by I. J. Parker
‘Absolutely. This is the second time he was at a fire. He’s the one all right. I told the superintendent that it was all your doing that the arson problem is getting solved.’
With a sinking feeling, Akitada set down his cup. ‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’
Tora’s jaw dropped. ‘What? You’ve changed your mind? I thought you wanted me to find out about those fires. I wish you’d told me. I wasted a whole night on this. And the police weren’t exactly eager to arrest the little bastard. I did it because I thought it would help you get your job back.’ He clamped his mouth shut in disgust and folded his arms across his chest.
Akitada felt guilty – as he was meant to feel. ‘You didn’t let me finish, Tora,’ he said.
Tora said nothing and looked sullen.
‘You know I’m investigating the Kiyowara murder. That means we have enough money to see us through the rest of the year. And besides, I never wanted you to risk your life in this matter.’ He paused, then added in a softer tone, ‘But I’m very grateful that you should have cared so much.’ When Tora looked slightly mollified, he went on: ‘I’ve been trying to keep Superintendent Kobe out of our activities because he ordered me away from the Kiyowara case. He may see a conflict of interest because of our past friendship.’
‘But the fires have nothing to do with the Kiyowara murder.’
‘Well, perhaps no harm is done.’ Akitada paused. ‘Unless, of course, you happened to mention this Tojiro’s resemblance to young Lord Kiyowara?’
Tora mumbled, ‘I might have said something about it in passing. Not to make a point of it, you know.’
‘Not to Kobe, I hope. He would wonder why you should be familiar with Kiyowara’s son.’
‘I may have—’ Tora broke off and cocked an ear towards the courtyard. ‘Someone’s calling.’ He jumped up and left.
Akitada had not heard anything. He thought Tora had fled because he did not want to face his anger, but then there were voices.
A visitor? This early in the morning?
Seimei hurriedly put away the tea things. The door opened, and a strange monk stepped over the threshold, followed by a puzzled-looking Tora, who announced, ‘This is Saishin, sir. He comes with a message from Abbot Shokan of the Seikan-ji Temple.’
The monk, middle-aged and slender, approached silently on bare feet. He bowed and presented a letter.
Akitada returned the greeting and unfolded the heavy paper. It was the expensive kind with leaves of dried grass embedded in it and not what he would have expected from a cleric. Furthermore, it was written in an elegant courtier’s style. The letter was brief: ‘Abbot Shokan begs Lord Sugawara’s help in a matter very close to his heart.’
Astonished, Akitada asked the monk, ‘Do you know what this is about?’
Saishin compressed his lips. ‘I know only that it concerns one of the acolytes running away.’
It sounded as if the monk disapproved either of the acolyte or of his flight. Akitada speculated that the combination of ‘acolyte’ and ‘close to my heart’ suggested a male love affair, not unheard of in monasteries. He was mildly curious, but he hated to leave the house when Tamako was so close to her time. So he told the monk, ‘I’m very busy at the moment. Perhaps the abbot could come to see me?’
Saishin raised shocked brows. ‘The abbot never goes out unless the emperor, his nephew, requests it.’
Damnation! Akitada should have recognized the name and the temple, but there were so many male relations of emperors who served as abbots and bishops that he had never made the attempt to memorize them all. In any case, he could not refuse the summons now.
‘When may I call on the Reverend Shokan?’
‘The abbot is very anxious to have your advice as soon as possible.’
‘Today?’
‘I think that is what His Reverence had in mind.’
‘Very well.’ Akitada thought quickly. Tora had already rented a horse for the trip to the farm. They could postpone that journey for another day. He said, ‘It will save time if I ride.’
Saishin nodded. ‘Good. I have other errands. May the Buddha smile on you and your house.’ He bowed, turned on his heel, and left.
Seikan-ji temple and monastery were to the north-east of the capital and on the other side of the Kamo River.
Akitada checked on Tamako before leaving. She looked better than she had for weeks and greeted him with a smile. Hanae was with her, making a list of supplies they wanted brought from the farm. Hanae asked, ‘Should they bring Trouble back, sir?’
