by I. J. Parker
They nodded.
“We’re here to take you to the city jail,” the sergeant announced.
“To the jail?” yelped Tora. “We’re not guilty. These yokels got it all wrong.”
The sergeant chuckled. “I wish I had a copper for every criminal who said that. I could retire and live at my ease in my country house.”
Tora protested, “Look here, I’m Lieutenant Sashima and served the governor of Chikuzen province.”
The sergeant laughed. “You can tell it to the judge.”, but
Saburo tugged at Tora’s sleeve. “Let it go,” he muttered. “We’ll explain to Kobe.”
But this was not to be, or at least not until much later. Their protestations of innocence fell on deaf ears at the jail. It was late by then, and the day shift was getting ready to go home. Neither the constables who delivered them, nor the guards who locked them into a somewhat cleaner cell wanted to delay their departure by a lengthy investigation.
When the night shift arrived, Tora attracted their attention by shouting, This met with a stern admonition that he was to sleep and let others also get their rest. The alternative, he was told, was a bad whipping with the bamboo rod.
The following morning, Tora and Saburo had calmed down considerably. Kobe was unlikely to be available until later, and when the guard brought some unappetizing stew of beans and vegetables, Tora not only asked politely to have the superintendent notified but also asked about Sachi.
“The blind girl?” The guard shook his head. “She’s pretty low. Her trial starts tomorrow.
“Tomorrow?” Tora yelped.
Saburo joined him. “How can this be? Her case hasn’t been investigated. It’s only been a few days.”
The guard shrugged. “They’ve got enough on her and someone’s pushing for a quick trial.”
Tora cursed. How could this have happened? It was unheard of. Usually, prisoners waited for months before a judge could be found and witnesses rounded up. “Who wants her to be tried tomorrow?” he asked.
The guard shook his head. “Don’t ask me. I haven’t been consulted.”
“What will happen to her?” Saburo asked.
“The judge is Hirokane. He doesn’t like women, and he especially doesn’t like those who work in bath houses and the amusement quarter. She’ll get a hard whipping and deportation.” He paused and made face. “If she survives the whipping, she’ll be sent to the swamps. A woman like that, and blind on top of it, won’t last long.” He eyed Tora and Saburo. “You two are made of tougher stuff. You might last a few years anyway.” He laughed and walked away.
22
An Old Acquaintance
Much as he disliked it, Akitada knew he had put off for too long speaking with his former friend Tasuku or, as he was now known, the Reverent Abbot Genshin. He wished he had kept up better with the abbot’s religious career. All he knew was that he had great influence at court—not much surprise there, given his youth spent in idle seduction of court ladies—and was considered a holy man and brilliant teacher. This last, Akitada found hard to swallow, but given his low opinion of the views of men and women at court, he could well believe it.
Nakatoshi had told him Genshin’s monastery was at the foot of Mount Hiei and called Daiunji. Akitada decided he would inform himself of its exact location and then ride into the mountains north of the capital. It was lucky that he had not yet sent the horses into the country.
As it turned out, Daiun-ji was a mere six miles from his house. It would be an easy journey through a mountain scenery in all its autumn glory. The temple had been founded by a Fujiwara almost a hundred years ago and was a favorite with the court because it allowed visits by women and was much easier to reach than the temples on the steep sides of Mount Hiei. None of this surprised Akitada. He had expected Tasuku to choose a retreat close to the capital and the court. Of course, this convenience also made possible frequent visits to his former home and a kept mistress there.
The weather had been sunny again, and the air was fresh without being cold. Akitada had been cooped up inside for much too long.
After making arrangements for his absence and putting aside worries over Saburo and Tora as premature, he set out early the day after his sister’s astonishing revelations. He hoped to find out the truth about the dead woman once and for all. In the back of his mind lurked the suspicion that Tasuku had had a hand in this woman’s death also.
