The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn (7 page)

Indeed, it seemed that way. He
could easily imagine the distant rocks as mountains and think of
himself walking the raked lines in the sand, so tiny that he could
not be seen. It would be a long journey.

Suddenly, the
judge clapped his hands loudly, twice. He was summoning the
kami
,
the spirits of nature that live all over Japan.
The judge looked at Seikei, and he realized that he was expected to
clap too.

Something strange happened when
Seikei clapped his hands. The garden changed slightly, in ways
almost too subtle to notice. A little breeze stirred up some of the
grains of sand. The rocks in the distance seemed to move farther
away. The back of Seikei’s neck tingled.

“We are going on a journey,” the
judge said, talking to something unseen. “We ask you to guide our
steps and help us accomplish our purpose. This boy needs to learn
many things. I will teach him what I can, but when I fail you must
show him the way. Look upon him with kindness.”

The little breeze died down, and
the garden was calm and silent once more. The judge rose to his
feet, and as Seikei turned, he saw a wooden sword resting on a
stand behind them.

Bunzo must have placed it there,
but Seikei had heard no sound. The judge picked up the sword.
Seikei saw that the smooth, dark wood was polished to a high gloss.
It seemed almost to glow, like a real sword. “I entrust you with
this sword,” said the judge. “Treat it well, and use it with
wisdom.”

Seikei took the sword in his
hands. He was almost dizzy with joy. He wanted to swing it through
the air to test it, but knew that was something a boy would do in
play. He acted as a samurai would, and bowed low to the judge
before slipping the sword through his belt. “I am ready,” he
said.

Judge Ooka smiled. “We shall
see.”

9: The Road to Ise

When Seikei and the judge returned
to the courtyard, two horses stood saddled and waiting. Bunzo was
nowhere in sight. Seikei was glad, for the samurai would not see
him struggle to get onto the horse by himself. Surprisingly,
although Judge Ooka looked heavy and slow, he mounted his own horse
with ease. The judge took the lead, and Seikei’s horse
followed.

They went out through the gate and
onto the road that led east. “Aren’t you going to take any guards?”
asked Seikei.

“I have you,” said the judge.
“Won’t you defend me, if we are attacked?”

“Of course, but your own
men—”

“Probably you thought we would be
traveling like one of those great daimyos you must have seen on the
road? With dozens of samurai and servants carrying banners and
loudly commanding everyone to get out of their way. Is that what
you expected?”

“Perhaps not that,” said Seikei.
“But you are a judge, one of the shogun’s own
officials.”

Judge Ooka nodded. “Yes, and now I
am in search of a criminal. That is one of my duties. Think of it
as if we were looking for a deer in a forest. Deer have sharp ears,
and frighten easily. If you march through the forest with many
soldiers, the deer will only run away. If you want to catch him,
you must become a tree.”

“A tree?”

“Yes. Deer are used to seeing
trees, and have no fear of them. And a criminal will have no fear
of a fat old man and a boy."

Seikei saw the wisdom of this. The
road was crowded today. Even on horseback he and the judge moved
slowly, for people on foot or in kagos blocked their path. Unlike
Lord Hakuseki, the judge did not order people out of the way. He
seemed content to move along with the crowd.

“Shouldn’t we hurry a little?”
asked Seikei.

“Why?”

“The thief must have left early in
the morning. We are far behind him.”

“But if we know where he is going,
why should that bother us?” said the judge. “We will arrive in our
own time.”

Seikei thought about this, but
could not understand. “Do we know where he is going?”

The judge nodded. “Think about the
nature of the crime,” he said.

Seikei thought. “A jewel was
stolen. You think, then, that the thief will go someplace where he
can sell it?”

Judge Ooka shook his head. “He has
another purpose.” Seikei tried to think of one, but could not. He
followed the judge, who seemed more interested in the scenery than
in looking for the thief. But why not, if he really knew where the
thief was going?

Seikei decided to watch the other
travelers. Among them, he saw a man wearing a dark blue robe and a
basket over his head. The basket had a little slit for him to see
through. He pointed the man out to Judge Ooka.

The judge
nodded. “That is a
komuso
.
You
have not seen one before?”

“No.”

“They are wandering holy men. See
the flute he carries? The komusos play music to beg for
food.”

“Why does he hide his face under a
basket?”

“That is part of the komuso
tradition. They want to lose their outer selves so they can dwell
on the spirit within.”

Seikei shook his head. Something
else for him to wonder about. “But,” he said, “it would be a good
disguise for a thief.”

“Ah.” The judge smiled. “You are
right. Keep an eye on him.”

Seikei felt glad to be doing
something useful. But the komuso moved more quickly than they did,
because he could slip easily through the throngs of people. Seikei
tried to urge his horse to go faster, but it lazily continued to
follow the judge’s horse. And when the road turned around a hill,
Seikei lost sight of the komuso. He strained his eyes, but couldn’t
find the bobbing basket-head in the crowd.

In places along the road, people
had built little huts with straw roofs, where they sold tea,
noodles, fish, pickles, and rice. The judge decided to stop at one
of them. Seikei slipped down from his horse. His legs felt wobbly
as he followed the judge into the hut. Inside, an old lady with
gray hair stirred a large pot of miso soup.

Seikei’s mouth began to water as
he smelled the aroma from the pot. He realized that he had not
eaten anything since breakfast. Judge Ooka placed a coin on a rough
wooden table in front of the shopkeeper. She ladled noodles and
broth into two bowls and set them down. Seikei finished his
quickly, and the judge ordered another. “Pretty soon, you’ll be as
fat as me,” he said.

Seikei thought it would take a
long time, but said nothing. After the judge ate his noodles, he
asked the shopkeeper, “Have you seen any kabuki actors on the road
today?”

