The Harsh Cry of the Heron (17 page)

‘I suppose I believe
you. I see the difference in those warriors who follow your teaching: their
self-discipline, their compassion. But how will this help me deal with the
Emperor and his new general, who are about to order me to go into exile?’

‘When you have told
us everything, we will advise you,’ Makoto promised. ‘First we will eat, and
then you must rest.’

Takeo did not think
he would sleep, but after they had eaten the frugal midday meal of mountain
vegetables, a little rice and soup, it began to rain heavily again. The light
became dim, greenish, and suddenly the idea of lying down seemed irresistible.
Makoto took Sunaomi to meet some of the young students; Jun and Shin sat
outside, drank tea and conversed quietly.

Takeo slept, the pain
receding as if dissolved by the steady drum of rain on the roof as much as the
spiritual calm that had enveloped him. He dreamed of nothing, and awoke with a
renewed sense of clarity and purpose. He bathed in the hot spring, remembering
how he had soaked in this same pool in the snow when he had fled to Terayama
all those years ago. When he had dressed again, he stepped onto the veranda
just as Makoto and Sunaomi returned.

The boy had been
touched by something, Takeo realized. His face was alight and his eyes shining.

‘Lord Miyoshi told me
how he lived in the mountain, alone, for five years! The bears fed him, and on
freezing nights curled up against him to keep him warm!’

‘Gemba is here?’
Takeo questioned Makoto.

‘He returned while
you were sleeping. He knew you were here.’

‘But how did he know?’
Sunaomi demanded.

‘Lord Miyoshi knows
these things,’ Makoto replied, laughing.

‘Did the bears tell
him?’

‘Very likely! Lord
Otori, let us go and see the abbot now.’

Leaving Sunaomi with
the Arai retainers, Takeo walked with Makoto past the refectory, where the
youngest monks were clearing away the bowls from the evening meal, across the
stream that had been diverted to flow past the kitchens, and into the courtyard
in front of the main hall. From within this hall, hundreds of lamps and candles
glowed around the golden statue of the Enlightened One, and Takeo was aware of
the silent figures who sat in meditation within. They followed the boardwalk
across another branch of the stream into the hall that held the Sesshu
paintings, and looked out onto the garden. The rain had lessened, but night was
falling and the rocks in the garden were no more than dark shadows, barely
discernible. A sweet fragrance of blossom and wet earth pervaded the hall. The
waterfall was louder here. On the far side of the main branch of the stream,
which raced along one edge of the garden and away down the mountain, stood the
women’s guest house where Takeo and Kaede had spent their wedding night. It was
empty; no lights shone from it.

Matsuda was already
in the hall, leaning against thick cushions, which were propped up against two
silent, unmoving monks. He had appeared old when Takeo had first met him; now
he seemed to have passed beyond the confining borders of age, even of life, and
to have entered a world of pure spirit.

Takeo knelt and bowed
to the ground before him. Matsuda was the only person in the Three Countries
whom he would so honour.

‘Come closer,’
Matsuda said. ‘Let me look at you. Let me touch you.’

The affection in his
voice moved Takeo deeply. He felt his eyes grow hot as the old man leaned
forward and clasped his hands. Matsuda’s eyes searched his face; embarrassed by
the threatening tears, Takeo did not return his gaze but looked beyond him to
where the incomparable paintings stood.

Time has not moved
for them, he thought. The horse, the cranes - they are still as they were, and
so many who looked on them with me are dead, flown away like the sparrows. For
one screen was empty, the legend being that the painted birds were so lifelike
they took wing.

‘So the Emperor is
concerned with you,’ Matsuda said.

‘Fujiwara’s son, Kono,
came ostensibly to visit his father’s estate but in reality to inform me that I
have incurred the Emperor’s displeasure - am a criminal, in fact; I am to
abdicate and go into exile.’

‘I am not surprised
the capital is alarmed by you.’ Matsuda chuckled. ‘I am only surprised it has
taken them so long to start threatening you.’

