The Fires of the Gods sa-8

by I. J. Parker

  Hoshina said, ‘Don’t get them into trouble.’

  ‘Too late for that,’ said Tora, getting up. ‘When they tried to kill my master, the police arrested Koichi and the girl. They’ll make them talk, and that means they’ll get the young bastards, too.’

  Jirokichi gulped, shook his head, and shrank into himself. ‘I’m sorry we met,’ he said heavily, then turned away to look out at his garden.

  Tora looked down at him. ‘And I should’ve let them kill you,’ he snarled and stalked out.

  Hoshina ran after him. ‘He doesn’t mean it, Tora. He’ll come round, you’ll see. But they’re his friends. His people.’

  Tora stopped and looked at her. ‘And I’m not. Fair enough. And we should never help someone who isn’t one of us, right?’

  She hung her head. ‘Nobody helps people like us.’

  ‘I did,’ Tora grunted and left, slamming the door behind him.

  THE CONFESSION

  Akitada frowned at the note. ‘What does it mean?’ ‘We think it must be a warning, sir,’ said Seimei. ‘Or a threat,’ said Genba. ‘Somebody’s going to set fire to this place.’

  Akitada’s heart sank. He should have expected it. Kobe had arrested some of the gang. Now the rest had declared war. He glanced around at his home – ancient, time-blackened and shaded by enormous trees, a continuous drain on his finances, and a place he loved dearly. He could not lose it.

  Seimei was still confused. ‘Who would send such a thing to us?’

  Akitada explained. ‘The way it was delivered, it may announce retaliation because Tora and I have interfered with criminal activities in the western city.’ He turned to Genba. ‘It doesn’t say when. We’d better fill buckets with sand and water, warn the neighbors, and stand watch tonight.’ He thought of Tamako and the baby, of Tora’s little son. Tomorrow they would take the women and children to his sister Akiko in the country.

  He glanced up at the cloudy sky. Perversely, the clouds were too high for rain, and they scudded along too quickly on a fresh breeze. It was perceptively cooler than it had been, and thunderstorms were unlikely. With this weather, it would be dark sooner than normal.

  Akitada folded the paper and put it in his sleeve. ‘I have an errand and will drop this off with Superintendent Kobe on the way. If those hooligans operate in the usual manner, we needn’t expect trouble until the hour of the rat or later.’ He cast a worried glance towards the house. Tamako was getting stronger every day, but a sudden scare might dry up her milk. He did not want to risk that. ‘Better not alarm the women yet. Tell my wife I’ll be back in time for the evening rice.’

  Seimei looked dubious but bowed, and Akitada turned on his heel to walk out of his gate again.

  He went quickly along Horikawa Avenue, hurrying because he felt uneasy, and arrived at Kobe’s office out of breath. To his disappointment, Kobe was not in, and the officers and men seemed very busy. Akitada left the note and an explanation with an assistant. Then he turned south to Nijo Avenue to make his way to the residential area where Fuhito lived. He did not relish this errand, but wanted to get it over with.

  As last time, the major-domo’s mother admitted him. He noticed the change in her almost immediately. She held herself as taut as a bow string.

  Her expressions of the usual courtesies and her congratulations on the birth of his daughter were almost painful in their stiffness.

  As last time, Fuhito was not home yet. They took the path through the lush foliage of the outer garden, now shimmering with moisture from the recent rain and shaking a soft shower of drops on them. Feeling awkward, he commented on the benefits of the recent soaking.

  ‘The garden becomes oppressive in the rainy season,’ she said. Her voice shook a little, and so did her hands. Taking him directly into her son’s study, she left him to wait alone. Outside, moisture still dripped from the roofs, making odd musical patterns of small sounds.

  He thought about the change in her and decided that she was terrified of him.

  Something had happened to put her in a panic.

  Impatient with the delay, Akitada got to his feet and started pacing. He should be at home, looking after his family. A sound from the garden made him pause to listen. Somewhere a gate closed, and Akitada hoped that Fuhito had returned, but he heard nothing else.

  A moment later, Fuhito’s mother brought a tray of refreshments, and Akitada realized he had been wrong. Nobody had come, but someone had left.

