The Ennin Mysteries: Collected Series 1 – 5 (25 Stories) MEGAPACK

by Ben Stevens

  I felt some of his nervousness. This was indeed a lonely pathway, and with the mysterious death of Oyama still fresh in my mind…

  ‘There are now three of us, at least,’ declared my master simply. ‘Shall we proceed?’

  We walked for a while – but then the rain began to fall again, thick and heavy. We were all wearing cloaks and wide-brimmed hats lined with straw, at least, but still we sought shelter beneath a tree with wide, spreading branches.

  Yes, it was raining. And so the desire to again hear that remarkable instrument grew within me. As though in answer to my mental request, Kawasaki produced that multi-stringed instrument. He put it on its low stand, which was also carried within the case. The rain fell upon the strings, which immediately sounded with that multitude of shimmering sounds.

  I fell into a trance… A state of profound meditation even deeper than the one I’d entered back at the temple… I now saw clearly the faces of my dead wife and child; so clearly that I could have reached out and touched them. Tears coursed from my eyes but they were smiling, happy there in the afterlife. Waiting for me. Here in this world the rain beat down and we have only to wait for death to come and release us from all earthly cares and concerns. Each day we live is only by chance and once we concede that the existence of the mightiest mortal is of no more weight than the life of an ant then the happier we will be. I had survived the fever that had claimed the life of my beloved family by the merest chance. I had survived a multitude of adventures alongside my master by the merest chance. I may die at any time and when I do so it will be gladly, accepting my transference from this world into the next –

  …I was suddenly jolted from such a deep state – literally jolted, as two bodies crashed into me. My master and the musician Kawasaki, fighting. Quickly my master overpowered Kawasaki, and with his arms wrapped in a chokehold around the musician’s neck proceeded to stamp that delicate stringed instrument to pieces.

  For this, I could have struck him. I shook my head, feeling as groggy as a man rudely awakened from a deep sleep.

  ‘More strings on the instrument this time, eh?’ said my master to Kawasaki. ‘An instrument expressly designed to send the listener into a state of near-rapture, so that they become completely unaware of their surroundings. What we had before at the temple was merely a taster; you added more strings as you waited for us to come, as you knew we would. The sound from the strings reverberating, creating an endless echo within the mind… Such was how you effectively paralyzed Oyama, allowing you to insert one of your assassin’s chopsticks deep inside that man’s ear, into his brain… A mortal wound that would leave no trace upon the outside…’

  ‘But no effect upon you, eh, Ennin?’ snarled the young man, his protruding eyes feverish. ‘So inhuman are you, it seems not even this instrument I spent years creating can touch you…’

  ‘I stuffed my ears with wax, as you put that accursed instrument out,’ declared my master. ‘I had only to see the effect upon my servant, to know that all my suspicions concerning you and the swordsman named Oyama were correct. And I was to be your next victim – along with my servant.’

  ‘There is a pretty reward for anyone who can destroy you, Ennin,’ confirmed Kawasaki. ‘But still, no one knows who will actually pay the sum.’

  ‘My enemies are many, and they are wealthy,’ said my master, his tone resigned.

  ‘Now let me go – and give me your servant’s dagger, so that I can pay for my failure,’ said the musician.

  My master released him, and as Kawasaki sank to his knees held out his hand. Wordlessly I passed him the small dagger I always carry, and he in turn handed this weapon to the musician.

  ‘See?’ said Kawasaki quietly, opening his kimono to expose a bare torso. ‘No trickery, Ennin.’

  This was in reference to one of the adventures my master and I had had, I realized. The one I’d entitled The Empress and the Monk. Kawasaki was about to commit seppuku to atone for his failure – he would slice open his own abdomen, and here in this forest bleed to death.

  ‘This isn’t necessary,’ said my master at once.

  Kawasaki gazed up at him, his expression almost startled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said this isn’t necessary. You could just hand the knife back, and be on your way.’

