Rashomon Gate (2 page)

"There was. The prince arrived with a small party of friends and retainers, and entered the shrine alone by its only door; he chanted for an hour while his companions sat outside, waiting and watching the door. When he finished his devotions but did not come out, his closest friends went in together. They found nothing but his robe. The monks were called, and later the police and the imperial guards. All of them searched the temple and its surroundings for days without finding a trace of the prince. Finally the monks petitioned that the emperor acknowledge a miracle, and so he did."

"Nevertheless I don't believe it!" Akitada pulled his earlobe, frowning. "There must be an explanation. I wonder if . . ."

Suddenly a shouting match erupted outside the ministry.

"That sounds like Tora!" Akitada was at the door to the veranda in a few strides, Seimei right behind him.

In the courtyard two men were facing each other threateningly. One was small, still in his twenties, with a weak face not markedly improved by a mustache, and dressed in the shimmering silk and the formal lacquered headgear of a court official. The other was not much older, tall and muscular, handsome, but dressed in a plain cotton shirt and trousers.

The courtier was advancing, his wooden baton raised to strike, when the other said in a dangerously low voice, "If you touch me with that toothpick, puppy, I'll shove it down your throat and stop that nasty mouth of yours for good!"

The official paused uncertainly. Flushed, he sputtered with rage, "You . . . you . . . would not dare!"

The tall man bared a handsome set of teeth and took a step toward him. The courtier retreated several feet and looked about for help. His eyes fell on Akitada and Seimei who had stepped up to the balustrade of the veranda.

"What is the matter, Tora?" Akitada asked the former highwayman who was now his houseman.

The tall young man turned. "Oh, there you are." He waved to them with a grin. "We sort of collided at the corner, me being in a hurry, and him not looking where he was going. I said I was sorry, but the pretty boy threw a temper tantrum, called me names, and wanted to hit me with his toy."

"Is that uncouth savage your servant?" the stranger demanded in a voice trembling with fury.

"Yes. Were you injured in the encounter?"

"It is a miracle I was not. I demand that you punish this person immediately and forbid him to enter the imperial enclosure in the future. He is clearly unable to recognize his betters."

"Did he not apologize?" Akitada asked.

"What does that signify? If you do not do as I ask, I shall have to call the guard from the gate."

"Perhaps we should discuss the matter further. By the way, my name is Sugawara Akitada. May I know yours?"

The little man drew himself up importantly and recited, "Okura Yoshifuro. Secretary in the Bureau of Ranks, Ministry of Ceremonial. Junior seventh rank, lower grade. I am on my way to speak to the minister and have no time to waste with minor officials."

Akitada raised his heavy brows. His normally pleasant, narrow, aristocratic face assumed a haughty expression. "In that case you may wish to discuss the matter with Counsellor Fujiwara Motosuke, a member of the council of state. He is by way of being a special friend to Tora and myself and will vouch for us."

The color receded from the other man's face. "Naturally I would not dream of troubling a man of the counsellor's standing," he said quickly. "Perhaps I have been rather hasty. The young man has apologized, as you rightly reminded me. It behooves people of rank to be understanding of the feelings of the common man. Did you say your name is Sugawara? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. Hope to meet again." With a polite bow, he turned and rushed off so quickly that his lacquered headgear slipped over one ear.

Tora opened his mouth to shout with laughter, but Akitada cleared his throat warningly and waved him inside.

"Well, I guess you showed him who's in charge!" grinned Tora as soon as the door closed behind them.

"What possessed you to pick a fight with an official?" Seimei cried. "You will surely cause your master trouble!"

Tora bristled. "Maybe you think I should've let him hit me?" he demanded.

"Yes." Seimei wagged his finger at him. "You should indeed. How can you give yourself such airs? Remember that it is always the biggest dew drop that falls first from the leaf."

"What was so urgent?" Akitada interrupted.

"Oh."Tora pulled a folded paper from his shirt and handed it over. "There's this letter from Professor Hirata. A boy brought it to your house just when the carpenters got there to start work on the south veranda. They look like a proper bunch of louts, so I need to get back."

