by I. J. Parker
“I see. What did you do?”
“Nothing. Why should I? Let him deal with his own family problems. He left to speak to the woman at the Hananoya, and that’s the last I know of it.”
“And then the girl was murdered?”
Again the impatient movement behind the screen. “Not murder. She must have drowned herself in despair.”
“From what you say about the young people being deeply in love . . . or at least thoroughly infatuated with each other . . . I think Akogi would have run away to be with him. She would not have killed herself.”
Lady Kazuko said irritably, “Have it your way. I told you all I know. And now you may leave and take your soldiers with you.”
And that was that.
*
His next visit was to the Hananoya, the brothel where Akogi had trained. He left the soldiers outside but took Tora and Saburo with him. The owner was a short, middle-aged female whose elaborately twisted hair looked false and who wore an inappropriate and costly silk brocade gown. She smiled, bowed deeply, and asked how she might serve the honored gentleman.
“I have some questions regarding one of your women,” said Akitada.
“This insignificant person is at your lordship’s service. Nakagimi, the current choja resides in this house. Alas, she is not available, but my other young ladies are as pretty and very talented. How may we please you?”
Akitada sat down and waved to Tora and Saburo to do the same. “Send for her. I’ll wait.”
So her name was Nakagimi. He had been too besotted to ask her.
The Hananoya’s owner blinked. Then she bowed. “My deepest apologies, your Honor, but a choja cannot be summoned at short notice. She receives invitations, and if she feels like it, she attends.”
Akitada raised his voice a little. “You’re wasting my time, woman. She will answer questions, not entertain. If you don’t bring her, my attendants will do so.”
A servant slipped in and whispered something in her mistress’ ear. The owner of the Hananoya looked less assured. “My maid says there are soldiers outside. What is this about, my Lord?”
“The girl Akogi. Go get the choja.”
Perhaps there was fear in her eyes, but she hid it well. “A moment,” she murmured and left with the servant.
“That one’s a killer if ever I saw one,” muttered Tora. “I bet she beats the girls and cheats them out of their money.”
Tora had considerable experience with brothels and their inhabitants, much to Akitada’s irritation over the years. Now Akitada wished he had been more understanding. He had a great deal to be ashamed of and would have done much to avoid the coming encounter.
The owner returned presently, followed by the young woman who had come so painfully close to seducing Akitada during the party. Nakagimi wore only her thin silk undergown and a loose embroidered robe over it. Perhaps she had been roused from a sound sleep. He was almost afraid to look at her and hoped that in the light of day he would find her vulgar and tawdry. Instead, she looked enchantingly flushed and confused.
She recognized him, flushed a little more deeply, and knelt. “Lord Sugawara,” she murmured, “you honor me. I thought you had forgotten our time together. Please forgive my appearance.”
Aware of Tora’s eyes boring into his back, Akitada said stiffly, “I have come because you may have information about the death of the shinju Akogi. I was told that she attended you when you were introduced to the governor’s son.”
“That is so, my Lord.”
Akitada caught a glimpse of trembling lips and steeled his heart. “It must have been irritating for you that a mere child captured the young man’s heart.”
That made her angry. She bit her lips. “Not at all,” she said coldly. Then she caught herself, lowered her lashes, and added more softly, “I prefer older men. Men of your own age, I mean, my Lord.”
Akitada cursed the woman inwardly. “I understand the governor found out about the relationship between Akogi and his son and came here to put a stop to it.”
She looked at the owner of the Hananoya. “You would have to ask Mrs. Wada.”
“Well, Mrs. Wada? What did Lord Oga say to you?”
The mistress of the Hananoya answered calmly enough. “His Excellency asked me to stop future meetings. I agreed and informed Akogi. The foolish girl was very upset. That very night she drowned herself. I blame myself. I should have realized how strong her emotions were.”
A brief silence followed, then Nakagimi said flatly, “Akogi did not drown herself.”
Her mistress snapped, “You know nothing about it!”
The younger woman flushed with anger. “I know what I know,” she said darkly.
Akitada would have followed up on that, but he decided to let it go for the moment. “I understand you are related to the local warden, Mrs. Wada. What is that relationship precisely?”
“He’s my husband.”
“No doubt that is helpful in your business?”
“The business is mine, my Lord.”
“Indeed. But I expect you called on his assistance when the governor turned his anger on you.”
“Oh.” The choja sucked in her breath. She was staring at Mrs. Wada, clearly shocked by a thought that had occurred to her.
“You must tell what you know, Nakagimi,” Akitada said. “Akogi was murdered, and we believe the Wadas are implicated.”
“Murdered?” She glanced at him and back at the older woman. “I will not stay here any longer. This scandal will ruin my future.”
Her reaction was utterly self-serving, and she lost all of her attractiveness for Akitada at that moment. He hated that he had once again been proved correct in his disdain for courtesans and women of the street and rose in disgust.
Mrs. Wada glared at the choja. “It’s all nonsense. And you cannot leave. We have a contract.”
Nakagimi raised her chin. “I’m buying myself out.”
