Текст книги "Rashomon Gate "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

"Sir," cried Akitada flushing with anger and frustration, "you may be helping a murderer escape justice to murder again. Think of your duty to your friend! Only the boy stands in the way of Sakanoue seizing the estates."

Shinoda's eyes widened. "How dare you?" he demanded. "You, sir, are accusing us of covering up a murder. Let me inform you that Lord Sakanoue never entered the hall while my friend was alive. He sat with us until the chanting stopped, and then we entered together and found . . . Yoakira gone. Furthermore, afterwards he was more eager to search the grounds than any of us. He was absolutely tireless! As for you, to my mind there has already been far too much idle and irresponsible gossip. First it was demons, now murder. Beware, sir, beware!"

And with that he padded off angrily, barefoot and indifferent to the sharp gravel on the path.

Akitada got up, angry with himself that he had ruined his last chance. He brushed the dust from his best robe and put on his socks and shoes over wet feet. Feeling slightly refreshed, but mentally more confused and frustrated than ever, he walked home thinking over Shinoda's words.

The complete lack of cooperation from all three men, though for different reasons, had a troubling unanimity about it. Only Shinoda had given him an answer of sorts. He had seen something besides Yoakira's robe in the prayer hall, something which had proved to him and the others that Prince Yoakira had died there. What had he seen? Suddenly Akitada recalled vividly the admonition on the calligraphy scroll in the prince's mansion: "Thou must search the truth within, for thou shalt not find it without." He had wasted time talking to people in the capital, when he should have gone to the place where it had happened. Akitada now suspected that Abe and Yanagida had played an elaborate game with him. Yoakira's friends knew something they were afraid to reveal, afraid that it would feed more "idle gossip."

He was passing the university compound at that point and remembered Hirata's poor health. If only he could solve Oe's murder! That certainly would put an end to the stress his old friend was under.

On an impulse, he crossed Nijo Avenue. The grounds of the university were deserted and the heat hung heavily over the courtyards, baking the gravel and rising in shimmering waves above it. Not a branch stirred in the pines.

Akitada went to the Temple of Confucius and entered it. In the half light the hall was slightly cooler than the outside air. With the figures of the sages looming darkly above him, Akitada tried to get a sense of the atmosphere. On his visit to Yoakira's rooms he had felt the presence of the prince very distinctly. Here the walls and beams, the very floor-boards under Akitada's feet were imbued with the mystery of Oe's murder, permeated with the images of violent death. Yet Akitada did not sense the spirit of Oe as he had that of the prince in the Minamoto mansion. What had these statues seen? How many people had been here the night Oe died? The victim and his killer, of course. And Ishikawa. Akitada was certain of this. But he did not think that Ishikawa had killed Oe. And he could not have been an accomplice. Ishikawa, the blackmailer, would have been a poor choice indeed. Had he been an unwilling witness? Or could he have come upon the body of his professor afterwards and decided on a whim to suspend it from the statue? That would have been in character. But Akitada could not see Ishikawa risking arrest by manhandling a newly murdered corpse. Quite apart from everything else, Oe's blood would have got all over Ishikawa.

Akitada stared at the polished boards at his feet. No, that was nonsense. If the body had been lying down, it would have left stains on the boards. And the blood in that case would have covered the victim's neck and shoulders only. Akitada raised his head to look up at Confucius. Oe's gown had had a broad band of gore running down its front, splashing into a puddle on the dais.

Akitada's eyes moved to the face of the sage. For the first time he noticed that the full lips, half hidden by mustache and beard, were smiling. With an angry exclamation, he turned on his heel and rushed out.

Kobe greeted Akitada almost cheerfully. Apparently the arrest of Kurata had caused him to regard Akitada with friendlier eyes.

"You'll be glad to hear," he announced complacently, "that we got a full confession to both murders. Imagine, Kurata claims he cannot father children, and the girl was trying to saddle him with another man's child. He said it infuriated him so that he snatched back the expensive sash he had given her. That's when she started threatening him, and so he strangled her with it, tossed the body into the reeds, and the sash to the first beggar he passed."

"Umakai."

