Rashomon Gate (9 page)

Hirata, slightly in front of him, he saw only in profile. Deep lines edged his features and his chin rested on his chest. Only the hands moved restlessly, twisting and kneading the fabric of his robe.

Tanabe seemed to doze, a happy smile on his face, as innocent-looking an old man as Akitada had ever seen. By contrast, Takahashi, who sat next to him, was biting his lip, simmering with a fury that was about to explode. All of this fury was focused on Oe. He, however, was unaware of his audience as he lost himself in his own eloquence. Only Fujiwara listened, and he was clearly impatient.

"Alas," Oe was saying, spreading his arms for effect. "Those times are past. Our morals have declined as our aesthetic pursuits have become mere games for women and children. Those few of us who are serious poets toil in vain in the sterile soil of public apathy."

Fujiwara yawned loudly.

Oe shot him an angry glance, and continued. "But far be it from me to dwell on our sufferings, for at last the fruitful rains of official approval are falling again. At last the revitalizing sun of imperial interest pierces the heavy clouds of indifference." Raising his voice triumphantly, he cried, "At long last, we shall have a poetry contest again!"

Since this was no longer news to anyone, only Ono jumped up and applauded.

Oe tried again. "And no ordinary contest either!" he cried. "It is to be a command performance on the first evening of the Kamo festival by request of several of the most august personages at court."

This time Tanabe woke up. "Hear, hear!" he cried. "The names of the august sponsors and participants, if you please."

Oe suppressed a smirk. "For the time being," he said, "I will only reveal that Prince Atsuakira will preside over the judges. However, we have been given permission to use the imperial pavilion in the Spring Garden for the occasion. And, since a certain anonymous benefactor is paying for everything, no expense will be spared."

Oe finally got enthusiastic applause from the faculty. He received it complacently, like an indulgent parent might accept his children's delight at an unexpected treat. Then, raising his hand, he cut the chatter short, and got down to business.

"You have been given a draft of the program. Please note particularly the selection of musical pieces and dances which will be incorporated. Does anyone have a question?"

Takahashi shot up, waving the program. "Yes. How dare you? I, for one, find it intolerable that I was not consulted about this," he snapped. "It shows the same unprofessional attitude towards your colleagues which caused me to reproach you earlier on another matter."

Oe reddened and his white hair seemed to bristle. He said acidly, "Someone has to plan these affairs and since it was I who worked tirelessly to gain support at court, it would hardly be seemly to turn this occasion over to someone who has neither interest nor talent."

Someone snickered in the audience. Glancing around at bland faces, Takahashi quivered with rage, then shredded his program and turned back to Oe. But before he could speak, Ono cried, "Pray do not allow personalities to get in the way of this remarkable achievement. Since it is a contest in the composition of Chinese verse, there can be no question as to who is the best man to plan it."

Takahashi flung around again. "Shut up, you silly, snivelling toady!" he shouted. "We all know you'd lick that conceited bastard's fat ass if he asked you to."

There were some gasps and a snort of suppressed laughter. Then Fujiwara's booming voice cut in. "Enough! I have better things to do with my evening than to listen to a couple of angry roosters crowing. Sit down Takahashi! Get on with it, Oe, and make it brief!"

For a moment Takahashi resisted the arms which were pulling him down, and Oe looked ready to walk out, but common sense prevailed. Oe got through the rest of his announcements with a minimum of flourish and self-congratulation, as Takahashi glowered silently. More papers were passed around by Ono without arousing much discussion. Only Tanabe could be heard muttering, "Splendid!" "Most gratifying!" and "What condescension!"

Akitada glanced at the sheet in his hand. It contained a list of noble sponsors and competitors. He did not share Tanabe's thrill, but recognized a name amongst the competitors representing the government, a Secretary Okura. He wondered if this could be the man who had placed first in last spring's examination.

The meeting broke up early enough for Fujiwara, who left arm in arm with Sato, talking loudly about a night on the town.

"Disgusting!" muttered Takahashi, who had been behind them and now paused to say to Akitada, "Such men should not be allowed to teach! They corrupt the young."

