The Sword That Cut the Burning Grass Page 7

“He grew to like it, I think,” she replied. “His business hasn’t gone well, and he drinks too much sake. When that happens, his wife hides herself and he comes searching for me.”

  “I can see why you wanted to leave him,” Seikei said. “With your skills, you should be able to find a job cooking for another merchant, or even a samurai.”

  She glanced at him with a shy smile. “Why should I work for them when I can follow you?”

  “Well, for one thing, I can’t pay you very much,” he said. “And after I’m finished with my task, well . . .” He didn’t want to face the fact that he might never finish what he had set out to do.

  “After you’ve finished,” Hato said, “I will accompany you to the palace. You must need many servants there.”

  The palace? Seikei suddenly realized who she thought he was. But before he could correct her, he heard heavy footsteps behind them in the fog. Turning to see what it was, he realized that someone was coming from the other direction too.

  The figures of three men emerged from the fog, surrounding Seikei and Hato. Two of them carried clubs; the third, a heavy staff. Seikei knew at once that they were bandits who preyed on helpless travelers.

  “Give us your valuables,” one of them said, “and we won’t hurt you.”

  Seikei’s first thought was to save Hato from harm. He reached for the bag in which he carried the money he had received for the swords.

  Hato put her hand on his arm. “Tell them who you are,” she said.

  “Ah . . . no, I’ll just give them my money. It isn’t much,” Seikei said. He held out the bag and one of the men snatched it.

  “What else do you have?” the man who seemed to be the leader asked.

  “Nothing,” said Seikei. “We’re only—”

  “There’s a pittance in here,” said the man who had taken the bag. “They must have more.” Seikei glanced at Hato. She had wanted to carry the scroll, and foolishly he had allowed her.

  “The girl must be hiding it,” the leader said. “Search her.”

  As the third man reached for Hato, she screamed and twisted out of his grasp.

  Automatically, Seikei reached for his sword, cursing his stupidity when his hand clasped only air. “Stop it!” he shouted. “I command you . . . in the name of the emperor.” No one paid any attention.

  One of the bandits had caught Hato. “Call the kami,” she shouted at Seikei as she struggled to free herself.

  Almost without thinking, Seikei clapped his hands together.

  Another figure appeared then, a tall gray-haired man wearing a plain blue kimono and two swords. Seikei was astonished. Never in his lifetime had a kami actually appeared when he clapped his hands.

  Then Seikei recognized him.

  “What’s going on here?” the man said.

  “Help us!” Hato screamed as the bandit holding her tried to cover her mouth.

  “Let her go.” The man in the blue kimono spoke with the kind of authority Seikei wished he had. Looking at him more closely, Seikei was sure of it: This was the man he had seen at the Kinkakuji monastery the day he had met the emperor.

  The bandit released Hato. He and the other two drew closer together. It was clear they were wondering how strong an opponent the man in blue would be.

  Hato shouted at him, “They took our money. Make them return it.”

  The stranger withdrew his long sword part of the way from its scabbard, showing its sharp edge. The bandits knew that if he exposed it completely he would be compelled to shed blood with it. Their blood.

  The bandit who had taken Seikei’s money tossed the bag on the ground. “Too little to bother about,” he said.

  “Is that all they stole?” the stranger asked.

  “Yes,” said Hato. “Aren’t you going to strike them dead?”

  “Not if they run away,” the man replied.

  The bandits turned and disappeared even more quickly than they had arrived.

  “Thank you,” said Seikei. He realized that he had stopped breathing.

  The man looked him over. “It is dangerous to be out here this early with no weapons or protector,” he said.

  “That’s why he called you,” said Hato.

  Seikei cringed. He hoped the man wouldn’t ask what she meant. “We are on our way to Nagoya,” Seikei said, trying to change the subject.

  “I am also,” the man replied. “You can travel with me if you wish.”

  Hato nodded as if she had expected nothing less. “My name is Hato,” she said. “I am a loyal servant of the emperor.”

