The Old Men of Omi (3 page)

Akitada tried to remember the children’s names and talked to them about his own two and about the games they enjoyed.

Kosehira and his wives smiled as they listened. “You know, Akitada,” Kosehira said, “you should send for them later this month. The great Sanno-Sai Shrine Festival will take place then. There will be a fair, and processions, and a boat race. They’ll love it and can watch with my brood.”

His first lady joined him in urging Akitada to let his children come.

It was a kind invitation and one that Akitada accepted with heartfelt thanks. Yasuko and Yoshi should get along well with Kosehira’s younger children. They had had little joy in their young lives.

It was only later, as he and Kosehira were riding into Otsu to the provincial headquarters, that the conversation turned to matters of provincial security.

“We met a large number of armed monks on our way here,” Akitada said. “I didn’t like their looks. Are they causing problems for you?”

Kosehira rolled his eyes. “Are they! The monks of Enryaku-ji have invited every feckless lout and deserter to join them. Their recruits call themselves lay monks, but they’re just hired thugs. You can’t imagine what they get up to when they spend an evening in town.”

Akitada could. He foresaw awkward meetings with the representatives of the temple. Not that he had much greater respect for Onjo-ji. The whole war had started many years ago when the two religious communities competed for the title of most important Buddhist center in the country. They had busily acquired land and whole villages, all of it tax free, and now had money, power, and influence even beyond those of the prime minister and perhaps the emperor himself. He felt ill-equipped to deal with their current squabble.

But ultimately, he reassured himself, it was just a matter of interpreting the legal documents they would furnish and double-checking the archives. Somewhat cheered he turned his mind to putting the men who had travelled out with him to work. After that, Kunyoshi would be in charge, and he would be free to enjoy his visit with Kosehira and his family.

They almost arrested old man Juro the next day. That was after they found Wakiya dead in the woods. He had been battered so viciously that he had died in a pool of blood. Animals had gathered to lap up this blood, and crows were waiting in the trees, ready to swoop down for their meal.

But he was found early by his daughter-in-law who had expected him to be lying drunk in a ditch. She had carried the broom with her, intending to make him pay for the inconvenience. Instead, she found his corpse.

The local headman had arrived with his assistant to study the corpse and listen to the daughter-in-law’s complaints about the drunkard’s lack of consideration for his family. She wanted to know who would pay for the funeral and was there perhaps a chance to collect some blood money?

The headman grunted and sent her for a ladder. They put the corpse on this and carried it back into the village. By then, they knew most of the story of Wakiya’s celebration and paid a visit to Juro.

Juro was thunderstruck. “He was going straight home,” he said. “He was fine.” Then he frowned. “But he was really afraid of that daughter-in-law of his. He said she’d beat him. Did she do this? ”

The headman considered. “Don’t think so. She was shocked. She thinks you had a fight and you killed him.”

Juro was lucky. His old lady had woken when the two friends had staggered homeward, singing at the top of their voices. She had watched Wakiya weaving off toward his own house after Juro had come in to face her wrath.

The headman and his people left, none the wiser about Wakiya’s killer. This did not trouble them unduly, however. After a decent wait of a day and a night in case someone volunteered information or the killer decided to confess, they let Wakiya’s daughter-in-law arrange for his funeral.

It was a poor enough affair, even after she had made the rounds asking for donations from his friends. Juro had sacrificed his drinking money for the week. After all, poor old Wakiya had been his best pal for onward of twenty years or more. They had both worked for the same landowner, doing much of the heavy work like cutting trees, plowing, and digging irrigation ditches. It had paid off in the end; they could both stop working and farm their own plot of land.

Juro would miss Wakiya.

But he wasn’t one to refuse a cup of wine after the funeral, especially not when he had donated his drinking funds to the pathetic affair the two monks had provided. And so it was only days after his drinking bout with his dead friend that Juro found himself tipsy again.