"Yes. Later the old man recognized Kurata in his shop and made a scene, talking wildly about Jizo and having lost the sash. Kurata told him to come back after dark and he would give him another. Instead he strangled the old man, carried the body a few steps to the canal and flung it in. Case complete."

"You are to be congratulated," Akitada said dryly. "That was certainly most efficient. However, I came about Oe. If you have kept the dead man's clothes, may I have a look at them?"

"Of course we have kept the clothes. That is an ongoing investigation." Kobe clapped his hands and gave an order to a young constable, who returned to place the bundle on Kobe's desk.

Akitada took up the embroidered sash and laid it out flat. Deep creases marked the places where it had passed under Oe's arms and been knotted around the statue. The center section was less creased but heavily soaked in blood. The material was heavy and lined on the inside. When Akitada turned it over, only a few traces of blood had soaked through. Next he spread out the robe.

"Just as I thought," he told Kobe, pointing to an unstained section of fabric on the upper chest, close to the neckline. He placed the stained sash over it. "Look! Do you realize what that means?"

Kobe leaned forward. His eyes widened. "Holy heaven!" he exclaimed. "He was killed after he was tied up."

"Yes. If he had been killed first, the sash would have protected the fabric of his robe at the waist, where it originally was. When he was tied up, the sash was passed around his chest and under his arms. That means the killer need not have been strong at all. Slashing the throat of a bound man is ridiculously easy." Akitada grimaced. "It is also a coward's crime."

Kobe scratched his head. "But how did he get his victim to agree to being tied up?"

"Remember, Oe was very drunk. Whether he was tricked into it or threatened in some way does not matter. I think he was too befuddled to realize his predicament."

"Hm," Kobe said stubbornly. "It may have happened that way, but that doesn't mean that Ishikawa didn't kill him. In any case, my men have been scouring the temples throughout the capital. Tomorrow they will start on those outside the city. I'll get that young villain eventually. He'll be sorry he ran."

Akitada almost hoped he had guessed wrong about Ishikawa's hiding place, but the foolish young man had brought this upon himself. He turned to go, saying, "I shall visit the Ninna temple tomorrow and save you the trouble of checking that."

Kobe's eyes narrowed speculatively as he watched Akitada walk from his office.

Nineteen

The Truth Within

That night Akitada lay awake for a long time thinking about the Yoakira case. His decision to visit the temple had been intuitive rather than rational. Even now he had no idea what he was looking for in a place which must have been scrutinized over and over again after the event. He only knew he must go.

"Thou must search the truth within, for thou shalt not find it without," the prince's scroll had advised. He remembered the strange sense that a voice had spoken the words aloud as he was reading them. They referred to introspection, but could they not also be applied to the mystery? He had spent all his time looking for answers to the prince's fate "without," talking to the man's grandson and brother, and visiting his servants and friends. Now it was time to penetrate to the center of things, to the place where Prince Yoakira had ceased to exist as six men sat outside watching the door and listening to his voice.

Well before dawn Akitada and Tora got ready for the trip into the hilly countryside northwest of the capital. Since it was a workday, Akitada wrote a note to Hirata, excusing himself from his duties for one day and reassuring him about the Oe case. He gave it to Hitomaro to deliver at the university before the start of classes, feeling guilty about postponing further a visit with Tamako's father, but the danger to young Sadamu urged him to lose no more time in getting evidence against Sakanoue.

They left the capital on horseback. It was still dark, for which Akitada in his glum mood was thankful. The air was already warm and musty, and a faint stench of smoky cooking fires hung over the streets west of the palace. But as soon as they left the buildings behind, the smoke cleared and a light breeze sprang up, bringing the scent of warm summer grasses and the wildflowers which grew unseen by the side of the dirt road. They made good time, keeping their horses at an easy pace. The night was clear so that they could see the narrow band of road stretching gray before them. A breeze cooled their faces, and up ahead rose the black ridge of pine-covered headlands which lay between them and their destination. Now and then they passed another horseman, or a farmer with his cart, out before dawn; vague shapes in the darkness, or points of moving yellow lights if they carried lanterns. The carts did, as a rule, but men on foot or on a surefooted horse relied on the faint light of the sky.

"You've got to admit," said Tora, coming up beside Akitada and breaking the long silence, "that Hitomaro and Genba are good fellows and have done exactly as you told them."

