To Break the Demon Gate

by Richard Parks

  “I know you were in love with my sister, Lord Yamada. I’m not so thick as all that.”

  It appeared I wasn’t to escape so easily. “I suppose my feelings were fairly obvious, which helped speed my hasty transition from minor Court official to nobleman’s proxy. It was a foolish infatuation on my part, Prince Kanemore. Your sister did not share it.”

  Kanemore smiled a faint smile. “I think perhaps it fairer to say she did not share your priorities. Or mine, for that matter. Still, I’m glad you’ve found someone, even if only for the moment,” Kanemore said. “Whatever her true feelings, I do not think Teiko would wish you to grieve your life away.”

  Perhaps Kanemore was right about that. Perhaps “grieving my life away” was exactly what I had been doing. If so, the process started long before Princess Teiko jumped off the mountain into Lake Biwa. I had no idea when or if that grieving would end except when I ended.

  “I will try to keep that in mind.”

  “Good. Then we need not speak of it again.”

  I hoped we did not. Some demons were to be uncovered and destroyed. Other demons were best left to slumber undisturbed. I judged the matter of my relationship with Princess Teiko to be of the latter category.

  We reached the rugged slopes of Mount Hiei by nightfall and took lodging in some of the temple buildings maintained for that purpose, near the base of the roadway. The nuns shared one small outbuilding, the Taira another, and Prince Kanemore and I a third.

  The barrier to the temple was manned by the same warrior monks whose brothers now patrolled the streets of the city. There was quite a military disposition to the forces around the mountain and its temple complex; however, I knew this situation was not lost on Prince Kanemore and so did not bother to mention the obvious.

  The next morning our little procession re-formed and made its way past the barrier, and up the narrow mountain road to the main temple complex. The way was steep but not overly difficult; it was pleasant to make our way up the mountain. In addition to the pines of winter, all trees were now showing green. While the morning sun was still gathering strength, the shade from the maples and pines kept the worst of the heat at bay. As we gained height, the number of maples shrank and the pines increased; the air was fragrant. If I didn’t know what awaited us at Enryaku-ji I’d have considered this journey no more than a diverting excursion. But I did know, and I did not let down my guard for one moment.

  As we came into full sight of the mountain temple, I began to fully appreciate the power and wealth of Enryaku-ji. It had been the first of the new temples founded at what was then called Heian-kyo that was allowed to create its own path to ordination, thus making a clean break from the power of the monks at the former capital of Nara. Now, generations later, the circle had completed itself. While most of the men trained at Enryaku-ji remained there, many also came to the city to work as officials in the Imperial administration, and the temple’s power had been growing for some time now.

  To call Enryaku-ji a temple was at once accurate and misleading. In fact, it was now the center of a large administrative complex with meditation gardens, audience and instruction halls, barracks, kitchens, forge, guest housing, and training grounds. It was almost a small state unto itself, with its own concerns, its own army, and its own ruler, Lord Sentaro, former Deputy Minister of the Right and Minister of Justice, now the monk called Master Dai-wu.

  While the gate to the main approach now stood open, it could just as easily be closed and defended, and any force moving against it would have a rough task getting past the gate if those on the inside did not wish them to do so.

  The monks of Enryaku-ji’s private army were nowhere in evidence as we arrived. Several apprentice monks had been sent to see to our housing and to take possession of the silk; the actual formal presentation was set for the next morning in the main hall. We were fed a meatless meal as was the custom there and then left to our own devices for the remainder of the evening; or at least I so presumed.

  I had some vague notions of wandering about the grounds but realized that, at least to all appearances, Enryaku-ji was not hiding anything. Both its power and presumed peace were in plain sight. I would not penetrate that particular mystery by wandering around and poking my nose into areas which, one assumed, did not concern me.

  I had found a quiet spot in one of the meditation gardens when Prince Kanemore approached. I started to rise, but he merely squatted down next to me.

  “I have yet to see a garden you could pass by,” Kanemore said. “And this is a particularly fine one.”

