The Emperor's woman

The Hungry Mountain

Tora clung to the side of the mountain. He had looked carefully at the wall of rocks and loose debris above him without finding the foot- and hand-holds he had used on his precipitate trip down. Everything looked different from this angle. He did not know how to climb up again.

But there was also no way down. Or at least none he could see beyond one more move. This he accomplished with the greatest care. It put him below the outcropping that had hidden his master’s lifeless figure on the ledge below. It brought him a little closer, but now he was cut off from a view of the top and from help.

The voice of the old woman came to him faintly, “Don’t move!” she shouted. “The mountain is hungry. It’s already swallowed two people.”

Tora shouted back, “Get help. I see my master, but he’s unconscious, and I can’t reach him.”

She shouted back, but he could not make out her words. Then all became silent. How and where she might find help, he did not know, seeing that she had been unable to so far.

He clung to the rock and peered down. From this position, he could see blood under his master’s head. It might well be from a fatal injury. He’d seen corpses that had lain in such a pool of blood which had poured from their ears, noses, and mouths as they expired. He bit his lips and tried to think positive thoughts. After what seemed a long time, he risked calling out softly, “Sir? Please don’t move. Help is on the way. Just lie still.”

Nothing happened.

He thought it could not hurt to continue the conversation. It gave him something to do and might have a soothing effect on Akitada if he were even a little bit aware. So he talked about meeting Saburo and their visit to see Genba. He interspersed his narrative with repeated warnings to lie very still, followed by assurances that help was coming.

He did not have much faith in the old woman but, being by nature hopeful, he made his chatter as cheerful as he could under the circumstances.

Circumstances deteriorated. It started to rain. This time of year and in this place, rain meant a drastic drop in temperatures and a chill wind. Tora was soon shivering.

Wet and increasingly desperate, he made up his mind that he must climb back to the top to get help. This undertaking had become much more dangerous in the rain. All the surfaces of the mountain had become slippery.

He told the still figure below him, “I’ll climb back up now for a little while, sir. Will you promise to lie very still while I’m gone?” And as he peered down through the rain, he thought he saw one of Akitada’s fingers twitch. Maybe it had been his imagination or the effect of the rain and the moistness in his eyes, but Tora preferred a happier interpretation. His heart sang for a moment at the thought that his master was not dead after all. He repeated his warning and began the dangerous climb to the top.

It soon became hopeless. His fingers slid off surfaces that felt as if they had been covered with oil. Under his feet, rocks shifted, leaving him breathless with panic. He had managed to get past the overhang, when he heard a shout from above.

“Ho!”

A man’s voice. Tora peered upward, blinking against the rain. An irregular line of round boulders rimmed the top of the rock wall. One of them must surely be a head. He blinked again and decided that there were more heads up there, looking down at him.

“Don’t do that,” shouted the first head. “We have ropes.”

Tora said a quick prayer to the god of the mountain and two more to Buddha.

“Hurry up. I’m getting wet,” he shouted back.

A snort of laughter, and some rude comments about peeing your pants floated back. But then the rope appeared, dangling and whipping about in the wind. Tora caught it and almost slipped again. Being more careful, he tied it around his chest, tested the knot, and began his ascent once more.

He was greeted by a group of wet policemen who were grinning in spite of the weather. More banter ensued and was interrupted by Superintendent Kobe, who strode into the group with a sharp, “Order!” and asked Tora, “Did you find him?”

Tora noted the anxiety in the question and nodded. “He’s just below the outcropping.” He pointed down. “I couldn’t reach him. He wasn’t moving, or maybe just a bit. A couple of fingers. But I couldn’t be sure. There’s blood.”

The lump in his stomach was back, and he swallowed.

Kobe looked over the side and shouted commands about more ropes. Tora watched the constables scramble about, then said, “I’m going back down.”

“No,” snapped Kobe. “This is work for experts. And you’re tired and wet.”

“I’m going back down.”

Akitada became aware of voices gradually. He had drifted in and out of silence for a long time. Once he had heard Tora’s voice and taken it for a dream. Tora seemed to be strangely agitated. He had felt a sense of danger. And discomfort. But now he also heard other voices. He drifted off again.

“Don’t move!”

Easily done, he thought fuzzily. He lay relaxed and was very sleepy. But he was cold, and something was wrong with his head. Never mind. He would check later. He had time.

