Текст книги "Rashomon Gate "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Hirata cheered up. "Not at all, dear boy!" he cried heartily. "You were my best student and have since acquired more practical knowledge of official duties than I have ever possessed."

There was a soft scratching at the sliding door to the corridor.

"Father?" Tamako's soft voice was a welcome interruption. "Your dinner is ready. Will you come to the main hall?"

"Of course. Right away. We are quite finished reminiscing," Hirata called. They heard her footsteps receding.

"May I inform your daughter of this matter, sir, or will you?" Akitada inquired.

Hirata paused in the process of rising and straightening his robe. "Why? I would rather not involve her," he said doubtfully.

"She is so concerned about you that the truth will be a great relief to her," Akitada persisted.

They walked out into the corridor together. "You have always been very fond of my child, haven't you?" Hirata asked inconsequentially.

"Yes. Of course."

"Very well. We shall tell her together over dinner."

Two

The Imperial University

A week later Akitada entered, as one of its teachers, the grounds of the august university in which he had received his own education.

The imperial university, or daigaku, covered four city blocks just south of the greater imperial palace, or daidairi. Its main gate was on Mibu Road and directly across from the Shinsenen, the Divine Spring Garden, a large park where the emperor and his nobles often held summer parties.

On this sunny morning of the Blossoming Month, Akitada stood just inside this gate, looking at the familiar walls and gates, the tiled roofs of lecture halls, libraries and dormitories lying peacefully under a placid sky and swaying pine trees, and was seized by a familiar panic. Like an adult son who will never quite lose a feeling of inadequacy around a parent, Akitada was once again in the grip of that atmosphere of stem authority and intellectual superiority which had awed him as a youngster.

He forced down the lump of adolescent panic and took in subtle signs of neglect. Weeds were growing against walls which needed patching where pieces of whitewashed mud had fallen off, revealing the timbers, rubble, and woven branches which supported them; the dirt road was pitted and marred by puddles; and from the curved roofs of the halls and gates large sections of tile were missing.

A group of chattering students, nine or ten young men, all in their late teens and wearing the mandatory dark cotton robes, passed him, falling abruptly silent as they approached. Giving him nervous looks, they turned into the courtyard of the administration hall and took off running.

Not everything had changed, Akitada thought with a smile. The students were still up to their usual pranks.

He could not blame them. It promised to be a beautiful day, much better spent on a lark than in a musty classroom. The sky was pale blue silk and the dark green pines and pale-leafed willows rose against it like delicate embroidery. In the courtyard nearest him, a cuckoo suddenly burst into its characteristic ho-to-to.

Akitada had come early, because he wanted some time to look around and perhaps meet some of his new colleagues. Walking through the small gate into the courtyard of the Temple of Confucius, Akitada decided it was appropriate for him to pay his respects to the patron saint of education. Besides, it was here that Professor Hirata had discovered the blackmail note.

Coming into the temple hall from the sunlight, Akitada was surprised by its gloom, but his eyes soon adjusted and he could make out the life-sized wooden statues. The great master Confucius occupied the center of a dais, with his fellow sages lined up on either side. Akitada bowed deeply before "Master Kung," as Seimei called him, and asked for inspiration in his new duties.

His teaching assignment, though a mere cover for snooping, was taking on daunting proportions. Akitada did not think that he could fool bright youngsters with a less than professional effort. He had considered backing out, but in the balance the dusty archives at the ministry held more terror than the probing questions of students.

Somewhere a door closed. He looked around but saw no one. The statue of the sage looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his hand stroking a long beard. One needed age to become wise. Who was he to pass himself off as a teacher? Such fraud was no part of the Confucian philosophy.

He reminded himself of the ministerial archives. To his surprise there had not been the slightest problem getting a temporary leave from his duties at the ministry. His Excellency, the Minister of Justice, had stared at him coldly and informed him that his presence was needed more urgently at the university than in his present sphere. Soga had somehow managed to convey that they could manage without Akitada on a permanent basis.

Sighing deeply, Akitada bowed to the master again, apologetically, and then walked through the hall to the small anteroom under the eaves. Here were the pegs where the professors had hung their formal robes for the rites. A door connected the room to the temple hall, and another door opposite led to the outside. Akitada opened the latter and looked out into the main courtyard. Shrubbery surrounding a stand of pines hid this entrance from general view. Anyone could have entered or left without being seen.

