Grass for His Pillow by Lian Hearn Page B

neglected estate of Shirakawa, the disputed domain of Maruyama. How was she going to claim and keep what was hers?
    If only I were a man, she thought. How easy it would be. If I were Father’s son, what would he not do for me?
    She knew she had the ruthlessness of a man. When she was still a hostage in Noguchi Castle, she had stabbed a guard without thinking, but Iida she had killed deliberately. She would kill again, rather than let any man crush her. Her thoughts drifted to Lady Maruyama. I wish I had known you better, she thought. I wish I had been able to learn more from you. I am sorry for the pain I caused you. If only we had been able to talk freely. She felt she saw the beautiful face before her, and heard her voice again. I entrust my land and my people to you. Take care of them.
    I will, she promised. I will learn how. The meagerness of her education depressed her, but that could be remedied. She resolved she would find out how to run the estate, how to speak to the farmers, how to train men and fight battles—everything a son would have been taught from birth. Father will have to teach me, she thought. It will give him something to think about apart from himself.
    She felt a twinge of emotion, fear or shame or, maybe, a combination of both. What was she turning into? Was she unnatural?Had she been bewitched or cursed? She was sure no woman had ever thought the way she did now. Except Lady Maruyama. Holding on to the lifeline of her promise to her kinswoman, she fell asleep at last.
    The next morning she bade farewell to Arai’s men, urging them to leave as soon as possible. They were happy to go, eager to return to the campaigns in the East before the onset of winter. Kaede was equally keen to get rid of them, fearing she could not afford to feed them for even one more night. Next she organized the household women to start cleaning the house and repairing the damage to the garden. Shamefaced, Ayame confided in her that there was nothing to pay workmen with. Most of the Shirakawa treasures and all the money were gone.
    â€œThen we must do what we can ourselves,” Kaede said, and when the work was under way she went to the stables with Kondo.
    A young man greeted her with a deference that could not hide his delight. It was Amano Tenzo, who had accompanied her father to Noguchi Castle, and whom she had known when they were both children. He was now about twenty years old.
    â€œThis is a fine horse,” he said as he brought Raku forward and saddled him.
    â€œHe was a gift from Lord Otori’s son,” she said, stroking the horse’s neck.
    Amano beamed. “Otori horses are renowned for their stamina and good sense. They say they run them in the water meadows, and they’re fathered by the river spirit. With your permission, we’ll put our mares to him and get his foals next year.”
    She liked the way he addressed her directly and talked to her ofsuch things. The stable area was in better condition than most of the grounds, clean and well maintained—though, apart from Raku, Amano’s own chestnut stallion, and four horses belonging to Kondo and his men, there were only three other warhorses, all old and one lame. Horse skulls were fixed to the eaves, and the wind moaned through the empty eye sockets. She knew they were placed there to protect and calm the animals below, but at present the dead outnumbered the living.
    â€œYes, we must have more horses,” she said. “How many mares do we have?”
    â€œOnly two or three at the moment.”
    â€œCan we get more before winter?”
    He looked glum. “The war, the famine . . . this year has been disastrous for Shirakawa.”
    â€œYou must show me the worst,” she said. “Ride out with me now.”
    Raku’s head was held high and his ears pricked forward. He seemed to be looking and listening. He whinnied softly at her approach but continued gazing into the