by Ben Stevens
‘And do you think they’ll tell us this, master, if they’ve somehow discovered such a thing?’ I demanded, the strength of feeling in my voice surprising even myself. ‘It’s known they despise the entire Japanese people; they consider we have robbed them of their natural habitat, and repressed them for centuries. Just a few years ago, there were those battles which caused even more of them to perish…’
I paused for a few moments, taking several deep breaths. When I continued my voice was slower, calmer –
‘So why, master, should it be expected that the Au tribe will intervene to help us, even if they know how?’
Sipping his sake, my master then nodded his head, surveying the ruined landscape with darkened, brooding eyes.
‘For precisely that reason, Kukai, I decided that we should travel without any threatening samurai bodyguard in tow. Quite apart from the fact that any such bodyguard (regardless of how skilled they were at fighting) would find themselves hugely outnumbered, if we were actually able to enter into Au territory.
‘But I have heard that the leader of the Au, Ezo, is a reasonable man. I hope to be able to talk with him; to see if he has any advice he can offer us. It may well be that the Au settlement’s isolated location is the very reason why it has apparently remained free of this plague. In which case, I can only hope that there are enough mountaintops in Japan to be able to offer every person still living in this country a chance of survival.’
This last sentence carried the sensation of utter defeat that I and (I was certain) my master were both feeling. This near-certainty that mankind was fast dying, and that whatever we tried to do in order to change this was irrevocably doomed to failure.
‘And to think,’ said my master then, almost to himself – ‘to think that just a few months ago, my overriding goal was to catch that evil monk named Sesshu.
‘And now…’
He shook his head, as though against the sheer magnitude of the problem he was currently attempting to face.
‘Come, Kukai,’ he said then, determinedly draining his cup and rising to his feet. ‘We attempt to solve this case – or else we die trying.’
‘Yes, master,’ I returned, mirroring his movements.
Death, I thought. Yes – I’d faced that enough times over the years, working alongside my master. Sometimes, we’d avoided it only by a whisker.
But on this occasion – how, exactly, would death come…?
3
The wind became ever colder, the further north we ventured. We were sat astride the finest, fastest, sturdiest creatures the Imperial City had been able to provide; but soon the strain of our urgent journey, across so many ri, began to tell even on them. In normal times we would merely have exchanged the two horses at a stable for a fresh pair of animals, using the Imperial Decree to ensure that no one sought to refuse or otherwise hinder us…
But these were not normal times. We skirted around a couple of stables, but it was obvious that these lay deserted and so we did not linger. No choice but to spur the exhausted horses on, both my master and I also bone-weary and utterly saddle-sore. And yet, bit-by-bit, we were coming closer towards this settlement of the Au, passing along roads surrounded on either side by great, forested mountains, the bamboo groves swaying, creaking and groaning mysteriously in the wind.
‘Au legend states that you might discover your fortune, if you care to listen close enough to what the bamboo has to say as it moves in the wind,’ declared my master at one point. ‘So maybe we should not listen too closely…’
He was unshaven, his face slightly haggard, so that in addition to hearing these words I began to fear for his sanity. He had investigated so many cases, faced seemingly impossible odds and certain death a score of times, and pitted his wits against some of the most fiendish criminal minds and now – what, exactly? He had to find some way to save all of Japan from this plague which had no known cause? Surely even his formidable intellect could only take so much strain; surely this case was one even he could not hope to solve…
And yet it wasn’t even just a cure – or at least some preventative measure – against this plague which he’d been tasked with finding. He’d also promised the Empress that he’d try to discover just what had happened to her courtier Noami, and that man’s samurai escort.
And then – at the exact same moment that the gargantuan settlement of the Au first came into view – my master suddenly pointed down at the ground.
‘Look, Kukai,’ he said.
Doing as instructed, I saw an arrow lying among the stunted grass. I quickly dismounted, picked it up and handed it to my master, who remained sat upon his horse as he examined it.
‘An arrow from one of the samurai who escorted Noami, that is certain,’ declared my master thoughtfully.
‘It was fired, master?’ I questioned, unable to keep myself from at once glancing around at the large rocks scattered across this wide, grassy plain that could easily each conceal several men...
‘No, I don’t think so,’ returned my master. ‘There are no others, unless these were later picked up, with only this one remaining undiscovered. But I hardly think this is likely.
‘No,’ continued my master. ‘It was put here deliberately – you see how it lay almost in the middle of the track any horseman is certain to take, when approaching the settlement we can now at last see ahead.’
‘It was intended as some sort of… signal, master?’
‘Yes, Kukai,’ nodded my master, staring ahead at the huge wooden surround of the Au settlement. ‘A signal indeed. Left, no doubt, upon the instruction of Noami.’
‘But why, master?’
My master shook his head.
‘I can’t be certain – some premonition of doom, maybe? A feeling that he would never be returning from this mission of his? And so this ‘marker’ left, so that another mission coming later might come across it, realize it’s meaning – and thus be more on their guard…?
