Brilliance of the Moon (40 page)

Endo came with me to the castle. The captain of the guard there
was equally relieved to be able to surrender to me; his name was Miyoshi
Satoru: He was Kahei and Gemba’s father. Once the castle was secured, the boats
came to shore and the men disembarked to move through the town street by
street.

Taking the castle, which I had thought would be the hardest part
of my plan, turned out to be the easiest. Despite its surrender and my best
efforts, the town did not give in altogether peacefully. The streets were in
chaos; people tried to flee, but there was nowhere to go. Terada and his men
had scores of their own to settle, and there were pockets of stubborn
resistance that we had to overcome in fierce hand-to-hand fighting.

Finally we came to the banks of the western river, not far from
the stone bridge. Judging by the sun, it must have been late afternoon. The
mist had lifted long ago, but smoke from burning houses hung above the river.
On the opposite bank, the last of the maple leaves were brilliant red and the
willows along the water’s edge were yellow. The leaves were falling, drifting
in the eddies. Late chrysanthemums bloomed in gardens. In the distance I could
see the fish weir, and the tiled walls along the bank.

My bouse is
there
, I thought.
I will sleep there
tonight
.

But the river was full of men swimming and small boats loaded to
the gunwales, while a long stream of soldiers pressed toward the bridge.

Kenji andTaku were still alongside me, Taku silenced by what he
had seen of war. We stared at the sight: the remnants of the Otori army in
defeat. I was filled with pity for them and anger at their lords who had so
misled and betrayed them, leaving them to fight this desperate rearguard action
while they slept comfortably in Hagi Castle.

I had been separated from Fumio, but now I saw him at the bridge
with a handful of his men. They seemed to be arguing with a group of Otori
captains. We went over to them. Zenko was with Fumio, and he smiled briefly at
his brother. They stood close to each other but did not say anything.

“This is Lord Otori Takeo,” Fumio, told the men when I
approached. “The castle has surrendered to him. He’ll tell you.” He turned to
me. “They want to destroy the bridge and prepare for siege. They don’t believe
in the alliance with Arai. They’ve been fighting him off for the last week.
He’s right behind them. They say their only hope is to get the bridge down
immediately.”

I removed my helmet so they could see my face. They immediately
dropped to their knees. “Arai has sworn to support me,” I said. “The alliance
is genuine. Once he knows the town has surrendered, he will cease the attack.”

“Let’s break the bridge down anyway,” their leader said.

I thought of the ghost of the stonemason entombed alive in his
cre-ation and of the inscription that Shigeru had read aloud to me:
The
Otori
clan welcome the just and the loyal.
Let the unjust and the disloyal beware
. I did not
want to destroy such a precious thing, and anyway, I could not
see how they would dismantle it in time.

“No, let it stand,” I replied. “I will answer for Lord Arai’s
faithfulness. Tell your men they have nothing to fear if they surrender to me
and accept me as their lord.”

Endo and Miyoshi came up on horseback and I sent them to carry
the message to the Otori soldiers. Little by little the confusion settled. We
cleared the bridge and Endo rode to the other side to organize a more orderly
return to the town. Many men were reassured enough to settle down where they
were and rest, while others decided they might as well go home, and set off for
their farms and houses.

Miyoshi said, “You should be on horseback, Lord Takeo,” and gave
me his horse, a good-looking black that reminded me of Aoi. I mounted, rode
across the bridge to speak to the men there, causing them to break out into
cheers, and then rode back with Endo. When the cheers died away I could hear
the distant sound of Arai’s army approaching, the tramping of horses and men.

They came down the valley, a stream of ants in the distance,
Kuma-moto and Seishuu banners unfurled. As they came closer I recognized Arai
at their head: chestnut horse, stag-antlered helmet, red-laced armor.

I leaned down to say to Kenji, “I should go and meet him.”

