I had no heart to argue, since I had already come to the same opinion. I could not see why anyone would want Tagako killed, either for political or personal reasons. By everything I knew and understood, the inugami should not have been there. Yet the inugami was there, and by its very nature was there for a purpose. The obvious conclusion was that there was something I didn’t know, something I definitely needed to know, if there was any chance of preventing bloodshed.
I regretfully took my leave of the princess and sought out Kenji and Morofusa in the hope that they had fared better than I had.
“You were right, Lord Yamada,” was the first thing Kenji said to me.
“You found it?”
Morofusa nodded. “We did, and not very far from here.”
“I want to see it.”
“I do not,” Kenji said. “I did not want to see it the first time. It turned my stomach, but we needed to know. Morofusa, will you show him?”
“Certainly.”
Morofusa led me from the temple to the northeast corner of the compound where one of the moldering outbuildings remained. The door was barely on its hinges, and it took a little effort for Morofusa to open it. There was enough light from the doorway and the holes in the ceiling to tell that it was empty, save for a small upright box to which two pieces of wood had been attached to make a crossed peak.
“An improvised shrine,” I said.
“So we assumed,” Morofusa confirmed. “I had the privilege of opening it the first time.”
I smiled. “Only because Master Kenji knew what was likely to be inside.”
I went into the darkness and opened the door. Inside sat the severed head of a large dog.
The process of making an inugami has two variations. In the first, the dog would be buried in the dirt with only its head uncovered, while bowls of food and water were left just out of reach. When the poor creature was close to dying of thirst and starvation, the creator would offer prayers to the dog’s spirit and then saw its head off. In the second method, rather than being mostly buried, the dog would be tied, again with food and water placed just out of reach. When the animal was completely focused on trying to reach its sustenance, its head would be struck off, thus putting the animal’s predatory focus at the service of the conjurer if the ritual was conducted correctly. The latter method was quicker, so in that respect one might be tempted to call it the kinder of two horrible methods. I was not so tempted. In either case the dog would be dead and its spirit bound, though sooner or later the inugami could be expected to turn on its master. Those assassins who were experienced in the creation and use of the creatures would be prepared for that eventuality. Those who simply sought revenge without considering the consequences—or those who became careless—would die in the jaws of their own creation.
What I did next rendered me ritually impure for the next month, but that was of no concern to me. I reached out and pulled the head over so I could examine its cut. It only took a moment to find what I was looking for.
“A very clean cut. Whoever created this monster was an expert swordsman.”
Now I knew what method had been used. This was no slow, agonizing death, but a very quick one. Since the head was located nearby this also told me something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “This wasn’t the work of a criminal clan hired for assassination. This creature was created by someone close by for the sole purpose of killing one of us.”
“I hate to say this, but what about Princess Tagako?” Morofusa asked.
“It’s true Princess Tagako knows the technique,” I said. “But she hasn’t a moment to herself and I’m fairly certain she has neither the strength nor skill with a sword that this would require.”
Morofusa simply grinned. “I meant as the intended victim.”
“One would think so, and yet I know of no reason for it— Wait. Who else was present when Tagako-hime held her audience in the great hall? Did you see?”
“I was at the gate when most of them arrived,” he said. “Let me think . . . there was a delegation from all the temples in Nara, of course, the headmen of several villages, Governor Yorinobu—”
I interrupted. “Fujiwara no Yorinobu?”
“No, my lord. Minamoto no Yorinobu. He’s a member of the Montoku Genji and thus has ties of loyalty to the Fujiwara, but he is not one of them. My understanding is that he was a friend and confident of the former Fujiwara chancellor, Lord Michinaga. It was how he got this appointment.”
I knew the name, of course. Lord Michinaga had been chancellor for so long and governed with such authority that many people saw little difference between him and whatever emperor happened to be on the throne at the time. Even now, years after his death, his shadow loomed large. Lord Fujiwara no Yorinobu and his two half-brothers were all sons of Michinaga. Now I understood why Morofusa had placed the governor’s escort in the vanguard.
“Montoku Genji. So that is why you put them in the front, to keep an eye on them. You don’t trust them, do you?”
Morofusa demurred. “Say rather that I am wary of them, as their loyalties are not my own,” he said. “I thought the vanguard most appropriate.”
“That aside, I know they have more than a few enemies. What if someone desired this governor’s death?”
Morofusa shook his head. “Then they missed their opportunity. He had departed before the inugami was even discovered. He took the rest of our honor guard escort with him, as was previously arranged.”
That was an interesting coincidence, but I understood, so far as I knew, it really was just that. Even if I assumed that the Montoku Genji were somehow involved as agents of the Fujiwara, I still wouldn’t know why or who the true target was.
“Was there anyone else besides the governor?”
Morofusa frowned. “Representatives of some of the more prominent local families, but none, to my knowledge, have dealings with court politics other than the usual currying of favor. If that were cause for assassination, there would hardly be anyone left.”
“In essence, we are fighting blind,” I said.
