Heaven's Net Is Wide Lian Hearn (leveled readers .TXT) 📖

brother about Kahei’s father’s suggestion. “Let’s walk outside for a while.” Once they were in the garden, beyond earshot of anyone, Shigeru explained a little of his continued pretence, repeated his intentions and the need to keep them secret; Takeshi promised to be patient. They agreed Takeshi should live with the Miyoshi family for a while, and the young man seemed to welcome it as a new challenge.

“I know you think I am running wild,” he said quietly to Shigeru. “Some of it is real but like you I also play a role that is not my true self. I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy a lot of it, though! It must be more fun than being a farmer!”

Later that afternoon Shigeru was walking through the fields, thinking partly of the sesame crop and partly with some relief of Takeshi, when a man stepped out from the shade of a small group of peach trees and spoke his name.

He recognized the voice at once-his retainer, the warrior Harada-and turned toward him with joy, for he had not seen him since before the battle and had believed him to be dead. Yet the man who dropped to his knees before him was almost unrecognizable. His head and face were covered in a scarf of some deep yellow-brown material, and he wore the short jerkin of a laborer. His legs and feet were bare. Shigeru momentarily thought he had been mistaken, but the man raised his head and spoke without getting up. “Lord Otori. It is I, Harada.”

“I had heard nothing of you and assumed you were dead,” Shigeru exclaimed. “It’s a great joy to see you, but you are so changed I hardly knew you.”

“Indeed my whole life has changed.” Harada spoke quietly and humbly, like a supplicant or a beggar. “I am glad to find you alive. I was afraid you would have had to give in to the pressure to take your own life.”

“Many people think I should have joined the dead,” Shigeru said. “But I have my reasons for remaining with the living. You must come to my house. We’ll eat together, and I’ll tell you them. Where have you been all this time, and why, may I ask, the change in your appearance and dress?”

He could see now that Harada carried no sword, nor, apparently, any other weapon.

“It is better that I don’t come to your house. I don’t want it to be known that I am in Hagi. Indeed, I can be of greater service to you if I remain unrecognized. Is there somewhere we can talk?” He dropped his voice further. “I have a message for you.”

“There is a small shrine at the top of the valley. It’s deserted except during days of festival. I am walking that way.”

“I will meet you there.” Harada lowered his head to the ground, remaining there while Shigeru walked on.

Shigeru was both pleased and disturbed by the meeting, delighted that Harada was still alive, puzzled by his strange appearance and his lack of weapons. He did not go directly to the shrine but continued his careful inspection of the land, taking the time to speak to the farmers, who at that time of year were chopping the stubble and bean straw for fodder and collecting fallen leaves from the oak coppices to use as compost. Sesame needed a warm southerly aspect: in the rugged country south of the city such fields were scarce and already used for beans and vegetables. The farmers grew enough of these for their own needs, but sesame would be a product they could supply to merchants in the city or directly to warriors’ households. It would give them income, access to coins, and increased power over their lives.

Eijiro had written, as if in a direct message, Whenever sesame has been introduced, I have seen an improvement in the living conditions of the villagers and an increase in their well-being, including a greater interest in education. Several villages have even been inspired to have their young men taught to read at schools established in the temples.

A place like this might become a school, Shigeru thought as he approached the shrine. It was almost empty, apart from one young man of about fourteen years, the son of the priest from the nearest village, who kept guard. The villagers stored various farming implements there, hoes, staves, and axes, as well as firewood, stacked neatly against the southern wall to dry out before winter. The boy was sitting on the faded wooden veranda, eating from a bowl. Behind him a young girl, obviously his sister, was preparing tea on the hearth. Shigeru could imagine her walking through the forest from her home to bring her older brother his supper.

He had spoken to the boy before and now said, after greeting him, “Someone is coming here to meet me. I will wait inside.”

“My sister will bring tea,” the boy replied, ducking his head but not making any other obeisance, as if he knew of Shigeru’s desire for informality and anonymity. Ever since Kenji’s visits during the plum rains, Shigeru had noticed among the people he met in field and forest similar tiny indications of Loyalty to the Heron.

He removed his sandals and stepped into the darkened interior. The floor had been recently swept, but the air smelled musty. The shrine felt empty, as though the god slept elsewhere and returned only when awakened by the music of the festival.

He found himself wondering about the existence of the gods. Could they really be awakened or swayed by the chanting and prayers of men? This part of the forest, with its small grove, had a feeling of peace and tranquillity that was almost numinous. Did that mean it was truly a place where a god dwelled?

His musings were interrupted by the boy’s voice, followed by Harada’s. After a few moments the girl came into the shrine, carrying a tray with two wooden cups.

“Your visitor is here, sir.” She set the tray