Rashomon Gate (6 page)

"Oh, dear!" cried the clerk. "Thank you kindly. I cannot imagine why I pay this clumsy oaf for his services. My soft heart always gets me in trouble. Well, sir, you go out that gate," he pointed, "then turn right and cross the next street, and you will find the law school in the last courtyard to the south. And please forgive my rudeness. I should have recognized a learned gentleman immediately. The name is Nakatoshi, administrative clerk, at your service." He bowed again.

"Not at all, my dear fellow," smiled Tora, basking in his new role. "My name is Kinto. As you see, I am earning my daily bowl of rice just like you, and if it comes to that, I am sure you people have your own skills, or you wouldn't be in charge of a bunch of learned professors." He slapped the man's shoulder and laughed at this witticism.

Clutching the teetering bowls and the wine jar tightly to his chest, the clerk smiled thinly. "You are very understanding, sir. Great care is required to keep track of everybody here. We have almost four hundred students; hard work for only three clerks. My colleagues and I find that by mid-morning a bit of sustenance does wonders for the concentration. Thank heaven, the staff kitchen is next door and not at all bad."

Tora, who had sniffed the aroma of the stew appreciatively, said, "It smells delicious! Positively gives a man an appetite. Please don't let me keep you from enjoying your snack."

"Thank you." The clerk hesitated, then said, "Perhaps you might like to join us and sample the food? The cooking in the staff kitchen is vastly superior to that done for the students."

"A pleasure, my dear Nakatoshi, on condition that you allow me to replace the spilled portion and pay for my share." Tora clinked the string of coppers in his sleeve.

Nakatoshi expressed himself deeply honored, reluctantly accepted the money from Tora, and dispatched the youngster for more food. Leading the way into the hall, he took Tora to a dusty cubicle where two elderly clerks shuffled about among tall shelves filled with papers and boxes. Both were pale, bent, and nearsighted from their work, but cheered up at the unexpected company. Nakatoshi introduced Tora, who immediately engaged his hosts in conversation about the terrible working conditions at the university and the general poverty of its staff.

When the student returned with the rest of the food, Nakatoshi told him severely, "It's a good thing you did not spill anything else. I would have taken it out of your wages if this gentleman had not made it good."

"Thank you for your kindness," the student told Tora politely.

Tora thought that, on closer inspection, there was something very much like a rabbit about his protruding front teeth and the long ears, but his voice was pleasant and his speech courteous.

"You can go sweep the hall for the rest of the hour," Nakatoshi ordered, and the youth nodded and left.

"I hear that the grandson of Prince Yoakira is a student," Tora remarked after a few bites.

Nakatoshi looked uneasy. "Well," he said, "we are not really supposed to talk about it, but seeing that you are going to be a member of the university, I suppose it's all right. Yes, the boy was left here the very evening after the miracle. His fees were paid by his uncle, Lord Sakanoue, a very grand person, far above people like you and me. I had the honor of making the arrangements and took the young lord to his quarters. He looked very pale and was trembling. I was worried that he might be suffering from some illness and started to ask him questions, but he got quite haughty and told me to mind my own business. That's the nobility for you! Already the great lord, and no more than ten years old!"

"A child of such august rank in a place like this!" muttered one of the old men through a mouthful of rice. "It's no wonder he looked ill when he saw the dormitories. I expect they send his food in from the outside, or he would be dead by now."

Tora chewed a bit of bean curd and smacked his lips. "This is very tasty. I'm glad I ran into you fellows. Are things really so bad for the students?"

The three clerks exchanged glances and grunted. "They treat animals better than they do students here," muttered Nakatoshi. "Of course that means we get some cheap help." He jerked his head towards the hall, where they could hear the sounds of energetic sweeping.

The other old man suddenly joined the conversation. "How can they house and feed them better on what the government allows us? I can remember when the university got twice as much every year, plus extra gifts from grateful parents. Nowadays we all starve, students, staff and faculty alike."

Tora regarded the empty bowls and reached for the wine flask. There were only a few drops left. "Allow me to pay for another round of wine!" he offered.

