He smiled a rueful smile. “As do I in principle, but in practice I cannot afford to be away from the Palace now. Besides, I likely would be forced to quarter with Princess Ai in the Sanjo mansion, so I believe I must decline.”
I almost laughed, but then I thought of the grim duty before me, and the impulse faded. “Very well. I would ask that you guard the doors, but I see you’ve already arranged for it.”
Kanemore grunted. “I don’t expect Kei’s nearest family to arrive before tomorrow, but it’s best to be cautious. We shall have ample warning of any early arrivals.”
Quite sensibly so. The last thing either Kanemore or I needed was for the girl’s father or uncles to arrive and find a stranger taking such liberties with the remains of their child.
It was clear why Prince Kanemore had interrupted the funeral rites so that he and I were alone in the hall with the body of the dead girl. What was less clear was what he expected me to find that the priests and the current Imperial Minister of Justice, Lord Sentaro’s replacement, had apparently missed. Still, there was no point in delaying the matter, and plenty of reason not to do so. I reluctantly approached the bier.
One wished to keep one’s detachment at such times, but it was difficult. With her face painted white and her eyebrows drawn black, Taira no Kei looked like a little girl napping after a long day of playing grown-up. While it was true that life was uncertain and transient, there was something about looking at the dead body of a girl who could not have been older than twelve that tipped my balance of right and wrong. Whether a kami of disease was responsible or something more sinister, Taira no Kei’s death was simply wrong, and nothing Kanemore or I could do would set it right again. One was left only with questions such as “how?” and, perhaps more to the point, “why”? Answering the first might lead one well along the path to the second. I leaned close.
Fortunately there was no need to disturb the girl’s clothing. When Kanemore said the body had been thoroughly examined, I had no good reason to doubt his judgment in that regard. That fact spared me some awkwardness but did not leave me much to go on. The bluish pallor was easy enough to spot, once I rubbed off a bit of the white makeup near her jaw line. The marks on her neck were very clear to see, even through the makeup. I examined them closely, then carefully ran my fingers over the girl’s throat.
Curious . . .
I then combed my fingers through the dead girl’s hair as close to the scalp as I could manage, and then down to the nape of her neck. There was some slight swelling at the back of her head, but nothing to indicate a fatal blow.
No matter how lifelike the body appeared, there was no way to mistake the lack of warmth and the stiffness of the corpse for other than what it was—a shell whose spirit had fled. There was nothing left now, save the mortal flesh soon to be burnt on the slopes of Mount Toribe.
Prince Kanemore had thoughtfully supplied a basin of water and I washed my hands. It wouldn’t remove the ritual impurity, but it made me feel better. I dried myself on the cloth also provided and left the bier.
“I know you have already made your own inquiries, so let me ask you: given Kei’s age, may I assume there were yet no spurned lovers? What about personal rivalries or jealousy among the attendants themselves?”
“Kei was a beautiful young girl, so neither is impossible,” Kanemore admitted, “but extremely unlikely; she was too young for such things, even by the standards of the Court. I uncovered one or two flirtations, but nothing more serious. Also, she seems to have been well regarded, even by Princess Ai . . . though with Her Highness that is a relative term. Why do you ask?”
“Before I say anything else, Prince Kanemore, there is something else I need to ask: what made you believe the girl was murdered?”
He sighed. “Only my eyes and my instincts, Lord Yamada. I have seen too many deaths by violence to mistake them for anything else. Whatever killed Taira no Kei, I believe she fought it, and lost.”
“There are many disease kami that will choke off a person’s wind and make them turn blue as they die.”
Kanemore looked grim. “You do not see her now as I saw her then, Lord Yamada. I know I am right.”
I did not argue, as I shared his opinion completely. “Yes, Prince Kanemore. I believe you are.”
“Then how was it done?”
“She strangled herself.”
