by I. J. Parker
‘It isn’t far. Shall we go together? Or perhaps you would rather follow?’ She took his hand and started to rise.
It would be so easy and pleasant to forget his troubles for a little, but Akitada was suddenly appalled at his weakness and snatched back his hand. ‘Not today, Little Wave,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I must find Tora.’
She pouted charmingly. ‘Oh, this Tora again. Can’t we forget about him for just a little?’
He knew that she merely thought him a convenient customer. If he agreed, the older woman would join them to discuss the price. It served him right, and the realization helped to cool his blood. He said, ‘I won’t mention him again, but perhaps you know a girl called Hanae?’
She drew back, suddenly looking desolated. ‘Don’t you like me at all?’ Her voice trembled a little.
He felt sorry for hurting her. She was very young, too young for this coarse business. ‘I find you very attractive, Little Wave,’ he said more gently, ‘but I must find Tora and Hanae quickly.’ She still hung her head, and he lied, ‘Perhaps we can meet some other time, when I’m not so busy.’
She cast a despairing glance towards the others, but then gave him a tremulous smile. Putting down her empty cup, she bowed. ‘Thank you for the wine. I’m sorry I troubled you.’
He was a little ashamed of himself and wondered if her failure would get her a reprimand. She had good manners for a prostitute and certainly played her game very well. ‘Wait,’ he said and saw hope flash in her eyes. He fished a piece of silver from his sash. ‘Here. For your time. I came for information and am paying for detaining you. If you don’t know Tora, nor Hanae, perhaps you can tell me who might.’
She tucked the coin between her breasts. ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling again. ‘I owe for my rent.’ Her relief was not very flattering, but she went on, ‘There’s a new dancer called Hanae. She and Kohata perform at the big parties. You could ask Kohata. I heard Hanae’s married.’ She shook her head. ‘If it’s true, she’s a fool. She could be a courtesan of the first rank.’
‘Perhaps she wanted a family.’
Little Wave laughed bitterly. ‘That’s what I thought, and now look at me. He left me with a child, and I’m just scraping by on chance meetings. It used to be that people had my name on their list and I was always busy.’
Akitada stared at her. ‘You have a child?’ He would have judged her to be no more than sixteen.
‘At least she’s a girl. In another five years I can sell her into the trade.’ She was matter-of-fact about it. Women in her profession had little chance to settle down with a decent man, and no place to go but back to the old life. And their children followed them into misery. Akitada thought of the deaf-mute boy, but Little Wave was too young to have known the dead courtesan. The world was full of tragic events and lives that ended in disaster. With a sigh, he took out another silver coin he could ill spare and gave it to her. ‘This is no life for you and your daughter. Leave this business while you are still young.’ Then he rose.
She looked up at him, clutching the money. ‘It’s only because I’m young that men want to lie with me,’ she said sadly. ‘Well, some men. I wish you’d stay. I really like you.’
She looked so forlorn that Akitada blushed. ‘I am sorry,’ he said and turned to walk away.
She ran after him. ‘Will you really be back?’
He shook his head.
She extended her hand and pushed something in his sash.
‘I wasn’t worth this much,’ she said and ran back to the others.
Outside, Akitada found that she had returned one of the silver coins.
The dancer Kohata rented a private pavilion behind one of the better restaurants. Her maid answered his knock and informed him that ‘her lady’ was at work.
‘At this time of day?’ Akitada asked suspiciously.
The maid gave him a pitying look. ‘My lady is much sought after. She is a great dancer and works very hard. She has not yet returned from Lord Sadanori’s party last night.’
And what that meant was pretty clear: someone had requested entertainment of a more private nature. He would never understand the lifestyle of these people. Somewhere he had heard the name Sadanori recently, but he could not recall where. He was one of the Fujiwaras, an important one, though they had never met.
He decided to call on the dancer. Leaving the quarter, he walked southward through streets where merchants, artisans, and the upper servants and retainers of great families lived in small, neat houses with modest gardens. The area gradually became more rural. Here and there he passed a mansion, heavily walled and gated against riffraff. Then the streets became footpaths, and the footpaths mere tracks. The wooden houses shrank in size, and in the surrounding fields people grew vegetables to sell in the market. Children played among chickens and ducks.
