Yamada Monogatari: Demon Hunter

by Richard Parks

  We recovered our horses and mounted, save for the bushi named Ichigo, who was left behind to keep watch over Lady Takara. We set off down the road again, though at a more reasonable pace this time, which was fortunate, as I did not think Master Daiki’s horse was fit for another gallop.

  The other guard fell behind slightly to protect our flank. As we rode, I kept a close eye on Master Daiki. After a mile or so, the quiet fury I had read in him before gave way to a deep sadness. It was only then that I dared to speak again.

  “Was your lady able to describe the persons who attacked her party?”

  “Vividly. Their leader is someone known to me, and with my lady’s description of him, there can be no doubt. I did not think him fool enough to commit such an outrage upon my family, but no matter. The shrine has sent messengers on my behalf to Governor Ishikawa, and we will deal with him in due course. For now I have more pressing business at Hino Temple.”

  “It was to Hino Temple that your lady intended to go on pilgrimage, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Master Daiki fairly spit out the word.

  “There is more to this matter of the ambush. You know there is.”

  His expression went as cold as ice but did not last. He finally sighed. “Lord Yamada, I am ashamed to tell you.”

  “You have suffered grievous losses, but your lady has survived. Some men might not count that so heavily in the balance, but you are different. Tell me what your lady said to you, if you can. I would not ask if I did not think it important.”

  “I do not know what you suspect, Lord Yamada. It’s certainly nothing that would have occurred to me . . . ” His voice trailed off. “Lady Takara herself is the one who took Sanji’s demon.”

  We could hear the chants from the funeral rites as we approached the building in the temple compound set aside for the purpose. Master Daiki and Kenji accompanied me. I was reluctant to let Master Daiki out of my sight since, unless I completely misread the man, he wanted nothing more than to burn the entire temple to the ground. Considering the story his lady wife had related it to him, I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

  According to her account, Lady Takara had received a visitor, a monk from Hino Temple on his way home from the Capital. He had warned her of the imminent return of the spirit of the demon slain long ago by Sago no Sanji, that the signs and portents pointed to the destruction of her family unless she headed the spirit off by bringing the demon’s corpse to Hino Temple, where—for a suitable donation­­—the priests could properly ward it against the vengeful spirit’s return.

  Master Daiki had been away hunting the demon that brought him to Kenji and myself on the Hokuriku road, so the next morning she had taken it upon herself to have the two guards on duty bundle the corpse and place it in an oxcart along with several bolts of fine cloth as an offering to the temple. No one knew save herself, her personal attendants, and the two guards. All were dead now except the lady herself.

  “Do you really think the temple was in league with the bandits?” Kenji asked.

  “I do,” Master Daiki said.

  I had to admit that this wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had occurred, but there was a flaw in the reasoning. “They must share the blame in any case, if they are the reason Lady Takara was on the road. Yet, even assuming the monk was from Hino-ji, why attack the procession? The offering was theirs to begin with.”

  Daiki looked grim. “Sanji’s demon was what they really wanted. And this way no one could prove that they were involved . . . until I get my hands on that worthless Mikio. I’ll wring it out of him!”

  “Why would the temple want the corpse in the first place?” I asked.

  “To shame my family and weaken our position. It’s no secret that relations between the Sago Clan and Hino Temple have not always been the best. They see our activities as an incursion into matters best handled by the Temple. Meaning that the rewards and prestige should come to them, not us. If it were not for my family’s honor, I would let them have the risk of it as well. See how well the abbot sings that song after a demon pulls his head off!”

  Kenji might have been a disreputable Buddhist at best, but he was a loyal one. “Your pardon, my lord,” he said dryly, “but some followers of the Eightfold Way do know a thing or two about demons.”

  I held up a hand. “That may be true, but it’s not relevant to the matter at hand. And Master Daiki, I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d let me speak to the abbot before you ‘accidentally’ drop a club on him.”

  “As you wish.” The man practically growled the words.

