Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan

by Ingrid J Parker

  "How did you meet your master?" the boy asked.

  Tora told of their encounter with highway robbers and how Akitada had subsequently rescued him from a murder charge. The boy stopped painting, engrossed in the story.

  "That's what I was talking about earlier," said Tora. "I thought my master was one of those tax-grabbing officials from the capital, but it turned out he was on the way to uncover a vicious crime. He's good at that. And now he's going to help Rabbit too."

  That, of course, raised more questions and produced more tales, and the sun was already low before the kites were finished, the ends of the framework inserted through the slots in the paper and secured with string, the wing tips and tail feathers cut out, the beaks sharpened and the bridles carefully measured, fastened and attached to the lines.

  The moment of trial had arrived. They walked away from the buildings into the large open area between the dormitory and the stand of pines. "A mountaintop or a beach would be better," said Tora. "But this will do for practice." He explained, then demonstrated, and his kite rose sharply and triumphantly on the breeze as he let out the cord on its spool.

  Lord Minamoto laughed aloud at the sight and clapped his hands. "Look at it soar!" he cried. "It looks exactly like a giant kite. Oh, it is beautiful!"

  Tora grinned, then tied his string to a sturdy shrub. "Now you," he said. "Here, hold it like this. Heavens! It's taller than you! Are you sure you can run with it?" The boy nodded, his teeth catching his lower lip, and his free hand clutching the spool of string. "All right! Run that way, as fast as you can. When you feel the kite pulling, start releasing the cord."

  The first try ended in failure. Boy and kite took a hard fall. But Lord Minamoto was back on his feet instantly, brushed away dirt and blood from a nasty scratch on his cheek, and took off again, short legs flying. This time the kite rose, jerkily at first, then more smoothly, when Tora rushed up to lend a helping hand. Cheers and applause rose from the group of watching youngsters, but neither man nor boy heard them. Their eyes were on the soaring paper bird high above them, rising ever higher with every tug on the line. Together, their fingers touching, Tora's large dark hands next to the boy's small pale ones, they felt the power of the kite as it rose on the wind, the pull upward, skyward. They sensed its thrill of flight, the utter freedom from the human condition.

  "Oh, it is so strong," cried the boy. "Can it lift me up? Could it carry me over the trees? All the way to the mountains?"

  Tora laughed with joy. "Never! Too dangerous! I'd not let it happen. Besides you're stronger than your kite. Here, you try." He released the line.

  The kite swooped up, performed a perfect arc, and dove steeply earthward.

  "Oh!" cried the boy and instinctively pulled in the line. The kite leveled, completed the circle and rose again. "Did you see what I made it do?"

  "Yes. And I haven't even had time to show you that trick. Let me get my kite, and we'll make them chase each other!"

  This involved the finer points of maneuvering and steering their kites. As Tora demonstrated attack and evasion, the paper birds swooped at each other, passed and soared apart again. The boy's face was flushed, and his eyes shone with excitement.

  "Did you know that you can have a contest?" asked Tora.

  "How? Please show me how!"

  "You cross strings with your opponent, and then pull back hard to make his kite tumble."

  The boy eyed the soaring kites and quickly moved behind Tora and past him. "Like this?" he cried when the lines touched.

  Tora grinned. "Right! Now jerk hard!"

  The little lord pulled back so hard that he sat down, and Tora's kite made a sudden dive.

  "Careful! It'll go into the trees!" shouted Tora, reeling in line frantically. His kite struggled and began to rise a little again. Behind him he heard a loud giggle, and then he saw the boy out of the corner of his eye, up and running with all his might back toward the dormitory. The lines snagged again, and this time Tora's kite plummeted to earth.

  "I won! I won!" cried Lord Minamoto, jumping up and down.

  "So you did," said Tora, grinning broadly as he went to pick up his kite.

