Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (21 page)

“I must be away before dawn,” I said.

“Of course. I will see to it,” Lady Snow said, and she slowly got to her feet, not looking at me. I followed the elegant Lady Snow to her own chamber, wondering all the while if the face she kept turned from me showed pleasure or disappointment, something else, or anything at all; it was not the last time I wondered, through the dark of that night. All I could do was wonder since, as in so many things, I could never know for certain.

Lady Snow had one peculiarity, if one could call it that—she was very careful with her hair, meticulous to keep it out of her way or out of my hands. She was careful of nothing else, either of herself or of me, and for a while all my wondering ceased.

The false glow before dawn came all too early, but Lady Snow was as good as her word, and I was ready and waiting at the Demon Gate when Prince Kanemore’s delegation arrived. It consisted of four
bushi
wearing Taira colors, and two nuns ably handling an oxcart where, I presumed, the offering to Enryaku-ji was stored.

“Walk with me, Lord Yamada.”

“As His Highness wishes.”

I bowed formally to Kanemore and fell into step beside him as we left the city on the road to the temple. The escort
bushi
were keeping a respectful distance, and I kept my voice soft.

“I left my sword behind as you requested, but you do realize I have a dagger up my sleeve?”

Kanemore grunted. “Certainly, but if you let anyone else see it, I’ll chase you back to the city myself. Understood?”

“Completely.”

“Besides,” he said, “it’s really not necessary. You will see.”

I almost grinned. “I look forward to it.”

Kanemore glanced at me. “Are you well?”

“I feel very well, and thank you for asking. Though I’m curious as to why you felt the need.”

Kanemore frowned. “You just seem to be in a rather good humor, for you. No offense intended.”

I almost smiled then, remembering the reason for that good humor. Then I remembered some of the matters that needed addressing on this trip and lost most of the good feeling in an instant. I just shrugged.

“No reason. It is a beautiful day, is it not?”

It was. The sky was clear blue with snow-white clouds, without even a hint of rain or darkness. Probably one of the few such days that remained before the haze and smoke of summer asserted itself around the city. I just hoped this haze would not be overly enhanced by the funeral fires of Mount Toribe. Yet the city and its ghosts had been quiet since the night the weaver’s wife had been taken.

I did not want to ask the questions I needed to ask, but there would not likely be a better time.

“Prince Kanemore, I realize this is an unpleasant subject, but do you remember where my father was executed?”

He frowned. “Near the barrier at Chiba, I believe.”

“Yet wasn’t he taken at Izawa?”

“Please recall I wasn’t actually present, but yes as I understand it he was. I believe there was another incursion near the barrier at Chiba that had to be dealt with before the formality . . . well, the sentencing of your unfortunate father.”

So that part of the letter Lady Snow had shown me was accurate. So far everything that could be verified had been verified. Again, not proof, but there could not have been very many people who knew these details. That left the question I dreaded even more.

“Prince Kanemore, forgive me for asking, but what is your rank in the current order of succession?”

Prince Kanemore broke stride but quickly recovered. At that point I was fairly sure I already had my answer.

“May I ask what prompted this question?” Kanemore asked. He sounded unsteady.

“I have heard a rumor that you have been placed next in line after Takahito. Even before Prince Norihira.”

“Palace gossip,” he said, and I smiled. One of the things I most respected about Prince Kanemore was he was a very bad liar.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

He looked unhappy but did not dissemble further. “Yes. Though how you found out is beyond me. Very few people are supposed to know this. Yourself, no offense intended, not included.”

“Who did know?”

“Well . . . His Majesty, of course, since this was his idea. Chancellor Yorimichi and the former Minister of Justice.”

“Lord Sentaro? Why was he told rather than the Minister of the Right? He outranks Lord Sentaro.”

Kanemore looked grim. “It wasn’t his rank that awarded Lord Sentaro that dubious honor. His Majesty wanted to make very sure Lord Sentaro knew, after that . . . business, of my late sister.”

“In other words he wanted it clear that, if something ‘unforseen’ were to happen to Takahito, then Norihira would not ascend?”

