Brilliance Of The Moon Part 3

As soon as I saw her, I was seized by the fiercest desire to hold her. I thought I would die if I did not sleep with her soon. I had not expected this and I was ashamed of how I felt. I thought I should have been concerned with her safety instead; moreover, I was the leader of an army: I had a thousand men to worry about. My aching desire for my wife embarra.s.sed me and made me almost shy of her.

She saw me and rode toward me. The horses whickered at each other. Our knees touched. As our heads bent toward each other, I caught her jasmine scent.

"The road's clear now," I said. "We can ride on."

"Who were they?"

"Bandits, I suppose." I spoke briefly, not wanting to bring the blood and the dying into this place where Kaede was, "Kahei has gone ahead to find you somewhere to sleep tonight."

"I'll sleep outside if I can lie with you," she said in a low voice. "I have never felt freedom before, but today, on the journey, in the rain, in all its difficulties, I have felt free."

Our hands touched briefly, then I rode on with Amano, talking to him about Shun. My eyes were hot and I wanted to conceal my emotion.

"I've never ridden a horse like him before. It's as if he knows what I'm thinking."

Amano's eyes creased as he smiled. "I wondered if you would like him. Someone brought him to me a couple of weeks ago; my guess is he was either stolen or picked up after his owner was killed. I can't imagine anyone getting rid of him voluntarily. He's the smartest horse I've ever known. The black's more showy-good for making an impression-but I know which one I'd rather be on in a fight." He grinned at me. "Lord Otori is lucky with horses. Some people are. It's like a gift; good animals come to you."

"Let's hope it augurs well for the future," I replied. We pa.s.sed the hovel. The dead were laid out in rows along the dike. I was thinking that I should leave some men to burn or bury the corpses when there was a disturbance ahead, and one of Kahei's men came through on his horse, shouting at the soldiers to let him pa.s.s, calling my name.

"Lord Otori!" he said, reining in his horse just in front of us. "You're wanted up ahead. Some farmers have come to speak with you."

Ever since we'd crossed the river, I'd been wondering where the local people were. Even though the rice fields were flooded, there was no sign of their having been planted. Weeds choked the irrigation channels, and though in the distance I could see the steep thatched roofs of farmhouses, no smoke rose from them and there was no sign or sound of human activity. The landscape seemed cursed and empty. I imagined that Jin-emon and his band had intimidated, driven away, or murdered all the farmers and villagers. It seemed news of his death had traveled fast, and had now brought some of them out from hiding.

I cantered up through the file. The men called out to me, seeming cheerful; some were even singing. They were apparently unworried by the coming night, apparently had complete faith in my ability to find them food and shelter.

At the front of the army, Makoto had called a halt. A group of farmers were squatting on their heels in the mud. When I reached them and dismounted, they threw themselves forward.

Makoto said, "They've come to thank us. The bandits have been terrorizing this area for nearly twelve months. They've been unable to plant this spring for fear of them. The ogre killed many of their sons and brothers, and many of their women have been abducted."

"Sit up," I said to them. "I am Otori Takeo."

They sat up, but as soon as I spoke my name they bowed again. "Sit up," I repeated. "Jm-emon is dead." Down they went again. "You may do with his body what you wish. Retrieve your relatives' remains and bury them honorably." I paused. I wanted to ask them for food but feared they had so little, I would be condemning them to death by starvation once we had moved on.

The oldest among them, obviously the headman, spoke hesitantly. "Lord, what can we do for you? We would feed your men, but they are so many..."

"Bury the dead and you owe us nothing," I replied. "But we must find shelter tonight. What can you tell us about the nearest town?"

"They will welcome you there," he said. "Kibi is an hour or so away on foot. We have a new lord, one of Lord Arai's men. He has sent warriors against the bandits many times this year, but they have always been defeated. The last time his two sons were killed by Jin-emon, as was my eldest son. This is his brother, Jiro. Take him with you, Lord Otori."

Jiro was a couple of years younger than I was, painfully thin, but with an intelligent face beneath the rain-streaked dirt.

