Yamada Monogatari: The War God's Son

by Richard Parks

  “Then what aroused your suspicions?”

  “I owe this to Lord Yasuna. He noted a few of the crows were acting strangely, which in hindsight had also occurred to me. So I asked one of Akimasa-san’s archers to help test the idea. As you noted, we already knew our movements were being shadowed. Now we know how. Since some of the archers have scores to settle, I think it unlikely there will be a crow that dares show itself for the balance of our journey, shikigami or otherwise.”

  “Which cannot begin soon enough, to my way of thinking. My father waits for us in Dewa, but he has sanctioned the delay under the circumstances.” Yoshiie looked grim. “No wonder my scouts found nothing. How much do you think the spies discovered?”

  “Other than our precise movements, and numbers? More than enough to plan the initial attack. Since that failed, we can expect either Lord Sadato or those acting in his name to try again.”

  “Another reason we should be on the move, Lord Yamada. How can we be sure there are no more of these things lurking within the camp itself?”

  “Your pardon, my lord,” Kenji said, “but I would have detected any such if I even came near it, as would any priest worth his training. As Lord Yamada said, it was only the distance which kept either of us from detecting these crow-things from the start. A creature within the compound would be easier to conceal, true, but also much easier to detect.”

  I hope you’re not forgetting about Mitsuko, I thought, but I knew he wasn’t. There was no point in going into such matters with Lord Yoshiie, but it was of great concern to me. While I was good at recognizing the normal run of shikigami and Kenji could sense them even in the dark, neither Kenji nor I could spot such a one as Mitsuko by sight or proximity, unlike the mamushi.

  Yoshiie scowled. “I feel like the target on an archery range sitting here, yet circumstances will keep us at Yahiko-ji for at least another week. The governor of Echigo arrives day after tomorrow with additional men, so he in turn must pay his respects to the fallen, and there will be a feast in their honor which will take time to organize properly. After which we can in good conscience leave the balance of the funeral rites to the priests. For my father’s sake and the good of the Minamoto Clan, I need to live to fight Lord Sadato one more time, so I will continue to depend on you gentlemen in this matter.”

  “We remain at your service, but may I make a request, Lord Yoshiie?”

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “When the time comes to have your feast, would you order each member of your personal guard drink a cup of saké beforehand? If it is your command, no one will refuse.”

  “I do not think refusal their possible refusal would be an issue,” he said, almost smiling. “But why?”

  “You do remember what defeated the shikigami at the Widow Tamahara’s?” I asked.

  “Ah. Indeed.”

  “If it humors my lord to give a reason, say it is in honor of Tokisuge’s fine shot today.”

  “One cup will impair no one—certainly not those men. Easily done. Also, I will require Master Kenji’s and your own presence.”

  We bowed. “It will be an honor.”

  Also, I realized, an opportunity to ferret out a soul-created shikigami, if any were present. At a feast, everyone would be expected to eat or drink, thus making it very easy to discern someone who was not doing either, other than the guards. Thus the honorary cup of saké. It was clear to me now the forces which had made more than one failed attempt on Lord Yoshiie’s life were a long way from giving up. The crow and the snake had proven it. Then there was the failed attempt at the temple—it had raised the stakes considerably. If Lord Yoshiie lived to bring his new, larger army to bear on the Abe Clan, it was hard to see how Lord Sadato could avoid his clan’s destruction. Under such circumstances, I was not about to forget the example of Mitsuko. Master Chang had handed Lord Tenshin a very powerful weapon. It defied common sense to believe for a moment he would not attempt to use it. Which left three questions I needed to answer before it was too late: “When,” “how,” and—perhaps most of all—“who.”

  “The sooner we are away from this place, the better,” Kenji said after we were dismissed. We were walking back to our quarters, with Mai dutifully following. “There is something not right here, and I think Lord Yoshiie’s chances of survival improve if he’s a moving target.”

  “I think he is of the same opinion. Have you sensed anything?”

  “Nothing definite. Nothing clear. It’s just a feeling, but it’s getting stronger. I don’t like it.”

  “That’s close to what Lady Kuzunoha said.”

  “Lady Kuzunoha is a fox-demon, and you know my opinion of such creatures,” Kenji said, then sighed and continued. “That doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”

  We walked in silence for a bit, but then something occurred to me. “Have you seen Taro in the last two days?”

  “Not since he led your mount away after the fight with the assassins,” Kenji said. “The beast had been slightly injured, and I imagine he is tending it. The horses are being stabled in a temporary paddock outside the south wall, and there you will likely find him. After all, the horses are his primary responsibility, not you and I.”

  “I understand that. He’s just a detail I’ve overlooked. I don’t want to make a habit of such things. It could cause a lot of people to die, not just Yoshiie.”

  “Then visit him, if you are concerned. Personally, I’m not going near those creatures until it is time to ride again.”

  I made a mental note to do that very thing, but I had other matters to see to first. I judged there to be a few hours of daylight left, and I wanted to make use of them. I stopped and beckoned Mai forward. “Mai, I’m going to need to leave for a little while. I want you to stay close to Master Kenji. Do you understand?”

