Shike, p.69
Shike, page 69
"No," Totomi said instantly. "It would be a disgrace for us to make our lord do the work of a porter, even to save our lives."
"Exactly what Hideyori's men will think," said Jebu. "If we dress Lord Yukio as a porter and load this altar on his back, he is far less likely to be recognized, because no samurai would adopt such a degrading disguise. As it is, he is wearing the heaviest cloak of all of us and the finest robes. He looks like our leader. If they have a good description of him, they're sure to recognize him. Indeed, there may be some who have seen him before."
"This is intolerable," cried Totomi.
"Do as you are told, Totomi," said Yukio quietly. "A samurai never does things by halves. If we are to deceive our enemies let us deceive them as perfectly as we can."
In a few moments Yukio was dressed in Totomi's ragged robe and coat of straw. Totomi wore Yukio's sturdy new wooden sandals, while Yukio went barefoot. The men, except for Jebu, had blistered and bleeding feet because they had been mounted warriors, unused to long marches on foot.
"There is a scroll of melancholy poems in the sleeve of that robe, Totomi," said Yukio. "Take care of them but don't read them. It would embarrass me."
With great reverence and gentleness, Yukio's men loaded the heavy altar on their lord's back. Bent under the weight of the altar-chest and dressed in clothing too big for him, Yukio seemed a small, sad figure. He managed a smile, a ghost of his old gaiety, and several of the samurai turned away from him with tears in their eyes. Taking up the lead, a long staff in his hand, Jebu cautioned the men to ignore their ravaged feet and try to look like true yamabushi, who had been roving the mountains barefoot on spiritual journeys all their lives. Yukio brought up the rear. He limped forward, stumbled and almost fell, then pulled himself up and trudged on with a determined expression. Totomi caught Jebu's eye and glared at him. These samurai, Jebu thought; Totomi would rather see his lord beheaded than forced to endure a few hours of pain and indignity pretending to be a porter.
The kami of the mountains chose to make their progress more difficult by sending ice-cold rain mixed with snow and hail to drum on their rice-straw hats and freeze their hands and feet. Their destination, the fort by the pass, disappeared in a gray swirl, and they could see only a few paces ahead.
Just as they reached the outpost, soaked and exhausted, the storm rolled away, chased by a howling wind that blew through their wet robes and, froze the rough cloth against their skin. A silk banner emblazoned with the White Dragon of Muratomo crackled above the gatehouse. The sky was blue now, and the sun, sinking into the snow-dusted teeth of a black crag to the west, glinted on the silver helmet ornaments of six guards who slowly, sullenly formed a line in front of the barrier pole across the road. Soldiers in peacetime quickly become attached to comfort, Jebu thought. These were obviously annoyed at having to leave shelter and a warm brazier.
"More monks," said one of the guards. "Let's take their heads now, as we did with those others, and get in out of this wind." He spoke with the rough accent of the eastern provinces, Hideyori's base.
"It's bad karma to kill monks," another man protested.
"Not if they aren't really monks," said the eastern soldier.
During this exchange Jebu stood serenely, hands clasped before him, as if he did not hear the guards discussing his possible fate. The men behind him stood patiently. It was all in the hands of the kami now, thought Jebu. After a little more talk the guards singled out Jebu and Shenzo Totomi and ordered them to go into the fort, which stood a short distance up the mountainside from the road.
"If our captain doesn't believe your leader's story, the ravens are still hungry," the eastern warrior said to the rest of Jebu's party. With a laugh he pointed to the six almost-bare skulls on the poles above the fort's log wall. Jebu was relieved that Yukio would not be exposed to the eyes of the entire garrison. Now it all stood or fell on Jebu's ability to convince the post commander that they were authentic monks. As he climbed the steep path to the fort, Jebu felt the silent tension in the men he was leaving behind. He himself felt exhilarated, happy to be shouldering responsibility for the lives of Yukio and the others. Now, if only this young hothead beside him didn't make a mess of things.
