Autumn Bridge Read online

  “His wife, do you think, or the other?”

  This had gone too far. Hanako put down her folded clothing, went to the door dividing the two rooms, and slid it open. The two maids jumped, saw who it was, and sighed in relief.

  “Oh, it’s you, Hanako.”

  “Yes, it’s me, fortunately. What if it weren’t? What if it had been Lord Kiyori?”

  “Oh, he never comes into the maids’ quarters.”

  “Nevertheless, stop gossiping,” Hanako said. “Or, if you must, then do so more discreetly.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” one of the maids said. “Thank you for reminding us.” They both bowed to her.

  Hanako began to close the door between the rooms again when one of them spoke up quickly, in a loud semblance of a whisper.

  “Who do you think it is, Hanako? His wife? Or the other?”

  “I don’t speculate about it. Nor should you.” She closed the door on the wide-eyed girls. After a few moments of silence, she heard them whispering to each other again.

  In truth, Hanako had an opinion, of course, though she would never speak it. It would have been less distressing if Lord Kiyori were meeting his wife, Lady Sadako. But Hanako doubted that he was. During the thirteen years she had been in the service of the Okumichi clan, she had overheard bits and pieces of Lord Kiyori’s private conversations many times. When he was with his unseen visitor, he never said Lady Sadako’s name. And the voice he always used then was the hushed and secretive one characteristic of clandestine lovers. He was not meeting his wife’s ghost. He was meeting the other.

  A chill ran through her body. It stopped under her skin just short of a shudder, and bumps rose on the skin of her arms, back, and neck as if tiny needles were poking her from within.

  She wondered if Lord Genji would also meet with the other. Then she wondered whether he already had.

  1311, CLOUD OF SPARROWS CASTLE

  Shizuka sat in meditative silence for several minutes after Lord Kiyori left the room. Then she rose and went to the window where he had stood and looked outside. Had he seen what she now saw? The evergreen hills of Shikoku Island, the heavy gray sky, the white fringes of waves whipped to life by distant ocean storms and winter winds? She should have asked him. Perhaps tonight she would. They would stand together by this window in the high tower of their castle, and they would look out over their domain of Akaoka. It would be their last night together. They would never see each other again.

  “My lady.”

  “Enter.”

  The door slid open. Her chief lady-in-waiting, Ayamé, and four other attendants bowed at the doorway. None of them bowed in the normal ladylike manner, with both hands placed on the floor and the forehead lowered gracefully nearly all the way down. Instead, they knelt on one knee only and bowed at a slight incline from the waist, the bow of warriors on the battlefield. They were dressed in trouserlike hakama instead of the elaborate, flowing kimonos of women of the inner chamber, and the sleeves of their abbreviated jackets were tied back out of the way, so their arms could more freely wield the long-bladed naginata lances they carried. In addition to the naginata, each of the attendants had a short wakizashi sword tucked into her sash. Ayamé alone had two swords at her waist, a long-bladed katana in addition to the wakizashi. Except that she was a young woman of seventeen, she was the picture of a heroic samurai. Even her hair had been cut, no longer flowing to the floor and behind her, but truncated into a ponytail that stuck out barely ten inches from her head. Man or woman, how easy it would be to fall in love with someone so handsome.

  Ayamé said, “It is as you said it would be, my lady. Lord Hironobu has not returned from the hunt. No messenger has come from him. And here at the castle, none of the samurai known to be loyal to the lord and to you can be found.”

  “My lady,” said one of the attendants behind Ayamé, “it is not too late to flee. Take a horse now and ride to Lord Hikari’s castle. He will surely protect you.”

  “Lord Hikari is dead,” Shizuka said. She went on as shocked gasps came from her ladies. “So is Lord Bandan. And their heirs and all their families. Treachery has reached almost everywhere. Tonight, their castles will go up in flames. Tomorrow night, the traitors will be here.”

  Ayamé bowed, again the short military bow of the battlefield, her eyes locked with Shizuka’s. “We will take many of them with us, my lady.”

