Authors: Lian Hearn
“So, the Prince Abbot has obtained what he sought from me—Master Sesshin. Why has he not returned my son?”
“Presumably he hopes to influence you in other matters,” Tsuneto said.
Or he no longer has him
, Kiyoyori thought.
Taro succeeded in rescuing him. But where are they?
He heard over and over in his mind the child’s farewell cries:
Father! Don’t go!
He remembered with startling clarity the evening after Akuzenji’s attack when the bandits were executed and his wife had brought the children to eat with him. He had played with them and admired them, and then he had left and gone to Lady Tora and become enmeshed with her. Was that what had brought the punishment of Heaven down on him? Yet he would face ten times that punishment to be with her again. His grief welled up and threatened to overcome him. He forced himself to listen to Tsuneto’s words.
“Sademasa was very closemouthed about his own activities, but I noticed he has also spent the winter preparing for war. And he had several warriors with him whom I did not recognize. I wondered if they might have joined him from the east.”
“He is planning to betray us?”
“He is an opportunist. He hinted he expects great rewards from the Prince Abbot for handing over Sesshin and Shikanoko. If you and the Crown Prince prevail he will cleave to you, but if the Prince’s defeat seems imminent he will join the Miboshi.”
“I need him to be staunch now more than ever. I must go to the capital myself as soon as possible and I don’t like to leave Matsutani unguarded in these dangerous times.”
These and other worries meant that Kiyoyori hardly slept that night, and so he was awake when the earthquake struck, and was able to escape with Hina. Much of the main building collapsed and the stables were destroyed in the fire that followed. The stonework of the lake was broken in several places and the lake drained away, leaving a muddy floor in which, when he got around to looking at it, Tama’s footprints were clearly visible. He lost twenty horses, including his favorite black stallion, and ten people died. He entrusted Hina to Haru, hoping she would be comforted by playing with the children, but later that day when he went to assess the damage to the west gate he found her there, poking through the rubble. The gateposts still stood erect, but the roof and the transom had fallen to the ground.
“What are you doing there?”
Lost in some world of her own, she was startled by his voice. He was shocked by her pale face and noticed for the first time how thin she had become. The earthquake was the most recent in a series of shocks for her—Tsumaru’s disappearance, the blinding of Sesshin, her stepmother’s imprisonment. He felt guilty that he had not been more considerate toward her all winter. He had left her to Haru’s care. Now he spoke more gently.
“Stay away from the gate; the beams might fall on you.”
“I am looking for the eyes, Father. I had a dream I found them and put them in a treasure box. The gateposts were shaking with laughter. It was horrible. When I woke up the earth was shaking.”
He noticed she had been crying. He saw a slight gleam in the dust and bent to lift the carved transom that had been half-buried in rubble. The eyes stared back at him. They had lost none of their luster.
“Ah,” Hina said. Two tears fell on the eyes, moistening them. She held out a carved wooden box in which she had placed a small piece of white cloth. “Put them in here and I will keep them safe.”
He took the cloth and picked up the eyes with it, wrapped them, and placed them in the box. She held the box awkwardly because she also had a sheaf of manuscripts, loosely bound with thread, clamped under one arm.
Kiyoyori gestured at the text. “Give me that, you are going to drop it.”
She turned sideways so he could take it. It was a manuscript made up of folded pages, some yellow with black writing, some indigo with gold. He fanned through the pages, noting how some seemed to be glued together so he could not open them, while others were so blurred they were impossible to read. Occasionally a drawing of an animal or a mythical creature appeared, and he had the uneasy feeling their eyes were looking back at him. It resembled an esoteric text, the sort written by monks or healers.
“It’s about medicine. Is it one of Master Sesshin’s?”
“He gave it to me last year, after he saw me making potions for that dog that was so sick.”
This surprised Kiyoyori. He had not known Sesshin had ever spoken to Hina, let alone given her a text like this. “Can you read it?”
“It’s too difficult for me. But I like looking at the pictures. It’s called the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store. That’s because it’s difficult and complicated like kudzu. Master Sesshin told me that. Sometimes I feel it doesn’t want me to read it.”