The fort was actually a large old manor, a scattering of low wooden buildings perhaps fifty years old, in more peaceful times the mountain retreat of some nobleman. The only fortifications were the newly built log palisade and a few square wooden guard towers. The tumbling-down, one-storey halls were crowded with samurai and foot soldiers taking their ease, laughing and talking, gambling, quarrelling. Erom a distant house Jebu heard the tinkle of musical instruments and women's voices. Discipline appeared lax; some of the men were drunk. Heads turned as Jebu and Totomi were led into the central courtyard.
"A hulk like that ought to be a wrestler, not a monk," said a voice in the crowd.
"He'll be shorter by a head when our executioner gets done with him," said another.
The commander of the fort strode out of the doorway of the central hall. He wore a blue robe richly brocaded with silver. His face was square and hard, all bone and muscle, the mouth set in the harsh, lipless line Jebu had seen under many a samurai helmet in combat. He has the suspicious eye of his master, Hideyori, Jebu thought,
"I am Captain Shinohata. I am a kenin, a vassal of the Lord Shogun," said the commander, his accent revealing another eastern warrior. "And who might you be?"
Jebu knew that the high-ranking samurai known as kenin owed allegiance to Hideyori alone. They were pillars of the new Kamakura government.
"I am Mokongo, priest of the Todaiji Temple in Nara," said Jebu in a commanding voice. In the edges of his vision he could see a crowd gathering. These idle troops, he knew, lacked amusement and would be delighted to see a monk's shaved head rolling in the dirt.
"Be careful what tone you use with me, priest," said Shinohata with contempt. "Six of your sort met their deaths yesterday because their answers did not please me."
"It is a great sin to kill the servants of Buddha, bringing down terrible curses on all who share the guilt," said Jebu, putting all the authority he could muster into his voice. A murmuring arose in the crowd of soldiers around him, whether of fear or anger it was impossible to tell.
"We have our orders," the captain replied. "Yukio and his henchmen must be brought to justice even if a thousand innocent men have to be slain." In spite of the merciless words, there was .a note in his voice almost of pleading. This man is not comfortable with what he does, thought Jebu. He felt the excitement of one trying to lift a heavy stone, who finds the right spot to set a lever. He cast his eyes down and folded his hands piously.
"Such talk distresses me. My life has been dedicated to ahimsa, harmlessness to all sentient beings."
In that same troubled tone Shinohata said, "Agree to turn back now,
Priest Mokongo, and you have nothing to fear from me and my men." "That cannot be," said Jebu calmly. "Like you, I have my orders." "Why must you pass this barrier, priest?"
Relying on the Self to guide him through encounters such as this, Jebu had prepared no answers in advance. Even his assumed name and temple had just come to him as he spoke. Now he remembered that the Todaiji was one of the great Nara temples that had been burned by the Takashi as punishment for supporting the uprising of Motofusa and Mochihito in Heian Kyo. Most of its monks had been killed in that catastrophe. Why had the Self chosen such an unlikely place for Jebu to claim as his temple? Then inspiration came to him.
"Know, Captain Shinohata, that the temple I serve, the Todaiji, was burned by the Takashi in the late War of the Dragons. By order of His Imperial Majesty, it is now to be rebuilt. We surviving monks of the Todaiji are going to every part of the Sacred Islands asking each to give his gift to aid this holy work. My party has been charged with travelling through the provinces on the Hokurikudo, obtaining promises of offerings. If you choose to kill us rather than let us pass, you merely release us from a life of suffering. Doubtless our martyrdom will earn us a reward in incarnations to come."
A voice from the crowd of samurai called, "Please let them pass, Lord Shinohata. These are no ordinary monks but holy men from one of the greatest temples in the land. If you spare them, you may balance the bad karma we brought upon ourselves by killing those monks yesterday."
"The Takashi never won another battle after they burned the temples at Nara," another man said. The samurai tended to be more in awe of religion than either Court aristocrats or commoners, Jebu thought. It went with the uncertainty of their lives.
"I'm of a mind to let you go through," said Shinohata. "If I kill every monk who comes up this road, my karma will surely be as heavy as one of these mountains. But I must be sure you are what you claim to be." He thought for a moment. "If you are seeking contributions, Priest Mokongo, you must be carrying a solicitation scroll to read to those whom you approach. Let us hear it, and I will judge if your mission is truly what you say it is."
