The Harsh Cry of the Heron (74 page)

She was thinking of
Madaren, Takeo’s sister. What will become of her? Will Don joao take her with
him? Or will she be abandoned again?

‘Of course the boys
are welcome here,’ Makoto said. After that, neither of them spoke.

Finally Kaede said, ‘Lord
Makoto, I want to apologize to you. I have always felt dislike, even hostility
towards you, but now, of all the people in the world, you are the only person I
want to be with. May I also stay here for a while?’

‘You must stay for as
long as you wish. Your presence is a comfort to me,’ he replied. ‘We both loved
him.’

She saw the tears
spring into his eyes. He reached behind him and took out a scroll from a box on
the floor. T have tried to write down truthfully what happened. Read it when
you feel able.’

‘I must read it now,’
Kaede said, her heart pounding. ‘Will you sit with me while I do so?’

When she had finished
she laid the scroll down and looked out towards the garden.

‘He was sitting
there?’

Makoto nodded.

‘And this is the
screen?’ Kaede rose and stepped towards it. The sparrows looked at her with
their bright eyes. She put out her hand and touched the painted surface.

‘I cannot live
without him,’ she said abruptly. ‘I am filled with regrets and remorse. I drove
him away into the arms of his assassins. I can never forgive myself.’

‘No one escapes his
fate,’ Makoto whispered. He stood and came to face her. T too feel as if I will
never recover from my grief, but I try and comfort myself with the knowledge
that Takeo died in the same way he lived, fearlessly and with compassion. He
accepted that it was his time, and died in complete serenity. He is buried as
he wanted to be, next to Shigeru. And like Shigeru, he will never be forgotten.
Moreover, he leaves children behind, two daughters and a son.’

Kaede thought, I am
not ready to accept his son yet. Will I ever be? All I feel in my heart is
hatred towards him and jealousy of his mother. Takeo is with her now. Will they
be together in all their future lives? Will I ever see him again? Are our
spirits separated for ever?

‘His son tells me all
the spirits are at rest now,’ Makoto continued. ‘His mother’s ghost has haunted
him all his life, but he is now free of her. He is a shaman, we believe. If his
crookedness can be straightened, he will be the source of wisdom and blessing.’

‘Will you show me the
place where my husband died?’ Kaede whispered.

Makoto nodded and
stepped out onto the veranda. Kaede slipped into her sandals. The light was
fading; the garden was stripped of all colour, but on the rocks next to where
Takeo had died there were splashes of blood, dried to a rusty brown. She
pictured the scene, his hands around the knife, its blade entering his beloved
body, the blood leaping from him.

She sank to the
ground, sobbing convulsively.

I will do the same,
she thought. I cannot stand the pain.

She felt for her own
knife, the one she always carried inside her robe. How many times had she
planned to kill herself? In Inuyama, in her own home at Shirakawa, and then she
had promised Takeo not to take her own life until after his death. She recalled
in agony her words to him. She had urged him to cut open his own belly, and he
had done so. Now she would do the same. She felt a rush of joy. Her blood and
her spirit would follow his.

I must be quick, she
thought. Makoto must not stop me.

But it was not Makoto
who made the knife fall from her hands; it was a girl’s voice crying from the
hall, ‘Mother!’

Miki ran into the
garden, barefoot, her hair loose. ‘Mother! You have come!’

Kaede saw with shock
how like Takeo Miki had become, and then she saw herself in her daughter, at
that age, on the brink of womanhood. She had been a hostage, alone and
unprotected: she had been without a mother throughout her girlhood. She saw her
daughter’s grief and thought, / cannot add to that. She remembered that Miki
had lost her twin sister and her tears flowed anew for Maya, for her child. /
must live for Miki’s sake, and Sunaomi’s, and Chikara. And of course Shigeko,
and even Hisao, or whatever he is to be called: for all Takeo’s children, for
all our children.

She lifted the knife
and threw it from her, then opened her arms to her daughter.

A flock of sparrows
alighted on the rocks and grass around them, filling the air with their
cheeping. Then as if at some distant signal they rose as one and flew away into
the forest.

I would like to
thank:

Asialink for the
fellowship that enabled me to go to japan for twelve weeks in 1999-2000; the
Australia Council and the Department of Trade and Foreign Affairs for
supporting the Asialink program; the Australian Embassy in Tokyo; Akiyoshidai
International Arts Village, Yamaguchi Prefecture, for sponsoring me for that
time; Shuho-cho International Cultural Exchange House program for inviting me
for a further three months in 2002; ArtsSA, the South Australian Department for
the Arts, for a mid-career fellowship that gave me time to write; Urinko
Gekidan in Nagoya for inviting me to work with them in 2003.

My husband and
children who have supported and encouraged me in so many ways.

In Japan, Kimura Miyo,
Mogi Masaru, Mogi Akiko, Tokuriki Masako, Tokuriki Miki, Santo Yuko, Mark
Brach-mann, Maxine McArthur, Kori Manami, Yamaguchi Hiroi, Hosokawa Fumimasa,
Imahori Goro, Imahori Yoko and all the other people who have helped me with
research and travel.

Christopher E. West
and Forest W. Seal at www.samurai-archives.com

All the publishers
and agents who are now part of the Otori clan round the world, especially Jenny
Darling, Donica Bettanin, Sarah Lutyens and Joe Regal.

My editors Bernadette
Foley (Hachette Livre) and Harriet Wilson (Pan Macmillan), and Christine Baker
from Gallimard.

Sugiyama Kazuko,
calligrapher, who passed away in 2006.