The Crane Pavillion

by I. J. Parker

  Kobe let his eyes roam over the crowd. He had not liked the judge’s quick capitulation. Yes, there were several officials present from two or three ministries. Hirokane had arranged for witnesses who would be certain to testify against him.

  Biting his lip, he gestured to his men to take the chains off the defendant. He went himself to help her to her feet and reassure her.

  “I came,” he said when he saw that she was trembling with fear. No wonder. She was blind and could not have known what was happening all around her.

  She lifted her head toward him and gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

  “Do you have a home?”

  She nodded.

  “Two of my men will take you there and find someone to stay with you. Don’t be afraid. It’s all over.”

  She inclined her head. “I’m not afraid now that you are here.” She stood there quietly, waiting. Kobe saw again how lovely she was, and how young, and got the strangest feeling that she had just told him that she loved him.

  Embarrassed by this thought, he looked up. The officials who had witnessed his release of the prisoner were leaving the hall. There was nothing left for him to do except to await his punishment. He hoped at least that his lie about having arrested the murderer would not remain a lie much longer and that Sachi would remain free.

  Selecting two of his men, he sent them with her, telling them to make sure she was safe and had a friend with her. The crowd still hung about, watching avidly. Sachi walked away, holding the sleeve of one of the policemen, and people pressed closer, congratulating her, calling her blessed, and reaching out to touch her for luck. No defendant had ever been saved like this from such a dreadful fate.

  30

  The Quiet Sadness of Autumn Rain

  He strove for patience. Dying was harder than anything he had ever done before. The long periods of pain and even longer stretches of feeling the fires of hell consuming him must be borne if he was to accomplish this final task. As soon as he prevailed, they would be together again.

  Life, it is said, is but a bridge of dreams linking two eternal worlds. He had nearly crossed his bridge of dreams and would soon be with Tamako.

  And with Yori and Seimei. What joy to see old Seimei again!

  And so he was patient.

  Sometimes he seemed to move along the dark path expeditiously, but then the voices returned. He tried to ignore them, but the devils with their knives started their work again, and pain racked him. At those times, he plunged into an abyss of terrors. The darkness was impenetrable, and he floundered about, calling Tamako’s name. But no answer came.

  How much farther to the other side? When would he cross into that other land, the land of the blessed, the islands where Tamako dwelled?

  In the end, he failed. The voices became louder and more insistent until they broke through the darkness and he woke to the dream again.

  “Drink, sir!”

  “Sir, can you hear me?

  “Help me roll him over.”

  That one brought back the pain, and he moaned.

  “Sir, it’s the doctor. He’s taking a look at your wounds. It will be over in a moment.”

  It was not over in a moment. The fools, he thought, they won’t let a man die in peace.

  “How are you feeling, my friend?”

  Someone was sobbing as he asked this stupid question that deserved no answer.

  In the end, they left him alone, and he drifted off again.

  *

  The next time he woke to the sound of rain. It was a soothing sound, and he felt cool after the hellish fires he had passed through. He lay quite still, his eyes closed, and listened to the splashing of the water falling from the eaves to the boards of the veranda. Mingling with that louder music, was a distant soft watery gurgling, rippling, thrumming, and rushing. Steady rain pattered on the surface of the small pond, a million drips of water drummed on wet leaves and fell down to the earth, and the trees sighed with the pleasure of all this moisture.

  Dreams are seductive, and so is life!

  And he was thirsty.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his eyes. He was in his own room in bed. The light was dim, but that was because it was raining outside and all but one shutter was closed against the weather. The open shutter was in the far corner. Through the narrow aperture he could see a silvery light, the light of a cloudy day reflected in a million raindrops and watery surfaces. It shimmered and was beautiful.

