Grass For His Pillow Part 20

At that moment, Kaede felt she would rather meet a dozen bears or twenty pirates than remain with this unnerving man. She could think of nothing else to say. Indeed, she felt powerless to move at all.

"Mamoru and Is.h.i.+da have both told me what people say about you, that desire for you brings death."

Kaede said nothing. I will not be ashamed, I will not be ashamed, she thought. she thought. I have done nothing wrong. I have done nothing wrong. She lifted her eyes and looked at him directly, her face calm, her gaze steady. She lifted her eyes and looked at him directly, her face calm, her gaze steady.

"Yet, from what Is.h.i.+da tells me, one man who desired you escaped death."

She felt her heart twist and jump, like a fish when it finds its living flesh pierced by the cook's knife. His eyes flickered. A small muscle twitched in his cheek. He looked away from her at the snow. He is asking what should not be asked, He is asking what should not be asked, she thought. she thought. I will tell him, but he will pay a price Jor it. I will tell him, but he will pay a price Jor it. As she saw his weakness, she became aware of her own power. Her courage began to return. As she saw his weakness, she became aware of her own power. Her courage began to return.

"Who was it?" he whispered.

The night was silent, apart from the soft drift of snow, the wind in the pines, the murmur of water.

"Lord OtoriTakeo," she said.

"Yes, it could only be him," he replied, making her wonder what she had given away before and what he knew about Takeo now. He leaned forward, his face moving into the lamplight. "Tell me about it."

"I could tell you many things," she said slowly. "About Lord s.h.i.+geru's betrayal and death and Lord Takeo's revenge and what happened the night Iida died and Inuyama fell. But every story comes at a price. What will you give me in return?"

He smiled and in a tone of complicity said, "What does Lady s.h.i.+rakawa desire?"

"I need money to hire men and equip them, and food for my household."

He came close to laughing. "Most women your age would ask for a new fan or a robe. But you are always able to surprise me."

"Do you accept my price?" She felt she had nothing to lose now from boldness.

"Yes, I do. For Iida, money; for s.h.i.+geru, bushels of rice. And for the living one-I a.s.sume he still lives-what shall I pay you for Takeo's story?"

His voice changed as he spoke the name, as though he were tasting it in his mouth, and she wondered again what he had heard about Takeo.

"Teach me," she said. "There are so many things I need to know. Teach me as if I were a boy."

He inclined his head in agreement. "It will be a pleasure to continue your father's instruction."

"But everything must be kept secret between us. Like the treasures of your collection, nothing must be exposed. I will divulge these things only for your gaze. No one else must ever be told them."

"That makes them all the more precious, all the more desirable."

"No one else has ever heard them," Kaede whispered. "And once I have told you, I will never speak of them again."

The wind had risen a little, and a flurry of snow blew onto the veranda, the flakes hissing as they hit the lamps and the braziers. Kaede could feel cold creeping over her, meeting her coldness of heart and spirit. She longed to leave him; yet, knew she could not move until he released her.

"You are cold," he said, and clapped his hands. The servants appeared out of the shadows and helped Kaede to her feet, lifting the heavy fur from her.

"I look forward to your stories," he said, wis.h.i.+ng her good night with unusual warmth. But Kaede found herself wondering if she had not made a pact with a demon from h.e.l.l. She prayed he would not ask her to marry him. She would never allow him to cage her in this luxurious beautiful house, concealed like a treasure, to be gazed on only by him.

At the end of the week she returned home. The first snow had melted and frozen, and the road was icy but pa.s.sable. Icicles hung from the eaves of the houses, dripping in the sun, glistening and brilliant. Fujiwara had kept his word. He was a rigorous and demanding teacher and set her tasks to practice before she returned to his house again. He had already dispatched food for her household and men.

