Kuznoha’s questions were heading in a direction I didn’t want to travel. “Takahito is an imperial prince and the heir to the throne. Choosing a wife or official consort therefore is a matter of state, done with the advice and consent of his councilors. It is not for me to approve or disapprove.”
She dismissed my statement. “I’m not asking for you to gainsay the prince or those who advise him. I’m asking your opinion.”
This was dangerous ground to say the least. I didn’t know the extent of Lady Kuzunoha’s knowledge of either imperial politics or my involvement in them, directly or otherwise. Yet I knew it was safe to assume she knew more than one would expect. “As a personal, rainy day musing?”
“It’s not raining, Lord Yamada. Not yet.”
There was nothing for it but to give her what she wanted. I had often found it thus in my dealings with Lady Kuzunoha.
“His primary wife, Princess Kaoruko, is the daughter of an emperor and, so, not a Fujiwara in the paternal line. Shigeko, as I’m sure you know, died without producing an heir. The fact his fourth consort is another Fujiwara defangs some elements of the opposition by giving them a prince of direct Fujiwara descent in the maternal line. That Takahito’s third consort, Motoko, is a Minamoto and has also produced a prince likely does not concern them. Yet Takahito’s declared heir is his oldest son by Kaoruko, Prince Sadahito. This is unlikely to change.”
She smiled again. I was starting to dread her smile. “So you have been paying attention, as I expected. Now then, you’re saying you understand the logic of it. That’s not the same thing as approving, Lord Yamada.”
“No, it isn’t,” I admitted. “I know those . . . closest to Takahito have the sole intent of making certain he is named emperor and are less concerned with what happens afterwards—”
“By ‘closest,’ you mean Prince Kanemore, who is his uncle and your friend.”
I did, but she was taking care to make me understand she knew it, too.
“For what little it may be worth, I did mourn Shigeko’s death, as I know Takahito was genuinely fond of her. I think it was a miscalculation to give the Fujiwara any opening at all. I know from sad experience how far they will go to maintain their prestige and power. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“The truth? Yes. Now I must tell you your fears may have some basis. You will also recall, I trust, the Empress Dowager Sadako formally adopted Takahito some years ago, out of the love she bore for his mother, Princess Teiko. It was seen as a way to strengthen his claim, and now so much time has passed few people remember she is not Takahito’s birth mother. Still, it is an important point. Sadako is likewise not of paternal Fujiwara descent, but as Takahito’s adoptive mother there was no advantage to attacking her reputation as was tried with Princess Teiko. We need not rehash those events, I trust?”
I frowned. “Certainly not. Please go on.”
“Empress Sadako was untouchable. You had made Princess Teiko untouchable, and thus so was Takahito. The same is not true of Princess Kaoruko.”
“They wouldn’t . . . ” I didn’t even bother to finish. Of course they would. “At present, Prince Sadahito is Takahito’s only heir. What would be gained?”
“If Princess Kaoruko could be compromised in some way, then Sadahito could be removed from the succession. As there are—yet—no other declared heirs, either of Fujiwara descent or not, then this would leave Takahito’s half-brother, Norihira. Who is, as you well know, born of a Fujiwara mother.”
I had almost forgotten about Prince Norihira. Not a very promising man, according to Prince Kanemore. Even a bit of a dolt. But he did have the correct lineage, and as the son of a Fujiwara mother, he had been raised in a Fujiwara household and was firmly within their sphere of influence. His ascension had been the Fujiwara’s desire all along.
“Does Prince Kanemore know what they have planned?”
She looked at me. “I never said Prince Kanemore sent me.”
It was my turn to smile. “No need. Your interest in court intrigue only applies to those which might affect Lord Abe no Yasuna, and the succession clearly does not. You did say you were on a mission, but if it was not to further your own interests, then it was on behalf of someone else. Teiko’s brother was the only interested party with connections to both of us. I don’t know how he persuaded you to undertake this errand for him, but clearly he needed someone he could trust, who could travel quickly, and someone I, in turn, would trust. That the solution in both those cases was a fox demon is an irony not lost on me. Now please answer my question.”