  The man looked at her with a slight smile. “As are we all,” he said. “You may call me Reigen.”

  “I’m Seikei,” Seikei muttered.

  Hato put her hand over her mouth to conceal a smile and then said, “I’m sure Reigen knows who you really are.”

  13

  THE MESSAGE OF THE SCROLL

  Fortunately, Reigen did not inquire into Seikei’s “real” identity. On this part of the road, there were many excellent views of Lake Biwa. The sails of its fishing fleets, the picturesque bridges, and the countless wild birds were all favorite subjects for artists. Reigen knew quite a lot about these views, and pointed them out as the three of them walked along.

  Unfortunately, Seikei was too distracted to pay close attention. He wanted to tell Hato that he, Seikei, was definitely not the emperor. But it would be awkward to do that with Reigen there, for he would think both of them fools.

  He also wanted to ask Reigen if he had overheard Seikei and the real emperor talking at the monastery. If so, Reigen could clear Seikei’s name—at least, if Yabuta would believe him. On the other hand, Seikei worried that Reigen himself might have had something to do with the murders at the monastery. From the way he had driven off the bandits on the road, it was clear he was an experienced swordsman.

  Seikei remained on the alert every time someone approached them from behind. He still feared that when Yabuta learned the scroll was missing from the palace, he might have sent some of the Guards of the Inner Garden to find Seikei.

  Once, they had to move to the side of the road and kneel while a large group of samurai rode by on horse-back. The crest on their clothing and banners was unfamiliar to Seikei: two shrimp entwined.

  He turned his head to see if Reigen recognized the crest, and was horrified to see that the old man wasn’t kneeling. Quite the contrary. He was standing with his arms folded, like a commander surveying his forces.

  Of course Reigen wore the two swords that marked him as a samurai. But still, it was wise to show proper respect whenever these large bands of warriors passed. Fortunately, their daimyo was not with them, or some of the samurai would have been compelled to challenge Reigen for his boldness. Seikei even saw a couple of them glare meaningfully in Reigen’s direction, but they were apparently in too great a hurry to stop.

  “You were putting yourself in jeopardy,” Seikei said to Reigen after the samurai had passed by.

  “Was I?” the old man responded without emotion.

  “You failed to show your respect. Any of those samurai could have taken offense.”

  “I show respect for those who are worthy of it,” Reigen replied.

  “Did you recognize the crest they wore?”

  Reigen nodded. “They were men who serve Lord Ponzu.”

  Lord Ponzu? Seikei was startled. He recalled the name. That was the daimyo that the ronin Takanori had accused of planning an uprising against the shogun. Of course it was only a coincidence. Lord Ponzu’s domain was probably in this vicinity. Still . . . it was unsettling.

  “You don’t think that Lord Ponzu is worthy of your respect?” Seikei asked Reigen.

  “Those were only Lord Ponzu’s men. And he himself is only a daimyo,” Reigen replied. “What is he compared to the emperor?”

  Hato had overheard their conversation. She scolded Reigen, “Yes, but the emperor is in disguise. You must be careful not to reveal his secret.”

  Reigen gave her an od
d look. “You may trust me,” he said.

  The days were growing shorter at this time of year, and it was getting dark. Reigen pointed out a Buddhist monastery where they could spend the night.

  “Thanks to you, I still have my money,” Seikei said. “I could pay for us to stay at an inn.”

  “No need for that,” Reigen said. “And we will be less conspicuous in a monastery.”

  Seikei was not eager to attract attention, but wondered briefly why Reigen wished to escape notice as well.

  Nevertheless, it was true. Many pilgrims on the way to Nagoya found lodging for the night here. Some were so elderly that they could only walk with the help of relatives. Others were mothers with squalling babies, perhaps taking their children to the Atsuta Shrine to ask the kami to heal them from an illness. There was such a variety of people that no one noticed the three of them. After they ate, Hato went to the women’s quarters, and Seikei finally had a chance to speak privately with Reigen.

  “I think I have seen you before,” Seikei began.

  Reigen raised his eyebrows.

