The Tengu's Game of Go (14 page)

Chika lunged at her, not looking back at the boar.

“Chika!” She tried to shout out a warning.

He saw her gaze and turned, struggling to his feet, stumbling, reaching vainly for his sword.

The boar hit him like a galloping horse, thrust its tusks into him, and ripped him open with a sideways flick of its head.

It tossed him aside. There was a moment of silence and then he began to sob in pain.

“Hina!” he cried. “Help me!”

But she did not need the medicine stone to see he was dying.

The boar pawed the ground, peered at her with its vicious eyes. She walked slowly backward, staring fixedly at it through her tears, not daring to lift a hand to wipe them from her eyes, trying to calm her breath.

She saw its muscles tense as it prepared to charge. It seemed to gather itself up in a solid ball of aggression and rage. There was a humming sound through the air, like a giant insect, the thud of an impact, arrow into flesh. The boar squealed and hesitated for a moment, then launched itself at her, further enraged by pain. Another thrumming, a second arrow. The animal squealed again, a piercing, almost human sound, faltered, and dropped at her feet. Within seconds the light had gone from its eyes.

One shaft had hit it in the throat, the other protruded from its back, its white feathers now flecked red with blood. The arrowhead had penetrated straight to the heart.

 

12

MASACHIKA

Lord Aritomo traveled to Matsutani by palanquin, his favorite horse led behind by grooms, his bow and his sword carried by high-ranking warriors. Two falconers followed with his hawks on wooden perches. A monk from Ryusonji carried a bamboo cage containing the two young werehawks, which squawked and flapped their wings incessantly. The priests had managed to capture them and had presented them to Aritomo. The lord spoke to them every day and tended them with his own hands. The hawks disliked them intensely.

Aritomo's companions were all heavily armed and more than usually vigilant. Casting his eye over the procession as they rode out, Masachika, who had gone back to Miyako to escort his lord to his home, noticed that many warriors were absent, not from the highest caste, but from the ambitious middle ranks, and particularly those from the coastal estates who had some knowledge of boats and the sea. So the planned attack on the Kakizuki was going ahead, and, while Aritomo was entertained by the hunt, his old enemies would be taken by surprise and wiped out.

Yet there was little sense of celebration. Drought and famine had ravaged the land. The dead lay unburied along the roadsides and on the banks of the shrunken rivers. Crows stalked among them, the only creatures to look plump and sleek. Survivors threw stones at the birds; Masachika knew only too well how easily their aim could be turned on him and Aritomo's retinue.

Sometimes women knelt in the road, holding out starving children, begging the men for food, or, if they would give them nothing, pleading with them to put an end to their wretched lives and their children's suffering. The grooms chased them away with whips.

The mood among the warriors was somber. Death was everywhere, ignoble, insignificant, and inevitable. The wasted corpses, carrion for birds, mocked their own strength and vitality.

Look at us. You, too, will be reduced to bones like us. You, too, are no more than meat that will rot and putrefy.

At night, in the private homes or temples used as lodging places, Aritomo could not sleep, and those closest to him were summoned to sit up with him and listen to his thoughts on the way to live and the way to die.

“A warrior must choose his own death. Even on the battlefield, if he is defeated, it is better to die by his own hand than surrender to an opponent.”

Death for him was another enemy, like drought and famine. He would defeat all three of them. A smile played on his lips as he regarded his men, as though he knew a secret they did not. He brewed and drank the strange-smelling tea all night, but never offered it to anyone else. Watching him closely, as he did all the time, Masachika could not help thinking how easy it would be to poison him. The more he tried to put the thought from him, the more he found himself dwelling on it.

Sometimes Aritomo spoke of Takaakira, with grudging respect. “As I grow older I admire courage above all virtues. In the end it is the only one that matters. To live without fear of death is to be a true warrior.”

Masachika knew the hunt in the Darkwood would offer many opportunities to display fighting skills. The men would compete with one another to bring down the fiercest boar, the proudest stag. They might even be lucky enough to encounter bears. There were still vast tracts of land in the west and northeast that needed to be occupied and subdued. Warriors who acquitted themselves well in the hunt would be rewarded by Lord Aritomo with gifts of these lands. It was the next best thing to distinguishing oneself in battle, and for men eager to establish themselves and their families on estates granted to them forever, it offered a better chance of survival. Yet even hunting could be dangerous.

