The Harsh Cry of the Heron (42 page)

Takeo was silent,
recalling what had happened at the shrine, the hostility between the cousins,
fearing Sunaomi had been scarred by it.

‘He saw the houou,’
he said finally. ‘I believe he has good instincts.’

‘Yes, I thought so
too. Well, send him to us. We will look after him, and if there is any good in
him it will be nurtured and developed.’

‘I suppose he is old
enough now: he turned nine this year.’

‘Let him come when we
return.’

‘He lives with me as
my nephew, as my future son, yet he is a hostage to his father’s loyalty. I
dread the thought that I may one day have to order his death,’ Takeo confessed.

‘It will not come to
that,’ Gemba said.

‘I will write to my
wife tonight with this suggestion.’

Minoru had
accompanied Takeo as usual, and that night at their first stop Takeo dictated
letters to Kaede, and to Taku in Hofu. He felt the need to talk to Taku, to
hear first-hand news from the West, and requested him to come to Inuyama: they
would meet there. For Taku it would be an easy journey by ship from Hofu and
then along the river in one of the flat-bottomed barges that plied between the
castle town and the coast.

‘You may come alone,’’
he dictated. ‘Leave your charge and her companion in Hofu. If it is impossible
for you to get away, write to me.’

‘Is that wise?’
Minoru inquired. ‘Letters can be intercepted, especially . . .’

‘Especially what?’

‘If the Muto family
are no longer sure where their loyalties lie?’

For Takeo relied on
the networks of the Tribe to carry correspondence at speed between the cities
of the Three Countries, young men of great stamina relaying letters from town
to town. It was something else that he had always depended on Taku to control.

He stared now at
Minoru, doubt beginning to creep through him. His scribe knew more of the
secrets of the Three Countries than anyone.

‘If the Muto family
choose Zenko which way will Taku go?’ he said quietly.

Minoru raised his
shoulders very slightly, but his lips were pressed firmly together and he did
not reply directly. ‘Shall I write your last sentence?’ he asked.

‘Insist that Taku
come in person.’

This conversation
remained in the back of Takeo’s mind as they continued their journey towards
the East. I have outwitted the Kikuta for so long, he thought. Can I really
escape the Muto too, if they turn against me?

He began even to
suspect the loyalty of the Kuroda brothers, Jun and Shin, who accompanied him
as usual. He had trusted them completely till now: though they could not use
invisibility they could perceive it, and they had been trained in the fighting
techniques of the Tribe by Kenji himself. Their vigilance had protected him
many times in the past, but if they had to choose between him and the Tribe, he
asked himself again, which way would they go?

He remained
constantly alert, always listening for the slightest sound that heralded an
attack. His horse, Tenba, caught his mood; over the months Takeo had ridden him
they had formed a strong bond, almost as strong as that with Shun; Tenba was as
responsive and intelligent, but more highly strung. Both man and horse arrived
in Inuyama tense and tired, with the hardest part of the journey still to come.

Inuyama was filled
with excitement and activity; the arrival of Lord Otori and the mustering of
the army meant merchants and armourers were kept busy day and night; money and
wine flowed equally. Takeo was welcomed by his sister-in-law, Ai, and her
husband, Sonoda Mitsuru.

Takeo was fond of Ai,
admiring her gentleness and the kindness of her nature. She did not have the
almost supernatural beauty of her sisters, but her appearance was attractive.
It had always pleased him that she and Mitsuru had been able to marry, for they
genuinely loved each other. Ai had often told the story of how the guards at
Inuyama had come to put her and Hana to death when they heard of Arai’s death
and the destruction of his army, but Mitsuru had taken command of the castle,
hidden the girls away in safety, and negotiated the surrender of the East to
the Otori. In his gratitude, Takeo had arranged the marriage with Ai, which it
was obvious both sides desired.

