Grass for His Pillow (33 page)

“I'll eat later.” I got to my feet and went toward him. I could not keep my excitement to myself. “Lady Shirakawa is here. Will you go with Kahei and escort her to the women's guesthouse?”

He threw the last of the millet into the water. “I will tell Kahei. I prefer not to go myself. I don't want to remind her of the pain I caused her.”

“Maybe you are right. Yes, tell Kahei. Let them bring her here before noon.”

“Why is she here?” Makoto asked, glancing sideways at me.

“She came on a pilgrimage, to give thanks for her recovery. But now that she is here, I intend to marry her.”

“Just like that?” He laughed without mirth.

“Why not?”

“My experience of marriages is very limited, but I believe in the case of great families like the Shirakawa or, come to that, the Otori, consent has to be given: The clan lords have to agree.”

“I am the lord of my clan and I give my consent,” I replied lightly, feeling he was raising unnecessary problems.

“Your case is slightly different. But who does Lady Shirakawa obey? Her family may have other plans for her.”

“She has no family.” I could feel anger beginning to simmer.

“Don't be a fool, Takeo. Everyone has family, especially unmarried girls who are the heir to great domains.”

“I have both legal right and moral duty to marry her, since she was betrothed to my adopted father.” My tone was hotter now. “It was Shigeru's express will that I should do so.”

“Don't be angry with me,” he said, after a pause. “I know your feelings for her. I'm only saying what everyone will tell you.”

“She loves me too!”

“Love has nothing to do with marriage.” He shook his head, looking at me as if I were a child.

“Nothing's going to stop me! She is here. I will not let her slip away from me again. We will be married this week.”

The bell tolled from the temple. One of the older monks walked across the garden, looking disapprovingly at us. Makoto had kept his voice low throughout our exchange, but I had been talking loudly and forcefully.

“I must go to meditation,” he said. “Maybe you should too. Think about what you are doing before you act.”

“My mind is made up. Go and meditate! I'll tell Kahei. And then I'll speak to the abbot.”

It was already past the time when I usually went to him every morning for two hours of swordsmanship. I hurried to find the Miyoshi brothers, and caught up with them on their way downhill to speak to an armorer.

“Lady Shirakawa?” Kahei said. “Is it safe to go near her?”

“Why do you say that?” I demanded.

“No offense, Takeo, but everyone knows about her. She brings death to men.”

“Only if they desire her,” Gemba added; then, taking a quick look at my face, he went on, “That's what people say!”

“And they also say that she's so beautiful, it's impossible to look at her without desiring her.” Kahei looked gloomy. “You're sending us to certain death.”

I was in no mood for their clowning, but their words brought home to me even more how essential it was that we should marry.
Kaede had said that she was safe only with me, and I understood why: Only marriage to me would save her from the curse she seemed to be under. I knew that she would never be any danger to me. Other men who desired her had died, but I had joined my body to hers and lived.

I was not going to explain all this to the Miyoshi brothers.

“Bring her to the women's guest rooms as soon as possible,” I said shortly. “Make sure none of her men come and also that Kondo Kiichi and Muto Shizuka leave today. She will bring one woman with her. Treat them with the utmost courtesy. Tell her I will call on her around the hour of the Monkey.”

“Takeo is truly fearless,” Gemba muttered.

“Lady Shirakawa is going to be my wife.”

That startled them. They saw I was serious and kept their mouths closed. They bowed formally to me and walked silently to the guardhouse, where they collected five or six other men. Once they were beyond the gate, they made a few jokes at my expense, not realizing that I could hear them, about the praying mantis that devours her mate. I thought about going after them to teach them a lesson, but I was already late for the abbot.

Listening to their laughter fade away down the slope, I hurried to the hall where our sessions took place. He was already there, dressed in his priest's robes. I was still in the rough garb I wore on my nighttime wanderings; a sort of adaptation of the Tribe's black uniform: knee-length trousers, leggings, and split-toed boots that did as well for sword fighting as for leaping up walls and running over roofs.

Matsuda did not seem to be at all encumbered by his long
skirts and deep sleeves. I usually finished the sessions out of breath and pouring with sweat. He remained as cool and unruffled as if he had spent those same two hours in prayer.

I knelt before him to apologize for my lateness. He looked me up and down, a quizzical expression on his face, but said nothing, indicating the wooden pole with his head.

I took it from the rack. It was dark in color, almost black, longer than Jato and much heavier. Since I had been practicing daily with it, the muscles in my wrists and arms had increased in strength and flexibility, and I finally seemed to be over the injury to my right hand that Akio had caused me in Inuyama. At first the pole had felt like an obstinate horse, slugging against the bit; little by little I had learned to control it until I could manipulate it as deftly as a pair of eating sticks.

In practice that precision was as necessary as in real combat, for a false move could crack a skull or crush a breastbone. We did not have enough men to risk killing or injuring each other in training.

A wave of tiredness swept over me as I raised the pole into the challenge position. I had barely slept the night before and had not eaten since the evening meal. Then I thought of Kaede, saw her form as I'd seen her earlier, kneeling on the veranda. Energy flowed back into me. I realized in that split second how completely necessary she was to me.

Normally I was no match for Matsuda. But something had transformed me, had taken all the elements of training and melded them into a whole: a tough, indestructible spirit that sprang from the core of my being and flowed into my sword arm. For the first time I realized I was forty years younger than Matsuda. I saw his age and his vulnerability. I saw I had him at my mercy.