In a weedy field beside the road, an ox grazed, tied by a long rope to a post and watched over by a small boy. Instantly, Akitada was reminded of the child he had left behind in Otsu. He asked directions of the boy and turned down another weedy road. A bridge of timbers and boards passed over a canal where ducks and geese splashed and squawked. A woman was washing clothes on the bank, while her children chased each other and a black-and-white puppy. It was a wholesome scene after the Willow Quarter, and Akitada was cheered by it.
The dancer’s house was no more than a one-room shack, but its small veranda was overgrown with a flowering morning glory vine and a white cat sat on the top step. Someone had planted a few vegetables in a plot near the gate. The place looked deserted.
Akitada pushed open the gate and walked along the path. The cat rose and mewed plaintively. He leaned down to stroke its back.
‘Nobody’s home,’ a shrill voice called out to him.
He turned and saw a middle-aged female peering over the fence.
‘I am looking for the dancer Hanae,’ he said. ‘Do you know where she is?’
She scanned him from head to toe before answering. ‘Hanae left yesterday. In the morning. A sedan chair came for her.’
He should have expected it. Like Kohata, this Hanae had also spent the night with a client. ‘When do you expect her back?’
The woman smirked. ‘Couldn’t say. She’s in demand, that one, though she’d better make the most of her time. Noble suitors don’t like being saddled with another man’s child.’
So the famous dancer was pregnant. Like Little Wave, she had been careless or unlucky. Akitada eyed the woman’s sharp face with distaste. His good humor evaporated, he turned to leave, when she said, ‘I told the fool who knocked her up that she had better things to do than wait around for him.’
He walked over to the fence. ‘I was told she was married. Can you describe her husband?’
She was taken aback by the question, then exploded with invective. ‘Married, hah! He’s just another good-looking, good-for-nothing lay-about. Never here when she needs him. I warned her, but she won’t listen. Oh, she says, he works for a great lord and can’t get much time off. A fine husband! He comes for meals and sex, that’s all. The only thing he ever brought her was a mangy dog that kills my chickens, and when I complain he calls me names. Good riddance to such scum.’
Akitada looked at her, then looked back at the little shack, the vine, the cat, and the vegetable plot. Could it be? Was this where Tora had been spending his time? He asked, ‘This sedan chair that picked up the young woman, do you happen to know where it was taking her?’
She was pleased by this question. ‘No, but it was Lord Sadanori himself who sent for her. A sedan chair. Imagine. Hanae may never come back here.’
‘Sadanori? Fujiwara Sadanori?’
‘That’s the one.’
Akitada was appalled. If the dancer had played Tora wrong with Sadanori and Tora had gone after her, he could be getting into big trouble. ‘Who would have information about Hanae’s appointments?’
She gave a little cackle of amusement. ‘If the gentleman is interested, her dancing master Ohiy
a is the one to talk to.’
Ohiya lived in the Willow Quarter, and Akitada trudged back the way he had come. By now it was well past midday, hotter than ever, and he had not eaten yet. Besides, the unaccustomed walking caused unpleasant spasms to the old wound in his injured leg. By the time he reached the quarter again, he was limping. He decided to rest and fortify himself first and entered a large restaurant called The Crane Grove.
The restaurant was busy, but his clothes marked him as an upper-level official, and he was shown to a seat near the window. His waiter, a thin, eager young man, was chatty in hopes of a fat tip from the important customer. ‘We get many gentlemen during the day, this being the best restaurant in the city,’ he informed Akitada. ‘I particularly recommend the fish soup. And afterwards a dish of eel?’
Akitada nodded and glanced through the latticed window at the willows drooping in the afternoon heat. He felt glum. If the dancer expected his child, Tora’s concern for her was reasonable. But he had chosen to keep everyone in the dark and sneak off in this shameful manner because he was ashamed of the liaison. Finding Tora was not the only problem.
