Without disguising his contempt, Akitada said, “Many people have died as a consequence of that false accusation, my Lord. You knew it was false, yet you chose to run and hide among the outcasts when you should have faced your troubles and fought for justice.Not doing so has plunged this province and its inhabitants into misery and bloodshed. It cost Hideo his life. And today I lost a friend because of it.”
The old man looked back at him calmly. “That is very true.”
“Just now you lectured me about fate,” Akitada cried angrily, “but you understand nothing of duty. If you had done your duty by your people and defended yourself against the charges, fate would have taken a different course. Your religious life with all its sacrifices, your service to the poor, and your sentimental protection of every criminal in the area do not absolve you from the guilt of having abandoned your duty.”
“When it comes to duty,” saidthe old man with a gentle smile, “I hope that you will think my offense somewhat mitigated by the fact that I found a suitable substitute in you.” He took the arrow and held it up. “I can still bend a bow and hit a target when itis required.”
Akitada tensed. Of course. How could he have forgotten? This old man was the Uesugi heir who had been a champion archer in his youth. It was he who had killed Kaibara and saved his life that night among the graves. “Yes,” he said. “I should have known it was you.” Miserably, he added, “I suppose I must be grateful, though I cannot take much pleasure in my life at the moment.” Hitomaro’s death would not have happened, if Kaibara had been successful that night.
“No need to thank me.” The old man took the arrow and put it into his rope belt. “It was not a personal matter. I merely mention it, because you doubted my sense of duty to my people.Fate also follows the dutiful action. Kaibara’s is the only life I have ever taken, and I broke my Buddhist vows when I decided that your life was more valuable to my people than his.” He sighed. “I suppose I must add another sin,the satisfaction of having avenged my old friend Hideo.”
Suddenly Akitada felt overwhelmed by sadness. So many wasted lives. And now all was over and done with. What remained was the future. He looked at his visitor uncertainly. Even the ravages of decades spent exposed to the harsh elements of the cold north could not altogether hide the grace and charisma of the strange creature across from him. His skin was blackened, and his hair and beard flowed wildly about his shoulders and chest, but his eyes were alive with intelligence. He wore fewer clothes than the poorest beggar and looked more like a goblin than a rational man, but his speech and manners were those of a man born to rank.Moreover, he seemed to have gained the respect, even reverence, of the localpeople.
With a sigh, Akitada said, “It is late. You must spend the night. We will meet again in the morning to discuss your reinstatement. It will please the people and bring harmony back to the province.”
The rightful Lord of Takataraised his hand. “No. I am a Buddhist priest and have no desire to resume my title.”
“What?” Akitada was dumbfounded.
The old man stroked his beard,smiled, and nodded. “My grandson will do very well instead,” he said complacently.
“Kaoru?” Akitada opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. The capture of Takata manor would have been impossible without that remarkable young man’s ruse, and he had proven his courage and military skill not only in combat but also on the occasion of Boshu’s attack on Hitomaro. Hitomaro!
“Dew and tears are equally transient,” remarked the old man with a sympathetic nod.
Akitada flushed. The way the other man seemed to read his mind was uncanny. “It is true that your grandson Kaoru has some superior qualities,” he said stiffly. “I assume it was you who taught him archery and to read and write Chinese? He told me the arrow that killed Kaibara belonged to a dead man and that a Buddhist priest instructed him in Chinese.”
The proud grandfather chuckled.“A quick learner, that boy! His father did not do as well.”
And that raised the problem oflegitimacy. Akitada hesitated, then asked bluntly, “You say you are a priest.Did you take one of the outcast women to wife?”
For the first time, the old manlooked uncomfortable. His dark, leathery hand reached out to the box of shellsand touched it almost apologetically. “No,” he said, “not an outcast, though weboth became untouchable. Masako was a young woman of good family who had thebad karma to be sent to Takata for training in household matters. She becamefond of me. When I had to flee, she followed me into exile. It seemed rightthat I should make her my wife. I took priestly vows after her death.”
“Ah!” At least she was not themadwoman of the outcast village, the one through whom the gods spoke. That onemust be the mother of the dead son’s wife. “You married in exile? And you had ason soon after?”
The old man nodded.
Akitada stared at him. “Goodheavens, man! You were the older son, the heir; you were the pride of theUesugi clan. More importantly, you were innocent of the murders. Why did younot stay and fight for your birthright, for the birthright of your son?
“Because I was guilty.”
“No.” Akitada tapped the old lord’s confession on the desk between them. “It was your brother who committed those murders.”
The priest said sadly, “Poor Maro. We met in the forest one day, you know. At first he didn’t recognize me.I was greatly changed, you see.” He gestured at his clothes and beard. “But I spoke to him, and he fainted. Perhaps he took me for a demon or thought I was seeking vengeance, I don’t know. When I saw what I had done, I went away. They say he went mad after that.”
“Not mad. He went home and told his son that you were alive. Makio locked him up in the north pavilion.”Akitada reached for the rolled paper and pressed it in the old man’s hand. “Read what your brother wrote before he died,” he urged.
The priest put the paper back on the desk. “It changes nothing. What is written is of things long past. Only the heart knows all the gains and losses.”
Baffled, Akitada ran his handt hrough his hair. He was getting drowsy. “I don’t understand,” he complained. “Why should your brother confess to a lie on his deathbed? How could you have been guilty? Nothing makes sense.”
The
Akitada stumbled to his feet and barred the way. “Wait! You cannot leave like this! I must know the truth.How could I have been so wrong? After all that I learned of your past, bothbefore and after the murder of the young woman and her child, I cannot believe you capable of such a heinous crime.”
The old man looked at him, and something in the black depths of his eyes made Akitada back away. “All men,”the master said, “are naked under their loin cloths. Remember that. I did not bend my bow nor aim my arrow on that golden autumn afternoon, but they died for my offense. The boy was not my father’s son. He was mine. That is my guilt, and it caused their deaths.” He gestured toward the game on the desk. “That shell game was my gift for her. I ordered it before her death. The chrysanthemums and grasses of our forbidden love. She was named for that flower, and our child was the young green blade of grass growing up in her arms. When my brother found out, he killed both of them-out of respect for our father and for our family honor.”
That Akitada did not believe,but the enormity of the other man’s tragic transgression and loss left him speechless. He stumbled to his desk and picked up the box. “Here,” he said,offering it.
The priest raised both hands in refusal. “No.” He smiled a little and said, “I have met your lady and saw that she is with child. When you become downcast again over what cannot be changed,remember: To have her is like having the sun and the moon in your sleeve and holding the universe in your hand. You will need to think of that often in thefuture.”
Barefoot and bare-headed, his lean black frame covered by the rough hemp and skins, the
Akitada sank down on his pillow still holding the box. Weariness overwhelmed him, and he looked toward the bedding Tamako had spread for him in the corner. The blankets looked strangely tangled and lumpy. He put the game down and went to investigate.
When he peeled back the layers of quilted silk, he uncovered two soft brushes of glossy black hair, each tied with red silk cord, and a small boy’s rosy cheek and silken lashes. Toneo was fast asleep, his round childish hand