Eor a moment Jebu's mind went blank. Then the Self came to his rescue. He remembered the scroll of poems Yukio had mentioned. And a flood of phrases from Buddhist literature filled his mind. Part of his early training as a Zinja had included familiarization with the dominant religions of the land, and later he had often listened to sermons by Buddhist monks.
Jebu turned to Totomi, who was staring at him apprehensively, and held out his hand. "The scroll, please."
After a moment's puzzlement Totomi remembered, took Yukio's scroll out of his sleeve and handed it to Jebu. Jebu stepped up to the veranda of Shinohata's headquarters building and positioned himself so no one could get behind him and read the scroll. He opened the scroll and, trying to look as if he were reading, he began to speak in a resonant voice.
"Contribution roll of the Priest Mokongo, who has been charged to travel through the provinces of the Hokurikudo, respectfully begging all, high and low, to give a gift to aid the holy work of reconstructing the Todaiji of Nara: As all know, we live in that time called Mappo, the Latter Days of the Law, when men give themselves up to passion and wine, and the land is afflicted with civil war, fire, earthquake, famine and pestilence. Alas! How pitiable!
"One of the foulest deeds of these dark and gloomy times was the sacrilegious burning of this most magnificent temple, the Todaiji. Eour thousand monks and their wives and children perished in the flames. Not all the cries of the sinners amid the fires of the fiercest of the Eight Hot Hells were more pitiful than their screams. Ancient works of art beyond price went up in smoke. Most shameful of all, the great bronze Buddha, the largest statue of the Sakya Sage in our Sacred Islands, was reduced to a shapeless mass of slag.
"Eor this desecration the Takashi paid dearly. That evil brood who hated mankind and the law of Buddha now suffer the torments of Emma-O, the king of the underworld, and his jailers. Such is the fate of all who harm the servants of the Lord Buddha." Jebu delivered the last statement in a thunderous voice and swept Shinohata and the circle of samurai with a threatening gaze.
"The Todaiji as it was can never be replaced. We hope, even so, to build another splendid temple on its ruins. The great Buddha will be rebuilt of copper and gold with a sacred jewel in his lofty forehead.
"Even as the Buddha and his disciples went forth daily with their begging bowls, so I, Mokongo, stand before you weeping, asking your contributions. If they who destroyed the Todaiji earned bad karma, surely those who help rebuild it will enjoy good karma in equal amount according to the most true law of cause and effect. They will attain to the further shore of perfect enlightenment. As for those who hinder us, they will be cast into the fire pits, there to gibber for a thousand times a thousand lifetimes.
"A small contribution will be enough to earn the Buddha's infinite mercy. Who is there who will not give? It is said that even he who gives a little sand to help build a pagoda earns good karma. How much more he who gives something of value?
"Composed by me, Mokongo, for the purpose of obtaining contributions as stated. The Tenth Month of the Year of the Rooster." Again Jebu gazed sternly about him. His hearers fell back under the look in his blazing eyes. He closed the scroll with a snap and handed it to Totomi, who quickly put it away.
Timidly at first, samurai in the audience began to come forward holding out small gifts-rings and necklaces, Chinese coins, carvings. Grandly, Jebu gestured to Totomi to collect the offerings.
"I did not read my solicitation scroll to obtain gifts here, only to set your mind at rest," Jebu said to Shinohata. "But since your men seem moved to help us, perhaps you can supply us with travelling boxes to hold what they give us."
"There is one more precaution I must take," said Shinohata. "I must inspect your entire party before I let them pass." He stepped down from the porch, and with a samurai's swaggering gait led the way to the entrance to the stockade. Reluctantly, Jebu walked beside him, followed by Totomi.
"This is distasteful to me," said Shinohata, his harsh features softening as he spoke quietly to Jebu. "Of course, the Lord Shogun has every right to do whatever he deems necessary to preserve order in the land. Still, I bitterly regret the turn of events that set the two great Muratomo brothers against each other. I had the honour of serving under Lieutenant Yukio during the War of the Dragons. A most gallant commander."
