Heaven's Net Is Wide, Lian Hearn [reading the story of the txt] 📗

“I don’t believe she will be angry,” Chiyo said, smiling. She took a quick look at Shigeru’s face. “She will be proud of you, and your father too. Don’t be sad, don’t fret over it. You saved your brother’s life.”

He was weakened by relief. The enormity of what might have happened was still too close. If he had not been in the garden; if Akira had not found him; if he had called the guards first; if the girl had not dived down after him… He had been brought up to have no fear of death, nor to grieve excessively over the deaths of others, but he had not yet lost anyone close to him, and he had not realized how fierce was his love for his brother. Grief came close to him with its gray numbing breath and its array of insidious weapons to flay the heart and torment the mind. He saw how grief was an enemy to be feared far more than any warrior; he realized he would have no armor against its assault. And he knew that the rest of his life would be a struggle to hold grief at bay by keeping Takeshi alive.

3

The following day, Mori Yuta’s body was washed up on the opposite bank, a little downstream from his family home. Whatever their own grief might have been, his parents hid it in their shame and remorse for nearly drowning the son of the lord of the clan. Yuta was twelve, almost a man. He should not have been indulging in childish games, causing danger to an eight-year-old. After the funeral, his father sought and was granted an audience with Lord Otori.

Shigemori and his younger brothers were seated in the main hall of the Otori residence, which lay within the castle grounds, surrounded by gardens leading down to the great stone walls that rose directly from the sea. The senior retainers were also in the room: Endo Chikara, Miyoshi Satoru, and Irie Masahide. The sound of the waves and the smell of salt washed through the open doors. As summer progressed, every day became warmer and more humid, but here the air was cooled by the sea, as well as by the dense forest that covered the small hill behind the castle. At the top of the hill was a shrine to the sea god where a huge bronze-cast bell hung, said to have been made by a giant; it was struck if foreign ships were sighted or a whale stranded on the beach.

The three Otori lords were dressed in formal robes and wore small black hats, and each held a fan in his hand. Shigeru knelt to one side. He also wore formal robes-not the ones that had been mud- and water-stained; they had been carefully washed and then presented to the small shrine near his mother’s house where the river god was worshipped, along with many other gifts of rice wine and silver, in the hope that the spirit would be placated. Many in the town murmured that the god was offended by the building of the new bridge and had seized the boys in anger. It was a warning: the construction should be stopped at once. The stonemason was spat upon, and threats were made to his family. But Lord Shigemori had set his heart on the bridge and would not be dissuaded from it. The footings for the arches were in place and the first arch was already rising from them.

All these thoughts flashed through Shigeru’s mind as Mori Yusuke prostrated himself before the three Otori brothers. He was a horseman and taught Shigeru and the other warriors’ sons. He bred and broke the Otori horses, who were said to be fathered by the river spirit; now the river had taken his son in return. His family were middle-rank but wealthy. Their own ability and their water meadows had brought them prosperity. Shigemori favored Yusuke to the extent of entrusting his son’s education to him.

Yusuke was pale but composed. He raised his head on Shigemori’s command and spoke in a low, clear voice.

“Lord Otori, I deeply regret the pain I have caused you. I have come to offer you my life. I ask only that you will permit me to kill myself after the fashion of a warrior.”

Shigemori said nothing for a few moments. Yusuke lowered his head again. Shigeru saw his father’s indecisiveness: he knew its causes. The clan could not afford to lose a man of Yusuke’s competence, but the affront had to be addressed or his father would lose face and be perceived as weak. He thought he saw impatience in his uncles’ expression, and Endo was frowning deeply too.

Shoichi cleared his throat. “May I speak, brother?”

“I would like to hear your opinion,” Lord Otori said.

“The insult and grievance to the family are unpardonable in my view. It is almost too much of an honor to allow this person to take his own life. The lives of his whole family should also be required, and the confiscation of his lands and property.”

Shigemori blinked rapidly. “This seems somewhat excessive,” he said. “Masahiro, what are your thoughts?”

“I must agree with my brother.” Masahiro ran his tongue over his lips. “Your beloved son Lord Takeshi nearly died. Lord Shigeru was also endangered. Our shock and grief were extreme. The Mori family must pay for this.”

Shigeru did not know his uncles well. He had barely seen them when he lived at his mother’s house. They were both considerably younger than his father, born of a second wife who still lived with her oldest son, Shoichi; he knew they had young children of their own, still toddlers or infants, but he had never set eyes on them. Now he saw his uncles’ faces and heard their words as he would a stranger’s. The expressions were those of loyalty to their older brother and devotion to the family, but he thought he discerned something deeper