Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan

by Ingrid J Parker

  Akitada said angrily, "Don't waste your sympathy, Your Reverence! This murder was planned carefully. Sakanoue had to have made the arrangements for the sutra reading during your brother's visit well ahead of time."

  Sesshin seemed to shrink into himself. "Anger is a futile emotion. Besides my vows forbid the sort of action that should be taken by the law," he said. "I must think what to do." He paused again, then asked, "What has become of the rest of my brother's body?"

  Akitada had expected and feared this question. "I do not know, but I can suggest a possibility. Sakanoue apparently insisted on taking the last cart into the country himself. It contained several clothes chests from your brother's rooms and left long after nightfall, hours after the rest of the goods. I suspect that Sakanoue made a brief stop at Rashomon."

  "Rashomon?" For the first time, Sesshin looked truly shocked. "You think my brother's body was put amongst the cadavers of the wretched to be burnt and his bones tossed into a mass grave?"

  Akitada said quickly, "It is equally possible that Sakanoue stopped somewhere along the road and buried the body."

  Sesshin stared past Akitada into the distance. Then he said, "It seems I must break my vows long enough to secure the future of my brother's family. Thank you for your frankness. You may leave matters in my hands now. I have already made arrangements for my great-niece to go to her cousin, who is the priestess of the Ise shrine. No men are allowed in those sacred precincts, and she will be safe there. I would be very grateful if Sadamu could remain with your family for a while longer. I hope this is not a serious imposition?"

  Akitada smiled. "Of course not. We have all become very fond of the boy. Even…"- He was going to say "my mother," but caught himself in time-"my servant Tora."

  The look of pain on Sesshin's faced eased a little. "In that case, perhaps you would allow me to call on Sadamu at your house? I must begin to make amends for my neglect."

  Akitada expressed himself honored and took his departure.

  Outside he turned towards the main gate and home. It was almost dark, the same hot, dry darkness of the past week. Fireflies sparked on and off in the black foliage like disembodied spirits. Just as Akitada passed the Temple of Confucius, he was hailed by a familiar voice.

  "Sugawara? Is that you?" Nishioka's gown flapped about his bony frame as he ran out of the gate. "How lucky that you were passing just as I decided to get a breath of air, though fresh it certainly is not. Something very strange has happened."

  Akitada was tired and burdened with his own troubles. He looked at Nishioka's lantern-jawed face with weary distaste. "Can't it wait? I have urgent business at home."

  Nishioka's long face fell. "Oh, yes. I forgot! Poor Hirata. They say you have taken in his daughter. What a great loss! The students are taking it badly, too. How is his daughter?"

  "As you might expect. What is your problem?"

  "I don't want to trouble you, but you might have some advice. It concerns our rats."

  "Your rats?" Akitada wondered if Nishioka had gone mad.

  "Perhaps it would be better if you would just come and see for yourself. It will only take a moment. I am quite distracted." He ran an agitated hand through his hair and dislodged his topknot, which slipped over his right ear.

  "Very well, but I cannot stay."

  Sighing inwardly, Akitada followed the man to his study. The room was in the same state of disorder as the last time Akitada had been there. Near a set of shelves holding sagging and toppling stacks of papers, assorted wine cups, empty oil lamps and unmatched rice bowls, Nishioka paused and pointed to the floor.

  There, among remnants of roasted walnuts spilled from their box, lay the corpses of three rats.

  Akitada moved the animals with his foot. They were quite stiff, their teeth bared in futile snarls. Poisoned! "I thought you had no walnuts left. Did you buy more?"

  "That's just it. I've had no time. Anyway, those are not my walnuts."

  "No? It looks like the same box."

  "Oh, it's my box all right. But they are not my walnuts. I told you about the old woman who makes mine? Well, hers are almost black and shiny. These are ordinary brown ones."

  Akitada eyed Nishioka thoughtfully. "When did you discover this?"

  "Just a little while ago. I haven't been in my study since yesterday, because Professor Tanabe and I have been working in the library."

