Rieko dropped the comb and struggled to her feet. The maids came running to the door.
“Come outside quickly,” Rieko cried, her voice alarmed.
“Why?” Kaede said. “The quake will not be a big one.”
Rieko had already left the room. Kaede could hear her ordering the maids to extinguish all the lamps, almost shrieking at them in her panic. Kaede remained where she was, listening to the running feet, the raised voices, the barking dogs. After a few moments she took up the comb and finished combing out her hair. Since her head ached, she left it loose.
The robe they had dressed her in earlier seemed quite suitable for moon viewing: It was dove gray, embroidered with bush clover and pale lemon warblers. She wanted to look at the moon, to be bathed in its silvery light, and to be reminded of how it came and went in the heavens, disappeared for three days, and then returned.
The maids had left the doors to the veranda open. Kaede stepped out and knelt on the wooden floor, gazing toward the mountain, recalling how she had sat here with Fujiwara, wrapped in bearskins as the snow fell.
Another slight tremor came, but she felt no fear. She saw the mountain tremble against the pale violet sky. The dark shapes of the garden trees were swaying, though there was no wind, and birds, disturbed, were calling as if it were dawn.
Slowly their calls subsided and the dogs fell quiet. The thin golden sickle of the new moon hung next to the evening star just above the peaks. Kaede closed her eyes.
She smelled Fujiwara’s fragrance before she heard him. Then she caught the tread of feet, the rustle of silk. She opened her eyes.
He stood a few feet away from her, staring at her with the rapt, covetous look that she remembered so well.
“Lady Shirakawa.”
“Lord Fujiwara.” She returned his gaze for longer than she should before slowly prostrating herself until her brow touched the floor.
Fujiwara stepped onto the veranda, followed by Mamoru, who was carrying carpets and cushions. Not until the nobleman was seated did he give Kaede permission to sit up. He reached out and touched the silk robe.
“It’s very becoming. I thought it would be. You gave poor Murita quite a shock when you turned up on horseback. He nearly speared you by mistake.”
She thought she would faint from the fury that suddenly erupted through the herb-induced tranquillity. That he should allude so lightly, jokingly, to the murders of her men, of Amano, who had known her since she was a child . . .
“How dare you do this to me?” she said, and heard Mamoru’s gasp of shock. “I was married three months ago to Otori Takeo at Terayama. My husband will punish you—” She broke off, trying to regain control.
“I thought we would enjoy the moon before we talked,” he replied, showing no response to the insulting way she had spoken. “Where are your women? Why are you here alone?”
“They ran when the earth shook,” she replied shortly.
“Were you not afraid?”
“I have nothing to be afraid of. You have already done the worst anyone can do to me.”
“It seems we are to talk now,” he said. “Mamoru, bring wine and then see that we are undisturbed.”
He looked meditatively at the moon without speaking for the next few minutes until Mamoru came back. When the young man had retired into the shadows again, Fujiwara indicated that Kaede should pour the wine. He drank and said, “Your marriage to the person who calls himself Otori Takeo has been set aside. It was undertaken without permission and has been ruled invalid.”
“By whose authority?”
“Lord Arai; your own senior retainer, Shoji; and myself. The Otori have already disowned Takeo and declared his adoption illegal. The general opinion was that you should die for your disobedience to Arai and your infidelity to me, especially when your involvement in Iida’s death became more widely known.”
“We had an agreement that you would share my secrets with no one,” she said.
“I thought we had an agreement that we would marry.”
She could make no response without insulting him further, and his words had in fact frightened her. She was all too aware that he could order her death on a moment’s whim. No one would dare either to disobey such an order or to judge him afterward.
He went on: “You are aware of my high regard for you. I was able to effect something of a transaction with Arai. He agreed to spare you if I married you and kept you in seclusion. I will support his cause with the emperor in due course. In return I sent your sisters to him.”
“You gave them to Arai? They are in Inuyama?”
“I believe it’s quite common to hand women over as hostages,” he returned. “Arai was incensed, by the way, when you dared to keep Akita’s nephew as your hostage. It could have been a good move, but you threw all that away when you acted so rashly in the spring. All it achieved, then, was to offend Arai and his retainers further. Arai was your champion before. It was very foolhardy to treat him so badly.”
“I know now that Shoji betrayed me,” she said bitterly. “Akita’s nephew should never have been allowed to go home.”
“You mustn’t be harsh on Shoji.” Fujiwara’s voice was bland and calm. “He was doing what he thought right for you and your family. As are we all. I would like our marriage to take place as soon as possible: I think before the end of the week. Rieko will instruct you in your dress and behavior.”
She felt despair descend on her like the hunter’s net over the wild duck. “All men involved with me have died except my lawful husband, Lord Otori Takeo. Aren’t you afraid?”
“Common talk is that it is men who desire you who die; I feel no more desire for you than I ever did. I do not want more children. Our marriage is to save your life. It will be in name only.” He drank again and replaced the cup on the floor. “It would be appropriate now to express your gratitude.”
“I am to be just one of your possessions?”
“Lady Shirakawa, you are one of the few people I have shared my treasures with—the only woman. You know how I like to keep them away from the eyes of the world, wrapped up, hidden.”
