The Harsh Cry of the Heron (62 page)

‘Are you hurt?’ he
called over his shoulder.

‘No,’ she shouted
back. ‘I killed three men and wounded two.’

He could feel her
quickened heartbeat against his back; the smell of her sweat reminded him that
it was months since he had lain with his wife. He longed for Kaede now: she
filled his thoughts as he surveyed the valley for survivors and rounded up the
last of his men. Five dead, it seemed, maybe six more wounded. He grieved for
the dead, all men he had known for years, and determined to bury them with
reverence in their homeland in the Three Countries. Saga’s dead he left in the
valley, not bothering to take their heads or to dispatch the wounded. Saga
would be in this place the following day, and either that same day or the next
they would be joined in battle.

His mood was grim as
he greeted Kahei on the plain below. Relieved to see that Minoru was unhurt, he
went with the scribe to Kahei’s shelter, where he related all that had happened
to the commander, and discussed the plans for the next day. Hiroshi took the horses
to the lines, where Takeo could see his daughter with the kirin. She was pale,
and looked somehow diminished: his heart ached for her.

Sakai’s scout,
Kitayama, arrived, scratched and bruised but unwounded, full of apologies for
his lateness.

‘At least we know
Saga cannot come round any other way,’ Takeo said. ‘He must come through the
pass.’

‘We will send men at
once to defend it,’ Kahei declared.

‘No, we will leave it
open. We want Saga to think we are in flight, demoralized and confused. And he
must be seen to be the aggressor. We are defending the Three Countries, not
defying him and the Emperor. We cannot stay here and hold him off indefinitely.
We must defeat him decisively and take the army back to the West to face Zenko.
You have heard of Taku’s death?’

‘I had heard rumours,
but we have had no official correspondence from Hagi.’

‘Nothing from my
wife?’

‘Not since the third
month, and then she did not mention this sad loss. It was too early for her to
have heard, perhaps.’

It depressed Takeo
further, for he had expected to have letters from her, with news of the
situation in the Middle Country and the West, as well as of her health and the
child’s.

‘I have not heard
from my wife either; we have had messages from Inuyama but nothing from the
Middle Country.’

Both men were silent
for a moment, thinking of their distant homes and children.

‘Well, bad news
travels faster than good, they say,’ Kahei exclaimed, pushing aside his
anxieties in the usual way, with physical activity. ‘Let me show you our army.’

Kahei had already
established his troops in battle formation: the main forces on the western side
of the plain, and a flank along the northern edge shielded by a small spur of
land. Here he had placed those soldiers with firearms, as well as an auxiliary
force of archers.

‘We face bad weather,’
he said. ‘If it is too wet to use firearms, we lose our major advantage.’

Takeo went out with
him in the light midsummer evening to inspect the positions, guards carrying
smouldering grass torches. The white moon was approaching full, but dark clouds
blew raggedly, and lightning flashed in the western sky. Gemba was seated
beneath a small cypress tree, near the pool that supplied their water, eyes
closed, apparently far removed from the bustle of the camp around him.

‘Maybe your brother
can continue to hold off the rain,’ Takeo said, as much to raise his own
spirits as Kahei’s.

‘Rain or not, we must
be prepared for them to attack at any time,’ Kahei replied. ‘You have already
fought one battle today. I’ll keep guard while you and your companions get some
sleep.’

Since he had been at
the encampment since the fifth month, Kahei had set himself up in some comfort:
Takeo washed in cold water, ate a little, and then stretched out under the
silken folds of the shelter. He fell asleep at once, and dreamed of Kaede.

They were in the
lodging house in Tsuwano, and it was the night of her betrothal to Shigeru. He
saw her as she had been at fifteen, her face unlined, her neck unscarred, her
hair a silky mass of black. He saw the lamplight flicker between them as she
stared at his hands and then raised her eyes to his face. In the dream she was
both Shigeru’s betrothed and already his wife; he passed the betrothal gifts to
her, and at the same moment reached for her and pulled her towards him.