Shortly after they headed north from the barrier on the Shimaura road, at the turn to Matsutani, Masachika, riding ahead, heard singing, the sounds of a flute, and the chattering of monkeys. He saw the red of the acrobats' clothes. He urged his horse forward and ordered the entertainers to conceal themselves, for he wanted their appearance to be a complete surprise.

Obediently they pulled the pack horses over the dike, down into the dry rice fields. There were several men and, as far as he could see, eight monkeys. There was also a group of six musicians, carrying their instruments. The flute player had been playing, as they walked, and two of the women had been singing. The way the women moved and sang, freely, easily, reminded him of Asagao, with the now familiar but still astonishing surge of desire.

“Get down!” he told them, and they all prostrated themselves. Masachika watched from the top of the dike as Aritomo's retinue rode past. He did not want any of his entertainers shot by overzealous warriors. He could hear the werehawks shrieking even more loudly than usual and wondered what had alarmed them. When they had all passed by, he called to one of the older men to approach him.

“Come to Matsutani tomorrow, in the afternoon. We will be out at the hunt. We will expect your entertainment when we return. A little music first, I think, then acrobats with monkeys, and music for the rest of the evening. It must be a surprise, so do not show yourselves before then.”

“I understand, lord,” the man replied. “We will find a quiet spot to prepare ourselves and do our final rehearsals. We are all here now. Thank you for your confidence in us. We won't let you down.”

“You had better not,” Masachika replied.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a huge black bird fluttering down to the dike. He had come to hate with all his heart the crows that fed on carrion along the road, and was inclined to string his bow and shoot it. But it was not a crow.
One of the werehawks has escaped
, he thought, and was on the point of calling to the monk, but then he saw this bird was larger and not all black but flecked with gold patches that flashed blindingly in the sun. It unsettled him. He felt it must have some significance, but he could not unravel it, and he must not let Lord Aritomo travel on without him.

He caught up with the procession, dismounted, and walked beside the palanquin.

“Not long now, lord,” he murmured. “We are nearly there.”

*   *   *

The west gate stood open. Tama waited inside, with her women and retainers. Masachika contemplated their appearance with pleasure and pride—the women's layered robes in autumn hues, the men's new brilliant green hunting robes. Scarlet maples framed the view of the mountains in the east, and mandarins on a small tree by the steps glowed orange. The gardens and the house were immaculate, not a single stray leaf or unwelcome insect to be seen. The weather was perfect, neither clouds nor breeze, just the blue sky fading into pink and violet as the sun set and the first stars appeared. He felt a surge of satisfaction and, of course, gratitude to Tama, but he could not help searching for Asagao among the women.

They all bowed to the ground and murmured expressions of welcome, as Aritomo was helped from the palanquin. He stumbled a little but then regained his balance, acknowledging the greetings with a slight nod. Masachika had left his horse at the gate, and had not failed to bow to Sesshin's eyes and the gateposts. Now he came forward, not offering an arm to help his lord lest that should offend him, but alert to any sign of weakness or dizziness.

“Masachika,” Aritomo said, turning back. “That is the gate with the famous eyes, is it not?”

“It is, lord.”

“Ah,” Aritomo sighed. “To think I have talked with their owner. You would not guess what I have learned from him.”

He looked at Masachika with his own unfathomable eyes. Masachika tried to make his expression opaque, fearing Aritomo could see all his desires and ambitions.

“I thought I heard voices as I passed under the gate.” Aritomo was deeply interested in supernatural phenomena. “Do the eyes have the power of speech as well?”

“There are guardian spirits within the gateposts,” Masachika said. “They are entirely benevolent.”

“They sounded agitated,” Aritomo said, and stepped onto the veranda. A stool had been prepared for him and maids came forward to wash the dust from his feet. He did not say more but gave Masachika another searching look. The caged werehawks were squabbling and shrieking.

