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

stood at either end; he had seen them often before but never failed to be moved by their beauty. When he had first come to the temple, the other boys had recounted the legends about their creator, the artist Sesshu, who had lived in the temple for many years. The bare panel was said to have once been painted with birds, so lifelike they all took flight, and the gardeners complained Sesshu’s horses roamed at night, trampling and eating the crops, and demanded he should tether them.

A wide veranda gave onto the garden, facing south, warm with the autumn sunshine. They paused on the silvered cypress wood boards while a monk brought sandals, but before Matsuda stepped into his, the other man whispered to him.

“Ah!” Matsuda said. “It seems my presence is requested for a few moments. If you will excuse me, Lord Shigeru, I’ll join you later.”

Shigeru could hear the waterfall in the distance and walked toward it, for it was one of his favorite parts of the garden. To his left lay the drop to the valley below: the slopes turning crimson and gold, the ranges beyond folding one after the other against the sky, already hazy in the afternoon light. To his right, the mountain itself formed the background to the garden, deep green with cedars, against which bamboo trunks stood out, slender and graceful, and the white splash of the waterfall fell like spun threads over the gleaming rocks. He climbed a little among the ferns and looked back down on the garden. From here the rocks looked like mountains, the shrubs like entire forests. He could see the whole of the Middle Country in this small plot of land, its ranges and rivers. Then the illusion was broken by a figure appearing through the bushes-but not before, for a moment, she had seemed like a goddess walking through her creation.

He saw a young woman of great beauty, which surprised him, for no one had told him she was beautiful. Her hair, long and thick, framed her pale face with its small mouth and leaf-shaped eyes. She wore a robe of a yellow the same color as the falling ginkgo leaves, embroidered with golden pheasants. She made no sign of having seen him but went to the edge of the stream where a wooden stepped bridge had been built across the iris beds and gazed away from him out over the valley, as though drinking in the perfection of the view.

Despite her beauty-or maybe even because of it: he had been imagining her as a ruler; now he saw her as a woman, a very young one-he thought he would leave without speaking to her; but she stood between him and his way out. He thought, If she speaks to me, I will stop. If she says nothing, I will simply pass by her.

He stepped down the path and across the stream. She turned at the sound of his feet on the small pebbles of the path and their eyes met.

“Lord Otori?” she said.

In the years that followed, he would watch her grow into a woman of composure and self-control. At that moment he was aware of the girl she still was, not much older than him, despite her apparent calmness, unsure, not quite grown up, although she was a married woman and already a mother.

He bowed in response but said nothing, and she went on, a little hurriedly, “I am Maruyama Naomi. I’ve always wanted to see this garden. I am a great admirer of the work of Sesshu. He was a frequent visitor to my hometown. We almost consider him one of ours.”

“Sesshu must belong to the entire world,” Shigeru replied. “Not even the Otori can claim to own him. But I was thinking just now how this garden reflects the Middle Country in miniature.”

“You must know it well?”

“I spent a year here. I have brought my brother for a similar stay.”

“I saw him earlier; he is like you.” She smiled. “And then you will return to Hagi?”

“Yes, I’ll spend the winter there.”

They were both silent after this brief exchange. The noise from the waterfall seemed even louder. A flock of sparrows rose from the ground and fluttered into the branches of a maple tree, scattering the crimson leaves.

There is no point in saying anything, Shigeru thought. She is only a girl: she can be no help to me.

“Lord Otori is fond of hawking, I believe,” she said suddenly.

“When I have the time; it is a fine pursuit.”

“Did the plains of Kibi give you satisfaction?”

“I enjoyed the outing but had hoped for a greater catch.”

“Sometimes the catch is greater than you bargain for,” she said, with the hint of a smile. “As it must have been at Chigawa!”

“Does everyone know this story?” Shigeru asked.

“Probably too many people for your good,” she said, gazing intently at his face. “You are in great danger.” She gestured toward the garden. “The Middle Country is open to the east.”

“But protected to the west?” he questioned.

“Let us walk a little,” she said, without replying directly. “There is a pavilion, I believe. My woman will make sure no one disturbs us.

“You may know,” she said when they were seated in the pavilion, “that my marriage allies the Maruyama closely with the Tohan. Everyone expects this to bring our domain into line with Iida. But I am reluctant to allow ourselves to be controlled by the Tohan. I am afraid above all that our ancient tradition of inheriting from mother to daughter will be abolished. I have a three-year-old daughter. I am determined she will inherit from me. Despite my marriage, despite the alliance, I will always resist any attempt to change this.

“My husband has told me repeatedly how much the Iida family dislike and resent this tradition. The Iida hate everything that they suspect questions or challenges their right to absolute power. I have been to Inuyama. I have seen the way they treat their women, how women have been