“If so, he did not relate it to me.” Lady Kuzunoha looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you both are too quick to give confidence to one such as myself. You said it yourself—I am a demon.”
“I’ve met many demons in my time, Kuzunoha-hime. Many were evil. Some were just trying to live their lives. I could say the same for many human beings . . . in both instances. If our trust is misplaced, then you will have chosen to cast it away for your own reasons, not because you haven’t earned it.”
“That almost sounded like a compliment,” she said.
“Then I should have tried harder.”
She laughed then, placing her sleeve delicately across her mouth as noblewomen did. “Lord Yamada, you are correct of course. I am here on behalf of Prince Kanemore. He’s worried, but trust me or not, I know he hasn’t told me everything. Please understand—I do not blame him. It was wise to relay no more information than would be sufficient to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation. However . . . ” She hesitated, then continued. “I do know one thing he did not tell me, though I do not think this can be hidden for much longer.”
“What is it?”
“Emperor Go-Reizei’s health is failing. He may not live out the year.”
“Does Prince Kanemore know this?”
“Of course he does, and so I think you should understand his urgency. Takahito-tenno’s succession may or may not be imminent, but his line and legacy is in danger either way. So. What will you do?”
I didn’t even have to think about it.
“What he knows I will do, and the only thing I can do. I will go to Kyoto.”
Lady Kuzunoha sighed. “Yes, but first you must go to the Grand Shrine at Ise.”
I must have looked as confused as I felt, but Lady Kuzunoha didn’t offer any explanation. After a moment I had to ask the question. “I must? Why?”
Her expression didn’t flicker. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Give this to my son upon his arrival from Mino,” I said, handing the scroll to Ichiro. “He has the governance of my estate until I return, and until he returns, I charge you to keep things in order.”
Ichiro bowed as he received the scroll. “Of course, my lord, but as for your return, may I inquire as to when this might be? Taro-sama will certainly want to know.”
“No doubt, but the truth is I do not know. When my business at the Capital is concluded. That is all I can say.”
While I knew the road from Kamakura to the Capital very well, it still felt strange to be traveling on horseback now, at the head of a retinue of twenty bushi and attendants. While my experiences at the end of the war in Mutsu—not to mention Taro’s influence—had taught me to appreciate horses more than I once did, they did bring complications and logistics with them, so much so I sometimes wondered if I could make better time on foot, on my own or even traveling with Kenji.
Not that this was an option, as traveling without an escort had become too risky, and Kenji had become less fond of walking over the last few years. As I took my leave of Ichiro and claimed the horse one of the attendants held for me, I checked to make certain an extra mount had been brought for the reluctant priest.
We made our first stop of the journey at the entrance to Kenji’s temple, though perhaps I should have said Yamada’s temple. We had yet to dedicate the temple with a formal name, but since it was endowed by me and built on land I had dedicat
ed to the purpose, those it served had taken to calling it Yamada-ji, for want of a better name. I didn’t think I should allow that to continue for much longer, but that was a problem for another day.
Kenji mounted up. “Lord Yamada, are you certain Prince Kanemore requested my presence as well? This sounds like a political matter, not a spiritual one.”
“First, we don’t yet know what sort it is. Second, he specifically mentioned where we were to meet him upon our arrival. I believe he took it as given you would accompany me.”
Kenji looked disgusted. “And here I was almost believing I had honorably retired from such things.”
“Perhaps, due to our altered circumstances, I had some notion of that myself. Clearly, we were both mistaken.”
That was only a little bit of a lie. Until Prince Takahito was crowned and Princess Teiko’s last wish for her son fulfilled, there would be no peace for me in Kamakura. Now that the succession to follow Takahito was likewise in doubt, I wondered if there ever would be peace for me, anywhere.
