Kanemore shrugged. “I’ve heard these rumors as well, but I gave them no credence. Even so, it is the letter that concerns me, not the workings of Lord Sentaro’s twisted mind.”
Concentrating on the matter at hand seemed a very sensible suggestion, and I abandoned my musings as we approached the deserted Rasha Gate. At least, it had seemed deserted when we passed through it earlier that evening; I was not so certain of that now. I regretted having to leave my sword behind for my audience with Teiko-hime, but I still had my dagger, and I made certain it was loose in its sheath.
The gate structure loomed above us. We checked around the base as far as we could but found no obvious hiding places. Now and then I heard a faint rustle, like someone winding and unwinding a scroll. Kanemore was testing the looseness of a stone on the west side of the gate. I motioned him to be still and listened more closely. After a few moments the sound came again, from above.
This time Kanemore heard it, too. He put his sword aside in favor of his own long dagger, which he clenched in his teeth like a Chinese pirate as he climbed the wooden beams and crossbars that supported the gate. I quickly followed his example, or as quickly as I could manage. Kanemore climbed like a monkey, whereas I was not quite so nimble. Still, I was only a few seconds behind him when he reached the gap between the gate frame and the elaborate roof.
“Yamada-san, they are here!”
I didn’t have to ask who “they” were. The first of the shikigami plummeted past, missing me by inches before it dissolved. If the body survived long enough to strike the flagstones, I never heard it, but then I wasn’t listening. I hauled myself over the top beam and landed in a crouch.
I needn’t have bothered; the gap under the roof was quite tall enough for me to stand. Kanemore had two other lumbering shikigami at bay, but a third moved to attack him from the rear. It was different from the other two. Snakelike, it slithered across the floor, fangs bared and its one yellow eye fixed on Kanemore’s naked heel.
I was too far away.
“Behind you!”
I threw myself forward and buried my dagger in the creature near the tip of its tail, which was all I could reach. Even there the thing was as thick as my arm, but I felt the dagger pierce the tail completely and bury its tip in the wood beneath it. My attack barely slowed the creature; there was a sound like the tearing of paper as it ripped itself loose from my blade to get at Kanemore.
Kanemore glanced behind him and to my surprise took one step backward. Just as the thing’s fangs reached for him, he very swiftly lifted his left foot, pointed the heel, and thrust it down on the creature’s neck just behind the head. There was a snap like the breaking of a green twig, and the serpent began to dissolve. In that instant the other two shikigami seized the chance and attacked, like their companion, in utter silence.
“Look out!”
I could have saved my breath. Kanemore’s dagger blade was already a blur of motion, criss-crossing the space in front of him like a swarm of wasps. Even if the other two creatures intended to scream, they had no time before they, too, dissolved into the oblivion from whence they came. Kanemore was barely breathing hard.
“Remind me to never fight on any side of a battle opposite you,” I said as I got back off the floor.
“One doesn’t always get to choose one’s battles,” Kanemore said dryly. “In any case it seems you’ve returned the favor for my earlier rescue, so we may call our accounts settled in that regard.”
I picked up a ragged bit of mulberry paper, apparently all that remained of our recent foes. There were a few carefully printed kanji, but they were faded and impossible to read. “Fine quality. These servitors were expensive.”
“And futile, if we assume they were guarding something of value.”
It didn’t take long to find what we were searching for; I located a small pottery jar hidden in a mortise on one of the beams and broke it open with my dagger hilt. A scroll lay within. It was tied with silk strings, and the strings’ ends were pressed together and sealed with beeswax embossed with the Fujiwara mon. I examined it closely as Kanemore looked on.
“Your sister will have to confirm this,” I said at last, “but this does appear to be the missing letter.”
The relief on the man’s face was almost painful to see. “And now I am in your debt again, Lord Yamada. It has been a long night and we are both weary, yet I do not think that this can wait. Let us return to the Palace now; it will be stirring by the time we arrive.”
