Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow (32 page)

“I am not seeking anything but to obey Princess Teiko’s request and to find answers, answers which will allow both Teiko and myself to find peace. Tagako-hime’s safety, for reasons I do not yet understand, is important to that end. Nothing else concerns me.”

“Rubbish,” Kenji said. “But as my evening is already ruined, I may as well go with you.”

Morofusa and Ujiyasu were waiting for us at the gate, and we set out in silence and remained that way until Kenji broke it as Prince Kanemore’s compound came into view.

“I wonder if we will walk into chaos again.”

“I do not think so. If there has been another attempt on the princess in our absence, I will be surprised.”

Kenji shot me a glance. “You have hinted at this newfound skill of prophecy before. What are you not telling me?”

“A suspicion, no more than that. We will soon know if I am right.”

We spoke to Toshihide upon our admittance into the compound, and he confirmed that all had been quiet since the last unpleasantness. This, of course, only made him more uneasy, and he had arranged for extra guards.

“As we do not know why Princess Tagako is being attacked, we cannot know if or when the danger has passed,” he said. “It is very vexing, yet we must be on guard every moment.”

Again I could see why Kanemore had placed the man in charge of Tagako’s safety. “We can only hope the situation does not endure forever.”

Princess Tagako seemed genuinely pleased to see us, to the extent she did see us. The
kicho
naturally obscured her view of us as much as it did ours of her. Pulling the veil aside, as she was sometimes tempted to do, was a gesture of familiarity that was not really appropriate. Nevertheless, when she spoke, I thought I detected a hint of distraction.

“I trust your days of forced idleness are proving bearable,” Kenji said.

“Music helps,” she said, “and I have begun a story in the manner of Lady Murasaki. I only hope I am able to quit this place before I finish it.”

“I understand your desire to leave,” I said. “Yet certainly the story should be completed.”

“No, it is wretched,” she said. “I am not Lady Murasaki. When I no longer need to waste time, it will have served its purpose. Completion would be to waste good time instead of bad.”

“I would love to read it,” I said.

I could see her silhouette as she covered her face with her sleeve to show she was smiling. “No, you would not. Yet it is kind of you to say so.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “Has the city changed all that much? I saw so little of it before I was brought here.”

“You were last here eighteen years ago,” I said. “While my last time was a mere three years since, so I am not certain I can answer your question. I can say it looks much the same after three years.”

“I want to visit the Gion Shrine. I want to see the moon from Enryaku Temple. I want to see the sunrise at the Imperial Palace. I want to do almost anything save stay here. Yet here I am. I could almost wish myself married and sent to some far province, except . . . ” Her voice trailed off.

“Except what, Highness?” Kenji prompted. “Would you be sad to leave the Capital if your future husband’s situation required it?”

“Not necessarily. It would depend greatly on where I was to go and whom I was to be with. I try to be indifferent in regard to the marriage, but, as you can certainly understand, it has been on my mind since I heard His Majesty’s intention.”

While it was true Tagako’s fate was decided in part by her birth into the royal family and she understood the duties and obligations of her station—eighteen years in semi-exile at Ise would have taught her that—I could still imagine myself in her position. If my father had lived, it was quite likely I would have had a marriage arranged for me and for reasons not dissimilar to those which applied to Princess Tagako, nor would I have had any more say than she did.

“Perhaps your future husband is a good man who will treat you well,” I said, knowing it sounded weak.

“Then I would be more fortunate than many, but when I consider the possible matches, I have my doubts. I could be married into the Fujiwara. Yet that seems unlikely, as none are or will be of the emperor’s faction save Yorinobu, who is a good man but elderly and he already has a principal wife. None of the other
kuge
families are that important to the emperor strategically, so it seems far more likely I will be allied to a military family such as the Taira, Minamoto, or Hojo.”

I followed Tagako’s logic and agreed with it. It was the
buke
, the military families whose power was growing, who would make the best strategic alliance. While they all of necessity kept homes within the Capital, the base of their power was in the provinces, and the key members of those clans spent the bulk of their time there.

