The Hell Screen - [Sugawara Akitada 02]

by I. J. Parker

  The two women cried out together, protesting vehemently. Akitada raised his hand and snapped, “One at a time.” He glared at Tamako. “And I believe I was speaking to Yoshiko.”

  Tamako flushed and bowed stiffly. Yoshiko rose and came forward, kneeling before him, her head bowed.

  “I beg your pardon for having offended you, Elder Brother,” she said, her voice catching. “I acted most selfishly and foolishly and I have brought shame and embarrassment upon my elder brother and this family. Whatever amends I can make, I shall gladly perform. My rash behavior has already brought grievous pain to Kojiro—” She broke off and fought for composure. After a moment, during which Akitada ignored a pleading gesture from Tamako, she continued, “When you told me that Kojiro had been arrested for murder, I had to go to him. Kojiro and I... we were once very close ... many years ago.” She hesitated to glance quickly up at Akitada’s face. “He is the man who wished to marry me. I know I should have asked your permission before going, but I was afraid you would not give it. And I could not ask Mother.” She dabbed at her tear-stained face.

  It was worse than he had feared. “You are quite right,” he snapped. “I would certainly not have allowed a sister of mine to masquerade as a common slattern carrying food to her criminal husband. I assume, of course, that no marriage has taken place between you and this man, formal or otherwise?”

  “Of course not.” Yoshiko flushed and raised her head proudly. “Both Kojiro and I have behaved with the utmost propriety. He wished to marry me. I accepted, and he immediately spoke to Mother, who refused his offer with many cruel remarks. We never saw each other again until now.”

  Akitada found her calm admission infuriating. “Your behavior, then as now, was reprehensible,” he said coldly. “He is the brother of a local merchant, a mere farmer himself, and certainly not a suitable acquaintance, let alone husband, for a daughter of the Sugawaras. You had no right to accept an offer of marriage, or to encourage it.”

  Yoshiko was looking down at her hands. She was quite calm and firm. “You were away at the time and you never met Kojiro. It is not well to judge a man one does not know. Master Confucius teaches us to be kind to everyone and to seek out the good in men. Kojiro is a good man.”

  At first Akitada thought he had misheard. Yoshiko had never spoken this way to him, or anyone, before. Had she really dared reprimand him? After her behavior? After all the trouble she had caused? He felt his anger begin to boil over and clenched his hands together behind his back to keep from striking her. Through his teeth, he said, “I have no wish to discuss your shameful past with this man any further. I barely prevented your arrest tonight. Unless I can convince Kobe of your innocence tomorrow morning, you will find yourself in a cell—in the same jail as your lover. And you, too, will be stripped of your clothes, in front of male prison guards, and beaten with bamboo rods until your back is lacerated from shoulders to buttocks or until you confess to having plotted with me to get Kojiro’s charges dismissed. You will be asked about the lies I told you to suggest to Kojiro, and after a while you will tell them what they want to hear.”

  Both Tamako and Yoshiko stared at him in horror.

  “No,” cried Yoshiko. “I would never say what isn’t true. I would die first.”

  Tamako said, “They would not dare lay a hand on your sister.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Akitada stormed at her. Then he looked from one to the other. They were well-brought-up young women, belonging to the “good people,” their skin white and soft because they did not have to work for their food, their hair long and glossy because they had leisure to brush it. What did either of them know of the extremities of existence? He said harshly, “You know nothing of such things, but I do. As part of my duties I have had to witness such interrogations, and once or twice in my life I myself have come to know what it is like to go beyond caring about anything but the unbearable agony.”

  Tamako paled and bowed her head. “Forgive me, Akitada,” she murmured.

  But Yoshiko’s stubborn chin was raised. “I am as certain as I can be that you did not dishonor your name on those occasions,” she said, her eyes flashing. “But I, too, am Sugawara and, I tell you, I should rather die than submit.”

  “Keep in mind that your lover will undergo the same treatment as you. Will he also be willing to die to protect your family?”