  “Yes, we will,” Shizuka said. “And though we will die, they will not triumph. Lord Hironobu’s line will continue long after theirs have been extinguished.” She felt the child kick and placed a palm on her swollen belly. Patience, child, patience. You will enter this tragic world soon enough.

  Her attendants bowed their heads and wept. Ayamé, the bravest of them, fought back her tears. They welled in her eyes, but did not fall.

  It was as dramatic as a scene in one of those Kabuki plays that Lord Kiyori sometimes mentioned. But, of course, there was no such thing now. Kabuki would not be invented for another three hundred years.

  1860, CLOUD OF SPARROWS CASTLE

  Shigeru alternated between great stillness and sudden movement, sliding from shadow to shadow through the corridors of his own clan’s castle as stealthily as an assassin. Though the ordinary eye could apprehend him if it alighted upon him, he moved in such a way that neither servants nor samurai noticed him. If they had, they would have acknowledged his presence, greeted him respectfully, and bowed. He in turn, seeing what was not there, would draw his swords and cut them down. This was his fear and the reason for his stealth. His control was slipping and he didn’t know how much he had left.

  His ears resonated with a demonic cacophony. His eyes struggled to ignore transparent images of torture and slaughter. Though he could still distinguish the world he walked through from the world that emanated from his mind, he doubted that he could do so for much longer. He had not been able to sleep for days and the visions that kept him awake pushed him ever more strongly toward insanity. He was widely considered to be the greatest warrior of the present era, the only samurai in two hundred years worthy to be mentioned in the same breath as the legendary Musashi. With neither excessive pride nor false modesty, he believed his reputation was valid. But all his martial skills were useless against this enemy within.

  As his malady worsened, he had resisted turning to the only person who could possibly help him. His father. As Lord Kiyori’s only surviving son, Shigeru had been too ashamed to confess such weakness. In every generation of the Okumichi clan, one was born with the gift of prophecy. In the generation before, it had been his father. In the generation after his own, it was his nephew, Genji. In his, the burden had been placed on Shigeru himself. For over sixty years, Kiyori had used prescience to guide and protect the clan. How could Shigeru go crying to him the moment his own visions began?

  Now, almost too late, he realized he had no choice. Visions did not come in the same way to everyone, nor could every seer cope with them on their own. He was being inundated with a hallucinatory deluge. Gigantic freakish machines resembling monsters of fable and legend writhed over the landscape, consuming passive lines of people dressed in bizarre uniform clothing. Air in colorful, putrid layers smothered the castle and the town. At night, the sky itself growled like the belly of a huge invisible beast and gave birth to a rain of fire that washed over screaming victims below.

  What did this mean? If they were visions of the future, in what direction did they point him? Only someone with a similar experience could understand.

  The conversations of maids told him where Lord Kiyori was. In the high tower. Because he was compelled to avoid being seen, it took Shigeru the better part of an hour to travel a distance that would normally have taken only a few minutes. But he congratulated himself on getting there undetected. No one had greeted him, so no one had died. Also, during the prolonged journey, his visions had abated. They would surely return soon enough, but the respite was welcome. He was just about to announce himself to his father when he heard him speak
.

  “I am sending Hanako to my grandson,” Kiyori said, “because now that he has assumed most of the formal duties of the Great Lord of our domain, he is in greater need of reliable servants than I am.”

  Kiyori paused as if listening to a response, then spoke again. He continued in this way for some time. Outside the door, Shigeru focused his entire attention as carefully as he could, but did not succeed a single time in hearing the voice of whoever was with his father.

  “Because the future will bring chaos,” Kiyori said, as if answering a question, “character is far more important than status.” Then after a short pause, “You disagree?” And after another pause, “You agree, yet you seem amused by my words. I take it Hanako and Genji are not destined for each other.”

