The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn (4 page)
Read The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn Online
Authors: Tom Hoobler
Tags: #mystery, #japan, #teen, #samurai
4: The Hour of the Rat
:
Seikei hurried back to the room
where his father was sleeping. He took off his kimono and lay down
on the other mat.
But he didn’t fall asleep. The inn
was still noisy. Only rice-paper screens separated one room from
another, and Seikei could hear Lord Hakuseki’s men talking loudly
in other rooms along the corridor. They were drinking rice wine,
and showed no concern for the slumbers of the other
guests.
Seikei heard his
father snoring. All the noise did not disturb
his
sleep. Seikei knew that tomorrow
would bring another long, uncomfortable trip in the kago. He
sighed, and tried to shut the sounds out of his
ears.
Then loud shouts made him sit up
and listen. He could hear very clearly, though the voice was
farther down the hallway. It was Lord Hakuseki himself. He was
scolding one of the inn’s servants for not bringing the wine
quickly enough. The sound of a blow was followed by a muffled cry.
Then heavy footsteps and a loud thud. The servant had been thrown
out on the wooden floor of the hallway. Much laughter followed from
the other samurai.
Truly, as the
girl Michiko had said, this daimyo did not have a noble
spirit.
I would not be that way if I were
a samurai
, Seikei thought. He reminded
himself of the three qualities of a samurai—loyalty, right conduct,
and bravery. Right conduct meant setting an example for others to
follow. Lord Hakuseki, powerful though he was, did not know the
difference between right and wrong.
The noise of the partying
continued for some time. Gradually, it began to die down. Seikei
heard the slow footsteps of samurai going down the hall to the
privy in the courtyard, and then returning. Finally, the inn became
quiet.
Seikei tossed and turned, unable
to get comfortable. He regretted telling the girl he liked ghost
stories. Now he could not get the image of the jikininki out of his
mind. The dim light from the corridor shone through the rice-paper
walls of the room. The walls were decorated with a pattern of
whorls and curlicues. Every time Seikei looked in their direction,
he seemed to see large eyes staring at him.
Far off, a temple bell rang once,
a hollow sound that meant the first hour after midnight had begun—
the Hour of the Rat. Seikei closed his eyes, but he could hear the
sounds of heavy breathing all around him. He knew it was only the
occupants of the rooms on either side. But it sounded like a gang
of jikininkis waiting to gobble him up as soon as he fell
asleep.
Then his body tensed. He heard
another sound. Something was sliding across the floor outside the
doorway. Seikei’s eyes popped open, and he saw the bamboo-screen
door begin to slide open, very, very slowly.
Seikei felt his hair stand on end.
As he watched in horror, the door opened wide. Something was
standing behind it—something larger than a man. The light in the
hallway was too dim for Seikei to see anything more than a shadow.
But he could see that it had a huge head, with horns sucking out of
it.
Seikei sat up as quickly as if he
had been a marionette on strings. He waved his arms wildly, and
tried to say, “I’m not dead!” But his throat was paralyzed with
fear, and only a squeak came out.
The shadow turned in his
direction. Seikei saw its eyes flash in the light from the hallway.
The creature’s white face looked down on Seikei. It stared at him
for a second and then raised one arm. Seikei saw a small object in
its hand, red and glowing like a fiery eye. The ghostly form waved
the red object toward him. To Seikei, it seemed like the spirit was
trying to cast a spell on him.
The shadow moved backward, and the
door slid closed again. Seikei felt as if he were made of stone. He
could not move a muscle, but his heart was pounding so fast that he
thought his chest would break open.
His ears were so keen now that he
thought he could hear insects crawling in the comers of the room.
As he listened, he heard a door sliding back. The ghost must be
going into another room.
What should I
do?
Seikei asked himself. He must get up
and raise an alarm. It would be his fault if the monster devoured
some other sleeping person. Perhaps even the girl, Michiko. He
clenched his fists, and thought of the first quality of a
samurai—bravery. He must do it.