Instantly, the women fell into a heated argument over moneys and rules. Akitada broke in sharply, “Enough! You’re both under arrest until the matter is cleared up.”
They protested. The choja cried, “No. I’ll tell you what happened. I heard it all. I didn’t know what they were up to, but I know she gave Akogi to her husband, and that was the last that anyone has seen of her.”
Mrs. Wada screamed abuse and hurled herself at the choja, and the choja fought back by biting and scratching. Akitada jumped aside in alarm, while Tora strode into the middle of the fracas, seized the women by their flailing arms and pulled them apart.
“Thank you,” said Akitada with a sigh of relief. “Saburo, call the soldiers. They can take the women and the warden to the prefectural jail for interrogation.”
Their departure became noisy and ugly, but Akitada was adamant. He was fed up with them. Let the authorities handle the matter.
The warden arrived just as the women were dragged outside with their hands tied behind their backs. He goggled and demanded, “What’s all this? What are you doing in my ward? Let my wife and the choja go this minute.”
The guard officer grinned down from his horse. “Sorry, Wada. We were just going to inform you in person, but you’ve saved us the trouble. You’re all under arrest.”
*
Content in the knowledge that the Wadas had confessed and were safely jailed and awaiting trial, Akitada paid a final visit to Professor Otomo. The house was silent and no one answered his call. The silence seemed ominous and made him nervous.
He found the old couple, seated side by side in the main room of the house, small, shrunken figures in the stiff hemp gowns of deep mourning. The professor’s wife was weeping silently, her face wet with tears. She clutched her husband’s hand. The professor looked pale but calm. He met Akitada’s eyes with resignation.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked.
“Are you guilty of a crime?”
“Perhaps. I don’t care, but my wife is innocent. It would trouble me to leave her.”
&nb
sp; His wife squeezed his hand and smiled tremulously through her tears.
Akitada sighed and seated himself. “What are you doing? Why the mourning? Surely that isn’t customary for a former pupil.”
The old people looked at each other. Then the professor said, “Yoshiyo was our grandson. We loved him more than our lives.”
Akitada gaped at them. “Your grandson?”
“Yes. Our daughter died when he was small. She was the governor’s concubine. That was my fault. I should not have permitted it.”
His wife said, “Nonsense, my dear. She loved him. And you would not have had Yoshiyo.”
Her husband bowed his head.
This came as a surprise, but one that might explain much. “Is that why you lied to me about the Korean girls?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, to my shame. The amulet was my daughter’s, and she had passed to Yoshiyo. I knew he had given it to Akogi. When you mentioned the drowned girl and showed me the amulet, I was desperate to keep him from finding out.”
“And so you tried to convince me that the girl we found committed suicide because she had been abducted from Korea?”
The professor nodded. “Yes, I had to make up a story to account for the amulet. A man’s love for his children and grandchildren, it seems, is stronger than his regard for his honor. Please forgive me.”
They sat in silence. Akitada pondered his own past and thought of Seimei. Seimei, Tora, and Tamako had helped him shed the black despair that had nearly turned to self-destruction. He felt great pity for the two old people.
He sighed and took the amulet from his sash. Placing it before Otomo, he said, “You must have hated leaving this in my hands. I lost a child myself and, in my grief I, too, made mistakes. I cannot restore your grandson to you, but I can at least tell you what happened. Your grandson loved Akogi, and I believe she loved him too much to forget him. In his rage, the governor threatened the owner of the Hananoya, and she and her husband took her young life. They have been arrested and have confessed.”
The professor moaned and dropped his head into his hands. His wife cried out in horror. After a moment, Otomo looked up. “This is horrible, but the governor cannot be responsible for it. He would never order such a thing. You must believe me.”
Akitada had considered this. “They have accused him,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean much. Still, even if he gave no orders, he bears responsibility. His love for his son drove him to separate the two young people. Sometimes, excessive love brings death to the very person we cling to.”
The professor shook his head. “If so, his punishment has been terrible. We have all been punished.”
Mrs. Otomo reached for the amulet and placed it in her husband’s hand. “You and I,” she said, “ we forgot all others when we were thinking only of those we loved. My dear, there must be many things you can still teach the young. Let them be your grandchildren.”
Professor Otomo looked at the amulet. With a sad smile, he said, “What is a man to do with a foolish wife?” Then he put his arm around her and drew her close.
Akitada nodded to both of them. “One should always accept a generous gift.”
Chapter Thirty
Homecoming
The return to a house that no longer contained Seimei was unexpectedly eased by Saburo. He was an odd addition to the Sugawara household, even given Akitada’s dislike of spies and Tora’s fear of demons.
The evening of their departure from Naniwa, Saburo had approached Akitada in his typically offhand manner. “Well, you’re finished here,” he said, his face working quite horribly. “I’ll say goodbye then.” He looked down at himself and stroked his new clothes with his good hand. “You’ll want these back, right?”
Akitada had not come to any decision about Saburo, but he certainly did not want his clothes back. “Of course not.”
“Oh.” Saburo did not look at him. He fingered the fabric of his robe and sighed.
