Autumn Bridge (27 page)

It was close enough to the northern frontier to create a sense of danger and, thus, urgency, a useful ingredient for those who sought an awakening to Buddha’s Way. Yet, it was not so close to the lands of the Emishi barbarians that any attack was truly likely. The nearest habitation, Yamanaka Village, was an hour’s walk away in the valley below the modest mountain upon which the abbey stood. This, too, was ideal, since its proximity allowed it to provide sustenance and labor on short notice, while its distance prevented excessive interaction, and its size was sufficient to support a small religious establishment without undue difficulty.

That an abbey had to be built at all was unfortunate; of course, worse outcomes had been possible, though perhaps not many.

From the garden of the abbey where Lady Kiyomi waited for Lady Nowaki, she could hear Hironobu’s voice coming from the woods nearby, and Go’s muffled replies.

Another summer had arrived and almost gone, and everything was different. Only one year ago, her husband, the Lord of Akaoka, controlled a few farms and a few fishing villages of no particular importance in a small corner of Shikoku island. Now her son Hironobu, at seven years of age, ruled territory on both sides of the Inland Sea. He had gained the sworn fealty of Lords Bandan and Hikari, and had risen to the status of Great Lord. In two lightning campaigns, her little boy’s forces had so badly battered the Hojo regime that many were predicting its imminent demise.

A year ago, Lady Nowaki had been a fourteen-year-old virgin, pretty enough that her family had aspired to a link with the Imperial Family in Kyoto. Now she was the fifteen-year-old mother of an insane infant, cloistered in an abbey far from home, an abbey built especially to provide refuge for her and her unfortunate offspring. Because of the defects of the child, it was apparent that neither would ever leave the abbey.

A year ago, it had never occurred to Lady Kiyomi to travel so far to the north even once. Indeed, the only other times she had crossed the Inland Sea was when she had left her home in Kobe to marry Hironobu’s father, and then on yearly visits to her family there. Now she had promised Lord Bandan she would visit his daughter twice a year, in the spring and the autumn, to see that she was well. Since she was the Great Lord’s mother, and the Great Lord himself accompanied her on these visits, it was a great honor to Lord Bandan, particularly given the unpleasant circumstances. This simple act of kindness alone would bind him even more tightly to Hironobu by the demands of honor and reciprocal obligation.

As the de facto regent for her son, it was necessary for her to consider such things. The official regent, General Ryusuke, was a well-meaning incompetent. He was regent only because, as the senior surviving commander of the clan’s army, it was expected of him — and because he was smart enough to know he was not smart enough to actually exercise the power of the office. Otherwise, it would have been necessary to kill him, since to pass him over would be an insult so egregious, he would have been obligated to conspire against Lady Kiyomi and Hironobu, whether he wanted to or not. She would not have done it herself, of course. Only witches killed their enemies with their own hands, usually by poisoning, or by a thin wire or a needle in the temple, under the hair, or by suffocation. The latter two methods were nearly undetectable, and therefore particularly favored by witches who slept with their victims. The thought of having to sleep with a dullard like General Ryusuke made her grimace. That alone would have been enough to stop her, even if she had been a witch. In fact, if any killing had been necessary, Go would have carried it out. Though he was a barbarian, he was as steadfastly loyal as any samurai could be. How lucky she and her son were to have him at their side.

The frantic cries of a baby came from within the abbey. Shizuka was awake.

Hironobu climbed up onto a stone outcropping and said, “Go, if you had to defend this abbey from attack, how would you do it?”

Go said, “The first thing I would do is stop making myself such an easy target for enemy archers.”

“There aren’t any enemy archers around now,” Hironobu said. “I mean ‘if.’ ”

“You are a Great Lord,” Go said. “If you are going to make assumptions about existing conditions, then you would be well advised to assume danger rather than safety.”

Crestfallen, Hironobu stepped back down to the forest floor. “Must I always worry so much about being killed?”

“You should never worry about it,” Go said, “but you must always be aware of the possibility. You have seized fifteen domains by force of arms, and so have made blood enemies of the former retainers and clansmen of the fifteen lords whom you have helped move on to the Pure Land.”

“They have sworn to obey me in return for their lives.”

“Are you really so young, my lord?”

“I am seven,” Hironobu said. “That’s not so young.”

A high keening wail suddenly erupted from within the walls of the abbey.

Hironobu stepped close to Go. “Someone is being tortured. It’s not right to do it in a holy place, is it?”

“No one is being tortured. It’s a baby crying.”

“A baby?” Hironobu listened again, his face doubtful. “I’ve heard babies cry. They don’t sound like that.”

“It’s a baby,” Go said. In the cold hollow of his chest, he could almost hear the echo of his own words. It’s a baby, he said, but meant, It’s a witch.

How had it happened? He wasn’t sure. He had gone over that night again and again in his mind, and still he didn’t know.

One moment, he was helping Lord Bandan’s daughter to her quarters. The next, he was lying with her in the ruins of an old Emishi barbarian fort an hour’s ride away from the castle. He had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience, he knew that much. He hadn’t intended to, not at all. At first, it was only a walk, then a ride on his stallion, then shelter in those ruins from the sudden squall. Then — then it was too late to think, for what was done was done.

