As the sun set, the commotion from a large group of horses at a gallop came from behind us. I turned to look, but a hill blocked my view of the road behind.
The escort commander reacted quickly to the sound. With a few barked orders, he halted the caravan and then deployed the outriders behind us. The rest of the bushi escort quickly formed up into a blocking force situated between the oncoming riders and the high priestess.
I felt a familiar thrill of anticipation and fear at the prospect of battle. I loosened my naginata in its holder, removed the scabbard from the blade, then positioned myself off to the side of the road where I would not interfere with the bushi escort, but could still contribute to the defense, if needed.
Several horsemen crested the ridge. I heard cries and whispers from the caravan behind me. They grew quiet as yet more riders appeared over the hill.
The riders had the sun at their backs. I counted more than twenty, only half as many as our bushi escort. That was far too few raiders to set against a protected caravan. There had to be more. I scanned the surrounding countryside for signs of flanking forces or an ambush.
The riders entered the shadow of the hill and became clearly visible for the first time. They were members of the Imperial Guards Regiment. With a whoop, our honor guard laughed and shouted greetings to them.
Relief replaced foreboding. I returned my naginata to its holder, feeling a bit ridiculous at my overreaction. After the newcomers joined the caravan, it was apparent the only danger they posed was to the sobriety of the honor guard and the virtue of the high priestess’ female attendants.
One of the riders announced, “We were thinking about you last night, and it seemed a shame you should be banished by your official duties to the hinterlands. Imagine! Months without any decent entertainment or companionship. We decided we had to give you one last party before your exile!” The members of our honor guard cheered.
To my surprise, the speaker was the same guardsman I had seen meeting the high priestess’ lady-in-waiting at the shrine on the hilltop near Ōtsu.
What is going on here?
I scanned the group for the long haired man in brown, but there was no trace of him.
Of course not, he is no imperial guard.
I searched the surrounding forest but could spy no sign of him.
Once the escort commander was convinced there was no threat, he gave the group of imperial guardsmen a look of disgust and ordered his bushi into their standard traveling formation. We set off again. The new arrivals crowded around the honor guard, forming a large group of horses and riders at the front of the caravan.
After a loud and boisterous discussion, the young captain rode up next to his sister’s carriage. There was much back and forth through the blinds of the gyusha. I could see him gesticulating, but didn’t hear what they were talking about. He appeared to be trying to convince her of something.
Finished with his sister, he returned to the group of guardsmen at the head of the caravan and proclaimed, “Just up ahead, there is a shrine where we can stop. It has an excellent view of Lake Awaumi. Then, tonight, we shall have a poetry competition.” His announcement was met with raucous approval from the guardsmen.
As if we weren’t traveling slowly enough already.
The shrine keeper offered his lodgings for the use of the high priestess and her ladies. The shrine was positioned well above the road, with a steep slope leading down to the Tōkaidō. The keeper’s modest house was set on a small knoll near the center of the shrine with a spectacular view of the lake.
Servants erected elegant silk pavilions for the members of the high priestess' retinue not staying in the house with her. The bushi escort set up their unadorned canvas tents nearby.
The only flat area near the shrine was around a bend and on the opposite side of the Tōkaidō. Those not part of the high priestess' entourage camped there. It was a motley collection of homemade shelters, cobbled-together tents, and primitive lean-tos. Still uncomfortable with my status as favored nobility, I decided to spend the night with the merchants and drovers.
I turned my horse over to one of the imperial grooms and walked to the other camp. I found an unclaimed piece of ground with some soft turf underneath it and laid out my simple bedroll. Cutting a few branches off a nearby tree, I constructed a crude lean-to of my own. With little else to occupy my attention, I lay down and stared at the darkening sky.
I wondered about the guards lieutenant just “happening” to show up here. Clearly, he was a friend of the captain. It was possible the lady-in-waiting had met him before, since she worked for the boy’s sister. Still, it was odd they would meet in secret in Ōtsu just to talk at a shrine. I also wondered where the long-haired man fit into everything.
The speculation kept running through my head, and I was unable to relax. I got up and headed back to the shrine, scanning the forest as I walked, not sure what I was looking for. I spotted the mysterious guardsman drinking in a group with his fellow guardsmen and the honor guard. I sat down next to the road to watch him.