  It was getting dark. They had not noticed the sunset, and dusk had fallen swiftly. Above, the sky was still bright and the boy's kite caught the last golden rays on the tips of its wings, but down below all was getting dark. "Better bring it in," cried Tora. "It's getting late."

  To his surprise the boy obeyed without argument. "You will come back tomorrow?" he asked, when he had reeled in his kite.

  "I doubt I'll have the time," said Tora, winding up string. They carried their kites back to the veranda. There a small huddle of boys awaited them.

  "Can we see your kites?" asked the biggest one.

  "You'll have to ask Sadamu," said Tora. "They're his."

  They clustered around Lord Minamoto, looking and admiring. "Would you teach us, Sadamu?" asked another boy shyly. Tora watched with a fatherly grin. When the discussion became technical, he interrupted. "I've got to go now," he said.

  The little lord came to him immediately and they walked a few steps. "Thank you for your help, Tora," said the boy, making a little bow. "I would consider it a great honor if you would come to visit me again when you have time."

  Tora reached out a hand and tousled the boy's hair. "I'll be back, Sadamu. Whenever I can. You take care of yourself and remember what I taught you."

  The boy nodded. Then he looked up at him, a strange expression on his face. "How much money does your master pay you?" he asked.

  "He's not a rich man," said Tora. "But I live in his house and eat his food, and besides he gives me what I need for clothes or wine. I'm satisfied. Why?"

  The boy's eyes had widened in surprise and satisfaction. "Oh, I just wondered," he said vaguely, adding, "I think you have many useful talents," and ran back to his new friends.

  Tora chuckled, shook his head, and left.

  Eleven. The Sacrilege

  Akitada returned to the university in a somber mood. Ishikawa was not back yet, and so he went to his room again and settled down to reading his students' papers. But his mind was not on his work. He pushed the essays away and stared at the wall. The problem of clearing Nagai of the murder charge was not all that troubled him. There was also the continued absence of both Ishikawa and Oe.

  It was not, of course, unusual for either to absent himself from the university. Ishikawa might well have decided to spend his holiday visiting friends, and Oe was probably too embarrassed to show his face. Still Akitada felt vaguely uneasy.

  Since he could not concentrate on his work, he decided to look in on Seimei at the ministry, but just as he was leaving, Hirata arrived.

  "I was coming to see you," he said. "How are things with young Hiroshi?"

  Akitada gave a brief summary of his talk with Nagai.

  "Poor foolish boy," sighed Hirata. "By the way, I cannot find Oe anywhere. Knowing how anxious you are to settle this matter, I went to his home, but his servants say that he has not been seen there since yesterday. I asked them if he might have gone out of town to his summer place, but it seems he would not do that without taking them. I must say, it is most unlikely. Oe is much too lazy to live there like a hermit and do for himself. What do you suppose he is up to?"

  "You know the man better than I. Could he be hiding with friends until the talk dies down?"

  Hirata raised his brows. "What friends?" he asked.

  "Well," said Akitada, "there is nothing to be done until he reappears. I am on my way to check on Seimei at the ministry, but will return later to finish some student papers."

  ***

  Seimei was bent over Akitada's desk copying manuscripts. Neat stacks of document boxes stood next to him, and his brush flew across the paper. He greeted his master with an expression which managed to be both pleased and sympathetic. Laying down his brush in its wooden rest, he rose to bow to his master.

  "It is kind of you to think of me when you have so much on y
our mind," he said with an earnest look. For a moment Akitada wondered how he had heard about Nagai's arrest already, but Seimei continued, "You must feel the disappointment deeply. I need hardly say how glad I was when I heard that you had chosen your wife. And such a very suitable match! I well remember meeting Miss Hirata when I used to carry messages between the two houses. You were both still children, but even then I used to think how perfectly matched you were." He sighed. "Ah, fortune and misfortune are truly like the twisted strands of a rope."

