by Ben Stevens
As the monk spoke, the Abbot recoiled slightly from him, holding up his left arm in front of his face as though to ward off some evil spirit.
And yet…
What was being offered truly was remarkable. Perhaps this young monk had been possessed by some ancient warrior god; perhaps it truly was his destiny to remain at this temple, and in return for this – and in penance for the grievous sin he’d committed with a woman – to complete a task of such magnitude and complexity that it would, indeed, otherwise take a group of martial scholars some years to complete…
And (considered the Abbot almost dazedly), if this task was completed – if whatever ancient, mysterious, wrathful god had seized control of this young monk’s soul could also guide his hand, to produce this great work in such an impossibly short length of time – then it certainly would make the temple’s name.
In Japan – and beyond…
‘Take him!’ cried the Abbot at once, addressing the other monks. ‘Take him to one of the south rooms in this temple. Give him what he demands – parchment paper, ink, a brush, a table, a lamp…
‘And then lock him inside; and then tomorrow morning, at first light, we shall see if this extraordinary promise has been made true…’
1
‘…The scrolls are in the possession of Kimura, the daimyo who governs one of the territories bordering this one,’ declared Yoichi, a large man with thick lips and an intent expression.
Yoichi was himself the daimyo of the territory in which my master and I were currently staying. We’d been summoned to his castle with the message that he had a matter of vital importance, which he wished to discuss with my master.
‘The ‘Dark Scrolls’,’ murmured my master, almost to himself. ‘I had heard rumor that they had been discovered, yet I did not know whether or not it was true…’
‘Oh, it is certainly true,’ said Yoichi grimly, as he himself poured out a little more green tea for my master and me.
Whatever these ‘Dark Scrolls’ were, this matter was obviously so secretive and important that the daimyo desired no one else to be in attendance. Not even his samurai bodyguard, a couple of members of which were, however, still stationed outside the closed door of this room.
(Yoichi had asked my master if he could talk to just him alone, but my master had curtly refused, stating that he and I always worked together. I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t been slightly flattered by this; it made up for those other times when my master could alternately be brusque, snappy, moody or else just irritatingly ‘secretive’ in his methods.)
‘And how do you know that it is Kimura who has them?’ asked my master.
‘Because he told me,’ returned the daimyo simply. ‘Told me not so many months before, back when we were on reasonably good terms. Sometimes I visited his castle; sometimes he came to mine. Always there is some distrust between daimyo of neighboring regions, of course; and yet we were civil enough.
‘Until that night when he drank too much – as he sometimes does – and revealed to me that he had those scrolls in his possession, hidden away somewhere within his castle. As startled as I was by this revelation, still I immediately tried to change the conversation, knowing that he would severely regret his loose tongue when he was again sober – but he had become arrogant and boastful.
‘He told me that he was studying these scrolls bit-by-bit, applying what he learnt to the training of his own military force – and that when such ‘training’ was finished, soon all of Japan would know just how fantastic these scrolls truly are…’
The daimyo’s voice fell ominously away, his eyes staring at my master.
‘I see,’ said my master. ‘So you believe that Kimura is using the scrolls to train his army to – what, exactly? Rise up and conquer other territories, including quite possibly your own?’
‘Yes,’ nodded the daimyo. He had a disarming frankness about him; an endearing honesty. ‘That is exactly what I believe. So long as Kimura has these scrolls, then there is precisely that risk – and who knows, if Kimura does successfully conquer other territories, as to what he will do next? As hypothetical as this situation so far is, still I believe that Japan itself could be in very real danger, all because Kimura now has these scrolls in his possession.’
‘You really believe that the… information these scrolls contain is potentially so harmful?’ demanded my master. ‘That it truly could be used to train an army into becoming the most skilled and vicious of all fighting forces?’
‘You know the legend behind these scrolls, Ennin-sensei?’ returned Yoichi.
‘One of the martial monks from the Temple of the Shining Light was caught in a compromising situation with a woman,’ replied my master, almost perfunctorily. ‘As such a thing was strictly against the rules of the temple, as it were, the monk was ordered to leave. And yet he vowed that, if he was allowed to remain, he would complete in just one night a comprehensive account and history of everything that might be considered ‘martial’ – a colossal undertaking, which would certainly take any number of learned men a good few years to compile.
‘The monk was taken to a small room within the temple,’ continued my master, ‘and there left alone with materials with which to write, and a lamp.’
‘Except, if legend is to be believed, he was not alone,’ declared the daimyo. ‘For there – in that small room only barely illuminated by the small lamp – the ancient Japanese warrior-god Hachiman suddenly appeared beside him. Indeed, Hachiman had already spoken through the monk, making that young man issue his apparently impossible promise to the temple Abbot.
“What will be created now is a wealth of information that may be used when Japan is facing the threat of invasion by an apparently superior force, or some other similar peril,’ declared Hachiman, his voice like ice. “Equally, in the wrong hands, this information may constitute the gravest risk to Japan. And yet, these scrolls must be created regardless, here in this darkened room – and in the dark may they always remain, never to be seen by the sun…’’
‘Quite,’ commented my master coolly. As I was already aware, he was never overly-impressed with ancient legends, or tales with a strong mystical or even ‘supernatural’ element.
