Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow (7 page)

“I can well believe it.”

Once we crossed the bridge, we turned right and walked in the shadow of the
sugi
forest. Before long, the path turned more toward the slope of Shimaji-yama. The cones from the
sugi
had begun to fall at this time of year, and we found several in our path as we approached a large building which Yoshitsune informed us was the Kaguraden, the prayer hall built for pilgrims along the path to the actual shrine, since entry to the shrine building itself was forbidden.

“Perhaps, in a few centuries, the
sugi
forest will expand to cover this road,” I said, after I had accidentally stepped on one of the cones.

“With so many clumsy feet trodding them?” Kenji said. “Unlikely.”

“Not so many today,” I said, looking around.

Kenji frowned. “Now that you mention it, we have seen no one since we crossed the bridge. Does that not seem strange to you?”

“Actually, it does.” It seemed more than strange. It seemed very wrong. “On your guard,” I said.

I had no sooner spoken then several
bushi
stepped out of the trees ahead of us on both sides of the path. I recognized their
mon
at once—it was the wisteria vine of the Fujiwara.

Fujiwara
bushi
?

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—that Princess Tagako had sent me into a trap, that we were being ambushed on the grounds of the Grand Shrine itself, or that the Fujiwara were now producing
bushi
of their own. Normally, any warrior acting on behalf of the Fujiwara would be wearing their own insignia, whatever it might be. The odds appeared to be two to one and not in our favor. I glanced down the path looking for a line of retreat, but there were just as many warriors in that direction. It didn’t take a tactician of Prince Kanemore’s level to know that our position was untenable.

“It seems we will likely die today,” Yoshitsune said. “Let my death be honorable.”

He already had his hand on the hilt of his
tachi
, and I saw nothing for it but to follow his example. Kenji had no sword of course, but he did have his staff. Then I noticed something else strange—none of the Fujiwara had their weapons drawn.

If this is an ambush, why aren’t they attacking?

“Wait,” I said. “Keep your steel covered.”

Yoshitsune frowned but did as I commanded.

“Greetings, Lord Yamada.”

I didn’t see who had spoken at first, but then the
bushi
in front of us dropped to their knees as a handsome older man, richly dressed, strode briskly between them. “Spilling blood in this sacred space would be an abomination. So before you do something we will all regret, I think we should talk.”

We kneeled together within the empty Kaguraden. Outside, the Minamoto and Fujiwara
bushi
eyed each other warily, but no violence seemed imminent.

“You are the one I was sent to meet,” I said.

“If you’re referring to what the high priestess has told you, then yes,” he said. “Though I’m sure you know by now that her instructions would have come from our mutual friend, Prince Kanemore.”

Our mutual friend?

“You clearly have the advantage of me, sir,” I said. Eyeing his well-armed guard, I added, “In more than one way.”

He dismissed that. “Most of the time I can no more escape my escort than you can,” he said. “Especially when traveling outside the Capital. I apologize if my attendants startled you. I am Fujiwara no Yorinobu.”

Surprise appeared to be the order of the day. “
Sadaijin
? The minister of the left?”

“Well, technically I am only acting
saidaijin
as my brother Norimichi is the official holder of the position, but yes. Not everyone knows I act in his stead.”

The minister of the left was one of the highest officials in the Daijou-kan, the group of seven ministers of the court who exercised power in the emperor’s name. There was also another group of officials each responsible for such areas of concern as the treasury, military, and the emperor’s household, but they were subordinate to the Daijou-kan itself. In that august group only the chancellor of the realm and the
daijō-daijin
or chief minister, held more power than the man next to me. In theory they were answerable to the emperor, but more than once in the history of the country it had proved to be the case that the emperor really answered to them, even forcing him to abdicate in extreme situations.

“I am honored,” I said.

He frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Forgive me, Lord Yamada, but I do know your opinion of my family. Every now and then—though of course I would deny it if asked—I feel the same way you do.”

I bowed. “With all due respect, Minister, I am less certain of that.”

He smiled. “Prince Kanemore said you might feel that way, so he asked me to tell you something that could make our meeting more . . . productive. Would you like to hear it?”

