Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow (21 page)

“Princess Shigeko,” Kenji said thoughtfully.

“While she had reason, I do not believe Shigeko-hime is an angry ghost at all. I believe she kept Lord Yorinobu out of the house, and I believe she removed Shinjurou from the house, and both for the same reason—to protect them.”

“From what?”

“Kenji-san, I hope and pray we are finally asking the right question.”

Another letter from Tagako-hime was waiting for me when we arrived back at my compound. I think I expected another
tanka
to complete, but her message was much more succinct this time:

Lord Yamada, you
baka
. Come see me.

Well, I did recall wishing the nobility would be more direct. I suppose it proved the old proverb “one should be careful what one wished for.” I informed Morofusa-san I had another errand that afternoon and we set out well before sunset. We arrived at Prince Kanemore’s estate in good time, and the scowling Taira
bushi
guarding the gates grudgingly let us in but only after we had surrendered our weapons to their equally scowling commander.

“Not very friendly,” Morofusa observed.

“Why should he be? I am sure visitors complicate his responsibilities greatly and would be discouraged, for Tagako-hime’s own safety.”

“Safer, yet duller for Her Highness,” he said. “She is probably lonely.”

I considered this no more than obvious, if she was willing to bear, even request, my own poor company. For all I knew, I might be one of the very few actually allowed. When we reached the garden, I could see Princess Tagako’s
kicho
had been arranged on the south veranda. Morofusa decided to wait in the garden, on the premise I was the one she had invited.

“I would think she would be happy to have your company as well,” I said.

“Perhaps, and certainly a security escort might be expected, but her letter did not specify such. Prince Kanemore has a lovely garden. I think I will enjoy it for a bit.”

I thought of insisting, since for some reason I couldn’t quite fathom, I found myself more than a little nervous. It certainly was not because there were Taira
bushi
all over the place—I expected no less, and they kept a watchful but discreet distance. As I approached, two of Tagako-hime’s attendants appeared and kneeled beside the
kicho.
I knew it covered a doorway where the screen had been slid aside, and in a moment I could see the familiar outline of a woman kneeling behind the screen.

I bowed low. “It is good to see you again.”

“Metaphorically speaking only, I am sure,” Tagako said. “It’s not as if we can see very much of each other. Still, decorum must be maintained.”

An attendant brought out a cushion and placed it near the
kicho
on the veranda for me, as well as a cup of tea, then withdrew out of earshot. “Perhaps Morofusa would like one as well,” I said. “Shall I call him over?”

“Perhaps later,” Tagako said. “I don’t wish to be rude to more than one of you at a time.”

That explained my nervousness. I must have sensed I was in trouble. “I see I have offended you. I swear this was not my intention.”

“You did not visit me until I practically had to beg you. Was this not intentional?” she asked sweetly.

“I can only plead cowardice in my defense, Highness.”

I think she frowned then. It was hard to tell with the screen between us. “Cowardice? What do you mean?”

“I was afraid you would not wish to see me or would perhaps indulge me out of politeness. I am not certain I could have borne the weight of this shame.”

She laughed, raising her sleeve to cover her mouth, even though I could not see her clearly through the veil. “
Baka.
You saved my life. Do you believe me so ungrateful?”

“Say rather I would not wish you to seek my company out of a feeling of obligation, and so my fear rules me once again.”

“I told you once I was nothing. I am certainly nothing to be afraid of.”

“With all respect, Highness, I must disagree on both.”

“Was that a compliment?”

I found echoes of my conversation with Lady Kuzunoha in my response. “If it wasn’t, I should have tried harder.”

She laughed again, but this time instead of raising her sleeve, she leaned forward. If the screen had not been in place, I still would not have seen her face. “
Baka
,” she said again, but I could almost believe, this time, there was a hint of affection in the word. There followed a few moments of a comfortable silence before she broke it.

“I think I have missed you,” she said.

I actually blushed then and was—for once—grateful for the
kicho
separating us.

“It is a pleasure to be in your company again,” I said, “however overdue it was. I trust you are well?”

