The Emperor's woman

by I. J. Parker

  The unfriendly stare was practically frigid now. “I told you there’s no trouble, and I’ll thank you not to discuss my affairs with everybody you meet on the street.”

  Akitada cleared his throat, but Kosehira was undisturbed. “Come, let’s all sit down,” he said, pulling Akitada to one of the cushions near the open doors.

  Outside was a small veranda and, as at the prince’s house, a cherry tree. Only this one was in a tub and just coming into bloom. Akitada could not help wondering why such a very irate person would arrange for this small tree. And for the sparrows that scratched around in the gravel as if they expected to be fed. But such puzzles were pointless. Masaie normally resided at his country seat. Some servant must have brought the tree here, hoping to please his ill-tempered master.

  Masaie did not sit. “You may both leave, Kosehira,” he said coldly. “I’ve said all I’m going to say. I will not help that despicable traitor.”

  He meant Prince Atsuhira. His anger was understandable. But would he condone the murder of a beloved daughter?

  Neither Kosehira nor Akitada sat down. Akitada now said, “Allow me to express my condolences, Lord Masaie. I, too, have lost a child and know the grief.”

  Masaie turned his face toward him. The light caught his features, and now Akitada saw the deep lines of his face. His heart went out to the man. But Masaie surprised him again.

  “My daughter was a slut who shamed me and my house,” he snapped. “I welcomed her death. If she killed herself, she only did as she should. If someone did it to her, then let him come to me, and I’ll pay him in gold.”

  At this even Kosehira gasped. “Masaie,” he cried, “you should be ashamed. You don’t mean that. You cannot mean it. Please consider-”

  Masaie took a threatening step toward him. “Out!” he roared.

  They left.

  Outside, in the open air, Kosehira stopped and took a deep breath. He glanced back at the house. “Whew,” he said, “that was about as unpleasant as anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  Akitada saw Masaie’s son, now armed with a sword, approaching from the direction of the gate. He said, “You may be speaking too soon.”

  Minamoto Masanaga was taking big steps, even for such a tall man. He crossed the wide courtyard in no time at all and came to a halt before them. His eyes were fixed on Akitada.

  “You!” he said, his manner threatening. “You dare to threaten my family. I know what you’re about, you infernal busybody. You’re in the plot with the rest of them, and you’re trying to pin something on us. You will not succeed. I’ll see to that.” He took a step closer, putting his hand on his sword and leaning into Akitada’s face. “I’ll see you dead, you and your family, for your insolence. Our people have orders to cut you down.”

  With that, he flung past them and stalked back to the house. Akitada wiped a trace of spittle from his face. He felt murderous.

  “Hmm,” said Kosehira. “He doesn’t like you, I’m afraid.”

  “No. He’s afraid. And this little temper tantrum has just proved that he and his father have something to hide.”

  Kosehira shook his head. “Well, I don’t see what we can do about it.” He looked at the gate, which was now manned by ten armed Minamoto soldiers, all with their hands on their swords. “Ouch! You don’t suppose they’ll cut us down on our way out, do you? These provincial lords don’t pay much attention to the law.”

  Akitada was already walking. “Come, we’ll test it,” he said grimly.

  They set their faces and strode forward.

  The armed men waited until the last moment, then parted ranks and let them pass. Nobody said a word.

  Akitada and Kosehira did not speak until they turned the corner; then Kosehira stopped. “Heavens! That was close.” He clenched his shaking hands. “What do you suppose would have happened if they had cut us down?”

  “Do you care what happens after you’re dead? It was very unlikely. I grant you Masaie, and especially his son, were upset, but we’re in the capital, after all. Perhaps they might get away with it in their own fiefdom, but not here. They would have been arrested, tried, and sent into exile.”

  Kosehira looked at him. “How can you be so sure? Sometimes you’re incredibly naive, my dear Akitada, You’re still under the impression that justice will be done somehow. Don’t forget, in this case you would be no more. Who would stand up for the victims then?”