The days had been spent in study and the nights in storytelling. She knew by instinct what he wanted to hear, and she told him details she had not known she remembered: the color of flowers, the birds' song, the exact condition of the weather, the touch of a hand, the smell of a robe, the way lamplight fell on a face. And the undercurrents of desire and conspiracy that she had both known and not known, and that only now became clear to her with the telling. She told him everything, in a clear measured voice, showing neither shame, grief, nor regret.

He was reluctant to allow her to return home, but she used her sisters as an excuse. He wanted her to stay there forever, she knew, and she fought that desire silently. Yet, it seemed that everyone shared it. The servants expected it and their treatment of her changed slightly. They deferred to her as though she were already more than a specially favored guest. They sought her permission, her opinion, and she knew they would only do so if he had so ordered.

She felt deep relief when she left him and she dreaded returning again. But when she was home, she saw the food, the firewood, and the money he had sent, and was grateful that he had kept her family from starving. That night she lay thinking, I am trapped. I shall never escape him. Yet what else can I do? I am trapped. I shall never escape him. Yet what else can I do?

It was a long time before she slept, and she was late rising the next morning. s.h.i.+zuka was not in the room when she awoke. Kaede called to her, and Ayame came in with tea.

She poured Kaede a cup. "s.h.i.+zuka is with Kondo," she said. "He returned late last night."

"Tell her to come to me," Kaede said. She looked at the tea as though she did not know what to do with it. She sipped a mouthful, placed the cup on the tray, then picked it up. Her hands were icy. She held the cup between them, trying to warm them.

"Lord Fujiwara sent this tea," Ayame said. "A whole box of it. Isn't it delicious?"

"Fetch s.h.i.+zuka!" Kaede cried angrily. "Tell her to come to me at once!"

A few minutes later s.h.i.+zuka came into the room and knelt in front of Kaede. Her face was somber.

"What is it?" Kaede asked, "Is he dead?" The cup began to shake in her hands, spilling the tea.

s.h.i.+zuka took it from her and held her hands tightly. "You must not be distressed. You must not become ill. He is not dead. But he has left the Tribe, and they have issued an edict against him."

"What does that mean?"

"You remember what he told you at Terayama? If he did not go with them, they would not allow him to live. It is the same."

"Why?" Kaede said. "Why? I don't understand."

"It's the way the Tribe are. Obedience is everything to them."

"So why would he leave them?"

"It's not clear. There was some altercation, some disagreement. He was sent on a mission and never came back from it." s.h.i.+zuka paused. "Kondo thinks he may be at Terayama. If he is, he will be safe there for the winter."

Kaede pulled her hands away from s.h.i.+zuka and stood. "I must go there."

"It's impossible," s.h.i.+zuka said. "It's already closed off by snow."

"I must see him!" Kaede said, her eyes blazing in her pale face. "If he has left the Tribe, he will become Otori again. If he is Otori, we can marry!"

"Lady!" s.h.i.+zuka stood too. "What madness is this? You cannot just take after him like that! Even if the roads were open it would be unthinkable. Better by far, to marry Fujiwara, if you want what you say you want. It is what he desires."

Kaede struggled to regain control of herself. "There is nothing to stop me from going to Terayama. Indeed, I should go there... on a pilgrimage... to give thanks to the all-merciful one for saving my life. I have promised to go to Inuyama, to Arai, as soon as the snows melt. I shall go to the temple on the way. Even if Lord Fujiwara does want to marry me, I can do nothing without consulting Lord Arai. Oh, s.h.i.+zuka, how long is it till spring?"

9.

The winter days crawled past. Every month Kaede went to Lord Fujiwara's residence, stayed for a week, and recounted the story of her life, at night while the snow fell or the moon shone coldly on the frozen garden. He asked many questions and made her repeat many parts.

"It could be the subject of a drama," he said more than once. "Maybe I should try my hand at writing such a thing."

"You would never be able to show it to anyone," she replied. "No, the delight would be in the writing alone. I would share it with you, of course. We might have it acted once for our pleasure and then have the actors put to death."