Akitada had been pondering Yoakira's journey to the temple and brought his thoughts back to the present with difficulty. "Fortunately they have not been put to the test," he said. "We have not had a single suspicious character show his face for the past two nights. But I intend to return to the city as quickly as possible."

"What do you really think of Hitomaro, sir?" Tora persisted.

"He does have some of the mannerisms of a military man. But I think he has a better education than the average warrior, though he tries to hide it. An interesting character."

"Yes, he acts funny sometimes. I offered him a stick-fighting match, but he said he'd never used them. Like he was above that sort of thing. And he wouldn't practice sword-fighting with me either."Tora sounded aggrieved.

"Never mind," remarked Akitada with a smile. "Your skills are much more appreciated by the young lord."

Tora grinned. "The boy's a quick learner. He got really good at walking on his stilts, but when I was about to show him a few simple stick-fighting moves, Lady Sugawara called me away to do some chores."

A vision of his mother's outraged face amused Akitada only for a moment. There were more important matters on his mind. "If Yoakira's journey was anything like this, I expect neither the driver nor the prince's friends would have been able to see each other clearly until they reached the temple," he suggested to Tora.

Tora glanced up the road, where an oxcart labored up the hill. "Not a chance," he said. "The riders probably passed the carriage and went ahead. Not much point in staying together. They'd all meet at the temple anyway."

"I seem to remember that the driver said those on horseback were sometimes in front and sometimes behind. I don't suppose Kinsue would have paid much attention even if he could see them."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing happened on the way. Now that we've solved the murders of Omaki and Umakai, what are you going to do about the university?"

"I am waiting to hear what Ishikawa has to say when Kobe finds him."

"You think he did it?"

"No, not really, even if Nishioka says so. There is another possibility, someone who has escaped scrutiny so far, but I cannot spare the time because it is more urgent to help young Minamoto. I am convinced Sakanoue murdered Prince Yoakira in order to gain control of the estates. He has already married the granddaughter and now only the boy prevents his owning all of it. He must have killed the prince at the temple, but all the witnesses say he did not. It would have been so much simpler if Yoakira had disappeared in his mansion in the capital."

The road began to climb, and soon they passed into the cool darkness of the forest. Above the branches of the pines and cryptomerias the sky gradually changed to inky blue and then a pale luminescent gray. When they reached the ridge, the sun was coming up over the eastern mountains, casting golden glints over the treetops and meadow grasses. A fox crossed the narrow road and disappeared in the brush, and the trees were filled with the song of birds.

Finally the view opened and they saw below them a broad valley. A river meandered through it, separating a small hamlet of thatched farmhouses from a vast complex of halls and pagodas that seemed to stretch all the way into the next mountain range.

The temple's proximity to the capital had made it the preferred choice of retirement for a number of emperors, most of whom had built their own palaces and shrines here. The site was picturesque, with religious buildings scattered amongst groves of trees and small hills.

Akitada and Tora covered the downhill stretch at a light gallop, easily forded the river, shallow in this dry season, and dismounted at the main gate.

Inside the gatehouse sat a monk who received them with little interest even at this early hour. Visitors were commonplace here, especially since the "miracle." Akitada signed the visitors' book and asked for directions to Prince Yoakira's hall. The monk gave him a rough map, asking that he return it on his way back.

Prince Yoakira's family shrine was at the far end of the temple grounds. As they rode slowly along the narrow road, they saw few monks and even fewer visitors. But when they passed an enormous lecture hall, its great roof thatched, its wooden supports, eaves and railings painted a brilliant red, they found the latticed doors thrown wide to the morning air, and inside they could see rows upon rows of seated monks listening to the sonorous voice of a reader. Groves of pines hid the temple halls and service buildings from each other, and narrow, pebble-filled canals carried bubbling mountain streams through the temple grounds. Everywhere there was a pleasant coolness and the scent of pine and incense.

When they reached the walled Minamoto shrine, Akitada peered through the rustic gateway. A single building, plain and square, was almost hidden behind the tall whitewashed mud wall. Built of heavy timbers blackened by time, the hall was roofed with cypress bark and surrounded by a small courtyard. They dismounted outside the gate and tied their horses to the wooden posts provided for that purpose. As he and Tora walked towards the gate, Akitada explained that the prince's companions would have done the same and that Kinsue would have brought the empty carriage back here after the prince had entered the hall.