Kanemore scowled at me. “But that’s impossible. And even if she did manage it, that would be . . . ”
“Suicide? No, and for the reason you just pointed out: strangling yourself with your own two hands simply cannot be done. You can hang yourself, certainly, or twist a cord around your own neck and secure the ends if you’re very determined, but anyone who simply tried to strangle themselves would lose consciousness and relax their grip well before death claimed them, no matter how sincere the attempt. They would wake up with a headache, but little the worse otherwise. No, the only way this could work was if the girl was compelled by a will other than her own. Again, as you pointed out, the marks on her neck were made with her own two hands. Now, certainly the instinct may be to put one’s hands to one’s throat if one were choking, but would you then attempt to crush your own windpipe? I think not.”
“But . . . then how was this done? Sorcery?”
That was a very good question, which, at the moment, I could not answer. “I do not know, and I readily acknowledge the entire notion is rather far-fetched. Yet, like you, I am certain I am right.”
I couldn’t tell if Prince Kanemore felt either relief or justification, because his face showed neither. Rather, he was clearly worried, and that made me worry too.
“Prince Kanemore, if it’s not impolite to ask, what is your interest in this girl?”
“As I told Master Kintei, I know her family and the Emperor has requested that I be acting Captain of the Palace Guard while I am in the capital. Since I must remain at Court for the time being, I have chosen to make myself useful.”
“That is a reason,” I said, “and certainly understandable, but it’s not your real concern, is it? Nor is that the reason you remain at Court despite your avowed intent to renounce your title and start a new family clan.”
He met my gaze squarely. “Whatever killed Taira no Kei could easily kill others. The reason I choose to remain where I am is due to unfinished business, Lord Yamada. I think you know of what I speak.”
I did: Takahito. For his sister’s sake, Kanemore would not allow himself to be separated from his nephew until the young man was crowned emperor just as Princess Teiko had wished. Despite his sympathy for the unfortunate girl’s family, Kanemore’s real concern was for Teiko’s son. That was my concern as well.
“Then I must remember that you remain Prince Kanemore, and not simply my friend, Kanemore-sama.”
“For the moment,” Kanemore sounded reluctant but then continued, “then there is the matter of Lord Sentaro, now the chief priest at Enryaku-ji on Mount Hiei.”
“Yes, I assumed you had already heard about that. Something I fear even Princess Teiko did not foresee.”
“Perhaps, but she certainly knew the matter did not end with her,” Kanemore said dryly. “You never asked the contents of my sister’s letter to me.”
I frowned. “That is so. I will ask now, if you will share the information.”
He smiled. “It only said, in essence, to be wary of the Fujiwara, that the danger was not past. I did not understand what she meant at the time, but now I think I do. I wonder if the danger will ever be past. I should have killed Lord Sentaro when I had the chance.”
I sighed. “You never had the chance, Highness. We both know the Emperor would not sanction such a duel. You’d have been treated worse than a common murderer; the Fujiwara would have seen to that.”
He scowled. “At least Takahito would be safe.”
“Oh? And is Lord Sentaro the only Fujiwara who does not wish to see Takahito on the throne? Are you so certain that Lord Sentaro—or whatever priest name he’s conv
eniently adopted—is behind this?”
I saw a little of the fire go out of Kanemore’s eyes. “No, I am not. I only know that there is now apparently an assassin who can evade guards and strike within a crowd of people without being detected. This,” he said with characteristic understatement, “is a problem. Yet if Takahito were the real target, why is he alive and this poor girl now lying here in his place? I have justly suspected Lord Sentaro of many things, but incompetence is not among them. That Princess Teiko fooled him does not change that; she fooled us as well. The matter of this unfortunate girl makes no sense to me.”
“Nor to me. And, frankly, I find this situation as disturbing as you do.”
Kanemore looked at me. “Lord Yamada, I need to understand what happened here and who is behind it, before the assassin moves again and against a target even less to either of our liking.”
“You have my aid, for whatever I can do, Highness. You know this.”
