“I’m going for a walk,” I said.
“This late in the day?” Kenj scowled. “Whatever for?”
“To be alone for a little while. To clear my head. If you tell Morofusa where I’ve gone, I’ll cut your head off. Or cut my patronage to your temple in half for the next year, your choice.”
He winced. “That’s hardly a choice at all. Where are you going? So I’ll know where I’m not telling him you are.”
I looked east. “That way.”
“Ise Bay is that way.”
“Then that is where I am going,” I said, and set out at a brisk walk. I glanced back once to see Kenji shaking his head. The next time I glanced back, he was gone. I passed a small grove of maples before I was able to see the bay. Far on the other side of it lay Kamakura and the life I had come to know. It had been three years since I’d left the Capital, and I had very mixed feelings about returning there now, but for the moment I was content to put those emotions aside. I breathed in the salt air, simply grateful for a little time to myself. There was so much about the situation in the Capital I didn’t understand, and even my unexpected meeting with Lord Yorinobu hadn’t clarified much. I already knew the Fujiwara were likely to interfere with the emperor’s rule. This gave me a clear goal, a purpose in returning. I also had Lord Yorinobu’s mission to consider. I wasn’t foolish enough to think these were the only reasons I had for going to the Capital. I knew there was more going on than I was yet aware, and my ignorance was more than frustrating—it was dangerous.
I looked out over the water for some time, but if I’d expected an interval of calm and reflection to provide any answers, I was disappointed. Nothing suggested itself. Soon the sun was dipping low over the maples and it was time to head back to camp. I was almost at the grove when Morofusa stepped into view and bowed.
“Did you enjoy your excursion, my lord?”
Either I was getting careless or my time in Kamakura had dulled my senses even more than I suspected. I’d allowed an armed man within bowshot of me, and I’d been oblivious the entire time. “Yes, but now it appears I will need to cut Master Kenji’s head off.”
He frowned. “Lord Yamada, whatever for?”
“Did he not tell you where to find me?”
“No one told me. I saw the two of you together, but when you didn’t return to camp with him, I followed you.”
Then I was even a little more disappointed in myself. I had been followed and was completely unaware of it. I considered for a moment the demon-hunter I had once been and wondered what he would think of me now.
“I must be getting old,” I said aloud.
“Such is the fate of all who live, Lord Yamada, but please remember that it is my responsibility to make certain that you continue to grow older until you are safely returned to the Capital. If anything . . . unpleasant were to happen to you, my men and I would also experience something unpleasant. Likely equally so.”
I hadn’t thought of that. There was a lot I had not yet thought of, and my ignorance could have equally dire consequences for those around me.
“Morofusa-san, while the area around the Bamboo Palace is probably as safe as anywhere in the emperor’s domain, it was foolish of me to wander off alone. I promise not to do so again.”
He bowed once more. “That is all I ask.”
In contrast to the great confusion and bustle of the day before, the next morning’s procession was arranged in a very orderly fashion and we were ready to depart Saiku in good time. Princess Tagako and her closest attendants traveled in shuttered carriages drawn by oxen, as was the custom for one of her rank, while the rest of her attendants and servants traveled on foot. That was the pace those of us on horseback followed, with the exception of scouts Morofusa sent ahead and Akimasa, forming the rearguard with his detachment, sent to the rear and flanks. The two shōshō coordinated well, and I had the feeling this was not the first time they had served such functions together. I asked Morofusa about this on the way back to the Kushida River.
“Once or twice,” he admitted. “We’ve shared duties at the Capital before. Akimasa is more experienced than I am, but he knows my instincts are generally sound. We work well together.”
The first day passed without incident. We reached the village where Princess Tagako performed the required ceremony, and then we spent the night at the same temple, though this time our numbers required that we set up camp within the temple walls while the guest quarters were turned over to Tagako and her attendants. I was pleased to see neither Akimasa nor Morofusa depended on the temple walls but rather posted their own guards to complement the sohei provided by the temple. Kenji likewise made his rounds to search for anything of an unnatural bent but he found nothing, and our night likewise passed without incident. The next morning we crossed into the mountains south of the Suzuka Pass, and by mid-morning we stopped for a meal at a site overlooking the Yamato plain. We reached Asuka well before evening.
Our lodging had been arranged within an old temple near what had once been the imperial palace, but there was nothing left of the palace compound save a few scattered stones. As was the custom, Princess Tagako received a few official visitors from the area, but the formalities didn’t take very long. The day turned into a clear night, and several members of our party gathered on the temple’s veranda to admire the last sliver of the waning moon. Tagako’s kicho was arranged so that she could see the sky without having to look through a veil.
“I wonder what this temple was like, back when Asuka was the capital,” she said. “You can see the remains of greatness about this place.
This was true. The stonework of the temple’s foundations was first rate, if poorly maintained. Yet that place had been a village before it became the seat of the emperor, and it was still a thriving town long after his departure. Even so, there was an air of shabbiness about the surviving places. Places no longer as important as they had once been.