Kenji frowned as he peered across the river. “Something feels
wrong,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Be on your guard and don’t cross the bridge.”

As I urged the black forward slightly, Endo said, “I am the
senior retainer of the Otori clan. Let me take news of our surrender to you to
Lord Arai.”

“Very well,” I said. “Tell him to encamp his army on that side of
the river and bring him into the town. Then we can enforce peace with no
further bloodshed on either side.”

Endo rode forward onto the bridge and Arai halted and waited on
the other side. Endo was almost halfway across when Arai held up his hand with
the black war fan in it.

There was a moment of silence. Zenko cried at my side, “They are
arming their bows.”

The war fan dropped.

Though it was happening right in front of my eyes, I could not believe
it. For several moments I stared incredulous as the arrows be-aan to fall. Endo
went down at once, and the men on the bank, un-armed and unprepared, fell like
deer to the hunter.

“There,” Kenji said, drawing his sword. “That’s what’s wrong.”

Once before I had been so betrayed—but that had been by Kenji
himself and the Tribe. This betrayal was by a warrior to whom I had sworn
allegiance. Had I killed Jo-An for this? Fury and outrage turned my vision red.
I had taken the impregnable castle, kept the bridge whole, pacified the men. I
had handed Hagi, my town, to Arai like a ripe persimmon, and with it the Three
Countries.

Dogs were howling in the distance. They sounded like my own soul.

Arai rode onto the bridge and came to a halt in the center. He
saw me and lifted off his helmet. It was a derisive gesture. He was so sure of
his own strength, of victory. “Thank you, Otori,” he called. “What a good work
you did. Will you surrender now or shall we fight it out?”

“You may rule over the Three Countries,” I shouted back, “but
your falsehood will be remembered long after your death.” I knew I was about to
fight my last battle, and it was, as I had known it must be, with Arai. I just
had not realized it would come so quickly.

“There will be no one left to record it,” he sneered in reply,
“because I intend now to wipe out the Otori once and for all.”

I leaned down and seized Zenko, pulling him up onto the horse in
front of me. I took my short sword and held it to his neck.

“I have both your sons here. Will you condemn them to death? I
swear to you, I will kill Zenko now andTaku after him before you can reach me.
Call off your attack!”

His face changed a little and paled. Taku stood motionless next
to Kenji. Zenko did not move, either. Both boys stared at the father they had
not seen for years.

Then Arai’s features hardened and he laughed. “I know you, Takeo.

I know your weakness. You were not raised as a warrior; let’s see
if you can bring yourself to kill a child.“

I should have acted immediately and ruthlessly, but I did not. I hesitated.
Arai laughed again.

“Let him go,” he called. “Zenko! Come here to me.”

Fumio called in a low, clear voice, “Takeo, shall I shoot him?”

I can’t remember replying. I can’t remember letting go of Zenko.
I heard the muffled report from the firearm and saw Arai recoil in the saddle
as the ball hit him, piercing his armor above the heart. There was a cry, of
rage and horror, from the men around him and a scuffle as his horse reared;
Zenko screamed, but these sounds were as nothing to the roar that followed them
as the world beneath my horse’s feet tore itself apart.

The maples on the far shore rose almost gracefully and began to
march down the hillside. They gathered up Arai’s army as they went, wrapping
them in stones and soil and rolling them into the river.

My horse backed in terror, reared, and fled from the bridge,
throwing me sideways onto the road. As I got to my feet, winded, the bridge
groaned with a human voice. It cried out in its efforts to hold itself together
and then flew apart, taking everyone on it down into the river. Then the river
itself went mad. From the confluence upstream came a yellow-brown flood of
water. It drained away from the bank on the town side, gathering up boats and
living beings impartially, and raced over the opposite bank, where it swept
away the remnants of two armies, breaking the boats like eating sticks,
drowning men and horses and carrying their corpses out to sea.