  “Yes. Kojiro has already suffered through one interrogation without telling them about me,” Yoshiko said proudly. “It was because of me that he was beaten today. His guard told me when I got to the prison.”

  “That was the reason Yoshiko was so distraught when she came home,” said Tamako.

  “You were followed,” Akitada informed his sister.

  Yoshiko nodded. “Yes. I am very sorry to have caused you trouble, Akitada,” she said. “And I am even more sorry for Kojiro. He has suffered for my sake. But I am not sorry that I love him. Once he is cleared of the murder charge, we shall be married.”

  “What?” Akitada ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Was there no way he could assert his authority in his own family? First the trouble with Akiko, and now Yoshiko, too! It must be their mother’s blood which made them so unmanageable, so bent on causing mischief. He shouted, “You will do nothing of the sort. I forbid it! He is not a suitable husband for a sister of mine.”

  Yoshiko was quite pale now, but her chin was still up and she looked him straight in the eyes. “I am only your half sister. You owe me nothing. Having brought disgrace upon you, it will be best if I leave this house. I shall go to my sister. Toshikage will speak to Superintendent Kobe to explain to him that you knew nothing about my relationship with Kojiro. Then, if the superintendent wishes to arrest me, at least he will not need to come to your house to do so.”

  Their eyes locked. The pain of her rejection twisted like a knife deep in his stomach. Belatedly appalled at his treatment of her, he stammered, “You cannot do that... why Akiko?... or Toshikage? What can they do for you that I cannot do? Have I not always stood by you? By both of you? Why are you doing this to me, Yoshiko?”

  Yoshiko’s eyes faltered. She murmured, “I am sorry, Akitada, but I have given my word to Kojiro and I cannot break it.”

  Seimei’s phrase! Everyone in his family seemed eager to pledge allegiance to others! Who would desert him next? Staring bleakly down at his sister, Akitada shook his head, turned on his heel, and left the room.

  * * * *

  He did not share his wife’s bed that night but spent restless, guilt-ridden hours in his father’s room, trying to find answers to his family troubles. Tamako came once, perhaps in an effort to make peace, but he said, “Not now. I must think what to do.” She inclined her head and left silently, returning much later with his bedding, which she spread for him without a word. He felt intensely lonely after she had left again.

  Sometime during the night it began to snow. When the shadows of the room began to close in on him, Akitada threw back the shutters onto a pitch-black night. It was cold, but there was little wind now. The light from his lamp caught the large flakes as they fell slowly, drifting a little on unseen air currents, spinning in circles before floating gently to the ground. Shimmering like moving stars, they seemed to arrive from a void beyond, materializing only within the reach of his study light. The nearer shrubs and trees showed dimly with faint white highlights, but the gravel and the veranda boards were solid sparkling silver. Only the surface of the fishpond lay like a black mirror reflecting a black universe beyond.

  Akitada stood for a long time, watching the mysterious arrival of the snow, before he closed the shutters and returned to his bed.

  When he woke the next morning, the blackness outside had changed to a uniform gray. The snow had stopped, but heavy low clouds seemed to brush the stark treetops, and the light was so faint that the snow on the ground and on the roof of his house looked dull like unbleached silk.

  Akitada dressed quickly in a dark robe, his court hat with the taboo pendant,
leggings, and boots. Seimei knocked and entered with a bow and murmured a greeting, bringing a dish of rice gruel and a pot of hot water for tea. He asked for instructions for the day.

  Akitada sipped his tea. “Do what you like! Carry on with the accounts,” he said. “I have to go out this morning.”

  Seimei hesitated, looking unhappy, then bowed and left.

  In spite of the early hour, Kobe was waiting at the prison when Akitada was shown to the office set aside for his use. Kobe’s mood was almost conciliatory. He offered Akitada warm wine.