  We received word that the abbot was detained but would greet us shortly. I wanted to use that time to attend to an unpleasant but necessary duty. We entered the hall where the monks were chanting sutras. The bodies had been laid out on four biers in the center of the hall. They had already been washed as was the custom. Kenji spoke a word to the monks on duty, and they ceased their chants and withdrew, though not without a few scowls in my direction.

  “Master Daiki, you knew these people. What follows may be a bit indelicate. You may not wish to see it.”

  “There is little I have not seen, Lord Yamada,” he said, but the anguish on his face was plain. I resolved to do what I needed to do as quickly as possible.

  One by one I went to each bier and pulled aside the white funeral robes covering the body, and one by one the story they told was the same. Both the men and women had been killed in the same fashion—several powerful sword blows. One poor girl, probably no more than fifteen, had been cut nearly in half. Brute force was evident but no art. Any competent swordsman would have done the job with one stroke each and no wasted effort. What had happened to Lady Takara’s attendants was sheer butchery by comparison. I covered the last body.

  “Curious,” I said. “Even if taken by surprise, the two bushi should have given a better account of themselves. It’s clear that whoever attacked them did not really understand swordsmanship.”

  “Bandits are noted for viciousness, not for skill,” Master Daiki pointed out. “It’s possible the guards were simply overwhelmed.”

  “Judging from the number of sword-cuts and the lack of consistency in angle of attack, I’d say you were right.”

  “Something’s bothering you, though,” Kenji said.

  “Many things are bothering me at the moment,” I said. I did not mention that the least of them was the sheer enthusiasm of the attack. Bandits were often deemed vicious by the simple necessities of their chosen profession, and there was no denying that some even took pleasure in that viciousness. Yet I couldn’t get past the feeling that whoever had done this had enjoyed it to a degree beyond anything I had ever seen before or ever hoped to see again.

  We had just emerged from the funeral hall when the abbot approached. He was an old man, frail, discreetly supported by two young monks on either side.

  “Forgive my tardiness, Master Daiki. At my age one cannot move very quickly.”

  Daiki gave a perfunctory bow. “Abbot Hideo, this is Lord Yamada and his associate Kenji-san. They are acting on my behalf.”

  Hideo raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? We only just learned of your wife’s unfortunate encounter.”

  Master Daiki’s smile was all teeth. “Indeed?”

  I thought it prudent to interrupt. “Sir, before Lady Takara undertook her pilgrimage, she was reported to have received a visitor from your temple. With your permission, we would like to speak to this person.”

  “I am afraid that is not possible,” he said.

  Daiki would not keep silent. “Abbot Hideo, I will discover the people who attacked my lady and killed several treasured members of our household. I will do it with or without your co-operation.”

  The old man looked grim. “I have no intention of interfering. I, too, would like this matter resolved. Members of my temple travel the Hokuriku Road often, as well as pilgrims to and from here. It is in both our interests to ensure their safety.”

  “Then why may we not
speak to your priest?” I asked.

  “You misunderstand me,” the abbot said. “I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t allow it. I meant that it was impossible that Lady Takara received a visitor from this temple. Hino-ji was in a period of ritual seclusion that only ended yesterday. No one has been allowed to enter or leave this temple for the past two weeks.”

  Daiki was obviously skeptical, so the abbot grudgingly allowed us to fully search the temple and grounds. There were many offerings in their storehouse, as one would expect, but no sign of the cloth that Lady Takara had taken from the Sago Clan storeroom nor, of course, Sanji’s Demon. Daiki equally as grudgingly admitted that he didn’t have enough proof to raze the temple. I wouldn’t have called it a reconciliation, but at least matters between the Sago Clan and Hino Temple were no worse than they had been.

  Master Daiki scowled. “I was so certain we’d find proof of Hino Temple’s guilt in this. Yet I still find it hard to believe that the bandits acted alone. Why court their own destruction?”

  “Court? Ask rather why they guaranteed their destruction by leaving a witness. I am pleased beyond measure that Lady Takara lived, yet also puzzled.”