The lack of sleep plus the sudden stress of the fight, now relieved, left me feeling as wrung out as a washerwoman’s towel. I knew Kanemore must have felt nearly as bad, even though from his stoic demeanor I’d have thought he could take on another half-dozen shikigami without breaking a sweat.
“We’ll go directly,” I said, “but I’m going to need a breath or two before I try that climb again. You could do with some rest yourself.”
Prince Kanemore finally allowed himself to sit down in that now empty place. “I am too tired to argue, so you must be right.”
We greeted the dawn like two roof-dragons from the top of the Rasha Gate, and then made our way back into the city. The Imperial Compound was already alive with activity by then, but Kanemore didn’t bother with circuitous routes. We proceeded directly to Teiko-hime’s manor and at the fastest speed decorum allowed. We probably attracted more attention than we wanted to, but Kanemore was in no mood for more delays.
Neither was I, truth to tell, but Teiko-hime had not yet risen, and I had to wait on the veranda while Kanemore acquainted his sister with the news. I waited, and I waited. I was starting to feel a little insulted by the time Kanemore finally reappeared, but he did not come from the house; he came hurrying through the garden path, and his face . . . well, I hope I never see that expression again on a human being.
“I am truly sorry . . . to have kept you waiting, Lord Yamada. This . . . I was to give you this . . . ”
“This” was a heavy pouch of quilted silk. Inside were half a dozen small cylinders of pure gold. I take pride in the fact that I stared at them for only a moment or two.
“Kanemore-san, what has happened?”
“I cannot . . . ”
“I think you can. I think I will have to insist.”
His eyes did recover a little of their old fire then, but it quickly died away. “My sister was adamant that we deal with the matter at once. I escorted her to the Ministry of Justice as she insisted. I guess the burden of waiting had been too much; she did not even give me time to fetch you . . . oh, how could she be so reckless?”
I felt my spirit grow cold, and my own voice sounded lifeless in my ears. “The letter was read at the Ministry? Without knowing its contents?”
“Normally these matters take weeks, but considering what had happened to the letter under his care, Lord Sentaro couldn’t very well refuse Teiko’s demand for an audience. I must say in his favor that he tried to dissuade her, but she insisted he read it before the court. We all heard, we all saw . . . ”
I put my hands on his shoulders, but I’m not even sure he noticed. “Kanemore?”
He did look at me then, and he recited a poem: “The Wisteria pines alone in desolation, without the bright Peony.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Three lines of an incomplete tanka, like the three that Teiko had used to draw me back to Court, in turn had damned her. Wisteria was of course a reference to the Fujiwara family crest, and “Peony” had been Teiko’s nickname at Court since the age of seven. Clearly the poem had been hers to complete and return to Kiyoshi. The imagery and tone were clear, too. There was no one who could hear those words and doubt that Kiyoshi and Teiko had been lovers. For any woman at Court it would have been indiscreet; for an Imperial Wife it amounted to treason.
“What is to be done?” I asked.
“My sister is stripped of her titles and all Court honors. She will be confined and then banished . . . ” Here Kanemore’s strength failed him, and
it was several heartbeats before he could finish. “Exiled, to the northern coast at Suma.”
Say, rather, to the ends of the earth. It was little short of an execution.
“Surely there is . . . ”
“Nothing, Lord Yamada. In our ignorance we have done more than enough. The writ is sealed.”
He left me there to find my own way out of the compound. It was a long time before I bothered to try.
It took longer to settle my affairs in Kyoto than I’d hoped, but the gold meant the matter would be merely difficult, not impossible. The Widow Tamahara was, perhaps, one of the very few people genuinely sorry to see me leave. I sold most of my belongings and kept only what personal items I could carry, along with my new traveling clothes, my sword, and the balance of the gold, which was still quite substantial.