  Akitada knew Kosehira had a point. The slaughter of two ranking noblemen by the retainers of another would raise eyebrows and perhaps even an outcry, but if political expediency prevailed, Masaie would be briefly exiled and then recalled. It had happened too often in the past.

  Kosehira peered up at the sun. “Oh well, time for the midday rice, if you still have an appetite for it. Come to my house and let’s discuss the case over food.”

  Akitada accepted. He was hungry, and Kosehira provided elegant repasts and could be trusted to come up with something tasty even when reduced to a skeleton staff.

  He was not disappointed. Kosehira had travelled to the capital with his cook, having decided the other services could be performed by the servants left behind to look after his town residence while he served as governor in his province.

  They settled down in a pleasant room overlooking a garden with meandering streams, small bridges, pines, and willows in fresh pale leaves. An elderly servant brought some very good wine and bowls of nuts and pickled plums. His manner expressed devotion and concern for his master.

  Savoring the wine after the unpleasantness-in retrospect it seemed no more-at the Minamoto house, Akitada decided to find out how things stood with Kosehira. “Do I take it your close connection to the regent has changed your own situation for the better?”

  Kosehira grimaced. “Not at all. I had a very uncomfortable meeting with His Excellency and came away cursing such relationships. It’s not enough that I must bear the burden of the unpopularity of my powerful Fujiwara relatives, but they seem to think I owe them something. Kinsue reprimanded me for my correspondence with the prince and warned me they would not protect me if I was found to be involved in the plot.”

  “I asked because you seem to be free to go wherever you wish.”

  Kosehira refilled their cups and passed the nuts. “Well, at least I’m not under house arrest.”

  Akitada ate some nuts and sipped his wine. “Do you think it’s wise to be seen supporting the prince the way you have been doing? Should you not return to your province and wait out the storm?”

  Kosehira shook his head. “I’m angry, Akitada. I will not be treated this way. And I will not abandon a friend.” He looked and sounded quite fierce.

  It was not an expression Akitada had ever seen on his friend’s cheerful round face. Neither had Kosehira ever expressed anything but happy emotions. Kosehira’s joyful optimism had always been a great pleasure to the frequently troubled and uncertain Akitada. Now it occurred to him for the first time that he might lose him. Political alliances could be very dangerous.

  The same servant returned in the company of a young serving girl, both carrying small trays and dishes. Placing a tray before each, they served Akitada and their master with bowls of a clear soup containing bits of vegetables. The soup was delicious.

  When they were alone again, Akitada said, “I haven’t made any progress, I’m afraid. What just happened at Masaie’s is exactly the same thing that has happened everywhere else I tried to get information. Even Kobe had nothing new. He objects to our meddling and thinks you’ve behaved very improperly in the matter of Lady Masako’s death.”

  “I had no choice. I couldn’t refuse my help to the prince. I think Atsuhira blames me for having kept him that night.” Kosehira put down his bowl. He had sipped less than half of it.

  Akitada did not mention that the prince had, in fact, cursed him. It would merely add to his friend’s guilt and worry, and the prince had spoken out of grief. He said, “In any case, Atsuhira will do nothing to help us. He speaks of fo
rsaking the world. If he’s prevented, he says, he’ll kill himself.”

  Kosehira nodded, looking glum.

  Akitada finished his soup. “What do you make of Masaie’s behavior? And that of his son?”

  “Young hothead,” muttered Kosehira. “Masaie surprised me. How can a father hate his own child? It’s unnatural. I was shocked. These provincial lords are rough and violent men, but I never knew they did not care for their own children.”

  “Perhaps it was just show. To prove he has reason to hate Prince Atsuhira and cannot therefore be one of his supporters. I don’t know the man at all, so I have no idea if it’s true.”

  Kosehira looked thoughtful. “It may be so. He was clearly hoping to make the emperor his son-in-law. You can see how Lady Masako’s willfulness destroyed his dream. Of course, it may also be that he switched allegiance once he realized she had chosen Atsuhira instead.”

  This had been Akitada’s thought also, so he nodded.