He forced himself to stand, but
his legs were shaking and weak. Ignore weakness, he told himself.
Move forward without thinking. He took a step toward the
door.
When he reached it, he had to
remind himself again not to think of danger. Death had no meaning
to the samurai, he told himself, for that is the fate of all and it
does not matter if it comes today or tomorrow.
He slid the door open, and looked
out in the corridor. At the far end, where the darkness was
deepest, he saw the shadow moving. Seikei again found that fear
silenced his voice. He was angry at himself, and stamped his
foot.
As soon as he did this, the shadow
began to sink into the floor. Seikei could hardly believe what he
saw. Bit by bit, it shrank from sight until only its great horned
head was visible. Then that disappeared as well. Nothing
remained.
Seikei looked around. The corridor
was empty and silent. All the doors were tightly closed. He walked
to the place where the shadow had disappeared. There was a door
beyond it, but he was sure it had not opened. Checking, he slid it
aside and looked out. The rain had stopped, and the moon shone
brightly over the courtyard beyond. Nothing was there.
Seikei went back to his own room
and shut the door. He was calmer now, proud of himself for having
been brave enough to follow the ghost. Perhaps when he stamped his
foot, he had frightened it away.
He lay down on his mat again. The
inn was peaceful. Once more he heard the sounds of snoring people.
But they did not seem so fearful now. Something told him that the
danger was gone. But what had it been? Why did it come to his
door?
All night, he asked himself those
questions. Finally, when the first twittering sparrows outside
signaled the dawn, he fell asleep. But he did not rest for
long.
5: Prisoners in the Inn
Early the next morning, angry
shouts and the sounds of running footsteps woke everybody in the
inn. Seikei kept his eyes firmly closed, hoping the noise would
stop. Someone rapped on the bamboo frame at the doorway. Seikei
heard his father get up to see what was happening.
It was the innkeeper. “I apologize
for the disturbance,” he said. “But my honored guest Lord Hakuseki
has reported something missing from his room.”
“We know nothing about it,” said
Seikei’s father.
“I am sure,” the innkeeper said.
“But his men have surrounded the inn and will let no one
leave.”
“Are we prisoners, then?” asked
Father angrily. “I am on an important journey. I must arrive in Edo
in three days.”
“I regret that the matter is
beyond my control,” the innkeeper replied. “We must wait for the
judge to arrive.”
“Bring us tea and something to eat
at once,” Father said. “Unless we are to be starved as
well.”
“I will see to it myself,” said
the innkeeper.
Father closed the door and rubbed
his fingers through his hair, the way he did when he was angry.
“Are you awake?” he asked Seikei. “Did you hear?”
“Yes, Father,” Seikei mumbled.
“Could I sleep a bit longer?”
“No. You will develop lazy habits,
like the samurai you admire so much. See what trouble this one has
caused us.”
Seikei rose slowly. He wondered if
he should tell his father what had happened during the night. It
seemed like a dream now. No, he decided. Father was angry enough,
and would only tell Seikei not to imagine foolish
things.
A maid brought tea and a bowl of
pickled vegetables. The sharp taste of the pickles helped to clear
Seikei’s head. Secretly, he was glad not to have to get inside the
kago this morning. The innkeeper said that a judge was coming.
Seikei thought it would be exciting to observe how he would
investigate the crime.
There was a knock at the door.
Seikei slid it open and saw another samurai, one who did not wear
the crest of Lord Hakuseki’s clan. ‘The judge commands you to
come,” he said. They followed him down the hallway to the large
room that Lord Hakuseki had occupied the night before.
The judge now sat on the platform
in the center of the room. He wore a brown kimono, embroidered with
yellow chrysanthemums. The man was fat, but his eyes were as sharp
as a cat’s. He reminded Seikei of a statue of Buddha, except that
the judge wore the swords of a samurai under his obi.
