by I. J. Parker
“And here I am, at your service,” announced a reedy voice from the hall. A small gray-haired man stood in the passage, carrying a bamboo case and peering at them with sharp blackeyes under grizzled eyebrows. He looked a bit like an old monkey, thought Tora.
“Well, Kiyo, where’s the patient?”
“This way, Dr. Oyoshi. The mistress is with him.” The maid wiped her hands on her apron, and led the way down the dark hall. Tora, who was curious about her mistress, followed.
In one of the rooms a small group of people stood around a gasping figure under a quilt. Three handsome girls with painted faces and colorful robes, the lanky youth from the yard, and the landlady all stared down at the sick man. So did the doctor and the maid when they joined the group.
Tora gaped at the landlady.
The widow Sato was still in her early twenties, with a dainty figure in a dark blue silk gown, shining hair neatly pinned, skin like pale ivory, and eyes that were almond-shaped and luminous. She was a beauty. At the moment, however, she looked very angry. “So you finally get here, Oyoshi,” she cried to the doctor. “Do something. This person refuses to leave. He claims he’s too ill. Hah! He wants free lodging, that’s all. Everybody is trying to take advantage of a single woman. Look him over and then make him get out. The rest of you, back to work!”
She whisked out of the room without glancing at Tora, who had retreated into the shadows, hoping she would take him for the doctor’s assistant. He watched her trip lightly down the corridor, then turned his attention back to the scene in the room.
The doctor knelt on the floor beside the shivering figure and pulled back the quilt. The sick man’s face was white and wet with perspiration. His eyes were glassy and his mouth slack. His breath came and went in shuddering gasps. Middle-aged and gray-haired, he looked ordinary except that an old injury had taken a small piece from one of his large earlobes.
Oyoshi spoke to him softly, but got no response. He felt the patient’s forehead, peered into his mouth, and then parted the man’s gown to lay his ear against the heaving chest. A rattling cough racked the patient, and a thin dribble of blood appeared at the corner ofhis mouth. The doctor covered him up again and rose with a sigh.
“He’s much too ill to be moved,”he said, pulling Kiyo aside. “I’ll give you some medicine to ease him a bit,but it does not look good. The end is near, I’m afraid.”
One of the painted girls said with a shudder, “The mistress won’t like it. Can’t we take him to the monks?”
The doctor looked shocked. “Certainly not. I won’t allow you to put the poor soul through that, and I’ll tell your mistress so.”
“Tell me what?” The widow appeared in the doorway. “Why isn’t he up yet? I tell you, he cannot stay. He has no money left, and I don’t run a charity hospital. Besides, nobody will spend the night in a house where there’s a sick person. We learned that well enough when Sato was ill. Oh, that this should come to plague me now when the old lord’s funeral will fill all the inns and hostels for miles around!” She stamped her dainty foot in frustration.
The doctor said in a low but firm voice, “This man is not able to speak or stand, Mrs. Sato, let alonetravel. He must remain where he is. Believe me, it won’t be long. I’ll leave some medicine and give you a note certifying that he does not have smallpox orany other infectious disease.”
The beauty flushed and cried, “Tell me, since you are so high and mighty about the matter, who will pay for his lodging and nursing? He’s nothing but a vagabond. He has no money. I’ve looked.And who will pay for all your treatments, pray? Surely you don’t expect me to come up with the money?”
The doctor said coldly, “I do not expect anything but common courtesy from you, madam.”
She tossed her head and went back into her room. The doctor returned to the kitchen with Kiyo and Tora.There he sat down and opened his case. Taking out writing materials and rubbing his ink stone with a few drops of water supplied by Kiyo, he dashed off a note.Then he poured several powders into a paper, twisted it, and said, “Make an infusion of this with boiling water and try to get half a cupful down him everytwo hours. And keep him warm! A brazier of coals day and night.” He closed his case and fished around in his sleeve. “Here’s some money for the coals. Send for me if I’m needed. And give the note to your mistress!”
Tora followed the doctor outinto the courtyard. “Sir?” he called, holding out some coins. “I’d like to pay for the poor fellow’s treatment.”