  He sat back down, and she knelt to serve him.

  ‘I thought I heard a gate,’ he said, ‘and hoped your son had returned.’

  Her hand jerked, and she spilled a little wine as she filled his cup. Apologizing, she dabbed at the moisture with her sleeve. ‘It must have been my maid. My son is not back yet.’ She sounded strangely breathless. Pushing the cup and a small bowl of nuts a little closer to him, she murmured, ‘Please forgive this poor food.’

  Akitada looked at her sharply. She looked positively ill. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said. ‘I am the one causing trouble. Perhaps this is not a good time.’

  ‘It is no trouble,’ she murmured. To his shock, tears began to course down her cheeks. She did not brush them away. Neither did she explain or withdraw. She sat there, silently weeping.

  He rose nervously. ‘Please allow me to call someone.’ He went to the door and clapped his hands.

  In the distance, a voice shouted, ‘Coming,’ and soft shuffling footsteps announced a small woman even older than Fuhito’s mother. She fussed over her mistress and led her from the room, leaving Akitada alone, wondering who had left by the gate. He was sure Fuhito’s mother had told him on his last visit that they had only the one servant.

  Perhaps it had been Fuhito himself, taking flight because he expected to be arrested, but Akitada did not think so.

  He was proved correct a moment later when the front gate opened with the familiar clatter of bamboo, and Fuhito’s firm footsteps approached the house.

  ‘I’m home, Mother,’ he called out, and then there was the sound of muffled voices, his mother’s high and agitated, Fuhito’s soothing, until the house fell quiet again. After a moment, steps approached, and the major-domo walked in.

  ‘My Lord?’ he said, bowing. ‘What gives me this honor? I did not expect you again.’

  Akitada did not return the greeting. ‘There are some unanswered questions,’ he said vaguely.

  Fuhito hesitated. ‘I’m afraid that Her Ladyship does not wish the matter pursued,’ he said. He was still standing, as if he expected Akitada to cut his visit short and depart again. ‘She said the police will handle matters from now on.’

  Akitada raised his brows. ‘Really? In that case, I shall satisfy my own curiosity.’

  Fuhito fidgeted. ‘I don’t think it would be wise for me to speak, sir. It might be seen as disobedience by my mistress.’

  Akitada was becoming irritated. ‘Sit down, Fuhito,’ he snapped in his best court-hearing manner. ‘It seems you have a grandson, your master’s son by your daughter. I believe Tojiro is slightly older than his half-brother Katsumi.’

  Fuhito’s legs gave way and he sank to the floor. He was very pale and opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words.

  Akitada looked at him and dreaded what he had to do. He decided to get it over with quickly. ‘I think you quarreled with Kiyowara about the boy. If he has an obligation to this son and refused to acknowledge it that would constitute a powerful motive for murder and explain the furious attack that killed him. Did you kill your master?’

  He can deny it, thought Akitada. I hope he does. In spite of his knowledge, he felt great pity for the man.

  The sound of steady dripping fell into the silence like funereal music and reminded him of the old lady’s tears. Four generations of a family destroyed by the selfishness of an ambitious nobleman. The Fujiwaras and their connections had spread their poison throughout the land, at first disenfranchising the old order and then, once they had what the
y wanted, finishing the process by tormenting its descendants. There was little difference between the Sugawaras and Fuhito’s family. His own fall from fortune had already begun. Why should he play into the hands of the authorities by revealing Fuhito’s guilt?

  Fuhito surprised and disappointed him. After a long silence, he asked, ‘How did you find out?’

  Akitada did not answer. There was still time for the man to deny the deed.

  Fuhito looked at him with moist eyes. ‘Yes, Tojiro is my daughter’s son. You were right. Lord Kiyowara…’ He paused, searching for words. ‘Kiyowara seduced her when she was only fifteen and in his mother’s care.’ He raised a shaking hand and brushed it over his face. ‘No,’ he said fiercely, ‘it was not a seduction. The truth is that he raped her brutally, raped a child! Not once, but again and again, until his mother found out and put a stop to it. They sent her home. But she was with child by then and tried to drown herself in the pond. Then she tried to hang herself with her sash. In my despair, I went to him and confronted him with what he had done. At the time he could not afford a scandal. He was afraid I would talk and agreed to install her in his household as a secondary wife. She gave birth to his first son there, but the birth and her misery were too much, and she died a day later. The child is Tojiro.’