This was gratefully accepted, and Nakatoshi shouted the order to the student in the hall.

When they were well into the second pitcher, Tora considered the time ripe to probe some more. "Isn't it a bit strange," he asked, "that the son of a great family like the prince's should live here where conditions are so bad?"

"Hah!" cried one of the old men. "The very thing I said when I heard."

The other one nodded. "All the other children of the high nobles are day students and come only for their classes. The dormitories are for the sons of provincial families."

"Well," said Tora, "I have a friend who keeps preaching to me what a fine thing getting an education is, but from what you fellows tell me, it seems even ordinary clerks and humble assistants like me are better off than the students. At least we can buy decent food and wine."

"Speak for yourself!" Nakatoshi, his face positively glowing, gave his two colleagues a wink. "Perhaps your professor pays you well for your services, but let me tell you, we could not manage a simple meal like this without other sources of income." He chuckled.

One of the old men looked up and cleared his throat warningly, but the wine had loosened Nakatoshi's tongue and he boasted, "Our work is not without its fringe benefits." Leaning a little closer to Tora, he said, "For example, we are in the unique position of being able to advise those who would like to put some money on the outcome of academic competitions."

"Nakatoshi!" said the old man sharply.

"You don't mean you make book on the examinations!" Tora exclaimed, putting an arm around Nakatoshi's shoulders.

Nakatoshi giggled. "Not the term I would use, my friend, my very good friend," he babbled, "but similar. Say, would you like to see some odds for the upcoming poetry contest? Maybe wager a little? It's between Oe and Fujiwara on our team, and Okura and Asano for the government. What do you say?"

Tora grinned broadly. "This is my lucky day, and you're a man after my own heart!" he cried. "I can tell I shall like it here. Tell me more!"

But the old man who had grumbled all along now snapped, "Better watch your tongue, Nakatoshi! You remember what happened last spring."

"Nothing happened, you old fool!" Nakatoshi muttered.

"Who's an old fool?" The old man glared. "You nearly got killed when you sold the name of the favorite in the examinations for two strings of coppers a piece, and then another fellow won."

"That wasn't my fault," cried Nakatoshi. "We went over the grades of all the candidates carefully, and there was only one possibility. But then they picked a fellow who never got above a 'satisfactory' on anything except calligraphy! It was a fluke, I tell you. Anyway, that can't happen again now that we handle the bets ourselves."

Tora laughed and patted Nakatoshi's shoulder. "Mistakes happen in the best business. As for me, I look forward to placing a small wager with you as soon as I check out who's who."

They parted on friendly terms. On his way out, Tora walked past the poor student, who was just putting away his broom. For a moment he considered leaving him a few coppers as a tip, but then he remembered that, for all his politeness, the youngster had not addressed him as "sir," and went in search of a new quarry. Eventually he strayed into the large enclosure which contained the student dormitories. At this hour these were empty except for a couple of slovenly women with brooms and pails. Tora ignored them and crossed an open area dotted with pine trees and small shrubs, heading towards the service buildings. The largest of these was the kitchen: empty, filthy and filled with the rancid stench of moldy grain and rotting fish.

The cook and his helpers were taking their ease under a large paulownia tree behind the building. They were seated in a circle around a cracked bowl, pitching coppers towards it. A set of dice made the rounds and small heaps of copper coins lay before each man. There were four rough-looking adults and a handful of scruffy youngsters. When they saw Tora, they snatched up the money and jumped up.

"Don't disturb yourselves on my account," grinned Tora. "I'd be the last man to begrudge a working man his well-earned rest. For that matter, I like a good game myself."

The cook, recognizable by his girth and the many food stains on his clothes, was a cross-eyed brute who pursed his thick lips and looked Tora up and down suspiciously. The others settled back down and waited. Tora hitched up his gown, saying, "Better not get this new outfit dirty. My master'll have it out of my wages," and sat down cross-legged amongst them. "What're the rules?"

"You in service then?" asked the fat cook.

Tora nodded and began to count his coppers into neat little piles. The others watched avidly.

