The Emperor's woman

by I. J. Parker

  There was another silence, then she said, “What you ask is impossible. No lady in the imperial service would agree to meet a man secretly, let alone discuss palace matters.”

  Kosehira laughed out loud. “Oh, come, Kishi. You know that’s ridiculous. For one thing, Lady Masako herself managed quite well to meet with your husband.”

  She bristled. “What can you expect from such a person?”

  “Must it be secret?” asked Akitada. “Is there not a way in which a lady might speak to me without damaging her reputation? What about Lady Masako’s attendants? I assure you, I’ve never caused any scandals of the sort you fear.”

  Kosehira added, “Akitada is the most boring fellow I know. He dotes on his wife.”

  Lady Kishi eyed Akitada over her fan. “You have only one wife?” she asked.

  Not sure if she would hold the fact against him, Akitada admitted it.

  “But you have mistresses.”

  “No mistresses.”

  Kosehira cast up his eyes and shook his head.

  “You see?” said Lady Kishi, turning to her cousin. “Not all men are like my husband.” She paused. “That is, if your friend tells the truth.”

  “Oh, it’s the truth, Cousin.” Kosehira grinned. “He leads a very dull life. He works all day and plays with his children at night.”

  Somehow this little exchange, though embarrassing to Akitada, broke the impasse. Lady Kishi turned back to him and said, “Very well. I’ll see what I can find out. But it will not be easy.”

  Kosehira clapped his hands. “I knew you had a clear head, Kishi. And, by the heavens, we’re glad to have you for an ally.” He rose.

  Akitada also got to his feet.

  Lady Kishi looked up at them. “Please understand I do this for my children and no one else.”

  Kosehira positively bounced with delight. He seemed to think all their troubles would now disappear in no time at all. Akitada was not so optimistic. Lady Kishi could be very helpful, but he still had no clue how or why Lady Masako had died. And until her murder was solved, he doubted Prince Atsuhira could be cleared of the charge of treason.

  They parted on Nijo Avenue, Kosehira to return home, and Akitada to his office in the Ministry of Justice. He had been missing too much time from his work, and even a tolerant superior like Fujiwara Kaneie might lose patience.

  He spent the next hours working feverishly through paperwork that had stacked up, dictating letters and comments to his clerk, sending junior clerks on searches for documents and precedents, and reporting to Kaneie about the disposition of a tax case..

  But in the back of his mind hovered a dark cloud. Genba was in jail and wanted to leave his service. Saburo was homeless and would soon go hungry. His family was shrinking, and those closest to him had lost faith in him. What troubled Akitada most was that both Genba and Saburo had put their trust in him, and he had disappointed them.

  When it was getting dark enough to light the oil lamps, Akitada’s patience and his back rebelled. He got up and stretched. Then he gave his clerk instructions for the next day and left for the jail, hoping to reassure Genba of his support.

  He was not allowed to see him. The supervisor looked apologetic but said he had orders not to allow visitors in the future.

  This sent Akitada to Kobe’s office. The superintendent was in, but Akitada spent some time waiting in the corridor. The experience humiliated him and proved their changed relationship. Kobe no longer treated him as a trusted friend but rather as a suspicious character whose rank did not require any courtesies. But Genba’s fate was more important than his pride, and Akitada said nothing about the delay when he finally found himself face to face with Kobe. Kobe had also been working late and looked irritable.

  Not a good beginning.

  Akitada said somewhat stiffly, “Forgive the interruption, but I have some new information about the murder of the brothel keeper Tokuzo.”

  Kobe stared back, unsmiling. “Yes?”

  “I have spoken with his mother. She admits now there was no theft of gold. Only the contracts were taken. She also supplied a list of names of several women who worked for her son and had been mistreated. These women and their male friends or husbands had good reason to want Tokuzo dead.” He pulled out the list and handed it to Kobe. “I think the police should investigate these people. The killer might be among them.”

