Authors: Lian Hearn
“Not while I live!” Kiyoyori replied. He was glad the time for fighting had come. Nothing else would assuage his unease.
“I knew I could count on you. Lord Keita wants to take his grandson with him. That way he will protect the rightful emperor even if Prince Momozono should not survive. Go to the Prince’s palace, defend it as long as you can, but most important, rescue the boy and bring him to Rakuhara, where our lord will take refuge.”
Rakuhara was a large Kakizuki estate to the west of the capital near the port of Akashi.
“Go at once,” Masafusa said.
Kiyoyori bowed his head. “I will see you in Rakuhara.”
He reflected grimly as he hastened back through the dark street on how children were used as pawns in men’s struggles for power. His son, Tsumaru, the Emperor’s grandson, Yoshimori, were to be abducted, hidden, murdered, not for any crime of theirs, unless it was from a former life, but because of who their fathers were.
The lute player’s song came into his head. Why had he heard it at that moment and what message did it have for him? But in his heart he knew its meaning was that Tsumaru was already dead.
* * *
Hina had fallen asleep almost immediately after her father left and had slept deeply for a while, but the sound of men and horses awakened her. She was afraid her father was going somewhere and leaving her behind, and she ran out onto the veranda, but he had already gone.
It was a still spring night. The scent of blossom floated over the neglected garden and now and then a fish splashed in the pond.
Something moved in the shadows. She thought it might be a fox and pressed closer to a veranda pillar. The figure approached, walking on two legs. She was about to scream when she saw it was Shikanoko.
He put his finger to his lips and beckoned to her to come closer, then put his hand on her shoulder and took her to the end of the garden. Azalea bushes had grown wild and she could see their blossoms faintly. She was happy to see Shika. She had missed him since he and Sesshin had been driven away.
“Hina,” he whispered, “where is your father?”
“He has gone out. I don’t know where.”
“He came to Ryusonji,” Shika said. “I saw him there. But hasn’t he returned?”
“I was asleep,” she replied. “He must have come back and left again, for I thought I heard him depart with men and horses.”
“I wanted to speak to him, to try to explain things to him—but now it is too late.” Shika was silent for a few moments. “Well, I suppose I must tell you, though it is a hard thing for a child to hear.”
“Is it about Tsumaru? Is he dead?” She was shivering. Shika put his arm around her.
“How did you know?”
“I dream about him and he is always a spirit in my dreams.”
Shika sighed and said, “You must tell your father how it happened. Tsumaru disappeared from Ryusonji, the first night I was there. The Prince Abbot was distraught. He had grown very fond of him, and he had promised your father no harm would come to him. He performed a spirit-return ritual and learned that someone in your father’s service had tried to snatch him away. While keeping him silent he had suffocated him by mistake. We found his body in the lake.”
Hina was crying silently. Shika said, “He is with the dragon child now.”
“Father told me who it was.” Hina wept. “He was going to rescue Tsumaru, and he killed him. It was Iida no Taro.”
“I will remember that name,” Shika said.
She leaned against him. “I missed you. And the horses. How is Risu?”
“She is improving in temper. She is in love with Nyorin. I think she will have a foal next year.”
“I wish I could see it. I wish I could live with you and Risu and Nyorin and their foal. Why don’t we get married when I am old enough?”
“Your father will want you to marry a great lord, someone of your high station.”
“I would rather marry you.”
There came a distant sound of shouting, the whine of humming arrows, the clash of steel, then screams of horses and men.
“What’s happening?” Hina’s fingers ground into Shika’s arm.
“It has started,” he replied. “I must go back to Ryusonji.”
“Shikanoko, are you on our side or someone else’s?”
“I am on no one’s side. Only my own.”
“So you are a sorcerer like everyone says?”
“I was made one against my will, and now it is my fate, it seems.”
“You sound so sad about it.”
“I wanted to talk to your father. I am sad that it is too late. If you see him tell him I am sorry…”
“Sorry for what?”
“I don’t know, sorry he spared my life that day.”
“I’m not sorry! I’m glad. I thought he would kill you like all the others. I prayed and prayed that your life would be spared. And I was so happy when you took Risu as well as Nyorin. I was afraid you were going to abandon her. I liked you as soon as I saw you, but I really liked you after that.”