  "Have you been discussing any more of your suspicions with people?"

  Nishioka paled. "You think someone wants to kill me. But who? I thought Ishikawa was in jail." Nishioka began to look terrified.

  Akitada said, "I think you should report the matter immediately to Kobe, along with all your suspicions. Then go home and keep your doors locked."

  Nishioka's long jaw dropped.

  Akitada left Nishioka staring at the rats with an expression of terror on his face and walked home through the dark night, devising a plan to stop the killer from making another attempt on anyone's life.

  Genba opened the gate again. "All's been quiet, sir. The little lord and Tora have been catching fireflies with the young ladies in the garden."

  "Thank you. I want you and Hitomaro in my study in a little while. I shall have two letters for you to deliver."

  At his desk, he pulled his writing materials closer and began to rub the ink. The correct wording was crucial in the case of the first letter. The second letter also presented problems. He had to be convincing enough to make certain of cooperation, and spell out the details of the plan carefully so that no mistakes were possible. What he was about to do could easily cost his life. This fact did not trouble him particularly- he had little to lose- but he would regret leaving a killer, or perhaps two, at large.

  Eventually, he completed both letters to his satisfaction, addressed and sealed them, and sent for Hitomaro and Genba. They arrived promptly, received a letter each along with detailed instructions and trotted off.

  Only then did Akitada take off his formal clothes and order a bath prepared. He scrubbed himself as well as he could before slipping into the steaming tub. The hot water eased his aching muscles and gritty skin, but was too painful to his hands, and he rested them on the rim of the tub. A long soaking, accompanied by another careful analysis of his plan for flaws, left him calmer and more resolved than he had felt for days. He returned to his room, wrapped in a loose cotton gown, and found Seimei waiting with a tray of steaming food. He ate hungrily, his mind surprisingly alert.

  Genba and Hitomaro returned within moments of each other. Each brought a short answer. Akitada read and nodded. He told the two men, "The danger here is past, so you may go to sleep tonight. Tomorrow I shall have another assignment for you."

  They bowed, murmuring their thanks.

  Left alone, Akitada unrolled his bedding and lay down. In the darkness he considered again the danger he might face the next day. His family affairs were in reasonable order, his mother was a strong woman who could look after his sisters' future, and Sesshin was going to look after the boy. That left only Tamako. Thinking about her set him to brooding again. All the past uncertainties and failures of his life passed through his mind to culminate in his loss of Tamako and his responsibility for her ruined future. He needed sleep, for tomorrow he would have to be at his best, but the thoughts chased each other in his head like a dog snapping at its own tail.

  Suddenly there was a soft scratching at the door.

  "Who is there?" he called irritably.

  The door slid open, and his younger sister's face, illumined by the candle she carried, peered in. "It's only me. Am I disturbing you?" she asked anxiously.

  Akitada smiled at her. "No. Of course not. Come in, Yoshiko!" How pretty she was getting! He had spent too little time with his sisters lately.

  She slipped in, in her night clothes, and sat down decorously next to his bedding. "I came to report on our guests, but I see you were going to sleep."

  "Never mind! I was still awake, and it was very kind of you. Please go ahead!" />
  "The young lord is very nice and polite for his age. Our mother has provided him with books, games and musical instruments. He spends much time with Tora, but Akiko and I have paid him visits and played some games with him. We also performed on the zither for him. He made very flattering speeches to us."

  "I am gratified to hear that my family is so conscientious in entertaining a guest," Akitada said, suppressing a smile.

  "Our other guest is also very pleasant, but sad."

  Akitada's smile vanished. "That is natural under the circumstances. Tamako has lost her father and her home. Besides it cannot be a very happy prospect to become a nun at her age." He added in a tone of finality, "And now, if you are finished, I had better try to get some sleep. I have a full day tomorrow."

  But his sister did not budge. "It is my belief," she said stubbornly, "that Tamako does not wish to become a nun at all."

  "Neither you nor I can interfere in the matter," Akitada said curtly, "and I forbid you to speak to her about it."