  “ . . . ai.”

  “She spoke!” Kenji said. “Well, almost.”

  It was a sound. Interpreted as a fragment of a word, it was a reasonable response to my instructions. Perhaps it would not be so much longer before Mai could reveal what shock and terror had buried within her. Until then there was much to do. I smiled. “Oh, and Kenji—not too close. Clear?”

  “Do not worry. Just do not be gone any longer than you can avoid. After all, I am just a kindly old man. I may need help with the next snake.”

  “Don’t pout, Kenji-san. It’s not dignified.”

  I took my leave before Kenji chose to explain his opinion of “dignified,” as I was certain this was not the sort of language a young woman like Mai should hear, peasant farmer’s daughter or not. I made my way across the compound and passed through the gates to the nunnery. I found my sister and Tomoko-ana arranging bundles on the veranda of the nunnery’s lecture hall.

  “Kind of you to visit again,” Rie said. “Or have you forgotten about your sister already?”

  “I never did forget about you,” I said. “Even if it’s true I never expected to see you again in this life. What are you doing?”

  “Gathering the personal belongings of our fallen sisters. As you might expect, none of them owned much, but perhaps their families would want such mementos as there are. Our prioress was the sister of the Shibata Clan chief, Muramasa.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not something she herself made much of, but he did visit from time to time. I had met him before on one of those visits, so I presumed to bring her belongings to him. Poor man, I think there was a tear in his eye.”

  “He’s lost his sister. It doesn’t follow they were close, but his visits suggest he might have been so.”

  “Or he was trying to get her to renounce her vows and become a marriage asset to the Shibata.”

  “Was that what he was doing?”

  She smiled a little ruefully then. “I have no idea. I really do not think so. Once she had renounced the world, had Lord Muramasa not already lost his sister? The world had no more claim on her, any more than it does with me.”

  “Attachments are not so easy
to sunder. Even for those whose will is strong and whose oaths are sincere. I still believe I do still have a sister, and care for her welfare, is why I kept my distance, until circumstance forced our reunion.”

  “That was almost sweet, but let us not speak of what is past, brother. Our first parting was painful enough. I expect our next one to be no easier,” she said softly.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  She laughed then, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her robe. “The supplies I had gone to Yahiko to buy were delivered this afternoon. Considering that now they are merely needed for Tomoko and myself . . . and possibly Mai, later, I expect them to last for some time. Was this why you came here? I know it wasn’t just to see me, or you’d have managed to do so before now.”

  My sister’s perception was as sharp as ever. “It’s true. I wanted to look around some more, if you don’t mind.”

  She shrugged. “Certainly not, but what is the point of it?”

  “Perhaps none, but I think it is odd that Mai is so frightened of this place. She refuses to go near it.”

  Rie frowned. “You didn’t tell me this before, you just said you needed to talk to her. Her fear is very strange. Has she said anything?”

  “Not yet, but she’s beginning to recover her voice.”

  “I am pleased to hear it. Perhaps she can rejoin us soon, if this is her wish.”

  I frowned. “Why wouldn’t she return?”

  “Brother, were you not listening to me when I first spoke of her? She is not a nun, she was designated as a novice for convenience sake. Who can say? She may decide to remain with you, however I would attempt to dissuade her, for her own sake. You can barely look after yourself.”

  “I should want to dissuade her as well, but I am taking better care of myself these days than I once did. At least now I’m making the effort.”

  “From all I have been able to gather of you over the past several years, this is indeed a change. May I walk with you as you poke about? Tomoko-ana, can you handle this on your own?”

  “There’s little enough to do,” the old woman said. “And I gather your brother will be leaving soon. I don’t mind doing the rest.”

  Rie seemed to consider. “How soon?” she asked as she fell into step beside me.

  “Perhaps a week, possibly a little longer. It depends on so many things.”

  “I will be glad enough to see the backside of Yoshiie’s army. I can hardly pass by the gate without drawing leers. Imagine, at my age . . . They do not seem to be discouraged by the cowl I wear.”

  “I know that if one attempted more, Lord Yoshiie would spike the man’s privates on a pole as a warning to the rest. Still, one cannot fault their taste. I remember your mother, possibly as well as you do. She was a beauty, and you did inherit much from her.”

  Rie sighed. “Since the time our father died, I think I have learned possibly one new thing at most, which is simply this—detaching yourself from the world is easy. Persuading the world to detach itself from you? That is the hard part. Obviously, I have failed. Still, it was good to see you again, brother.”

  I’m not sure what broke the final barrier. Perhaps it was the way my sister smiled at me, but the torrent was suddenly unleashed, and I could not stop it. “I’m the one who failed,” I said. “When our father died. If only . . . ”

  She looked at me. “If only what?”

  “If only I had not let myself fall to pieces the way I did. All those years . . . It was my responsibility to hold the family together. I failed. I wasn’t strong enough.”