The camp was alive with activity as servants set out platters of food and rolled out containers of saké.
How much food can these people eat?
The high priestess' lady-in-waiting—whose name I had learned was Ukon—was serving saké to the noble guests. As I watched, the guardsman slipped away from his compatriots. Ukon saw him and ducked behind a tent to meet him. They spoke briefly.
From down the road, people came surging into the shrine laughing and shouting. From what everyone was saying, the high priestess had invited the entire caravan to the poetry competition. Although these events were almost exclusively a pastime of the nobility, the humble merchants and workmen came to enjoy the free food and saké the high priestess promised.
When I turned my attention back to the shrine, Ukon had returned to serving saké and the guards lieutenant had resumed drinking with his friends.
Servants scurried about setting up the contest grounds, and the guardsmen separated into two teams for the competition. There was a platform for the judges, and one team stood on each side. As was customary, the teams were designated Left and Right, based on their position in relation to the judging platform. The high priestess’ brother was the captain of the Left Team, and my suspicious guardsman was the captain of the Right Team. Once each group was given an assigned theme, most of the participants began working on their poems. However, one member of the Right Team lay passed out on the grass while two of his team members attempted to revive him.
Shaking my head at the antics of my “betters,” I headed to the refreshments, got a little to eat, and took a jug of saké. Nibbling on the food, I positioned myself where I could keep both Ukon and the Right Team leader in view. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong but was unsure what to do about it. Even were I to go to the high priestess and inform her of what I had seen, what could I tell her? That one of her ladies-in-waiting appeared to be spending time with a handsome guardsman? I’d be laughed out of her pavilion.
What do I care? Even if Ukon is reporting on her mistress to the guardsman, what business is it of mine? Let the nobles play at their stupid intrigues.
It had been Ukon and the lieutenant wandering off that first caught my attention, but it was the presence of the wild-haired man that really worried me. My instincts told me he was dangerous, but there was no sign of him here. Maybe I was just letting my imagination get the best of me.
The time allotted for composition of the poems had passed. The captain of the Right Team stood in the center of the contest grounds and announced, “I need to speak with Imperial Inspector Minamoto.”
I looked around curiously. Even though I wasn’t nearly as far gone as some of the guardsmen, I’d still finished the better part of my jug of saké. I wondered who the captain of the Right Team was waiting for.
“If Inspector Minamoto is present, could you come here, please?”
With a start, I remembered I was Imperial Inspector Minamoto.
I hurried over to the Right Team captain. He told me, “The high priestess wishes to speak to you. She is waiting in her quarters.”
I stared at him, surprised at the request.
Why does the high priestess want to see me? What have I done?
I desperately reviewed everything I’d said and done since joining the caravan, trying to think of any offense I could have committed, but couldn’t think of anything.
It suddenly struck me that perhaps the high priestess was worried about Ukon and the guardsman. My position as Imperial Inspector probably made me the closest thing to a policeman she had available to her.
What in the nine hells am I supposed to do if she wants me to take care of the situation?
The bushi stationed outside the high priestess' door studied me as I approached.
“Inspector Minamoto to see Her Highness.”
He grunted in acknowledgment and slid the door open a crack. After exchanging a few words with someone, he stepped aside.
A female servant guided me to a set of translucent fabric screens set up in the back of the room. In the dim light, I could barely make out the silhouette of the high priestess.
“Inspector Minamoto, thank you for coming.” She spoke with a soft, gentle voice in the accent of the imperial court. “I have a small problem, and you are the only one who can help me.”
She does know about Ukon and the guardsman!
She continued, “There was to be a poetry competition this evening. Now, as a result of consuming too much…” She paused, “Well, one of the participants is unable to take part. We’ve been trying to find a replacement, and I remembered we had an imperial inspector traveling with us. I am certain anyone the emperor saw fit to appoint to that post would be an excellent addition to our contest. Would you be willing to join the Right Team?” I sensed an air of anticipation as she awaited my reply.
I stared in confusion. Her request was the last thing I had expected, but it made a weird sort of sense. If there was one thing the nobility loved, it was their games and recreations. The high priestess was undoubtedly anxious that the entertainment proceed, even if it meant opening up the poetry competition to a marginal contender like myself.