“Hina!” he exclaimed. “What a gentle child you are!” Then he drew her closer and looked at her face intently.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“I want to remember how you look. We may never meet again.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Hina said, “I have Master Sesshin’s eyes. Shall I give them to you?”
“Why did you take them from the gate?”
“There was an earthquake,” she said in exasperation. “Didn’t you know? The house was destroyed and the stables. Lots of horses were killed and some people, too. And my stepmother ran away.”
She was crying again.
“He intended his eyes to remain at Matsutani,” Shika said. “But now you must keep them with you. Wash them with your tears and they will watch over you.” He held her for a moment, then released her, leaped over the wall in one bound, and was gone.
Hina returned to the house. The clamor from the streets had awakened the maids. They clustered around her in fear. She sat on the veranda with the box containing the eyes and the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store, waiting for her father. From time to time she allowed tears to fall in order to moisten the eyes, but she could not tell if they were watching over her or what protection they could give her.
Aki woke from a vivid dream—she was standing by a stream, she saw splashes of blood on the rocks, then a young stag leaped toward her. She opened her eyes. Lamps burned feebly in each corner of the room, but outside it was dark and still. No birds sang yet, not even the cocks were crowing.
Her father was kneeling beside her, wearing a hunting robe, beneath which she glimpsed green-laced armor. His long sword was at his hip. Her mother stood behind him, holding his quiver of arrows.
“They are coming to arrest the Prince,” her father said quietly.
Aki’s heart was racing. She breathed slowly and deliberately in the way he had taught her, her gaze fixed on his. She wanted to relate the dream to him and hear his opinion of it, what it meant, whether it was auspicious, but there was no time now.
“He will not be captured,” her father went on. “He will not let them execute him in secret so they can put their puppet on the Lotus Throne. We have sent for help. Kiyoyori is coming. We will defend ourselves for as long as possible. You must take His Highness and escape.”
He turned and took the quiver from his wife and fastened it to his back. “Wake him up quickly and dress him in some old clothes.”
Aki’s mother said, “Better they should both cross the river of death here with us. How will a girl survive on her own? Where will she go?”
“We must give Yoshimori a chance,” her father replied.
“I’ll take him. I’ll look after him. I promise.” She was on her feet now. “What shall I wear? Do you have something old for me?”
Her mother brought a pile of maid’s clothes. “Even these are too fine,” she grumbled. “Look at her, nothing can hide her appearance. There are bad men out there. What will they do to her?”
“This is why I have taught her to defend herself,” her father said. “Take your knife, Aki, and promise you will stay away from men—you know what I am talking about. There are dangers women face that men do not. Kill anyone who tries to get intimate with you or who tries to hurt the Prince.”
“I promise,” she said.
“I will cut her hair,” her mother said, and called for a maid to bring scissors. Aki’s hair reached almost to the ground. Her mother held each strand close to her head and snipped through it, allowing them to fall around her until she seemed to be standing in a pool of black. Neither of them spoke or wept.
When it was done and Aki had finished dressing, her mother brought Yoshimori and changed his embroidered sleeping robe for one of rough hemp, tied with a rope cord. His eyes were heavy with sleep and he yawned deeply, but he did not cry out or protest.
Aki’s head felt light and cold. She wrapped a cowl around it, as though she were a town girl going early to market or visiting a shrine. She had never met or talked to a town girl in her life; it seemed an exotic thing to pretend to be.
“Where shall I go?”
“Follow the north road around the lake and head for the temple, Rinrakuji. You remember we have often been there together. The monks will hide the young Prince there and you can be what you were dedicated to be, a shrine maiden in the service of Kannon. Stay with him until he is safe. You must take your catalpa bow, we have wrapped it with Genzo, the imperial lute—we cannot let that be destroyed.”
Her mother handed the bundle to her. She took it with reverent hands, and felt the lute vibrate through the carrying cloth. It gave a single soft, grief-filled twang, and the bow responded.