“I will help you if you are really interested.” He made the promise knowing it was possible he would never keep it, that they would never have that sort of time together in the future, and again he deeply regretted squandering the time they might have had during the winter.
She nodded with a smile, but then her face turned grave. “Where is my stepmother?”
“I don’t know. She walked away, probably early this morning.”
He went with Hina to the lake and showed her the footprints. Hina stared at them. “Will she come back?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Will Tsumaru?”
“I am going to tell you a secret about Tsumaru,” Kiyoyori said slowly. “You know he was kidnapped to make me hand over Master Sesshin…”
His daughter fixed him with a gaze like steel. “And Lady Tora?”
“I don’t want to talk about Lady Tora with you; it is not fitting. When you are older you will understand.”
Hina flushed at the rebuke. Kiyoyori went on sternly, trying to mask his guilt and regret. “Someone, one of our people, promised to rescue him. I don’t know if he succeeded or not.”
“Who?” she said flatly.
“A servant in the house below Rokujo. Iida no Taro is his name.”
“If he did succeed, why has Tsumaru not come home?”
“I don’t know,” Kiyoyori replied. “But that is why I have to go to the capital, to find out.”
“You won’t leave me here?”
“No, you can come with me.”
Hina said, “Was the earthquake a punishment?”
He did not want to answer her. It was not right for children to judge their parents. But he feared that the earthquake was a punishment for the many terrible things that had happened at Matsutani, and it was certainly an ominous start to the year.
They camped in the undamaged part of the house while the funerals were held and the bodies burned and while Kiyoyori issued instructions for the rebuilding. He left two thirds of his men to help with the work and guard Matsutani, and took the remainder with him to Miyako.
Hina took the text called the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store and the box containing Sesshin’s eyes.
* * *
The city was tense, many armed warriors thronging the streets, the red banners of the Kakizuki flying from gates and roofs. As he passed through the southern gate, where beggars and other vagrants sought shelter, he was recognized in the middle of the chaos by one of Lord Masafusa’s retainers, who was in charge of the guards.
The man greeted him warmly. “Kiyoyori! You have come to defend the capital?”
“What is happening?” Kiyoyori shouted back.
The other fought his way through the crowd, grasped the horse’s bridle, and gestured to Kiyoyori to bend down. He whispered, “The Emperor is finally dying, and the Miboshi are approaching from the east.”
“I would be more use at Matsutani, defending the high road,” he said, wondering if he should turn back. He felt every decision he made was the wrong one, as though whatever divine protection he had been under had been withdrawn.
“No, you are needed here. We fear an attack on the Crown Prince. How many men have you brought?”
“Barely fifty. You did not hear about the earthquake?”
“We felt it here, but it was not destructive. You had better report to Lord Masafusa as soon as you can, and he will tell you what to do.”
Kiyoyori acquiesced and rode on.
There was no sign of Taro at his house below Rokujo and the place looked even more neglected than before. He unleashed his anxiety on the servants in a blast of rage that had them scurrying around, opening shutters, airing the bedding, sweeping floors, and preparing food.
Hina was white with exhaustion. He himself bathed her face and feet and as soon as a room was ready made her lie down. Then he found paper and writing materials and sent Sadaike with a message to Ryusonji.
The man came back within the hour. The Prince Abbot would receive him even though it was getting late. Kiyoyori left at once, taking the ox carriage he reserved for travel within the capital, especially when he did not wish his face to be seen. The carriage was full of spiders and smelled of mold; the ox had not been in harness for months and had forgotten all its training. Other carriages packed the streets as the city’s inhabitants prepared for flight. It took a long time to get to the temple, and when he arrived it was already twilight. The sky was clear and stars were appearing.
The carriage was not allowed beyond the first gate. Kiyoyori descended and was led across the gravel and through the temple buildings to the same reception room he had been in last time. The Prince Abbot sat on the same purple and white silk cushions. At his side knelt a young man whose head was not shaved and whose hair was tied up like a warrior’s. He raised his head when Kiyoyori came in, and Kiyoyori recognized Shikanoko.