Kenji, only recently returned from a patrol around the temple compound, agreed. “I saw many signs of what this place had once been. So we are reminded of the impermanence of this world.”
I sometimes admired the easy way that Kenji blended into groups under the guise of a priest. Yes, technically he was a priest and firmly believed the things he said in that context, but at the same time I could never help but see it as a bit of misdirection. Possibly a flaw in my own character, perhaps envy. Most of my life I was never clear on the role I was to play, and now as the newly prosperous Yamada no Goji, I was even more confused. I wondered if I would ever fit as comfortably into my role as Kenji did in his.
“Did you see anything else?” I asked. I didn’t elaborate, but Kenji knew my meaning.
“Nothing unusual,” he said. “The temple grounds have seen better days, but they’re still in good condition.”
Meaning he had detected no supernatural threats. That was a relief. Morofusa and Akimasa would set their sentries as always, but it was the threat of creatures against which blades were not always effective that concerned me most.
“Tomorrow we resume our journey,” Princess Tagako said, “but I must first ask your indulgence in the morning, gentlemen. There is an ancient site near Asuka I wish to visit, a place older than Asuka or this fine temple. I promise to keep the delay to a minimum.”
“We are, as always, at your service,” I said. “May I ask where we are going?”
“A very, very old tomb.”
Kenji and I exchanged glances. Kenji spoke first.
“Highness, would you be referring to the Ishibutai Kofun?”
“You know of it?”
“I traveled widely in my youth and had the privilege of passing through this area before. The kofun is quite interesting,” he said, “though would it be impertinent of me to ask why you wish to see it?”
“Because, Master Kenji, once I reach the Capital, it is very unlikely I will be able to leave it again easily, if at all. If there is anything I wish to see or do before that day, there is no bett
er time than now.”
I had gotten far too accustomed to asking questions as they occurred to me. If I had paused for even a moment to reflect, if I had understood the sadness in Tagako’s words then, I would not have spoken at all. But I did not.
“Highness, what are your plans once we reach Heian-kyo?”
She did not answer for a long moment.
“I have none,” she said finally. “As I will have little part in making them. Most likely I will be married off to some official or other. I’m still young enough, and there is more than a little prestige attached to a former saiō. If the business is not negotiated and concluded before we reach the Capital, I would be surprised.”
Of all my shortcomings of the past several days, I think I regretted this one the most.
“It was a foolish and inappropriate question, Highness. Forgive me.”
She politely dismissed my apology. “Say rather it was foolish of me to complain. I understand the obligations of one of my station, and the price attached to my prerogatives. There is nothing to forgive.”
Tagako excused herself soon after, pleading fatigue. Which was no doubt true, as far as it went. Travel was tiring, even if all one had to do was sit in a carriage, but I knew that this was not the only reason.
When the others had retired, Kenji and I remained on the veranda for a bit, though now the clouds had gathered and the moon hid her face from us.
“Lord Yamada, that was cruel of you. Intentional or not.”
“Not,” I said. “But it was cruel, nonetheless.”
That night I dreamed a familiar dream. I was back on the shores of Lake Biwa just northeast of the Capital, on my way to meet with Princess Teiko for what I did not realize would be the last time in this life. The dream was sometimes a little different, but never different in the way that mattered. It was a dream I always encountered in an ironic state of wakefulness. I was always aware it was a dream, and I always knew what was to come, but I could never wake myself, not until the dream was done with me. For a time I had been spared the dream, after the day in Shinoda Forest when I thought I had said goodbye to Teiko in the guise of one of Lady Kuzunoha’s illusions, but now it was back.
Considering the circumstances, I was not at all surprised.
I was vaguely aware of the other players in the dream. I walked past a ghostly image of Prince Kanemore’s encampment. Their flickering campfires cast shadows on the cloth barrier surrounding it, but there was no reason to stop. I walked on to where Princess Teiko was waiting for me.
She kneeled by a campfire, dressed in a noblewoman’s notion of a peasant’s clothing. She wore a wide-brimmed hat with a veil around the rim, but she had pulled it back so we could talk face to face. She sipped a cup of Chinese tea and didn’t bother to look at me as I kneeled beside her.
“Am I not a glorious sight now?” she said.
“Highness—” I began, but she cut me off.
“Just Teiko. My titles are stripped. Not that I mind so much. After all, what are titles to the dead?”
I finally understood. This dream was no common vision sent from whatever hell had the charge of such things to torment me. This was different.
“This is not just a dream,” I said. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”
She raised her sleeve to hide her smile. “I’ve never gone very far, truth be told. Or rather, I have. Farther than forever. I imagine it is a matter of perspective. ”
For a moment or two she didn’t speak again but merely sipped her tea. I had the feeling she was waiting for something.
“Tell me what I need to do,” I said.
She did not bother to conceal her melancholy smile. “I’m afraid this doesn’t work that way. While appearing to you in your dream is, in many ways, easier for me, this is not my domain and I do not make the laws that govern it. You have to ask, whatever it is.”