  “I assume that’s how you found me?”

  “I had a good idea,” Kanemore said cheerfully. “But in truth the groundskeeper told me the way you had gone. He seemed pleased that you appreciate his handiwork.”

  “It is a fine garden,” I said. “Sometimes one can see the advantages of becoming a monk.”

  “You mean other than the chance of Enlightenment?”

  “I’m not convinced such a thing is necessarily to be found at such a place as this.”

  Kanemore grunted. “There are monks who earnestly seek the Way, and there are monks who use the path as means to more prosaic ends. Sometimes it’s hard for even the wise to tell the difference. I’m content with my path as it is. For now. Well then, it’s getting late. Let’s be off.”

  I blinked. “Off to where, Highness?”

  “Oh, did I forget to tell you? We’ve been granted a private audience with Master Dai-wu.”

  “This is your doing, yes?”

  He grunted. “I said you needed to know what I know, to see what I have seen,” Kanemore said. “If you want to catch a deer, first you have to make sure that you’re hunting on the right side of the mountain. This may prove important for both our sakes and for the future of Teiko’s son. You need to see him.”

  “I agree, and while I have not yet changed my mind, I am perfectly willing to be convinced. Please lead on.”

  That was a lie of sorts. I was not “perfectly” willing, or willing at all. I rather expected I would have to be dragged bodily to any such extreme conclusions concerning Lord Sentaro’s character and motives. But I did wish to see “Master Dai-wu” for myself, so at least I might at last understand what cloud of confusion had been spun around Prince Kanemore. It was only my knowledge of Kanemore, and my understanding of the depths of the loathing that Kanemore had for Lord Sentaro that allowed me to even ask the question. The best I could hope for was that I might find a way to turn Prince Kanemore from his error.

  There are artists at the town of Otsu on the eastern road who sell small, humorous pictures to travelers and other pilgrims. Some showed ogres dressed as mendicant monks in the company of courtesans. Some showed ogres sitting in proper meditation, seeking Enlightenment. So far as I was concerned, any of those painted ogres had far more chance of reaching Enlightenment than Fujiwara no Sentaro had of abandoning either politics or ambition for the peace of Enryaku-ji, or for that matter anywhere or anything else. It was as if one expected a snake to forego slithering and walk upright; the concept was simply nonsense.

  To break the Demon Gate, one must first open it.

  I wondered at the origins of that saying, as the Demon Gate had never been breached in a military sense but was a constant avenue for ghosts, demons, tengu, and worse. Still, I found myself thinking about the proverb as I followed Prince Kanemore through the inner compound gates and into a large meditation hall.

  The hall was empty, save for Lord Sentaro kneeling at the foot of the dais, apparently waiting for us. His head was shaven now, and he wore the proper robes of a temple hojo with a string of large wooden prayer beads around his neck, but the face was the one I remembered. That is, until we got close enough to bow formally and kneel before him on the cushions provided. When I gazed into the man’s face from a distance of no more than the height of a man, my first thought made me forget to breathe.

  That is not Fujiwara no Sentaro.

  Certainly, Master Dai-w
u bore a remarkable similarity to the former Lord Sentaro. If I pictured the man now kneeling in front of me with hair and formal Court robes, he could certainly pass for Lord Sentaro by feature, but the resemblance was merely at the surface. No matter how my eyes reassured me that this man was, indeed, the former Minister of Justice and Deputy Minister of the Right, my mind refused to believe it. I looked into the kind, gentle eyes of Master Dai-wu of Enryaku-ji and I simply could not see Lord Fujiwara no Sentaro in there anywhere.

  I finally took a slow breath. Fortunately, Prince Kanemore took care of the formal greetings; I merely had to bow slightly as Prince Kanemore introduced me. Of course, I needed no introduction to Lord Sentaro, but Master Dai-wu was another matter completely.

