Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow (30 page)

“And then dumped by the funeral pyres? When he could have just as easily been thrown into one, and none the wiser? I think, perhaps, we should look into this.”

“It is a strange set of circumstances, and I admit I am curious,” Kenji said. “But is this really enough reason to give this our attention, especially now?”

“It has nothing to do with curiosity,” I said. “It has everything, rather, to do with Takamasa-san.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We already knew Takamasa was a gossip, yet when, in all the time we have been here, has he shared anything at all with us without being asked?”

“Not until now,” Kenji said, looking thoughtful.

“Precisely. And this is why we are going to the Mountain of Smoke—because it is clear to me Takamasa wants us to do so. I think it might prove informative to discover why.”

When we told Morofusa of our intention, he was not happy. “That would be a wonderful place for an ambush,” he said. “Very few witnesses, and hiding a large group of attackers in this area would not be difficult.”

“We are going,” I said, “Bring extra men if you wish.”

Morofusa did exactly that. When Kenji and I presented ourselves at the gates to my compound, there were no less than ten
bushi
waiting, the remaining six of my household guard plus four more apparently recruited from Lord Yoriyoshi’s retainers, not even counting Morofusa and Ujiyasu.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked.

“You are going to a place not of your choosing by the intention of another. Yes, my lord, I believe this is absolutely necessary.”

There was not much sense in arguing, since I had made the suggestion of extra men myself. Of course I understood Morofusa’s concerns—it was possible our being led to this particular area very well could have been the crux of an elaborate scheme to draw me into an ambush. I did not think so for several reasons, not least of which was that I had been moving around the city with a very light escort for days. I had given anyone who wished me harm more than one opportunity to act. I wasn’t sure what the meaning of Takamasa’s information was, but I was intrigued enough to want to find out. We set out and soon passed through the eastern gate of the city, past the many temples situated in this section of the Capital. We had been walking for less than half the morning when the breeze brought the first hint of our destination.

“Do you smell that?” Kenji asked.

“A funeral pyre. I am familiar with the scent, as I know you are.”

I was rather more familiar than I wished. In particular I remembered the massacre at Yahiko Temple during the war with the Abe clan. The funeral fires had burned for days. The scent was familiar if not quite as intense—something like singed feathers and overcooked meat. It was nauseating, so I wasn’t surprised when a few of Morofusa’s less experienced
bushi
turned a little green. To their credit, none of them fell out of line or even broke their stride. We kept moving. Our destination was one of the smaller temples near the eastern edge of the burning grounds, and I had no intention of remaining in the area any longer than necessary. Areas dedicated to funerals tended to attract not only
kami
of death but some of the darkest sort of monsters like
nikusui
,
kasya,
and worse, and we had more than enough to deal with as things stood. Fortunately all we encountered on the way was one pathetic
neko-mata
which we first mistook for a half-starved cat demon, it was so scraggly and thin. Despite our location, there were no dead bodies close enough for the thing to raise against us, and it scurried off as soon as Kenji tamped his staff against the ground. The jingling of the staff’s brass rings seemed to pain the creature.

“I really do not like those things,” Kenji said. “Using the dead like puppets.”

“They’re no worse than those among us who do the same thing to the living, and the dead feel no pain,” I said.

“I do not like those sort of people either,” Kenji said serenely. “The one does not change the other.”

We came across no one else,
youkai
or human, until we reached the base of a small mountain. There was a marked trail leading up to the temple, and we followed, once Morofusa had sent two
bushi
ahead of us to scout the area around the road and the temple grounds. I was not surprised they found nothing. I was more interested in what we were going to find within the temple. When we approached the main lecture hall, an old priest came out to greet us.

He bowed. “Lord Yamada? We were told to expect you.”

Now I
was
a little surprised. “May I ask who told you this?”

He frowned. “He did not give his name. We assumed you had sent him.”

Interesting.

“Could you describe this person to me?”