Her heart quailed. She said nothing.
“And don’t think Takeo will come and rescue you. Arai is determined to punish him. He is mounting a campaign against him now. The domains of Maruyama and Shirakawa will be taken in your name and given to me as your husband.” He let his gaze cover her as if he would drink in every drop of her suffering. “His desire for you has indeed been his downfall. Takeo will be dead before winter.”
Kaede had studied Fujiwara throughout the previous winter and knew all the changing expressions of his face. He liked to think he was impassive, his feelings always perfectly controlled, but she had grown adept at reading him. She heard the note of cruelty in his voice, and caught the taste of pleasure on his tongue. She had heard it before when he spoke Takeo’s name. She had thought him almost infatuated with Takeo when she had told him her secrets when the snow lay thick on the ground and icicles as long as men’s legs hung from the eaves. She had seen the gleam of desire in his eye, the slight slackening of his mouth, the way his tongue swelled around the name. Now she realized that the nobleman desired Takeo’s death. It would give him pleasure and set him free from his obsession. And she had no doubt that her suffering would heighten his pleasure.
At that moment she resolved two things: She would show him nothing, and she would live. She would submit to his will so that he had no excuse to kill her before Takeo came for her, but she would never give either him or the devil woman he’d assigned to her the satisfaction of seeing how deeply she suffered.
She allowed her eyes to fill with contempt as she looked at Fujiwara, and then she gazed past him at the moon.
THE MARRIAGE TOOK place a few days later. Kaede drank the infusions Ishida brewed, thankful for the numbness they brought her. She was resolved to have no feelings, to be like ice, remembering how long ago it was that Takeo’s gaze had plunged her into the deep, cold sleep. She di
d not blame Ishida or Mamoru for the part they played in her imprisonment, for she knew they were bound by the same rigid code she was, but she swore Murita would pay for the murder of her men and her horse, and she came to loathe Rieko.
She watched herself go through the rituals as if she were a doll or a puppet manipulated on a stage. Her family were represented by Shoji and two of her retainers; one she knew was a brother of Hirogawa, the man she had had executed by Kondo when he had refused to serve her the day of her father’s death. I should have taken the lives of his whole family, she thought bitterly. I spared them only to make an enemy of them. There were other men there, of high rank, who she imagined must have been sent by Arai. They did not acknowledge her in any way and she was not told their names. It made her realize all too clearly her new position: no longer mistress of a domain, her husband’s ally and equal, but second wife to a nobleman, with no other life than what he saw fit to allow her.
It was an elaborate ceremony, far more lavish than her wedding at Terayama. The prayers and chanting seemed to go on endlessly. The incense and bells made her head swim, and when she had to exchange the ritual three cups of wine three times with her new husband, she feared she would faint. She had eaten so little all week, she felt like a wraith.
The day was unnaturally oppressive and still. Toward evening it began to rain heavily.
She was taken from the shrine by palanquin, and Rieko and the other women undressed and bathed her. They rubbed creams into her skin and perfumed her hair. She was clad in night robes, more sumptuous than those she usually wore in the day. Then she was taken to new apartments, in the deep interior of the residence, ones she had never seen before nor even known existed. They had been newly decorated. The beams and bosses glowed with gold leaf, the screens had been painted with birds and flowers, and the straw matting was fresh and sweet-smelling. The heavy rain made the rooms dim, but dozens of lamps burned in ornately carved metal stands.
“All this is for you,” Rieko said, a note of envy in her voice.
Kaede did not reply. She wanted to say, For what purpose, seeing that he will never lie with me?—but what business was this of Rieko’s? Then the thought came to her: Maybe he intended to, just once, as he had with his first wife to conceive his son. She began to tremble with revulsion and fear.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” Rieko sneered. “It’s not as if you don’t know what to expect from marriage. Now, if you were, as you should be, a virgin . . .”
Kaede could not believe that the woman dared to speak to her in such a manner and in front of the servants.
“Tell the maids to leave us,” she said, and when they were alone: “If you insult me again I shall see that you are dismissed.”
Rieko laughed her empty trilling laugh. “I don’t think my lady quite understands her situation. Lord Fujiwara will never dismiss me. If I were you, I would be more afraid for my own future. If you transgress in any way—if your behavior is anything less than what is expected of Lord Fujiwara’s wife—you may find yourself dismissed. You think you are brave and that you would have the courage to take your own life. Let me tell you, it is harder than it seems. When it comes to the point, most women fail. We cling to life, weak things that we are.” She picked up a lamp and raised it so the light fell on Kaede’s face. “You have probably been told all your life that you are beautiful, but you are less beautiful now than you were a week ago, and in a year you will be less beautiful still. You have reached your peak; from now on your beauty will fade.”
She held the lamp a little closer. Kaede could feel the scorch of the flame on her cheek.
“I could scar you now,” Rieko hissed. “You would be turned out of the house. Lord Fujiwara will only keep you while you please his eye. After that, the only place for women like you is the brothel.”
Kaede stared back without flinching. The flame flickered between them. Outside the wind was rising and a sudden gust shook the building. Far in the distance, as if from another country, a dog was howling.
