And then another thought came. Kumo and his men had worn their finest armor and ridden silk-trimmed horses. Their bows and arrows had been purely ceremonial. They had never been meant to be used in combat. Kumo was not chasing a couple of convicts, even if one of them was an imperial official. He had come here to serve “his” emperor and had only attacked because Akitada got in his way. That was why Kumo had faced battle with Akitada, claiming that he was sacrificing his Buddhahood for his emperor. He had been willing to kill Akitada even though that would prevent his salvation.
Whatever the true state of affairs, no time was to be lost.
Mutobe must board the ship immediately. They must search the town. Akitada glanced again at the substantial roofs of the temple. That was where he would start.
Full of purpose again, he strode into the farmhouse and confronted the others with his suspicions.
“You cannot be serious!” gasped the governor, turning pale.
“But how is this possible? And after all that time!” He rose and paced. “What will I do if it is as you say? How can I arrest him?
What do I charge him with? I have no such authority. And you have lost your documents.” He stopped and stared accusingly at Akitada. “What will we do? This is a very delicate matter.”
“Delicate?” Mutobe’s continuing self-interest appalled Akitada. Did the man not know that there were duties he could not shirk? It was obvious that he could not expect much help from the man. But Mutobe was quite right about one thing.
Without his papers, Akitada had no authority whatsoever and was dependent on Mutobe’s support. He took a deep breath. A shouting match would solve nothing. “It seems the ship in the harbor is a pirate craft. If you will board it and arrest the captain and crew, I will do the rest. I will need a few of your men. Please instruct them to obey Tora’s commands.”
Mutobe nodded reluctantly. “You will take the responsibility, then?”
“Yes.”
Mutobe still looked unhappy, but he agreed. “Very well. Let us go and get it over with.”
Akitada took eight of the soldiers and Mutobe the rest.
Then they set off, Mutobe with his banner carried before him, Akitada without such marks of authority, though he pushed Kumo’s gilded sword through the silken sash of Mutobe’s spare robe, and smoothed his hair a little. Tora put on a little show of snapping commands at his troops, and they were off, followed by a gaggle of curious peasants.
The temple was a very modest one. It had no pagoda and only one main hall and some low buildings to house the local priest and visiting monks. An old man was sweeping the courtyard, but otherwise the scene was peaceful. Doubts began to stir in Akitada’s mind. How Toshito would mock if it turned out that Akitada was wrong again. And he could offer nothing but a far-fetched argument based on a fishwife’s tale! Sending a detailed report about Akitada’s activities to the emperor would be the perfect revenge for the governor’s son.
The old man stopped his sweeping, stared at them, then bowed. Perhaps he thought they were expected. Akitada took it for a hopeful sign. He made straight for the hall and took the stairs to the double doors, Tora and the soldiers at his heels. Throwing wide the doors on empty space, he shouted, “Is anyone here?”
The light was dim inside. Across from him was a long dais, and on the dais rested a Buddha figure. Behind the statue a lath screen extended across the hall. Lights flickered beyond and a shadow moved behind the screen.
His heart pounding, Akitada quickly crossed the hall and passed around the end of the screen. Here grass mats had been spread and more screens placed to create a series of smaller chambers. The first of these was empty, though a candle burned in a tall holder. Two silken cushions still held imprints.
Akitada flung aside a flimsy screen, saw that the next enclosure was also empty, and rushed across it to tear aside the final screen.
Two old men huddled in the center of this room, their arms about each other and their eyes looking fearfully his way. Tora and the soldiers quickly surrounded them.
One of the two was Taira of the snow-white hair and beetling black eyebrows.
“Who are you? What do you want?” he quavered, hugging the other man to him.
Akitada’s eyes were on his companion. At first glance this man had appeared as senile as Taira, but Akitada now saw that he was only slightly past middle age. He looked much older because his skull was shaven, he was fat, and he had the unhealthy pallor of a sick person. He had changed greatly with the years, but there was no doubt in Akitada’s mind that this was Okisada, the Second Prince, formerly crown prince and heir to the imperial throne. Not dead, but very much alive.
He had the round face, small nose, and thick lips of his imperial and Fujiwara relatives, and once, years ago, on the occasion of an imperial procession, Akitada had seen him ride past in all the pomp and glory of his former exalted position. His present condition made a shocking change from those happier times, but Akitada had never forgotten his face.
He bowed deeply. “Your Highness,” he said, “My name is Sugawara Akitada. I regret extremely to find you under such circumstances. I am afraid that it is my duty to place you and Lord Taira under arrest for attempted treason.” Okisada said nothing. His lower lip trembled and he clutched convulsively at Taira. Taira detached himself gently and said, “Let us resume our seats, Highness, and hear what this person has to say in explanation of such outrageous charges.” Passing Akitada and the staring soldiers, he led his master back to the cushions in the first room. The soldiers put up the screen again. On a gesture from Akitada, they remained. A brazier full of glowing coals made the area hot and stuffy on this late summer day. Nobody invited Akitada to sit. He knelt formally, found that his knee hurt abominably, and sat back on his heels.
He addressed Okisada. “I have no doubt that you already know who I am and why I am here on Sadoshima, but to observe the formalities, I serve as temporary imperial envoy with powers to inquire into certain irregularities among the exiles here. More specifically I was sent to investigate Your Highness’s alleged murder. Would you care to explain why you performed this extraordinary charade?”
Okisada’s lower lip began to quiver again. Taira put his thin hand on his arm and said angrily to Akitada, “How dare you address His Imperial Highness in such a tone and with such words? Where are your credentials?”
“My lord, I believe you know very well where they are.
Besides, since both of you are exiles here, I do not owe you any explanations. We are wasting time. I suppose you expect the arrival of the rebel Kumo before leaving on the ship at anchor in the harbor? I regret to inform you that Kumo is dead, and that Governor Mutobe is at this moment boarding the ship to arrest its captain and men. Your supporters will shortly be rounded up and tried for their involvement in this plot.” Okisada cried out and clutched at Taira again. Taira turned very pale. He snapped, “You lie.”
Akitada removed the gilded sword from his sash and placed it on the mat before Taira. “I told you the truth,” he said. “I killed Kumo myself and took his sword off his body not an hour ago.”
They both looked at the sword in horror. Taira bit his lip, then his eyes searched Akitada’s face. Okisada began to weep.
“All for nothing,” the prince blubbered. “It was all for nothing. Poor Shunsei starved to death, and all my suffering wasted.
Oh, why is this world so cruel to me?” Taira murmured something soothing and stroked the prince’s back.
So Okisada’s lover had died, expecting to join his beloved in another world. Akitada sighed. There was little pleasure in confronting this man with his guilt. He was weak, spoiled, and self-centered, but he had been raised expecting to be emperor.
The disappointment apparently had destroyed whatever good qualities the prince might once have had. He said, “I think you took a carefully measured amount of the
Your charade worked because neither Sakamoto nor Mutobe’s son were familiar with this particular effect of the poison.”
“What you are pleased to call a charade, Lord Sugawara,” said Taira in a tired voice, “was no more than an