Halfway home, the thought crossed his fuzzy mind that there was a killer loose and that it was night again, and that he was walking the same road again. He came to halt and considered. The sky was moonless, being clouded over. He was still on the outskirts of the village and looked anxiously about him. All seemed quiet and peaceful. Here and there lights glimmered from a house, but no one was out and about.

Still, better safe than sorry, reasoned Juro. He would take another path home, one that he rarely used because it skirted a rocky gorge. In rainy months it was treacherous, because the water could wash away parts of it. But it was spring and had been dry. Besides he would be careful.

Whistling softly to give himself courage, he turned off the road and followed the path. When he got close to the gorge, he could hear the stream gurgling below. He stopped whistling and slowed down. The ground beneath his feet was rock and loose stones, and he walked close to the hillside.

Somewhere along the way, he thought he heard some stones fall. He stopped and listened. There was not a sound, except the rushing water below. Perhaps an animal had crossed the path, he thought, and started up again, moving a little faster, anxious to get home now.

Just before the blow fell, he heard another sound behind him, but by then it was already too late. A blinding pain exploded in his head, and he tumbled forward.

Akitada woke with a heavy head and a sour taste in his mouth. The pain in his head came a moment later. He grimaced. Sitting up late with Kosehira and drinking too many cups of his good wine had been a mistake.

Well, the wine anyway.

Kosehira had been a pleasure as always. No one else had his cheerful disposition and kindness. No wonder his family was such a happy one. The next thought, however, was an unfortunate comparison. Perhaps his own family life had once been as happy, or at least harmonious, but it was so no longer. Tamako was gone, and the children could not fill that void. Akitada was deeply lonely, perhaps more acutely lonely than he had been after her death, when grief had blotted out all other emotions. He found himself wishing for such a family as Kosehira’s. He too wanted laughter and the cheerful noise of women and children around him.

He sat up and held his aching head. Well, it was not to be, and he might as well enjoy such pleasures vicariously while spending time with Kosehira and his brood.

But unlike the day before, Kosehira was all business this morning. A servant had brought Akitada his bowl of rice gruel and some fruit juice, announcing that his Excellency would be leaving for the tribunal as soon as Akitada was ready.

A governor of Kosehira’s stature traveled with a large retinue between his home and the tribunal. Akitada compared this to his recent post in Chikuzen province in Kyushu where they had found an empty tribunal with neither staff nor horses. Of course, Kosehira was a very wealthy man and closely related to the ruling Fujiwaras. It made it all the more surprising and endearing that he was a man without the slightest touch of arrogance, a simple, cheerful, friendly soul, and a very loyal friend.

The Omi provincial headquarters, unlike those in Chikuzen, once again impressed by their size and the large number of soldiers , officials, and clerks who occupied them. Greeted by salutes and fine displays of cavalry and infantry, they rode to the main hall and dismounted.

To Akitada’s surprise, Tora was already there and waiting for him.

“Did you see the guard, sir?” he asked Akitada, after having saluted Kosehira in the military fashion his new rank inspired. “That’s what I call a guard. It made me wish we’d had more time in Chikuzen. I could have whipped that ragtaggle bunch of peasants into great shape.”

Akitada said drily, “If you may recall, we barely made it out alive. I doubt if they would have taken kindly to your methods.”

Tora grinned. “Only a matter of time and the right methods. I’d like to look around here, if you don’t need me.”

Akitada glanced at Kosehira. “What are the plans?”

“I’m told Enryaku-ji is sending a delegation to bid you welcome. Meanwhile you may want to see if your people have everything they need. Let me know if I can send you some of my staff.”

Akitada controlled his irritation with Enryaku-ji. “Thank you, brother. Tora, you may look around, as you call it.”