Tamako giggled. It was a familiar joke. The dog’s name fit its disposition well enough and frequently caused merriment. A good omen, Akitada thought, and joined in the laughter. ‘By all means. I’m fond of the beast. But we’ll have to confine him when it’s time for the child to be born. Seimei and Tora have invited monks and a yin-yang master for the occasion. I’m afraid to think what Trouble would make of that.’
‘What about a medium?’ Hanae asked and started laughing again. ‘Can you imagine him chasing after that paper wand while she dances? Perhaps she could cast a spell on him.’
‘No medium,’ Akitada said firmly. He thought of the strange Lady Aoi in the Kiyowara house. She had even upset Tora. It occurred to him belatedly that she might have information about the family. Perhaps she would be willing to provide it, if he asked her to perform an exorcism for him.
THE ABBOT
On horseback, the journey to the Seikan-ji Temple took less than two hours. It gave Akitada a chance to pass through the center of the capital before turning towards the river. He had not been in the city for weeks. Earlier, his work at the ministry had kept him busy in the Daidairi, the greater palace enclosure in the northern part, and now he spent his time near Tamako as much as possible.
He observed for the first time the uneasiness the fires had brought to the city: piles of sandbags and stacks of buckets gathered at street corners, makeshift altars with gifts of flowers, rice, and fruit stood near shrines and entrances to city quarters, carts of charred rubble lumbered towards trash piles, and Shinto priests and their attendants performed ceremonies to appease the angry gods.
After he crossed the broad Kamo River, he entered the wooded mountains to the east of the capital. The heat and noise of the city faded, and a fragrant green world embraced him with peace and silence. Akitada had accepted the summons in a very ill spirit, but now he found pleasure in his journey. Part of it lay in being on horseback again, even if the rented horse was far from perfect and tried to bite the rider at odd moments.
Seikan-ji was a small temple and monastery, but like many imperial retreats, it was situated in a beautiful setting. The halls were rustic and of the same simple elegance as the emperor’s palace. Since it housed a member of the imperial family, the wooded grounds and buildings were beautifully kept and resembled more a series of villas in gardens than a religious retreat.
The monks wore simple but very clean brown hemp robes, but Akitada also saw groups of young boys, acolytes or students, at play. Most were probably scions of noble families and wore the colorful and expensive silks of cherished children.
He had given his name and purpose to a young monk at the gate. Another monk had taken his horse, and a third showed him to the abbot’s quarters.
In theory, an imperial prince who took the tonsure lost all claim to special honors and privileges enjoyed in his past life. His family and friends would grieve as he passed into another physical realm: that of a poor monk. In reality, that step was very carefully planned. He would choose his monastic abode from the most pleasant spots near the capital and take with him certain comforts of life, such as fine clothes, books, musical instruments, as well as favorite servants. And he stayed in contact with family and friends. In exchange, he would give up women, public life, wine, and his hair. Since, by middle age, those things had frequently lost their appeal, and official duties had become burdensome, many emperors and imperial princes took up a religious life because i
t allowed them to enjoy a life of leisure.
His Reverence Shokan was no exception. He resided in a small, but elegantly appointed hall among fine objects and paintings. Monks and acolytes competed for a chance to be of service, and the monastery kitchens served excellent meals, even if they tended towards the vegetarian.
Akitada had little respect for those who shirked their duties to the nation in order to indulge in a contemplative life, but even he felt an ingrained respect towards men of imperial blood. He prostrated himself before His Reverence.
Shokan received Akitada with a strange mixture of reserve and eagerness.
Like many Fujiwara relatives, he was prone to pudginess and jowls in middle age. Waving a white and dimpled hand, he said, ‘Please. I am a simple monk. Be seated, Sugawara.’
He had a high voice and lisped a little. Akitada wondered if he had been born with a speech defect or if he cultivated the childish manner. His Reverence wore black silk of such volume and stiffness that it was hard to make out his figure underneath. A finely patterned purple brocade surplice, glistening with gold threads, was draped over one shoulder.