“Young . . . perhaps sixteen or so. He had the mark of a runner about him.”

“Did he say why we have come?” I asked.

The old man looked a little flustered. “We were told it concerned the body we had found.”

“Yes, that is it exactly. I would like to see what you found.”

“Of course. This way.”

Kenji and I exchanged glances, as I believe our minds had gone to the same place, but we both kept silent. We followed the old priest through a gate on the side of the lecture hall and out to an area where it was obvious funerals were conducted. It appeared two were in process, or rather the cremation portion of the rites. It was likely a breeze blowing across the mountainside took the scent away as we approached, so none of us had noticed it.

The body had been placed in a long, woven basket in preparation for burning. The old priest opened it and removed the white cloth covering the face. The man had been dead for no more than three days, by my estimation, and so the features were easily recognizable.

“Moritomo,” I said.

“You knew this person?” the old man asked.

“We were not close,” I said, “but yes, I knew him. How was he found?”

“One of our lay-brothers came across the body beside the path leading to our temple. He had been laid out respectfully, even covered with the cloth you see here. All he was carrying was a small packet containing a few coins. The letter said these were for the funeral expenses.”

“May we see the letter?” Kenji asked before I could say anything.

“Of course. I assumed you would wish to do so.”

He produced a scrap of paper from a fold in his robe. Kenji and I both looked it over. The script was crude, barely readable.

“Not familiar to me at all,” Kenji said, “and likely deliberately obscured.”

“The fee covered only the cost of the funeral rite, as I understand it,” I said to the priest. “In addition, I would like to donate the cost of prayers for Moritomo-san’s soul. I will send a messenger later today to bring payment. We will discuss the specifics before we leave.”

“That is very kind of you, Yamada-sama,” the priest said.

Kenji looked at me, but I shook my head. This was not the time to discuss my motives. I had a brief tour of the grounds before I met with the priest again and discussed price and one other thing. When all was arranged, we left the temple, and to Morofusa’s relief, soon arrived safely back at my compound. I quickly arranged for Hiroshi to carry the payment to the temple as I had promised.

Kenji watched Hiroshi depart. “Moritomo was part of a plot to assassinate Princess Tagako. Why on earth would you offer prayers for his soul?”

“In order to discover if I am right about what may be a very important matter.”

“Does this concern the fact someone very specifically wanted us to know Moritomo was dead?”

I smiled. “Of course it does, and likely a great deal besides. Consider—how many couriers are there within the Capital?”

Kenji shrugged. “Thousands.”

“Exactly. Now, how many are associated with my household within the city?”

I could see the light of understanding dawning in Kenji’s eyes. “Only three. Do you suspect—”

“I suspect nothing. I am merely following my instincts.”

When Hiroshi returned to the compound just after dusk, he followed his instructions and presented himself before Kenji and me, who were having a cup of saké on the south veranda overlooking the garden.

“What have you brought me, Hiroshi-kun?”

He bowed and held out a sealed letter on his open palms. “The priest instructed me to give you this.”

I broke the seal and read the very brief message before showing it to Kenji.

“Well, well,” was all Kenji said. He looked at me to indicate he was following my lead.

“Hiroshi-kun, I have something to discuss with you.”

“Certainly, my lord. Have I displeased you in some way?” he asked. He seemed a bit nervous. I, to my discredit, vowed to use his unease to my advantage.

“Not at all. I am hoping you can help me clear up some confusion. Will you do that?”

“If it is within my power, my lord.”

“You ran an earlier errand to the temple on the edge of the funeral pyres, did you not?”

“I did, my lord, only yesterday. I bore a letter to the head priest, though of course I do not know what that letter contained.”

“That is of no consequence. Now, do you recall the time when I first arrived in the Capital? I did not know about my new estate within the city, but apparently my attendants did. While I thought this a little odd at the time, I paid it no heed, as I had other concerns. Yet now it occurs to me—when Lady Hoshiko lived in this place, she had a much smaller staff. I did not inherit her servants, did I?”