“His Majesty was even more blunt: if Prince Takahito should be assassinated, then none of the Fujiwara heirs would ascend, including Norihira.”

“What if Takahito, the gods forbid, should die of disease or something other than poison or obvious physical violence?”

“Then the throne goes to Norihira. And yes, as I’m sure you were about to point out, if I
wanted
the throne, the easiest way to take it would be to have my own nephew murdered. And since I do
not
want the throne, any failure to protect my nephew becomes a double blow, because of course I would be suspected. The irony of this situation has not escaped me.”

I frowned. “You can be sure I will not speak of this and let any other such rumors lie where they fall. I do think the Emperor was wise to take this course, though I understand his decision has placed you in an uncomfortable position.”

“To say the very least, Lord Yamada. It is only part of what I must endure to carry out my sister’s wishes.”

Neither of us said anything for a time. I did not know Kanemore’s thoughts, but mine were racing off in a hundred directions at once. One thing and perhaps one thing only was clear enough—Lady Snow’s information had been accurate about the order of succession. Incomplete, certainly, but accurate. Perhaps her information was accurate in other regards as well.

If I had correctly interpreted my father’s hints and instructions, Lord Sentaro’s letter and its contents were meant to be secret and had remained so for seventeen years. Whatever the nature of the letter might be, how could Lady Snow have even known of the letter’s existence if she had not seen it as she claimed?

I still did not fully trust Lady Snow, and yet I realized I wanted to. As much as I had argued with her, and with Kenji and with myself, and for all that I knew was possible and not possible, I wanted what she told me to be the truth. I wanted there to be a possibility of proof, a chance to restore my family’s honor; for my own sake and that of my foolish father.

Even for, perhaps one day, a household of my own?

It was not wrong to want those things, I knew. Just foolish. And very, very dangerous.

Our progress was slow, and Mount Hiei did not appear any closer by the time our group stopped for the midday meal. Lady Snow had thoughtfully prepared food for me and packed it in a black lacquer box, and I ate with Prince Kanemore.

I looked up once to find him regarding the box with some curiosity.

“That meal was prepared by a woman, and I do not think that woman was Mistress Tamahara.”

“I never claimed to be a monk, Highness.”

Kanemore grunted. “You never had to. Honestly, I’ve known monks who have lived less celibate lives. I confess I’ve been curious about that.”

This was an area I definitely did
not
want Prince Kanemore to be curious about. As for the existence of Lady Snow, she might be just the distraction I needed, and yet I did not want to tell him about her. At least, not yet. Not until I knew more than I did at present.

“We all live as makes sense to us.” It was a weak response, I knew, and invited a stronger one.

“I know you were in love with my sister, Lord Yamada. I’m not so thick as all that.”

It appeared I wasn’t to escape so easily. “I suppose my feelings were fairly obvious, which helped speed my hasty transition from minor Court official to nobleman’s proxy. It was a foolish infatuation on my part, Prince Kanemore. Your sister did not share it.”

Kanemore smiled a faint smile. “I think perhaps it fairer to say she did not share your priorities. Or mine, for that matter. Still, I’m glad you’ve found someone, even if only for the moment,” Kanemore said. “Whatever her true feelings, I do not think Teiko would wish you to grieve your life away.”

Perhaps Kanemore was right about that. Perhaps “grieving my life away” was exactly what I had been doing. If so, the process started long before Princess Teiko jumped off the mountain into Lake Biwa. I had no idea when or if that grieving would end except when I ended.

“I will try to keep that in mind.”

“Good. Then we need not speak of it again.”

I hoped we did not. Some demons were to be uncovered and destroyed. Other demons were best left to slumber undisturbed. I judged the matter of my relationship with Princess Teiko to be of the latter category.

We reached the rugged slopes of Mount Hiei by nightfall and took lodging in some of the temple buildings maintained for that purpose, near the base of the roadway. The nuns shared one small outbuilding, the Taira another, and Prince Kanemore and I a third.

The barrier to the temple was manned by the same warrior monks whose brothers now patrolled the streets of the city. There was quite a military disposition to the forces around the mountain and its temple complex; however, I knew this situation was not lost on Prince Kanemore and so did not bother to mention the obvious.

