him off, and then suspicion would fall on her and her child. Shigeru’s years of patient waiting would be undone. Shizuka stayed for a little longer, but the residence became more busy as the maids began to prepare the bath and the evening meal, and they spoke only of trivial things. However, before she left, Shizuka said, “I am traveling to Yamagata tomorrow. I am taking my sons to stay with my family in the mountains. Perhaps we could be company for each other on the road?”

Naomi was immediately seized by a desire to go to Terayama and walk in the peaceful gardens where she had first met Shigeru and felt the shock of recognition and the conviction that they were bound together from a former life. She had planned to go to the port of Hofu and travel by ship to the mouth of the Inugawa and from there along the river upstream to Inuyama, but the prospect of the sea voyage was already unsettling her; there was no reason why she should not change her plans and go by the high road by way of Yamagata with Shizuka.

SHE HAD ORDERED the palanquin for the journey, but as soon as they were beyond the outskirts of the town, she got out and mounted her horse, which one of the men led alongside his own. Shizuka was also riding: her younger son, who was about seven years old, sat behind her, but the older son had his own small horse, which he handled confidently and skillfully.

The sight of the boys filled her with sorrow: for her own son who would have been about the same age as Zenko, had he lived, and for the unborn children that would never exist-Shigeru’s sons. She wanted to bring them into being through the sheer force of her longing and her will: they would be like these boys, with strong limbs, thick glossy hair, and fearless black eyes.

Zenko rode with the men ahead: they treated him with respect but teased him affectionately. The laughter and jokes made the younger boy jealous, and at the first rest stop he begged to be allowed to ride with his brother. One of the guards good-naturedly took him on the back of his horse, and the two women found themselves virtually alone on the road as it wound along the banks of the river-the western border of the Middle Country. Within every bend, rice fields had been cultivated, and the seedlings were being planted to the accompaniment of singing and drum beating. Herons and egrets stalked through the shallow water, and the bush warbler’s song erupted in the forest. The trees all bore new leaves of brilliant green, and wild flowers spilled over the banks. Sweet chestnut catkins attracted hundreds of insects; the air was warm, but it was still chilly in the shade of the forest.

Naomi could control her impatience no longer. “Have you seen Lord Otori?” she questioned.

“I see him from time to time,” Shizuka said, “but I have not been to Hagi this year. Last year I saw him in the spring and in the autumn.”

Tears sprang into Naomi’s eyes, astonishing her. She said nothing, not trusting her voice. Even though she turned her head away, as if she were taking in the beauty of the view, Shizuka must have noticed her distress, for she went on to say, “I am sorry, lady, that I see him and you do not. He does not forget you; he thinks of you all the time and longs for you.”

“He speaks to you of this?” Naomi said, outraged that he should share their secrets, bitterly jealous of this woman who saw him when she could not.

“He does not need to. We speak of other things that it is safest for all of us not to divulge. You were right when you told Arai that Lord Otori is patient. Moreover, he is devious and hides his true self from the world. But he never forgets his hidden ambition-to see Iida dead and to marry you.”

It thrilled her to hear it spoken of openly by another person. She looked directly at Shizuka and said, “Will it happen?”

“I hope for it with all my heart,” Shizuka said.

“And Lord Otori is well?” She simply wanted to keep speaking his name, to keep talking about him.

“He is; he maintains his estates with great success, he travels a lot, sometimes with my uncle, Kenji. They have become good friends. Lord Takeshi is also very close to him and has grown into a fine young man. Lord Otori is admired by everyone.”

“There is no one like him,” Naomi said quietly.

“I do not believe there is,” Shizuka agreed.

They rode in silence for a while, Naomi brooding on Shigeru. It was eight years since she had met him at Seisenji, six years since she had last set eyes on him. Yet on this spring journey she felt like a girl again, her whole body longing to be touched, longing to be part of the lush and fertile landscape pulsating with the energy of life.

Finally she said, “You will spend the summer with your family?”

“The boys will,” Shizuka replied. “I will return to Noguchi unless…”

“Unless what?” Naomi prompted.

Shizuka did not answer but rode in silence for a while. Then she said quietly, “How much do you really know about me?”

“In his letter Lord Otori told me that you had sworn to help him, that you are from the Tribe, and that I must tell no one. I know that you have lived with Lord Arai for many years; he seems to care deeply for you.”

