The Harsh Cry of the Heron (22 page)

Just before they
retired, he asked her about the young horse, for she had already written to him
on the matter.

‘Come to the shrine tomorrow
and you can see him,’ she said.

He hesitated for a
moment, and then said, ‘With great pleasure. Let me escort you.’ But the tone
of his voice was cool, and the words formal.

They strolled side by
side across the stone bridge, as they had so often when she was a young child
and he not quite a man. The air was still, the light clear and golden, as the
sun rose above the Eastern mountains and turned the unruffled surface of the
river into a gleaming mirror whose reflected world seemed more real than the
one in which they walked.

Usually two of the
castle guards accompanied her, keeping a respectful few paces ahead and behind,
but today Hiroshi had dismissed them. He was dressed ready for riding, in
trousers and leggings, and wore a sword in his belt. She was in similar
clothes, her hair tied back with cords, and as usual in Hagi she was armed only
with the hidden short stick. She talked about the horse, and Hiroshi’s reserve
gradually dissolved, until he was arguing with her as he might have done five years
ago. Perversely, this disappointed her as much as his formality.

He sees me as a
little sister, just like one of the twins.

The morning sun lit
up the old shrine: Hiroki was already up and Hiroshi greeted him with pleasure,
for he had spent many hours as a boy in the older man’s company, learning the
skills of horsebreaking and breeding.

Tenba heard Shigeko’s
voice and neighed from the meadow. When they went to look at him he trotted up
to her, but put his ears back and rolled his eyes at Hiroki.

‘He is both fierce
and beautiful,’ Hiroshi exclaimed. ‘If he can be tamed, he will make a
marvellous war horse.’

‘I want to give him
to Father,’ Shigeko told him. ‘But I don’t want Father to take him to war!
Surely we are at peace now?’

‘There are some storm
clouds on the horizon,’ Hiroshi said. ‘That is why I have been summoned here.’

‘I hoped you had come
to see my horse!’ she said, daring to tease him.

‘Not only your horse,’
he replied quietly. To her surprise when she glanced at him, a wave of colour
had swept into his neck.

She said after a
moment of awkwardness, ‘I hope you have time to help me break him in. I don’t
want anyone else to do it - he trusts me now, and that trust must not be
broken, so I must be present at all times.’

‘He will come to
trust me too,’ Hiroshi said. ‘I will come here whenever your father can spare
me. We will work on him together, in the way we have both been taught.’

The Way of the Houou
was the way of the male and female elements of the world: gentle strength,
fierce compassion, the dark and the light, shadow and sun, the hidden and the
exposed. Gentleness alone would not tame a horse like this. It would also need
a man’s strength and resoluteness.

They started that
morning, before the heat intensified, accustoming the horse to Hiroshi’s touch,
on his head, around his ears, on the flanks and under the belly. Then they laid
soft ribbons across his back and neck, finally tying one loosely around his
nose and head - his first bridle. He sweated and his coat shuddered, but he
submitted to their handling.

Mori Hiroki watched
them with approval, and afterwards, when the colt had been rewarded with
carrots and Shigeko and Hiroshi with cold barley tea, said, ‘In other parts of
the Three Countries and beyond, horses are broken in swiftly and forcefully,
often with cruelty. The animals are beaten into submission. But my father
always believed in a gentle approach.’

‘And that’s why the
Otori horses are renowned,’ Hiroshi said. ‘They are so much more obedient than
other horses, more reliable in battle, and with greater stamina as they are not
wasting energy fighting the rider and trying to bolt! I have always used the
methods I learned from you.’

Shigeko’s face was
glowing. ‘We will succeed in taming him, won’t we?’

T have no doubt of
it,’ Hiroshi replied, returning the smile unguardedly.

Takeo knew of his
daughter’s partnership with Sugita Hiroshi in breaking in the black colt
-though he did not know the horse was for him - as he knew almost everything,
not only in Hagi but throughout the Three Countries. Messengers ran or rode in
relays between the cities, and homing pigeons were used to send urgent news
from ships at sea. He thought Hiroshi was like an older brother to his
daughter; he worried occasionally about his future and his unmarried status,
casting around in his mind for a suitable and useful match for the young man
who had served him so loyally since childhood. He had heard the common talk
about Hiroshi’s infatuation with Hana; he did not altogether believe it,
knowing Hiroshi’s strength of character and intelligence - yet Hiroshi evaded
all marriage prospects and seemed to live more chastely than a monk. He
resolved to make renewed efforts to find a wife for him among the warrior
families in Hagi.

