Death on an Autumn River sa-9

by I. J. Parker

  Sadenari hung his head. “I had no money left, sir, so I walked.”

  Well, it had been a salutary experience, and so Akitada said no more on the subject. “Go and take a bath and change out of those disgraceful clothes,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “As for our assignment here, keep your eyes and ears open but don’t talk about our real purpose.”

  Sadenari thanked him fervently and dashed out. Looking after him, Akitada shook his head.

  Chapter Four

  A Sparrow Among Cranes

  Akitada’s preference would have been to return immediately to the capital and report that Nakahara managed his office so carelessly that anyone could have consulted the lists of shipment and informed others. Nakahara would be replaced and the local authorities instructed to go after the pirates.

  But he suspected that he was to produce a minor villain, a scapegoat if necessary, so that things could go on as they had. Someone was making big profits from piracy, and that someone had ties to the court.

  His real problem was managing things in such a way that he would seem to have been following orders without actually stepping on the true culprit’s toes. It struck Akitada that living here in quiet luxury might be preferable to maintaining a household close to the emperor. Court intrigue was dangerous when so many competed for positions of power.

  It was a distasteful business he was engaged on.

  After an afternoon of wandering around town, he returned without any brilliant ideas but pleasantly tired. With the prospect of Nakahara’s dinner, he hurried to take a bath and change into his best robe, a dark blue figured silk, then presented himself in Nakahara’s reception room.

  Nakahara’s residence sat on a small knoll that offered him views of the Inland Sea and the shoreline. The doors stood open to the veranda, and the sun was setting. The large room would soon be gloomy, even with the shutters still open, but Akitada saw a servant going around lighting candles and oil lamps. Outside, a blaze like burning embers marked the horizon between the silver sea and a sky the color of fading wisteria blossoms. Akitada could hardly take his eyes away. Sunsets over water always moved him deeply. He had seen them on his journey to Kazusa in his youth, and again later on Sado Island. Both times had marked close encounters with death.

  There was no time to wonder about what might lie ahead this time. Other guests were waiting to meet him. Four men formed a casual group around Nakahara, and looked toward Akitada expectantly. He looked back no less curiously. The heavy-set, clean-shaven man in his fifties in the very costly gray robe was clearly someone of high rank, but a white-haired pole of a man in sober brown could be anyone. The jovially smiling giant with the trimmed beard and a rather dashing hunting coat looked like a local landowner, while the black-robed, short man with the mustache and goatee was clearly an official of sorts. Akitada guessed he might be the prefect.

  His host’s deep voice boomed. “There you are, Sugawara. Come in, come in.” He skipped over to take Akitada’s arm and lead him toward the large man in gray, saying, “Excellency, meet Sugawara Akitada, the famous investigator of crimes. He’s fresh from the capital. We’ll have to watch ourselves, or he’ll discover all of our nasty little secrets.” His laugh was a little forced, and Akitada cringed as he bowed.

  Nakahara continued, “Oga Sadazane is our governor. Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence that he should be here the very day you arrive?”

  “A fortunate turn of events,” Akitada said, inclining his head. “I’m afraid our host exaggerates my abilities, governor. I’m a mere messenger on this occasion. Some documents needed signatures, and I decided to pay a visit to your beautiful province. Paperwork day in and day out can make for a dull life.”

  Oga smiled and bowed, but his eyes were watchful.

  Nakahara made the other introductions more quickly. The cheerful bearded man in the fine hunting robe was the ship owner Watamaro; the small, pale fellow in black was indeed the local prefect Munata; and the elderly gentleman with the white hair and beard turned out to be a Professor Otomo.

  Akitada found himself beside the governor when they took their seats and wine was being passed around. The governor said, “This is indeed a beautiful province, though very little happens here. I’m afraid you may have a dull visit. Still, Nakahara can be a very entertaining fellow. No doubt, he’ll introduce you to the lovely ladies of our river towns. Their beauty and skills are equally legendary.”

