The Old Men of Omi

by I. J. Parker

  “The neighbor says the door had been like this for years,” Takechi said.” The killer didn’t force it.”

  “The sweeper lived in a house? Did he rent this place?”

  “No. It belonged to him. I know it looks in bad shape, but he got too old to take care of things.”

  “Still, a sweeper usually doesn’t own a house.”

  Takechi nodded. “This one was poor enough in spite of it,” he said, looking up at the house.

  Next door, a woman came out to peer at them. She shaded her eyes against the sun, then approached, bowing. “I’m Mrs. Kagemasa. Can I be of service?”

  Akitada thought her well-spoken and polite and smiled at her. “We are here because your neighbor has died,” he said. “I’m Lord Sugawara and this is Chief Takechi.”

  She bowed again. “I recognized the chief. Is something wrong with Tokuno’s death? The constables didn’t say.”

  Takechi said, “He may have been murdered. Were you home the night he died?”

  “Oh, no,” she murmured. “Murdered! Oh, the poor man. These days, what with all the fairs, there’s so much riffraff about. We were home but asleep. We heard nothing. I blamed myself for not looking in on him the day before. I thought he got sick. He was an old man after all.”

  It sounded much like the comments about the judge. He, too, was thought to have died of old age. Akitada asked, “Being a neighbor, you probably knew Tokuno for a long time. Has he always been this poor and lived alone here?”

  “Oh, no. Tokuno used to work at the tribunal. He was a jailer. He had a family, but they all died, even his son. His son had an accident ten years ago. He fell off a boat and drowned. After that Tokuno wasn’t the same man anymore.”

  Takechi and Akitada looked at each other. “When did he stop working at the jail?” Takechi asked.

  “Oh, years ago. It must be nearly twenty years now.”

  “Before my time,” Takechi said to Akitada.

  “How did he manage to support himself all those years?” Akitada asked the woman.

  “At first the son was still alive. He was a fisherman. After he drowned, Tokuno became a porter for a while until the work got too heavy for him. He was getting to the point where he couldn’t do much anymore. The neighbors would sometimes bring him food. But his health was so bad we thought we’d have to ask the monks to take him in.”

  “Onjo-ji monks?” Takechi asked.

  She nodded. “They’ll look after poor old people. Besides, he still had the house to pay for his keep.”

  Akitada suppressed a snort. No doubt, houses paid off handsomely. The temple could sell or rent them, and the old people by that time did not have long to live.

  They thanked the woman and went into Tokuno’s house. It revealed not only careless housekeeping, since there was no woman to look after it, but also great poverty. There was little food in the dirty kitchen area, and that was mostly cheap millet and a few wilted leaves of vegetables that had probably been given away by a market woman at the end of the day. Tokuno’s clothes were mere rags, but among them they found something interesting. Hanging from one of the hooks that held clothes were also a leather whip and a rusty chain and manacles. The whip was old and stained, and Akitada shuddered at the thought that they had once bitten deeply into prisoners’ backs and legs.

  He pointed them out to Takechi who merely nodded. “He was proud of his former job, I guess.”

  “He was the sort of brute who enjoyed hurting people, I think.”

  “That, too. Very common among jailers.”

  “Not such a nice man, then. And we know that Nakano was no saint either. Perhaps the killer had a reason to kill these two.”

  Takechi paused in his rummaging in an old trunk and looked at Akitada. “An old grudge?” he asked uncertainly. “I don’t know. Most people who end up in court or jail wouldn’t dare raise a hand against those in charge.”

  “I hope things have become better in Otsu.”

  This met with silence, and Akitada flushed. “Sorry. Of course, they have. I wasn’t thinking. I know neither you nor the governor would employ men like these two.”

  Takechi smiled. “Never mind. I get angry myself when I think about the way things used to be done.”

  They were soon finished and had not found anything helpful. Takechi said, “I’ll have my constables talk to all the neighbors in case someone saw something, but I have no great hopes. Mrs. Kagemasa next door will have talked to them already. Now that she knows it was murder, she’ll be making the rounds again. Shall we go back?”