“Well enough,” she said. “In the sense a caged bird might be safe from the cat. Most visitors are turned away on some pretext or another. I understand the reasons for it, but it is . . . difficult. Lord Yamada, forgive me for being so cross with you—I know you have other obligations that must demand your time at present. I do not pretend to know what they entail, but I am glad you were able to visit me.”

“It is true, Highness, but I have not forgotten you or your situation. I still hope to be of service to you.”

“I will hold you to this, Yamada-sama. I always knew my time in Ise was temporary and one day I would discover what the rest of my life was to be. I have my own fears where this is concerned, as I believe I once told you, but whatever my life’s path, it was waiting for me, and it still waits for me. Prince Kanemore has been a good friend, but I will not sit in this cage forever, regardless of how many assassins are waiting beyond these walls.”

I bowed. “I look forward to the day you will be without this concern. If it is within my power to do so, I will make certain of it.”

“I ask no more, even though I have no right to ask anything. You have done so much for me already.”

I had a rather belated idea. “Highness, would you mind if I asked
you
something?”

“Of course not. What is it?”

I took a deep breath, wondering how much was safe to reveal. “I know you’ve been away from the court for many years, but did you ever have the chance to meet Princess Shigeko?”

“His Majesty’s late consort? She made the pilgrimage to the shrine several times, and would remain for a week or more as my guest in the Bamboo Palace. I was heartbroken when I heard of her passing. Why do you ask? Or is this a question you cannot answer?”

I took a deep breath. “Not at this time, Highness, but I assure you anything you can tell me of her would be of great interest.”

“Reason enough, but I am not certain I can tell you anything you couldn’t hear from those who knew her better. She was a sweet young woman, despite her unhappiness. The reason she came to the Grand Shrine was to pray for children. Perhaps it was karma from another life, but whatever the reason, the gods chose not to answer her prayers.”

Her words did not tell me anything I did not already know, but they served as another confirmation of all I had heard of the poor woman so far. As she had been a Fujiwara and any children might have further compromised the succession, I was not enough of a hypocrite to wish the gods had granted her petition. Even so, I was starting to feel more than a little ashamed of that sentiment. Clearly, Princess Shigeko had deserved a happier life than fate had decreed. Yet if she wasn’t an angry ghost, as I now suspected, what was the true situation in the third ward mansion?

“I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet her,” I said.

“I can’t say how you would have felt—I know your opinion of the Fujiwara too well. Still, I think she would have liked you. She might even have invited you to the naming ceremony.”

For a moment I was too stunned to say anything. “Ummm . . . naming ceremony?”

Princess Tagako sounded solemn. “I admit, I thought it a little presumptuous. Perhaps one of the reasons the gods turned a deaf ear, but she was so determined, I couldn’t refuse her.”

“I don’t understand. Princess Shigeko had no children.”

“I am well aware of that. Did I not just say the gods had denied her? No, this was, I believe, her way of attempting to create the reality she profoundly hoped for—three healthy children, who did not yet exist. She gave them ‘milk names,’ of course, as they had yet to be born.”

A “milk name” wasn’t the baby’s actual or child name and wasn’t the sort of name one was normally given in a proper naming ceremony. It was a custom borrowed from the Chinese, as a way to refer to the hoped-for infant, a nickname and usually something deliberately designed to be unappealing, in the hope no evil spirits would go near them and thus allow a healthy pregnancy. Once I got over my initial surprise and considered the situation, especially the difficulty Shigeko-hime had bringing a child to term, the ceremony actually made a strange sort of sense, and the fact it didn’t work did not change this.

What if it did work?

That was a strange thought. I’d had more than my share of those in my life, and I had learned to pay attention, but what this one could possibly mean was, for the moment, beyond me. It had
not
worked. There had been three failed pregnancies, two miscarriages and a stillbirth, and the last one had killed the unfortunate woman. A naming ceremony hadn’t prevented any of it, and yet the impossible thought would not go away, even though I tried to put it aside for the rest of the visit. When I finally took my leave, it remained.