  The fleshpots on the Yodo River were famous in the capital, and Oga might well be one of those senior officials who led licentious lives and assumed everyone else did also. Akitada disapproved and said pointedly, “Well, my plan was to visit Shitenoji temple and see some other sights, but perhaps you can instruct me about these attractions. I’m not familiar with them myself.”

  He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words were out. Oga flushed and turned away. Akitada reminded himself that he might need this man in his investigations.

  Nakahara on Akitada’s other side said with a laugh, “The ladies are pretty creatures, but sometimes taking care of one’s soul outweighs other temptations. What say you, Watamaro?”

  The merchant was a commoner, but he certainly seemed to know his place. His voice was low and apologetic. “I, too, visit Shitenoji frequently to look westward toward the Buddha’s paradise. In my business, one becomes mindful of the closeness of the other world.”

  Why? Was a merchant closer to death than a governor? No doubt, the man was nervous because he felt like a fish out of water here. Akitada had learned to admire men who had risen in the world without being nobly born. Trying to make up for his earlier gaffe with Oga, he engaged Watamaro in questions about places worth seeing in Naniwa. Though Watamaro would know much about pirates, Akitada avoided the subject.

  The two other guests hung back and did not join the conversation. Akitada found an excuse to draw the prefect into the conversation, but Munata had little to say beyond the hope that Akitada would find his visit pleasant.

  The talk next turned to the former regent Fujiwara Michinaga, who had just disowned his son Yorimichi, the chancellor. Michinaga had made this surprising gesture to show his displeasure with the laziness of court officials serving under Yorimichi. The topic was uncomfortable for Akitada, who was a court official, though of a much lower rank and position than those who had given offense. He saw that the professor had stepped out onto the veranda to admire the view and joined him.

  The colors of the sunset were fading but still incredibly beautiful. Akitada said, “Such beauty is very moving, isn’t it?” and gestured at the rapidly darkening sky. “No wonder, our ancestors believed that the place where the sun sets is where we’ll find paradise.”

  Otomo gave him a shrewd look and a smile. “Do I take it that you don’t believe in the Buddha, Lord Sugawara?”

  Akitada did not, but Buddhism was the court-approved faith and he avoided an answer. “We must believe in something,” he said vaguely. “Otherwise death would be too hard to bear.”

  The old man nodded. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t probe into your beliefs. The fact is that I was looking at the western horizon for a different reason. My people came from there, you see. From Koryo, as you call it.”

  Since no foreign settlers from either Korea or China had been admitted to the nation for a century or more, Akitada was surprised. “Surely that must have been a long time ago.”

  “Oh, yes. They were my great-grandparents. And even then, an exception was being made for them. My great-grandfather took a Japanese name and earned his living teaching Chinese literature. It was a skill that was considered useful then. As you see, I follow the example of my forebears.”

  “Your ancestral background turns out to be a perfect coincidence.” Akitada took out the dead girl’s silver amulet from his sash. “I had hoped someone could tell me about this. I think it may have come from Koryo, or perhaps Silla. What do you think, and do you have any idea what it signifies?”

  The professor’s bushy white eyebrows r
ose. He seemed to freeze as he peered at the silver piece, turning it this way and that. “Where did you get it?” he asked in a tight voice.

  The transaction with the warden suddenly seemed tasteless, and Akitada said only, “I bought it in Eguchi because it looked like exceptionally fine work even though it’s only silver.”

  “In Eguchi? How extraordinary.” The professor frowned, then returned the piece reluctantly. “It is an amulet and finely made, as you recognized. Such a thing would have been given to a noble daughter at birth. My people never thought of giving girls a dagger, as they do here. They felt women needed to be treasured and protected.”

  Akitada thanked him, and thought of his own little daughter. He had given her the traditional dagger without much thought that it was meant to end her life if she should suffer dishonor. Of course, he treasured her and wanted to protect her so that nothing so awful should ever befall her. He would have asked more questions about the amulet, but the servants began to serve the food and he tucked it away again.