‘Whatever took place, there in that room,’ my master resumed, ‘the door was opened the following morning, and the scrolls discovered, each one neatly rolled up and bound with string on the small table.
‘Indeed, although they were rather on the ‘thick’ side when rolled, there were only several such scrolls, in such a tiny hand had the vast wealth of information been written and drawn, so that one had almost to read it using a magnifying glass.
‘Moreover, and even more incredible – there was no change in this hand; it was exactly uniform the entire way through. Almost as though that rare Chinese technique of ‘block-printing’ had been employed, rather than the scrolls being written by brush, held by a mere human, who would quickly find such basic factors as tiredness influencing the quality – indeed, the very legibility – of their characters.’
My master shrugged, and taking a sip of his tea then said –
‘In any case, the ‘Dark Scrolls’, as they soon became known, were carried out of that room – and then mysteriously (and one might also say, rather promptly) ‘lost’ for the next couple of hundred years.
‘As for the monk who authored them… He blurted out his extraordinary story, concerning the appearance of Hachiman and what that god of war had said to him – and then uttered not another word for the rest of his life.
‘A life which, incidentally, he spent at the temple, the Abbot keeping his end of the bargain by allowing him to remain as a monk.’
My master’s voice fell into silence, his eyes above those curiously high cheekbones regarding the daimyo as he again sipped his tea.
‘Well, as to exactly how the Dark Scrolls were lost, and then again recovered, I am not certain,’ sighed Yoichi. ‘There are any number of stories concerning that, and doubtless les
s than one percent of all of them has any basis in actual fact.’
My opinion of this daimyo rose once again. He seemed to be a particularly level-headed and practical man.
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ said my master, employing the required form of address for a daimyo. ‘As fascinating as the story concerning the Dark Scrolls is – along with the fact that they appear, finally, to have been found – I am still not entirely certain what it is you want from me.’
‘I want you to discover where they are being hidden by Kimura, to remove them from wherever that is – and then to bring them to me, so that I may destroy them,’ declared Yoichi, his expression firm and somehow even noble as he spoke. ‘That is why I have asked you here today, in the certainty that you are the only man in all of Japan capable of achieving such a feat.’
I had been by my master’s side for several years now. Often, we had faced great danger together (and, on more than occasion, seemingly certain death). So I considered that I knew the renowned ‘Ennin-sensei’ far better than anyone else.
As such, although his face was impassive and he gave only a slight nod before speaking in a calm and measured tone, I somehow knew that Yoichi’s declaration had greatly surprised him.
‘I see,’ said my master slowly. ‘And may I ask just why it is you desire to destroy these scrolls?’
‘Because there are too many powerful men, such as Kimura, who would – if they could get them into their possession – use the information they contain for evil,’ replied the daimyo. ‘As such, these scrolls pose too great a risk to the security of our very country to be allowed to exist.’
‘And the fact that the Japanese god of war himself, Hachiman, declared that the information they contain could be used to defend Japan, in times of great peril?’ returned my master, almost in a musing tone.
Yoichi regarded my master with the ghost of a weary smile.
‘Please, Ennin-sensei, have just a little respect for my intelligence, even if it is very far from being the equal of your own,’ declared the daimyo then, with dignity. ‘I need hardly have to be a mind-reader, to know that you consider the legend concerning the creation of these scrolls to be superstitious nonsense. Possibly they were in fact created by a team of experts, over a certain period of time. But the information I believe they contain is simply far too dangerous to be allowed to fall into the wrong hands – that is, Kimura’s hands, as the situation currently stands.’
My master accepted the mild rebuke with a slight nod.
‘So you wish to destroy these scrolls, for the sake of our country itself,’ he clarified.
‘That is so.’
My master was silent for almost a minute. Then he said softly –
‘Very well, my lord. It is often the simplest line of reasoning which proves the most persuasive. I will endeavor to (let us speak plainly) steal these scrolls – having first to try and locate their actual whereabouts.
‘And if – if – I am successful, I will bring them to you, so that you may destroy them yourself, and thus have the satisfaction of knowing, for certain, that this threat to Japan’s security has been entirely removed...’
It was strange to hear and see my master acting so subservient (for such was the word which I immediately considered described his general manner) to someone, regardless of this particular man’s high status. Even in front of the Empress herself, my master had never appeared quite so… humble.
And for a split-second, as my master uttered his acceptance of the daimyo’s plan, I thought that I saw the shadow of a sneer cross the daimyo’s thick-lipped face. As though he considered that my master had somehow… played into his hands…
But even as I blinked, any suggestion of such an expression was suddenly gone. The light from the two, open windows behind the daimyo (in this room located high up in the castle, with a long and low table running almost the entire length of it) was rather bright in any case; for it was a beautiful spring day, the cherry blossom already in full-bloom outside…
So I’d probably just imagined such a look, this bright light distorting the daimyo’s features. Indeed, he now appeared just as sincere, just as noble, as he had before.
