Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn Page A

it,” she
said, lying to please him.
    He gazed out at the cherry
blossoms, each tree heavy, dreaming in its own beauty. “Kaede, the matter of
the dead guard . . .”
    “It was not my fault,” she said
hastily. “Captain Arai acted to protect me. All the fault was with the dead
man.”
    He sighed. “They are saying that
you are dangerous to men—that Lord Otori should beware. Nothing must happen to
prevent this wedding. Do you understand me, Kaede? If it does not go ahead—if
the fault can be laid on you—we are all as good as dead.”
    Kaede bowed, her heart heavy. Her
father was like a stranger to her.
    “It's been a burden on you to carry
the safety of our family for all these years. Your mother and your sisters miss
you. I myself would have had things differently, if I could choose over again.
Maybe if I had taken part in the battle of Yaegahara, had not waited to see who
would emerge the victor but had joined Iida from the start . . . but it's all
past now, and cannot be brought back. In his way Lord Noguchi has kept his side
of the bargain. You are alive; you are to make a good marriage. I know you will
not fail us now.”
    “Father,” she said as a small
breeze blew suddenly through the garden, and the pink and white petals drifted
like snow to the ground.
    The next day her father left. Kaede
watched him ride away with his retainers. They had been with her family since
before her own birth, and she remembered some of them by name: her father's
closest friend, Shoji, and young Amano, who was only a few years older than she
was. After they had left through the castle gate, the horses' hooves crushing
the cherry blossoms that carpeted the shallow cobbled steps, she ran to the
bailey to watch them disappear along the banks of the river. Finally the dust
settled, the town dogs quieted, and they were gone.
    The next time she saw her father
she would be a married woman, making the formal return to her parents' home.
    Kaede went back to the residence,
scowling to keep her tears at bay. Her spirits were not improved by hearing a
stranger's voice. Someone was chatting away to Junko. It was the sort of chat
that she most despised, in a little-girl voice with a high-pitched giggle. She
could just imagine the girl, tiny, with round cheeks like a doll, a
small-stepped walk like a bird's, and a head that was always bobbing and
bowing.
    When she hurried into the room,
Junko and the strange girl were working on her clothes, making the last
adjustments, folding and stitching. The Noguchi were losing no time in getting
rid of her. Bamboo baskets and paulownia wood boxes stood ready to be packed.
The sight of them upset Kaede further.
    “What is this person doing here?”
she demanded irritably.
    The girl flattened herself to the
floor, overdoing it, as Kaede had known she would.
    “This is Shizuka,” Junko said. “She
is to travel with Lady Kaede to Inuyama.”
    “I don't want her,” Kaede replied.
“I want you to come with me.”
    “Lady, it's not possible for me to
leave. Lady Noguchi would never permit it.”
    “Then tell her to send someone
else.”
    Shizuka, still facedown on the
ground, gave what sounded like a sob. Kaede, sure that it was feigned, was
unmoved.
    “You are upset, lady. The news of
the marriage, your father's departure . . .” Junko tried to placate her. “She's
a good girl, very pretty, very clever. Sit up, Shizuka: Let Lady Shirakawa look
at you.”
    The girl raised herself but did not
look directly at Kaede. From her downcast eyes, tears trickled. She sniffed
once or twice. “Lady, please don't send me away. I'll do anything for you. I
swear, you'll never have anyone look after you better than me. I'll carry you
in the rain, I'll let you warm your feet on me in the cold.” Her tears seemed
to have dried and she was smiling again.
    “You didn't warn me how beautiful
Lady Shirakawa is,” she said to Junko. “No wonder men die for her!”
    “Don't say that!” Kaede cried. She
walked