As he felt her
beloved form in his arms he heard the crackling of fire and realized that in
his haste he had knocked over the lamp. The room was erupting in flames; the
fire swept over Shigeru, Naomi, Kenji . . .

He woke, the smell of
burning in his nostrils, rain already splashing through the roof, lightning
searing the encampment with its sudden, unearthly brilliance, thunder cracking
the sky.

After Takeo had cut
its silk cord, the kirin had continued to run blindly through the valley, but
its feet were not suited to the rocky floor, and it soon slowed to a limping
walk. The noise behind alarmed it, but ahead were the smells and shapes of
strange men and horses. It was aware that the people and the horse that it was
familiar with and cared for most were still behind it, and so it waited for
them with its customary patience and docility.

Shigeko and Gemba had
found it, and brought it to the encampment. Shigeko was subdued; she did not
speak as she unsaddled Ashige herself, fastened the head ropes to the horse
lines, and then set about tending to the kirin, while Gemba fetched dried grass
and water.

They were surrounded
by soldiers from the camp, eager for information, full of questions about the
skirmish, Saga Hideki and his troops, and if they might expect a battle soon,
but Gemba fended them off, saying that Kahei must be informed first, and that
Lord Otori was right behind them.

Shigeko saw her
father ride into the camp, the Muto girl, Mai, on the back of his horse and
Hiroshi alongside him. For a moment they both looked like strangers to her,
bloodstained, ferocious, their faces still set in the furious expression of
battle. Mai had the same expression, turn- ing her features masculine. Hiroshi
dismounted first and held out his arms to lift the girl down from Tenba. After
Takeo had dismounted and was greeting Kahei, Hiroshi took the reins of both
horses, but stood for a while talking to Mai.

Shigeko wished she
had the sharp hearing to discern what they were saying to each other, then
berated herself for what she suspected might be jealousy. She had even let it
taint her relief that her father and Hiroshi were unhurt.

Tenba caught the
kirin’s scent and whinnied loudly. Hiroshi looked in her direction and she saw
the expression that washed over his face, changing him instantly into the man
she knew so well.

I love him, she
thought. I will marry no one but him.

He said goodbye to
Mai and brought both horses to the lines, tying his own, Keri, next to Ashige,
and Tenba beside the kirin.

‘They are all happy
now,’ Shigeko said, as the animals ate and drank. ‘They have food, they have
their companions, they have forgotten the horrors of today . . . They don’t
know what awaits them tomorrow.’

Gemba left them,
saying he needed to spend some time alone.

‘He has gone to
strengthen himself in the Way of the Houou,’ Shigeko said. ‘I should do the
same. But I feel I have betrayed everything the Masters have taught me.’ She
turned away, tears suddenly pricking her eyelids.

‘I don’t know if I
killed today,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But my arrows hit many men. My aim was
true: not one arrow missed its target. I did not want to hurt the dogs, yet I
wanted to hurt these men. I was glad when their blood spurted. How many of them
are now dead?’

‘I also killed today,’
Hiroshi said. ‘I was trained throughout my childhood for this, and it came
naturally to me, though now, afterwards, I feel regret and sorrow. I do not
know how else I could have stayed loyal to your father, to the Three Countries,
or done my best to protect him and you.’

After a pause he
added, ‘Tomorrow will be worse. This skirmish was nothing compared with the
battle to come. You should not take part in it. I cannot leave your father, but
let me suggest that Gemba take you away. You can take the kirin with you. Go
back to Inuyama, go to your aunt.’

‘I don’t want to
leave Father either,’ Shigeko said, and could not help adding, ‘Nor Lord
Hiroshi.’ She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and said, without really
meaning to, ‘What were you saying to that girl?’

‘The Muto girl? I
thanked her for helping us again. I feel deep gratitude to her, for bringing us
the news of Taku’s death, for fighting alongside us today.’