I suspected Prince Kanemore was wondering the same thing. I knew his deeply held desire to renounce his title and retire from court to found his own clan had long been delayed in service to his nephew. While he was five years or so younger than I, neither of us had so much time left we could afford to misuse it.
We passed the first border barrier and reached the western road on our first day, and by nightfall we had crossed from Sagami into Suruga province. We passed the first night in the guest quarters of a local temple. On the second night we were not quite so fortunate, and made a rough camp at the edge of a deep forest. The shōshō of my escort, Minamoto no Morofusa, saw to the guards while the servants prepared a meal. Kenji stood near the edge of the meadow looking into the dark woods.
“We’re too close, Lord Yamada,” he said. “There could be anything in this wood: bandits, youkai . . . well, anything.”
“The same will likely be true until we reach Ise. Much of the road to the Capital is like this. You know that.”
“I do. And yet I felt safer those times when it was only the two of us traveling. You make a much bigger target these days, Lord Yamada.”
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. My escort was handpicked and mostly drawn from families allied with the Minamoto. If something did happen to me, they’d be explaining their failure to Lord Yoriyoshi personally. That was all very well, but I knew that, to some bandit gangs, the greater the obstacles, the greater the prize. I had no illusions about what would happen if we encountered bandits able to muster overwhelming force. Yet I was reasonably certain, for tonight, we were not in any serious danger, and I said as much.
Kenji raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and what makes you so certain?”
I nodded toward the forest. “That.”
At first he apparently thought I meant the forest itself, but then the object of my attention moved just slightly.
“Oh. An onibi.”
And only one. A pale little ghost light, floating in and out among the maples at the edge of the forest.
“Do you think we’d be seeing this, if there were anything bigger and nastier lurking about? Even ghosts tend to be absent when too many people or a creature at the ogre or tengu level is near. I’m surprised that we haven’t frightened it off.”
Kenji looked thoughtful. “We’re a long way from anywhere. How do you suppose it came to be here?” he asked.
“I have no idea, but of course you knew that. We can tell each other stories about what the light might be, or who it might be, or why it might be here. Such things can pass the time pleasantly enough, but in the end we’ll know no more than we did.”
“Or we could go talk to it,” Kenji said.
“Kenji, it is not like you to go looking for trouble . . . aside from your romantic entanglements, of course. What made you consider this?”
Kenji blinked. “You know, I really couldn’t say. Perhaps it’s the monotony of travel. If our fancies of the ghost’s own story would pass the time, imagine how diverting the truth might be.”
“Kenji, you know ghosts are not to be approached lightly. Yes, most are harmless, and I see nothing about this one to suggest otherwise. That doesn’t mean you talk to them on a whim.”
“I do know that,” Kenji said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I confess it, Lord Yamada—I am in a strange humor this evening. I am at a loss to explain it.”
I looked up. “Well, it’s moot. I don’t see the ghost light now.”
Kenji looked back at the woods and saw what I saw—just a forest. There was no sign of the onibi.
“Another opportunity gone,” Kenji said. “Now we’ll never know.”
After a fitful night, we broke camp early and were back on the trail before mid-morning. From Suruga we passed through Totomi and then on into Mikawa without further incident. We set a good pace. I had considered taking the sea road from either Mikawa or Owari directly across Ise Bay to Ise-jingu, but the storm clouds approaching from the west made that course inadvisable. Rather than risk capricious weather, we turned north to follow the coastline toward Owari. From there we could turn south to Ise along the coastal road. We did not make as good a pace as previously, and we were still some distance from the Owari Barrier when the storms caught us away from any villages or chance of shelter. The attendants raised a pavilion within sight of the ocean in the lee of a small pine grove. Here we kept dry as best we could while we waited for the storm to pass.
I was huddled under the pavilion, watching the whitecaps break on the shore when something else caught my attention. An onibi, floating along the beach.