  Since the governor outranked Akitada by two degrees, the seating arrangement was problematic. Nakahara solved it by placing his guests in a circle with Oga on his right and Akitada on his left. As it turned out, it prevented Akitada from conversing with Oga, and that was a relief. It was Watamaro who sat on Akitada’s other side.

  Akitada glanced around the room. The furnishings were modest, but good. Thick mats covered the dark wood floor where they were seated, and a painted screen of rugged cliffs with wind-tossed pines and foaming ocean waves protected them from drafts. In the tokonoma niche, a single large ink painting of a detailed landscape hung behind a copper bowl of white chrysanthemums. He would have liked a better look at the painting because it was unlike anything he had ever seen, but dinner began and comments about the wine and various dishes passed back and forth. Nakahara evidently had a talented cook and was himself very knowledgeable about local delicacies. Akitada, who paid little attention to food as a rule, found things edible, if a little salty, and gave polite praise. He drank liberally because he was thirsty and the wine was particularly refreshing, having been chilled rather than heated.

  Watamaro shared Nakahara’s appreciation for food, and talk went smoothly, but when the final delicacy had been consumed and discussed, it stalled.

  Nakahara broke into the sudden silence with the words, “I heard from your clerk that your journey yesterday was marred by an unpleasantness, Sugawara. What exactly happened? A body bumped against your boat near Eguchi?”

  Before Akitada could answer, Oga gasped and went quite white. This caused a fuss, with Nakahara calling for more wine and Oga drinking deeply, choking, gasping for air. The color returned to his face, and he made a dismissive remark that it had been nothing, a matter of swallowing awkwardly. Taking a deep breath, he asked Akitada, “Did you find out who the dead man was?”

  “It was a woman, or perhaps a child. In any case, she was very young and very pretty,” said Akitada. He was unusually thirsty after the salty food and drinking too much wine. The servants kept refilling his cup, and he had lost track of how many he had had. “I’m told suicides are common among the courtesans,” he added. It was not a windy day, but Nakahara’s scroll painting seemed to move in a breeze. He blinked and found that he had been mistaken.

  Oga heaved a breath and nodded. “Yes, that’s very true. A great pity when they are young and attractive. I hope you were not too upset by the incident.”

  Akitada did not like the remark but said only, “No. I’ve seen many dead bodies in my work. This one was merely remarkable for her youth.”

  The professor, who had remained quiet during the meal, now said, “If I may ask, are you certain it was a suicide?”

  This touched a nerve. Akitada was increasingly troubled about the manner of the young woman’s death and the hurried way the Eguchi warden had disposed of the body. Otomo’s interest disconcerted him. Having been so far a detached observer at this party, the professor looked at him intently, leaning forward and fixing Akitada with such a sharp gaze that he was taken aback.

  “No,” he said honestly. “I have no proof, though I saw no wounds on the body. I suppose, it could have been an accident.” He paused. “I confess it weighs on my mind. I should have insisted on a proper investigation.”

  Nakahara teased, “Why the interest, Professor? Have you broken someone’s heart in Eguchi?”

  This broke the tension, but Otomo only smiled and shook his head.

  Watamaro put his hand on the professor’s shoulder. “Come, there’s no shame in loving the beauties of Eguchi or in having some fun talking about them.”

  Otomo quoted, “’Don’t go singing the song of the Willow Branches when there’s no one here with a heart for you to break.’ One of the great Chinese poets wrote that when he had reached my age and was being teased by a pretty girl of fifteen. I’m well past my spring and summer, and even my autumn is nearly past.”

  Watamaro chuckled and fell to quoting other lines of poetry. The rest joined in, and the wine cups were kept full. Akitada sank into a melancholy mood, pondering his own lost youth, and drank his host’s excellent wine.

  *

  When Akitada returned to their room, Sadenari was already there, wide awake and eager.

  “Wait till you hear what I found out, sir,” he cried.

  Akitada, his head muddled with wine and his eyes full of sand, said, “What?” as he took off his good silk robe.

