His face was like that of a pale fish fitted with gold-rimmed glasses. It told of living in a habitat of cold, dark waters never visited by the light of the sun, of breathing only with trepidation beneath the tangled seaweed of red tape.
Honda, who still had a little of the haughtiness of a judge, started off by brusquely neglecting the civilities.
“As far as guarding secrets goes, that’s our business, and so I would urge you to put your mind at rest. And, especially since your errand has to do with such an august personage, I will exercise the greatest care imaginable.”
The official spoke in an extremely low voice, as if he had a lung ailment, and Honda was obliged to lean forward from the edge of his chair to hear him.
“No, no, there’s no question of any sort of secrecy being involved. His Highness is pleased to take some interest in this affair, and he merely requests that you be gracious enough to visit his residence on December thirtieth. And if you would then have the goodness to tell him frankly whatever lies within the scope of your knowledge, he would be more than gratified. However . . .” Here the little man stammered spasmodically, as though trying to choke back an attack of hiccups. “However, as to . . . that is, if His Highness were to learn of what I have to say next, a grave problem would result, and I would therefore beg that you refrain from mentioning it to him.”
“I understand. Please speak freely.”
“Well . . . since this is an opinion that is by no means held by me alone, I would be pleased if you would be sensitive in this regard. But in the event, as it were, of your happening to catch a cold on the appointed day and being thus prevented from coming, and if you were to notify us of it, that too would be entirely agreeable. Since His Highness’s desire has been duly communicated to you.”
Honda stared in amazement at the expressionless face of this delegate sent by Prince Toin. His mission was to deliver an invitation, but he hinted that Honda should contrive to slip out of it. To receive such an invitation from Prince Toin, nineteen years after his indirect involvement in Kiyoaki’s death, was a strange turn of fate, and Honda had become ill at ease as soon as he had heard His Highness’s request. But now, confronted with so odd a message, he became determined to pay his respects at the Toin residence.
“Very well. Then, if on that day I am without the least trace of a cold and the very picture of health, I am to present myself to His Highness. Is that correct?”
For the first time the official’s face showed a slight expression. A sad discomfiture lingered briefly on the cold tip of his nose. But then, as though nothing had happened, the voice like the breeze blowing through bamboo grass went on.
“Yes, of course, of course. So please be good enough to come to the Shiba Residence at ten o’clock on the morning of December thirtieth. I will have informed the guard at the main gate, and you need merely give your name.”
Though Honda had been a student at Peers School, he had never had the experience of visiting the home of a member of the Imperial Family, perhaps because no personage so exalted had happened to be in the same class with him. Nor had he ever sought the opportunity.
Honda knew that the Prince had been involved in Kiyoaki’s death, but no doubt the Prince was unaware that Honda had been Kiyoaki’s friend. Since, in all justice, Prince Toin had been an injured party in that affair, the best course was to say nothing about it unless His Highness brought it up. A mention of Kiyoaki’s name would in itself be an insult. Honda, of course, well realized this and knew how he must conduct himself.
On the basis of the official’s manner the previous day, however, Honda’s intuition told him that Prince Toin, for whatever reason, seemed to have a sympathetic attitude toward this most recent affair—never dreaming that Isao was none other than Kiyoaki reborn!
Whatever the official might think of it, Honda made up his mind that, just as the Prince had requested, he would tell him everything he knew, giving a true picture of the affair without saying anything that bordered upon disrespect.
Thus when he went out on the day set, his mind was tranquil. The winter rain, begun the previous day, was still falling, and the rivulets that streamed down through the gravel of the sloping path that led to the Toin residence wet Honda’s shoes. The official himself greeted him at the entrance hall, but though courtesy informed his every word and action, the coldness of his manner was strikingly apparent. Indeed the white skin of this little man seemed to secrete coldness.