  But he was very thirsty, and reluctantly his eyes let go of the shimmering light to search for something to drink. There was nothing, and he was alone. Again after due consideration, he decided to call out. His voice was a mere croak, so weak it would not have alerted a dozing companion. He tried again, and some of the hoarseness improved but he was still too weak to make himself heard. Deciding he needed more rest, he went back to sleep.

  *

  He became aware that he was no longer alone because he could hear breathing and an occasional rustling of fabric. He tried to guess who might be with him but failed and opened his eyes again. A lamp was lit behind a screen and cast a faint golden light. Nighttime.

  The other person was a black silhouette, a male, his head sunk forward until his chin rested on his chest, and his breathing was slow and deep. He was asleep.

  Memory stirred. Poor Tora, worn out with watching over him, had fallen asleep. He did not have the heart to wake him by asking for water.

  But lying still was impossible. He was on his side and his shoulder hurt. He let himself roll on his back and almost cried out at the sudden pain. As it was, he could not avoid a soft moan.

  Tora’s head jerked up, he looked around the room, then peered at him. They made eye contact, and Tora cried out, “Are you awake, sir?” He sounded astonished and put his hand to Akitada’s brow, then he jumped up to move the screen. The light made Akitada blink.

  He croaked a little peevishly, “There’s something on my back and it hurts.” His voice was still weak and slurred a little. Also, his mouth was incredibly dry. “Is there any water?”

  Tora burst into a shout of laughter and began to dance about like some lunatic. Akitada waited it out. Presumably playing nursemaid had been hard on the fellow.

  Tora eventually stopped and came to kneel beside him again. He asked anxiously, “How are you, sir?”

  “Thirsty!”

  “Thirsty!” Tora grinned again and clapped his hands. “Thirsty!” he cried. “He wakes up as if nothing happened and says he’s thirsty! What do you think of that?”

  “I think you should get me some water,” Akitada growled.

  “Oh! Oh, sorry, sir. Right away.” Tora turned aside for a pitcher and poured, then held a cup to his lips, supporting his head with one hand.

  Akitada drank, said, “More!” and drank that also. Then he sighed and let his head fall back. “What’s the matter with me?”

  “You’ve been stabbed, sir. Don’t you remember?”

  “Stabbed?”

  “In an alley behind the house belonging to Kanemoto’s woman.”

  “Phoenix.” Memory returned in a rush. He struggled to rise and Tora had to restrain him.

  “Don’t move, sir. You’ll open the wounds.”

  Akitada groaned, partially from the pain on his back and partially because he had been so close, yet failed. “The trial?” he asked. “They found her guilty?” And then Tora’s presence brought another question and a glimmer of hope, “You were released? And Saburo, too? What happened?”

  Tora kept nodding and grinning. “They let me out since they didn’t have anything to hold me on. When Genba told me you had left the day before and not come back, I went looking for you and found you.”

  Akitada was astonished. “How did you know where to go? I’d only just traced the infernal woman myself.” And the triumph of having done so had made him shockingly careless.

  “The woman who runs the house Phoenix worked in told me. After that it was easy. O
nly I didn’t expect to find you near death in the alley.” Tora paused. “There’s more, sir, but I should go tell the others you’re awake. They’ve been grieving.”

  Shame and gratitude overcame Akitada. “Yes, of course,” he said and watched Tora hurry out of the room before allowing the tears to come to his eyes. Fear of upsetting everyone again made him control himself after a moment. They would only be reassured if he behaved as normally as possible. He could indulge in emotion later when he was alone.

  And what of having lost Tamako once again?

  He relived for a moment the intense joy he had felt when he had thought of holding her in his arms, having her back, knowing they would never be parted again. He weighed this against the claims of the living and found he was willing to be alive.

  That life was also filled with worries and fears did not seem to matter. He looked forward to being again among those he loved and to the challenges that lay ahead. He thought very briefly of the punishment he was likely to receive for having left his post in Kyushu, then put that thought aside.

