Brilliance of the Moon (7 page)

I watched the muddy water for a moment, called my thanks again to
the outcasts, and told them to keep up with the soldiers. Then I went to Kaede.

She was already mounted on Raku, in the shelter of the trees
around the fox shrine. I noticed quickly that Manami was perched on the
packhorse with the chest of records strapped behind her, and then I had eyes
only for Kaede. Her face was pale, but she sat straight-backed on the little
gray, watching the army file past with a slight smile on her lips. In this
rough setting she, whom I had mainly seen restrained and subdued in elegant
surroundings, looked happy.

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 embarrassed 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 passed
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 pass, 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
?

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
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.”