  “I do know a little about what inner devils you were fighting, brother, never think otherwise, but this one is strictly your own illusion. There was nothing left to hold together—Michiko’s marriage was already formalized. My mother had already left this sad world; your own mother was not long behind. The strongest man in the world could not have done better.”

  “But you—”

  Rie looked confused for a moment, and then she laughed at me. She stopped where she stood and nearly doubled over. It was neither dignified nor refined behavior in one such as my sister, but she did it anyway.

  “What is so humorous?” I asked.

  She regained control, but it clearly took an effort. “It—it was wrong of me to laugh at your pain, brother, and I do apologize, but for all this time did you actually blame yourself for my taking holy orders, believe that circumstances forced me to this?”

  “Well . . . didn’t they? When our father was executed, and I was so useless . . . ”

  Rie sighed. “Dear Goji-kun, do you really think you’re so grand that you are responsible for everything? Shall I now burst your illusions for you? I consider this important for your eventual salvation, but do you want to know the real reason why I took the tonsure?”

  There was a faint roaring sound in my ears, and I felt dizzy. I waited a moment for the feeling to pass. “Yes. I would like to know.”

  “There had been discussion of a marriage for me. I wasn’t against the idea by any means, but do you remember what happened when our father was ordered to Mutsu to assist Lord Sentaro? Just before he left? Think.”

  “We wanted a game of shogi but couldn’t find the pieces. We finally located them on the veranda outside my mother’s apartments. Our father was visiting her at the time, and we . . . overheard them talking,” I said.

  “Rubbish. We eavesdropped, and what we heard was our father promising to retire from public life once he had returned from his assignment in Mutsu. Retire and never leave her alone again. She always hated his frequent absences.”

  I remembered. “I wasn’t surprised. I had expected something of the sort.”

  “So did your mother. The next morning and for weeks afterward she was as happy as I’d ever seen her. But then our father did not return, and we soon learned he never would. That’s when I knew what I had to do.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “Is it so difficult? Our father loved your mother. I know what they felt for each other was very powerful. And still it was for nothing. Do you understand now? I knew then that, whatever attachments I made—even if they found me a husband I cared for as much as they cared for each other—sooner or later we would part. Losing our father destroyed your mother. She was never the same after his death, and so far as I’m concerned, she died long before her body succumbed. Her attachment to this world, embodied in our father, was what really killed her. It seems so silly, even now—an attachment to the world so strong that it took her from it! I vowed I would never be so foolish.”

  “You—you had already decided?”

  She smiled then, but it was a sad smile, and she did not bother to cover it. “You were too deep in your own despair at the time to consider my decision might have nothing to do with what you did or didn’t do. Your absence helped ease me into the life I chose, and I have been very happy in it, but I did not know you blamed yourself or indeed that you thought there was anything in my decision which called for blame.”

  “I guess there wasn’t,” I said.

  She sighed again. “None at all. I celebrate my choice and give thanks every day of my life. Honestly, brother . . . for someone with such a reputation for cleverness, in some matters you are a bit of a dolt.”

  “That much I did know,” I said, “but thank you for enlightening me.”

  This smile she did hide. “Oh, you are still a long way from enlightenment, I assure you. So. I do not suppose we will see each other again, once you leave this place. And it is probably best for both of us that we do not, so think of this as a last gift to my dear fool of a brother.”

  I smiled. “What will you do when we are gone?”

  “There is still myself and Tomoko-ana . . . perhaps Mai as well, perhaps not, but as long as there remains one of us, our community will survive. Others will join us in time, and the Shibata priests will tolerate us for their lord’s sake until we are re-established and self-sufficient again. Those murderers will not destro
y what we have built here.”

  I had already been feeling like an old wound had finally been washed clean, and now I also had my sister to thank for reminding me why I had come to the nunnery in the first place. “I almost forgot why I came here—I need to walk the around the walls of your compound,” I said.

  “And I am happy to walk with you, for now. But whatever for? Did you not send those men already to examine our walls?”

  “I did. I was thinking that, perhaps, I might notice something they had missed.”

  She frowned. “What sort of thing?”

  “I couldn’t possibly know until I see it.”

  “Fine, but honestly now—at this point, does it really matter how they got in?”

  “Perhaps not, but I can’t know that either, until I know how it was accomplished.”

  Rie had no answer. She merely followed me as I slowly walked the limits of the nunnery compound. By the time I’d reached the back wall, I had to confess myself defeated—there was simply no way an attacker could scale the wall without leaving some evidence behind: a ladder, a rope, perhaps even a climbing pole, but there was nothing. I did not question Akimasa’s thoroughness—he knew what to look for and where, but there was no sign. I had placed my wager on a scaling ladder, something discarded into the underbrush on the outside of the wall where Akimasa’s men might have overlooked it, but the height of the wall dictated one on both sides of the nunnery’s wall. Unlike many temple compounds, the wall at Yahiko-ji was not merely for show. It had been built with defense in mind and stood higher than four tall men. Scaling the top of that wall with no way down would have gained an attacker nothing but a broken ankle.

  “Any conclusions?” Rie finally asked.

  “None which make any sense.”