I’d never liked the nobility or their entertainments. The diversions of the court consumed tremendous amounts of energy, time, and treasure better spent on the business of governance. The lackadaisical attitude of the ruling class towards their sworn duties caused enormous trouble in the provinces. I’d spent the last several years in some of the most remote parts of the country, so I had witnessed firsthand the difficulties created by the nobility’s inattention to their duty.
Now I was being asked to participate in this silliness. I tried to beg off. “I doubt my poor skills would be up to performing for an august audience such as yourself, and I would hate to disappoint Your Highness.”
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The high priestess demurred. “Oh no, I am interested in all sorts of poetry. From your speech, I assume you have spent a substantial amount of time in the provinces, yes? I would be delighted to hear some provincial poetry. It will be fascinating! You will participate, won’t you?”
I bristled at her unconscious condescension but held my tongue.
“Very well, Your Highness. I will be happy to participate,” I lied.
“Notify the captain of the Right Team you will be joining them.” She sounded pleased I had accepted her offer. “I am sure we will all enjoy it.”
I was dismissed.
I brooded over the unfairness of it. Before this, the nobility and I had a deal. They didn’t inflict themselves and their idiotic “entertainments” on me, and I didn’t beat them to a bloody pulp. It had been working pretty well. Now the high priestess had to go and ruin it.
I went over to the Right Team and introduced myself to my teammates. “I’m Imperial Inspector Minamoto, and the high priestess has asked that I be your new team member.”
This announcement met with an embarrassed silence as the other team members looked at one another. You could practically hear their thoughts, “Couldn’t they find anyone better?”
Despite the team’s lukewarm welcome, one of them made a half-hearted offer of some saké. I grabbed the proffered drink and downed it. The mood of the guardsmen was as somber as my own.
For all the negative reaction of the Right Team, the high priestess' brother seemed delighted when he was informed of the substitution. Even though he was the youngest person there, he’d consumed his fair share of the saké. He slurred his words and had trouble walking as he greeted me enthusiastically, “Great! So good of you to join us. Let’s tell the judges we’re ready.”
The Right Team had been given the topic of “autumn,” and the Left Team was assigned “spring.” The other competitors had already finished their poems. The Right Team captain told me, “You’re going last so you will have time to work on your poem.”
I loathed these contests. To be honest, I was terrible at them. We each had to write a tanka, a poem whose five lines had a 5—7—5—7—7 syllable count. It was difficult enough trying to come up with suitable phrases to match the specified format, but doing that while keeping the poem about the assigned topic seemed almost impossible to me.
I sought inspiration through more saké. Along about my third bowl, I looked over at the Left Team. I caught a snatch of conversation between the imperial guards captain and one of his team members.
“With my sister’s trained monkey on the other team, we can’t possibly lose.” He mimicked a monkey scratching himself, making Oo Oo Oo noises. Several of the Left Team members laughed at his caricature.
Trained monkey, am I?
This lively display of taste and good breeding by my social betters didn’t improve my disposition. Something on my face must have betrayed my irritation—one of the members of the Left Team pointed at me and made a comment to a teammate. They both scratched themselves like monkeys then broke into laughter.
The audience was called to order, and everyone stood. The high priestess took her place in the chief judge’s seat. Two of her ladies-in-waiting, both noblewomen of high birth, took positions on either side of her. All three of them wore veiled hats and kept their faces hidden behind their fans. Given the poor illumination provided by the paper lanterns, no one could have seen much of their faces in any case.
The audience resumed their seats, and the team captains bowed to the judges. By convention, the more auspiciously designated Left Team went first. Striding forward to a position directly in front of his sister and the other two judges, the guards captain recited his poem in a strong, even cadence—
In the shining light
Of the resplendent spring Sun,
Why, in these fine days,
Must the sakura’s blossoms
Wither with relentless haste?
I had to admit, his poem was good. The combination of striking imagery of the falling sakura and the pathos of their short lives was the kind of thing people liked. The crowd and the judges seemed impressed.
The Right Team captain took his position and declaimed—
Deep in the mountains,
On carpets of crimson leaves,
The stag calls his mate.
Hearing his forsaken cry,
I feel how sad autumn is!
The audience murmured their admiration for the image of the forlorn stag and his loneliness. Our leader’s poem more than matched the effort of his Left Team counterpart.