“Deaf as well, I think,” Morofusa said cheerfully. “Yet we will do the best we can.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Once Morofusa had finished his report, he left to oversee the preparations for our departure the next morning. I was left alone for a while with my thoughts, but they could find no way out of my ignorance. That the inugami had been prepared nearby and was therefore likely not from one of the assassin clans meant someone close to us was taking foolish chances, whatever their intent. Such a one could do great harm to many people and still not achieve their goal, whatever it might be. As for that goal, I felt no closer to answering its riddle than I had in the beginning. For now, as Morofusa as said, we would do our best. I would continue to protect Princess Tagako to the best of my ability, but to do so in a state of ignorance was galling.
I went to look for Kenji, and found him studying a ragged old scroll in the dilapidated lecture hall of the temple.
“Remarkable,” he muttered as I walked up. “Nearly complete copies of the Infinite Meanings Sutra and Great Wisdom Sutra, from the period when Heijo-kyo was the capital. Nearly four hundred years old and likely much older. I could spend years studying these.”
“We don’t have that much time, I’m afraid.”
Kenji looked unhappy. “I know. Not much time . . . in all meanings of the word. Well, time is an illusion, so believing one has enough of it is also an illusion.”
“What do you think of these recent events?” I asked.
“By which, I assume, you are referring to the inugami, and our uncertainty as to its intended victim—though I think we can guess—or who would desire such a thing, or why. One educated guess and two complete unknowns. It is troubling.”
Something had been hovering on the edge of my mind, and Kenji’s assessment of the situation finally helped me put it into words. “Kenji-san, if the Fujiwara desired someone’s death, how do you think it would be arranged
?”
“By stealth. A dagger in the dark, poison in one’s drink, an unknown malady that carries one away despite the healer’s prayers. While they are quite capable of open attack through proxies when the situation warrants, most of the time they prefer more subtle methods.”
“Precisely. What about this speaks of the Fujiwara to you?”
“Nothing at all,” he said. “Nor can I even begin to think of a reason they could possibly have to desire it.”
I was having some trouble in that regard myself. “Yet, for the sake of consideration, let us suppose there was a reason for the Fujiwara to desire Tagako’s death. It would have to be some reason of recent origin, since during the years she served as high priestess, they would have had plenty of opportunity to strike at her at a time of their choosing. Is this not so?”
“It is,” he said, frowning. “Go on.”
“Also, the reason would have nothing to do with her imminent return to the Capital, since the declining health of his late Majesty was known for some time, so they’ve had opportunity before now. Also true?”
“One would think so,” he said.
“That would also imply the Fujiwara were caught off guard by this development, this danger to their interests, with the need to mitigate the danger, whatever it might be, very acute and immediate. What sort of threat would fit that description?”
“Any threat or potential threat to their political hegemony,” Kenji said. “You know as well as I their power and prestige are almost all they care about.”
After my meeting with Fujiwara no Yorinobu, I was prepared to concede Kenji’s “almost.” Even for such as the Fujiwara, family dynamics were sometimes in the ascendant and larger concerns neglected. That appeared to be the case now, and I hoped it would continue long enough to secure the emperor’s position and throne.
“Agreed. And if they were caught off guard with the need to act in haste?”
Kenji smiled. “Then we might have seen the result last night. You’ve forged a reasonably solid chain here, Lord Yamada, but the first links are still the weakest—we don’t know for certain the Fujiwara are involved in any way or even that the soon to be former priestess is the true target.”
“All true. Yet we must assume so until proven otherwise.”
“That is no more than common sense and may even keep us alive,” Kenji said. “But it gets us no closer to an answer.”
“If we do not remain alive, the answer will no longer be of any concern. Or rather, not to us.”
The next morning we were scheduled to depart Heijo-kyo for Uji. I had some experience at Uji. Although nobles at the court had used it as the site of their “country estates” for many years, not very long ago it had been infested by bandits and only recently brought to heel by the current provincial governor. Even so, my memories of the place were not fond ones, and I felt it especially wise to be on our guard. I went looking for Morofusa only to find him sitting on a fallen guardian statue beside the temple, looking pensive.
“What has happened?”
“You haven’t heard? No, certainly not. It’s not the sort of thing one would expect one of your station to be concerned about. Forgive me, I will see to my duties—”
“Shōshō, I did ask what had happened. I was not merely being polite.”
Morofusa slid from the statue and dropped to his knees. “Your pardon, Lord Yamada. I received word just this morning that Harutada, the shōshō of our Montoku Minamoto escort, has been executed.”
I scowled. “Executed? Why?”
Morofusa looked up. “The order came from the provincial governor, and the charge was ‘disobedience.’ That is all I know.”
“What could he have done in such a short time to warrant this?” Only after a moment I realized I’d asked the question aloud.
“It is very strange,” Morofusa said. “I admit to being cautious around the Montoku group, and to keeping my eyes on them, but nothing happened during their part of the journey to cause me concern, nor did I notice any misbehavior within their ranks. I would have questioned some of the men under his command, but they have all been withdrawn, as you know. The nature of Harutada’s crime puzzles me.”
