“What will I do?” he said. “It is clear that I have not deflowered her.”

“Be patient,” Akane said again. “If you still have no success, it is your mother’s duty to instruct her. Surely she can show her books, reassure her that it is all quite normal. If everything fails, you can repudiate her.”

“And be laughed at from here to Inuyama?”

“Cut yourself and spill blood on the bedding,” Akane said. “It will be enough to silence gossip in the castle. It will give you time. She must come to love you.”

She gazed on him, thinking how any woman in her right mind would do so, inveighing against the fate that had made Yanagi Moe his wife and not Akane herself. If I were married to him, how I would love him, she told herself. I would make him happy.

Maybe the charm had greater powers than she thought; maybe the sight of his vulnerability had weakened her; she found herself suddenly trembling, fearful in an unfamiliar and exquisite way. I am on the brink, she thought. I must not fall. How I will suffer if I do. Yet her defenses seemed so thin and poorly founded, especially against his need.

And his need for her became more apparent. He visited more often and seemed genuinely reluctant to leave. He spoke little about his wife, but she knew matters had not improved between them. Sometimes she felt guilty about what she had done, but then she rejoiced as the strength of their feelings for each other increased.

20

Yanagi Moe had anticipated her marriage with delight, but by the time the plum rains had ended, it was clear to her that she could expect nothing but suffering from it. Her body had betrayed her by its rigidity and tension: she knew she was a failure as a wife. Shigeru’s mother, Lady Otori, dominated and bullied her; the other women of the deep interior treated her with icy politeness that barely disguised their contempt.

And he, her husband, whom she had imagined she would respect and please, must also despise her. It was open knowledge among everyone that he kept a concubine. That did not shock her-it was common enough among men of his class-but the women of the deep interior often talked about Akane, about her charm and wit, and whispered among themselves that Shigeru was besotted by her.

If Shigeru had been as inexperienced as she was, they might have reassured each other; if he had been older, he might have treated her with more patience and restraint. But he was enmeshed in his first adult affair, which already gave him deep physical and emotional pleasure. Moe’s reluctance and frigidity repelled him; he could not bring himself to demand what was so clearly repugnant to her. He was angered by her in the end, knowing that he must create heirs for the sake of the clan, not wanting to hurt her or insult her family, unable to decide what the solution to such a problem might be, reluctant to discuss it with anyone but Akane. And Akane always said the same thing, “Be patient,” all the while smiling secretively.

Moe, in her turn, became angry with him. Once she knew about Akane, she placed all the blame for the failure of the marriage on her. Her pride was wounded deeply; she came to detest both her husband and the woman she thought he loved.

The end of the rainy season brought some relief from a situation that had become poisonous. Shigeru returned to the border country and spent the summer there with Kiyoshige and Takeshi. They took Miyoshi Kahei with them: like Takeshi, he was only thirteen, but the situation did not seem threatening and his father wanted him to benefit from the experience. Kitano Tadao was allowed to return to Tsuwano. The threat from the Tohan seemed to have subsided a little. The borders were quiet, apart from the customary to-and-fro of merchants on the high road to Inuyama. They brought news from the Tohan capital-most significantly of the death of Iida Sadayoshi and the subsequent elevation of Sadamu to the leadership of the clan. Kiyoshige and Shigeru entertained the boys by repeating the story of Sadamu’s unfortunate accident; they would not have laughed so uproariously had they known how many Tohan spies in Chigawa watched Shigeru’s every move and reported back to Inuyama.

AKANE FOUND the long hot days intolerably boring, but she was not altogether sorry that Shigeru was away. If he was not with her, neither was he with his wife, and his absence gave her a little space to regain control over her emotions. She behaved with discretion, visited her mother, the temples at Daishoin and Tokoji, where she always made generous donations, and various merchants from whom she ordered luxurious items: perfumes, teas, lacquerware, new robes for autumn and winter. She did not go to Haruna, but she often visited the garden near the volcano; she was more than a little impressed by what the old man’s charms had achieved. The hot weather did not agree with him; she arranged for medicines to be delivered to him, cooling teas and herbs to purify the blood, and instructed her gardeners to help him water his plants while she kept him company. One day she was returning through the garden to where she had left the palanquin; it was almost a year to the day since her first night with Shigeru, and she was recalling it with mixed feelings as she passed the hedge that bordered the rear garden of Haruna ’s house. She quickened her step, not wanting to be seen by anyone there, but as she went by the entrance, she heard running footsteps. Her former lover, Hayato, called out to her, “Akane! Akane!”

He burst through the gate; she had to stop or run into him. They gazed at each other for a moment. She was shocked by the changes she saw in him: his face was gaunt, the skin yellow-tinged, the eyes sunken and glittering.

“You have not been well?” she said, moved to sudden pity by his appearance.

“You know why. Akane, why did this happen to us? We loved each other.”

“No,” she said, and went to walk on, but he seized her by the arm.

“I cannot live without you. I am dying with love.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lord Hayato. No one dies for love!”

“Let’s run away together. We can leave the Three Countries, go north. Please, Akane. I beg you, come with me.”

“It’s impossible,” she said, trying to twist out of his grip. “Leave me alone or I’ll call for the guards.” She was alarmed, being with him when he was so distressed, fearing he might take her life and his own rather than live without her.

He looked down at his own hand in surprise, as if someone else had placed it around her wrist. When she had struggled, he had gripped her more tightly, hurting her. Now he let go suddenly. She rubbed the bruise.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I’m sorry. That’s the last thing I want to do. I want to touch you, as I did before. You must remember how good it was.”

She did not reply but turned at once and walked rapidly away. She thought she heard him speak her name, but she did not look back. The porters leaped to their feet when she approached, and the guard who always accompanied the palanquin helped her into it and picked up her sandals once she was inside. She left the oiled silk curtains down, though it was stifling inside and one bold mosquito was whining annoyingly around her neck. She was afraid Hayato was in the grip of an all-devouring jealousy, as if afflicted by a wasting disease. She had said “No one dies for love,” but she could see how he might die or kill himself, and then his angry ghost would haunt her. She was afraid, too, of what charms he might use against her. Now she had entered the dark world of magic herself, she was all the more aware of its power.

She went to the household altar and burned incense, lit candles, and prayed for a long time for protection against all the ills that might surround her. The night was heavy and dense; thunder rolled around the mountains, but it did not rain. She slept badly and rose late, had hardly finished dressing when Haruna arrived. Haruna was as elegantly dressed as always, but she could not disguise the fact that at some time that morning she had been weeping. Akane felt the clutch of fear that the premonition of bad news brings. She called for tea and exchanged pleasantries with Haruna, then sent the maids away, drawing close to the other woman so they sat knee to knee.