When Tagako spoke again, there was a hint of forced cheerfulness as she plainly was attempting to lighten the mood. “I know! Let us play a game. I will call it ‘Whom Should I Marry?’ The one who comes up with the best choice as judged by myself is the winner. Call Morofusa and Ujiyasu over. I am sure they can help.”

As was their habit, the two
bushi
had chosen to take up observation positions at a discreet distance from us in the garden, but they obeyed rapidly enough when I waved them over. Princess Tagako quickly explained the rules and the two seemed to give the “game” serious consideration, no doubt to Tagako’s amusement.

“Well, there is Taira no Yoshitaka,” Morofusa said. “He is—”

“—In line to become clan chief of the Heike, yes. He’s also all of twelve years old,” Princess Takago said. “As an alliance it would work. From any other standpoint? No. Try again.”

“Well, there is Lord Yoshiie,” Ujiyasu said. “Such a match with the Genji would certainly reinforce the emperor’s security.”

“He already has a principal wife from the Hojo clan. She is not someone he could set aside without causing problems,” she said. “No, not Lord Yoshiie.”

“Well, perhaps not as a principal wife—” Ujiyasu persisted, but Tagako stopped him.

“Whatever else I might be, I am a princess of the royal house,” Tagako said. “A position as secondary wife would be an insult to the emperor . . . not to mention me.”

Ujiyasu, perhaps sensing the same danger I did, bowed and fell silent, a silence that was extended to the rest of us for several awkward moments. It was Kenji who got things moving again.

“Ujiyasu-san is right in one respect. I would think a member of the Seiwa Genji or a family very closely allied to them must be at the forefront,” he said. “Such an alliance could pull the fangs of the Fujiwara clan for a generation, provided the emperor maintains control of the Daijou-kan,” he said.

“The tradition of the
sekkan-ke
could not be erased overnight,” Princess Tagako said. “Yet a new precedent has already been set, with the sadaijin’s and his adopted son’s recent appointments. I think I must agree.”

I was not so far removed from the center of imperial politics I could not recognize the extraordinary thing happening right before my eyes. While it was a tradition that women of the imperial house did not indulge in politics, I already knew, thanks to my friendship with the late Princess Teiko, the tradition separating them from the workings of power was more a gossamer veil than a stone wall. Yet here, in the guise of a harmless game, Princess Tagako was freely showing just how astute her grasp of the workings of the imperial court truly was. I was so bent on observing I forgot the game had another player. Princess Tagako quickly reminded me of the fact.

“Lord Yamada, you have been silent so far. Who do you think I should marry?”

“This calls for careful consideration,” I said.

“Meaning you have no idea,” Kenji said.

“Meaning I wish to present a reasonable choice,” I said, though of course Kenji was right. I struggled to come up with an answer for several seconds, but then I had an inspiration.

“Minamoto no Kunida,” I said.

“Lord Yoriyoshi’s third son? Why him?” Morofusa asked. “He is, pardon my saying, a rather undistinguished person.”

“Precisely,” I said. “A member of Lord Yoriyoshi’s inner circle but not in line for the clan leadership. A simple, gentle person by most accounts, as yet unmarried and unattached. And with no great ambitions of his own.”

Princess Tagako sounded fierce. “Lord Yamada, are you suggesting that I take this cypher of a person and mold him as a potter molds clay?”

I smiled. “I am suggesting precisely that. This way it would not be important who you married so long as he had these qualities to start. What would be important is who he became.”

I heard Tagako’s gentle laughter and knew she understood my joke. “Perhaps . . . perhaps if I were a younger woman with the time and energy, that would be a viable strategy indeed. As things stand, I must again say no.”

“Then I am at a loss. Anyone?”

Morofusa looked thoughtful. “There is Lord Toritomo of the Saga Genji.”

There was a deep sigh from behind the
kicho.
“Was no one listening to me?”

“I don’t understand,” Morofusa said. “He is of appropriate age and station.”