“Then I can say this much. Unless the Tribe issues me other instructions, for the time being, they are happy for me to stay with Arai.”

“I thought you were free to make your own decisions,” Naomi said.

“Is any woman ever free? You and I, for different reasons, have more freedom than most, yet even we cannot act as we might wish. Men are brutal and ruthless: they act as if they love us, but our feelings do not matter to them. As you heard last night, Arai’s wife has just had a child. She knows of my existence and the boys’. Arai lives openly with me and has done so since I was fifteen years old, but he has not acknowledged my sons, though he seems to love and be proud of them. Ten years is a long time in a man’s life. I daresay one day he will tire of me and want to dispose of me. I have no illusions about the world, you will realize. Accidents happen to children…” She glanced at Naomi’s face. “Forgive me, I did not mean to open old wounds. But I do not intend to leave my sons where harm can come to them. Besides, they bear the name of Muto: they are Tribe children. It is time for them to begin their training, as I did at their age.”

“What is that training?” Naomi asked curiously. “What does it equip you for?”

“You must know of the activities of the Tribe, Lady Maruyama. Most rulers use them from time to time.”

“I do not know of any Tribe members in Maruyama, and I have never employed them,” Naomi exclaimed. After a moment she said, “Maybe I should!”

“Did Lord Otori not tell you about your groom, Bunta?”

Naomi swung round in the saddle. Bunta rode some way behind them, alongside Sachie. “Bunta is from the Tribe?”

“It was from him that I learned of your meetings with Lord Otori.”

“I will have him executed,” Naomi said in fury. “Sachie said he would keep my secrets!”

“He kept them from everybody except me. Luckily he told me, for I’ve been able to protect you both. And I have told no one else. Say nothing and do nothing about him. He is able to keep me informed of your whereabouts and your safety. If you ever need to get hold of me, you can do it through him.”

Naomi struggled to contain her astonishment and anger. Shizuka had revealed all these things perfectly calmly, and she was smiling now. Trying to match her composure, Naomi said, “Lord Otori told me you had sworn allegiance to him. Does he hope to use the Tribe in some way? Against Iida, I mean?” And then she said, “Would you be able to…?”

She stopped, unable to voice the idea out loud, afraid that even in this sunny landscape where they seemingly rode alone, spies would overhear them.

“Lord Otori is waiting for the right moment,” Shizuka murmured, so quietly Naomi could hardly hear her. “And then he will act.”

Shizuka’s company raised Naomi’s spirits and made her hopeful, and her cheerful mood continued after they parted in Yamagata. Shizuka went, she said, to her uncle’s house. Naomi spent the night in an inn before traveling on the next day to the temple with Sachie, two guards, and Bunta. The men stayed with the horses at the resting place at the foot of the temple, and Naomi and Sachie climbed the steep path alone.

They left early in the morning: dew edged the tips of the bamboo grass and turned spiders’ webs into jewels. As always, she felt the spiritual peace of the temple drawing her toward it, and as the two women walked in silence, she felt the familiar sense of awe settle over her. Naomi’s head was covered by a wide shawl, and she wore simple clothes, like an ordinary pilgrim. She had not sent messengers ahead, and her arrival was unexpected.

In the main courtyard and around the women’s guest room, the cherry blossoms were already past their peak, and the pink and white petals lay thick on the ground. Scarlet azaleas and peonies, white with red tips, were just coming into bloom.

Naomi walked in the gardens and sat for a long time by the pool, watching the red and gold carp milling below the surface of the water. She had begun to believe that she was indeed just a simple pilgrim, divested of all the cares and anxieties of her life, when her reverie was interrupted by the appearance of the Abbot, Matsuda Shingen.

He came quickly toward her.

“Lady Maruyama! I had no idea you were here. Forgive me for not welcoming you before.”

“Lord Abbot.” She bowed to the ground.

“This is unexpected-but of course we are always honored by your presence…”

He seemed to finish on a questioning note. When she made no response, he said, very quietly, “Lord Shigeru is here.”

The blood rushed through her body as though it would burst out. She felt her eyes widen like a madwoman’s, and she struggled to control herself.

