Do you dream? If you
Do not, then I pity your
Sorry existence
Nobody said anything further. As far as I could see, no signal passed between anybody in the courtroom. Yet, as soon as the clerk of the court ceased speaking, the komono standing on each side of me took one of my elbows and lifted me off the floor effortlessly.
Unseen hands slid the shoji aside and I was carried through it, my feet dangling uselessly in the air. I did not resist; I could not. Later, I came to understand that the due process of the court was designed to stun the prisoner’s senses, to render them pliable in a way that can only be achieved by the most extreme terror.
Had I been taken into the court’s yard and my head parted from my shoulders at that moment, I would have knelt obediently. Even knowing that I was innocent of any of the crimes I was accused of, I would not have resisted. My spirit had been crushed so effectively, I would have welcomed death as a blessed alternative to anything my imagination could have put before me.
But I was not taken out. My head was not sheared from my shoulders. Instead, rough hands tore my bonds apart. Before I could speak, a coarse hood was pulled over my head and tied—far too tightly for my comfort—around my throat. An instant later, I was lifted and placed, quite gently, on wooden boards. I felt movement at once and guessed I was lying on the floor of a cart. I wanted to vomit as the stink of all the other prisoners who had traveled this way assaulted my nose. Sweat, urine, blood, and, above all else, the cold, metallic stench of raw fear.
I swallowed and choked back the need to retch, knowing that if I did, I would stand a good chance of choking to death inside the tight hood.
My senses were reeling. I was not dead. A moment ago, I would have accepted a quick, relatively painless death as a merciful end to my life. Now, I wanted to live again. I wanted it more than anything I could ever remember.
My lover, Tengen, had told me in one of his more philosophical moods that everything alive wants to live. He had pointed to a piece of lichen no bigger than my thumbnail and told me that it was probably more than fifty years old. I had been incredulous.
“What use is it? It does nothing, goes nowhere. What is the point of a bit of moss living so long?”
“Because it is alive, and like all living things at the end of the day, its sole ambition is to survive for another day, another year. Should we not learn from the innocent lichen’s persistence? As the proverb says, learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.”
At the time, I had shrugged off Tengen’s imagery. Tears overflowed my eyes and ran down my cheeks as I thought how right he was. A moment before, I had been certain I was to die. Now, I wished for nothing more than to live, no matter what my immediate future held. I was alive. It was something. It was enough.
Or so I thought.
I had no idea where I was going. I tried my best to get a feel for our direction by “reading” the sound of the road. At first, the cart trundled over cobbles, so I guessed we were still in the city center. Then, the softer feel of a sandy track, then cobbles again. I gave up when I realized that for all I could tell, the cart could be going around in circles but actually covering no distance at all.
Instead, I concentrated on making myself as comfortable as I could. My withered knee was screaming with pain, and turn it as I could, nothing eased it greatly. After much experiment, I found I could ease the cord around my hood beneath my chin, which allowed a little air into my lungs. That was better.
But where was I? I still had no idea. I had even less idea why I was still alive. Yet my spirit rejoiced. If I lived, then I surely had hope. I had survived the horrors of the paralysis of the morning. I could survive this.
Whatever “this” turned out to be.
I guessed dusk was crowding in before the cart stopped. The air was much cooler; had I been home, this was the hour I would have stepped outside and rejoiced that the fierce sun had set for another day.
The cart rocked to a halt and a voice—unknown to me—barked an order.
“Get up. You in the cart, step down.”
I tried to do as I was told, but alas, my crippled knee refused to move. It was not only fiercely painful, but traveling for so long in such discomfort meant the joint felt as if it was welded together. My attempts to move meant that instead of stepping down, I actually fell off the tailgate of the cart.
The man who had spoken made no move to help me up. Eventually, by clinging to the cart’s wheel, I managed to haul myself to my feet.
“Take her hood off.”
Brisk hands tugged at the knots in the cord around my neck and the hood was tugged off with more violence than was necessary. I was right. It was dusk, but my vision had been denied me for so long, the light was almost as bright to me as mid-day, so I rubbed at my watering eyes.