On the appointed day, I was ready. Teiko’s party emerged from the eastern gate of the compound through the entrance still guarded by the Taira. Yet bushi of the Minamoto Clan formed the bulk of her escort. Kanemore was with them, as I knew he would be. His eyes were sad but he held his head high.
Normally a lady of Teiko’s birth would have traveled in a covered oxcart, hidden from curious eyes, but now she walked, wearing the plain traveling clothes she’d used to bring that first message in disguise, completing her disgrace. Still, I’d recognized her then as I did now. When the somber procession had moved a discreet distance down the road, I fell in behind, just another traveler on the northern road.
I was a little surprised when the party took the northeast road toward Lake Biwa, but I was able to learn from an attendant that Teiko wished to make a pilgrimage to the sacred lake before beginning her new life at Suma. Since it was only slightly out of the way, her escort had seen no reason to object. Neither did I, for that matter, since I was determined to follow regardless. The mountains surrounding the lake slowed the procession’s progress, and it took three days to get there. When the party made camp on the evening of the third day, I did the same nearby.
I wasn’t terribly surprised to find Kanemore looming over me and my small fire within a very short time.
“I was just making tea, Kanemore-san. Would you care for some?”
He didn’t meet my gaze. “My sister has instructed me to tell you to go home.”
“I have no home.”
“In which case I am instructed to tell you to go someplace else. I should warn you that should you reply that where you are now is ‘someplace else,’ she has requested that I beat you senseless, but with affection.”
I smiled. “She anticipated my response. That’s the Teiko I always knew. So, are you also instructed to kill me if I refuse your sister’s order?”
Now he did look me squarely in the eye. “If killing you would atone for my own foolishness,” Kanemore said, “I’d do it in a heartbeat. Yet I cannot blame you for what happened, try as I might. You only did as my sister bid—”
“As did you,” I pointed out.
He managed a weak smile. “Even so, we still share some of the responsibility for what happened. I could not prevent her disgrace, so I am determined to share it.”
“That is my wish as well,” I said.
“You have no—” he began but did not finish.
“Exactly. My failure gives me that right, if nothing else does. Now consider: what about Prince Takahito? Your nephew? Where is he?”
“At Court. Takahito of course asked to accompany his mother, but permission was refused.”
“Indeed, and now he remains at Court surrounded by his enemies. Who will look after him?”
“Do not lecture me on my duties! Who then will look after my sister? These men are to escort her to Suma. They will not remain and protect her afterward.”
I waved that aside. “I well understand the burden of conflicting obligations. Your instinct for love and loyalty is to protect both your sister and her son. How will you accomplish this when they are practically on opposite ends of the earth? Which path would Teiko choose for you?”
His face reddened slightly; I could tell that the subject had already come up—repeatedly, if I knew Teiko.
“We’ve spoken our minds plainly to each other in the past, Kanemore-san, and I will do the same now: your sister is going to a place where life is harsh and she will be forced to make her own way. Despite her great gifts, neither she nor her two charming and loyal attendants have the vaguest idea of how to survive outside the shelter of the Imperial Court. I do.”
Kanemore didn’t say anything for several long moments. “My sister is the daughter of an Emperor. She was born to be the mother of an Emperor,” he said finally.
“If that were the case, then it would still be so,” I said. “Life does not always meet our expectations, but that should not prevent us from seeking what happiness we can.”
“You are unworthy of Princess Teiko,” Kanemore said, expressionless, “and I say that as someone who holds you in high regard. Yet you are also right. For what little it may be worth, I will speak to my sister.”
“When I finish my tea,” I said, “and with your sister’s permission, so will I.”
Teiko agreed to see me, perhaps because she saw no good way to prevent it. After fifteen years I did not care what her reasons might be. The fact that she did agree was enough.
I found her sitting by herself in a small clearing. She gazed out at a lovely view of Lake Biwa beyond her. The sun had dipped just below the mountains ringing the lake, and the water had turned a deep azure. Teiko’s escort was present but out of earshot, as were both of her attendants. She held an empty teacup; the rice cakes beside her looked hardly touched. She still wore her boshi, but the veil was pulled back now to reveal her face. It was a gift, I knew, and I was grateful.