“I did not know,” she said calmly. “I hope Lord Otori is in good health.” It was all she could manage. I should never have come. His presence must have drawn me here. I must leave at once. If I do not see him, I will die.

“He is making a retreat in the mountains,” Matsuda replied. “He comes here from time to time-though we have not seen him for many months. I thought perhaps an arrangement had been made-like the previous time.”

“No,” she replied hurriedly. “It is a coincidence.”

“So I do not need to send a message to Lord Shigeru?”

“Certainly not. I must not intrude on his meditation-and in any case, it is better than we do not meet.”

He seemed to gaze searchingly at her, but he did not press the subject.

They went on to speak of other things: the situation at Maruyama, Naomi’s daughter, the beauty of the spring weather. Then he excused himself, and she remained alone while the day drew to its close and a silver sickle moon rose above the mountains, accompanied by the evening star.

The chill air of night finally drove her inside. Sachie was even more attentive than usual. Naomi felt her companion’s concern and longed to talk to her but did not dare: once she began to unburden herself, she feared she would lose all control. She bathed in the hot springs beneath moon and starlight, aware of the whiteness of her skin through the steam and the water, ate a little, and retired early before the moon was even halfway across the heaven. She lay awake most of the night, thinking of the moon and how her body followed its cycle. As the moon began to increase, she knew she was at her most fertile: all the more reason not to see him, for to conceive a child now would be a disaster; yet her body, ignorant of all her fears, longed for him with its own animal innocence.

Toward dawn she slept a little but was woken by the insistent cries of sparrows beneath the eaves, driven by spring to mate and nest. She rose quietly and put on a robe but not quietly enough for Sachie, who woke and said, “Lady? Can I fetch you anything?”

“No. I will walk a little outside before the sun is up. Then we will return to Yamagata.”

“I will come with you,” Sachie said, pushing aside the quilt.

Naomi heard herself say, “I am not going far. I would rather be alone.”

“Very well,” Sachie replied, after a moment.

I am possessed, Naomi thought, and indeed she seemed to be moving without volition, as if drawn by spirits through the dew-soaked garden and up into the mountain.

The world had never seemed more beautiful as the mist that hung around the peaks gradually dissolved and the light turned from gray to gold. She had meant to return once the sun had cleared the steep range to the east, but even after that, when the air became warmer, she found reasons to keep walking-just around the next bend, just to look at the view over the valley-until the path leveled out into a small clearing where a huge oak rose from the spring grass.

Shigeru lay on his back, his arms behind his head. At first she thought he must be asleep, but as she approached, she saw his eyes were wide open.

It must be a dream, she thought. I will awaken soon, and she did what she would have done in the dream, lay down next to him, taking him in her arms, laying her head on his chest, saying nothing.

She could feel his heart beating against the flesh and bones of her face. She breathed at the same time as he did. He turned slightly and put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

The ache of separation dissolved. She felt the tension and fear of the last years drain from her. All she could think about was his breath, his heartbeat, the urgency and hardness of his body, her complete desire for him, and his for her.

Afterward she thought, Now I will wake up, but the scene did not change suddenly. The air was warm on her face, the birds sang in the forest, the ground beneath her was hard, the grass damp.

Shigeru said, “Why are you here?”

“I am on my way to Inuyama. I felt I wanted to see the gardens. I did not know you were here. Matsuda told me last night. I was going to leave at once, but this morning something drew me to walk this way.” She stopped and shivered. “It was as if I was under a spell. You have bewitched me.”

“I could say the same. I could not sleep last night-I was to visit Matsuda today before I return to Hagi. I thought I would do it early and then go back to my mountain hut. I lived there with Matsuda when I was fifteen; I was his pupil. I was moved to rest beneath this tree. It has a special significance for me, for I once saw a houou there-the sacred bird of peace and justice. I hoped to see it again, but I am afraid it will not be found in the Three Countries while Iida lives.”

The mention of Iida’s name reminded her of the fear that hovered all around, yet in this place, with him, she felt protected from it.

“I feel like a village girl,” she said wistfully. “Sneaking away with my young man.”

“I will go and announce to your parents that we are betrothed,” he said. “We will be married before the shrine, and the whole village will celebrate and drink too much!”

“Will I have to leave my family and move to your father’s house?”

