Akitada, who was taller than those in front of him, saw that two contenders had just entered the ring,marked out by thick straw ropes buried in a thick layer of white beach sand.Their loincloths formed short aprons in the front and disappeared between their huge haunches in the back to emerge in an elaborate bow at the waistband. Steam rose from their bodies in spite of the chilly air. When the closest refereeraised his hand, they stamped their feet, raised their arms to show they had noconcealed weapons, clapped their hands, rinsed their mouths with a sip from adipper on the water barrel, and spat. Then they took their places on eitherside of the dividing line in the center of the ring. At another signal from thereferee, they began to circle, then grasped each other, striving mightily topush each other across the ropes of straw and out of the ring.
The crowd began to stir, atfirst only muttering, but soon moaning or shouting their distress or triumph.
One of the wrestlers was ashairy as an animal, with a shaggy mane and ragged beard; the other, bycomparison, looked like a very large pale baby. Man against beast, thought Akitada, amused, and what a weak, naked, and vulnerable creature man was! A clearly uneven match. Only, suddenly the baby seized the animal by his hairy middle and tossed him out of the ring with one mighty heave. A tremendous cheerwent up from the crowd, and the big baby bowed, grinning from ear to ear.
Akitada blinked. The baby was Genba. When he had last laid eyes on his third lieutenant, they had partedcompany outside the city. Genba had always been tall and broad. With hishealthy appetite, he had gained weight rapidly after his lean years in thecapital, but this clean-shaven mountain of rosy flesh looked nothing like thethick-haired, bearded man he had parted from.
A drumroll marked another match, but Akitada paid little attention to it. His eyes were on Genba, now seated again by his bundle of clothes, waiting for his next, and final turn.The winner of the remaining contests would face Genba for the top prize.
“Good heavens,” muttered Akitada to Oyoshi. “You don’t suppose Genba will win and be sent to thecapital?”
“Certainly not,” snapped a baldfellow near him. “Nobody beats Tsuneya. He rips out full-grown pines with hisbare arms. He’s from my village and I’ve seen him do this myself.”
“Tsuneya’s strong and he’s alocal boy, but he has no technique,” cried a pockmarked man with a fiercemustache. “Genba will only have to use his foot to trip him, and when he’s offbalance, he’ll push him across the ropes. I’ve seen him use that move and manyothers besides. He’s a master at technique because he was a wrestling teacherin the capital.”
“You know nothing, fool,” criedthe bald man, raising a fist, and shouts broke out all around. For a moment itlooked as though a separate match would be fought in the crowd, but the whistleof the scorekeeper recalled attention to the official bout, and peace returned.
Akitada felt a touch on hissleeve. One of the young monks was bowing to him. “His Reverence asks the gentlemen to join him,” he said.
Akitada glanced across thebroad courtyard at the raised veranda of the main hall where Abbot Hokko wasseated with other dignitaries before brilliant red silk hangings. The abbot looked back and smiled.
So much for remaining ananonymous observer. Not only had the curio dealer guessed who he was, but now Hokko had seen him and was about to display him to the crowd.
They followed the monk to arear staircase and then walked to the front of the great veranda. Hokko gestured to two cushions. Akitada sat beside the abbot, and Oyoshi fartherback. Mercifully, the crowd below seemed too preoccupied with the contest topay attention.
“You must forgive me,Excellency,” murmured the abbot. “I think you wished to remain unrecognized,but I have an urgent message for you.”
Akitada was irritated. “Hereand at this time?”
Hokko pointed down into thecourtyard. “None better,” he said. “All eyes are on the final match.”
Below Genba had reentered thering. His opponent stood already waiting. Akitada had never seen a human beingof that size. He towered even over Genba by more than a head and he was allmuscle.
“Is that the man they callTsuneya?” Akitada asked, momentarily distracted.
“Yes. And he will win,”remarked Hokko. “Still, his opponent, a stranger to me, has been very good, and that means nobody will pay attention to us.”
Akitada resented Hokko’s calmassurance about the outcome. He frowned and kept his eyes on the contestants who had begun to circle, crouching low, looking for an opening to grapple withthe opponent or trip him. Genba’s adversary was huge. Bulging muscles rippled across his back and shoulders as he moved. He was also quick and tricky.Akitada saw him dodge, feint, and seize Genba several times. But again and again Genba managed to break his hold or step aside to seek his own opening. I tpromised to be an extraordinary match.
The confrontation took on a symbolic relevance for Akitada that far exceeded a mere exercise of skill and sportsmanship. In his imagination, Tsuneya, the local champion, stood for the forces pitted against Akitada in this mysterious and hostile land; Genba, the outsider, was the champion of distant imperial authority. The outcome of the match would spell Akitada’s success or failure.
“How can you be so sure Tsuneyawill win?” he asked the abbot without taking his eyes off the wrestlers.
“I know the boy well. His mindis pure,” said Hokko simply. Then he lowered his voice. “The message I have foryou was given to me by an unimpeachable source, so you may rely on itsaccuracy. You are to guard against an attack on the tribunal tonight or earlytomorrow morning.”
Akitada tore his eyes from thecontest just as Genba narrowly avoided being pushed across the rope in a mightyand roaring charge by his opponent. “What? Who sent this message?” he demandedangrily.
Hokko smiled and shook hishead. “I cannot tell.”
“Then the warning is worthless.”
Hokko sighed. “You will be well advised to prepare a defense, or you and yours will be lost.”
Akitada searched the other’sface. How could he trust this man? A Buddhist abbot? His last experience withprovincial clergy had taught him that pure evil could lurk behind the mask ofsaintliness. And why should he find an anonymous benefactor in a province wherehe had met with nothing but treachery? “How strong a force?” he asked.
Hokko responded with aquestion. “How many serve at Takata?”
Silence fell between them. ThenAkitada nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I will take your advice.”
“Look, over there is CaptainTakesuke.” The abbot pointed to a small group of officers watching from theeastern gallery. “He has been most accommodating in helping with crowd controltoday. A very useful young man when one needs to keep peace and order.”
Akitada looked toward Takesuke,then at the abbot. Hokko nodded.
Thoughts racing, Akitada wondered about the size of the provincial guard and about the Uesugi forces.His information about the strength of either was sadly inadequate. The crisishe had feared was at hand, and he was unprepared. Dazedly he turned his eyes tothe courtyard again.
In the ring, Genba feinted,ducked under Tsuneya’s arms and grasped the waistband of his opponent’sloincloth. He gave a mighty heave upward to lift Tsuneya off the ground, butthe other man hooked a leg around Genba’s thigh. The two contestants strainedin the thin winter sun, their bodies locked together, steaming, their musclesbulging with effort.
And Akitada felt sick at hishelplessness. He had brought them all to this: Genba, Tora, Hitomaro, and oldSeimei. And worst of alclass="underline" What was to become of Tamako and his unborn child?
The two wrestlers broke apart,and Akitada clung desperately to the hope that fate would be with them.