Masachika bowed again, and as he rose, was approached by one of Tama's women who whispered that her mistress had gone farther into the garden, and this would be a good time for them to talk. She emphasized her words in a meaningful way that irritated him. All he wanted now was to be with Asagao. She was not with the women on the veranda, but he thought he could hear snatches of music from the pavilion where she was staying. Sighing heavily, he went to the lakeside where Tama was pacing to and fro.

“Don't walk around in that unattractive manner,” he said. “You look less than calm.”

“Calm?” she retorted. “I hardly know the meaning of the word anymore.”

“What's the matter? Everything's going fine. The house, the garden, look magnificent. Come with me to Lord Aritomo, so he can congratulate you as I am sure he—”

She did not wait for him to finish. “The spirits are very upset. I've been doing all I can to placate them.”

“That's the last thing we need! What have you done that's annoyed them?”

“I? I have done nothing. It is you who has outraged them. Ever since you came here with that girl…”

“Don't start on that again,” Masachika said, affecting a weary tone. “I've told you, she means nothing to me.”

“Then send her away.” Tama stared at him defiantly.

“I won't do that. I need her for the entertainment I have arranged. The rest of the troupe will arrive tomorrow. We passed them on the road. I made them hide behind the bank; it was very amusing! We will hold the first hunt, and the entertainers will be ready in the evening, when we return. Do we have enough torches, and enough to drink?”

“Everything is prepared, Masachika. You don't need to supervise me, and don't try to change the subject. You, of all people, should know that the spirits should not be treated lightly. We made a vow before them, and I have had to make others to convince them that you are not lying. I have staked my life on your sincerity. I promised, if you proved untrue, I would kill myself. Look, you know the dagger I always carry with me?” She brought it out from her sash. “I am ready to use it at any time.”

“Don't try to bully me, Tama. I will not be dictated to, by you or anyone. There is no need for such dramatic behavior. I have told you, the girl means nothing to me, but even if she did, what of it? Men take mistresses and concubines—why shouldn't I? It is expected in my position. You should consider yourself fortunate I don't have a whole string of them.” He added spitefully, “If I did, one of them might give me a son.”

“If you came to me more often, I would give you children,” she said in a low voice. “And a string of women would be preferable to one who has won your heart.”

“You are completely unreasonable,” he said. “And don't start weeping. Your tears repulse me and you must not appear before our visitors with red eyes. Go inside and take control of yourself. And then get on with the many things that need to be done. It is almost dark. We must prepare for the feast.”

“I have given you everything, Masachika, and I will take it all away from you.” She looked at the dagger in her hand, with an almost tender smile. “Just one word in Aritomo's ear…”

“There is a special place in Hell reserved for women who betray their husbands,” he replied. He did not feel in the least threatened by her. If anything, her outburst proved the strength of her love for him. But he was not going to reveal to Aritomo's men how much she had always dominated him, nor was he going to yield to her. He did not believe for a moment that she would kill herself, or that she would divulge his secret conversation with the Emperor's mother. As for the spirits, he would deal with them in the morning, reprimand them and make sure they knew whom they had to obey.

He watched Tama walk away and, when she had disappeared into the house, went to the pavilion and ran across the stepping-stones, calling Asagao's name.

*   *   *

A wide plain lay to the southwest of Matsutani, between the forested mountains and the rice fields. It had no water, so was useless for cultivation, but it was a fine place for both hunting and hawking. Tama had arranged for more than fifty farmers to come from the surrounding villages to act as beaters for the hunt. From dawn the next day their shouts, drumming, and the clash of cymbals echoed through the Darkwood, as they drove animals into the range of the hunters. It was dangerous work—the men were armed only with staves, one broke a leg falling from a high cliff, two were gored by wild boars that came hurtling out of the bushes—but also enjoyable. They would be rewarded with some of the meat and it was a break from the daily toil of wresting a living from the land. The tasks of autumn awaited. The rice had been harvested and women were threshing and winnowing the husks, and shelling beans into huge baskets. Manure had to be spread on the fields, the woods close to the village coppiced for flexible branches that would be used in building and basket making, rice straw dried to make sandals, reeds cut for thatching, firewood gathered for the long weeks of snow. Beating for the hunt was a holiday.