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?"
"Yes. Mother sent someone else last time. Perhaps she gave another name. She does not want people to know she is ill."
Apparently Yakushi had no problem with pseudonyms, for the recorder merely asked, "And what name would that be?"
"Oh," cried Akitada in a tone of irritation, "how should I know? She never consults me! This is too frustrating! Let's just forget it if you cannot look it up!" He turned to leave.
"Just a moment, sir," the recorder said quickly. "There are not many requests for the Healing Buddha nowadays. Did you say a month ago? Tshk." He scanned the entries. "Here it is, the only entry in several months. The name was Kato! The Golden Light Sutra from the moment of sunrise. Tshk, tshk. Does the name ring a bell?"
"Kato," mused Akitada. "She has a cousin by that name. What day was it?"
The monk looked it up. "The ninth day of the third month."
Tora sucked in his breath, and Akitada shot him a warning glance. To the monk he said in a dubious tone, "It sounds right. What did this fellow look like?"
"Tshk. I really couldn't say, sir. Someone else made the entry."
"Well, how much did it cost last time?" Akitada asked, still frowning.
The recorder shuddered at this crude question, but said, "A generous donation of four silver bars was entered."
"Four silver bars!" cried Akitada, who did not have to pretend shock. "That does not sound right at all. My mother would never spend four bars of silver! No, I'm afraid I must have made a mistake. I shall have to consult with her before I make the arrangements. Thank you for your trouble."
The recorder sniffed and said, "Hmph, tshk. You are welcome, sir. Please hurry back!"
The young monk followed them out, looking disappointed. "Can I show the gentlemen anything else?" he asked. "Perhaps the gentleman's honorable mother might benefit from the sutra reading performed on the occasion of the archbishop's performance of the sacred rites. A very small gift to the temple would assure your mother's name would be included in the prayers."
The temple depended on such gifts for its livelihood, and the boy looked so hopeful that Akitada dug a handful of silver coins from his sash. "Will this be enough?" he asked.
The young man received the money with a smile and many bows, crying, "Oh yes, sir. Just a moment." He dashed back into the recorder's office and reappeared after a moment, carrying a receipt and announcing happily, "All is arranged, sir."
Akitada hoped that his mother would never find out. Then he remembered the fugitive Ishikawa, and asked, "Do you get many postulants your age here?"
The young monk looked surprised. "Not really, sir. Most of us come as children."
"I have an acquaintance, a very handsome and clever young man about twenty years old, who may have entered a monastery this past week. I wonder if he might have come here."
"Not this past week, sir. We have had no applicants of that age for many months now."
After they parted from their guide and got on their horses, Tora said with a grin, "You're getting pretty good at lying, sir. But who is this strange fellow? If he ordered sutra readings the same day the prince disappeared, he must be part of the plot."
Akitada decided to ignore the compliment. "Our friend Sakanoue has a weakness for impersonation. He paid four bars of silver, a considerable sum, to have the sutra chanted by a monk behind the hall at the time the prince always recited it inside." He added grimly, "It means that Sakanoue plotted the murder days before it happened. What I still do not understand is why Yoakira's friends assumed the prince was dead. How could they have known?" Suddenly he reined in his horse. "Tora," he cried, "the flies! There were flies near the image of the Buddha. Let's go back!"
With a groan, Tora followed. They returned at a canter to the shrine. Akitada rushed up the steps two at a time. When Tora caught up with him in front of the Buddha figure, his master was holding up one of the candles and tapping the carving with his fingers.
"Should you do that?" Tora asked nervously.
A fly buzzed lazily up from behind the figure's head, circled the flame, and then settled down on Buddha's nose. Akitada walked around to the back of the statue. "Come here!" he called to Tora.
Tora found him staring down at the floor. One of the dark boards had a small pale gash in it. Akitada squatted and probed with his fingers. "Give me your knife," he said.