  ‘But… I tried to kill you. And I killed your friend, Oyama…’

  ‘Oyama was set on a path that would ultimately destroy him, anyway. He challenged men who he knew he could beat, but who still felt honor-bound to fight him. By an underhand method, you managed to take his life – but such a thing was always bound to happen.’

  The dagger looked set to plunge into Kawasaki’s belly. Quickly my master continued –

  ‘You are still young. You have set out on the wrong path, but there is time to turn back and repent. To devote the rest of your existence in this world to this remarkable ability you have for music. To bring peace and happiness in the hearts and minds of everyone you encounter, through this gift.’

  The musician began noiselessly to sob. Gently my master reached down and took the dagger from his hands.

  ‘Build yourself a new instrument, only this time create it only out of the desire to bring delight to everyone who hears it played. However it may be played, by the rain, wind – or by you.’

  With these words, my master set off, and I followed him. Through the rain which continued to fall, the path muddy, the trees hanging low with the weight of the water upon their abundant leaves.

  SERIES 5

  Attack of the 60-foot Buddha

  1

  The body of the workman lay sprawled where it had fallen. My master and I joined the crowd gathered around the dead man, who was lying face down at the base of the near-completed, sixty-foot statue of the Buddha that was encased by bamboo scaffolding.

  ‘Ennin-sensei,’ said one man, wearing a loincloth and headband. ‘I am Yamazaki, the foreman. This is the body of Takahashi, one of my workers. He was found here just a short while ago, when we arrived to begin work.’

  Indeed, the gathered crowd consisted mainly of the other craftsmen and laborers. Although it was still morning, already the sun was beginning to burn with a fierce heat. It formed a hazy yellow glow that was fast spreading outwards behind the sixty-foot, copper-plated statue of the Buddha.

  When my master said nothing, I glanced curiously at him. And his eyes had that curiously ‘fixed’ gaze I knew so well. I alone knew that he had realized something relating to the workman Takahashi’s seemingly accidental death – but what?

  ‘You mean to say that Takahashi came here on his own, at some point last night, and climbed the scaffolding covering this statue?’ questioned my master, adding –

  ‘And then, regrettably – fell?’

  Yamazaki the foreman stared back at my master with a gaze that seemed honest.

  ‘That is how it seems, Ennin-sensei,’ he replied with a helpless shrug. ‘Does it not to you?’

  My master ignored this last question, saying instead –

  ‘And exactly why, then, would Takahashi have chosen to do such a thing? In darkness; in secret?’

  For a moment Yamazaki’s eyes suddenly became furtive, and he glanced away, at those other laborers and workmen under his command.

  Then again staring openly back at my master, he said firmly –

  ‘It is hardly for me to have to try and answer such questions, Ennin-sensei. Really, I’ve no idea. Certainly there was absolutely no reason of which I can think for Takahashi to be climbing that scaffold after dark. The whole thing is a mystery…’

  ‘Except for the fact that a man now lies dead,’ said my master. ‘Come, Kukai. There is nothing else for us to hear or see here.’

  Thus bidden, I followed my master as he walked away. We returned to the small inn at which we staying, in this large town situated close to the border between two regions. This region overlooked the next one, being situated on slightly higher ground – one could see clearly the
huge, splendid wooden castle belonging to the daimyo of that region from above, with its many wide and sweeping, grey-tiled roofs, and courtyards within.

  Just two years previously, I knew, there had been a short war fought between these two regions. Although the daimyo of the next region, Ito, had won, he’d show remarkable charity to his vanquished enemy – that is, Tsukino, the daimyo of the region in which we were currently staying.

  Ito (a committed Buddhist) had declared that for Tsukino to truly show his contrition for having started the war between the two territories, he would have to construct a huge statue of the Buddha, built from copper covering a wooden frame.

  To this, Tsukino had consented with surprising alacrity. This was in spite of the cost of such a project, which would truly be exorbitant. Doubtless Tsukino was merely relieved that Ito had no intention of deposing of him as daimyo – so long as this sixty-foot statue of the Buddha, situated on the highest part of Tsukino’s region, so that it was visible for miles around, was constructed…

  Now, as we walked, I noticed my master shaking his head slightly.