He turned and was staring at the row of pegs on the wall, when a slight cough startled him.

The door to the temple hall had opened a crack, and through it a long-faced man was watching him from under bushy eyebrows.

"Ah! A visitor!" he cried, stepping fully into the anteroom. "May I offer my humble services in showing the honorable gentleman around?" Middle-aged and gawky, he bowed rather more deeply than Akitada's sober gown and casual headdress required. He wore a wrinkled and disordered robe of poorly dyed cotton, and thick hair escaped in all directions from his topknot. Akitada took him for a servant.

"Nishioka is the name," the odd man said genially. "Master of Confucian classics. You see, you are in good hands. May I ask the gentleman's honored name?" He peered inquisitively at Akitada. His broad nose twitched with curiosity.

Perhaps the man's appearance was due to a scholarly disregard for aesthetics, but given his shaggy brows and lantern jaw, he was certainly one of the least impressive intellectuals Akitada had ever met. Still, he returned the bow, saying, "I am Sugawara and a colleague of yours for the next few weeks, though I am to teach law. Are you assistant to Professor Tanabe?"

The other smiled broadly. "Delighted! Absolutely delighted! Yes, indeed! I have that honor and pleasure. A great scholar and a constant inspiration to me! He is perhaps a friend of yours?"

"A former teacher rather. A tough one."

"Ah! I see! Well, yes. Some of the students seem to feel that he is demanding. So you are to teach law. Do you know Hirata?"

"Yes. He is a friend, in addition to being a former teacher."

"No doubt he appointed you for that reason?"

Akitada stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" The question sounded impertinent, suggested favoritism.

Nishioka's face lengthened comically. "I see that I have offended. Perhaps I did not phrase my question properly. I merely meant that you must have been an outstanding student."

"I see. Thank you. As you see, I am becoming reacquainted with the places where I spent my youth. Do you get many visitors here?"

"Oh, no. That is why I came to ask your business. I try to keep myself informed about the comings and goings. I wish I had more time to chat, but Professor Tanabe is preparing his lecture, and I must help him. If I may, I shall pay you a visit in the law school soon. You will want to know all about the teaching staff and the students." He bowed deeply and disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

Akitada left also, reflecting that Nishioka seemed to keep himself well informed and would be a useful source of gossip.

Unable to shake his reluctance to begin his duties, he peered into courtyards as he passed, remembering his student days. The small Buddhist temple looked abandoned, but from the courtyard next to it came the sound of lute music. This was the domain of the arts faculty, comprised of the teachers of music, painting and calligraphy. Akitada had spent happy hours here as a student. Though he lacked musical skills himself, he loved all sorts of instrumental music, especially flutes. Besides, he had found the resident musicians and painters a cheerfully informal lot who were always happy to include lonely students in their celebrations.

Someone, a virtuoso, was plucking the lute strings in the building on the left. Akitada's heart started beating faster and he followed the sound. But when he turned a corner, the music stopped. He caught a glimpse of a small, plain corner room where two people, a man in his late thirties and a very pretty, heavily made-up young woman, sat side by side, completely engrossed in each other. Both held lutes, but the man put his down to embrace the girl, who giggled.

After a moment's hesitation, Akitada went to the veranda steps and climbed up. He walked noisily and cleared his throat. Inside he heard the man curse softly and call out, "Who is it?"

Akitada stepped up to the open door, bowing slightly. The girl was now sitting demurely a few feet away from the man.

"Who the devil are you?" growled the musician. Like Nishioka, he was far from handsome, having a low, sloping brow and big fleshy lips, but his eyes were large and rather beautiful.

Akitada was embarrassed. "I beg your pardon for the intrusion. My name is Sugawara and I am to fill in for Professor Hirata's assistant. The lute music was so beautiful that I could not resist finding the player and expressing my admiration."

The man grimaced. "Well, you've found him," he said ungraciously, then turned to the woman and said, "Run along now and practice!"