The courtyard was quite small, only large enough for one ox carriage, and at that the driver must have had a difficult time turning it around. Akitada and Tora climbed the wooden steps to the veranda. To either side of the hall, dense shrubbery closed in and blended with the forest. The heavy double doors, the only access to the interior, were closed. A plain balustrade surrounded the veranda, which extended only across the front.

Akitada paused here and looked around and back into the courtyard. On this veranda the prince's attendants– General Soga, Lords Abe, Shinoda, Yanagida and Sakanoue– had waited during the last hours of Yoakira's life. And somewhere down below, against the courtyard wall, Kinsue had sat peering up sleepily, listening to the disembodied voice of his master reciting the sutra inside the hall. There would have been only faint light when they arrived, for the prince was to begin his reading at dawn. The mountains around them would cast deep shadows, even after the first brightness was appearing in the sky. So much had happened in the dark. And inside this hall. Akitada turned towards the weather-darkened door.

The truth within!

Shaking his head, he pulled the dooor open. It creaked on ancien hinges. The hall inside was dim after the morning sunlight outside. Towards the rear wall stood a smallish Buddha figure carved from wood and painted in bright colors. It was seated on a raised lotus blossom, also carved from wood, and three small tables holding religious objects and ornaments were lined up before it. On either side, a tall iron candle stand, inlaid with gold and silver, held a thick candle. Akitada went to light both of them. The flames flickered in the draft from the open door, and weird shadows moved across the image and the simple prayer mat in front of it. Momentarily he felt again the touch of something ghostly– a sudden icy breath in the warm, stagnant air, raising the short hairs on his neck and leaving him dizzy. The sensation was not as palpable as it had been in the Yoakira mansion, but he shuddered nevertheless.

The walls appeared to be made from heavy posts and planks fitted without openings, and the roof, its thick rafters draped with cobwebs, rose steeply towards the massive ridgepole. The air smelled unpleasantly of incense and decay. Without windows, there was no circulation and the air felt heavy, warm and cloying.

Seen up close, the tables before the Buddha image were quite beautiful, gracefully constructed from some very dark wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The trays and sacred vessels, their significance unknown to Akitada, were lacquered and gilded, and some of the bowls held flowers made from semiprecious stones and gold. A red plaque, inscribed with gilded characters, rested among these objects. Akitada read it and immediately bowed deeply. The inscription was by His August Majesty himself and commemorated the miracle.

Akitada felt anything but inspired. The atmosphere seemed to him almost repulsive, tainted and noxious somehow, and the darkness of the walls and roof gave the hall an oppressive feeling. Even the image seemed subtly evil. Akitada turned around to look for Tora and saw him at the open door, peering in. "What are you waiting for?" Akitada asked. "Come in! I need you."

"You think he was killed here, don't you?" Tora asked from outside.

"According to all accounts."

Tora's eyes searched the room. "Do you suppose his spirit is hanging about?"

"No. If it is anywhere, it's in his mansion in the capital. I have his old servant's word for it."

"Then maybe he was killed there." Tora walked in, wrinkling his nose. "They ought to leave the door open more often," he said.

Akitada gave Tora an irritated look. "It would certainly make my job easier if we did not have to investigate a disappearance from this hall," he said testily. "Never mind the smell. A lot of incense has been burnt here. Let's check the walls and floor for a hidden door." They started on either side of the door and moved along the walls, tapping the boards and checking the seams, until they met in the shadowy area behind the image. The walls were solid.

"Nothing!" said Tora, wrinkling his face again. "It really smells back here."

"It's either the incense or some small animal has died under the floorboards. I suppose there is little point in checking the floor. There is not enough space under the hall for a human being."

As Tora moved towards the door, Akitada cast one more glance around. When he turned to leave, he accidentally kicked the prayer mat out of place. It was an old one, but very beautifully woven and bound with embroidered silk around the edges. He bent to lift it and found the floor was solid underneath. "Well," he said with a sigh, "I did not expect to find anything. After all, they must have checked the building carefully. Come back here, Tora, and help me put the mat back."