The doctor stopped and peered up at him from under grizzled brows. “Ah. It’s you. I didn’t recognize you before.” He took the money “Very kind of you. How is your master feeling? Still troubled by those cramps?”
Tora’s jaw sagged.
“Are you incognito then, mydear fellow? Well, there’s no one about just now. I wondered because his Excellency had all the symptoms of acute intestinal distress at Takata. You are one of his lieutenants, aren’t you? I’ve seen you about and, if I’m not much mistaken, that was you under all those animal skins that night?”
Tora grinned weakly. “Your eyes are sharper than mine, sir. You’re right, and my master still suffers a little from the same complaint.”
“Say no more.” Oyoshi set downhis box and rummaged in it. “Here you are. My own recipe! Powdered oyster shelland ground bark of the cherry tree, mixed with the dried leaves of chamomile and some powdered rhubarb root, along with a bit of honey to hold it alltogether. Have him dissolve each pill in a little hot wine and take it with every meal. Can you remember that?”
Tora nodded and tucked the small package away. “What do I owe you for this?”
“Let your master settle with me if the medicine works.”
Tora thanked him, then said, “You seem to know these people. Did you see the innkeeper after he died?”
Dr. Oyoshi nodded and smiled. “Ah,I thought that was why you were here. Is your master looking into the matter then?”
“Uh …”
“Never mind. I treated old Sato when he was ill. Chronic chest pains. Wasn’t getting any better, but should’vel asted at least another year. Imagine my surprise, when I found him with his throat slit! The maid, Kiyo, sent for me. The lady of the house was away-visiting her family, I’m told. What is it that you want to know?”
“Anything you can tell me aboutthe death.”
“I see. Groping in the dark.Well, I don’t think I can help you. He died during the evening or night and did not do it himself. When I saw him he was stone cold and stiff. The maid threw a fit. Nothing unusual in that. The constables eventually showed up and asked a few foolish questions. That, too, was as usual.”
“If the three travelers hadn’t stayed here, who would you think would’ve done such a thing? His widow’s young and handsome, and he was an old geezer. There could’ve been all sorts of mischief.”
The doctor raised his grizzled eyebrows. “You didn’t like the beautiful Mrs. Sato? Too bossy? Been listeningto gossip? Well, apart from the fact that she was not here and could not have done it herself, I’ve never heard anything against her. I expect the widow’s only problem is too much yang.”
“Yang? Who’s he?” Tora askedsuspiciously.
The doctor smiled and patted Tora’s arm. “Well, there is yin, the yielding female principle, and yang, the aggressive male force. All of us have a bit of the opposite forcein us, which is a good thing, for a female without a little yang can’t manage her husband’s home. Mrs. Sato simply has more yang than most. Mr.Sato had the opposite failing. Unfortunately, such an imbalance in a woman seems to make other women hostile toward her. Much like hens in the farmyard,they all gang up on her. As they say, a good deed won’t even pass the gate, but slander travels a thousand leagues.”
Tora’s forehead creased as he pondered that. “I see, and I also see that she probably led her husband by the nose. Even with all that yang stuff, she’s through and through female.And I know about that.”
The doctor laughed. “Maybe so,mayb
e so. Farewell, my friend.”
Tora returned to the kitchen where the maid was preparing the medicine. She greeted him with a big smile. “You’re back! Give me a moment to tend to the sick man and we’ll talk.”
Tora moved closer and ran a finger down her cheek. She giggled. He blew in her ear and murmured, “I’d rather see you after work, sweetheart. When it’s more private. By the way, I’m Hiroshi.”
She put down her ladle and turned a flushed face toward him. “Oh, yes, Hiroshi. You’ll be back? Truly?”
Tora grinned and nodded. When her eyes began to shine, she looked almost handsome, though he wished she wouldn’t bare those crooked teeth which reminded him a little of fangs. Her sturdy, buxom body, at any rate, promised a vigorous encounter, and Tora felt magnanimous.
She said eagerly, “I sleep in the storeroom behind the kitchen. Come after the hour of the boar. There’s a door next to the rain barrel.”
