Rashomon Gate

"There must have been an outcry when the results were published. What about the young man who was passed over? What was his reaction?"

Hirata's face looked strained. "He was poor and without family co

Frustrated by Hirata's attempt to justify himself, Akitada lashed out. "But you knew better," he cried. "I have never known you to go against your principles. This is not what you used to teach your students. I thought better of you."

Hirata flinched. Regarding Akitada sadly, he said, "You are very young. Only young men think the greatest tragedy in life is suffering an injustice. There are worse things, but they happen to the old." He raised a hand to cover his eyes. When he had himself under control again, he continued, "Unfortunately, in this student's case, there was not even the consolation of a lesser assignment in the capital. He was assigned to one of the northern provinces as a teacher."

"Good heavens! That amounts to exile. And he accepted that?"

Hirata clenched his fists. "No," he said in a choking voice. "He committed suicide the day he was given the news."

Akitada sat speechless. The heavy silence hung between them like a wall.

After a long time, Hirata mastered his emotion and spoke again. "Now you know why I did not tell you the truth. This blackmail business has destroyed my precarious peace. For nearly a year I have tried to convince myself that the young man killed himself for other reasons, perhaps an unhappy love affair or money problems. I thought that no mere disappointment in the examination result could cause him to take his life when he had the talent and the youth to rise in the world inspite of it. I even blamed him for being too unstable to be worthy of first place honors, as if his suicide justified the examination results. I am deeply ashamed and beg your forgiveness for not telling you of this sooner."

Hirata's humility shook Akitada. "Er, of course," he stuttered, twisting his hands in his lap. "There is nothing to forgive, sir. Indeed, I . . . am very sorry for my rash words. I had no right." He paused, looking at the gray head bowed before him, and felt ashamed of his suspicions. He asked, "But how . . . ?"

Hirata's head snapped up. His face was haggard, his eyes hard. "How do I live with myself? Not well, I assure you. But I go on because I still have two obligations to meet."

Akitada sat aghast. He had not meant to cause such pain, had had no thought beyond his own self-righteous outrage. He cried, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. That is not what I meant at all. I wondered how it was done. How did the mediocre student write the wi

Hirata relaxed a little. His mouth quirked slightly. "Ah, Akitada! I should have known that you would look on the practical side. The answer is no; it would have been impossible. We know all of our students by sight and interview the few candidates who come from the provinces. The wi

"Could you have misjudged his earlier performances?"

Hirata grimaced. "No, though I certainly tried to think so. The wi

"Perhaps he memorized someone else's text, or a draft of the paper was smuggled in?" Akitada suggested.

"Neither. Memorizing would not have helped since he had no prior knowledge of the topic. Besides I doubt his knowledge of Chinese was good enough. As to passing him a draft, security, as you know, is very tight. The candidates are searched, led to their cubicles, and handed the examination topic and the sheets of blank paper by a faculty proctor."

"Then the proctor must have passed him the paper."

"Yes." Hirata's voice sounded dismal, but some color had returned to his face.

"I think the time has come for names."

Hirata sighed. "You would find out in any case. The student's name was Okura. I am thankful to say that he received a government appointment to a department where he can do no damage. There were four of us assigned as proctors, Takahashi, Fujiwara, Ono and myself. I was not the one who administered the question to Okura. Oe directed the whole affair, and it may be possible to find out from him who was assigned to Okura."

At this moment the door flew open, and Nishioka bounded in.

"There you are!" His bright eyes took in the scene and his nose quivered excitedly. "Important business? Or have you forgotten the meeting? The others are all there already."

"Thank you for reminding us," said Hirata dryly, getting to his feet.

They followed Nishioka to the Nando-in the central hall of the school of Chinese classics. As Nishioka had said, most of the others were already assembled, clustered about in small groups or sitting in their places studying sheets of paper. Oe stood apart with Ono, apparently giving his junior last minute instructions. Near them hovered Takahashi with a murderous expression on his face.

Akitada made the rounds, bowing and exchanging pleasantries, without meeting anyone of interest until he recognized a familiar face. By now the most senior of the professors, the Confucian scholar, Tanabe, had seen him and was coming his way with a broad smile of welcome. He looked a little more frail and much grayer. Tanabe must be in his sixties by now, a small-boned man with pale, ascetic features and the bowed shoulders of the perpetual scholar.

"My dear Sugawara," he cried, acknowledging Akitada's respectful bow, "I am so very glad to see you again. Nishioka told me that you have joined our faculty. I have been following your career with great interest. You are to be commended on your co

Momentarily taken aback that Tanabe should know about his friendship with the Fujiwara cousins, Akitada recalled that the old gentleman had a childlike admiration for the aristocracy and was well informed about all the important members of the ruling Fujiwara clan. The thought suddenly crossed his mind that such veneration could lead even a scholar of Tanabe's repute to compromise his principles if he were asked to do so as a favor to a high-ranking person.

But seeing the pure joy on the wrinkled face of his former teacher, he was ashamed and explained that his work rarely allowed him leisure to see his friends.

Tanabe looked disappointed. "Well," he said, "that is a pity, but here's another Fujiwara for you to meet." He waved over a tall, bearded man in a wrinkled green silk gown held together by an unmatched sash. The bearded giant approached and responded cheerfully to the introductions.