Brilliance of the Moon (33 page)

“Find out what it is. How soon can you reach them?”

“If the weather holds, I can get word to them in less than a
day.”

“I’m trusting you with a lot, Otori. Don’t let me down.” He spoke
to me with the arrogance of an overlord, but I think we both knew how much
power I also held in our transaction.

I bowed again and, as I sat up, said, “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“If I had come to you in the spring and sought your permission to
marry Lady Shirakawa, would you have given it?”

He smiled, his teeth white in his beard. “The betrothal had
already been arranged with Lord Fujiwara. Despite my affection for Lady
Shirakawa and you, your marriage had become impossible. I could not insult a
man of Fujiwara’s rank and connections. Besides”—he leaned forward and dropped
his voice—“Fujiwara told me a secret about Iida’s death that very few of us
know.” He chuckled again. “Lady Shirakawa is far too dangerous a woman to let
live freely. I much prefer to have her kept in seclusion by someone like
Fujiwara. Many thought she should be put to death; in a way, he has saved her
life by his magnanimity.”

I did not want to hear any more about Kaede; it made me too
angry. I knew my situation was still dangerous and I must not let emotion cloud
my judgment. Despite Arai’s friendliness and his offer of alliance, I did not
completely trust him. I felt he had let me off too lightly and was holding
something over me that he had not yet disclosed.

As we stood he said casually, “I see you have Shigeru’s sword.
May I see it?“

I took the sword from my belt and held it out to him. He received
it with reverence and drew it from its scabbard. The light fell on its gleaming
blue-gray blade, showing its wavelike patterns.

“The Snake,” Arai said. “It has a perfect feel to it.”

I could see he coveted it. I wondered if I was supposed to
present it to him. I had no intention of doing so.

“I have made a vow that I would keep it till my death and hand it
on to my heir,” I murmured. “It is an Otori treasure…”

“Of course,” Arai replied coolly, not relinquishing the sword.
“Speaking of heirs, I will find you a more suitable bride. Lady Shirakawa has
two sisters. I’m thinking of marrying the older one to Akita’s nephew, but
nothing is arranged yet for the younger. She’s a beautiful girl, very like her
sister.”

“Thank you, but I cannot consider marriage until my future is
less uncertain.”

“Well, there’s no hurry. The girl is only ten years old.”

He made a couple of moves with the sword, and Jato sang
mournfully through the air. I would have liked to have taken it and let it
slice through Arai’s neck. I did not want Kaede’s sister; I wanted Kaede. I
knew he was playing with me now, but I did not know where he was leading.

I thought how easy it would be, as he glanced smiling at my face,
to fix him with my eyes and, as he lost consciousness, take my sword… I would
go invisible, evade the guards, escape into the country.

And then what? I would be a fugitive again and my men, Makoto,
the Miyoshi brothers—Hiroshi, probably—would all be slaughtered.

All these thoughts flashed one after the other through my mind as
Arai swung Jato over his head. It was beautiful to watch: the heavy man, his
face rapt and expressionless, moving so lightly, the sword cutting through the
air faster than the eye could see. I was in the presence of a master, no doubt
about that, whose skills came from years of practice and discipline. I was
moved to admiration and inspired to trust the man in front of me. I would act
like a warrior; whatever his commands, I would obey them.

“It’s an extraordinary weapon,” he said finally, finishing the
exercise, but he still did not return it to me. He was breathing slightly more
heavily, and tiny beads of sweat had appeared on his brow. “There’s one other
subject we must discuss, Takeo.”

I said nothing.

“There are many rumors about you. The most damaging and one of
the most persistent is that you have some connection with the Hidden. The
circumstances around Shigeru’s death and Lady Maruyama’s do nothing to decrease
its intensity. The Tohan have always claimed that Shigeru confessed to being a
believer, that he would not take the oath against the Hidden or trample on the
images when Iida ordered him to. Unfortunately, no reliable witnesses survived
the fall of Inu-yama, so we will never know for certain.”