Me, as well.
I considered for a moment seeking an audience with the governor, but I could think of no justification for inquiring into an incident of internal discipline. I turned to Morofusa. “We will next travel to Uji, then travel southwest to a village on Osaka Bay for Princess Tagako’s final duty as saiō before we return to Uji and then on to Kyoto, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“That still leaves us two days or more within the governor’s jurisdiction. If you see anyone in our former escort or otherwise have the chance to find out more details, please let me know.”
“I will,” he said. Morofusa then departed to meet with Akimasa. I stood by the fallen statue for some time.
Of course I knew the timing of the Montoku Genji’s shōshō’s execution might have had nothing to do with recent events. I knew that coincidences did happen, yet over the years I had learned to be skeptical of them. I saw the reason for Harutada’s execution as one more piece of information I did not possess, and only when I did possess it could I judge its importance.
We reached Uji early that afternoon. Princess Tagako was quartered in one of the country estates of the imperial family, but allowances had been made to keep her escort in close proximity, as the official in charge of the household, a balding older man named Katanori, informed me upon arrival. I had been concerned, worried the escort would be confined to guard duty outside the compound with no chance of intercepting an assassin already within the grounds. But not only were Morofusa and Akimasa’s bushi allowed inside, there were quarters clearly designed to accommodate large groups of warriors, and they were given free rein to arrange their watches and patrols to their own satisfaction. The Taira bushi previously assigned to secure the household were placed entirely under our command for the duration of Princess Tagako’s stay—likely to their annoyance—upon the orders of the master of the house. Given my previous concerns, I asked Katanori to whom we owed such accommodation.
“Prince Kanemore,” he said. “I crave your pardon, Lord Yamada. I thought you knew.”
No, I had not known. And aside from the information that this estate belonged to Prince Kanemore, I now knew something else as well, something I had not known before. I asked Kenji to take a walk with me in the garden. When we stood in the center of it, well out of earshot of anyone, I told Kenji what I had discovered and, more to the point, what I thought it meant. He was silent for several long moments, and when he finally spoke I could tell he was hesitant to state what we now both knew.
“I share your interpretation of Prince Kanemore’s instructions to his steward. This was no simple honor guard, not even from the first,” he said. “Prince Kanemore clearly knew that someone in the procession, likely the saiō herself, but definitely someone’s life was in danger.”
“It is the only reasonable conclusion. Else there would be no need for the additional security measures which we were allowed to arrange,” I said.
“And nothing that Lady Kuzunoha, or the princess herself, conveyed to you even hinted at this?”
I recalled my past conversations with both women as carefully and thoroughly as I could but came up empty. “Nothing. Not a hint, nothing at all.”
Kenji scratched his chin. “Yet we must also conclude the original reason itself, the one that set us on the road to Ise in the first place, was not the real one.”
“I suspect as much, though a possible Fujiwara campaign against Go-Sanjo’s principal wife and eldest son must remain a possibility.”
“Meaning only that the threat you were told of originally was plausible enough to rouse you to action.”
I sighed. “The thought had occurred to me.”
“Lord Yamada, I confess myself more baffled than ever. We didn’t even realize, until the first attempt with the inugami, there
was danger.”
“True, but from the first day we acted as if there might be, because this is our expectation,” I said. “Kanemore knows me—and us. I think he trusted us to rise to the occasion.”
“A warning would have been far more effective,” Kenji muttered.
“Perhaps.”
I had been turning the subject over and over in my head, and something I had just said was triggering another understanding.
“We acted as we did because that is our nature,” I said.
“You just said that, more or less,” Kenji said. “Why are you repeating yourself?”
“Because I think I touched on something significant. If Prince Kanemore had told us, for example, that Tagako was in danger, then I would want to know why she was in danger.”
“Assuming she is the target, you want to know that now,” Kenji said dryly.
“Of course I do, but what if I had first heard of possible danger from Kanemore himself? What if he had said that from the start, either through Kuzunoha or Tagako?”
“Then you would have known he knew the reason, and who the intended target was, two things we still do not know. Naturally enough you would ask what those were, would you not? Anyone else might just accept Kanemore’s orders without question, but no, not you. You would have to know why. The only obvious answer is that he did not want to tell you the reason,” Kenji said. “I cannot imagine why this would be the case, but there it is. He could have just told you it was a secret, or made up some excuse.”
“Which would have doubtless worked?” I asked, trying not to smile.
Kenji admitted defeat. “Prince Kanemore knows you too well. Of course it wouldn’t have worked, so we must assume we were summoned under false pretenses. Do you think Kuzunoha knew all along? Or Princess Tagako?”
“There would be no reason to tell Kuzunoha, since it was outside the scope of her mission. As for Tagako, well, it is the prime requirement of any courtier to lie easily and well, so I concede the possibility. But I do not think so.”
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