"Come here, Jiro," I said to him, and he got to his feet and stood by the bay's head. It smelled him carefully as if inspecting him. "Do you like horses?"

He nodded, too overwhelmed by my addressing him directly to speak.

"If your father can spare you, you may come with me to Maruyama." I thought he could join Amano's grooms.

"We should press on now," Makoto said at my elbow.

"We have brought what we could," the farmer said, and made a gesture to the other men. They lowered their sacks and baskets from their shoulders and took out scant offerings of food: cakes made from millet, fern shoots and other wild greens cut from the mountain, a few tiny salted plums, and some withered chestnuts. I did not want to take them, but I felt to refuse would be to dishonor the farmers. I organized two soldiers to gather up the food and bring the sacks with them.

"Bid your father farewell," I said to Jiro, and saw the older man's face working suddenly to fight back tears. I regretted my offer to take the boy, not only because it was one more life to be responsible for, but also because I was depriving his father of his help in restoring the neglected fields.

"I'll send him back from the town."

"No!" both father and son exclaimed together, the boy's face reddening.

"Let him go with you," the father pleaded. "Our family used to be warriors. My grandparents took to farming rather than starve. If Jiro serves you, maybe he can become a warrior again and restore our family name."

"He would do better to stay here and restore the land," I replied. "But if it is truly what you want, he may come with us."

I sent the lad back to help Amano with the horses we had acquired from the bandits, telling him to come back to me when he was mounted. I was wondering what had happened to Aoi, whom I had not set eyes on since I'd left him with Jo-An; it seemed like days ago. Makoto and I rode knee by knee at the head of our tired but cheerful army.

"It's been a good day, a good start," he said. "You have done exceptionally well, despite my idiocy."

I remembered my earlier fury against him. It seemed to have evaporated completely now.

"Let's forget it. Would you describe that as a battle?"

"For unfledged men it was a battle," he replied. "And a victory. Since you won it, you can describe it however you like."

Three left to win, one to lose, I thought, and then almost immediately wondered if that was how a prophecy worked. Could I choose to apply it how it pleased me? I began to see what a powerful and dangerous thing it was: how it would influence my life whether I believed it or not. The words had been spoken to me, I had heard them, I would never be able to wipe them from my memory. Yet I could not quite commit myself to believing in them blindly.

Jiro came trotting back on Amano's own chestnut, Ki. "Lord Amano thought you should change horses, and sent you his. He doesn't think he can save the black horse. It needs to rest its leg, and won't be able to keep up. And no one here can afford to keep a creature that can't work." I felt a moment of sorrow for the brave and beautiful horse. I patted Shuns neck. "I'm happy with this one."

Jiro slid from the chestnut's back and took Shuns reins. "Ki is better-looking," he remarked.

"You should make a good impression," Makoto said dryly to me. We changed horses, the chestnut snorting through his nose and looking as fresh as if he'd just come from the meadow. Jiro swung himself up on the bay, but as soon as he touched the saddle, Shun put his head down and bucked, sending him flying through the air. The horse regarded the boy in the mud at his feet in surprise, almost as though thinking, What's he doing down there What's he doing down there?

Makoto and I found it far funnier than it really was and roared with laughter. "Serves you right for being rude about him," Makoto said.

To his credit, Jiro laughed too. He got to his feet and apologized gravely to Shun, who then allowed him to mount without protest.

The boy lost some of his shyness after that and began to point out landmarks on the road, a mountain where goblins lived, a shrine whose water healed the deepest wounds, a roadside spring that had never dried up in a thousand years. I imagined that, like me, he'd spent most of his childhood running wild on the mountain. "Can you read and write, Jiro?" I asked.

"A little," he replied.

"You'll have to study hard to become a warrior," Makoto said with a smile.

"Don't I just need to know how to fight? I've practiced with the wooden pole and the bow."

"You need to be educated as well, otherwise you'll end up no better than the bandits."

"Are you a great warrior, sir?" Makoto's teasing encouraged Jiro to become more familiar.

"Not at all! I'm a monk."

Jiro's face was a picture of amazement. "Forgive me for saying so, but you don't look like one!"