One hot afternoon in
the seventh month, shortly before the Festival of the Weaver Star, Takeo,
Kaede, their older daughter Shigeko and Hiroshi went across the bay to the
residence of Terada Fumifusa. This was his old friend Fumio’s father, the
former pirate chief who now maintained and supervised the fleet, both merchant
vessels and warships, that gave the Three Countries their eminence in trade and
their security from attack by sea. Terada was now about fifty years old, yet
showed little sign of the usual infirmities of age. Takeo valued his shrewdness
and pragmatism, as well as the combination of boldness and vast knowledge that
had led to the establishment of trade and the encouragement of craftsmen and
artists from faraway lands to settle, work and teach in the cities of the Three
Countries. Terada himself did not care much for the lavish treasures he had
acquired during his years of piracy - his grudge against the Otori clan had
been his driving force, and the downfall of Shigeru’s uncles his greatest
desire. But after the battle for Hagi and the earthquake he had rebuilt his old
house under the influence of his son and his daughter-in-law, Eriko, a young
niece of the Endo family. Eriko loved painting, gardens and objects of beauty:
she wrote poetry in exquisite brushwork, and had made a residence of splendour
and charm across the bay from the castle, near the volcano crater, where the
unusual climate enabled her to cultivate the exotic plants that Fumio brought
back from his voyages as well as the medicinal herbs that Ishida liked to
experiment with. Her artistic nature and sensibility had made her a favoured
friend of Takeo and Kaede, and her eldest daughter was especially close to
Shigeko as the two girls were born in the same year.

Small pavilions had
been constructed over the streams in the garden, and the cool sound of flowing
water filled the air. The pools were a mass of mauve and cream lotus flowers,
shaded by strange trees shaped like fans from the Southern Islands. The air was
redolent with aniseed and ginger. The guests all wore light summer robes in
brilliant colours, rivalling the butterflies that flitted among the flowers. A
late cuckoo was calling its fractured song from the forest, and cicadas
shrilled ceaselessly.

Eriko had introduced
an old game in which the guests composed poems, read them, and then sent them
floating on little wooden trays for the group in the next pavilion to read.
Kaede excelled at this sort of poetry, with her huge knowledge of classical
allusions and her quick mind, but Eriko came close to her. In friendly rivalry
they strove to surpass each other.

Cups of wine were
also floated in the slow-moving water, and every now and then one or other of
the guests would reach out and hand it to a companion. The rhythm of the words
and the sound of laughter mingled with the water, the insects and the birds,
producing in Takeo a rare moment of pure enjoyment, dissolving his concerns and
lightening his grief.

He was watching
Hiroshi, who sat with Shigeko and Eriko’s daughter, Kaori, in the next
pavilion. Kaori was almost of marriageable age: perhaps this would be a good
match; he would discuss it with Kaede later. Kaori took after her father, plump
and full of good health and spirits. She was laughing now, with Shigeko, at
Hiroshi’s efforts.

But through the
laughter and all the other sounds of this peaceful afternoon, he heard
something else, perhaps the flutter of a bird’s wing. He looked up into the sky
and saw a small flock of specks far in the south-east. As they came closer it
was clear that they were white homing pigeons returning to the Terada residence
where they had been hatched.

The birds returned
all the time, for all Terada’s ships carried them, yet the direction from which
these came filled him with unease, for to the south-east lay the free city of Akashi.
. .

The pigeons fluttered
overhead towards the dovecotes. Everyone looked up to watch them. Then the
party resumed with apparently the same light-heartedness, but Takeo was
conscious now of the heat of the afternoon, of the sweat in his armpits, of the
rasp of the cicadas.

A servant came from
the house, knelt behind Lord Terada and whispered to him. Terada looked towards
Takeo and made a slight gesture with his head. They both rose at the same time,
made a brief apology to the gathering and went with the servant to the house.
Once on the veranda, Terada said, ‘Messages from my son.’ He took from the
servant pieces of folded paper, made from silk, lighter than feathers, and they
pieced together the words.