The sharp voice of her mistress sounded from the passage. Tora pulled her close and, fondling a plump breast,murmured, “I can’t wait,” and departed.
He spent the rest of the day in the market, chatting with merchants about thethree prisoners and consuming a modest meal of stuffed rice dumplings before returning to the Golden Carp well after dark. The gate stood invitingly openfor late guests, and a dim paper lantern was lit near the door. But Tora headedfor the darkness in back of the inn.
When he opened the rickety doornext to the rain barrel into pitch blackness, a pair of sturdy arms seized him.Jerked forward, he overbalanced and tumbled, flailing wildly, into a soft nestof bedding and warm female flesh.
She gasped at his sudden weight, then giggled. “What took you so long?”
He chuckled and explored withhis hands. She choked on a little scream when his cold hands found her soft,warm belly. “You might’ve warned me,” Tora murmured into her ear, his hands busily investigating and approving large breasts, firmly muscled thighs, and a smooth bottom.
She gasped again, and tugged impatiently at his sash. “Oh, Hiroshi. I’ve been waiting so-o long,” she moaned.
Tora had planned to spend a little time getting acquainted and picking up some firsthand information about the murder before proceeding to more personal matters, but clearly the young woman had her mind on other things-and who was he to teach her modesty?
Sometime later, when they lay contentedly side by side, he asked, “Why would a nice girl like you work for a mean woman like that?”
She sat up. He could feel her staring down at him in the dark. “You don’t admire her?” she asked in a tone of surprise and disbelief. “Why not? All the men are mad about her.”
“I hope my taste is better than theirs,” Tora said primly.
She lay back and snuggled into the crook of his arm. “She’s a bitch all right. An ungrateful bitch. But he deserved her. After all I did for the old bastard for years, he had to go marry her. He was a fool about that woman. Would you believe, he’d make me ask the fishmonger for free fish bones to make soup, but whenever she wanted a new gown, he’d give her the money and more. How that man spoiled her! And she’d be gone all day, leaving me to do all the work. I was always taking care of him.Even the day he got killed. She went off to visit her family-or so she said-leaving me alone with her sick old man and the inn to look after. And now she’s got it all and I’m still the kitchen drudge. It’s so unfair.” She pounded her fists into the bedding. Tora patted her shoulder and made soothing noises.
“Well,” he said after a moment,“she’s hired those girls and the new cook. You’ve got a lot less work, I bet.And more time for me.” He gave her a little squeeze.
She giggled and rolled on top of him. “You’re right. I’m not tired,” she whispered, biting his ear and pressing her breasts against him.
Tora gave an inward sigh and stroked her buttocks. Their lovemaking had been good, but now he wanted to get on with his job. Still, there was no reason an experienced man couldn’t do both. “I guess your mistress paid him back with a bit of this at night,” he said, pulling her down on himself, “and he thought it a good bargain.”
“Oh, no,” she gasped, moving energetically, “she wouldn’t have him … and he, fool that he was … doted on her anyway.”
“Maybe she has a lover.” Theg irl was so agile, Tora was having difficulty concentrating on his questions.
“Mmm! … I like you.”
“You’re not bad yourself, my girl!” He grunted and forced his mind back on business. “I suppose she could’ve paid to have the old man killed.”
She stopped moving abruptly.For a moment she said nothing, then, “I thought she didn’t like those three.Made them sleep on the kitchen floor and said it was good enough for such rubbish. But it’s true, they did do her a big favor. Never mind. The dirty old bastard deserved what he got.” She sounded venomous when she said that, and started moving again, furiously, mumbling, “Bastard … mmm…aah!” Shec ollapsed on top of Tora with a sigh. “That woman doesn’t know how lucky she is! I tell you, she owes me!” she muttered, as they rolled apart.
Tora frowned in the dark. Kiyohad some unexpected attitudes toward her employers. He wondered about thewidow. “Well, did she have a lover?” he asked again.
“She’s a cold fish, though she acts the slut with those weird eyes of hers, and men like that. No, making money and buying clothes for herself is all she’s interested in.”
“That night Sato was killed,did you hear anything?” Tora asked, pulling the quilt over their sweat-covered bodies.