  Akitada turned away. The old man meant well, but sometimes he wished for a little less garrulousness. "Thank you, Seimei," he said, staring at the shelves as if he were checking on their caseload. "You are right. It was… is a great disappointment to me." For a moment a powerful sense of loss gripped him and something in his chest contracted painfully. He cleared his throat, covering an involuntary gasp, turned back and said briskly, "Well, I shall soon join you here again. Hirata's problem at the university is just about resolved. Have you made any progress about Prince Yoakira?"

  Seimei looked smug. "I am afraid it has been more difficult then I thought. After all even a thief takes ten years to learn his skill, and he is only stealing property. I am looking for plots and stratagems."

  Akitada raised his eyebrows. "Where did you pick up such high-flown language?"

  "The recording clerk of the Bureau of Records is a very interesting man: a man of letters, as it were. We have much in common." Seimei smiled complacently.

  "I am happy to hear it. What does he have to say about the prince's will?"

  The old man looked shocked. "Sir, I could not ask him such a blunt question!"

  "Oh. Was there some other reason you mentioned him?"

  "We have fallen into the habit of meeting after work. He is a widower and lives by himself. It appears we share a passion for chess."

  "Really? I had no idea you were such an avid chess player," Akitada said with a smile.

  "I find it exercises the mind. One sits and thinks about the next move. Sometimes both players pause and empty their minds by speaking of trivial matters."

  "Trivial matters?" Fascinated, Akitada waited.

  "Matters such as the recent gossip about the prince's peculiar disappearance might easily be mentioned in passing." Seimei cast a sly glance at his master. "It is natural to theorize about heirs and successors when great men die. It is also natural to express disbelief at the extraordinary wealth of some people."

  "Most natural."

  "I am to see the documents in question tonight. My chess partner expects to win a small wager."

  Akitada made a face. "I see you are a master at the game. How much?"

  "One piece of silver."

  Fishing around in his sash, Akitada produced the coin. "Go on."

  "He did imply that most of the property is settled on the grandson, with a large dowry for his granddaughter."

  "Aha! What about appointments? Are there any rumors about who will take his position?"

  "That is common knowledge by now. The crown prince's younger brother will succeed to Prince Yoakira's post. But the position he vacates is mentioned for Lord Sakanoue, since he is the late prince's grandson-in-law."

  "Better and better! Enough to tempt even that proud gentleman!"

  Seimei cleared his throat. "By the sage Master Kung's definition, such a one is no gentleman," he said primly. "Besides the master taught that men should beware of coveting riches lest heaven send calamities to them."

  "The sage Confucius has been wrong in this instance," Akitada remarked bitterly. "So far the calamities seem to have befallen the innocent."

  Seimei ignored this criticism of his favorite idol. "You also asked about Secretary Okura. People positively enjoy talking about him. It turns out that he is a low class individual, being merely the only son of a wealthy land speculator, a tradesman."

  Akitada suppressed a smile. Seimei had the typical snobbery of the hereditary retainer. "What do they say?"

  "They make jokes behind his back about his common background. It seems he is spending money lavishly on entertainments to impress the 'good people' while they amuse themselves behind his back at his lack of refinement. There is a particularly shocking rumor that he is so desperate to be accepted that he has been spending nights with the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman in his mansion in the Sanjo ward. A marriage announcement is imminent. The lady is no longer young and said to be extremely unattractive." Seimei paused to let this sink in, then continued, "You will be particularly interested in some talk that he has bought his first place in the examination. People like to embarrass him by asking him to explain Chinese verses."

  Akitada sighed. "So much for protecting the reputation of the university. But I must say, I am relieved that he has not been able to fool anyone. It means that he has gone as far as he can in the government."

  "A tadpole can only turn into a frog," Seimei pointed out with great satisfaction.

  "Yes." Akitada glanced at the document boxes. "How are the case reviews going?"

  "All is well. No new business has come in since you left, and I can keep up easily with the ongoing work."