Tora returned reluctantly and picked up one end. "Let's turn it," he said. "It looks better on the other side."

It was quite true. The mat was less faded, and the colors in the embroidery shone brighter. But it was slightly stained. Akitada knelt and looked at the stain closely. It was a small brown smudge, on the surface of the fibers only. He moistened a finger with his tongue and rubbed at it. A faint trace of brown appeared on his skin, and he smelled it.

"What's the matter?" asked Tora.

"Blood," said Akitada grimly.

"Hah!" Tora backed away. "So he died here."

"Perhaps. It is interesting, but there isn't very much of it. And it may not be Yoakira's."

"I bet it is." Tora glanced at the image and shivered. "What if something supernatural got him?" he asked.

"No."

"The blood! There are demons that tear people to pieces and eat them. Let's get out of here!" He started towards the door again.

But Akitada was staring at some white dust on the floor. "That was not here before," he said, pointing. "It must have fallen from the mat when we turned it."

Tora glanced back over his shoulder. "Some dirt. Monks are not good housekeepers, I guess."

Akitada crouched to investigate the dust. It was white and powdery. He rubbed it between his fingers and tasted it. "Rice flour," he said, straightening up.

"Maybe some of the monks brought it in," Tora called from the safety of the veranda.

"Hmm." Akitada wiped his hands on his robe and cast a last glance at the Buddha figure. He realized that it represented Amitabha. The carved face was painted in brilliant colors, the eyes a clear brown and the lips a deep red. Bright jewels encircled his neck and arms. Suddenly one of the jewels around his neck moved. Akitada stepped closer and saw that a very large fly, an iridescent bluebottle, sluggish in the stale warmth, was slowly rubbing its wings. No doubt the fresh air coming from the open door had roused it from its stupor. He waved at it with his hand, and watched it rise with an angry buzz. For a few moments, it droned around the image with bumbling, disoriented flight before settling again somewhere in the murky darkness. Shaking his head, Akitada blew out the candles and left.

Together they went down the steps into the small courtyard, but here Akitada paused to look back at the hall. "I wonder," he said, "what is behind the building. Let's go look."

Dense underbrush and trees grew up against the walls of the old hall. They fought their way through and found a narrow path that angled off from the hall towards the main temple complex. They followed this along the wall of the building until it reached the back and a deep gully which separated the hall from the hillside behind it. Here the path ended on a rocky ledge.

"What do you suppose that is for?" Akitada muttered.

"I don't know, but someone's been here recently." Tora pointed to broken branches on a shrub.

They looked out across the gully to the mountainside which rose like a green wall, covered with vines, ferns and many small trees that clung precariously to small cracks in the rock. A lizard had been sunning itself on the ledge and disappeared into a hole with a sinuous curling of its tail.

"It's weird. There's nothing here but that funny flat slab of rock," said Tora. "Why would anybody beat a path to it?"

The slab was about the size of half a tatami mat and covered with moss and lichen. Akitada bent and touched a dark spot, rubbing the residue between his fingers. "Oil," he said, smelling his fingers, and added, "Cheap oil. We use a better quality in our lanterns. Someone has been here in the dark with an oil lamp." Akitada straightened up and scanned the ravine. Suddenly a strange idea occurred to him. It was so startling that he felt his stomach lurch, and for a moment he refused to believe it. "Tora," he asked, "can you make out that odd-shaped gray rock over there on the other side?"

"Looks like some kind of statue carved out of the stone. A Buddha, I think."

"Yes. The monks come here to worship, and at least once someone was here in the dark. Go back to the courtyard for a moment and listen."

"What for?"

"Never mind! Just go!"

Tora left, shaking his head, and Akitada wracked his brains for some lines from a sutra. His religious education left much to be desired at times. Well, anything would serve. Raising his voice a little, he recited the first poem that came to his mind: "The fires lit by the guards at the Imperial Palace gates, / Blazing bright by night, are damped down at daybreak: / So smolder my heart's thoughts . . ." He broke off, realizing that he had inadvertently quoted from a poem of unrequited love. It was a particularly apt description of pain, he thought bitterly.

Tora burst from the shrubbery, looking around. "What fire? Is there a fire?"

"No fire. I just wanted to know if you could hear me."