“Yes, of course, and my mother will order you around and make you cry, and I won’t be able to stand up for you, or all the village men will laugh at me for being besotted with my wife! But at night I will make you happy and tell you how much I love you, and we will make lots of children together.”

She wished he had not said those words, even jokingly. It was as though he had spoken something into existence. She tried to put her fears from her.

“I came with Muto Shizuka as far as Yamagata, and before that I was in Noguchi, where I met Arai Daiichi. He asked about your intentions, having heard that you were interested only in farming.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Only that you were patient, which Arai is not. He is on the verge of rebelling, I think. It will only take one small incident or insult to set him off.”

“He must not act alone or precipitously. It would be too easy now for Iida to crush him and eliminate him.”

“Shizuka and I talked about the Tribe. An idea came to me that we might use them. Lord Shigeru, we cannot go on like this. We must act. We must kill Iida. Surely if we cannot confront him in battle, we can find someone to assassinate him!”

“I have thought the same. I have even spoken to Shizuka about it. She has indicated that she would not be unwilling, but I am reluctant to ask such a thing of her. She is a woman; she has children. I wish I could fight Iida man to man, but I fear if I go to Inuyama, I will simply be putting myself into his hands.”

They were both silent for a moment, thinking of the young Yanagi warrior who had died on the castle wall.

Shigeru said, “The Tribe do not want Iida removed: he employs many of them. So we could only work with someone in whom we had complete trust, otherwise we run the risk of simply revealing our plans to the Tribe in general and to the Tohan. As far as I can see, there is no one apart from Shizuka.”

Naomi whispered, “I will be in Inuyama in a few weeks. I will be in his presence.”

“You must not even think of it!” Shigeru said in alarm. “Whatever your fighting skills, you will be no match for him, and he is surrounded at all times by warriors, hidden guards, and members of the Tribe. You and your daughter would both die, and if you are dead, my life becomes meaningless. We must continue to dissemble, to do nothing to arouse his suspicions, to wait for the right moment to reveal itself to us.”

“And the right assassin,” Naomi said.

“That too.”

“I must go back. Sachie will be worrying about me. I don’t want anyone coming in search of me.”

“I will walk with you.”

“No! We must not be seen together. I will set out for Yamagata as soon as I get back to the temple. Do not come there today.”

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose you are right. I will go back to my solitary hut for another night.”

She felt tears threaten suddenly and stood to hide them. “If only I were just a village girl! But I have heavy responsibilities-to my clan, to my daughter.”

“Lady Maruyama,” he said formally as he, too, got to his feet. “Don’t despair. It will not be for much longer.” She nodded, not daring to speak. Neither of them looked at each other again. He bent and gathered up his belongings, put the sword in his belt, and walked away up the mountain path, while she went back the way she had come, her body still ecstatic from the encounter, her mind already skittering with fear.

SHE SPENT days of the journey trying to compose herself, calling on all the methods she had been taught since childhood to bring mind and body under control. She told herself she must never have such a meeting again, that she must stop behaving like a foolish girl infatuated with a farmer. If there were to be a future for Shigeru and herself together, it could only come through their self-control and discretion in the present. But already she knew in the deepest parts of both body and mind that it was too late to be discreet. She knew she had already conceived a child, a child she longed to have but which must not be born.

She considered returning immediately to Maruyama, but such an action might offend Iida and increase his suspicions to the point of harming Mariko. She felt she must continue her journey: she was expected at Inuyama; messengers had already been sent. Iida would never be convinced by any excuses of sickness; he would only be insulted. She could do nothing other than complete the journey as planned-and continue to pretend.

Her journey led her through the heart of the Middle Country-the former Otori lands, which had been ceded to the Tohan clan after Yaegahara. The local people had resisted becoming Tohan and had borne the brunt of the Eastern clan’s cruelty and oppression. She overheard little on the road and in the overnight lodging places, for the formerly ebullient people had become taciturn and suspicious, and with good reason. She saw several signs of recent executions, and every village sported a notice board declaring penalties for breaking regulations-most of them involving torture and death. At the fork where the highway divided, the northern road leading to Chigawa, the eastern to Inuyama, the palanquin bearers stopped for a rest outside a small inn that served tea, bowls of rice and noodles, and dried fish. As Naomi alighted, her eyes fell on another notice board. Here, from its roof, a large gray heron had been suspended by its feet. It was barely alive; it flapped its wings sporadically and opened and closed its beak in weakened pain.