The young woman scrambled up, took her lute, bowed, and tripped out. She was both heavier and clumsier than Akitada had expected. Her rough cotton gown placed her among the lower classes, but she had tied a very handsome sash of red-and gold-figured brocade around her waist.

"I'm Sato," the musician now said, "and, as you saw, I earn a bit on the side by giving lessons to that stupid girl. It's against the rules, of course, so you had better not mention it. Have a seat." He gestured to the mat and reached for the wine jug and two dirty cups, which were standing next to him. "The wine is very good and fresh. She brought it. Gets it from the place where she entertains." He poured and offered Akitada a cup.

Akitada saw the greasy smudges of lip rouge on its rim and said, "Oh, thank you, but it is too early in the day for me. Besides I shall need all my wits about me if I am to lecture."

"Nonsense!" growled the other. "Wine improves the performance, but suit yourself." He emptied Akitada's cup. "I am quite drunk already and start my flute class shortly. Towards evening I sober up enough to visit my favorite wine shop where my friends and I make real music. You can come if you like. It's the Willow, next to the river by the Sixth Street bridge."

The Kamo River near the Sixth Street bridge was lined with the restaurants, brothels and houses of assignation of the capital's pleasure quarter. Akitada said politely, "Thank you. I look forward to hearing you play the flute some day, but now I must go to my own class." He rose and bowed. The other waved while emptying another cup of wine.

When Akitada emerged into the street again, he caught a furtive movement across the way. Someone had been standing under the gate which led to the student dormitories. He had ducked away as soon as Akitada had come out. For a moment Akitada was tempted to investigate, but he reminded himself that youngsters delighted in playing tricks on their elders. He turned down a side street which led to the "three faculties," a series of courtyards housing the schools of Chinese classics, mathematics, and law respectively.

Here he encountered the first sign of academic activity. A senior student, to judge by his age and his dark uniform, came from a side gate leading to the Chinese classics department. He was looking through a thick stack of papers he carried and gave Akitada a brief incurious glance as he passed. Akitada thought him extraordinarily handsome except for a frown of discontent.

Suddenly nervous about being late, Akitada called after him, "Good morning! Can you tell me, have classes already started?"

The young man paused, looked at Akitada over his shoulder, snapped, "No," and continued on his way.

Such rudeness from a student was so unexpected that Akitada stared after him. What could possibly have happened to cause that young man to behave in such a manner? Since there was no one else around, he decided that it must still be quite early. Perhaps he should investigate further.

The school of Chinese classics was the most prestigious in the university. Its professors held the highest rank, and its graduates were the most likely to win first place honors and advance rapidly in the government.

The large main hall, customarily used for lectures, was connected to smaller flanking halls by covered galleries. There was no one about in the gravelled courtyard or in the galleries. After a moment's indecision, Akitada climbed the steps to the central hall and entered. The vast dim space lay silent, and the classrooms were empty. Once he thought he heard a step in the main hall, but when he went back he found nobody. He began to wonder where all the people were. In his day, the place would have been bustling even at this early hour.

Then the handsome student suddenly walked into the hall. He stared at Akitada, muttered, "Forgot something," and headed for one of the classrooms.

"Just a moment, young man," Akitada snapped.

The student turned around. "Yes?"

"What is going on here? Where are the professors?"

"Oh, if you want the great man, he's in the library, along with his personal sycophant," the young man said curtly and jerked his head towards the western wing, before walking away.

Shaking his head, Akitada walked along the covered gallery. He was by now intensely curious about this student's teachers. In the library, he found two men seated side by side, bent over a yellowing scroll. The older man, tall and with a fine head of white hair, wore a splendid brocade robe. At the sound of the door he looked up angrily.

"Yes, what do you want?" he barked when he saw Akitada. His face was smooth-shaven and still handsome, but his flashing black eyes fixed Akitada disdainfully. "I am very busy and cannot be troubled with trivial matters."

Feeling himself flush, Akitada apologized and introduced himself. The elegant gentleman thawed a little, gave his name as Oe, and introduced his companion as his assistant Ono.

Ono was in his early thirties, small, slender and weak-chinned, a defect which he had sought to disguise by wearing a mustache and a small chin beard.