  Silence fell again. Fuhito sat hunched into himself, his thin hands clutching his knees, his eyes staring holes into the flooring.

  Akitada waited a decent time, then asked, ‘What happened next?’

  Fuhito started and went on: ‘My daughter’s maid Ako was with her at Kiyowara’s house. After my daughter’s death, she looked after my grandson until they were sent away. Tojiro was not yet a year old when Lady Kiyowara gave birth to Katsumi.’ Fuhito sighed. ‘My master called me in to tell me that the first lady wanted Tojiro to be raised by us. My mother and Ako looked after him for the first years. His Lordship settled some income on us and promised to do more for the child when he was older.’ Fuhito spread his hands helplessly and looked at Akitada. ‘The boy’s future was at stake. It made up for what happened to his mother. We hoped his father would not forget his promise.’

  ‘And did Kiyowara remember?’

  Fuhito did not answer that. Instead he said, ‘When Her Ladyship’s sister married His Excellency, the present regent, things changed again. Lord Yorimichi wasn’t regent or chancellor then, but everyone knew he would be because he is Lord Michinaga’s oldest son. Tojiro was five when his father told me to enroll him at Seikan-ji, a monastery outside the capital. Ako was to take him and claim she was his mother. I did not like it, but his father insisted he would receive a good education there. I knew he was more afraid than ever his relationship with my daughter would become known.’

  Fuhito had remained in the service of the man who had dealt with his daughter and grandson in such a dishonorable manner because he had hoped that some day there would be a better future for the child. That did not altogether excuse him from having abandoned the child himself. Akitada firmed his resolve.

  ‘I take it Tojiro objected to becoming a monk.’

  Fuhito’s head sank again and the hands clutched his knees. ‘Yes, but that was not until much later. Tojiro ran away from the monastery the first time when he was thirteen. He went to Ako, who was living in the western city on some money I paid her. One day the foolish woman told him something of his background. He came to me to argue his case. I explained and begged him to be patient a little longer. His father had just accepted his new position. I told him that he would soon be able to do something for his son. Alas, this last time Tojiro fled, he was in despair. I saw that he could not remain in the monastery and went to His Lordship to plead his case. My master became angry with me and the boy. He said that he wanted nothing to do with Tojiro. That we had been paid. I could see that all my hopes had been in vain. He would never acknowledge Tojiro.’

  Fuhito paused a moment, then spoke quickly, as if he were afraid he would lose his courage if he paused. ‘I remembered my poor child’s fate and all of Kiyowara’s empty promises and lost my temper. I accused him of breaking his word. He laughed in my face, mocking my family and my dead daughter. I could not think straight and lashed out at him. I just smashed my fists into his head and face again and again, and when he fell down, I kicked him until he stopped moving. When I gained some awareness again, I saw that I had killed him.’

  A heavy silence fell.

  Akitada had not thought that it would be so easy to get a confession. Fuhito, for all his humble position, was still a gentleman and would not shame his family by cowardly lies. The daughter’s fate was a powerful motive for murder, one that had perhaps simmered for decades. Now that he thought about it, neither Fuhito nor his mother had said in so many words that the young girl had committed suicide. They had merely let him think so.

  Akitada asked, ‘Where is Tojiro now?’

  The major-domo raised his head and looked at him. ‘The boy had nothing to do with it. I beg that you will keep him out of it. Let it be me who pays the price. I promise to cooperate fully.’

  ‘I’m afraid Tojiro is suspected of being part of a gang involved in setting the fires. He will almost certainly have to answer questions.’

  Fuhito became agitated. ‘Tojiro got mixed up with some boys when he stayed with Ako, but that was only because he envied them their freedom. He was a child. He still is a child.’

