After an hour they came to the Ogre’s Storehouse. The men who had spent the night there were prepared for departure. The Tohan man stood beside the horses, holding the bird perch with the hawks still on it. Hungry, they raised their feathers and called piercingly.
When the man saw Iida, he tried to bow to the ground without letting go of the birds, his movements made clumsy by fear.
“Bring the birds,” Iida commanded from the horse. The man rose and went to him, holding the perch so that it was level with his lord’s chest. Iida seized one bird in his bare hands. It struggled and screamed, trying to slash with beak and talons. He broke its neck and threw it to the ground, then killed the second in the same way. This he threw directly in the face of his retainer.
No one spoke. No one would plead for the man’s life. He was Tohan: Iida could do with him what he wanted. The man laid the perch down in the grass, his movements no longer awkward but almost graceful in their deliberation. He undid his overgarments-he had already taken off his leather armor-and said quietly, “I ask you to give me back my sword.”
The Otori warriors led him away from Iida to the edge of the pit. Afterward they threw the body down.
“Ogre’s breakfast,” one of them said. The birds lay in the dust, the brightness fading from their plumage. They already had ants in their eyes.
IRIE AND KIYOSHIGE were surprised to see them return so soon and even more astonished when they learned the identity of their companion.
“Lord Iida Sadamu has had a terrible experience,” Shigeru said. “He was lucky to escape death. He will be our guest while he recovers.”
He explained briefly what had happened and accompanied Iida to the best room in the inn, treating him with exaggerated courtesy and insisting that the highest-quality clothes and food be supplied. He made sure Iida was well guarded; then he himself bathed and changed his own clothes, dressing with great care in formal robes and having a barber come to shave his face and head and dress his hair.
Then he conferred with Irie and Kiyoshige. “Since Lord Kitano is on his way here, I think it would be pleasant for him to see his sons. I intend to ask Sadamu to send letters to Inuyama requesting their presence. Once they are here and Kitano has formally reaffirmed his loyalty, we will escort Lord Iida to the border.”
“We should get assurances that the border violations will cease,” Kiyoshige said. “I can’t believe he fell into your hands like this! What a stroke of luck.”
“We will-but there is no guarantee that he will keep his word, and we cannot hold him for long. Irie, have a doctor come and tend to him. He can testify that Sadamu is too weak to travel.”
“Weak is hardly a word you would use to describe Sadamu!” Kiyoshige said, grinning.
After another explosion of rage, Sadamu gave in and wrote to his father. Within a week, Tadao and Masaji arrived in Chigawa; they were reunited with their father, Lord Kitano, the following day. All three of them made solemn declarations of allegiance in Sadamu’s presence, and Sadamu himself undertook to maintain the borders and prevent any more incursions into Otori territory. The doctor pronounced Sadamu fit to travel, and Shigeru accompanied him to the border, where he was met by a large force of Tohan warriors. Their faces were grim beneath their helmets, and they did not speak to or even acknowledge the Otori contingent. The leaders leaped from their horses to prostrate themselves before Sadamu, expressing their joy and relief at his return. He spoke to them sharply, ordering them to remount immediately and not to delay their departure any longer.
Once the horsemen had splashed across the river that marked the border, several of them turned to wave their swords and jeer at the Otori. Bows were armed and raised in reply, but Shigeru spoke swiftly to forbid retaliation.
“Not even a word of thanks!” he observed as Sadamu and his retainers galloped away.
“You have made an enemy,” Irie replied.
“He is Tohan: We were born enemies.”
“But now he hates you personally. You saved his life and he will never forgive you for it.”
THE PLUM RAINS BEGAN, and Shigeru spent the following weeks based in Chigawa. The reinforcements arrived, and patrols were sent out to set up stations all along the border until the end of autumn. He also took the time to examine the agricultural conditions of the district, advised Kitano that taxes were too high and he must take no more than thirty percent of the harvest, and spent two days listening to various grievances that the peasants held against officials and merchants.
He visited the silver and copper mines with Komori and discussed ways of increasing production, realizing anew how important it was to keep the mines out of Tohan hands. He would have been happy to stay all summer, but at the end of the month messengers arrived from Hagi with a letter from his father.
“I am summoned home,” he said to Kiyoshige. “I wish I had not read the letter, but having done so, I suppose I must obey.”
He allowed Lord Kitano’s younger son to return to Tsuwano with his father, but he had decided Tadao, the elder boy, would accompany him to Hagi and stay there, to encourage his father to remain loyal.
18
Shigeru rode home in a cheerful mood, feeling he had every reason to be pleased with the results of his decisive action. His popularity and reputation were increased among the ordinary people who came out to welcome him at every town and village, showering him and his men with gifts of food, fruit, rice wine. The weather continued hot and fine; the harvest would be good: everyone, it seemed, was happy.
But his reception at the castle was less enthusiastic. He had hardly dismounted in the outer bailey when Endo Chikara himself came to welcome him home, saying, “Your father has asked you to go to him at once.”
“I will wash and change my clothes,” Shigeru replied. “The effects of the journey…”
“Lord Shigemori did say ‘at once,’” Endo demurred. Shigeru passed the reins to Kiyoshige. The two young men exchanged glances. Kiyoshige raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing.
Now I am to be chastised, Shigeru thought ruefully. But even though he expected it, it was no easier to bear. His uncles were very angry, his father bemused and sorrowful. His father’s displeasure was caused more by the fact that Shigeru had acted alone without consultation or permission; his uncles, whose attendance annoyed Shigeru intensely, were more concerned about what they described as the unfortunate results-the deaths of Honda and Maeda, the unnecessary provocation of the Tohan.
“If I had not been there, Sadamu would have died!” Shigeru retorted. “At least lies cannot be fabricated about his death. Furthermore, he swore in front of witnesses to control his men and prevent any more incursions into the Middle Country. We will have peace in the border region, and the mines around Chigawa are secured.”
“Lord Kitano is somewhat displeased at your meddling in his affairs,” his older uncle said.
“Kitano reaffirmed his allegiance to me personally, as did his sons,” Shigeru said, trying to control his anger. “Tadao will stay close to me in the meantime…”
It was no longer a question of being right-although he was sure he was-but of whose will would prevail, who was the stronger. He reminded his uncles that he was the heir to the clan, that he was now an adult, and that he expected their complete loyalty for the sake of the clan. He made no apologies either to them or to his father and left the meeting close to rage. He felt his father should have supported him; he deplored Shigemori’s indecision and vacillation. Filial duty bound him to defer to his father-but if the security of the Otori clan itself demanded contrary action, what should he do, what course should he take?