The visitor’s parlor was a strange little room. Two of its walls formed an obtuse angle containing a door and a window which opened upon a rain-soaked balcony. A third wall was fitted with a tokonoma-like alcove, and the incense burning in it filled the room with a tenacious fragrance intensified by the heat coming from the glowing gas stove.
At length Prince Toin, the stately figure of a regimental commander in a dark brown suit, made his appearance, his cheerful manner calculated to put his guest at ease.
“Well, here I’ve brought you out in mid-morning. How kind of you to come!” said the Prince in a voice much too loud for the occasion.
Honda offered his card and bowed low.
“Please make yourself comfortable. My reason for asking you to come has to do with this affair that you are concerned with. I am told you have gone so far as to resign your judgeship in order to undertake the defense of these youths.”
“That is correct, Your Highness. One of them is the only son of an acquaintance of mine.”
“Iinuma, I take it?” asked Prince Toin with the straight-forwardness of a soldier.
The window was clouded with drops of moisture from the heat. The winter rain seemed a mist as it fell upon the bleak trees in the broad garden and upon the pine and hemp palms outside the window, each of which was wound with straw mats to protect it from frost. A white-gloved butler served English-style tea. He filled the white china cups with a graceful amber stream issuing from the slender spout of a silver teapot. Honda withdrew his fingers from the sudden heat that his silver spoon transmitted. The too keen warmth all at once reminded him of the punishment provisions of the Imperial Code, which seemed to vibrate there in the silver.
“The fact is, someone once brought Isao Iinuma to my house,” said the Prince calmly. “At that time he made a strong impression upon me. He expressed himself very passionately; he seemed absolutely sincere. And he has quite a head on his shoulders. A superior mind. No matter what tricky questions I put to him, his response was invariably to the point. A somewhat dangerous boy, but one with nothing frivolous about him. That such a worthy youth should stumble like this is indeed cause for regret. And so when I heard that you had cast aside your profession to become his lawyer, I was delighted and wished to meet you.”
“The boy, Your Highness, is wholly devoted to the Emperor. On the occasion of his coming here, did he express himself in such terms to Your Highness?”
“Yes. He said that loyalty was presenting to the Emperor steaming rice balls made with his own hands. And after that, whatever the result, loyalty demanded cutting open his stomach. He gave me a book called The League of the Divine Wind. . . . But surely he won’t kill himself, will he?”
“Both the police and the prison authorities are alert to that possibility, so there seems to be no need for concern. But, Your Highness . . .” said Honda, gradually growing bolder and turning the conversation in the direction he wanted, “Your Highness, to what degree do you countenance the conduct of these boys? How far would you go in supporting them, not only in the actions that have already come to light but in their entire plot? Or, indeed, would you deign to countenance whatever came forth from their burning sincerity?”
“That’s not an easy question,” said the Prince. There was a disconcerted expression on his face as he halted his teacup in front of his moustache, a wavering ribbon of steam rising from the cup. At that moment Honda felt an unaccountable urge to inform the Prince of the circumstances of Kiyoaki’s sorrowful death.
The Prince’s self-estee
m must have suffered a severe wound from the incident involving Kiyoaki, but Honda was uncertain as to whether or not passion had been the cause of the Prince’s vulnerability. If, however, years before, the Prince’s whole being had indeed become suffused with the splendor radiated by that bright phantom that draws all men—high and low, rich and poor alike—to death, to hell, if he owed his wound to that passion, altogether ignorant, altogether noble, that blinds men with its splendor . . . And then as to Satoko, if it had been she herself and no one else who had turned the Prince’s passion to ashes . . . If that could be made known here and now . . . no more consoling requiem could be offered for Kiyoaki. Nothing, Honda thought, could more comfort Kiyoaki’s soul. Love and loyalty sprang from the same source. If Prince Toin would give some clear evidence of this, Honda would find in himself the sincere dedication to risk everything to protect the Prince. Thus, though Kiyoaki’s name was a forbidden word, Honda, using this present issue as a metaphor of the storm of passion that had brought Kiyoaki to his death, now had the courage to test the Prince by speaking of something that up to now he had kept back for fear of showing disrespect. It might perhaps be to Isao’s disadvantage in the trial, and perhaps, as a lawyer, he should leave it unsaid. But he could not suppress the thought that the voices of Kiyoaki and Isao were crying out together within him.