Makoto dropped the reins on his horse's neck and took off his helmet, showing his shaven head. He rubbed his scalp and hung the helmet on the saddlebow. "I'm relying on Lord Otori to avoid any more combat today!"

After nearly an hour we came to the town. The houses around it seemed to be inhabited and the fields looked better cared for, the dikes repaired and the rice seedlings planted out. In one or two of the larger houses, lamps were lit, casting their orange glow against torn screens. Others had fires burning in the earthen-floored kitchens; the smell of food wafting from them made our stomachs growl.

The town had once been fortified, but recent fighting had left the walls broken in many places, the gates and watchtowers destroyed by fire. The fine mist softened the harsh outlines of destruction. The river that we had crossed flowed along one side of the town; there was no sign of a bridge, but there had obviously once been a thriving boat trade, though now more boats seemed damaged than whole. The bridge where Jin-emon had set up his toll barrier had been this town's lifeline and he'd all but strangled it.

Kahei was waiting for us at the ruins of the main gateway. I told him to stay with the men while I went on into the town with Makoto and Jiro and a small guard.

He looked concerned. "Better that I go, in case there is some trap," he suggested, but I did not think this half-ruined place offered any danger, and I felt it wiser to ride up to Aral's constable as if I expected his friendship and cooperation. He would not refuse to help me to my face, whereas he might if if he thought I had any fear of him. As Kahei had said, there was no castle, but in the center of the town on a slight hill was a large wooden residence whose walls and gates had recently been repaired. The house itself looked run-down but relatively undamaged. As we approached, the gates were opened and a middle-aged man stepped out, followed by a small group of armed men. he thought I had any fear of him. As Kahei had said, there was no castle, but in the center of the town on a slight hill was a large wooden residence whose walls and gates had recently been repaired. The house itself looked run-down but relatively undamaged. As we approached, the gates were opened and a middle-aged man stepped out, followed by a small group of armed men.

I recognized him at once. He had been at Arai's side when the western army rode into Inuyama, and had accompanied Arai to Terayama. Indeed, he had been in the room when I had last seen Arai. Niwa, his name was, I recalled. Was it his sons who had been killed by Jin-emon? His face had aged and held fresh lines of grief.

I reined in the chestnut horse and spoke in a loud voice. "I am Otori Takeo, son of Shigeru, grandson of Shigemori. I intend no harm to you or your people. My wife Shirakawa Kaede and I are moving our army to her domain at Maruyama, and I ask for your help in providing food and lodging overnight."

"I remember you well," he said. "It's been a while since we last met. I am Niwa Junkei. I hold this land by order of Lord Arai. Are you now seeking an alliance with him?"

"That would give me the greatest pleasure," I said. "As soon as I have secured my wife's domain, I will go to Inuyama to wait on his lordship."

"Well, a lot seems to have changed in your life," he replied. "I believe I am in your debt; news on the wind is that you killed Jin-emon and his bandits."

"It is true that Jin-emon and all his men are dead," I said. "We have brought back the warriors' heads for proper burial. I wish I had come earlier to spare you your grief."

He nodded, his lips compressed into a line so thm that it looked black, but he did not speak of his sons. "You must be my guests," he said, trying to infuse some energy into his tired voice. "You are very welcome. The clan hall is open to your men: It's been damaged, but the roof still stands. The rest may camp outside the town. We will provide such food as we can. Please bring your wife to my house; my women will look after her. You and your guard will of course also stay with me." He paused and then said bitterly, abandoning the formal words of courtesy, "I am aware that I am only offering you what you would otherwise take. Lord Arai's orders have always been to detain you. But I could not protect this district against a gang of bandits. What hope would I have against an army the size of yours?"

"I am grateful to you." I decided to ignore his tone, attributing it to grief. But I wondered at the scarcity of troops and supplies, the obvious weakness of the town, the impudence of the bandits. Arai must barely hold this country; the task of subduing the remnants of the Tohan must be taking up all his resources.