  “Yes. I’m concerned about one of my men. I think he went looking for that porter the sohei abducted. He hasn’t come back. If he isn’t back by now, I’ll have to see the abbot about the situation.”

  Takechi was curious, and Akitada told him what Tora had said.

  The chief said angrily, “If we get proof of illegal arrests, maybe we can round up some of those brutes and put an end to that sort of thing. I’ve heard such stories before, but we could never prove anything.”

  ∞

  Tora had not returned.

  Akitada sought out Kosehira. His friend was more optimistic about Tora’s presumed capture by Enryaku-ji’s sohei.

  “One thing,” he said, “They can’t keep him. He’s your man. Those brutes didn’t know that when they attacked him. We’ll get him back.”

  “I hope we’re not too late.” Akitada was beginning to get a sick feeling about the whole affair. The new murder in Otsu had not helped. He suppressed his fears quickly and told Kosehira about Chief Takechi’s find, the figurine of Jizo found with both bodies, and their suspicion that someone was murdering old men for some perverted reason of his own.

  Kosehira was shocked by the idea. “Oh, come,” he said, clearly trying to regain his good humor, “two old men don’t prove anything. Old men die. You said yourself that the coroner wasn’t sure it was murder. And those carved Jizos are all over the place.”

  He had a point. But all the same …

  “I wonder,” Akitada said, “could we check if there have been any other cases either here or elsewhere. Can you find out?”

  “For the province, yes. Maybe even for the capital. But this is a big country. And how many police officers would have taken the notice Takechi and you did?”

  “I know, but you could try? And could we check back to Tokuno’s service as a jailer here in the tribunal?”

  “Probably. Our archives are in good shape. Very well, Akitada. I’ll do my best.”

  Akitada took his leave to spend some time with the officials working with the temple documents. They had made progress, but so far the verdict seemed to be that both temples had engaged in dubious practices against each other.

  Akitada praised their work, made some suggestions, and left.

  To his relief, Saburo was waiting for him. “Well?” Akitada asked.

  “His horse is still in the main stable. The monk in charge claimed it belonged to them. I recognized it and told him if they didn’t release it, I’d have the provincial guard there. He just bowed and said I must do as I wished.”

  Akitada said angrily, “They aren’t afraid of us. Well, we shall see about that.” He glanced outside. It was getting late and soon would be dark. “Another night for Tora, I’m afraid. But early tomorrow I shall pay a visit to the abbot. Thank you, Saburo. You did well.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abbot Gyomei

  The next day broke dark and wet. A strong wind from the lake drove sheets of rain across Otsu, and it was impossible to see the temple on Hiei. The mountain range crouched like a black monster above Otsu.

  Akitada ate his rice gruel and then dressed in his second best robe. No point in ruining his best one in this rain. Then he and Saburo climbed into the saddle, covered with straw rain coats, shoe covers, and wide hats. Kosehira had ordered a contingent of the provincial guard for their retinue. They wore their ordinary armor and tried to put on stern faces.

  While the st
raw raincoat protected Akitada from the worst of the wind, it was a nuisance keeping his floppy hat on. Eventually he removed it and rode bareheaded.

  Anger and worry made him keep up a good pace, and they reached the main gate of the temple by midmorning. The rain had changed into a fine, watery spray that obscured details as if veils had been drawn across the entire mountain. All around them, this wet fog shrouded trees, roofs, and galleries. Except for one solitary monk they had passed on the road, they were the only visitors. This, too, made the temple grounds feel like another world, some place not altogether human and somehow threatening to trespassers.

  Akitada bit his lip. Nonsense, he thought. It was threatening enough without becoming supernatural. The monks had snatched Tora who, more than likely, had trespassed where he was not wanted.

  Two young monks detached themselves from the shelter of the great gate and ran toward them.

  “Welcome to Enryaku-ji!” they chorused. One carried an oiled paper umbrella which he now opened. Smiling up at Akitada, he said, “Allow me to guide you, sir. Soncho here will take your horse and show your people the way.”