  In my time I had known many men and women who were adept at keeping their emotions under control and their faces blank. Others were masters at writing lies upon that blank paper for all to see and believe. I had been fooled before, but never twice by the same person and always because, for whatever reason, I had let my guard down. Yet as guarded and watchful as I was now, I was seldom fooled, because the one thing no one can do face to face is hide their eyes, for the truth is always there if you know how to look. Perhaps intent is hard to see; subtle, but it is always present. I looked into the eyes of the man I had known for years as Fujiwara no Sentaro, and I could find no trace of him. None. The man looking at me now, calling himself Master Dai-wu, hojo of Enryaku Temple, had eyes as open and guileless as those of a child. I did see a shadow there, something I could not quite identify, but its nature was not clear, and the hint of whatever it might be did nothing to change my initial impressions. Despite my great respect for Prince Kanemore, my presumption all along was that he had simply been fooled.

  If that was the case, then I had just been fooled, too.

  Dai-wu was speaking again. I forced myself to listen.

  “On behalf of Enryaku-ji, I accept the Emperor’s gracious gift. I, too, have a gift for His Majesty. May I entrust this to your protection?”

  Prince Kanemore bowed low. “As Your Immanence wishes. Are there any special preparations that must be made?”

  Master Dai-wu smiled. “Nothing so delicate as that, Highness. My humble gift is merely a fine new copy of the Lotus Sutra that His Majesty requested for his study and benefit. The two nuns who accompanied you here will see to its conveyance. All you need do is give them safe escort on your return to the Imperial Court.”

  It was a perfectly reasonable request. While the roads were relatively safe on this side of the capital, there was always the chance of misadventure for women traveling alone, nuns or otherwise.

  “It will be done,” Prince Kanemore said, bowing again.

  The master of Senryaku Temple now turned to me, though he still spoke to Kanemore. “Highness, I think your companion and I have something we need to discuss in private. Would you please indulge me for a few moments?”

  Prince Kanemore frowned and glanced at me, but of course I had no basis to object. As Kanemore withdrew I waited and wondered what I would hear from the man I had once known as Lord Sentaro, and now did not think I knew at all. One thing I did know, as now Master Dai-wu and I kneeled facing each other, was the man opposite me now was afraid. Very afraid.

  Of me?

  No. The fear was there plain to see as Master Dai-wu, so far as all my senses and skills told me, concealed nothing. But I did not think I had triggered it. Now I recognized his fear for what it was, I think it had been there all along; it was a shadow on the man’s face I had seen but did not understand.

  When Master Dai-wu spoke, it was very carefully and softly, as if he were afraid we would be overheard. I did not see how this could be so since we were the only two people present, and if some other presence should appear, such as a ghost or demon, I was certain that I would know it. At the moment there was nothing.

  “Lord Yamada, you were educated at the Imperial University, were you not? I mean, yes, I understand I should know this, but is it so?”

  “It is,” I said, wondering why it mattered. Most men of noble blood were sent to University at some point, even one as lowly as myself. Since there weren’t enough Fujiwara to fill each and every niche in the Imperial administration, such training was considered necessary for the upper classes, though some did manage to avoid it.

  “Then I trust you know what the term inazuma means, in a poetical context?”

  “The flash of lightning, separate from the lightning itself. Since the kanji for the name can also symbolize rice, it’s often used as a poetic allusion for harvest time.” I was a little satisfied that I still remembered, after so long. I was more puzzled, however, as to why he was asking the question in the first place. Apparently my puzzlement was as obvious as Master Dai-wu’s fear.

  “Please bear with me, Lord Yamada. I would say it plainly, but then it could not be said.”

  I frowned. “What could not be said?”

  “And there’s the problem. I will do my best. It’s not my doing. None of it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed. “No. Neither did I for a long time. I think I do now. Inazuma. Sometimes people say it means lightning, but you know better. It is the flash, the illumination, not the thing itself. One does not fear the flash. One fears the lightning. Rightly so. Remember that.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to remember. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that the man was stark raving mad. Then, when I had stopped looking for it, clarity came. Master Dai-wu looked at me.