When the blade was inserted into a crack, a section of flooring about a foot square came up, releasing a strong stench and several flies. They peered down into the dark space under the floor. It was not deep. Within arm's reach lay a box slightly smaller than the opening. Beside it was a pile of incense sticks.
"It's just storage for some sacred stuff, incense or scrolls or some such," suggested Tora.
"Neither of which would attract flies," said Akitada and reached down to lift the box. Immediately more flies rose into the air. The box had held the incense at one time. Akitada opened the lid.
"Holy heaven!" cried Tora, recoiling. "What is it?" He held his nose and slapped at angrily buzzing flies. "Some dead animal? It's crawling with maggots."
Akitada sighed. "It is a human head. The head of an elderly man with white hair," he said. "I think it used to belong to the prince." He replaced the lid and gently put the box back under the floorboards. "Sakanoue brought it here."
Tora had turned pale. "But why- and where's the rest of him?"
Akitada said nothing for a minute or so. "The driver mentioned his master's stiff robe," he finally said slowly. "It is easy to hide a man's head in such a garment. The murderer intended it to be found as proof of death, but Shinoda, who went inside with Sakanoue while the others waited outside, decided to hide it."
Akitada thought back to the day he had visited the prince's friends. Abe, clearly impaired by age, had been as confused about the events as about Akitada's name, whileYanagida had been overwhelmed with religious fervor by the miracle he had witnessed. Only Shinoda had treated the temple story rationally. In his mind, Akitada saw Shinoda again, soaking his feet in the stream, his sharp eyes gauging his visitor's purpose. He heard the old gentleman again, firmly allaying suspicions and finally warning him off sharply when he had persisted. And suddenly he understood the events of that night as if he had been present. He knew now that Shinoda had hidden the truth from him as he had hidden Yoakira's head that morning. Unlike the senile Abe, or the devout Yanagida, or the general who would not have countenanced tricking the emperor, Shinoda had both the quick intelligence and the nerve to create a miracle in order to protect his friend's memory. So that was the truth, finally, the truth inside. The head had lain here, hidden inside this hall, all along, just as the truth had lain hidden in Akitada's memory.
He sighed. "Yes. Shinoda hid the head, but he did it out of love for his friend, not to protect a killer. He certainly could not suspect Sakanoue, who had been in his plain sight the entire time. As for the body, that was left behind in one of the trunks, I suspect." Akitada rose. "Come! We have seen enough."
They rode homeward at a steady pace. Akitada was still lost in frowning thought.
After a considerable silence, Tora ventured a question. "What will you do now?"
Akitada looked at him bleakly. "I have no idea, except that I must somehow protect the boy. We are dealing with a very devious mind, and one that has carefully and quickly plotted a crime which was so extraordinary that people called it a supernatural event because there was no rational explanation for it. And because a foolish old man decided to hide the head, the only proof that Yoakira had died violently, though not at the hand of demons, the emperor himself declared the case a miracle."
"You mean, if they had left the head it would have been blamed on demons?" Tora asked. "It makes sense. People would figure the prince had done something evil. The same thing happened to a bad man years ago in the palace grounds. Everyone knows that story."
"Yes, everyone knows that story," nodded Akitada. "And Sakanoue counted on that. No doubt the incident of the soothsayer's evil omens and his curse after the prince had him whipped from his gate gave Sakanoue the idea to stage the demonic incident. Nothing more likely in popular superstition than that demons should have punished Yoakira for his disrespect. It was timely also. Yoakira had just discovered his fraud. As soon as Sakanoue had insinuated himself into the granddaughter's bed, with or without her encouragement, the prince's life was forfeit. Instead of ignominious dismissal, he saw suddenly a way to wealth and power. The prize was worth any risk."
Tora thought it over. "I understand about Lord Shinoda, sir, and I see Lord Sakanoue's motive, not that we haven't known about that for a long time now, but I don't see how he hoped to get away with it. He might've been caught at any moment."