  "Why don't you speak to her? We are all so very fond of her, and even Mother hoped you two would marry. Tamako has been massaging Mother's neck when she gets those headaches and steaming herbs for her to inhale. Now Mother thinks Tamako can cure anything. If you could just bring yourself to tell her how you feel, I know she would change her mind."

  "Enough!" thundered Akitada. "This is none of your business!"

  Frightened by his fury, his sister jumped up and retreated to the door. There she stopped, tears welling over, and cried in a trembling voice, "I don't care if you hate me, but it seems to me that you should stop telling her that you think of her as your sister. It would confuse any girl who was hoping to marry you." She gulped and slipped out.

  Akitada's anger turned to blank astonishment. Then he started to laugh. It was probably just some female foolishness. Surely Tamako would not have rejected his offer for such a childish reason, but… Suddenly resolute, he rose. He had to make certain.

  The gallery and courtyard between his room and the women's quarters were dark and silent. He was glad he had sent Hitomaro and Genba to bed. Walking softly on bare feet toTamako's room, he seated himself on the veranda outside her door and cleared his throat. At first there was no response. He repeated the sound, somewhat louder this time.

  From inside the closed shutters came the rustling of bedclothes. "Who is there?" a soft voice asked.

  "Akitada."

  Another rustling and Tamako slid open the door. "Akitada! What is it?"

  Akitada looked at her in the dim light. Her long, thick hair was loose and streamed over the thin white silk of her under-robe. She looked anxious. With her face slightly flushed from sleep, she was very beautiful. He was overcome with longing, and realized that he had no idea how to broach the matter of a possible misunderstanding.

  "I wanted to see you," he said lamely.

  "Oh! I thought… what about?"

  He frantically searched his mind. This surely was not the time to discuss his suspicions about her father's death. Neither could he tell her about his sister's visit. "To apologize," he finally muttered, "for this morning. I was rude. I should not have spoken to you that way."

  She smiled a little sadly. "No need to apologize. I know you were upset out of concern for me. It is quite natural and I thank you for caring."

  Akitada shifted uncomfortably. "I… I cared for myself more, I think. The thought of…"He took a deep breath and plunged. "It has occurred to me that you might think that I wished to marry you because we have always been very close; that is, like brother and sister, and because I owed your father a debt of gratitude. But that was not it at all."

  Her eyes were very bright in the moonlight. "No?"

  Akitada gave a her a beseeching look. "You must understand that our relationship in the past has tended to obscure my true feelings." He stopped, flushing with embarrassment at his stilted language. "What I mean is that I never realized until I saw you again how much I really loved and needed you."

  She gave a soft sigh. "I did not know," she whispered. Suddenly she extended her hand. "Let me see your hands, please!"

  He hesitated, then held them out, palm down. She turned them over gently and peered at the scarred skin. "Oh," she sighed. "I did not know it was so very bad." Her eyes sought his. "Seimei came to me for herbs. I see they are healing. Do they still pain you very much?"

  He hid his hands in his sleeves, and shook his head. Her concern had filled him with hope. "You will change your mind then? We will be married after all?"

  "I don't know," she faltered. "I am so confused."

  "Ah! Yoshiko was right then! It was all a silly mistake. She said that you were confused because I had been treating you like a sister. Was that it? Was that the reason you rejected my offer?"

  "Yoshiko told you this?" Tamako cried, moving even farther away from him. "Oh, how embarrassing!" She hid her face in her hands.

  Akitada saw her withdrawal and began to feel foolish. He had hoped in vain and now he had made her uncomfortable when she had told him plainly that she did not wish the subject to be mentioned again. He sighed.

  Tamako lowered her hands. "That was not the only reason," she said softly. "Father told me that he had proposed the match to you and that you seemed surprised, but had agreed to think about it. Oh, Akitada! I could only think how Father had taken advantage of your good nature to force you into an unwanted marriage. Of course I could not agree to that. I was angry with him for a long time, but in the end I saw that he acted out of love for me. Father was not well and wanted to see me settled before his death."

