Grass for His Pillow (14 page)

“Lord Shirakawa,” Mamoru said, “and his daughter, Lady Otori.”

The young monk could not prevent his reaction. He turned pale and his eyes went to her face. He recognized her and spoke in the same moment.

“Lady Otori? You married Lord Takeo after all? Is he here with you?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Kaede's father spoke. “My daughter's husband was Lord Otori Shigeru.”

Makoto opened his mouth as if he would deny it, thought better of it, and bowed without speaking.

Kaede's father leaned forward. “You are from Terayama? You did not know that the marriage took place there?”

Makoto said nothing. Her father spoke to her without turning his head. “Leave us alone.”

She was proud of how steady her voice was when she spoke. “I am going home. Please make my apologies to Lord Fujiwara.”

He made no response to her.
He will kill me,
she thought. She bowed to the two young men and saw their embarrassment and their discomfort. As she walked away, forcing herself not to hurry, not to
move her head, a wave of emotion began to uncurl in her belly. She saw she would always be the object of those embarrassed looks, that scorn. She gasped at the intensity of the feeling, the sharpness of the despair that came with it.
Better to die,
she thought.
But what about my child, Takeo's child? Must it die with me?

At the end of the veranda Shizuka was waiting for her. “We can leave now, lady. Kondo will come with us.”

Kaede allowed the man to lift her into the palanquin. She was relieved to be inside, in the semidarkness where no one could see her face.
Father will never look at my face again,
she thought.
He will turn his eyes away even when he kills me.

When she reached her house, she took off the robe that Fujiwara had given her and folded it carefully. She put on one of her mother's old robes, with a quilted garment underneath. She was cold to the bone and she did not want to tremble.

“You are back!” Hana came running into the room. “Where is Ai?”

“She stayed at Lord Fujiwara's a little longer.”

“Why did you come back?” the child asked.

“I didn't feel well. I'm all right now.” On an impulse Kaede said, “I'm going to give you the robe, the autumn one you liked so much. You must put it away and look after it until you are old enough to wear it.”

“Don't you want it?”

“I want you to have it, and to think of me when you wear it, and pray for me.”

Hana stared at her, her eyes sharp. “Where are you going?” When Kaede did not reply she went on, “Don't go away again, Older Sister.”

“You won't mind,” Kaede said, trying to tease her. “You won't miss me.”

To her dismay, Hana began to sob noisily and then to scream. “I will miss you! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!”

Ayame came running. “Now what is it, Hana? You must not be naughty with your sister.”

Shizuka came into the room. “Your father is at the ford,” she said. “He has come alone, on horseback.”

“Ayame,” Kaede said, “take Hana out for a while. Take her to the forest. All the servants must go with you. I want no one in the house.”

“But, Lady Kaede, it's so early and still so cold.”

“Please do as I say,” Kaede begged. Hana cried more wildly as Ayame led her away.

“It is grief that makes her so wild,” Shizuka said.

“I am afraid I must inflict still more on her,” Kaede exclaimed. “But she must not be here.”

She stood and went to the small chest where she kept a few things. She took the knife from it, felt its weight in her forbidden left hand. Soon it would no longer matter to anyone which hand she had used.

“Which is best, in the throat or in the heart?”

“You don't have to do it,” Shizuka said quietly. “We can flee. The Tribe will hide you. Think of the child.”

“I can't run away!” Kaede was surprised at the loudness of her own voice.

“Then let me give you poison. It will be swift and painless. You will simply fall asleep and never—”

Kaede cut her short. “I am a warrior's daughter. I'm not afraid of dying. You know better than anyone how often I have thought of
taking my own life. First I must ask Father's forgiveness, then I must use the knife on myself. My only question is, which is better?”

Shizuka came close to her. “Place the point here, at the side of your neck. Thrust it sideways and upward. That will slash the artery.” Her voice, matter-of-fact to start with, faltered, and Kaede saw there were tears in her eyes. “Don't do it,” Shizuka whispered. “Don't despair yet.”

Kaede transferred the knife to her right hand. She heard the shouts of the guard, the horse's hoofbeats as her father rode through the gate. She heard Kondo greet him.

She gazed out onto the garden. A sudden flash of memory came to her of herself as a little child running the length of the veranda from her father to her mother and back again.
I've never remembered that before,
she thought, and whispered soundlessly,
Mother, Mother!

Her father stepped onto the veranda. As he came through the doorway both she and Shizuka dropped to their knees, foreheads to the ground.

“Daughter,” he said, his voice uncertain and thin. She looked up at him and saw his face streaked with tears, his mouth working. She had been afraid of his anger, but now she saw his madness and it frightened her more.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

“I must kill myself now.” He sat heavily in front of her, taking his dagger from his belt. He looked at the blade for a long time.

“Send for Shoji,” he said finally. “He must assist me. Tell your man to ride to his house and fetch him.”

When she made no response, he shouted suddenly, “Tell him!”

“I'll go,” Shizuka whispered. She crawled on her knees to the
edge of the veranda; Kaede heard her speak to Kondo, but the man did not leave. Instead he stepped up onto the veranda and she knew he was waiting just outside the doorway.

Her father made a sudden gesture toward her. She could not help flinching, thinking he was about to hit her. He said, “There was no marriage!”

“Forgive me,” she said again. “I have shamed you. I am ready to die.”

“But there is a child?” He was staring at her as though she were a viper that would strike at any moment.

“Yes, there is a child.”

“Who is the father? Or don't you know? Was he one of many?”

“It makes no difference now,” she replied. “The child will die with me.”