The road was well kept and smooth, no doubt to make travel by ox carriage more comfortable for ladies or pampered courtiers. It wound pleasantly through foothills covered with stands of pine and cryptomeria. Here and there, touches of brilliant red marked the season when maples suddenly burst into flame.
In the valley that the road followed as it wound its way into more mountainous regions, the rice had been harvested, leaving only yellow stubbles behind. Akitada was vaguely aware that it had been a good year. Much of what had happened in the world around him he had noted only as if through a mist or heard as indistinct noise from far away. He had built a cocoon about himself to keep life out while he dwelled inside with his thoughts of death.
Even now, he felt guilty for taking pleasure in the beauty of the day, the slow and elegant gliding of a hawk in the blue sky, the smooth movement of his favorite horse beneath him.
He reached the village of Iwakura before noon and got directions to Daiun-ji. The Great Cloud Temple was not precisely in the clouds; Mount Hiei loomed high above it. It was, however in a high valley of the foot hills and hidden from view. The location was quite beautiful and peaceful. Having been well-endowed by the Fujiwara family, it had become the favorite temple and monastery of imperial princes. A charming pagoda and many elegant halls nestled in the idyllic landscape.
Akitada handed over his horse to one of the monks, then announced himself to the gate keeper by name with the request to see abbot Genshin.
The gatekeeper, used to more impressive visitors, said, “His Reverence regretfully does not receive visitors. He is in seclusion.”
Akitada was irritated, but there was no point in taking his resentment out on this monk. He asked for paper and ink and wrote a short note: “I came to see the morning glories. Alas, I find them long gone, and only the sound of the waterfall is in my ears.”
The woman whose death had sent his former friend to take his vows had been called Asagao, the morning glory flower. It was perhaps unkind to remind the revered abbot of his past, but Akitada thought it would get him an interview. He was after all the only man who knew that shameful story.
He gave the monk the note, asking that it be delivered, and then strolled into the temple grounds. The main halls were quite large and beautifully made, with their green tile roofs curving elegantly above the white plaster, black beams, and brilliantly red railings. It looks like the great halls of the Daidairi, the imperial city in the capital below, he thought. He had no interest in seeing the inside of any of them but noted smaller buildings, some richly tiled, others with dark bark-covered roofs, tucked away here and there among the trees of the hillside. All of them were, no doubt, residences for monks of imperial blood or semi-retired royals. It was a peaceful and comfortable life here, far distant from the political and social struggles and stresses of the capital below. He wondered which of the buildings served as the abbot’s quarters, and thought that the former Tasuku had been greatly honored to have been named abbot of a monastery where so many of much higher rank had sought refuge.
These thoughts still preoccupied him when a slender young monk in a rather fine silk stole called out to him. The young monk looked at him curiously as he offered to take him to see Genshin.
“His Reverence normally does not see visitors during his meditations,” he told Akitada, hoping for an explanation.
“I was not aware of the abbot’s schedule,” Akitada said with a smile.
This cast the monk into a shocked silence.
The abbot’s quarters turned out to be only a short distance from the zendo, the meditation hall. Aki
tada’s guide pointed this out.
“I’m glad he didn’t have far to go in that case,” Akitada commented dryly.
Another silence ensued and lasted until they had climbed the wide steps with finely lacquered railings to a veranda where the monk called out, “Lord Sugawara, Reverence” and threw wide a pair of double doors.
Akitada walked into a spacious room, dimly lit through latticed windows. The floor was highly polished black wood, and a raised platform ran along the back wall. It was covered with thick tatami mats. In its center, stood the abbot’s chair, and in it sat Tasuku, dressed in dark gray silk with a rich, multi-colored stole draped across his left shoulder.
For a moment, Akitada thought he was expected to kneel on the floor below and bow to this man. He stopped abruptly and scowled.
Abbot Genshin smiled and rose smoothly. Stepping down from the raised dais, he came toward Akitada with outstretched hands.