"Not really. There were only two dangerous moments. The first one was during the impersonation, just after he left the carriage and entered the hall. He had to be quick, for though Kinsue had left again, the prince's friends would enter the courtyard any moment. I remember Kinsue talking about the amazing speed with which the prince ascended the stairs. But once inside, what Sakanoue had to do took only a moment. He lit a candle and some incense, stripped off the robe and left it, along with the bloody head, on the prayer mat. Then he slipped back out, closing the door behind him, and waited in the dark for the old gentlemen to seat themselves on the veranda. When they saw him, they were too tired from the journey and lack of sleep to wonder where he had come from. He was expected, and he was there. Soon after they all settled on the veranda, the sun rose and the chanting began. All four men on the veranda and Kinsue in the yard saw Sakanoue sitting among them while the sutra chanting was going on. Both Yanagida and Shinoda were adamant that he was there from beginning to end. He had a perfect alibi, and the world another supernatural event."
Tora shook his head in wonder. "What was the other time?"he asked.
"Sakanoue's second problem was a horse for the return trip, but that was easily accomplished while the whole monastery was running about searching for the prince. After all, horses were readily available in the stables. In fact, old Kinsue, the driver, was puzzled by the fact that Sakanoue's horse had not been one of their own."
Tora nodded reluctantly. "All right. I can see how it could be done. It was the middle of the night and they were all old men. Probably couldn't see the hand before their eyes by daylight. But tell me this: how did Sakanoue get rid of the body?"
Akitada sighed. Retracing Sakanoue's clever plot was one thing, but the body left behind in the prince's rooms, stashed headless into one of the bedding trunks, brought with it the knowledge of sudden violent death. He pictured again the room, recalled the scratches on the otherwise immaculate floor, and felt the unearthly presence of the dead man's spirit. Perhaps the murdered man had tried to tell him then. He summed up bleakly, "The corpse was taken to the country in one of the trunks."
Tora looked dumfounded. "To be unpacked?"
"No, of course not. According to Kinsue, Sakanoue drove the last cart himself, and it was night again. He probably dumped the body someplace on the road. A headless corpse is not readily identifiable."
Tora cried, "No, sir! He didn't have to do that. He passed through Rashomon! They bring their dead there at night. You could leave the chancellor himself, and nobody would think anything of it."
"Rashomon? But surely the men who pick up the dead would report a headless corpse?"
"Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn't," Tora said darkly. "Things happen to dead people in that place, and not all of them are done by the living." He shuddered, then added more cheerfully, "Congratulations, sir! You've solved the case."
Akitada nodded glumly.
"What's wrong? You got that bastard Sakanoue. I thought that's what you wanted."
"You and I may know he killed the prince, but we will never prove it. The emperor himself has put his seal on Sakanoue's safety."
They had reached the top of the ridge and caught their first glimpse of the capital spread across the vast plain below them. In the heat of the midday sun, a haze hung over the great city, and only the blue-tiled or black-thatched roofs of the imperial palaces and government halls were clearly visible. From there, Suzaku Avenue stretched southward, its willows fading in the distance as into a fog. They both looked for the tiled roofs of the distant Rashomon, but the great gate was lost somewhere in the blue vapor.
Tora cried out, "Look! There's been a fire! I thought I smelled smoke this morning." He pointed at heavy streaks of charcoal gray hanging over the northwest quadrant of the city. "I knew it would happen in this weather. Poor bastards! Thank Heaven it's a long way from home!"
Akitada thought of his family and the young boy who was their visitor. He spurred on his horse. They made the descent rapidly and were soon close enough to see the location of the disaster more clearly. The fire had been brought under control. Only a slight dark haze was left over a particular grove of trees and rooftops, while the black smoke was slowly drifting away in the blue sky.
Akitada reined in his horse with a jerk. "Merciful heaven! I hope my eyes deceive me." He pointed. "Look, Tora! Isn't that gap among the charred trees where the Hiratas' house used to stand?"
Tora came alongside, glanced at his master's white face, and shaded his eyes. "Amida!" he muttered. "It is! Let's go!"