After Teiko’s death I, no less than Kanemore, was honor-bound to see this matter through. Even so, I reluctantly accepted payment from Prince Kanemore for three reasons. The first was that I certainly could not explain why I should not. The second was that I could now placate the Widow Tamahara and thus not have to worry about being cast out into the streets of the capital before I unraveled the knot of Taira no Kei’s death—assuming that there was an answer within my poor reach, and I was determined to find out. The third reason was that now I would have the means to buy a little information.
Even so, it was too late in the evening and I was far too weary to attempt a visit to Seita’s bridge now. I asked Kanemore to gather some information for me from the Imperial Compound and specifically Princess Ai’s quarters. We arranged to meet the following afternoon, and I then allowed the young Taira bushi to escort me back to my rooms. I must have pulled my bedding out at some point, but in truth I have no memory of doing so before I fell asleep.
That night I dreamed of Taira no Kei. Her ghost kept trying to serve me tea. She was gentle but very persistent. I tried to explain to her that she was dead, and that whatever she meant to bring to me no longer belonged in this world. I remember being very insistent on this point. She looked unhappy but did not relent. I must have tea, if not now, then later. It was very important. Since I had been of no help to the girl while she lived, I did not want to refuse her, even though I knew I should.
“If I take tea later, will that be all right?”
She looked at me very seriously then, and the image burned itself into my memory: her painted white face, white funeral robes, and glittering black eyes. “You must take tea with oneesama. Please be kind.”
“Your older sister? Why? Who is she?”
“She is in pain. Please be kind,” the ghost repeated, and then Taira no Kei faded with the rest of the dream, leaving one more question of the day unanswered.
The next morning dawned bright and much too early. While I recognized the possibility that I had been visited by Taira no Kei’s ghost in the night, I knew it was equally likely that the girl’s appearance was no more than the jumble of the day’s events working their way through my exhausted brain. There was no way to tell which, so I did not bother putting either possibility to the scale.
That was the problem with dreams—when it came to seeking a basis for future plans, or the keys to a mystery, dreams were simply not dependable. It was possible I had learned something very important during the night, even if I didn’t understand what it might be. Yet knowing this, what could I do? Other than, perhaps, finding out if Taira no Kei did indeed have an older sister and attempt to have tea with this person. None of it made any sense.
Rather than dwelling on the dream, I made myself busy, first by settling accounts with the Widow Tamahara, then by locating the house where my unknown correspondent had asked for a meeting.
There was a once-fine house near the northern edge of the city. It was where my directions indicated, but the house was not in use and had not been so in a long time; that much was evident at first glance. The gate to the compound wall was askew, there were bushes and wild grass throughout the garden, the screens were in disrepair, the pond was choked with weeds. I stood some distance away, satisfying myself of these facts, when a very odd thing happened: a large group of workmen arrived and began repairs on the gate while I watched. In almost no time at all they had the gate set to rights and had begun work inside. I accosted the man who appeared to be in charge as he came outside to direct the delivery of wood and supplies, and give several just-arrived carpenters their instructions.
“Can you tell me who lives here?” I asked.
The man gave me a small bow, clearly distracted. “Sir, no one lives here at the moment,” he said. “We were engaged to make repairs with a bonus for working quickly, and that is all I know.”
“Who hired you?”
“A lady. She did not give her name, but her gold was good.”
The man was busy and I did not keep him. I had already learned more than I expected. While I had seen it myself a few times, the exchange of gold was not a common thing, even among the nobility, where normal payment for goods or services was in rice or, at most, the old bronze Chinese coins that some used as trading tokens. Such rare payment as gold easily explained why the workmen were being so quick and diligent. I well remembered similar reactions before the last of Teiko’s gold had been squandered on drink. I idly wondered just how much these men would manage to do before the appointed hour, and was this for my benefit or no?
Curious.