Takeo had trusted him
for years: they were bound by close ties of marriage, and Mitsuru had grown
into a pragmatic, sensible man who, while not lacking in personal bravery,
disliked the senseless destruction of warfare. Many times he had brought his
skills at negotiating into Takeo’s service: together with his wife, he shared
Takeo’s vision of a prosperous country as well as his refusal to tolerate
either torture or bribery.

But Takeo’s tiredness
made him suspicious of everyone around him. Sonoda is from the Arai clan, he
reminded himself. His uncle, Akita, was Arai’s second-in-command. What vestiges
of loyalty does he still harbour towards Arai’s son?

He was made more
uneasy by the fact that there was no sign of Taku, nor any word from him. He
sent for Taku’s wife, Tomiko; she had had letters from him in the spring, but
nothing recently. She did not seem worried, however; she was used to her
husband’s long, unexplained absences.

‘If there were
anything wrong, Lord Otori, we would hear of it soon enough. Affairs must be
keeping him in Hofu - probably something he does not want to commit to paper.’

She glanced at Takeo
and said, ‘I’ve heard about the woman, of course, but I expect that sort of
thing. All men have their needs, and he is away for a long time. It isn’t anything
serious. It never is with my husband.’

His unease increased,
if anything, and was compounded when he asked after the execution of the
hostages, only to be told that they were still alive.

‘But I wrote weeks
ago, ordering it to be done immediately.’

‘I am very sorry,
Lord Otori; we did not receive—’ Sonoda began, but Takeo cut him off.

‘Did not receive, or
chose to ignore?’ He realized he spoke more bluntly than he should.

Sonoda struggled to
hide his own offended reaction.

‘I can assure you,’
he said, ‘if we had received the order we would have acted on it. I had been
wondering why it had been delayed for so long. I would have had it done myself,
but my wife has been in favour of mercy.’

‘They seem so young,’
Ai said. ‘And the girl. . .’

‘I had hoped to spare
their lives,’ Takeo replied. ‘If their family were prepared to negotiate with
us, they would not have to die. But they have made no gesture, sent no word. To
delay any longer must seem like weakness.’

‘I will arrange for
it tomorrow,’ Sonoda assured him.

‘Yes, it must be so,’
Ai agreed. ‘Will you attend?’

‘Since I am here, I
must,’ Takeo replied, for he himself had made the ruling that executions for
treason had to be witnessed by someone of the highest rank, himself or one of
his family or senior retainers. He felt it emphasized the legal distinction
between execution and assassination, and since he found such scenes sickening
he hoped witnessing them would keep him from ordering them indiscriminately.

It was done the next
day, with the sword. When they were brought into his presence, before their
eyes were blindfolded, he told them their father, Gosaburo, was dead, executed
by the Kikuta, presumably because he had wanted to negotiate for their lives.
Neither of them made any response; probably they did not believe him. There was
a sudden glint of tears in the girl’s eyes; otherwise both young people faced
death bravely, even defiantly. He admired their courage and regretted their
wasted lives, reflecting with sorrow that they were related to him by blood -
both, he could not help noticing, bore the straight line of the Kikuta on their
palms - and that he had known them when they were children.

The decision had been
made jointly with Kaede, and on the advice of his senior retainers. It was in
accordance with the law. Yet he wished it could have been otherwise, and the
deaths seemed indeed like a bad omen.

Throughout the
winter, Hana and Zenko met often with Kuroda Yasu to discuss the further
opening up of trade with the foreigners, and they were pleased when Yasu
reported the return of Don Joao and Don Carlo to Hofu in the fourth month. They
were less pleased with the news that Terada Fumio had brought the Otori fleet
into the inland sea and now controlled the waterways.

‘The foreigners’
ships, they boast, are far better than ours,’ Yasu said. ‘If we could only call
on them!’

‘If they had some
inducement to side with us against Takeo . . .’ Hana said, thinking out loud.