He often made comments like this, with no trace of emotion, alarming her more and more, though she kept her fears hidden. With each retelling her face became more masklike, her movements more studied, as though she were endlessly acting out her life on a stage he had created as carefully as the perfectly constructed theater where Mamoru and the other young men played their roles.

During the day he kept his promise to teach her as if she were a boy. He used men's language with her and made her speak it to him. It amused him sometimes to see her dressed in Mamoru's clothes, with her hair tied back. The role-playing exhausted her. But she learned.

Fujiwara kept his other promises, having food delivered to her house and money handed over to s.h.i.+zuka at the end of each visit. Kaede counted it with the same avidity with which she studied. She saw them both as equal currency for her future, giving her freedom and power.

In early spring there was a bitter snap of cold weather that froze the plum blossoms on the branches. Kaede's impatience grew with the lengthening days; the increased cold and harder frosts, followed by fresh snow, nearly drove her mad. She could feel her mind, frantic like a bird trapped inside the house; yet, she did not dare share her feelings with anyone, not even with s.h.i.+zuka.

On sunny days she went to the stables and watched Raku when Amano let the horses out to gallop in the water meadows. The horse often seemed to look questioningly toward the northeast, tasting the sharp wind.

"Soon," she promised him. "Soon we will be on our way."

Finally the full moon of the third month turned and brought with it a warm wind from the south. Kaede woke to the sound of water dripping from the eaves, trickling through the garden, racing down the waterfalls. In three days the snow was gone. The world lay bare and muddy, waiting to be filled with sound and color again.

"I have to go away for a while," she told Fujiwara on her last visit. "I have been summoned by Lord Arai to Inuyama."

"You will seek his permission to marry?"

"It is something that must be discussed with him before I can make any decisions," she murmured.

"Then I will let you go." His lips curved slightly but the smile did not reach his eyes.

For the last month she had been making preparations, waiting for the thaw, thankful for Fujiwara's money. Within a week she left on a cold, bright morning, the sun appearing and disappearing behind racing clouds, the wind from the east, keen and bracing. Hana had begged to be allowed to come, and at first Kaede intended to take her. But a fear grew in her that once they were at Inuyama, Arai might keep her sister as a hostage. For the time being, Hana was safer at home. She hardly admitted even to herself that if Takeo were at Ter-ayama, she might never go on to the capital. Ai did not want to come, and Kaede left her hostage, Mitsuru, with Shoji, as a guarantee for her own safety.

She took Kondo, Amano, and six other men. She wanted to move quickly, always aware of how short a life might be and how precious every hour was. She put on men's garments and rode Raku. He had wintered well, hardly losing any weight, and he stepped out with an eagerness that equaled hers. He was already shedding his winter coat, and the rough gray hair clung to her clothes.

s.h.i.+zuka accompanied her, along with one of the maids from the house, Manami. s.h.i.+zuka had decided she would go at least as far as Terayama and, while Kaede went on to the capital, she would visit her grandparents' home, in the mountains behind Yamagata, to see her sons. Manami was a sensible and practical woman who quickly took it upon herself to supervise their meals and lodging at the inns along the road, demanding hot food and water, disputing prices, cowing innkeepers, and always getting her own way.

"I won't have to worry about who'll look after you when I leave you," s.h.i.+zuka said on the third night, after hearing Manami scold the innkeeper for providing inferior, flea-ridden bedding. "I think Man-ami's tongue would stop an ogre in its tracks."

"I'll miss you," Kaede said. "I think you are my courage. I don't know how brave I can be without you. And who will tell me what is really happening beneath all the lies and the pretense?"

"I think you can discern that well enough for yourself," s.h.i.+zuka replied. "Besides, Kondo will be with you. You will make a better impression on Arai without me!"

"What should I expect from Arai?"

"He has always taken your part. He will continue to champion you. He is generous and loyal, except when he feels he has been slighted or deceived."