‘I believe there are
two reasons; one is that the Emperor has a new general who has already brought
much of the East under his control and must now fancy himself strong enough to
provoke us. The other is that Arai Zenko has been in touch with Kono - again
ostensibly concerning the estate. I suspect Zenko has been suggesting himself
as my successor.’

He felt the anger
begin to simmer again, and knew at once that Matsuda and Makoto saw it. At the
same time, he was aware of another person in the hall, sitting in the shadows
behind Matsuda. This man leaned forward now, and Takeo realized it was Miyoshi
Gemba. They were almost the same age yet, like Makoto, Gemba did not seem to
have been marked by the passage of time. He had a smooth, rounded look to him,
relaxed yet powerful -not unlike a bear, in fact.

Something happened to
the light. The lamps flickered and a bright flame leaped before Takeo’s eyes.
It hovered for an instant, then shot like a falling star out into the dark
garden. He heard the hiss as the rain extinguished it.

His anger vanished in
the same moment.

‘Gemba,’ he said. ‘I
am glad to see you! But have you been spending your time here learning magic
tricks?’

‘The Emperor and his
court are very superstitious,’ Gemba replied. ‘They have many soothsayers,
astrolo-gists and magicians. If I accompany you, you may be assured we will be
able to match them in their tricks.’

‘So I should go to
Miyako?’

‘Yes,’ Matsuda said. ‘You
must confront them in person. You will win the Emperor over to your side.’

‘I will need more
than Gemba’s tricks to persuade him. He is raising an army against me. I am
afraid the only sensible response is with force.’

‘There will be some
contest of a small nature in Miyako,’ Gemba said. ‘Which is why I must come
with you. Your daughter should also come.’

‘Shigeko? No, it is
too dangerous.’

‘The Emperor must see
her and give her his blessing and approval if she is to become your successor -
as she must.’

Like Gemba, Matsuda
spoke these words with complete certainty.

‘We will not discuss
this?’ Takeo questioned. ‘We will not consider all the alternatives, and reach
a rational conclusion?’

‘We can discuss it if
you like,’ Matsuda said. ‘But I have reached the age where long discussions
tire me out. I can see the end we will reach eventually. Let’s go straight to
it.’

‘I must also seek my
wife’s opinion and advice,’ Takeo said. ‘As well as those of my senior
retainers, and my own general, Kahei.’

‘Kahei will always
favour war,’ Gemba said. ‘Such is his nature. But you must avoid outright
warfare, especially if the warriors from the East have firearms.’

Takeo felt a prickle
of unease around his scalp and neck. ‘Do you know that they have?’

‘No, I am just
assuming they soon will have.’

‘Again it is Zenko
who has betrayed me.’

‘Takeo, my old
friend, if you introduce any new invention, be it weapon or whatever, if it is
effective its secret will be stolen. This is the nature of men.’

‘So I should not have
allowed the development of the firearm?’ It was something he often regretted.

‘Once you had been
introduced to it, it was inevitable that you would develop it in your quest for
power and control. Just as it is inevitable that your enemies will use it in
their struggle to overthrow you.’

‘Then I must have
more and better firearms than they do! I should attack them first, take them by
surprise, before they can arm themselves.’

‘That would be one
strategy,’ Matsuda observed.

‘Certainly what my
brother, Kahei, would advise,’ Gemba added.

‘Makoto,’ Takeo said.
‘You are very silent. What are your thoughts?’

‘You know I cannot
advise you to go to war.’

‘So you will not
advise me at all? You will sit here and chant and play tricks with fire, while
everything I have worked to achieve is destroyed?’ He heard the tone of his
voice and fell silent, half ashamed of his own irritation and half alarmed that
Gemba might dissolve it in flame again.

There was no showy
trick this time, but the profound silence that followed had an equally powerful
effect. Takeo felt the combined calm and clarity of the three minds and knew
that these men supported him completely but would make the utmost effort to
prevent him acting rashly or dangerously. Many of those around him flattered
him and deferred to him. These men would never do either, and he trusted them.