Still, I had no time to loiter. I made my way back south to the Gion district and the Widow Tamahara’s establishment, where Prince Kanemore and I had agreed to meet. I sometimes wondered how the prince felt coming to such a place, but surely in his travels as a soldier of the Emperor he had known far worse. In truth, when I arrived to find Kanemore already established at a corner table, the man looked perfectly at ease, both with his less than refined surroundings and the matsu cup he was using to drink one of the Widow Tamahara’s finer grades of saké. I knew any concerns he might have were for far greater matters.
He nodded in my direction. “Lord Yamada.”
I bowed as I kneeled at the table. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“I used the time. Would you care for a drink?”
“I would care a great deal. Which is why, perhaps, I must decline.”
He sighed. “Thoughtless of me, I know. Still, it was an . . . interesting morning.” He drained his cup and set it aside. “I suppose we should eat something. Surely you will join me there?”
I smiled. “With enthusiasm.”
The Widow Tamahara personally brought out rice and tea, and grilled eel with miso and pickles. I don’t think I realized just how hungry my morning walk to the north of the city had made me. As for Kanemore, this was much simpler fare than he was accustomed to in the Imperial Compound but not beyond his experience during campaign. He attacked his portion as heartily as I did my own, and for a while neither Prince Kanemore nor I said anything; it was only when our bowls and cups were empty that we got to the matter at hand.
“I checked the ceiling, Lord Yamada. Nothing had been disturbed until I myself moved one of the boards. Frankly, if anyone had done so and attempted to lower himself from there, the dust would have had everyone awake and sneezing in unison long beforehand. What about some sort of winged creature?”
“Who would have needed to negotiate tight quarters and then hover like a hawk over the girl all the while.” I told Kanemore about the tengu that had tried to enter the city two days before, and the power of the downbeat of its wings. “Even assuming that such a creature had reached the girl and physically forced her to place her own hands about her neck, there is simply no way it could have done so without either it or the girl awakening anyone who was not themselves already dead.”
Kanemore looked morose. “I knew it was unlikely, but now we’re back where we started. What you and I both believe happened st
ill appears to be impossible.”
“It did happen,” I said with emphasis, “and so cannot be impossible. The question of ‘how’ does remain, I’m afraid.”
Kanemore sighed. “I must return to the Imperial Compound. I don’t dare remain away for long, especially now.”
“I assume Prince Takahito has taken over his mother’s quarters? He’s guarded, of course?”
“Of course. I have trusted men at every door and around the grounds. If I do any more, he’ll have more guards than the Emperor himself. Still, at least no conventional threat will get by them.”
“I have no answers for you as of yet. But rest assured that this is my purpose. What was the girl’s family told?”
“The current Minister of Justice, Lord Noruboshi, personally assured the girl’s father that she died in her sleep of some unknown ailment.”
“Did you tell the minister of your suspicions?”
“I told him at the very beginning of his alleged ‘investigation’, but he pronounced my suspicions impossible, and how could I argue otherwise? I’m actually rather fond of Lord Noruboshi. He has a good heart, for a Fujiwara, but at best he’s a genial idiot. He will not be of any help, I’m afraid.”
“I wasn’t counting on it. We’ll need to find our own sources of aid.”
“What about your ghost?”
I smiled. “Seita? He’s not ‘my’ ghost, Prince Kanemore, but you’ve seen how accurate his information can be. Yet I must emphasize that he is neither infallible nor omniscient, nor, let it be said, always reliable. But, yes, I was thinking along just those lines. I will send word when I learn anything, assuming I do.”
“I pray that it be so.”
There wasn’t anything else to be said. Kanemore departed for the Palace grounds, and I returned to my rooms to rest since I had no idea how long or how late the coming evening, for me, was to be. I tried to nap but sleep would not come, so I wound up lying on my back on a rather tatty cushion pondering over and again what had happened, judging the various elements, considering all aspects of the matter that my tired mind could hold. It was more frustrating than restful because all of my mental journeys, like a circular road, brought me back to the same understanding that had left Prince Kanemore and myself stranded earlier in the day: what had happened to Taira no Kei was simply not possible.
To Break the Demon Gate Page 7