  ‘You… You suspect something, master?’ I asked cautiously. ‘Maybe that foreman Yamazaki wasn’t telling us everything he knows? Maybe those other workmen, also, know something – some secret…?’

  My master looked at me with that slight trace of amusement which always managed to privately irritate me. It indicated perfectly that I’d failed to grasp some transparent clue – ‘transparent’, at least, to my master.

  ‘No,’ said my master. ‘I don’t believe they are keeping anything from me. They are only unwilling to state the obvious motive for Takahashi’s actions last night – and in doing so, to therefore speak ill of their now-deceased colleague.’

  ‘Master…?’

  ‘When one considers that it has often become the practice to place inside large, ceremonial statues of the Buddha such precious objects as silks, gold and jewelry – thereby symbolizing the internal organs of a living person – then I believe that the reason for Takahashi’s midnight scaling of the bamboo scaffolding is obvious.’

  ‘He was a thief, master… He intended to break inside the statue, and get some of these treasures…’

  ‘Exactly that, Kukai. And if he could scale to the very top of the statue, and enter inside the head of this great Buddha, then he’d perhaps find the richest treasure of all – for it is always inside the head of such a statue (the highest point, naturally) that this is placed.’

  ‘He must have been near the head, master, when he slipped and fell,’ I conjectured. ‘That is, he certainly fell from some height, to have obviously died instantly upon hitting the ground. From lower down, maybe, he might have sustained only some injuries – he could have called out for help...’

  This time, my master shook his head more firmly.

  ‘He fell from height, Kukai, but he did not slip. Moreover, notice how no one apparently heard him cry out at the very top of his voice – as you would certainly expect someone to do who was falling to their death.

  ‘No – this workman-turned-thief did not cry out because he was already unconscious as he fell. The tiny (yet still distinct) bruise I observed on the back of his neck – noticeable only to the trained eye – came from a blow delivered by an expert, striking with the heel of the hand exactly on a nerve which results in an immediate loss of consciousness.

  ‘So we can safely say that Takahashi was basically knocked out before being thrown to his death from the top of the statue or its surrounding scaffolding.

  ‘The question remains – why? Out of punishment for his apparent desire to steal some of the treasures contained within the giant statue? Or is there some other reason, perhaps…’

  With this, my master fell silent. I also did not speak. As always, I knew when it was appropriate to ask him questions; and when it was better just to remain quiet. Besides which, my brain was reeling from all this talk of an ‘expert strike’ delivered to Takahashi, before he’d been thrown to his death from some sixty feet up…

  ‘Come, Kukai,’ said my master suddenly. ‘I think it’s time we visited this daimyo named Tsukino, don’t you…?’

  2

  Tsukino could not have seemed happier to see us – or rather, I should say, my master. I had shared with my master a string of incredible adventures these past few years, and achieved some little fame as the author of some of these ‘cases’ – but my master was, of course, the man whom so many in Japan wanted to meet.

  ‘You truly honor my humble territory by coming here, Ennin-sensei,’ declared the short and curiously froglike daimyo. He had received us in what remained of his castle – for I gathered that most of this had been destroyed, burnt, in the war between Ito and he; and that with the staggering financial outlay required to construct that colossal statue nearby, he had absolutely no funds left to attempt to rebuild this most important monument to a daimyo’s prestige, wealth and power.

  ‘…But no matter, Ennin-sensei!’ declared the rather diminutive daimyo almost jovially. ‘I know now that I am being punished by Buddha for my previous greed and warlike nature; and that Buddha is in fact being truly generous and merciful to me by giving me this second chance, as displayed through this demand by my fellow daimyo, lord Ito, that I build the statue you have just seen.’

  It was exactly at this point that one of Tsukino’s samurai entered the room, before whispering something in the daimyo’s ear.