“My dear Akitada,” he said in the familiar warm voice. “I had almost given up hope. But what a joyous day it is! You look well, but thinner than I recall. Come sit with me in the garden-viewing room.” He gestured toward a door.
They walked into the next, much smaller room which contained little beyond the thick tatami mats on the floor and a cushion or two. But here the screened doors had been opened wide to a narrow veranda and beyond it, to the most beautiful small garden Akitada had ever seen. Perfectly clean white gravel separated the building from lush mossy ground where ferns and small, clipped azalea bushes gave way to pine, willow, eucalyptus, and maple. There were no flowers, but the willow had turned a brilliant yellow, and the maple a deep red. Willow leaves spread like gold across the dark green moss and a small stone lantern. It was exquisite.
But this beautiful view did nothing for Akitada’s mood. He did not want to be here. He sat down and looked resentfully at the abbot.
Genshin was both heavier and older, and this did not suit him. It gave Akitada some satisfaction to see that the years had not left the handsome Tasuku unscathed. Only the large, soulful eyes remained. No doubt they were still useful in turning people’s heads.
Before Akitada could say anything, a small boy, beautifully dressed in a red brocade robe and white silk trousers, came in with a tray which he placed between them.
Genshin smiled at him. “Thank you, Sadayoshi. That was very neatly done.”
The boy grinned, revealing a missing front tooth, and bowed before scampering out.
“A novice,” Genshin explained. “One of the sons of the chancellor. He is a good boy.”
Perhaps it was meant to impress or even intimidate him. Akitada did not know what to say to it. He would not wish a monastic life on his own son, even if there were compensations of comfortable living. But many of the highest ranking nobles dedicated younger sons and daughters to the religious life, hoping thereby to gain entrance to paradise after their own deaths. He covered the awkward silence by taking a drink from the lacquered cup. The fruit juice was delicious, with a taste of oranges and wild berries.
Genshin was studying him. “I heard something about you from time to time,” he said. “You are still in the Ministry of Justice, I think?”
Akitada was not, but he nodded rather than giving explanations.
“And your efforts at finding out evil and arresting evil-doers have, I think, brought you considerable distinction over the years,” Genshin went on. It was said teasingly, implying that such activities were trivial amusements.
Akitada did not take the bait, if that was what it had been. It must be an uncomfortable subject for the abbot, who had been involved in one of Akitada’s earliest investigations and had trusted him to keep a secret that would most certainly disqualify him from his present position.
“I’m still engaged in the same line of work,” he said stiffly.
Genshin smiled. “Ah, you came with an ulterior motive then. No, no, don’t apologize. I’m very grateful that your work has finally brought you to me, Akitada. I have often thought of you, and always with great fondness.”
The same was not true for Akitada, who had rarely ever thought of Tasuku, and when he did, it had been with distaste. But this was not the time to rake up the past. Suddenly aware of an oversight that must have struck the other man as very rude, he asked, “How are you these days?”
“Well enough, as you see.” Genshin’s manner had become cooler; perhaps he had finally sensed Akitada’s dislike.
It did not matter. Akitada said, “The fact is that I do have a particular reason for my visit.” He hoped to get the interview over with as quickly as possible. “There has been a death in your former home in the city. I assume you are aware of it?”
Genshin’s gaze did not waver. “Yes, of course. Regrettably, one of my tenants has chosen the path into the darkness rather than the Way to salvation. I was saddened to hear it.”
Akitada said curtly, “She was murdered.”
Genshin’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Perhaps you’ll consider it good news, in that the lady did not take her own life. I assume the Way is still open to her?”
Genshin compressed his lips. “Don’t sneer at such matters, Akitada. You have changed. You used to be kind and gentle when I knew you. Now you are hard and cruel. If this is what a life spent dealing with human violence does to a man, I regret it very much. As to your question, yes, if she did not take her own life, Lady Ogata may be well on her way to salvation by now. She was a good person and a devout believer. But I am sorry to think you have taken a false way, and that it has deprived you of the joy you once found in your life.”
