The Emperor's Woman (Akitada Mysteries)

by I. J. Parker

  “You have created a monster,” Akitada said accusingly.

  “Not I. Your sister is a great deal like you. And now she has found a way to prove herself. You should really give her credit sometimes. She feels you don’t approve of her.”

  Akitada had the grace to flush. “Akiko irritates me with her selfish ways and her pursuit of rank and fortune.”

  “Yes, though that is a woman’s role once she is married and has children to care about. Her own aspirations no longer exist, and she becomes a mother.”

  Akitada thought about this for a moment, then changed the subject. “I could eat something.”

  After another dose of Doctor Kumada bitter medicine and a rather large meal—after all, he had not eaten for more than a day—he became so sleepy that he allowed Tamako to spread out his bedding again. There he fell into a deep sleep from which he did not awake until longer after dark.

  When he opened his eyes, they fell on Tora, who sat at his desk, frowning over a book by the light of a candle.

  “What’s the matter?” Akitada asked. “Don’t you like the story?”

  Tora’s smile flashed. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

  Akitada thought about it. “Quite well. Have I slept until night?” He sat up. “How are you? Did you have your evening rice?”

  “Yes. That and my midday rice also. Shall I go to the kitchen for something for you? The fires are still on, I think.”

  Akitada got to his feet and stretched those limbs that seemed well. He yawned. “Yes, go get us both a snack. Then we’ll discuss progress on the two cases.”

  “Yes, sir!” cried Tora enthusiastically and dashed off.

  Akitada resumed his place behind his desk. The scroll Tora had been reading was the Tale of Ise, an illustrated poetry collection. He had probably been attracted by the many scenes of a man and a woman meeting in romantic settings. The poet Narihira had been a famous lover. The text was elegantly written, but the brush style was beyond Tora’s skills. Akitada rolled up the scroll and tied the silk ribbons.

  Prince Atsuhira had been compared to this same poet. Perhaps he had eventually tried to live up to him. Or had he compared himself to Prince Genji, the fictional son of an emperor who had traded succession for the life of a rake? Akitada did not know the answer, and it struck him that the prince’s character was not the issue. It was far more important to understand Lady Masako. What had caused her to commit such a flagrantly scandalous, foolish, and disloyal act as to take a lover so openly while serving His Majesty?

  Akiko had been a great help by finding and contacting Masako’s companion. The two women had lived together in the imperial apartments, and this Lady Hiroko had probably been in her confidence. Even if Masako had not confided in her, a companion would have been in an excellent position to observe her. He grudgingly admitted to himself that Akiko had done very well. And he found that he actually looked forward to accompanying his sister on their visit to the lady.

  Tora returned, carrying a heavily laden tray. His face shone with satisfaction. “Cook has for once done right by you,” he announced. “I almost didn’t recognize the evil goblin. She was all smiles, gathering the finest morsels for her injured master.” He set down the tray. It held a large array of bowls and dishes, containing both hot and cold foods. “Some wine to wash it down with?”

  Akitada nodded. He was not particularly hungry, but the food smelled good and he had wanted a cup of wine for a long time.

  They drank and ate, reaching for whatever struck their fancy. Between bites, they talked, exchanging observations about the prince’s villa, the two caretakers, the doubtful evidence of the bo, the equally unreliable signs of a struggle in the villa.

  Then Tora made his report.

  He told Akitada about meeting Saburo and visiting Genba.

  This pleased Akitada. “Has he changed his mind about leaving?”

  “Who? Genba?” Tora glowered. “The big lout is as stubborn as an ox.”

  Akitada shook his head. “It’s my fault, I think. He must’ve taken amiss something I said. What about Saburo?”

  “Do you want him back?”

  “Yes. Especially now. You didn’t mention the note you found.”

  “Oh. Sorry. It slipped my mind. It was probably nothing.”

  Akitada knew better, but he did not mention the attack.

  “Saburo’s found a job and is managing quite well, but I think he misses the children.”