‘Oh! Of course,’
Shigeko said, and turned her face towards the kirin to hide her confused feelings.
She longed to be held by him; she feared they would both die without ever
speaking of love, yet how could she speak of it now, surrounded by soldiers,
grooms, horses, when she was filled with regret for having taken life, and when
their future was so uncertain?

The horses were done:
there was no reason for them to stand there any longer.

‘Let’s walk a little,’
she said. ‘We should look at the terrain, and then find my father.’

It was still light;
far in the west the sun’s last rays spilled out from behind the massed clouds.
The sky between their dark grey citadels was the colour of cold ash. The moon
was high in the eastern sky, slowly silvering.

Shigeko could think
of nothing to say. Finally Hiroshi spoke. ‘Lady Shigeko,’ he said, ‘my only
concern now is for your safety.’ He also seemed to be struggling for words. ‘You
must live, for the sake of the whole country.’

‘You have been like a
brother to me all my life,’ she said. ‘There is no one who means more to me
than you.’

‘My feelings for you
are far more than those of a brother. I would never mention this to you but for
the fact that one or other of us may die tomorrow. You are the most perfect
woman I have ever known. I know your rank and position place you far beyond me,
but I can never love, nor will I ever marry, anyone but you.’

She could not prevent
herself from smiling. His words dispelled her sadness, filling her with sudden
delight and boldness.

‘Hiroshi,’ she said. ‘Let
us marry. I will persuade my parents. I do not feel obliged to become Lord Saga’s
wife now that he has treated my father so wrongly. All my life I have tried to
obey my parents and act in the right way. But now I see that in the face of
death there are other things that take on a new importance. My parents put love
before their duty to their elders; why should I not do the same?’

‘I cannot do anything
against your father’s wishes,’ Hiroshi replied, with intense emotion. ‘But to
know that you feel the way you do satisfies all my longings.’

Not all of them, I
hope! Shigeko dared to think as they parted.

She wanted to go at
once to her father, but restrained herself. By the time she had washed and
eaten, she was told he was already sleeping. A separate hut had been erected
for her, and she sat alone in it for a long time, trying to compose her
thoughts and reignite the calm, strong flame of the Way of the Houou within
her. But all her efforts were undermined by flashes of memory - the cries of
battle, the smell of blood, the sound of arrows - and by Hiroshi’s face and
voice.

She slept lightly and
was wakened by the crack of thunder and splashing rain. She heard the camp
erupt into action around her, and leaped to her feet, dressing quickly in the
riding clothes she had worn the day before. Everything was getting wet, her
fingers more slippery.

‘Lady Maruyama!’ a
woman’s voice called from outside, and Mai came into the hut, bringing a pot
for Shigeko to urinate in. She took this away and returned in a few moments
with tea and cold rice. While Shigeko ate quickly Mai disappeared again. When
she came back, she was carrying a small leather and iron cuirass and a helmet. ‘Your
father sent these for you,’ she said. ‘You are to prepare at once, yourself and
your horse, and go to him. Here, I will help you.’

Shigeko felt the
unfamiliar weight of the armour. Her hair caught in the lacing. ‘Tie it back
for me,’ she told Mai; then she took up her sword and fastened it to her belt.
Mai put the helmet on Shigeko’s head and tied its loops.

The rain lashed down,
but the sky was paling. It was nearly dawn. She went swiftly to the horse
lines, through the water like a grey steel veil. Takeo was already in armour,
Jato at his side, waiting for Hiroshi and the grooms to finish saddling the
horses.

‘Shigeko,’ he said
without smiling. ‘Hiroshi has pleaded with me to send you away, but the truth
is I need every man I’ve got - and woman too. It is too wet to use firearms,
and Saga knows this. I am sure he will not wait for the rain to cease before he
attacks. I need you and Gemba, since you are both archers.’

‘I’m glad,’ she said.
‘I did not want to leave you. I want to fight alongside you.’