Akitada unfolded the letter. "Well, you can go back now," he said when he had read it. "Heaven forbid the louts should do violence to my mother's favorite veranda. But this time walk!"

When Tora had gone, he said to Seimei, "I am invited to dinner. I know I should have visited them before, but . . ."He let his voice trail off uncertainly. As usual, his conscience smote him.

"A very kind gentleman, the professor," Seimei nodded. "I well remember the time when you went to live with him. How is the young lady? She must be quite grown up."

"Yes." Akitada pondered. "Tamako must be about twenty-two by now. I have not seen her since my father died and I moved back into our home." Akitada's mother disapproved strongly of any ties with the Hiratas, but he could not honestly blame his reluctance to see Tamako on Lady Sugawara's snobbery. Too much time had passed, and he was afraid that they would not have anything to say to each other any longer. He said, "The professor writes that he needs my advice. He sounds worried. I hope nothing is wrong." Sighing, he said, "Well, Seimei, old friend, back to work!"

Two hours later Akitada carefully dried the ink on the last sheet of commentary on the legal intricacies of the case and remarked, "Apart from the exalted status of the litigants, this is a simple suit. May I take it that we have whittled down the backlog of cases under review?"

"Yes. There are only another twenty dossiers, all of them minor matters."

"In that case, Seimei, we are entitled to make an early evening of it. Let us go home!"

The sun was already slanting across the green-glazed roofs of the government buildings, when Akitada, on his way to the Hiratas, walked along Nijo Avenue, past the red pillars of the gate leading into the Imperial City. He squinted into the bright light, dodging the steady stream of clerks and scribes flowing through the gate on the way to their homes in the city.

From this gate, called
Suzakumon, Suzaku
Avenue stretched south to
Rashomon
, the great two-storied southern gate of the capital city. Along its entire length, Suzaku Avenue, more than two hundred feet wide and bisected by a wide canal, was lined with willow trees. A multitude of people, native and foreign, of high and low degree, pedestrians, ox carts and horsemen moved along this main thoroughfare all day long. Akitada thought it the most beautiful street in the world.

To the west, ahead of him, the pale greens of many trees in their spring foliage screened one of the residential quarters. From this vantage point the area looked like a vast beautiful park, but Akitada knew better. The northwestern quadrant of the city had, like its eastern counterpart, been planned for the palaces, mansions and villas of the "good people," the great noble families, the high-ranking court officials, and members of the imperial clan, while the southern two thirds of the city were occupied by the common people, and by the markets and amusement quarters. For no apparent reason, people had begun to abandon the western city and crowded into the eastern half or moved to the countryside.

Their palaces and villas had burned down or fallen into decay. Many of the humbler homes had been abandoned to squatters and cutthroats. Only the trees and shrubs had thrived, and a last few respectable families, like the Hiratas, lived quiet, isolated lives there.

As Akitada passed down street after street, some of them bisected by canals and crossed by simple wooden bridges, he saw that several more homes had become empty since he had last walked this way. He wondered how safe Tamako was when her father was teaching at the university.

To his relief, the Hirata villa appeared unchanged. Its wall had been kept in good repair, and the same gigantic willows flanked its wooden gate. The scent of wisteria blew over the wall on a soft breeze. With a sense of homecoming Akitada raised his eyes to the elegantly brushed inscription over the gate: "Willow Hermitage."

A white-haired servant, bent with age, opened the gate and greeted him with a wide, toothless smile. "Master Akitada! Welcome! Come in! Come in!"

"Saburo! It is good to see you again. How is your health these days?"

"Well, there's a pain in my back and my knees are stiff. And my hearing's going, too. "The old man touched each defective part in turn and then broke again into his big grin. "But it will have to get much worse than this before I'm ready to go. No man could ask for a better life than mine. And now here you are, come back a famous man!"

"Hardly famous, Saburo, but I thank you for the welcome. How is the professor?"