  Hanako and Genji? Shigeru was shocked. Hanako was a maid in the castle. How could she be destined for a lord? Surely his father was not plotting some kind of devious mischief against his own grandson? Shigeru had to see Kiyori’s companion. Whenever he spoke, Shigeru could tell the direction in which Kiyori faced by the waning and waxing of his voice. He waited for the appropriate moment and silently moved the sliding door enough to create a sliver of an opening. Moving across it from side to side, he scanned the room within as the conversation continued.

  “I wish to know no more than what I must know to insure the well-being of our clan.”

  Kiyori sat in the center of the room sipping tea. The setting was for two. Another cup, filled, sat untouched across from Kiyori. Shigeru completed his survey of the room. There was no one else there. Had the person left through a secret passage unknown to Shigeru? That seemed unlikely. But he remembered that Kiyori had designed the tower himself, and no one else had seen the plans. Whoever had met with him certainly had not gone out the window. The only other way down was past Shigeru.

  “What is it?” Kiyori said.

  Thinking he had been seen, Shigeru went to his knees and bowed. He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say, and during his hesitation Kiyori spoke again.

  “Then I consent.”

  Shigeru rose quickly. So someone was still there. Again, he looked into the room. Kiyori looked straight ahead and spoke again as if addressing someone directly in front of him.

  “This is a most unfair request,” Kiyori said. “You have tricked me into agreeing to do what I have pledged my life and honor not to do.”

  Shigeru shrank back, suddenly cold.

  “Very well,” he heard his father say. “Just this one night.”

  Shigeru retreated, moving with care at first, then he fled from the castle as swiftly as he could. His father could not help him, for he, too, was insane. Kiyori had been speaking to a woman. It might have been Lady Sadako, Kiyori’s wife and Shigeru’s mother. That was bad enough. Lady Sadako had died shortly after Shigeru’s birth. But he didn’t think the lady in question had been his late mother. Kiyori had spoken of a broken pledge in a peculiar, conspiratorial manner. He would not use such a tone with his own wife, not even the ghost of his wife.

  The high tower of Cloud of Sparrows Castle, where Kiyori always spent so much time alone, had long had the reputation of being haunted. It was said the uncertain shadows of twilight there often resembled ancient blood-stains. Such stories always arose around places of ancient tragedy, and what castle in Japan had not seen its share? In this case, the tragedy had been treason, assassination, and gruesome murders that had nearly extinguished the Okumichi clan in its earliest days. That had been in the fall of the tenth year of the Emperor Go-Nijō.

  The witch and princess, Lady Shizuka, had spent her last hours in that very room of the tower.

  His father was consorting with a ghoul dead for more than five hundred years.

  1311, CLOUD OF SPARROWS CASTLE

  Shizuka and Ayamé looked out the windows of the high tower and watched the three streams of warriors moving toward Cloud of Sparrows.

  “How many do you think they are?” Shizuka said.

  “Six hundred from the east, three hundred from the north, another hundred from the west,” Ayamé said.

  “And how many are we?”

  “Your sixteen ladies-in-waiting are within the tower. Thirty men, all personal retainers of Lord Chiaki, await the traitors at the gates of the castle. They came as soon as they were summoned. Messengers have been sent to find him. Perhaps he will arrive before the assault begins.”

  “Perhaps,” Shizuka said, knowing he would not.

  Ayamé said, “I find it difficult to accept that Go has betrayed Lord Hironobu and yourself. Is there no other possibility?”

  “Go has arranged for Chiaki to be away from here at the critical moment,” Shizuka said, “because he knows his son’s loyalty is unshakable. Chiaki’s absence is the proof. Go does not wish to kill him when he kills me.”

  “How cruel life is,” Ayamé said. “Lord Hironobu would have died in childhood if not for Go. He would not have lived to become a Great Lord without Go’s steadfastness and courage. And now this. Why?”

  “Jealousy, greed, and fear,” Shizuka said. “They can destroy heaven itself if the gods are lax for even a moment. How much more vulnerable are we here below.”

  They watched the enemy multitude merge and form a huge pool of warriors. Well before the sun fell behind the mountains, campfires sprang to life among them.