  “Two days ago, you were at the Kinkakuji monastery in Kyoto. I saw you meditating by the side of the lake.”

  “You are right,” said Reigen.

  “I was there talking to a boy who is . . . actually the emperor,” Seikei added.

  “Ah,” Reigen said, nodding. “I remember. Excuse me for failing to recognize you. My eyesight is no longer sharp.”

  “That night,” Seikei went on, “someone killed two of the monks and took the emperor away.”

  Reigen said nothing. Seikei thought this was extremely strange. Perhaps he had told the old man too much.

  “Why did you come to see the emperor?” Reigen finally asked.

  Seikei hesitated, but decided that he had to trust Reigen. He was the only person who could help. “I came as a messenger from the shogun. The emperor had refused to perform his duties, and the shogun wanted me to persuade him to return to the palace.”

  This did seem to surprise Reigen. “Why did the shogun choose you?” he asked.

  Seikei was a little annoyed, but after all, it was the same question he had earlier asked himself. Besides, since he had cut his hair and pawned his swords, he must hardly appear like a samurai’s son. “He thought that because the emperor and I are the same age, I might better understand what was bothering him.”

  “I see,” said Reigen, smiling a little. “He thought it must be a problem related to the difficulty of growing up.”

  “I suppose,” said Seikei. He felt Reigen was ever so slightly making fun of him. “But when the emperor disappeared, I was blamed.”

  “How could that be?”

  “The shogun has an official . . .” Again Seikei paused to think. The judge had said it was a crime to mention the name of the Guards of the Inner Garden. But then, Seikei was already in so much trouble that this couldn’t make things any worse.

  “His name is Yabuta,” Seikei revealed. “He is the head of the Guards of the Inner Garden.”

  Reigen snorted with disgust.

  Seikei stared.

  “The man that people say has eyes in every room?” Reigen asked.

  “How did you know that?”

  Reigen shrugged. “He may have eyes even within the imperial palace.” That seemed to anger him. “But remember that only Amaterasu truly understands what happens there.”

  “Well, the thing is,” Seikei said, “you could prove I am innocent.”

  “How could I do that?”

  “By returning to Kyoto and telling the governor I had nothing to do with the emperor’s disappearance.”

  Reigen nodded. “But actually,” he said, “you did.”

  Seikei was dumbstruck. He felt as if Reigen had slapped him. “No,” he managed to blurt out. “You can’t think that.”

  “I don’t mean that you took him,” explained Reigen. “But someone knew from your arrival that it was time to act.”

  “Why?” Seikei could hardly believe all this.

  “What did the emperor say to you?” Reigen asked. “Did he agree to resume his duties?”

  “No. He told me to find the Kusanagi scroll. Then I would understand.”

  “Yes,” Reigen said softly. “The Kusanagi scroll. Of course he must have read that. But I suppose you couldn’t obtain it. The Ministers of the Right and Left wouldn’t permit you to see it.”

  “I did find it,” Seikei said. He felt an urge to prove to Reigen that he wasn’t completely helpless.

  “You did?”

  “Hato is carrying it right now.”

  This time, Reigen actually laughed. It was short, however, and immediately he put his hand to his chest as if he had hurt himself. “Well,” Reigen said, “you’re apparently more resourceful than you look.”

  “I suppose you’ve read it,” Seikei said.

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” Reigen replied.

  Seikei didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “What does it mean? I don’t understand why it would make the emperor think he wasn’t the emperor.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t the scroll that made him think that,” Reigen replied. “The scroll has another message.”

  “What is it?”

  “It told him what he must do to become the emperor.”

  14

  SEIKEI’S NEW SWORD

  Hato proved how valuable she was when morning came. She was the first person in the line for breakfast, and brought strong tea and the freshest rice cakes to Reigen and Seikei.

  When Hato was returning the empty teacups, Reigen said to Seikei, “You have done your duty. There is no need for you to do any more. Go back to the shogun and tell him the problem will soon be solved. He has other matters he should worry about.”

