Death at the Crossroads

CHAPTER 10

“Why do you want to crucify the charcoal seller?” Kaze asked, surprised.

“Oh, for the death of that merchant at the crossroads.”

“But the charcoal seller didn’t do that.”

“You found him standing over the body yourself.”

“But the man was killed with an arrow. The charcoal seller had no bow.”

“He probably hid the bow. You know that weapons have been forbidden to peasants since the time of Hideyoshi-sama’s great sword hunt, which is almost twenty years now. The recent war between the Toyotomis and the Tokugawas has allowed the peasants to gather arms again, so I know they all have their secret cache. They claim they need them for defense against bandits, but peasants are notoriously greedy. They’ll often kill if there’s a few coppers in it for them. You just interrupted the charcoal seller before he could rob the merchant.”

“Perhaps the charcoal seller interrupted a bandit-”

“Oh, don’t go on,” Manase said. “If the charcoal seller didn’t kill that merchant, then I’m sure it was someone else from this village. Killing one peasant is as good as killing another. It serves as a lesson to all of them. Please don’t bother me with this talk about the charcoal seller again. It’s quite boring. Instead, come with me. I want you to meet someone.”

Manase rose, and protocol required Kaze to stand, too. Kaze noticed that Manase wore trousers that were long and trailed behind him. His feet in the trouser legs rubbed against the tatami mats, making an exotic swish-swish sound as Manase walked. It took practice to walk in this kind of pants, and they were normally reserved only for officials of the Imperial Court. Kaze followed behind, his cotton tabi gliding silently. The sound of the long legs of Manase’s trousers rubbing across the tatami reminded Kaze of happier days, in a life long before his current wandering state.

Kaze couldn’t enjoy the sound made by Manase’s passage, however. He had come to like the charcoal seller, and Manase’s plans to crucify Jiro did not sit well. Kaze was not repelled by the thought of death. He had been raised to believe that death is just a part of the natural cycle of life and rebirth all men must go through. With hundreds of crimes carrying the penalty of death, he had also seen countless executions and had even ordered several himself.

What bothered him was the prolonging of death. He knew some men derived pleasure from the suffering of others, and he wondered if the strange District Lord leading him through the passages of the seedy villa was such a man. Kaze believed that death, when necessary, should come cleanly and quickly. There were good ways to die and bad ways to die, and crucifixion was not a good way to die.

Some lords who favored crucifixion also favored the novel Christian cross, an invention that came into Japan with the smelly Christian priests and pale, Western traders who were little more than pirates. But given Manase’s proclivities toward old things, Kaze was sure that a traditional Japanese cross would be used: Two poles set into the ground to form an X, the arms of the victim tied to the top of the X so he was hanging. The pull of the earth would settle the victim’s lungs and other organs, and the man would die an agonizing death of slow asphyxiation. For a small, wiry man like Jiro, that kind of death could take many long days.

Kaze wondered what was the best tactic for saving the old peasant’s life, but before he could formulate an idea, Manase came to a shoji screen door and stopped. “Sensei?” he called softly, placing his face next to the door.

From behind the screen, Kaze could hear a low murmuring, like someone reciting a sutra. The murmuring stopped for a moment, then an old, cracked voice said, “Is it time for a treat?”

Manase gave that high, tittering laugh of his and slid back the shoji screen. He entered with Kaze in tow. “No, Sensei,” Manase said, settling down on the tatami mat. “Later on the servants will give you mashed azuki beans sweetened with honey, but right now I want you to meet a guest of mine.”

Kaze sat down slightly behind Manase and looked at the curious creature before him. He was a very old man with wisps of scraggly gray hair clinging to the side of his head and an equally thin and scraggly beard. His eyes were covered with a white sheen that made the man blind. His kimono was clean but patched in numerous places.

Seeing Kaze’s gaze on the kimono, Manase leaned over and said in a low voice, “He won’t give up that kimono. He claims all other kimonos are too rough and scratchy. How amusing!”

“I can hear that,” the old man said. “I may be blind, but I can hear very well, don’t you know. Why have you disturbed my studies?”

“Of course, Sensei,” Manase said in a placating voice. “It’s just that we get so few visitors worth talking to that I thought I’d introduce you to a samurai we have staying with us, Matsuyama Kaze.”

“Matsuyama Kaze? What kind of name is that? It sounds like an odd name to me.”

“It is an odd name, but it suits a strange fellow,” Kaze spoke up. “I am glad to meet you, Sensei. Please be kind to me.” The last phrase was a common greeting instead of a real request.

“Be kind? Be kind? First let me see your lessons.”

Kaze looked at Manase for guidance. “He sometimes thinks he’s still teaching,” Manase said. “He goes in and out with great frequency, thinking he’s in the past and then remembering he’s in the present. Just have patience. His mind will return to the moment after he’s drifted a bit.”

“My young Genji, my shining prince, how can you expect to take up the mantle of courtly duties if you don’t study? Do you want to embarrass your household and all your ancestors? People will laugh at you!” The old man shook a withered finger in Kaze’s direction.

“I have no doubt people will laugh at me,” Kaze said kindly. “I apologize to you, Sensei, for not having my lessons completed.”

