Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (19 page)

I had been warned to consider my questions carefully and I thought, perhaps, I had not done so as well as I might have. Even so, I couldn’t think of any question, no matter how straightforward in human terms, that something so very far beyond my understanding as a god might give an answer equally beyond understanding. I gave up on getting any more answers that particular evening and dragged my weary carcass off to my rooms to gather what might remain of my sleep for the evening.

There was simply no help for it. Tomorrow I would need to find Kenji.

The next morning I was again reminded of why Kenji might be difficult to locate; the warrior monks were out in force. While the bulk of the citizens had come to treat them as just part of the city background, I could not afford to do so. I turned south toward the southeast gate. I found Kenji just beyond that gate on the side of the eastern road. He looked a little the worse for wear, but that was to be expected. Both customers and alms had to be a little skimpy at the southeast gate. He looked up and smiled at me.

“Lord Yamada. You’re looking well.”

“Coming from you, that sounds almost like an accusation.” I found a shaded spot beside the scruffy priest and sat down without invitation. “I see your strategy is to leave the city without really leaving the city.”

He shrugged. “It’s a very good strategy in most respects. The monks of Enryaku-ji seldom venture south of Shichijo-dori for some reason. Too far for their delicate feet, I wager.”

I hadn’t noticed that specifically, but now Kenji had mentioned it, I realized it was so. I had seen none of them once I’d passed Gojo-dori. I held out a small bundle tied with a cloth.

“One way in which I suspect it is not such a good strategy is that customers are much thinner on the ground along this road. The Widow Tamahara was in a generous mood this morning but I wasn’t hungry. Please take it.”

Kenji didn’t have to be persuaded. It was only after he’d eaten the rice, fish, and pickles to the last crumb and grain that he sighed and spoke again. “All right, what do you want?”

I told Kenji about the oracular dream I’d had the night before. He kept silent until I was finished. Then he scowled. “While I have no problem accepting the existence of gods—they are, after all, no more than beings of a spiritually purer state than humanity—they are not necessarily reliable.”

“Even a ‘purer state’ than humanity is not good enough?”

Kenji sighed. “Yamada-san, you must understand that, from my perspective, even a being of higher spiritual state isn’t very much better than a normal person. They both remain Unenlightened.”

“Kenji-san, you are perfectly free to preach to the gods later if you can spare the saké to gain their attention, but I need your help right now.”

Kenji patted his belly. “Lord Yamada, it’s a good thing for you I am so easily bought. Now then, you want to know what you’ve really learned from this oracular dream? I’ll tell you—nothing.”

“If so, it was an expensive ‘nothing,’ Kenji-san,” I said. “Though I do find it interesting there was so much of it I already knew.”

“Rather, it told you what you were prepared to hear from what you already knew: the attacks were not the result of the gods of the city being angered; you didn’t believe this to begin with. That the gods of the city do not know who caused them: neither do you. Shall I go on?”

“You’re saying I simply dreamed, and the image of Kanemore was just an image of Kanemore?”

Kenji smiled. “No. I’m saying if this indeed
were
the case, you would have no way of knowing the difference. You were told to banish the entity in ‘the usual way.’ Now, if we knew what the creature was, that actually might be good advice. I can prepare wards against almost anything, but first I have to know what the ‘thing’ is.”

“Is it a ghost, you think?”

“What sort of ghost can consume other ghosts and still leave them untouched at the end of the night? That kills with no regard of vengeance or righteous justice?”

“I don’t know.”

“And so, here we are again. Shall we enjoy the view?”

I couldn’t argue with anything Kenji had said. Probably I had been wasting my time. One trouble with dreams is that they made very poor documentation. Perhaps what I had seen and heard in my dream was real. Perhaps not. I simply had no way to know except instinct, and that didn’t always serve me well. Still, in the end it was usually all I had.

I got to my feet. “While I treasure our conversations, I have an appointment this evening and errands to run before then.”

“Lady Snow?”

I hesitated. “How do you know?”

He smiled wistfully. “There’s a look that comes over you when you mention her, Lord Yamada. I won’t call it gentle. Say rather just a bit less brooding. You didn’t mention her name, I admit, but I saw and recognized that look. I’d be careful if I were you.”