  Kobe frowned at the scratches Tokuzo’s mother had produced. “In that business, you always find people with grudges,” he said, dropping the paper on his desk.

  Akitada bristled. “You mean you’ll do nothing to solve the case?”

  “Not at all. We have two suspects, and we aren’t finished interrogating them.”

  Akitada gasped audibly at this. “You are torturing Genba to get a confession?”

  Kobe glared. “I don’t like your choice of words, Lord Sugawara. We do not use torture.”

  “You used to. Why should I think you won’t do so again?” Akitada clenched his fists and took a step forward. “This is not some thief or robber you’ve arrested. This is Genba. You know Genba isn’t violent, and Genba doesn’t lie. He will not confess to a crime he didn’t commit. If you keep beating him to get a confession, you will be torturing an innocent man.”

  Kobe turned away. “We have nothing more to discuss, and I’m very busy.”

  “I want to see Genba. They turned me away at the jail. Your orders?”

  “For the time being. Good night, sir.”

  A New Ally

  Akitada was too depressed to spend the night with Tamako. He did not want to talk about the way he felt, and he would have to do that if he told her about his visit to Kobe. Therefore he pretended to have brought work home with him, sat late in his room, and eventually spread some bedding there for the night.

  He slept poorly and was up again at dawn, pacing the floor and turning over in his mind all sorts of impractical schemes for rescuing Genba. He was impatient to speak to Tora, to see if he had been able to find Saburo.

  Eventually, he could not wait any longer and went to look for him. To his surprise and irritation, Tora and Yuki, his son, were kicking a football back and forth as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He did not think it was proper to discuss Saburo or Genba before the child, so he glowered and said pointedly, “Good Morning.”

  Tora dropped the ball, which made Yuki claim victory.

  “I didn’t know you were up already.” Tora looked apologetic.

  Good.

  Yuki, flushed with triumph and in the knowledge that Akitada was quite fond of him, cried, “Sir, will you play? It’s no fun with just two players. Oh, and can Yasuko come and play?”

  Akitada prided himself on his skill at kemari, but football was a man’s game. Why would his dainty little daughter be expected to play? “Yasuko surely doesn’t know how to play,” he said.

  “Oh, but she does,” cried Yuki. “She’s almost as good as I am.”

  Akitada smiled and was about to explain that boys and girls played different games, when Tora said with a laugh, “She’s better. She beat you soundly the other day, Yuki.”

  Akitada looked at them blankly, “I had no idea.” Suddenly he was aware of how little time he spent with his children. He saw the eager face of the boy and said, “Well, let me go see if she’s up.”

  She was. Squealing with delight, she took off her skirt and, dressed only in shirt and trousers, ran off to join Tora and Yuki.

  Tamako sat before her mirror and smiled. Akitada said, “I didn’t know she played kemari. Do you approve?”

  “Why not? They are children. Children should run and play as much as possible.”

  “But she’s a girl.”

  Tamako raised her brows. “I don’t think kicking a ball is beyond her capabilities.”

  “Perhaps not, but is it… seemly?” He thought of Lady Masako, who had been taught a man’s skills by her father and lost her chance at becoming an empress.

  Tamako said firmly, “Of c
ourse. They’re at home and not in the street outside.”

  Akitada left, shaking his head. To his amazement, Yasuko proved an agile and skillful player.

  But the game with Tora and the children depressed him further. He had not had any vigorous exercise for some time and was quickly out of breath, dropping the ball several times. The thought crossed his mind that he and Tora should practice with the fighting staffs again.

  But of course more serious matters lingered in the back of his mind.

  Eventually, they left the children to their own play and went to Akitada’s study, where Akitada asked, “Any news of Saburo?”

  “No, sir. I’ve searched the markets and even went to the beggars’ lair. I thought he might have gone back there because they took him in.”

  “Yes. Good point. And?”

  “Nothing, sir. They clammed up and told me I was unwelcome. Some crazy old man in women’s clothes sent you a message, though.”

  “Really? Did you talk about me?”