‘Failure. Weapons
already in Saga’s hands. Returning at once.’

Takeo looked from the
shade of the veranda towards the bright scene in the garden. He heard Kaede’s
voice as she read, heard the laughter that greeted her grace and wit.

‘We must prepare for
a council of war,’ he said. ‘We will meet tomorrow and decide what must be
done.’

The council consisted
of Terada Fumifusa, Miyoshi Kahei, Sugita Hiroshi, Muto Shizuka, Takeo, Kaede
and Shigeko. Takeo told them of his meeting with Kono, the Emperor’s demands,
the new general and the smuggled weapons. Miyoshi Kahei naturally was in favour
of immediate action: a swift summer campaign, the deaths, ideally, of Arai
Zenko and Lord Kono followed by a concentration of troops on the Eastern
borders which could advance on the capital in the spring, rout the Dog Catcher and
persuade the Emperor to think again about threatening and insulting the Otori.

‘Your ships might
also blockade Akashi,’ he said to Terada. ‘We should bring the port under our
control to prevent any more disasters from Arai.’

Then he recalled Shizuka’s
presence and remembered Zenko was her son, and somewhat belatedly begged her
pardon for his bluntness. ‘Yet I cannot retract my advice,’ he said to Takeo. ‘While
Zenko undermines you in the West, you cannot hope to deal with the threat from
the East.’

‘We have Zenko’s son
with us now,’ Kaede said. ‘We feel that this will help control him and make him
biddable.’

‘He is hardly a
hostage, though,’ Kahei replied. ‘The essence of holding hostages is to be
prepared to take their lives. I don’t want to insult you, Takeo, but I don’t
believe you could bring yourself to order the child’s death. His parents, of
course, know that he is as safe with you as in his mother’s arms!’

‘Zenko has sworn yet
again that he will be loyal to me,’ Takeo said. ‘I cannot attack him without
provocation or warning. I prefer to give him my trust, in the hope that he
deserves it. And we must make every effort to maintain peace through
negotiation. I will not bring civil war on the Three Countries.’

Kahei pressed his
lips together and shook his head, his face dark.

‘Your brother, Gemba,
and the others at Terayama have advised me to placate the Emperor, to visit
Miyako next year and plead my case to him in person.’

‘By which time Saga
will have equipped his army with firearms. At least let us seize Akashi and
prevent him trading in nitre. Otherwise you will go straight to your death!’

‘I am in favour of
acting decisively,’ Terada said. ‘I agree with Miyoshi. Those merchants at
Akashi have got altogether above themselves. A free city, indeed! They’re an
insult. It would be a pleasure to teach them a lesson.’ He seemed to miss the
days when his ships virtually controlled all trade along the northern and
western coasts.

‘Such an action would
antagonize and infuriate our own merchants,’ Shizuka said. ‘And we rely on
their support for provisions as well as nitre and iron ore. It would be very
hard to fight a war without that backing.’

‘Everywhere the
merchant class is becoming dangerously powerful,’ Terada grumbled. It was an
old complaint with him, as it was, Takeo knew, with Miyoshi Kahei and many
other warriors, who resented the growing wealth and prosperity that trade
brought to the townspeople. Yet that prosperity, in his opinion, was one of the
greatest underpinnings of peace.

‘If you do not strike
now, it will be too late,’ Kahei said. ‘That is my advice.’

‘Hiroshi?’ Takeo
addressed the young man, who up till now had been silent.

T understand Lord
Miyoshi’s point of view,’ Hiroshi said, ‘and in many ways he has the most
reason on his side. According to the art of war, his strategy has much to
recommend it. But I have to submit to the wisdom of the Masters of the Way of
the Houou. Send messages to the Emperor announcing your intended visit, when
you will make your decision known to him. This will put off any planned attack
on his part. I would recommend, like Kahei, strengthening the army in the East,
preparing for attack while not inciting it. We must build up our forces of foot
soldiers carrying firearms, and drill them to face similarly armed soldiers,
for undoubtedly by next year Saga will have considerable numbers of weapons.
That we cannot prevent. As for your brother-in-law, I believe the ties of
family will be stronger than any grudge he may bear you, or any ambition to
oust you. Again I would advise you to take your time, and do nothing hastily.’