Into this mood walked an extraordinary character. A door behind him had opened noiselessly, and Akitada became aware of the presence only from a slight wheezing sound. He started up and turned.
A short and slender old monk in a plain, somewhat ratty, black robe had shuffled in and stopped a few feet away. He was bent with age, but bright black eyes peered up at Akitada.
Having been caught in dubious and worldly fantasies, Akitada was not at his best. “Umm,” he said,” who are you?”
The old monk smiled. “Lord Sugawara? I’m Gyomei. Forgive the long wait. I was in my hermitage up the mountain a ways, and at my age the journey down was slow. Terrible weather we’re having.”
Akitada now saw that the hem of Gyomei’s robe was wetter and muddier than his own and that his bare feet in sandals were mud-caked. Something about this man made him bow quite deeply.
“Your Reverence? Forgive me. I did not intend to put you to so much hardship.”
Gyomei came closer. He smiled and pointed to the dais. “It was nothing. Please be seated.”
They sat side by side, and Akitada searched for a way to say what he was there for. Gyomei waited, still smiling at him.
Akitada cleared his throat and plunged. “Your Reverence must be aware of our work trying to clear up the misunderstandings between Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji?”
Gyomei smiled and nodded.
“Umm, we are making progress, but that is not why I came today.”
Again the abbot nodded.
“I plan to give myself the pleasure to visit your beautiful temple another time when the weather is better.” He added a small chuckle and knew he was making a terrible job of this. What was it about this man that put him so ill at ease?
Gyomei finally took pity on his floundering. “One of the monks said it is about a missing horse, but I must have misunderstood.”
“A horse? No. Or rather the horse does seem to have disappeared also. No, Tora, my senior retainer, came here two days ago and hasn’t returned.”
Gyomei raised bushy white eyebrows. “You must be fond of him to have come looking for him in person.”
Akitada was becoming angry again. He said coldly, “I look after all of my people, but Tora has been with me longest. In any case, his horse was seen in your stables, and this means Tora never left. I’d like him turned over to me.”
Gyomei looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded. “If he is here or in any of our branch temples, he will be returned to you. I know nothing of this. Allow me!” The abbot rose and padded to the door he had come through. Putting his head out, he said something in a low voice. There was an answer, and he said something else.
Then he returned to Akitada and sat back down. “There will be some refreshments. I apologize for your reception.”
Akitada, irritated and worried again, said, “No matter. I didn’t come to eat.”
Silence fell.
Gyomei produced a rosary and started to pray silently.
When the door opened again, two young monks entered, one bearing a stack of towels, and the other a tray with flasks, cups, and bowls.
Gyomei handed Akitada a towel and took one himself. He carefully dried his shaven head and face and dabbed at his robe. “Dreadful weather,” he said again, then smiled. “I must make an effort to meditate on accepting things the way they are.”
Akitada made a perfunctory job of drying his head. There was not much he could do, even after removing his hat again. His hair was carefully tied into a neat top knot. The advantages of shaving it off became apparent, and the thought brought back his irritation. “Have you told your people to get Tora?”
Gyomei carefully folded his towel and returned it to the waiting monk. “I have. They don’t seem to know anything. May I ask what brought him here?”
“He was looking for a peasant arrested by your sohei. From what he told me, the peasant was a free man. They also raped the man’s wife.”
Gyomei stared at him. “Our sohei did this? There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake. Tora is a very careful observer and doesn’t make such accusations lightly.”
“But perhaps the soldiers belonged to another temple?”
“No. And your Reverence forgets that Tora’s horse was here until recently, proving that he came to Enryaku-ji and never left. I must insist that you release him immediately. After that we can discuss the situation of the peasant.”
Another silence fell while Gyomei seemed to ponder this. After a while he said, “This is a very large mountain and we have many monks.”
Akitada said nothing. He waited stonily and without touching the food and drink.
With a sigh, Gyomei rose again. Before he could give new orders, the door opened and Kanshin, the prior, hurried in accompanied by the same two senior monks who had called upon Akitada. They spoke briefly and softly with the abbot, then all of them came to Akitada.
Kanshin and his companions put their hands together and inclined their heads. Akitada did not return the greeting or get to his feet.
“We regret deeply,” said Kanshin, “that your retainer seems to have become lost on our mountain. “We will immediately send out searchers and pray that nothing has happened to him.”
An icy fear gripped Akitada at those words. So this was the way they meant to play their game? Whatever they had done to Tora would be explained by a fall off a cliff. And that meant that their victim would not be able to deny it. Akitada would sit here, waiting, until they thought the time right to produce the mangled body.
He jumped to his feet. “I insist on joining the search party. And we’d better start wherever your sohei are quartered.”
Kanshin recoiled a foot or so and turned a panic-stricken face to the abbot. Gyomei said, “The weather is really dreadful, Sugawara. Why not let my monks do the job? They are young and have given up the pleasures of life.”
This angered Akitada further. How dare this monk suggest he was nothing but a pampered nobleman who did not like to get his head wet. He said harshly, “You can have little notion to what length I’ll go to get my retainer back alive.” He hoped his tone carried the threat that was implied. To his satisfaction, Gyomei blinked. He suddenly looked uneasy.
Rising to his feet, he said, “We shall do as you ask. Please be careful. The path up the mountain is steep and treacherous in places, especially in the rain. I still think you must be wrong. None of our people would dare capture a retainer of one of the noble guests of our esteemed governor. Prior Kanshin will organize the search. If you will forgive me, I must return to my solitude now.”
Kanshin was nothing if not efficient. Very quickly, a group of capable-looking monks had gathered. Two other senior monks joined Kanshin, and they started their journey up the mountain. Akitada had been supplied with another straw coat and hat but refused the straw boots as too unreliable for mountain climbing. He had rarely undertaken a more unpleasant journey.
The wet mists still hung over the mountain and obscured the path ahead where trees and rock outcroppings appeared as if seen through layers of gray gauze, producing a sensation of traveling into a huge spider web.
Or into nothingness, a more appropriate concept for a Buddhist institution—which did little to reassure Akitada of a successful outcome to this journey into the unknown.
When they finally reached the secluded valley and the small compound which had been assigned to Enryaku-ji’s sohei, Akitada was struck by two things. Clearly the temple and monastery proper liked to keep their distance from the warrior monks, and their existence was treated in an ominously secretive fashion.
He strode ahead to join Kanshin, noting with satisfaction that the prior looked as sodden as Akitada felt. “I take it this place is reserved for sohei? How many do you keep?”
Kanshin hesitated. Then he said, “The precise number escapes me. We also offer temporary residence to traveling warriors here. And a few young people come for training.”