Ingrid Parker - Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan

The courtyard was quite small, only large enough for one ox carriage, and at that the driver must have had a difficult time turning it around. Akitada and Tora climbed the wooden steps to the veranda. To either side of the hall, dense shrubbery closed in and blended with the forest. The heavy double doors, the only access to the interior, were closed. A plain balustrade surrounded the veranda, which extended only across the front.

Akitada paused here and looked around and back into the courtyard. On this veranda the prince's attendants- General Soga, Lords Abe, Shinoda, Yanagida and Sakanoue- had waited during the last hours of Yoakira's life. And somewhere down below, against the courtyard wall, Kinsue had sat peering up sleepily, listening to the disembodied voice of his master reciting the sutra inside the hall. There would have been only faint light when they arrived, for the prince was to begin his reading at dawn. The mountains around them would cast deep shadows, even after the first brightness was appearing in the sky. So much had happened in the dark. And inside this hall. Akitada turned towards the weather-darkened door.

The truth within!

Shaking his head, he pulled the dooor open. It creaked on ancien hinges. The hall inside was dim after the morning sunlight outside. Towards the rear wall stood a smallish Buddha figure carved from wood and painted in bright colors. It was seated on a raised lotus blossom, also carved from wood, and three small tables holding religious objects and ornaments were lined up before it. On either side, a tall iron candle stand, inlaid with gold and silver, held a thick candle. Akitada went to light both of them. The flames flickered in the draft from the open door, and weird shadows moved across the image and the simple prayer mat in front of it. Momentarily he felt again the touch of something ghostly- a sudden icy breath in the warm, stagnant air, raising the short hairs on his neck and leaving him dizzy. The sensation was not as palpable as it had been in the Yoakira mansion, but he shuddered nevertheless.

The walls appeared to be made from heavy posts and planks fitted without openings, and the roof, its thick rafters draped with cobwebs, rose steeply towards the massive ridgepole. The air smelled unpleasantly of incense and decay. Without windows, there was no circulation and the air felt heavy, warm and cloying.

Seen up close, the tables before the Buddha image were quite beautiful, gracefully constructed from some very dark wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The trays and sacred vessels, their significance unknown to Akitada, were lacquered and gilded, and some of the bowls held flowers made from semiprecious stones and gold. A red plaque, inscribed with gilded characters, rested among these objects. Akitada read it and immediately bowed deeply. The inscription was by His August Majesty himself and commemorated the miracle.

Akitada felt anything but inspired. The atmosphere seemed to him almost repulsive, tainted and noxious somehow, and the darkness of the walls and roof gave the hall an oppressive feeling. Even the image seemed subtly evil. Akitada turned around to look for Tora and saw him at the open door, peering in. "What are you waiting for?" Akitada asked. "Come in! I need you."

"You think he was killed here, don't you?" Tora asked from outside.

"According to all accounts."

Tora's eyes searched the room. "Do you suppose his spirit is hanging about?"

"No. If it is anywhere, it's in his mansion in the capital. I have his old servant's word for it."

"Then maybe he was killed there." Tora walked in, wrinkling his nose. "They ought to leave the door open more often," he said.

Akitada gave Tora an irritated look. "It would certainly make my job easier if we did not have to investigate a disappearance from this hall," he said testily. "Never mind the smell. A lot of incense has been burnt here. Let's check the walls and floor for a hidden door." They started on either side of the door and moved along the walls, tapping the boards and checking the seams, until they met in the shadowy area behind the image. The walls were solid.

"Nothing!" said Tora, wrinkling his face again. "It really smells back here."

"It's either the incense or some small animal has died under the floorboards. I suppose there is little point in checking the floor. There is not enough space under the hall for a human being."

As Tora moved towards the door, Akitada cast one more glance around. When he turned to leave, he accidentally kicked the prayer mat out of place. It was an old one, but very beautifully woven and bound with embroidered silk around the edges. He bent to lift it and found the floor was solid underneath. "Well," he said with a sigh, "I did not expect to find anything. After all, they must have checked the building carefully. Come back here, Tora, and help me put the mat back."

Tora returned reluctantly and picked up one end. "Let's turn it," he said. "It looks better on the other side."

It was quite true. The mat was less faded, and the colors in the embroidery shone brighter. But it was slightly stained. Akitada knelt and looked at the stain closely. It was a small brown smudge, on the surface of the fibers only. He moistened a finger with his tongue and rubbed at it. A faint trace of brown appeared on his skin, and he smelled it.

"What's the matter?" asked Tora.

"Blood," said Akitada grimly.

"Hah!" Tora backed away. "So he died here."

"Perhaps. It is interesting, but there isn't very much of it. And it may not be Yoakira's."

"I bet it is." Tora glanced at the image and shivered. "What if something supernatural got him?" he asked.

"No."

"The blood! There are demons that tear people to pieces and eat them. Let's get out of here!" He started towards the door again.

But Akitada was staring at some white dust on the floor. "That was not here before," he said, pointing. "It must have fallen from the mat when we turned it."

Tora glanced back over his shoulder. "Some dirt. Monks are not good housekeepers, I guess."

Akitada crouched to investigate the dust. It was white and powdery. He rubbed it between his fingers and tasted it. "Rice flour," he said, straightening up.

"Maybe some of the monks brought it in," Tora called from the safety of the veranda.

"Hmm." Akitada wiped his hands on his robe and cast a last glance at the Buddha figure. He realized that it represented Amitabha. The carved face was painted in brilliant colors, the eyes a clear brown and the lips a deep red. Bright jewels encircled his neck and arms. Suddenly one of the jewels around his neck moved. Akitada stepped closer and saw that a very large fly, an iridescent bluebottle, sluggish in the stale warmth, was slowly rubbing its wings. No doubt the fresh air coming from the open door had roused it from its stupor. He waved at it with his hand, and watched it rise with an angry buzz. For a few moments, it droned around the image with bumbling, disoriented flight before settling again somewhere in the murky darkness. Shaking his head, Akitada blew out the candles and left.

Together they went down the steps into the small courtyard, but here Akitada paused to look back at the hall. "I wonder," he said, "what is behind the building. Let's go look."

Dense underbrush and trees grew up against the walls of the old hall. They fought their way through and found a narrow path that angled off from the hall towards the main temple complex. They followed this along the wall of the building until it reached the back and a deep gully which separated the hall from the hillside behind it. Here the path ended on a rocky ledge.

"What do you suppose that is for?" Akitada muttered.

"I don't know, but someone's been here recently." Tora pointed to broken branches on a shrub.