‘But that, maybe, is to read too much meaning into this simple arrow left lying on the ground. What we can be certain of is that it tells us that Noami and his samurai bodyguard certainly reached their destination – but never returned.’
‘Maybe the arrow was just accidently dropped by one of the samurai, master,’ I suggested. ‘Maybe it in fact has no meaning at all.’
My master gave a slight, good-natured laugh.
‘Ever the pragmatist, eh, Kukai?’ he returned, so that I at once wished I’d never spoken.
‘No,’ said my master then, stretching in his saddle. ‘Members of the samurai bodyguard of the Imperial City do not go around dropping their arrows upon the ground like some sort of butter-fingered, teenage archery trainee. So this was certainly left here deliberately.’
My master was correct, of course. This arrow was undoubtedly designed to impart some meaning – some sense of caution, even – to its finder.
With a strong sense of foreboding, that gargantuan wooden structure upon the horizon now dark and menacing against the grey autumnal sky, I got back upon my horse before spurring it forward.
The huge wooden posts forming the enclosure grew ever-larger. Soon, I observed that each one had surely been formed by somehow cleaving the very trunk of a tree in half. And there were thousands of such gnarled half-trunks, rising some twenty feet in height, with (as I had already remarked to my master) watchtowers placed at regular intervals.
As we got closer, it seemed to me that I could see figures moving around within these watchtowers. Suddenly, two arrows thwacked into the ground right in front of the two horses. These weary animals reared up in alarm (as valued beasts kept within the Imperial City, they were hardly hardened to combat), and my master and I only just avoided being thrown from our saddles as we sought to calm them.
‘We come here upon the instruction of the Empress of Japan herself!’ cried my master then. ‘We carry an Imperial Decree, and demand entry into this settlement!’
Another two arrows speared into the ground even c
loser to the two horses, accompanied by hoarse laughter from the archers on one tower.
‘Your ‘decree’ means nothing here,’ retorted one of the men, his voice carrying perfectly as there was currently only a slight wind. ‘You can spend the night out there in the open, so we can keep an eye on you. If you can show you’re not infected with the Black Death, then, maybe, we’ll talk further.’
‘Tell Ezo that Ennin is here – and be quick about it,’ returned my master, cupping his hands to his mouth as he shouted towards that huge wall.
A silence followed, the two figures on the tower clearly conferring with each other – and then with those other figures stood on the other towers nearest.
‘I said – be quick about it!’ repeated my master stridently.
‘One moment – wait,’ came the return shout; and I saw a figure begin to clamber down from one of the watchtowers.
‘Not Ezo-‘san’, master?’ I asked curiously.
‘Our Japanese honorifics mean nothing here, Kukai,’ replied my master, continuing to stare at that great wall – which certainly lapped around the entire settlement – and its watchtowers. ‘But they are still more than aware of my reputation. In fact, I am becoming more-and-more certain that we have been expected…’
I had no idea what he meant by this, except for the fact that it caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand even further on end, and my very guts to threaten to dissolve into water.
But I bit back on my fear – as I had time-and-time again in my master’s service. And knowing instinctively when it was appropriate to speak and ask questions, and when it was better just to be quiet and give my master time and space in which to think, I said nothing.
A gate, set into that vast wall which so conclusively separated the settlement from the rest of the world, now opened. A huge man, clad in bearskins, burnished metal armor and with a full beard, strode out.
‘Forgive me, Ennin,’ he called in a deep voice. ‘But you and your servant will have to spend just tonight out in the open. You have been travelling for some three or four days, I reason, to be here now – so you are almost certainly free of the plague, and yet we have to be sure...’
‘You see that they have a definite idea of how long this plague takes to show itself, and destroy its victim,’ murmured my master to me. ‘You see also that he knows you are my servant, without any introduction necessary from me…’
‘Possibly he has read one of my various accounts, concerning our many adventures together, master,’ I conjectured, my tone of voice perhaps just a little sharp.
‘A feasible theory,’ returned my master mildly; and then, in a much louder voice –
‘Very well, Ezo; we will stay right here, upon this plain, until you deem us safe enough to be able to enter into your domain.’
‘Thank you, Ennin. Your co-operation is much appreciated,’ said the large man almost jovially. ‘And… I look forward to meeting you. Really I do.’
With that the large figure stepped back inside the gate, which shut behind him. With the wind beginning to pick up, my master and I attended to the horses, feeding them and making them lie down; and then wrapping our straw coats about us against the cold, prepared to spend the night out in the open.
4
At dawn the following morning, the gate opened again and out stepped this man named Ezo, accompanied by two other, bearded men scarcely any smaller than him. They strode confidently towards us, observed by the archers on top of the assorted watchtowers.
‘Well, Ennin,’ said Ezo. ‘Did you and your servant sleep well?’
This seemed to me to be intended as a rough sort of joke – of the type shared by soldiers on a military mission. But rising briskly to his feet, my master returned –
‘Excellently, thank you. I always find grassy ground to be most comfortable.’
Ezo and the two other men laughed at this.