I checked my attack and let the pole drop. In that instance his staff found the unguarded space, catching me on the side of the neck with a blow that left me dizzy. Luckily he had not struck with full force.

His normally serene eyes were blazing with genuine anger.

“That's to teach you a lesson,” he growled. “First, not to be late and, second, not to let your softness of heart emerge while you're fighting.”

I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off. “Don't argue. You give me the first inkling I'm not wasting my time with you and then you throw it away. Why? Not because you felt pity for me, I hope?”

I shook my head.

He sighed. “You can't fool me. I saw it in your eyes. I saw the boy who came here last year and was moved by Sesshu. Is that what you want to be? An artist? I told you then that you could come back here and study and draw. Is that what you want?”

I was disinclined to answer but he waited until I did. “A part of me might want it, but not yet. First I have to carry out Shigeru's commands.”

“Are you sure of that? Will you commit yourself to it with a whole heart?”

I heard the utter seriousness of his tone and answered in the same way. “Yes, I will.”

“You will be leading many men, some to their death. Are you sure enough of yourself to do that? If you have any weakness, Takeo, it is this: You feel too much pity. A warrior needs more than a dash of ruthlessness, of black blood. Many will die following you, and you will kill many yourself. Once you launch yourself on
this path, you must pursue it to the end. You cannot check your attack or drop your guard because you feel pity for your opponent.”

I could feel the color mounting to my face. “I will not do it again. I did not mean to insult you. Forgive me.”

“I'll forgive you if you can achieve that move again and follow it through!”

He took up the challenge position, his eyes fixed on mine. I had no qualms about meeting his gaze: He had never succumbed to the Kikuta sleep, and I had never tried to impose it on him. Nor did I ever intentionally use invisibility or the second self with him, though sometimes, in the heat of combat, I felt my image begin to slide away.

His staff moved like lightning through the air. I stopped thinking then about anything except the opponent in front of me and the thrust of the pole, the floor beneath our feet, the space around us that we filled almost like a dance. And twice more I came to the same point where I saw my dominance over him, and neither time did I fail to follow the move through.

When we had finished, even Matsuda was glowing slightly, perhaps due to the spring weather. As we were wiping the sweat from our faces with towels Norio brought, he said, “I did not think you would ever make a swordsman, but you have done better than I expected. When you concentrate you are not bad, not bad at all.”

I was speechless at such high praise. He laughed. “Don't let it go to your head. I'll meet you again later this afternoon. I hope you have prepared your study on strategy.”

“Yes, sir. But there is something else I need to talk to you about.”

“Something to do with Lady Shirakawa?”

“How did you know?”

“I'd already heard that she was on her way to visit the temple. Arrangements have been made for her to stay in the women's guesthouse. It is a great honor for us. I will go and see her later today.”

It all sounded like casual chat about an ordinary guest, but I knew Matsuda well enough by now: He did nothing casually. I was afraid he would have the same misgivings about my marriage to Kaede that Makoto had voiced, but I had to tell him my intentions sooner or later. All this flashed through my head in an instant, and then it occurred to me that if I should seek anyone's permission, it should be his.

I fell to my knees and said, “I wish to marry Lady Shirakawa. May I have your permission and may the ceremony be held here?”

“Is that the reason she came here? Does she come with the permission of her family and clan?”

“No, she came for a different purpose: to give thanks for recovering from an illness. But it was one of Lord Shigeru's last commands to me that I should marry her, and now fate seems to have brought her here to me. . . .” I heard a note of pleading in my voice.

The abbot heard it too. Smiling, he said, “The problem is not going to be on your side, Takeo. For you it is the right thing to do. But for her to marry without approval from her clan, from Lord Arai . . . Be patient, seek his permission. He was in favor of the marriage last year. There's every reason to think he still will be.”

“I may be murdered at any moment!” I exclaimed. “I have no time to be patient! And there is someone else who wishes to marry her.”

“Are they betrothed?”

“There is nothing official. But apparently he has expectations
of the marriage taking place. He is a nobleman; his estate lies alongside hers.”

“Fujiwara,” Matsuda said.

“You know him?”

“I know who he is. Everyone does, apart from half-literates like you. It's a very suitable alliance. The estates will be joined, Fujiwara's son will inherit them both, and more important, since Fujiwara will almost certainly return to the capital soon, Arai will have a friend at court.”

“Arai will not, because she will not marry Fujiwara. She will marry me, and before the end of the week!”

“Between them they will crush you.” His eyes were fixed on my face.

“Not if Arai thinks I can help him destroy the Tribe. And when we marry we will move at once to Maruyama. Lady Shirakawa is the legal heir to that domain as well as to her father's. It will give me the resources I need to challenge the Otori.”

“As a strategy, it's not bad,” he said. “But there are grave risks: You could completely antagonize Arai. I'd thought it better for you to serve under him for a while and learn the art of war. And you do not want to make an enemy of a man like Fujiwara. This move, for all its boldness, could destroy your hopes utterly. I don't want to see that happen. I want to see all of Shigeru's desires fulfilled. Is it worth the gamble?”

“Nothing will prevent me from marrying her,” I said in a low voice.

“You are infatuated with her. Don't let that affect your judgment.”

“It's more than infatuation: She is my life and I am hers.”

He sighed. “We all think that at some age about some woman or other. Believe me, it doesn't last.”

“Lord Shigeru and Lady Maruyama loved each other deeply for years,” I dared to say.