  Akitada got up, suddenly tired and defeated. ‘I am sure he’ll explain it all to the police. I think you’ve been giving him shelter here. If he returns, please convince him that it is better if he gives himself up.’

  Fuhito rose also. ‘What will you do?’ he asked anxiously.

  Akitada’s stomach contracted. He had to turn the man over to the police. Regardless of Tojiro’s fate, Fuhito would be jailed, tried, and sentenced to exile. His family property would be confiscated, and his family would be sent into the streets to beg. All that could be done was to delay the arrest a little longer. He said reluctantly, ‘I’m afraid you will be arrested and eventually tried for Kiyowara’s murder. If you can, it would be best to make some arrangements for your mother and grandson quickly.’

  Fuhito looked around the room as if trying to memorize it. He made a sound that was half groan and half acquiescence. Raising his hands to his face, he swayed for a moment, then straightened his back, lowered his hands, and bowed. ‘Thank you, for your considerate behavior, My Lord.’ And with that, he turned and led the way to the gate.

  Akitada walked homeward quickly. The wind had picked up, and there was again the smell of burning in the air. He hoped he would not be too late.

  FIRE WATCH

  To his relief, all was well in his quarter. Tora opened the gate, his face breaking into a wide smile. ‘Wait till you hear what I found out,’ he cried.

  Akitada, still breathless and thinking of the threat to his family and his tragic errand to Fuhito’s house, ignored this. ‘Is all well here? Did Kobe send an answer?’

  Tora’s face fell. ‘All’s well, and no, no word from the superintendent. Did you expect to hear from him?’

  Akitada growled, ‘I expected better than that. A police cordon around my house would be nice.’

  Tora cheered up. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll handle the little bastards if they come. I hope they do. I’ll show that sack of shit Takeo what’s what.’

  Akitada said sourly, ‘You’re hardly in any shape to fight.’

  ‘I’m fine. Now listen. I know who’s been running that arson gang. Jirokichi finally came through.’ Tora clapped his hands in glee. ‘We’ve got them. You can turn them over to the police and collect your reward. Jirokichi’s a miserable specimen, but this time he lucked out.’

  ‘Get to the point.’ Akitada’s eyes were on Genba who was filling buckets and large pots at the well. The number of containers was pitifully small.

  ‘There’s a rice merchant called Watanabe in the Fifth Ward. He’s been paying those kids to set the fires. Jirokichi thinks he’s working fo
r someone in the government.’

  ‘A rice merchant setting fires? It sounds far-fetched.’

  ‘Jirokichi was in his house and watched him pay off the three creeps who run the gang. Takeo was one of them. They caught Jirokichi leaving. That’s why they tortured him, to find out what he knew.’

  Akitada was even more doubtful about this news. ‘Did they actually talk about setting fires?’

  ‘Umm, no. Not in so many words. But you can see-’

  ‘You’re accepting the word of a thief. If he told the truth, he would have been dead by now. It’s just a bunch of hoodlums terrorizing merchants and tormenting the weak.’

  Tora snapped, ‘Well, they tried to kill him. Maybe they couldn’t find his hideout. I couldn’t.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All right, don’t believe me. I’ll tell Kobe myself. I think he’ll listen.’ He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  Muttering under his breath about Tora’s manners, Akitada went to check on his family. Tamako was nursing the baby, and Hanae sat near her. She was feeding Yuki small bits of melon with a pair of chopsticks. They looked calm and happy.

  ‘There you are,’ said Tamako with a smile. ‘Please forgive my not rising to make you a proper bow.’

  She was teasing. They had both become very casual about such conventions between husband and wife. In fact, they behaved almost like equals these days. He liked that.

  He went to sit next to her, peering at his daughter’s rosy face. That small and tender dark head against Tamako’s white breast was to his mind one of the most perfect things of his world. He reached out a finger to caress his daughter’s silken hair and let it stray to Tamako’s warm skin. ‘I will hold you to proper protocol later, wife,’ he murmured. ‘You mustn’t think that you can forget your duty to your husband because you’re a mother again.’ Tamako blushed and bent her face more closely to the baby’s.

  ‘Should I leave?’ Hanae asked, eyeing Akitada with raised brows.