but Akitada accepted eagerly. The ride had been hot and, while

the air was cooler under the trees, he felt gritty and his clothes

clung unpleasantly to his skin. He took a change of undercloth-

ing from his bag and walked down to the pool.

A mountain stream had been diverted to fill a small pool

with constantly changing clear water. Two naked boys were

already there—novices by their shaven heads. They squatted on

the rocks which edged the pond, engaged in washing piles of

monastic laundry. Akitada introduced himself, was told their

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

211

names, that they were thirteen and fifteen years, respectively,

and that he was the first visitor from the faraway capital they

had ever met.

Their progress in the discipline had not yet cured them of

avid curiosity about the life of the great and powerful. They

chattered eagerly while Akitada stripped and plunged into the

dark, clear waters of the pool. It was deliciously cool and soft on his heated body, and he splashed and swam about under the fas-cinated eyes of the two youngsters.

When he emerged, they expressed amazement that he could

swim. He laughed and washed out his shirt and loincloth, drap-

ing them over a shrub to dry in the sunlight. Looking curiously

at his lean body, they asked about his scars, and he told them—

matter-of-factly, he thought—about each. To his dismay, their

eyes began to shine with notions of martial adventure.

Dressed again in clean clothes and feeling a little guilty for

tempting these half-trained youngsters from their peaceful life,

he entertained them instead with descriptions of the religious

festivals in the capital. They were grateful and trusting and

readily answered his questions about their life in the monastery.

Working Shunsei into this chat was not really difficult. From

reminiscences about life at court it was only a short step to a

casual remark about the Second Prince by one of the novices,

and he was soon informed that Shunsei, who had been so sig-

nally marked by the prince’s attention, was in deep mourning

for his benefactor.

To do them justice, the two youngsters seemed to be com-

pletely innocent about the precise nature of the prince’s attentions to Shunsei and talked away happily about their distinguished

colleague.

“He stays by himself, eats nothing, and prays day and night

in front of the Buddha to be transported to the Pure Land. He’s

very holy,” confided one.

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I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada expressed a desire to meet this exemplary monk

and was told that he might do so by walking a little ways up the

mountain to the Hall of the Three Jewels. It seemed this had

been donated to the temple by the Second Prince, who had also

overseen its design and construction and had often stayed there.

Shunsei apparently now lived there by himself, fasting and

praying, practicing spiritual purification in an effort to ap-

proach Buddhahood. “He doesn’t sleep or eat the food we take

him and only drinks water,” repeated the boy. “We think he’ll

die, but the reverend abbot says he has found enlightenment

and will join the prince in the land of bliss.”

Akitada refrained from snorting. The fellow, he decided,

must either be demented or an arch-hypocrite. But Shunsei’s

isolation from the others made his own plans much easier. Had

Shunsei remained a part of the monks’ community, it would

have been difficult to speak to him alone.

He returned to his cell and found a bowl of millet and beans

and some fresh plums waiting. He ate, quenched his thirst from

the water jug, and then went to Osawa. The temple collected the

local taxes, and they were to examine the accounts. For Akitada

this was, of course, primarily a pretext to meet Shunsei, but he

had to maintain the deception a little while longer.

The newly betrothed Osawa was in no mood to look at

accounts. He referred Akitada to the monk bursar and told him

to take care of the matter. “Nothing to it,” he assured him.

“Couldn’t possibly suspect the good brothers of shortchanging

us. Ha, ha, ha.”

As Akitada wandered about the temple grounds, peering

into its halls and asking for the monk bursar, he passed a ceme-

tery with moss-covered stone markers. The sun was setting. Its

light gilded moss and stone and turned the trunks of the pine

trees a tawny gold. Akitada stopped, struck by the beauty and

peacefulness of the scene. Death almost seemed attractive in

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

213

such a setting. Of course, monks practiced detachment from

the pleasures of life and might be said to prepare themselves

for the end. Was Shunsei about to join those who had gone

before him because he had been too attached to a life that had

become unbearably empty? Akitada shook off a shiver of panic

and left the place quickly.

He found the bursar in the small library adjoining a medita-

tion hall. A perpetually smiling man, he was eager to demon-

strate the neatness of his bookkeeping, and it took Akitada a

while to get rid of him so he could glance through the docu-

ments and take a few notes. His mind was not on business and

he had to make an effort to give Osawa what he wanted. Fortu-

nately, Osawa had been right and it turned out to be a simple

matter.

He walked back through rapidly falling dusk and reported

to the inspector, who was drinking the rest of Takao’s wine and

softly singing love songs. Then he set out in search of the Hall

of the Three Jewels and Shunsei, unable to rid himself of an

unnerving sense of urgency to be gone from Sadoshima.

The sky was still a pale lavender between the thick branches

of the trees, but the forest was already plunged into darkness.

Only a few glowworms glimmered in the ferns. The Hall of the

Three Jewels stood on a small promontory overlooking the

great central plain of Sadoshima. As the last daylight was fading,

the moon rose in the eastern sky, and he could see details quite

well. Though small, the hall was newer and far more elegant

than any of the other monastery buildings. It was the kind of

personal hermitage in which any great court noble could have

felt comfortable. The mountains around the capital had many

private religious retreats like this. As Akitada now knew, this

one was also the love nest of the late prince.

From the forest behind him a temple bell sounded, but all

was silent here; the building seemed deserted. Akitada called

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I . J . P a r k e r

out Shunsei’s name several times before one of the carved doors

opened and a slender figure in black appeared on the threshold.

Shunsei came as something of a surprise. Akitada had ex-

pected a handsome, pampered minion, but this was an ascetic.

He was small-boned, pale, and thin, his eyes overlarge in a face

of childlike innocence.

“Yes?” he asked in a soft voice. “Are you lost?”

“No. My name is Taketsuna and I came to speak to you.”

“I don’t know you.” It was a statement of fact without sur-

prise or curiosity. Shunsei seemed indifferent rather than hos-

tile or impatient about strange visitors.

“We have never met. I came to talk about the Second Prince.

May I come in?”

Shunsei stepped aside, waited for Akitada to remove his san-

dals, and then led the way into a single spacious room inside. It

was dark, and the young monk lit one of the tall candles in the

middle of the room. By its light, Akitada saw that thick grass