Naomi was deeply distressed by the sight, repelled by the unnecessary cruelty. She called to the men to cut the bird down. Their approach alarmed it, and it died struggling against their attempts to save it. As they laid it down on the ground before her, she knelt and touched the dulled plumage, saw its eyes film.

The old man who kept the inn hurried out and said in alarm, “Lady, you should not touch it. We will all be punished.”

“It is insulting to Heaven to treat its creatures so,” she replied. “It must surely bring bad luck to all travelers.”

“It is only a bird and we are men,” he muttered.

“Why does anyone torture a bird? What does it mean?”

“It’s a warning.” He would say no more, and she knew she should not insist for his own safety, but the memory continued to trouble her as she made the final stage of the journey through the mountains that surrounded Inuyama. The fair spring weather continued, but Naomi could not enjoy the blue sky, the soft southern breeze. Everything had been darkened by the dying heron.

She stayed for the last night, a few hours’ distance from the capital, in a small village on the river, and while the meal was being prepared, she asked Sachie to speak to Bunta; maybe he would be able to find out something in the village.

She and Sachie had finished eating by the time he returned.

“I met some men from Chigawa,” he said quietly, after he had knelt before her. “No one wants to talk openly. The Tohan have spies everywhere. However, these men told me a little: the heron is a warning, as the innkeeper said. There is a group-a movement-throughout the Middle Country. Loyalty to the Heron, it’s called. The Tohan are trying to eradicate it. There’s been a lot of unrest lately in Chigawa and the surrounding districts. It’s all to do with the silver mines. The movement is apparently very strong there: the lives of the miners have become more and more wretched; many abscond and escape to the mountains; young people, even children, are forced to take their place. The men say it is slavery, and under the Otori they were never slaves.”

She thanked him but did not ask any more. She felt she had heard too much already. “Loyalty to the Heron”-they could only be supporters of Shigeru.

Naomi rose early the next morning and arrived in the capital shortly after midday. She had made this journey many times now, yet she could never quite dispel the feeling of dread that the sight of Iida’s black-walled castle inspired in her. It dominated the town, the sheer walls rising from the moat, their reflection shimmering in the slow greenish water of the river. A narrow street led in a zigzag pattern to the main bridge. Here, even though she was a frequent visitor and already known to the guards, she and Sachie had to descend from the palanquins while they were thoroughly searched-though, Naomi thought resentfully, only the smallest and most loose-limbed assassin could have concealed himself there.

The search was insulting, yet Iida’s suspicions were well founded: many longed to see him dead-indeed, as she had said to Shigeru, she would kill him herself if she could. But she put all such thoughts from her and waited impassively and calmly until she was permitted to proceed.

She entered the palanquin again and the porters walked through the main bailey to the south bailey where Iida’s residence was built. Here she climbed out once more, to be met by two of Lady Iida’s companions. The porters and her men returned over the bridge to the town, and she and Sachie and their two maids followed the women through the residence gate, down the angled steps into the gardens, which extended away for a considerable distance as far as the riverbank.

The fragrance of flowers was everywhere: the purple irises around the stream that flowed through the gardens were just beginning to bloom, and heavy blossoms of wisteria hung like icicles from the pavilion roof.

Naomi and Sachie waited while the maids undid their sandals and brought water to wash their feet, then stepped up onto the polished wood veranda. It was newly constructed and ran around the entire residence, and as their feet trod over it, it responded with little cries like birds.

“What is it?” Sachie said in wonderment to one of the maids.

“Lord Iida had it constructed this year,” she whispered quietly. “It is a marvel, isn’t it? Not even a cat can cross it without setting it singing. We call it the nightingale floor.”

“I have never heard of such a thing before,” Naomi said, her heart sinking further. Surely Iida had made himself invulnerable.

The residence was decorated in a sumptuous style, gold leaf covering the beams of the ceiling and picking out the triple oak leaf on the bosses on the walls. The floors of the passages were all polished cypress, and the walls were decorated with flamboyant paintings of tigers, peacocks, and other exotic animals and birds.