Akitada flushed. It was true that his life had become joyless. And there had been other joyless periods before as well, but these had been caused by other losses. Every time, a man lost something he loved, he became diminished, and his life became more of a burden. But this was not the time to discuss such matters. He bit his lip and said, “You don’t seem at all curious about her murder. I’m interested in what you can tell me about the lady. You allowed her to live on your property, so I assume you were close?”
Genshin chuckled softly. “I see you don’t believe I could change. In your eyes, I shall always be the frivolous seducer of women. Even in your youth, you disapproved strongly of my life, though you did not precisely say so then. I recall out final meeting. Perhaps I should have realized then how very disappointed and angry you were with me, but I was rather upset myself at the time. Never mind. I see we must speak more bluntly now. I was not Lady Ogata’s lover. Neither recently, nor before I took my vows. I have not touched a woman since then.” He made a face. “The sacred scriptures teach us that women are dirty and unworthy of salvation because of their inferior condition. Women seduce us to satisfy their own desires for pleasure, pleasure that is both physical and mental. They glory in their power over us, and in our weakness we stray from the path to salvation.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence with such nonsense,” snapped Akitada. “I lost my wife this past spring. She was the purest creature I ever knew, the kindest and most supportive of wives, the most generous and forbearing companion. She is the one who gave me strength. You know nothing about women in spite of your wild past.”
Genshin raised his brows. “I did not know of your loss. I’m very sorry, Akitada.”
“Spare me the condolences. I’m anxious to be on my way. Just tell me what you know about Lady Ogata and why you decided to offer her shelter and support.”
The abbot looked at Akitada reproachfully and said nothing.
“Can you live with your conscience, letting a killer go free?”
“I rather doubt this will happen,” Genshin said, making a face. “You are not the man to let a murder rest. But I will not betray a confidence. You used to respect such things long ago.”
Akitada got up. “Don’t remind me! You, too, have changed, Tasuku,” he said harshly. “You used to be merely a selfish courtier, taking your pleasure wherever you pleased. But I see you’ve become s
omething altogether more despicable.”
Genshin turned his head slightly, and Akitada saw that the door to the interior was slightly open, and a number of avidly listening monks and young boys were peering at them. They looked aghast. No doubt they had never heard their holy abbot spoken to in this manner. He knew he should apologize and leave as quickly as possible.
Genshin said quite calmly to his listeners, “Close the door and go away, please. There is no need for concern.” To Akitada he said, “Sit down again, Akitada. I regret that you think so poorly of me. I will tell you what I may without betraying the confidence.”
Akitada said nothing but sat down again.
“One of the men who worship here came one day and told me of the shocking condition of a young woman of high birth. Having made a foolish marriage, she found herself abandoned by her family and her husband. She lived in a small shack beside the Kamo River where kind people would sometimes leave her some food. Greatly shocked by the story, I went to see for myself, and found this to be true. She gave her name as Lady Ogata and accepted refuge in my house in the city and a small stipend from the temple. It is barely enough for her food and certainly not what a rich man would spend on his mistress.” Genshin gave Akitada another reproachful look. “I could do no more without setting tongues wagging—clearly a forlorn hope, given your visit. You may think what you wish, but over the years I have given refuge to others like her, and they promised to look after her. I never saw her again after that day.”
Akitada thought this over. “You say she was of high birth. Who was she? Why was she abandoned?”
Genshin shook his head. “That I will not tell you. When I was told she had committed suicide, I believed it. She had lived a short and very sad life. But she did not seem desperate to me when I talked to her beside the Kamo River. Rather there was a strange joy about her. I took it to be of a spiritual nature. She said she was a devout believer in the Way.” He paused. “And now I must see to my duties. I wish you well, Akitada. I wish you the serenity of Lady Ogata.”