When the waiter returned with wine, Akitada asked him if he had seen anyone resembling Tora.
The waiter had not, but he dashed off to check with the other waiters. He was a helpful young man, but it was hard to get in more than one question at a time. Akitada sipped the wine and looked out at the street. Early customers were arriving in the quarter, well-dressed men in search of a bit of relaxation or dalliance before returning to their families after a day in their offices and bureaus.
The fish soup arrived, along with the information that one of the waiter’s colleagues remembered meeting Tora, but had not seen him in weeks. Would the gentleman like to question the other waiter?
No, Akitada saw no point in it, but asked about Hanae.
‘Hanae?’ The waiter’s eyes lit up. ‘Such a dancer,’ he cried. ‘I know her well. So graceful. Like a celestial fairy. So light on her feet that she seems to float. Even those who live above the clouds are bewitched by her. They say she’s already won the heart of a great lord. And when she sings … it’s like hearing a nightingale.’ He paused and leaned forward. ‘Don’t mention this, but she was to dance here last night. When she didn’t show up, we sent for Kohata instead, but Kohata was engaged. It was a disaster, and my boss was wild because he thought he would lose a very important client. But the client canceled before we could tell him.’
This agreed with the neighbor’s story. Akitada nodded and began to eat. The soup was excellent, but the more he heard about the dancer, the less he liked her. Hanae had found a rich and powerful protector and had better things to do than wait for Tora or dance at a party. She had gone off to give a private performance to her benefactor instead.
In due course, the eel arrived, accompanied by a bowl of fragrant rice and several dishes of tasty condiments. Akitada had just sampled the pickled chestnuts when some sort of disturbance broke out on the street. People were running and shouting, and several red-coated constables trotted past the window. Akitada’s waiter dashed out the door and reappeared an instant later, chattering to two burly constables who pushed him aside to make a cursory check of the guests before disappearing into the kitchen, where loud curses and a clatter of pans greeted their invasion.
The waiter returned to Akitada. ‘I thought that you must be wondering what happened, sir,’ he said, slightly out of breath. ‘I went to find out for you. The constables are looking for a madman. He attacked the owner of the Fragrant Plum Blossom and the dancer Kohata, the same one I mentioned. I’m not sure, but he may have killed them.’ Seeing Akitada’s startled expression, he had second thoughts. ‘Nothing to worry about, sir,’ he reassured the valued guest. ‘The constables will catch him shortly. We don’t allow trouble in the quarter. It’s safer here than anywhere. Is the eel to your liking?’
Akitada ignored this glowing testimonial for the Willow Quarter, popped a last bite of eel into his mouth, and approved of the food.
He paid, leaving the waiter a generous tip – though not as generous as that young man had expected – and walked to the house of the dancing master, a modest building marked with a sign that read: ‘Master of the Dance. Teacher of all forms of court dancing – bugaku (both the left and the right), gosechi, sarugaku, and dengaku. Students accepted only after interviews.’
A couple of passers-by had stopped and were looking at the open door. The sound of excited voices could be heard from inside. Akitada knocked and, when no one came, entered. He followed the voices to a large room.
Several people were in it, all talking at the same time. A thin middle-aged male in a peculiar black silk robe seemed to be having hysterics, while an older woman and four small girls clung to him, adding their anguish to his.
‘What is going on here?’ Akitada demanded.
All six fell silent and turned startled eyes his way. The man disengaged himself from the clinging females. He touched his throat and croaked, ‘I’ve been attacked. I, Ohiya. Attacked in my own house. If the police had not arrived in time … heavens … I cannot think. Look at me. I’m shaking like a leaf He held out limp hands, then put one to his forehead. ‘I feel faint,’ he moaned. ‘Help me, girls. I must sit down.’
The older woman and the four little girls, dressed as richly as the little girl who had accosted Akitada earlier that morning, rushed to his rescue. They supported the man to his cushion, where he sat, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths to calm himself.