Rieko laughed again and placed the lamp on the floor. “So it is not for Your Ladyship to speak of dismissing me. But I expect you are overwrought. I will forgive you. We must be good friends as His Lordship desires. He will come to you soon. I will be in the next room.”
Kaede sat perfectly still listening to the rising wind. She could not help thinking about her wedding night with Takeo, the feel of his skin against hers, his lips against the back of her neck when he lifted away the weight of her hair, the pleasure he brought to her whole body before he entered her and they became one person. She tried to keep the memories at bay, but desire had taken hold of her and it threatened to melt her icy numbness.
She heard footsteps outside and held herself rigid. She had vowed not give her feelings away, but she was sure her aching body would somehow betray her.
Leaving his servants outside, Fujiwara stepped into the room. Kaede immediately bowed to the ground before him, not wanting him to see her face, but the act of submission itself made her tremble more.
Mamoru came in behind the nobleman, carrying a small carved chest made of paulownia wood. He placed it on the ground, bowed deeply, and crawled backward to the door of the adjoining room.
“Sit up, my dear wife,” Lord Fujiwara said, and as she did so she saw Rieko pass a wine flask through the door to Mamoru. The woman bowed and crept out of sight but not, Kaede knew, out of earshot.
Mamoru poured wine and Fujiwara drank, gazing at Kaede with rapt attention. The young man passed a cup to her and she raised it to her lips. The taste was sweet and strong. She took only the smallest sip. It seemed that everything conspired to set her body on fire.
“I don’t believe she has ever looked so lovely,” Lord Fujiwara remarked to Mamoru. “Note how suffering has brought out the perfect shape of her face. The eyes have a deeper expression and the mouth is molded like a woman’s now. It will be a challenge to capture that.”
Mamoru bowed without replying.
After a short silence Fujiwara said, “Leave us alone,” and when the young man had gone, he picked up the chest and rose to his feet.
“Come,” he said to Kaede.
She followed him like a sleepwalker. Some unseen servant slid open the screen at the rear of the room and they stepped into another chamber. Here beds had been spread out with silk-covered quilts and wooden pillow blocks. The room was scented with a heavy fragrance. The screens closed and they were alone together.
“There is no need to be unduly alarmed,” Fujiwara said. “Or perhaps I have misjudged you and it will be disappointment you feel.”
She felt for the first time the sting of his contempt. He had read her clearly, had discerned her desire. A wave of heat swept over her.
“Sit down,” he said.
She sank to the ground, keeping her eyes lowered. He also sat, placing the chest between them.
“We must pass a little time together. It’s only a formality.”
Kaede did not reply, not knowing what to say.
“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Tell me something interesting or amusing.”
It seemed a complete impossibility. Finally she said, “May I ask Lord Fujiwara a question?”
“You may.”
“What am I to do here? How am I to spend my days?”
“Doing whatever it is that women do. Rieko will instruct you.”
“May I continue my studies?”
“I think educating a girl was something of a mistake. It does not seem to have improved your character. You may read a little—K’ung Fu-Tzu, I suggest.”
The wind gusted more strongly. Here in the center of the house they were protected from its full force, but even so, the beams and pillars shook and the roof creaked.
“May I see my sisters?”
“When Lord Arai has finished his campaign against the Otori, we may go to Inuyama in a year or so.”
“May I write to them?” Kaede said, feeling fury build within her that she should have to
beg for such favors.
“If you show Ono Rieko your letters.”
The lamp flames flickered in the draft and the wind moaned outside in an almost human voice. Kaede thought suddenly of the maids she’d slept alongside at Noguchi Castle. On wild, stormy nights, when the wind kept everyone awake, they would scare each other more with ghost stories. Now she felt she could hear the same ghostly voices she’d imagined then in the many-tongued speech of the wind. The maids’ stories were all of girls like themselves who’d been killed unjustly or had died for love, who had been abandoned by their lovers, betrayed by their husbands, murdered by their overlords. Their angry, jealous ghosts cried out for justice from the world of the shades. She shivered a little.
“You are cold?”
“No, I was thinking of ghosts. Maybe one touched me. The wind is strengthening. Is it a typhoon?”
“I believe so,” he replied.
Takeo, where are you? she thought. Are you out somewhere in this weather? Are you thinking of me at this moment? Is it your ghost that hangs behind me, making me shiver?
Fujiwara was watching her. “One of the many things I admire about you is that you show no fear. Not in the earthquake, not in a typhoon. Most women are thrown into a panic by these things. Of course, that does seem more feminine, and your boldness has taken you too far. You must be protected from it.”
He must never know how afraid I am of hearing of their deaths, she thought. Takeo most, but also Ai and Hana. I must never show it.
Fujiwara leaned forward slightly and, with one pale, long-fingered hand, indicated she should look at the chest.
“I have brought a wedding gift for you,” he said, opening the lid and lifting out an object wrapped in silk. “I don’t expect you are familiar with these curiosities. Some are of great antiquity. I have been collecting them for years.”
He placed it on the floor in front of her. “You may look at it when I have left you.”