I tried not to sound as skeptical as I felt, but it was difficult. “Yes, I would very much like to hear it.”

“That night in Shinoda Forest? The ogre’s head struck the ground before his body did.”

I wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or even more shocked. Only three people alive had known that, and Kenji and I were two of them. The third was Prince Kanemore. While Lady Kuzunoha had been present at the battle, she did not arrive until that particular fight was over, and the traitorous priest who had lured us there had committed suicide soon after. The only way Yorinobu could have known about the ogre’s head was if Prince Kanemore had told him.

“You are the reason I am at Ise,” I said.

“Of course . . . well, one of them. I wished to meet with you, but if it happened in the Capital, that could cause difficulties—for both of us. My dear brothers would almost certainly find out, and they know you are no friend to Fujiwara interests.”

That, I considered, was putting it mildly. Fujiwara machinations were the reason my father was dead and my family long in disgrace. That my father had been posthumously exonerated and the shame removed didn’t change what had happened. I knew Prince Kanemore was no more fond of them than I was and possibly less. But he knew the situation at court as I did not, and if he trusted the man beside me, it seemed I might have to do the same—up to a point.

“Yet if we met at the shrine, no one would think anything of it. Thousands of people make the pilgrimage every year,” I said.

“Officially, I am here to pray for the emperor’s recovery,” he said. “It was Kanemore’s idea. Clever man.”

“So it’s true, then. The emperor is ill.”

Yorinobu looked at me. “The emperor is dying. If you hadn’t already known that, I would be very surprised.”

“I admit I had been so informed. It is a sad thing.”

He smiled again. “Let us speak clearly to one another. I know your primary concern is that Prince Takahito’s ascension goes forward. It is the goal shared by Prince Kanemore, his royal uncle, as well. Perhaps there was some . . . question, shall we say, about that in the past? Yes? Well, rightly so. It is no secret that both the chancellor and the
daijō-daijin
of the Daijou-kan preferred Norihira, despite the Emperor Go-Suzaku’s decree.”

That much I did know. Go-Suzaku was Go-Reizei’s father, and even though, as his eldest, Go-Reizei ascended in due course, his father had decreed it was to be his much younger brother by Princess Teiko, Prince Takahito, who would ascend after him.

“Prince Norihira is a Fujiwara in the maternal line,” I said.

“Naturally it would be in our family’s interest if he became emperor,” Yorinobu said. “Though if his present Majesty had produced any sons by a Fujiwara mother, it is likely my brothers would have favored them instead, younger men being considered easier to influence and bend to their will. Yet his late Majesty Go-Suzaku may have known something about his eldest son that the rest of us did not. Go-Reizei has three consorts but no children at all. That left only Takahito and Norihira, so of course they favored Norihira.”

So far Yorinobu had told me nothing that I didn’t already know, but his casual relating of Fujiwara political strategy from one of the primary sources left me a bit unbalanced. “When you say ‘they,’ I assume you mean the chancellor and the head of the council?”

“Yes. Specifically, Yorimichi and Norimichi, my elder half-brothers.”

The names were not unknown to me. From what I had gathered from Prince Kanemore over the years, they had treated Takahito rather coldly from the beginning, even though he was crown prince. But then, their goal had always been to change this.

“Forgive me, Yorinobu-sama, but I still don’t understand.”

“Why I am telling you all this? Why you are here?” he asked.

“Yes to both.”

“For the second question, it’s very simple—Prince Takahito will ascend the throne upon the emperor’s death, as decreed. That is certain. What is not certain is how long he will be allowed to keep it. My brothers’ plan is to allow the ascension and then, as soon as possible, force Takahito—well, Emperor Go-Sanjo by that time—to abdicate in favor of his son Sadahito.”

“Again . . . why?”