“The truth is, Your Highness, that according to what the investigation brought out, though this is still a matter of the deepest secrecy, it seems that the Iinuma group had something more in mind than the assassination of certain men of the financial world.”
“Something new has come out?”
“Their plot was, of course, nipped in the bud, but, as might be expected of such youths, they were moved by the earnest desire to see the governing power in the benevolent hands of His Majesty.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Their primary objective was, I believe, the formation of a cabinet headed by a member of the Imperial Family. I find it very difficult to say this, but the police discovered leaflets secretly printed by them in which Your Highness’s name has a prominent place.”
“My name?” exclaimed the Prince, his expression abruptly altered.
“The leaflets had been mimeographed with the intention of distributing them speedily after the assassinations, in order to make the populace believe the falsehood that the Emperor had vested Your Highness with authority to take action. Once the Prosecutor’s Office became aware of them, their attitude hardened immeasurably. And my task is now all the more difficult. Depending upon how they handle it, this could result in the charges becoming extremely grave.”
“That is an offense against the Emperor! It’s absurd. It’s a shocking thing.”
Though the Prince’s voice grew louder, this did not conceal a note of fear. Honda, still intent on testing the Prince’s state of mind, quietly asked another question. He looked steadily into the Prince’s almond eyes.
“It is rude of me to ask this, Your Highness, but could it be that in the military too there was similar sentiment?”
“Not at all. The military was not in the least involved. It’s absurd to try to link it to the military. The whole thing came out of the fevered brains of schoolboys.”
Prince Toin, Honda realized, was angrily shutting the door in his guest’s face tc protect the Army. Honda’s most cherished hope was shattered.
“Imagine a boy that intelligent coming up with such nonsense!” said the Prince as though muttering to himself. “I am profoundly disappointed. And of all things, to use my name! To exploit my name that way after a single meeting, the name of an imperial prince! He’s lost all sense of obligation—at least he doesn’t know where to stop. He doesn’t understand that there could be no greater disloyalty than an offense against the Emperor. Is this his concept of loyalty? Of sincerity? How distressing that young men are like that!” There was no longer any trace of the magnanimity of a leader of troops. His heart had suddenly turned cold. And Honda, as he listened, had easily perceived the instant change in His Highness’s zeal. The fire that had burned in the imperial breast had been extinguished, embers and all.
Prince Toin was thinking how well it was that he had decided to meet with this lawyer. Now when he paid his respects to His Majesty at the New Year, he would make no mention of this to him, and thus he would avoid later mortification. But misgivings swarmed in his mind. It hardly seemed possible that such an offense could have been planned by schoolboys. How strange that he had heard nothing at all from Lieutenant Hori since this affair! Prince Toin had felt sorry to learn of his transfer to Manchuria, but now, as he considered the matter, he began to wonder if the Lieutenant might not have volunteered to go, fleeing before the affair broke. If that was the case, the Prince had been used, had been betrayed by this officer in whom he had placed such trust.
Since his hatred had its root in fear, it kept growing. For a long while Prince Toin’s attitude toward those in the Imperial Household Ministry and toward that little group who made up the upper class had been one of distrust and revulsion. And now the odor of treachery had risen even from the one place where his mind had been at rest. That smell was all too familiar. He had only to reflect, and the memory came to him of how, ever since his childhood, it had been on all sides of him. The odor of a fox’s den. No matter how he tried to banish it, this odor permeated his exalted surroundings, sinister, affronting the nostrils, an excremental stench of treachery.