  This astonished Akitada. “The children? I would have thought he’d have no interest in children.”

  Tora grinned. “I’ve watched him. He’s shy around them, but I know he buys them sweets and toys, and they like him. It’s bribery, of course, but I guess he’s lonely. Now there’s a man who needs a family.”

  They both sighed and shook their heads.

  “What about Tokuzo’s murder?” Akitada asked.

  “I talked to Shokichi, I thought maybe she could be relied on to provide useful information to help her friend.”

  Akitada nodded.

  “Well, aside from the fact that nobody liked Tokuzo and that all the women hated him because he beat them, there were only two women who actually died. They were both young. Miyagi grew up in the capital. Her family has moved away, no one knows where. Tokuzo gave her something to get rid of a child, and she bled to death.”

  Akitada grimaced. “That’s barbaric. What about the warden? Did he investigate the death?”

  “In the quarter such things are common. The women often swallow the wrong medicine or do things to themselves because they know they can’t work when they’re with child.

  “What happened to the other one?” Akitada asked, shaking his head.

  “She was thrown from the balcony to the yard below and died. Shokichi says a drunken and irate customer did it.”

  “Not Tokuzo then?”

  “No, but the girls blamed him anyway. They said he should never have given Ozuru to a brute like that. She was small, frail, and shy.”

  “Was the man arrested?”

  “Yes, but he claimed she stole money from him and when he chased after her, she jumped. Shokichi says Ozuru would never steal money, and the customer was known to abuse the women.” I went to see her family. Her father is dead. The mother is very poor. They hold no grudge. In fact, they are grateful to that bastard Tokuzo and sold two more girls.”

  Akitada raised his brows. “To him?”

  “No, but it proves how they feel.”

  “Yes. What a thing to do to your child! You say both girls were young?”

  “Fourteen and fifteen.”

  Akitada thought of another case, that of the young girl who had been murdered in the brothel town of Eguchi not so long ago. Then, too, he had thought of his own daughter. Yasuko was not the child of poor peasants, but that did not necessarily protect a young woman. Lady Masako was proof of that. He seemed to think frequently about the fate of young women these days. They faced as many dangers as young men who went to war.

  “I see.” Akitada sighed. “Inconclusive.”

  A silence fell.

  “Well,” said Akitada after a while, “talk to Saburo again and tell him what you just told me. Try to enlist his help in identifying the killer. And tell him to come back. We need him. If he cares about the children, he’ll come.”

  Tora nodded. “What about Lady Masako? Do you want me to talk to Lord Masaie’s cook again?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway. I hope to get the information from her companion.”

  The next day, Akitada and his sister set out for the Koryu-ji, a small but venerable temple outside the capital. They were on horseback. Akitada wore his brown hunting coat over blue trousers tucked into boots and his sword. To his relief, Akiko, who loved bright colors, had chosen a dark gray silk gown. She also wore the broad straw hat with a veil worn by upper-class women on journeys to holy places.

  As soon as they left the busy city streets behind, Akiko threw back the veil with a laugh.

&
nbsp; “Oh, how I love this, Akitada,” she cried. “What a delightful outing! And it’s spring, and the sun shines on us. I’m as free as any young peasant girl to enjoy the day.”

  Akitada was not having a delightful time. He had woken to aches and pains over his entire body. There were large bruises in places he had not noticed the day before. Of course, the agony of his shoulder might well have canceled out all other discomforts. His body now exhibited the signs of every impact and scrape of his unfortunate tumble. Sitting in the saddle and bumping along at a trot did nothing to soothe his misery.

  His irritation mounting, he said, “We have a serious purpose, Akiko. A young woman has died, a woman younger than you who also desired greater freedom. She, too, rode out from the confines of her life in the city, but she rode to her death.”

  Akiko’s face fell. “You always spoil everything.” She urged her horse on and galloped ahead.

  Akitada bit his lip against and caught up with her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no right to spoil your day. Please forgive me. I’m still hurting a little, and the story of Lady Masako has affected me more deeply than I thought.”