  Master Daiki’s scowl deepened. “Lord Yamada, surely you’re not suggesting that Lady Takara is complicit in this? Other than removing the trophy from our shrine, I mean.”

  “Hardly. But as I said, I am puzzled.”

  Just then a young man arrived, a mounted messenger bearing the mon of the provincial governor. The messenger presented Master Daiki with a letter and then rode with us to await any reply.

  “Ah! A detachment of bushi from the governor’s own forces will join us tomorrow. Fifty in number, and that’s more than enough. Perhaps tomorrow all our questions will be answered.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, though my thoughts were elsewhere. “Supposedly the person, whoever it was who spoke to Lady Takara, came by in the afternoon? Who would have been on guard then?”

  He frowned. “That would have been . . . Tarou and Ichigo.”

  “The same Tarou riding with us now?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Probably nothing. But there is some small matter he might be able to assist me with. Excuse me.”

  I dropped back until I was riding beside Tarou. He was perhaps thirty years old and of a blunt but cheerful disposition. “My lord?”

  “You and Ichigo were on duty the afternoon that Lady Takara received her visitor, yes?”

  “So I am told,” he said.

  I frowned. “ ‘So you were told’? Can you explain that, please? Any visitors would have to pass by the gate, yes? One of you would have seen him.”

  Tarou looked extremely uncomfortable. “If Lady Takara said she had a visitor, then of course she did.”

  I smiled a grim smile. “You’re avoiding the question, Tarou-san, and I have to say you’re not very good at that. No one is blaming you for what happened, but I do need to know about that visitor.”

  Tarou admitted defeat. “I am at a loss, Lord Yamada. I spoke to Aniko that very evening, and she told me that Lady Takara received a visitor, a young monk. I don’t understand how that can be. No one came to the compound that day. I remember clearly—the gate was never opened.”

  “You’re certain?”

  He looked miserable. “I am. Which means that someone must have slipped over the wall unseen. We failed our duties and placed Lady Takara in danger. This is our fault.”

  “That may or may not be the case, but I would not repeat that story to anyone else. Let it be our secret for now.’

  I rode back to the front of the column. “Master Daiki, will you have need of this messenger today?”

  “Today? No. I won’t report to his Excellency until after we’ve cleaned out that bandit viper’s nest.”

  “Then, with your indulgence, I will borrow him.”

  I was doubtful that Daiki would be able to find the bandit’s hideout in any reasonable time, but I had underestimated the esteem in which the Sago Clan was held. He merely had to let it be known that Yamaguchi no Mikio’s bandits were the ones who attacked Lady Takara, and information from the countryside suddenly became available in abundance. There were a few false leads, as one would expect, but the others all pointed to an isolated farming compound west of Takefu. Now Kenji and I watched with Daiki opposite the dilapidated south gate as his men took up positions around that compound. Once they were in place, Daiki would give the word to attack.

  He never got the chance.

  Almost immediately there were shouts and the sound of steel meeting steel from the hillside on the north side of the compound. Daiki swore and picked up his club.

  “They’ve been warned!”

  He set out across the meadow in a dead run with Kenji, myself, and five or six of the governor’s bushi not far behind. He barely hesitated at the gate, taking his massive demon-queller’s club in both hands and smashing it into the gate as soon as he reached it. Whatever strength the timbers had once contained had clearly fled years ago. The gate shattered into splinters hardly big enough for kindling, and Daiki was through.

  I wasn’t sure what we’d find in the compound, but the answer proved to be hardly anything at all. Two women in peasant clothes hugged each other in terror as they tried to hide behind a well, but there was no sign of anyone else.

  “Take everyone alive!” Daiki shouted to the warriors behind us. “I want prisoners, not bodies!”

  The only sounds of fighting were from the hillside beyond the north gate. Two bushi remained behind to search for anyone else hiding and to guard the women, but the rest of us sped out the north gate. By the time we reached the fighting, it was over.