"Get some tea, Ono!" Oe commanded, and the younger man jumped up, bowed deeply and scurried out. "Can't abide the fellow," Oe said, without lowering his voice. "No sense of dignity at all and he looks like a squirrel. Acts like one, too. But he's useful. Wouldn't have anyone who wasn't. Sugawara, did you say? Good family that, but sadly come down in the world. Sit down! You were a student here before my time?"

Akitada nodded.

"Hmm, law is not a field that appeals to many, but Hirata's a sound man, I hear. Mind you, he's nearly incompetent when it comes to self-advancement. Many a time I have offered to introduce him to the right people, and he turned me down. I have friends in the highest ranks, you know, the very highest . . ."

At this moment Ono entered with a tray holding a teapot and bowls, and his superior interrupted himself to reprimand him for his slowness, his clumsiness, and his choice of tea bowls. "You would think you would know by now that I drink only from the imported porcelain cups," he snapped.

"How stupid of me," Ono said immediately, bowing deeply several times. "Shall I go get them now?"

"No, no! We will make do this time. Did you steep the tea properly?"

"I think so." Ono turned to Akitada. "The professor has extremely refined tastes, unlike anyone else in this university. I often tell him that he is wasted on the yokels from the provinces who attend his classes."

Far from being flattered by this speech, Oe snapped, "Don't be an idiot, man! I have plenty of students from the best families. There is Prince Yoakira's grandson, Lord Minamoto, and a nephew of the prime minister, both of them with imperial blood in their veins. How dare you say I teach yokels?"

Akitada, trying to divert Oe's wrath from the hapless Ono, said quickly, "Just now I met a very superior looking young man in the main hall. An older student. Very tall and handsome."

"Older?" Oe frowned at Ono.

"It must have been Ishikawa, sir. He came early to pick up the essays."

"Ishikawa? He's a nobody. Graduate student. Clever, but comes from a poor family and stays here on scholarship. Mind you, he makes himself useful by reading papers for me. I am pressed for time, you know. The Kamo festival is coming up, and I am arranging a poetry match between the university faculty and the nobles. We were just reviewing the account of such a contest on the occasion of Emperor Mou Tsung's river party. Very appropriate, as we are to meet in the lake pavilion of the Spring Garden. No doubt you will be invited. Do you compose?"

"I am afraid my poor talents are solely in the area of prose," Akitada said awkwardly. "A memorial on encouraging farming by easing the rice tax, and a report on Buddhist practices in the provinces."

"Hmm. I can't abide the Buddhists. The Chinese knew how to deal with them. Kicked all the monks out of the temples and melted down the gold buddhas for the imperial treasury. Recite some lines from the thing on farmers!"

Akitada confessed that he could not remember enough to oblige.

"That should tell you something. If it were good, you'd remember. I myself composed a memorial several years ago. It went like this."

Oe recited in a deep, resonant voice. Akitada began to understand the man's reputation. The syllables and lines rolled from his tongue like music.

Ono sat enthralled. When Oe finally stopped, his assistant reached into his sleeve for a tissue to dry his moist eyes. "Beautiful!" he sighed. "Nothing better has ever been written. Not even Po Chu has your way with assonance and the balanced line."

"You can take the tea things back," said Oe sourly. "I must return to my work, Sugawara, but I expect to see you around."

Akitada removed himself from the presence of the great Oe. He took a shortcut to the school of law by walking through the courtyard of the mathematics department. A stranger blocked his way.

"Who are you?" he demanded in an irate tone.

Akitada explained and discovered that the irascible person was the incumbent in mathematics. Professor Takahashi was a lean man, in his fifties, with thinning hair and the wrinkled face and neck of an ill-tempered turtle. He peered at Akitada for several moments before acknowledging his status as a colleague.

"I cannot imagine what possesses them to use temporary people," he said nastily. Our reputation is bad enough as it is. However, I dare say this is better than letting Hirata struggle on alone. He is getting past it. Have you met any of the others?"

Akitada mentioned his morning's encounters.

"Nishioka is an intellectual zero. He has his nose in everybody's business instead of doing his duties, and Sato is a drunk with the libido of a badger," Takahashi informed him. "Oe, of course, is our great man! Fortune smiles on him. Those empty-headed court nobles are impressed by all that passion and thunder. And fame fills the pockets nicely. The man has even acquired a summer villa on Lake Biwa. Next he will, no doubt, be appointed to the Council of State."