  Akitada looked down at him. “I’m Sugawara Akitada and have come to speak to the Grand Abbot later. At the moment, I wish to inspect your stables.”

  They looked at each other in consternation. “The stables?” asked the first monk after a moment. “Your lordship wishes to see the stables?”

  “You heard me,” Akitada snapped. “Lead the way.”

  They both came with them to a lesser gate and another, smaller, compound. There were service buildings here: kitchens, stables, and overnight accommodations for pilgrims. At the stables, Akitada and Saburo dismounted and went inside. The stables were large but in this weather, there were few horses stabled. Tora’s mount was not among them. The monks had followed and were now in conversation with some stable hands.

  Looking nervous, Saburo said in a low voice, “They moved it. I must have attracted their notice when I asked questions about it.”

  “You’re safe with me,” Akitada said. “They can’t do anything to you. But stay with the others and wait.”

  He was very angry, and next spoke brusquely to the monk who had greeted him. “I’ve seen what I came to see. Now take me to Gyomei.”

  The monk was apologetic “I regret, but the Seal of the Law is not available. Will the Master of the Law do?”

  With an effort, Akitada recalled his visitor at the tribunal. “Prior Kanshin? Yes. I’ll speak to him. My men will wait here.”

  He was taken into the temple grounds. The place was eerie in its emptiness. The fog hung over the entire compound, obscuring the world and muffling sounds except for their steps in the gravel and the dripping of rainwater from the eaves. Akitada shuddered. He doubted he would be able to find his way out of this strange place. Suddenly he wished he had taken his retinue along. Or at least Saburo.

  They reached a small hall that seemed to back against the forest behind it. The monk walked up the steps to a veranda and opened a door, standing aside for Akitada to enter. Akitada stepped into a plain room with a dais along one wall and a few cushions placed along its length. Behind him the door closed.

  He swung around and saw that he was alone. The irrational thought that they had taken him prisoner also crossed his mind. He went back and tried the door. It opened onto the foggy world outside. He closed it again, feeling foolish.

  “Master of the Law, Seal of the Law,” he muttered under his breath. “Silly titles. We’d all be better off if Buddha had never come to our islands.”

  But that, too, was silly. He started pacing. Where was Tora? How dare they take him and steal his horse? He’d see about that.

  The skirt of his silk robe slapped against his legs and he became aware that it was soaked. In fact, his collar was wet also, as was his hair. So much for straw raincoats and hats. He dabbed at his head and remembered the court hat in his sleeve. Tying it back on without a mirror irritated him further.

  Why this long wait? His rank and current position demanded a good deal more respect than this. How long should he wait before sending for the men of the provincial guard and making a search of the monastery for the elusive Gyomei?

  Eventually, he went to the dais and perched on its edge. His thought went to Kosehira who must have had a most frustrating administration, given Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji encroached on his territory. From Kosehira, his thoughts went to his daughter. He found he could not be angry at Yukiko. Perhaps his anger had been mostly with himself for desiring her. He had simply transferred it, blaming her bad manners for his own discomfiture. Why could he not treat her like the charming child she was, a lovable child, to be sure, but not beddable.

  But again he felt the warmth of desire rise to his face and was ashamed.

  Into this mood walked an extraordinary character. A door behind him had opened noiselessly, and Akitada became aware of the presence only from a slight wheezing sound. He started up and turned.

  A short and slender old monk in a plain, somewhat ratty, black robe had shuffled in and stopped a few feet away. He was bent with age, but bright black eyes peered up at Akitada.

  Having been caught in dubious and worldly fantasies, Akitada was not at his best. “Umm,” he said,” who are you?”

  The old monk smiled. “Lord Sugawara? I’m Gyomei. Forgive the long wait. I was in my hermitage up the mountain a ways, and at my age the journey down was slow. Terrible weather we’re having.”

  Akitada now saw that the hem of Gyomei’s robe was wetter and muddier than his own and that his bare feet in sandals were mud-caked. Something about this man made him bow quite deeply.