They progressed in silence into the deepest recesses of the residence, into the women’s rooms. Here the decorations were more restrained, delicate flowers and fish replacing the animals. Naomi was shown to the room she usually occupied; the boxes and baskets that contained her clothes, gifts for Lady Iida, new robes and books for Mariko, were taken away to the storehouse, Sachie going with them to oversee the unpacking, and tea was brought in elegant pale green bowls.

Naomi drank it gladly, for the afternoon was becoming very warm, and sat trying to compose herself.

Sachie returned with Mariko. The girl greeted her mother formally, bowing deeply, then came closer into Naomi’s arms. She felt as always the rush of relief, almost like the gush of milk into the breast, that her child was alive, safe, close enough for her to hold, stroke the hair back from her forehead, gaze into her eyes, smell her sweet breath.

“Let me look at you,” she exclaimed. “You are growing up so fast. You look pale. Are you well?”

“I have been quite well; I had a cold last month and the cough persisted. I am better now that winter is finally over. But Mother also looks a little pale; you have not been ill?”

“No, it is just that I am tired from the journey. And of course, so moved by seeing you.”

Mariko smiled as her eyes brightened with tears.

“How long will Mother stay?”

“Not long, this time, I’m afraid.” She saw Mariko struggle to hide her disappointment. “I have things to do back in Maruyama,” she explained, and she felt her womb clench in fear.

“I hoped you would stay until the plum rains are over. It is so dreary here when it rains every day.”

“I must leave before they begin,” Naomi said. “They must not delay me.”

For the plum rains might last five or six weeks, and she would have to spend that time among the household women, who knew every detail of each other’s lives, and when each one had to be secluded because of her monthly bleeding, a custom practiced by the Tohan. These women had so little to occupy them that they would study her day and night; she feared their boredom and their malice.

“Sachie has brought more books for you,” she said briskly. “You will have plenty to occupy yourself with while you are confined indoors by the rain. But tell me your news. How is Lady Iida?”

“She was very sick in the winter with an inflammation of the lungs. I was afraid for her.” Mariko’s voice fell to a whisper. “Her women say that if she were to die, Lord Iida would have to make up his mind between you and me.”

“But she is, thank Heaven, still alive, and we hope will have many years of health. How is her little boy? Her father must be proud of him.”

Mariko lowered her eyes. “Unfortunately, he is a delicate child. He does not take to the sword and is afraid of horses. He is six years old now. Other boys his age are already receiving warrior’s training, but he clings to his mother and his nurse.”

“It’s sad; I cannot imagine Lord Iida is patient with him.”

“No, the boy is more terrified of his father than of anything else.”

Naomi met the child, Katsu, later when she joined Lady Iida for the evening meal. His nurse brought the little boy in, but he cried and whined and was soon taken away. He did not seem to be very intelligent and certainly was neither confident nor courageous.

She pitied the child and his mother. All men expected their wives to give them sons, but how often were those sons a disappointment or a threat! Iida would make life a torment for them both. She tried not to think how this in turn affected her own situation. If only Iida were happily married with dozens of sons. His dissatisfaction led him to consider changing wives and directed his attention more intensely on her. But she did not want even to consider these matters lest her own hopes and fears undermine her composure and give her away.

The next morning she was summoned to Iida’s presence and met outside by a man who she knew to be one of his favorites.

“Lord Abe,” she greeted him, though she thought that to call him “lord” was flattering him, for Iida honored him far above his family’s rank.

His bow was perfunctory; she suspected that like most of the Eastern warriors, he had little respect for the Maruyama tradition and saw her as an aberration that should be removed as speedily as possible.

How swift would be her fall, how great her humiliation if anyone knew about the child. She would have to take her own life; Iida would marry her daughter, and Maruyama would pass to the Tohan. But to kill myself would mean I had given up hope, she told herself, and I have not yet, not yet. I will do anything in my power to see Iida overthrown, Shigeru restored, and to live with him as his wife. And there will be no more cruelty, no more torture, no more hostages.

With renewed resolve to withstand his tyranny, she stepped into the receiving room and dropped to her knees, retreating into herself, hiding her hatred of him behind the graceful form and appealing demeanor of a beautiful woman.

Iida’s eyes appraised her, and she sensed his interest and his desire.