Honda glanced through the window at the falling rain. The glass was becoming more and more clouded. The color of the fresh mats wrapped protectively around the hemp palms in the foreground shone dully amid the rain-soaked scene, giving the impression of khaki-uniformed men crowding about the window. Honda knew that he was about to take a dangerous gamble, one that never would have occurred to him during his years as a judge. Of course he had not arrived at the Prince’s residence with such a strategy already in mind. But with the pitiful ashes of His Highness’s passion before his eyes, a sudden, reckless hope sprung up within him. This approach would be entirely different, no longer a matter of the Prince’s interest in saving Isao. The approach left to Honda, one that was far more cogent, would have the effect of smoothly diverting Prince Toin to an effort to save Isao without his having the least intention of doing so. At this moment there was no one but Honda to instill such a resolution in the Prince, nor would there be another opportunity like this. And so, though with much trepidation, he felt obliged to urge this skillfully upon the Prince. The incendiary literature in question was in the hands of the prosecution, still unknown to the general public.
Trying to speak as calmly as possible, Honda said: “With regard to those pamphlets in which Your Highness’s name occurs, if they are allowed to remain as they are, and if this results in any awkward consequences for Your Highness, I am afraid that an extremely unfortunate situation will arise.”
“Awkward consequences? From something with which I had no connection?”
For the first time the Prince turned eyes upon Honda in which anger showed clearly. He raised his voice only a little, however, revealing that he felt some fear about giving way to anger. But his anger was precious to Honda. He felt that he had to make the most of it.
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness. But it seems to me that this material is dangerous, and in spite of my concern for Your Highness’s welfare, I haven’t the power to see that it’s suppressed. Unless you take action speedily, it will sooner or later become public knowledge, and though you are involved in no way in this affair, grounds will be given for speculation that you are involved.”
“Do you mean that I have the power to suppress it?”
“Yes, Your Highness. You do have that power.”
“How?”
“It is simply a matter of Your Highness so directing the Imperial Household Minister,” Honda answered without hesitation.
“You’re telling me to bend my knee to the Imperial Household Minister?” The Prince’s voice finally
became as loud as before. The fingers with which he tapped the arm of his chair trembled with anger. His impressive eyes, their pupils fixed, were wide open. He looked as stern as if shouting orders to his troops from horseback.
“Not at all, Your Highness. If you but give the order, the Minister will arrange things in an agreeable manner. For when I was a judge and an occasion rose that had some bearing upon the Imperial Family, I always treated the matter with extreme deference. The Imperial Household Minister will confer with the Minister of Justice, the Minister of Justice will give orders to the Attorney General, and the existence of those leaflets may well be totally disregarded.”
“Could that be done so easily?” the Prince asked with a little sigh. Before him was the face of the Imperial Household Minister, wearing that disagreeable soft smile of his.
“Yes. Your Highness. Given Your Highness’s authority . . .” Honda’s tone was so earnest and decisive that Prince Toin seemed much encouraged.
With this, Honda thought, one dangerous and ominous shadow hanging over Isao’s crime had been swept away. But this happily accomplished, what was now to be feared was the Public Prosecutor’s subtle revenge.
33
AFTER HAVING SPENT the New Year’s in a police cell, Isao was transferred to Ichigaya Prison at the end of January when he was indicted. Through the weave of the basketlike headcover that prisoners wore he glimpsed the dirty remnants of a two-day snowfall piled in shaded spots along the streets. The many colors of the advertising banners hanging before the market stalls were heightened by the afternoon rays of the winter sun. The fifteen-foot iron door of the south entrance to the prison opened with a high screech from its hinges, admitted the car carrying Isao, and closed again.
Ichigaya Prison had been completed in 1904, and was of frame construction, its exterior covered with gray mortar and its interior walls almost all of white plaster. After entering through the south gate, the prisoners awaiting trial got out of their vehicle and walked through a covered passageway which brought them to an inspection room called “Central.”