‘If I am to go to
Miyako, should I go immediately? In the autumn, when the weather is better?’

‘Next year, perhaps,
when the snows melt,’ Matsuda said. ‘You do not need to be in a hurry.’

‘That gives them nine
months or more to raise an army!’

‘It also gives you
nine months to prepare for your visit,’ Makoto said. ‘I believe you should go
with the greatest splendour, taking the most brilliant gifts.’

‘It also allows your
daughter time to prepare herself,’ Gemba said.

‘She turned fifteen
this year,’ Takeo said. ‘She is old enough to be betrothed.’

The thought disturbed
him: to him she was still a child. And who would he ever find suitable to marry
her?

‘That may also be to
your advantage,’ Makoto murmured.

‘In the meantime she
must perfect her horse riding, using the bow,’ Gemba declared.

‘She will have no
chance to display those skills in the capital,’ Takeo replied.

‘We will see,’ Gemba
said, and smiled in his enigmatic way. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added, as if noticing
Takeo’s renewed irritation. ‘I will come with you, and no harm will befall her.’

And then he said with
sudden astuteness: ‘The daughters that you have deserve your attention more
than the sons you do not have.’

It felt like a
rebuke, and it stung, for he took pride in the fact that his daughters had had
all the education and training of boys, Shigeko in the way of the warrior, the
twins in the skills of the Tribe. He pressed his lips firmly together and bowed
again before Matsuda. The old man gestured to him to come closer and wrapped
his frail arms around him. He did not speak, but Takeo knew suddenly that
Matsuda was saying farewell to him, that this would be their last meeting. He
drew back a little so he could look into the old priest’s eyes. Matsuda is the
only person I can look in the face, he thought. The only person who does not
succumb to the Kikuta sleep.

As if reading his
thoughts, Matsuda said, ‘I leave behind not one but two worthy - more than
worthy -successors. Don’t waste your time grieving for me. You know everything
you need to know. Just try to remember it.’

His tone held the
same mixture of affection and exasperation that he had used when teaching Takeo
the use of the sword. Again Takeo had to blink back tears.

As Makoto accompanied
him to the guest house, the monk said quietly, ‘Do you remember how you went
alone to Oshima, to the pirates’ lair? Miyako cannot be more dangerous than
that!’

‘I was a young man
then, and fearless. I did not believe anyone could kill me. Now I am old,
crippled, and I fear far more - not for my own life in particular, but for my
children, and my wife, and for my land and people, that I will die leaving them
unprotected.’

‘That is why it is
best to delay your response: send flattering messages, gifts and promises. You
know, you have always been impetuous: everything you do is done in haste.’

‘That is because I
know my life is short. I have so little time to achieve what I have to.’

He fell asleep
thinking about this sense of urgency that had driven him most of his life, and
dreamed that he was in Yamagata, the night he had climbed into the castle and
put an end to the suffering of the tortured Hidden. In his dream he moved again
with the infinite patience of the Tribe, through a night that seemed endless.
Kenji had taught him how to make time slow down or speed up at will. He saw in
his dream how the world altered according to his perception, and he woke with
the feeling that some mystery had just eluded him, but also with a kind of
elation, and miraculously still free from pain.

It was barely light.
He could hear no sound of rain, just birds beginning to call, and the drip of
the eaves. Sunaomi sat upright on his mattress, staring at him.

‘Uncle? You’re awake?
Can we go and see the houou?’

The Arai retainers
had stayed awake outside all night, though Takeo had assured them Sunaomi was
in no danger. Now they leaped to their feet, helped their young lord put his
sandals on, and followed him as Takeo led him to the main gate. This had been
unbarred at dawn and was deserted: the guards had gone to eat breakfast.
Passing through it, they turned to their right and took the narrow track that
led along the outer walls of the temple grounds and up the steep slope of the
mountain.