He found that Kunyoshi, for all his advanced age and poor memory had a talent for organization. When he was shown to the large hall that contained the tribunal archives and now also Akitada’s staff and documents brought to Otsu from the imperial archives, he saw that desks had been set up for all the clerks and that each had a particular task. The senior officials in charge of the separate aspects of the case were gathered on the dais, where they would put their heads together to discuss the various problems. These gentlemen were Kono from the Bureau of Buddhism, Aikawa from the Bureau of Taxation, Kanazawa from the Censors Office, and Shiyoda, a recorder for the Council of State. Shiyoda outranked the others, but even he was one step below Akitada in rank. Akitada was to supervise all of these men, and his clerk from the Ministry of Justice was to supervise all of the other clerks. It was a good arrangement, provided all of these people got along and none showed undue favoritism toward either temple. Akitada could have wished none showed any favoritism toward the Buddhist faith and instead put their minds to preserving public lands that would pay taxes. Anything owned by a temple was tax exempt, and therein lay a problem.

He gathered the papers pertaining to the claims made by Enryaku-ji and carried them to an empty desk. There he rubbed some ink and then began to read, making notes in his tidy script. There was no need for him to do this. His clerk could as easily have done it, but Akitada wanted at least a working knowledge of what the situation was. Having finished with the documents, he returned them to his clerk and collected documentation pertaining to the disputed properties from the local files. The more he studied these papers, the more he became convinced that both temples had rashly and illegally appropriated land belonging to tax-paying individuals. How they had got away with it was not clear. He decided to ask Kosehira when a servant arrived to tell him that a deputation from Enryaku-ji awaited him in the reception hall.

Akitada sighed and made his way there.

Three monks awaited him. All seemed to belong to the upper ranks of the order and wore black robes and silk stoles made of colorful patches. They had sandals on their feet and their heads were shaven. Two appeared to be middle-aged and one elderly.

When he came into the room, they rose to their feet but did not bow. Instead they placed their hands together and inclined their heads slightly.

One of the middle-aged monks took a step forward. “I think you are Lord Sugawara?”

Akitada nodded.

“My name is Kanshin. I’m the prior of Enryaku-ji. With me are Josho, our Venerable Teacher, and Seisan, Master of the Law. We have come on behalf of our superior, Abbot Gyomei, to bid you welcome. It is our hope that you will visit Enryaku-ji as our guest.”

Akitada smiled. “That is very good of you and Reverence Gyomei. I shall give myself the pleasure at my earliest convenience.”

It was a very short speech, given an invitation by so illustrious a figure of the faith as the head of Enryaku-ji, and he could see that they were displeased.

“May we trouble you for a small amount of your time?” Kanshin asked. “We have come a long way.”

Not so very long, since Enryaku-ji hovered on the mountainside above Otsu, but given the terrain and their elevated status, perhaps it must have seemed so. In any case, Akitada gestured to the dais, where a few cushions awaited important visitors.

They settled themselves, the oldest with several small groans. Akitada asked, “May I send for refreshments?”

“Very kind,” nodded Kanshin. “The way was hard and we’re no longer young.”

Akitada rose again, went to a door and clapped his hands. A servant appeared with commendable speed and was sent for fruit juice and snacks.

Akitada returned to his place and looked expectant.

But Kanshin waited also.

The servant returned with juice and trays of nuts, rice crackers, and dried fruit. The monks sipped sparingly and ignored the food.

When Akitada had said nothing for a longish spell, Kanshin sighed. “We have been told that His Majesty has sent you and various experts to look into the outrageous claims made by Onjo-ji monks. It is our hope that the strongest steps will be taken against them. They have threatened our people, and in several instances they have driven them off our land and put their own peasants in their place.”

Akitada smiled. “I’m aware of certain claims by both temples against each other. Rest assured that we will use due diligence in clearing up contested land claims.”

Silence fell again as they looked at each other. Their faces became more glum. Kanshin said, “There can be no doubt for whose side the decision will fall. We have uncontestable documentation. Our rights have been confirmed by several emperors.”

“No doubt,” said Akitada, still smiling. “But you see, Onjo-ji seems to be equally well prepared to argue their case. I’m very much afraid you’ll have to be patient while we weigh the various claims. It shouldn’t take too long. And then perhaps I can give myself the pleasure to visit your magnificent temple.” He emptied his cup of juice and waited.