  They came in, one by one, tentative smiles on their faces: Hanae was first, asking, “Is it really true? You’re better? Oh, that’s wonderful? What can I get you? Something to drink? A little broth? There’s a fine fish broth simmering in the kitchen. Could you sip a little of that?”

  Akitada smiled at her. “Tora’s given me some water, but I’m still very thirsty.”

  “Oh, sir!” she cried, overcome by his reply. She found the water and his cup, filled it, and brought it to him.

  He drank, thanked her, then said, “I would like a little of that broth, I think. And maybe a small piece of fish.”

  “You shall have them right away,” she cried happily and ran to get the food

  The others pressed around him then, Genba, wiping away tears, Saburo having trouble controlling his rolling eye, the boy, grinning widely, the cook and Tamako’s maid who brought Yasuko and Yoshi.

  Akitada extended his hand toward his children. They came and knelt beside him.

  Yasuko said earnestly, “I’m very glad you’re better, father. Were you very ill?”

  He smiled at her. “Never mind that now. You see I’m getting better.”

  Yoshi said nothing, but he smiled shyly and extended a sheet of paper. Akitada took it, saw it was covered with large and lopsided characters that seemed to form a letter addressed to him. Yoshi was five and had been practicing his characters under the instruction of Kobe’s tutor. Clearly he had made progress.

  But Akitada was getting tired again. “Thank you,” he told Yoshi, tucking the letter inside his robe, and touching the boy’s head. “I’ll read it later.”

  He was rescued from doing more by Hanae who bustled in with a tray of food. The others departed, wishing him a speedy recovery. Akitada made an effort to sip some broth and eat a tiny bit of fish. Then he sighed and said, “Enough. Maybe later. Thank you, Hanae.”

  In the end, only Tora remained. “You’ve had many visitors,” he informed him. “Lady Akiko was here every day and her husband came several times. And the superintendent checked on you many times, and your friend Nakatoshi was here also. Even his Excellency, the minister himself came to see how you were doing.”

  Akitada nodded. “Any official messages?”

  “No, sir, but I think the court has been notified of your condition.”

  “What about the blind girl?” Akitada was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

  Tora grinned. “She’s free. The superintendent took that in hand himself. He ordered a search for Phoenix and Kanemoto and then attended the trial. He told the judge to release Sachi. The judge was furious, but he had no choice. The crowd got angry when he tried to refuse. I wish I could’ve seen it. It must’ve been something. And then they caught the gangster and his girlfriend. She thought the police would let her go, if she told them about Kanemoto killing the gambler Hankei. That’s when Kanemoto informed them that she’d killed the moneylender. Seems she owed him a lot of gold. A fine pair!”

  But Akitada’s eyelids had got too heavy and he was already asleep.

  31

  The Bridge of Dreams

  When Akitada awoke next, he was instantly aware that he had rejoined the living and that this was no reason to rejoice. He was in pain and needed to relieve himself. Any effort on his part to rise from his bedding was foiled by excruciating pain in his back and an extraordinary weakness.

  And he was alone.

  Perhaps it was a sign that he was really getting well, but he could have done with some attention at the moment. He decided to wait.

  Tora had been reporting on the case of the blind shampoo girl when he was dozing off. What exactly had he had said? He searched his memory and came up with something about Kobe going to the trial. Surely that had been odd. And yes, Tora had said the girl was free. It sounded as if Kobe had meddled when he should not have done so. Akitada suddenly felt anxious about all these events.

  And he really must relieve himself or suffer a shameful accident.

  He shouted, “Tora? Saburo?”

  Nothing.

  Cautiously he rolled on his better side and pulled up his knees. If he could get on his knees, he might be able to stand. His back protested, but with a groan he got to his knees. But getting up was impossible. He felt as limp as a rag, and one of his arms refused to support him..

  The door opened.

  Tora gasped, “Sir, what are you doing?”

  Through gritted teeth, Akitada said, “Going to the privy.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “Call Genba. The two of you together can get me there. And be quick about it.”