“Go now, my daughter,” her father said. “The Prince Abbot’s men will be here at any moment. We will hold them off at the main gate. You must slip through the Moon Gate at the rear and follow the river. There will be many people fleeing the city. Mingle with them.”
He knelt before the boy. “Yoshimori, you must not be called Prince or Lord for a while. No one must know who you are. Do not speak to anyone. Obey Aki in everything. She is your older sister now. Do you understand?”
“What about Kai?” Yoshi said. “I’m not going anywhere without Kai.”
“It is hard enough with one child, let alone two,” Aki’s father murmured.
“If Kai stays she will die,” her mother said, just loud enough for Yoshimori to hear her.
“I’ll scream,” he said. “If Kai doesn’t come I’ll scream and scream. And I won’t go anywhere.”
“Wake her up,” Aki said. “I can take them both. Kai will make things easier.”
Tears sprang from her father’s eyes. Her mother was weeping silently as she thrust two pairs of clogs into Aki’s hands. Aki bowed to the ground before her parents. She did not speak, but in her heart she was crying,
Father, Mother, when will I see you again?
Noise was erupting like a rainstorm: first the spattering drops, a single cry, the urgent thud of feet hurrying along a corridor, then the heavier fall, women wailing, the tread of men running, shouts, in the distance the shrill neighing of horses. Aki lifted Yoshimori in her arms and settled him on her hip. He was a slight child and she was strong, unlike most palace women, who never lifted anything heavier than a writing brush or a hair comb; even so, she did not know how far she would be able to carry him.
Kai appeared at her side, pale and silent. She was holding Aki’s ritual box.
“Your mother told me to bring this,” she said.
“I can’t carry it, too!” Aki exclaimed, near tears for the first time.
“I’ll look after it,” Kai said. She touched Yoshimori on the ankle and smiled up at him.
Lights flickered, throwing strange shadows on the brocade-and-bamboo blinds that covered the entrances to the rooms. Aki pushed the closest blind aside and stepped out onto the wide veranda. She set Yoshimori down on the edge and put on her clogs, fitting the other pair to his feet. Taking him by the hand, she pulled him upright.
“Now you must walk beside me.”
For a moment she thought she would have to show him how, but, though he had been carried almost everywhere throughout his short life, his muscles were not yet useless and he was still young enough to want to walk, even to run, like any normal child. Kai followed barefoot. They went swiftly across the darkness of the Eastern Courtyard, but as they passed the New Shining Hall a sudden light flared, revealing the face of Yoshimori’s mother, known as Lady Shinmei’in.
Aki pulled the cowl lower over her face and tried to hide the boy in the skirt of her robe. For a moment she thought they would pass by unrecognized, but the Princess leaned toward them.
“What are you doing with His Highness? Where are you taking him?”
“I must not be called that,” the boy said.
“Lady, I am his nurse’s daughter. My father, Hidetake, told me to escape with your son, into hiding.”
“Why? What is happening?”
“The Prince Abbot has sent men to arrest your husband. The Prince intends to resist.”
Lady Shinmei’in’s eyes were huge, her face as pale as snow. “Then I must be at his side and share his pillow in death as in life. Our son must die with us. Come, Your Highness. We will change these base garments and prepare your illustrious body for the next world.” She held out her arms, slender and white against the black hair that fell like silk around her. “No one can escape his fate.”
The boy hardly knew his mother. He had been brought up by Aki’s parents. He shrank closer to Aki’s side and gripped Kai’s hand.
What was Aki to do? Should she obey her father and defy the Princess? Or should she recognize the mother’s right to decide the fate of her child, relinquish him, and return to die alongside her own parents? What was there to fear in death? It lay all around, separated from life by only the thinnest of membranes. A moment’s exhilarating pain and then you passed through to the other world, leaving behind honor and courage as your memorial, facing judgment and then rebirth.
In the dim light the mother’s pale hands beckoned like a ghost’s toward the grave. The child said, “If I am to reign I cannot die now.”
Until they are seven, children belong to the gods and speak only truth. Aki knew she was hearing a divine message. Without saying anything she seized Yoshimori’s hand. For a moment he resisted in surprise, but then he surrendered to her grip and the three of them were running toward the Moon Gate and the river.