  The servants returned to remove the soup bowls. When the old man saw Kosehira had hardly touched his, he shook his head. They substituted an array of small dishes. Delightful aromas rose from them. Akitada saw fried dumplings, a larger dish with a grilled fish, several bowls of pickled vegetables and sauces, an interesting stew, and a splendid mound of white, glistening rice.

  The male servant murmured to Kosehira, “Sea bream, sir, very fresh and wholesome, and your favorite rabbit stew. Cook made it especially.”

  Kosehira said listlessly. “Thank you, Tamori. And thank Cook.”

  When the servants had left, Kosehira looked at the food before him and sighed. “They worry when I don’t eat. I’ve been a trial to them lately.” He glanced up. “Eat, Akitada. I’m sure it’s very good. I just have no appetite.”

  “Nonsense,” Akitada said briskly. “You mustn’t disappoint them. We’ll get through this. “Rabbit stew? I haven’t had any of that in a long time.” He tasted and smacked his lips.

  Kosehira chuckled. “It’s my favorite. Cook must have ordered the rabbit from home.” He reached for his bowl and ate a little. “It is good. Do you like it, Akitada?”

  “As you see.” Akitada showed his empty bowl and reached for a dumpling. “You must cheer up,” he said. “Nothing is to be gained by making yourself ill. We’ll unravel the matter soon enough. Eat!”

  Kosehira smiled a little and nodded. “Of course. With your help. Thank you, Akitada.”

  Akitada did not feel at all optimistic, but he returned to their discussion. “I wonder when Masaie found out about the affair.”

  “I don’t know. I still cannot fathom how a man can utter such words about his own child.”

  “I think he cared, perhaps too much. He did raise her like a son. It shows he favored her, even though she was a mere girl. His effort to raise her to the position of empress shows the same regard. But she bitterly disappointed him. In such a frame of mind, he may well have wished her dead. Not only did she not respect all he had done for her, but her action brought shame to him. She left the imperial apartments to be with another man. If he found out about the affair just before her death, he is a suspect.”

  Kosehira’s eyes widened. “You mean he murdered her?” He shuddered. “I hope not. That would be truly terrible.”

  “Or he paid someone to kill her.” Akitada sampled the fish and found it as perfect as the other dishes. Kosehira had eaten most of his stew and was also eyeing the bream.

  “Go ahead,” Akitada urged. “It’s excellent. You must keep up your strength. We need to talk to more people, people who know Masaie and Lady Masako. I feel out of my depth. My connections with the provincial gentry are nonexistent, but perhaps Tora can approach Masaie’s servants here. What about you?” An idea struck him. “Do you know Lady Kishi at all well?”

  Kosehira nodded. “I told you, she’s my cousin. Yes, I’ll speak to her. She may say something useful. Oh, Akitada, I’m so grateful to you. I knew I could rely on you. You’ll work it all out in no time at all.” He reached for the fish and started to eat.

  “Perhaps not quite so quickly,” said Akitada with a chuckle. “And Lady Kishi had good reason to hate Lady Masako. But surely we’ll come across something helpful soon. Can you find out who Atsuhira’s alleged co-conspirators are?”

  “I’ll try, though most of it is just gossip. I’m determined to stay here until Atsuhira’s been cleared.”

  They finished their excellent meal with the fragrant rice and more wine. Kosehira looked almost happy again, and the smile and deep bow of his servant told Akitada he had achieved the same standing as a beneficent deity in Kosehira’s household.

  The Wisdom of Women

  Saburo returned to a barrage of questions from Tora and Genba.

  “Where had he been?”

  “Didn’t he know the master would ask where he was?”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  “Had he been drinking?”

  “Why else was he staggering about like this and looking sick?”

  Saburo made it to the well coping and sat. The distance from the beggars’ temple had seemed endless. He had started feeling faint soon after leaving Bashan’s care. His physical weakness was made worse by the knowledge that he had failed most miserably and been bested by someone younger, stronger, and smarter. The last especially hurt. He was an old man who did not even have the wisdom of experience to count on.