‘Of course, Ennin-sensei, your usual fees are assured, and any money you may require in advance, for expenses and such…’ suggested Yoichi delicately.
‘If I may, my lord; just a small amount, for I may have to make some initial outlay, if I am to have any chance of obtaining these scrolls…’ returned my master, nodding his head in that subservient manner which (I suddenly realized) I found rather irritating.
Of course, I concealed such irritation; just as I did a sense of great surprise that my master should have accepted this offer of ‘cash in advance’ in the first place.
When he chose to accept payment for his services (and this was by no means frequently, even when I knew that we were hard-up, with my master being so generous – in terms of handouts to the poor, tips for inn-staff and so on – with what money came into our possession), always it was following the successful completion of a case.
And yet here he was, now almost meekly accepting the small bag of coins (although I’d no doubt that such coins still amounted to a pretty sum) like some day-laborer who’d just been paid in advance…
‘Thank you, Ennin-sensei. I can only hope that you are successful in this mission – for the sake of all Japan,’ declared the daimyo.
Again, I thought I saw that ghost of a self-satisfied, arrogant smile flit across Yoichi’s face. And again, any such impression was gone so quickly that I was only left wondering if I hadn’t just imagined it in the first place.
Yoichi struck a gong on the table with a beater, and a few moments later the great door to this room was opened by one of the daimyo’s samurai. Our interview was clearly now at an end; it was time for my master to try and obtain these mysterious scrolls…
But how, exactly, to achieve such a feat…?
2
We were walking away from the castle, heading back to the inn where we were staying, when my master suddenly began to laugh. Gently, at first, but then with such force that he was obliged to stop walking.
‘Master…?’ I said cautiously, concerned for his mental wellbeing. This was only a few months after the case I entitled The Black Death, in which my master and I had so nearly met a truly horrific end – in fact, when the lives of everyone in Japan had been threatened.
We’d both required a certain amount of rest following that particular case; and now, I wondered if the mental strain of this previous case – and several others before it – wasn’t still affecting my master…
‘Excuse me, Kukai,’ said my master then, his merriment abruptly ceasing. ‘But you’ll have noticed, from our interview with Yoichi, that there are still those who believe that they can pull the wool over the eyes of the great and famous Ennin-sensei…’
My master was being facetious in referring to himself so; I realized this in a moment. I then recalled that look I momentarily thought I’d seen on the daimyo’s face – that apparent sneer…
‘You think that Yoichi seeks to… deceive you, master?’ I asked hesitantly.
‘There is not a shadow of a doubt,’ returned my master airily. ‘He wants the Dark Scrolls for himself, of course. He no more intends to destroy them than he intends to give up his territory to another man. And speaking of territory, he certainly desires more – which is where the Dark Scrolls come in.’
‘Then it is imperative that he never gets them,’ I observed.
‘On the contrary,’ said my master, ‘we must ensure that we deliver them to him personally. Or are you forgetting that he has already retained our services, with an advance payment?
‘We are thus obligated, Kukai – obligated!’
I had not the slightest idea what my master was talking about, of course. Already that formidable brain of his was turning, mapping out some course of action that I – or indeed anyone – could never hope to anticipate. All I had to do (as usua
l) was to observe the proceedings as they occurred, and to lend assistance as and when this was required…
‘These scrolls, master… you really believe they are as incredible as that?’ I inquired. ‘That the information they contain – information written some two hundred years ago – could possibly be used to train an army to become something truly…’
I hesitated, groping for the right word.
‘…formidable,’ I finished, a little lamely.
‘While the daimyo named Yoichi was playing his mind-games, uttering his platitudes and congratulating himself on having deceived me, I decided not to tell him all I already knew concerning the Dark Scrolls,’ returned my master softly.
‘That is,’ he continued, ‘that the Abbott of the Temple of the Shining Light soon hid these scrolls deep inside a cave, so distressed was he by their contents. And all written in that strangely miniscule and uniform hand – and all in just one night!’
‘But that story of the monk and of Hachiman having appeared to him, master…’ I said dubiously.
‘Well, whatever – whoever – was responsible for their creation, the Dark Scrolls have been found, and are in the possession of a daimyo named Kimura,’ declared my master, in that strangely ‘musing’ tone of his. ‘I knew this already, in any case…’
‘Really, master?’
‘Yes – the scrolls were found by a former samurai who knew exactly what he was looking for, and yet had no designs of power concerning them himself. Instead, he discreetly contacted a number of daimyo he knew would be extremely interested in reading the scroll’s contents, and simply delivered them to the daimyo who offered him the highest price.
‘Kimura is indeed a braggart, and fond of drinking a little too much sake than is good for him, but still he does not pose anything like the danger to Japan that Yoichi claims – a danger which Yoichi himself would present, were he to get these scrolls into his possession.’