Niwa provided us with sacks of millet and rice, dried fish, and soybean paste, and these were distributed to the men along with the farmers' offerings. In their grat.i.tude the townspeople welcomed the army and gave what food and shelter they could. Tents were erected, fires lit, horses fed and watered. I rode around the lines with Makoto, Amano, and Jiro, half-appalled at my own lack of knowledge and experience, half-amazed that in spite of it my men were settled down for the first night of our march. I spoke to the guards Kahei had set and then to Jo-An and the outcasts who had camped near them. An uneasy alliance seemed to have grown up between them.

I was inclined to watch all night too-I would hear an approaching army long before anyone else-but Makoto persuaded me to go back and rest for at least part of the night. Jiro led Shun and the chestnut away to Niwa's stables, and we went to the living quarters.

Kaede had already been escorted there and had been given a room with Niwa's wife and the other women of the household. I was longing to be alone with her, but I realized there would be little chance of it. She would be expected to sleep in the women's room, and I would be with Makoto and Kahei, several guards, and probably next door to Niwa and his guards too.

An old woman, who told us she had been Niwa's wife's wet nurse, led us to the guest room. It was s.p.a.cious and well proportioned, but the mats were old and stained and the walls spotted with mildew. The screens were still open: On the evening breeze came the scent of blossom and freshly wet earth, but the garden was wild and untended.

"A bath is ready, lord," she said to me, and led me to the wooden bathhouse at the farther end of the veranda. I asked Makoto to keep guard and told the old woman to leave me alone. No one could have looked more harmless, but I was not taking any risks. I had absconded from the Tribe; I was under their sentence of death; I knew only too well how their a.s.sa.s.sins could appear under any guise.

She apologized that the water would not be very hot, and grumbled about the lack of firewood and food. It was in fact barely lukewarm, but the night was not cold, and just to scrub the mud and blood off my body was pleasure enough. I eased myself into the tub, checking out the day's damage. I was not wounded, but I had bruises I had not noticed getting. My upper arms were marked by Jin-emons steel hands-I remembered that all right-but there was a huge bruise on my thigh already turning black; I had no idea what had caused it. The wrist that Akio had bent backward so long ago at Inuyama and that I'd thought had healed was aching again, probably from the contact with Jin-emon's stone bones. I thought I would strap a leather band around it the following day. I let myself drift for a few moments and was on the point of falling asleep when I heard a woman's tread outside; the door slid open and Kaede stepped in.

I knew it was Kaede, by her walk, by her scent. She said, "I've brought lamps. The old woman said you must have sent her away because she was too ugly. She persuaded me to come instead."

The light in the bathhouse changed as she set the lamps on the floor. Then her hands were at the back of my neck, ma.s.saging away the stiffness.

"I apologized for your rudeness, but she said that where she grew up, the wife always looked after the husband in the bath, and that I should do the same for you."

"An excellent old custom," I said, trying not to groan aloud. Her hands moved to my shoulders. The overwhelming desire I'd felt for her came flooding back through me. Her hands left me for a moment and I heard the sigh of silk as she untied her sash and let it fall to the ground. She leaned forward to run her fingers across my temples and I felt her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brush the back of my neck.

I leaped from the bath and took her in my arms. She was as aroused as I was. I did not want to lay her down on the floor of the bathhouse. I lifted her and she wrapped her legs around me. As I moved into her I felt the rippling beginnings of her climax. Our bodies merged into one being, imitating our hearts. Afterward we did lie down, though the floor was wet and rough, clinging to each other for a long time.

When I spoke it was to apologize. I was ashamed again of the strength of my desire. She was my wife; I'd treated her like a prost.i.tute. "Forgive me," I said. "I'm sorry."

"I wanted it so badly," Kaede said in a low voice. "I was afraid we would not be together tonight. I should ask your forgiveness. I seem to be shameless."

I pulled her close to me, burying my face in her hair. What I felt for her was like an enchantment. I was afraid of its power, but I could not resist it and it delighted me more than anything else in life.

"It's like a spell," Kaede said, as though she read my mind. "It's so strong I can't fight it. Is love always like this?"

"I don't know. I've never loved anyone but you."