The next morning our little procession re-formed and made its way past the barrier, and up the narrow mountain road to the main temple complex. The way was steep but not overly difficult; it was pleasant to make our way up the mountain. In addition to the pines of winter, all trees were now showing green. While the morning sun was still gathering strength, the shade from the maples and pines kept the worst of the heat at bay. As we gained height, the number of maples shrank and the pines increased; the air was fragrant. If I didn’t know what awaited us at Enryaku-ji I’d have considered this journey no more than a diverting excursion. But I did know, and I did not let down my guard for one moment.

As we came into full sight of the mountain temple, I began to fully appreciate the power and wealth of Enryaku-ji. It had been the first of the new temples founded at what was then called Heian-kyo that was allowed to create its own path to ordination, thus making a clean break from the power of the monks at the former capital of Nara. Now, generations later, the circle had completed itself. While most of the men trained at Enryaku-ji remained there, many also came to the city to work as officials in the Imperial administration, and the temple’s power had been growing for some time now.

To call Enryaku-ji a temple was at once accurate and misleading. In fact, it was now the center of a large administrative complex with meditation gardens, audience and instruction halls, barracks, kitchens, forge, guest housing, and training grounds. It was almost a small state unto itself, with its own concerns, its own army, and its own ruler, Lord Sentaro, former Deputy Minister of the Right and Minister of Justice, now the monk called Master Dai-wu.

While the gate to the main approach now stood open, it could just as easily be closed and defended, and any force moving against it would have a rough task getting past the gate if those on the inside did not wish them to do so.

The monks of Enryaku-ji’s private army were nowhere in evidence as we arrived. Several apprentice monks had been sent to see to our housing and to take possession of the silk; the actual formal presentation was set for the next morning in the main hall. We were fed a meatless meal as was the custom there and then left to our own devices for the remainder of the evening; or at least I so presumed.

I had some vague notions of wandering about the grounds but realized that, at least to all appearances, Enryaku-ji was not hiding anything. Both its power and presumed peace were in plain sight. I would not penetrate that particular mystery by wandering around and poking my nose into areas which, one assumed, did not concern me.

I had found a quiet spot in one of the meditation gardens when Prince Kanemore approached. I started to rise, but he merely squatted down next to me.

“I have yet to see a garden you could pass by,” Kanemore said. “And this is a particularly fine one.”

“I assume that’s how you found me?”

“I had a good idea,” Kanemore said cheerfully. “But in truth the groundskeeper told me the way you had gone. He seemed pleased that you appreciate his handiwork.”

“It is a fine garden,” I said. “Sometimes one can see the advantages of becoming a monk.”

“You mean other than the chance of Enlightenment?”

“I’m not convinced such a thing is necessarily to be found at such a place as this.”

Kanemore grunted. “There are monks who earnestly seek the Way, and there are monks who use the path as means to more prosaic ends. Sometimes it’s hard for even the wise to tell the difference. I’m content with my path as it is. For now. Well then, it’s getting late. Let’s be off.”

I blinked. “Off to where, Highness?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? We’ve been granted a private audience with Master Dai-wu.”

“This is your doing, yes?”

He grunted. “I said you needed to know what I know, to see what I have seen,” Kanemore said. “If you want to catch a deer, first you have to make sure that you’re hunting on the right side of the mountain. This may prove important for both our sakes and for the future of Teiko’s son. You need to see him.”

“I agree, and while I have not yet changed my mind, I am perfectly willing to be convinced. Please lead on.”

That was a lie of sorts. I was not “perfectly” willing, or willing at all. I rather expected I would have to be dragged bodily to any such extreme conclusions concerning Lord Sentaro’s character and motives. But I did wish to see “Master Dai-wu” for myself, so at least I might at last understand what cloud of confusion had been spun around Prince Kanemore. It was only my knowledge of Kanemore, and my understanding of the depths of the loathing that Kanemore had for Lord Sentaro that allowed me to even ask the question. The best I could hope for was that I might find a way to turn Prince Kanemore from his error.