Akitada waited politely to be told why he had been summoned and hoped His Reverence would not waste time with idle chit-chat. Some of the abbots he had met tended to make up for their absence from public affairs by getting news, gossip, and information from their visitors.
But the twitching hands and the searching eyes meant the abbot was anxious. Shokan waited only until Akitada had been served fruit juice and a bowl of pickled nuts before saying, ‘I am told that you are good at solving mysterious events.’
Akitada said cautiously, ‘Until recently it has been my honor to serve His Majesty as senior clerk in the Ministry of Justice. In that capacity, I have from time to time come in contact with puzzling criminal matters and may have offered suggestions to the police. I cannot be said to be working with the police, or as part of my official duties, or indeed regularly.’
Shokan waved that aside. ‘But you have solved difficult cases, and it is your intelligence that is needed, and perhaps your knowledge of the law.’
‘You are too generous, Reverence. My modest skills are at your service.’
‘Thank you.’ Shokan gave him a tremulous smile and dabbed a sleeve to his eyes. ‘My apologies. I am very emotional. This is the only thing that still matters to me in this life.’ He caught a breath, then burst out, ‘Oh, what does it matter? You see before you a grieving father, Sugawara. It is as if I had lost my only son.’
Akitada was mystified. He was uninformed about Shokan’s family – many noblemen did not take the tonsure until late in life – but then the abbot had said it was ‘as if he had lost a son. So not a son. ‘May I ask if this young man has died?’
‘Oh, no, I hope not.’ Shokan shuddered. ‘I could not bear that. A monk strives to give up the things of this world, but for me the struggle has been hard. How do you turn your back on someone you love?’
‘Perhaps Your Reverence had better tell me more. Your messenger said it concerns an acolyte?’
‘Yes. He is a youth now, but he came to us more than ten years ago. Right away, he was seen to be special – beautiful, gifted, and eager to learn. I saw him grow into a youth on the threshold of manhood.’ Shokan flushed a little and gave Akitada a beseeching glance. ‘You know, that delicious age when a boy is almost a man, ardent and full of heroics, yet still capable of childlike grace. Kansei looks exactly like one of those depictions of the young Prince Siddhartha before he attained Buddhahood. Oh, I hope you will find him before he is lost.’
Akitada had formed a shrewd guess of just what the relationship between Shokan and the boy had been – certainly not that of a father and son. He was irritated. As a rule, he did not judge men for engaging in sexual relationships with other men, but that Shokan should compare such bonds to those between a father and his son sickened him. What could this man know of a father’s love – or his grief when his son died? How dared he snivel over the loss of a lover who had probably simply run away from a cloying relationship with an older man. Akitada still wept for his son a year after smallpox had taken him. He still felt as if part of his flesh had been ripped away and he was no longer whole.
His silence had grown too long.
‘Well, what will you do?’ demanded His Reverence. He was staring at Akitada.
‘I beg your pardon, Reverence. I lost my only son a year ago and was remembering how that felt. Er, what was the young man’s name again?’
Instantly, Shokan’s face softened. ‘Oh, you know my pain,’ he said, nodding. ‘That is good. I gave the boy the religious name Kansei. The syllables are those of our temple, Seikan-ji.’
Apparently, Shokan considered the youth his own creation. How the youngster must have resented that. Akitada thought that any effort of returning Kansei to the abbot would prove futile. Kansei would not want to come back, and if forced to do so, would run away again. Akitada approved of that, but he could hardly say so. He asked, ‘When did Kansei leave?’
On the twenty-sixth day of the last month.’ A shuddering sigh implied the extent of suffering Shokan had endured since.
Akitada raised his brows. ‘He has been gone for nearly three weeks? Have you tried to find him?’
‘Not right away. Kansei is young and impatient. We thought he missed his mother or his former friends and had gone to see them. But if he went to his mother, she would have brought him back.’ Shokan fidgeted unhappily.
