Grass for His Pillow (2 page)

 

 

 

On nights when, wind mixing in, the rain falls,

On nights when, rain mixing in, the snow falls

 

 

YAMANOUE NO OKURA:

A DIALOGUE ON POVERTY.

FROM
THE COUNTRY OF THE EIGHT ISLANDS

TRANS: HIROAKI SATO

S
hirakawa Kaede lay deeply asleep in the state close to unconsciousness that the Kikuta can deliver with their gaze. The night passed, the stars paled as dawn came, the sounds of the temple rose and fell around her, but she did not stir. She did not hear her companion, Shizuka, call anxiously to her from time to time, trying to wake her. She did not feel Shizuka's hand on her forehead. She did not hear Lord Arai Daiichi's men as they came with increasing impatience to the veranda, telling Shizuka that the warlord was waiting to speak to Lady Shirakawa. Her breathing was peaceful and calm, her features as still as a mask's.

Toward evening the quality of her sleep seemed to change. Her eyelids flickered and her lips appeared to smile. Her fingers, which had been curled gently against her palms, spread.

Be patient. He will come for you.

Kaede was dreaming that she had been turned to ice. The words echoed lucidly in her head. There was no fear in the dream, just the
feeling of being held by something cool and white in a world that was silent, frozen, and enchanted.

Her eyes opened.

It was still light. The shadows told her it was evening. A wind bell rang softly, once, and then the air was still. The day she had no recollection of must have been a warm one. Her skin was damp beneath her hair. Birds were chattering from the eaves, and she could hear the clip of the swallows' beaks as they caught the last insects of the day. Soon they would fly south. It was already autumn.

The sound of the birds reminded her of the painting Takeo had given her, many weeks before, at this same place, a sketch of a wild forest bird that had made her think of freedom; it had been lost along with everything else she possessed, her wedding robes, all her other clothes, when the castle at Inuyama burned. She possessed nothing. Shizuka had found some old robes for her at the house they had stayed in, and had borrowed combs and other things. She had never been in such a place before, a merchant's house, smelling of fermenting soy, full of people, whom she tried to keep away from, though every now and then the maids came to peep at her through the screens.

She was afraid everyone would see what had happened to her on the night the castle fell. She had killed a man, she had lain with another, she had fought alongside him, wielding the dead man's sword. She could not believe she had done these things. Sometimes she thought she was bewitched, as people said. They said of her that any man who desired her died—and it was true. Men had died. But not Takeo.

Ever since she had been assaulted by the guard when she was a hostage in Noguchi Castle, she had been afraid of all men. Her
terror of Iida had driven her to defend herself against him, but she had had no fear of Takeo. She had only wanted to hold him closer. Since their first meeting in Tsuwano, her body had longed for his. She had wanted him to touch her, she had wanted the feel of his skin against hers. Now, as she remembered that night, she understood with renewed clarity that she could marry no one but him, she would love no one but him.
I will be patient,
she promised. But where had those words come from?

She turned her head slightly and saw Shizuka's outline on the edge of the veranda. Beyond the woman rose the ancient trees of the shrine. The air smelled of cedars and dust. The temple bell tolled the evening hour. Kaede did not speak. She did not want to talk to anyone, or hear any voice. She wanted to go back to that place of ice where she had been sleeping.

Then, beyond the specks of dust that floated in the last rays of the sun, she saw something: a spirit, she thought, yet not only a spirit, for it had substance; it was there, undeniable and real, gleaming like fresh snow. She stared, half rose, but in the moment that she recognized her, the White Goddess, the all-compassionate, the all-merciful, was gone.

“What is it?” Shizuka heard the movement and ran to her side. Kaede looked at Shizuka and saw the deep concern in her eyes. She realized how precious this woman had become to her—her closest, indeed her only friend.

“Nothing. A half-dream.”

“Are you all right? How do you feel?”

“I don't know. I feel. . .” Kaede's voice died away. She gazed at Shizuka for several moments. “Have I been asleep all day? What happened to me?”

“He shouldn't have done it to you,” Shizuka said, her voice sharp with concern and anger.

“It was Takeo?”

Shizuka nodded. “I had no idea he had that skill. It's a trait of the Kikuta family.”

“The last thing I remember is his eyes. We gazed at each other and then I fell asleep.”

After a pause Kaede went on: “He's gone, hasn't he?”

“My uncle, Muto Kenji, and the Kikuta master Kotaro came for him last night,” Shizuka replied.

“And I will never see him again?” Kaede remembered her desperation the previous night, before the long, deep sleep. She had begged Takeo not to leave her. She had been terrified of her future without him, angry and wounded by his rejection of her. But all that turbulence had been stilled.

“You must forget him,” Shizuka said, taking Kaede's hand in hers and stroking it gently. “From now on, his life and yours cannot touch.”

Kaede smiled slightly.
I cannot forget him,
she was thinking.
Nor can he ever be taken from me. I have slept in ice. I have seen the White Goddess.

“Are you all right?” Shizuka said again, with urgency. “Not many people survive the Kikuta sleep. They are usually dispatched before they wake. I don't know what it has done to you.”

“It hasn't harmed me. But it has altered me in some way. I feel as if I don't know anything—as if I have to learn everything anew.”

Shizuka knelt before her, puzzled, her eyes searching Kaede's face. “What will you do now? Where will you go? Will you return to Inuyama with Arai?”

“I think I should go home to my parents. I must see my mother.
I'm so afraid she died while we were delayed in Inuyama for all that time. I will leave in the morning. I suppose you should inform Lord Arai.”