“My lord—” he began, but I held up my hand.

“I was not asking you who arranged the staffing of my home. I simply wanted you to confirm what I already know.”

Hiroshi bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lord Yamada.”

“Now then . . . if it is not a secret, will you please tell me who sent you to the temple yesterday?”

“Takamasa-san. I assumed it was on your behalf.”

“I had forgotten. Yes, that is exactly right, it was on my behalf. I do wish you keep our conversation to yourself. Can you do that? It is nothing Takamasa-san need concern himself about.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

I dismissed Hiroshi, and he was clearly grateful to leave. Kenji just stared after him.

“That was . . . interesting. We knew Takamasa wanted us to know about Moritomo’s death, so I suppose we should not be surprised it was he who contacted the priest to make sure the body was not cremated before our arrival. Yet how did you know Hiroshi was the messenger from the priest’s description? I mean, it is accurate, but accurate for every male youth of sixteen in the Capital.”

“I did not know, but I did know, if he were, the priest at the funerary temple would recognize him if I sent him there on some pretext or other,” I said.

“Ah. That is what the prayers were really for. An expensive pretext, if I may say.”

I shrugged. “Moritomo will get the prayers. It was not his fault his masters were so unwise. He is of no consequence, as we already knew he was not the
onmyōji
attacking Princess Tagako this time.”

“Then who is?”

“I have set an inquiry in motion, and hope to have an answer to this question soon. Perhaps it is simply some other dog on a tether, and the more important question is who holds the tether. I am afraid we’ll both have to wait to find the answer to that.”

Kenji frowned. “About your servants . . . what do you make of this?”

I shrugged. “I wanted to know why Takamasa sent us to the funerary temple, and now I know—he wanted us to know that Moritomo was dead. Yet why would he know who Moritomo was or his relation to us? I assumed Takamasa was a gossip but no more than that. It appears I was in error. If someone wanted to know my every move within the Capital, how better to arrange it than controlling my servants?”

“You are now saying Takamasa isn’t merely a gossip, but an actual spy for our enemy?”

“He is a spy for someone, and likely not the only one. I think we should consider Hiroshi in the same camp. It is unlikely they all are, certainly. That would not be necessary. A secret is easier to keep the fewer who know it. So. If someone wanted either or both of us dead, it would have been very easy to arrange with our whereabouts known at all times. We both yet live, so the question remains—why?”

Kenji considered. “I would guess . . . because the persons responsible either have no desire to harm us or because we are doing something they very much wish us to do.”

“That is my assumption as well. Which shows me a direction, if not a name.”

“You say Moritomo is—was—of no consequence, but would it not be helpful if we knew who ordered Moritomo’s death and why?”

“I think we already know. First, he was in the custody of the Fujiwara. Whatever official statement will be made—if one is even required—it would be easy enough to explain his death as a suicide or some other misadventure. He died in Fujiwara custody, so it was the Fujiwara who wanted him killed. It is safe to assume they arranged it, as they would certainly not have allowed another to do so unless it suited their purpose. That answers ‘who.’
‘Why’
I think is a much more interesting question. The only conclusion I can draw is someone among the Fujiwara may have thought Moritomo was still under suspicion for these new assassination attempts on the princess. Murder was one sure way to remove him from consideration.”

Kenji scowled. “Why would the Fujiwara care one way or another if we suspected their involvement? They had to assume we would, with or without Moritomo.”

“Indeed—
if
the Fujiwara were united and spoke and acted as one. This is no longer the case, witness the example of Fujiwara no Yorinobu acting in defiance of his brothers without serious consequences, apparently because those very same brothers are too much at odds with each other to take action. Suppose it was one faction whose leader had called for Tagako’s murder, and the other opposed it? Why would the second faction not take it on themselves to remove Moritomo as a potential tool of the other, and make certain the emperor’s faction—which, make no mistake, we serve—knew of it?”