Lian Hearn - Heaven's Net Is Wide

“We’ll go straight to the temple,” Shigeru said.

“Yes, I’ve eaten and drunk enough to last me for days,” Takeshi replied, for they had been fed at every stop.

As they made the climb, Shigeru recalled the day when he had made it alone. He had been fifteen-more than a year older than Takeshi was now. He had found the early days almost unbearable, had longed to leave. Would Takeshi find it unendurable? There would be other boys as young as he, but they would be novice monks, not the son of the head of the clan. He thought he might speak to Matsuda, ask him to treat Takeshi leniently, but then corrected himself. Takeshi would be treated by Matsuda as he needed to be, and leniency was the last thing he needed if he was to learn to curb his recklessness and remedy the effects of his mother’s indulgence.

At first Takeshi leaped ahead up the path, but as the climb steepened, his pace slowed. The thought of the coming months was perhaps turning him serious.

They were greeted by the monks with a quiet, undemonstrative pleasure and taken immediately to Matsuda Shingen, now the Abbot of the temple. He made them welcome, openly delighted to see Shigeru again. Matsuda studied Takeshi carefully, but said little to him beyond commenting that in looks, at least, he was very like his brother. Then he called for two young boys, who were in simple clothes and whose heads were shaven, and asked them to take Lord Takeshi and show him around while he spoke to Lord Otori.

The boys left in deferential silence, but before they were beyond the cloisters, Shigeru could hear Takeshi’s eager questions and soon laughter from all three.

“It is very early for your brother to be here,” Matsuda said. “I wonder if he has the maturity…”

“I’m hoping he will learn it here,” Shigeru replied. “He does not receive the discipline he should in Hagi: My parents spoil him, Mori Kiyoshige leads him astray, and he has little respect for anyone. I want him to stay here for at least a year, possibly more. His education and training must be the same as mine-”

“I have other responsibilities now,” Matsuda interrupted gently. “It is not possible for me to absent myself from the temple for long periods, as I did with you.”

“Of course, I understand that. But I hope you will be able to teach him, here, much of what you taught me.”

“If he is willing to learn it, I can promise you I will.”

“I have another reason for sending him here at this time,” Shigeru said. “If we are to be at war next year, he will be out of harm’s way, and if I meet my death on the battlefield, the heir to the clan will be in safe hands. I trust you, where I do not trust my uncles.”

“You are right, in my opinion, both about the coming war and about your uncles,” Matsuda said quietly. “But are the Otori prepared? You must delay as long as possible, while you build up your forces.”

“I suspect Sadamu will attack us early, through Chigawa. I intend to concentrate our defense around Yaegahara.”

“You must beware of a double attack, from the south as well as the east.”

“That is why I have sent Irie to Noguchi to claim his support. And my wife’s father will guarantee the support of Kushimoto.”

“I’m afraid next year is too soon,” Matsuda said. “Try not to provoke Sadamu into an early attack.”

“I must be prepared, yet I must not provoke him,” Shigeru said, smiling. “It is not possible to do both.”

“Whatever you choose to do, you have my support always,” Matsuda said. “And Lord Takeshi will be safe while he stays with us.”

As Shigeru rose to leave, the older man said, “Let us walk in the gardens for a while. It is such a beautiful day.”

Shigeru followed him along the polished wooden floor that gleamed in the dim light: sunlight spilled through the open doors at the end of the corridor, and he could smell wood smoke and pine leaves from outside, mingled with incense from the main hall of the temple.

At the end of the corridor they crossed a small courtyard and stepped into another wide room, whose doors were all open onto the garden beyond. The matting glowed gold. Two painted screens stood at either end; he had seen them often before but never failed to be moved by their beauty. When he had first come to the temple, the other boys had recounted the legends about their creator, the artist Sesshu, who had lived in the temple for many years. The bare panel was said to have once been painted with birds, so lifelike they all took flight, and the gardeners complained Sesshu’s horses roamed at night, trampling and eating the crops, and demanded he should tether them.

A wide veranda gave onto the garden, facing south, warm with the autumn sunshine. They paused on the silvered cypress wood boards while a monk brought sandals, but before Matsuda stepped into his, the other man whispered to him.

“Ah!” Matsuda said. “It seems my presence is requested for a few moments. If you will excuse me, Lord Shigeru, I’ll join you later.”

Shigeru could hear the waterfall in the distance and walked toward it, for it was one of his favorite parts of the garden. To his left lay the drop to the valley below: the slopes turning crimson and gold, the ranges beyond folding one after the other against the sky, already hazy in the afternoon light. To his right, the mountain itself formed the background to the garden, deep green with cedars, against which bamboo trunks stood out, slender and graceful, and the white splash of the waterfall fell like spun threads over the gleaming rocks. He climbed a little among the ferns and looked back down on the garden. From here the rocks looked like mountains, the shrubs like entire forests. He could see the whole of the Middle Country in this small plot of land, its ranges and rivers. Then the illusion was broken by a figure appearing through the bushes-but not before, for a moment, she had seemed like a goddess walking through her creation.

He saw a young woman of great beauty, which surprised him, for no one had told him she was beautiful. Her hair, long and thick, framed her pale face with its small mouth and leaf-shaped eyes. She wore a robe of a yellow the same color as the falling ginkgo leaves, embroidered with golden pheasants. She made no sign of having seen him but went to the edge of the stream where a wooden stepped bridge had been built across the iris beds and gazed away from him out over the valley, as though drinking in the perfection of the view.

Despite her beauty-or maybe even because of it: he had been imagining her as a ruler; now he saw her as a woman, a very young one-he thought he would leave without speaking to her; but she stood between him and his way out. He thought, If she speaks to me, I will stop. If she says nothing, I will simply pass by her.

He stepped down the path and across the stream. She turned at the sound of his feet on the small pebbles of the path and their eyes met.

“Lord Otori?” she said.

In the years that followed, he would watch her grow into a woman of composure and self-control. At that moment he was aware of the girl she still was, not much older than him, despite her apparent calmness, unsure, not quite grown up, although she was a married woman and already a mother.

He bowed in response but said nothing, and she went on, a little hurriedly, “I am Maruyama Naomi. I’ve always wanted to see this garden. I am a great admirer of the work of Sesshu. He was a frequent visitor to my hometown. We almost consider him one of ours.”

“Sesshu must belong to the entire world,” Shigeru replied. “Not even the Otori can claim to own him. But I was thinking just now how this garden reflects the Middle Country in miniature.”

“You must know it well?”

“I spent a year here. I have brought my brother for a similar stay.”