“He has a wife,” Princess Tagako said, and there was an edge in her voice I recognized but apparently Morofusa did not. I tried to silence him, but I was not fast enough.

“Of course, but he would be willing to put her aside at the emperor’s command—”

“And why would I wish or accept this?” Tagako demanded. “No. I will not be the cause of someone else’s unhappiness, not even for the emperor. I would take the tonsure first.”

We were all a little taken aback at Tagako’s outburst, but I think none of us so much as Tagako herself.

“Forgive me . . . ” she started to say, but Kenji stepped in.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, “Though I think you must now reconcile yourself to the life of a nun.”

I could not see her face clearly, but I would have been willing to swear she was smiling again.

“Must I?” she asked. “Is there no other course open to me?”

“Oh, absolutely not. We have just determined no one is suitable, so what choice do you have? The news of your betrothal was obviously an error.”

Princess Tagako laughed then, and we all breathed a little easier. “If only this were true, as much for the welfare of my presumed husband as for myself. But I can declare no winner.”

Neither could I. As for Tagako’s outburst, I think I understood it as well or even better than she did herself.

There is obligation and duty, but there is also what one can and cannot bear. The two are not always in agreement.

Many had discovered this to their sorrow, but I knew it better than most.

“There is something you are not telling me,” Kenji said when we were alone again on the veranda of my mansion. “And if you say ‘there is much I am not telling you,’ I swear I will strike you.”

“Are you certain? There would be consequences.”

“Consequences be banned to hell! How did you know there had not been another attempt on Tagako-hime’s life?”

Kenji was not a fool, but I already knew that or I would never have been able to tolerate his company all these years. Sometimes the more prominent question in my mind was how he had managed to tolerate mine.

“Something I noticed, Kenji-san. The first time I believed a coincidence, but the second made me wonder. So I conducted a test.”

“Which was?”

“I stopped looking for Prince Kanemore,” I said.

Kenji frowned. “You specifically told me you had
not
stopped looking for him.”

“Oh, I have not really stopped. I have simply put the search on temporary abeyance, because the thing I noticed was this—every time I pressed the hunt, there was a new attempt on Tagako-hime’s life. The first was the
shikigami
in the garden, and the second when I found one lurking by the northern outbuildings. Both following rather blatantly obvious inquiries into his whereabouts. So I have done nothing since—no inquiries to people who should know, no attempts to visit the palace, nothing. In this time there have been no more attempts. None. I think Toshihide finds it maddening.”

“You are saying the attempts were not serious?”

“I cannot say for certain, and I certainly would take no chances. Yet I did notice something strange when we were actually able to witness events, as we were the second time—the
shikigami
had not seen me, and the way to the northern veranda and thus into the mansion was clear. It waited until the two patrolling
bushi
came into view and only then did it charge the building.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Kenji said.

“No, it does not. Unless its mission was not to kill the princess but rather to make it
appear
as if a real attempt was being made.”

Kenji scowled. “Lord Yamada, you are not suggesting these many attempts on Her Highness are an elaborate hoax?”

I sighed. “Kenji, were you not there in Kawachi? Osaka Bay? Did you not hear the ranting of the provincial governor? Of course those attempts were real, and likely a faction of the Fujiwara was behind them. We know this. My only quibble is with the last two.”

“You do realize how mad this sounds? Why create fake assassination attempts close on the heels of real ones?”

“Yes, I realize how strange this sounds. I have been considering this for some time, and the only conclusions I can draw are these: either someone wishes to distract me from looking for Prince Kanemore or to redirect my attention back to Princess Tagako, or both. Obviously I cannot devote myself to tracking His Highness down if Tagako-hime’s life hangs in the balance.”

“So there have been no further attempts—real attempts, that is, since we arrived in the Capital?”

“I cannot be certain, as I said, and I see no reason to lower our guard. But yes, I believe this to be true.”

Kenji got up from the veranda and paced in the garden. I recognized the expression on his face and understood his mind was racing. He finally stopped and looked at me.

“If you are right, then the person or persons who arranged the last two
shikigami
is not the same as the ones who desired her death.”