"He is impulsive, I thought," Kaede said.

"Yes, to the point of rashness. He is hot in every sense of the word, pa.s.sionate and stubborn."

"You loved him very much?" Kaede said.

"I was only a girl. He was my first lover. I was deeply in love with him, and he must have loved me after his own fas.h.i.+on. He kept me with him for fourteen years."

"I will plead with him to forgive you," Kaede exclaimed.

"I don't know which I fear most, his forgiveness or his rage," s.h.i.+zuka admitted, thinking of Dr. Is.h.i.+da and the discreet, entirely satisfactory affair they had been conducting all winter.

"Then maybe I should not mention you at all."

"It's usually better to say nothing," s.h.i.+zuka agreed. "Anyway, his main concern will be with your marriage and the alliances that may be made by it."

"I will not marry until I have secured Maruyama," Kaede replied. "First he must a.s.sist me in that."

But first I must see Takeo, she thought. she thought. If he is not at Terayama, I will forget him. It will be a sign that it is not meant to be. Oh, merciful heaven, let him be there! If he is not at Terayama, I will forget him. It will be a sign that it is not meant to be. Oh, merciful heaven, let him be there!

As the road ascended farther into the mountain range, the thaw was less apparent. Drifts of unmelted snow still covered the paths in places, and often there was ice underfoot. The horses' feet were wrapped in straw, but their progress was slow and Kaede's impatience intensified.

Finally, late one afternoon, they arrived at the inn at the foot of the holy mountain, where Kaede had rested when she had first visited the temple with Lady Maruyama. Here they would stay the night before making the final ascent the next day.

Kaede slept fitfully, her mind full of the companions from her previous journey, whose names were now entered in the ledgers of the dead. She recalled the day they had ridden out together, how light-hearted everyone had seemed while they had been planning a.s.sa.s.sination and civil war. She had known nothing of that; she had been a green girl nursing a secret love. She felt a wave of scornful pity for that innocent, guileless self. She had changed completely, but the love had not changed.

The light was paling behind the shutters, and birds were calling. The room seemed unbearably stuffy. Manami was snoring slightly. Kaede got up quietly, pulled on a quilted robe, and slid open the door to the courtyard. From behind the wall she could hear the horses stamping on their lines. She heard one of them give a whicker of recognition. The men must be up already, The men must be up already, she thought, and heard footsteps turn through the gate,. She stepped behind the shutter again. she thought, and heard footsteps turn through the gate,. She stepped behind the shutter again.

Everything was misty and indistinct in the dawn light. A figure came into the courtyard. She thought, It's him. It's him. She thought, She thought, It cannot be. It cannot be.

Takeo came out of the mist toward her.

She stepped onto the veranda, and as he recognized her she saw the look that swept across his face. She thought, with grat.i.tude and relief, It's all right. He's alive. He loves me. It's all right. He's alive. He loves me.

He came up onto the veranda silently and fell on his knees before her. She knelt too. "Sit up," she whispered.

He did so, and they stared at each other for several moments, she as if she would drink him in, he obliquely, not meeting her gaze. They sat awkwardly, so much between them.

Takeo said finally, "I saw my horse. I knew you must be here, but I couldn't believe it."

"I heard you were here. In great danger, but alive."

"The danger is not so great," he said. "My greatest danger is from you-that you cannot forgive me."

"I can't not not forgive you," she replied simply. "As long as you don't leave me again." forgive you," she replied simply. "As long as you don't leave me again."

"I was told you were to be married. I have been afraid of it all winter."

"There is someone who wants to marry me: Lord Fujiwara. But we are not married yet, not even betrothed."

"Then we must marry immediately. Are you here to visit the temple?"

"That was my intention. Then I was to go on to Inuyama." She was studying his face. He looked older, the bones more p.r.o.nounced, the mouth more determined. His hair, shorter than it had been, was not pulled back in the warrior style but fell against his forehead, thick and glossy.