  “No, thank you.” Akitada found it impossible to produce a polite smile. Seating himself across from Kobe, he plunged into his speech. “Last night I was shocked and angered by your accusations. Today I find that I must apologize for the foolish and dangerous actions of a member of my family. As head of the family, I take full responsibility for what happened, even though I had no knowledge of it.”

  Kobe nodded. He looked politely attentive. “Please continue!”

  “I am afraid that the woman your men followed from the prison to my house is my younger sister Yoshiko.”

  At that Kobe’s eyes widened. “Your sister?”

  “Yes. It appears that she formed an attachment to the prisoner many years ago. I am to blame for her visits, because I carelessly discussed the Nagaoka murder with her. At the time, I had no idea that she knew anyone in that family, and she did not tell me.”

  Kobe seemed too astonished to doubt Akitada’s words. “I see,” he murmured. “How very unpleasant for you! It would hardly have occurred to you that your sister would form such a very unsuitable ... relationship with a person of that type. You have my sympathy.”

  For a moment, Akitada thought he was being mocked. But Kobe’s face expressed only shock and concern. Perversely, this easy acceptance of his explanation, entailing as it did revelations of a personally embarrassing nature, angered Akitada. Surely the man Yoshiko had become involved with was not so completely contemptible. Nagaoka was a merchant, but a highly respected one and a man of considerable culture. And the man Akitada remembered meeting in the rain at the temple gate had appeared gentlemanly. Then he realized that, to Kobe, Kojiro was a criminal, and that his sister’s reputation depended on clearing her lover of the murder charge.

  He pulled himself together and said, “I am much obliged to you for believing me, Superintendent. Since my sister is now deeply implicated in the case, I wonder if you might reconsider your position and allow me to assist you.” He steeled himself for another refusal.

  To his surprise, Kobe pursed his lips and studied the ceiling thoughtfully. He said, “Hmm,” and after a moment, again, “Hmm.”

  Encouraged by this, his heart beating faster, Akitada promised rashly, “I would, of course, do nothing but what you had approved beforehand, work under your supervision, so to speak.”

  Kobe brought his eyes back from the ceiling and looked at him. He seemed amused; the corner of his mouth twitched. “I did not think the famous Sugawara would ever say such words to me. Will you go another step, my lord, and promise to be bound by my decision?”

  Akitada flushed with shame, but said steadily enough, “Yes.”

  Kobe rose. “Come along, then. You shall speak to the prisoner. In my presence.”

  Akitada hardly knew what to make of Kobe’s sudden compliance and assumed it had been bought with his own humiliation. So be it! As they walked through the outer offices and past scores of police officers and constables toward the wing of the building where the cells were, it occurred to him that he had no idea how to proceed. The man’s relationship with Yoshiko made any thorough questioning awkward. And Kobe’s presence at this first meeting between them was more than just embarrassing.

  The figure who rose with a rattle of chains and stood, supporting himself against the wall, bore little resemblance to the sturdy young man at the mountain temple. Both his hair and beard had grown untended, he wore a ragged, stained shirt and loose cotton pants, and stood barefoot on the cold dirt floor of the cell. There was a smear of blood on his shoulder where the shirt had slipped, and more traces of bleeding on his chin from biting his lower lip.

  Akitada had seen men look like this before—too many times—and he met the eyes of the prisoner. The eyes usually told the story. If they had that dull, hopeless look, a sign of having stopped fighting against a stronger force, one knew that the prisoner had told all he knew. He had come to wish for it as much as it sickened him, for it meant there would be no more beatings.

  Kojiro did not have that look yet. He seemed both defiant and indifferent as he glanced from Kobe to Akitada. He frowned, then returned his attention to the superintendent. Apparently he did not remember their meeting. He neither bowed nor spoke, but an expectant silence hung heavy between them.