“Another one,” Kenji said, sitting down beside me. “This trip does seem to be attracting lonely ghosts.”
Whereas I merely felt like one. I waited, since I was fairly certain what was coming next. Perhaps Kenji had become predictable, which was just another way of saying that I knew him too well.
“Lord Yamada, why are we going to Ise?”
“Because Lady Kuzunoha informed me that Prince Kanemore wished it.”
“You do realize, of course, that going to Ise seems useless. It’s leagues out of our way, and the imperial court is at Kyoto, and it is there that Takahito’s ascension and legacy will be determined.”
“So we believe, yet Kyoto may not be the only place of importance. Prince Kanemore understands the situation better than I do, and he wants us to travel to Ise first. I trust him as both a friend and a tactician. If we are going to Ise, there must be a very good reason.”
Kenji frowned. “You do not know the reason, do you?”
“I never claimed I did. All I do know is that Kanemore’s instructions were to ‘Go first to Ise. When you understand why you are there, then come ahead to Kyoto. I will be waiting.’ ”
“Why the mystery? Why didn’t he just tell you?”
“I’ve been wondering about that myself and am no closer to discerning the answer than I was when Lady Kuzunoha delivered her instructions. Prince Kanemore believes I will find something—or someone—with a part to play in this. I can only hope his faith in me is not misplaced, for at this moment, Kenji-san, you know as much as I do.”
Kenji shook his head. “There’s a thought to disturb one’s sleep . . . well, mine, anyway.”
I repressed a smile. “You may trust me when I say I’m as worried about it as you are.”
Kenji let the subject drop. Together we watched the ghost light making its way along the shoreline, sometimes winking out only to reappear a few paces away, sometimes floating some little distance over the water like a child wading in the shadows, but in either case taking no apparent notice of the rain. So far, as with the onibi in Suruga, we had only seen the ghost light that indicated a spirit’s presence, but we had seen no sign of the ghost itself. Usually a wandering spirit would be surrounded by an escort of such bluish lights, the number varying, but seldom fewer than two. I had expected to see the ghost itself before now, probably an unfortunate fisherman or child that had be
en drowned in the sea, but there was only the one light.
“Doesn’t this onibi strike you as a little odd?” I asked Kenji.
“You’re referring to it being alone? Of course. What do you think it means?”
“It may not mean anything. There’s a fine line between ‘unusual’ and ‘important.’ They’re not always the same thing.”
“Not always,” Kenji agreed and again seemed willing to drop the subject. “The rain shows no sign of stopping, so we’d better get some sleep if that’s possible. Tomorrow’s another long day.”
Kenji then sought out his sleeping arrangements. I meant to follow, but for a while I could not take my eyes off the onibi, fascinated despite myself, but eventually it winked out and did not reappear. I made a mental note about the location where it disappeared and then went to look for a dry place to sleep. After I finally drifted off, I did not sleep well. I had dreams of something dark and vicious hunting me, but each time I awoke I could not remember what it was. I could only remember the fear. Then the storm finally relented into a gentle rain, and I slept, for a time, without dreams.
The next morning Kenji found me up to my knees in the cold surf.
“Lord Yamada, might I ask what you are doing?”
“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”
I had thought perhaps that there was some indication of why the onibi had disappeared when and where it did, so I had waded to the place I remembered it happening the previous evening. But there was nothing there, no stone or pile of bones hidden in the sand. Nothing but a few shells and a bit of seaweed.
“You might consider getting out of the water before you catch a chill. We brought horses but no one thought to bring a palanquin.”
Cursing myself for my folly, I waded to shore and went looking for a change of clothes. When I was dry again and a little warmer, I explained myself to Kenji as best I could. When I was done, the priest looked thoughtful.
“Again, a single onibi, with no actual spirit in sight, not even so much as a mist. While I can’t approve of your splashing around in the ocean, I understand your curiosity. As I said, it is odd, isn’t it?”
The Emperor in Shadow Page 2
