Brilliance of the Moon (22 page)

When they came to the residence, the gates were open and armed
guards stood inside the courtyard. Amano dismounted and came to help Kaede from
Raku’s back.

“I will not get down until Lord Fujiwara comes,” she said boldly.

“I do not intend to stay.”

Murita hesitated, unwilling to take such a message.

“Tell him I am here,” she pressed.

“Lady Shirakawa.” He bowed his head and dismounted, but at that
moment Lord Fujiwara’s young companion Mamoru the actor came from the house and
knelt in front of her horse.

“Welcome, lady,” he said. “Please come inside.”

She was afraid that if she did she would never come out.
“Mamoru,” she said curtly, “I will not go inside. I have come to find out where
my sisters are.”

He stood then and came to the right side of her horse, stepping
between her and Amano. He, who had rarely looked directly at her, now seemed to
be trying to meet her gaze.

“Lady Shirakawa…” he began, and she heard something in his
voice.

“Remount,” she said to Amano, and he obeyed her instantly.

“Please,” Mamoru said quietly, “it’s best if you comply. I beg
you. For your sake, for the sake of your men, the boy…”

“If Lord Fujiwara will not come to speak to me and will not tell
me what I want to know, I have no further business here.”

She did not see who gave the order. She was aware only of some
look that flashed between Mamoru and Murita.

“Ride!” she cried to Amano, and tried to turn Raku’s head, but
Murita was holding the bridle. She leaned forward, drawing her sword and urging
the horse to rear. He shook his head free from the man’s grip and went up on
his hind legs, striking out with his forefeet. She struck downward at Murita
and saw the blade slice against his hand. He cried out in fury, pulling out his
own sword. She thought he would kill her, but he grabbed at the bridle again,
wrenching the horses head down. She felt something plunge and flail behind her:
It was Hiroshi’s horse, panicking. Mamoru was plucking at her clothes, calling
out to her, begging her to surrender. Beyond him she could see Amano. His sword
was drawn, but before he could use it an arrow struck him in the chest. She saw
the look of shock come into his eyes, then blood began to bubble with each
breath and he fell forward.

“No!” she screamed. Murita, at the same moment, in frustrated
rage, thrust his sword upward into Raku’s exposed chest. The horse screamed,
too, in pain and fear, and his bright blood began to gush. As he faltered, legs
swaying, head sinking, Murita caught Kaede and tried to drag her from his back.
She struck out at him once more, but the horse was falling, taking her down,
and her blow had no strength in it. Munta caught her wrist and effortlessly
twisted the sword from her hand. Saying nothing, he half dragged, half carried
her to the house. “Help me! Help me!” she called, twisting her head round,
trying to look back at her men, but the swift, ferocious assault had left them
all dead or dying. “Hiroshi!” she screamed, and heard hooves pounding. The last
thing she saw before Murita carried her inside was the roan bolting, carrying
the boy away against his will. It was the slightest grain of comfort.

Murita searched her for other weapons, finding her knife; his
hand was bleeding freely and rage made him rough. Mamoru ran before them,
opening doors as he took her to the guest rooms. When he released her she fell
to the ground, sobbing with rage and grief.

“Raku! Raku!” she wept, as grief-stricken as if the horse had
been her child. Then she wept for Amano and the others whom she had led to
their deaths.

Mamoru knelt beside her, babbling, “I’m sorry, Lady Shirakawa.
You must submit. No one is going to hurt you. Believe me, we all love and honor
you here. Please calm yourself.”

When she only wept more desperately, he said to the maids,

“Send for Dr. Ishida.”

A few minutes later she was aware of the physician’s presence. He
knelt beside her and she raised her head, pushing aside her hair and gazing at
him with stricken eyes.

“Lady Shirakawa—” he began, but she interrupted him.

“My name is Otori. I am married. What is this outrage? You will
not let them keep me here. You will tell them to let me go at once.”

“I wish I could,” he said in a low voice. “But we all lead our
lives here according to His Lordship’s will, not our own.”

“What does he want from me? Why has he done this? He has abducted
my sisters, murdered my men!“ The tears poured anew down her face. ”He did not
need to kill my horse.“ She was racked by sobs.

Ishida told the maids to fetch herbs from his house and bring hot
water. Then he examined her gently, looking in her eyes and feeling her pulse.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but I must ask you if you are carrying a
child.”

“Why must you know that? It is nothing to do with you!”

“His Lordship’s intention is to marry you. He considers that you
were betrothed to him. He had already sought the emperor’s permission, as well
as Lord Arai’s.”

“We were never betrothed,” Kaede sobbed. “I am married to Otori
Takeo.”

Ishida said gently, “I can’t discuss these things with you. You
will see His Lordship directly. But as your physician I must know if you are
pregnant.”

“What if I am?”

“Then we will get rid of it.”

When Kaede cried out in grief, he said, “Lord Fujiwara is already
making great concessions to you. He could have you put to death for your
infidelity. He will forgive you and marry you, but he will not give his name to
another man’s child.”

She made no response other than renewed sobbing. The maid
returned with the herbs and teakettle and Ishida brewed the infusion.

“Drink it,” he told Kaede. “It will calm you.”

“Suppose I refuse?” she said, sitting abruptly and snatching the
bowl from him. She held it out at arm’s length as though she would pour it onto
the matting. “Suppose I refuse all food and drink? Will he marry a corpse?”

“Then you condemn your sisters to death—or worse,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I take no pleasure in the situation, nor am I proud
of my part in it. All I can do is be utterly truthful with you. If you submit
to His Lordship’s will, you will preserve your honor and their lives.”

She gazed at him for a long moment. Slowly she brought the cup to
her lips. “I am not pregnant,” she said, and drained it.