  With a suddenly pained expression, Tsukino waved the samurai away. He then looked searchingly at my master, saying –

  ‘I take it you know already of what… happened sometime last night, Ennin-sensei…’

  My master respectfully inclined his head.

  ‘I do, lord Tsukino,’ he returned.

  ‘And your thoughts concerning this matter?’ inquired the daimyo gravely.

  My master opened his mouth to speak, and then appeared to hesitate.

  ‘Please, Ennin-sensei,’ said Tsukino, almost beseechingly. ‘Having realized the folly of my previous, warlike nature, I thus made a vow to Buddha Himself that I would devote the rest of my existence to safeguarding all forms of life.

  ‘As such, I was scrupulous about having the safety of the scaffolding surrounding the Buddha statue checked – and ensuring that all the workmen were well-paid, and well looked after.

  ‘Until today, I couldn’t have been prouder of the fact that there had been not one fatality during the course of the construction of the Buddha statue. Just a few injuries, from which every man fully recovered and for which they were well-compensated…

  ‘And now this poor man lies dead, and his family must be…’

  At this the daimyo’s voice choked, as though he’d been overcome by sudden emotion.

  ‘My lord,’ said my master quietly. ‘I regret to say that it has become somewhat apparent that this man Takahashi was a thief, who climbed the scaffold sometime late last night with the intention of breaking inside the statue to steal some of the treasures within.’

  The daimyo sighed, and nodding his head sadly said –

  ‘Still I wish that Takahashi had merely been captured, so that he could have been made to see the error of his ways, and thus given the chance to repent and change his character – as I have been…!’

  Again, the daimyo seemed quite overcome by emotion. He paused for several moments, took a deep breath, and then continued more calmly –

  ‘Well, this is a dreadful shock; and just a few days before the ‘opening’ ceremony of this statue, as well…! You will, I hope, be here to attend this ceremony, Ennin-sensei…?’

  ‘Thank you, lord Ito,’ returned my master. ‘I would be delighted to. Until then, it will be a pleasure to rest and enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery of this area – if, that is, my servant here is able to behave himself a little better than he has recently!’

  My master said these last words in a barely-disguised tone of annoyance, masquerading as exasperated good-humor. The daimyo appeared as conf
used as I felt at this sudden declaration; and yet in a moment I realized that for whatever reason, my master wished me to appear contrite, as though I truly had recently done something amiss.

  And so I dutifully bowed my head, looked down at the floor, and did my best to seem duly penitent.

  ‘With your permission, my lord,’ said my master then, as with these words we left the room.

  3

  Outside what remained of Tsukino’s castle, as we returned to the inn where we were staying, my master said to me –

  ‘I apologize for my words of just now, Kukai. They were, however, said for a reason…’

  ‘I suspected as much, master,’ I returned.

  ‘I want you now to go to the various other inns and small eating places around this town, and appear to get very drunk. Not ‘falling down’ drunk, you understand, but drunk enough that you loudly inform anyone and everyone who you meet of how sick you are of working alongside me. How tired you are of it always being me who gets all the glory, and so on.

  ‘Do you understand?’

  ‘No, master,’ I replied. ‘But I will of course do as you say.’

  My master gave a short laugh.

  ‘That’s the Kukai I know – always honest to a fault!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘But,’ he continued, his voice again becoming serious, ‘it is of vital importance that as many people in this area as possible learn of your apparent dissatisfaction with me; for word of this will surely spread quickly, and so will make what follows that much easier to do…’

  My master handed me a small leather pouch full of coins.

  ‘Be generous with your money, Kukai – buy those ‘friends’ you meet drinks, and so on. In short, do everything that a man getting drunk and wanting to lose control of his wits while it is still morning would do.

  ‘But, this is extremely important – only actually give the appearance of getting drunk. Spill your drinks on your clothing, the table, wherever – but actually swallow as little sake as possible. For you will need your wits about you, once it has got dark this evening.’