  “Our host is the very man we’re seeking! How about that?”

  Akitada frowned and draped the robe somewhat crookedly over the curtain stand. “An’ how d’you know that?” he asked, staggering a little as he stepped out of his full trousers. He tossed them toward the curtain stand and missed. Swaying a little, he considered that he was setting a poor example for Sadenari-especially after the lecture he had read him earlier.

  Sadahira chattered on. “I introduced myself to Director Nakahara’s clerks. They were helpful in finding a small room with a desk and writing materials for us. I thought we should try to look as businesslike as possible so there won’t be any suspicions about our real assignment. I hope I did right, sir?”

  “Mmm, yes.” Akitada flopped down on his bedding and pulled off his socks. He was surprised and gratified that he managed this very well.

  “Well, the one they call Yuki is a very nice fellow. His family is in the capital, and he invited me to come for a visit when we get back. They keep horses and go hunting. It’s a family tradition since ancient days. I’ve always wanted to hunt.”

  Akitada lay down and pulled the quilt up to his nose. Nakahara’s bedding was deliciously comfortable. “Go on,” he murmured and closed his eyes.

  “Yuki says that his boss is pretty easy-going, so they have lots of time for local outings. I thought he could show me around and introduce me to the pirates.”

  Akitada opened one eye and mumbled, “What?” He hoped he had not heard correctly. Two irresponsible youths running around town asking questions about pirates? But he was too tired and woozy, so he said only, “Better wait till morning,” and fell asleep.

  Chapter Five

  The Ugly Man

  Akitada woke to a vicious headache and blurred vision. He sat up, groaned, and then staggered to the veranda to vomit into the shrubbery. His head pounding, he returned to his room and gulped water from the earthenware pitcher the maid had left.

  To his relief, Sadenari was gone, but then the sun was already high. Akitada sat back down and held his throbbing head. He had no recall of the later part of the evening. Had he drunk too much, or had there been something wrong with the wine or the food? A vague memory surfaced of Sadenari telling him something last night, but he could not recall what it had been.

  With more groans, he got up and dressed in his plain robe and trousers. Last night’s finery looked badly creased and stained. As he bent to pick up the silk trousers to hang them on the clothes stand, a blinding pain stabbed at his eyes from inside his skull. He r
eeled and suppressed another bout of nausea.

  He clapped his hands for one of the maids and asked for hot water. When it came, he washed his face and hands, and retied his topknot. The maid took his good clothes away to have them cleaned.

  Feeling slightly better, he went in search of Sadenari. Tea would have been welcome, but most people did not make it part of their diet, and he could not stomach more wine, or even gruel. He headed for the main hall and Nakahara’s office.

  Nakahara was not there yet, a fact that cheered Akitada a little. His clerk Tameaki was arranging the mass of papers and documents into neat piles and writing small notes to place on top of them.

  When he saw Akitada, he bowed. “I regret that the director is not available yet, sir. Can I be of assistance?”

  “I wondered what had happened to my clerk.”

  “He left early this morning with Nariyuki. I assumed it was on your business.”

  Akitada frowned. What was it that Sadenari had babbled about last night? He had been very tired-and very drunk, if he was honest-but surely in that condition he would not have sent the boy on an assignment.

  Tameaki read the puzzlement in his face and smirked. “I may well have jumped to conclusions, sir. Nariyuki likes any excuse to visit the wine shops in the city. I did hear the word “pirates.” Does that suggest anything?”

  It did, and most unpleasantly. Akitada still had no idea what they had talked about, but he was nearly sure now that pirates had figured in it. He sat down and held his aching head again. What damage was the impossible youth doing now?

  Ever solicitous, Tameaki asked, “Are you unwell, sir? Can I send for someone or perhaps offer you some wine?”

  Akitada shuddered. “No, nothing. Thank you. There was most likely some misunderstanding. Sadenari should return eventually.” He glanced at the desk with its newly neat stacks of papers and added, “I’ve interrupted your work. What are you doing?”