For a moment Akitada was bereft of words. Takahashi seemed to have few qualms about blackening his colleagues' reputations. What a change from the kindly man who had held this position before! Akitada said, "I see there have been many changes here since my time. Apparently few of my former professors are still teaching. Besides Professor Hirata there seems to be only Professor Tanabe left, and he was busy preparing his lecture when I arrived."

"More likely taking a nap," snorted Takahashi. "He's senile, I'm afraid. But see for yourself."

"How are the students?"

"Blockheads, most of them. What can you expect? Their parents are either doting courtiers who have nothing but pleasure on their minds and don't want the young monsters troubled with work, or they are officials in the provinces where schools are conducted by illiterates."

"Surely you exaggerate," Akitada protested. "Professor Oe spoke very highly of some of his aristocratic pupils, and I understand he uses one of the graduate students to read his papers."

"Oh? I did not know that such a thing is permissible. Since the definition of professional ethics has apparently been modified, perhaps we can all turn over our responsibilities to students and enjoy ourselves in our summer homes. Which graduate student is it?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you." Akitada had had enough of Takahashi's slanderous comments on everything and everyone, but he could not afford to alienate him. Therefore he said politely, "It has been an honor to meet you, sir, but I am expected in my own department. I think classes are about to start."

"More's the pity! Another day of one's life wasted! But don't let me stifle your enthusiasm. A temporary assignment is, after all, not a life sentence!"

Akitada fled. Outside he gulped fresh air and let the morning breeze cool his temper. When he crossed the street to enter the courtyard of the law school, he thought he saw Nishioka walking away, but the fuzzy topknot could have been anyone's.

Hirata was in an empty classroom arranging seating mats and checking the supply of ink stones, brushes and water containers at every student's place. When he saw Akitada, his face lit up and he asked him about his morning.

Akitada sighed. "I have met several of your colleagues. The experience has been depressing."

Hirata laughed. "Let me guess! Takahashi was one of them?"

"Yes. And an inquisitive fellow called Nishioka, a tipsy lute player with his arms around a prostitute, and a self-proclaimed poet laureate who heaps abuse on his admiring assistant. Oh, and there was also a very rude student who apparently despises them both."

Hirata chuckled. "Ah, yes. You have been busy! The student must have been Ishikawa. He is expected to take first place in the next examinations and is a bit too sure of himself. I fear his arrogance will stand in his way in the future." Hirata's smile faded. "In this world, talent and ability will not suffice if a young man from a poor background does not also have humility and grace."

"What has happened to this place? Nothing seems the same. There are signs of neglect everywhere. The students are arrogant, and the professors malign each other. Surely things were not this way in my day?"

Hirata paused in his arrangements and looked at him. "I'm afraid the times do not favor us. "Then he smiled again. "But come! It isn't so bad. You will like your students, and may come to appreciate some of your colleagues, too."

"Professor Oe claims that the grandson of the late, sainted Prince Yoakira is a student here."

"Oh, yes. Poor boy. He attends your class."

For a moment, Akitada was intrigued but, being pressed for time, he returned to his primary purpose. "I looked at the anteroom of the Temple of Confucius. It seems readily accessible from outside. Do you remember who attended the rites with you?"

Hirata was hanging a large diagram of government organizations on a standing screen. "Oe and Ono were there. They never miss. Takahashi must have been there, but I don't recall seeing him. Nishioka and Tanabe, of course. Fujiwara and Sato I'm not certain about. Fujiwara can be unreliable about such duties, though he is an absolute genius. He drinks, I'm afraid, and Sato is his boon companion. Actually, I think you will like them both when you know them a little better. We also invite our top students, though they don't always accept. Much too tedious for them, I'm afraid. But Ishikawa was there that night, I believe."

"I was surprised to find Sato entertaining women in his rooms. He claimed he was giving a lesson, but it looked like they were practicing something other than the lute."

Hirata raised his brows. "My dear boy," he chided, "you sound like a prude. We have known about Sato's private lessons for some time. They are, of course, theoretically against the rules, but performers and entertainers from the pleasure quarter are eager to learn Sato's technique and the special arrangements he is famous for, and he needs the money. His salary seems to run through his fingers like water and he is always in debt. You must make allowance for the artistic temperament."