"Pretty well. He's waiting in his study for you, Master Akitada. But the young lady asked to speak to you first. She's in the garden."

As he made his way along the moss-covered stepping stones, Akitada basked in the warmth of the old servant's welcome. To be called "Master Akitada" again, just as if he were the son of the family, brought back the happy year he had spent here as a youngster.

When he rounded the corner of the house and saw a slender young woman among the flowering shrubs, he called out cheerfully, "Good evening to you, little sister!"

Tamako turned and looked at him wide-eyed. For a moment an expression of sadness passed over her pretty face, but then she smiled charmingly and ran towards him, hands outstretched in greeting.

"Dear friend! Welcome home! You make us very happy. And you look so distinguished and very handsome in that fine robe." She stopped before him, her hands in his, and smiled up at him.

Akitada was lost in surprise. She had become quite lovely, with that slender face and neck and an elegant figure.

"How is it that you are not married yet?" he blurted out.

She released his hands and looked away. "Perhaps the right person has not asked yet," she said lightly. "But then I hear you, too, are still single." Smiling up at him again, she added, "Shall we walk to the arbor? I have a particular favor to ask of you before you see Father. And then I must go see about dinner and change into a more proper gown."

He saw, as he walked with her, that she wore a plain blue cotton robe with a white-patterned cotton sash about her small waist. It seemed impossible to improve on the picture she made and he told her so.

She turned her head slightly and thanked him with a blush and a smile. "Here we are," she said, pointing to a wooden platform under a trellis covered with flowering wisteria. The purple blooms hung in thick clusters suspended from a leafy roof.

Akitada looked around him. Everywhere plants seemed to be in flower or bud. The air was heavy with their mingled fragrances and the humming of bees. When they sat down on two mats which had been spread on the platform, he was enveloped by the sweet scent of the wisteria blossoms and felt that he had walked into another, more perfect world, one which was far more intensely alive with colors, scents and the sounds of birds and bees than any existence on this earth had any right to be.

"Something is terribly wrong with Father," said Tamako, breaking into his fancy.

"What?"

She took his exclamation literally. "I do not know. He won't tell me. About two weeks ago he came back late from the university. He went directly to his study and spent a whole night pacing. The next morning he looked pale and drawn and he hardly ate anything. He left for work without any kind of explanation, and has done the same every day since then. Whenever I try to question him, he either maintains that nothing is wrong, or he snaps at me to mind my own business. You know this is not like him in the least." She looked at Akitada beseechingly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I have been hoping that he invited you to dinner to confide in you. If he does, perhaps you can tell me what has happened. The uncertainty is very upsetting."

She looked pale and tense, but Akitada shook his head doubtfully. "If he has refused to tell you, he will hardly speak to me, and even if he did, he may ask that I keep his confidence."

"Oh," she cried, jumping up in frustration, "men are impossible! Well, if he does not speak, you must find out somehow, and if he swears you to secrecy, you must find a way! If you are my friend, that is!"

Alarmed, Akitada rose also. He took her hands in his and looked down at her lovely, intense face. "You must be patient, little sister!" he said earnestly. "Of course I shall do my best to help your father."

Their eyes met, and he felt as if he were drowning in her gaze. Then she looked away, blushing rosily, and withdrew her hands. "Yes, of course. Forgive me. I know I can trust you. But now I must see about our dinner, and Father expects you." She made him a formal bow and walked away quickly.

Akitada stood and watched her graceful figure disappear around a bend in the path. He felt perplexed and troubled by the encounter. Slowly he walked towards the house.

The professor received him warmly in his study, a separate pavilion which was lined with books and looked out on a stand of bamboo, an arrangement of picturesque rocks and patterned gravel outside a small veranda. This room, where Akitada had worked on lessons with the professor, was as familiar to Akitada as any room in his own home. But the kindly man who had been a second father to him had changed shockingly. He looked prematurely old.

"My dear boy," Hirata began as soon as they had exchanged greetings and seated themselves, "forgive me for summoning you so abruptly when you must be very busy with official duties."