2

The bishop went first. The house was badly run-down and even a little frightening. He ordered sutras read. The disciple who had been to Hatsuse and another of comparable rank had lesser clerics, to whom such tasks came naturally, prepare torches. For no very good reason, they wandered around to the unfrequented rear of the main hall. Under a grove of some description, a bleak, forbidding place, they saw an expanse of white. What could it possibly be? They brought their torches nearer and made out a seated human figure.

“A fox? They do sometimes take human shapes, filthy creatures. If we don't make it come out I don't know who else will.” One of the lesser monks stepped forward.

“Careful, careful,” said another. “We can be sure it's up to no good.” Not letting his eyes wander for an instant from the thing, he made motions with his hands towards exorcising it.

The bishop's favored disciple was sure that his hair would have been standing on end if he had had any. The bold torchbearer, however, ad-vanced resolutely upon the figure. It was a girl with long, lustrous hair. beaning against the thick and very gnarled root of a tree, she was weeping bitterly.

“Why, this is strange. Maybe we should tell the bishop.”

“Very strange indeed,” said another, running off to report the discovery.

“People are always talking about foxes in human form,” said the bishop,” but do you know I have never seen one?” He came out for a look.

All the available domestics were at work in the kitchen and elsewhere, seeing to the needs of the unexpected guests. These postern regions were deserted save for the half-dozen men watching the thing. No change was to be detected in it. The hours passed, the night seemed endless. Daylight would tell them whether or not it was human, thought the bishop, silently going over appropriate spells, and seeking to quell whatever force it might be with mystic hand motions.

Presently he reached a conclusion. “It is human. It is no monstrous apparition. Go ask her who she is and why she is here. Don't be afraid. She is no ghost—though possibly a corpse thrown away hereabouts has come back to life.”

“A corpse thrown away at the Suzaku emperor's own villa? No, Your Reverence. At the very least it is someone a fox spirit or a wood spirit or something of the sort has coaxed away from home and then abandoned. The place will be contaminated, and for our purposes the timing could hardly be worse.”

Someone called for the caretaker, and the summons echoed menac-ingly across the empty grounds. He came running out, a somewhat ludi-crous figure with his cap perched high on his head.

“Do you have any young women living here? Look at this, if you will.”

“Ah, yes. The foxes are at it again. Strange things are always turning up under this tree. Two years or so ago, in the fall it would have been, a little boy, maybe two years old, he lived up the road. They dragged him off and left him right here at the foot of this tree. It happens all the time.” He did not seem in the least upset.

“Had the child been killed?”

“Oh, no. He's still alive, I'd imagine. Foxes are always after people, but they never do anything really bad.” His manner suggested that such occurrences were indeed commonplace. The emergency domestic arrangements seemed to weigh more heavily on his mind.

“Suppose we watch for a while,” said the bishop, “and see whether or not we observe foxes at work.”

He ordered the brave torchbearer to approach and challenge the strange figure.

“Who are you? Tell us who you are. Devil, fox, god, wood spirit? Don't think you can hold out against His Reverence. He won't be cheated. Who are you? Come on, now, tell us who you are.”

He tugged at a sleeve. The girl pressed it to her face and wept all the more bitterly.

“Come on, now. The sensible thing would be to tell us.” He tugged more assertively, though he rather hoped he would not be permitted a view of the face. It might prove to be the hideous mask of the eyeless, noseless she-devil* he had heard about. But he must give no one reason to doubt his mettle. The figure lay face in arms, sobbing audibly now.

“Whatever it is, it's not the sort of thing you see just every day.” He peered down at the figure. “But we're in for a storm.+ She'll die if we leave her out in it, that's for sure. Let's move her in under the fence.”

“She has all the proper limbs,” said the bishop,” and every detail suggests that she is human. We cannot leave her to die before our eyes. It is sad when the fish that swim in the lake or the stag that bays in the hills must die for want of help. Life is fleeting. We must cherish what we have of it, even so little as a day or two. She may have fallen into the clutches of some minor god or devil, or been driven from home, a victim of foul conspiracy. It may be her fate to die an unkind death. But such, even such, are they whom the Blessed One will save. Let us have a try at medicines and seek to revive her. If we fail, we shall still have done our best.”

He had the torchbearer carry her inside.

“Consider what you are doing, sir,” objected one of the disciples. “Your honored mother is dangerously ill and this will do her no good.”

“We do not know what it is,” replied another, “but we cannot leave it here for the rain to pound to death.”

It would be best not to let the servants know. The girl was put to bed in a remote and untenanted part of the hall.