Lian Hearn - Heaven's Net Is Wide

“Will you go to him, Akane? Will you plead with him to spare their lives?”

“If Lord Shigeru were here, I might approach his uncle through him, but he is away in the East. Even if we sent the swiftest messenger, it would be too late. I don’t suppose Masahiro would even receive me.”

“Believe me, I am sorry I am asking you. But you are the only person I know who has any influence at the castle. I owe it to Hayato to try to save his children’s lives and their inheritance.”

“Masahiro will be insulted by my even requesting an audience. He’ll probably have me put to death too.”

“No, he is interested in you. He has often been heard to express his regret that you are no longer at my house. He compares all the girls to you.”

“That could be worse,” Akane said. “I will be putting myself at his mercy: if he spares the children, what will he want in return?”

“You are under Shigeru’s protection. Even Masahiro will not dare take advantage of you.”

“I am afraid it will displease Shigeru,” Akane said, wishing he were there so that she could speak to him directly.

“Lord Shigeru has a compassionate nature,” Haruna replied. “He would not exact such a punishment.”

“I cannot do it,” Akane said. “Forgive me.”

“They will die tomorrow then.” Haruna wept as she spoke these words.

AFTER THE OLDER woman had left, Akane went to the altar to pray for Hayato’s spirit, to ask his forgiveness for the part she had played in his tragic fate and the disaster that his love for her had brought upon his family. He loved children, she thought. He wanted me to have his children. Now he is to lose his sons; he will have no one to carry on his line; his family will become extinct. There will be no one to pray for his soul.

People will blame me. They will come to hate me. What if they find out I used charms against Shigeru’s wife? They already say I have bewitched him…

Her thoughts continued to writhe and twist like a nest of adders, and when the maids brought the midday meal, she could not eat.

As the afternoon wore on, it grew hotter and the cicadas’ shrilling seemed more oppressive. Gradually her turmoil gave way to a numbness and lassitude: she felt so weary she could hardly move or think.

She asked for the bed to be prepared, changed into a light summer robe, and lay down. She did not expect to sleep, but almost immediately she fell into a kind of waking dream. The dead man came into the room, undressed and lay down beside her. She felt the familiar smoothness of his skin; his smell surrounded her. His weight covered her as it had when they had first made love and he had treated her with such tenderness, and the day her father died, when her need for him had been so intense.

“Akane,” he whispered, “I love you.”

“I know,” she said, feeling the tears spring into her eyes. “But you are dead, and now there is nothing I can do.”

His weight changed against her, no longer the comforting solid-ness of the living man but the dead weight of the corpse. It pressed down on her, squeezing the air from her lungs, forcing her heart to pump frantically. She could hear her breath gasping and feel her limbs flailing uselessly.

Suddenly she was awake, alone in the room, dripping with sweat, panting; she knew she would never be free of his ghost-he had come to possess her-unless she made some kind of retribution.

Now she was seized by a feverish anxiety that it would be too late. Despite Haruna’s words, she had no confidence that she would be allowed to speak to Lord Masahiro. She called for the maids, took a bath, and prepared herself while she tried to think of the best way to approach him. Her impatience, her sense of the rapid elapse of time, made her realize her only path was to write to him directly. It was the boldest thing she could think of: if it failed, there was nothing else she could do. She called for ink and paper and wrote swiftly-her father, who could write as easily in stone as most scholars on paper, had taught her, and her handwriting was strong and fluid, reflecting her character. She used the phrases of courtesy but nothing elaborate or flowery, simply asking if Lord Masahiro would permit her to come to speak to him.

He will never allow it, she thought, as she handed the message to one of the guards. I will hear nothing, and this time tomorrow Hayato’s children will be dead.

Dressed in her finest clothes, she could do nothing but wait. Night had fallen, bringing a little relief from the heat. Akane ate a bowl of cold noodles with fresh vegetables and drank a cup of wine. She was afraid to sleep, afraid of Hayato’s spirit. Again there was thunder in the distance, but no rain fell. The shutters were open and the scent of the garden flowers, mingled with the smell of the sea and with pine needles, drifted into the room. In the east, the moon was rising behind massed clouds, lighting their wild shapes as though they were shadow puppets in a play.

A huge flash of lightning had just lit up the southern sky when she heard the tread of feet and low voices outside beyond the wall. A few seconds later, one of the maids came in and whispered, “Lady Akane, someone has come from the castle.” Her voice was tinged with alarm.

“A messenger?” Akane stood, trembling.

“Maybe… or maybe…” The girl laughed and her face twisted. She hardly dared to speak his name. “You know, the uncle…”

“It cannot be!” Akane replied, wanting to slap her for her stupidity. “What did he say?”

“He asked to see you.”

“Where is he now?”

“I asked him to wait in the entrance hall. But, Lady Akane, if it is him, how insulting of me! What should I do?”

“You had better show him in at once,” Akane said. “And bring some more wine. Let him come in alone. If he brought anyone else with him, make them wait outside. You also must stay outside, but come at once if I call you.”

As soon as the visitor stepped into the room, despite the informality of his robes and the lack of crest, she knew at once that it was Masahiro. He was a short man, much shorter than Shigeru, and already showing signs of the corpulence of middle age. Her first thought was, He thinks he will sleep with me, and she felt a rush of terror, for she knew that if that happened, Shigeru would never forgive it.

She bowed deeply to him, then sat, trying to arm herself with steel and coldness.

“Lord Otori, this is far too great an honor.”

“Your letter said you wanted to speak with me. And I have long wanted to meet you. It seemed like a golden opportunity, especially as my nephew is away.”

She poured wine and made a comment about the heat of the night and the strange beauty of the moonlit clouds. He drank, staring at her in an appraising way, while she, less openly, was trying to assess him. She already knew of his constant pursuit of sexual novelty, which led him not only to Haruna’s establishment but also, gossip said, to far seedier places and far more unusual pleasures. His skin was sallow in color and marked by several large moles.

She thought she should make her request directly, before any misunderstandings arose between them.

“I feel a certain responsibility for the sad event that took place last night,” she said softly.

“You mean, the intolerable insult to the Otori lords?”

I mean the death of a good man, she thought but did not say. “I wanted to apologize to you in person.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t think you can be blamed if men fall in love with you,” he replied. “I am told that is why Hayato acted as he did. Apparently he was infatuated with you. I’ve heard my nephew is too.”

There was a slight question in his voice. She said, “Forgive me, Lord Otori, I cannot discuss Lord Shigeru with you.”