"I am the same." When she stood her robe was soaked. She scooped water from the bath and washed herself. "Manami will have to find me a dry robe from somewhere." She sighed. "Now I suppose I have to go back to the women. I must try to talk to poor Lady Niwa, who is eaten up by grief. What will you talk about with her husband?"

"I'll find out what I can about Arai's movements and how many men and domains he controls."

"It's pitiful here," Kaede said. "Anyone could take over this place."

"Do you think we should?" The thought had already occurred to me when I'd heard Niwa's words at the gate. I also scooped water from the tub, washed myself, and dressed.

"Can we afford to leave a garrison here?"

"Not really. I think part of Arai's problem may be that he took too much land too fast. He has spread himself very thin."

"I agree," Kaede said, pulling her robe round her body and tying the sash. "We must consolidate our position at Maruyama and build up our supplies. If the land there is as neglected as it is here, and was at my home, we'll have trouble feeding our men once we get there. We need to be farmers before we can be warriors."

I gazed at her. Her hair was damp, her face soft from lovemaking. I had never seen a being as beautiful as she was, but beneath all that she had a mind like a sword. I found the combination and the fact that she was my wife unbearably erotic.

She slid the door open and stepped into her sandals. She dropped to her knees. "Good night, LordTakeo," she said in a sweet, coy voice, quite unlike her own, rose lithely, and walked away, her hips swaying beneath the thin, wet robe.

Makoto sat outside, watching her, a strange look on his face, maybe disapproving, maybe jealous.

"Take a bath," I told him, "though the water's half-cold. Then we must join Niwa."

Kahei returned to eat with us. The old woman helped Niwa serve the food; I thought I caught a smirk on her face as she placed the tray before me, but I kept my eyes lowered. By now I was so hungry, it was hard not to fall on the food and cram it in fistfuls into my mouth. There was little enough of it. Later the women came back with tea and wine and then left us. I envied them, for they would be sleeping close to Kaede.

The wine loosened Niwa's tongue, though it did not improve his mood; rather, it made him more melancholy and tearful. He had accepted the town from Arai, thinking it would make a home for his sons and grandsons. Now he had lost the first and would never see the second. His sons had not even, in his mind, died with honor on the battlefield, but had been murdered shamefully by a creature who was barely human.

"I don't understand how you overcame him," he said, sizing me up with a look that verged on scornful. "No offense, but both my sons were twice your size, older, more experienced." He drank deeply, then went on: "But then, I could never understand how you killed Iida, either. There was that rumor about you after you disappeared, of some strange blood in you that gave you special powers. Is it a sort of sorcery?"

I was aware of Kahei tensing beside me. Like any warrior he took immediate offense at the suggestion of sorcery. I did not think Niwa was being deliberately insulting; I thought he was too dulled by grief to know what he was saying. I made no reply. He continued to study me, but I did not meet his gaze. I was starting to long for sleep; my eyelids were quivering, my teeth aching.

"There were a lot of rumors," Niwa went on. "Your disappearance was a considerable blow to Arai. He took it very personally. He thought there was some conspiracy against him. He had a long-term mistress: Muto Shizuka. You know her?"

"She was a maid to my wife," I replied, not mentioning that she was also my cousin. "Lord Arai himself sent her."

"She turned out to be from the Tribe. Well, he'd known that all along, but he hadn't realized what it meant. When you went off, apparently to join the Tribe-or so everyone was saying-it brought a lot of things to a head."

He broke off, his gaze becoming more suspicious. "But you presumably know all this already."

"I heard that Lord Arai intended to move against the Tribe," I said carefully. "But I have not heard of the outcome."

"Not very successful. Some of his retainers-I was not among them-advised him to work with the Tribe as Iida did. Their opinion was that the best way to control them was to pay them. Arai didn't like that: He couldn't afford it it for a start, and it's not in his nature. He wants things to be cut-and-dried and he can't stand to be made a fool of. He thought Muto Shizuka, the Tribe, even you, had hoodwinked him in some way." for a start, and it's not in his nature. He wants things to be cut-and-dried and he can't stand to be made a fool of. He thought Muto Shizuka, the Tribe, even you, had hoodwinked him in some way."