  Akiko slowed down. After a while she said, “Yes, it is a nasty tale. But we cannot know for certain what made her behave that way until we speak to Lady Hiroko. I must say, I was surprised she agreed so quickly to meet us. She sent a messenger last evening and suggested Koryu-ji as a meeting place. Very well chosen, I must say.” She peered ahead where green mountains beckoned.

  Most of the temples and monasteries attended by the people of the capital were in the surrounding foothills and mountains. Here and there, slender pagodas rose from among trees and the curved roofs of a temple or villa broke the greenery.

  Akitada agreed. “It’s close to the city and a very proper destination for a woman to visit, whether to worship or to meet friends.” He gave his sister a smile. “It must have been your persuasiveness that convinced her to speak to us. I expect the palace has warned her not to discuss Lady Masako.”

  “Yes, I think they would have forbidden it. But perhaps she’s just a young and foolish girl who likes attention.”

  But Lady Hiroko, though young, was not at all foolish. Her choice of a meeting place should have told them as much.

  As soon as Akitada and his sister had dismounted at the temple gate and climbed the steps, they passed into a realm of upper-class propriety.

  Being close to the northern part of the capital where the nobility had its palaces, Koryu-ji was a favorite of the good people. Women, in particular, liked to come here, especially when the cherry trees blossomed lacy-white among the dark green trees and the age-darkened halls of the temple. The visitors felt as if they moved among celestial clouds that had descended among these venerable buildings, lending this holy world a brief splendor like a blessing from Buddha himself.

  Monks passed among the strolling visitors, mostly well-dressed ladies and noblemen. Sounds of religious services floated in the air: soft tinkling of bells, sonorous chants, the murmurs of sutra readings. It was pleasant and very, very proper.

  “I feel devout all of a sudden,” remarked Akiko, looking about. “It’s all so beautiful, so peaceful.”

  Akitada said nothing. In his mind, the thought of Lady Masako’s death warred against such contentment.

  A young monk approached. When Akitada asked for Lady Hiroko, the monk consulted a list he carried and directed them to the “hall of tranquility.”

  They reached this building after a short walk through tree-shaded grounds. The sounds of worshipful humanity receded; there was only birdsong and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was cool, and the air was filled with the smell of moist earth and growing things.

  The “hall of tranquility” was a very small building of plain dark wood with a roof of cypress. All around the woods enclosed it. A small veranda with a few steps led to the open doors, and in the doorway stood the slender gray figure of a young woman. She was looking up at the sky, but at the sound of their steps, she turned her head.

  Akitada bowed, as Akiko called out, “Lady Hiroko? My brother and I have come to pay our respects.”

  Lady Hiroko inclined her head and murmured something. She was a very plain young woman with a narrow face that lacked even a trace of make-up. Her hair was cut so short it barely reached her shoulders. The court lady had taken the first steps to becoming a nun.

  Akitada felt saddened. True, she was not pretty, and true her chances of finding a husband in the palace were minimal, but it seemed to him a waste when a woman as young as this one forsook the world. He wondered if Akiko had known.

  They paused at the steps.

  “I am honored, Lord Sugawara and Lady Akiko,” said the novice in a soft, shy voice. She stepped aside and gestured to the inside of the hall. “Please come in. We will be very private here.”

  They walked into the single room, dim even on this bright spring day. A few plain cushions lay about and two tapers flickered at their approach. Beneath their feet, above their heads, and on all walls, dark wood enclosed them. Since the doors were the only opening, the room was shadowy and reminiscent of transience and death.

  Akitada thought the religious atmosphere along with the young woman’s decision to forsake the world would make the coming conversation awkward.

  This apparently had not occurred to his sister, who began in a bright voice, “My brother and I wish to make our condolences on your loss of a beloved friend. For a young woman in your position at court it must have been extremely painful to watch Lady Masako lose her heart to a man who wasn’t His Majesty.”

  Lady Hiroko did not answer. She arranged cushions for them and then knelt decorously, raising her eyes only briefly to Akiko’s. They took their seats.