  Tora was quick, and Genba followed on his heels. They put their arms around his waist and he put his around their necks. In this manner, they lifted him to his feet. Then they started for the privy, half carrying their master, who was trying not to cry out at each jolt.

  Somehow the errand was accomplished, and on the way back Akitada moved his legs a little better and put some of his weight on them. Nevertheless, he was sweating and exhausted when they laid him back down.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. “That’s much better.”

  Genba grinned. “I expect it is, sir.”

  Tora frowned. “What about your back?”

  “It’s fine,” Akitada lied.

  Hanae joined them then. “I heard you got up, sir,” she said with a smile, setting down a tray with a bowl of steaming gruel.

  Akitada blushed. “Oh, some gruel,” he said quickly, “and very welcome, too.”

  He was hungry, as it turned out, and ate all of the gruel to the immense pleasure of Tora, Hanae, and Genba, who stood around him, watching him eat.

  But there were more trials ahead. The doctor arrived and removed the bandages, leaning over the wounds to sniff them like a hungry dog. “Hmm,” he said with a frown.

  “I’m feeling much better,” offered Akitada.

  The physician looked at him sadly. “Many patients with such wounds experience dramatic improvements only to die anyway.”

  Tora, who had brought the doctor in, snapped, “Don’t say things like that. You probably frightened your patients to death.”

  “People are abysmally ignorant,” the doctor said, giving him a dirty look. He began to lay out an amazing number of sharp instruments and knives.

  “What are you going to do?” yelped Tora.

  “I have to probe the wounds to look for lurking poison.”

  “You mean you’re going to cut him open again?”

  Akitada felt overlooked in this discussion. He said, “No!” as loudly as he could.

  The doctor jumped.

  Tora grinned and nodded. “There you are,” he said. “If there’s nothing else you have to offer, you can leave. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Well!” The physician sounded deeply offended. “On your head be it! If there’s any seed of poison left in him, he’ll fall into another raving fever and die.” With those omi
nous words, he gathered his tools into his basket and departed, having first collected his fee.

  “You should get another doctor,” Tora said angrily. “I don’ trust this one any longer.”

  “I’m in your hands, brother.” Akitada smiled at him. He knew he was getting better. His desperate attempt to join Tamako and Yori on the other side had failed. He had not reached the end of the bridge of dreams that spanned the two worlds.

  Strangely, this failure no longer pained him. He had seen the faces of his family, had known their joy that he was still with them, and realized he should never have wished for death.

  Akiko and Toshikage arrived soon after, happy to find him better. His sister suppressed her joy after the first, uncharacteristically emotional, embrace, and said, “Well, that was a very stupid thing to do. You could have been killed! And then what would have become of our case?”

  Toshikage protested, “What a thing to say, Akiko! You must forgive her, Brother. She’s just a silly woman.”

  This amused Akitada so much that he chortled.

  Akiko had the good sense to see the humor and laugh. “Seriously, Akitada,” she said, “are you feeling better? Tora said something about the doctor being dissatisfied.”

  “Tora and I have decided that we need another doctor.”

  “But he comes most highly recommended. Fujiwara Moronaga uses him, and he was most helpful when Lady Kumoi fell into fits.”

  Akitada grimaced. “More reasons for making a change.”

  Her husband said soothingly, “Of course you shall have another doctor, Brother. We’ll find you a good one, one who’s gentle and very, very clever.”

  His sister sighed. “Well, never mind. You do sound more like yourself. Contradictory and obstinate.” She settled herself beside him. “I don’t have much time,” she said. “”Toshikage is giving a little party. I’ve promised to see to the refreshments. Though when it comes to men, they don’t want much beyond a supply of good wine and a platter of salted vegetables.”

  “Very good wine!” nodded Toshikage. “And that reminds me. I’m on my way to buy that wine, so forgive me if I dash away.”