  The captain of the hillside detachment bowed to Daiki. “I’m sorry, my lord, but they didn’t give us much choice. They were determined to escape.”

  Daiki ignored that. “Where is he—!”

  I didn’t have to ask whom he meant, but it seemed that Daiki, in this one regard, was not going to get his wish. The bushi produced two flea-bitten, scruffy men. Both were bruised and bloody but alive. Two more were not. One of them was Yamaguchi no Mikio. Daiki kicked the body so that it rolled face up and studied the dead man’s features.

  “Che . . . It would seem the bandit has escaped me after all.”

  Whatever Daiki had thought to do with Mikio, killing him would perhaps had been the least of it. But that was a moot point now. By the time the prisoners were bound and the rest of the soldiers recalled, the bushi left behind had completed their search of the compound.

  “We found this in the storeroom and more besides,” the man said, showing us several bolts of cloth. “Do you recognize any of them?”

  Daiki barely glanced at them. “Lady Takara wove that cloth herself. I’d know it anywhere. What about Sanji’s demon?”

  The bushi was a hard-bitten man who looked as if he also had faced down a demon or two in his time, but he was almost pale now. “My lord, it’s not here.”

  “It has to be here! I’ll find it if we have to take every building apart plank by plank!”

  In the end, that was exactly what Daiki and his men did. But when the dilapidated compound was reduced to piles of rotting wood, Sanji’s demon was still nowhere to be found.

  We didn’t get much from the prisoners. Yes, they were thieves. No, they had not attacked Lady Takara. Yes, there were the spoils of thievery in their storeroom; no sense denying the obvious. No, they had no idea how the cloth from Lady Takara’s temple offering had come into their hands. Daiki finally grew frustrated and ordered them all bound on a line. As we rode back to the Sago Compound with the prisoners led on a rope and surrounded by guards, I pondered what little we had learned. It seemed to me that it might be far more than a first glance might reveal.

  “Why lie about the temple offering and the demon and then tell the truth about all else?” I mused. “The penalty for banditry is death, as is the penalty for murder. They can’t be beheaded twice.”

  “Because they knew tha
t I would not be so merciful as the governor,” Daiki growled. “I know they’ve hidden Sanji’s trophy somewhere, and they will tell me where. I will find the truth.”

  “That is my intention as well. I just do not believe that the truth you’re looking for is to be had from these wretches.”

  “Why not?” Daiki asked.

  “Because, my lord, I think they’ve already told us the truth.”

  Now even Kenji was staring at me. “Yamada-san, what do you mean?”

  “Simple: Yamaguchi no Mikio and his followers did not attack Lady Takara. They couldn’t have.”

  “Lord Yamada, are you saying the Lady Takara, my wife, lied to me?”

  Now Daiki was glaring, and I knew his anger was more than ready to erupt in any direction, including my own. I proceeded carefully.

  “On the contrary—it is the truth of her words that speaks on behalf of Yamaguchi and his followers. She stated that Mikio himself prevented his man from killing her during the raid. Why would he do that? What bandit is foolish enough to slaughter so many and let a witness to that slaughter live? More, make a special effort to let that witness live? Does that make any sense to you?”

  “No,” he said reluctantly. “It does not. Unless . . . ”

  I finished. “Unless the entire point was to leave a witness. Whoever attacked your wife wanted it known that Yamaguchi no Mikio was to blame.”

  “Whoever?” Kenji asked.

  “Which brings me back to my first point,” I said. “You saw that ‘bandit stronghold,’ Master Daiki, just as I did. Yamaguchi had four men, at most, and they were a sorry lot. Nor was there bedding or supplies at the compound to indicate any more. Lady Takara’s party was attacked by at least a dozen, probably more. I saw the results of their work and would swear to that on my life. It is simply impossible that Yamaguchi is the culprit.”

  I could see the doubt creeping into Daiki’s face, but he shook it away. “Nonsense! How else could they have obtained that cloth?”