The old man’s head snapped up, like a snoozing sentry suddenly startled by the coming of his captain. “Lessons? What lessons? Is someone here to meet me? Do you want to study the classics? I’m blind now, but I can still recite them from memory. I say them over and over again so they will not flutter from my mind like an escaping bird.”

“I am Matsuyama Kaze. I am glad to meet you, Sensei.”

“I am Nagahara Munehisa.” He put his hands before him on the mat and gave a short bow. “I used to be classics master in the household of Lord Oishi Takatomo. I once had the honor of reciting part of the Kojiki before His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor.”

“Nagahara Sensei, that is a great honor indeed. You must be a scholar of exceptional merit to recite our oldest history before His Majesty.”

“You are too kind. It was the Imperial Household that asked for the Kojiki, but the Genji is my real love.”

“I am honored to meet such a distinguished scholar.” Kaze placed his hands before him on the mat and gave the blind old man a deep bow, even though the old scholar could not see the compliment.

“Ah yes, the Kojiki, the Kojiki. The remembrances of Hieda no Are, an old, old woman. Like the Genji, another tale from a woman. She was sixty-five when her legends were recorded. Did you know I’m sixty-three?”

“No, Sensei, I didn’t.”

“Yes, I’m …” The old man paused, a confused look coming over his face. Suddenly he seemed quite stern. “So you would rather see the horse races than study your classics? Bushido is more than swords and horses and armor, young master. Bushido, the way of the warrior, is also about knowing the classics of Japan and even China. To be a superior man, you must be a cultured man. And a young lord in your position must be a superior man. I am your teacher, your Sensei, and I am responsible for you. Do you want others to laugh at you, bringing shame to both you and your household? You are a most willful boy, sneaking out to see those races!”

Kaze looked at Manase for guidance. The District Lord took a fan from his sleeve and started cooling himself. He had a look of complete indifference on his face. Kaze returned his attention to the old man and said, “Yes, Sensei. Thank you for correcting me.”

The old scholar didn’t seem to hear Kaze’s reply. Instead he started mumbling to himself again at a rapid pace. Kaze couldn’t make out all the words, but he caught “Heike” and “battle” and “mirror in the seas.” Kaze thought he must be reciting the story of the ancient battle between the Minamoto and the Taira for the leadership of Japan.

Manase gracefully stood to leave, and protocol required Kaze to follow. In the hallway outside the Sensei’s room, after the shoji screen door was closed, Manase gave his little laugh again and said, “How boring. He’s gone again. He’ll recite for quite some time. He’s afraid of forgetting the things he used to be able to read, so he tries to recall them to memory by repeating them over and over. He keeps forgetting more and more of the stories, however, and then tries even more desperately to remember what he has left. When I first bought him, he could recite the most marvelous stories, especially from the era of Genji. That was almost six hundred years from today, but that old man could make it seem as alive and modern as if the world of Genji were just outside the walls of this villa.”

“You bought him?”

“Oh, yes. A man was leading him around the countryside like a performing bear, putting on shows where he would recite stories and get paid a few coppers. I paid off his handler and brought him into my household. He really was a classics master in Lord Oishi’s household, but he gets less and less useful to me. Lately he just wants sweet treats like some kind of child, and his ability to concentrate and carry on an interesting conversation gets less and less.” Manase sighed, “I suppose that eventually my only link to the world of Genji will be the books I have, because that old man will go completely crazy or die.”

“You seem especially interested in the world of Genji.”

“Yes. That’s how I try to live my life.”

“But that was six hundred years ago!”

“But it was the pinnacle of our life and culture. The people of Japan have been in a decline ever since. I still try to follow the customs and beliefs of the age of Genji. That was a time when there truly were shining princes, and men of refinement could pursue the highest aesthetic interest. After three hundred years of constant warfare our heritage was lost. No wonder old courtly arts and customs are dying, and rough, swaggering bushi rule.”

“You mean Lord Tokugawa?”

Manase caught himself. “Certainly not! Tokugawa-sama is a most cultured man. I’m talking about other lords.”

“Of course. How stupid of me. Please accept my apologies for not properly understanding your comments.”

“Well, yes. I accept your apologies. I was just upset because the old man slips deeper and deeper into his private world, depriving me of the entertainment I bought him for.”

“I can see where that would upset you.” Kaze stared blandly at the District Lord.

“Well, I must attend to some duties now. Please stay for a few days. Despite your strange ways, you’re an amusing fellow in this dreary backwater.”

“Can I ask one final thing before you go, Lord Manase?”

“What is it?”

“If I find the villager hiding a bow, would you let the charcoal seller go?”

Manase studied Kaze for several seconds. “You are a most peculiar fellow. The peasants hide their weapons, and it would take weeks to search all their filthy huts to see where they put them. That charcoal seller will be crucified in a few days, and I won’t delay things for a foolish search. But I’m a reasonable man, and if you can somehow find out what weapons the villagers have in that time, then of course I’ll arrest the one with a bow and crucify him instead. As I said, it’s all the same to me which villager is killed for this murder. It might as well be the one who actually did it.”