‘Come, Ennin. We will get your horses stabled, and in a while get some good food into you and your servant. You are both clearly free of the plague – and you need no Imperial Decree to get inside our settlement. We are honored to be visited by the famous Ennin, and his servant the scribe!’
This was the first time I’d ever heard myself being so described. Puzzling over the exact meaning, I took the reins of the two horses before following behind my master, Ezo and the two other men.
I felt as though I was somehow entering into another world. Behind that defensive, high wooden wall lay first a system of fields – irrigated by a river which flowed in a gentle, gradual curve – in which were growing such vegetables as daikon. Men and women, stooped over in these fields as they labored, observed us pass with cautious interest. There were also animals grazing; all manner of livestock.
For the first time, I began fully to understand just how self-sufficient this community really was. They needed nothing from us Japanese – absolutely nothing. And yet if the rumors were true, as they certainly seemed to be (namely, that the Au were free of the plague, and furthermore had actively found some way of avoiding it) then we needed everything from them.
Beyond these fields were a series of long, low buildings, with sloping, grey-tiled roofs and overhanging eves, constructed in a style that was vaguely Japanese. The tree-lined streets were wide, and actually paved with stone. This was a sign of wealth I had only previously seen within the Imperial City itself. There were the usual stalls and such; a busy, bustling marketplace. People were everywhere, going about their business. Most of the men had the type of full beard worn by Ezo, although the women were more Japanese in appearance. Only the rings frequently displayed in their hair seemed a little alien to me.
The horses were put into a stable, and my master and I continued to follow Ezo and the two guards into a massive structure that dominated the centre of the settlement. There was no castle here, and yet I gathered that this multi-level building, constructed from black wood and again with the familiar sloping, grey-tiled roofs, served as the seat of power.
Some way behind this magnificent structure – I could tell by the salty breeze which at once blew in my face – lay the sea, and so the settlement’s harbor. It faced in the direction of Russia, with whom (as I had previously said to my master) the Au was believed to conduct a certain amount of trade. Otherwise, they did business with no one else, shutting themselves off from China and Korea along with the rest of Japan itself.
We entered inside the building, any number of rooms lying either side of a series of long corridors. We passed other, bearded men wearing long swords at their sides – clearly the Au equivalent of samurai – who stared balefully at my master and me.
‘We request that you remain within this building during your short stay here, Ennin,’ said Ezo, as we were led who knew where. ‘Or, if you do feel the need to go outside, that you do so only with an escort. Your safety cannot be guaranteed, otherwise – there is no love among the Au for the Japanese, and some of my people may wish to let you know this, if they see you unaccompanied by a guard such as you have now.’
I wondered what Ezo meant by having used the word ‘short’. I also reflected that (despite having referred to me as a ‘scribe’) he couldn’t have read any of the cases I’d written describing my master’s adventures – particularly the one entitled The Demon King – or else he would have known that my master was more than capable of defending himself.
‘I have come here because – ’ my master began, but Ezo brusquely shook his head as he showed us inside a reasonably large and wood-lined room, an ornamental window at one end and with two futon already set up on the floor. There were a few items of furniture here and there – a table, a stool, a stout wooden chest pushed against the wall that was below the waist-high window.
‘We will talk later, Ennin, at lunch,’ declared Ezo. ‘As for now, I have urgent business to attend to, and you may wish to rest a little, and generally freshen up after your long journey from the Imperial City.’
‘You know we came from there?’ r
eturned my master, his expression impassive.
Ezo gave a laugh that was, somehow, slightly mocking. Now that we were fully within his domain, he did not seem quite as convivial as he had when we’d first met him upon that plain which lay outside of this settlement.
‘An educated guess,’ he muttered, before departing the room with the two other men, sliding the door closed behind them.
‘Master, I – ’
Raising one hand, my master thus bade me to be silent. He commenced a close examination of the room, staring closely at the walls, even at each piece of furniture. He then walked to the window that was at the opposite end of the room from the door.
I said before that this window was ‘ornamental’. Perhaps the word I should have used was ‘decorative’. In any case, it had an intricately carved wooden screen in front of the two sliding panes of wood and rice-paper (which were closed). This screen showed a forest, trees and such – any number of miniscule leaves had even been depicted as they fell, so that the overall impression one received was one of autumn.
My master again looked closely at this screen in front of the window. It was curiously placed, for it meant you couldn’t reach through to actually slide open the two screens of wood and rice-paper, and thus see the view outside. And yet so bright was this rice-paper, with various shades of light dappling upon it, that the wooden shutters which undoubtedly lay outside (to be closed in times of storms and so on) were evidently open.
There had to be some way of detaching this decorative wooden screen, I thought as my master examined it. And then he nodded, and said quietly –
‘Come here, Kukai.’
Doing as bidden, I then looked as closely as my master had at the areas of the screen he pointed out to me. I saw what had caught his attention, now. Minute cracks (so small you could almost not see them even when trying, so well had the damage been repaired) in several parts of the screen. Something had, at some point, smashed through it, so causing the damage which had later been repaired by someone who was obviously an expert.