I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

‘Well, perhaps no harm is done.’ Akitada paused. ‘Unless, of course, you happened to mention this Tojiro’s resemblance to young Lord Kiyowara?’

Tora mumbled, ‘I might have said something about it in passing. Not to make a point of it, you know.’

‘Not to Kobe, I hope. He would wonder why you should be familiar with Kiyowara’s son.’

‘I may have-’ Tora broke off and cocked an ear towards the courtyard. ‘Someone’s calling.’ He jumped up and left.

Akitada had not heard anything. He thought Tora had fled because he did not want to face his anger, but then there were voices.

A visitor? This early in the morning?

Seimei hurriedly put away the tea things. The door opened, and a strange monk stepped over the threshold, followed by a puzzled-looking Tora, who announced, ‘This is Saishin, sir. He comes with a message from Abbot Shokan of the Seikan-ji Temple.’

The monk, middle-aged and slender, approached silently on bare feet. He bowed and presented a letter.

Akitada returned the greeting and unfolded the heavy paper. It was the expensive kind with leaves of dried grass embedded in it and not what he would have expected from a cleric. Furthermore, it was written in an elegant courtier’s style. The letter was brief: ‘Abbot Shokan begs Lord Sugawara’s help in a matter very close to his heart.’

Astonished, Akitada asked the monk, ‘Do you know what this is about?’

Saishin compressed his lips. ‘I know only that it concerns one of the acolytes running away.’

It sounded as if the monk disapproved either of the acolyte or of his flight. Akitada speculated that the combination of ‘acolyte’ and ‘close to my heart’ suggested a male love affair, not unheard of in monasteries. He was mildly curious, but he hated to leave the house when Tamako was so close to her time. So he told the monk, ‘I’m very busy at the moment. Perhaps the abbot could come to see me?’

Saishin raised shocked brows. ‘The abbot never goes out unless the emperor, his nephew, requests it.’

Damnation! Akitada should have recognized the name and the temple, but there were so many male relations of emperors who served as abbots and bishops that he had never made the attempt to memorize them all. In any case, he could not refuse the summons now.

‘When may I call on the Reverend Shokan?’

‘The abbot is very anxious to have your advice as soon as possible.’

‘Today?’

‘I think that is what His Reverence had in mind.’

‘Very well.’ Akitada thought quickly. Tora had already rented a horse for the trip to the farm. They could postpone that journey for another day. He said, ‘It will save time if I ride.’

Saishin nodded. ‘Good. I have other errands. May the Buddha smile on you and your house.’ He bowed, turned on his heel, and left.

Seikan-ji temple and monastery were to the north-east of the capital and on the other side of the Kamo River.

Akitada checked on Tamako before leaving. She looked better than she had for weeks and greeted him with a smile. Hanae was with her, making a list of supplies they wanted brought from the farm. Hanae asked, ‘Should they bring Trouble back, sir?’

Tamako giggled. It was a familiar joke. The dog’s name fit its disposition well enough and frequently caused merriment. A good omen, Akitada thought, and joined in the laughter. ‘By all means. I’m fond of the beast. But we’ll have to confine him when it’s time for the child to be born. Seimei and Tora have invited monks and a yin-yang master for the occasion. I’m afraid to think what Trouble would make of that.’

‘What about a medium?’ Hanae asked and started laughing again. ‘Can you imagine him chasing after that paper wand while she dances? Perhaps she could cast a spell on him.’

‘No medium,’ Akitada said firmly. He thought of the strange Lady Aoi in the Kiyowara house. She had even upset Tora. It occurred to him belatedly that she might have information about the family. Perhaps she would be willing to provide it, if he asked her to perform an exorcism for him.

On horseback, the journey to the Seikan-ji Temple took less than two hours. It gave Akitada a chance to pass through the center of the capital before turning towards the river. He had not been in the city for weeks. Earlier, his work at the ministry had kept him busy in the Daidairi, the greater palace enclosure in the northern part, and now he spent his time near Tamako as much as possible.

He observed for the first time the uneasiness the fires had brought to the city: piles of sandbags and stacks of buckets gathered at street corners, makeshift altars with gifts of flowers, rice, and fruit stood near shrines and entrances to city quarters, carts of charred rubble lumbered towards trash piles, and Shinto priests and their attendants performed ceremonies to appease the angry gods.

After he crossed the broad Kamo River, he entered the wooded mountains to the east of the capital. The heat and noise of the city faded, and a fragrant green world embraced him with peace and silence. Akitada had accepted the summons in a very ill spirit, but now he found pleasure in his journey. Part of it lay in being on horseback again, even if the rented horse was far from perfect and tried to bite the rider at odd moments.

Seikan-ji was a small temple and monastery, but like many imperial retreats, it was situated in a beautiful setting. The halls were rustic and of the same simple elegance as the emperor’s palace. Since it housed a member of the imperial family, the wooded grounds and buildings were beautifully kept and resembled more a series of villas in gardens than a religious retreat.

The monks wore simple but very clean brown hemp robes, but Akitada also saw groups of young boys, acolytes or students, at play. Most were probably scions of noble families and wore the colorful and expensive silks of cherished children.

He had given his name and purpose to a young monk at the gate. Another monk had taken his horse, and a third showed him to the abbot’s quarters.

In theory, an imperial prince who took the tonsure lost all claim to special honors and privileges enjoyed in his past life. His family and friends would grieve as he passed into another physical realm: that of a poor monk. In reality, that step was very carefully planned. He would choose his monastic abode from the most pleasant spots near the capital and take with him certain comforts of life, such as fine clothes, books, musical instruments, as well as favorite servants. And he stayed in contact with family and friends. In exchange, he would give up women, public life, wine, and his hair. Since, by middle age, those things had frequently lost their appeal, and official duties had become burdensome, many emperors and imperial princes took up a religious life because it allowed them to enjoy a life of leisure.

His Reverence Shokan was no exception. He resided in a small, but elegantly appointed hall among fine objects and paintings. Monks and acolytes competed for a chance to be of service, and the monastery kitchens served excellent meals, even if they tended towards the vegetarian.

Akitada had little respect for those who shirked their duties to the nation in order to indulge in a contemplative life, but even he felt an ingrained respect towards men of imperial blood. He prostrated himself before His Reverence.

Shokan received Akitada with a strange mixture of reserve and eagerness.

Like many Fujiwara relatives, he was prone to pudginess and jowls in middle age. Waving a white and dimpled hand, he said, ‘Please. I am a simple monk. Be seated, Sugawara.’

He had a high voice and lisped a little. Akitada wondered if he had been born with a speech defect or if he cultivated the childish manner. His Reverence wore black silk of such volume and stiffness that it was hard to make out his figure underneath. A finely patterned purple brocade surplice, glistening with gold threads, was draped over one shoulder.