His instinctive response was relief that the boy was alive, but this was quickly replaced by rage. Shika did not look like a prisoner or a hostage. He must have allied himself with the Prince Abbot. How deeply Kiyoyori regretted sparing his life. But he could not waste time dwelling on that now. He knelt, waited for permission to speak, and then said, striving for politeness, “My lord Abbot, I heard that your monk Gessho was successful in tracking down the fugitives you sought. I see you have Shikanoko at your side, apparently in your service. So why has my son not been restored?”
The Prince Abbot answered him coldly. “There are still outstanding matters that need to be settled between us. Where is the woman, the sorceress? And where is your allegiance now? Whose side will you take?”
For a moment he could not speak.
He thinks she is alive!
Then he said, letting his anger show, “Who can I side with but my family, the Kakizuki? It is less than noble of you to expect me to betray my allegiance for my son’s life.”
The Prince Abbot’s voice took on a note of fury. “You dare lecture me on nobility?” He half-rose as if he would step toward Kiyoyori, even strike him, but then he gained control and sat again. He tapped a scroll that lay on its own cushion at his side. “Do you know what this is? It is the Book of the Future. In it are inscribed the names of all the emperors to come, down through the ages. I am not acting idly or through the desire for personal gain. I am following the will of Heaven. Prince Momozono’s name is not in it. But his younger brother’s is.”
“Show me,” Kiyoyori demanded.
“Only my eyes can read it,” the Prince Abbot replied.
How very convenient!
Kiyoyori was assessing rapidly the attempted distraction, the apparent loss of control. He said boldly, “Show my son to me, Your Holiness. Just let me see his face.”
“Agree not to oppose me, to stay out of the coming confrontation, and you may see him.”
There was a note of uncertainty in his voice. Kiyoyori realized the Prince Abbot did not have Tsumaru. Had Taro been successful? He glanced at Shikanoko and saw that the young man was regarding him with pity. A jolt of fear struck him in the belly.
“Why do you waste my time?” the Prince Abbot said angrily. “I regret even agreeing to see you. Go. We have nothing more to discuss, now or ever again. The next time I see your face your head will be on a stake, along with all my enemies.”
Kiyoyori left, half-expecting to be detained before he reached the gates and even more disturbed than he had been when he arrived. As he crossed the last courtyard, he heard the sounds of a lute and a voice singing:
The dragon child, he flew too high
He was still so young, he tried his best.
But his wings failed and he fell to earth.
He fell to earth.
Now he dwells beneath the lake at Ryusonji.
The plaintive tune sent a shiver down his spine.
He returned home, left the carriage, and rode on horseback to his kinsman Hosokawa no Masafusa’s palace. Armed men gathered in the courtyard, swords at their hips, quivers filled with arrows on their backs, bows in their hands. Night had fallen.
Masafusa greeted him tensely. “You are here, Kiyoyori? I was afraid you would have been already defeated by the Miboshi. Is anyone defending your estates?”
“I left most of my men there, about a hundred. The place was badly damaged in the earthquake. We had several dead and lost many horses. I had no idea the situation had become so desperate so quickly. Why was I not told?”
“We didn’t realize the extent of the Prince Abbot’s intrigues or the Miboshi’s war preparations. While the Emperor lived, there was no cause for alarm. He had always designated Prince Momozono as his heir. But now he is dying—indeed, come close, let me whisper: it is rumored he already passed away some days ago, but the Prince Abbot will not allow it to be revealed until the Crown Prince and his son, Yoshimori, are dead, and he can immediately place his favorite on the Lotus Throne.”
“Surely even he will not dare to harm His Imperial Highness?”
“Make no mistake, he will dare. He will accuse the Prince of rebellion and attack his palace—it could be at any time, maybe even tonight. The Miboshi are approaching from the east, ready to take the capital and defend the claim of the new emperor.”
“Where is our lord and what are his commands?” Kiyoyori said.
“He believes we should flee. The years of power and excess it seems have sapped his fighting spirit. Our men have little taste for war. Maybe our time has come to yield to the Miboshi.”