She thought,
Thrust the knife sideways and upward.
But she felt the child's tiny hands grip her muscles, preventing her.

“Yes, yes, you must take your own life.” His voice rose, taking on a shrill energy. “Your sisters must also kill themselves. This is my last command to you. Thus the Shirakawa family will disappear, not before time. And I will not wait for Shoji. I must do it myself. It will be my final act of honor.”

He loosened his sash and opened his robe, pushing aside his undergarment to expose his flesh. “Don't turn away,” he said to Kaede. “You must watch. It is you who have driven me to this.” He placed the point of the blade against the loose, wrinkled skin and drew a deep breath.

She could not believe it was happening. She saw his knuckles tighten around the handle, saw his face contort. He gave a harsh cry
and the dagger fell from his hands. But there was no blood, no wound. Several more sharp cries issued from him, then gave way to racking sobs.

“I cannot do it,” he wailed. “My courage has all gone. You have sapped me, unnatural woman that you are. You have taken my honor and my manhood. You are not my daughter: You are a demon! You bring death to all men; you are cursed.” He reached out and grabbed her, pulling at her garments. “Let me see you,” he cried. “Let me see what other men desire! Bring death to me as you have to others.”

“No,” she screamed, fighting against his hands, trying to push him away. “Father, no!”

“You call me Father? I am not your father. My real children are the sons I never had; the sons you and your cursed sisters took the place of. Your demonic powers must have killed them in your mother's womb!” His madness gave him strength. She felt the robes pulled from her shoulders, his hands on her skin. She could not use the knife; she could not escape him. As she struggled against his grip, the robe slipped to her waist, exposing her. Her hair came loose and fell around her bare shoulders.

“You are beautiful,” he shouted. “I admit it. I have desired you. While I taught you I lusted after you. It was my punishment for going against nature. I am completely corrupted by you. Now bring me death!”

“Let me go, Father,” she cried, trying to stay calm, hoping to reason with him. “You are not yourself. If we must die let us do it with dignity.” But all words seemed weak and meaningless in the face of his delusions.

His eyes were wet, his lips quivering. He seized her knife and threw it across the room, held both her wrists in his left hand, and pulled her toward him. With his right hand he reached under her hair, drew it aside, bent over her, and put his lips on the nape of her neck.

Horror and revulsion swept over her, followed by fury. She had been prepared to die, in accordance with the harsh code of her class, to salvage her family's honor. But her father, who had instructed her so rigidly in that code, who had taught her assiduously about the superiority of his sex, had surrendered to madness, revealing what lay beneath the strict rules of conduct of the warrior class: the lust and selfishness of men. The fury brought to life the power that she knew lay within her, and she remembered how she had slept in ice. She called to the White Goddess:
Help me!

She heard her own voice—“Help me! Help me!”—and even as she cried out her father's grip slackened.
He has come to his senses,
she thought, pushing him away. She scrambled to her feet, pulling her robe around her and retying the sash, and, almost without thinking, stumbled to the farthest side of the room. She was sobbing with shock and rage.

She turned and saw Kondo kneeling in front of her father, who sat half-upright, supported, she thought at first, by Shizuka. Then she realized that her father's eyes saw nothing. Kondo plunged his hand, it seemed, into her father's belly and slashed crossways. The cut made a foul soft noise, and the blood hissed and bubbled as it foamed out.

Shizuka let go of the man's neck, and he fell forward. Kondo placed the knife in his right hand.

The vomit rose in her throat then and she doubled up, retching. Shizuka came to her, her face expressionless. “It's all over.”

“Lord Shirakawa lost his mind,” Kondo said, “and took his own life. He has had many episodes of madness and often spoke of so doing. He died honorably and with great courage.” He stood and looked directly at her. There was a moment when she could have called for the guards, denounced both of them, and had them executed, but the moment passed and she did nothing. She knew she would never reveal the murder to anyone.

Kondo smiled very slightly and continued, “Lady Otori, you must demand allegiance from the men. You must be strong. Otherwise any one of them will seize your domain and usurp you.”

“I was about to kill myself,” she said slowly. “But it seems there is no need now.”

“No need,” he agreed, “as long as you are strong.”

“You must live for the child's sake,” Shizuka urged her. “No one will care who the father is, if only you are powerful enough. But you must act now. Kondo, summon the men as quickly as possible.”

Kaede let Shizuka lead her to the women's rooms, wash her, and change her clothes. Her mind was quivering with shock, but she clung to the knowledge of her own power. Her father was dead and she was alive. He had wanted to die; it was no hardship for her to pretend that he had indeed taken his own life and had died with honor, a desire he had often expressed. Indeed, she thought bitterly, she was respecting his wishes and protecting his name. She would not, however, obey his last command to her: She would not kill herself and she would not allow her sisters to die either.

Kondo had summoned the guards, and boys were sent to the
village to fetch the men who lived on farms. Within the hour, most of her father's retainers were assembled. The women had brought out the mourning clothes so recently put away after her mother's death, and the priest had been sent for. The sun came up higher, melting the frost. The air smelled of smoke and pine needles. Now that the first shock was over Kaede was driven by a feeling she hardly understood, a fierce need to secure what was hers, to protect her sisters and her household, to ensure nothing of hers was lost or stolen. Any one of the men could take her estate from her; they would not hesitate if she showed the slightest sign of weakness. She had seen the utter ruthlessness that lay beneath Shizuka's lighthearted pose and Kondo's ironic exterior. That ruthlessness had saved her life, and she would match it with her own.