Lord Oda's Revenge (13 page)

‘When I left,' his mother continued, not realizing the danger yet, ‘a monk accompanied me. They felt Mount Hiei would be safe – there are ten thousand monks here, all well armed, and the daimyo are concerned with the Ikko-ikki, on the other mountain. But I left word for you – I thought that was how you came to me.'

‘No,' said Taro. ‘I came because someone sent me a note saying you were here.' He dug in the folds of his cloak, handed his mother the note. ‘Is this what you sent?' he asked, though he already knew the answer.

‘No,' said his mother.

Taro stared at her. ‘But that – it doesn't—' He puzzled over it. ‘Did you send another one? Could one of the monks have sent it?'

‘No,' said his mother.

He shivered. Clearly it was a trap. Someone had intercepted her message, killed the pigeon, and sent another one much later, giving his mother's new location. But who? And for what reason? He looked around him. As his mother said, there were ten thousand monks here, and they would all fight to the death to protect the monastery. His mother was a valued guest here; so was he, it seemed. And the abbot had possessed ample opportunity to kill him back there in the woods, where they'd been ambushed.

He couldn't work it out.

It didn't make sense, but he didn't have long to worry about it. Hana and Hiro had come up behind him. Hiro pulled Taro's mother off the ground and spun her round. ‘It's good to see you!' he boomed. Taro's mother giggled as she twirled through the air.

‘You too, Hiro,' she said. When he finally put her down, she looked him up and down appraisingly. ‘You look different,' she said. ‘Stronger.'

‘A lot has happened since we left Shirahama,' said Taro. ‘I'll tell you all about it, I promise.' He thought about this for a moment. No, perhaps not
all
. He could tell her he was a vampire, maybe – but to tell her that he had killed Lord Oda? Perhaps not. And then there was the question of his true parentage. He had
some difficult questions to ask of her. Right now, though, she was standing in front of him, smiling, and he could think of nothing but the fact that he had found his mother again, after all this time.

The abbot walked over. ‘I am pleased you have been reunited with your son,' he said to Taro's mother. He turned to Taro. ‘I have heard so much about you, these last few months. Of course, you're not quite. . . what I expected.'

‘Why is that?' asked Taro's mother.

The abbot spread his hands. ‘I am sure Taro can explain later,' he said. He gave Taro a sharp look, one that seemed to say,
I hope you can, anyway
. Taro nodded at him. He knew he was here on the abbot's forbearance, to some extent. He was a vampire, and this was a holy place. He had known, from the moment the abbot recognized his name in the grove, that he would have some explaining to do.

‘For now, though,' said the abbot, ‘let us rejoice that a mother and son have found each other again.' He turned to Hana and Hiro. ‘I imagine you are hungry, no?'

Hiro grinned. ‘Ravenous,' he said.

‘Well,' said Taro's mother, ‘some things never change, at least.'

That night the monks honoured their new guests with a feast. Taro could not eat the food, of course, but he was touched and surprised when the abbot led him to the back of the dining hall and showed a squealing pig. Taro drank enough to sustain him, without doing the pig any lasting harm. Then he returned to the hall and laughed with the others as Hiro imitated the surprise on Taro's face when the monks dropped from the trees. There was little chance to talk to his mother, to find out what had
happened to her since they last met, but for then Taro was satisfied to be close to her, after so long.

Midway through the feast, Taro took the abbot aside. He didn't explain anything about the ninja mountain, but he told the elderly monk about the note, and how he suspected this might be some kind of trap.

‘But what trap?' said the abbot. ‘We will not harm you here. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead.'

‘Yes,' said Taro. ‘I thought of that myself.'

‘It's a mystery,' said the abbot. ‘But who is to say the note was not sent by a kind spirit? That it was not the action of some bodhisattva, of some
kami
, of the turning of the wheel of
dharma
?'

‘Er. . .,' said Taro. ‘Yes, perhaps.' But he was not convinced. He was nervous, and he couldn't stop looking around the hall, startled whenever anyone moved their hands too quickly to their robes.

There's danger here
, he thought.
I know it
. His instincts had not let him down before, and so he remained always tense and on guard, though smiling at his mother and Hiro to help them to relax.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
Taro sat with his mother and Hiro under an ancient plum tree. Hana had gone off with the abbot to look at the scrolls – he had promised to take one out of its gold casing and show her the actual text written so many centuries before by the monastery's founder, Seido. Taro had suggested to Hiro that he accompany her, so that he could sit alone with his mother, but Hiro had looked at him as if he was mad.

‘I'm just worried,' said Taro, ‘that it might be a trap.' He didn't like the fact that the pigeon had taken so many months to reach him, and that the message had changed. And yet there didn't seem to be any threat here. His mother was safe, and the mountain was crawling with well-armed monks.

‘The monks at Mount Fuji might have sent it,' said his mother. ‘It's just strange that it took so long.'

Taro sighed. ‘Perhaps. Except your first bird never reached the ninja mountain, so why did this one?' He'd told his mother about his training at the mountain, as if he'd gone straight there from Shirahama, and from there to Mount Hiei. Anything to do with Lord Oda, or his castle, he had left out. He and Hiro and Hana had left it to be understood that Hana, too, came from the ninja mountain.

His mother put her hand on his. ‘It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're here at last.'

Taro smiled at her. He was glad to be here too. He could sit and hold her hand forever, he thought. She had developed more lines, yes, but she also seemed healthier, now that she was not diving any more. The work had been hard, and the sea claimed its price too. It got into the ears of the ama, salting them up, turning them slowly into coral, as if the sea were invading – bit by bit – their bodies. And their eyes were always bloodshot, their skin always wrinkled by the water.