"His behavior certainly makes him a target for our blackmailer."

Hirata stopped smiling. "He could never pay such a sum. At least, I would not think so. I hope it isn't Sato. He is a genius and has a large family to support."

"That makes it worse. Anyway, so far he is the only one of your colleagues who is clearly involved in an illegality or immorality. There is another point which has occurred to me. What did your robe look like? Was there another one very similar to yours?"

"Of course! I should have thought of that. It was green silk, with a small white pattern of cherry blossoms. But I don't believe anyone else could have had the same design."

"In the dark a very small pattern might not have shown up. Did anyone else wear green?"

"Tanabe, Fujiwara and Takahashi."

Akitada looked startled. "So many?"

"We are all the same rank. Green is our rank color."

"But not Oe's?"

"Oh no! The head of the Chinese literature department outranks us all by one degree. Oe always wears blue."

"I see. And the others all hold lesser ranks?"

"Yes. Well, it is shameful to admit it, but of my three colleagues in green, I should prefer it to be Takahashi. It would serve him right."

They were interrupted by the clatter of many steps on the wooden stairs and boards of the veranda. Young voices were shouting and laughing.

"Here come your pupils," remarked Hirata with a smile.

"Mine?" Akitada felt a sudden panic. "I thought you were preparing for your own class."

"Oh, no. But don't worry! They are only raw youngsters who need to learn the workings of our government, department by department, before they can study the laws which govern each and by which each governs. You used to know this so well you could have recited it in your sleep."

The door burst open and groups of fresh-faced boys, ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, bowed their way in, found their seats, and knelt, ramrod straight in their neat dark cotton robes. To Akitada's surprise, the last person to enter was easily in his fifties. He too wore a student's robe, bowed, and found his seat. Akitada looked at Hirata.

"That is Mr. Ushimatsu," Hirata whispered. "He has taken a long time to get admitted and will take even longer to pass the first of our examinations, but he tries so very hard that I have become quite fond of him. "Taking Akitada by the arm, Hirata stepped forward and bowed to the class. Akitada quickly followed suit, and the students solemnly bowed back.

"This is your new instructor, Master Sugawara," Hirata announced. "He comes to us from the Ministry of Justice and has recently served as kageyushi. You may ask him anything." Having made this generous promise, Hirata bowed to Akitada and the class and left the room.

Silence fell. Akitada sat down behind his desk and looked at his students, who stared back at him without blinking. They seemed ordinary enough youngsters– all but Mr. Ushimatsu, who was regarding him with open-mouthed expectancy. One boy, younger and frailer than the rest, sat apart a little. He was a handsome lad but had dark rings under his eyes and delicate features. He alone was completely detached, as if he cared nothing about the class or the new teacher. Akitada gave him an encouraging smile which was not returned. The boy merely looked away.

"Excuse me, sir!" It was Mr. Ushimatsu who had spoken up. "What's a kageyushi do, sir?" he asked.

One of the other boys snorted. "Stupid! A kageyushi's an investigator of outgoing officials."

Far from being offended, Mr. Ushimatsu bowed to the boy and said humbly, "Thank you. It is kind of you to instruct me."

Embarrassed Akitada told the class, "I was sent to Kazusa province when the provincial governor was being recalled. Our government makes certain that every official's records are in order before a new appointee takes over. Perhaps some day you, too, will be called on to check records or govern a province. That is why you must study hard now to be prepared."

Another boy asked, "Was it very hard work, sir?"

Akitada hesitated. "Not so very hard. I had help from some good people, but . . ." All eyes hung on his lips. "Well, there were some evil people there who, out of greed, plotted and committed murder, which made the assignment unusually diffi—" He broke off.

The frail boy had jumped up. He looked perfectly white and his fists were clenched. "May I please be excused, sir?" he gasped, then dashed out the door without waiting for an answer, slamming it behind him.

Akitada looked after him in surprise. "What is that boy's name?" he asked.

"That's Lord Minamoto," volunteered one of the boys immediately.

His neighbor added with bitter satisfaction, "He thinks he's better than the rest of us and can do what he wants."