Their bearers, conscious of all the eyes on themselves and their burden, trotted briskly until they reached the steps of the great Buddha hall, where they deposited the palanquin with a flourish that rattled their charges’ teeth.

Egress from the palanquin was fraught with difficulties; first Motosuke, then Akitada emerged, their voluminous robes, trains, and stiffened silk trousers gathered to their bodies, their heads inclined to squeeze out without knocking their hats askew.

The next problem was ascending the broad stairs to the veranda without falling over trousers that extended almost a yard beyond their feet. Fortunately, the waddling gait adopted by high court nobles in full ceremonial garb was considered elegant. Akitada was sweating by the time he reached the high veranda. His inferior rank in the capital had not exactly accustomed him to such occasions. Motosuke, he noticed, managed with ease despite his greater years and weight.

The reception committee was headed by a middle-aged priest with a pale face and sunken eyes. Motosuke addressed him as Kukai. So this was the deacon who had been sent to give spiritual comfort to the jailed Lady Tachibana. Feeling an almost physical aversion, Akitada turned away to look out over the courtyard below.

Visitors, monks, and soldiers milled about everywhere. A number of raised platforms had been erected in front of the new hall, and the carriages of wealthy and influential families were lined up along the far galleries. Screens hid upper-class women and their maidservants from the curious eyes of strangers. And everywhere were uniforms and armor. Yukinari’s soldiers stood discreetly in the galleries, clustered about the gates, and hovered near the Buddha hall.

Reassured, Akitada joined Motosuke for a guided tour of the new hall.

It was vast and beautifully constructed, but Akitada listened with only half an ear to Kukai’s descriptions. They paused for the required obeisances before a large gilded bronze figure of the Buddha. A group of elderly monks chanted softly, reminding Akitada of the prisoners in the subterranean pit. Then a long line of beautiful boys, none older than ten or eleven, passed through. They wore the most splendid silk gowns of all colors and carried golden chimes. Each time the clear tones rang out, there were smiles or giggles from the younger ones. Their innocence struck Akitada as incongruous and surreal as they disappeared into the silvery haze of incense surrounding the great Buddha. He stared after them in bewilderment.

“Our youngest novices.” Kukai’s voice startled Akitada from his reverie. “Their families placed them in our charge.”

Akitada remembered the old monk’s accusations against Joto and felt sickened. The monastic life forbade relations with women, and monks were known to turn to each other for affection, but children? And what of his friend Tasuku, who had loved women all his young life? How had he managed to turn his back on them forever?

When they reemerged from the hall, Kukai led them to one of the viewing platforms, explaining that the other platforms, spaced some fifty feet apart from one another, were reserved for the reader, the abbot and temple administrators, and the dancers.

Their viewing stand was covered with thick grass mats bound in brocade, and their cushions were of silk. A brocade awning shielded them from the glare of the winter sun. Akitada had the seat of honor, with Motosuke slightly to his left. The cushion to Motosuke’s left had been intended for the missing Ikeda. Yukinari seated himself to Akitada’s right. The other members of the official party, several judges and the senior secretaries of the provincial administration, with Seimei in the lead, filed up and took their places behind them.

Akitada nodded a greeting to Yukinari, who looked splendid. His present responsibility had done much to bring color to his face and assurance to his bearing.

Below them an orchestra of drums, flutes, and zithers struck up, and costumed dancers appeared on the platform in the center to perform the measured movements of sacred dances. Akitada kept glancing at the empty stand reserved for the abbot.

At long last the dancers ceased and the music ended. An anticipatory silence fell. Then a silvery tinkling of small bells drew every eye to the doors of the new hall, where the children were gathered. The panels opened slowly, and Joto appeared. The crowd burst into welcoming applause.

He stood for several long minutes as they shouted and waved before advancing to the top of the steps. Here he paused again, waiting for silence, then raised folded hands to his lips and forehead in greeting and benediction and descended. His robe was made from silk dyed in two contrasting shades of purple that shimmered and shifted hue with every movement. Gold embroidery and pearls encrusted his stole.

Two long lines of monks emerged from the hall. Each monk carried a staff with colored silk streamers. Joto, joined by Kukai and other monastic officials, took the lead as all the other monks, novices, and acolytes, in their best robes and with colorful stoles about their shoulders, fell in behind. Chanting “Amida! Amida!” the whole gorgeous stream flowed around the great courtyard and out through the main gate to perform the ritual perambulation of the temple.

Motosuke leaned toward Akitada and said, “Have you ever seen such showmanship? I think we have just watched three tax shipments of gold and silk walking out that gate.”

“There will be something left,” Akitada said, adding grimly, “A man of Joto’s flair has greater plans than a mere temple dedication.” He turned to Yukinari and said in a low voice, “This is surely the time to release the prisoners. I haven’t seen Tora around.”

Yukinari murmured, “He’s taking some of my best men to the storehouses. If they can find the access to the underground prison, they should have plenty of time before the monks return. Tora will signal when they have been successful.”

The planning so far had been flawless. From beyond the temple walls drifted the sounds of chanting and ringing bells. Akitada guessed that the perambulation might take half an hour, considering the size of the compound and the terrain. Still, he was nervous.

To keep the crowd from becoming restive, the musicians and dancers began their performances again. Some of the child novices brought fruit juices to the official party. The boy who served Akitada could not have been more than six or seven. He was beautiful as such young children often are, and when he managed to fill the cup without spilling a drop, he chuckled in delight and gave Akitada a gap-toothed grin.

Eventually the head of the procession reappeared. The long snake of monks wound to the other viewing platform. Joto and the temple dignitaries ascended it, but Kukai climbed to the speaker’s stand and, as soon as the abbot and his officials had taken their seats, began the sutra reading. The rest of the monks dispersed to various positions, where they joined with periodic choral responses.

The congratulatory addresses by the representatives of the emperor were next. Both Akitada and Motosuke were to express their happy thoughts on the occasion. Their official gifts, in the form of rolls of silk, robes, sutra boxes, and prayer beads, stood neatly wrapped and decorated at the foot of their viewing stand. As imperial emissary, Akitada was to congratulate Joto first. His actual intentions were altogether different.