“I understand your anxiety,” Shizuka replied, “but Arai may be reluctant to let you go.”

“Then I shall have to persuade him,” Kaede said calmly. “First I must eat something. Will you ask them to prepare some food? And bring me some tea, please.”

“Lady.” Shizuka bowed to her and stepped off the veranda. As she walked away Kaede heard the plaintive notes of a flute played by some unseen person in the garden behind the temple. She thought she knew the player, one of the young monks from the time when they had first visited the temple to view the famous Sesshu paintings, but she could not recall his name. The music spoke to her of the inevitability of suffering and loss. The trees stirred as the wind rose, and owls began to hoot from the mountain.

Shizuka came back with the tea and poured a cup for Kaede. She drank as if she were tasting it for the first time, every drop having its own distinct, smoky flavor against her tongue. And when the old woman who looked after guests brought rice and vegetables cooked with bean curd, it was as if she had never tasted food before. She marveled silently at the new powers that had been awakened within her.

“Lord Arai wishes to speak with you before the end of the day,” Shizuka said. “I told him you were not well, but he insisted. If you do not feel like facing him now, I will go and tell him again.”

“I am not sure we can treat Lord Arai in that fashion,” Kaede said. “If he commands me, I must go to him.”

“He is very angry,” Shizuka said in a low voice. “He is offended
and outraged by Takeo's disappearance. He sees in it the loss of two important alliances. He will almost certainly have to fight the Otori now, without Takeo on his side. He'd hoped for a quick marriage between you—”

“Don't speak of it,” Kaede interrupted. She finished the last of the rice, placed the eating sticks down on the tray, and bowed in thanks for the food.

Shizuka sighed. “Arai has no real understanding of the Tribe—how they work, what demands they place on those who belong to them.”

“Did he never know that you were from the Tribe?”

“He knew I had ways of finding things out, of passing on messages. He was happy enough to make use of my skills in forming the alliance with Lord Shigeru and Lady Maruyama. He had heard of the Tribe, but like most people he thought they were little more than a guild. That they should have been involved in Iida's death shocked him profoundly, even though he profited from it.” She paused and then said quietly, “He has lost all trust in me: I think he wonders how he slept with me so many times without being assassinated himself. Well, we will certainly never sleep together again. That is all over.”

“Are you afraid of him? Has he threatened you?”

“He is furious with me,” Shizuka replied. “He feels I have betrayed him—worse: made a fool out of him. I do not think he will ever forgive me.” A bitter note crept into her voice. “I have been his closest confidante, his lover, his friend, since I was hardly more than a child. I have borne him two sons. Yet, he would have me put to death in an instant were it not for your presence.”

“I will kill any man who tries to harm you,” Kaede said.

Shizuka smiled. “How fierce you look when you say that!”

“Men die easily.” Kaede's voice was flat. “From the prick of a needle, the thrust of a knife. You taught me that.”

“But you are yet to use those skills, I hope,” Shizuka replied, “though you fought well at Inuyama. Takeo owes his life to you.”

Kaede was silent for a moment. Then she said in a low voice, “I did more than fight with the sword. You do not know all of it.”

Shizuka stared at her. “What are you telling me? That it was you who killed Iida?” she whispered.

Kaede nodded. “Takeo took his head, but he was already dead. I did what you told me. He was going to rape me.”

Shizuka grasped her hands. “Never let anyone know that! Not one of these warriors, not even Arai, would let you live.”

“I feel no guilt or remorse,” Kaede said. “I never did a less shameful deed. Not only did I protect myself but the deaths of many were avenged: Lord Shigeru; my kinswoman, Lady Maruyama, and her daughter; and all the other innocent people whom Iida tortured and murdered.”

“Nevertheless, if this became generally known, you would be punished for it. Men would think the world turned upside down if women start taking up arms and seeking revenge.”

“My world is already turned upside down,” Kaede said. “Still, I must go and see Lord Arai. Bring me. . .” She broke off and laughed. “I was going to say, ‘bring me some clothes,' but I have none. I have nothing!”

“You have a horse,” Shizuka replied. “Takeo left the gray for you.”

“He left me Raku?” Kaede smiled, a true smile that illuminated her face. She stared into the distance, her eyes dark and thoughtful.

“Lady?” Shizuka touched her on the shoulder.

“Comb out my hair and send a message to Lord Arai to say I will visit him directly.”

I
T WAS ALMOST
completely dark by the time they left the women's rooms and went toward the main guest rooms where Arai and his men were staying. Lights gleamed from the temple, and farther up the slope, beneath the trees, men stood with flaring torches around Lord Shigeru's grave. Even at this hour people came to visit it, bringing incense and offerings, placing lamps and candles on the ground around the stone, seeking the help of the dead man who every day became more of a god to them.

He sleeps beneath a covering of flame,
Kaede thought, herself praying silently to Shigeru's spirit for guidance, while she pondered what she should say to Arai. She was the heir to both Shirakawa and Maruyama; she knew Arai would be seeking some strong alliance with her, probably some marriage that would bind her into the power he was amassing. They had spoken a few times during her stay at Inuyama, and again on the journey, but Arai's attention had been taken up with securing the countryside and his strategies for the future. He had not shared these with her, beyond expressing his desire for the Otori marriage to take place. Once—a lifetime ago, it seemed now—she had wanted to be more than a pawn in the hands of the warriors who commanded her fate. Now, with the newfound strength that the icy sleep had given her, she resolved again to take control of her life.
I need time,
she thought.
I must do nothing rashly. I must go home before I make any decisions.