“Not me. I had a bad cold. Took some of the old man’s medicine with a little hot wine and slept like a bear. I’m glad they didn’t slit my throat, too. Would’ve been easy enough. Say, what is this? Let’s talk about us!”
Tora pulled her close. “I was thinking about you, all alone with those killers in the house,” he whispered in her ear.
She cuddled. “You know, I couldr eally go for a man like you! And not just in bed. Do you like me?”
“What do you think?”
“Want to do it again?” She propped herself on an elbow, and tickled his ear.
Tora almost yelped. “Look,Kiyo, a girl shouldn’t ask a man. It’s forward. A man likes to be in control of these situations.”
She flopped back down. “Well,if you really want to know, my cold was horrible. What with the medicine, and feeling that awful, I couldn’t cook dinner that night and forgot all about old Sato. I did feel bad about it the next morning and, seeing that the three guests had already left, I made him a special soup, with bits of mushrooms anda handful of rice and some bean paste. He used to like that before the bitch moved in. And there he was, blood all over, the room in a mess, and his money box lying there empty!”
“I bet that shook you up,” Tora muttered, his mind in turmoil. One moment she cursed the old geezer and the next. .. an unpleasant thought took hold of him. He moved away from her abruptly and sat up. “Wonder what time it is. I’d better go.”
She yawned. “You can stay the night, Hiroshi. Maybe after a rest you’ll want to do it again?”
“No!” He was up, straighteninghis clothes hurriedly. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Tora paused at the door. “I forgot something I have to do.” Then he took to his heels as if a demon were afterhim.
SIX
THE OUTCASTS
After parting from Tora, Hitomaro continued on the main road for a while, then turned off in the direction of the coast and harbor. He passed among dwellings and shops of ramie weavers, smiths, rope twisters, broom makers, and soothsayers.The houses gradually became smaller and shabbier, their inhabitants now laborers or porters. At the point where the narrow street turned into an open dirt road through barren fields, and the last straggling outskirts of Naoetsu merged with the first scattered dwellings of Flying Goose village, stood a small shack. Its dilapidated sign promised fresh seafood.
Hitomaro lifted the worn curtain that served as a door and ducked into th
e dimly lit interior. Steamyheat met him and the powerful smell of fish frying in hot oil. On a wooden platform a small group of men sat around a hissing and bubbling cauldron,presided over by a red-faced, sweating cook with a blue-checked rag tied about his head. He was stirring the kettle and watching in a fatherly fashion over his chattering customers.
A huge man, a mountain of fleshand muscle, rose from the group and greeted Hitomaro in a booming voice. The firelight cast a red glow on his shaven head and round, smiling face. “Throw insome more abalone, Yaji,” he told the cook. “And the rest of you, make room.”He waved Hitomaro over. “Come and eat, brother. We’re planning our strategy for the match.”
Hitomaro grinned at Genba,nodded to his supporters, and settled himself on the platform. He knew only Genba’s landlord, the rice-cake baker, a stringy middle-aged fellow in a faded,patched cotton gown. The others matched him in age and also looked like smalltradesmen.
“May your opponents eat the dirt at your feet, Genba,” Hitomaro said. “Allow me to pay for the next roundof wine.”
A storm of protest arose: Both Genba and his friend were their guests and they would be deeply hurt if not allowed to treat them.
The food was as fresh as thesign had promised. Since Genba’s disguise had such unexpected benefits,Hitomaro accepted graciously a share of the excellent fried abalone and very decent wine, listening with only half an ear to their discussion of odds,weights, and the physical attributes of various competitors. When someone mentioned outcasts, his interest perked.
“Totally ruined, I tell you,”the man said. “One year district champion, the next a nobody. And all because of a hinin woman. Those outcast women are witches. You beware of those foxes, Genba. Go to regular prostitutes.”
“I abstain from sexual activity while in training,” Genba said piously. He smacked his lips and held up his empty bowl for a refill. Genba had put on considerable weight since their day sof hardship when there was a price on their heads. Hitomaro was convinced that those years of near starvation had made Genba prefer the pleasures of food to those of the bedchamber.