Lord Hakuseki and his men were
seated along the walls of the room. The other guests of the inn
filed in and sat on the floor in front of the magistrate. Michiko
and her father sat right in front of Seikei. Seikei glanced at her
shyly, and she smiled.
“I am Judge Ooka,” the judge said
in a voice that seemed surprisingly pleasant. “I am here to
investigate the theft of a valuable object that belonged to Lord
Hakuseki. Does anyone wish to confess to the crime?”
The room was silent. Seikei kept
his eyes on the floor. He knew that anyone accused of a crime must
admit his guilt before he could be punished. However, judges had
the power to order a suspect to be tortured to force a confession.
It would be far better for the guilty person to confess at
once.
“Since no one has confessed,”
Judge Ooka said, “I will order my men to search your rooms to prove
your innocence.” Seikei heard his father sigh softly. He was
probably worried that their belongings would be carelessly
handled.
At the judge’s nod, three of his
assistants left the room. “The object was taken while Lord Hakuseki
was sleeping,” he said. “Yet his guards outside saw no one enter or
leave the inn. I ask anyone who heard anything strange during the
night to speak.”
Seikei lifted his head, but
quickly lowered it again. However, Judge Ooka noticed, and looked
in his direction. “Did you hear something?” he asked. Seikei did
not know what to say.
It was his father who answered.
“The inn was very noisy,” he said. “Everyone must have heard
sounds.”
Another guest spoke up. “There was
loud singing, and then an argument.” A third guest added, “I heard
someone being beaten.” Seikei thought that many guests must have
been annoyed by the noisy doings of Lord Hakuseki and his men. They
were glad to be able to complain freely.
‘You did not report this earlier,”
Judge Ooka said, looking at Lord Hakuseki. “Who was
beaten?”
The daimyo shrugged. “A servant.
He was careless, and I gave him a couple of knocks to teach him
manners.”
Judge Ooka asked the innkeeper,
“Where is this servant?”
“I will bring him at once, Lord,”
the innkeeper said. He left the room and in a few seconds returned
with a thin little man who lay face down on the floor in front of
the judge. “Sit up so I can see your face,” Judge Ooka
said.
He looked at the servant’s face.
“I see you have a bruise on your cheek,” the judge said. “How did
you get it?”
“It was my fault, Lord,” the man
said. “I was too slow and stupid, and I deserved a
beating.”
“You brought wine to Lord Hakuseki
and his men, is that so?”
“Yes, that was my
duty.”
“When you came to this room, did
you see this box?” Judge Ooka picked up the shiny black casket that
had held the jewel.
“No, Lord, I saw
nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing at
all?”
The man hesitated. “I saw nothing
I was not supposed to see.”
“How long have you worked in this
inn?”
“Two years.”
“Then you must know it very well.
You could probably find your way about the hallways in the dark, is
that so?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“You probably know many places in
the inn where you could easily hide something small, is that so?”
The man did not reply. Judge Ooka went on, his voice as calm and
gentle as if he were talking with a friend. “Suppose you found a
gold coin in the street and wanted to hide it so no one could steal
it from you. Where would you put it?”
“I would give the coin to a
temple, Lord,” the servant replied.
The judge nodded. “That would be
virtuous.” In the same tone, he added, “You know that I could have
your arms tied behind your back and have them pulled upward until
you confessed?”
The servant nodded. He was shaking
now. “Wouldn’t it be better to confess at once and spare yourself
that pain?” the judge said.
The servant lay on the floor
again. “I have not stolen anything, Lord. I swear it.”
Before the judge could reply, the
door to the room slid open. One of his assistants entered, and
Seikei saw that he carried the sample box of paper that Michiko had
shown to Lord Hakuseki. The man strode forward and placed the box
in front of Judge Ooka. “We have found the stolen jewel,” he said.
“It was hidden inside this box.”