“Please sit up, Lady Maruyama. I am so delighted to see you again.”

He was far more courteous than his underling: he was the eldest son of an ancient family and had been trained in such things since childhood; furthermore, he was acquainted with all the different forms of human interaction and used courtesy as he used cruelty-to further his own ends and for his own gratification. Yet the courteous words sounded incongruous in his harsh Eastern accent, and she was neither flattered nor disarmed.

“It is of course with the greatest pleasure that I come to Inuyama,” she replied. “I am so grateful to Lord Iida and Lady Iida for their care of my daughter.”

“She seems to be a healthy girl; and growing up so fast, though she cannot compare to her mother in beauty.”

She made no response beyond bowing again to acknowledge the compliment.

Iida went on. “I hope you will honor us with your presence for many weeks.”

“Lord Iida’s kindness is extreme. However, I must return fairly soon to Maruyama, as I have matters to attend to there. The anniversary of my father’s death is approaching, among other obligations.”

He said nothing but continued to watch her with a look of veiled amusement.

He knows about Shigeru, she thought, and felt the blood drain from her face as her heart thumped. But she showed nothing of her fears, simply waited composedly for him to speak again, reminding herself that it was one of his strategies to pretend to know everything about people until they broke down and confessed to far more than he suspected, condemning themselves out of their own mouths.

He finally broke the silence. “What news do you bring me from the West? I suppose you stopped at Noguchi. I hope Noguchi is keeping Arai under control.”

“Lord Arai is one of Lord Noguchi’s most trusted retainers now,” she replied.

“And what do you hear of the Otori?”

“Very little. I have not even set foot in the domain for years.”

“Yet I hear you have a fondness for herons.”

“I saw one of Heaven’s creatures suffering,” she replied quietly. “I did not understand what it meant.”

“You understand now, though? ‘Loyalty to the Heron.’ It is almost laughable. These people do not know what Shigeru has become; I’ll wager they would not rally under the banner ‘Loyalty to the Farmer’!”

He laughed and waited for her to smile. “The Farmer is growing a fine crop of sesame, they tell me,” he sneered.

He does not know, she realized.

“I suppose sesame is a useful seed,” she said, pretending disdain.

“Shigeru is far more useful as a farmer than he ever was as a warrior,” Iida muttered. “All the same, I would be a lot happier if he were dead.”

She could not bring herself to acquiesce, simply raised her eyebrows slightly and smiled.

“He had some reputation once as a swordsman,” Iida said. “Now people speak of his integrity and honor. I would like to have him in my power: I would like to see his honor then. But he’s too wily ever to leave the Middle Country.”

“No one is as great a warrior as Lord Iida,” she murmured, thinking how fortunate it was that he was a vain man and no flattery was ever too excessive for him.

“I suppose you have seen my nightingale floor?” he said. “My skills as a warrior are not all that I have. I am also cunning and suspicious, never forget that!”

The audience came to an end and she returned to her rooms.

The days passed, long and tedious apart from the pleasure of being with her daughter. Her anxieties mounted. Her monthly bleeding was two days late, three days, then a week. She feared that the physical changes in her body, especially the onset of morning sickness, would be all too quickly observed and knew that she must not delay her departure. She lay awake at night trying to plan what must take place as soon as she got back to Maruyama. Who would be able to help her? Her normal physicians were all men; she could not bear to disclose her secret to them. And she could not ask either Sachie or her sister, Eriko, to help her kill her child, even though both had a knowledge of herbs, medicine, and healing. The only person she could think of was Shizuka. Surely Shizuka knew about such things? And she would understand and not judge…

The day before she left Inuyama, she sent Bunta with a message begging Shizuka to come to Maruyama at once.

Mariko was deeply disappointed at her leaving, and they parted with tears on both sides. The journey back was difficult: it seemed everything conspired to make her miserable. The weather became suddenly unseasonably hot; the rains began before she left Yamagata, but she insisted on returning home and not staying in the city, so the last week of travel was in constant rain. In Bunta’s absence the horses were bad-tempered and difficult. Everything was soaked and smelled of mildew. Sachie caught a cold, which made her even more unhappy about Naomi’s inexplicable urgency. But unpleasant as the journey was, what she feared at home was even more alarming. She did not know how she would find the strength to do what she knew she had to do.