I tried again. “What must I do?”
She sighed. “I can’t tell you.” She saw my protest forming and moved quickly to head it off.
“What I mean is that I literally cannot. I’m sorry, but my fate is written,” she said. “It is the one I chose, as you well know. However, yours is not, nor is Kenji’s, nor my son’s. Action can only take place in the living realm. I cannot tell you what you must do, even though I think I know what you should do. Whatever course you take, you must choose it yourself. You yet live, and so long as you do, you must decide. I cannot interfere.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Why are you still attached to this world?”
She laughed then, delicately. “Oh, you clever man. You hope by revealing this I will give you some hint about a course for you. Yet you already know. My son and his welfare, his destiny.”
“Your son is emperor. Why do you say I am not yet done? Is there more?”
“Because you are not and there is. Honestly, Lord Yamada. We have so little time and you are wasting it.”
“What if I chose to walk away now? To forget about you and your son and return to Kamakura. Could I do that?”
“I do not think you will do that,” she said. “But you could. It is your right. I understand it is my own selfishness, my own hopes and wishes for my son that keep me trapped here. If I could have severed these ties on my own, I would have done so, but I cannot. I am not strong enough. If you do not help me, I will remain here, possibly forever, a mournful spirit in a world that has forgotten me.”
“Then I will help you if I can,” I said. “You already knew that.”
“I believed so. I hoped for it. Yet I have been known to make mistakes. Once in a while.”
I could sense the arrival of the sun, and I knew we had no more time.
“You appeared to Princess Tagako in her dreams, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, and put the teacup aside.
“What did you mean to tell her? Your message wasn’t clear.”
“I meant to say exactly what I did say. I told her two different things, both true. How she acts on them is for her to decide.”
In one smooth motion, Teiko rose and stood silhouetted against the fire. “Even here, this is hard for me. I do not know if we will see each other again. I do not know if I should even hope for it. Hope is a powerful but very, very dangerous thing.”
She walked away then, toward the lake. I tried to move, to follow her in time, as I had failed to do twelve years before, but I could not move. The one kindness the dream offered was that this time I could not turn to see, but then I heard the crack! as Princess Teiko’s body fell into the water. There should have been a splash; I knew that much even at the time, but the sound was much louder, much sharper, and it struck me like a blow to my chest, as it always had, over and over again.
It was the sound of my world ending.
CHAPTER SIX
“Was that all?”
I groaned. “Wasn’t that enough?”
It was a pleasantly warm day for early fall. We rode together with a smaller group of bushi escorting Princess Tagako on her excursion the next morning. We had made arrangements to meet with the remainder of the procession at a small shrine west of Asuka later that morning to resume our real journey, but for now we were on our way to a tomb. Considering the lingering effects of the night’s dream, I was not in the best humor for sightseeing, and Kenji’s skepticism was not helping.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t a visitation, Lord Yamada, as it very well might have been. But it would be wise, I feel, to consider a few things.”
“Such as?”
“Well, primarily—this image of Princess Teiko didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know. Her desires? Her reasons for attachment to this world? What part of this was a revelation to you?”
“I once thought my obligation to both Princess Teiko and her son would end when he ascended the throne,” I said. “Clearly not.”
“Did you really?” Kenji asked. “Knowing the Fujiwara’s only real loyalty is to themselves? Was that what you believed, even befor
e Princess Teiko’s manifestation at the bridge? Honestly?” I think my face reddened then, because Kenji didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s what I thought,” he said.
“She said she might be trapped on this earth forever, if I don’t help her.”
“And did you not already believe as much yourself? Honestly, Lord Yamada. As a priest, I know dreams are sometimes prophetic, and sometimes dreams are a portal to allow the visitation of spirits. But sometimes, dreams are no more than a way of talking to ourselves in a manner where we will finally listen. I do not pretend to know which is the case here, and neither should you.”
“I believe Teiko appeared to me,” I said because it was the truth. Or perhaps my truth.
Kenji grunted. “Then I will say no more on the subject. Whether she did or not, the situation we are in has not changed.”
I had no argument. “How far is this kofun?” I asked, changing the subject.
“If I remember right, we are nearly there.”
Kenji had hardly finished speaking when the tumulus came into view. It sat on a broad flat hillock, a smaller mound on a greater one. The earth around the stones had eroded so some of them were visible; the ones in sight were gigantic. Three grown men with arms outstretched wouldn’t have been able to measure the least of them.
“The Ishibutai Kofun,” Kenji said.
There was an approach of flat stones leading toward an entrance that appeared like a gaping maw in the earth. Princess Tagako’s carriage was arranged so she had a good view of it, though of course we came no closer to avoid the risk of ritual impurity, which was something Princess Tagako especially could not afford. A tomb of ancient distinction was still a tomb, and not a place for the living. While we waited, a servant brought word that Princess Tagako wished to speak to me. I dismounted and approached her carriage. Through the shutter I could see a few flashes of color but not her face.
“What do you think of it? The kofun, I mean.”
“It is . . . impressive.”
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