Part 3 (1/2)

As soon as I saw her, I was seized by the fiercest desire to hold her. I thought I would die if I did not sleep with her soon. I had not expected this and I was ashamed of how I felt. I thought I should have been concerned with her safety instead; moreover, I was the leader of an army: I had a thousand men to worry about. My aching desire for my wife embarra.s.sed me and made me almost shy of her.

She saw me and rode toward me. The horses whickered at each other. Our knees touched. As our heads bent toward each other, I caught her jasmine scent.

”The road's clear now,” I said. ”We can ride on.”

”Who were they?”

”Bandits, I suppose.” I spoke briefly, not wanting to bring the blood and the dying into this place where Kaede was, ”Kahei has gone ahead to find you somewhere to sleep tonight.”

”I'll sleep outside if I can lie with you,” she said in a low voice. ”I have never felt freedom before, but today, on the journey, in the rain, in all its difficulties, I have felt free.”

Our hands touched briefly, then I rode on with Amano, talking to him about Shun. My eyes were hot and I wanted to conceal my emotion.

”I've never ridden a horse like him before. It's as if he knows what I'm thinking.”

Amano's eyes creased as he smiled. ”I wondered if you would like him. Someone brought him to me a couple of weeks ago; my guess is he was either stolen or picked up after his owner was killed. I can't imagine anyone getting rid of him voluntarily. He's the smartest horse I've ever known. The black's more showy-good for making an impression-but I know which one I'd rather be on in a fight.” He grinned at me. ”Lord Otori is lucky with horses. Some people are. It's like a gift; good animals come to you.”

”Let's hope it augurs well for the future,” I replied. We pa.s.sed the hovel. The dead were laid out in rows along the dike. I was thinking that I should leave some men to burn or bury the corpses when there was a disturbance ahead, and one of Kahei's men came through on his horse, shouting at the soldiers to let him pa.s.s, calling my name.

”Lord Otori!” he said, reining in his horse just in front of us. ”You're wanted up ahead. Some farmers have come to speak with you.”

Ever since we'd crossed the river, I'd been wondering where the local people were. Even though the rice fields were flooded, there was no sign of their having been planted. Weeds choked the irrigation channels, and though in the distance I could see the steep thatched roofs of farmhouses, no smoke rose from them and there was no sign or sound of human activity. The landscape seemed cursed and empty. I imagined that Jin-emon and his band had intimidated, driven away, or murdered all the farmers and villagers. It seemed news of his death had traveled fast, and had now brought some of them out from hiding.

I cantered up through the file. The men called out to me, seeming cheerful; some were even singing. They were apparently unworried by the coming night, apparently had complete faith in my ability to find them food and shelter.

At the front of the army, Makoto had called a halt. A group of farmers were squatting on their heels in the mud. When I reached them and dismounted, they threw themselves forward.

Makoto said, ”They've come to thank us. The bandits have been terrorizing this area for nearly twelve months. They've been unable to plant this spring for fear of them. The ogre killed many of their sons and brothers, and many of their women have been abducted.”

”Sit up,” I said to them. ”I am Otori Takeo.”

They sat up, but as soon as I spoke my name they bowed again. ”Sit up,” I repeated. ”Jm-emon is dead.” Down they went again. ”You may do with his body what you wish. Retrieve your relatives' remains and bury them honorably.” I paused. I wanted to ask them for food but feared they had so little, I would be condemning them to death by starvation once we had moved on.

The oldest among them, obviously the headman, spoke hesitantly. ”Lord, what can we do for you? We would feed your men, but they are so many...”

”Bury the dead and you owe us nothing,” I replied. ”But we must find shelter tonight. What can you tell us about the nearest town?”

”They will welcome you there,” he said. ”Kibi is an hour or so away on foot. We have a new lord, one of Lord Arai's men. He has sent warriors against the bandits many times this year, but they have always been defeated. The last time his two sons were killed by Jin-emon, as was my eldest son. This is his brother, Jiro. Take him with you, Lord Otori.”

Jiro was a couple of years younger than I was, painfully thin, but with an intelligent face beneath the rain-streaked dirt.

”Come here, Jiro,” I said to him, and he got to his feet and stood by the bay's head. It smelled him carefully as if inspecting him. ”Do you like horses?”

