The front gates of the Temple of Waterfalls were high and imposing- thick wood painted red and speckled with the dark shapes of rivets that held the ancient hardwood fast against all who might try to enter those walls. Next to the gates was a large bronze bell hanging from a stone outcropping, and beside it was a small log tied up to another outcropping so that it hung with one cloth-wrapped end facing the bell.
Having rung the bell, the trio now waited.
It didn’t take long before there was a creaking noise and a black gap appeared between the two vaulted doors as they swung inward. From between them, three dark robed monks appeared and came out to greet the trio, each of them bald as they day they were born and wearing wooden beaded Ju necklaces.
“In Buddha’s name, we greet you,” said the leader of the three, and all bowed in unison.
Jiro returned their bow, with Masato rushing to copy him and Taro just staring.
“Thank you, hoshi. We are sorry to trouble you at this hour, but we seek an audience with the Abbot Kiyomizu.”
Jiro caught surprise for a second on the leader’s face, and then it quickly returned to the pacific smile it had been.
“I am sorry, traveller.” The monk said in a sympathetic tone. “The Abbot is not here. He has been called away to another temple.”
“I see,” Jiro licked his lips. This wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for. Still, he had to trundle on. “Would it be possible to have an audience with your senior monk, then?”
“Of course,” the monk stepped back and gestured inside. “Please, enter sanctuary.”
* * *
The main hall of the temple was long, with a vaulted ceiling held up by a row of red pillars, and ending in a golden statue of the Buddha. Before the central altar, the purple robed elders of the temple had gathered to meet their guests, their leader standing before them adorned with an additional orange outer sash hanging off one shoulder.
“I am…” He began to say in introduction, but was suddenly cut off by Jiro.
“Fukui?” Jiro blurted in surprise. “Fukui-san? Is that you?”
The senior monk’s blank expression changed to an uncomfortable one. “I am the acting abbot of this temple,” he pressed on. “My religious name is Ryosen. Welcome to our temple.”
Jiro was surprised at his old comrade’s coldness, and wanted to press the issue, but decided that now wasn’t the time.
“We are honoured to meet you, Elder Ryosen.” Jiro bowed. “I am Yamaguchi Jiro, retainer of Lord Inuyama. This is my apprentice Masato, and my lord’s second son, Inuyama no Taro.”
Jiro then went on to explain their situation, and their goals, all the while watching the elders of the temple exchange ever more anxious glances. He couldn’t blame them, if anyone learned that they had helped Jiro’s party escape they would be a very dangerous position. However, Buddhist monks were obligated to show mercy to travellers in distress, even ones such as they.
Ryosen listened carefully to Jiro’s explanation, showing none of the distress his comrades did, and then when Jiro had finished the older man nodded sagely.
“Buddha has brought you to us. We will not turn you away.” He announced. “You will be given shelter here. However, I must tell you that we may not be able to offer you everything you seek.”
“Elder?” Jiro asked, in fact he was slightly older than Ryosen was, but used the term out of respect.
Ryosen gave a deep sigh. “Recent heavy rains have damaged the bridges which connect us to the other side. A crossing may be…difficult, but we will do our best.”
“I see…” Jiro considered, then bowed again. “We appreciate your efforts.”
“But you have had a long trip here,” the Elder gestured towards one of the novice monks. “We will discuss this later. Follow this brother and he will find you a place to sleep and something to fill your bellies. I am afraid our fare here will be simple compared to what you are used to, but what we have we will happily share.”
“Not at all,” Jiro responded politely. “We’re so sorry for troubling you.”
* * *
Masato showed the sense he’d had in the Inn of a Thousand Lanterns a few days earlier and waited until they were alone before he spoke.
“Sensei, do you know the elder?”
Taro paused from wolfing down his rice and pickled radishes to look at Jiro as well.
“Aye,” Jiro said, leaning back onto the tatami floor with his sake cup. “He was one of our lord’s samurai. We both entered his service around the same time, and Fukui-san and I were both juniors under Inuyama no Hanzo- our lord’s cousin.”
“Really? He knew my uncle?” Taro asked.
Jiro nodded. “He did, young master. But I wouldn’t expect him to talk of fond memories. Fukui-san was caught gambling after your uncle had expressly forbidden it, and forced to leave our lord’s service.” Then Jiro smiled ruefully. “I always wondered what became of him.”
“Looks like he’s gone straight, sensei.” Masato offered.
“Yes,” Taro agreed. “He has achieved a great honourable position.”
“I suppose,” Jiro said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have expected it of him, but I have heard it said religion changes some people.”
“Sensei, do you think we’ll be able to cross tonight?”
Jiro shook his head. “If the bridge is damaged, I doubt it. We’ll have to wait the night here and learn the truth of things in the morning.”
* * *
Some small distance away, the swordsman Kiba Gempei was in the middle of a dinner of his own at a local Inn, although the fare on his table was considerably richer than that which the trio ate. He was the guest of the commander of a nearby garrison, and had stopped for the night with his soldiers to take a break in their search.
As the two men dined, there was a sudden knock at the door, and after the requisite courtesies a lieutenant of the garrison delivered a message to his commander. Yohei’s host read it, then dismissed the messenger to wait outside.
“Good news, I hope?” Gempei asked in a tired voice. He’d been on the road for the past two days straight, and was looking forward to a soft night’s rest.
“Neither good nor bad,” the officer said, drinking a cup of sake. “A signal fire has been lit at one of the mountain temples. Seems the bozu have something they wish to tell us.”
“Really? Which temple?”
The commander shrugged. “That one next to the waterfall that Kiyomizu used to run before Lord Kurokawa had him replaced. The new elder is always trying to get me to go up there so he can pester me for donations.”
Gempei nodded, thoughtfully. “Is there a bridge from that temple to the other side, perchance?”
The commander indicated there was.
Gempei turned his sake cup upside down and called for his men.
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