What if it did work?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Is it ready?”

Kenji held out the ward I’d asked for, but he included a stern warning. “This particular charm works against most spirits and even lesser demons, but an angry ghost is a special case. They tend to be a bit narrow in their focus, and there is nothing which will hold one back for long, save an exorcism. I advise you stay ready to flee at a moment’s notice. If you have that long.”

“Well, since exorcism is not yet an option, this will have to do. Let us hope I’ll know when to run.”

We had returned to Shigeko-hime’s mansion the next morning. I was starting to have a suspicion about what may have attacked Shinjurou, but there was no point in pursuing it unless I could eliminate Shigeko herself as the attacker once and for all. Despite my doubts, she remained the most likely culprit even if I still could not reconcile Shinjurou’s wounds with his description of the assault. Unfortunately, I could think of no other way to get to the truth other than attempting to contact the princess’ ghost directly. This, needless to say, was a risky approach. I might discover the truth I sought but not live long enough to apply it.

Morofusa and Ujiyasu both looked unhappy. “Are you certain about this, Lord Yamada?”

“Certain I must attempt it? Yes. Certain it will tell me what I need to know? Not even a bit.”

“We will follow to the veranda,” Morofusa said. “When you go in, we go in. That was the agreement.”

“I did agree, but I am not comfortable with this. There is no point in risking all our lives,” I said.

Morofusa laughed. “If you die, Lord Yoriyoshi will demand an explanation which I am not prepared to give,” he said. “I think I prefer whatever attacked Shinjurou-san.”

I had no argument to make against this. I took the ward and stepped up onto the veranda. Morofusa and Ujiyasu followed, and the latter slid the screen aside. The interior was nothing but gloom, occasionally broken by tears in the screens that let beams of sunlight in. In one of those beams kneeled Princess Shigeko. So far as I could tell she had not moved at the sound of the screen being opened. Her form was clearest of all in shadow, fading where it was touched by sunlight, and yet she seemed to be enjoying the touch of the sun. I wasn’t certain what I had expected or how far I could or would be allowed to move within the mansion, but I took one good look around, spotted nothing else of concern, and cautiously approached.

“Shigeko-hime?”

Her voice was faint but clear. “You should not be here.”

I had seen many ghosts in my time. Sad spirits, angry
yurei
bent on revenge, lost souls needing help. Princess Shigeko was perhaps the most melancholy ghost I had ever seen. There was none of the transformation of face or form that were often the case with
yurei.
I had never seen Shigeko-hime in life, but I had no doubts what I saw now was a faithful representation of the way she had appeared at the time of her death, and her voice carried only concern.

“You are the one who should not be here, Highness. You—”

“I know what I am. I know why I am here. You and your men must go, before it is too late.”

“Why, Highness? For your sake, I need to know why.”

“There is nothing to be done for my sake. In my obsession, I caused this, and I must pay the price. Only me. No one else. Go. Quickly.”

With the exception of Princess Teiko and a long-gone spirit I had once known named Saito, this was perhaps the longest, most coherent, and frustrating conversation I had ever had with a ghost. Her answers explained nothing. Her warnings made no sense. While I understood the priorities and perspective of a ghost were not always the same as those of a living person, and so they were sometimes incomprehensible to one another, I had to try again. “Why must we go? What will happen if we don’t?”

“What happened to the other one . . . oh.”

I heard it then. A flapping, shuffling sound that could have been the wind wafting through tears in a paper screen, except I knew it was not. Something was coming. Now I could hear sounds like sobs and laughter both together, as if the creature was unable to decide which one it should be, and the sounds were coming from two or more directions. I knew, in another few moments, I would see what had attacked Shinjurou—the things that had nearly killed him were coming for me.

What are they?

I did not want to die. I knew I had hesitated far past the time when it would have been prudent to do what Shigeko-hime’s ghost urged me to do, but I could not yet look away. I had to understand what was happening here. Everything—the emperor’s security, Shigeko-hime’s spirit’s chances for peace, even an easing of grief to a hated Fujiwara, all depended upon it.