Seeing the Left Team whispering across from us, I looked to see what they were doing. Most of the audience’s attention was centered on the Right Team captain, so the high priestess’ brother was once again doing his feeble ape imitation while staring at me. This greatly amused the other members of his team.
I began to get really annoyed. It particularly galled me to be ridiculed by a talentless buffoon who couldn’t even stay on a horse without help. I mentally replayed the image of him landing in the mud. This made me feel better, but I was still irritated. And I still didn’t have any ideas for a poem.
With the contest more than half over, an idea came to me. I smiled nastily as I considered it. Working furiously, I finished my poem just as my turn arrived.
Although each poem was short, there was much posturing and vocalizing for dramatic effect, so the contest took longer than one might think. I had been imbibing freely from the saké making the rounds. Indeed, as I made my way to the judges, I noticed I still had a jug in one hand. Hoping no one noticed, I slipped it into my robe. I was having a little trouble walking straight.
Nice work Yoshi, you always recite poetry so much better when you’ve had a few too many to drink.
I managed to make it to the spot in front of the judges’ stand without falling and struck a dramatic pose.
Fluttering in air,
Carpeting the forest floor.
What is it I see?
Leaves shed from the autumn trees?
Or a guardsman off his horse?
As I finished, I turned and stared directly at the young captain with a smirk. His face darkened with anger when he realized I was mocking him. With a visible effort, he got himself under control, but he seemed tense.
The audience had mixed reactions. Some people seemed puzzled by the imagery of the poem. Others were offended by it. If their expressions were any indication, most people were trying very hard to keep from laughing. Satisfied I had achieved a small measure of revenge, I sauntered back to my place with the Right Team. The Left Team captain glared as I gave him an ironically elaborate bow.
That was too much. He finally lost his temper. With an incoherent yell, he rushed across the gap separating the two teams and launched himself at me. I sidestepped out of the way of his clumsy attack, and he hit the ground with a loud grunt. After a moment of shocked silence, the rest of the Left Team charged after him with a roar.
Things degenerated into a brawl between the two teams. Female screams pierced the air as the judges scrambled away, and the ladies in the audience rushed to escape.
I was fed up with this young idiot. It was time he learned the difference between a noble playing at being a guard and a bushi trained for war. He got up off the ground and lunged at me. As he got close, I drove my fist into his abdomen. His face paled as he exhaled with a loud whoof. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he toppled over, gasping for breath. He lay on the ground, his body curled up in pain.
Immediately afterward, I was tackled by two of his teammates. They knocked me backwards, and I slid down the steep incline to the road.
Gathering speed, my rapid progress came to an abrupt halt when I struck a large tree bordering the track. I lay there stunned, the breath knocked out of me. After I recovered a bit, I struggled to a sitting position. Above me, the brawl was still going on. The bushi escort yelled for people to stop fighting.
Rocks rattled down the slope and bounced onto the road. I turned to see Mouse sliding down the incline. He stooped to look me over carefully. “You all right?” He seemed reassured as I labored to answer. “Good, good,” he said. “Wait,” he continued, a worried look on his face. “Didn’t break the jug, did you?”
He reached out to help me up. I snatched my hands away and struggled to my feet. After a couple of steps, my head started spinning. Falling to my knees, I put my head down and vomited.
“Let’s go back to the camp,” Mouse said as he took me by the arm and helped me walk.
I gave Mouse the jug, and he drank from it as we went along. I was still feeling sick, so I abstained. Just as I became convinced we’d passed the camp in the dark, we spotted the fires and lean-tos. I limped over to one of the fires and sat down, leaning against a tree for support.
“We shouldn’t be seen together,” I told Mouse. “Hyacinth-sama went to a lot of trouble to make sure there was nothing to connect us.”
Mouse smiled. “Don’t worry. No one’ll return for a spell. There’s still loads to eat ’n’ drink and fighting to do. If anyone comes back, we’ll see them before they see us.” He took a long pull of saké, then sat back. “Not bad, almost as good as what the Hyacinth serves.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. She never gave me any,” I grumbled.
Innocently, he said, “Really? You must’ve annoyed her, she always gives new hires a bowl or two.”
My treatment by Surei that first night was still a sore subject with me. Exasperated, I looked at him, “I don’t work for her.”
He looked skeptical.