He smiled. It reminded me of the kind of smile I had often seen on Princess Teiko’s face, the kind that had never failed to worry me. “Again, the answer is simple—while my family may have usurped a great deal of the emperor’s power, it is also in our interest to maintain the emperor’s prestige, as he is the source of both
our
power and prestige. This way they honor Emperor Go-Suzaku’s decree to the letter while circumventing its intent. Sadahito is still young, and his councilors will see to it that any of his offspring will be of the proper lineage. If removing his father immediately proves impractical, they will likely wait until a proper Fujiwara prince is born to Go-Sanjo, and then act. I don’t claim to know all details, Lord Yamada. The thing to keep in mind is that those at the highest levels of my family—meaning Yorimichi and Norimichi, yes—are more than somewhat worried about Prince Takahito. He has an independence of spirit which, ironically, I think is entirely due to their own poor treatment of him. They fear what he might try to do as emperor.”

I rather thought Prince Kanemore had something to do with that as well, but Yorinobu probably had a point.
If
Yorinobu was telling the truth—which was still not clear to me—then perhaps Lady Kuzunoha and Prince Kanemore were mistaken about their plans for Prince Norihira. But I think I understood something about the Fujiwara Kanemore did not: the Fujiwara played the game of court politics with a very long view.

“Now, then,” Yorinobu continued, “as for your first question—why am I telling you all this? One reason is because this is nothing you either didn’t already know or, I have no doubt, would soon piece together . . . with the possible exception of my family’s plans after the succession. Once Takahito ascends, he will be under the shadow of the Fujiwara until the initial threat from my brothers is mitigated. I took it upon myself to make that plain because it is important to me, Lord Yamada, that you understand the situation in its entirety or as much of it as I know. I am no more privy to all of my brothers’ secrets than you are. Yet for what I have told you already, I would be considered a traitor.”

“I don’t think you consider yourself such,” I said.

He looked very somber. “Not at all. It should be no surprise to you that my family, like any other, is prone to squabbles and differences of opinion. Unlike my brothers, I understand the world is changing, Lord Yamada.”

“Would that have anything to do with the Fujiwara
bushi
I see today?”

He smiled. “Yes, I thought you might understand their significance. To state the obvious, my family is both wealthy and politically powerful. Yet we are used to wielding that power only by proxy, as indeed the emperor himself does, witness the recent events in Mutsu province which I believe you know intimately. What happens when the proxies, like the Montoku or Seiwa Genji or the Hojo clan, realize they are the true owners of the power they wield on our behalf?”

I knew only a little of the Montoku Genji, other than that they were a branch of the Minamoto clan descended from the ancient Emperor Montoku, and now very closely allied with the Fujiwara. Yet even that kind of loyalty had its limits, as Yorinobu and I both understood.

“I have had this same conversation with Prince Kanemore,” I said, trying not to smile.

“Actually, so have I. The
bushi
you see are entirely my own doing, and I have plans for more. There are cadet branches and excess sons in our family who are more open to the idea now than was once the case. As you might guess, I am somewhat at odds with my two older half-brothers in this as well as other things, but that is not important at the moment. I came to you today to speak of Takahito-tenno’s ascension, and in this I do have an interest of my own—Princess Shigeko, the crown prince’s second consort, was my adopted daughter.”

“I was aware of this, and I am sorry for your loss,” I said.

He frowned. “You really would mourn a Fujiwara?”

“It may surprise you that this has happened before, Yorinobu-sama, but I understand your skepticism. I never knew her, yet Princess Shigeko is a special case. You know Prince Kanemore is my friend, and he does keep me somewhat apprised of events. I understood Takahito was genuinely fond of your daughter and grieved her loss deeply. Kanemore did the same, therefore. I sincerely grieve for your loss out of respect for them both.”

Yorinobu bowed very slightly. “I will accept that, and thank you. Yet I have more cause for grief than you may know, which brings me back to the business at hand. My brothers Yorimichi and Norimichi currently hold the positions of chancellor and chief minister. My eldest brother, Yorimichi, is regent in all but name. He plans to resign as chancellor to make way for our middle brother, but do not be fooled. He will retain much power and influence. Together, they speak for the Fujiwara. Yet even they together cannot force an abdication without the support of the greater ministers of the Daijou-kan. There is . . . an internal family situation, shall we say, which places me in a position to see that they do not have it.”