  “What other matters?” Seikei asked.

  Reigen shrugged. “If Yabuta really has eyes everywhere, he should have informed the shogun of those other matters by now.”

  “But the emperor—”

  “I will find the emperor and I will make him understand he must perform his duties.”

  “You will? But how?”

  “That does not concern you. All that you need care about is that I will do it.”

  Seikei thought. He knew too little about Reigen. It was still possible that the old man had been involved in the emperor’s disappearance. After all, when Seikei left the monastery, he was still there. Even if Reigen was sincere in his wish to restore the emperor to his rightful place, he was only one man. It was possible that Seikei could somehow be useful to him. And certainly, to return to Edo now would be an admission of failure. Seikei could not save his honor by leaving someone else to do the task assigned to him.

  “I must continue on the path I have chosen,” Seikei told Reigen.

  “It will be dangerous,” Reigen said. “If you are killed, don’t come complaining to me.”

  “If I am killed . . . ,” Seikei began, and then realized this was Reigen’s idea of a joke.

  “It will be dangerous for your servant as well,” said Reigen.

  “I will send her away,” Seikei replied.

  Easier said than done. “Oh, I see,” Hato said when Seikei told her she could come no farther. “I’m good enough to nurse you back to health, and fetch food for you, but now you think you have no more use for me, bye-bye Hato. After I left my job to serve you? I will have no way to support myself except to beg. This is my reward for loyalty.” She broke into tears.

  Seikei turned helplessly to Reigen, who shrugged. “Better to let her come along until something frightens her,” Reigen said.

  Despite her tears, Hato overheard. “I may not be a kami,” she said, “but I will remain as true to the emperor as you are.”

  Suddenly Reigen understood. He pointed at Seikei. “He is not the emperor,” he said.

  “Ha,” replied Hato. “Now you’re just trying to trick me.”

  “No, really—” Seikei added, but she cut him off.

  “Don’t you think I
saw that when you clapped your hands, he came to rescue you?” Hato said, nodding in Reigen’s direction. “Do you think kami appear for just anyone?”

  “He’s not a kami,” said Seikei. He looked at Reigen. “Are you?”

  Reigen pursed his lips. For some reason, he gave no answer.

  Hato threw up her hands. “That’s good enough for me,” she said. She gave Seikei a serious look. “There was a rumor in Kyoto, you know, that you have abandoned your duties. When I found you, I knew that you must be on some kind of quest. I wished only to come along, to serve you. I do not care where we are going, or what dangers we may face. I pledged to keep your secret, and I have. How can you send me away now?”

  Seikei looked at Reigen. “You can’t,” Reigen said. “Let’s be off.”

  The road was more crowded today. As they drew closer to Nagoya, they saw more pilgrims heading for the Atsuta Shrine. It was one of the holiest places in the land. Some thought it was second only to the great shrine of Amaterasu at Ise. Seikei had told Hato to leave the Kusanagi scroll as an offering at the monastery, but he wondered if it might have been better to present it at the Atsuta Shrine.

  In addition, several more groups of mounted samurai passed the travelers during the day. All of them, Seikei saw, wore the entwined-shrimp emblem that belonged to Lord Ponzu.

  Reigen noticed them too. “We may have to defend ourselves once we reach Nagoya,” he told Seikei. “Did the shogun send you here with no weapons?”

  “I had to leave my swords in Kyoto,” Seikei said. He was too ashamed to admit what he really did with them.

  Reigen pointed to a wooded area next to the road. “We’ll go in there,” he said.

  Hato followed, because she suspected they were trying to give her the slip. The ground was thick with fallen leaves. Some of them still retained their color; most were brown and brittle. Only a few of the brightest ones still clung stubbornly to the branches of the trees overhead.

  Reigen walked deeper into the forest than Seikei thought necessary and it made him uneasy. By now they were long out of sight of the road. Their footsteps crushed some of the dried leaves, making a crackling sound, but otherwise the woods were eerily silent. If Reigen wished to kill them, now would be—