I. Parker: The Old Men of Omi

Akitada sighed and made his way there.

Three monks awaited him. All seemed to belong to the upper ranks of the order and wore black robes and silk stoles made of colorful patches. They had sandals on their feet and their heads were shaven. Two appeared to be middle-aged and one elderly.

When he came into the room, they rose to their feet but did not bow. Instead they placed their hands together and inclined their heads slightly.

One of the middle-aged monks took a step forward. “I think you are Lord Sugawara?”

Akitada nodded.

“My name is Kanshin. I’m the prior of Enryaku-ji. With me are Josho, our Venerable Teacher, and Seisan, Master of the Law. We have come on behalf of our superior, Abbot Gyomei, to bid you welcome. It is our hope that you will visit Enryaku-ji as our guest.”

Akitada smiled. “That is very good of you and Reverence Gyomei. I shall give myself the pleasure at my earliest convenience.”

It was a very short speech, given an invitation by so illustrious a figure of the faith as the head of Enryaku-ji, and he could see that they were displeased.

“May we trouble you for a small amount of your time?” Kanshin asked. “We have come a long way.”

Not so very long, since Enryaku-ji hovered on the mountainside above Otsu, but given the terrain and their elevated status, perhaps it must have seemed so. In any case, Akitada gestured to the dais, where a few cushions awaited important visitors.

They settled themselves, the oldest with several small groans. Akitada asked, “May I send for refreshments?”

“Very kind,” nodded Kanshin. “The way was hard and we’re no longer young.”

Akitada rose again, went to a door and clapped his hands. A servant appeared with commendable speed and was sent for fruit juice and snacks.

Akitada returned to his place and looked expectant.

But Kanshin waited also.

The servant returned with juice and trays of nuts, rice crackers, and dried fruit. The monks sipped sparingly and ignored the food.

When Akitada had said nothing for a longish spell, Kanshin sighed. “We have been told that His Majesty has sent you and various experts to look into the outrageous claims made by Onjo-ji monks. It is our hope that the strongest steps will be taken against them. They have threatened our people, and in several instances they have driven them off our land and put their own peasants in their place.”

Akitada smiled. “I’m aware of certain claims by both temples against each other. Rest assured that we will use due diligence in clearing up contested land claims.”

Silence fell again as they looked at each other. Their faces became more glum. Kanshin said, “There can be no doubt for whose side the decision will fall. We have uncontestable documentation. Our rights have been confirmed by several emperors.”

“No doubt,” said Akitada, still smiling. “But you see, Onjo-ji seems to be equally well prepared to argue their case. I’m very much afraid you’ll have to be patient while we weigh the various claims. It shouldn’t take too long. And then perhaps I can give myself the pleasure to visit your magnificent temple.” He emptied his cup of juice and waited.

They bit their lips, or glared, or muttered, but one by one they got up, folded their hands and inclined their heads, then stepped down from the dais and walked out in single file.

Akitada heaved a sigh of relief, and left also, turning toward the back of the compound. Here he wandered about a while, peering into several small courtyards. Most were empty of vegetation but in one he saw a large earthenware container with a small wisteria tree. The wisteria had buds already. It was a white one, but even so it reminded him of Tamako’s purple wisteria, dead now and a symbol of his greater loss. He went over and bent to the drooping panicles which gave off a hint of the delicious scent. It seemed spicier than that of their purple vine. This plant was still young, or else had been pruned severely to make it fit into a planter, but in the back of his memory rose another image of a lush white wisteria in a walled garden, a plant and a scent that had come to represent another loss.

Once, only once, he had fallen in love with a woman who was not his wife, and parting from her had been the most painfully wrenching experience. She was Hiroko, Lady Yasugi, a married woman who had come into his life at a time when Tamako had turned against him. In the end, his love had come to nothing though he had offered her marriage. He wondered what had become of Hiroko and her children. It was more than ten years now. Would she be very changed?

Idle thoughts, born from loneliness. For some reason, this journey was stirring up many painful memories. He shook off his gloom and decided to get his horse and visit the town. Perhaps Chief Takechi would be in and they could renew their acquaintance while he probed for information about the two warring temples.

?

Otsu had changed. It was a bustling town of substantial buildings, filled with inhabitants who had become wealthy from doing business at the juncture of two major national highways and in the proximity of two great temples. There was also a busy harbor where goods from the northern provinces arrived by boat and either continued via the Seta and Yodo Rivers south or unloaded for the overland journey to the capital. Such business and wealth attracted all sorts of people. Pilgrims arrived daily, itinerant entertainers plied their trade at markets and fairs, prostitution prospered, day laborers abounded, and many members of the great families chose to retire here, either because they had shrewdly invested in Otsu’s businesses or because they wished to end their lives close to the great temples but somewhat removed from court business.

The last time Akitada had visited, it had been the week of the O-bon festival and some days beyond. The crowds thronging the streets and watching performers had been large and boisterous, but even today there was an atmosphere of celebration. At a shrine he passed, a small fair had attracted families with their children, and it was market day.

He remembered the way to the warden’s office, but when he reached it, he found it was now an official post station. Leaning down from his horse, he asked one of the men loitering at the gate what had happened to it. The youth pointed down the street to a large roofed gatehouse.

Takechi had moved up in the world. His office was now in a substantial hall inside a compound which also held stables and a proper jail.

Akitada dismounted, turning his horse over to a red-coated constable and asked if Takechi was in.

He was, and Akitada soon walked into his office, a large room similar to the one occupied by Superintendent Kobe in the capital. Here, as there, the office holder had a large desk for himself and a secondary desk for a scribe, and here, as there, several constables awaited orders.

Takechi had aged and changed in other ways. Akitada almost did not recognize him. His hair was quite gray by now, and his face more deeply lined. He had trimmed his large mustache into a more fashionable style and wore the uniform of a police officer and the traditional black cap. But when he looked up, frowning and then staring for a moment, his face relaxed into a wide smile of pure pleasure. He rose quickly and came toward Akitada with outstretched hands.

“My Lord! What a surprise and pleasure!” At the last moment, he dropped his hands and, blushing a little, made Akitada a bow.

“Thank you, Chief. The pleasure is equally mine. It’s very good to see you again.”

“Yes, sir. But is something wrong? What brings you?”

Akitada chuckled. “Nothing at all except a desire to see you again. This is just a friendly visit.”

Takechi relaxed. “Wonderful!” He turned to the constables and the scribe, saying, “Get started on your assignments right away. We’ll discuss the details later.” They left the room, closing the door behind them.