“He’s dead,” Kenji replied shortly. “That’s all I know.”

She knew from his tone there was no point in asking any more. She put the matter aside, but she did not forget it.

“Where shall I deliver the letter?” she said.

“You can stay in Noguchi at the inn near the bridge, run by the Kuroda family. Kuroda Shintaro will contact you there. Give it to no one but him. Now there’s another terrible waste. Shintaro, the most talented assassin in the Three Countries, is also without children.”

She wanted to ask him more, about the exact contents of the letter but decided it was better that she did not know why Iida Sadamu was writing to Lord Noguchi or what he was offering him. She would obey her uncle and deliver the letter as instructed, but she could not help recalling the Otori brothers and their young companion, Mori Kiyoshige; she remembered the undisguised admiration in their glances and pitied them.

“Where will this battle take place?” she asked.

“Almost certainly on the plain of Yaegahara.”

29

Spring came late that year to the Three Countries, and when the thaw finally came, it brought widespread flooding, rivers breaking their banks and bridges being washed away, hampering the movement of armed forces and communication among allies.

The first news Shigeru had was when Irie Masahide returned at the end of the third month from the South. Irie brought Moe back from her parents’ house, where she had spent the winter. He was in an unusually optimistic frame of mind, having received firm assurances of support from Noguchi as well as from the Yanagi, Moe’s family. Thus the South and the West were secured.

As soon as the weather allowed, Shigeru renewed his efforts to remove his uncles from the castle, persuading his father to impose a kind of exile on them, sending them away to the country and ordering them to refrain from any public activity. To his surprise, Shoichi, Masahiro, and their families left without demur, in extravagant processions that had the townspeople gaping at the expense and cheering their departure all the more enthusiastically.

Masahiro sent one final letter to Akane, telling her he hoped she would not miss him too much, but not to concern herself; he would be back before very long. This letter she also burned, and she kept its message to herself.

Harada came from Chigawa with messages from Kiyoshige. As soon as the snow had melted, he said, Tohan troops had been gathering along the northeastern border, and seemed prepared to attack at any moment. Shigeru had two weeks at most to gather the Otori army.

Shigeru took this news to his father and called an urgent meeting with the elders and senior retainers, at which he announced his decision to move troops immediately along the coast road toward the border, to meet the Tohan on the plain of Yaegahara.

His uncles, of course, were not present, and though the option of trying to placate Iida by pulling back from Chigawa was put forward by Endo Chikara and others, Shigeru dismissed it at once, saying he would not yield a single acre of Otori land to the Tohan. He revealed now what he had kept secret all winter: the Western alliance, the securing of the South, and the readiness of the Otori forces. His opinion was that the Otori could defeat the Tohan now, on the battleground of their own choosing and on their own terms. If they were to appease the Tohan, they would lose both these advantages and would never recover them.

His father gave his full support both in the meeting and afterward.

“You should stay in Hagi,” Shigeru advised him, but the old man had made up his mind.

“We will fight side by side. We must let no one say afterward that the clan was divided or that you acted alone and without my consent.”

“Then surely my uncles should also join us,” Shigeru said.

His father agreed, and messengers were dispatched to their country retreats, but first Shoichi and then Masahiro sent regretful answers: Shoichi had sprained his shoulder falling from a horse, and Masahiro’s household was in the grip of some ominous illness, possibly measles or even smallpox. Spreading contagion could not be risked.

Lord Shigemori was enraged by these replies, but despite the insult, Shigeru was relieved. If his uncles were not in wholehearted support of this policy, it was better that they stay away. He would deal with them after the battle; in the meantime, he was free from the irritation of their presence and their influence over his father.

Yet he was uneasy about their true intentions, and it seemed his father shared his suspicions. For many nights before their departure they had discussed preparations of the army, strategy and tactics; often his mother was also present. One night Shigemori dismissed the servants, saying he wished to speak in private to his son. Lady Otori also rose to leave.

“You may stay,” he said. “There must be a witness to what I have to say.”

She sank to her knees and bowed to her husband before sitting erect again, silent and composed.

Lord Shigemori took his sword from the rack at the end of the room and placed it on the ground in front of Shigeru. It was the legendary snake sword, Jato, a long sword cast by one of the great swordsmiths in the capital, its scabbard and hilt decorated with bronze and mother-of-pearl settings. It had been given to the Otori hero Otori Takeyoshi, who had also been given one of the Emperor’s concubines in marriage at the same time.

“You know the reputation of this sword?”

“Yes, Father.”

“It is said to choose its master: maybe this is true; I have no way of knowing. It came to me directly when my father died-he did not have the good fortune to die in battle fighting his enemies, as I may have soon. He died of old age, surrounded by his sons; the sword passed to me as the eldest son.”

Lady Otori said, “Your stepmother desired otherwise.”

His father smiled bitterly. “Neither Shoichi nor Masahiro will ever hold Jato. They will never lead the Otori; they must not. Since your return from Terayama and your exploits on the eastern borders, I have become aware of their ambitions and their jealousy, their constant attempts to undermine you in my eyes, their intrigue and back-biting. If I fall in battle, Jato will make its way to you. You must take it and live. Whatever the outcome of the battle, you must not take your own life but must live and seek revenge. This is my command to you as your father.”

“And if the sword does not come to me?” Shigeru questioned.

“Then you may as well kill yourself, for if Jato is lost, our family is lost too; our line will be extinguished.”

“I understand,” Shigeru said. “I will obey your wishes in this as in everything.”

His father smiled again, this time with affection. “Your birth was long awaited, but I hold it the most fortunate event of my life. Despite all my own weaknesses and shortcomings, I have been truly blessed in my son.”

Shigeru was heartened by these words and by the unity of purpose shared with his parents. His father also seemed strengthened by their reconciliation, and though Lord Shigemori consulted his customary priests and shamans, he did not allow the day of departure to be unduly delayed. The first faintly auspicious day was decided on.