Nishioka shook his head. "Impossible! You would not have bothered to tie him to the statue. You would have smashed a few things and run off to get drunk."

Fujiwara choked back a laugh. "I see my reputation is well established. Well, who, in your opinion, has the correct personality?"

"Oh, at least two people." Nishioka smiled slyly. "Though in one case I have not yet worked out how it was done unless he had an—" He broke off as a sudden hush fell in the hall.

A side door had opened and His Reverence entered. The noble monk was hardly a prepossessing figure. Very fat, he was dressed in a black silk clerical robe; a green and gold embroidered stole was slung across one shoulder and his paunch. He padded with a waddling gait to the raised dais and plopped down on the cushion with a grunt.

They all bowed deeply. Akitada risked a surreptitious look and saw a moon face with small deep-set eyes under heavy lids and a small, soft mouth. Sesshin surveyed the bowed backs impassively. To Akitada there was a sort of naked grossness about the man which was not entirely due to his shaven head. His smooth, round face had hardly any eyebrows and rested on a triple chin. The ears were enormous, with pendulous lobes which rested on fleshy shoulders.

Perhaps it was due to his natural and learned dislike for Buddhist clergy, but it seemed to Akitada that appointing a man such as this as president of the university, a spoiled member of the imperial family who had renounced his worldly career in order to devote himself to leisure and luxurious living, was another example of the weakness of the current government.

The fat monk cleared his throat and said in a soft, dry voice, "Thank you all for coming. Please be seated. "With a general shuffling of feet and rustling of robes they obeyed.

Sesshin looked over their heads and spoke in the same low, soft voice. "Recent events require my presence here and I take this opportunity to make a few announcements." The silence in the hall was profound as they all strained to hear. Akitada thought irritatedly that the man was even too lazy to raise his voice. "Because of the unfortunate death of our colleague, certain disruptions of my routine and yours are unavoidable, but we must attempt to carry on. You will, of course, meet your students as usual and cooperate fully with the police. Ono will temporarily see to the lectures on Chinese literature. I will send him a suitable assistant. As usual, when I am in residence, I will conduct a series of lectures on the scriptures. This time I will give a commentary on the Great Wisdom sutra. It will take place every afternoon immediately after the noon rice. You may announce this to your students. That is all." He nodded to them, rose with another grunt, and padded out.

That was all? For a moment Akitada sat stunned, while his colleagues got up and began to chatter. Then cold and irrational fury seized him. How dare the man? Before he was fully conscious of what he was doing, he was up and striding after the figure of the priest.

He passed through the door into a long dark corridor where the distant faint daylight gleamed on polished black boards. Ahead of him moved the large figure of the monk. Sesshin stopped at a door, disappeared into the room behind, and closed the door after him. Akitada opened it again and walked in.

"I want to speak to you," he snapped, adding lamely, "Your Reverence."

Sesshin had his back to him and was removing his stole. Turning slowly, he looked at Akitada. After a long moment he said, "You must be Sugawara. If I remember, abruptness was always a failing of the Sugawaras. Please be seated."

Akitada was still fuming. This man had deserted two helpless children. "What I have to say will not take long. I have just been told that you are the brother of the late Prince Yoakira."

Sesshin calmly folded the embroidered stole and draped it over a stand. The room contained little more than that, a pair of cushions and a small low table upon which were set a wooden rosary, a beautifully decorated sutra box and a brazier with a teapot. The monk lowered himself to the cushion next to it. "Forgive me for sitting down myself. I am an old man. I would offer you a cup of tea, but it is not customarily consumed while standing. You young fellows do not allow yourself enough leisure. All is haste and intensity for you."

"I am afraid that most of us do not have the privilege," Akitada said tartly. "I apologize for the abrupt intrusion, but I won't keep you from your leisure long. Your great-nephew, Lord Minamoto Sadamu, is presently a student here, and I had occasion to speak to him at some length this morning about a situation which is disturbing, to say the least."

Sesshin remarked placidly, "I hope the young scamp has not given you cause to complain of him?"

Akitada steadied his breath. "Not at all. Quite the opposite. He is extremely bright and has a sense of responsibility beyond his years. That is why I have acceded to his wish to investigate his grandfather's death."

Sesshin sighed and reached for his beads. He neither responded nor changed his calm demeanor. If anything, he seemed more indifferent than before. The heavy lids drooped over his deep-set eyes until he looked almost asleep.

"Have you nothing to say?" cried Akitada. "I had hoped that you would take an interest in your brother's grandchildren. They are quite alone in the world and, if I am not mistaken, in danger of their very lives."

There was no reaction from the monk, and Akitada turned to leave. "I am sorry," he said. "I was mistaken."

"A moment," said the soft dry voice. Akitada paused with his hand on the door latch and looked back over his shoulder. The smoldering black eyes were fully on him now. "You intrude most painfully into my hard-won peace," he said. "When I lost my brother, I nearly lost myself. My faith wavered and my very soul was drowning in tears. I returned to the world to conduct the memorial service, and was told on that occasion that the children were in good hands, that they had chosen their future paths freely. After the service I returned to the mountains to ask the Buddha's help in emptying my heart and mind of the memories. I do not tell you this because I owe you an explanation, but because I am grateful that my great-nephew has found a friend in his teacher. Now you may go in peace."

Akitada wished to argue but knew it would be both futile and dangerous to do so. He bit his lip, bowed, and left.

Fourteen

Gate of Death

Since Lady Sugawara decided it was time for the annual cleaning of the family storehouse, Tora could not leave for the city until late in the day. When he was finally free to look for the old beggar, he headed first to the office of the eastern capital near the university.

Tora stated his business at the gate, and the guard became excited. "Hey, fellows!" he shouted. "Here's someone asking about old Umakai."

Guards, constables, and clerks gathered around them. All expressed concern about the old beggar. Umakai was their special pet, and they had missed him. He was expected regularly for his noon rice. This the guards and clerks provided by passing his bowl around for everyone to contribute a small share of his own meal until the old man's bowl was filled to overflowing. The trouble was he had not been seen, except for a brief visit right after his release from jail, and they were all worried.

Tora asked if Umakai might be eating elsewhere, for instance with their colleagues in the western office, but they assured him that those people had hearts of stone and arrested beggars as vagrants and loiterers. In short, nobody knew where Umakai might have disappeared to.