I shrugged. “Lady Snow wants something from me, and I believe I know what that something is. She serves her own purposes, no more or less than anyone else. She’s otherwise harmless.”

Kenji looked serious, or at least as serious as Kenji ever did. “No one is harmless, Lord Yamada. And anyone who can soften your habitual scowl? Doubly so.”

“I’ll take that into account.”

“Good day, Lord Yamada.”

I left Kenji on the far side of Rashamon and returned to the city. To my own surprise, as I walked up toward the Gion district, I found myself considering what Kenji had said. Was I in danger of becoming enamored of Lady Snow? Certainly she was beautiful and talented, so much so that she did remind me of Teiko. She was not Teiko, however, and no one else could be. I considered this state of affairs quite fortunate.

Men often talked of love and wrote poetry to express their feelings. Sometimes it was done in earnest, at others simply because it more easily parted the curtains to a lady’s chamber. Teiko and I had never mentioned the word. Spoken or no, I knew my heart as I thought I knew hers. I was still dealing with the consequences of what I thought I understood all these years later, and would be doing so for the rest of my life.

Perhaps Kenji had been right to be concerned. While I had never adopted the vows or the habits of monks, I did know pleasure was fleeting and of little consequence aside from itself. Love, however, was dangerous for all concerned. I resolved to remember that the next time Lady Snow smiled at me from behind her fan.

I did not meet any of the monks from Enryaku-ji until I was well up Karasuma-dori, almost to Shijo-dori. Remembering what Kenji had said about the monks’ patrolling habits, I resolved to test the premise further.

Since I was, as Kanemore had put it, currently at leisure, I turned west when I reached Shijo-dori and headed away from Gion. When the road I walked spoke more of trees and gardens than city, I turned south again. I went nearly to the southwestern corner of Kyoto without seeing a single monk of any kind, except for the occasional furtive mendicant who, like Kenji, had apparently learned where in the city it was safe to beg for alms or otherwise make themselves known. Still, with their former hostel almost within sight of the Demon Gate, it could not be easy for them to manage now, even assuming the sympathy and piety of the citizens could be counted upon; which, in my opinion, could hardly have been a sure wager if Kenji’s current state was any indication. No doubt many more of the itinerant monks had found their own way out of the city since the original edicts.

I turned north from there and made my way up the westernmost avenue of the city proper. After a bit I realized the presence of the Enryaku-ji monks had not reasserted itself.

“They’ve spread out from the Demon Gate to the Imperial Compound and Gion, but no farther,” I said aloud to no one in particular. “Curious.”

This put all of them within easy striking distance of the Imperial Palace, and the more important of the various mansions located outside the compound proper. If I meant to stage an attack, that is exactly what I would do.

Perhaps I was merely being overly suspicious, and I had no doubt that Kanemore was well aware of the warrior monks’ disposition within the city. Still, with the bulk of the Taira and Minamoto
bushi
currently in the north, the situation did give one pause for thought even though on the face of it an attack from Enryaku-ji made no sense. Since the northern branch of the Fujiwara already controlled most of His Majesty’s government, what could Lord Sentaro—whom I still could not think of as the apparently serene and pious Dai-wu—possibly have to gain by such an act?

I wanted to speak to Kanemore again though I had no new arguments to offer, but could not justify sending him a message. So I was somewhat surprised upon my return to the Widow Tamahara’s late that afternoon, to find a young man in Taira colors waiting on the veranda with a message from Prince Kanemore. He waited politely while I read:

His Majesty is sending an offering of silk to Enryaku-ji as a token of esteem. We leave tomorrow morning after sunrise from the Demon Gate, and you are welcome to come if you wish to accompany us. Please leave your sword behind; I will guarantee your safety. Kanemore.

No poem this time as, in Kanemore’s apparent opinion, there was no need for secrecy. Not that I was concerned—Kanemore’s word was better than gold. Yet even without such a promise I would not have hesitated. Now perhaps I would get the chance to meet Master Dai-wu and see what Kanemore had seen.

