Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

to meet Lady Maruyama at Seisenji. It was the first time he had ridden this way since then, and he could not help being aware of the effect his appearance had on the people. They thronged to watch him pass and followed him with eyes in which he imagined he saw a desperate appeal not to forget them, not to abandon them.

Eijiro’s old house was still standing, and to Shigeru’s surprise Lord Kitano’s younger son, Masaji, greeted him when he rode through the gate.

“Father wanted me to take over the estate,” he explained, looking a little embarrassed, as though like Shigeru he was remembering the day when they had been made welcome here by Eijiro himself, had competed with his sons and daughters. Now the men of the family were all dead and the women in exile. “Lord Otori Eijiro was a fine man,” he added. “We are happy to accommodate his wife in this matter of the memorial and delighted Lord Shigeru could also attend.”

Shigeru inclined his head slightly but said nothing in reply.

“The ceremony will be held tomorrow,” Masaji said. “In the meantime, you must enjoy our hospitality.”

The younger man was both uncomfortable and nervous, Shigeru realized.

“You would like to bathe, no doubt, and change your clothes. Then we will eat with my wife and the ladies. Lady Maruyama is also here; her companion is Lady Eriko’s sister, and their brother, Lord Sugita, accompanied them.”

Relief, joy, desire, all came flooding through him. She was here; he would see her. He nodded but still did not speak, partly because he did not trust his voice, partly because he could see Masaji was intimidated and unnerved by his silence. Despite all that had happened since they last met, Masaji still held him in awe and treated him with deference. It both amused and consoled him.

THE OLD HOUSE had been redecorated, new mats laid, new paper screens installed. Its intrinsic beauty was enhanced, but the warmth that had made it so charming was gone forever.

When he was shown into the room where the ladies were already seated, he did not dare look at Naomi. He was aware of her presence, could smell her fragrance. Again, it was like a blow. He concentrated his attention on Lady Eriko, thinking how unbearably sad for her it must be; indeed, her face was pale and strained, though her manner was composed. They greeted each other warmly, and then Eriko said, “I believe you have met Lady Maruyama and my sister.”

Naomi said, raising her eyes to his, “Lord Otori and I met by chance at Terayama several years ago.”

“Yes, I remember,” he said, amazed that his voice matched hers in calmness. “I trust Lady Maruyama is well.”

“Thank you, I am recovered. I am well now.”

“You have been sick?” he said too rapidly, unable to mask his concern.

Her eyes smiled at him, as if trying to reassure him.

“Lady Maruyama was very ill for a long time,” Sachie said quietly. “There has been a lot of plague in the West this summer.”

“My mother has also been unwell,” he said, striving for a conversational tone. “But the cooler autumn weather has restored her health.”

“Yes, the weather has been beautiful,” Naomi said. “I have heard so much about this place but have never visited it before.”

“My husband will show Lady Maruyama around,” Masaji’s very young wife began nervously.

“Lord Shigeru is the farming expert,” Masaji interrupted her. “He was always more interested in such things than the rest of us. And now he is called the Farmer.”

“Then perhaps Lord Otori will show me around tomorrow,” Naomi said. “After the memorial service.”

“If it is Lady Maruyama’s wish,” he replied.

THE SERVICE WAS held in the small shrine in the garden, and tablets with the names of the dead man and his sons were placed before the altar. Their bones lay in the earth of Yaegahara, along with ten thousand others’. Smoke from incense rose straight upward in the still air, mingling with the sharp scents of autumn. A stag barked in the forest, and wild geese cried distantly as they crossed the sky.

Shigeru had spent the previous evening and the night swinging between sheer happiness at being in her presence and despair at being unable to touch her, take her in his arms, even to talk to her openly without watching every word. They had hardly addressed each other, and when they did, it was in formal language on unimportant matters. When they had the opportunity to walk alone together through the fields, still in sight though out of earshot, they were constrained and reserved.

“It has been such a long time,” Shigeru said. “I did not know you had been ill.”

“I was very ill. I could not eat or sleep for weeks. I should have written to you, but my illness robbed me of confidence, and I did not know what to say to you or even how to send it.”

She paused, and then went on in a low voice, “I would like to hold you now, lie down with you here on the grass, but it is impossible this time. But I am feeling more hopeful-I don’t know why: perhaps I am deluding myself-but I feel with Iida’s son growing up a healthy boy and with everything so settled now-I can see no reason why we should not marry.”

She glanced back at the house. “I must talk quickly. I don’t know how long we will have alone. I must leave tomorrow, and we may not have another opportunity. I am resolved to discuss the question with my senior retainers and the elders of the clan. They will approach your uncles with offers and promises they cannot refuse: trade, gifts, ships, maybe even part of the border country. The Arai will be in favor, and so will the rest of the Seishuu.”

“It is my sole desire,” he replied. “But we will only have one chance: if we make such a request, we risk exposing what we are to each other; if it