"Do a bit of gambling, do you?" the cook wanted to know.

"Not for a while. I was a soldier once and a buddy showed me how to roll the dice, but it was against the rules then."

The cook grunted and flopped down with the dull thud of a sack of rice. "Glad to have you," he growled. "Here, you can check the dice! To make sure we're on the up and up. You roll for the number of tries at the bowl. Hit the bowl with a copper and all the misses are yours."

"What do you mean?" Tora received the wooden objects and stared at them with a frown. They were crude but had not been tampered with. He handed them back. "They look like dice to me." He eyed the bowl, which was quite small and about ten paces away. The dirty ground around it was covered with copper coins. "I've never seen the game played like that, though."

Someone snickered, but the cook snapped, "Enough talking! Let's play!"

They were avid gamblers, but not particularly skilled at tossing for the bowl. Tora played judiciously, gauging the distance and the weight of the coins, slowly losing his pile of coppers before beginning to win steadily.

"Hey, you're getting good at this!" cried one of the men.

Tora boasted that he would not miss for the next ten tosses. They proposed a bet. Tora lost, but proposed other bets, which he won more often than not, until he sat before a small mountain of coppers, while his companions were dropping out of the game.

They sat with long faces. The cook glowered at Tora and muttered. Finally he snarled, "The bastard lied to us!"

Tora looked up from counting his coppers. "What did you say?"

The cook blustered, "You said you had no skill at the game."

"Did I not tell you that a buddy taught me how to play? Of course I know how to roll the dice," Tora said scornfully. "And I learned to toss pebbles when I was a kid."

"Well, you made it sound like you were green," whined another fellow. "We were just having a friendly game, and now you cleaned us out. What'll we tell our wives?"

Tora saw no reason why he could not succeed with the same method twice. "I tell you what," he said. "Just among friends and to show my appreciation for a pleasant game, why don't I use some of the winnings to treat you fellows to some really good wine?"

Their faces brightened instantly. "Here, runt!" shouted the cook to the smallest boy. "Run to the wine shop by the Left City Hall! They've got the strong stuff."

Tora scooped up his winnings, carefully counted out a generous amount and turned it over to the boy. "Get plenty!" he instructed, "and some tasty pickled radish to go with it."

There was a murmur of appreciation. The cook remarked that there were still some true gentlemen left in the world.

While they were waiting, Tora introduced himself as the new professor's servant and received, in return, information about the university, its staff, its professors and its students. The point of view on this occasion differed markedly from that held by the clerks. The kitchen staff and the groundskeepers and sweepers regarded students and faculty as inconsiderate nuisances who made their lives a constant misery. As soon as the wine, a very strong brew indeed, had made the rounds, their tongues loosened in the most helpful manner.

"I can see," Tora remarked to one of the sweepers, "that those youngsters are a lot of trouble to clean up after."

The man responded with a long list of abominations, but the cook snorted. "You think he's got trouble? The lazy rascal goes home at sundown. If you want to hear about trouble, it's me and my old woman you got to talk to. We're kept awake all night with the tricks those cursed students get up to."

"What sorts of tricks?" Tora asked, filling cups all around, but skipping his own.

"Oh, climbing the walls to get out. Smuggling in loose women. Breaking into the pantry and stealing food. Burning candles at night and setting the place on fire. You name it, they do it. Every night my old woman has to do a bed check, looking for their doxies."

"Doesn't trust you to do it, does she?" Tora remarked, grinning broadly.

This caused raucous mirth. One of the workers cried, "Him? He's so lazy, he wouldn't know what to do with a girl in his bed 'cept sleep. His old woman does the checking 'cause he's sacked out before the rest of us ever go home."

The cook glared, rolling his crossed eyes terribly. "Liar," he growled. "All day long I'm cooking to keep the little bastards' bowls filled! They eat like starved rats and beg for leftovers. Most of 'em don't have two coppers to rub together. Makes you wonder how they get the women! There's always a couple hungry enough to help out in the kitchen for a bit of extra food or a couple of coppers. It's my kindness! They steal more food than they're worth."