“Tears will get you nowhere,” the man snapped. “Don’t bother trying.”
Curiously, his words fell on my exhausted spirit like rain on dry earth. I stood as straight as I could and spoke clearly.
“I am not crying. My eyes are watering, that is all.”
His laughter was as cruel as the caw of a raven. “Oh, this one has spirit! Tell me, Komono Harada. What is her crime?”
“Treason, Manaka-san. An attempt to overthrow the emperor, no less.”
“Really?” His eyes were huge with mockery. “For such a small woman, she has some big ideas. I must tell you, Mi-san, it is not often that we get women here. When we do, generally they have committed somewhat lesser crimes. Attempting to poison their husbands so they can run off with their lover, that sort of thing.” The komono snickered dutifully.
I took the chance to glance around me, but it did little good. Another yard, but so similar to the court’s yard, it could have been the same place. It was bounded on one side by a single-storied stone building, and on the other three sides by a stone wall that was more than three times my height. Archery butts stood against one wall, two of them pitted with arrows. I had not noticed any butts in the court’s yard, but then I had had very little time to stare. Had I been right all along? Had I gone around in circles for the best part of the afternoon? Manaka answered my unspoken question.
“You are far away from the city. This building stands alone. Nobody who does not have to come here chooses to do so. You know, I suppose, that the only sentence for those found guilty of treason is death.”
It was a statement, not a question. I did not answer. What was the point? I was to die, after all. But if so, why bring me here? Why not execute me publicly as a warning to anybody else who might be planning insurrection?
“I am not guilty of treason or any other crime. There has been a mistake.”
My voice was small but steady. I was pleased.
“Oh, so in addition to all your other crimes, you accuse the emperor of making mistakes, do you?”
I was about to protest but closed the words behind my lips. Whatever I said would be twisted. Instead, I asked simply, “Why am I here?”
Manaka glanced at the komono and grinned widely, raising his eyebrows to encourage the other man to join in his amusement.
“Don’t you know? I understand that you refused to plead at your trial.”
Had I been given the chance, or had I been so bewildered and terrified that I had simply missed it?
“That being the case, it is my job to ensure we have the right person. The emperor, you see, is a just man. He is anxious that nobody should be executed in our glorious country until it is certain that they have committed the crimes they have been accused of. That’s my job. It’s up to me to make sure you’re guilty and that you admit to it. And, of course, that you tell me all about the others who helped you.”
His voice had changed, taken on a questioning note. I stared at him, not understanding what he wanted.
“Others? What others?” My bewilderment was obvious, to me at least. Manaka wagged a finger at me, rather like a father reproving a favored child.
“Come now, Mi-san. Do you think for one moment that the authorities believe you acted alone? You, a mere woman? Is that likely? No doubt you were simply the cat’s paw of those around you. I, for one, am willing to believe that you trusted these people and simply did as you were told.” His voice had taken on a lighter note. His eyes—very light grey in color, and had they been set in somebody else’s face, extremely attractive—were sparkling. “Surely there is no need for any unpleasantness between us. Tell me exactly what happened and who was involved, and I daresay we could let you go now. This instant. It would be such a shame to have to hurt such a nice young lady as you are. What do you say?”
What could I say that would not implicate Gen and my poor, loyal Anzu? I shrugged my shoulders and held my hands out, palms upward.
“I am sorry, Manaka-san. I am not guilty of anything. Nobody told me to do anything. I don’t know what you want from me.”
The smile slid from his eyes. Suddenly, their color was the flat sheen of the sea before a storm.
“You are going to be stubborn. Such a pity, Mi-san. I do hope that you remember in the days that are to come that none of what you are going to suffer is my fault. Your own stubbornness is the only thing that is to blame for your misfortune.” He nodded at the komono and snapped, “Take her away.”
Harada grabbed my arm and pulled me into the building. Bubbling through my terror was the thought that not so long ago, it had been Gen who had accused me of being stubborn, and Tengen before him.
Neither man had thought it a virtue. Obviously, neither did Manaka.
Only I knew that it was.