At this, Nishioka inserted his slender figure between them, saying, "Dear sir. Aren't you forgetting that that dissolute history professor is likely to win the contest prize away from Oe? I should have thought you'd be more tolerant of his foibles under the circumstances."

Takahashi grunted and walked away.

"What do you mean?" Akitada asked Nishioka. "I thought Oe was the favorite."

"Oh, no. There are any number of talented names on the list, but the fact is that only Fujiwara is a true poet. Compared to him, the rest are merely practitioners. If Fujiwara has a mind to it, or if he is sufficiently drunk— the same thing in his case— he composes like another Li Po. Oh!" Nishioka's face split into a grin. "That earlier quarrel between Oe and Takahashi? That was about a draft of a memorial to the emperor. Seems Takahashi composed it and asked Oe's opinion. Oe gave it to the calligraphy professor as scratch paper for his students."

Akitada's brows shot up. "Not intentionally?"

"Apparently. At least Oe does not deny it."

"What an extraordinarily rude thing to do!" Akitada said, shaking his head. "No wonder Takahashi was furious."

Nishioka nodded happily. "Mark my words! This will not be the end of it. Takahashi holds a grudge, and Oe cannot take any injury to his pride. Oh, yes! There will be repercussions!" Rubbing his hands, he walked away.

When Akitada left the building with Hirata, the sun was setting, and the cleaning crews were busy about the grounds.

"The Kamo festival is only two days away," Akitada remarked. "How can Oe expect the participants to be ready for their parts in such a short time?"

"He probably doesn't. Mind you, the musicians, like Sato, always have something prepared. The others . . . well, as long as Oe is ready himself, he does not mind who makes a fool of himself."

Hirata was uncharacteristically caustic. Akitada put it down to pressure. He asked, "Are professors always so hostile towards each other, or is all this bickering due to what happened last spring?"

Hirata shuddered, hunching up his shoulders. "I cannot believe that it is public knowledge," he muttered. "No. The problem is that we are more vulnerable to human flaws than ordinary people. If we were not, surely we would not be teaching. Saints make very poor preceptors. They don't know what it is to struggle with temptation."

He sounded so bitter that Akitada had to remind himself of the extraordinary tolerance Hirata had always shown for other men's shortcomings and vices. Such an attitude could, of course, be carried too far, and if such men ended up hurting others, it must eventually lead to self-recrimination. He recalled uneasily Hirata's strange remark that he only persisted because he still had two duties to accomplish.

They passed silently between the red-lacquered columns of the university gate and walked into Mibu Road. Directly across from them was the vast expanse of the park. Another gate, of rustic beams and with a thatched roof instead of lacquered columns and blue tiles, like the university gate, led into the
Shinsenen
, the imperial Spring Garden where the poetry contest was to take place. Flowering trees shimmered amidst the darker green of oaks, maples and pines, and the warm evening air was filled with the scent of blossoms. The picture of Tamako in her flower garden came to Akitada's mind.

"You must come to dinner again soon," said Hirata suddenly, as they turned north.

Akitada started. "Thank you," he said awkwardly.

"Tamako asks about you every evening."

"Oh." Akitada was at a loss for words.

They continued to the corner where Mibu Road ends at Second Avenue and their paths parted.

"Well?" asked Hirata, stopping.

"Yes. I should like to," stammered Akitada. "That is, if Tamako really . . . that is, I do not want to be a nuisance."

"Not at all. You would do us a favor." Hirata put his hand on Akitada's arm and pleaded, "You see, we live too detached a life. Especially Tamako. She needs to be with young people her own age. Usually mothers manage this sort of thing, but since my wife died . . ." He let his voice trail away uncertainly and sighed. "Some day I shall be gone and my daughter will be alone in the world. It is not natural for her to spend all her time with me."

Akitada's head spun. If he was not mistaken, Hirata had just implied that he would welcome him as a son-in-law. He could imagine what his mother would have to say to this! Suddenly anger at his circumstances seized him and he blurted out, "I always reserve a viewing stand for my mother and sisters to watch the Kamo festival procession. Would you and Tamako be our guests on this occasion, or are you otherwise promised?"

