Shigeru was also given gifts-a small steel-bladed dagger, home-woven indigo garments, and barrels of rice wine to present to the temple.
The following day, wanting to know his host better, he rose early and accompanied Eijiro on his morning inspection of the rice fields and vegetable gardens. He noticed how the older man spoke to the peasants, asking their advice and occasionally praising them. He noticed the exchange of respect between them.
This is the way to treat men, he thought. They are bound to Eijiro by more than custom and rules. Attention and respect ensure their loyalty.
He asked many questions about Eijiro’s methods, intrigued by the interlocking systems of fertilizing and cropping, observing how they followed the cycle of the seasons and enhanced the natural fertility of the land. Not an inch was wasted, yet the earth was always being replenished. The villagers he saw looked well fed; their children were healthy and happy.
“Heaven must approve of your ways,” he said, back at the residence.
Eijiro laughed. “Heaven sends many challenges: droughts, insects, floods, storms. But we know the land, we understand it. I think we are blessed by Earth as much as by Heaven. This has always been the Otori way,” he added quietly, glancing at Shigeru. “If Lord Shigeru wishes to know more about it, I have written a little on the subject…”
His oldest son, Danjo, said, “A little! Father is too modest. Lord Shigeru could read for a year and not come to the end of Father’s writings.”
“I would very much like to read them,” Shigeru replied. “But I fear I will have no time. We must ride on today.”
“You must take some with you. You may be able to add them to your studies while you are at the temple. You are the heir to the clan. It is fitting that you know about the land.”
Eijiro said no more, but he was frowning and his usually bluff, open expression was clouded. Shigeru imagined he heard the unspoken thoughts: that his father had no such interests; indeed the castle lands around Hagi were left entirely to officials to run. They were productive enough, he knew, but they did not look like Eijiro’s. Overmindful of his own position, introspective by nature, indulging in private grief and regret, his father had allowed himself to be cut off from the land that gave him that position. A fief is like a farm, Shigeru thought: Everyone in it has their place and their purpose, and all work together for the good of the whole. When the head of the farm is just and competent like Eijiro, everyone flourishes.
He thought of his farm, the fief of the Middle Country, and felt pride and joy flood into his belly: it was his and he would cherish and protect it, like this beautiful valley. He would fight for it, not only with the sword in the way of the warrior but with Eijiro’s tools.
Several scrolls of Eijiro’s writings were added to the boxes of gifts. Tadao and Masaji teased Shigeru about them.
“You have the luck to study the sword with Shingen and you’d rather spend time reading about onions!” Masaji mocked.
“Lord Eijiro can have my shit for his mulberry trees and pumpkins,” Tadao said, “but he’s not getting my brain too.”
“His sons are skillful warriors as well as being farmers,” Shigeru said.
“Skillful! They wield the bow more like a hoe. They fought like girls. It was so easy to beat them!” Tadao replied with arrogance.
“Maybe because they train with their sisters,” Masaji added scornfully. “If all the Otori fight like them, we deserve to be overrun by the Tohan.”
SHIGERU THOUGHT THIS was no more than a careless remark and he did not comment on it. However, it returned to him later, when they reached Tsuwano and were welcomed in the castle by the boys’ father, Lord Kitano. The contrast between the two families could hardly have been greater. Eijiro, being related to the clan lord’s family, was of higher rank than Kitano, but Kitano maintained a small castle and, like Shigeru’s father, delegated the running of his estates to officials. He was passionate about war, its conduct and strategy, and the appropriate training and upbringing for young men.
The Kitano lived an austere, soldierly life. The food was simple, the living rooms uncomfortable, the mattresses thin. Despite the season of early summer, the castle interior was gloomy, the lower rooms dank, the upper rooms stiflingly hot in the middle of the day.
Lord Kitano treated Shigeru with all the necessary deference, but the young man found his manner patronizing, his opinions rigid and old-fashioned. His sons, who had been so outspoken and lively in Hagi and on the journey, became silent, speaking only to agree with their father or to repeat to him some tenet they had learned from Ichiro or Endo.
Lord Irie said very little, and drank, sparingly, his attention mainly on Shigeru and his needs. There was another guest present: an Otori vassal from the south of the Middle Country, Noguchi Masayoshi. During the evening’s conversation it transpired that Noguchi would accompany Kitano’s sons to Inuyama. Neither of the lords revealed much more about this plan, and the boys hid their surprise. Nothing had been said about it in Hagi, and Shigeru was sure his father had not known about it.
“At Inuyama my sons will learn the art of real warfare,” Kitano said. “Iida Sadamu is gaining the reputation of being the greatest warrior of his generation.” He drank and glanced from under his heavy eyebrows at Irie. “Such knowledge can only benefit the clan.”
“Presumably Lord Otori has been informed,” Irie said, though he must have known the contrary.
“Letters have been sent,” Kitano said, a vague note creeping into his voice. Shigeru read his evasiveness and suspected he could not be trusted. He wondered about Noguchi Masayoshi too. Noguchi was in his early thirties, the eldest son of an Otori vassal family whose southern domain included the port of Hofu. It was in the South that the Otori were most vulnerable-less protected by the mountains, the South lay between the ambitious Iida family in Inuyama and the rich lands of the Seishuu in the West. It would be hard for Kitano to resist the Tohan if his sons were in Inuyama. They might as well be hostages. Shigeru felt anger beginning to simmer in his belly. If the man was not a traitor, he was a fool. Was it up to him to forbid expressly such a rash decision? If he advised against it, and Kitano disobeyed him, it would bring out into the open divisions that could only lead to strife within the clan-maybe even to civil war. He had been surrounded all his life by loyalty; it underpinned the whole structure of the warrior class-the Otori prided themselves on the unswerving loyalty that bound all the ranks to one another and to the head of their clan. He had been aware of his father’s weaknesses but had not realized how these were viewed by men such as Kitano and Noguchi, who had their own ambitions.
He tried to find an opportunity to speak to Irie about his misgivings. It was not easy, for they were always accompanied by Kitano or his retainers. Before they retired, he said he would like to walk outside for a while, to enjoy the night air and the waxing moon, and asked Irie to accompany him. They were led from the castle to the battlements, huge stone walls that rose from the moat where the moon’s silver disc was reflected in the black still water. Occasionally there was a splash as a fish surfaced or a water rat dived. Guards were stationed at each right-angled turn of the walls and above the bridge that led from the castle to the town, but they were relaxed. Tsuwano had been at peace for years; there was no threat of invasion or attack. The idle chat of the guards, the tranquil night, the moon above the sleeping town did not allay Shigeru’s fears. He duly admired the moon and the battlements, but there was no way of seeking his teacher’s advice discreetly. When they retired, Shigeru told the servants to leave them alone. He sent Irie to make sure no one lingered outside to eavesdrop-no maids, servants, or guards. He remembered his father’s words… If Kitano were in contact with the Tohan, might he not use the same spies from the Tribe?