“I am doing this as a favor for a mutual friend,” I insisted.
He shook his head, unconvinced. With a chuckle, he said “You seemed to rile some folks with your poem. Dunno what they’re so upset about. I liked it.” His face clouded. “You gonna get in trouble for insulting the high priestess' brother?”
I made a rude noise. “That’s unlikely. Unlike his half-sister, he’s not a member of the imperial family. Her mother is the emperor’s sister. His mother was just one of his father’s concubines. The only reason he’s along is because she’s trying to help him out. Without his sister’s influence, he wouldn’t hold the high rank he does now. The noble families work to take care of their own. But I doubt he has enough influence on his own to cause me any trouble.”
I stood and paced back and forth, my voice rising with passion. “The nobility call themselves yokibito, the ‘People of Quality,’ and they believe it wholeheartedly. To them, a noble birth is the most important thing about a person. Nobles are more virtuous, more sensitive, have deeper feelings, and are, in every respect, better than those of common birth. Intelligence, competence, and ability are of no account when compared to bloodlines. An accident of birth trumps all.”
I must have made quite a sight pacing back and forth and raving, because Mouse spit out his saké and laughed. “Maybe it’s because I’ve had a bit too much, but you sure look like one a them yokibito to me. Talk just like one too. Know all about everyone’s pedigree just like they do. Course, I never found one of them sleeping naked on the ground.”
I stopped and glared at him. “I am nothing like them.”
Mouse stopped laughing and cocked his head, staring at me in consideration. “No? I would say you was born one of them. But things changed for you. Just like with Hyacinth-sama.”
“No, I am nothing like them. I believe in just government. All they care about is their amusement and personal power and riches.”
Mouse shook his head. “What is ‘just government,’ Yoshi? There’s no such thing. Government is only a way them that has gets more from them that don’t. People look out for themselves. Why should the highborn be any different? Of course, they use their power to get richer!”
His indifferent attitude angered me. “Mencius teaches the highborn should rule justly. Everyone has their place, their assigned role. But, these roles come with responsibilities and duties. Rulers should live virtuous lives and care for those beneath them. Instead, we have nobles who spend all their energy trying to get power for themselves. Even the imperial family is engaged in a struggle for control of the Chrysanthemum Throne. They do this with no consideration for the damage they do to the nation.”
Mouse laughed at me, then began coughing and spit out his saké.
Undeterred by his mirth, I continued. “It is our solemn duty to resist unjust government. Evil officials taint all of society, so fighting against corrupt and repressive representatives of the government is doing the will of heaven. In China, there are many stories of noble outlaws who braved punishment and death to resist grasping, evil officials who terrorized the local populace.”
Mouse smiled sardonically. “Let me guess, you must’ve read a bunch o’ those tales when you was a kid, right?”
I answered, a bit embarrassed, “Well yes, but that doesn’t change the fact these outlaws were correct to fight for the people and rally them against injustice. And we should do the same.”
“You really believe this?”
I sat down. “My father believed it.” I sighed. “It’s a lot easier to believe when I’m drunk. If I’m sober, experience gets in the way.”
Mouse lay back and stared at the stars. After a long silence, he said, “Well, the way I see it, if you got someone causin’ you grief, the only one who can take care of it is you. When I was young, we had a tax collector who was a real bad one. He would collect the taxes two or three times a year, taking way more than he should have. The old folks and the children was always hungry. The villagers kept talking about sending a letter to the government to complain, but they was afraid.”
He chuckled. “Turned out all right, though. One day, that tax collector was hit in the head by a falling rock and killed. Strange thing was, he was out in the middle of a field when it happened.” He gave a wicked grin. “Prolly one of those ‘will o’ heaven’ things you was talking about earlier.”
I sat down and asked him, “So what happened after the tax collector died. Did things get better?”
Shrugging, he said, “Dunno. I left the village right about then. Never been back.”
I looked at him suspiciously. I noted the sling attached to his belt and wondered which direction the “falling” rock had been traveling when it hit the tax collector. I began to see why Surei had sent him.
Off-key singing came to us from the road. Lanterns bobbed along the path, evidence that the evening’s entertainment was finished, and people were returning to go to sleep.
I said, “We’d better get back to our bedrolls before someone sees us together. See you in Isé.”