Hirata's drawn face brightened instantly. "Thank you, my dear boy! How very kind of you," he said warmly. "I cannot accept myself, because I am to join some old friends, but Tamako will be delighted. Please convey our gratitude to your lady mother for her great kindness to my child."

Akitada's heart quailed at this charge, but he said bravely, "Excellent! In that case, may I be permitted to escort her?"

"Of course, of course. What would be more suitable? And shall we say tomorrow night for dinner then?"

"Yes. Thank you. I am most honored, sir."

Hirata chuckled. "Why so formal, my boy? You are practically a member of my family. Good night!" He waved and walked away.

Akitada stood staring after him, wondering if this, rather than the blackmail note, had been the real reason Hirata had contacted him.

Early the next morning Akitada paid a visit to his mother's apartments. He found Lady Sugawara taking her morning rice on the new veranda. When she saw her son, she waved the maid away.

Akitada's mother had once been a great beauty, but age and discontent had made her body gaunt and her face severe. Still, she greeted her son pleasantly and invited him to sit.

After having made his usual inquiries into her health, he reported on his preparations for the viewing of the procession of the Kamo virgin. His mother was pleased to approve. After an uncomfortable moment, Akitada said, "There is a matter on which I hope you will give your unworthy son your honored counsel."

Lady Sugawara raised her brows, then nodded. "Speak!"

"You may recall the kindness my former teacher, Professor Hirata, has shown me?"

His mother frowned. "It has been a great regret to me," she said, "that strangers should have taken the place of your own parents." After a short pause, she added, "Still, the man was respectable, and there was nothing unsuitable in the arrangement. You simply resided with your tutor."

"You know very well," Akitada protested, "that the arrangement, as you call it, was nothing of the kind. The Hiratas took me into their home out of the goodness of their hearts after I had been forbidden this house."

His mother looked away. "Always remember that you are a Sugawara. However, I expect Mr. Hirata is a very estimable person."

"He is the kindest of men and the father of a lovely and talented daughter." Akitada held his breath for a moment, but his mother merely compressed her lips and waited. "Her name is Tamako. We grew up together like brother and sister during the years I lived with them, but I had not seen her since my father's d—" He broke off, because his mother twitched her sleeve abruptly and frowned again. Taking a deep breath, he rushed through the rest of his speech. "Anyway, she is twenty-two years old now, the only child. He is anxious for her future. I believe he would welcome a proposal of marriage." There! It was out!

A long silence fell. Lady Sugawara neither moved nor looked at him. Finally she said, "I see."

"I," stammered Akitada, "I also would welcome . . . that is, I am naturally very fond of Tamako. You will like her. She is extraordinarily capable, reads and writes Chinese, having studied with her father along with me, and she is a wonderful gardener. You will have much in common!" This last was an outrageous lie, of course. The two women had nothing in common at all.

Lady Sugawara heaved a deep sigh. She turned to regard her son. "Well," she said. "You have passed your first youth and I have passed the golden years of age and count my remaining days in this world as unexpected gifts." She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, then gave Akitada a tremulous smile. "It is time you took a wife, and I long to hold a grandchild in my arms before I die."

The weight of the world lifted from Akitada's shoulders. He almost could not believe he had heard right. "Thank you, Mother," he said fervently, making her a deep bow. "You are very understanding."

She waved away his thanks, and smiled a little. For a moment, she was quite beautiful again.

He said eagerly, "I am invited to dinner tonight and will give the professor my answer then. And you shall meet your future daughter-in-law on the day of the procession. I have invited her to join us on the viewing stand."

Lady Sugawara's smile faded abruptly. "You issued the invitation without consulting me?" she asked. "I have never heard of a more improper arrangement. It is customary to hire a go-between in these matters. You know how I dislike surprises! In the future, you will ask before introducing strangers into my presence."

Akitada apologized and bowed humbly.

His mother rearranged her gown, sniffed, then said, "Well. It does not matter. It is a respectable, but hardly important family. Naturally, you could do much better, but since I assume you are offering her a secondary position in your household, we can afford a certain informality."