“He never spoke of it to me,” I replied truthfully. My pulse had
quickened. I felt I was about to be forced into some public repudiation of my
childhood beliefs, and I shrank from it. I could not imagine the choice I was
to be faced with.

“Lady Maruyama had a reputation for being sympathetic toward
these people. It is said that many of the sect found refuge in her domain. Did
you not find evidence of them?”

“I was more concerned with tracking down the Tribe,” I replied.
“The Hidden have always seemed harmless to me.”

“Harmless?” Arai exploded into rage again. “Theirs is the most
dangerous and pernicious of beliefs. It insults all the gods; it threatens the
fabric of our society. It claims that the lowest of the low— peasants,
outcasts—are the equals of nobles and warriors. It dares to say that great
lords will be punished after death like commoners and it denies the teachings
and existence of the Enlightened One.”

He glared at me, his veins blue, his eyes three-cornered.

“I am not a believer,” I said. I spoke the truth, but I still
felt a pang of regret for the teachings of my childhood and a certain remorse
for my faithlessness.

Arai grunted, “Come with me.” He swept out of the room onto the
veranda. His guards immediately leaped to their feet, one of them bringing his
sandals for him to step into. I followed his entourage as he walked swiftly
around the side of the blue pool and past the horse lines. Shun caught sight of
me and neighed. Hiroshi was standing next to him, holding a bucket. When he saw
me, surrounded by guards, his face blanched. Dropping the bucket, he followed
us. At that moment I was aware of a movement away to my left. I heard Makoto’s
voice and, turning my head, saw him ride through the lower gates of the temple
area. My men were gathering outside.

A kind of hush fell. I imagine everyone thought I was going to be
executed as Arai strode toward the mountain, Jato still in his hand.

Where the rocks rose, a group of prisoners were tied up; they
looked like a mixture of bandits, spies, masterless warriors, and the usual
unfortunates who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of them
crouched silently, resigned to their fate; one or two whimpered in terror; one
was keening.

Beneath their moans I could clearly hear Jo-An praying under his
breath.

Arai called an order and the outcast was pulled forward. I gazed
down on him. I had gone cold. I would feel neither pity nor horror. I would
simply do what Lord Arai ordered.

Arai said, “I would ask you to trample publicly on the vile
images of the Hidden, Otori, but we have none here. This thing, this outcast,
was picked up on the road last night, riding a warriors horse. Some of my men
knew him from Yamagata. There was some suspicion then that he was connected
with you. He was believed to have died. Now he reappears, having absconded
unlawfully from his place of dwelling and, we realize, having accompanied you
in many of your battles. He makes no secret of being a believer.”

He looked down at Jo-An with an expression of distaste on his
face. Then he turned to me and held out the sword. “Let me see how Jato cuts,”
he said.

I could not see Jo-An’s eyes. I wanted to look deep into them,
but he was trussed with his head forced down and he could not move it. He
continued to whisper prayers that only I could hear, the ones the Hidden use at
the moment of death. There was no time to do anything except take the sword and
wield it. I knew that if I hesitated for a moment I would never be able to do
it and I would throw away everything I’d struggled for.

I felt the familiar, comforting weight of Jato in my hand, prayed
that it would not fail me, and fixed my eyes on the exposed bones of Jo-An’s
neck.

The blade cut as true as ever.

You released
my brother from his suffering in Yamagata. If it comes to it, will you do the
same for me?

It had come to it, and I was doing what he had requested. I
spared him the anguish of torture and gave him the same swift and honorable
death as Shigeru. But I still regard his death as one of the worst acts of my
life, and the memory of it loosens my teeth and makes me sick to my stomach.

I could show nothing of that then. Any ensuing sign of weakness
or regret would have been the end of me. An outcast’s death was of less
significance than a dog’s. I did not look down at the severed head, the gushing
blood. I checked the cutting edge of the sword; there was not a trace of blood
on it. I looked at Arai.