I can’t say that she hadn’t changed at all in fifteen years: there might have been one or two gray strands among the glossy black of her hair, perhaps a line or two on her face. I can say the changes didn’t matter. She was and still remained beautiful. She looked up and smiled at me a little wistfully as I kneeled not quite in front of her but a little to the side, so as not to spoil her view.
“So, have you come to lecture me on my recklessness as well? Please yourself, but be warned—my brother has worried the topic to exhaustion.”
“Your brother thinks only of you. Yet what’s done cannot be undone.”
“Life is uncertain in all regards,” Teiko said very seriously, then she managed a smile and waved a hand at the vast stretch of water nearby. “An appropriate setting, don’t you think? I must look like a fisherman’s wife now. What shall I do at Suma, Lord Yamada? Go bare-breasted like the abalone maidens and dive for shells? Learn to gather seaweed to make salt, like those two lovers of the exiled poet? Can you imagine me, hair loose and legs bared, gleaning the shore?”
“I can easily so imagine,” I said.
She sighed. “Then your imagination is better than mine. I am a worthless creature now.”
“That is not possible.”
She smiled at me. There were dimples in her cheeks. “You are kind, Goji-san. I’m glad the years have not changed this about you.”
She offered me a cup of tea from the small pot nearby, but I declined. She poured herself another while I pondered yet again the best way to frame one of the questions that had been troubling me. I finally decided there simply was no good way, if I chose to ask.
“No lectures, Teiko-hime, but I must ask about the letter.”
Her expression was unreadable. “Just ‘Teiko,’ please, especially now. So, you’re curious about Kiyoshi’s letter, of course. That poem was unexpected.”
“You weren’t Kiyoshi’s lover,” I said.
Teiko smiled a little wistfully. “You know I was not,” she said. “But at the moment there is no explanation I can offer you.”
“I’m not asking for one. What’s done is done.”
She sipped her tea. “Many things have been done, Goji-san. There is more to come, whatever our place in the orde
r of events may be. Speaking of which, my brother in his own delicate way hints that there is another matter you wish to speak to me about.”
“I am going to Suma,” I said.
“That is noble, but pointless. Your life is in Kyoto.”
“My life is as and where it is fated to be, but still I am going to Suma,” I repeated. “Do you require me to say why?”
She actually blushed then, but it did not last. “You say what’s done cannot be undone. Perhaps that is true, but you do not yet know all that has been done. As at our last meeting, I must ask you to listen to me, and then decide what you will or will not do. Please?”
“I am listening.”
“You left Court because people were starting to talk about us.”
“Yes. When the Emperor bestowed his favor on you, Lord Sentaro—”
“Did no more or less than what I asked him to do.”
For a little while I forgot to breathe. I idly wondered, somewhere above the roar in my ears, whether I ever would again. “What? You . . . ?”
“It’s unforgivable, I know, but I was not much more than a child, and both foolish and afraid. Once I had been chosen by the former Emperor there could be nothing between us nor even the rumor of such. I knew that you would do what you did, to protect my reputation.”
“I would have done anything,” I said, “if you had asked me.”
“That is the true shame I have borne these past fifteen years,” Teiko said softly. “I let this person you detest be the one to break your heart because I lacked the courage to do it myself. I heard later that he took undue pleasure in this. I must bear the blame for that also.”
Fifteen years. I could feel the weight of every single one of them on my shoulders. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I needed to tell you,” she said. “More importantly, you needed to hear it and know just how unworthy I am of your regard before you choose to throw your life away after mine. Or do you still wish to speak to me of things that cannot be undone?”
Perhaps it was a test. Perhaps it was a challenge. Perhaps it was the simple truth. I only knew what remained true for me. “My decision is not altered,” I said. “I would like to know yours.”
Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate Page 3