  "Oh!" said Akitada. "But…"He stopped, for he remembered how bitterly he had resented Hirata's manipulation. How to explain that he had come to want her and love her for her own sake?

  At his hesitation, Tamako withdrew a little further into herself. "And now," she said in a brittle voice, "you offer again, but this time out of pity and obligation or whatever foolish notion you may have. I simply cannot accept such a sacrifice."

  "Sacrifice?" he cried. "What sacrifice, when I have spent the past weeks agonizing over losing you? When I have worried about your reason for rejecting me until I could not concentrate on my work or on the murders! I thought of my poverty and of my mother's difficult temperament, of my plain face and my dull conversation, my lack of poetic talent and my undistinguished career, and, driven to the point of insanity, even of another man."

  "Oh!"Tamako gasped and hid her face again.

  Ashamed, he prepared to leave, saying in a choking voice, "Forgive this rude visit, please! It is late and I have disturbed your sleep."

  She took her hands from her face and touched his arm. "Please, don't go!" she murmured. He saw that her cheeks were wet with tears, but in her eyes shone a deep happiness.

  For a moment he was confused. Then the confusion changed to amazement and joy. He was up in an instant with an incoherent cry of endearment. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her inside.

  The sun was just rising over the gabled roofs of his home when Akitada stepped down into the main courtyard. Tora was at the well, drinking water from the ladle and then sluicing off his head and arms.

  "Tora," Akitada called.

  "Just coming, sir. It's still early,"Tora cried cheerfully, drying himself with the skirt of his cotton gown.

  "I know. I want you to take this to Miss Hirata," Akitada said, extending a branch of flowering wisteria with a twist of paper attached to it.

  Tora received this with a look of consternation. "Wisteria? And in bloom. Where did you find that? We don't have any."

  "I walked to the Hirata garden this morning. The vine survived the fire and I found this single late blossom."

  Slowly understanding dawned in Tora's eyes. "Well done, sir!" he cried. "My heartiest congratulations to both of you."

  "Thank you," Akitada said stiffly, and turned to go back to his room.

  There he waited anxiously for her reply. His experience with composing next-morning
poems was minimal, and his skill at composition fragmentary at best, but he had left her, fast asleep in the darkness, knowing what he wished to say. All the way to her garden and back he had rehearsed the words in his head:

  Little did I think,

  Under the blooming wisteria vine,

  That its fragrance would so deeply

  Move my soul.

  Tora returned quickly, still grinning broadly. He extended the wisteria branch, now without its bloom, but with a bit of paper, tinted a delicate shade of purple, tied into a bow around it.

  "Thank you. You may go," Akitada said, already eagerly undoing the paper as Tora walked out the door whistling a popular love song.

  She had written:

  Wisteria blossoms fade,

  Their season all too short,

  But their fragrance lingers

  In my soul forever.

  He read her words several times, then tucked the slip of paper carefully inside his gown where it rested against his bare skin. A moment later Seimei stuck his head in. He entered smiling, carrying a tray.

  "I have brought your morning rice," he said. "It is a great day for the house of Sugawara, sir."

  Akitada felt himself flush. "Er, thank you, Seimei. I see you have spoken to Tora." He drank his tea thirstily. "I think we shall plant some wisteria in the garden," he remarked, turning to the boiled rice and pickled radish. "Remind Tora to see to it."

  Twenty-two. Storm Warning

  The following day passed with dreary slowness. Akitada chafed under his teaching duties, his mind distracted by thoughts of Tamako and the extraordinary way in which another human being had suddenly become his, closer than any sister ever could be, or any parent, and more necessary to him, in a way, than food, water or air. His skin warmed at the thought of holding her in his arms again.

  However, he owed it to her and to her dead father to catch his murderer, and he was determined to do so this very night, before returning home. The risk, he hoped, would be negligible. He had guarded against surprises. Now that he had new responsibilities, he could not afford to play the hero.