The ground shook fiercely again, and from behind me I heard the
crash of collapsing houses. I felt as
if
I’d been stunned: Everything around me was hazy with dust and muffled so I
could no longer hear distinct sounds. I was aware of Kenji beside me andTaku
kneeling by his brother, who had also fallen when the horse reared. I saw Fumio
coming toward me through the haze, the firearm still in his hand.

I was shaking from some mixture of emotions close to elation: a
recognition of how puny we humans are when confronted with the great forces of
nature, combined with gratitude to heaven, to the gods I’d thought I did not
believe in, who once again had spared my life.

My last battle had begun and ended in a moment. There was no
further thought of fighting. Our only concern now was to save the town from
fire.

Much of the district around the castle burned to the ground. The
castle itself was destroyed in one of the aftershocks, killing the remaining
women and children who were being held there. I was relieved, for I knew I
could not let them live, but I shrank from ordering their deaths. Ryoma also
died then, his boat sunk by falling masonry. When his body was washed up days
later, I had him buried with the Otori lords at Daishoin, their name on his
gravestone.

In the next few days I hardly slept or ate. With Miyoshi and
Kenji’s help I organized the survivors to clear the rubble, bury the dead, and
care for the wounded. Through the long sorrowful days of work and cooperation
and grief, the rifts in the clan began to heal. The earthquake was generally
held to be heaven’s punishment on Arai for his treachery. Heaven clearly
favored me, I was Shigeru’s adopted son and nephew by blood, I had his sword, I
resembled him, and I had avenged his death: The clan accepted me unreservedly
as his true heir. I did not know what the situation was in the rest of the
land; the earthquakes had shattered much of the Three Countries and we heard
nothing from the other cities. All I was aware of was the enormity of the task
that faced me in restoring peace and preventing famine in the coming winter.

I did not sleep at Shigeru’s house the night of the earthquake,
nor for many days following. I could not bear to go near it in case it had been
destroyed. I camped with Miyoshi in what remained of his residence. But about
four days after the earthquake, Kenji came to me one evening after I had eaten
and told me there was someone to see me. He was grinning, and for a moment I
imagined it might be Shizuka with a message from Kaede.

Instead it was the maids from Shigeru’s house, Chiyo and Haruka.
They looked exhausted and frail, and when they saw me I was afraid Chiyo would
die from emotion. They both knelt at my feet, but I made them get up and I
embraced Chiyo as tears streamed down her face. None of us could speak.

Finally, Chiyo said, “Come home, Lord Takeo. The house is waiting
for you.”

“It’s still standing?”

“The garden is ruined—the river swept through it—but the house is
not badly damaged. We’ll get it ready for you tomorrow.”

“I will come
tomorrow evening,” I promised. “You will come, too, sir?” she said to Kenji.
“Almost like old times,” he replied, smiling, though we all knew it could never
be that.

The following day Kenji and I took Taku and some guards and
walked down the familiar street. I did not take Zenko. The circumstances
surrounding Arai’s death had left his older son deeply disturbed. I was
concerned for him, seeing his confusion and grief, but did not have time to
deal with it. I suspected that he thought his father had died ignobly and
blamed me for it. Maybe he even blamed or despised me for sparing his life. I
myself was not sure how to treat him: as the heir to a mighty warlord or as the
son of the man who had betrayed me. I thought it best for him to be kept out of
my way for the time being and put him in the service of Endo Chikara’s family.
I still hoped his mother, Shizuka, was alive; when she returned we would
discuss her son’s future. Taku I had no doubts about; I would keep him with me,
the first of the child spies I had dreamed of training and employing. The
district around my old house had been hardly touched by the earthquake, and
birds were singing blithely in the gardens. As we walked through it I was
thinking about how I used to wait for the exact moment when I heard the house’s
song of the river and the world, and remembering how I had first seen Kenji on
the corner. The song was altered now; the stream was clogged, the waterfall
dry, but the river still lapped at the dock and the wall.