  “Your Reverence? Forgive me. I did not intend to put you to so much hardship.”

  Gyomei came closer. He smiled and pointed to the dais. “It was nothing. Please be seated.”

  They sat side by side, and Akitada searched for a way to say what he was there for. Gyomei waited, still smiling at him.

  Akitada cleared his throat and plunged. “Your Reverence must be aware of our work trying to clear up the misunderstandings between Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji?”

  Gyomei smiled and nodded.

  “Umm, we are making progress, but that is not why I came today.”

  Again the abbot nodded.

  “I plan to give myself the pleasure to visit your beautiful temple another time when the weather is better.” He added a small chuckle and knew he was making a terrible job of this. What was it about this man that put him so ill at ease?

  Gyomei finally took pity on his floundering. “One of the monks said it is about a missing horse, but I must have misunderstood.”

  “A horse? No. Or rather the horse does seem to have disappeared also. No, Tora, my senior retainer, came here two days ago and hasn’t returned.”

  Gyomei raised bushy white eyebrows. “You must be fond of him to have come looking for him in person.”

  Akitada was becoming angry again. He said coldly, “I look after all of my people, but Tora has been with me longest. In any case, his horse was seen in your stables, and this means Tora never left. I’d like him turned over to me.”

  Gyomei looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded. “If he is here or in any of our branch temples, he will be returned to you. I know nothing of this. Allow me!” The abbot rose and padded to the door he had come through. Putting his head out, he said something in a low voice. There was an answer, and he said something else.

  Then he returned to Akitada and sat back down. “There will be some refreshments. I apologize for your reception.”

  Akitada, irritated and worried again, said, “No matter. I didn’t come to eat.”

  Silence fell.

  Gyomei produced a rosary and started to pray silently.

  When the door opened again, two young monks entered, one bearing a stack of towels, and the other a tray with flasks, cups, and bowls.

  Gyomei handed Akitada a towel and took one himself. He carefully dried his shaven head and face a
nd dabbed at his robe. “Dreadful weather,” he said again, then smiled. “I must make an effort to meditate on accepting things the way they are.”

  Akitada made a perfunctory job of drying his head. There was not much he could do, even after removing his hat again. His hair was carefully tied into a neat top knot. The advantages of shaving it off became apparent, and the thought brought back his irritation. “Have you told your people to get Tora?”

  Gyomei carefully folded his towel and returned it to the waiting monk. “I have. They don’t seem to know anything. May I ask what brought him here?”

  “He was looking for a peasant arrested by your sohei. From what he told me, the peasant was a free man. They also raped the man’s wife.”

  Gyomei stared at him. “Our sohei did this? There must be some mistake.”

  “No mistake. Tora is a very careful observer and doesn’t make such accusations lightly.”

  “But perhaps the soldiers belonged to another temple?”

  “No. And your Reverence forgets that Tora’s horse was here until recently, proving that he came to Enryaku-ji and never left. I must insist that you release him immediately. After that we can discuss the situation of the peasant.”

  Another silence fell while Gyomei seemed to ponder this. After a while he said, “This is a very large mountain and we have many monks.”

  Akitada said nothing. He waited stonily and without touching the food and drink.

  With a sigh, Gyomei rose again. Before he could give new orders, the door opened and Kanshin, the prior, hurried in accompanied by the same two senior monks who had called upon Akitada. They spoke briefly and softly with the abbot, then all of them came to Akitada.

  Kanshin and his companions put their hands together and inclined their heads. Akitada did not return the greeting or get to his feet.

  “We regret deeply,” said Kanshin, “that your retainer seems to have become lost on our mountain. “We will immediately send out searchers and pray that nothing has happened to him.”

  An icy fear gripped Akitada at those words. So this was the way they meant to play their game? Whatever they had done to Tora would be explained by a fall off a cliff. And that meant that their victim would not be able to deny it. Akitada would sit here, waiting, until they thought the time right to produce the mangled body.