  “What is faster than lightning? The flash of light that precedes it. What the lightning would destroy, it first illuminates, that is its nature. There is almost no time between one and the other, but there is some time. Very little. Yet the wise man, the prepared man, may have time to act.”

  He was gone. Almost between one breath and the next, Master Dai-wu was gone. In his place sat a man who looked like Master Dai-wu and was dressed as Dai-wu, but no one, and especially not me, would ever confuse the two.

  I was now looking into the hatefully familiar face of Lord Fujiwara no Sentaro.

  “Lord Yamada,” he said, in a voice of pure poison, “We meet again.”

  Part Five

  In prayer, you clap

  to get the god’s attention.

  Gods are too flighty.

  As is my heart’s true desire.

  How shall I gain your notice?

  The effect was instantaneous; I sensed no transition. If the room seemed a little colder, it was only because of the man before me now. Lord Sentaro, no question, no doubt. The tonsure and the robes meant absolutely nothing.

  “I’ve been expecting you for some time,” he said. “Frankly I’m disappointed it took you so long to seek me out.”

  “It is you now, isn’t it? How are you doing that?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Do? My dear Lord Yamada, I have done nothing. Yet. Wheels are turning, just like the Wheel of Life and Death and Rebirth that I must harp about when I am Master Dai-wu. But action? That is to come. Yet I am pleased you remember me. The one whose noble purposes you previously thwarted? Yes, I think you should remember.”

  “Noble?”

  He sighed. “One such as yourself would never understand what planning and preparation is required, the time spent nurturing one’s vision so that matters will turn out as they should. I cheerfully concede that Princess Teiko bested me once, but she is no longer a consideration. And, while I also concede that I underestimated you once, it is a mistake I will not be repeating. If you believe nothing else I tell you now, please believe that.”

  I felt the presence of the dagger in my sleeve, hard and reassuring. “What are you going to tell me?”

  “Why, I am going to tell you what I am going to do, Lord Yamada. That’s what you want to know, is it not? You see, I had some time to think about this while I was at Suma. I have given the matter very careful consideration indeed.”

  “So this really was about avoiding your
banishment, and revenge on me. Nothing more.”

  Lord Sentaro made a face. “Lord Yamada, this may be a shock to you, but neither my world nor anyone else’s is centered on such a wretched creature as you. Oh, I’m going to have my revenge, make no mistake. It’s a pettiness on my part, certainly, yet that revenge is merely repayment for what I suffered and a side matter at best. My true purpose has not wavered. Shall I tell you what that is?”

  “No need. You want to see Prince Norihira on the throne.”

  “Want? No, Lord Yamada. I will see Prince Norihira on the throne. How? I should think that is obvious: I’m going to kill Prince Takahito.”

  I almost forgot to breathe again. “You won’t.”

  He smiled then, a smile that was a horrible parody of the serene, benevolent smile of Master Dai-wu. “I will. And there is nothing, I repeat, nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “Prince Kanemore will stop you. I will stop you.”

  He laughed at me, then sighed. “Fools. Kanemore only sees Master Dai-wu, and that is the way I want it. But you are fortunate, Lord Yamada. You have seen the truth. Shall I tell you why? Have you guessed? No? Then I will tell you. See, I seriously considered killing you. That would bring me a moment or two of satisfaction, I admit, but deep down in that pit you call a soul I think you really want to die, and should I serve you as you wish? No. So then I thought of a much better idea.”

  While I had little doubt he was going to tell me whether I wished to hear it or not, I had to ask the question. “And what is that?”

  His expression was pure mad joy. “Princess Teiko’s bastard son will never sit on the throne, but to that I add this: you’re going to know that Prince Kanemore has failed her, that you have failed her. That Princess Teiko’s death, which I concede was very well-played, was ultimately for nothing. You are going to live, Lord Yamada, knowing that Teiko has lost and I have won. Bear this knowledge for just as long as you wish. That is my gift to you.”

  I thought of the dagger in my sleeve. What would follow would only be the work of a moment. I thought.