  So he sat, and told Tora and Genba what had happened.

  “You had the contracts, and this thief stole them?” asked Genba, his eyes round with shock that his salvation had been so close only to be snatched away again.

  “Beggars’ guild?” asked Tora. “That’s going to be very useful. You’ve made friends, I hope.”

  Saburo looked at them. They didn’t care about him. They cared only about their own concerns. Why should he have expected anything else? “I’ll lie down for a while,” he said getting to his feet. “Wake me before the master returns.”

  They protested, wanting more information, but he ignored them and crept into his room, where he slipped into the bedding he had left the night before.

  When Akitada walked into his study a few hours later, Tora and Genba were waiting for him. They looked worried.

  “What’s happened?” asked Akitada, suddenly fearful that the misfortunes of the mighty had already reached his own modest household.

  “Saburo was attacked last night.”

  Tora was always the spokesman. Genba stood beside him, nodding and twisting his big hands.

  “How and where?”

  “In the Willow Quarter. As to the how-.” Tora exchanged a glance with Genba. “Umm… it seems he was looking into the murder of the brothel owner, sir.”

  Akitada frowned.

  Genba offered, “It’s all my fault, sir. I’m very sorry. I should never have brought our troubles home. And now Saburo’s not getting up. He must be badly hurt.”

  Tora said quickly, “No, Genba. We’ve been looking in on him all afternoon. He’s just sleeping. Genba exaggerates, sir.”

  Akitada took off his good robe and changed into the comfortable garment he wore at home. Then he went to sit down and told his retainers to do the same. “Am I to understand Saburo went out investigating a murder in the middle of the night?”

  They both nodded. Genba said, “I didn’t hear him leave, sir. Saburo’s very quiet when he goes on his jaunts.”

  The frustrations of the day made Akitada irritable. “Jaunts? He’s done this before?”

  Again they nodded, looking a little uneasy.

  “You come and go on your own business whenever it pleases you? Day or night?”

  Genba shrank, but Tora defended Saburo. “He works here all day and goes out at night because that’s his own time, sir. And in this case, he went to help Genba. It isn’t his fault this fellow objected to him poking around the brothel. I think Saburo ran into the killer.”

  Akitada glared. “If Saburo takes his outings during the time when he should b
e asleep, he won’t be much use to me the following day.” This was unfair, as Akitada well knew, because Saburo had always been diligent about his chores. “However, I’d better have a look at him. He may need a physician.”

  There was no need, because they heard slow footsteps approaching, and the door opened. Saburo, dressed in his usual neat blue robe and black sash, his hair arranged in a slightly off-centered topknot, came in. He stopped when he saw Tora and Genba with his master.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you’d come back already, sir.”

  Tora said quickly, “We told the master that you were having a look at the brothel when you were attacked.”

  Akitada saw that Saburo’s face looked gray and he held on to the door jamb. “Come in and sit down,” he said, wondering how bad the injury was. “Tora and Genba told me about your adventure. How do you feel?”

  Saburo sat down and looked at the others. “I’m quite well, sir. The rest has done me a lot of good. I’m ready to get to work.”

  Akitada thought he detected a note of nervousness and wondered. Saburo had always struck him as fearless, or at least unconcerned about danger or death. He said, “There’s no work that cannot wait until tomorrow or whenever you are fully recovered. You received a head injury?”

  “It was nothing, sir. A little knock on the head. I’ve had worse.”

  That went without saying and proved nothing. Akitada decided to check and got up. When his fingers probed his scalp, Saburo shivered, perhaps from pain or simply from the shock of having his master feel around in his hair.

  “Hmm. A bad bruise and a scab. Why did you tie up your hair? You made it bleed. Tora, go call my wife and ask her to bring some paste or plaster. We should cut off his hair.”

  Saburo looked horrified. “Not your lady, sir,” he gasped. “I don’t want her to bother with me. In fact, you shouldn’t have bothered either. It’s embarrassing.” His voice trailed off as he saw Akitada’s bloodied fingers.