The old lady glanced at the two
swords at the judge’s belt. “So many people pass by, Lord. I don’t
see them all.’’

Judge Ooka placed another coin on
the table. The woman slipped it into her sleeve so quickly that if
Seikei had blinked he would not have seen it.

She sucked on her teeth and cocked
her head. “But early this morning something unusual happened. A
group of men passed with a horse loaded with two large black
trunks, like the ones actors sometimes use to carry their costumes
and such. One of them wanted a bowl of noodles, but the others
urged him not to stop. They wanted to go on.”

“That was not unusual,” murmured
the judge.

She nodded and smiled, showing
that she had only a few teeth. “Oh, yes, but this fellow said he
had no money. He offered to do a trick for me if I gave him
noodles.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I cannot help laughing
as I think of it. It was very funny. I let him have a bowl, for he
made a face with very sad eyes. Just like an actor, you
know?”

The judge nodded. “And
then?”

“He took the bowl of noodles in
his hand—just where you’re standing now—and flipped backward, heels
over head, into the road. Landed on his feet. But he didn’t spill a
drop of the soup! I don’t know how he did it. I laughed and
laughed. It was worth the soup to see that.”

“Was he short?” Seikei broke in
suddenly. “With a scar on his cheek, here?” He drew a line across
his face.

The woman nodded and touched her
cheek. “Oh, yes. Must have cut himself somehow. But he had a lovely
face, even so. I never saw anybody with such beautiful
eyes.”

The judge thanked the woman and
left her another coin. He and Seikei mounted their horses and rode
on.

“Why did you ask the shopkeeper if
she had seen a short man with a scar on his cheek?” the judge
asked.

Seikei told the judge about the
incident at the checkpoint. When the beggar stood in Lord
Hakuseki’s way and then flipped backward to avoid being trampled.
“It seemed to me that they must be the same man,” said
Seikei.

Judge Ooka nodded in approval.
“You are observant,” he said.

“Could he be the one who stole the
jewel?” asked Seikei.

The judge smiled. “Can you see a
connection? Did the spirit you saw look anything like the man in
the road?”

Seikei tried to remember. “I think
the spirit was much taller. It had horns, and its face was very
white. I didn’t see any scar.”

“The hallway was dark,” the judge
pointed out.

As they rode along, Seikei
realized that only yesterday, he yearned to travel the road like
this—out in the open, where he could see everything. The road wound
along the seacoast here, and he looked out over the waves crashing
against the stone-covered shore on his right. Seikei took a deep
breath of the air, smelling the salt of the surf.

An ancient pine tree, twisted and
bent by the winds, clung to a crevice in a rock at the edge of the
sea. It drew Seikei’s attention. He wondered how the tree managed
to survive. He thought about how many people had passed by it
during the years it had grown there. For some reason, it made him
feel sad.

“You are thinking about that
tree,” said the judge.

“How did you know?” asked
Seikei.

“Everyone looks at it,” he
replied. “Because it stands alone next to the sea. Look on the
other side of the road.”

Seikei looked at the hillside that
rose above them. Pine trees grew all over it, one just like
another.

“They are straight and tall,” said
the judge. ‘They follow their nature as trees, which is to grow,
spread their branches, and in time drop their cones so that new
trees will grow in their place when they die. Most people live like
that, don’t you agree?”

Seikei nodded. “Yet,” the judge
said, “everyone looks at the tree that stands alone. It is
different. Fate has put it where it cannot grow straight and tall.
It reminds us of something that we fear. What is that?”

Seikei thought. “I don’t know,” he
said.

“You, a merchant’s son who thinks
like a samurai? You don’t know? Have you ever felt that you were in
the wrong place? That fate had made you different?”

“Many times,” Seikei admitted
softly. It was a secret thought that he had never told anyone
except the girl on the terrace. He was surprised that the judge
could see it so easily.

“People who feel that way
sometimes become criminals,” said the judge. Seikei felt guilty, as
if he himself had been caught committing a crime. But the judge’s
smile reassured him. “Only sometimes, not always,” he said. “But I
think about this when I look for a criminal.”

In the middle of the afternoon,
they came to a fork in the road. To the left, the main road
continued on to Edo. But some travelers took the smaller road that
led south, toward the coast.

“They are going to Ise,” said the
judge. “Making the pilgrimage.” Ise was the holiest place in Japan.
The ancient temple there was dedicated to Amaterasu, the goddess of
the sun, who was the ancestor of the first emperor of Japan. People
came from all over the country to ask Amaterasu to bless their
families and villages.

Judge Ooka swung his horse to the
right. Seikei was surprised. “Aren’t we going to Edo?” he
asked.

“In time,” said the judge. “We
will only lose a day at Ise. Have you ever been there?”

“No,” Seikei said, but he had long
wanted to. It was said that a sacred mirror was kept in the temple.
Indeed, it was the same mirror that the other kami used long ago to
lure Amaterasu from her hiding-place. Had she not come out, the sun
would never have shone on Japan. Whenever a new emperor took the
throne, he came to Ise to ask Amaterasu to continue to bless Japan
with her presence.

“You may be surprised,” said the
judge.

Seikei was. As they rode into the
town of Ise, Seikei saw that it was a rowdy place. His horse was
surrounded by people hawking magic charms and portions. One man
shouted that his could cure any disease; another told Seikei that
his would bring wealth. Seikei struggled to keep up with the
judge.

Jugglers and conjurors performed
their acts in the street. Seikei saw a crowd watching a trained
monkey that danced and begged for coins. Young women called out to
travelers, trying to get them to stop at the inns and teashops that
lined the streets. One of them tried to grab the bridle of the
judge’s horse, but he pulled away from her. On every building, it
seemed, signs proclaimed that this was the best place for food, for
lodging, or for entertainment.