  “Come,” said Akiko briskly, “you must take solace. We’ve come to help. As I wrote, my brother and I hope to find the man who killed your friend. I trust when we do her soul may rest at last. It’s been four months already. Think how terrible she must feel.”

  Lady Hiroko burst into tears.

  Akitada glanced at his sister. “Akiko, please. Clearly, Lady Hiroko feels the death of her friend very strongly. Allow her to say what is in her heart. Then perhaps we may ask some questions.”

  Akiko sniffed, gave him a look from narrowed eyes, and fell silent.

  Lady Hiroko dabbed at her eyes with a sleeve. “Forgive me. This is very difficult. I would not be here, only there was the dream. She came to me in a dream after Lady Akiko wrote to me. It’s the dream that decided me. You’re quite right, Lady Akiko. I must speak for her and to do so, I must mention things that are forbidden.”

  Akitada and his sister held their breaths.

  Lady Hiroko’s head sank a little lower. “Oh, this is so painful. In the dream, Masako spoke to me. She begged my help to find peace. She kept saying, ‘Make him confess what he’s done.’” She raised her face and looked at them. “She was white as snow and shivered with cold. It was terrible.”

  Akitada cleared his throat. “I understand your difficulties, but you may trust us. We, too, revere His Majesty. What happened must not reflect on Him.”

  She nodded and looked at him gratefully. “That is indeed what troubles me. We are forbidden to speak of life in the inner apartments. But in this case … well, Masako was so very unhappy. I was assigned as her companion when she first came. It was thought then that His Majesty would make her a favorite. She was very beautiful, you see, and her family is influential. But it did not come to pass, though both Masako and her father did everything they could to promote her interests. His Majesty’s heart had been given elsewhere. These things happen.”

  Akitada and his sister nodded. Akiko said, “It must have been a terrible disappointment.”

  “For Masako yes. She passed all of last year in grief and misery. She attended events in her most beautiful gowns and with her face and hair perfect, but we were always placed as far away from His Majesty as possible. There was unpleasant gossip among the ladi
es about it. It seems someone overheard His Majesty saying that he disliked her. Masako wept when she heard. My own family is understanding and no one expected me to make much of an impression on anyone, but it was different for her.”

  Akiko said, “I think you must have looked quite elegant, Lady Hiroko. You have a certain grace.”

  Hiroko blinked, then shook her head. “You are kind, but I’m not beautiful. Masako was magnificent, even if she was taller than the other ladies. She comes … came from a family of tall people. Both her father and her brother are giants.”

  A shadow passed over her face as she said this and Akitada asked, “Did you meet Lord Masaie and his son?”

  “Yes. They visited quite often, especially late last year.” She shuddered. “Their visits were painful for Masako. You see, they were angry with her that she had not been noticed by His Majesty. As if she could have helped it, poor dear.”

  “I suspected as much,” said Akitada. “Lord Masaie had his heart set on seeing her become empress.”

  Hiroko nodded again and twisted her hands. “It grieved her so much that her father was angry. They were very close.”

  Akiko asked, “Were you aware of her affair with Prince Atsuhira?”

  Hiroko blushed and lowered her eyes. “Yes,” she said almost inaudibly. “I tried to warn her, but she … she said he loved her and she wanted to be loved by someone.”

  Silence fell. Akitada thought that Masako had acted out of loneliness and desperation. The young emperor had cruelly rejected her, her father and her brother blamed and threatened her, and the ladies of the court mocked her. What did she have to look forward to? When that inveterate womanizer Prince Atsuhira had seen the beautiful young woman and courted her, she must have been overcome with gratitude. “How old was Lady Masako?” he asked.

  “Eighteen. Older than His Majesty but not as old as His consort.” Lady Hiroko blushed and covered her lips. “Oh, I should not have mentioned the consort.”

  “Never mind,” Akiko said warmly. “You must have liked Lady Masako very much. I’m sure her treatment by everyone was very unfair.”