  “No. Didn’t mention you at all. That’s what’s so crazy.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “Those who wait get what others leave behind.”

  “Is that good or bad? What do you think he meant by it?”

  Tora grinned. “No idea. As I said, he had on women’s clothing. Lost his mind, I’d say. One thing about those beggars, they’ve got all sorts of respect for old people. You should’ve seen how they bowed to the old geezer, bringing him food and drink and asking him how he was feeling.”

  “Yes, there’s good in all people.” Then Akitada thought of the police lashing Genba to get a confession. “Well, most people,” he corrected himself. “So you got nothing?”

  Tora shook his head. “I’ll go back, if you like, but they didn’t want anything to do with me. It was almost like they were protecting Saburo.”

  “Maybe,” said Akitada. “He may be among them, and they think he’s in trouble. Remember, Saburo stole those contracts.”

  “That wasn’t stealing,” Tora said. “He was returning something that belonged to Ohiro and the other women. Tokuzo owed them, what with all the beatings and rapes.”

  “In the eye of the law, it was stealing. For that matter, the killer may have acted for the women also. Does that make the murder acceptable?”

  Tora frowned. “Maybe.”

  “Well, he may cost Genba and Ohiro their lives.”

  Tora nodded glumly. “We’ve got to find him.”

  “If Saburo is right that he is a hired assassin, finding him won’t be easy or safe. I suggest we start at the other end and find out who hired him.” Akitada told Tora about the list of names Tokuzo’s mother had given him, and that was now in Kobe’s hands. “Kobe may or may not investigate those women. I have no reason to think he’ll do anything I ask him to do.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I know he was your friend.”

  “Never mind. I think you’d better go back to the women who worked for Tokuzo. Talk to them. Find out who was mistreated, and if they have male family members or lovers who might have taken revenge.”

  “My sort of work,” Tora said approvingly. “I’m on my way.”

  Akitada sighed.

  Having made a start on Genba’s problem, he returned to his duties at the ministry with a lighter conscience. Tora would get the information, and they could interview the women. Even if the “assassin” was not the killer, surely enough information about Tokuzo would emerge to find another suspect. Akitada had no sympathy for the victim or his relatives, but he could not allow Genba to be convicted for something he had not done.

  In Kosehira’s case, getting the assistance of Lady Kishi would set things in motion there. He was convinced that Lady Masako’s death was connected with the events preceding her death.

  By the end of the day, some of his hopes were dashed. A messenger had arrived with a letter. It was from Kosehira, and it was bad news. He had been ordered back to his province. Kosehira said nothing else beyond the usual closure of good wishes for Akitada and his family. It was ominous and suggestive. The fact that he gave no explanations meant he expected his letters to be scrutinized. It was a warning to Akitada that their interest in the prince and Lady Masako had become known in the highest places, and action was being taken to stop them.

  Had Lady Kishi betrayed them?

  The more Akitada thought about this, the less likely it seemed. Her fortune was tied too closely to the prince’s for her to cut those ties and join his enemies. Yes, he had provoked her anger with his many affairs, but Kishi was a practical woman.

  Obviously someone objected to the questions he and Kosehira had been asking, and ordered Kosehira back to his post. Would they approach him next? Very probably. And he did not have Kosehira’s connections and had a reputation for meddling.

  With a sigh, Akitada went to see his wife to inform her of developments.

  Tamako listened calmly. “Well, we knew it might come to this,” she said. “How will you proceed?”

  Akitada’s heart warmed to her. How brave she was! And how lucky he was that she supported him in his decisions.

  “I think I’ll go on without Kosehira,” he said.

  “Yes. But what will you do? Without Kosehira, you may not have access to the people who are involved.”

  “Lady Kishi has promised to help.”

  “Really? That’s good, very good.” Tamako looked thoughtful. “I wonder who knew about the prince’s affair. She evidently did. Was his whole household aware? The other wives?”