He met my gaze for a moment before I dropped my eyes. “There,” he
said in satisfaction, looking around at his retainers, “I knew we had nothing
to worry about with Otori.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his good humor
completely restored. “We’ll eat together and talk about our plans. Your men can
rest here; I’ll see they’re fed.”

I had completely lost track of time. It must have been around
midday. While we ate, the temperature began to drop and a chill wind sprang up
from the northwest. The sudden onset of cold spurred Arai into action. He
decided to leave at first light the next day, meet up with the rest of his
army, and march at once toward Hagi. I was to take my men back to the coast,
contact Terada, and make arrangements for the attack by sea.

We arranged that the battle would take place at the next full
moon, that of the tenth month. If I was unable to achieve the sea voyage by
then, Arai would abandon the campaign, consolidate the territory he’d taken so
far, and retire to Inuyama, where I was to join him. Neither of us put much
store by this second plan. We were determined to settle affairs before winter.

Kahei was summoned and we greeted each other with delight, both
of us having feared we would never meet again. Since I could not take all my
men with me by ship, I would allow them to rest for a day or two before sending
them east under Kahei’s command. I had not yet spoken to Makoto and was not
sure whether to take him with me or send him with Kahei. I remembered he had
said he had little experience of ships and the sea.

When I met up with him we were fully occupied with organizing
billeting and food in a district already stretched to its limit. I was aware of
something in his gaze—sympathy? compassion?—but I did not want to talk to him
or to anyone. By the time everything was settled the best it could be and I
returned to the pool, it was early evening. Jo-An’s remains were gone. So were
all the other prisoners, executed and buried with little ceremony. I wondered
who had buried them. Jo-An had come with me to bury the dead, but who would do
the same for him?

Since I was passing the lines, I checked on my horses. Sakai and Hiroshi were there, feeding them, glad for their sake as much as their own to
have an extra day or so of rest.

“Maybe you should leave with Lord Arai tomorrow,” I told Sakai. “We seem to be on the same side as Maruyama again; you can take Hiroshi home.”

“Forgive me, Lord Otori,” he said, “but we’d prefer to stay with
you.”

“The horses are used to us now,” Hiroshi put in, patting Shun’s
short, muscular neck as the animal ate greedily. “Don’t send me back.”

I was too tired to argue about it and, indeed, preferred to keep
both my horse and the boy with my own men. I left them and walked toward the
shrine, feeling I needed to do something to mark Jo-An’s death and the part I
had played in it. I rinsed my mouth and hands at the cistern, asked to be
cleansed from the pollution of death, and asked for the goddess’s blessing, all
the while wondering at myself; I seemed to believe in everything or nothing.

I sat for a while as the sun set behind the cedars, staring at
the astonishing blue water of the pool. Little silver fish swam in the
shallows, and a heron arrived on its great gray wings to fish. It stood in its
patient, silent way, its head turned sideways, its black eye unflickering. It
struck. The fish struggled briefly and was swallowed.

Smoke from the fires floated upward, mingling with the mist that
gathered over the pool. Already the first stars were appearing in a sky like
pearl-gray silk. There would be no moon tonight. The wind tasted of winter. The
town hummed with an evening song of many men being fed; the smell of cooking
drifted toward me.

I was not hungry; in fact, most of the day I’d been battling
nausea. I’d forced myself to eat and drink heartily with Arai and his men and
knew I should go and join them again soon, to drink more toasts to our joint
victory. But I put it off, gazing instead at the pool as the color leached from
it and it became as gray as the sky.

The heron, wiser than I was, took off with a clack of wings to go
to its roost.

As darkness fell, it seemed I might be able to think of Jo-An
without betraying myself. Was his soul now with God, with the Secret One who
sees everything and will judge us all? I did not believe such a god existed: If
he did, why did he abandon his followers to the suffering the Hidden endured?
If he did exist, I was surely damned to hell by now.