  Akitada touched the old man's shoulder. "Well done, old friend! I don't know what I would do without you. I especially admire your handling of the clerk from records. I'm afraid I have to go back now. Professor Hirata and I are hoping to confront the culprits in the blackmail scheme." He walked to the door, then added, "By the way, one of the students has been arrested for the murder of the girl in the park. I believe he is innocent and have promised him some help."

  He left before Seimei could ask questions.

  ***

  Akitada's optimistic expectation of a rapid disengagement from Hirata's problems and the Hirata family was doomed to failure. When he passed the gate leading into the courtyard of the Temple of Confucius, he became aware that something was wrong.

  It was a flash of red that caught his eye first. He stopped to look and saw a group of red-coated policemen guarding the temple steps against a handful of curious spectators.

  With a strange sense of being about to confirm a nagging fear, Akitada joined the onlookers just as a glowering Captain Kobe emerged onto the veranda. He saw Akitada immediately and his expression turned even grimmer.

  "I knew you would show up sooner or later," he growled. "Come up here!"

  Akitada thought Kobe 's manner more than usually rude, but complied. When he reached the top of the steps, he asked, "What has happened here?"

  Kobe did not answer. Instead he walked to the open door of the temple hall, where he looked back and said, "I was told that you came to the jail to see the student who killed the pregnant girl."

  Akitada was beginning to lose his temper. "You have the wrong man again," he snapped. "Nagai is as innocent as the beggar."

  Kobe drawled, "Of course! Like a newborn babe! Follow me!"

  The temple hall was plunged into a general gloom. The corners were in deep shadow, and the red-lacquered columns looked black. A strange smell hung in the musty air. Akitada wrinkled his nose, wondering if a dog had got in and relieved himself. On the raised platform against the far wall loomed the life-sized statues of the sages, looking more massive and ghostly in the murk.

  In front of the central figure of Confucius stood two people. Akitada recognized the frail Tanabe, who was leaning on Nishioka's arm.

  "What is going on?" he asked Kobe again as they approached the group. The smell was strong and repulsive. There was something horribly familiar about it.

  Nishioka turned and said in a tight voice, "It's Oe! What a dreadful thing!"

  "Oe?" Akitada followed Nishioka's glance to the statue of the sage and saw for the first time that it seemed to be draped in a voluminous, bulging blue robe. It also seemed to have grown a second head, drooping forward across its chest, and another set of arms, hanging limply. Then he saw the blood. Of course! He had smelled it, and excrement. The blood had streamed down from beneath the second head, a br
oad band of dark brown across the front of Oe's elegant blue robe. Blood and excrement mixed in a large puddle on the floor between Oe's neatly shod feet, and blood had run to the edge of the platform and dripped down, forming a second, smaller puddle on the polished floorboards. Shockingly, Oe's robe had fallen open. Apart from his white silk socks and black slippers, the dead man was completely nude underneath.

  Kobe 's sharp voice cut across Akitada's shock. "Two murders in two days," he said. "Within steps of each other. This one happened last night. I believe we have the killer already in custody. Not even you could believe that there are two separate homicidal maniacs loose in the university, Sugawara."

  Akitada did not reply. His mind was reeling. Stepping up to the monstrous statue, he lifted the drooping head by its white topknot. Oe's sightless, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, his features distorted in death. The blood had poured from a deep gash nearly severing the head from the body. It was also apparent now what held the body upright. The killer had passed Oe's sash under his victim's armpits and slung it around the neck of the wooden figure of the sage. In death the body had slumped forward and the knees had buckled, but to a casual passerby its presence might not have been immediately noticeable in the dim hall.

  As Akitada glanced down, he was struck again by the incongruity between the fine robe and neatly shod feet and the indecently exposed bulging stomach, the sagging folds of skin and the thin soiled legs with their varicose veins and age spots. Nudity, especially that of the elderly, negated the image of power and rank. Behind the pomp and circumstance was the reality of human frailty and imperfection. Someone had been at pains to reveal the real Oe to the eyes of the world.