Now, though, Taro's mother's eyes were a clear, light brown, like the leaves of the maples and cedars that still lay on the ground, and her skin was plumper, firmer. A vein throbbed, healthily, in her neck.

Taro looked away. He was better at controlling his urges, but the thirst still grabbed him sometimes like a ferocious wind that wanted to strip away his identity and leave a beast in his stead, desperate only for blood.

‘—girl,' said his mother, and Taro realized he had missed something.

‘Sorry?' he said.

‘The girl, Hanako. Do you love her?'

It took Taro a moment to think who his mother meant. Then he realized she was speaking of Hana. They had changed her name, just slightly – they didn't want anyone knowing she was Lord Oda's daughter. Taro looked down again, out of embarrassment this time, not the controlling of his blood-thirst. ‘I – ah—'

‘Yes,' said Hiro. ‘He does. He moons over her all the time. He's always looking at her, then going red.'

Taro hit his friend's arm. ‘I—,' he began. ‘That is to say. . . I felt, when I met her, that I knew her. ‘

His mother nodded, a faraway look in her eye. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘That is the way it is.' Taro wished he could know if she spoke of his father – the father who raised him – or Lord Tokugawa. He could see no way of asking.

‘Tell me about this place,' he asked instead. ‘How you got here.'

His mother touched the trunk of the tree. ‘When I left Shirahama, I didn't know where I was going. But then I heard someone on the road mention the Fuji monastery, and how the power plays of the daimyos were still being frustrated by the warrior monks. I thought it would be a safer place than any, so I made my way there. But then we heard Lord Tokugawa was about to attack, and so I moved here, as I told you. I expected it to be a refuge. But when I arrived. . . I found something I hadn't quite foreseen.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. I was looking for safety. But what I found was. . . peace, I suppose.' She smiled, embarrassed, and looked down at a blossom that had fallen into the palm of her hand. ‘It was
obon
when I arrived, and the spirits of the dead were loose in the world. My husband had just been killed. It could have been a difficult time, but the monks helped me. They taught me meditation. They taught me to see that this world of tears is only temporary and shallow – like the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water.'

Taro raised his eyebrows. ‘And to think you were just a simple ama once. . .,' he said playfully.

She laughed, getting to her feet. ‘Come,' she said. ‘I'll show you around.' She led Taro and Hiro through the hall, then past the giant bell to the grassy meditation area. Heading downhill, she showed them the various buildings: the initiation hall, the
baths, and the watchtowers. Taro feigned interest, his mind on the mystery of the slow pigeon – and Hana's face – while Hiro kept up a constant chatter.

As they walked, though, Taro felt himself relaxing, despite his distraction. He was in the company of his mother, long lost, and his best friend. He should enjoy it while it lasted. Slowly he began to talk of some of the harder things – things he had not wanted to bring up straightaway. They spoke at length about Taro's father, conjuring the man from the air before them, seeing him together, remembering his strength and kindness. And Taro told his mother everything that had happened to him – or almost everything, anyway.

It was enough, though, to walk with her, through the shade of the pine trees, and watch the many-clouded sky above, always moving and always the same. Finally they returned to the meditation area, where Taro's mother led them to another
ume
tree, even more gnarled and ancient than the one they'd been sitting under. The sun was low, and its light filtered through the pink blossoms, creating the impression that they stood within a canopy of intricate latticework, designed to refract and colour the light. A builder of temples could not have emulated it.

‘The monks sit by this tree all day sometimes,' Taro's mother said. ‘They say that watching the plum rain is a kind of meditation.'

‘Huh,' said Hiro. ‘Sounds like a nice way to spend your life.'

‘They say not. They call it
mono no aware
. What they are trying to do is to understand, completely, that nothing in the world lasts. That everything is. . . transient. They say that the plum rain is a symbol of the unreality of the world. It always falls, you see. And then there is only the bare branch. They say that if they can only grasp this idea firmly in their minds, the world will for them take
on its essential lack of form, and they will be only light. That is liberation.'

Taro nodded. ‘I see.' He didn't, really, but his mother had a far-off look in her eye, as if what the monks had told her accorded with some secret intuition of her own. ‘You would like to stay here,' he said. It was more a statement than a question.

His mother looked at him, surprised. ‘I – that is to say – yes, perhaps I would. There is something. . . peaceful here. I find what the monks say interesting.'

From the west came a
bang
– like the one Taro had heard on his arrival. It did not sound especially peaceful to him. He raised his eyebrows.

His mother rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, the Ikko-ikki do their best to distract us with their guns.'

‘They fire them often?'

‘Oh, yes. Lord Oda and Lord Tokugawa are laying siege to their mountain. It has been going on for months. It is said that the Hongan-ji, the Ikko-ikki's fortress, is impenetrable, but the daimyos will not give up. They hate the Ikko-ikki, and it appears that the feeling is mutual.'

‘But I—I heard that Lord Oda was dead,' said Taro.

His mother frowned. ‘Really? I'd have thought the monks would know, if that was the case.'

Taro pursed his lips. This was odd. Come to think of it, no one they had met on the walk had mentioned Lord Oda's death. Oshi had never spoken of it. Wasn't that strange? One would think that the news of a daimyo's murder would spread quickly over the country. Was the Oda camp keeping it secret, somehow?

Well, it was something to think about. Right now, there was an odd expression on his mother's face, and he realized that if she
wanted to stay here, he would need to get some answers quickly. Kenji Kira was still looking for him; the daimyo were just awaiting an excuse to attack the monastery. ‘Mother. . .,' he began. ‘The night Father was killed. Why did you dive over the old wreck?'