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘No. I sent for her, but she was gone also. The neighbors said she moved soon after Kansei came to us. No one seems to know what has become of her. That was when I became really worried. I am afraid that something very bad has happened to my boy.’
Akitada fished for an excuse to extricate himself. ‘Surely that isn’t likely. It seems more a matter of the youngster having taken a vacation from his religious duties.’ At that age, the acolyte might have wondered about forbidden fruit and sought out the prostitutes of the capital. ‘Did you consult the police about his disappearance?’
‘Oh, no!’ Shokan looked horrified. ‘We cannot go to the police. They are much too heavy-handed. No, no. This situation requires discretion. And loyalty. That is why I sent for you. One of my cousins, Bishop Sesshin, spoke very highly of your discretion.’
Sometimes obligations have a long reach. Sesshin had been another princely monk, one who had proved both kind and generous. A debt was being called in. Akitada sighed inwardly and reconsidered. It was possible that he had jumped to conclusions about Shokan. Perhaps the abbot had only taken a needy youngster under his wing and become fond of him. The young needed protection.
And Akitada must keep an open mind.
He said, ‘Bishop Sesshin has done me too much honor. He was a truly saintly man. I shall try my best to help you find Kansei. What does he look like and what sort of background does he come from?’
Smiling with relief, Shokan gave a glowing description of Kansei’s appearance, adding, ‘He has the most noble bearing. His mother came to me when he was small and asked me to take him because she was unable to raise him properly.’
‘What about his parentage?’
‘I assume she was a poor woman who found herself without a husband. What can it matter? The boy is exquisite. He deserves better than to live and die in the filth of the gutter.’
Akitada said nothing.
‘She claimed to have served in a noble house. I did not question this, but it may not have been true. She implied the child was the master’s son. Sometimes an official wife is jealous and dismisses a maid in such cases. It is easy to believe the boy has noble blood.’
Akitada doubted the tale; still, such things did happen and caused much unhappiness. ‘Thank you, but that isn’t much to go on. Why are you opposed to the police being involved?’
Shokan bit his lip, then reached for a small package beside him. It was tied up in a piece of blue silk. He unwrapped it, revealing five g
old bars. ‘I will pay you whatever you ask,’ he said. ‘If this is not enough, there is more.’
Akitada swallowed. Between Lady Kiyowara and Abbot Shokan he had been offered payment that far exceeded his modest annual salary as senior clerk in the ministry. But such generosity sounded like a bribe and shamed him. He said stiffly, ‘You have not told me why you should wish to keep the police from knowing about the boy. Has he committed a crime? I will not protect a guilty person or cover up his offense.’
‘Of course he has not committed a crime,’ Shokan cried. ‘How can you accuse me of such a thing?’ He snatched back the gold and shoved it out of sight. ‘It seems I have made a mistake,’ he said and assumed a stiff and remote demeanor.
Akitada was sorry that he had not handled this better. He had no business making an enemy, and perhaps he had wronged the man. Probably, his years of poverty made more of five bars of gold than they were in Shokan’s estimation. He bowed and apologized.
Shokan was quickly – perhaps too quickly – appeased. ‘I can see you have your reputation to protect, Sugawara. I do not expect you to do anything improper. It is just that Kansei, being young and a little foolish, may not have gone to his mother, but become involved with dubious company. The young are easily tempted. I should like him found before he is corrupted.’
Akitada wondered what Shokan was afraid of. Most likely the novice monk was hanging around the brothels. A handsome boy could earn good money selling his body to older men. ‘Do you have any proof that he has taken up bad company?’
The abbot shifted uncomfortably. ‘He was seen by one of the monks. In a bad part of the capital, near the Western Market. With hoodlums.’ Shokan shuddered. ‘You see why I am desperate to find him before he is arrested?’
Akitada sighed. ‘Very well, I shall do my best, Reverence. You need not give me more than one gold bar until I have results. But if the youngster should have become guilty of some crime, I shall have to turn him over to the police.’