‘They want trade, and
they seek conversions to their religion. Offer them either - or both. They will
give you anything you want in return.’

This comment stayed
in Hana’s mind as she made preparations for her own journey to Hagi. When she
thought of confronting her sister with her secret, she felt both excitement and
trepidation, a kind of destructive glee. But she did not underestimate Takeo,
as her husband was inclined to. She recognized the strength and attraction of
his character that had always won him the love of the people and loyal
supporters in all walks of life. It was quite possible he would win the Emperor’s
favour also, and return with the protection of his blessing. So she had pondered
through the winter on further strategies to underpin her husband’s struggle for
revenge and power, and when she heard that the foreigners had returned with
their interpreter she determined to go to Hagi by way of Hofu.

‘You should come with
us,’ she said to Akio, for he also had been a frequent visitor to the castle
during the winter, reporting on news from the rest of the country, and on the
progress Hisao and Koji were making in forging. Hana’s blood always quickened
in his presence. She found his pragmatic ruthlessness attractive.

He looked at her now
in his usual calculating way. ‘Yes, I don’t mind. I’ll bring Hisao, of course.’

For once, they were
alone together. It was still cold -it had been a late and fickle spring - but
the air held the scent of blossom and new growth and the evenings were lighter.
Akio had come to see Zenko, who had taken out men and horses on some training
exercise. He had seemed reluctant to stay, but Hana had pressed him, offering
him wine and food, serving him herself, cajoling and flattering him, making it
impossible for him to refuse.

She had thought him
impervious to flattery, but she could see that her attentions pleased and in
some way softened him. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with him;
though she did not think she ever would, the idea excited her. She was wearing
an ivory-coloured silk robe, decorated with pink and red cherry blossoms and
cranes: it was the sort of flamboyant pattern that she loved. Really it was too
cold for such a garment, and her skin felt icy, but it was already the fourth
month, and the idea that she was heralding spring pleased her: she was still
young, her blood rising with the same impulse that pushed the shoots from the
earth, the bud from the twig.

Full of confidence in
her own beauty, she dared to question him, as she had longed to all winter,
about the boy who passed as his son.

‘He does not resemble
his father in the least,’ she remarked. ‘Is he like his mother?’

When Akio did not
reply immediately, she pressed him. ‘You should tell me everything. The more I
can disclose to my sister, the stronger the effect will be on her.’

‘It’s all a long time
ago,’ he said.

‘Yet do not pretend
you have forgotten it! I know how jealousy carves its story with a knife in our
hearts.’

‘His mother was an
unusual woman,’ he began slowly. ‘When it was suggested that she sleep with
Takeo - it was when the Tribe first got their hands on him: no one trusted him;
none of us thought he would stay - I was almost afraid of telling her. To ask
Yuki to do such a thing - it was common enough in the Tribe, and most women did
what they were told, but it seemed like an insult to Yuki. When she agreed I
realized at once that she wanted him. I had to watch her seduce him; not once
but many times. I had not realized I would feel such pain, or such hatred for
him. I had never really hated anyone before; I killed because it was expedient,
not out of personal emotion. He had what I most wanted, and he threw it away.
He left the Tribe. If he ever feels the smallest part of what I felt, it will
be only justice.’

He glanced up at
Hana. ‘I never slept with her,’ he said. ‘I regret that more than anything. If
I had been able to, just once . . . But I would not touch her while she was
carrying his child. And then I made her kill herself. I had to: she never
stopped loving him; she would never have brought the boy up to hate him in the
way I have. I knew he must be part of my revenge, but as he grew, showing no
sign of any talents, I could not see how. For a long time I thought it was
hopeless: time and again, far more skilful assassins than Hisao failed. Now I
know Hisao will be the one. And I will be there to witness it.’ He stopped
abruptly.

The words had poured
from him. He has kept this bottled inside him for all these years, Hana
thought, chilled by all he said, yet flattered and excited that he confided in
her.