  “Why do they wait?” Ayamé said. “They have an overwhelming advantage. One thousand against less than fifty.”

  Shizuka smiled. “They are afraid. Night falls. It is a time of power for witches.”

  Ayamé laughed. “Such fools. And they aspire to rule the world.”

  “Such is the aspiration of fools,” Shizuka said. “Tell my attendants and Chiaki’s samurai to rest. We are safe for a while.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “You need not return right away, Ayamé. I will be fine. Spend time with your sister.”

  “Are you certain, my lady? What of the child?”

  “She’s well,” Shizuka said, “and will arrive when she should and not before.”

  “She?”

  “She,” Shizuka said.

  If it was truly possible to feel great joy and great sorrow in a single moment without distinction, then perhaps Ayamé managed it then, as tears fell from her eyes and her face brightened with a perfect smile. She bowed low and departed in silence.

  Shizuka composed herself and awaited Kiyori’s arrival.

  1860, CLOUD OF SPARROWS CASTLE

  Hanako walked through the central garden of the castle. She would not usually presume to do so. The garden existed for the benefit of the lords and ladies of the clan, not for servants. But she was willing to risk censure. Tomorrow she would leave for Edo. Who knew when she would return? Perhaps never. She wanted to see the roses before she left. They blossomed here in such profusion, the castle was sometimes called Rose Garden Keep, instead of Cloud of Sparrows. She preferred the flowery name.

  One blossom caught her eye. It was smaller than the rest, but fully petaled, and so red it could have been that color’s definition.

  Its brilliance in the fading light of day was irresistible. She reached out to touch it. An unseen thorn pricked her. When she drew her hand away, she saw a single drop of blood, the exact color of the petals, forming a tiny rosebud on her fingertip.

  Hanako shuddered. Was it not an omen?

  She hurried away to resume her evening duties.

  “What are you doing here?” Kiyori said.

  Hanako and a second maid carrying the settings for dinner entered as he expected. Behind them, unannounced, came Shigeru.

  Shigeru bowed at the threshold of the doorway.

  “I apologize for appearing without your prior approval.”

  His quick survey of the room revealed no one other than his father. The dimensions of the room were unchanged, so no secret compartments had been installed since he had last been here. Yet tonight, as earlier in the day, he was sure his father had been talking to someone.

/>   Kiyori did not like to be surprised. Hanako should have alerted him before she opened the door. He cast a disapproving look her way. But her startled expression showed that she had been unaware of Shigeru’s presence. That could only mean that Shigeru had used stealth to remain undetected behind her. He noted his son’s newly gaunt facial features and excessively bright eyes. Under other circumstances, his bizarre behavior and the clear outward signs of a deep inner turmoil would make Shigeru the immediate center of his focus. Tonight, however, Lady Shizuka must have his full attention. For all the years he had been seeing her, her visits had been no more often than twice a year at most. During the past week, he had seen her every day. This was surely a sign of his own mental deterioration. Okumichi prophets with rare exception were immolated by their prophetic powers at the end. Why should he be an exception? But he was determined not to shame himself and his clan. If his own time had come, and he was no longer of use to anyone, he would put an end to his own life rather than die a madman. He would have to deal with Shigeru later. If there was a later.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I had hoped to speak with you on an important matter. However, I see that you are expecting a guest, so I will not intrude further. I will ask for your indulgence at another time.” Shigeru bowed and departed. He had already done what was necessary earlier while the food was being prepared. He had come only to verify what he suspected. The guest was visible to no one other than his father.

  “The turning points of his life have already been reached,” Lady Shizuka said after they were once again alone. “There is no more to do but to await the inevitable unfolding.”

  “That is not encouraging,” Kiyori said.

  “Why must you be encouraged or discouraged?” Shizuka said. “Facts are clearest when emotional qualities are not unnecessarily imposed upon them.”

  “Human beings,” he said, “always feel emotions, though by training, inclination, or circumstance, they cannot and do not always act upon them.”

  “Human beings,” she said. “Was it my imagination, or did you emphasize those words?”