"Oh, I heard you. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn it was someone inside the hall."

"I hoped so," said Akitada. "Think about the miraculous disappearance for a moment. The only proof we have that the prince was here one moment and gone the next is that five witnesses, not counting Sakanoue, testified to his chanting the sutra inside the hall."

Tora's eyes grew round. "You think someone else was back here doing the sutra chanting because the prince was already dead? What did they do with his body?"

"I suspect the prince never came here. The murderer impersonated him."

"Sakanoue? How could he? The driver saw the prince get in the carriage and then get out again here."

"It was dark until the sun came up. Remember, we could not see the faces of those we passed on the way here. Sakanoue could have worn the prince's ceremonial robe and ridden in the carriage with no one being the wiser." Akitada paused, then muttered, "Except for the prince's white hair. That might have been seen even in the dark." Suddenly he slapped a fist into his hand. "Of course! That is what he used the rice flour for! Tora, I tell you, that is the way it was done. The prince was killed in his rooms in the capital." Akitada nodded vigorously and then took Tora's arm. "Come on! All we have to do now is solve a few minor difficulties."

They burst through the shrubbery into the courtyard, startling a young, red-cheeked monk, who had been looking around as if he had lost something.

"Oh, there you are," he cried when he saw them. "I saw the horses and wondered what had become of you."

Akitada said, "My friend and I were passing and decided to visit the famous site. It was most instructive. We have just been admiring the sacred figure behind the hall. Is it true that special benefits accrue from its worship?" He untied the reins of his horse.

"Oh, yes indeed, sir. You mean the image of Yakushi, the Healing Buddha, I think," cried the young monk eagerly. Taking note of Akitada's silk clothes and his servant, he suggested, "If you like, you can arrange to have sutra readings performed in your absence. May I show you the way to the recorder's office?"

Akitada accepted. The monk led the way, chattering about the wonders of the temple and the power of prayers said there. They followed, leading their horses, passing rows of monks' cells, where four or five young novices, stripped naked, splashed noisily in a large tub of water. Their guide proudly pointed out several halls of impressive size, the Great Buddha Hall and a beautifully detailed small sutra depository. Their destination was near the main gate and, to reach it, they had to pass by stables, noisy at this hour with the sounds of horses and grooms.

Akitada stopped. "Your stables are quite large. Do you by any chance supply horses to travellers here?" he asked the young monk.

"Oh, yes, sir. The stable is really a small post station. Horses may be hired as well as left. Such a service is very useful to pilgrims who wish to spend a week or more without having to provide for their own horses and grooms."

"How convenient," murmured Akitada thoughtfully.

Inside the administrative office they found the assistant recorder, an elderly monk with ink-stained fingers, bent over a large ledger.

"This gentleman is interested in sutra readings to the Healing Buddha," the young monk announced as proudly as if he were presenting a particularly large and juicy radish he had grown personally.

The old monk gave him a sour look and peered up at Akitada near-sightedly. "The Healing Buddha? Tshk!" he mumbled.

For a moment Akitada mistook this for a disparaging comment, but then he realized that the old man was toothless and had a disconcerting habit of sucking in his cheeks with a little smacking sound.

"What is the honorable ailment, tshk?" the recorder asked.

"What? Oh, er, it concerns a family member, not myself. It's a matter of, er, dizziness."

"Ah! That explains it, tshk. Young people rarely trouble with the Healing Buddha, tshk, tshk. May I ask the honored gentleman's name, the name of the ailing person, tshk, as well as the specific details?" He leafed through the pages of his ledger, mumbling and tshking. "Ah, here we are. Yes, tshk, I need the day, time and the reading. We recommend a chapter from the Sutra of the Golden Light as being most appropriate for Yakushi, but for a small extra charge we can include specific incantations for a case of lightheadedness. Tshk, tshk."

"It is for my mother, Lady Sugawara." Tora's jaw slackened, and Akitada bit his lip to keep from smiling. He told the monk, "I really don't know any details, but she said that the same reading was requested about a month ago."

The old monk looked astonished. "Sugawara? I don't recall any Sugawaras. Are you sure?" He scanned the entries and shook his head. "No, tshk. No one by that name. Is it really the Healing Buddha you want?"