  Akitada had considered this, but the prince’s lack of cooperation had closed the door to asking questions of his household. And Lady Kishi was not likely to approve of such investigations either. If the guilty party was to be found within the prince’s family, she would suppress the fact at all cost.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “And I have no way of finding out.”

  “Why not ask Akiko? She knows Kishi.”

  “My sister? Dear gods! You can’t be serious.” Akitada was shocked at the idea. He had not spoken to Akiko in several months. Mostly she irritated him. Of his two sisters, Akiko, the older, had inherited her mother’s social-climbing ways. She had spent most of her time promoting her husband Toshikage, a harmless and friendly brother-in-law who was besotted with his wife, in his rise in the government. Toshikage had had several rank promotions and now served in the imperial guards as a captain. There was nothing in the least martial about him, but such positions tended to be purely honorary while carrying very tangible salaries.

  Tamako smiled. “Yes, your sister. She’ll jump at the idea. Akiko is a natural-born snoop. Her curiosity about other people’s activities never sleeps, and the more highly placed the person, the more interested she’ll be.”

  Akitada frowned. “That may be true, but I cannot risk having Akiko meddle in this dangerous affair. Akiko doesn’t have the sense to protect herself or anyone else.”

  “I think you’re wrong.” Tamako reached for her writing box. “I’ll send her a note, asking her to come. It’s time you saw your sister again anyway.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “We’ll talk to her together.”

  It was a pity that of Akitada’s two stepsisters it should be Akiko who lived near them. Tamako saw her frequently because their children played together, and because Tamako tolerated Akiko’s temperament a great deal better than Akitada, who bristled every time some remark by Akiko reminded him of his stepmother.

  His other sister, Yoshiko, was married to a commoner. Her husband Kojiro had been a suspect in a murder case, and Yoshiko, a gentle and loving young woman and Akitada’s favorite, had scandalized her brother by carrying on a secret love affair with him. Now they lived in Nagoya in distant Owara province, where Kojiro had become a large landowner and local dignitary, thereby proving that status could be flexible when a man was inspired to prove his worth to the woman he loved.

  But it was Akiko who showed up later that day, having rece
ived Tamako’s message. She was accompanied by her maid and her little daughter, looked excited, and breezed by Akitada with a rustle of rich silks, a flash of a smile, and a “Greetings, big brother!” as she headed for Tamako’s quarters.

  Akitada followed more slowly. Unquestionably, Akiko was a handsome woman, though some of that was due to her attire which must cost Toshikage a small fortune. He much preferred Tamako’s unpretentious beauty, or even Yoshiko’s gentle face and small, quick figure.

  A bustle and chatter over the children, Akiko’s clothes, and Tamako’s new screen ensued while Akitada stood by impatiently. Eventually, the children left to play outside, and the adults sat down.

  “So,” said Akiko briskly, “I hear you need my help, Akitada?”

  “Well…” Akitada shot his wife a look, wondering what she had written in her note. “I wondered if you could ask a few harmless questions. It’s easier for a woman to do this. And the information would be helpful in a case I’m engaged on.”

  “Dear heavens! My stiff and superior brother asks me to help in one of investigations? How can such a thing be? You’ve never given me credit for my good sense before.”

  Akitada blushed. “Not at all, Akiko. You exaggerate.”

  The two women laughed. Tamako said, “You’ve mentioned knowing Lady Kishi quite well. It occurred to me that you might be able to find out some things from her.”

  Akiko’s brows shot up. “Lady Kishi? Of course. Dear me, Akitada, you are playing with tigers these days. Don’t tell me you’re trying to save Atsuhira again.”

  “Not exactly. Kosehira got himself involved, and they want to drag him down also. The prince is probably innocent, but he won’t lift a finger to save himself. He mourns the death of a lover.”

  Akiko’s eyes shone. “Ah, the emperor’s woman! I never believed that silly tale about her death from some sudden illness while she was visiting her old nurse. It just made people believe she was giving birth and things went badly.”

  Tamako nodded. “I thought the same thing. I wondered if it might have been the emperor’s child.”