  Akitada wondered what Yoshiko could have seen in this man. True, he was not at his best at the moment, but even cleaned up, he would only be an ordinary man of middling height, certainly shorter than either Akitada or Kobe, squarely built, with a face which was neither distinguished nor handsome. The cheekbones were broad, the nose flat, and the lips too wide and thick. He looked like what he was, a peasant. To be sure, he was not as blackened by the sun, nor as stringy and bent from labor in the rice paddies, but he certainly lacked every vestige of male grace as it was defined by people of Akitada’s rank. Akitada was not vain and thought poorly of his own appearance, but he had formed certain ideas about the sort of men women admired. Kojiro did not fit them.

  It was Kobe who broke the silence first. “Well, Kojiro. I understand you continued your stubbornness during questioning yesterday.”

  The prisoner did not answer, but he moved his shoulders slightly, as if he wanted to remind himself of the occasion. Akitada had seen the backs of “stubborn” prisoners and knew the man was in pain.

  Kobe continued, “It was a waste of time, you know. We found out who the young lady was.”

  Something flickered in Kojiro’s eyes, but he said nothing. He fears a trap, thought Akitada, mildly surprised that the peasant had attempted to protect Yoshiko’s honor with his own skin.

  The prisoner finally opened his lips and croaked, “What do you want, Superintendent?”

  Kobe grinned unpleasantly. “I? Nothing. I am here because this gentleman has some questions to put to you.”

  The man turned to look at Akitada warily.

  Akitada did not like the cat-and-mouse game. He said brusquely, “My name is Sugawara. Yoshiko has told me of her visits here.”

  That brought a reaction. The prisoner jerked and his eyes grew large with shock. A slow flush rose from his neck into his face. He said hoarsely, “It was nothing. The young lady took pity and brought food a few times. A charitable act to please Buddha. If some people have chosen to put a dishonorable interpretation on her generous gesture, it only shames them. The guard can testify that nothing passed between us but a few rice cakes.”

  “I am not here to discuss my sister’s visits, but to see if you can be helped in some way.”

  A sudden wild and joyous hope flashed in the man’s eyes. “You mean to help us?”

  Akitada snapped, “You make a mistake. If I have anything to say in the matter, you will never see my sister again. A union between your family and mine is, as you have been told before, out of the question.” He saw the light die in Kojiro’s eyes without regret. It was best to be brutally frank in such matters.

  The prisoner said tonelessly, “I see. Or rather, I don’t see. Why bother to come, in that case?”

  Akitada cleared his throat. “My interest in your case predates the recent revelations about your... acquaintance with my sister, as Superintendent Kobe will verify. In fact, we met once briefly at the temple gate. It was raining, and you were with your sister-in-law.”

  Kojiro nodded. “Yes. I do remember now. However, that still does not explain your interest in me, my lord. It is, of course, very good of you, but I must beg you to leave the matter alone. Under the circumstances,
you will find it only distasteful, and I have nothing to lose.” He turned away from them to face the wall. They could see the large dried bloodstains on the back of his shirt now.

  Akitada bit his lip. If his sister had not meddled, this man might not have been tortured. He said, “My distaste extends only to injustice,” with a glance at Kobe, who pursed his lips and studied the ceiling of the cell. “I have been told that you confessed to the murder of your sister-in-law, but later withdrew that confession. Are you innocent?”

  Without turning around, the prisoner said, “Guilt or innocence, my lord, are relative terms. Of all the people I know, only one is truly innocent, your sister. The rest of us manage to gather enough sins of the flesh or against our fellow creatures to make suitable game for the demons of hell.”

  Akitada stared at the bloodied, chained, sagging figure of the man. Where had a man of his class learned such language? And why was he so uncooperative when his life was at stake? Instead of eagerly accepting the proffered help, he had made Akitada uncomfortably aware of his own shortcomings, and—in view of recent events—of those of his parents. He thought fleetingly about their sins and their likely fate at the hands of the mighty judge of the dead. Noami’s hell screen depicted vividly the punishments in the netherworld, and he recalled his nightmare in the temple. The chained and bloodstained Kojiro looked little better than Noami’s persecuted souls in the hell of the sharp knives. The human world also had its demons.