Ishida sat with her while her senses began to numb, and when she
was calm, he told the maids to take her to the bathhouse and wash the blood
from her.

By the time she was bathed and dressed, the infusion had dulled
her grief and the brief murderous episode seemed like something she had
dreamed. In the afternoon she even slept a little, hearing as if from another
country the chanting of the priests lifting the pollution of death from the
house and restoring it to its peace and harmony. When she woke and found
herself in the familiar room, she forgot for a moment the past months and
thought,
lam at Fujiwara’s. How long
have
I stayed here? I must call Shizuka and ash. her
.

Then she remembered but with no intensity, just a dull knowledge
of what had been snatched so violently from her.

It was twilight, the cool ending to a long, heavy day. She could
hear the soft footsteps of the servants and their whispered voices. A maid came
to the room with a tray of food. Kaede picked at it listlessly; the smell of
food sickened her and she soon called for it to be taken away.

The maid returned with tea. She was followed into the room by
another woman, middle-aged, with small sharp eyes and a severe look, obviously
not a servant from her elegant clothes and refined manner. She bowed to the ground
before Kaede and said, “I am Ono Rieko, a cousin of Lord Fujiwara’s late wife.
I spent many years in Her Ladyship’s household. His Lordship sent for me to
make the preparations for the wedding ceremony. Please accept me with
kindness.” She bowed her head formally to the floor again.

Kaede felt an instinctive dislike for the woman before her. Her
appearance was not unpleasing—she could not imagine Fujiwara suffering any
person around him who was not attractive—but she sensed both self-pride and
mean-spiritedness in her character. “Do I have any choice?” she said coldly.

Rieko gave a little trill of laughter as she sat up. “I am sure
Lady Shirakawa will change her mind about me. I am only a very ordinary person,
but there may be things I can advise you on.” She began to pour the tea,
saying, “Dr. Ishida wants you to have a cup of this now. And as it is the first
night of the moon, Lord Fujiwara will come shortly to welcome you, and
view
the new moon with you. Drink your tea and I’ll make sure your
hair and dress are appropriate.”

Kaede took a sip of tea and then another, trying not to gulp it
down, for she was terribly thirsty. She was calm and could barely feel
anything; yet she was aware of the slow thudding of blood behind her temples.
She dreaded meeting him, dreaded the power he had over her. It was the power
that men held over women everywhere, in every aspect of their lives. She must
have been mad to think she could fight it. She remembered all too clearly Lady
Naomi’s words: /
must appear a
dejensehss
woman, otherwise these warriors will crush me
.

Now they were crushing her. Shizuka had warned her that her
marriage would enrage the elders of her class—that it would never be permitted.
But if she had listened and done what she was told, she would never have had
the months with Takeo. The thought of him now was so freshly painful, even with
the calming tea, that she laid
it
away in
the secret recesses of her heart, as hidden as the records of the Tribe in the Sacred Caves.

She became aware that Rieko was studying her closely. She turned
her face away and took another sip of tea.

“Come, come, Lady Shirakawa,” Rieko said briskly. “You must not
brood. You are about to make a brilliant marriage.“ She came a little closer,
shuffling forward on her knees. ”You are as beautiful as they say, apart from
being too tall, but your skin has a tendency to sallowness, and that heavy look
does not become you. Your beauty is your greatest asset: We must do all we can
to preserve it.“

She took the cup and set it on the tray. Then she unloosened
Kaede’s hair from the ties that held it back and began to comb it out.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Kaede replied.

“I thought you were older, twenty at least. You must be the type
that ages rapidly. We’ll have to watch that.” The comb raked across Kaede’s
scalp, bringing tears of pain to her eyes.

Rieko said, “It must be very difficult to dress your hair; it is
very soft.”

“I usually tie it back,” Kaede said.

“It is the fashion in the capital to wear it piled on the head,”
Rieko said, tugging in a way that hurt intentionally. “Thicker, coarser hair is
more desirable.”

Whereas sympathy and understanding might have released Kaede’s
grief, Rieko’s unkindness steeled her, making her determined never to break
down, never to show her feelings.
I slept in ice
, she thought.
The
goddess
speaks to me. I will discover power of some sort here and use it until Takeo
comes
for me
. He would come, she knew, or die
in the attempt, and when she saw his lifeless corpse she would be freed from
her promise and she would join him in the shadows of the afterworld.

In the distance dogs began barking suddenly and excitedly, and a
moment later the house shook in a tremor, longer and a little more severe than
the previous day’s.

Kaede felt what she always felt: shock, amazement that the earth
could quiver like fresh bean curd, and a sort of elation that nothing was fixed
or certain. Nothing lasted forever, not even Fujiwara and his house full of
treasures.

Rieko dropped the comb and struggled to her feet. The maids came
running to the door.

“Come outside quickly,” Rieko cried, her voice alarmed.

“Why?” Kaede said. “The quake will not be a big one.”

Rieko had already left the room. Kaede could hear her ordering
the maids to extinguish all the lamps, almost shrieking at them in her panic.
Kaede remained where she was, listening to the running feet, the raised voices,
the barking dogs. After a few moments she took up the comb and finished combing
out her hair. Since her head ached, she left it loose.

The robe they had dressed her in earlier seemed quite suitable
for moon viewing: It was dove gray, embroidered with bush clover and pale lemon
warblers. She wanted to look at the moon, to be bathed in its silvery light,
and to be reminded of how it came and went in the heavens, disappeared for
three days, and then returned.

The maids had left the doors to the veranda open. Kaede stepped
out and knelt on the wooden floor, gazing toward the mountain, recalling how
she had sat here with Fujiwara, wrapped in bearskins as the snow fell.