“You may tell His Highness I will be glad to join him tomorrow morning,” I said, and the young messenger bowed low and hurried away.

It was the second invitation in as many days. One could almost feel social.

As evening approached, I went first to the baths. I told myself it was simply to avoid offending Lady Snow’s nostrils after all my exertions of the day, but in truth I planned to look as much the part of Lord Yamada as a humble nobleman’s proxy could achieve. To do otherwise seemed rude and disrespectful, and I did not wish to give unnecessary offense since, as I was fairly certain, later this evening I would once more be forced to disappoint the lovely Lady Snow.

The breeze was pleasantly cool as, dressed in as close as I could manage to finery, I made my way to Lady Snow’s home later that evening. I paused a moment to enjoy it south of the Palace Compound, knowing full well that late spring would soon give way to days like furnace blasts and nights of smothering heat. Just a few more weeks and high summer would reign above even the Emperor’s will.

Nidai, looking plump and prosperous, was waiting at the gate. He bowed and ushered me inside into Lady Snow’s courtyard.

Clearly the workmen had been back since my last visit. The garden, once a completely overgrown wreck and only partly put to rights by my first visit, was now a thing of beauty, and for its size comparable to anything in the city not excluding the gardens of the Imperial Palace. I was impressed and said as much.

“Lady Snow directed the workmen personally,” Nidai said with more than a touch of pride, “and in every detail.”

“Your employer’s taste is quite extraordinary.” As was, apparently, the wealth of her unnamed patron. Taste was one thing—and in tradition-bound Kyoto, close to paramount—yet this marvel had to have cost a great deal. Still, with a concubine of Lady Snow’s quality, clearly her master had felt the inclination—perhaps even the necessity—of indulging her to a considerable degree.

Nidai ushered me into the main room and saw me comfortably seated before running off to confer with his mistress. He returned before long.

“Lady Snow bids me welcome you and apologizes for the delay. Dinner will be ready shortly. In the meantime, I am instructed to keep you entertained. Unfortunately, I do not know how to do this.”

I smiled. “Well, we could talk. You could tell me where you and your employer have been for the past month.”

He sighed. “Lady Snow warned me about this subject very specifically. I am free to discuss the weather and local gossip only. I’ve actually been gone too long from my old haunts to know much gossip.”

“Speaking of that . . . do you miss your friends?”

“Some of them,” he admitted. “Though most were friends of necessity rather than true affection.”

“Strength in numbers?”

He shrugged. “Of course. I’m an orphan. I say this not as an excuse but as explanation. My life has been based on necessity, Lord Yamada. What I could do, what I had to do. I am not proud of much of it but not ashamed either.”

At first I hadn’t understood what Lady Snow had seen in this once-grubby urchin. Now I thought, perhaps, I was seeing some of it as well.

“We all do what we believe we must, Nidai-kun, for good or ill. In that we are no different.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then we both heard the whisper of a
shoji
screen being slid aside, and Lady Snow entered the room bearing a steaming tray. While I had to admit I was famished, and the smells wafting across the room from the tray were intriguing, at first I could do little but stare at Lady Snow.

While Lady Snow’s attire was not of the more formal
junihitoe
style suitable for Court, she had managed to capture echoes of Court dress with a multi-layered
kimono
and a Chinese-style over-jacket. The alternating green and blue motifs were impeccably correct for the season, and the ocean wave pattern on the green over-jacket had clearly been accomplished by a master weaver. I had known royal princesses who did not suit their clothing so well nor bore it as gracefully as did the
asobi,
Lady Snow.

Nidai discreetly withdrew as Lady Snow approached, then kneeled in one smooth motion and set the tray before me.

“My apologies. It is difficult to be precise where food is concerned.”

“Or in the timing of the arrival of your guests,” I said. “No apology needed.”

The food was for me alone. I considered whether this meant anything or not. An
asobi
might dine and drink with a client but a noblewoman would no sooner eat in front of a man than she would entertain visitors in a privy.

Lady Snow left me again but soon returned bearing a thirteen-string
koto.
“If you like, I will play for you,” she said.