Go was not afraid to die. He had expected to die on the shores of Hakata Bay when he had landed with the Mongol army ten years ago, and he probably should have. Every moment since had been a gift of the gods. Now death was only a matter of time. The girl had promised not to say anything, but she was a girl, after all. Eventually, someone would hear of it, and once someone did, her father would, too. Go’s head would end up on the end of a pike outside the gates of his castle. The image brought a bitter smile to his lips. At least he would have the satisfaction of knowing with certainty that his mother’s bloodline died with him. Witches must span time in unbroken generations. If none was born to Go, it did not matter how many daughters were born to Chiaki or his descendants. The spell would be broken.

But weeks passed and no messenger came from Lord Bandan to Lord Hironobu demanding Go’s head. Perhaps Nowaki was more resolute than he gave her credit for. Unlikely as it seemed, she was keeping the secret. If she continued to do so, no harm would come of his folly. When a messenger finally came, he wasn’t an official courier but a gossip, and he brought something worse than Go’s death warrant. Lady Nowaki was pregnant. He knew right away what had happened. Somehow, his mother had won. She had used him one last time from the grave to open a pathway for another of her kind.

He had to kill the witch. The safest way was to kill Nowaki, so the witch would die in the womb. Once born, witches were very hard to kill, even as infants. People around them unwittingly did their bidding, compelled by unknown forces to obey unspoken commands. His grandfather and his father, both mighty warriors, had been reduced to dried-up husks of their former selves by the demands of the one who was the daughter of the first, and the wife of the second. All his life, as boy, youth, and man, Go had been shamed by the taunts of his tribesmen. Witch’s boy. Woman’s dog. Eunuch’s spawn. Yet in front of his mother, they were cowed, respectful, submissive. They hated her, and despised her kin. But when she spoke of the future, they listened, and brought offerings. When she cast spells, the sick were healed, the healthy died, the deaf could hear, and her enemies all went blind. Or so it often seemed. Often enough, his mother liked to remind him, to keep their campfire burning, their horses fed and watered, and their own bellies full.

How to kill Nowaki. It was a difficult problem. She was the daughter of a lord confined to the innermost part of a castle unfamiliar to him. Stealth would be the best way to approach. Unfortunately, stealth was not a skill he possessed. His way was the way of the horseman. Attack mounted, at full stride, from an unexpected direction. Not a tactic suitable for the women’s quarters of a castle. He waited for a chance, any chance, and got none. Two months before it was due, the child was born.

It was, as he knew and feared it would be, a girl.

“It’s a baby,” Go said.

“Are you sure?” Hironobu said, his expression still highly doubtful.

“Yes.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“I haven’t, either,” Hironobu said. “Neither has my mother. Nobody has. That’s odd, don’t you think?”

Go shook his head. “There is something wrong with the child, so the family is not eager to display it. That’s quite natural.”

That piqued Hironobu’s interest. “Do you think it’s deformed? That would really be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not deformed.” The infant was insane, a fact that gave Go hope. All witches were fundamentally insane, of course, but one who displayed it so obviously would have less power to manipulate, trick, and confuse. In that way, insanity was better than deformity. A witch could get away with ugliness. It was expected of them. His mother, however, had not been ugly. Quite the opposite, and it had given her even more opportunities to deceive.

“You had better go see your mother, lord. Her visit with Lady Nowaki will begin soon, I think.”

“Why must I?” Hironobu scowled. “I’m not interested in babies, deformed or not, though maybe if it were deformed, I might be a little curious, at least. And I don’t want to hear any mother talk, either. That’s all the two of them are going to do: Talk about babies and motherhood.”

“Lord Bandan is your most powerful vassal,” Go said. “You honor him by visiting his afflicted offspring and showing compassion for them. Thus his debt of honor to you grows ever greater, binding him to you more strongly. This is a matter of wise command, not motherhood and babies.”

“So you say. You’re not the one who has to sit there through it.” But Hironobu did as he was told, and went to join the two ladies. At the gate to the temple he turned back and called out to Go, “Why don’t you come, too?”

“I am not permitted,” Go said. “Lady Nowaki is in retreat.”

“Then why am I permitted? Because I’m just a child?”

“You are permitted because you are Great Lord of the domain.”

The answer, which he had not expected, pleased him greatly. He was smiling when he entered the gate.

“Here he is now,” Lady Kiyomi said.

He saw his mother and Lady Nowaki sitting in an open room overlooking the courtyard garden. Lady Nowaki was the same No-chan of summers past who flew kites with him, and played hide-and-seek, and told ghost stories when they should have been asleep. That was before he became Great Lord. And that was before she grew up so suddenly. She looked very different from the girl he remembered. It wasn’t so much her clothing, though her drab gray nun’s robes contrasted sharply with the colorful kimono she used to wear. Her face, framed by the hood of the surplice, was that of a beautiful woman.