Later came sooner than he cared for.

Someone shouted near his ear, “He’s alive!”

Hands touched him, and pain shot through his body. Two people spoke. Tora and a stranger.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”

That was Tora. Where was he hurt? He tried to shake his head and groaned. More hands on his body, feeling his legs and arms, poking his back. More agony.

“We’ll get you up to the top, sir. Don’t you worry.”

That was Tora again. The hands stopped touching him. Akitada sighed and relaxed. He was not worried. Tora was taking care of the situation.

But what followed rattled him into greater and far more painful awareness that something was very wrong. He was pulled about and man-handled as someone tied him up. He tried to shout but got no answer. Then the hands pushed and pulled him off his bed, and he felt ropes bite into this chest and hips as he was suddenly raised. The hands were back, guiding, but he bumped his way upwards until there was no longer any point in dozing off, and he opened his eyes.

What he saw was disconcerting, part of a nightmare. But this time he was wide awake. Below him was the face of a stranger, of a young man with his wet hair plastered against a face red with effort, and beyond that the world dropped off into an abyss, into a gray cauldron of swirling rain and mist. He closed his eyes again, and tried to comprehend.

A sharp crack against his head and a shout from Tora, brought him back. More shouts to be careful. More pushing and tugging. More pain. More strain on the ropes that bound him. And then finally he understood.

Akitada cursed.

“Well, he sounds all right.”

That had been Kobe. Akitada was surprised at his presence. He had reached the top by then and could feel solid ground under him again. Someone dragged him a little ways, and then they untied the ropes. He muttered against the jarring pain, and looked up into the faces of Kobe and Tora.

“I slipped,” he said.

“You mean it was an accident? Nobody pushed you over?” Kobe sounded disappointed.

Akitada did not answer. He was concentrating on various parts of his body. There was still some pain, but it was not unbearable, and he could move both legs, though his left arm would not obey. And his head hurt. He raised his right hand to check. He was wet, but there also seemed to be a cut and a swelling. He tried to sit up, but a jarring agony in his left shoulder stopped him. He groaned and fell back.

“A litter,” said Kobe. “He can’t ride in this condition. I wish he wouldn’t go off on these wild excursions by himself. It makes work for everyone.”

“Sorry,” muttered Akitada. “You shouldn’t have bothered. Tora and I could’ve managed.

Kobe snorted his derision and walked away.

Akitada bit his lip. Kobe had, after all, come to his rescue. No doubt the excursion had caused untold trouble to a lot of people. He wondered if he should apologize, but there was the matter of Genba. And besides he had not been on a wild excursion.

That reminded him. Someone had tried to kill him.

“Tora?” His voice was thick and he seemed to have no strength to raise it.

But faithful Tora was beside him. “Yes, sir?”

“There’s a bo. It was used on Lady Masako.” He took a breath and tried again. “A little ways down the mountain. Caught on a small pine.”

Tora frowned. “A bo?”

“Yes. A short fighting stick. There’s some blood and hair on it.”

“Not in this rain,” Tora remarked, but he went to look. Then he went to speak to Kobe. Together they walked to the edge and looked over. In the end, a constable was lowered with one of the ropes. He brought up the bo.

Akitada almost smiled. It had not been in vain.

Kobe came over, carrying the bo. “What makes you think that’s what killed Lady Masako? She fell to her death quite a distance from the house.”

“The killer hit her. Inside the villa. Then he carried her to the promontory.” It was a big effort to say this much.

Kobe shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Besides, the bo is clean. It could have been tossed over at any time.”

Akitada closed his eyes.

The descent from the mountain was excruciatingly painful. Two sturdy constables bore the litter and kept up a stumbling trot downhill. This caused a constant bouncing of Akitada’s head and shoulder. They had bandaged his head after a fashion, but even with the added padding, Akitada made efforts to raise it. His neck muscles eventually hurt as badly as his head. Neither pain was as awful as that of his injured shoulder.

They had inspected it and caused him to shout at them not to touch him. Tora had muttered something to Kobe and both looked worried. They ignored his protests long enough to strap his left arm to his body. Akitada assumed his upper arm or the shoulder joint were broken.

When he was not groaning or drifting in and out of consciousness, he called himself every kind of fool imaginable. He was not about to mention his attacker to Kobe.