He nodded, too overwhelmed by my addressing him directly to speak.

”If your father can spare you, you may come with me to Maruyama.” I thought he could join Amano's grooms.

”We should press on now,” Makoto said at my elbow.

”We have brought what we could,” the farmer said, and made a gesture to the other men. They lowered their sacks and baskets from their shoulders and took out scant offerings of food: cakes made from millet, fern shoots and other wild greens cut from the mountain, a few tiny salted plums, and some withered chestnuts. I did not want to take them, but I felt to refuse would be to dishonor the farmers. I organized two soldiers to gather up the food and bring the sacks with them.

”Bid your father farewell,” I said to Jiro, and saw the older man's face working suddenly to fight back tears. I regretted my offer to take the boy, not only because it was one more life to be responsible for, but also because I was depriving his father of his help in restoring the neglected fields.

”I'll send him back from the town.”

”No!” both father and son exclaimed together, the boy's face reddening.

”Let him go with you,” the father pleaded. ”Our family used to be warriors. My grandparents took to farming rather than starve. If Jiro serves you, maybe he can become a warrior again and restore our family name.”

”He would do better to stay here and restore the land,” I replied. ”But if it is truly what you want, he may come with us.”

I sent the lad back to help Amano with the horses we had acquired from the bandits, telling him to come back to me when he was mounted. I was wondering what had happened to Aoi, whom I had not set eyes on since I'd left him with Jo-An; it seemed like days ago. Makoto and I rode knee by knee at the head of our tired but cheerful army.

”It's been a good day, a good start,” he said. ”You have done exceptionally well, despite my idiocy.”

I remembered my earlier fury against him. It seemed to have evaporated completely now.

”Let's forget it. Would you describe that as a battle?”

”For unfledged men it was a battle,” he replied. ”And a victory. Since you won it, you can describe it however you like.”

Three left to win, one to lose, I thought, and then almost immediately wondered if that was how a prophecy worked. Could I choose to apply it how it pleased me? I began to see what a powerful and dangerous thing it was: how it would influence my life whether I believed it or not. The words had been spoken to me, I had heard them, I would never be able to wipe them from my memory. Yet I could not quite commit myself to believing in them blindly.

Jiro came trotting back on Amano's own chestnut, Ki. ”Lord Amano thought you should change horses, and sent you his. He doesn't think he can save the black horse. It needs to rest its leg, and won't be able to keep up. And no one here can afford to keep a creature that can't work.” I felt a moment of sorrow for the brave and beautiful horse. I patted Shuns neck. ”I'm happy with this one.”

Jiro slid from the chestnut's back and took Shuns reins. ”Ki is better-looking,” he remarked.

”You should make a good impression,” Makoto said dryly to me. We changed horses, the chestnut snorting through his nose and looking as fresh as if he'd just come from the meadow. Jiro swung himself up on the bay, but as soon as he touched the saddle, Shun put his head down and bucked, sending him flying through the air. The horse regarded the boy in the mud at his feet in surprise, almost as though thinking, What's he doing down there What's he doing down there?

Makoto and I found it far funnier than it really was and roared with laughter. ”Serves you right for being rude about him,” Makoto said.

To his credit, Jiro laughed too. He got to his feet and apologized gravely to Shun, who then allowed him to mount without protest.

The boy lost some of his shyness after that and began to point out landmarks on the road, a mountain where goblins lived, a shrine whose water healed the deepest wounds, a roadside spring that had never dried up in a thousand years. I imagined that, like me, he'd spent most of his childhood running wild on the mountain. ”Can you read and write, Jiro?” I asked.

”A little,” he replied.

”You'll have to study hard to become a warrior,” Makoto said with a smile.

”Don't I just need to know how to fight? I've practiced with the wooden pole and the bow.”

”You need to be educated as well, otherwise you'll end up no better than the bandits.”

”Are you a great warrior, sir?” Makoto's teasing encouraged Jiro to become more familiar.

”Not at all! I'm a monk.”

Jiro's face was a picture of amazement. ”Forgive me for saying so, but you don't look like one!”

Makoto dropped the reins on his horse's neck and took off his helmet, showing his shaven head. He rubbed his scalp and hung the helmet on the saddlebow. ”I'm relying on Lord Otori to avoid any more combat today!”