Conscience smote Akitada. There was hardly a creature in this land who had suffered more at the hands of his fellow man than this one. He had even more suffering to look forward to, and neither his new clothes nor his innate intelligence would protect him from being shunned. He said, “If you like, you can come along with us. We can use some help for a while. How long you stay will depend on your behavior. My position doesn’t permit my people to behave scandalously or illegally.” He paused. “The decision is up to you. What do you say?”
Saburo drew himself up. “I’m aware of your position, sir. As for becoming your servant, I’ll try it. I may stay if I like it. Haven’t been to the capital in a while. It’ll make a change.”
And that was that. No word or gesture of gratitude. No bowing or kneeling or fervent promises of loyal service. Saburo turned on his heel and left.
To be fair, on the journey home, he took on the humblest chores without being told, cleaning their boots, looking after the horses at the post stations, carrying saddlebags. He managed to do a great deal of work, even with a nearly useless arm.
Saburo knew his way around horses and seemed to have other useful skills.
Tora told him about the capital and the routine in the Sugawara hosehold. Akitada did the same for the other family members and his own habits. When Tora asked Saburo about being a spy, he answered briefly and with a nervous glance at Akitada.
It was only when Genba swung the gates wide that Akitada had a moment of panic. What would his family make of the horribly disfigured creature he was about to introduce into their midst?
Genba was glad to see them until he saw Saburo. And when Tora introduced him as a new servant, Genba’s face fell even more, though he nodded politely. More problems?
But Akitada had no time to worry about Genba’s feelings. The main doors flew open, and the children rushed down the stairs, shouting and laughing. Behind them, came Tamako, looking deceptively pale and fragile in her dark robe because they were still in mourning for Seimei. But there was no time for grief either: His daughter Yasuko flung herself into his arms, and Yuki did the same for Tora.
To see his wife again and hold his child was almost more than Akitada could bear. He hugged Yasuko tightly and murmured an endearment into her ear. It was a moment of pure happiness.
Then Yasuko’s eyes fell on Saburo and widened. “Who’s that man, Papa?”
Saburo hung back, holding the horses, and was now drifting off in the direction of the stables. Akitada called after him, “Come and meet my family, Saburo.”
He came, his head bowed until his chin touched his chest. He bowed to Tamako first. “My Lady.”
Akitada said, “Saburo has agreed to stay with us and help out wherever he’s needed. He has had an interesting life.”
He saw that Tamako understood. Her face warmed. “You’re very welcome in our house, Saburo,” she said, giving the ugly man a smile.
Yasuko asked, “What’s the matter with your face, Saburo?”
Her parents tried to speak at the same time, Akitada to explain, and his wife to remind her daughter of her manners. Both broke off, embarrassed.
Saburo raised his good hand to his disfigured cheek. “It got cut, Lady Yasuko. I hope it doesn’t frighten you.”
“No. I’m not frightened.” She studied him with a solemn expression-Saburo bore it patiently-then she smiled at him. “Poor Saburo. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
Saburo’s face worked for a moment. “Thank you, little lady,” he said. “Perhaps, if your honored parents permit it, I’ll tell you some good stories some time. I know lots of stories.”
“Me, too,” cried Yuki, running over. “I like stories, too.”
*
With his household thus adjusting to change, Akitada went early the next morning to present his reports at the Second Minister’s office in the Dajokan-cho, the building housing the offices of the great council of state.
He had spared Munata and Oga as much as he could and stressed Munata’s help in quelling Watamaro’s aspirations. He felt ce
rtain they had been dangerous aspirations and urged that the government deal firmly with the fugitive Watamaro and his pirates. Otomo he did not mention at all. He had suffered enough. Oga was another matter because of his involvement in the murder of Akogi, but that crime did not concern the council of state, and Akitada hoped that the loss of his only son was punishment enough for Oga’s ruthless handling of the love affair.
In the Second Minister’s office, he was not asked to make his report in person. He was neither surprised nor offended by this. His rank was far too low for him to be consulted by a man who stood at the top of the government.
From the Dajokan-cho, he walked to the Ministry of Justice. As he entered and walked down the corridor, the familiar surroundings cheered him until he heard boisterous voices coming from the archives. He put his head in and saw Sadenari, perched on a ladder and surrounded by six or eight of the youngest clerks. He seemed to be regaling his spellbound audience with a highly colored account of his exploits among pirates and courtesans. Sadenari was too engrossed to see him right away, and Akitada took a step inside.
“Hard at work, Sadenari?” he asked.
The other youngsters scattered, and Sadenari slid down, flushing crimson. Akitada merely looked at him, then turned and left.
Fujiwara Kaneie was in his office and received him happily. “My dear Akitada, welcome. Sit down. You’ve been missed. All sorts of things are in arrears, and I cannot get any work out of the young clerks. Are you all done with that irritating piracy business?”
Akitada bowed, sat, and indicated he was.
“Well, that’s good. You’re to have some leave, what with the recent death of your old retainer, but if you would just have a peek at a few matters before you take it, I’d be very grateful.”