Jebu glanced over his shoulder at Totomi, whose eyes bulged in a flushed face. He seemed almost ready to spring upon Shinohata's back. Eorcing a casual tone, Jebu said, "Were you at Shimonoseki Strait, captain?" Perhaps the man had not actually seen Yukio.
"Unfortunately, no. The lord I served withdrew from Yukio's army after the battle of Ichinotani. We left to help subdue the Takashi forces in the western provinces, where we fought beside the barbarian horsemen who accompanied the lieutenant from China. But forgive me, Priest Mokongo, I'm sure you have no desire to hear this talk of war."
Jebu smiled. "The Buddha himself was born into a family of warriors." By this time they had passed through the gates of the fort and were among short, twisted pines, treading the steep path that led down to the place where the barrier pole blocked the road. There were about thirty soldiers following them. Another six were down below, guarding the travellers, who squatted on the ground, patient and quiet as true yamabushi.
"Yes, but the Enlightened One did not stay a warrior," Shinohata was saying. "Sometimes I feel ready to give up this life myself, to trade it for the serenity that you must enjoy. Eor now, I must faithfully carry out the order of the Shogun. Believe me, Priest Mokongo, there are those who watch everything I do." He glanced back at the troops following them down the mountainside. "Much as I might wish to speed you on your way, I must err on the side of severity to be sure of pleasing the Shogun."
"I understand, Lord Shinohata," said Jebu, not at all easier in mind. "We desire nothing more than peace, and perhaps peace can be best achieved when warriors remain vigilant." Now they had reached an outcropping of jagged black rock just above the road. Shinohata poised himself there, his booted feet planted wide apart. Behind him the soldiers formed a semi-circle, holding their bows, swords and naginatas.
"Raise the barrier," Shinohata ordered the guards blocking the road. "Let those monks pass through it one by one."
Jebu and Totomi scrambled down to join their comrades. "Let's seize him now," Totomi whispered. "His men won't attack us if we hold him hostage."
"He'd insist on dying, as any good samurai would," said Jebu with an irony that escaped Totomi. Jebu ordered the false monks into line. Passing close to Yukio he whispered, "He may have seen you before. Keep your head down." He stood at the base of the rock from which Shinohata watched as the monks in their tattered robes trudged by.
"Have them take their hats off," said Shinohata. Jebu gave the order, and those wearing conical rice-straw hats as protection against the elements bared their bald skulls. Yukio was tottering at the end of the procession, bent under the portable altar.
"You've got your smallest monk carrying that great, heavy altar," Shinohata remarked.
"He's not a monk," said Jebu. "Just a lay brother, a porter."
Just as Yukio, who had fallen far behind the others, came abreast of Shinohata, he tripped over a stone in the path and fell. The altar landed on its side with a booming crash. Yukio, on all fours, looked directly into Shinohata's face. Jebu heard Shinohata gasp. He saw the samurai officer's eyes fill with amazed recognition.
At that moment the Self took charge of Jebu. He sprang at Yukio, brandishing his walking staff. One part of his mind brought the stick down on Yukio's back.
"Careless monkey!" he shouted. "How dare you let the altar of the Lord Buddha fall to the ground? Weakling! You repeatedly delay us, and now you drop our holy altar. On your feet and pick up that altar, or I'll break every ,one of your delicate ribs." He thumped Yukio with the stick until Yukio crawled to the fallen altar and got his back under it. With horrified glances at Jebu, two of Yukio's men went to help him shoulder the burden.
"Get back," Jebu roared, waving the stick at them. "A mere porter has no right to the help of monks." At last Yukio got the four-legged chest on his back and securely tied around him. Bent double, he staggered forward again. Shinohata looked shocked.
"I thought for a moment-" he stammered. "But no samurai would strike his lord as you have thrashed this porter. Not even to save his life." He glowered at his men as if challenging them to question his thinking. The soldiers stood silent, amazed at the giant priest's outburst of anger and beating of the little porter. Also silent, staring thunderstuck at Jebu, were the other false yamabushi. Shenzo Totomi, already some distance past the barrier, appeared almost maddened with rage.
