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two or three years ago. The domain is rich: they trade with the mainland and mine copper and silver. They get two crops of rice a year-we are considered too far north for that, but I intend to try it myself. It was a pleasure to be there. I learned many new things, new ideas and methods.”

“Did you meet Lady Naomi?” For some reason his interest was aroused in this girl, not much older than himself, who ruled and fought like a man.

“Yes, indeed. My wife is from the Sugita family: her cousin Sugita Haruki is Lady Naomi’s senior retainer. My wife is the same age as Naomi’s mother and has known Naomi since she was born. In fact, my wife’s sister is Naomi’s closest companion. Lady Naomi is a remarkable young woman, intelligent and with great charm. I think my wife modeled our girls’ education on hers.”

“They have benefited greatly from it,” Shigeru replied.

“Well, they are only a pale copy of Lady Naomi, and many in the Middle Country think that I am a fool.” Eijiro tried to look modest, but his pride in his children could not be completely disguised. Shigeru liked him even more for it.

That night they ate venison-mountain whale, Eijiro laughingly called it-for many country people added meat to their diet by hunting, though the teachings of the Enlightened One followed by the warrior class forbade the killing of four-footed animals for food.

Shigeru was also given gifts-a small steel-bladed dagger, home-woven indigo garments, and barrels of rice wine to present to the temple.

The following day, wanting to know his host better, he rose early and accompanied Eijiro on his morning inspection of the rice fields and vegetable gardens. He noticed how the older man spoke to the peasants, asking their advice and occasionally praising them. He noticed the exchange of respect between them.

This is the way to treat men, he thought. They are bound to Eijiro by more than custom and rules. Attention and respect ensure their loyalty.

He asked many questions about Eijiro’s methods, intrigued by the interlocking systems of fertilizing and cropping, observing how they followed the cycle of the seasons and enhanced the natural fertility of the land. Not an inch was wasted, yet the earth was always being replenished. The villagers he saw looked well fed; their children were healthy and happy.

“Heaven must approve of your ways,” he said, back at the residence.

Eijiro laughed. “Heaven sends many challenges: droughts, insects, floods, storms. But we know the land, we understand it. I think we are blessed by Earth as much as by Heaven. This has always been the Otori way,” he added quietly, glancing at Shigeru. “If Lord Shigeru wishes to know more about it, I have written a little on the subject…”

His oldest son, Danjo, said, “A little! Father is too modest. Lord Shigeru could read for a year and not come to the end of Father’s writings.”

“I would very much like to read them,” Shigeru replied. “But I fear I will have no time. We must ride on today.”

“You must take some with you. You may be able to add them to your studies while you are at the temple. You are the heir to the clan. It is fitting that you know about the land.”

Eijiro said no more, but he was frowning and his usually bluff, open expression was clouded. Shigeru imagined he heard the unspoken thoughts: that his father had no such interests; indeed the castle lands around Hagi were left entirely to officials to run. They were productive enough, he knew, but they did not look like Eijiro’s. Overmindful of his own position, introspective by nature, indulging in private grief and regret, his father had allowed himself to be cut off from the land that gave him that position. A fief is like a farm, Shigeru thought: Everyone in it has their place and their purpose, and all work together for the good of the whole. When the head of the farm is just and competent like Eijiro, everyone flourishes.

He thought of his farm, the fief of the Middle Country, and felt pride and joy flood into his belly: it was his and he would cherish and protect it, like this beautiful valley. He would fight for it, not only with the sword in the way of the warrior but with Eijiro’s tools.

Several scrolls of Eijiro’s writings were added to the boxes of gifts. Tadao and Masaji teased Shigeru about them.

“You have the luck to study the sword with Shingen and you’d rather spend time reading about onions!” Masaji mocked.

“Lord Eijiro can have my shit for his mulberry trees and pumpkins,” Tadao said, “but he’s not getting my brain too.”

“His sons are skillful warriors as well as being farmers,” Shigeru said.

“Skillful! They wield the bow more like a hoe. They fought like girls. It was so easy to beat them!” Tadao replied with arrogance.

“Maybe because they train with their sisters,” Masaji added scornfully. “If all the Otori fight like them, we deserve to be overrun by the Tohan.”

SHIGERU THOUGHT THIS was no more than a careless remark and he did not comment on it. However, it returned to him later, when they reached Tsuwano and were welcomed in the castle by the boys’ father, Lord Kitano. The contrast between the two families could hardly have been greater. Eijiro, being related to the clan lord’s family, was of higher rank than Kitano, but Kitano maintained a small castle and, like Shigeru’s father, delegated the running of his estates to officials. He was passionate about war, its conduct and strategy, and the appropriate training and upbringing for young men.

The Kitano lived an austere, soldierly life. The food was simple, the living rooms uncomfortable, the mattresses thin. Despite the season of early summer, the castle interior was gloomy, the lower rooms dank, the upper rooms stiflingly hot in the middle of the day.

Lord Kitano treated Shigeru with all the necessary deference, but the young man found his manner patronizing, his opinions

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