Akitada guessed that this was where the constables had run the madman to ground. The maniac did not seem to have done much damage, however, except to Master Ohiya’s nerves. Akitada waited until the master calmed down. Then he introduced himself and said, ‘I’m told that you are the teacher of the dancer Hanae?’
Ohiya closed his eyes and moaned again.
Akitada cleared his throat. ‘I seem to have arrived inopportunely. If you will oblige me with a little information, I shall be on my way.’
Ohiya cried, ‘I wish I’d never laid eyes on her. She’ll be my death one of these days. Oh, the pain in my chest.’ He gasped and clutched at himself. The older woman rushed forward to dab at his face with a square of soft paper, and the girls wailed again and clung to him. He said irritably, ‘Let go of me. I’m having trouble breathing with all of you crushing me like that.’ They retreated, murmuring apologies.
Akitada decided that there was nothing wrong with the man and snapped, ‘Master Ohiya. I have taken a lot of trouble finding you. May I have your attention for a moment?’
His tone had the desired result. Ohiya sat up and gave him an appraising look. Then he made a slight bow. ‘I do beg your pardon, sir. I was overcome. My constitution is frail, I’m afraid, and the least thing upsets it.’ He paused. ‘Not that this was a small matter. He was murderous.’
‘Pull yourself together, man. You’re alive.’
‘Yes, well.’ Ohiya felt himself all over, then said, ‘If you’re looking for Hanae, I’m afraid I cannot help you. She seems to have disappeared.’ He added more querulously, ‘I cannot imagine why anyone would think I had something to do with it. These women are always getting into trouble.’
This echoed almost exactly Akitada’s own thoughts, but he was more interested in something else. ‘Who else is looking for her?’
‘Why, that madman. Her husband. How dare he? I told her from the very start to leave him alone. “You are going to ruin your chances,” I said. “A girl like you can rise to the top of the profession.” But she wouldn’t listen. He turned her head, and she married him, a penniless servant who lives and works elsewhere.’ Ohiya threw up his hands. ‘Because he’s handsome! I ask you. If she must roll about in the bedding with a man, let it at least be a wealthy patron. His little fling pays off handsomely, and they return to work richer and with a reputation that makes them more attractive. But her lout of a husband got her pregnant and now plays the jealous lover. What fools these people are.’
ELEVEN
Making Amends
Thunder was rumbling overhead when Akitada reached the police headquarters. Superintendent Kobe was in his office and greeted Akitada warmly. He knew of Yori’s death, but several months had passed since then, and he expressed surprise and concern at Akitada’s haggard appearance.
Akitada brushed this aside and said, ‘I came because Tora’s in prison again. As far as I can make out, it was just a matter of breaking the peace, but some people may lay charges against him.’
It had only been months since Kobe had helped clear Tora of a murder charge, and he raised his brows. ‘Really? Did the rascal inflict serious wounds?’
‘I don’t believe so. It happened in the Willow Quarter about an hour ago.’
Kobe cast up his eyes. ‘Of course, where else?’
‘I haven’t spoken to Tora in several days, but I think this is more complicated than just rowdiness. Tora seems to have taken up with a dancer called Hanae. The girl may be pregnant with his child. Yesterday she took off with Fujiwara Sadanori.’
‘She must be a beauty then. Yes, I see your problem. The hot-head won’t see reason. If we turn him loose, he’ll confront His Lordship and the charmer.’
‘Precisely.’
They sat, pondering the problem. Outside, thunder growled again, and gusts of wind rattled the shutters. Finally, Kobe said, ‘I assume your interest is less in finding the girl than in stopping Tora from doing something foolish?’
‘Yes, of course. Or rather, it would be, except …’ Akitada paused. How to put his uneasiness into words? ‘Mind you, everything points to her having left of her own will, but what if she didn’t go freely? There’s something peculiar about all this.’
‘Out with it. It’s not like you to hold back on opinions.’
‘I’m no longer sure of much. There was another disappearance from the quarter about six years ago. A courtesan of the first rank left abruptly and was not heard of again. Sadanori was linked to her also.’